These thoughts are copyrighted.

I am slowly becoming obsessed with this book and all it consists of. It speaks to my spirit, that spirit of wanting to wander into the unknown, of picking up and leaving and going without knowing if I will come out on the other side successfully, or even alive. The living without reservations, dropping all that the comforts of life have to offer, and trading them in for adventures and discomfort and life experiences. It speaks to me in the same way that

Through Painted Deserts - Donald Miller
&
On the Road-Jack Kerouac

did. I am sure there are many more, but those are the ones I can think of at this point.

I can't get enough of this spirit of writing. I eat it up--literally consume it--and it becomes a part of me. It speaks to me, straight to the heart of me.





I am convinced that I grew up in the wrong era. I should have grown up in the late 60's/early 70's. I should have been a hippie. I should have grown up in a time when it was still fairly safe to hitchhike from place to place and sleep in different places every night. Or maybe the safety factor is the same, but we don't trust eachother as much as we used to.


I definitely could see myself on a commune (minus the public nakedity).

I could see myself on Haight Ashbury.

I see myself behind the wheel of a VW bus, potted cacti on the dashboard, mattress in the back,the wind combing my hair, open road before me. (this sounds good. I'm going to try to make a poem of it sometime)

***

We have to make a decision in the next three days whether God is leading us to make the trip. We were going to wait to write the letter to UPS and take UPS's answer as a sign, an open door, and a confirmation, but Dusty is challenging us, (basically telling us), not to do this, and instead decide based on what we feel in our spirit about the trip. I know how I feel, but it doesn't matter how I feel unless we are united as a couple. Pray that Wesley will get whatever answer is needed at this point, so that we can make a decision based on the Spirit leading us as a couple. That is why Dusty is challenging us. He believes we are basing our decision too much on other people and not on what God is personally telling us. He's right...but this is going to make it a bit more of a struggle to come to a decision. I don't know how well it's going to go.

***

I wrote the above blog entry as a draft two days ago and I'm not much closer to what we're going to do. If it were based on me as a single person, I would have already called up Dusty and told him "I'm in!" but when you are married, it adds so many more things to the ever stirring pot. And I go back and forth about conceiving. One day, I'm fine, and then the next day, I have a little meltdown or maybe just a tear, or anger, or frustration.

I am FRUSTRATED with the fact that I have had such a hard time.
I am ANGRY when I hear other women complain about their kids. This frustrates me close to the most.
I am FRUSTRATED that I have to see a doctor to find out what in the heck is wrong.
I am ANGRY that I do not already have a baby in my arms.
I am FRUSTRATED and ANGRY I may have to go through painful procedures in order to conceive.

But you've all heard this story before. No point in going on.

***

It's looking like our deadline for telling Dusty our decision is about up, and I have no idea what our decision is going to be. What if we're not ready for this? What if we are willing but we are not ready? I never thought of how couples must function completely differently from single missionaries. Can we function over there? Or are we putting too much confidence in ourselves? Or not enough confidence in God?

So many thoughts. So many questions. Just one answer that seems to slip through my fingers like a kite taking flight.







(Bless you if you got through this entire blog.
My mind is an insect trapped in spider's web.)

(That sounds good too. Hmm.)

in their worlds...

...grandpas travel to backroads and kill themselves because they are in too much pain to live. They leave behind grandsons who never cry.

They join gangs at age twelve, because a friend was killed by another rival gang at age 11.

Their baby's daddy hits them, causing swelling and pain, and then she beats others with her words, her speech, her defiance. Her child will repeat the cycle.

A boy, 17 going on manhood, would rather sit around the house and curse at his little sister then find a job, or go to college, or boil hot dogs.

Their myspace page reads like back of the bus conversation on a Friday afternoon.

He is excited about new shoes.

She smokes weed to clear her mind, to calm her, because she does not know God.

Grandmothers can't pay bills, but will go to Dollar General daily for a two liter of diet Coke.

Daughters find their mothers overdosed on the ground of a two bedroom Section 8 house.

He is held down daily, for throwing rocks, for cursing, for hatred. Hatred, and God only knows where it comes from, because he will not open up and explain himself. He is fighting inside himself. He is dying.

Five year olds set fires, and are blamed when an infant cousin is covered in third degree burns.

It is never questioned how a five year old knew how to light a match. It doesn't matter.

He would rather have his heart beat right out of his chest than cry any tears. Real or fake.

Mother and daughter have a mature conversation about contraception. At age 15.

They put obstacles in front of themselves, because they have never been given a clear path.

What do you think? If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray? And if he finds it, truly, I say to you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray. So it is not the will of my Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish. Matthew 18:12-14 ESV