The Dust That Clings

If dreaming makes him glad

And waking makes him sad

Then thinking he must do

To find out what is true

He doesn't know what's real

But try so hard he will

By using all his might

To find out wrong and right

And doing what is just

He wipes away the dust 

That clings with reckless hate

And threatens his good fate

But dusting takes so long

It's job is never done

So return, you old refrain

You sweetly-sounding rain

Returning from the 3-month mission trip in Southeast Asia has been hard. Somewhere in the last few weeks I began feeling riddled with thoughts of disappointment and have worried about how much good I brought as a staff member of this group. Help came from a friend, though, and I have realized that even if the feelings of disappointment are so strong, they may not be accurate at all. Maybe what feels right, isn't actually right. So this decision to believe the best in myself, to admit the exaggeration of mistakes, and to dust off the condemnation, has been hard, and I haven't been able to do it on my own. But through prayer and a sweet grace-flavored rain, I am constantly being rid of the false accusations.