leadership in ministry

commitment precedes clarity

One of the biggest myths of our generation is that we need clarity in order to commit. Before we pull the trigger, we first want answers to all our questions. We want a complete road map. We want to read the fine print before we sign our lives away. We want confident periods not uncertain question marks. We want to fully know what we're getting ourselves into. We want surety before we take a step. And until we get all that, we wait...

We blame our lack of commitment on a lack of clarity.

But it's a myth that knowing more would make it easier to say yes. It's a lie we tell ourselves so that we feel better about doing nothing.

If I knew when I boarded the plane for Africa at 19, all that awaited me there, I never would have gone. If I could've seen the roadmap of hills and deep, dark valleys, I would have stayed Stateside. If I could have imagined all the heartaches and challenges that I would have to endure in order to embrace the victories and successes, I would have cowered in the corner crying.

Details paralyze more than uncertainty does.

If we wait until we have it all spelled out, that's no longer faith-driven commitment -- that's just executing a plan. Commitment must be laced with doubt and hesitation and mystery.

Commitment, in its truest form, requires ambiguity.

Think of Abraham. "Leave your country, your family, and your father's home," God said, "for a land that I will show you."

Without even knowing where he was going or how he would get there, Abraham left. Courageous commitment lined every footstep he left in the rugged soil, stepping away from the known into the land of the unknown.

What's that thing scratching on the corner of your heart? What is that quiet nudge you continue to feel? What's the passion that keeps rising to the surface? Whatever it is... Stop waiting for all the answers, for certainty, for assurances.

Commitment precedes clarity every single time.

So pull the trigger. Say yes. Jump off the cliff. Send that email. Start the conversation. Take the step.

The courage lies in doing it afraid.

{Photo source.}

it's unavoidable

I've always loved the story of the woman with the issue of blood. It vividly reminds me that God is passionate about healing my heart and not just my body. Reading through that passage in Mark again recently, I noticed something new. Or rather, I saw something familiar in a completely different way.

The woman pressed through the crowd on her hands and knees to get to Jesus. She reached out and grabbed the hem of His garment, and in that moment she was instantly healed.

And in that moment, Jesus felt power go out of Him.

That's what made Him stop and look for the one who touched Him. That's what prompted the dialogue that brought healing to her heart. That's when He looked her in the eyes and called her "Daughter".

I'd never thought too much about that moment for Jesus, until now.

There He was... Walking with a synagogue ruler as a large crowd pressed all around Him... It was noisy and busy and... Suddenly He felt something...

He felt power go out of Him as soon as she touched Him.

It's unavoidable: Ministry is draining.

If Jesus felt the effects of it, I sure as heck will.

Serving others, speaking God's truth, and sharing our lives, tires us out. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. We feel it when we spend ourselves for others.

Even when we are doing what we love.

Maybe even more so when we are doing what we love. Because then we have to force ourselves to take a break.

At least I do.

I've been going non-stop for months now---doing exactly what I love doing. And I've felt the "power" go out of me in every way possible. I'm exhausted inside and out. So I'm taking some much-needed time off.

My heart is so looking forward to this selah.

I need to start paying more attention to what (and who) drains me, as well as what (and who) refuels me. I need to be more intentional about creating margin in my schedule and my life.

I want to be more proactive about letting Him fill me up than I am about sharing Him with others.

Maybe that sounds backwards or selfish. I just know that when I'm not overflowing, I really don't have much to give anyway.

So I'm taking some time for me. (Which, I should point out, is never an easy thing for me to do.)

But I know it's needed. And I know it's right.

Selah, friends. Selah.

What does "selah" look like to your heart? What and who refuels you?

i'm tired

I was reading along in Isaiah when I tripped over this phrase: "You have not wearied yourselves for Me, O Israel." I brushed off my knees and copped a squat right there. I knew exactly what God was talking about. And I knew I was just as guilty as Israel was. After over eleven years in full-time ministry, I know full-well what it's like to weary myself. I've put in the ridiculously long hours. I've juggled an impossible schedule. I've reached the point of burnout and lived to tell about it.

And as I fall in bed exhausted at the end of a long day week month year decade, my heart sighs, "I'm weary..."

If I listen closely enough, I hear God's voice, ever loving and gentle. "But you haven't wearied yourself for Me."

Without even realizing it, I've been wearing my exhaustion like a badge of honor. My demanding schedule and ever-growing to do lists became my identity. As if fatigue is the mark of an accomplished missionary.

If I'm most honest, I wearied myself because I thought my value lay in my productivity. I mistook accomplishments for significance. I bought into the lie that busyness is the telltale sign of successful leadership.

But while I was getting stuff done, and even---by God's grace---impacting lives, I was ultimately toiling for the wrong reasons.

The work of discipling young leaders in Africa is worth every ounce of my effort and energy. I want to tire myself out doing what I love. But I need to keep the motives of my heart in check. Wearying myself for some self-serving purpose is just plain tiring.

I want to weary myself for Him.

Then and only then am I strengthened.

souvenirs from cali

My time in California was bittersweet, and filled with a strange mixture of emotions. But underlying all of that, it was a wonderful gift to be with April for her wedding. Being able to help with last-minute details---from late-night Walmart runs to putting on her veil before the ceremony---made my heart feel full. I've never gotten to help any of my friends with any part of their weddings before. So every moment made me feel very blessed.

Though I don't have children of my own, I think I know what parental pride feels like. I felt it in a thousand different moments over the past few days. I am so proud of April. For her depth of character. Her resolve. Her patience and grace under pressure. Her wise choices.

And while there is a lot about April's year in Africa that I wish I could change---for her and for me---I am unbelievably grateful I had that time to get to know her and pour into her in some small way.

I know I often begrudge the revolving door of my life. But after a week like the one I just had, I can't help but lift my eyes and thank my Jesus for bringing so many people through that door.

My life is certainly richer for it.

i choose hard

I only pretend to be brave. I've been known to say that. A lot. But a friend helped me see how untrue that really is.

For as long as I can remember, I've desired to follow God courageously. While I've never been very self-assured or confident, I've often made decisions that fly in the face of all logic. I've chosen not to play it safe.

I've always known that God's called me to hard. I knew it when this suburban girl spent two months in rural Africa as a teenager and loved it. I knew it when my passion to return there seemed illogical to everyone else. I don't like extreme temperatures, bugs, or even the outdoors... and yet I wanted to live in Africa!? It didn't make sense; it still doesn't.

My own pastor told me that being a missionary was the worst thing I could do with my life. And yet, at 19, I up and moved to Africa. I've been told over and over again that I'm too young, not educated enough, lacking experience. But I've shrugged it off and just kept right on going.

I've chosen hard over safe.

And if that's not brave, I don't know what is.

I don't say that to pat myself on the back. I say it simply to acknowledge the truth that I've exhibited more courage than I ever realized.

I needed to discover that about myself. Because as difficult as this past season has been for me, this next one isn't going to be any easier. And seeing past courage more clearly helps steel my heart for what lies ahead.

Once again, I choose hard.

And even though I still don't feel brave, I'm gonna do it afraid.

And trust that He will be faithful to carry me through it.

Just like He always has.


Mentor and mentorship seem to be real buzz words right now. But I'm not sure I really know what they even mean. I understand them in theory, but not in practice. I've never had a mentor.

Many leaders who've earned my respect and admiration have poured into me---some I know personally and some I don't. I love learning, so I often seek out opportunities to glean from others---by asking questions, by simply observing, by engaging in open dialogue. But never in a formal "will you be my mentor" kind of way. And I don't know that I've ever had someone take me under their wing by their own initiative either. But that could be just my fuzzy brain talking.

While I desire to be a leader who's quick to notice and develop potential in others, I don't know that I can honestly say I've mentored anyone. There are many I've intentionally poured myself into. But because it wasn't specifically asked for or labeled "mentorship", can I really say I was mentoring them? If my mentee (don't know what else to call 'em!) doesn't say I'm their mentor, does it still count? I don't know.

I'd love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to answer any or all of my Qs---

  • What does mentorship mean to you?
  • Do you have a mentor?
  • What does that look like? How formal or informal is it?
  • How did you find/get your mentors?
  • Are you a mentor? To whom?
  • What does that look like? How formal or informal is it?
  • How did you find/get your mentees?

love/hate relationship

I have a love/hate relationship with asking boomerang questions. You know the kind: questions that invoke open criticism of yourself. We just finished up the debriefing session that is always the hardest for me. We gave the interns time to share any suggestions they have for improving the program.  We told them we wouldn't defend ourselves or even explain why things were done the way they were (unless we felt it was absolutely imperative ). So the interns had full permission to just say what they disliked about their year.

I love it and I hate it all at the same time.

I love it because I always want to get better at what we do. I want next year's interns to have an even greater experience than this year's. I want to learn from our mistakes and make things more effective as we go forward. I also just love giving someone the "ok", and making them feel comfortable enough, to share this level of honest feedback.

I hate it because it's hard to hear that sort of honesty about how I've failed. It's difficult to not defend or explain myself, but to simply listen for the issue that underlies what's actually being said. I hate it because I find it so hard not to take this kind of criticism personally.

In the long-run, I know that this morning's challenging conversation will lead to an improved internship program. This is the sort of thing that makes me a better leader. Even if I hate it while I love it.

What do you have a love/hate relationship with?

burden of leadership

I've been pondering the burden of leadership. Let me explain...a heavy heart A lot of people have come through the revolving door of our ministry in the past decade: interns, mission team members, staff. Many others are tied into us through their support. All in all, we have a huge spiderwebbed network of people that are connected to Thrive Africa. And that makes them connected to Niel and I.

While I don't personally stay in touch with every single person in the Thrive spiderweb, I correspond with as many as I can (and as many as want to write back!) and we pray often for our entire extended family.

The past few weeks have unraveled some heartbreaking things that are going on in our family members' lives. It culminated this morning with the news---before 8 AM, mind you---that two people had just lost loved ones.

And it's left my heart feeling heavy.

So I'm wrestling with this whole burden of leadership thing. I know I'm not responsible for people, only to them. I know I can't carry the burdens that others carry in their lives. I know that allowing myself to get "emotionally involved" with even a fraction of the thousands of people that are connected with Thrive is more than I could ever handle. I know that I can't be everyone's fixer, that I can't always have the answer, that I can't always be there for people. I know all of that.

But that still doesn't make it any easier to hear that people I know and love are facing

  • the deaths of two family members within 9 months
  • sexual abuse at the hands of someone they should've been able to trust
  • unceasing physical pain
  • emotional scars and hurts that have festered for years
  • inexplicable health problems
  • a long road ahead due to horribly wrong life decisions

What are your thoughts on the burden of leadership? Where's the line between compassion and an unhealthy taking-it-on-yourself-ness? How much caring is too much, and how much is not enough?


I just wrote probably the hardest email I've ever had to write. It was slow-going. I stared at the blank email box for a long time, trying hard to formulate words that could somehow capture my heart. I came up empty handed. I started with that admission and then basically mumbled and fumbled my way through it. More than ever before, I wished I could crawl through the internet and have a face-to-face conversation rather than responding in email form.

But I did it. I found words and I hit send.

Sometimes, being in leadership just sucks.

lessons (5 of 5)

The last of the series... Maintain a teachable spirit. A humble leader is a learner. When asked what skill would be best in a staff member, I've always said "teachability". When someone has a teachable spirit, their fault and flaws don't seem as hard to deal with. Although I've lived here for ten years, I still have much to learn. As often as we can, Niel and I spend time with other ministry leaders. We ask questions, we listen well, we ask for advice. We are learners first, leaders second. In the seasons where my learning has slowed up or even stopped due to busyness or arrogance, my leadership always takes a nosedive.

Burnout is real. A burned-out leader no longer leads; she just maintains. I know this all too well. My wick has been burning on both ends for far too long. I have a lot of theories and even practices I've done over the years to prevent burnout, but nothing with enough consistency and commitment to really make an impact. I'm in a place of being tired and drained, and I know---I know---I'm no longer leading the way I should be, the way God wants me to be. I'd appreciate your prayers for inner strength and true rest.

How teachable are you? (How do you handle correction?) What insights or thoughts do you have for battling burnout in full-time ministry?

lessons (4 of 5)

It's been a while... If you missed lessons one, two, and three, be sure to head back and read 'em. Develop your team. You won’t develop outwardly if you’re not developing inwardly. We've made development a high priority; it's one of our ministry's core values. We constantly look for strategic opportunities to develop our staff and interns. For my own development, I read a lot---books and blogs of ministry leaders. I also listen to and/or watch teachings by leaders I learn a lot from, like Andy Stanley, Craig Groeschel, and Steven Furtick.

Let your team know they have freedom to fail. Make new mistakes rather than repeating old ones. I am a perfectionist. And very detail-oriented. So this lesson is one I'm constantly needing to remind myself of: Mistakes are okay. I'm more intolerant of my own failures than those of others, yet I know I always need to better guard my response to others' mess-ups. I'm learning the benefit of making new mistakes, because of all the lessons and opportunities they hold for me. As long as I'm learning from them, I need to be ok with my shortcomings.

Don’t hold things with a closed fist. We’re called to be stewards, not owners. Niel and I are both strong givers, so this one is maybe easier for us than for many. At least 10% of all our general ministry income goes out to support other ministries and missionaries. And because of how far we've come, and all the "lack" we've endured over the years, we naturally take good care of what we have. At times it causes frustration in us when we see others on our team treating things with recklessness or disrespect. While we continually challenge them to be good stewards, we can't expect them to remember what it was like when we didn't have much.

What do you do to develop yourself? How do you handle mistakes you make? What's the hardest thing for you to hang onto with an open hand as opposed to a closed fist?

lessons (3 of 5)

Do it afraid. Fear paralyzes, but courage shrugs its shoulders and takes a step anyway. I'd say that most of the time, I don't feel strong/brave/prepared/qualified enough to do what I'm doing. In Angie's comment, she asked how many times I've been tempted to give up. A lot!

Lack of finances, skills, time, and faith have all made me think, at one point or another, that I just can't do this anymore. And then God, in His faithfulness, uses circumstances, people, His Word, or His peace to bring my heart back around again.

I wish my faith didn't waiver as much as it did. I wish I could say I am a courageous leader who is always sure of her steps and confident in what she's doing. I wish I was never tempted to give up. But if I'm honest, none of that is true.

And like a consumer I've been thinking If I could just get a bit more More than my fifteen minutes of faith Then I'd be secure My faith is like shifting sand Changed by every wave My faith is like shifting sand So I stand on grace

lessons (2 of 5)

Here are some more thoughts on lessons I've learned in the past ten years of ministry in Africa. Do what only you can do. Spend your time and energy on that which makes you the strongest asset to your team. Delegation has always been hard for me. I am a perfectionist, and very detail-oriented... so it's hard for me to pass things off to others. For a long time, we didn't have "others" to pass them off to, and I got very comfortable juggling so many things on my own. As our team grew, I learned (slowly) to equip my teammates to help carry the load.

I made a list of the things I want to spend my time doing, and the things that "only I can do" so that when we had the right people, I could start passing things off. Something "only I can do" is be the "face" of the ministry for our partners back in the States (with Niel, of course). Yes, I could have someone else write our newsletters or write email replies to our supporters. But I don't want to. I want to continue having personal contact with the people who make our ministry possible. So I still personally reply to every email we get from our supporters (not always very speedily, although I sure try!). And while I now have some assistance in this area, I still write the final copy for our newsletters, printed letters, brochures, website, etc. It represents us, so I am heavily involved in what the ministry puts out in writing.

We still don't have enough staff for me to only do what only I can do. But we're definitely miles ahead of where we were even just 18 months ago. I probably spend about 40-50% of my time doing what I love and feel specifically called to do. The rest of my time is still spent in other areas. Right now, the 80/20 principle seems impossible, but it is something I am working toward: Spending 80% of my time doing what makes me the strongest asset to our team and ministry, and spending the remaining 20% on the have-to's that I can't avoid being involved in.

Give authority with responsibility. Trust your team; they have strengths in areas you don’t. This is as hard for me as delegation is. I need to constantly remember that just because someone does something differently than I would, it doesn't make it wrong. I have to work hard at times to keep my attitude in check when I know a "better way". I need to get more big-picture oriented and get my brain out of the details sometimes. As long as the end result is right, the means of getting there shouldn't matter.

When it's painfully obvious that someone is better than me at something, it's easier to trust them to do the job. It's when I think I could do it better that I really need to work hard at fully letting go. Trust is something that is a challenge for me, both personally and with ministry responsibilities, but I've grown a lot in the area of trusting our team. We are blessed with some high-caliber staff members and interns who continue to blow me away with their giftedness. They've been a huge part of me learning to let go and trust others to get the job done.

How much of your time do you spend doing what you love/want? Is it hard to trust others with tasks you are good at?
Thoughts, Questions?

lessons (1 of 5)

Here are more personal thoughts about some of the lessons I've learned in the past ten years. Get clarity on your vision, and stick to it. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. When we first started out, we began by meeting the needs we saw around us. Of course there were many, and we quickly found ourselves doing a whole lot. Actually, what we were doing was very little in a whole lot of areas. While this was borne out of compassion, we realized that by spreading ourselves to thinly, we were being neither strategic nor effective. Andy Stanley's book, Visioneering, helped us clearly define exactly what God was calling us to do as a ministry. That meant stopping programs we were running because they were not in line with that vision. It was a difficult but rewarding time of refinement in our ministry. At times, it's still not easy to say "no" to things that seem like they'd be great to be involved in. But knowing we are focusing our time, energy, and resources to accomplish what God's called us to certainly makes it easier.

Everyone should know the vision. Momentum in ministry only occurs when everyone’s clear where you’re headed. This is one we are still actively working on. We try to reinforce our vision and core values as often as we possibly can---as we lead staff meetings, as we talk strategy, as we bring correction. We share it with every team that comes through our ministry; we want them to see how their short-term trip ties in with the overarching vision to train Godly leaders. We also try to consistently convey the vision to our supporters and partners around the world. We've never wanted people to give to us because of an emotional pull; we want them to give because they know, believe in, and support the vision God's given us for reaching Southern Africa.

The right people make all the difference. A strong team multiplies ministry effectiveness. Like most of our lessons, we learned this one the hard way. On the mission field, and probably in any ministry, the needs are so great and there are never enough hands. That urgency and desperation led us to take on anybody and everybody who wanted to come and "do something" in Africa. We've gotten a lot more focused in our process of bringing on staff members; some people think we actually make it "too hard" for people to join our team. While our aim isn't to make it difficult, we want the process to be slow and thorough enough so both sides know clearly that it's truly a God-thing before someone makes a long-term move.

I'd love to hear your thoughts and input on all these. And if any questions pop into your mind, feel free to ask... Also---What lessons are you learning lately?

just to clarify

I recently blogged about some of the lessons I've learned in my first ten years of ministry. A friend asked me to share some of my personal history with those things, and I plan on writing a few posts in response to her comment. But I need to start off by clarifying that when I say "lessons learned" I certainly don't mean "lessons mastered". Every single thing I listed is something I still struggle with in some way or another. I'm often hesitant to share things I've learned because although my sharing always comes from a place of journeying, not of arriving, somehow there is the implication in those words that I've figured it out. Hear me: I haven't.

But the other side of that same coin is that I believe there is value in speaking from a point of brokenness. Being a missionary doesn't make my life unrelatable to yours. I face similar struggles and challenges, and I write from that place, not from the awkward, lofty pedestal people often put missionaries on.

I recently spoke with someone about helping her deal with some issues in her life. I told her, "You need to know that I don't have any training in counseling or any experience in dealing with things like this. But I'm willing to walk that road with you, to figure it out with God's help as we go along." Her response was wonderful. "I think that's actually what I need. I don't want someone just telling me how to fix my life; what I need is someone willing to walk alongside me in this. I think I will get more out of that kind of help than I would from some professional whom I write a check to at the end of our meeting."

Her words seemed to sum up my thoughts on the perspective I have when I write. I'm next to you on the road, not miles ahead simply because I'm a missionary.

I've discovered that the expectations I often feel from others are ones that many place on anyone in ministry. Yes, we are to "practice what we preach", "walk the talk", and not tell others to do what we ourselves aren't doing. But---and this is a big but---if we expect people to only share what they've mastered, there would be much silence in this world. We will never arrive. Never. Expecting that of anyone, especially those in ministry, only adds undue pressure and burden to their lives.

Remember the humanity of the missionaries, pastors, and leaders you know. Just like yours, our lives are filled with more grit than glory. And since I'm trying to develop more authenticity and transparency in my life, that means the more you get to know me, the more grit you'll see. While that thought makes me cringe, deep down I know it's a good thing.

second decade (3 of 3)

Even more lessons from my first 10 years of ministry that I'm taking with me into my second decade...

  • Develop your team. Each person is responsible for their own personal growth and development, but it's on your shoulders as a leader to provide as many opportunities for that as possible. Pour into your team through planned and unplanned development times. You won't develop outwardly if you're not developing inwardly.
  • Let your team know they have freedom to fail. As leaders, we need to be quick to recognize how often we ourselves fail; that makes it easier to accept the failures of our team members. While giving people the freedom to make mistakes, let them know you expect them to learn from their failures. Coach them so that next time around, they don't fail in the same way. Make new mistakes rather than repeating old ones.
  • Don't hold things with a closed fist. It's all God's anyway, and He can give it to whomever He wishes. Hold people, finances, possessions, and ideas with an open hand, ready to give when prompted. We're called to be stewards, not owners.
  • Maintain a teachable spirit. There are few things more distasteful in a leader than arrogance. Don't think you know it all, because you don't. Ask questions; listen intently; seek out opportunities to learn everyday. A humble leader is a learner.
  • Burnout is real. Find ways to pull away from ministry work. Spend time with friends outside the ministry. Force yourself to unwind; take a physical, mental, and emotional break from your work. A burned-out leader no longer leads; she just maintains.

second decade (2 of 3)

Here are some more lessons from my first decade of ministry that will help me as I head into my second.

  • Do what only you can do. There is so much work to be done, and in the early years you're forced to be involved in all of it as you get things off the ground. As soon as possible, though, start delegating. Determine those things that only you can or should do, and focus more of your time on doing those things. Delegate anything that doesn't fit into that. Spend your time and energy on that which makes you the strongest asset to your team.
  • Give authority with responsibility. If you give someone a job, give them full authority to actually do it. Paint the picture of the end-result you're looking for, but give them the freedom to determine how they get there. Micro-management inhibits impact. Trust your team; they have strengths in areas you don't.
  • Do it afraid. Don't wait until you have all the answers or feel fully confident before you step out and do what God's called you to do. Courageous leadership means making tough choices when you don't feel brave at all. Fear paralyzes, but courage shrugs its shoulders and takes a step anyway.

second decade (1 of 3)

I've been in Africa for almost ten years---ten years that seem like a lifetime. I arrived as a clueless 19-year old, with nothing more than a heart for the people of Africa and a suitcase filled with things I deemed important. I've learned a lot on this journey and know I will only continue to learn more. Here are some lessons from my first decade of ministry that I'm taking with me into my second.

  • Get clarity on your vision, and stick to it. There will always be a ton of things you can do, but you need to focus on what you should do. Get clarity on the specifics God has called you to, and use that as the yardstick you measure every opportunity against. If you're presented with something that's a great idea, will impact a lot of people, and help meet a need, but doesn't line up with the vision God's given you, say no. Just because you can doesn't mean you should.
  • Everyone should know the vision. Your vision statement shouldn't be restricted to a plaque on the wall or a page on your website. It should drip out of you every time you open your mouth. It should come up every time you address your team, explain a decision, or talk strategy. Your team should hear the vision so often that they can--and do--easily share it with others. That means it needs to be concise; if you can't sum up your vision in one sentence, you need more clarity. Momentum in ministry only occurs when everyone's clear where you're headed.
  • The right people make all the difference. Look for people who support the vision, are high in competence, are strong in character, and with whom you have chemistry. They need to be passionate about going in the same direction as you, otherwise they'll bring division. Your work is too important not to have people who are skilled at what they do; don't settle for those who are simply willing to serve. You also don't want someone who is extremely gifted but lacking in character; integrity matters highly. And while it's foolish to expect everyone to be best friends, it's vital that a staff member clicks with their supervisor and direct coworkers; the emotional taxing that occurs otherwise just isn't worth it. A strong team multiplies ministry effectiveness.

revolving door

The revolving door of ministry life has always been challenging for me. We constantly have people coming and going through our ministry. Missionary staff leave early sometimes; even if they stay full-term, it's just that: a term. National staff quit, move on, move away. Each year we have interns, and each year we have to say goodbye to our interns. I'm an introvert. And I take a long time to feel comfortable enough with someone to trust them with my heart. I also place high value on friendships and care deeply for people. The combination of all that makes the revolving door of my life that much harder.

I struggle to find the balance between guarding my heart and embracing the reality that we were hardwired for intimacy.

Yet 10 new interns just spun through that revolving door. And here I stand, needing to open my life, my heart, to them. (I sigh at that thought.) I look forward to knowing them all, and I long for the comfortability and familiarity I had with our previous group at the end of last year. It's just the process of getting to that point that is overwhelming to me.

My heart grows weary of the constant hellos and goodbyes.

Though it may take a while, and though it may even hurt, my heart will once again open. Slowly at first, and then like a flower bursting out of a bud, suddenly I'll find myself in a place I never thought I'd be.