Back. I feel at home, with accompanying weariness (ha?). Everybody seems to be in the same (bad) moods as when I left. Because of the adjustment to the new pastor, maybe? He's much more interesting one-on-one than behind the pulpit, I think, but I liked him. Mostly I'm interested in his wife, who is at least my height (!) and grew up with 5 siblings 40 blocks from here (Bay Ridge)! She's a librarian, ahhh. But Sunday school wore me out - good grief! It's gotta change. There need to be WAY more kids in the morning, and, I don't know, no kids?? in the afternoon. Yeesh. I'm thinking flyers, and maaaayybe a spring festival? We could use one, but I don't know anything about it, which is nerve-wracking. Oh, and by next Sunday I'm supposed to have read Mark 1 so I can tell Whitfield whether or not Simon Peter had a wife. Right. (Upon entry, the apartment felt homeish but church far more so.)

I'm 23! Pete and I ate donuts, watched Chungking Express with commentary on BluRay, went to Lemon Grass with my family - spent hours there eating, giggling, snapping pictures, and running into acquaintances - then went to Pete's apartment and watched Freaks & Geeks into the wee hours of our anniversary. I know it wasn't technically my birthday anymore, but I remember "taking stock" of my surroundings at some point that night: I was angled comfortably on Pete's green chair, my feet up, a donut in one hand and Pete's tangled hair in my other; Pete stretched out on the floor in front of me, Freaks and Geeks glowing beyond us.... It felt like that immortal scene in Pete's other bedroom last year. Contentment, even bliss. I don't know.

My October trip made me nostalgic for St Louis, for my life there. This one, although not at all bad, was almost the opposite; I realized how much I have (to do) here. But it's not homesickness, exactly, because the longing I felt was for something I have yet to achieve: fulfillment here. I felt it again at church this morning, as my mind wandered from the sermon (the new pastor has what Janet Wu accurately dubbed, "a soothing counsalor voice"). I don't want to focus on anything but "my" work at church. What I've been sent, or kept, here to do. I have the rest of my life to waste if I want, but I'm at 2nd Free NOW, and I'm in these people's lives NOW. I'm in charge of Sunday school NOW. It's for a purpose! I don't want anything, anything, to detract from that.

So what do I do? I feel alone in this endeavor, which must mean I'm going about it the wrong way; it's not mine to begin with, so how can I feel isolated? But I don't even know how to start with God, you know? Let alone people! Let alone an entire Sunday school program, too.

I'm ill-equipped for long-term missions. Every training I've had looks toward two weeks on the "field." Now that I LIVE here, I have no idea how to lead my life. Minute-to-minute, I mean, you know? I ought to read books or something, and blogs, and, you know, the Bible.... And pray! I've been convicted constantly about how little we pray together as a staff, yet I can't pray publicly at all. I need to be praying all the time, about everything, and especially for people by name. I feel like a hypocrite, though, like I'm in an act and it doesn't mean anything. I completely believe that God exists and is who the Bible claims, but I feel disconnected from Him, maybe permanently. But Mother Theresa felt like that her whole life, right? And look what she did! That's what should matter: Christ's kingdom furthered whatever physical feeling He allows. Even saying that, though, I feel insincere. I'm sorry.

So, things to do to take advantage of my time here. Er...just "time here":

• Plan SS as early as possible!
• Research SS methods
• Pray for kids by name
• Be INTENTIONAL in ALL my time
• Budget better, & tithe
• Devotions daily
• Find spiritually exhorting/inspiring blogs etc
• Read Christian books
• Go to Youth Group
• Serve as much as possible, especially physically
• Don't duck out
• Take time (part of the above), even when it's awkward
• Converse! Be sincere & interested (I am, but I've forgotten)
• Try to do stuff OFF my bed more often
• Be prepared for staff mtgs
• Always be ready to see people! Either lower my standards for how people can view me, or keep up makeup and clean hair around the clock. Ha.

It's kinda like a resolution list? That includes reading nonstop, ha. But, yes, I just want to be INTENTIONAL. This is not my time. And this is not indefinite. I don't know how long I'll be here or what God wants to do through me, so I MUST stop limiting myself by hiding out, keeping my head down and my hands in my pockets. Children, I love you. Church, I love you. Jesus, I love you. But not enough! Please let me. And change me, because I know this restless contentment won't last. I'll be depressed again, and, worse, I'll long for the darkness I see. How can I let that comfort me? I want Christ alone, I do, I do, I just can't seem to convince myself. It's not mine, I know. But, Jesus, let me! I'm here for this, for You, let me do this. Or, You do this, please. It's not me. Convince me. No, I know. But haven't I tried enough on my own?

At the q&a lunch today, the pastor gave his testimony, and summed up his college years, "I thought that was my highest point, but it was the lowest, the pit of my life." That amazed me.

And it's weird stuff that's inspired me, too, like my birthday - who remembered, or acknowledged their remembrance to me: Stephanie, Mary Lara (late), & Sharon. I never would have picked those people, out of everybody I know, to recall the date I was born and comment on it unprompted. I'm just amazed at the people who end up being important to you, who stick with you, who weather the years, even in silence, and emerge alongside you after long absence on one or both parts. I like it, but it's strange. No - invigorating. Wonderful. Like I don't have a choice, which is sort of what friendship is - whoever sticks with you, they're it. Stephanie and I used to speak of our children, the way they would call the other one of us Aunt because we knew that's what we'd be. Really neither of us ever thought of the future; we'd never have dropped out, or even begun, if we had. But that's what's so amazing: what comes. Who comes with you.

I'm here now, and I know exactly what to do but not how, not at all. It's started, though; it starts over each week, no, each day, doesn't it? And I'm ready. Or I will be. I must be. It's started.