There's a hole in my bucket.

Ever known someone with a hole in their bucket? Ever been that someone? I have. Not gonna lie. There's definitely been a time in my life when I was the leaking bucket. No matter what good thing went in it wasn't going to stick. I've spent the past three years doing some serious bucket repair.

This chick ain't all fun, games, and pink and purple hair folks. It came to the point where it was now or never. Fix the bucket or continue in a life headed no where good. But of course it's a process and I continue on that journey.

Here's the confession: I know some people with leaky buckets. *gasp* And I've got grace for that, for a while. But then I get to a point when I want to draw a line in the sand and say, "FIX YOUR LEAKY BUCKET!" God's big enough, I've seen what He's done in me. More than anything I get frustrated that a better life is waiting right around the corner for them if they will take the time, do the work, and get spiritually and emotionally healthy. I know they have to get to the point to want that help but it is wrong to urge them along?

Is that mean? I never claimed to be a grace girl. Mercy's not my motivation 9 times out of 10. But having been on one side of the story and now moved to the other I want everyone to get what I've got. It's a better way to live.

How do you show love to a leaky bucket that won't get fixed? I want to know.

Home Sick With No Home...or...Another Day in the Life of an MK

I've been homesick lately. It feels silly to be grown up and with a home of my own and still feel homesick for somewhere else. But there it is. I'm longing for "home."

Whether you know this about me or not the fact is that I spent the better part (in fact all) of my teenage years 8504 Miles from here. I should know, I googled it. Many of the things that make me, me and the memories that go with them are a pretty long plane ride away.

When I say homesick I'm not talking about hopping in the car and driving down the block to the house I grew up in. I'm not even talking about over the river and through the woods type thing. I'm talking shell out $1500 bucks and fly for 24 hours and arrive a day later in stinky, smelly, wonderful Manila.

When I miss smells, shops, stores, food, sites and people I'm talking about the Philippines. I'll admit I've been able to go back more than most in the 14 years since I've left. Both my kiddos spent their first Christmas' there. And we've gone back several more times with short-term mission teams. But I'm currently in the longest stretch of not being there that I've ever been through.

Now here's the rub of the MK life. The house I grew up in was a rented one, and my parents don't live there anymore. In fact, they don't even live in the Philippines. So going back has become strange. I haven't been back since they moved. I don't know what it would be like to visit without being in the house I grew up in, where I remember all my Christmas' and getting ready for proms etc etc.

And it now strikes me that I'm sure kids who grew up in America face this same issue. Families move. Houses get sold. Life goes on.

And it does go on. Even mine. I'm just a bit homesick for a place that's very hard to get to these days. And that makes me a little sad.