I did not come to this this place with superior eloquence or wisdom, but in weakness and in fear and with much trembling.
I became a little child among them.
Try as I might, I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.

God, I seek your face but I see in a mirror indirectly.

I started with such lofty goals, but my endurance has expired; I have lost all hope of deliverance from the Lord.

I am absolutely terrified, and you, Lord—how long will this continue?
The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.
My physical body is wearing away.

I am a clay jar.

Finish reading my post at A Life Overseas. . . .

[photo by Amanda King]