The Bitter and the Sweet

I am writing this from the lobby of the hotel I've lived in for the past three days, waiting for a van to take me to the airport. In twenty minutes, I start my journey to Cambodia.

It is mind-boggling to realize that the next twenty minutes heralds the beginning of the end of my fantastic adventure. I arrive in Cambodia in less than 48 hours, and stay for four weeks. After Cambodia, there is a debrief in Perth, and then I fly back to the glorious Pacific Northwest.

That thought is sweet to me. Much as I love traveling; love tasting new foods (though I definitely regret the goat intestines and water buffalo curd); love making friends in unusual parts of the world; in short, much as my soul craves adventure and experience, I have exchanged bits of my essence with Seattle. A little bit of me is still there, and a little bit of Seattle is here in Asia.

I hold my city in my heart, and as my return draws closer to the foreseeable future, I am reminded of it daily.

And that is the bitter truth.

But I have an entire month of ministry ahead of me. An entire month to make an impact for God. A month of humidity, memorable moments, and bonding with a group of people who have become almost as close as a family in the last 4.5 months. As a side note, I known I've written about this before, but it's hard to believe that when I return, I'll have an entire set of memories of which you, my friends, have no part of.

But I digress.

Cambodia awaits. It beckons. Unlike Nepal, where the entire school was present and required to go, I am called specifically to Cambodia. God has made huge promises over my time there.

And that, friends, is the sweet. My adventure continues. I may be footsore, weary, sweat-stained and carrying dust from the road in all my things, but this raggle-taggle gypsy is far from finished. I need not fear drowning on dry land (except for the humidity) for a good six weeks yet. This warrior princess is still conquering. My circus act has not finished.

Yes, I need to remind myself of that excitement every morning, but it is an exciting truth nonetheless. This is not the final gasp of an over-long trip. This is just the little dip at the bottom of a ski-jump, just before the catapult into space. I'm ready to go, get me out of my mind. I'm free-falling, and everything is coming into sharper, clearer HD focus. Nothing can hold me back.

And now the van has appeared. Pray for me, friends, for I fear I am losing my mind.

Whimsy