it has been a day full of thinking.

**Sometimes I go on side rants/points. Bunny trails, if you will. Those will be in double brackets. You can skip them if you want, and the rest will still make sense. Also, comments seem to not be working, and I don't know what to do about that. If you'd like to talk to me about something I said or brought up, or even to say that you're praying for me, I'm all over facebook and my email address is llwellynmcamis@tfc.edu. Thank You!**

I woke up this morning and I was so surprised by the attitude that came out of me. Lo and Po and I were scheduled this morning to go visit some of the families of the Mi Esperanza church and of the children who attend the OANSA (awana) on Saturday mornings. I was originally supposed to go with another lady, but she cancelled because she had other things to do. The pastor wanted me to go with Lo and Po anyway, however, to get a handle on what we do during home visits and to practice my Spanish (which is, as I learned today, called "Castellana" here). In the waking moments of my brain's activity, however, it was very unfair that I had to get up and go visit people I didn't know when the other lady wasn't going to. By rights, I should get to stay in bed, right? Let me insert here that it's been drizzling and raining, off and on, for three days now. It is cold, and the air in my room was cold, and my nose was stuffy when I woke up. Also, since there is no interior heating and the houses here are made out of concrete blocks, the cold air readily seeps through the windows and hangs over my poor stuffy nose. Yes. It was a regular pity party in my room this morning. Also showering in air that cold with a stuffy nose should be a crime. 

Since it was raining, however, not many people would come out of their houses to acknowledge us, let alone talk to us. The first stop we made, the family took pity on us and invited us inside. After that, however, Lo simply went up to the gates to deliver the medicine she was bringing, because the people clearly did not want to be bothered on such a miserable day. I was relieved. Primarily, I was relieved because I'm embarrassed of my Spanish. Everyone makes out like I'm fluent and I know what I'm doing, but I don't know just about anything of conjugations, and the words don't come to my mind readily when I'm trying to explain something. More often than not, when I'm called upon to speak, all my Spanish disappears and it takes half my English with it. I thought in the car for a while about what I was going to do when it came time for me to go on visits by myself, and I think the thought actually made me a little nauseous. But what I have realized is this: I have got to stop looking at Ministry as something where I have all of my buttons in one bowl. (hahahaha. I just made that up.) I don't know why this never comes to my mind in the moment, but if I will just admit to people that I probably don't know what I'm doing, then they're much more likely to be forgiving when I use a word here that means something completely different than it did in Costa Rica.  

I think the real problem here is that I have not come to a point where I have an intentional purpose for being where I am and doing what I'm doing. This has literally been a theme for all of my life. That's embarrassing. Also, it's scary. It's scary that the Lord brought together enough money to send me to the other half of the world, and I don't have a specific purpose in mind for being here. But maybe I do. Maybe there is something in my mind that I want to do, because when Forest Schell (Sarah's husband--they planted Mi Esperanza) asked me why I was here, I told him I wanted to have a permanent and lasting impact on something in the world. I wanted to do something lasting. And that is a true and noble cause, indeed, but the problem comes when I try to decide, at the end of all this, if I have or have not had a permanent and lasting impact on anything. 

[[Here is what it comes to: life doesn't come with a soundtrack, usually the lighting sucks, and you don't often get to see the final outcome of what you planted. Believe you me: we have tons of experience with this in the Prayer Room at my college. Many, many, many times, the Lord puts something on our hearts to pray for, and we pray for it. I have been praying for freedom and for revival for almost three years at my college...and it is only every couple of months that I get a glimpse of something that looks a little like freedom or revival. Does that mean that the Lord isn't answering our prayers? Absolutely not. He has never been unfaithful, and He will not start now.]]

I feel like an outsider here, and that's natural. I've not even been here a week, I'm not fluent in the language, I don't understand (fully) the monetary system, the traffic scares the poop out of me (almost), and I don't know anyone except the girl I share a room with. Not really, really know. And so, like so many times in the past year of my life, I find myself kind of floating, a little bit alone and a little bit crowded. A little bit overwhelmed and a little bit passive. I don't like it.

[[There was a time between school and Paraguay that was dedicated to rest and a complete lack of responsibility. That is a good thing, and beautiful thing. My mentor, a missionary lady from Cambodia, says in reference to rest: "I think it is time for all of the things to stop." I love that. You can see how she's a good mentor for me. (: One day I will understand the difference between taking time for required rest (even in the midst of a struggle) and becoming stagnant or giving up. Far too often, the first turns into the latter, but just as often, the first is ignored for fear of the latter. So we must all draw careful lines.]]

I don't like it because I don't know how to get out of it. I don't want this to be the norm, and I feel like it has been for far too long.  A friend from school has been talking for a while about being on the sidelines, and how it's time for him to get back in the battle, and I think I might be in the same place. I am thinking that "too long" is just about approaching for me. It is time to re-enter the battle. I am going to ask the Lord for a specific direction that He would like me to move in while I am here in Paraguay. I would like you to pray with me. I don't want a task to accomplish or an objective to fulfill; I want to know where His heart would have my heart try to lead other hearts. Am I making sense? I don't want a grocery list where failure is perfectly defined and the stakes are high enough to discourage me. I don't want the Ikea instruction manual to a perfectly organized cross-cultural ministry. I don't want a honey-do list that I can't accomplish, and I certainly don't want to expect disappointment in His eyes. [[side note: how could an omniscient God ever be disappointed?]] I want to know where His heart is and follow it, no matter how dark the road, how bumpy the path, or how dangerous the sounds from under the brush.

Since today was so rainy and think-y, and we didn't have a whole lot to do, I spent quite a bit of time thinking. The first conclusion I came to was that I miss the jungle. I don't know if I will ever stop missing the jungle. Asuncion is beautiful, but I miss the song of the jungle outside my window at night. I love Latin culture, but I still don't like cities. I do not think those two things will change. The second conclusion that I came to was that I am not at home here either. I will not be at home here, just like I will not be at home anywhere on this earth. I think ever since the end of my junior year of high school, when I stood on the stairs between my bedroom and the living room and realized that the house I lived in was no longer my home, I have been running to something. I have been running as hard as I can, and I have been searching frantically for somewhere that I can call home. I haven't found it yet. Sometimes I think that if I just run fast enough, I will arrive somewhere, I will see someone, and I will say, "Oh. This is where I am supposed to be." And I am not saying that Paraguay is not where I am supposed to be. I am saying that my heart will not be at rest until I am Home, and that Home is Jesus. You know when you haven't cried in a long time, and then you do, and right before the tears fall, your eyes hurt, like it's painful to make the tears? That's what my heart feels like when I think about Home.

Another conclusion I came to is that a part of the reason I came to Paraguay was because I love adventure. I have accepted it: I like change. I want things to shift and move. I don't want to be in the same place for the rest of my life. I suppose that there will come a time when I will stop searching for an ideal place and decide that the one I am  in is perfect for my family and I, but for now, for now. And I have been struck since I have been here how normal everything is. People have the same struggles here as they do in America. They're impatient with traffic and they have to budget their money and they don't always get what they want. Some are poor and some are rich; some are friendly and some are not. They wear cologne and tight pants and their children cause a ruckus in the grocery store and sometimes they pick their noses on the bus when they think no one is looking. They don't always know what to believe, and sometimes they don't care, and the appreciate beauty and nature and cool looking buildings. So why am I here? What am I here to do? There is nothing special about me. I don't even speak their language very well. What am I doing more than 6,000 miles away from my home, in a place where I don't know anything about anything about anything, thinking I am going to help someone? 

Before, when I would ask these questions, a sort of strange depression would set in. These questions have always been the source of my discouragement, because I didn't know the answers. I couldn't justify the actions of my Father in placing me exactly where I was, and I couldn't answer for how I had stewarded the time I had been given in the place where I was. I think this time that will not be the case, simply because of the above paragraph with the bold letters. I know that there will be people praying for me, and I know that I will be praying. And for now, my purpose will be to find where Jesus is and put myself there.