Dear Henry, Dear Henry . . .

Be forewarned: this post is written purely for the enjoyment of its writer. I have no intent to inspire, educate, or enlighten you with these words. Rather, I am writing it to relieve the stress of this past month for myself. And of this past weekend. In the throes of acting as makeup coordinator for the school Spring Musical, of writing final exams and study guides for my own students, of and writing term papers and tests for my professors, I’m a cooked goose. I’m tired of logistics. I’m tired of planning. And, believe it or not, I’m even tired of words!
Inspired by a podcast I listened to during my run today, I am, consequently, going to amuse myself by writing a “bucket list.” I have no idea what direction this post will take as, quite frankly, I have no idea what my bucket list is. But I like to dream. And I like to envision myself in less-demanding, less-frantic positions than this one in which I currently find myself. So here goes . . .
I want to go [back] to New Zealand. Spending one blessed Christmas holiday thawing out from Kabul’s chill, and basking in the welcome of a salt-of-the-earth family (who saw fit to adopt me in, for reasons I have yet to comprehend), I want to go back. I want to revisit that place, and experience its beauty with my husband.
I want to publish a book. A really good book. Not self-published, though: I want someone else to think that my story is worth telling to the world. And I want to tell it. I want to tell it well.
I want to visit Israel. Oftentimes I like to revisit places I’ve loved in the past. But in this case I want to put skin (dust?) on the studies I’ve been undertaking this past year in the Scriptures. Cliché though it is, I do, in fact, want to walk where Jesus walked.
I want to be a farmer. Ok, so maybe this one is a bit far-fetched. I’m probably no good at being a real farmer. But Peter and I have been seriously researching, talking about, and leaning towards some sort of simple, our-style, homesteading. We just know we don’t like a lot of stuff, and we like doing things ourselves—and the older we get the more we realize that we actually have a fair bit of experience and interest that lends itself well towards a somewhat self-sufficient lifestyle.
There’s a hole in my bucket . . .

. . . because I know there are TONS more items that I want to add to this list. But this is what I want to write tonight, before the hour gets late and the morning too near.

*Photo is from church this morning, before the service began. One of the deacons took this photo and sent it to me intending to show how good Peter and looked, side by side as we fellowshipped together. He didn’t realize that I had Peter’s kindle in my hands, and was, at the time, engrossed in Hillbilly Elegy.