So yesterday one of the women in charge of my internship told us this year is going to be a year of stretching, that however much we thought it was going to challenge us, it’s going to do so even more. She said it’s not her intent to make us uncomfortable, but it is her intent to help us become Christ-like, which means discomfort is going to be part of the package.
It made me think about how I probably landed in the hardest bedroom in my house. First it’s the only bedroom in the house with two extra beds in it, which means whenever there are extra visitors our room occupancy grows from two to four, something which could be in flux for a while. Secondly, I don’t deal well with drama, and God gave me a roommate that screams at bugs and spends a half hour trying to work up the courage to dip herself into the pond when we go swimming. Drama Queen with a capital D.
I know the truth, that she is a daughter of the King, that she’s in desperate need of extravagant love and the chance to mature in a safe environment, one her parents probably never provided. I know in a lot of ways she doesn’t know better. She’s never had any other way of living modeled out for her. I know she can’t change all at once, and if I think hard I can recognize small ways she’s already changing. However, knowing the truth still doesn’t change the fact that sometimes she’s hard to live with. On the way to the pond this afternoon I heard her say that she’s never heard me complain about anything, and I wanted to turn around and say, well why don’t you give it a try?