Getting adjusted

I am always a dichotomy, it seems.

Yes, I am happy here.  I have a beautiful apartment that feels like home.  I'm working with wonderful, holy people who challenge me to be a better person.  I have enough money to spend on myself, my students, and still more to spare.  I find agriculture and livestock intriguing and can now learn about it directly from farm kids.  I love God and He's allowing me to step back from the real "working world" and use this time for faith and fellowship.

But sometimes I miss home.  I miss my family, my old friends, my church, my easier life.  And don't judge me for this, but I miss having a simpler day-to-day routine where I didn't constantly feel that I had to measure up to the standard that is set for missionaries (and which they sometimes set for themselves).  Sometimes I don't want to be giving of myself, sometimes I want to be grumpy, sometimes I don't feel like engaging in conversation.  Sometimes I don't want a boss and two coworkers who are aware of my daily productivity.

My biggest question is, God, why am I here?  I ask myself this again and again.  I have gifts from God, certainly.  But I wonder if I'm in the wrong ministry and if I wouldn't be more equipped to work in a rectory kitchen, in the parish school's nursery, or at home serving my mother.  I've found it's difficult for me to be outgoing, to meet students, to carry on a conversation, to reach out to strangers.  So why would God place me here?

The best answer that I've been given is, firstly, that I was called:

We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.  For those He foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, so that He might be firstborn among many brothers.  And those He predestined He also called; and those He called He also justified; and those He justified He also glorified.  What then shall we say to this?  If God is for us, who can be against us? Romans 8:28-31

Since I've been called, it is His responsibility to equip me.  I should have no fear.

Secondly, He chose me rather than a more talented, outgoing, friendly missionary because it is only through my weaknesses that He will carry out His plan.  I am so small and have little to offer.  My only choice is to be still and allow Him to work through me.  This is so difficult.  It is humbling to realize my own poverty and to acknowledge that I am no longer in control of my own life.  I yearn to know His plan for these next few weeks, months, and years, but it is not mine to know.

I know I am changing.  I am becoming aware of my own failures, and it pains me to see them.  I want to have conquered them already.  I want Him to make me holy.

Dearest Jesus, give me patience.  Infuse me with love for you and for your children.  Teach me how to love myself in my littleness.