Breathing Room

Spending time with my family 24/7 has been a wonderful, interesting test of my character.

After being in different hemispheres for years and living alone, there are certain things I took for granted. Topping the list: breathing room.

My little brothers keep a one foot radius from me. Even as I sit here typing, Joao's foot is dangerously close to my face. Do I love it? Yes! (My 7-year-old brother has cute little feet.) Does it push me straight out of my comfort zone? Yes and no. I have no problem with people in my personal space bubble.... but to stay in my space bubble for days? It feels a little foreign, pun intended.

I thrive in awkward situations. I find humor in the weirdness. I take pictures so I can laugh about it again later. And I do, heartily.

my grandpa's life-size Baby Jesus, on the side table

 I am getting Spartan training for the mission trip. I have to fight for time in the Word, because we're always going somewhere. I read my chapter (more like 4) of Job last night with a flashlight after everyone was asleep, to the sounds of Arthur's gentle, snorting-snoring. My vacation has been a walk on the beach. There's been a ton of beach-walking, beach-running, and beach-sitting. Yet people forget the beach has winged ants and beetles, and you get sand in your eyes and well... you get sand everywhere. Then you have the seagulls to worry about. I am traumatized, because a seagull pooped on my NOSE a few years ago. Despite all this, the good always outweighs the bad. The beauty never goes unappreciated. I still love the beach, and find peace in the sound of breaking waves.

Camboinhas Beach

Goodbye setting conducive to reading or learning.
Goodbye sand-less eyes and clean feet.
Goodbye tweeting when I feel like it.
Goodbye time in the bathroom.
Goodbye breathing room.

Hello family.
Hello freedom.
Hello giant bugs to slay.
Hello edifying preparation.
Hello ever-increasing surrender of my expectations.