Pilgrim's Progress

I called Kathy on Thursday. She was a little upset that I left a note instead of telling her goodbye to her face, but she's still going strong for her and Alex's baptism on 24 May. I'm so sad about missing it! However, it was strange to admit to myself that the mission wasn't just a dream—to call that familiar number and hear that familiar voice.
Yesterday my hermanita and I drove two hours to Cannon Beach, Oregon, where we played in the cold water for about ten minutes and then lay on the sand and read for two hours. Then we ate Cajun food (green seafood gumbo—yum) and drove two hours over the mountains back home. I thought about the trip—we could have lain around and read quite easily in the comfort of our own home, but I needed to make a pilgrimage of sorts to the water. I needed to tell the ocean that I'm back. God's presence is so strong in the waves. They tell me that the work of God will go forth—just as the tide will ebb and flow—no matter what we do to foil it. We can be the dumbest, most human and full of fault creatures in the world, but God's purposes will be accomplished.
Today my dad is throwing a Western-themed fiftieth birthday party for himself. I was dreading answering all of the questions: "How was your mission?" Um, fantastic? "What will you do now?" Um, get a job? "How was speaking Spanish?" Um, good. "Is it weird to be back home?" Duh. Fortunately for me, my father has decided to decorate the living room with his pistol, some ammunition cases, and an old whiskey bottle he found somewhere, so now I get to worry about all of the squeaky-clean Mormons freaking out about the gun. At least the focus will be off me!