I realize I am lacking in blogging, again, which is so weird for me as I used to write frequently. But here is the truth: my life and the every day things I do in it seem so insignificant, when I compare it to what I was doing in China. I know, I know, I'm like one of those missionaries who can't seem to come home from their mission and won't stop talking about China. But I get them now. When you have such a life changing experience; when you have spent every day serving others around you and never once focusing on yourself; when you have seen the joy it brings; when you learn how to love so fully and unconditionally-it's hard to come back from that kind of high.
Don't get me wrong. I'm content with where I am. I'm working hard, I'm staying busy and I'm constantly striving to be better. But I miss China, and even more, I miss serving there.
It's Friday night. I'm home alone. I'm exhausted from a long day of work. (and yes, I already took a nap). I've chatted with Jillise and texted Sam. I'm clean. I ate a bowl of rice crispies for dinner. I'm worried about Geoffrey and his back. I'm pouring through pictures of my kids and missing them. So, I'm going to watch Kung Fu Panda. Cute movies seem to solve everything.
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