Dear God,
Today has been one of those days that it hasn't been easy to pack.
In the last few weeks, I've been getting rid of things that have been easy to get rid of. Sure, there have been things that held sentimental value, and ones that as I think about the stories that came along with those things, made me smile and maybe even shed a tear.
But as we're paring down to the bare minimal now, it gets harder. It's no longer, "Should I keep the Martin Hall t-shirt from my freshman year or the ISA one from my senior year?" But it's, "Do I keep the jars that the Santonocitos got me from Italy, or do I keep the necklace that the Millers got me from Bolivia?"
Or maybe it's just... The reality is hitting that my time here really is ending. I think it's fair to say I've been dealing with this ending fairly well, but today is not one of those days.
At church today, I started taking in all the little things that I will miss.
Papa Ed bringing me coffee from the coffee area in the dressing room behind the sanctuary, and the way he makes ecclesiological connections to everything.
Carma's postmodern thoughts and her realness that comes through in the worship services--and her ridiculously high heels.
Theo waving at me in the middle of the service from the corner where the young families sit Sunday after Sunday.
The people that pour that orange juice and cut up the bagels and serve the donuts.
The reality is sinking in.
Time is running out and I have too many things to do but I'd rather be hanging out with people that I don't know if/when I'll ever see again.
Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't but honestly won't someone stop this train
Like I said, it's hitting hard today
I know it's all going to get done, but I don't want to compromise spending time with my Anderson family to pack and write letters and do things that suddenly seem very silly.
Why can't moving across the world be an easier thing?
It's not that I'm not willing to go, but why do I have to do things to appease people so that they will help me get there?
Why do I have to write fundraising letters?
Why can't there just be an organization that will work with my situation and not say, well we've never had to deal with a situation like yours so we don't have to procedures set up for this and we're not going to?
And why does it feel like I'm trying to carve this new path completely on my own?
Sure, I've had a LOT of encouragement along the way, but I've still had to write my own letters, mail them out myself, do my own thank you notes, figure out my own budget and all the other stuff that back at my old job, I did for others.
That, on top of just trying to live everyday life, and accomplish all the things that I've made commitments to getting done.
Dear God, why me? Just because I'm willing?
Why do I have to be the one that, with all due respect to tradition and the good old ways of doing things, not let them dictate the NOs in my life?
Dear God, did I hear you wrong?
Should I keep walking down this path, or is it time to turn around and do something else?
Dear God, stop this train.
I don't have much left in me.
Today has been one of those days that it hasn't been easy to pack.
In the last few weeks, I've been getting rid of things that have been easy to get rid of. Sure, there have been things that held sentimental value, and ones that as I think about the stories that came along with those things, made me smile and maybe even shed a tear.
But as we're paring down to the bare minimal now, it gets harder. It's no longer, "Should I keep the Martin Hall t-shirt from my freshman year or the ISA one from my senior year?" But it's, "Do I keep the jars that the Santonocitos got me from Italy, or do I keep the necklace that the Millers got me from Bolivia?"
Or maybe it's just... The reality is hitting that my time here really is ending. I think it's fair to say I've been dealing with this ending fairly well, but today is not one of those days.
At church today, I started taking in all the little things that I will miss.
Papa Ed bringing me coffee from the coffee area in the dressing room behind the sanctuary, and the way he makes ecclesiological connections to everything.
Carma's postmodern thoughts and her realness that comes through in the worship services--and her ridiculously high heels.
Theo waving at me in the middle of the service from the corner where the young families sit Sunday after Sunday.
The people that pour that orange juice and cut up the bagels and serve the donuts.
The reality is sinking in.
Time is running out and I have too many things to do but I'd rather be hanging out with people that I don't know if/when I'll ever see again.
Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't but honestly won't someone stop this train
Like I said, it's hitting hard today
I know it's all going to get done, but I don't want to compromise spending time with my Anderson family to pack and write letters and do things that suddenly seem very silly.
Why can't moving across the world be an easier thing?
It's not that I'm not willing to go, but why do I have to do things to appease people so that they will help me get there?
Why do I have to write fundraising letters?
Why can't there just be an organization that will work with my situation and not say, well we've never had to deal with a situation like yours so we don't have to procedures set up for this and we're not going to?
And why does it feel like I'm trying to carve this new path completely on my own?
Sure, I've had a LOT of encouragement along the way, but I've still had to write my own letters, mail them out myself, do my own thank you notes, figure out my own budget and all the other stuff that back at my old job, I did for others.
That, on top of just trying to live everyday life, and accomplish all the things that I've made commitments to getting done.
Dear God, why me? Just because I'm willing?
Why do I have to be the one that, with all due respect to tradition and the good old ways of doing things, not let them dictate the NOs in my life?
Dear God, did I hear you wrong?
Should I keep walking down this path, or is it time to turn around and do something else?
Dear God, stop this train.
I don't have much left in me.
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