brutal honesty
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…
:(
I know it doesn’t make it any easier for you… but your friend knows your heart, despite your physical distance… and that’s why she called on you to help shoulder her present burden. You are an amazing friend Kitty.
I know how you feel (not that it helps any).
I hear that the people “back home” feel the same way about sharing with us. Say, like, around birthdays…
Hope you had a good one – despite…
Amy was exactly right. You are an amazing friend, and distance doesn’t affect the potency of friendship. It obviously affects the amount of “good times”, and “memories” you can have together, but you have a gift for making others feel loved.
This actually made me tear up. I know the feeling. Friendships are so dear. There’s such a delight in giving that is found almost nowhere else. In marriages, even, it can be a challenge, indeed an outright task to give. Sometimes a joy, too. But friendships … they certainly are something very precious.