The transition is always the hardest part. It isn't hard in the way that (I assume) running a marathon would be hard or in the way that moving to Uzbekistan would be hard, instead it is a quiet kind of toughness. It is the kind that you almost miss because everything is so beautiful and every place you go is so good, but it is a quiet stirring in your soul that keeps reminding you of the things you are missing. It is the longing to be in many places at once but at the same time the joy that you have been so many places and that you love the place you are in at this moment, right now. It is going to Laguna Beach with friends and coming home to a quiet apartment to watch a movie, but at the same time feeling a little guilty. Feeling that you should be in the other place, holding them through their sufferings and loving them through their mistakes. It is the feeling of helplessness that being so far away means being useless. But then (and this is the part that makes it quiet) it is knowing that God has us at every moment, right where He wants us. And right now he wants me here, recovering from a long summer, a hot day at the beach, and preparing me for what He has in store next.