All packed up--Again

Well, I managed to fit my whole closet in two bags for the second time in my life.
I should get a gold medal. Seriously, it was an olympic feat this time around.

You'd think that now, after I have lived there for a year, that I would know what makes the cut and what doesn't.
But, no.
I still have high hopes for my cute, yet slightly uncomfortable shoes.
And I still find myself thinking, "Of course I will need that Target-brand, American-looking sweatshirt at some point."

I will admit it: My name is Sarah and I am an over-packer.

Between contemplating how to shove all my worldly possessions into two humongous duffel bags, considering working out and then saying no, and thinking which color I would re-paint my room, I have also been thinking about the year ahead of me.

Once again, I am going to jump on a plane and spend my time working in a country I don't understand, in a language I can't speak, with people I don't know. And the kicker is, I signed up knowing what to expect this time around.
Serioulsy, Lord, this is the plan?!

I love my life. I love the adventures the Lord takes me on. I love knowing that the time I am investing in Italy is worthwhile and that I grow by the second over there.

But, left on my own, I would never have chosen this road. I would have picked the really wide, well-paved street with the gorgeous houses and tall treese on it. Every time. I am addicted to comfort, security, and ease.

So as I sit here and type this, having said goodbye to my best friends in the world for the third time in a year (remember the visa debacle), I was really trying to set out how I feel, how I am processing going back, to gage whether or not I am prepared. But I can't.

All I know is that Florence, Italy is where I am supposed to be. The choice is not up to me. He dropped this in my lap five years ago and I have never been the same. Thinking about spending a second year over there is so normal and right in my mind that it freaks me out.

I know I am not prepared for this year.
The lessons it will hold.
The challenges that will break me and build me.
The valleys and peaks that will dot the landscape of ministry over there.

And yet, I know it is all coming. A tidal wave of good things, hard things, frustrating things and exciting things.
Part of me wants to say, "Bring it on, Lord!" and the other part is saying, "Hold on one sec while I duck for cover."

But the monsoon was so refreshing, the lessons so perfect last year that I can't imagine not running flat out for the downpour again. I get soaked with the Gospel over there.

Thank you Lord for not leaving the decision up to me. Thank you for choosing this path, this journey.

So here I am. Two gargantuan bags, too many shoes, unprepared, but ready.