let me start at the beginning. when we decided to move here, i had a completely different vision of the life i'd be leading as a missionary. in my version, i'd be working from home, doing the same work i was doing in the states, under the same rad boss i'd been working for. i'd be doing ministry; 'work' was just my side job, my bread and butter job, and i'd have my hands in all sorts of cool ministry opportunities and life changing situations. but the real truth is, i'm not.
i've come to grips with this over the course of the last long 9 months, but honestly, i just thought it'd be different.
in my version, i'd feel like i was touching lives (for the better), making a difference in young people's lives.
in my version, i would be super mom and would bring in the money AND spend the day with my kids, AND bake yummies for my family, AND keep a clean house, AND spread the word of God effectively to Belgians near and far.
the reality is that i work 12 hours a day and i see my family at most, 2 hours a day. i wake up in the middle of the night freaking out about the spreadsheets i didn't finish and hoping i won't get reamed too badly tomorrow for it. the reality is that i rarely get to participate in the team ministry that happens on a daily basis because i am busy telling companies why i won't let them use their funds for a go-kart event and churning out reports on ROI and MQL's.
most days i wonder why i spend so much time on things i don't even really care about, other than the fact that it is the reason we are able to pay our rent and buy groceries each week.
i know God is preparing me for something; something great and amazing. something life changing. i guess i didn't realize how much preparation i still needed.
this isn't a plea for more financial support. this isn't a plea to feel sorry for me for the choices that i've made. i'm not sorry i made them and i know the desires of my heart will be fulfilled; i am just human. impatient, lacking in grace, lacking in understanding, and, well, yes, maybe even selfish.
these past 3 weeks have shown me what it would be like to spend an entire day with my little men. to wake up to their sleepy eyed-faces and the sweet little 'hey mommy' each morning. to make them pancakes and bacon; to feel my heart well with pride and admiration as i watch my husband scour the Word for insight and understanding with a fervor i have yet to grasp myself. to share a meal with my team and spend time with them late at night; to be part of the organic discussions, whether they be spiritual or full of laughter without worrying about having to wake up early to catch the train to the office.
for 3 weeks i was ME. the real me. the fun me. the one who makes jokes and laughs. the one who cuddles with my son when, really, he should have been in bed hours ago. the one who has time to talk about things that really matter. the one who takes time to enjoy an early morning chill in the air. the one who has time to teach my son how to write his letters and welcomes little helpers in the kitchen even though it means a much bigger clean up when its all said and done. the one who dreams big.
i miss that version of ME and i'm finding it difficult to let that version of me go.
the light at the end of the tunnel is that i serve a God who knows the real me. knows my desires, knows my shortcomings, and knows what is around the curve that i, myself, can't quite seem to see around, no matter how hard i crane my neck and squint. He's good like that.