Reflection–Waste of Time

You can rebuke or admonish or haul me over the coals if you want to, but I’m not going to suppress my letdown about life lately–not in this quiet weblog of mine. Think I’m not just courageous enough to tell people my frustration directly for some reasons. Then have this cowardice subdue me for now–to start it here this way as I keep my end up or hold my tongue forever.

“Why am I here? And what am I doing this for?” my annoyed, restless spirit asks every second of the day. It’s not that I don’t have the answer, but part of this perhaps is the feeling that my experience at the moment bruises my ego. In all honesty, this isn’t how I actually define service or what I expect to be doing this year. And so it hurts my pride so badly.

Seeing myself in the same unwanted routine all these months gets under my skin. I just wish friends are discerning enough to perceive it and not taking so much advantage of me insensitively. It doesn’t take a genius in fact to get the whole picture here, but some people are just thick-skinned or numb.

If I had to force myself believing that it’s a service, then it’s totally insane. I am not ready to buy this opinion at this time point. I apologize for this sarcasm but I bottled my thoughts up too much enough. I don’t want to pretend more that it is juts OK. It’s not and I am not pleased anymore.

So sorry to say, it is but a waste of time for me to be stuck here washing dishes all day long and putting back together somebody’s mess keeping the kitchen tidy. I could have been doing lots of vital things already and so it frustrates me every time I stand before the sink. I didn’t come in here for this. I am here for something else worth the work.   

It’s a waste of time because this is not what I expected to happen in my utmost desire to journey with angels–this is but the other extreme disaster.

It’s a waste of time because some people don’t even see it as my gesture of helping out–they use me to gratify their self-interest. And I hate it so much. It could have been their own task, but they assume it’s mine. I am blown away by their overwhelming incomprehension.

It’s my choice of course. I could have gone out here if I wanted to, but I feel so obligated–when my situation feels like twisting my arm. That’s why I am not so happy with it because serving is not an obligation. It’s a joy.

“Do I really deserve doing this stuff? Why am I in this undesired journey?” These are few of the remaining questions I am going to reflect for the rest of this temporary state of affairs. I pray these queries will lead me to unearth golden lessons as a result which I haven’t discovered yet in my attempt delineating the humble definition of servanthood.

Let me end this moan with a prayer:

Dear Lord,

Please do change my heart and help me look at my situation worth the while still. All I can see is a waste of time. I need your wisdom to grasp things positively. Show me your mercy in this unwanted scenario. Give me strength to overcome this burden. Shower me with your grace to get through. Bless me to be a blessing. Amen.