It's 9:44 p.m. That's pretty late for me considering I've passed out by 9:30 every other night since I've been back. But I'm losing my computer tomorrow for possibly ten days, so I'm trying to catch up on everything before it goes away. How sad that I'll miss my laptop like a child.

I've been experiencing lots of technical difficulties for a few months, not the least of which is the loss of my external speakers. In order to hear anything coming from my computer I've had to plug in headphones. This is a giant pain when that's the only way you receive voicemail. But you don't realize how much sound matters on your computer until you have to go an extra mile to hear it. So I'm looking forward to getting that fixed.

I can still go up and use the kids' computer, so hopefully I'll get around to posting about our last three days in India at some point in the near future. I'm not as worried about giving details about the amazing 16th century fort we visited or the time we spent shopping at a craft fair. But I'm dying to tell about the moment we spent singing Amazing Grace in the home for the elderly women we visited the night before we left. And singing "Great Big God" with the kids at the Sunday School retreat on Thursday was nothing less than a prelude to Heaven. That was sheer bliss. But I want to give all of that proper time, so I'll just tease you for now.

As for me, I feel like a walking open wound. I'm trying not to depress everyone I encounter, but for some reason I'm just having trouble hiding the way I feel. I know part of it is exhaustion. But I feel like my world has been shaken to the core by the things God showed me in India, and I don't believe I'm just supposed to push all that down into my India compartment and forget about it. It's just going to take some sorting out of where to go from here. And it may be ugly. So I hope you can be patient with me while I try to make sense of it all.

One day in the van, Laura and I began singing old hymns together. We were sitting with President JJ, and every now and then he would join in. Or sometimes he would just say, "Do you know..." and we'd sing it for him. It was one of those moments in life where everything is right and good. Today I've had one particular hymn running through my mind, and I sent Laura a text to tell her I'd been singing it and it wasn't the same without her. She answered that she'd been singing it all day too. So there must be a message there. I'll leave you with these profound words of grace. Will you sing with me?

There is a fountain filled with blood

flowing from Emmanuel's veins

And sinners plunged beneath the flood,

Lose all their guilty stains.

Lose all their guilty stains.

Lose all their guilty stains.

And sinners plunged beneath the flood,

Lose all their guilty stains.