Thoughts of Home
It's interesting. I always dreamed of being a student missionary. Going off to a land where I don't know anyone and reach out to the people there. Yet here I am 17 weeks from departing for home. I didn't go where I wanted to, nor did it go how I wanted it to go. Yet that's the beauty of it all. It's take so many unexpected but pleasant turns. Even though I love the kids and being here I find that in the moments were its just me, I can't help but think of home. At night I can't sleep because my thoughts are of my friends I haven't seems since September and some since June. To fall asleep I have to imagine walking through every room, ever foot, every inch of my house. Saying, "good morning" to each family member. Getting my cup of coffee and sitting down by the fire with my dog and just talking with everyone. And each time I do this I get close to crying and sometimes I do. Even as I'm writing this I am fighting back tears. All of this so that I can go to sleep and dream of the exact same thing over, and over, and over. And when I wake up I hope and pray that I'm at home but when my eyes open I find my self still here on this tiny island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Don't get me wrong I love the people and I'm enjoying everyday but...
