Confession's of a missionary

That frustrating state of feeling purposeless quickly swept over me Friday morning as I was driving into work. Why did I ever think I could be a missionary in the first place? Who was I kidding,

nothing I do makes a difference anyways. 

What was I even working towards? Day in and day out trying to run a good camp. 

Half the kids don't even like camp.

Why do I even bother going into the community, knocking on countless doors only to receive a closed door in return.

I say you do all of these things, but they never amount to anything, you knock but you don't even talk to anyone, what good is that? There are so many better missionaries out there, missionaries who actually do stuff that make a difference.

I pulled up to a high school and sat waiting, passing time listening to accounts of other couples who lived radical lives for Jesus. 

That's what a real missionary is, see how much they are loved and how much they do. They don't sit around in their car and say their working. 

She came running out of the school, "Hey Jello, my lunch ends at 1:18, where are we going?"

What do I say to here, I don't feel very talkative. She's enjoying her meal but this is kind of a waste of time, I should be talking about Jesus or something. I'm not doing this thing very well. 

As the interns left to go pick up the kids  I escaped to my kitchen to finish up dinner.

Why do I even bothering cooking all this food, the kids don't even like it most days.

A volunteers arrives and chatters on to me about her day, I listen and fill her in on the plans for camp today. After awhile of silence she excuses herself to go finish up some homework

I can't even communicate, I'm suppose to be leading these people and I can't even probably carry a conversation with a volunteers, they probably think I am the worst supervisor ever.

First kid arrives, my darling 11 year old early bird. I attempt to talk to her asking her about her day as we played with her remote control car.

This is so shallow.

"Jello," she breaks into my thoughts, "can we spend some time together just you and me after camp some day?"

Why would she want to spend time with me. I don't get it. She just wants to spend time with me. That seems to easy.....

I walk into the gym, it's packed full of kids and youth sitting around the table for dinner together. One  little 5 years old's come running up to me, "Jello, hug," as they quickly embraced me and skipped off. And than another and another. Even little Ty comes bouncing over, wraps his little arms around my waist and smiles up at me "Hi Jello". 

I don't understand, I don't deserve this. Why do these kids love me?

The night rolled on, talent show, multiple dances, jello eating contest, hand stand contest, fear of being on stage met with applauded encouragement and laughter. 

Tears shed and more hugs given, apologize made and forgiveness extended before they all rushed out the door and home again. 

Get over yourself Janelle, this isn't about you.

I joined a young volunteer to finished washing up the forks, plates and cups.

I'm so concerned with how I look to others, what I accomplish and what I think a missionary should be, that my gaze is often stuck on myself rather than on Jesus and His mission.