A little lonely

It occurs to me that it would be nice for a change to be living back at home, in a community with the young adults with whom I spent my childhood, high school, and college years.  One of the nearly-graduated seniors informed me that an old friend of hers is in town for the day, that he is perhaps her closest "guy-friend," and for some reason this made me wistful for those friendships that I left behind when I moved cross-country.  I know they say that, in our technological age, miles don't matter, but the truth is that life often gets in the way of friendships, and keeping regular contact is nearly impossible when you have a separate life and apostolate that is unknown to those who used to know you best.

I am a missionary, this I accept.  I have given my life to God in a more radical way for these two years, to allow Him to use me in His vineyard.  The comforts of the familiar are not for me.

Still, it saddens me to think that my long-lasting relationships are few and far-between.  Of all those whom I have met, most I talk to only rarely if at all.  Some of my dearest friends from college are all but memories now, though merely six months have passed since we graduated together.  I am building many meaningful friendships here in the midwest, but I am hesitant to put down roots because I know that in 16 months I will likely be moving away from this place.

A little nomadic.  A little lonely.

What I have learned (unpublished 11/11)

In 24 hours I will be on my way home.  Thanksgiving break came so quickly, and while I know I should be bursting with excitement to return to Maryland, there's something elusive that's holding me here.  I have settled into my new life: as a missionary, in South Dakota, among these crazy wonderful people who know more of sheep shearing than city living.

I have learned that love is not a "one size fits all."  That just as our Lord loves us particularly, we are also called to love others in a particular manner.

Proverbs 3:5-6 could not be more true.  Jesus will always take care of His littlest ones.

Rich man's guilt (unpublished 8/15/11)

I am unworthy.  That's an established fact.

I do not deserve my current job, my income, or my leisure time.
I do not deserve perfect health, the talents I've been given, or the family into which I was born.
I especially do not deserve the unconditional love and mercy that I receive every day from Our Lord.

But I have been granted them all.

I'm struggling to understand why I was chosen to receive these graces.  I'm wondering about the poor man on the street who begs for each meal, the refugee who has known a lifetime of slavery, the father who works two jobs just to support his family and can never seem to get ahead.

Why was all of this given to me freely?  How is it possible that I am now the steward of a monthly salary and my sole duty is to lead college students to Christ?  In this very moment, I wish I could live by a vow of poverty.