Okay.

I got really upset with myself the other day. Just simply destitute in my soul about still being here and not going places and unsatisfied with who I am and how much work I'm doing and wanting to change, grow, love, and discover, but not knowing how to. I got mad.
I got really, really mad.

I am a fickle woman. I love the mountains I climb. Other days I hate them. I always preach, to myself and others, the importance of reflection and joy and searching and now.
The importance of being here, now.
It's hard to always be present. I'm learning that lately. It is hard to always be present. 
Sometimes you don't want to wake up. Sometimes you don't want to finish. Sometimes you can't see the top of your mountain because you're in a forest. Sometimes you want to quit. Sometimes you want to run away. Sometimes you forget. You forget the point of everything you're doing. Or you even forget to forgive yourself. Sometimes you have no hope. Sometimes you're jealous. Sometimes you are done, just done. Sometimes you have to move on. And sometimes you're not there, sometimes you're not present.
I used to ride my bicycle to a job I hated and never believed in. I would wake up at six every morning that summer and take off down the road with tired eyes and I would say a few words to myself as I pedaled. I am doing this for India, I would tell myself that. And then I would go down the list. I am doing this for India. For France. For Romania. For Africa. For Italy. For children. 
I am doing this for children. 
I don't always remember to wake up and tell myself those things now. After I quit that job, I just stopped. So now it's harder. For some reason, it's not the same when I have to say those things as I roll out of bed instead of ride down my hill. There was a shift in meaning. The volume of those words is different now.
I think it's heavier.

I am so close. So close to finishing things I started long ago. So close to the children.
It's hard work, being here, all the time. Being present. Existing.
God is good though. He lightens my burdens with black coffee and baby chicks and nice paints. He knows me. He understands. He understands that I am not always present, and that's okay.

It is okay to be mad some days.
It is okay. 

William.

Dear Fleur.
Last night was Biblestudy. Jenn taught. We all drew pictures of what we thought God's will for our lives was.
I drew me.
Carrying a stack of books.
In India.
With a little Indian boy.
Teaching English.
And building a library.
The first thing they asked me was, "Why are your jeans rolled up?"
I had to laugh.

My essay is almost done. I'm still kind of going crazy about it. But it's good. I think. I'm not sure. I always have to wait till my teacher tells me it's good before I actually believe that it's good.

4 more hours in the Lahey bread method.

And today is birthday present cramming day. I think I have 6 birthdays this month. And one is in 4 days. And I have 2 scavenger hunts to do. Just kill me now. I need to have a birthday meeting with Mandy. Spring Break will be our cram week for birthdays.
We're going to need a lot of coffee for this month.

In other news:
Mandy went to Eugene and Lala gave her a sweater to give to me. First piece of clothing I've received since the start of Clothesless, and it's darling. Because I didn't even need it.
We have milk.
I dreamed of a Russian boy last night.
I need fabric.
My hair is straight.
And,
we have a very cold house. I even have knitted socks on and it's still cold.

Now for homework and fabric runs through the house.
Bella.

Victoria who speaks French.

Dear Fleur.
This morning was a french lesson over skype with Victoria. I adore her. She taught me how to say kiss and the colours. I like yellow and blue the best. Pink is too hard to say.
I was so glad that skype actually worked. It only works when we have the snowball now. So merci Nat for leaving it. And to Rog, for bringing it. One day I'll write you a letter in French or something else darling like that...

English breakfast tea. Did you know we have sugar cubes? They're 10 times cuter than loose sugar.

Today I have to do Art History homework with Tazza. Write Taite Isabeau a letter. Paint. Find le petit camera. Drink more tea. Possibly take a trip to Costco(I have some happy notes to hide). Read all three of my copies of The Little Prince. Make a book list for India. I want to write today. Really write. I need to fix one story. But there's another in my head that I need to get out. I blogged about it once. I need to find it again. We should got o the post office too.
But now there's laundry to do.
Love Bella.

The kitten on the sidewalk.

Dear Fleur.
I was thinking about Moses. And how one day he just ended up talking to this bush. A burning bush.
Can you imagine the way he felt?
If it was me, I would have thought I was crazy. Honestly? There is no way I can even grasp the concept. A bush. A flaming bush. A flaming bush talking to a guy. Insane. Literally. My mind doesn't wrap around it.
Then I thought about how crazy every person in the Bible was. Really. They did things people told them not to. They disregarded themselves, their reputations, their sanity. All for God. And it might not have been easy for them, but then I figured out why it seems easy.
God talked to them.
Never a day in my life has God audibly spoken to me. And sometimes it makes me mad. When other people tell me they hear him, or have heard him. I feel like screaming. And I have once or twice. I was furious.
Why not me too?
For a long time, I felt left out of some secret blessing only bestowed upon the "really" good saints. Tonight I realized how stupid that is. Secret blessings. Better Christians.
Ridiculous.
That's ridiculous.

We drove home from youth group tonight and Franny saw a "kitten" out the car window. She started screaming for my older sister to turn around and go back and save the kitten.
It was a sock, I told her.
A kitten, she screamed.
I am not going back for a sock, my older sister said.
A kitten, she screamed again.
If it was a kitten it was probably a feral cat with rabies, I said.
A kitten, she screamed so loud.
My head hurt.
I am not going back so you can get rabies, my older sister said.
My little sister screamed all the way home.

Maybe that's what it's like in my head with God. He tries to tell me something, but I'm not listening. Maybe I really am trying to do only what I want. I don't just want to do what I want. But maybe that's the way it is.
There is something I know I need to do. But getting there is hard. And I think I might be crazy. Because I know I didn't audibly hear God tell me to do it. But I know I'm supposed to do it.
Kind of like something else I did a few days ago.

I think God talks to me in dreams instead of out loud. And I also think being a Christian means you must be completely mad and probably have to give up a lot of things you really like.
We need to go buy sugar. I want to make donuts and we don't have any sugar.
Love Bella.