the injustices...

It's dark outside. Here we are again, same place, same time, every week. New song, same heart, same me. I'm listening to Francesca Battistelli's "It's Your Life," and it's just fueling the fire inside of me.

I've been mad about a lot of stuff lately. About the injustices.

Gah, I really would love to strangle somebody or something right now.

I remember someone tweeting (on Twitter) this week about the irony of the fact that President Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize, but the US is bombing the moon to see if it has a reliable water source. I mean, really?! And President Obama is considering sending more troops to Afghanistan. REALLY?! How is that in the spirit of bringing peace? Really, I'm all about breaking the bonds and helping children and women who are oppressed, but after all this time, I think it's time for a little bit of peace. That, and to let the soldiers have a break. After all that they have done.

I saw a picture today of a formation of military soldiers. Standing at attention. With a little girl in a pretty pink dress, clinging to her daddy's hand. I don't know what the military had to say about that, but it tore my heart out. I still want to cry about it.

My old principal from elementary school is going to this leadership conference in Georgia this weekend, and he posted something on facebook about getting involved with helping orphans. I checked out the website (www.143million.org), and it's all about how to help orphans, and yes, there are 143 million orphans in the world.

That makes me SICK.

More than that, it makes me sick that I'm considered too young, too inexperienced, with too unstable of an income with too little money to adopt every single one of them. And adopt them out to families that really, truly would love each and everyone of them.

And it makes me even more sick to think that my mom is too scared of loving an orphan to even consider foster care, and my dad is too angry and focused on his job and worried about finances to be the face of Jesus to just one more child.

It makes me sick that every time I hear about another family having another child, or adopting a kid, or taking in foster children, that I have to sit here blogging about how utterly sick and furious I am, because my hands are tied.

It makes me sick I don't even have $38 a month to sponsor a Compassion International child. It makes me sick that I can barely scrape enough money together to pay off my school bills and send seven dollars to an amazing ministry called Mocha Club.

It makes me sick that I can only be so much of Jesus' hands and feet, while a lot of the rest of Jesus is just sitting there, when they can do so much more than I can do.

I'm just so sick of sitting still, of not doing ANYthing. I'm sick of being satisfied of being here, doing homework, watching TV, working at a Taco Bell that tells me to get people to donate dollars to help starving children in Africa, and when my heart is ripped out by well-off American after well-off American denies dying children who don't even have a chance, then they yell at me for focusing more on the children than on keeping the dining room clean and keeping people happy.

I'm sick of not even loving my major. I'm sick of just dreaming of change. I'm sick of going through the motions. I'm sick of not making a difference. I'm sick of fitting into the "good girl", studious, church-mouse shell of the powerhouse of a person Jesus created me to be!

And more than ANYTHING else, I'm sick of knowing all the things that need to be done, but knowing I don't have ANY resources, and not even knowing where to go! or WHAT to do, or how to go about doing it, and I just get sick inside, day after day, and it just can't keep going on like this.

Maybe I should pack a suitcase or two, fly to a poor European country, apply to work at an orphanage, and read my Bible everyday, and stop watching TV and pretending to care about all these insignificant things.

I don't feel like I was created for this life. I feel like I've been put in the wrong place entirely, and I keep hearing, "Go, go, go!" in my ears, but I don't even know where to go! And now I'm crying, and the world knows it, and still nothing happens.

This world makes me sick.

I can't wait till I get to heaven and all I have to worry about is seeing the approval and the love in Jesus' eyes, and being a friend to every person, and singing praises to Jesus and loving people like my heart was made for. Or maybe I was meant to go on the road with Christian bands and preach Jesus. I don't even know. All I know is that I can't stand this much longer.

Ash the (Despondent) Dreamer