When Will I Get To Hug My Family Again?

A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I’m no stranger to feeling the sting of living cross country from my parents and sisters. But these past weeks? It’s been different.

Usually, when I see pictures of my dad holding my nephew at a casual Sunday afternoon lunch because they live just 20 minutes away from my sister and her family, I wish my girls could be in that picture with their cousin. Or when my mom texts me that she and my older sister are going on their monthly trip to Disneyland, I wish I could be in that 2-hour car ride up and back just to chat about life and get advice from the two women I look up to most. When I see my little sister tagged on Facebook in a picture of her preaching on stage to her church, I wish I could be in the congregation to cheer her on and see how much she’s grown from our days of sleeping in bunk beds.

RELATED: Stay Home For the Ones Who’d Give Anything To Hold Their Grandbabies

I feel a sting of longing in these moments, a longing to be doing everyday life with these people I love.

But then I remind myself that really they are all just a plane ride away, two or three hours. Nothing, really. And I remember my parents have a trip booked to come see us in a few weeks because they are so good at visiting every couple of months. And then I realize our trip to San Diego to congregate with everyone is only a few months after that because we try to all gather a couple times a year.

I remember these things and the sting softens a bit. It becomes just a dull ache, like an old bruise, that is sort of always there but mainly just hurts when it’s pushed on. So I go about my life and try to FaceTime when I can.

RELATED: To the One Losing Sleep at Night: God Sits Beside You

My husband and I have lived across the country from my family going on six years, so I’m no stranger to the sting.

But this? This surreal, necessary, world-wide staying at home for who knows how long because of a literal pandemic business that’s happening right now?

This is different.

This is a clamp around my heart that causes me to watch hour-long Facebook live chats by James Taylor because his songs remind me of my dad.

It’s a sort of suffocating uncertainty that elicits me sending more Marco Polo videos to my mom in two weeks than I’ve ever sent in my life.

It’s a trapped feeling that prompts random FaceTime chats with my sister just so our babies can stare at each other in blissful ignorance of what’s going on around them.

RELATED: I Want to Remember This Time So I’ll Never Be Ungrateful Again

It’s an undefined indefinite-ness that pushes me to stream my sister’s live devotional intended for her church hundreds of miles away.

This is different. There are no trips scheduled. There are no gatherings planned. There are no flights booked. There is nothing.

Nothing but the uncertainty of when I’ll get to see my family again.

Uncertainty of if we will all stay healthy until whenever that time comes. Uncertainty of a lot of things.

But . . .

In the midst of all this uncertainty and extended physical separation from these people I love dearly, I’m able to take a look at my actions over the past weeks and realize it isn’t the absence of togetherness that’s driving me to seek out the virtual company of my people—it’s the presence of love.

Love so deep a pandemic does not diminish, but rather activates the power it holds, like it’s been forged stronger and stronger over the years for such a time as this.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Kiley Hillner

Kiley Hillner lives in Texas with her husband, two beautifully lively daughters, and sweetest baby boy. She works full time and has her MS in Clinical Mental Health Counseling. She is loving life and embracing the chaotic beauty of motherhood. You can find more of her thoughts on this parenting gig on her blog and on Facebook.

Dear Daddy, I Wish You Could See Yourself As We Do

In: Living, Marriage

The side of my husband who is hardest on himself usually shows up late at night. The house is quiet, the kids are finally asleep, and the day has done what it always does—taken everything it could from both of us. That’s usually when it comes out. The voice in his head that tells him he’s not doing enough as a father. Not present enough. Not patient enough. Not good enough. He doesn’t say it lightly. He says it like someone confessing a truth he wishes wasn’t true. Like he’s already measured himself against some invisible standard of fatherhood and...

Keep Reading

Mothers and Stepmothers: Who’s on First?

In: Living

The roles. The expectations. The unspoken, undefined rules. The hurt feelings no one wants to talk about. It could be a scene from an old Abbott and Costello routine: “Who’s on first?” Motherhood is rarely clear-cut. And if you’ve ever tried to navigate life alongside a stepmother—or as one—you know how quickly things can become complicated. Add a stepmother to the mix, and suddenly it’s a relay race where no one’s quite sure who’s holding the baton, or if anyone wants it. This isn’t a story about winners and losers or choosing sides. It isn’t about who is right or...

Keep Reading

Do We Really Want a ’90s Summer?

In: Living

The year is 2026: we’re inviting thousands of strangers to get ready with us, threatening our own deaths on a lot of different hills and, if you’re a millennial mom, determined to have a ’90s summer. Some top to-dos on the ’90s mom summer checklist? Lots of outside play, limited screens, less hustle, more simplicity. Overall, evoking the “carefree” summers of the 1990s. But did anyone ever ask the real ‘90s moms if summers back then were all we’re cracking them up to be? If my own memory serves me right, my parents talked a whole lot about summers in...

Keep Reading

To the Woman Who Was Betrayed

In: Living, Marriage

He promised you a lifetime, a family, safety, and security. You carried life and brought it into this world for him. Even still, in the trenches of postpartum, he betrayed you. It was never your fault. This is something I’ve fought to tell myself every single day since the day I discovered my marriage was never meant to last. Because the truth is, betrayal is never about you; it’s about them, and the character flaws deep within they’d rather bury than face. He watched as you fought for your life after delivery while your tiny, premature newborn spent the first...

Keep Reading

5 Things I’m Learning about 50

In: Living

When my dad turned 80, he—and we, by default—celebrated all year. My sister made a fantastic, larger-than-life sign of him posing in front of his friend’s antique car, with beautiful calligraphy that trumpeted, “Cheers to you, celebrating 80 years of life!” The sign welcomed his closest friends and family into a private room at a steakhouse, where we toasted his 80 years—and the grandkids toasted his steady presence in their lives. The sign moved from the swanky steakhouse to the second-floor banister in my parents’ house. When you walked in, it greeted you—a feel-good conversation starter and a reminder to...

Keep Reading

I’m Constantly Waiting for the Metaphorical Axe To Fall

In: Living

I knew people died. I just didn’t think it applied to us. Mortality met me in grade two with a punch to the gut when my teacher confirmed casually that, yes, everybody dies. What do you mean, everybody dies? I frantically thought, but kept my question to myself. Up until that moment, I had quietly believed my family was exempt from that fate. I thought death was a monster that only took other people and left my family alone. They say all panic has an origin story, and mine began shortly after that realization, fueled by a disconnected phone cord...

Keep Reading

The Apology You Deserve May Never Come

In: Living

“You have to accept that you will likely never get the apology you deserve.” When my therapist said those words, I felt everything at once-anger, resentment, heartbreak. It was as if the air had been pulled straight from my lungs. Because accepting that truth meant letting go of something I had been holding onto for a long time: the hope that one day, it would all be acknowledged. My family was deeply wronged. Not in a way that can be brushed off or easily forgotten, but in a way that cut to the core. There were lies wrapped in deception,...

Keep Reading

To the Little Girl With Pink Flowers on Her Shoes and Courage in Her Heart

In: Living

To the little girl with pink flowers on her white shoes and lacy fold-down socks, down and ready, tee ball glove in hand, teeth marks worn into the top. The Pittsburgh Pirates hat from Uncle Dave, a sign of camaraderie. A part of something bigger than herself. A too-long, locally sponsored t-shirt, tied up with a ponytail. Jean shorts and a belt. The type of ordinary only childhood can be. When ordinary is more than enough. No one can tell in this picture that you were scared. That you didn’t feel ready. That behind that tiny-toothed grin you were holding...

Keep Reading

Keep Searching for the Perfect Pair of Jeans

In: Living

I don’t know about you, but finding a good pair of jeans has always felt like a process to me. These are too tight. Those are too loose. They fit my thighs but bunch at my hips. The dreaded waist gap. Too short—high waters. Too long, and suddenly you can’t find your legs. Before you know it, you’re ordering your fourth pair and eyeing a fifth. A woman on a mission. And still, as I stand there looking in the mirror at everything that doesn’t quite work, I just know there is a perfect pair out there for me. Somewhere....

Keep Reading

Why I Had My Benign Breast Lumps Removed

In: Living

My journey with monitoring benign breast lumps began in July of 2020 when my OB-GYN found a lump. I was sent home with an ultrasound referral. I called immediately after I got home and asked for the soonest appointment at any location. I had a young son, and was absolutely terrified. They got me in at the end of the week. My husband was on vacation that week, and what should have been an enjoyable family time was plagued with worry. At the ultrasound appointment, they saw two small lumps. I was told these were “likely benign” and was given...

Keep Reading

Dear Lord, Grant Her Roller Skates

Living

Dear Lord, Grant Her Roller Skates

Sadness Comes To Visit

Grief

Dear Daddy, I Wish You Could See Yourself As We Do

Mothers and Stepmothers: Who’s on First?

Do We Really Want a ’90s Summer?

To the Woman Who Was Betrayed

5 Things I’m Learning about 50

I’m Constantly Waiting for the Metaphorical Axe To Fall

The Apology You Deserve May Never Come

To the Little Girl With Pink Flowers on Her Shoes and Courage in Her Heart

Keep Searching for the Perfect Pair of Jeans

Why I Had My Benign Breast Lumps Removed

Get It Now

So God Made a Mother

When Will I Get To Hug My Family Again?

I feel a sting of longing in these moments, a longing to be doing everyday life with these people I love.

This is different.

Nothing but the uncertainty of when I’ll get to see my family again.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Dear Daddy, I Wish You Could See Yourself As We Do

Mothers and Stepmothers: Who’s on First?

Do We Really Want a ’90s Summer?

To the Woman Who Was Betrayed

5 Things I’m Learning about 50

I’m Constantly Waiting for the Metaphorical Axe To Fall

The Apology You Deserve May Never Come

To the Little Girl With Pink Flowers on Her Shoes and Courage in Her Heart

Keep Searching for the Perfect Pair of Jeans

Why I Had My Benign Breast Lumps Removed

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like