Heart of Hospitality.

I was in the middle of writing a different blog post for a few days now, but I came back to NYC and have been doing work in the room I share with my sister.  I saw the copy of Henri J. M. Nouwen's Reaching Out:  The Three Movements of Spiritual Life that I lent to her and when I cracked it open I was convicted again by the heart of what it means to practice hospitality.  I had to share it here with all of you, my random readers:

"When we have seen and acknowledged our own hostilities and fears without hesitation, it is more likely that we also will be able to sense from within the other pole toward which we want to lead not only ourselves but our neighbors as well.

...When we have become sensitive to the painful contours of our hostility we can start identifying the lines of its opposite toward which we are called to move:  hospitality.

...Hospitality, therefore, means primarily the creation of a free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy. Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place.  It is not to bring men and women over to our side, but to offer freedom not disturbed by dividing lines.  It is not to lead our neighbor into a corner where there are no alternatives left, but to open a wide spectrum of options for choice and commitment.  It is not an educated intimidation with good books, good stories and good works, but the liberation of fearful hearts so that words can find roots and bear ample fruit.  It is not a method of making our God and our way into the criteria of happiness, but the opening of an opportunity to others to find their God and their way.  The paradox of hospitality is that it wants to create emptiness, not a fearful emptiness, but a friendly emptiness where strangers can enter and discover themselves as created free; free to sing their own songs, speak their own languages, dance their own dances; free also to leave and follow their own vocations.  Hospitality is not a subtle invitation to adopt the life style of the host, but the gift of a chance for the guest to find his own."

BAM.  Hospitality in a nutshell.  And that's only the beginning.

So take note - especially those of you who serve as members of InterVarsity's Hospitality team under Sarah Min's leadership who stalk my blog (yes, I know you read this) - hospitality is so much more than serving food, throwing dinner parties, and organizing events.  It's a "fundamental attitude toward our fellow human being" (Nouwen 67).

Ceiling musings.

This past Sunday was a lovely morning - I appreciated and enjoyed the perspective Pastor Kyle took on Joseph's story in his sermon, and over lunch had the privilege of hearing the story of what God has been doing in Mun Joo's life.  She was someone new Sarah Min had met on the church bus that morning, and it was really nice talking with her.

I decided to have a very restful afternoon when I got home to our apartment.  It was quiet after Katy came back from church and went to sleep.  For the past week I was playing Christmas music almost nonstop, but for that afternoon I thought it would be nice to do some low-key things I really enjoy doing, such as reading or playing guitar.

I pulled out the fair-trade quilt I had asked my aunt for last Christmas and brought my laptop with my current reading, Banker to the Poor:  Micro-lending and the battle against world poverty by Muhammad Yunus, to our really comfortable sofa in the living room.

After feeling very productive and relaxed for reading a few chapters, I got very sleepy and did something I haven't done in a long time:  I decided to take a short nap.

Soon after I set my alarm and had fallen asleep on the couch, I woke up to some kind of scratching noise.  I opened my eyes and started sitting up to figure out where the noise was coming from because it sounded so close by.  I looked straight across the room at the front door because it sounded like someone was just outside the door, taping or posting some kind of paper on it.

I was curious as to who it was or what they were doing to our door, but the longer I listened, the less convinced I was that someone was there.  At that moment, I looked up and noticed that a huge chunk of the ceiling paint had started hanging down, with a rip that was slowly moving across the width of the ceiling.

I'm not sure if it was because I had just woken up from a nap or not, but I just stared at the rip, somehow trying to reassure my brain that that's exactly what was happening.  I think I was a little caught off guard but also didn't really know what to do.

It felt like I must've been in some kind of tv show or movie where the viewers are watching, yelling at the screen, "Why are you just sitting there?!  Get out of the way!  Do something!"  But I wasn't listening because I was in some kind of daze, somewhere in between the fact that I knew what was happening but couldn't really do anything to stop it so all I could do was watch.

Suddenly the rip finished tearing across the ceiling and a good chunk of the paint crumbled to the ground below, taking down a couple of plants with it and leaving a mess behind.

It was weird.  Here I was, staring at the ceiling for what felt like forever, fully aware that the paint was ripping and yet I was still shocked when it all came down.  You could hear my shock amidst the silence.  What a weird response.

It was a loud crash.  I half expected Katy to pop open her door and come see what all the commotion was about, but she didn't.  I sat there for a good few minutes, thinking about what I should do before I got up, examined the mess, and then went to wake Katy up to tell her what happened.

After Katy gave me our landlord's number and I left a message for our landlord, I carefully cleaned up the mess.

Later on that night after Sarah came home she opted not to watch a movie in the living room because there was still more that looked like it was ready to come down, and last night when Lauren Kirst and I decided to watch a movie there, Sarah suggested we open a couple of umbrellas and hold them over our heads while we watched, just in case something else fell down.  Her suggestion reminded me of a scene from Gilmore Girls and made me smile :]

Tonight is another tranquil evening.  I ventured back into the living room with my fair-trade quilt, Muhammad Yunus, and a hot cup of creamy, cinnamon and peppermint hot chocolate.  I lit some candles but opted to leave the Christmas music off - to fight the common fear of silence, conquer the fragility of stillness, and bask in the joy of God's presence and the soothing process of unpacking some of my thoughts.  I'm sitting in the same corner of the couch I sat in just a day ago, staring instead at a partial ceiling exposed to its bare plaster-y flesh in this cold, cold apartment.

The more I stare at the ceiling in this silence, the more it looks like a metaphor of life.

So far, there is one thought and feeling I've accumulated from this gentle evening: realizing how much you miss someone is common but recognizing that it stems from a desire to enjoy their company with you and not from a desire to avoid being lonely - well, it just warms my heart.

Unless that's just the hot chocolate speaking.

Latest food stories.

I posted a picture of these pumpkin scones on Facebook the day I first made them.  I wanted something different for breakfast and decided to make these scones.  I also made another batch for the E-board Nomination Committee as a "dessert" for our brunch.  They tasted delicious with the locally made strawberry cranberry preserves I got from Apple Hills Farm.  My mouth's watering just thinking about these beauties.  

Pumpkin scones

There wasn't a really exciting story to go with this curry.  I just had a craving for curry when I decided to make this chicken curry for me and Sarah for dinner.  It was my first time making it and I kind of cooked off-the-cuff from the recipe I looked up, so all the vegetables weren't as soft as how my mom makes it.  Ah, I miss my mom's curry...

Chicken curry

When it comes to pancakes in the McNamara house, I don't really make plain pancakes.  I'll try to find whatever's in the kitchen to make them.  With these pancakes, it was an occasion where Sarah had been working hard through the night to finish writing a paper - she was awake when I went to sleep and still awake when I woke up - so that morning I wanted to make her breakfast so she wouldn't have to worry about being hungry.  And I just wanted pancakes.

These weren't from scratch (sorry, Nathan), but I had to improvise a little because after I pulled out the Bisquick and found some coconut and chocolate chips, I discovered that we ran out of eggs.  Wa wa.  Thankfully, Google came to the rescue and I was able to put together an egg substitute out of water, baking powder and oil.  I'd make them again!

Coconut chocolate chip pancakes

This tuna casserole recipe is one my mom really likes to whip up on days where she doesn't feel like doing any intense cooking and wants to just make something easy but not Chinese-y.  The recipe calls for frozen peas, but a) I'm not a big fan of peas, let alone frozen peas, and b) I didn't have any.  So I chopped up some broccoli and zucchini and threw those in instead.  Best substitute for frozen peas, hands down.

Tuna casserole

I actually made this whole casserole for myself.  People have told me that they often don't like to cook when they're just by themselves or when it's just them and one other person because it's just sad/pathetic or too much food, but I love it.  I love leftovers.  Sorry, for those of you who aren't fans of leftovers.  I think they're great for lunch or dinner because then you don't have to cook again.

I had turned off most of the lamps and lit our indoor Christmas lights and some candles when Sarah came home and asked if she could have some of the food I just made.

"What's in it?" she asked after she started eating it.
"It's super easy to make!  You just need a can of cream of mushroom soup...and I put broccoli and zucchini instead of the frozen peas it called for.  And I used whole wheat egg noodles..."
"What?" she said, her eyes widening at the food she had been putting in her mouth.  "I didn't even notice a difference!"
I laughed.  "You like it now, don't you?  I told you whole wheat pasta could be yummy!"

Another cool part about this dish is that it tastes delicious cold.

It's back.

Have you seen those commercials or movies that show time freezing except for the main characters?  You know, the whole people-stop-moving, wave-your-hand-in-front-of-someone's-eyes-to-see-if-they-blink thing?  I wish that could happen to me.  I'm pretty much selfishly asking the world to stop for me.  But it's not so I could pull funny pranks or prevent bad things from happening, or even to change things to tip the scale in my favor.  I just wish the world would slow down so I can have more time to think and process.

Speaking of such, let's give a warm welcome to my introverted personality, which has come back in full force.  Not that I suddenly stopped being introverted, but there's definitely been a good chunk of time where my extroverted side was dominating so much that it felt like my introverted tendencies had taken a vacation.

Not only has my introverted personality returned, but it brought home the unwanted baggage of hyper-sensitivity and sluggish functionality.  Over the past several weeks, thinking and mulling over things has made me want to cry, and sharing things with others didn't really make a difference.  It feels like a lose-lose.  And then I get frustrated at myself and feel like such a stereotypical girl for crying so much.  I appreciate having one good big cry to let everything out - it's a freeing sensation and emptying in such a way that I feel like the space has been cleared to be filled again.  But crying really hard more than once within a short period of time?  That's just annoying.

I think the last time I cried so often and was on the verge of tears so frequently in such condensed spurts of time was probably my senior year of high school.  It's funny because a major difference between how I responded in high school and how I'm responding now is very different.  Back then I kept asking myself and asking God the question of 'why' - why this road, why me, why now.  But at this point in my life things haven't been a matter of knowing the reasons behind circumstances or the purpose of putting me through such grey areas.  I know and trust that God would be glorified, that He keeps His promises and that good will result in some shape or form that I may not ever recognize or understand.  I'm okay with that.

Instead I find that I keep asking myself and asking God the question, "Am I doing the right thing?" or, "Is this what I'm supposed to be doing?" and every time I ask it in my head, I immediately know I'm asking the wrong question.  It leaves the bitter taste of wanting answers with questions I know I can't ask lingering in my mouth.

Ugh.  There's just been so much going on in my head.  And it's frustrating because it makes it that much harder for me to stay present and work hard to be productive for things that have to get done right now.  It holds me back from moving forward.

If there's anything I've figured out so far, it's that this whole ordeal continues to fuel more of this hunger and thirst to know God and follow Him with my life.  And I know it'll be worth it all.