What does a year of service look like?

I think it would be safe to say that I am a bit of a busybody . . . and a bit of a perfection- ist also. I tend to get antsy when things aren't moving, to feel lazy and guilty, and to get frustrated when the plans get wrinkled, torn, and turned inside out. So when something isn't going on somewhere I feel like time is wasting and start to question why we are all here. I am starting to learn though.

When things aren't moving is when I have time to worship God.

In a Martha world, I am most definitely Martha, right down to the last detail. When I see someone else enjoying God while I am serving, I immediately judge them as being lazy, but that's hardly the case! What kind of world would we live in if there were no room to enjoy anything??? I for one would embrace it and burn out probably in a matter of weeks.

There are days on outreach when I become frustrated because everything is moving very slowly; we found a pile of Christmas cards and just had to see what they said or stopped off for breakfast on the way to Westchester - but those days often turn out to be the most blessed. One of the mornings we took a woman in to take a shower - a woman who usually doesn't even want to talk. One of the mornings we just happened to be eating in the same place as someone we had been searching for for weeks.

So a year of service isn't a sprint.

What it is, I think is so much more elusive. So far it has been late nights and early mornings, blisters and skinned knees, jumping fences to retrieve balls, digging through mud and clay, hands coated in cinnamon, gingies, piggy-back horsies, and sooo much more. Most consistently, it is a constant reminder of why I had to come here . . . why wouldn't I come here? I came here for a formative year, come what may. I will get one. I am getting one. I think too that it will be far more liberating that I could ever have imagined.