it’s hard leaving the country for 5 months, and then coming home, and then leaving again.
it’s hard returning from a trip to Kenya where everything changed.
it’s hard coming back to school after all that.
it’s hard waking up to an early alarm, and hard being on the go from 8 am to 7 pm.
it’s all hard.
I’m a week into classes, and already this semester is overwhelming me. it’s busy and hectic and crazy and exhausting.
I’m three and a half weeks from Kenya. and I miss it, and I miss my team, and I miss the constant hunger for the Lord that seemed to settle back into its tame little corner of my heart approximately 15 minutes after I stepped off the airplane.
I’m a year and a half away from graduation. it’s my senior year, but it’s not. as much as I tell myself that it’s okay that I’m doing an extra semester, and it is okay, it makes everything feel weird. it means that when my friends are excited about their last first day of classes and thinking about post-grad jobs and plans, I can’t join in.
and it’s all hard. it’s difficult and challenging and frustrating and there’s a lot of flopping on my bed and groaning when my phone starts telling me to wake on up from your slumber because using a song that literally tells you to wake up for my alarm was possibly the worst choice ever and really, plain and simple, it’s just hard.
and I’m busy. and I’m tired. and there are days where I eat nutella from the jar and days where I stay up too late and hypothetically there might be days where I wake up for church and am instantly grumpy and then none of my clothes seem right and I would just curl right up back in bed and ignore it all if I didn’t have to pick up a friend. and maybe I’m singing along to the worship music on the drive to church only because I need to convince myself that God is still good.
just hypothetically. and by hypothetically, I mean this morning.
but God is still good. and I sing your love never fails and into marvelous light i’m running and the words are a prayer. and I will never cease to find incredible, incomprehensible grace in the gifts of God for the people of God, come and eat. and His blood, poured out for you somehow always makes me whole.
and when I whisper, Lord, be in the broken parts of me, He whispers back, I already am.