I will Go, Lord, Send Me

Last night it finally happened. After exactly two weeks in Toronto and swallowing how hard some things have been hitting me, I couldn't hold the tears back anymore. And, as predicted, once they started it was a torrent. I know that I will survive the next seven weeks; I know that how ministry goes here will not be allowed to make or break my future; but, somehow, I cannot seem to tell my heart that.

I came here, called. I was sent, I went. Sometimes I feel as though my gifts are just sitting in front of me rotting, waiting for someone to pick them up and use them. Instead I do a lot of stuff that is still awesome and is obviously not a waste, but is not helping me stretch. I want to grow.

Maybe part of my problem is that I still have not dealt with the back home stuff yet. It is hard to conceive that when I return I will have no home church, no ministry, and no job. I also do not have a clear-cut living situation or any idea how to deal with fixing the broken things scattered through my life.

I do not know what to do.

Break It Down

Every part of me feels on the edge of a breakdown.

No one knows yet, but our church is done. Decided tonight. This will be our last Sunday.

Nothing has sunk in yet, but on some level I must know. I came home and did two weeks worth of dishes and made Chinese food. I don't want to sleep because I know I won't want to get out of bed for days. I don't know who to be.

I have done ministry with 90% of my waking time and thought and energy and passion for the last three and a half years. Everything I do has always been weighed against how it will affect the church, and when I mess up my first thought is always how it would affect my youth if they found out. I don't have that anymore.

I'm in shock, probably on the road to a breakdown. I think I'll go and get away for awhile...next Sunday I'll leave and I won't come back until I have to. I don't know where/who/why to be.