Sunday I watched with interest, as per usual, as we sent out missionaries. I love to hear of all the great things they're doing for humankind and for the Kingdom. However, as petty as it is, I get a big sad and jealous. I know I do things that are important. I know I've led people to Christ or just helped them out in small ways with the problems of life. But every once in awhile I feel like my life is a tiny cubbyhole I've shoved myself into and can't get out of--am I here because it's what I want, or am I here because I'm lazy? I go back and forth. It's hard to determine for sure because despite restlessness and the occasional bout of melancholy, I have grown to be a very joyful person. I was wondering aloud about a few people who don't seem to like me very much, and my friend Sharon replied without pause "Because you're happy." And don't we hate happy people when we're miserable? Generally, yeah. That's how it tends to go, whether you'll admit it or not.
Ugh, I feel like I'm rambling. It's just that there's so much I've been feeling lately that I don't even know how to express it all. Sometimes, looking around, I feel like "the least of these" among everyone in my acquaintance. Not the prettiest, not the smartest, far from being the richest, not the most talented--I feel 'outcooled' constantly. I just want to do and be so much more. For the longest time I've felt like God's got me in this resting/waiting season, building me up for something, but is that really the case or am I just making excuses? The inbetweens are my least favorite locale. One day I'll make an impact. I don't want fame, really. I wouldn't care about money if it wasn't essential to my freedom. I don't know. Maybe I'm not making any sense.
And everywhere I turn, everyone's asking if I have a boyfriend or telling me I need a man. I mean, I wouldn't turn a good thing down, but they all seem to think that's going to fix my life. I think that is far from the case. If marriage and housewifery became my driving sense of purpose, I wouldn't be me anymore. I'd be Stepford Haylee. And maybe that's an attractive possibility to some people--buuuut they can shove their expectations. haha.
Anywho, the whole missionary thing actually made me really sad for like a day. Then...Yesterday was both unremarkable and gloriously wonderful. I only got three hours of sleep (which possibly provided the adrenaline rush that helped create such productivity), but I got so much done. I worked 5am-10:45am, went to the bank, worked out for an hour, tanned (and got a mini-nippy-nap in the process), bought groceries, and cooked a really nice Southern dinner (pork chops fried in a sauce I created, my own version of squash casserole, green beans, and baby carrots simmered in brown sugar). Then I went back out with Whitteny and bought some things we needed for the apartment. And it's funny how simple those things were because they gave me such a satisfied feeling. I think they made me realize that I'm actually turning into an adult. I take care of my responsibilities and look out for my family and friends. I work with my hands and create something wonderful. And I think that God really shows up in those domestic moments, to say "hey, you're doing okay."
Additionally, Colton reminded me of a few years ago when I made "Bad Day Bags" for the mission trippers (to be opened on discouraging or difficult days during the mission trip, duh)--they contained fun little games, bubbles, and a page-long letter for each of the 40 or so members of the team. It was a fun labor of love, but I haven't done it since. I guess I forgot that anyone cared. And when he mentioned it, I felt so happy and accomplished. I've decided to do it again. Maybe the Father does have me on the bench--but (and I realize how gay this sounds) that doesn't mean I can't cheer for my team, get them water, and help ease the load in behind the scenes kind of ways. I guess it's just my turn for it.
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