Dear Journal,

The scent of grilled sheep wafts through the open windows. Someone is still eating on their Eid sheep. The chunks of meat that were sent home with me went straight to the freezer so I won’t have to look at them for at least another week. I suppose I’m not a very good Eider.

And I’ve had too much coffee. My heart is doing funny little flutters to remind me that if I drink double the usual amount of coffee, I will get double the usual amount of jitters.

It’s one of those strange days when my afternoon plans disappear and I can read a book and take a nap if I want to. Instead, I’m reformatting language study documents to print.

I used to dream of being good at Arabic. Now I’m just hoping to survive language study. There is something about reality that chases away fantasy. I suppose that’s good. But sometimes I wish reality were closer to fantasy. Wouldn’t life be better if we all could be the people of our dreams?

I know God loves to use us as we are. Right now. Even as we are changing to become more like Him. But sometimes I still wonder how much more I would have to offer society if I were the person I would like to be:

I would have a meek and quiet demeanor, be constantly joyful, treat everyone with equal respect, speak at least six languages, be slender and graceful forever, etc.

Maybe I should take a nap… If only the apartment didn’t smell like sheep.


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