There are some days — some moments — when I just hate being a missionary. Maybe it’s not so much that I hate being a missionary, but that I hate the occupational hazards that come along with it. Like living so far from friends and family.
I heard from a dear friend today whom I hadn’t heard from in a while. And she’s going through a rough time. I long to be able to have the types of friendships where I can respond to things like that in ways other than just sending an email or saying a prayer. I want to be able to do something. I am a do-er. It eats me up inside that my hands are tied because of an ocean between us.
So, my friend, even though I can’t, please know that I wish I could see you. Hug you. Listen to you. Stay up all night talking. And hopefully end up cracking each other up.
Since I can’t, my prayer is that someone else will be there for you in that way today…
