Attacks

Turns out that spiritual warfare is still a thing. And you're in it whether you decide to take notice or not. And it becomes much more noticeable when a bunch of lil' things happen that are detrimental to one traveling to a foreign third world country for a month. One such thing is your dad, who by this time has found a respect for you because you managed to show him respect through your obedience to God, declaring you to be ungrateful because you can't manage to mow his lawn while you've got another parent contending for that same chore at the same time.

So yeah, my dad was giving me issues, and frankly, it frustrates me because unlike any of my siblings (excluding Priscilla, my younger sister), I don't spend all my time drinking, getting high, and doing nothing with my life. Earlier in the week, my dad and I (and my brother invited himself to join us) spent half an hour arguing about my future plans to attend grad school before medical school. He called a few hours later to apologize though.

I can understand that he's frustrated, but I'm not wasting my life. I'm doing things, though I'm sure that I will never manage to do enough to equal his life of work ethic. Nor do I wish to, except in the mission field, which he doesn't have as much respect for, because it isn't a proper job. No job is a proper job unless you make money. And if you don't have a job, you aren't a fully-functioning adult.

It's just frustrating... And then (skip over this if gross things are gross, 'cause I don't even like attempting to spell the word), I had diarrhea tonight. I never get diarrhea. But man, I got up from reading and was doubled over from the pain of everything deciding to take the least convenient path through my body. While sitting in there, unable to read from the pain of it, I clued in to the fact that this was one of those spiritual attacks, that satan isn't very happy about my going to Uganda, despite how awful of a Christian I've been in preparations.

So if you happen to be reading this, pray for me.