The Post That Has No Name

I don't know what to call this post yet, but give me a second.

...

Just kidding, I i still don't know what to call it.


I haven't posted anything on my blog in a really long time; I remember always wanting it to be better (and, actually, hating the zebra background but being unable to find anything better). I remember loving the responses that I got, even though there weren't many comments. More than anything, I loved looking at the statistics and seeing the audience spread across the globe. I was an awkward highschooler who was happy to have any readers and nothing was better than seeing the countries that the readers were from; not only Namibia and the United States, but Russia, France, South Africa, Latvia, and several others. I loved learning about what people love to read (which, by the way, is not this post, because there are no photos and it is not arranged in an oddly satisfying list of information).


However, when I left for college, I found it harder to write anything. I had all these ideas for better posts and I wanted to make a prettier, more exciting blog out of this. Maybe I will someday, when I get my head around everything that I'm doing (ha.) or at least feel more like a grown up (when does that kick in?) or just maybe when I've sorted exactly what it is to be a grown up missionary kid.


Which is complicated, by the way; sinking into my existence as a repatriated adult MK. My life isn't so exotic. My window panes aren't dusty. My feet don't ache from hours of dance. I no longer wake up to the cries and happy sounds that little girls make when they're getting ready for school or to the light of the Namibian sun as it rises to bake the roof of our house. I miss youth group and music and teaching dance classes, but I miss being Ousie most of all.


And it isn't all gone, by the way (I'd like to end on a happier note). There's a reason I cannot prioritize blogging anymore! I'm learning great things and it's all coming at me at eighty words per minute (which is my typing speed, by the way), at the speed of whipping pirouettes (which I can barely do anymore), and I feel like a child with a whole lot of big, grown up decisions on the table in front of me, but it's so exciting. I have places to go, things to discover, people to love - a future, but also a past I'm still connected to.


And I'm praying all the time that I never forget where I am from.