What do you want from me?
“What do you want from me?” The question eeeks out of my brain quicker than I can stop it with better judgement. It’s not a harsh, angry tone—just a sense of exasperation as I sigh and mark an email unread, because I don’t know what to do with it today. I got a card this weekend from my former supervisor in India, a dear friend. In it was a heart-shaped magnet that said underneath, “I love India.” But that bottom section had been broken off in transit, leaving only the heart left. I immediately felt all the feels about that, because isn’t that how it all feels? My heart still holds India so dearly, but that love that tied me to it with a calling and purpose and hopes of acclimating and belonging there… that was shattered as God both called me to stay and, after my term, to leave without a vision for returning. Without a vision for much of anything, really. Some of that vision, of course, has been filled in. I know I’m right where he wants me right now. I love my job (even...