In the West

Change is hard. I was nervous about going east, now I’m nervous (more overwhelmed) going west.

It’s hard doing it on my own, knowing that no one misses me here. The only thing to greet me is an empty apartment.

I was reading today on the importance of serving others. It may not be convenient for you, but you should still help in reasonable situations. Sometimes that service will come at an emotional cost, but it’s good because it stretches you. I think of the people I've served, and those I’ve let serve me since I’ve moved here. There’s a lot of growing, that’s for sure. I know other areas I can grow in, but it’ll be hard.

There never seems to be time to rest, and by rest I mean sit and do nothing. I’ve discovered I'm not very good at it anyways. I would like to have some evenings like my grandparents had—after a busy day and family dinner (always 6pm), the family would play games or watch tv or whatever until bedtime. It was fun because it was productive without the hustle and bustle. It was a simple life, and I learned a lot from them. I loved it. That’s what I want. A home. With husband and kids. One day I will have it, and it’ll be the best thing I ever do. I’m going to trust God. He knows what he’s doing.