Small Things.

Secure.

2011-11-12T23:55:00.000-08:00

I sat there in my concert seat, observing others in the audience as my brother played Ravel's "Mother Goose". My eye landed on a brunette little boy. He was doing his best to sit still, trying to appreciate the music just like his father beside him. I was impressed by his maturity, being 5 or 6 years old, because it's hard to sit through a 2-hour concert.

His father, seeing his son's efforts, understood. He signaled for his son to crawl onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him. Safe in his father's arms, the little boy fell asleep. Safe in our Father's arms, we are secure. The father kissed his son's head. He is loved. Do you know there is such security in being loved so perfectly?

Quote of the day: "Delighting yourself in the Lord is an all-consuming, day-by-day quest to bring all of our desires into that one great desire, so that he does satisfy."-- John Piper

Life and Death.

2011-10-31T20:47:00.000-07:00

Three years ago, I worked with a 2-year old who was struck suddenly with seizures. I saw him each week until he turned 3, because that's when the State mandates the switch to the public school system.

The daily seizures never stopped and I saw how tired his parents grew. I think about what it must be like to be those parents. To stay by the child's side throughout the night because you never knew when it would happen. To have tried to look for a cure or any possible relief and to find none. How it feels to see the child, once full of so much life, regress in his abilities and be muted because of constant medications and restrictive diets.

The memory of him and the patient, sacrificial love of his parents has never left me. When I found out how he was doing today, I got light-headed and had to lay down. As a 2.5-year old, he could label animals and colors. Today, he cannot talk at all. He was a child who loved running and sliding. Now he cannot move without a walker. He cannot dress, bathe, or feed himself.

When I worked with him, I'd be exhausted after an hour because he was one of those kids that would not sit. But if I knew that he wouldn't be able to run much longer, I would have run all the more with him. Life is short and we get blindsided by false comforts.

It is not natural for your child to pass before the parent, which is why I think I am mourning for the family knowing this possibility. Before one is a parent, one has hopes and dreams for what their child will become. With all this happening, I realize a parent really just wants the fullest life possible for their child.

I thank God they have a younger child and I pray he lives a natural life. I pray he brings them joy and love and hope. I wait for that day when God will come again and wipe away all tears. "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:4) Come soon.

We need thee,
we need thee,
we need thee every hour.

Small Things.

2011-10-19T00:32:00.000-07:00

Last Tuesday was a day where everything that could go wrong did. This Tuesday was a complete 180!

One of my autistic kids drew me a "Get Well Soon" card. He can't write too well so his para helped him write, but he drew a picture of me and him together. :)
One of the moms walked over to Starbucks and got me hot chocolate. So considerate!
The kid who could not stop complaining the week before... stopped! Horray!
Spoke with a mom who was relieved we could communicate in Chinese about her son's progress. She told me he really liked me and was so happy when I let him pick a prize for his birthday. :)
Crazy progress with a kid who could not say his "v" at all 2 weeks ago. He couldn't even tell the difference between the "b" and "v" sound. Now he's at 90%. What?! Connecting the dots fo reals!
Finally helping the kid who stutters with the concept of pausing and chillin' on a lily pad. Yeee.
Teachers are actually asking me to check their students out. They trust my professional opinion??????????????

It's the small things that matter, but whether I have the worst Tuesday or the best Tuesday, God is still good and sovereign. Thank you Jesus!

Random: My school pictures going downhill every year made me happy when I graduated senior year because I was DONE with them forever! Boy was I wrong. I got my school photos back but as a "teacher" this time. Who wants a 2x3 photo of yours truly on a bad hair day?!?

I Love You.

2011-09-07T20:04:00.001-07:00

Today, I went to a child development center to assess one of the kid's speech/language development. As I was walking there, harried after getting lost, a group of six preschoolers walked past me. They were not in a straight line, but in their own disarrayed order which was oddly comforting for a person who tends to like order and efficiency. Maybe it was because they were connected by hand holding and goofy smiles. Anyway, as I was walking past, one of the little boys looked me in the eye and yelled, "I love you!". You know what happened next? All the little kids started yelling that.

"I love you!"

"I love you!"

And just like that, all the frustration from the morning's traffic and lostliness and being an adult melted away. Later in the shower, where I have my deepest thoughts, I doubted the significance. They don't really love me. They don't know me. But the amazing thing about children is that they can! Those kids probably don't really love me, but they are quite capable of loving without a care to who you are, how much you make, or what you look like. So you know what is even better? When someone loves you despite all your faults or inadequacies to meet the world's standard.

Jesus loves me,
this I know.

What Would You Die For?

2011-07-07T23:39:00.000-07:00

Today I attended my first baseball game of the season. I'm not a die hard fan, but it was fun to clap along and sing for the 7th inning stretch. I also saw people heckling others, almost getting into fights, and getting drunk. People were so open about something they loved and would go to any bounds to cheer for their home team.

But what would you die for? After coming home, my uncle called me immediately to the living room to hear a news report. Just a few hours earlier, a Texas Ranger fan fell to his death after trying to catch a baseball. The sad thing is that even after he dropped and was bleeding severely, he called out to the fans to make sure his young son was taken care of.

I wonder-- if he knew what would happen if he caught that ball, would he have done it? Was it worth it to lose your life? To leave behind your son and family? This man probably tried to catch the ball for his son, but oh-- it wasn't worth it. I wish I could have changed things. Instead, I am left knowing I need to be careful with what I am passionate about. What would I die for?

25.

2011-04-20T03:03:00.000-07:00

25 Things I want to do sometime in no particular order.

Water flowers and make a bouquet for someone.
Work in the back of a bakery and knead some dough while surrounded by warm, comforting scents.
Build a sandcastle and get dirty.✓
Make sure everyone I love knows it.
No grudges! (✓ so far)
Read in a hammock.
Grow herbs and use them! Thyme and basil and rosemary, oh my! ✓
Donate things I don't need. ✓
Visit baby brother in college and wander around his beautiful campus. ✓
See my grandparents more.
A crazy hat party with my girlfriends. ✓
Help someone feel beautiful. ✓
Give generously.
Pray persistently.
Take a dance class and have fun!
Learn how to work the sewing machine.
Cook more dinners.✓
Give thanks. ✓
Be wise with my money.
Be wise with my time.
Write snail mail. ✓
Skydive. ✓
Work in an orphanage. ✓
Run a 10k. ✓
Enjoy being 25 :). ✓

Oaks of Righteousness.

2011-04-02T14:07:00.000-07:00

I'm here in New York to visit and encourage friends and family. One of the things I've noticed is that there are more beggars or entertainers going about the subway. They'll be on the platform balancing sticks or walking through the subways cars with a guitar and song. I've also noticed people are more willing to give money. There's still the rich and the poor, but the bigger dichotomy seems to be between those who give and those who don't. From my observations, those who give appear to understand where these people are coming from. The non-givers try really hard to avoid even seeing these beggars. I'll see them avert their gaze or become very involved in their ipods or newspapers. Seeing all three parties brings me to a crossroad where I must decide if I want to see and what to do with what I see.

While waiting for the subway today, I saw a young man around my age begging. He had lost both arms in an accident (so the sign that hung around his neck said). The sight was sickly and my brother couldn't even stomach it. I saw others turning away. It's a double whammy to be a disabled beggar in a foreign country and I sit here fighting tears because I cannot even fathom what life would be like without arms. How do you open doors or put on clothes? How can he help others if he cannot help himself? I put all the cash I had in his backpack (it was just a dollar sadly) and he spoke back in Spanish. I couldn't understand any of it, but I knew it wasn't a simple thank you. And if I were not leaving for another place with my brother, I would have liked to invite him for a meal or something.

As I entered the train thinking about him and the sorrow in his eye, I looked around and saw people with ipods in their ears. Music could be a form of brainwashing I think. But sometimes, we just gotta unplug everything, be still, and look around us at what's happening in the real world. As easy as it would be to just ignore everything and not feel sadness or the pain of compassion, I hope to never forget him.

Today made me more eager for the second coming and for restoration. Today made me thankful for what I have. Today helped me understand just a little bit more what the Bible means in Isaiah 61.

[61:1] The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,

because the LORD has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor;

he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives,

and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;

[2] to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor,

and the day of vengeance of our God;

to comfort all who mourn;

[3] to grant to those who mourn in Zion—

to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning,

the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;

that they may be called oaks of righteousness,

the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified.

(Isaiah 61:1-3 ESV)

Let us see and act appropriately, that we may be called oaks of righteousness--grand, fruitful, lasting-- so that God is gloried.

Purpose.

2011-03-10T10:10:00.001-08:00

What we are called to do.

A to Z.

2011-03-07T17:53:00.001-08:00

Repost by Bo: A-Z list of qualities to look for in a spouse and to be. After reading through these, I am humbled because I am lacking in so many areas! I know my heart and God knows it even more. Thank you for grace and forgiveness, the process of sanctification, and the pursuit of holiness.

----

If you're a woman dating someone or considering it, ask yourself, "Is he...":

A -- Accountable
B -- a Believer
C -- Courageous
D -- Discerning
E -- an Example for other, younger men
F -- Faithful
G -- Gentle, Generous
H -- Husbandlike
I -- an Initiator
J -- Just
K -- Kind
L -- a Leader
M -- Masculine
N -- Noble
O -- Obedient to God
P -- able to Provide
Q -- Quick-witted
R -- Resourceful
S -- a Sage
T -- Trustworthy
U -- Under Authority
V -- Vigorous
W -- a good Worker
X -- eXcellent in his efforts
Y -- Yearning for God
Z -- Zealous for righteousness

For the men, is she...

A -- Aware; of the big picture, of the world around her
B -- a Believer
C -- open to having Children
D -- Dignified
E -- Excellent in her pursuits
F -- Full of Faith
G -- Gracious
H -- Honorable
I -- Inventive
J -- Just
K -- Kind
L -- Loving
M -- Modest
N -- Noble
O -- Obedient to the authority in her life
P -- Pure
Q -- capable of being Quiet
R -- Resourceful
S -- Skilled, Stable
T -- Trustworthy
U -- Under Authority
V -- Victorious
W -- a Worshipper
X -- an eXample to others
Y -- Yearning for God
Z -- full of Zoe "life of God"

Dream Come True.

2011-02-27T19:52:00.001-08:00

You know what would be my dream come true?

If I met Chauncey Billups during a random stroll in Central Park. ♥
(Then, I'll tell him I respect both him and his dad's game and then ask him if he likes hot dogs.)

My silly dream come true.

But A Beggar.

2011-02-23T18:19:00.000-08:00

Growing up in a traditional Asian home, my parents didn't paint a pretty picture of beggars. If I was bad, they would threaten to throw me out into the streets for the beggars to get me. As a 5-year old, I had no concept of what a beggar was but how they spoke of them made me think they were monsters. Dirty monsters that people looked upon with disdain. As I grew older and got to see them on the streets myself, little changed. My parents also yelled at me for giving them money saying that all of them would follow me around begging for more. I was too compassionate. Even now, I am conflicted when I see beggars because I want to help but I've been drilled not to. What's right? What's wrong? What's safe?

I've been reading through John slowly, ever so slowly, and it paints a different picture of beggars. The people are still the same-- they look upon them with disdain. But Jesus. He doesn't. In John 9, it talks about the healing of a man born blind, not in vain, but to give God the glory when he is healed. Nothing is in vain if it gives God glory (v.3). He was born blind and the only way he can make a living or survive when his parents cannot take him in anymore is to beg. And now here are some interesting things.

When the blind beggar could not go about, he sat; if we cannot work for God, we must sit still quietly for him. When he could not work, he begged. Matthew Henry says that we must never be ashamed to beg. There is nothing for man to be ashamed of except his sin.

Why this man? Why was he chosen?

(1.) The common beggar was generally known by the community around him who saw him day in and day out. His healing would attest even more the truth of Jesus being the Son of God as well as His compassion. The community who had known him for so long would also testify that this was the same man who was born blind against the Jews who wanted to prove otherwise (v.10, 13, 18).

(2.) Healing this man spoke of Christ's compassion. He healed those most wrought by poverty and misery, not by their riches or dignity. It is easier to save those who know their need for salvation than for those who believe they are find without it.

So now, does this change your view of beggars? Of Christ?

Thankfulness of the day: That He uses the weak to show He is strong.

10 Ways to Love.

2011-02-16T01:29:00.001-08:00

1. Listen without interrupting. (Proverbs 18)
2. Speak without accusing. (James 1:19)
3. Give without sparing. (Proverbs 21:26)
4. Pray without ceasing. (Colossians 1:9)
5. Answer without arguing. (Proverbs 17:1)
6. Share without pretending. (Ephesians 4:15)
7. Enjoy without complaint. (Philippians 2:14)
8. Trust without wavering. (Corinthians 13:7)
9. Forgive without punishing. (Colossians 3:13)
10. Promise without forgetting. (Proverbs 13:12)

Thankfulness of the Day: The ability to love because He first loved us.

Lady Bugs.

2011-01-31T14:55:00.001-08:00

Rising cortisol levels due to increasing stress rates are giving me a headache at the library. But

1. A cute old man is sitting across from me and reading the paper. Looking at him makes me smile.
2. When washing my hands in the bathroom, a little girl ran up to me and told me she found a lady bug. I told her she was really lucky because lady bugs are lucky! (It's true!)
3. The sun is shining.

Perspective: God is good no matter what I feel, think, or do.

Random Tangent: The quality of toilet paper reveals a lot about the establishment. When soft, plush toilet paper is provided, it says that the establishment cares enough to think of others rather than penny pinching. Also, the way a bathroom is constructed makes a huge difference on cleanliness. More on this later. I wonder if they have bathroom consultants because I could be one. Squirrel!

Prayer.

2011-01-21T21:29:00.000-08:00

I started tutoring kids at my k-12th school when I was in 9th grade. Ever since then, I've been working with kids. The first batch were the ones who unknowingly showed me what I was created for because it was so easy, natural, and satisfying. How could I not know and love these children? With any life, there is both joy and sorrow. With children, there were obstacles to overcome, triumph in accomplishment, and sometimes unexpected or painful goodbyes. Through all of this, I've learned that I rather have compassion than a callused heart and that I can always pray. One well-worn prayer is that God would watch over these kids, past and present, and lead them to know Him so that I can see them when I go to heaven. Then I'll ask them how hard math really was or if they ever got better at fooseball.

What a joy it was, then, to see and hear of one kid who I first met when I was 14. (Are we 14 when we're in 9th grade? I'm bad at math and too lazy to calculate. This makes for a bad tutor.) Even then I worried about him and how he'd do. Today, I found out he attending my alma mater, going to my old fellowship, and growing a lot spiritually.

One prayer.
One blessing.
Thank you God for letting me see fruit a decade later.

Rejoice always.
Pray unceasingly.
Give thanks in all circumstances.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18a

This Life.

2010-12-26T00:40:00.001-08:00

"This life therefore is not righteousness but growth in righteousness;
not health but healing;
not being but becoming;
not rest but exercise.
We are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it.
The process is not finished, but it is going on.
This is not the end, but it is the road.
All does not yet gleam in glory, but all is being purified.”
-Martin Luther

Perspective.

2010-11-27T13:05:00.000-08:00

To see the world in a grain of sand,
and heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
and eternity in an hour.
- William Blake

Thankful for the unseen
and the ability to see.

Imagination.

2010-11-19T18:03:00.000-08:00

After working in multiple preschools, I've decided that three is my favorite age. Since the majority of my class consists of boys, I've found myself sitting in the middle of construction, lego, train tracks, jungles, firetrucks, super heroes, power rangers and wild animals. Of course I go on adventures with them catching bad guys or finding treasure under tables, through secret passages, and over hidden traps. Mostly what I contribute is the idea that food and sleep is necessary to continue fighting crime. That's when I throw in hygiene because superheroes have to brush their teeth before they sleep and wash their hands before they make me breakfast.

I know it's just pretend, but it doesn't mean I can't play along and have fun. Although I did find myself wondering at what age I'll stop playing under tables. Maybe when my knees break.

Long live the walls we crashed through
All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

Long live all the mountains we moved
I had the time of my life
Fighting dragons with you.

Creator and Created.

2010-11-12T00:40:00.000-08:00

One of the highschoolers I tutor just finished reading "Frankenstein" by Mary Shelley. Literature books always have a way of making me dig deeper but more sad as well. I think it's because many works reveal the depravity and hopelessness of humanity.

For those who don't know the story, Victor Frankenstein is an intelligent man who creates a creature out of dead body parts. (Never a good idea.) Intending for this creature to do good for society, he instead abandons it when he sees its hideous appearance. It is interesting that the appearance itself is enough reason to abandon his dream as well. "I had desired it with an ardour that far exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart." Responsible man that he is, Victor thinks that running away will make everything better. The monster is left confused, angry, and afraid. On his own, everyone rejects the monster for his appearance. Later, the monster kills all those who are close to his creator because Victor refuses to create a companion for him. In the end, Victor dies and the monster mourns because vengeance has only increased his alienation, rather than provide peace.

One of the things I came away with is that no amount of strength, intelligence, or power will bring satisfaction. Desiring companionship and a sense of belonging, the monster is instead rejected and alone. All he wanted was a human connection; someone who understood him. I think he rightfully looked to his creator who would know him best. I'm not saying it was right for him to murder, but I understand why he would be hurt and angry by the rejection. So who is responsible for the crimes? The creator who did not provide any sense of guidance and fled or the creation who did the deeds?

Then I think about our Creator. He never left us. He knew us from the womb (Psalm 139, Jeremiah 1:4-5). He desires to lavish love upon us simply because we are his children (1 John 3:1). He wants to be our provider and meet all our needs (Matthew 6:31-33). Not only does He wait for us, He runs toward us expectantly (Luke 15:11-32). He took full responsibility for our acts, gave us mercy when we deserved justice, and still desires the best for us. True love. God is the best Creator we could ever have. In the spaces between my frailty and the heavens, you are there. Thank you God, for being You and nothing else.

Our wholeness depends on
our closeness with the Creator.

John Paul Jackson

A Note.

2010-11-11T21:57:00.000-08:00

From one of my elderly clients:

Hello my dear Tiffany ! NEHOMA??? Thanks so much for such a nice picture, dinosaur is a crispy nice costume, especially home tailored hand made as your, I like it. Why I did not think of one like that on halloween? .... How much I missed your last class! It really broke my heart.
----
1. Sometimes I'm not sure how to feel when non-Asians say "ni how ma" to me. I've heard this multiple times mostly as a pick-up line or as a conversation starter. But I know my client is just being sweet and trying to relate. After all, how many times do I say "gracias" to the burrito man? [Sidenote: One time a guy asked me if I liked soy sauce and pointed at himself. I hurried into the bathroom and laughed out loud.]

2. Yes, I was a crispy dinosaur for Halloween. Maybe I should've dressed up as a dino nugget.

3. I wonder if it's a cultural thing, but I've noticed most of my Latino friends are very dramatic and exaggerate about the state of things. If he weren't 75, I would've been tempted to snap my fingers and say, "BOY, that did NOT break yo heart!" But it's coo. His note was very sweet and written with good intentions.

4. I wish I were wittier. What's a better response than, "No, no! It broke MY heart to not see you!"?

Hero.

2010-11-07T17:34:00.000-08:00

One of my elderly clients has seen and done many things in his life. During a session, we started talking about the big earthquake of 1989. I was only 3 when it happened, but I remember it very clearly. I was watching Super Mario when the tv started snowing. I was upset because I liked my Italian plumbers. As things started shaking and falling, I kept trying to figure out what was wrong with the tv. That shows where my priorities are. My uncle suddenly swept me up and moved me to dining room away from falling objects.

On the other side of the bay, my client had just gotten off work and was driving home. He had entered the freeway when the bridge started collapsing. Stopping his car, he got out and tried to stop others from continuing only to plummet to their deaths. He told me that one car didn't stop and the driver fell to his death. People were angry at him because they didn't understand why he was stopping them and turning them around. They thought he was crazy.

But you know what? He was a hero. He saved them. Even more amazing is that he didn't think about his own life as cars drove toward him at freeway speed. He thought about others. So what is a hero? A hero is someone who is selfless and willing to sacrifice himself for the good of others. I told him he was a hero that day and thanked him for what he did on behalf of those I did not know.

It's kind of cool I got to talk to a hero. It's kind of cool that he is teaching me things and I him. And that anyone can be a hero. You can be a hero and do what's right. Still, being a hero is usually a thankless job with no glory involved. In a way, the choices we make to help others or to help ourselves determines what we want to be.

[It is only because we were made in His image that we could even have this quality in humanity. It is only because of His grace that we can try again each day. Hmmm...]

Rainbows.

2010-10-18T20:45:00.000-07:00

rainbows are visions, but only illusions

someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,

the lovers, the dreamers and me.

Soup Weather.

2010-10-17T19:22:00.001-07:00

Black and white scarves.
Earmuffs and mittens.
Pumpkin patches.
Hot chocolate.

Thankfulness of the day: Today is perfect for hearty vegetable soup!

Faith that Moves.

2010-10-14T13:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday at Bible study, we poured over John 6:1-15.

1 After this Jesus went away to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, which is the Sea of Tiberias. 2 And a large crowd was following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing on the sick. 3 Jesus went up on the mountain, and there he sat down with his disciples. 4 Now the Passover, the feast of the Jews, was at hand. 5 Lifting up his eyes, then, and seeing that a large crowd was coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?” 6 He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he would do. 7 Philip answered him, “Two hundred denarii would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” 8 One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter's brother, said to him, 9 “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they for so many?” 10 Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, about five thousand in number. 11 Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated. So also the fish, as much as they wanted. 12 And when they had eaten their fill, he told his disciples, “Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost.” 13 So they gathered them up and filled twelve baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves left by those who had eaten. 14 When the people saw the sign that he had done, they said, “This is indeed the Prophet who is to come into the world!”

There is so much that could be said about this passage, but today I'm going to focus onthe boy who was willing to share his meal with strangers. First of all, barley was used by the poorest of people so we know he probably came from an impoverished place. This speaks much of his generosity and his heart to share when he could have saved it for himself or his family. I also have an image of his mother who had the foresight to pack him dinner before he ran off to listen to Jesus. In my mind, there were probably other people who had food but the Bible is specific in saying that this boy was the only one who came forward and offered his food.

On the topic of faith, the disciples had just spend the entire day watching Jesus heal the sick. It makes me laugh that they witnessed so much of Jesus' life and power and yet they failed to believe He could provide food for 5,000+. But Jesus asks Philip the question to bring them to the realization of the impossibility of the situation and how, in reality, all things are possible through Christ. Amazing to even hear Andrew's disbelief. "What are these 5 loaves and 2 fishes for so many people?"

I love that among so many, a boy had the faith to share what he had and was in turn blessed.

This boy is recorded in the gospels.
His food was used as an instrument for feeding others to the point of satisfaction.
His faith brought others to see Jesus as the Prophet, the Messiah they've been waiting for.
His faith and the turn of events glorified God.

This passage reminded me that we don't really have much to offer God but he wants us to believe that He can and will do great things from what we offer. It's also not the physical thing he wants, but our faith and our belief. May we be moved by understanding the gospel and grace to give. May we find our worth at the cross.

As I drove today, I wondered about this boy and what kind of man he grew up to be. I'd like to meet him in Heaven and ask about his life after the miracle. I want to be like this boy with a faith that moves mountains.

I have not much
To offer You
Not near what You deserve
But still I come
Because Your cross
Has placed in me my worth

Not by Sight.

2010-10-07T14:54:00.000-07:00

One of my elderly clients rides the bus to get to the clinic. As a laryngectomy client, he deals with a lot of prejudice because he has to communicate through a stoma (hole in the throat) or an artificial larynx. I hear about people judging him or trying to get as far away as possible because they think what he has is contagious. That makes me really sad because there's nothing contagious about him except his sense of humor.

The attitudes and actions of others is what makes my clients taciturn and depressed. He's so much more than what an operation has made him. Yes, he's a cancer survivor, but he's also an encourager, a big talker, a risk-taker, and a fighter. I watch him come alive when I ask him about Ireland and his family and I know he just wants to be heard and respected.

I think about his commute on the bus and how he stares at his own reflection in the window. I hope something in our therapy session sticks with him and makes him smile. I hope he knows I hear and respect him. And that I can beat him in black jack. (He likes that I don't go easy on him.) If we took the time to climb over walls, we might find that people are so much more than what we see.

Thankfulness of the day: A most gorgeous day to go running and walking by the ocean. I also found my first starfish and threw it back into the ocean hoping it'd have a second chance at life. :)

Passion.

2010-10-05T19:51:00.000-07:00

Passion is the heart set free
to pursue that which is truly worthy.
-Jaeson Ma

What are you passionate about?
Is it worthy?

Beloved.

2010-10-02T18:16:00.000-07:00

This week has been a bit of a desert trying to spend time with God. To make up for the drought, I went out to the field near my house, fell onto the grass, and promptly spent some time with my Jesus.

Ezra, Nehemiah, Psalms, Lamentations, 2 Corinthians, 1 Peter. You know what kept coming up? God's faithfulness, God's steadfast love, God as our portion, God as a listener.

And do you know what the God of the universe thinks of us? What He calls us?

a chosen race
royal priesthood
holy nation
his possession
a light
his beloved

Throughout the week, it is easy to be consumed by concerns or fears but walking with God reminds me that He's got it covered.

I am his beloved.
And you are, too.

(Tangential thankfulness of the day: the lizard I saw! I wanted to see if his tail would fall off, but he was too fast for me. That also made me realize why I get along with 4 year olds so well.)

Baby Brother.

2010-09-19T02:45:00.000-07:00

Thankful of the Day: It's 2:30AM and I'm writing a report, but it's alright because my baby brother is telling me all about his first week of college.

With my siblings, there are certain ages that I associate them with. In my mind, Baby brother (as opposed to Baller brother) is a preschooler. I think it's because that's the stage of life when I felt most responsible for taking care of him and found joy in it. Before that stage, I gave him his bottles, changed his diapers and sang him lullabies. After that stage, I packed his lunches, took him back-to-school shopping and bought his clothes. I actually didn't mind doing any of those things but when he was in preschool, I got to give him piggy-back rides and we would watch Full House together and he would hide behind me when Baller brother picked fights. Joy, comfort, solace.

Baby brother and I are seven years apart. I don't know how often siblings tell each other stuff, but I'm glad he'll still tell me about his roommates, dorm food, and classes. Girls, on the other hand...

And as our usual routine is when we part,

N---: oh fine

i love you too

grumble

:)

Surely goodness and mercy
shall follow me
all the days of my life.
Psalm 23:6a

Pet Tigers and Gratitude.

2010-08-27T13:30:00.000-07:00

“Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings.”

William Arthur Ward

In no particular order, today I am thankful for

laughing in bed
sisters to share with
my 72-year old client
white tables and purple binders
whimsical songs that make me wish I were a fairy so I could leap to and fro between lily pads with wings and fairy dust and a pet tiger. yup.

Home.

2010-08-23T00:08:00.000-07:00

"I am convinced that all of us are searching for a place called home,
a place where we can close our eyes and sleep,
a place where there is warmth and we are somehow unafraid,
a place where we gather around the fire
and the room is filled with laughter and love...
[It's] ultimately not about a place to live
but about the people with whom you are most fully alive.
Home is about love, relationship, community, and belonging,
and we are all searching for home."
- Erwin Raphael McManus

This reminded me of the first moments I knew I wanted to work with kids. When I am with children, I am at home. Fully alive.

Teachers.

2010-08-14T23:00:00.000-07:00

Tiffany,

You put your heart into each piece of work during this course. Your attendance was perfect and you have earned a well-deserved "A" in ----.

Thank you for your thoughtful work on the Delpit Panel and also your last reflection. I enjoyed your quotes and this one in particular: "In the light of death, in the light of eternity, life is put into perspective."

Also, your final paper on the influence of globalism on language, culture and identity in Hong Kong was fascinating. Hopefully in our near future more people will see themselves as "global citizens of the world".

Thank you again for your hard work. It was a pleasure getting to know you.

Best,
Jeff
-----------
When I was little, I wanted to be a lot of things.

A mailman to give people happy letters. (I did not know that bills existed.)
A weatherman to study the clouds and fly. (I thought weathermen could fly.)
A librarian so I could bury myself under all the books I wanted. (I was and still am a big nerd. No shame baby.)

Among all professions, though, I wanted to be a teacher. My elementary school teachers cared for my well-being, not just in school but outside of school, too. Admiring their hearts, I wanted to be a teacher so I could help other kids AND erase the blackboard. As I got older, I found out that not all teachers were created equal. For some, we were just a paycheck. In college, I learned to hide behind the anonymity of large class sizes and to stop caring because they didn't. Good teachers are often the ones who push you to excel because they believe you are capable of the challenge. I don't think I've been challenged by any teacher since my high school literature classes with Mr. Chang. I remember being really disappointed with college my freshman year.

This class and this teacher surprised me. From his feedback, I could tell he really took the time to listen to each and every student. If all teachers were like this, students would flourish not just intellectually but as people, too. While reflecting on the point of education and what educators should be like, I remembered a letter I read that has stuck with me.

Dear Teacher:
I am a survivor of a concentration camp. My eyes saw what no person should witness: Gas chambers built by learned engineers. Children poisoned by educated physicians. Infants killed by trained nurses. Women and babies shot and burned by high school and college graduates. So I am suspicious of education. My request is: Help your students become human. Your efforts must never produce learned monsters, skilled psychopaths, educated Eichmanns. Reading, writing and arithmetic are important only if they were to make our children more humane.

My teacher motivates me to do better, to be a listener, to notice the small details and to care. I think I will email him and tell him that now.

A Fiat.

2010-08-08T18:31:00.000-07:00

This photo makes me happy in a goofy, romantic kind of way.

Honk honk!

On Waiting and Seeking.

2010-08-07T23:19:00.000-07:00

“‘Wait on the Lord’ is a constant refrain in the Psalms, and it is a necessary word, for God often keeps us waiting. He is not in such a hurry as we are, and it is not His way to give more light on the future than we need for action in the present, or to guide us more than one step at a time. When in doubt, do nothing, but continue to wait on God. When action is needed, light will come."
(J.I. Packer, from the chapter “Thou Our Guide” in Knowing God)

But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness,
and all these things shall be added to you.

Matthew 6:33

Contentment.

2010-07-26T21:04:00.000-07:00

my breakfast and the Word.
oatmeal with peaches, Daniel.

hopeful orange, yellow flowers
on a windy, gray day.

resting under seas of blankets.
a heavy, warm cocoon.

my aunt and i sitting in the small kitchen.
like mother to daughter.

"We should all do what, in the long run,
gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes
or sorting the laundry."
-E.B. White

MEMO Man.

2010-07-21T22:24:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: This is not meant to be a judgmental post. I am only writing about my classroom highlights.

Last week, I started my two summer courses which means I am in class everyday from 1-5:30pm. I actually wish I hadn't signed up for classes because I would like a break from academia. (Have you ever noticed how academia looks like macadamia? Now I just want to go to Hawaii.)

One of my highlights is seeing what my classmate will walk in wearing. I can't tell if he's trying to dress metro or emo. For lack of a better phrase, I call it MEMO. This Monday, he wore a sweater that would have won at my Christmas Ugly Sweater Party. The next day, it was a collared shirt with huge purple, green, and white stripes that evoked thoughts of Barney the Purple Dinosaur. Every outfit is topped with skinny jeans and a leather man purse. Murse. (To all the men out there who do not wear skinny jeans or short-shorts, thank you.)

Do you think me a judgmental bully with no right to pick on an unsuspecting bystander? From the MEMO outfits I have described above, you may have likened him to Steve Urkel. But wait! He walks in wearing all these MEMO outfits with a Kobe-esque air of confidence. As he mentioned in class, he used to be a swimmer and maintains his swimmer physique. (I have no idea how this related to the topic of people with disabilities.) He walks in strutting his stuff like he's the man and all I want to do is laugh because it reminds me of Aesop's crow sticking peacock feathers in its butt. In the end, I took his self-confidence as permission to write this. Character trumps clothes any day.

I am really bad at not judging a book by its cover.
I hope he surprises me.

(To my joy, he came in wearing suspenders over a plaid shirt today. MEMO man strikes again!)

Hopes and Flight.

2010-07-18T18:32:00.000-07:00

I stretched my arms toward the sky
like blades of tall grass.
The sun beat in between my shoulders
like carnival drums.

I sat still in hopes that
it would help my wings grow
so then I really would be fly.
-Love Rain, Jill Scott

Boo-Boos.

2010-07-17T17:50:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago, I injured my foot. No one knew about it because it's in a strange spot and I don't go barefoot in public too often. It went unnoticed by everyone but a 2-year old. As I babysat her, she happened to be playing at ground level with her dolls. She only has a few words in her vocabulary, but she noticed my "boo-boo", came over and kissed it.

So simple.
So sweet.
And pure.

Because when I think about, I don't think anyone besides my parents would ever kiss my foot. When we get older, we are too conscious of dirt and germs and everything gross. We are too conscious of what we should and shouldn't do. We are governed by rules and rights and wrongs. Of course many of these things are necessary, but this care she showed was done without a second thought. It was so simple, and yet I come back to that memory a month later because I think of how it demonstrates a love that is pure. No thought of oneself, only of healing someone else's hurt. And I think about how Jesus would not only wash my feet as a symbol of his servant heart, but also die for me as a symbol of his love, grace and sacrifice. I don't think this action was so simple, but I wonder if Jesus saw it so that it was. "Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross." (Philippians 2:5-8) He did not consider it robbery.

If grace is an ocean,
we're all sinking.

My Dad.

2010-06-22T13:55:00.001-07:00

Father-daughter moments. What are they made up of?

Washing cars together. My dad lets me control the setting of the hose.
Laughing at my dad's hook shot. Old-school, baby.
Watching World Cup matches in silence at 6AM.

The last one is especially endearing because we never decide to watch together. Somehow, the game just draws the both of us downstairs. (Although I must admit to a tendency to like the teams he does. ) I love my moments with my father and even though his hair grows gray and his voice more soft-spoken, some things never change. I'm not sure what exactly makes these moments, but they're unspoken with a dabble of contentment and hints of wholeness. Perhaps that is why it hurts when you lose someone. You've lost a part of someone who made you who you are. Or you've lost a part of yourself. Anyway, I am thankful for these father-daughter moments and I'm thankful for my dad who shows me that love is more than just words.

Sidenote:
I can never remember if it's "gray" or "grey". I looked up the difference and apparently "gray" is a color and "grey" is a colour. Well now, chip chip cheerio!

Names.

2010-05-31T07:24:00.000-07:00

Shakespeare once wrote, "What's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." I guess a name doesn't make a difference since a person will still be made of the same stuff on the inside. (But I do wonder if a name contributes to making who you are. For example, I've met some mean Rachels so now I am wary when I meet a Rachel.) Anyway, maybe a name doesn't make a difference, but a good one can sure be fun! In Asia, people get to name themselves. Here are some great ones I have come across so far.

5. Elvis. Hello, Asian Elvis.
4. Sunny. My male cousin. Not Sonny.
3. Feeling Chan.
2. Bingo! Call him Bing(!) for short.
1. Anfernee. (When asked if it was Anthony, he adamantly insisted on Anfernee.) This is my personal favorite so far.

When I wrote a thank you email to my Aunt Eliane, I tried to write in Chinese. In response, she wrote, "tiffany:Thks a lot.Your let他er I can read,but cannot write.Donot write in chinese." Auntie Eliane, you have not shattered my self-esteem and I will continue trying to write to people in Chinese!

If you could change your name, would you?

When I Was Nine...

2010-05-17T23:02:00.000-07:00

During my tutoring session today, my third grader and I read a book entitled "When I Was Nine". It was a collection of memories from someone who must've been a lot older than us because it included World War I and telephone numbers that were only 4 digits long. There were some cool memories, though. Like climbing on top of trees to watch the steam boat and locomotives go by (in Missouri...). Afterward, I made my third grader pretend he was 50 and write a letter to his nine-year old self, which should've been easy because he was already nine. He ended up writing about his first win from a swim meet a couple weeks ago.

I also did the same "assignment" so that it'd look like I was doing work. [He reads my stuff and I get to read his. It's a fair trade-off.] It's interesting to look back and see what actually sticks to you and what doesn't.

When I was nine, I was in third grade. One of my favorite grades despite being bullied, which I also told him about because bullying is a big problem in schools. That is a story for another time. When I was nine, I liked playing dodgeball, prisonball, and jump rope at recess. My siblings and I watched a lot of tv. One of our favorite shows was Power Rangers. The first season was the best. I remember being really happy when I got an A on a literature assignment because the only time the boy I liked would talk to me was when he wanted to compare grades. I liked beating him. Was that mean? My mom told me it was puppy love. I didn't understand what that meant because we didn't have any pets.

My grandparents lived with us and I have memories of my grandma working really hard. I think it gave her a sense of purpose to help our family with house matters and I remember feeling like I really needed to help her. I remember folding laundry and trying to stuff all the towels in our linen closet because they wouldn't fit. She'd clean the floors everyday, often getting down on her hands and knees to pick up anything she'd missed. I am reminded of her when I clean the floor like that. My grandma also chased my youngest brother around during meal times because he wouldn't sit still. She really loved him. I remember singing Christian songs to her because I wanted to her to believe in God. She also told us stories about World War 2 and experiencing the bombing in her apt. There was also always a sense of urgency with her. Like every little thing mattered and made a difference. I think it does.

People say a person never dies because we carry them in our memories and that is how they live on. I see parts of my grandma ingrained in me, in memory or in action. But what happens when no one remembers anymore?

When I was nine, my grandma really loved us.
And I tried really hard to love her back.

Hello. Goodbye.

2010-05-05T23:18:00.000-07:00

I've been babysitting for a classmate this semester so that she can attend class. Today, the boys showed me their caterpillars. They named them Humongo, Tiny, Chub-Chub, and Junior. Brother1 tells me about caterpillars. Brother 2 tells me all about penguins, especially Emperor penguins that can weigh up to 80-100lbs. They tell me about baseball and make me listen to the Giants vs. Marlin game. (Note to self: Must expose them to basketball.) Because of them, I have read and watched Dragonball Z, Justice League, and Sponge Bob. I like helping them with their homework and reading bedtime stories. Tonight, I read a story about a Princess and Pizza to expose them to girl stuff. (I once asked them what it'd be like if they had a sister, which rendered them speechless. )

As this semester draws to a close, I am confronted with the idea of saying goodbye. It's strange but you think that saying goodbye would get easier the older you get and the more you have to say it. Not true. It still hurts. And as we sat at the dinner table, the youngest brother looked up at me.

"You'll still be my babysitter, right?"

How do you say no?
How do you say goodbye?
Can we press pause on our moments together please?

I'm not ready for goodbye.
But time doesn't wait.

(How about "See you later" instead of "goodbye"?)

Into the World of Girls.

2010-04-28T19:30:00.000-07:00

I am currently sitting in a coffee shop. Splayed across the table is my laptop, scientific papers, and-- in contrast to the two sterile items-- a comforting latte breathing its warm breath in gentle curls of smoke. I like sitting next to the window so that I am right beside the streams of sunshine. Sunshine is known to enhance my academic performance.

As I read my scientific article, I noticed the girl beside me surreptitiously checking me out. Well, not so surreptitiously since I noticed. For those who don’t know, some girls check each other out. Not in the way that guys check girls out, but more to see if the girl is competition. Girls can be like cats. Possessive, cautious, and very conscious of status. This particular person looked me up and down. I could be wrong, but I interpreted this as her observing whether my clothes (jeans, shirt, flip flops) were better than hers. Obviously, my casual items did not compete with her work outfit. Sadly, I do not know the names of what she was wearing. (What do you call that button up collared shirt?) Ah…anyway, my clothes and backpack labeled me as a student which meant I was not a threat to queen bee. She returned to her conversation with her friend about purchasing a house. And how her boss had flirted with her.

[I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but she spoke very loudly. This also happens in elevators. Awkward moment: When two people are talking about a divorce and you pretend you’re not listening by staring at numbers. As if somehow you could will the elevator to get to your floor quicker.]

Thinking through all this, it must mean so much more when one can let down her guard and feel free to be herself. You in your designer-name clothes and me in my flip flops. Reframing this in my mind, this makes God's grace so much more liberating. We come just as we are. We are loved just as we are and are loved enough so that we aren't left as that. I wonder how many women, people, out there need to know that. We are not defined by our clothes, looks, real estate or relationship status. How many need this freedom and acceptance?

Hope.

2010-04-19T22:19:00.000-07:00

To hope is to risk pain and to try is to risk failure
but risk must be taken,
because the greatest hazard in life is
to risk nothing.

"The Lord is my portion,"says my soul.
"Therefore I hope in Him."
Lamentations 3

Blindness.

2010-04-05T15:42:00.000-07:00

Today, I met up with a friend in Berkeley to interview him for one of my assignments. I'm very appreciative that he would open up to me about his disabilities and how it affected his life. Among his disabilities, the most obvious is his blindness.

We chose to meet in Berkeley because he used to go to school there and is familiar with all the streets and buildings. It was natural for me to loop my arm around his to direct him away from obstacles. As we walked down Shattuck and Durant, I noticed people staring at his cane and then at us. Sometimes, I think it's easier to be blind because you wouldn't know people were looking at you. And then, I understood a bit of why it's so hard to have a disability. With the cane, the very thing that enables you to be more independent also makes others aware of your disability. Is almost seems as if you're taking two steps forward and one step back.

If only people knew that he actually knew his way around better than I did. I was only his eyes, but he was my guide. Isn't it strange to think that even though he was physically blind, there were others who were truly blind because of their assumptions? Maybe we'd see better if we closed our eyes and just listened.

Give me your eyes so I can see
Give me your eyes for humanity.

Post-it notes.

2010-03-26T02:18:00.000-07:00

I've always liked post-it notes.

They are a colorful way
of organizing life.

I really should be writing my paper.

Pressure Running.

2010-03-20T22:38:00.000-07:00

If I must run, let me run at night.
Under moonlight and dark trees
and the soft, velvet glow
of British lampposts.

Running gives me time to untangle all my thoughts and to set my heart right again. It is when I converse with God and when I am free to feel sorrow or joy. Mostly, it is when I can surprise myself. You see, I don't do well under pressure. If I know I'm being timed or running for a certain distance, I always quit when I feel the pain. It's almost as if I'm rebelling to prove I don't have to complete the goal. But when I am running just to run, I am set free from goals and expectations. I can just be.

Random thoughts. Why do people smoke after they've just worked out? For that matter, why do doctors smoke outside the hospital? Why do women wear make-up to the gym if they're going to sweat it off? (Or maybe they won't sweat...?)

Herbal Essence Hair.

2010-03-09T22:39:00.001-08:00

As I was walking to school today, I passed three guys and overheard their conversation. Please note that it was super windy.

Guy 2 to Guy 1: Dude, I love it when your hair does that with the wind. It makes you look like, look like...

Guy 3: ASLAN!!!!! (Cue lion roar.)

And indeed he did.
Indeed, he did.

Paradox.

2010-01-31T02:10:00.000-08:00

Let me learn by paradox that the way down is the way up, that to be low is to be high, that the broken heart is the healed heart, that the repenting soul is the victorious soul, that to bear the cross is to wear the crown. Amen.

Boys and farts.

2010-01-27T23:34:00.000-08:00

I recently started babysitting for my classmate’s two boys so that she could attend classes. Watching these boys has been a joy and I often find myself laughing. The older brother, P, is the picture of an oldest child. He proclaims all the rules loudly and commands his younger brother, C, to obey them. Also characteristic of a youngest sibling, C follows his brother around but is also a loving goofball. For example, C has a unique inability to simply sit on his bottom. Rather, he sits on spleeled knees looking much like how a frog gone wrong would sit. (Spleeled is a word I made up. It’s a combination of split and kneeled.)

Putting out dinner, helping them on homework, playing with them and tucking them into bed leaves me feeling like a second mother. When March comes, I’ll be driving them to baseball practices and I know I’ll be the one standing on the sidelines yelling their names loudly and being embarrassing. Also holding onto whatever gear they want me to hold. Sometimes, it makes me wonder if this is just good preparation for what is to come one day.

I’ve babysat many families, but two boys are definitely different from two girls or even one of each! For example, here’s a conversation we had at the dinner table today. I probably shouldn’t have allowed it since we were eating. It started innocently enough with me asking what their least favorite vegetables were.

Bro 1: Tomatoes are your foe!

Bro 2: What’s foe?

Me: Are you talking about foe, f-o-e?

Bro 2: It’s your enemy!

Me: Your arch nemesis! Bro 1, what’s YOUR foe?

Bro 1: hmm, I’m not sure.

Bro 2: My farts!

Bro 1: Arghhh, the green bubbles!

Me: You call his farts the green bubble? Are they really green?!

Bro 2: Yup! [very proud]

Bro 1: Yes! Bro 2’s farts are my foe!!!

Bro 2 then gets out of his seat, runs to Bro 1 and starts smelling his butt. This is when I intervene and pull Bro 2 away. Strange habits these boys have. Are all boys like this? On a more positive note, this was a great way for them to learn a new vocabulary word—foe!

Yesterday, they taught me to play Wii games with them. Today, we watched clips of Dragonball Z. What’s funny is that I’ve babysat for another pair of brothers, age 4 and 2, who also asked me to play Wii with them. How sad children know how to operate these systems at such a young age! Also, I am grandma status when it comes to technology. But back to my point, taking care of these two boys has allowed me the privilege of entering the world of boys in a whole new way. [Note: I also have two younger brothers who I played Nintendo and sports with, but I don’t think our conversations were ever like that…]

One of my favorite times is putting them to bed! I sit in bed with them and read them stories and then they ask me to sing them songs and we giggle like little children. Come to think of it, we still are. And when lights are out, the younger brother will crawl into his older brother's bed. I still hear them talking to each other in the dark about farts. Brotherhood. Love it.

A Beautiful Mess.

2010-01-10T22:07:00.001-08:00

This weekend, I attempted to make lasagna for my family.

Growing up, my family ate rice every night. EVERY night. No pizza, no spaghetti, no bread. So, when my mom told me about the busy schedule, I volunteered to make dinner.

All messy and gross-looking, I pull an oversized UCD sweatshirt and exercise pants and forget about what fellow shoppers will think. To the grocery store I went! One of my favorite things is walking up and down the grocery aisles with my cart. Pushing at grandma pace, I look at many things. I take too long trying to decide what to buy because my frugality battles with quality products. I smile at little old ladies and reject the free samples because, really now, I don't care too much for free jam samples. Costco samples, on the other hand...

Back in my kitchen, I toss anything I want into the lasagna. That was probably my first mistake. Onions, peas, arugula, bell peppers and lots and lots of cheese. Layer upon layer, I beam at my own ignorance and pat myself on the back for my supposed creativity. Genius, too.

Well, my lasagna didn't turn out as beautifully as I'd hope. The layers didn't stick together and the top layer was crunchy like chips. I had to use a sharp knife to cut the top layer and then a ladle to scoop the servings. Fail! But, my brother said, "At least it tastes like what it's supposed to look like" and that was good enough for me! A beautiful mess. Or maybe you just can't go wrong with lots of cheese.

I love my family. We are a beautiful, wacky mess, too.

The Ocean.

2009-12-12T12:41:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-11-08T22:34:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-10-14T22:02:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-10-01T09:07:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-09-09T23:58:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-08-26T23:54:00.001-07:00

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.

2009-08-20T00:47:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-07-10T18:26:00.000-07:00

“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.

2009-06-11T18:59:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-06-10T23:39:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-05-31T23:05:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-05-13T16:30:00.001-07:00

Free fallin'
gonna leave this world for a while.

If.

2009-05-11T22:15:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-04-29T21:22:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-04-06T20:23:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-03-23T00:29:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-03-03T01:22:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-02-24T19:52:00.000-08:00

"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.

2009-02-15T17:30:00.001-08:00

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.

2009-02-03T20:01:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-01-26T21:37:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-01-05T15:31:00.000-08:00

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.

The Ocean.

2008-12-14T16:18:00.000-08:00

It's raining.
It's pouring.
The old man is snoring.
And the gray ocean heaves and sighs in torrents.

LiNK

2008-12-09T17:25:00.000-08:00

This Christmas, if you want to give me a present, please donate to LiNK (Liberty in North Korea). I am not Korean, nor am I an expert on their culture, but the things that are happening there are simply atrocious and heartbreaking.

Run.

2008-11-24T22:20:00.000-08:00

If I could be any animal, I would be a bird so that I could fly.
If I were an element, I would choose the wind.

I would soar and dance in circles around and through the eddies. Travel to and fro throughout the lands. In underground caves and over open seas. Perhaps that's why it's been hard for me to stay put. With that, though, is the concept that I was not made for this place. C.S. Lewis said, "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." I recognize I was not made for here and, inside, I sense a longing for something MORE. The challenge now is to stay here and be faithful with what God has allotted to me.

Since I cannot fly, I will use what I have and run. Running gets the things that I cannot express out of me. The funny thing is, I'm not even good at it. I just do it because I need to get out.

And on the path I run. I run on a lone path with only the sky as its roof. Under the worn overpass, around the golden trees. Boom, boom, boom. The pound of my footsteps woven with the beat of my heart. The beat. The pace. The trees. The open expanse of sky. The cold air bites my skin, but the sun warms my face. Boom, boom, boom. And in those moments, I am just me and everything is what it is. Things are simple, things just are. And it is so easy to see the roundness of the earth in the sky. How small I am, how great God is. Who am I, Lord, that you should care to know my name? I am not made for here. But while I am here, since I cannot fly, I will run. Because when I run, I remember who I am and who He is.

Daddy.

2008-11-23T23:41:00.000-08:00

My father can be a man of many words, but not around us. I think children grow up with a need to hear words of love and praise from their parents. For first-generation Asian families, however, these are not often heard. In turn, the lack of verbal approval has affected our relationship with and perception of our father.

This weekend, God has pleasantly opened my eyes to the little ways my father shows me love. Without telling me, my dad cleaned my car windows and pumped my tires for me. It really touches me to think of my father willingly doing these things for my safety, but also for love. He loves me so that he does not need to tell me. It's not for praise or adoration, but really just because he wants to. And so, I think about what a man is like when he is unseen or unnoticed. What does he do when he is by himself? What is in his heart and in his mind? Are those things worthy and do they reveal a heart of integrity?

And I wonder, am I showing my father love in a way that he can perceive it?

Teach my soul to pray.

Jars of Clay.

2008-11-17T20:36:00.000-08:00

I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through
valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy.

Acceptance and Cookies.

2008-11-10T22:28:00.000-08:00

Ever since I started grad school, I've been living with my relatives. At first it was pretty hard because no matter how nice they were, I always felt like I didn't quite belong. Didn't exactly fit in. I still didn't want to be in the way. As a result, moving to SF felt much like high school all over again. Come home, do homework, try to help out in any way possible. But tonight, my uncle came in and gave me gold. The garage door opener. It may seem trivial, but it was almost like they were saying it was ok if I stayed here for a long time. Acceptance in the form of a garage door opener. Sweet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Borders is better than B&N any day of the week. The kids' section has a spaceship and planet pattern whereas B&N has a dull, bergundy rug. Also, Borders arrangement of furniture and books somehow make it seem spacier and brighter. There's just room to breathe. Not to mention, the restrooms are also cleaner. But TODAY was wonderful. I went to buy a cookie to eat while I read and the lady put it in this adorable Christmas bag (christmas stuff out already?!). She also gave me hot water in the largest size. Yes, I am a horrible customer. I always ask for water and I stay hours on end to finish books there instead of purchasing them. Does the fact that I buy lots of cookies offer some sort of redemption? Probably not.

A book entitled, "You Are What You Eat", made me chuckle. If this is true, I am sweet and fatty so watch out. But I also thought, I rather be sweet and fatty than a celery stick. If you were a celery, you'd just be weird tasting and rectangular. So based on what you eat, what are you?

Laundry

2008-10-27T17:52:00.000-07:00

I love taking clothes out of the dryer. They're warm and they smell good. I could bury my face in it and just breathe. It's the smell of something you could just fall asleep in and fall asleep smiling.

My feet were cold and I was lacking in socks. No worries, for my feet are now donning a warm, good-smelling UCD sweatshirt. I look quite absurd, but my soul is tickled pink by the thought.

It feels good to laugh again.
To see things in color.
To appreciate the smell and taste of medium rare steak.
To be healthy.
LIFE!

Spurgeon

2008-10-08T23:11:00.000-07:00

My hope lives not because I am not a sinner, but because I am a sinner for whom Christ died; my trust is not that I am holy, but that being unholy, HE is my righteousness. My faith rest not upon what I am, or shall be, or feel, or know, but in who Christ is, in what he has done, and in what He is now doing for, in, and through me. -Spurgeon

Totally needed that reminder.
Thank you.

The Bus.

2008-10-02T20:57:00.000-07:00

When I lived in Davis, I used to live one block away from the bus stop. Every morning, I would wake up at 6:30 to catch the 7:10am bus (the 7:25 and 7:35 were too crowded for my liking). As every student knows, it gets harder and harder to wake up on time as the quarter progresses. I would have just enough time to walk out with a piece of toast or an apple for breakfast the first 2 weeks. After week 2, I'd find myself doing the 100-m dash to catch the bus.

I no longer live in flat Davis. Now I walk up and down the San Francisco hills. I can tell when the weather will be good because I'll see the sun paint oranges and pinks in the sky. Walking downhill, I can see the serene blue of the oceans.

This morning, I decided to forgo waiting for the bus and admire the scene by walking to the next bus stop. Sooner than expected, I heard the ominous chortle of the bus engine behind me. Run, run, run. I ran down the hill as the bus roared past me. Run, run, run. Backpack bouncing. Hair flying. The bus dropped a man off and then started to go. I guess someone stopped him or the bus driver saw my plight (or crazy hair) and stopped again to wait for me. Breathless, I thanked the driver and caught my bus.

I couldn't help smiling. It's been a while since I've chased a bus and I love it. Pulse racing, heart beating loud as a drum, sweat. Well, not the sweat, but there's nothing like doing the 100-m dash to make you feel alive.

Waiting on God is like waiting for the bus. I stand there, I look for God, I wait for God, I hope in God. Sometimes, I'll get impatient and walk off thinking that I know better. I am anxious to see what God will do with and in my life. I am a little scared and sometimes I walk off on my own to admire other things. But God promises that “those who wait on him will renew their strength” (Isaiah 40). He encourages me to be strong, to wait on Him, to be courageous (Psalm 27:14). And while I’m waiting, He asks that I continue to be faithful in other things. Be faithful in doing my schoolwork, in accomplishing and learning things that I’ll use later for a career to honor him. Be faithful in praying for my family and loving them, even when I don’t feel loved. Be faithful in finding a community of believers to encourage and be encouraged by. Be faithful in exercising and having self-control. Be faithful in training in godliness.

So I wait and hope I won’t miss the bus, but I have a feeling that God will make sure I’ll catch it. Crazy flying hair and all. Either way, I want to feel alive.

Lead me in Thy truth and teach me.
For Thou art the God of my salvation;
For Thee I wait all the day.
[Psalm 25:5]

Closer.

2008-09-29T01:35:00.001-07:00

Ne-yo's song "Closer" is bomb.

On a more serious note, though, my friend asked me, "When do you feel closest to God?" What a question. I feel like I got so tied up in doing things for church, school, and others that I forgot about my own relationship with God. How sad that, somehow, God gets left out of the picture when He should be center stage.

To answer his question, I feel closest to God when...

I'm outside. Blue skies, sunshine on face, wind tangling my hair. When I look at majestic trees spreading out their branches as far as possible. It's as if they want to soak as much 'it' as possible. What is this 'it'? Sunshine? Air? Mother nature? God? Just LIFE. So I want to do the same thing! Spread my arms and twirl around and soak.
I'm in corporate worship. It could be a circle of friends singing with only our voices or a huge hall of strangers united by one voice. Music has this strange and beautiful quality of uniting people. When our hearts connect for something bigger than ourselves, it's even better.
I'm in pain. I'm alone. I'm broken. I have to wake up and surrender each day to the Lord because I can't make it without Him. He's really the only one who's constant, unchanging, and prepared to handle me.
I'm with children. They're not always easy to be with, but there are moments when they sit on your lap or hang onto you by your neck. No spaces allowed. The pure in heart shall see God [Matthew 5:8]. Their love is so evident that I can't help feeling and seeing God's love overflow to me, too.

When do you feel closest to God?

Draw near to God,
and He will draw near to you.
[James 4:8]

Whispers.

2008-09-24T22:09:00.000-07:00

How amazing.

That the God of the Universe could be whispering to two separate souls. That He would be whispering to each of our souls because He desires for us to live life abundantly.

How beautiful.

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren. [Romans 8:28-29]

What-Ifs.

2008-09-23T10:49:00.000-07:00

What if...

the chance for you to go to another country came up?
But you had to leave tomorrow.

Last night, one of my friends invited me to go to England with him for a week. I completely trust him. I know he'd take good care of me. We'd be visiting an mutual friend and staying with his family. They'd show us around for a week and then I'd be back. I checked my class schedule. Doable to miss 2 classes. No serious assignments due. We checked airline tickets. We found one for $850, which is VERY cheap for a round-trip to and from England. The one thing I really needed was my passport, which I had on hand. PERFECT.

If I had my parents' permission, this would be the craziest thing I've ever done. Getting on a plane the next day and leaving the country for a week. I'm crazy.

I'm 22 years old. Technically, I don't need my parents' permission. I wanted their permission, though, because I respect them. I respect them and I want to be honest with them. One of my greatest fears is that I won't tell the people I love "I love you" before I die. So in the back of my mind, I do think, "What if I never see them again?" I can't go out on a dirty conscious. My parents, of course, said no. They said they really couldn't stop me, but if I were asking them for their opinion-- No.

Why tomorrow? Why not later?

How could I explain to them that

I've always wanted to go to England. Just last week, I was sitting in class. Not paying attention. And thinking, "That does it, I'm going this summer."
I just need to get away. I need a mental break from all the transitions that have happened. I moved back home. Then moved again. I started school. I'm looking for a new community. I've lost and gained relationships. I'm looking for who I am! All in one month.
The circumstances, at least from my point of view, worked out. Place to stay, locals to show around, friends so I wouldn't travel by myself.
Sometimes, you have to be a little crazy to LIVE.

Most of it went unsaid. And you know what my prayer is? That I would be content with where the Lord has placed me. That I would be content with what may seem-- the mundane things in life. That I would see His greater purpose for my life.

A couple months ago, I took up the mission to be faithful and to do the right thing. Now, I'm seeing how hard it is to do the right thing all the time. My mom said that if I hadn't told them and just left and came back, she would've been fine. But since I had asked, they had to say no. Which is what any good parent would do. I'm thankful they just laughed at me. I'm pretty sure they laughed at me before they went to bed last night. "Our crazy daughter."

But really, I'm learning how hard but courageous it is to do the right thing and to be faithful. I'm a dreamer. So, even though I'll be thinking that I could've been on a plane to England in class today (which really sucks), this has only made me more determined to fulfill those dreams. I refuse to live with "what-ifs", because that's no way to live.

For now, I'll settle for lunch with my friend before he flies. And 3 hours of lecture. I will see England one day. Then the world.

"Wait on the Lord;
be of good courage,
and He shall strengthen your heart;
Wait, I say, on the Lord!"
[Psalm 27:14]

Comfort.

2008-09-18T18:36:00.001-07:00

There are days when I just want to curl up on my bed with a good book. Gray sweatpants, oversize t-shirt, sunshine spilling through the window. And not a care in the world because I am immersed in an enchanted land. Today is that day.

Walking the Cat.

2008-09-18T18:36:00.000-07:00

One time, I saw a lady walking her cat. This was one of the most ridiculous things I've seen. Leash around her neck, the cat stopped halfway on the crosswalk and caused a mild traffic jam. The lady tugged embarrassingly for her cat to walk. Of course, a cat has a mind of its own and it sat contently there licking its paw. As cars started piling behind one another, the lady finally scooped up her "domesticated" cat and walked on.

Every time I remember that incident, I always laugh. Who would be silly enough to put a cat on a leash? But then I think... what in my life do I try to "put a leash" on? There are things in our lives that we can't really control, but we try to manipulate it. It could be our relationships, our career paths, our hobbies. After some time, we habituate to it, but people who are on the outside can see how ridiculous we look balancing all these spinning plates. So I wonder if I'm trying to walk any cats right now, and if so, what am I trying to put on a leash?