Dear Anne of Green Gables,

Even though sometimes I laugh at your melancholy, overdramatic moments, I totally understand you.

Like those times you did something stupid like accidentally dye your hair green, or smashed a slate over Gilbert Blythe's head, or accidentally made Diana Barry drunk and you fell into the "depths of despair" - I was right there with you. Maybe I haven't had the audacity to walk the top of a ridgepole or talk back to older people to put them in their place like you do, but you definitely externally express what I often feel inside.

And those interactions you have with Marilla, after you've done something foolish and Marilla says "fiddlesticks" and tells you how everything is "nonsense" and that the practical and sensible things are better...that's pretty much what goes on in my head all the time - the clash between my "oh my gosh I'll never get over this" side and my "oh please, get over yourself" side.

And I get how you feel when you don't want people or things to change as you get older, and how it feels like you don't quite understand why or how people's ideals change.

But I admire the way you're able to speak your mind and stubbornly stick to your beliefs while simultaneously being able to imagine how people feel in order to understand where they're coming from. You can win over even the toughest people without compromising your values. I tend to keep my own opinions hidden so well for the sake of preventing conflict or making people happy that I often can't seem to find them anymore.
It's interesting to see how I identify with different stages of your life than when I was younger and first watched you grow up. I've seen how my own ideals have change.
You give me hope in a lot of ways, Anne with an 'e' - possibly in more ways than anyone may ever know or understand.
Love,
Tammy Chan
A big fan since the 4th grade

Notes from New Life Fellowship Church.

That's the church I went to last Sunday with Pam. Apparently it's the church Greg Jao goes to, because Pam bumped into him the Sunday before and she got to hold his baby throughout the whole worship service. We didn't bump into him this past Sunday. Sad :[

The pastor giving the message that day was Pastor Rich Villodas, and he said that the church was moving through a series but for that day they were going to do a Christmas-themed message.

To be honest, it was kind of like one of those moments where your mom or dad says, "I have to tell you something," and it's something important but you already know what they're going to say, so you just brace yourself for the impact and reply, "Okay..."

That's what that five second moment felt like when he said he was going to give a Christmas message.

And then, just like in a good movie, an unexpected twist happens. What your parents were about to say wasn't what you thought they were going to say. Or at least, not in the way you thought they would.

Pastor Villodas started with describing what it was like for him to learn how to drive, and how he felt cool, calm, and collected because he was in the driver's seat. But when he was teaching his brother how to drive, his anxiety would increase tremendously because he was in the passenger seat. And being in the passenger seat magnifies the reality that you are not in control because you're not behind the steering wheel.

I laughed to myself because I immediately starting singing, "Jesus, take the wheeeeeeel, take it from my haaaands..." in my head :P

And he went on to say that he wasn't saying that it was a free-for-all and that we don't have any self-control, but he was talking about a more destructive kind of control that we try to hold on to.

How can we move from a life of control to a life of trust?

For Christmas messages, more often than not we try to identify with the typical Christmas characters: Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and so on. But really, when you think about it, we look the most like Herod.

There it is. There's the twist.

Pastor Villodas kept saying, "I know, this isn't the Christmas message you came to church to hear, right?" throughout his sermon.
But I kept saying in my head, "Oh no, this is just fine."

He went on.

Herod lives in us when we try to hold on to control that we do not have.
He tries to control the people around him in an anxious and manipulative way.
We love to be in authority, base our identity in our control over others.
It can happen in big ways, but it can be the most damaging in subtle and small ways. We want to control how people think. We want to control how people think of ourselves.

When Herod tries to control the people around him, he causes damage. He tries to control his future and his life situation. But when Christ comes, He seems to disrupt the lifestyles we've grown accustomed to and brings change.

And Herod doesn't like change.
We don't like change.

When change comes, we control by:
Trying to hold on (to what we possess)
Grasping (what we want)

But there's a fine line between planning and obsessing.
We often have the attitude of, "If God doesn't do it, then I'll do it."
We need to relinquish control in order to receive.

Suffering = whenever you're not in control.

We question, "God, will you really do this if I let this go?"

True prayer is the true transference of control.

Which area of your life do you need to give up control?

Hospitality say what?

It's fun and exciting to learn more about the gift of hospitality. It's fascinating to realize that there's something much deeper and richer to hospitality than just the joy of planning events or filling people's stomachs to make people feel comfortable and happy. And discovering more of what it is and what it could look like makes it exciting :]

I was thinking about the role of the host and the guest, and how I think it's very similar to the idea that in order to be a good leader, you have to learn how to be a good follower -

In order to be a good host, you have to know what it means to be a good guest.

And for Christians, that means learning to be a good guest in God's topsy-turvy kingdom. I think that's why I find reading Scott Bessenecker's book, How to Inherit the Earth: Submitting to a Servant Savior to be so important. He basically unpacks the idea of what it means to be a servant leader - a paradox our society today is baffled by - and what it means to submit to the people you host.

Jesus was the ultimate host/guest, of course. He was always traveling, relying on others to house him and feed him. He dwelled among the people he was serving. At the same time, he welcomed those on the margins of society - the ones that most people thought didn't deserve a place at the table - into the kingdom of God.

In order to be a good host of God's kingdom, we have to remember that God first hosted us as His guests, treating us like royalty though we come to Him in rags, in filfth, and with nothing to offer.

It's so interesting how He invites us to be hosts of His kingdom, but we get so caught up in things that we end up trying to take control, or forget that the kingdom we're inviting people into doesn't belong to us. Then we get choosy about who comes in, only being especially nice to those we like - or like us in return. Or, we invite people in, expecting them to give us something and if they don't, and we keep trying, we eventually give up.

And we forget.

We forget that we don't have ultimate control. We forget that we were once the very same guests. We forget that we belong to the kingdom but the kingdom doesn't belong to us. We forget that we are hosts because God empowered us to follow His example.

If hospitality really is a gift He's given me, and it's not just something some spiritual gifts test says I have, then dang, I'm both intimidated and honored to be entrusted with something like that to grow and share with others.

A wave of shame

always washes over me when I recognize that it's easier for me to love a stranger than some of my own family members.

Commence IV Staff Application Process

So I open the document, thinking, Okay, this shouldn't be too bad. It should be long, but with some good pacing and time to think, it should be just fine.

I skipped over to the question that asked me about my hobbies, and then decided to go through the application and answer the "easier" questions and come back to the ones that would require a bit more thought.

I'm so intimidated right now.
The questions get harder and longer and require more thought and substantial examples/evidence as you go further through the application. Yikes.
It's going to be a challenge trying not to overthink things.

I may have more questions for Carrie than I thought I would.

Also, my respect for people who went through this process to become an InterVarsity staff worker just increased tremendously - and I had a great amount of respect for them already.

It's beginning to look a lot like

...Thanksgiving.

I don't know if you remember, but in one of my posts about Thanksgiving break, I recognized suddenly that there was a lot more to unpack from my mind than I realized I needed. It kind of feels the same way now.

It's like I've been walking in slow motion through a blur of fast-paced events, and it's only now beginning to clear up and settle down...and not really at the same time. I've been looking forward to this break for a while, thinking that I was going to chill out and do whatever I wanted.

But I'm starting to get sucked into the rush of doing things again, when all I really want to do is just stay home and go at my own pace for a little bit before I start getting pulled this way and that.

Of course, I also recognize that life doesn't always work out the pace I want it to go, so I've kind of just been floating along, letting the current take me where it wants me to go. Which for me, isn't always a healthy thing.

I learned that from my summer of solitude between sophomore and junior year. I tend to be like "a jar of river water all shaken up" and what I need is to "sit still long enough that the sediment can settle and the water can become clear," as her spiritual director tells Ruth Haley Barton in her book, Invitation to Solitude and Silence.

So I'm beginning to recognize that even though I've been having a relatively easy-going semester where I've been flexible and not as panicky or stressed out as I normally am, it's still very important for me to protect my sacred space of solitude and Sabbath. And even though I've practiced how to carry that through my everyday activities and decisions, I need to create time and space each day or each week to let things settle.

I think the lack of this discipline is one of the reasons why I've had a number of emotional breakdowns this semester, despite my relatively stable and even thriving mental and physical states.

In any case, just wanted you to be prepared. My posts might get more random than they already are, and they may end up being longer than I want it to be because there's so much going on - not only in my head but in my life around me. And of course, I don't put everything on my mind on this blog, so can you imagine all the cranial activity that I'm experiencing?

Ruth Haley Barton also says, "My life as a writer and speaker revolves around being able to make sense out of things by putting them into words." What a good book. Perhaps I should read it again.

So blog away I shall, but I will first start by physically clearing a space to unpack my mind. My room has gotten a little bit messy since I got home, and I haven't had the motivation to clean it until now.

Music & lyrics

Warning: an extra unnecessarily long post - one of the ramifications of not blogging for a while.

There are a number of things I've been thinking about lately that kind of fall under this theme of music and lyrics because these thoughts kind of intertwine with one another in some shape or form.

In case you don't really know me, I like to sing...a lot. I sing almost everywhere/anywhere except the shower (ironic, right? That's where most people actually like to sing). I try to sing softly so that people won't hear me, and there are times when I'm aware that people are listening and I want to stop so they don't get annoyed or think I'm some weirdo, but I just can't help it sometimes. Singing gets me from place to place, bridges the gaps that don't make sense to me, and it's just fun. And singing softly just makes me feel like I'm holding back.

Although, there are some other things that hold me back from singing all out. One is the fact that I'm terrible at recalling lyrics unless I'm very purposeful and disciplined at learning them. I've sung/played Lifehouse's Everything song a bajillion times, but I still don't know the words or the order of the verses by heart. I don't even think I know the lyrics to my own songs.

Or at least, I'm not very confident that I do know them. I haven't disciplined myself to try and play & sing the songs without the words/chords in front of me. I probably do know them. I just don't think I do.

A couple of weeks ago I performed in Dickinson's Talent Show, playing one of my original songs, and I was a teensy bit frustrated at myself that I wasn't confident enough to play my songs without the pages in front of me. I feel like all other musicians can play their songs on the spot in a snap, but I have to have my computer in front of me to make sure I don't make a mistake.

Just typing all of this out makes me realize the simple solution is to practice. I need to practice playing/singing songs without the music. Duh.

I also feel like it's important because lyrics in general are really important to me. I love melodies and harmonies...but maybe it's because I'm more proficient in English than music because lyrics to me give music more depth and meaning. Instrumental music alone lets everyone take their own path to understanding, but lyrics kind of say, "Hey this is my story. Would you be willing to let me guide you through it? As you listen, can you see and feel what I see and feel?"

Although, the other thing that holds me back from singing all out is my guitar playing. I can manage to play and sing at the same time, but my mind is so concerned about my inadequate guitar playing that I don't focus as much on singing, which leads to more singing mistakes. If I had my way, I'd have an uber awesome guitar player that I could stick in my pocket and pull out anytime I wanted to sing a song. I only play guitar because I feel like I have to. The marriage of music and lyrics just isn't the same when you separate them. In the same way lyrics give music more depth of meaning, the right music gives lyrics a solid foundation and a vehicle that everyone can take a ride in.

I have some thoughts on Christmas songs and their lyrics, too. But I will save that for a different post.

Ugh. This post is getting way too long. I have more to say but I will say them later.

Buried love.

I have accumulated sore ankles, mysterious cuts, and bruises scattered along my legs.
To me, ice skating is worth every single one.
Ice skating always awakens in me this deep longing to learn how to figure skate. It's this old love that I keep forgetting that I'd want to answer when people ask those ice breaker questions like, "If you could learn anything in the world, what would it be?" or, "If you could go back in time, what would you do?"

On the ice today, I was thinking about how much ice skating always makes me feel like I can simultaneously do anything and absolutely nothing. It's paradoxically liberating and limiting at the same time.
I really wanted to dance. Not like the, "let's-go-to-the-club" kind of dance, but a kind of longing to spin and sway, sweep my arms around and bend my whole body. The only things that were holding me back were my lack of knowledge of how to do so, and the fear of falling and hurting myself - not so much the fear of looking stupid or silly. It was weird because I always tell people how I have no desire to move my hips (especially in Zumba...yuck), but when I'm ice skating you could probably tell me to move my hips and if you put on some good music, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

At the same time, it feels limiting because I don't know how to do anything real figure skaters can do except skate around the rink over and over again. I totally wish I could do more.

Maybe I'll read more about ice skating this winter break. Maybe reading about it enough will placate my hunger to jump and spin on ice. Maybe I'll read about ice skating and watch all of these YouTube videos of figure skaters and the how-tos of figure skating.



There's just something so beautiful about watching figure skaters and something so exhilarating about ice skating that it always stokes a fire in me I forgot I always had.

More memoir stretching.

So, I'm still working on my memoir. People keep asking me to read it, but it's not done yet. Especially after it was workshopped/critiqued by my class, I'm in the process of making a lot of changes.

One of the main things my classmates had trouble finding was the cause for the change. And, even though I've been making some breakthroughs since my emotional breakdown, what has been frustrating me is that I've been searching through this vague cloud of "I don't remembers" and "I don't knows" for finding that cause. I wanted to leave it at that, at the idea that I couldn't pinpoint any kind of reason because I just assume it was a process. But I needed some kind of scene to show that it was a process.

And I was reaching back into my old files of memories in my mind, still searching for answers to help me make sense of it all.

And I found it. It was tucked under a lot of old memories I didn't really care to remember, even though it was really important. And I know why.

It's because it's stupid. So stupid. Really, it's stupidest thing ever. No joke.

And now I have to write about it in my memoir, because it's a pivotal part of tying everything together. Now I'm not frustrated that I can't figure out what I've been missing. Now I'm frustrated that I have to write about what I found.

I know, I know, this all sounds very vague and mysterious. Maybe I'll explain one day. Or you'll just have to read my stupid memoir that's taking me forever to write.

Holding on Loosely

It used to be more common for me to figuratively hold on to things very tightly, even when it hurt. But I think as I've been walking, jogging, and running through college, God has pried open my hands to see things I hadn't seen before, especially the brokenness that sometimes results from holding on so tightly.

I refuse to give them up, saying, "But it's mine, God. It isn't fair that this person gets to keep their pride, or that this person gets to thrive, or that this person can do this...how come I have to be the one who has to change?" And more and more God reminds me that everything I have isn't mine. Everything was given to me, but not for the sole purpose of fulfilling my needs. Instead, everything was given to me so that I would learn how to take care of them and produce fruit in order to serve the needs of others - the same way He was caring for us. And as I was doing so, what I truly needed would be fulfilled.

So He's been teaching me what it means to hold things loosely in my hand, because everything I have is not mine and He gives and takes away and grows things for the good of those who love Him.

But at the same time I feel like I've been holding on to things so loosely that I haven't been caring for them as much as I should be. I feel like to a certain extent I've fallen a little too far the other way that I've neglected quite a few things I've been entrusted with.

And that scares me.

It scares me enough to do something about it. It's just...that's the hard part - figuring out what God actually wants me to do or gaining to courage to actually do it.

Some excerpts from Henri J.M. Nouwen's book, Reaching Out: The Three Movements of the Spiritual Life:

The movement from loneliness to solitude can make it possible to convert slowly our fearful reactions into a loving response.
As long as we are trying to run away from our loneliness we are constantly looking for distractions with the inexhaustible need to be entertained and kept busy.
But it seems of great importance to know with an experiential knowledge the difference between an action that is triggered by a change in the surrounding scene and an action that has ripened in our hearts through careful listening to the world in which we live.
The movement from loneliness to solitude should lead to a gradual conversion from an anxious reaction to a loving response.
Don't we often look at the many events of our lives as big or small interruptions, interrupting many of our plans, projects and life schemes? And doesn't this unending row of interruptions build in our hearts feelings of anger, frustration and even revenge, so much so that at times we see the real possibility that growing old can become synonymous with growing bitter?
But what if our interruptions are in fact our opportunities, if they are challenges to an inner response by which growth takes place and through which we come to the fullness of being? What if all the unexpected interruptions are in fact the invitations to give up old-fashioned and out-moded styles of living and are opening up new unexplored areas of experience? And finally: What if our history does not prove to be a blind impersonal sequence of events over which we have no control, but rather reveals to us a guiding hand pointing to a personal encounter in which all our hopes and aspirations will reach their fulfillment?
Then our life would indeed be a different life because then fate becomes opportunity, wounds a warning and paralysis an invitation to search for deeper sources of vitality.
Then indeed we can break out of the prison of anonymous series of events and listen to the God of history who speaks to us in the center of our solitude and respond to his ever new call for conversion.
As I'm trying to figure out what it means to hold things loosely without neglect, all I know for sure is that I should cling tightly to is His Word, His truths, and His love.

Home?

I am responsible for what I know.
Hold on to all that God has given me with a loose hand.
Pray big and pray boldly.
Social justice and prayer go hand in hand - they are all about relationships.
Remember. Remember that God has brought you out of the land you once thought you knew. Remember His faithfulness. Remember what He has done.
Home doesn't feel like home, but not in a bad way.
"Change will come as sure as the seasons and twice as quickly."
Always have hope.
Love is waiting.
Submitting can be an expression of love.
Submitting will always be hard.
I am still learning what it means to submit.
Am I holding things too loosely?
What does it mean to be "home"?
Slow down.
I don't want to forget. But I forget things so easily.
I'm comfortable with silence. Are you?
I don't know how you feel. I can't read your face. You can probably read mine. But are you sure you're reading me correctly? Are you sure you know exactly what I'm thinking?
It's hard for me to say something before thinking about it. Too many times I've said things I don't really mean, or in a way I don't really mean to. Too many times I know what I'm thinking but don't know how to say it. Too many times it doesn't come out right.
It's hard keeping track of what I've told someone and what I haven't told someone.
I want to care for my friends and family better. I don't always know how to do that or do that well.
You frustrate me.
I know we can't have all the answers.
We can't always have what we want.
What we want could be good but it may not be best.
More often than not, I don't trust my emotions, but God made us to be emotional people, so I can't just dismiss all of my emotions.
I wonder what people think of me. It's different from high school. In high school I didn't let people see my weaknesses or vulnerability and I blamed it on them. In college, I'm more open to others about where I fall short. I place myself in a more dependent state among the people I serve. I know I can't do everything.
God helps me recognize areas where I am comfortable so that He can stretch me in ways I am not comfortable.
I am not who I was. I thought I knew who I am. But it seems like knowing who I am means I've "arrived." I know I'm not there yet.
It's hard to help you see that.
I am responsible for what I know.
God is crazy. He's pretty ridiculous.
I didn't know I had all of these thoughts swimming around in my head. It's interesting that it's not overwhelming me.
These are only some of the headliners. Can you imagine all the little things I'm thinking about?
I don't know why I'm writing all of this on a blog post. I just felt like I needed to.
I think this Thanksgiving break was more needed than I thought it was going to be.

They have books on the spiritual gift of hospitality!

In Chapter 9 of Bill Hybels' book, Courageous Leadership, Hybels talks about the art of self-leadership where one of the sections is titled, "Am I Developing My Gifts?"

In this section, he asks: What are your top three spiritual gifts? If you can't articulate them as quickly as you can give your name, address, and phone number, I'm tempted to say, "You need your cage rattled!"

He also says, "Leaders must know which gifts they've been given and in what order. That's why I read everything I can that pertains to these gifts and why I hang around as often as possible with people who are better than I am in these areas."

When I read this earlier in the week, I was thinking about how I've never read any books on the gift of hospitality, and wondered if there actually were any good ones on the gift of hospitality. It's not a spiritual gift I hear much about at all. But since I was in bed when I read this, I only wondered about it and didn't actively look anything up.

The next day I met up with Carrie for our weekly meeting, going over Courageous Leadership. Since we didn't have time to go through the whole chapter, we went through the sections that stood out to me. I pointed out the "Am I Developing my Gifts?" section but only said that I knew my top gift was hospitality and that I forgot the order of the other ones. Then she told me she just finished reading these really good books on hospitality and I got so excited!

I went over to her house today and she lent them to me (I actually had forgotten about them). She lent me Reaching Out: the Three Movements of the Spiritual Life by Henri Nouwen, which isn't focused only on hospitality but talks about it as a movement in a bigger picture. And the other book is called, Making Room: Recovering Hospitality as a Christian Tradition by Christine D. Pohl. Here's the back cover description:

For most of church history, hospitality was central to Christian identity. Yet our generation knows little about this rich, life-giving practice.

In Making Room, Christine Pohl revists the discipline of welcoming strangers and provides the foundation for renewed commitment to recovering hospitality as a Christian tradition.

Combining biblical and historical research with extensive interviewing of people in contemporary communities of hospitality - the Catholic Worker, L'Abri, L'Arche, Good Works, Jubilee Partners, St. John's Abbey, and others - Pohl explores anew the necessity, difficulty, and blessing of practicing hospitality today.

Carrie said it was a really good book. I'm so excited to read it!!

Also, I decided to take a spiritual gifts test again, since the last one I have saved was from 2008, and it's interesting how some gifts changed slightly and some things changed dramatically.

Excerpts from Scott Bessenecker's "How to Inherit the Earth: Submitting Ourselves to a Servant Savior"

Chapter 3: Submission in Our Leadership-Infatuated Culture

Submission is a quality humans do not readily embrace. True, some cultures value it more highly than others, but generally speaking submission is a posture of defeat, and defeat is not valued in any culture that I'm aware of.

The reason submission is avoided is because it almost always involves some kind of dying. If someone asks you to do something that you have no objection to doing, it's not really submission because it doesn't involve subjugating your will or plans to theirs; you're simply doing what's already agreeable to you.

Submission is submission when doing what is asked of me grates against my will, my plans, or my desires; it offends the almighty "I" and puts me under the rule of someone else.

The most beautiful picture of submission is submission that's offered freely, not submission that's demanded under threat.

Jesus never instructs his disciples to "become the leaders you were meant to be."

Jesus was far and away more concerned about his disciples' ability to follow well than he was about their ability to lead well.

If the kingdom to come will be inherited by the meek, then let us learn to submit...to God and to one another, even if that means sitting at the feet of the homeless and developmentally disabled instead of the welathy and the intellectual. Because until we learn to die to the definitions of success in this world, we cannot know what it really means to live successfully in the kindgom of God.

Leading is easier and more enjoyable for me than following, because following always requires me to die. Harboring a righteous indignation toward someone who has wronged me takes no special effort. But love puts to death revenge. This kind of love is not easy. It is exceedingly hard to die to a posture of judgment when you're in the right. Loving the wrongful or irritating person and submitting to those with whom we disagree is an exercise in dying.

Psalm 33

Shout for joy in the LORD, O you righteous!
Praise befits the upright
Give thanks to the LORD with the lyre;
make melody to him with the harp of ten strings!
Sing to him a new song;
Play skillfully on the strings, with loud shouts.

For the word of the LORD is upright,
and all his work is done in faithfulness.
He loves righteousness and justice;
the earth is full of the steadfast love of the LORD.

By the word of the LORD the heavens were made,
and by the breath of his mouth all their host.
He gathers the waters of hte sea as a heap;
he puts the deeps in storehouses.

Let all the earth fear the LORD;
let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of him!
For he spoke, and it came to be;
he commanded, and it stood firm.

The LORD brings the counsel of the nations to nothing;
he frustrates the plans of the people.
The counsel of the LORD stands forever,
the plans of his heart to all genereations.
Blessed is the nation whose God is the LORD,
the people whom he has chosen as his heritage!

The LORD looks down from heaven;
he sees all the children of man;
from where he sits enthroned he looks out
on all the inhabitants of the earth,
he who fashions the hearts of them all
and observes all their deeds.
The king is not saved by his great army;
a warrior is not delivered by his great strength.
The war horse is a false hope for salvation,
and by its great might it cannot rescue.

Behold, the eye of the LORD is on those who fear him,
on those who hope in his steadfast love,
that he may deliver their soul from death
and keep them alive in famine.

Our soul waits for for the LORD;
he is our help and our shield.
For our heart is glad in him,
because we trust in his holy name.
Let your steadfast love, O LORD, be upon us,
even as we hope in you.

Amen.

His supremacy changes everything.

I find it so frustrating that I care more about people than I do about my schoolwork.
I care more about people than I care about money, getting a job, buying a nice house or even driving.

But at the same time, I know that it's important to be a good steward of the schoolwork God has given me. It's for His glory and a form of worship to Him. All powers, thrones, rulers, and authorities are under His supremacy - and that includes college.

I do like learning new things. But it's so much harder to love my schoolwork when I'd rather give my love, time, and resources directly to people who need it.

Books don't need love and care as much as people do.

I like working with my hands and feet, my voice and my written words to work soil, plant seeds, nuture saplings, and watch little sprouts deepen their roots to grow tall in the One who created them.

Sigh. Fine, I'll stop procrastinating now.

From Halloween.

You know you have a great roommate when she comes home having too much to drink on Halloween and instead of vomiting on your side of the room, leaves you an encouraging post-it note on your door.


Hahaha I love Sara :]

Cautious fearlessness.

I called my parents the other day to ask them about what I was like when I was younger so I could work on my memoir for creative writing.

The first thing the both of them said was that I loved climbing things. I'd always climb to the top of the jungle gym, even when other mothers warned mine that it was dangerous for a three or four year old to go that high. I loved climbing the tree in our backyard. My dad said I was a rambunctious child that ran around a lot and climbed whatever I came across.

My dad said I was fearless.
My mom said I was cautious.

She said when I climbed the jungle gym I was very careful with how fast and how high I was willing to go and very deliberate with where I placed my hands and feet. She said I always climbed trees and chairs, but I never tried to climb tables or couches.

I asked my parents if there was anything else they could remember or think of that could help. My dad said he remembers when I was one or two I fell asleep with my face in a pile of spaghetti. My mom said I would bully my cousin Mike but I would never pick on anyone taller than me.

I told them that those things weren't really helpful and asked them if they noticed any significant changes in my personality from when I was little to the way I am now.

My dad said I was less fearless now.

In high school I'd definitely agree with him. Freshman year in college? Yeah probably. But nowadays, I just might disagree a little. Just a little :]

Prayer is exciting!

My attitude towards approaching prayer used to be very poor. I used to think it was boring, tiresome, and annoying because I wouldn't be able to focus very long. So while I was growing up it wasn't the most exciting thing to look forward to. Even when I got older and I understood it to be more and more important, I'd dread the build up to the prayer meeting until I actually got down and prayed - then I'd wonder why I was dreading it in the first place.

But like seeds that soak in water and sunlight, God has slowing been growing in me this deeper dependence on Him through prayer. He's been working that soil! I don't always look to God in prayer right away all the time, but it's a plant in progress.

Praying creatively, praying big, and praying boldly just make praying so much more exciting and fun. Praying by myself is refreshing, revitalizing, and humbling. And praying with others allows me to experience community, learn from others, and challenge and encourage each other in bowing down before our God.

Here's a video from Urbana 2009 that I pinpoint as a way that God has moved and changed my prayer life forever. It's definitely worth watching more than once.


Pray Big and Pray Bold: Sunder Krishnan from Urbana 09 on Vimeo.
I'm excited to be in the Prayer Track for Expedition - I want to learn more!

Significant Walks.

I don't really have any friends in my gym class.

I've tried to make friends - there's this one girl that's really nice that I try to talk to every time I have class, but our conversation doesn't really get that far. And there's a couple of others that I've tried to befriend day after day that don't really get anywhere. Everyone already has their own friends or doesn't want any new ones. Not even temporary ones that could make good aerobic class buddies.

Which really, I'm fine with. I want them to all know Jesus, but they don't have to be my friend.

It was particularly evident that I didn't have any friends in my aerobics class today when my awesome gym teacher took us to the Nature Preserve for a hike. While we were waiting for our teacher to arrive, I stood by and talked to the girl I always try to talk to, but when we got started she wanted to walk at her own pace which evidently not the pace I was at.

The trek up the hills wasn't too bad - it was a beautiful day out and I was going to listen to my iPod but the battery was dead. I sang Brooke Fraser's "Love is Waiting" song to myself because the autumn leaves all around me made me think of it and singing it was at the same pace that I was walking.

Anyway, I'm listening to everyone complain as we go up, just singing my song over and over again until we finally reached the top. It was hard, but when we got there I exhaled deeply and just kept saying that God is good over and over again.

When we finally started heading down, I ended up walking by myself for most of the way. I was a good distance behind the really fast group and a good distance in front of the really slow group. It was great because I was feeling introverted and very reflective today and felt like I needed to just soak up His creation. I didn't feel very good coming to class because I had to interrupt a very important conversation to rush to finish my paper and rush to find my class at the Nature Preserve entrance. And I wore jeans, stupidly thinking it might have been cold out. But the hike was refreshing. Walking by myself and just taking in His creation was refreshing. I had peace.

I thought it was a symbolic walk for some things that are going on in my life. I've recently had a couple of other walks in different environments under different circumstances that I feel (as cheesy as it may sound) were symbolic in some way. I say that because I feel like I'm reading a novel of my life, and if I was reading my life, I'd totally point to those walks and say, "That's a metaphor for this," or "That's totally symbolic of this."

Don't make fun of me. I like literature, thank you very much. Heck, it's probably because I'm reading Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.

In any case, I love that I know in my mind and feel in my heart that God is very much walking with me wherever I go.

Excerpts from my Retreat of Silence at Basileia, Sophomore Year.

God, the sovereign,
ALL KNOWING,
ALL SEEING,
ALL POWERFUL,
loving, gentle, merciful
FATHER of the heaven and earth, what will You tell me and show me during this time? Open my ears and my heart, that I may seek Your voice and Your voice alone.
I feel closest to God when I'm alone. You, God, are with me wherever I go. I forget You most when I'm with others. There is none like You. You never stop tenderly and relentlessly pursuing me.
Gracious Father, You have revealed Yourself to me in so many ways this past year.

Fall Semester '08: You've showed me the kind of impact our ordinary decisions (such as housing) can make. You began to really uproot and detangle how I relate to others in relation to You and how You love the people in my life, whether they're people I've been surrounded by my whole life, people I've just met, people I have an affinity towards, or people I have a hard time being around. One important thing I've been learning is that I cannot force others to change, but I can change my own attitude. God, only You have the power to mold people's hearts, to chip away what needs to be thrown out, and to smooth down the rough edges. I can only be the tool/instrument. And I have been learning about what kind of tool I am and what my purpose, function, and name is in Your bigger picture.

Spring '09: You've been continuing that by testing me and disciplining me in Your gifts, gifts of responsibility that You have entrusted so faithfully to me. And though I feel like I've failed You and have done a poor job and all I've been doing is complaining and whining about the gifts You've blessed me with, I know You still love me despite my weaknesses and flaws.

God, I know You chose me to be the administrator on this year's E-board. I didn't know that this was where You were leading me, but I followed and stepped out of the boat and onto the crashing waves, just like Peter did. And I stumbled out of a fear and looking and focusing on the water rather than You, just like Peter did. But God, you caught him. You saved him again because you loved him, just like You love me. And just like Moses, I often struggle with an identity crisis when it comes to my identity as Your adopted child in the family and body of Christ, as well as my place in the world You so love.

God, this summer, as I spend time "alone" with You, may my heart be open to the things you have been doing and will do to prepare me for next fall. Lead my heart and lead me, so that I may lead Your people. You know the fears I have of being the administrator, of being the praise leader, of coordinating the HTCHs, of my relationships close to me, of my relationships with those I barely know. You know my unknown fears and my known fears. I pray that through these fears and this desert this summer, You would continue to equip me and guide as You shape me to be more like You. It won't be easy. But I am perfect in Your eyes. I am valued and worthy to be called Your own. You are with me always and I desire for You to make my heart, my mind, and my life to look more like You everyday.

Please don't let these words just be words on this paper. Let them sink deep with my very soul so that Your truth would set me free from the sin that once held it captive.

Amen.

Psalm 62:5-12

For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence,
for my hope is from him.
He only is my rock and my salvation,
my fortress; I shall not be shaken.
On God rests my salvation and my glory;
my mighty rock, my refuge is God.

Trust in him at all times, O people;
pour out your heart before him;
God is a refuge for us.

Those of low estate are but a breath;
those of high estate are a delusion;
in the balances they go up;
they are together lighter than a breath.
Put no trust in extortion;
set no vain hopes on robbery;
if riches increase, set not your heart on them.

Once God has spoken;
twice have I heard this:
that power belongs to God,
and that to you, O Lord, belongs steadfast love.
For you will render to a man
according to his work.

Freedom.

My mom chuckled when I told her this past summer that I got rain boots.

I knew exactly why - when I was little I used to hate rain boots of any kind. I think I hated that they were big and clunky and usually had some kind of insert that would come out every single time I pulled my foot out. It was annoying. So I'd always wear sneakers, the same ones I wore everyday.

Which of course, led me to avoid puddles. No one wants soaking wet socks. And I hated exposing my bare feet to the rain, so I never wore flip flops, either. I like my feet dry, thank you. With non-waterproof shoes, puddles are not pleasant. And they're often hard to avoid, too. Wet socks and wet feet could ruin any day in a heartbeat.

I was thinking today about how puddles are still the same, but I don't hate them like I used to, thanks to my new rain boots. They're still unavoidable at times, but I'm not afraid of puddles like I used to be. I just walk right through them with a newfound confidence, and my feet will come out dry. Sometimes, I even look forward to making a splash.

It's amazing how a simple pair of rain boots could change your perspective on things and give you a sense of freedom you had all along.

Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Christ's physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation - if you continue in your faith, established and firm, not moved from the hope held out in the gospel.

--Colossians 1:21-23b

Oh and also, taking a long walk in the rain with God is one of the most refreshing and awesome things I've experienced in a long time.

Psalm 27

The LORD Is My Light and My Salvation
Of David.
The LORD is my light and my salvation;
whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life;
of whom shall I be afraid?
When evildoers assail me
to eat up my flesh,
my adversaries and foes,
it is they who stumble and fall.
Though an army encamp against me,
my heart shall not fear;
though war arise against me,
yet I will be confident.

One thing have I asked of the LORD,
that will I seek after:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
and to inquire in his temple.

For he will hide me in his shelter
in the day of trouble;
he will conceal me under the cover of his tent;
he will lift me high upon a rock.

And now my head shall be lifted up
above my enemies all around me,
and I will offer in his tent
sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make melody to the LORD.

Hear, O LORD, when I cry aloud;
be gracious to me and answer me!
You have said, "Seek my face."My heart says to you,
"Your face, LORD, do I seek."

Hide not your face from me.
Turn not your servant away in anger,
O you who have been my help.
Cast me not off; forsake me not,
O God of my salvation!
For my father and my mother have forsaken me,
but the LORD will take me in.

Teach me your way, O LORD,
and lead me on a level path
because of my enemies.
Give me not up to the will of my adversaries;
for false witnesses have risen against me,
and they breathe out violence.

I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living!
Wait for the LORD;
be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the LORD!

Story of my life.

Good morning Tammy!

I just got your message now that you are panicking. I'm sorry that I missed it. I was studying next door which eventually led me to fall asleep.

Whatever it is that you are panicking about, it will be OKAY.

If you are still panicking, I suggest taking a tiny break to first breathe and then to refresh your mind, either through singing a song or by reading the Bible.

Ask God to assist you right now cause I know for sure that He would love to and He does everything perfectly so His help is always good.

If you are still panicking, repeat steps and try again.

Sorry if I don't make much sense, my brain is fried right now.

I hope everything went alright.

Love,
Priscilla

Hello! My name is Not A True English Major.

I was planning for a while to make this post a rant about how I feel alone in the English Major world here, and how I can't seem to connect with English Majors on a social level that I'd like...

And then I'd be all harsh on myself about how I don't meet the "good" English Major standard, how I read so slow or don't have time to read more books, or don't have time to write stories or poems, or how I process things slow, or how I need huge blocks of time in order to really get anything done because I get nothing done when I only have 1 or 2 hour slivers of time...

But then I was going to rant about how I was having a semi-crisis of identity because I have no drive or passion to work hard and discipline myself to do all I could to strengthen my more easy-to-spot potential (writing, singing, baking, etc.)...

And then I was going to go into this whole ordeal about how I really don't want to look for jobs or consider grad school in the future because I don't think any of those things fit where I am right now and how I want to just explore life and my potential and the places where God can take me if I were to actually spend time doing the things He actually made me to enjoy doing...

Which would transform into a rant about how I hate how everyone asks me what I plan to do with my life or puts a downer on my optimistic outlook that I could find a job I actually enjoy doing, or how I know that I know I don't have to have this clear-cut straight path but it's so difficult to feel okay with that because of the pressure our society puts on us....

But now all I want to say is...best friends and cleaning/organizing things are two of the best therapeutic gifts from God.

Assuming the best of people.

One way that God's been shaping me over the past few years is how He's been helping me give people the benefit of the doubt - especially if it's my knee-jerk reaction to jump to conclusions or think the worst of someone. It's something that we do all the time but don't really acknowledge it, and it actually ends up causing a lot of problems.

This is something that really counts with the small things. I think a kind of logic that seems to be going on is that if I can practice patience for the small things, extending grace to others for bigger things will start to come more naturally. Forgiveness is one of those big ways of extending grace that isn't easy to do but God shows us and commands us to do again and again and again. So it's something I've been working on but it's also something that I've been more aware of in my surroundings. I've often prayed for more patience and grace, and since God has shown me time and time again of that patience and grace towards me, how could I not extend the same towards others?

How many times do we get annoyed at something someone did, assuming we know exactly what that person was thinking and why and under what circumstances they did what they did...without even talking to them about it?

I think when we assume the worst in someone right away, we jump on the opportunity to bring someone down and consequently lift ourselves up - and on top of that, we go to tell/complain to someone whom we expect to agree with us and affirm us in our accusation. What a prideful thing to do.

I get scared of people who often complain about others or hold such strong, negative opinions about others and their behavior because I believe that they could easily do the same thing about me. Why would I be an exception?

If you catch me on a rant of complaining about someone else, I give you full permission - in fact, I encourage you - to tell me to shut up. Firmly tell me to stop talking and either let it go or go talk directly to the person I'm whining about.

What kind of people would we look like if we all talked directly to one another instead of grumbling behind their backs?

I want to embody Christ's character...and I don't think I ever read about Him complaining to anyone else about anyone else in the Bible.

Junior High Flashbacks.

So for my Creative Non-Fiction class I have an assignment where I'm supposed to write two contrasting scenes - both showing a different identity I have when I'm with certain people or in certain situations.

The first thing I thought of was who I am when I'm around any friends from high school. You know how my facial expressions explain everything and I shake my head with disapproval? Well, it's usually ten times more frequent when I'm with anyone from high school. With a handful of exceptions, most of them are pretty shallow relationships that I always wish I could change. I want my friends to know who I really am, and who I really live for and wish that they could experience the same things. But when opportunities arise I chicken out, with the same old weakness I have of being a people-pleaser. And our conversations end up being about something very generic or gossip about the people we know - two things I don't particularly enjoy participating in.

This assignment somehow inspired me to pull out my boxes of old things I kept from my high school years all the way back to my junior high years. And lo and behold, I came across a diary/journal I had kept back in middle school.

I didn't plan to, but I read the whole thing. I didn't fill the book, which was no surprise(I never finished writing in a journal until my senior year of high school), but what I read intrigued me. There were a number of things I knew I'd find in there, but there were a good number of things I wrote that kind of surprised me - either because I didn't know I thought that way back then or because there were some things that hadn't changed about me.

One common theme I seemed to pick up on besides my boring "I did this today" spiel was that I was really imprisoned by my own fears. Fear drove me a lot more than I remember. I don't remember being so scared to do or say certain things for the sake of keeping peace and harmony amongst my relationships or for the sake of looking "less cool" than I already was. I identified myself very interestingly - I always thought I wasn't as cool as any of my friends, but I never thought of myself as a loser because I clearly knew who I was in Christ. And my identity in Christ was what kept me from trying to do certain things to "fit in" with the popular crowd. I hung out with the popular crowd, but I never felt like I was truly one of them.

I actually laughed out loud at a whole bunch of stupid things I wrote - or maybe not stupid, but at least the way I wrote it sounded really silly. For example, I wrote about the time my ridiculous 8th grade English teacher yelled at me and made me cry for something I felt I was unjustly threatened for. In my diary/journal I told the story of what happened and then ranted about how incredulous it was, and at the very end of the rant I suddenly wrote, "I'll pray to God to change his hard heart." Hahaha I was so weird.

I realized later on that I was actually procrastinating from doing my actual assignment, but it was nice to check in and say hello to my old self. Just...if God ever takes me away unexpectedly, please don't read my junior high school journals. I'd be so embarrassed - although, it might explain some things about me that you didn't know, but I don't know if the risk outweighs the cost. You can read my high school/college ones. Just not my junior high ones.

Dang. I still have to figure out what I'm going to write for my Creative Non-Fiction assignment.

Press Secretary of InterVarsity.

I was talking to someone last week about the craziness from the beginning of the semester, and they said, "Well, at least you have this week off. That'll be a nice break, right?"

I laughed. I said, "Yeah, it'll be a nice break. I'll actually get some time to sit down and actually get some work done."

And depending on your definition of work, it varies. But it's true, I did get some tedious & frustrating work done - I re-designed the entire BingIV blog, entered hundreds of emails into the Bing Listserv, searched through those hundreds of emails numerous times to correct the misspelled ones, and learned how to use MailChimp to ease my use of emailing only to find out that my free limit was 500 contacts and I had 506 and was expecting more throughout the semester.

Yup, I major in InterVarsity. But I do it because I know it's important and that makes it more fun for me to do, knowing I can contribute in a way that no one else does. I like to think of myself as the Press Secretary of InterVarsity.

Which makes me think of CJ Cregg, the White House Press Secretary in The West Wing. I identify with her - and I think even though she looks so cool and collected, she probably sometimes feels lonely, burdened with issues and roles that she both loves and worries about.

I've been listening to some of the songs I've written over the past four years. Most people feel weird participating in their own work in any kind of way - eating their own food, tasting their own baked goods, watching their own movies, reading their own writing, listening to their own music, etc. Strangely enough, I don't (at least, in private...in public I do) because a) I listen to my own recordings to hear things I could improve and b) they mean a lot to me.

And listening to them...I don't know. It makes me think about why I wrote them (if I remember) and how they strangely still apply to me even if I wrote them years ago.

I don't know how I feel about that.

Well, I also had this strange urge to listen to Mandy Moore's "It's Gotta Be Love" from the A Walk to Remember soundtrack, so maybe I'm just in a weird funk and need to pray and wait it out.

ISFJ

Yes, that is my personality type according to some people named Myers & Briggs.

These kinds of personality types in addition to Gallup's StrengthsFinders strengths tend to come up a lot in conversation. I think about it a lot because it really does explain so much of why we respond to things the way we do. The Myers-Briggs personality types came up in conversation between Michelle, Gary, and me, and so we decided to look them up to see what they said.

Now I understand that these "personality tests" aren't "100% accurate" and should definitely be taken with a grain of salt. God created us to be such unique people and I love that. And you also have to take into consideration the percentage of each trait. You may be borderline Introvert or Extrovert and 95% Judging and another person could be 80% Extrovert and 25% Judging, which also helps us recognize our uniqueness.

But Michelle and I are both ISFJs and when Gary read us the description of our personality category, we just burst out laughing after almost every sentence he read because of how ridiculously accurate it was.

Here are some snippets from different websites' descriptions of the ISFJ personality type:

Introverted Sensing Feeling Judging

"ISFJs are characterized above all by their desire to serve others, their "need to be needed." In extreme cases, this need is so strong that standard give-and-take relationships are deeply unsatisfying to them; however, most ISFJs find more than enough with which to occupy themselves within the framework of a normal life."

"ISFJs are often unappreciated, at work, home, and play. Ironically, because they prove over and over that they can be relied on for their loyalty and unstinting, high-quality work, those around them often take them for granted--even take advantage of them. Admittedly, the problem is sometimes aggravated by the ISFJs themselves; for instance, they are notoriously bad at delegating ("If you want it done right, do it yourself"). And although they're hurt by being treated like doormats, they are often unwilling to toot their own horns about their accomplishments because they feel that although they deserve more credit than they're getting, it's somehow wrong to want any sort of reward for doing work (which is supposed to be a virtue in itself). (And as low-profile Is, their actions don't call attention to themselves as with charismatic Es.) Because of all of this, ISFJs are often overworked, and as a result may suffer from psychosomatic illnesses." <--Michelle and I particularly enjoyed this last line.

"Like most Is, ISFJs have a few, close friends. They are extremely loyal to these, and are ready to provide emotional and practical support at a moment's notice."

"One ISFJ trait that is easily misunderstood by those who haven't known them long is that they are often unable to either hide or articulate any distress they may be feeling."

"Those close to ISFJs should learn to watch for the warning signs in these situations and take the initiative themselves to uncover the problem."

Others that I've read:

"ISFJs learn best by doing, rather than by reading about something in a book, or applying theory. For this reason, they are not likely to be found in fields which require a lot of conceptual analysis or theory. They value practical application. Traditional methods of higher education, which require a lot of theorizing and abstraction, are likely to be a chore for the ISFJ. The ISFJ learns a task best by being shown its practical application. Once the task is learned, and its practical importance is understood, the ISFJ will faithfully and tirelessly carry through the task to completion. The ISFJ is extremely dependable."

"The ISFJ has an extremely well-developed sense of space, function, and aesthetic appeal. For that reason, they're likely to have beautifully furnished, functional homes. They make extremely good interior decorators." <-- This might explain why people really liked our room when Michelle and I lived together.

"ISFJs need positive feedback from others. In the absence of positive feedback, or in the face of criticism, the ISFJ gets discouraged, and may even become depressed. When down on themselves or under great stress, the ISFJ begins to imagine all of the things that might go critically wrong in their life. They have strong feelings of inadequacy, and become convinced that "everything is all wrong", or "I can't do anything right"."

"We are lucky that Protectors make up as much as ten percent the population, because their primary interest is in the safety and security of those they care about - their family, their circle of friends, their students, their patients, their boss, their fellow-workers, or their employees."

I guess you're lucky to have Protectors like me and Michelle :]

Just had the worst college unpacking experience ever.

I hate you, storage. I hate you.

You damaged my string light lanterns, my tissue box, my plastic storage tub, and my cookie jar box in addition to this. But finding this - this was the worst. And of course, it was the last thing I unwrapped for the night.

This sums up my unpacking experience today, my first day as an official senior. Great, isn't it?

On top of all of that, I think a skunk just took a few laps around my dorm building. And I don't have any air freshener.

Welcome back to campus, Tammy.

Thoughts while packing...

• The same thoughts I've had in my head this entire summer: Oh my gosh, time is flying by SO fast...can we slow down please?
• I wonder what home is like when I'm at school.
• I hope my new white hoodie dries by tomorrow. I want to bring it to school and I don't want to forget it.
• I want to cut and sew more t-shirts. It's really fun.
• I'm going to miss Pam. I think Pam's going to miss me.
• Good thing I checked my schedule. Now I have to remember to drop the Journalism class.
• My new roommate seems nice. But I guess we won't really find out until the year goes on.
• Yay, rainboots! I wish I had gotten that Navy rain jacket from Annapolis...
• Yuck...leaving on Wednesday morning @ 6am? Did I really suggest that?
• I wonder what kind of car ride it'll be with my dad on Wednesday...
• It's too bad I couldn't finish reading Barack Obama's book. It was pretty good.
• The West Wing is such a good show.
• Dang, I have a lot of NYL merch.
• Mini-golf fundraiser...genius or dumb?
• I can't wait to order my TOMS shoes. The advertisements I keep seeing on all these different websites keep reminding me to do it.
• My not-so-busy last few days at home just became packed. Not cool.
• I want to watch Juno.
• There are so many things to remember before heading off to school. I hope I don't forget anything. I should probably be making a list of those things instead of making a list of my thoughts on my blog.

Writer's Throwback!

Dying to Live
Looking back on my yesterdays
As a child at heart and frame
I was sapling,
Frail and weak
Fell apart at a gentle touch of a “no”
Crumbled within when a head turned away
And every time it happened,
I died just a little
While I tucked my enervated heart a little deeper inside
To hide in shame as it recovered from its failures,
To try and fill in what was drained.

Renewing is never easy.

Pulling myself together,
Getting back up
Is always hard, especially when I’m pushed down
Over and over again.
Picking up the pieces and starting with a fresh beginning
Is always easier said than done.

But it helps.

Each time I’ve staggered and tripped
Been knocked over and collapsed to the ground
Broken by the storms of life
Abandoned by those whom I thought cared,
I died just a little
To myself,
Slowly learning again to give up a little bit more of me
To make room for something so much better for me
Someone so much greater than me
To turn the doorknobs of my heart,
Opening the doors a little wider
Allowing me to see a little more
More of the bigger picture
That I had not seen before.

Being turned down from anything
By anyone
Slaps me against the cheek
Lands me on the ground
Slams the door in my face
And opens a window not too far,
Letting in a breeze that cools my temper
And shines a new light upon me
That draws in new strength and hope
As I die to myself to live for others.

I am becoming a tree,
With my thick trunk enduring longer through every storm,
Every shower,
Every drizzle,
And rooting myself deeper
Whenever I’m turned down or away,
Into the soil of what is more important in life
As someone older at heart and frame,
Looking forward to new tomorrows.

So I came across this when I was cleaning my room a little bit. It was in one of my old notebooks that I'd carry around with me everywhere. Something that shocked me a little (which really shouldn't have) was how many poems I used to write when I was younger. Most of them, such as this one, may seem a little on the too-emo side, but at least I wrote. I liked writing. That was what surprised me, I guess. I had forgotten how much I used to just...write.

Reading some of my old poems/writings and some other small social-image-issues that have come up numerous times this summer made me realize how much I'm strangely inconsistent with how I respond to people's opinions. When it comes to how I respond to my physical image, I'm extremely resistent to ideas such as losing weight for the sake of losing weight, painting my nails, getting tanned, or plucking my eyebrows. And I don't care what people think. But when it comes to other things - like my writing - I've let my fear of what other people would think so much that I've practically stopped doing it altogether, even to a point where I don't do it for myself.

Isn't that weird? Aren't I weird?

I still get lots of ideas of random things - possible story lines, character traits, poems when I'm passionate, blog posts, or ideas for other things - but for some reason I've fallen out of the habit of picking up my pen or typing on my computer, and fallen into the habit of thinking, "Well, that's a stupid idea," or, "No one would like reading about that." It's really quite terrible for me if you think about it. A writer that doesn't passionately write anymore?

I've even told myself I would get into the habit of freewriting furiously every morning after spending some quiet time with God so that I'd at least be writing something. But I've been telling myself that for years now. I probably just need a little push in the right direction.

Thankfully, I've been working on a new song this summer. The idea came up one night when I got really frustrated about some of my relationships with people and not really knowing what to do about it, but at same time knowing exactly what to do about it. Wow, that's confusing. Maybe when I'm done I'll post it up. I'm pretty much done, I just need to let it sit for a few days to make sure there aren't any little things I don't like and may want to change. That usually happens in the chorus...not my favorite section because it's where it gets tricky with sounding cliche or like some other song that already exists. I'm a verse kind of girl.

Okay, that was a longer post than anticipated. I would've had a post about my wonderful family vacation that I just returned from a few days ago, but my computer is being difficult again and has been under construction (backing up video files onto my bigger harddrive and taking forever because it keeps shutting down and stopping the process in the middle of the night) for the past couple of weeks. Lame, I know. Believe me, my dad and I are very frustrated with it. I hope it finishes soon...I'm returning to campus soon!

UGH.

I hate that I'm busy every night for these past few weeks. There's no time to do anything I really want to do before summer ends! How frustrating.

Love is never fair.

...and never will be.

Fun crosswords cross paths with the boring life.

Sorry, I cut off the 57 across clue in the picture by accident.

The fact that I knew this answer right away could have one of two responses:

1. You might be impressed that I was able to apply my newly-founded financial knowledge to my crossword practice, combining something that is typically boring with something that is typcially fun.
2. You might be depressed from the geekiness/nerdiness from it all and disappointed in the fact that I am actually proud of this.

Whichever response you choose won't change how I can't wait until this next week and a half are over.

One of my favorite Bible verses.

He sent back this answer: "Do not think that because you are in the king's house you alone of all the Jews will escape. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and father's family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position at such a time as this?" --Esther 4:13-14

If it's in God's will, then He will provide the resources to make it happen, whether you obey or not. But what if He chose you for this very time and place to make that very thing happen? Would you let it pass you by or will you stand up and say yes in obedience to Him?

I love the book of Esther. Esther's a strong woman with a winsome personality who knew exactly who she was. But even Esther needed a good push every once in a while in the right direction.

I have a story to tell you.

Once upon a time, on a gorgeous July 31st morning, I was journaling in the kitchen while Dad was heating up a yummy Chinese-y breakfast on the stove.

"Ta-da!" Mom said, coming into the kitchen from the side door that led to the backyard. She held in her hand the longest string bean I've possibly ever seen in my life.

"What is that?" I asked, looking up from my journal.

"All her hard work," Dad said, without missing a beat. He grinned while Mom chuckled.

"What? I don't get it," I said.

"That's all it gave you?" Dad asked her, as he checked on the Chinese baos steaming in the pan.

"Yup," Mom replied. "It's from the seeds that Uncle Keon gave me."

"Wait...how long have you been growing the plant?" I asked.

"Um...well, since June I think."

"You've been growing that thing for two months and all it did was grow that one string bean??"

"It would've been nice to have a whole bunch of them," Mom said. She didn't really sound disappointed - in fact, she seemed unfazed by the whole thing, as if growing more than one bean would be the cherry on top.

"I told you, it's all her hard work," Dad said, handing me my breakfast.

I stared at the purple bao set before me. I had never eaten a purple bao before. This was quite unexpected. I was beginning to theorize that the food we ate reflected some indication of our family's weird behavior.

"So...what are you going to do with it?" I said, turning my gaze back to the elongated, home-grown vegetable.

"I'll cook it up next week," Mom said, starting to walk away.

"Dad, my bao is purple," I said. Dad shrugged.

I put the purple bao in my mouth, imagining what it would be like if I turned purple tomorrow, just like the girl in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

And we all lived happily eating taro baos ever after.

THE END

Alternate Ending: And then I found $5 on the floor.

If I had a Twitter, my status would say...

Disappointed again by the deficiency of God-fearing, Christ-driven, servant-leading men of my generation in my life.

I want a beautiful mind...and some beautiful cupcakes.

I find that it's a really beautiful thing to strive for the kind of mind that God had intended us to have.

When I'm constantly surrounded by movie trailers, magazines on racks, newspaper articles, tv commercials, strangers, co-workers, friends, family and more that try to influence me (intentionally or not) to look a certain way or act a certain way, there's a moment when the Holy Spirit whispers in the stillness that "It's okay not to be like that." I find that beautiful.

Lately instead of reading or listening to music I'll sit on the bus or train and just think. I've been feeling a strange kind of emptiness, and it feels wrong to fill it other kinds of words. So I'm trying to sit and listen, which is a pretty difficult thing to do in NYC. And then since I haven't been getting much sleep lately, I end up dozing off for a number of minutes without even realizing it. I hate that.

But it's interesting because every time I've always ended up being filled with such life in me by the time I get home, completely forgetting those moments of emptiness. Most of those times have been because I see Pam. I get so happy (giddy, even) just seeing her when she comes home or when we go home together or when we happen to be on the same bus (yeah, it's happened - so cool!). All the ways throughout my life that God has worked through her to give me life seems to resonate through her, whether she's in a good mood or not (most of the time she's real tired and doesn't want to talk). And I'm reminded of my fullness in Christ.

On a less serious but equally happy-intensifying note, I have a co-worker who bakes really yummy cupcakes from scratch. She sometimes brings some to work to share! They remind me of my dear old high school friend Andrea Kam. AKam, if you're reading this (although unlikely), I've been thinking about you!

Here's a half-eaten S'mores cupcake. I only realized/decided to take a picture to share with all of you halfway through, but this way you're also able to see the beautiful toasty graham cracker crust. And yes, that is a marshmallow-y yummy frosting.

And here's a pistachio cupcake. And I thought things couldn't get any better than a pistachio muffin. I was quite wrong. By the way, that frosting isn't whipped cream. I thought it was, but it's like a vanilla buttercream something frosting. SO GOOD.

My co-worker has also made a coconut banana chocolate cupcakes and oreo cupcakes, the oreo one being my very first of her cupcakes. Unfortunately I was engrossed in the actual consumption that subconciously I didn't want to share the beauty of the cupcakes with you until it rose to my conscious by the third cupcake. She put actual cookies in the oreo cupcake AND the crust, I might add. And the coconut banana one tastes a LOT better than it sounds. It was awesome.

Just so you know, she didn't make these every day in a week. This was over the course of June/July, so hopefully I've worked off all the cupcake-aftermath by now.

...probably not, though. So sad. But soooo goooood!

Finally.

After college in Binghamton for 3 years, I finally own a pair of rainboots for my senior year:

News-reading frenzy

Newspapers were never my friends.
Journalism was like a disease to me.

When I was in the first grade, we had to write a Current Events report due every Friday. It was a simple assignment: look through a newspaper or news magazine to find a story that interests you and summarize the five W's - who, what, where, when, why - in one or two paragraphs. Then hand it in. That's it. Simple, right?

I hated that assignment. I can't remember if I had a hard time figuring out the five W's or if it was boring to me, but I just know I struggled through those assignments. I actually remember getting into a lot of fits with my mom over them. She'd be cooking in the kitchen, and I'd be sitting at the table, flipping through the newspaper, cutting one out and then sprawling all over the chair, whining and complaining about how much I didn't like the news. Or, I'd write one word answers for the five W's like the info on a party invitation and then not show my mom, but then she'd ask to see it and tell me to do it over because Miss Puder wasn't going to accept it unless it was in paragraph form. Either way, I'd probably say 2/3 of the time in the midst of working on the assignment my mom would raise her voice at me and I'd get mad at her, burst out crying, and run downstairs to my dad to comfort me - which he did, every time. And then he'd patiently help me write a check-plus-worthy Current Events report.

Now that I think about it, whatever it was that turned me off from the news probably affected how I've viewed journalism up until recently. I never had any desire to read the newspaper, wasn't one to enjoy reporting facts, hated meeting hard deadlines and had no sense of adventure in trying to "find a story" when I could make up my own rules, write a story you couldn't find anywhere else except in my imagination, and could do it all in my own time on my own terms. That's probably the gist of what I thought of journalism.

But I've seen a slow but big change in my attitude towards journalism over these last few years: I've habitually watched the news with my parents whenever I'm home during a school break, I joined Binghamton's school newspaper, the Pipe Dream (and actually take the time to read it now), and I've made CNN and The New York Times as my internet homepages. But I think those seeds of change have catalyzed their expression particularly within the last few weeks because of my internship.

I thought commuting an hour and half to work and back home would drive me crazy this summer. But as I've discovered, it's a great opportunity to have 20-30 minute chunks of reading time. Sometimes I'll read my current book (which happens to be Get a Financial Life: Personal Financing in your Twenties and Thirties) or usually in the morning I'll read USA Today. Now granted, I wish I could read the whole paper, but a) I don't have enough time on the train/bus to read the whole thing, and b) Pam and I split the paper, so I only take the section that has the crossword puzzle in it :P Usually the crossword puzzle is in the Life Section, but often times (probably strategically done) the crossword puzzle can be found in the Money Section. So if USA Today was trying to get those crossword puzzlers to start reading the Money Section more, they've certainly succeeded with me.

At first I thought it would be a hard read - and yeah, sometimes I don't understand some of the numbers involved in things - but between reading a finance book, picking up on the politics of financial issues from The West Wing, and interning for a life insurance company, I've exponentially picked up on a lot of concepts and terms during this summer so far than I ever could have imagined. And the articles can be really interesting!

Anyway, it's a cool change to see in myself. I used to always be anti-math/finance or anything to do with numbers, but it's cool to see how God is stretching my mind and teaching me tons of things any normal person should be learning in a classroom - but instead I'm learning through the read-and-ask-people-questions method.

And on top of all of this, I'm improving my crossword-solving skills :]

Through Painted Deserts

Remember how in one of my previous blog posts I talked about how I was reading Donald Miller's Through Painted Deserts and wasn't really feeling it? And I was already halfway through the book and kind of wanted to stop reading but at the same time still wanted to finish the book just to finish it?

So, I just finished Through Painted Deserts and I actually ended up liking it. Donald Miller wasn't as scatterbrained as I thought he was. I just skimmed through the more long-winded descriptions of things, but stopped to absorb more of the little nuggets of good reminders and insights that Pam had already underlined (haha, thanks Pam!).

What's interesting is that I chuckled a lot while reading the book. You know those moments when you're reading something or someone else is reading something and then whatever you read just made you literally laugh out loud? I had a bunch of those moments from this book. Donald Miller's dialogue is just so witty and the things they say were pretty funny. I truly believe it was the dialogue that was pulling through the rest of the book.

So in contrast to that, while I was reading Through Painted Deserts I was simultaneously reading Gary Chapman's The Five Love Languages: For Singles as I believe I might have also mentioned in a previous blog. Now, by "reading simultaneously" I mean on a different occasion I'm reading a different book. On my commutes to and/or from (sometimes if I'm too sleepy I'll sleep, but only if I really can't keep my eyes open to read) my internship I'll carry one book with me, and then at home when I read right before I sleep (which I have to do almost every night), I'll read a different book.

Anyway, so I'm reading that book now, and I'm sorely disappointed. Maybe it's not meant to, but it doesn't have any deep insight or, "Ohhhhh, that's a good way of putting that" kind of moments. And besides that, I feel as though if I wasn't sure about rooting my relationships in God's truths first, this book would be feeding more off of my emotional needs rather than the security in my relationship with God first....do you know what I mean? The book is good, but I have a bunch of criticisms about it, and maybe it's just his writing style.

I know he tries to make a point that he's talking about how we express and receive love on an emotional level, but the true life story examples he uses and the way he explains how you find out what your or someone else's primary love language just makes it seem way too simple or black and white, and I really believe it's a little more complex than that. I did pull out some major ideas/concepts that are helpful to figure out my own primary love language, which was really hard to do. I'll tell you about how I figured that out in my next post :P

By the way, my reading goal for this summer was to read 6 books: 3 more "fun" books, and 3 spiritual formation/Christian kind of books. After Through Painted Deserts, I just need to finish one more book to reach my goal. And I'm halfway through reading the Love Languages book and simultaneously a book about learning how to have a plan your personal finances (yeah, that's right, I'm learning on my own how to plan financially), so I'm going to reach my goal! I've been making a summer reading goal for myself every year since I was...maybe in the 6th grade (some time in middle school)? But I've actually been falling way under my goal since...I think the 9th or 10th grade in high school. So this is exciting!

Okay, so all you people who don't like to read and think making summer reading goals is nerdy may not find it all that exciting. But I do, and that's all that matters :]

Vegetables, pictures, and lack of funny people.

I need more vegetables in my life.
That's all I really wanted to say about that.

I've also decided I should keep my camera on-hand a little more so that I could include pictures in my blog posts. Hopefully something interesting will come up.

Maybe I'll take some pictures during practice for the Joint-Church Praise & Prayer praise team practice (man, we gotta come up with a band name or something) tomorrow. I have to be admit that it was nice to sing with a band again. And apparently, Josh says the four of us vocalists (Joyce Cara Wong, Ben Ng, Boaz, and me) blend well together. I wouldn't know because we're so loud that I couldn't really hear us. But tomorrow we should be plugging in our headsets so hopefully that'll help. After practicing yesterday, I'm a lot more excited for the night :] Come out if you can! It's on Friday, July 9th, @ 6:30 pm. Invite people from your church. I'm excited to see God move through prayer and praise.

The other thing I've been thinking about this week is just how I really want to keep updating my Note the Quote blog, but since I sit around in a cubicle practically all day, I'm not surrounded by too many quoteable people. I miss updating the blog.

Here's an elementary school tidbit: I think I can name most, but maybe all the full names of my kindergarten classmates off the top of my head, without looking at a picture.
I think that's pretty cool.