Another week has past... how does it happen like that? It seems one moment I'm staring at the clock or calendar swearing time is going backward. Then before I know it, the day is over. Like Saturday - My family came over for Thanksgiving (yay!). Mom and Dad drove up Friday, but I had to work the late shift. FYI- I am not a night person. It is so hard for me to display any kind of intelligence after, probably, 10. These people want me to be sharp as a tack, smart as a whip, quick as a rabbit until 11 p.m.! Wishing I was in my pajamas make the night pass by even more like a winter molasses run. I KNOW that time stopped several times that night, because I would be doing something - there would be a bleep on the scanner, I would have some phone call, or be working on some small story - and the clock would read the same exact time as when I left. WHAT???

I had to work the late shift Saturday too, but before I reported to work, we had THANKSGIVING!!!! Yes, yes we did! It was so nice. My grandma, aunt/uncle/cousins and my parents came over to my apartment so I could celebrate too! I still have pumpkin pie, turkey, ham and green beans in my fridge from that yummy yummy wonderful wonderful day.

When I went to work, I was thinking about all my family still sitting on my couch. I wanted to sit with them too! I wanted to play another round of Clue! I wanted to go with my parents around town! Alas, that night crawled just as slow as Friday (with a little more excitement around the office). However, while I was at work wishing the day over, my parents were actively living their day. They did my laundry and bought me pepper spray, fresh flowers, a bath mat and a mini-Christmas tree (they even decorated it!). Imagine my surprise coming in at 11:30 seeing my living room lit up with Christmas lights! See, they did something with their time. There is something in this world that shows that they were here, with me. I can't look in my living room, kitchen or bathroom without thinking about them, their love for me and my love for them.

What did I do with my week that made a dent in this world? I've been asking myself this question a lot recently. I really don't think that writing is what I was made to do. Don't get me wrong, I love it. I love picking up a pen and organizing thoughts on paper. I love talking to people and sharing their story with other people. I love knowing what's going on and helping to make it common knowledge. BUT what did I do for others? My words didn't make someone's day better. They didn't hold someone who was hurting. They didn't unite people in community. Well, I mean, I guess in reality they did, but my heart didn't feel like it was giving. Maybe it's just the first couple of week’s weirdness, or maybe, the Lord is using this time to teach me who he really wants me to be.

Who he wants me to BE. Man, those two letters pack a mighty powerful punch. I know he has called me (just me) to something (just for me). I know it doesn't always have to be in a career where we find our real life. It can just as easily be in people, relationships outside of the work hours. That could be the frozenness I feel too as I am still community-less. Soon though, soon :O)