The morning after my first day, I called my mom sobbing, asking her to come get me. She told me things would get better and that I had to stick it out. The job didn't really get better, but I did stick it out and eventually, I no longer cried myself to sleep, made some friends and learned to deal with it. )In fact, that was my first up close and personal experience with Christians.) My dad later told me my mom said it was one of the hardest things she ever had to do.
Of late, I find myself asking God to come get me. Things here on earth are less than ideal. People are mean. Life can be so incredibly lonely. I want, I need the safety and comfort of my Father's House. But He tells me to wait. Things will get better, He promises; but in His time, not mine. And I think that even though He knows the outcome, it must hurt him to see His children suffer.