A New Year

Justin left yesterday afternoon to accompany his mom to his grandma's house in Bossier City, LA for her annual retired nurses Christmas party.  While he follows orders to plate Christmas goodies and search for horseradish and basks in the glow of being the only gentleman in a house full of ladies, I have the morning to myself to reflect.  I think this is the first morning I've had completely to myself in a very long time.

It's been a tough week for me, in the middle of a time of weird transition.  We are learning what many missionaries and overseas workers have lived before us: Coming home is hard.  I've been very emotional about it. 

I am grateful to my gracious in-laws who are allowing us to squat in their house rent free.  They generously provide all the groceries we need and all the freedom I want in the kitchen.  This week, they even ate lentil loaf, and actually kind of enjoyed it.  We've carved out a little space in Justin's childhood bedroom and settled into a beautiful, lazy sort of daily routine involving exercise, food preparation, and the random piecing together of errands, video-game playing, job searching, facebook following, and mentally preparing to face life.

But some days I hate it.  I mourn the loss of my beautiful life in Thailand and the beautiful sense of purpose we had there.  I was so proud to be a part of it.  And I hate explaining what we are doing now, shrugging my shoulders and saying, "Who knows?," hoping something better is coming, praying something's coming at all.

The truth is, I'm scared.  I'm scared that this is it.  That Thailand was our one great adventure. That we'll get stuck by default by circumstances we can't foresee or control.  That I'll never shake this in-between, unsettled feeling.  That my purpose will always elude me, just one step out of my reach.

Sunset in Chiang Mai

In 2011, I read Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, just before we left for Thailand.  I read about how he made goals, and seized life by the horns, and shaped his journey into a better story.  So I know it can be done.  I know I'm not passive in all of this.  I want to thank my friend, Camille, and her New Year's resolutions, for reminding me the importance of being intentional.

Now is the time to reflect.  Reflect on what I did well, what I did poorly, and what I'd like to do better.  And it is the time to pray.  Pray for forgiveness, pray for vision, and pray for the courage to take those big, scary steps when they finally do come.