Few things are worse than counting the last things. I’m sitting here next to the open window, listening to those silly quacking frogs and the distant sound of dogs barking, wondering if this is the last time I’ll hear them.
I can’t let myself think this way. It’s destructive thinking. If I think it’s the last time, it may very well be the last time.
The awful reality is that a 12-month contract with only ten days off is an impossible thing to move.
There’s always the year after that…but so much changes per year when you’re an adult, especially when you just become one. You plan on one thing, then all those plans change because you’re not anchored to a job/married/settled into a house/stuck to a school schedule. You’re a leaf blowing in the wind. There’s no way of knowing where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing with the summer after next.
Then again, that’s always the case in life. Even when you think you’re settled, life is always subject to abrupt and irrevocable change. I could tell you that tomorrow I’ll be going to two different class parties and then moving out of the hotel, but for all I know something will come up to prevent that.
I’ve learned to say “if the Lord wills, I will go” do such and so. Nothing is more certain than the will of God. God decided long ago how my life would happen. So if He wills, I’ll come back to Croatia one summer and continue what He’s begun here, no matter what my current plans are.
I certainly hope so.