We almost quit during our three years in India. I mean to say, we almost came home before our three-year term was complete. It was hard. I don’t say it was impossible because, obviously, we made it. But only by God’s grace, and by the skin of our teeth.
And I really mean that.
Somehow we did not quit, but as my sister likes to say, we had quitterly spirits. So anyway, we made it to the end, and we felt an exhausted, beaten-up, quietly satisfied sense of having been sustained, of having “made it.” We imagined that we must now be the sort of people who don’t give up. Or not much. Not all the time anyway because we’ve grown, right? We’ve had a trial by fire.
Then we lost our minds and got our kids a puppy. You know, settling in, helping with the transition and all that. She was a rescue and we felt happy that we’d done a little good deed. She was eight weeks old, smart and adorable. The kids liked her, except when she bit them with her razor teeth.
We have had her for around six weeks and we have almost gotten in the car and driven her back to the pound twice. Not idle threats, but like, how do we break it to the kids that we aren’t dog people serious. Our love, it turns out, is incredibly conditional and our souls are shallow. I suspected as much but I was hoping against it.
And then somehow we didn’t get in the car and take her back. She’s still chewing our new furniture and generally cramping our style. But we kept her, are keeping her.
The point is, it would appear that we still have those quitterly spirits. Thank God for Jesus, who is the ultimate Non-Quitter.