The Ocean.

Sometimes when it is raining and everything is gray, the ocean looks like it is being tickled. Each wave laughs in little chuckles. Other times, like today, the ocean just seems morose. Every wave is a sigh and each raindrop adds onto its burden. Maybe it just depends on the eye of the beholder.

And though the pain is an ocean
Tossing us around, around, around
You have calmed greater waters
Higher mountains have come down

Meaningful Pain.

From a friend:

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed but not in despair, persecuted, but not abandoned, struck down but not destroyed…. we do not lose heart. Though we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. for our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So, we fix our eyes not on what is seen but what is unseen. for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

2 cor. 4:8-9, 16-18

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up; She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, ‘ Tell me what you see.’

‘Carrots, eggs, and coffee,’ she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots.. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.

Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter t hen asked, ‘What does it mean, mother?’

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

‘Which are you?’ she asked her daughter. ‘When adversity knocks on your door,how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst,you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity?

Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

---

We are often afraid of adversity and trials, but one thing I am learning is that pain can be meaningful. It is easy to become guarded or hardened to the situation. How much harder, but better, would it be to accept it, embrace it and then learn from it?

Catching Kisses.

Weakness: Little, Latino boys
They are absolutely open with their affections.

So I've worked at the preschool for over a year now. In this time span, I have seen one of my favorites, Santi, advance from my 2-year old class to the 3-year old class. He's in the big yard now, which is separated from our toddler yard by a wooden barrier disguised with bushes and flowers on top. [This fools no one!]

I hadn't seen Santi in a couple months, but his class came into the adjacent yard to play today!

"Miss Stephanie!" He called. He can't pronounce my name, but that's ok because I love him.

"Hi Santi!" We meet at the barrier, him on his side and me on mine. "I'm going to give you a kiss, ok?" It's true, I kiss children on the cheeks because I cannot help it when my heart overflows. The barrier keeps us apart so I just kiss my hand and give him an invisible high five.

"I'm going to catch it!" He makes a swatting gesture and hits himself in the forehead. He then kisses his hand and blows a kiss to me. Wow. It had never crossed my mind that kisses can be blown and this gesture melts my heart. This is too cute and I'm way too easy.

As the scene dissipates and as I sit here now, what I am most touched by is that love has no bounds. Physical barriers cannot stop the expression of love. Time, too, as he hadn't seen me in a couple months and 3 year olds have short memories. But doesn't this speak so much more of our God whose love has no bounds and whose memory never fades? And who loves us in spite of our ugliest, most hateful parts? So today, I am thankful for little latino boys who remind me of God's love.

Also, a little girl picked a flower for me (even though she's not allowed to). Melt my heart! It's really the simple gestures that make a big difference.

Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they shall see God.
Matthew 5:8

With Ink the Ocean Fill.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
and were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
and every man a scribe by trade;
To write of the love of God above
would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could a scroll contain the whole,
tho' stretched from sky to sky.

-Frederick Lehman

Welcome, October!
A season of contemplation.

The Present.

We are walking down the street, holding hands. There's a playground at the end of the block and I run to the swings and climb on, and Henry takes the one next to me, facing the opposite direction, and we swing higher and higher, passing each other, sometimes in sync and sometimes streaming past each other so fast it seems like we're going to collide, and we laugh, and laugh, and nothing can ever be sad, no one can be lost, or dead, or far away: right now we are here, and nothing can mar our perfection, or steal the joy of this perfect moment.
-- The Time Traveler's Wife, p.240

I like this sentence. I like how it captures the essence of a perfect moment and what the present is. No thought of the past, no thought of the future. Just now.

Isn't it funny how two people can cross paths constantly in life, but the timing may never be right? It's almost like there is a constant molding of the two people until they fit each other. Even then, when they are together, they will always be changing and affected by one another. Except now, they are doing it together. Makes me wonder-- when? who? why? For their upmost good.

[I also noted how long the sentence is. All commas. And now, there is a sense of freedom in breaking all the grammar rules we learned in grade school. Incomplete sentences, too many commas, repetitive beginnings. Despite all that, the thing that binds the whole thing together is the idea. It's the idea of what a perfect moment is like.]

I read this over the kitchen sink as I ate a piece of toast. Peanut butter drizzled with honey, to be exact. Why over the kitchen sink? Because I simply could not put the book down. Flashback! This is exactly what I did in elementary and middle school because I could not bear to put the book down. I am altogether glad that I can still enjoy the things I enjoyed in the past. Reminds me that inside, there's still something that's the same. Or that I take reading to the extreme.

To the here and now.
Cheerio.

Favorites.

Sweet, white peaches.
Ice, cold watermelon.
Laying under a tree
and falling asleep to the gentle breeze.
(After reading a book and laying it across my tummy.)

These are a few of my favorite things.

They're simple things. I've always wanted to live life simply, but is it ever bad for everything to be too simple? I've always thought it was a good thing, but what if there is a myth to simplicity?

Eyes.

This week, I am being humbled from realizing my self-centeredness. It's ugly. And being proactive with killing my sins has surprisingly altered my vision. I guess I shouldn't be surprised because Paul speaks of it in Romans 5 and 12, but that speaks all the more of how blinded I can be by immediate rewards. No more. No more ugliness. I want to love, to see the needs of those beyond me, to act and do something about it.

What am I missing? Love for humanity. Caring for the broken-hearted. Heart for the forgotten. I need God's eyes.

Faith my sight.
Grace my feet.

Not me. You.

“So he said to me, "This is the word of the LORD to Zerubbabel: 'Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,' says the LORD Almighty.” Zechariah 4:6

You increase.
I decrease.

Nerd Buddies.

I'm at the library right now. 2 hours before my exam. My laptop is angled towards me at approximately 130 degrees. Meanwhile, my textbook is propped up on my newly acquired book-holder (so exciting!) at a 45 degree angle. And in front, I've properly laid out my lecture notes and scratch paper. After years of schooling, I've embraced my inner nerdness. What could make this even better?

A bigger nerd!

Enter an Indian guy. He observes the table next to me, takes out a cloth, and wipes the table down before propping down all his materials! I don't wipe the library tables down (yet). WIN!

Two is better than one.

*EDIT: He drums his fingers! There are people trying to concentrate here! This is what libraries are for! Nerd buddies no mo'!

Bruises.

Fact: I bruise easily.

I find mysterious bruises on me all the time. Tonight, though, I knew where this one came from: I ran into the dishwashing machine. As I rubbed my sore leg, a memory of my father tiptoed into my thoughts.

My dad worked two jobs when I was growing up. He would leave the house at 6:30am and often wouldn't come home until 10 or 11pm. I always thought that was normal. Now that I'm older, I realize how tiring that must've been and what a sacrifice that was for him. He always regretted not being around more as we were growing up.

No matter how late, I would run to the door to greet him as soon as I heard the garage grumbling. Often a father's favorite part of returning home, right? When I had bruises, I would get the Chinese red box from the medicine cabinet. With my mom working at her computer, channel 2 FOX news blaring in the background, and a number of siblings in line after me, my dad would rub the medicine into our bruises. I can't even remember what the Chinese name for it is, but to this day, it's in our medicine cabinet. I had lots of bruises, but they weren't even a concern because I knew my daddy would be there. Fathers are so important.

So I cry now for the fathers who love as much as they can. And I kind of wish I had the Chinese medicine, too.

Still.

I stood there.

Soft moonbeams intertwining with the glow of the street lights to caress my ivory ball gown. I stood there, under the dim twinkle of the stars and breathed in the cool night air. I stood there with the wind whispering through my curls. I'd always promised the Wind curly hair if it came out to play.

It's not everyday you get to wear a gown, be a princess and stop time for a minute. So I breathed in, breathed out, and stood there.

Goodbye, May.
Hello, June.

Freefall.

Free fallin'
gonna leave this world for a while.

If.

If I had a daughter born in June,

I'd call her my little June-bug.

If she was born in May,

she'd be my May-flower.

If I could choose my own birthday, it'd be in May. No offense to November, of course. I love May because it makes me think of sunshine and flowers and hope.

And April?
Well, I don't know if I'd call her April showers.

Here's to hopes, desires
and daydreamers.

Restless.

we are all here to find
the place where our
restless souls will be free
we were all made to see
our hearts could not rest
until found in Thee

Airplanes and Leprachauns.

At the preschool, we take the kids out to play outside for 1.5 hours in the morning. Recess is joy. Children are so funny. They never get tired of hearing the planes soar over our playground and searching for them in the skies. Never. I was thinking about it and realized-- it's such a strange them from a child's perspective. Birds fly. Bees fly. But not huge, astronomical machines. When I thought about it that way, I was pretty amazed at how far man has come. Creating planes and rockets and all sorts of things that do the impossible.

But then I thought, how funny that children are amazed at planes but don't even batter an eyelid at the impossibility of rainbows kissing rivers where leprechauns hide their pot o' gold. As for me, I'd much prefer daydreaming about the second. Anything is possible.

Today's joys:

• children tickled pink when they tickled my bare feet.
• Lucas on my lap because he wanted to slide down together
• that I still fit on slides and have fun on them, too!
• today's clouds being a blanket of smooth, pure snow reminded me that God's got it all covered and I've got nothing to worry about.
  

Life is...

Life is an opportunity, benefit from it.
Life is beauty, admire it.
Life is a dream, realize it.

Life is a challenge, meet it.
Life is duty, complete it.
Life is a game, play it.

Life is a promise, fulfill it.
Life is sorrow, overcome it.
Life is a song, sing it.

Life is a struggle, accept it.
Life is a tragedy, confront it.
Life is an adventure, dare it.

Life is luck, make it.
Life is too precious, do not destroy it.
Life is life, fight for it.

Mother Theresa

The Voice Behind the Mask.

I never liked singing in front of people. When I sing, it's in the car, in the shower, or in the crowd. Essentially when I'm alone or anonymous. I don't think I have a bad voice nor do I have the best voice, but I've always been marred by my brother's comments. Blood -- they're brutally honest, and oh how we carry things from the childhood. No, I don't like singing in front of people but if I have, it's for something else bigger than me.

Anyway, I sang once for a friend in Italy. We were in the elevator and it was simple, just two lines. A praise song. And it was so interesting because he said that my singing voice didn't match my speaking voice. The boldness and strength surprised him because, you see, my speaking voice is childish and "cute" (and oh, how I hate that).

I've often felt that when I sang with my true voice (no falsettos), it was just me. No masks. The real Tiffany when she runs or sits before the ocean or has a child on her lap. It makes me wonder, if we were blind and only heard people's singing voice, what would we characterize them as? People are much stronger than we know. We just put on costumes when we get dressed for the daily grind.

Today.

"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old-nonsense."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Just a Lazy Day.

It's one of those days.
It's a lazy day.

The gray clouds and glorious rain fits like a glove.
JJ Heller singing in the background.
Now Beach Boys and Kokomo.
Cranial nerves and laundry.
Lemon with hot water.

Isn't it weird how seeing a name
can instantaneously raise stress levels?

Pitter-patter. I love
the sound of raindrops.
Everything is gray,
but my umbrella is a brilliant azure blue.

Rubber, yellow boots
are for splashing in puddles.
Come play, come play!
Dance in the rain with me!

Bermuda, Jamaica
c'mon pretty mama.
Fly.

6:03 already?

Hike of Death.

When I was in the Caribbeans, I went on a lot of tours. Unsuspecting me, I decided to go on a tour to the waterfalls, crater lake, and national forest. For most of the tours, they would drive us to the spot, we'd walk 5 steps and proceed to take pictures. The waterfalls were ok. The crater lake was disappointing.

[Sidenote: Here's a picture of me and monkey at the waterfalls. For some reason, I want to name him Maurice.]

"Let's take a walk through the national forest," the guide says.

Heavy purse in hand, I follow the crowd. Keep in mind, it had poured rain an hour before so the trail was pretty muddy. The walk soon turned into a hike, mostly because we kept going.

Because it had rained, I found myself sliding backwards with each step that I took. As my feet sunk into the mud, I soon found that the mud had made its way into my shoes and between my toes. Additionally, as we tried to push uphill, there was nothing to grab onto. I found myself grasping at mysterious vegetation. To my joy, the blades of grass I grabbed onto turned out to be blades of spikes. (I counted over 17 cuts in my arms and legs afterward.) When I think back now, I laugh that I asked people to hold my purse while I climbed over tree logs.

I was lucky because the guy in front of me took it on himself to watch over me. This stranger seriously did everything. He would pull me over things, push me when I needed momentum, catch me when I slipped countless times. Not to mention, I called him the wrong name for half the hike. Oops.

We reached a point when half the group turned back because they had worn flip-flops. (We weren't told it was a hike, remember?) I contemplated turning around, but the hard-core hikers ahead of us pushed on. Sadly, we pushed on for no reason because after an hour of slipping uphill, we were told to turn around.

Going down a slippery slope (teehee) was even worse than going uphill. Everything that went wrong could have. The girl in front of me almost plummets off the cliff. Stranger caught her and she ended up with a twisted ankle. Then night begins to fall. As we traverse in the growing darkness, a torrent of rain starts to shower upon us. Dirty, wet, hungry and blind, what could possible happen next?

Our guide turns around and yells, "We are lost, mon!" Turns out, we went on a wrong path and ended up on the other side of the crater. We wonder around some more and by the time we finally reach the buses, they're out of sight! The first group that had turned around had waited for an hour for us and decided to leave. And it's still raining.

By now, you can either be miserable or make the most of the situation. So we started cleaning the mud off ourselves in the rain. To your right is a picture of my shoes after the rain cleaned it. I ended up throwing them away.

I don't normally like hikes because I end up looking down more than I do around. BUT, I think everyone should go on a dangerous hike if they want to bond, because there's nothing like keeping each other alive to force immediate intimacy. And everyone should get down and dirty some time. In any case, we finally made it back "home".

Would I do it again if I had the choice? You bet my sore butt I would.

Hold my hand.

I love...

that children always take my hand when I hold it out to them.

Because they don't have to,
but they do.

Naked.

The funny things children say.

One of my preschoolers, Santi, has a new vocabulary word. Naked. And he uses it all the time. You can tell he's testing me. "I'm naked. When I take a bath, I'm naked. Me and Matteo are naked." Sometimes, he just says the word for his own pleasure. Oh boy. Inside I am laughing, and I'm probably smiling on the outside since I don't hide it well. Oh the joy of taboo words.

One thing about children is that they say what's on their mind. I was at the post office today. There's always a long line because the guy that works there is the slowest worker ever. I counted the seconds it took him to walk 5 steps, which would be under 10 seconds for the average human. He took three times as long. So whenever I go, I also hope I get the woman. Anyway, everyone's always really quiet when we wait in line. You know-- the awkward waiting silence. In dental or doctor offices, you have magazines to preoccupy you and background music from 96.5 KOIT, but not here. (This would be a good idea for them. It'll also make work more fun because then you can get your groove on behind the counter when no one is looking.)

I digress again. The awkward silence hanging in the air is pierced by a little girl's conversation to herself. She thinks she's talking to her grandfather, but he's ignoring her, so she's really talking to herself. It is one of the funniest things in the world, and again, I am laughing to myself because I have no one to laugh out loud with! Here's a tidbit of her monologue:

Grandpa? Look at this! Look! It's a circle!
It's a hole. How did the hole get here? Maybe a gun shot it and there's a hole.
Triangle. Circle. Triangle. Ciricle. Triangle Circle.

This goes on for about 10 minutes.

Grandpa? That's a triangle circle.
I need to pee.

And the whole time, I just wanted to ask her, "What's a triangle circle?". Everyone can hear her. How do they keep such stoic faces on?

Children are undignified in a pure way, and I love it because you can certainly be undignified in a grotesque manner. How refreshing. So then, as a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, let us proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light (1 Peter 2:9). To be holy because he is holy (1 Peter 1:16). To have a faith that enables us to experience the perseverance of hope (1:13-16), the persistence of wonder (1:17-21), the power of love (1:22-23), and the praises of Christ (2:4-10). [Yup, going through 1 Peter.] NAKED!

I will dance,
I will sing,

to be mad

for my King!

Nothing Lord

is hindering

this passion

in my soul.

David Crowder.