I hate being indecisive. 

Give me a menu and I'll order the perfect entree.  Ask me what to wear and I'll point you in the right direction. 

But do not ask me about my life plan. 

Last night we ate at a restaurant with paper on top of the table and a can of crayons.  I said lets get down to business.  We made a list of pros and cons. 

Should I stay or should I go?

And then the waitress set my dish on top of the list and my troubles were brushed aside. 

But I did realize this.  I'm wrestling with my passions.  That's what it comes down to.

Because I love school. 

I'd go for the rest of my life if I could.

But I also love being needed.  And I feel that strongly here. I've found a church that makes me want to teach sunday school.  I've found friends that make me want to fight harder for light.  And I've found women who challenge me to live well.

I realize this is not a Sandpoint thing.  That people are everywhere and so are cute little sunday school classes.  But it has taken me two years to fit.


Two years God.  Why did I come here to leave now?

Here's the other thing I am not looking forward to. 

I love manners.  I love politeness.  But I do not love aloof, cordial conversations. 

They make me want to sleep.

And here people are so raw and so unpolished that the ugly is right out there. 

I love that.

The city does something to you.  It whispers to you that appearances are life and to always use that soothing, even tone. 

Universities are the worst.

I like raised voices. 

So what do I do?

Get in there and shake them up.  Go to school.  Find a small church.  Look for the people who aren't fitting like the rest.  

And then he told me that whatever I do will be right. 

That's the hardest part about it all. 

I've had a headache all day.  A splitting, throbbing, where is my pillow, headache. 

Finally I sat down.  Ok God.  Help me to catch on.  I'm back there on my face in the dirt and I'd like to get up now.  I'm divided.  And it's affecting everything.  I can't remember if I've rinsed my conditioner.  I lose my keys.  I ask the same questions and don't hear the answers.  And my dreams are out of control.

Please.  I don't care where I go.  I don't care what I do.  But please, focus me.  Help me up.  And give me a push because I'm awful when I'm on my own.

The only thing good about me is Him.

And He is the only perfect decision I have ever made.

I'm going to rest on that.