Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving, I forgot that it was on Thursday. My friend, a New Zealander, told me. I was hurt and devestated. I had gotten so caught up in being sick, being away from school and then reality had to return. It hurts.

Well Thanksgiving and every oppertunity to celebrate passed me by. I went to Laos from Friday to Tuesday. But even so God has blessed me. I returned to Bangkok and was greeted by scenes of the familar. My friends emailed, sent me gifts, letters... of love. I needed it.

Thank you God for taking care of me. Pity parties can only last so long. These are always parties that you are more than welcomed to crash.

A Waste

Since my last pay check it has been all downhill. Not really but I have been living by the standard that is placed on me - rich. Going out to eat, buying relentlessly, watching movies in the cinema. A stark constrast to this so called 'missionary' life. Then again what does it mean to be a missionary?

When I was younger I had always pictured it glamourously. In the middle of no where a woman works with the villagers to turn them away from the witchcraft and witch doctor they had followed all their life. There is danger, excitment, maricles and death. Whoa. Definite fame without the fortune.

Now I look about me and see that this stereotype doesn't necessarily ring true for all missionaries. Missionary. Bangkok, Thailand. A country striving towards becoming first world status. Cars, bling-bling, the glitz, the glamour... it is easy to forget the challenge I am called to.

This last week I have had to slow down. I am not one who easily does so... unless circumstances force me to. Such as being sick. I missed two days of work and the rest that i attended I wasn't my usual self. I had to slow down.
I don't like to do that.
I think that if I have any free time... and quiet time then I must be slacking off.
Not necessarily so. WORKAHOLIC.
I need to make a decision. Am I going to be driven by the need to work. Is that going to be the basis of who I am as a woman in this world. I hope not. Awhile back I heard someone speak about what is our basis? What is our reason for living? What keeps us going every single day of our life? He then shared stories about suicide. That many people who commit this act leave a note with these words, "Life is meaningless."

I do not want to leave this place with those girls and boys that I have come in contact with writing those words, "Life is meaningless." I want these children to have purpose ... a realized purpose. I know God desires for them to have and live that purpose. So although I am a 'missionary' I am still a woman. A child. A student. A daughter. And although the stereotype in my head of a missionary isn't something I am living. I believe and know I have been called to a higher service for God. Exactly what that means is a mystery yet I follow his lead. Not my own.

Sounds extreme? Perhaps it is.