42 minutes

It's only been 42 minutes since I've been on vacation and already my mind is more clear. I am more relaxed and I'm connecting more to whichever side of my brain is creative. (I always forget which one does what.)

In these 42 minutes I've come to realize that I love my job. When I'm stressed or close to burnout, I forget just how much. I continue to work hard, but sometimes it becomes more labor than love. I know I love my job because I am already feeling like I'm going to miss it for the next week. I am going to miss calling strangers to talk to them about Jesus. I am going to miss hearing the stories of what random people ask at a church office. (My favorite this week was a guy who left a message on the counseling center voicemail and then when I called him back didn't remember calling me at all and freaked out.) I'm going to miss my cube buddies. I'm going to miss my boss. I'm going to miss watching my amazing volunteers make people feel like they belong at our church.

I feel privileged to get to do what I do. Though I doubt my calling, or rather, my deserving of my calling every day; I know I am exactly, precisely, where God wants me to be.

In case you were wondering Well Church, absence does make the heart grow fonder.