when i was young, i had all the time in the world, and nothing to fill it with. i daydreamed constantly, doodled, read every book i could get my hands on, and i reflected. i still remember my very first proper diary. it was a pink, tweety bird diary with a lock and key. i filled it with all sorts of mundane and petty thoughts, kept records of who had wronged me, and in the front cover i wrote carefully, in large letters, "this diary belongs to Olivia".
it's funny, i had all the time in the world to write, but nothing to write about. that didn't really stop me from trying. it was a means of occupying my time while i waited to grow up.
now that i am in my 20s, i have all sorts of distractions to fill my time, with none leftover for writing. reflecting is much less pleasant; every time i stop to look at myself, i have become more impatient, more ill-tempered, more unforgiving, and wholly more unpleasant to be around. these days, i avoid reflecting if i can help it. my habits have changed, but the busyness only serves to hide that i am still waiting.
still waiting to see where life will take me, what i will achieve (that's the word), and perhaps most importantly, who i will become.
sometimes i wonder, if i have been on a life-changing mission trip, is it God's will for me to commit my life to the mission field? or is God a God who would take a girl 7400 km away from home to remind her that when victory is assured, it is the journey that must count?
because you see, part of the journey is in the waiting. and the waiting part is where our faith finds room to grow.
it's funny, i had all the time in the world to write, but nothing to write about. that didn't really stop me from trying. it was a means of occupying my time while i waited to grow up.
now that i am in my 20s, i have all sorts of distractions to fill my time, with none leftover for writing. reflecting is much less pleasant; every time i stop to look at myself, i have become more impatient, more ill-tempered, more unforgiving, and wholly more unpleasant to be around. these days, i avoid reflecting if i can help it. my habits have changed, but the busyness only serves to hide that i am still waiting.
still waiting to see where life will take me, what i will achieve (that's the word), and perhaps most importantly, who i will become.
sometimes i wonder, if i have been on a life-changing mission trip, is it God's will for me to commit my life to the mission field? or is God a God who would take a girl 7400 km away from home to remind her that when victory is assured, it is the journey that must count?
because you see, part of the journey is in the waiting. and the waiting part is where our faith finds room to grow.
