A Shin Dig

I See You (Avatar)

2012-02-05T23:40:00.000-06:00

People will always assume things about you that isn't quite congruent with your character, no matter how many years you've known them. Some people could have known you in your best years and have watched you up close for the last 10 years and still at the most crucial moment assume the worst conclusion. They won't even give you the benefit of doubt to ask you about it and allow you to explain yourself, they just make their decision on one moment you stumble into some bad lighting and that boat drifts away. It's the "avoid the drama" mentality or "I don't want to deal with it" attitude that will eventually break you in separate paths and all over a unexplained inconsistency in you. Or maybe we are all waiting for our friends to disappoint us and once they do, we congratulate ourselves for "seeing that coming." Perhaps they haven't had the best view of you in the first place and what they were looking for is the confirmation for their sneaking suspicion about your shady character. Perhaps they expected perfection that no one could live up to, and the time came to prove your human frailty, they reject you just as you are criminal.

Then, there are people who see you, truly see you and even when you are at your base, at the degenerate, broken place they still see the God in you. This is because the God in them sees the God in me. There is mutual understanding that our intentions and heart is pure, there is no hiding and there is no skirting, you are all honest because they will see you with the knowledge love. Misspoken words are covered by their true intentions and not the semantics, their vacancy ascribed to busyness and not neglect, you will always know that the person you call friend is not easily turned away by one misstep, one misunderstanding, one mistake. I'm thankful I have people I call friends who are just like this and would believe me and fight for me till the end. No, not when I'm genuinely wrong but I am just genuinely misrepresented by my carelessness and no so polished PR for myself.

Once, I wrote an angry letter to my pastor when I had a mild melt down one summer. It was directed at him and at the church, at the job I was at and I'm pretty certain I remember writing down some nasty language peppered with profanity that could not be contained if I was writing the Pope himself. I mean, Jesus already knew I was thinking them in my head, why not express them for emphasis sake and let him know I really mean it. After he read my letter, he thought to himself, "now why would my friend Susie, who I know very well through and through write such a letter?" He took me at my position and how I was feeling and not the words that described them. Those words he knew were the intensity I felt in my being and not so much to offend him personally. He knew to take me at moments of weakness and know that when I was pulled together and slapped out of my furious state, I would regret those words and wish I could unsay every word I wrote. He didn't talk about the letter, but he talked about the issues that made me write that letter, which I appreciate till this day, because he Saw me.

Many times in most of my relationships, there is just no room for error.

I see you

2012-02-03T13:13:00.001-06:00

(riding in the car back home from a meeting)
H: You tired?

S: No...I'm alright, just thinking about Jude

H: What's he doing?

S: He's toddling around...

(On Thursday morning we both woke up at 4 am just minutes from each other.)
S: Why are we awake?

H: I don't know...

S: Maybe God woke us up to pray for Jude

H: Why? You think he fell down?

S: No, he always falls down...

Why can I see you and know what you're doing? Can you sense me too and know that your parents are somewhere waiting for you? Or are you already so attached to your foster family you are content? I held Judah last night. He's a 14 month old boy who is walking already and saying things like "candle," "light" and "umbrella." He was pushing me away as I held him and I got sad imagining how it's going to be in the beginning between you and me. I'm nervous and anxious to think that minutes, days, weeks and months are going by and you're growing, learning and meeting milestones that I'll miss. But you wait and see, you'll be at home here, we'll love you here.

Play Buddies

2012-01-28T08:55:00.000-06:00

Dear Hanuel,

I have already promised a dozen little boys that they will be your buddy. Well, I have promised a dozen mommies with boys your age that you will be their little buddy. There are so many people who are expecting your arrival. Your emo (auntie) Mia wakes up and the first things she thinks of some mornings is how happy she is to have you come home soon. There are far away aunties like Megan and Jenna who have already purchased you your first baby gifts. I make baby registries for you and I half don't know what you even need when you get here because I don't exactly know how old you'd be at gotcha time. Regardless, I don't can't help but to look out for all the things I want to give you and not just material things, but buddies, activities, us time, love, food, things I can't even conceive of yet, but I know I'd want to give them to you.

You'll never be lonely or be short of love here. We're all waiting.

Momma

What you'll get into

2012-01-23T14:51:00.002-06:00

Dear Haneul,

While your dad and I were sitting out on the balcony last night because it was 41 degrees and foggy after a snowfall, we wondered if you would be athletic. And if you were athletic, if you'd enjoy playing baseball or soccer, because as it were, baseball is a spring sport, so you can play soccer in the fall. We think you would have some kind of swag and you'd be able to hang with the kind of cool kids who play baseball or soccer.

We then thought about, "What if he's not athletic at all?" What if you were like Ethan, our little 3 year old buddy who plays guitar and promises that he will become a rock star one day. He has swag too and when he rocks out, he has a certain dirty grunge rock and roll style, with his guitar down low and his pants down low with it. He nods his head just only slightly to feel the flow and he has such a cool air about him and I wonder if you'd be just like that.

I wonder what kinds of things you'd get into, I had pinned up some crafts that we can do together while we're home together and your dad says they're too girly. He'd like to see me build a toy gun out of wood rather than have you make coffee filter flowers and egg carton wreaths, but I think those are plenty manly if you ask me. Craft has no gender! Then it led to me to think that you'd be an artist or maybe a writer just like your mom and your grandfather, who writes like Hemingway but way too busy and underestimates himself to do any serious writing. Maybe when he retires...

Whatever you get into, I hope you do it with freedom and passion, not letting others dictate what you love to do. You do your thang!

Momma

Good Grief

2012-01-21T23:56:00.000-06:00

You know those people you were fettered to? Those people you tolerated because of a higher cause? It's a great burden to keep peace and seek reconciliation for the sake of your love for another. Then, there is great release, great freedom when they themselves break off ties with you. It's when that boyfriend or girlfriend that you've been wanting to break up but don't want to hurt finally breaks up with you. You sigh a sigh of relief when they do and you are free from he ball and chain that has imprisoned you for far too long.

Although she has broken off ties with you and still feels as though she has wronged you, you feel cavalier and breathing in clean air refreshed. You suddenly feel brave and throw shit into the air because there is no one that can touch you no longer. It's just words, words that have been twisted and deranged in their diluted mind that concocted murky confusion of stories that just don't add up. You feel strangely effervescent that she is no longer our responsibility. Let her go, let it run it's course and whoever falls into her lies, let them. First you try to save them and dispel the lies she's poisoned their soul with, but if they don't follow the light, if they don't recognise what's right then you must let hem find out in time.

Jealousy is a venomous bitter drink that the consumer doesn't realize they drink. Once they've had their first sip, it leads into a gulp, then they will eventually and inevitably be drunk with it's venom. The venom will course into their bloodstream and soon, they will not know what they say, what they hear, what they see, and only thing they believe will be what they dream up in their wake. Spinning their web of lies and spin their web bigger and bigger, trapping the innocent and the seemingly loyal. Cut yourself from them and brush the dirt off your shoulder, climbing higher and more righteous, no longer in their realm of feeding ground.

You're out.

Day Dreams

2012-01-21T11:39:00.002-06:00

Dear Haneul,

There are numerous moments in my day where I am day dreaming about you. A transparent silhouette of you runs with reluctant steps around the house, waving around a small Tupperware I would have given you to play with. I picture you at restaurants and sitting aside me coloring a print out of a Degas painting (because I think Sponge Bob is too shallow for you), with a box full of crayons at Starbucks. When I wait in line for coffee, you would grapple at the juice and point to cookies you'd like to eat as a snack. I'd calculate for a moment of how much sugar you had that day, and half-heartily share one with you because I want to give you want you want, but still be a good mom.

I walk through the mall and nothing quite catches my eye any more but the small graphic tee shirts for boys and tiny jeans that I would put you in. Friends and family were afraid we would be put in the poor house from all the shopping I would do for a little girl, and they were relieved that I had been matched with a little boy instead. I don't know if that helped because I still want to acquire every cute thing that I see for a little boy. The desire to give you everything is still the same, no matter if you were a girl or a boy. I had wanted a little girl thinking I would be a better mom, a better counselor, a better friend down the line, and it wasn't a secret that I had wished for a girl. When I heard that I was given a boy, I was surprised I didn't even grieve for a second, but I celebrated and all the wish for a girl went right out the window. Now, I think to myself, "what would I do with a little girl?"But I'm sure that would change if I do have a baby girl some day.

I pick up little boys at church carrying them around to see how heavy you would be when you come to me. I ask, "how old is your little boy?" guestimating how big and how long you would be, if you would be talking or walking, eating solid foods or still drinking formula. I don't know what to feed you when you get here...but I'm still trying to figure it out. Don't worry, you won't go hungry.

Thinking of you always and seeing you in my day dreams...

Momma

Moneyball (watch it)

2012-01-20T18:59:00.001-06:00

I watch sports and it's mildly entertaining when I care about the sport and something is riding on the game personally. School pride, city pride or your irrational love for lovable losers who disappoint you every single year no matter how much you believe in them. I normally don't get too emotionally invested nor do I completely understand what's going on, but I get baseball. Growing up in a baseball family, it must be in the blood. My grandfather played baseball when it was the grand old American past time and it was glamorous to play. It has deep seeded history, magic and romance that no other sport quite invokes. My father courted my mother in the stadium where the Seoul Tigers played their inadequate baseball that mildly resembled the teams played in the West. My brother was pruned by the two generations and started playing catch, pitched a perfect game in his little league travel team and had the hopes of my father on his shoulders to play professional baseball.

It gets in your blood after a while and soon, the rules, the stats, the player names and teams are wandering aimlessly in your subconscious and it eventually morphs into a love for the game. There is magical nostalgia when i think about baseball and loving the game means falling in ranks with the great legends and you belong to the deep history of Americana. Baseball seems simple to the naked eye and this is probably the reason why pee wee boys can join in the legacy at their tender age. There are simple rules you can recite, hit round ball with round stick and run from base to base. As pee wees mature into little league players and each base you get on begin to weigh in on your stats. Batting Average, Bases on balls, strikeouts, stolen bases, total bases, sacrifices, and those are the ones I know of. The starting line up, starting pitchers, the closers, all bring a team to a win or to a lose. There's more than just physicality that each player invests into the game, thus all the extra weight in the middle parts of some players and some junk in the trunk, but there is head game and strategy. Many accuse baseball of being dependent on the individual athleticism, but it's the combination of each part of the whole.

Besides the heady and technical aspects of the game, there is something mystical about baseball, something to day dream about. "If you build it, they will come," whispers into the ears of baseball dreams and baseball superstitions run so deep in the legacy of the team, it becomes their identity and curse. Grown men who are awarded millions of dollars will abide by the field gods not to anger them and engage in series of religious hocus pocus to ward off their wrath. Not talking about the outcome of a 7 game series before it is over, not shaving after a first post season win, chewing only one wad of gum per game, and tapping one's bat on home plate before an at-bat. If by chance you have angered the baseball ghosts, you end up a long running curse long as 100 years. This is exactly why our lovable Cubbies have not won a world series since 1908, when someone angered a goat. As the story goes, Billy Sianis owned a goat and when tried to bring him in during the 1945 world series between the Cubs and the Tigers, he was denied by the Wrigley Field security. Billy, and apparently the goat were angered and he put a curse on the Cubs that they would never win another pennant or play in a World Series at Wrigley Field again.

I'm not a baseball junky and I don't watch a random game of baseball with teams that have nothing to do with me, because I do agree it's not as fast paced as a speedy hockey game at the cusp of a fist fight at any moment, nor is it as glamorous as football with dancing showboats in shiny hip huggers, but I love the game. Baseball is culture, nostalgia, history and magic.

"It's hard not to be romantic about baseball" - Moneyball

Broken heart

2012-01-20T16:16:00.006-06:00

There's no doubt that KCC has been the pillar that has held up the past three summers and I'm almost sure that it holds up years I didn't know them at all. In many ways I see that God has given KCC to me as a gift and no matter how I manipulate the past by doing mental gymnastics, it would have not paned out any more perfect than it has. I imagine myself running into my friend Kenny or Dennis and having them tell me about KCC just as I graduated college, "you should go to KCC Susie, it's the bomb!" Dennis would say and I would have known them for at least 10 years by now. Or if I had been more expressive about my desires for adoption, my sister in law would have told me about KCC, "Susie, you would love this camp..." and I would have known them for at least 7 years. No matter how I aim my time machine to travel, the timeliness of God's plan is always perfect and far better planned than my own way.

KCC came to me at a time of great contemplation and vulnerability, and I was mailable, changeable and bendable. I was a lump of clay that had nearly given up on finding a purpose and passion for herself and grown tired of being so strong and upright. I was a reluctant counselor who had made her mind up to do one last altruistic deed before she could flush down the life she had built in Chicago and jet set onto a life of international intrigue and excitement. I was no longer tied to the community and ready to forget that I was anyone's neighbor, friend or family, rather a free spirit ready to trot the glob and live for myself.

God had struck my heart while it was hot. Deep down inside, I wanted a community to belong to, some place I can walk into without explaining myself, or feeling like an alien. KCC broke my heart in multiple ways, breaking it from being too hard and shutting people out. I had embraced a group of people so fast and so furious that I was afraid once I realized it. It broke it from the walls I had built and the encasing that surround my heart melted way with one shout of "Susie noona!" and "Susie unnie!" It was as though I had bit into the forbidden fruit of garden of Eden, opening my eyes to a whole new love and a whole new community and I could never go back to the way I was.

KCC broke my heart another way and I can't help but to think that they are bad for me....and I hate to say this out loud...but I feel as though we are indulgent and we love each other so much that we have become an idol in each other's eyes. Something good made into a god, a god that permeates everything we do and every thought we have, where nothing is above this god. I have put my husband before them, my family, my money, my possessions and I am willing to give over my body and soul to them. I became completely trusting and completely vulnerable, exposing the most tender parts of me that no has ever seen.

They are good, absolutely good, maybe too good in my eyes that I am willing to do anything for them. I have never known this kind of forfeiture, I feel out of control. I know I have in me a free spirit and when I let that out, it takes over me and I am no longer Susie, but some other form of me. It's like when Jean Grey becomes Phoenix and when she lets loose her powers, her wrath, there is no stopping her, not even herself. In the end she says, "help me" in the most desperate voice, and she has to die. She herself does not want to be this person and she has to die to herself to save the people she loves. I have to detox, die to myself and let Jesus live in me.

KCC, breaks my heart still...and it's because I will not be back this summer to see them. I am aware that they will live on without me and camp will be just as good. I'm sad I won't be part of the dream team that once was and still is in my mind's eye. I'm sad to realize that maybe, just maybe God had given them to me for only a little while and soon he will take them away from me for good. I don't know the last time I was this heart broken. It finally comes to an end, the era of summers in Avon and complete pure abandon partially because of people's sin and paranoia, but mostly because God has his hand perfectly in everything. Just as the time for counselor call backs came around, instead of being asked back to KCC once more, I received a call to be a mother to one instead of 55. It's not greater or lesser, but it's just a different season of loving and mothering. I'm happy to add one more to the roster of kids I love.

(I guess summer love always leads to heartbreak.)

Siblings to friends

2012-01-20T15:46:00.002-06:00

As long as I've known the sun and the moon, I've known my brother. As long as he had breath, I've known him and no one else would know me or know him better than each other. we love like no normal brother and sister would love because we only had one another. when other little boys and girls were growing up with cousin, kids from the block and school classmates to invited to their birthday parties at Mcdonald's play land or Chuckie Cheese, we were jet setting to Japan and making our way to New York as my father changed jobs as quickly as he was changing shirts.

We didn't know any better than to play with one another and just as little brothers do, he annoyed me and I beat on him, but there was also this attachment we knew we were never to break because we are blood and there was only us in the world. Who will back us up when there are kids in the neighborhood chasing you down for a brand new watch? Only your older sister who was two grades older and was a head taller than any of your 3rd grade rag tag gang from your 8 year old clan. Who will yell at your boyfriend to stop calling while you are curled up on the couch crying your 15 year old eyes out because you have seen your first heart break.

My brother and I had talked till wee hours of the night as we both come home from college, he and I have shared secrets and nothing was off topic. There was no fear of judgement of refusal, no danger of him rejecting me in any way. No matter how many times people around us taunted us about incest and "weird relationship" between us, it didn't faze us, at least not me. Until she came along....I have to admit that it's difficult to concede against me for his love and vice versa it's hard to vie for my love against him. There was no comparison because there's no one else that got us like we did.

I'm losing him though, and at each non-response, each silence, I see that I am losing him to life, to maturity, to marriage mine and his. I'm heart broken, wounded and feel a little abandoned. There's no consoling and no consolation for him. He was every relationship, every friend, all the family I needed and only family I have. I guess redefining our relationship is the only option to what life has done to us, we no longer live in the same house, or even the same town at that. The way we have changed makes me see that we are finally adults, grown ups and I don't quite know when all of that happened.

First Birthday

2012-01-19T21:56:00.009-06:00

Dear Haneul,

Today you might have celebrated your first birthday with your foster parents and your foster brothers and sisters. I am regretful that I am missing your first birthday and someone else is throwing you what is the biggest party you would have had as a little Korean boy. I imagine you were surrounded by fruits, cake, rice cakes and food that your foster parents have prepared you, you may have been in your first Hanbok and I hope they took enough pictures of you to satisfy me one day.

Today, I bought you a little mocha cake from Whole Foods and had them write "Happy Birthday Jude" on the cake. I brought it to our small group and after the dinner I cooked them and two little boys I love named Micah and Ethan blew out the candle on your little cake. Ethan, who is now three years old asked me where you were and why I wasn't picking you up already. I think that's a good question that one can quite answer. There's just no good reason that makes sense to anyone, but I'm still waiting and we are apart. It's increasingly harder to wait for you because I know your face and I know your name, and I know you are growing, aging month by month, bonding more and more with her instead of me.

Momma

Rebel without a cause

2012-01-11T17:33:00.002-06:00

Lately, I've noticed a change in me that should disturb me, but hasn't bothered me one bit. What's curious is that in most cases, I would notice a change in me in a negative way and I would jump on that like white on rice, but I really kind of like the welcomed change. Growing up, I have been a perfect baby and my mother would say that I have never thrown such a tantrum in all my baby career, as we pass a furious child in a shopping mall. Even as a teenager, or even in the hateful and awkward junior high years, I had been on my best behavior, afraid to color outside the lines. I had been the perfect little girl and when I went to college, I had one objective and that was to do everything people had told me not to do. Although I had set out to do my worst, I could only swallow down one semester of really "bad" behavior and felt too guilty continuing on with my life of debauchery.

Come to think of it, I wasn't really that bad in college, but in my adulthood, people still think that I am the party girl I am not. But as of late, I'm not sure if it's because I realize I only have 4 to 5 months left of my freedom and I will have to leave my life of childhood behind to become a momma, I don't feel guilty doing what I want, let people think what they want. I didn't quite have the normal childhood nor youth, so I may be living whatever was lost right now...or the last three summers. I have to attribute my youthful fun that I had never had to the perfectionist tendencies and my put-others-before-me-people-pleasing-attitude and I did this to myself. For a long time, I thought that not having the normal childhood like all my other friends because of my father's job had cost me my youth, but that's not true.

Whatever this is, I am enjoying the freedom that comes from not caring what other people think of me any more and what my parents expect of me. I have a feeling that part of this does come from knowing that I am not cut into the same mold as everyone else. There is a new normal and I don't quite fit into any of the normals out there. Not my childhood, my marriage, my baby, my life, not any of it. I'm sure everyone has a unique story, but the timeline of my mile stones have come in a different order and in unique circumstances. I like where I am right now...feeling free to be myself and not pleasing a single being. I'm grateful for my kcc friends who have rewound the tapes and let me have the kind of young wild and free kind of fun the last three summers, I am also so thankful for my free spirited parents who have given me my soul and my Aquarius tendencies, and last and not least, my husband who has the bandwidth for patience like the sea.

Losing my Innocence

2012-01-11T14:12:00.001-06:00

"I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves." - Matthew 10:16

I'm beginning to think that I can't live in this world and survive without losing a little of my innocence. People take advantage of you and they always try to get one leg up and will try to pin whatever fault on you. You will become the victim to their short comings and insecurities, their blemishes and eventually what they project onto you of themselves, will eventually what people will believe of you. Without losing your innocence, you will forever be innocuous and harmless, allowing justice to go surrendered and tie its hand behind it's back. Although God says he will avenge you, are we really to live a life as cowards and fools until the day of atonement? When do we stick up for ourselves? When do we shout out and when do we fight against what is unfair? When we constantly give into their destruction, it's like a dog returning their own vomit, we must know when to walk away.

Without losing your naivety, you can't caution against the shallows lurking around the corner to mug you of the contents of your wallet or even your life. Without having a little perspective and waking to the realities of life and take a cold hard look in the eye of corruption, you can't wise up. You'll forever become a cautionary tale, "don't let this happen to you." Doesn't it behoove me to be skeptical, no, wise and leery of all those who try to hand you a million dollars through email and share the wealth they have inherited through their dead uncle in England? How is it unrighteous to be experienced and learn from the world when the world is where we live and the world is what we need to survive everyday. Are we to be credulous and show simplicity, when all of man kind preys on the unsophisticated and ingenious?

Without losing your purity, what will you have to say for yourself about teaching others about life? Can you be a good counselor and confidant if you have not seen for yourself suffering and heartbreak? No one wants to hear from a person living a charmed life without knowing the hardship of life and how you can win your dignity back. It's difficult to be a dove so innocent, naive and pure that you are above reproach and rebuke, just as it is to be so innocent, naive and pure that you will not be duped when the world plays tricks on you. We cannot hold so tight what and whom we love so when we are to lose them to sickness and tragedy, we are side swept and caught off guard. Wound is so much more open and painful when you do not brace yourself for the fall. I imagine that I could or would have been able to spot a heart breaker or the wrong type of boy from a mile away. Maybe I could have saved myself from heart sickness, feelings of being devalued, unloved and just plain old slutty?

Some thing about losing, suffering, pain, sadness and sin makes us appreciate the life we have, the good people, the good family, good husband, good home. Losing my innocence may have been the best lesson I could have learned and when the fog of magic glitter is settled from my eyes, I see things clearly. I see my life just as it is, not bad, not charmed but totally worth living and appreciating. Without the mistakes I've made, I would not know the righteous path to walk, well maybe I would have or I should have but some people just have to learn the hard way. Suffering through each experience and learning through feeling, almost losing what you always wanted but didn't know you already had.

Dear Hanuel

2012-01-08T22:35:00.002-06:00

Dear Haneul,

On December 28, 2011 I received a phone call I've been waiting for and wishing for more years than I can remember. You were just a silent dream sprouting in the fertile soil of youth and optimism, and although I've always wished for you, that fertile soil eventually grew hard with harsh storms and cold winters. That small sprout didn't die under the harden spoil, but grew roots underneath even though the sprout was not able to rear its head through the concrete so thick. One year in 2009, there was light and warm torrence of rain had fallen on the once supple ground that was planted with aspirations, dreams and was easily fertilized with inspirations to nurture whatever fell on my heart.

I had met 55 dreams similar to you, 55 sprouts that had already blossomed into ripened fruit, blossomed flowers and grown stalks of trees. They have been the surrogate dream that were lent to me for the duration of time I would have waited for you. I don't know how I would have patiently endured through two and a half years of silence and mountains of paper work without an end in sight, without my KCC kids. Now you have 55 brothers and sister who you will call "hyung" and "noona" because you are now family too. Just the time I was supposed to receive the call back to KCC, I received a call to say that you were mine instead. The small strong sprout that had grown only roots is nearly bloomed into the baby I had wished for far too long.

Can't wait to meet you Jude "Sky" Shin

I love you already,
Momma

2012 Resolution

2012-01-08T21:32:00.001-06:00

It's been over a month, almost exactly a month since my last post and I've been a quiet time in my life. I would normally would have posted that I have quietly been contemplating my life and day dreaming of days that could have been. I haven't. Curiously and uncharacteristic of me, I haven't really been thinking much about myself nor about the world about, but living fully in the moment and it's been a refreshing change. I was sort of growing sick of my internal monologue and tirades that eventually spill onto the white canvas of the web. Thus, I am back because I am still Susie after all and I do have things I would like to get on paper. What spurred me into thinking more about myself today was not due to my typical self contemplation and evaluation as a person, but I heard a sermon about Pressing on.

There are very few years that I have set out to accomplish something as we flip open our brand new calendars, and this year I had no intention of setting myself up for failures. I didn't need to add to the growing collections of unfinished projects, books collecting dust and yet another One Year Bible still in it's plastic packaging, gone unread. One thing I want to do this year is to run and keep my eyes set to the next step of the race. I want to look toward the one goal of knowing Jesus Christ better each day and this way, I can never be a failure and would have aligned myself in the right trajectory. There's nothing to strive toward and there's no finished project until the end, it's the striving and growing, the posture and heart of wanting to know Jesus Christ that is the reward itself.

I know I have made mistakes and often easy let astray by my own hand, and sometimes the hand of others, but perhaps if my eyes were still the Christ, I can continue my growth without straying too far from Him. I'm not saying I wouldn't make major or minor mistakes in the future as I run, all I'm saying is that I want to give it a decisive step toward Him every day. Whether I feel sorry for myself, ashamed, embarrassed or unworthy to come before Christ or anyone for that matter, no matter how I feel about myself, I will trudge through to put on foot in front, to progress on.

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3: 12-13

Spun into Bitterness

2011-12-06T15:51:00.001-06:00

The other day, while strolling through the streets of blogsville, I stumbled upon a decrepit little house, shriveled and dwarfed by neglect and pollution. The wall paper wrinkled and puckering, with mold of black and blue climbing up each corner of the whole house spewing spores and poison into the air. The oxygen in the house stale and muggy laboring breath and life. All the furniture inside are broken, there are discarded boxes, empty cartons of milk with mold growing at the bottom of the container, the remains curdled and putrid from time gone by. There are dishes piled high in the sink of and it seems no one had lifted a finger to undo all the disarray that happens when one occupies a home.

This is what I think happened to the person who had started this blog called "Aborted Mother." I happened to be looking through a tee-shirt link that supported adoption, my friend had posted on my wall and eventually I had drifted into a frenzy of looking up various types of adoption tee shirts. Some were offensive to non-adopting parents who don't understand what it's like to adopt, and some were just too passive aggressively defending adoption and it even put a bad taste in my mouth. Soon, I was perusing through a stream of google images that displayed a popular tee shirt that says, "Adoption is the new pregnant," and I almost bought that shirt. Not because Adoption should replace biological reproduction and all baby making should come to a halt, or if that would ever even be possible, but I liked the idea of a family being pregnant with an idea of a child that is not random, but specifically growing into their heart, soul, conscious and even in the spare room where the nursery is slowly being built. I began reading this woman's entries because I was confused why anyone would be against adoption, so I read further just to make sure I wasn't reading her "messages" wrong.

This woman and numerous others who comment on her blog states Adoption is hateful and ugly. She hates adoption in general and claims that adopted mothers are psychos who steal babies from their biological mothers. Some have even stated that Christians are so stupid supporting adoption because the bible clearly states that God is against adoption, misquoting a verse from Job saying "The wicked snatch fatherless children form their mother's breasts, and take a poor man's baby as a pledge before they will loan him any money or grain."I'm not sure what that has to do with adoption, because clearly this wicked man is wicked and isn't prayerfully considering adoption, even trying to raise a child as his own. Some continued to accused adoptive parents as needy adults who need to be loved and have an inner longing to fulfill that part in them through parenting a child. I see that some people do that that tendency, but I don't know if that's unique to adoptive parents. While reading through this blog, I was completely and thoroughly disturbed to think that there are people so twisted and disillusioned by their own pain that they would twist what is good.

I had to find out why she was writing such bitter and hateful things about something that gives remedy to orphans and those who are childless, in some cases a mutual benefit. I scrolled all the way back the day she wrote her first entry. She explains that she had put up a baby girl for adoption that she felt she could not raise. In the course of several weeks, she changed her mind and tried to get her baby back from the adoptive parents who had already received this child as their own. When this child was not returned back to her, she began a journey of bitterness and hate toward the adoptive community, posting poems, riddles and tirades about how she lost her baby to adoption, like it was cancer or AIDS or some other terminal disease. She had been so blinded by her pain that she could not see that she had been an unfit mother, she had given up her child and this child was an orphan for several weeks. There was a solution, a good one at that, but when she did not get her way, her pain had twisted her mind and her heart turned sour.

http://aislin13.wordpress.com/

Thankful for...

2011-11-24T12:02:00.001-06:00

When asked what you're thankful for around the dinner table, no body ever says things like, my beautiful new off white Lexus with a panoramic sunroof or the award I received for the best American Writing. Those things are something to be thankful for, but it's always the basic things in life like, a job, a home, food to eat, clothes on your back and people. Most of all, people are thankful for people. I wake up in the morning of Thanksgiving and besides all the food to be prepared and consumes, the most important thing is to see who I can spend Thanksgiving with. Whether a way or near, you want to say that you're thankful for them for the moments you shared and what they mean to you.

I am thankful for my husband who makes me laugh like no one else can and makes me truly happy through and through. He pursues me everyday even after knowing each other for over 15 years and have grown out of my girlish freshness and innocence. I am thankful that he has character that is unshakable and a love you can't escape even if you tried. He holds on to you with his tight panda grip and is fiercely loyal to his friends, family and the like. Although he doesn't completely understand me and no one can, he learns, he tries, but never pretends to know.

I'm thankful for my family, who have always loved me unconditionally, knowing my flaws and loving me regardless. Almost seeing my mistakes, temper tantrums and grumpiness as if it were a kitten trying to claw at you. You deal with the sharp claws, the occasional hissing, and retreating from the people in moodiness all come with owning a kitty. I am thankful because my family has instilled in me honesty, self worth that could not be mustard up. I'm thankful to I have a brother who is my best friend and would be even if he wasn't blood related to me. I'm thankful that he's funny, smart and I genuinely like him as a person and I can tell him anything. I'm thankful for my new family who I feel like they are my blood even though I am bound by them only by law. I am thankful that I don't have in-laws who are typically Korean, but treat me like I was their actual daughter.

I am thankful for my community, who are always there to pray for me, quick to support and help in anyway they know how. I am thankful that they have seen me through highs and lows, but do not grow tired of me, rather grow infinitely closer and multiply in love. I am thankful that their children are like my own and I am bonding to them every day seeing them grow right before my eyes. I am thankful for the church I belong to and the pastor I have, who understand the human condition and does not judge with religious eyes but love with godly compassion. I am blessed to have a church that cares about the poor, the orphans and the marginalized.

I am thankful for my friends who have long suffered my complaints and drama that comes with feeling too much. I am thankful that they know my dreams, longings, desires, favorite stores, and who my celebrity crushes are. I am thankful that they have scraped me off the floor when I have lost all value in myself and have grown insecure and spiraling out of control. I am thankful for the love that my friends shamelessly show because I need it, I want to heart it, see it and taste it. Despite my demands I am fulfilled each time I see my friends in spirit, heart and mind, teaching me with every interaction the true richness of life is to have people and to love them. What else is there?

Ventilation - Adoption and it's broken system.

2011-11-18T11:08:00.002-06:00

Okay...So, can I just vent a little about this whole adoption thing? I think I've been patient enough, not being anxious about when the baby will come, I've been the model waiting parent. I was understanding when my social worker kept calling us while we were on vacation to produce paper work she said we didn't have to fill out. I was patient when they didn't give us the referral in August like they were suppose to, I was even patient when they told us that our baby might NOT be a baby after all, but a toddler. I was a butterfly, fluttering and dodging those punches like I was Muhammad Ali, but there's no room to sting like a bee because we are at the mercy of the agencies and the government, both the U.S. and Korea.

I can't takes it no more, I have to open a can of spinach, or a can of whoop-ass. Probably in that order because that's how Popeye does it. First of all, I am scheduling my homestudy and my adoption around my social worker's Thanksgiving plans and following up with my case worker about turning in my revised homestudy before receiving a referral. That can take months!! This means my referral date will be pushed back again and I may not receive my baby until, what? She's 3 years old? What if I hadn't said anything to my social worker? What then? I'll would be waiting and waiting until my social worker had her fill on her turkey and pumpkin pie only to realize that we had to revise our homestudy, while my babies are getting ready to go to Kindergarten! Do they realize that they are dealing with lives, people's lives, baby's lives and not just an exchange of money and pushing around paperwork.

I am so frustrated with Korea right now I don't even know what to say about them. They have been so proud and superficial, to look out for their own popularity and appear dignified in the eyes of their international neighbors, they are not looking out for their own children! How can they not allow these babies to be taken to the ones that actually want them, instead of forcing them upon Korean natives who are not past the Korean war mentality of adoption and child abandonment. If you really want to seem sophisticated and cosmopolitan, then look out for the well being of your children first instead of the society as a whole. Do you know what you look like to the rest of the world in efforts to be "first world?"

On a different note, I love how my dad, who is Korean through and through is asking me about my agency and if I have all the contact numbers of the people who I have given money to the last two years. "Are they trust worthy?" He asks. Of course they are and I know where this is coming from because he's been trusting the wrong people and my dad has terrible judge of character, willing to trust anyone. He is a pure of heart, but please don't tell me that my agency is the one that is duping us out of our money and making us wait for a child that doesn't exist. It's your country dad, it's Korea. He gets a little offended and tells me that it's my agency that's feeding me this kind of news and it might not be true. Well no, because it's international news and it's not a secret that even the Korean president is known to say he was embarrassed that Korea is "selling their kids overseas to foreigners." Thanks for asking about my adoption dad, two years later..."what's your baby's name? do you know if its a boy or a girl? When do you pick her up? Who took your money? You have their contact information?" Seems a little late, but thanks for asking.

Girl Crush Friday ~ Gwyneth Paltrow

2011-11-18T10:31:00.000-06:00

Gwyneth Paltrow (39) has been my favorite girl crush since she appeared in "Hook" when she was a little girl. Her godfather "uncle Steve" (Spielberg) put her in the movie as young Wendy, but I especially loved her as Margo Tenenbaum in The Royal Tenenbaums. She's an actress, she sings, she cooks, she is fluent in Spanish and is a fashion chameleon. I know she's either loved or hated because she's so perfect, too perfect, but to me, she's the kind of woman I wanted to grow up to be. Down to earth and cool..I mean, she's married to Coldplay front man Chris Martin, works out with Madonna and parties with Jay Z and Beyonce. Can you get any cooler?

Lifetime Stress

2011-11-17T15:21:00.001-06:00

Since I resigned from my job in October, I stopped going to the Academy of Athletics where I received personal attention for my work outs and motivation to work hard. I really loved that place and made friends with the trainers and the "Athletes" themselves, unlike Life time fitness, it's a family-esque atmosphere. The only down side is that it's too expensive to attend now that we're only on H's one income. I'm barely working at Anthropologie, my part time job, which gives me part of what a part time should be working. Three weeks since I've been employed there and I've spend 29.99 on a shirt after my discount and having earned a cent because there are no hours to be had. I'm beginning to think that this is a ploy by Urban Outfitters Inc. to recruit exclusive shoppers. It's hard not to shop while you're walking up and down the store so beautiful, but I digress.

I recently unfroze my account at Lifetime Fitness, the work out mecca for all d-bags and cougars on the prowl with their too tight, too short and too revealing sports bras and leggings that make them look like a over cooked brat with all their stuffing spilling out of their athletic gear. What's worse, the parking lot of this particular gym is so crowded that strangers are following behind you, inching their way to your car ready to pounce before you can even get your keys out. I don't know why suburban moms in the Midwest need Hummers and how they get their children inside without a step stool, but there's just no room to maneuver your farm equipment around such a crowed lot. Once you enter the mall of treadmills, StairMaster and weight lifting machines, you realize precisely the reason for all the lot commotion outside. Lifetime must be signing up everyone in Schaumburg and the surround cities for this one location and there are sales people showing potential members their amenities every single day. I want to to slip a note to them that says, "Run away...quickly. Don't fall for all the shiny new renovated facilities and lockers."

Another reason why I don't like Lifetime besides the reason that I'm Anthrophobic and I hate a lot of people congregated in one place, but also these humans are strangers to me. I don't want to be lying down next to a hairy sweating man on a over used mat while trying to reach inner peace during hot yoga. (Partially because I lost my inner peace in the parking lot of this place). It's bad enough that he grunted through the whole session barely being able to touch his toes. Maybe he should start with light stretching before he comes into a hot yoga class because you might embarrass yourself, if not by your grunting and your ridiculous poses, but maybe you might fart in efforts to do so. It's hot in here, and already I can feel your heat seeping from your pores and escaping your suit of hair, so I don't need more hot air blown out of your rear end.

Sigh...maybe I'll cancel my membership and go on the P90X regimen.

To Be Honest

2011-11-16T15:18:00.002-06:00

To be honest with myself, I am afraid that I'm setting myself up for failure. I'm a perfectionist and if you know a perfectionist in your own life, they will have certain standards that they hold to themselves and others. Perfectionists don't require perfection in all areas of their lives, but very specific areas they choose to define themselves. For example, I write out all my prayers and biblical notes in a small Hello Kitty note book I write in with a specific light blue pen. If by chance I forget my pen, I will NOT write in this book and mar the perfectly uniform pages that I have worked so hard to keep neat. And if by chance I forget my note book, I will have to take notes on another piece of paper and recopy it in my note book later before the day goes by. And if you are wondering if I had kept my notes this meticulously uniform and tidy in college, the answer is yes. All notes go into it's each binder, not note book because some days you will have to add a page in and it's best to use a loose leaf college ruled page to control the flow of your notes. This is the look into my psych, I know it's scary, so you can exit now.

With Perfection, you have a lofty goal you set out for yourself and any thing less than what was fashioned in your mind if a failure. You see the crazy of this logic is that you don't actually receive any reward or benefit to having a perfectly manicured and organized home or in my case a binder full of carefully outlined notes from all of your college classes, but you have to achieve them. To be honest, I am afraid that I have for myself a perfect picture of what my life will be like with this child coming into my life. I want to be the perfect mom and perfect wife, having cleaned the whole house and even gone as far as polishing the kitchen cabinets with orange glo, I have a sneaking suspicion that I will have a breaking point, because who can keep this up? Especially with a child on your hands that will probably be semi-permanently attached at your hip, I'm not sure if the dream sequence of my day of working out, doing some light reading while the child naps and cooking a gourmet meal and set before my hard working husband comes home is going to play out as I hoped.

I have such high hopes for this next chapter in my life and week three into my wifely duties in the home and I'm already sick of thinking up something different to cook for dinner every night! I'm beginning to become so lazy that I've been eating cereal as my staple meal while I'm a lone at home. The dream sequences are slowly turning into a nightmare and I'm not sure if there's anything I can do to stop it from coming true for the first year of my life with this coming child. I can just see it, stickers on the walls, laundry piled up and my baby running and jumping into the dirty basket of mess. The dishes piling up as I order Thai food for the third time in one week. I know I thought I would never let myself go, but I see why first time moms are more inclined to show up in their yoga pants to the grocery store, because they're too lazy to put real pants on, but on the other hand they look less sloppy than in plain old sweat pants!

I can see it all now..and to be honest, what I'm afraid of the most is to be the rejection I will face in the beginning stages of bonding. My own child asking for another bosom, another mother who she had left in Korea. As much as I want to say that I am a mature and wise grown up, I still desire the love of a child and covet their affection. As much as I remind myself that this will just be a phase, a season in our lives together, but I can't help but to cringe at my nearing future of crying and fidgeting on the plane ride from Korea, coming home and not sleeping for the first 6 months. The mourning my child will weather through for the loss of her home, her familiar surroundings, the woman she had grown accustomed to.

Friendship Under Fire

2011-11-16T11:34:00.001-06:00

To see gold, you'll have to let the metal purify under extreme temperatures to see what floats to the top. All the debris separates and sinks while the gold floats to the surface, revealing what's real and what's rubbish. Identifying true friendship seems quite similar in that when the relationship is put through fire, death, hardship, sickness, struggle or even disagreement, you can see what you've done with the time you were given together. Did you actually get to know this friend and get down to the bottom of their heart, knowing their true character? Or did you spend a lot of idol time knowing their brand of humor and how much booze they can pack down?

I had been thinking a lot about my friendships and giving them a good hard look in the face and into their eyes. I have several friends who I've known for over 10 years now and they have been the kind of friends that I have never had conflicts with, but have seen a lot of life's seasons with them. Their character still the same and consistent no matter summer or winter, and they have always stuck by me especially in the winters of my life. They are the kind of friends that are like long marathon runners not sprinters, long suffering, loyal and steadfast, keeping pace and taking their time. Sprinters on the other hand are ones that love you intensely, fast! hard! and short, burning out like a fire cracker with deafening booms and crowd pleasing lights. It was for the summer, when the weather is warm, the love is new and the climate is just so that you don't ever have to cover another with your coat and walk through the long dark days with them. They proved true over a stretch of time.

I have friends who are "brothers from another mother." They are the closest friends I have and these are the people that I've been the most raw with in disagreements and in the deep dark days of winter. They are the ones that had given me the opportunity to point out their flaws and I've given them the same chances, but at the end of the brawl, we just wanted to save our friendship. They believed me and I believed in them. There are others who I have walked through what it seemed like at the time, the shadow of valley of death. Suffering through life circumstances and seeing each other through the mundane things that we could not afford to perform, cleaning, taking out the trash, changing a diaper. We have picked up the small things for one another, small things we can do so that the heavier life's lemons wouldn't be so sour. Diluting the pang of sour and adding a little sugar to the pain helps to go from victory to victory, not letting lemons trip us up.

I often feel close to people I've had conflicts with and have overcome them because it makes me feel that we can overlook the disagreements and we're not just being polite to one another. To give each other the grace to explain and actually believe the things they are saying, to allow the other person to fail and cover, absorb the failures until the next time. I am thankful for the friends I have, who have long suffered under my life circumstances and my own temper tantrums and antics. I am also thankful for those who have confronted me with the speck that is hard to see in my own eye. To ask for explanations for my actions without assuming the worst of me because they know that in those times I am acting out of character. I appreciate my friends, who remember the names I wanted to name my future children, the snacks I most love, and know when I am down just by looking at my profile picture. I appreciate that without telling too much for a situation, they know exactly what I'm thinking and what I would do in that situation.

Set fire to my friendships oh life, I welcome it. Let purity rise to the top and I will treasure them forever.

Adopting a toddler

2011-11-15T15:44:00.001-06:00

I recently received word that we are no longer recieving a referral for a baby, but we may be matched up with a 15 to 24 month of child. The limited amount of Exit Permits distributed by the Korean government has been more of a problem than the decision makers realize. Perhaps they do realize that the children age and by the time they are ready to come home to their adoptive parents, they are fully aware of their surroundings, have attached to their care giver and is being rip from their home once again. It's already difficult for even a 12 month old to attach to a complete stranger, but for a two year old, he or she is able to articulate their disgruntled angst and grieve the loss of their first home and care giver.

I'm not much into babies and skipping all the burps, the runny poops, the sleepless nights, the formula mixings and feedings several times a day would be reason enough to accept a two year old with all gladness, but I'm worried. I've been worried that this child would not bond to me right away, and sure, eventually this child will call me mommy and Hans daddy but the process will be filled with tears and gnashing of teeth from everyone involved. On top of the bonding process already set up for feelings of fear, I will have to add in the disciplinary aspect of parenting when you receive a terrible two year old as you hit the ground running. I'd much rather cuddle, kiss and dote on a static creature that can't think on it's own two feet, lovable and clueless then show the wrath that can come with disobedience and rebellion.

I'm not afraid to disciple children and with my first grade teaching back ground, I'm also not afraid to discipline cute children. What I am afraid of is, that I will cave in the face of the child that feels alone, that has just been taken from the only mother she has known the last two years and is now with two strangers that keeps saying they're "mommy" and "daddy," while adjusting to the sights and smells of a foreign land. I'm not going to be so inclined to give a child a time out or a spanking for things I would a "normal" two year old, and to enforce that on a child who essentially was kidnapped one day out of the blue is cruel to me. I'm afraid to confused her, but I'm also afraid that I also will be confused. How do I keep the balance between showing unconditional love and showing a hard side of the law when all you feel is heart melting love for this child. I want to protect her, even from my self.

Jesus I Never Knew

2011-11-11T12:39:00.001-06:00

I recently came into a lot of time and I've been reading books that I've been purchasing for the last few years with intentions of reading them but have ended up in a pile of "books I have to read someday." Well, that some day has come and I think you can expect a lot more book "reviews" or just my two cents about each of them as I finish.

I recently read The Jesus I Never Knew by Philip Yancy and I realize that I'm a little late in jumping on the band wagon of this book, about 20 years too late, but someone suggested this book to me and thought I would really appreciate it. I did appreciate this book. Especially because it turns out that I never really knew Jesus at all and it dispelled some notions of him that I thought were correct, but not. Like most of the world, we think of Jesus as a good looking white man dressed in all white with a halo looming over his head, blessing everyone that walked by. He wasn't the lamb cuddling, soft spoken and an even tempered man that couldn't be faze by anything thing, not even death. But reading this book made me realize that he was in all entirety human and God, but I often forget that he was human.

He was the kind of human that I am. All along, I pictured him as an austere man with no sense of humor, no emotions and his face gave nothing away, but he was just the opposite. He wept as his friend Lazarus lied dead in the tomb even though he knew he will raise him, he cried for death and the separation we face in sin. He burned with anger and chased out merchants and those who took advantage of the poor out of his temple courts with a whip and called people dogs and rubbish (words I imagine are equivalent to our contemporary curse words like bitch and shit). He spoke with conviction and prayed sweating, crying and with passion, leading a masses with his charisma and leadership confidence. He was a king, THE king after all, so he had to have been a man people were attracted to and intrigued by and no someone that they were able to cast aside as a soft spoken nerd of some sort.

In this book, one paragraph that quotes Scott Peck who was a skeptic before reading the gospels for himself to see Jesus all on his own. He writes:

I was absolutely thunderstruck by the extraordinary reality of the man I found in the Gospels. I discovered a man who was almost continually frustrated. His frustration leaps out of virtually every page: "what do I have to say to you? How many times do I have to say it? what do I have to do to get through to you?" I also discovered a man who was frequently sad and sometimes depressed, frequently anxious and scared...A man who was terribly, terribly lonely, yet often desperately needed to be alone. I discovered a man so incredibly real that no one could have made him up.

It occurred to me then that if the Gospel writers had been into PR and embellishment as I had assumed, they would have created the kind of Jesus three quarters of Christians still seem to be trying to create...portrayed with a sweet, unending smile on His face, patting little children on the head, just strolling the earth with this unflappable, unshakeable equanimity...But the Jesus of the Gospels who some suggest is the best-kept secret of Christianity did not have much "peace of mind," as we ordinarily think of peace of mind in the world's terms, and insofar as we can be His followers, perhaps we don't either.

I am relieved to know that Jesus perhaps could have seen, felt and thought things that I have, in depression and anxiety and to be scared and sad at this world. I can accept and follow a man like this, to see him as the example I will look to when I can't seem to get out of bed or see the brighter side of fallen state of this world. To have hope and to heal the world just like Jesus came to do.

Hope for the wait.

2011-11-02T15:37:00.001-05:00

It's only been 2 days since my unemployment and it's seems like an eternity of doing nothing. I've been keeping myself pretty busy and feels like I don't have enough hours in a day, but the days without structure makes it hard to distinguish one day from another, or even one hour to the next. It also makes me think about my waiting child, I'm waiting, she's waiting.

Many of my friends and even people I barely know have asked me for updates on the adoption process and I'm just a record player repeating the same thing over and again. "November is the referral, February is when we pick up the baby, but we don't know if that's even written in stone, it's just projections." There's a bunch of silence between the time the dossier is submitted and the referral is given. There's much else they can tell you specifically about your adoption process except the fact that you've been waiting this long. What they don't know or maybe they do, is how long we've been waiting for a child period. They don't tell you that the whole time you're pushing around papers and signing your life away to the agencies, you're waiting then too. A whole year goes by and the waiting still persists, and in my case, it's been almost three long years since the time of application to our agency.

I recently did receive word from my agency and it was the monthly news letter all waiting parents receive. It updated us on how all waiting parents are expected to update their home studies because the babies will be 10 months at referral instead of 5 and probably will receive them at 15 to 24 months old instead of 10 months. All the fears of not being able to bond and the child having memories of the caretaker's bosom multiplied 10 fold and I'm not sure if I'm ready for what's to come. Friends and co workers alike, have asked me if I feel free and happy that my time at Harvest has ended, but I don't really have that sense of freedom because I know the eminent responsibility that is far greater and heavier.

Being home, I've had an "ah-ha! moment" where the time I thought I was wasting away locked up in the Harvest office has been saving grace. Giving me a routine and a purpose every day to do something for others while I was being pruned to be the mother I was suppose to be. At the time, I didn't know I would be adopting so soon, but regardless God had a plan for me and the time at KCC has also been a comfort. Without the surrogate kids and family members I've known the last three years, I would have been shopping online all day long to fill my empty heart and running off the stress that would have been piling up on my body everyday. Who knows what else I would have been up to, already it's been a long road to this point but the last three summers with the KCC kids and my Ohio friends has been some of the happiest times I've had in my life up to this point.

I'm suppose to be "nesting" while at home and I have cleaned the whole house today, scrubbing all the sinks, tubs, and toilets, reorganizing all the cabinets, vacuuming and washing the sheets. But now what? I guess I'm getting started on the closet tomorrow...

Her love is like...Gospel

2011-11-01T23:52:00.003-05:00

She loves like the gospel tells you to, the way Jesus use to love his ragtag group of nobodies. They were the needy, the bleeding, the crippled, the blind, the dirty, and probably even bitchy and maybe especially the bitchy. I mean, look at Judas, the name every person identifies with stab you in the back sneakiness and betrayal. Who betrays someone like Jesus for a couple of silver pieces? I don't know how much that would translate to now a days, but I don't even have to know. I'm not even about to betray my crabby grandmother for anything. Judas might have been a common name until the day he became Judas in the Bible, that's how famous he is for letting Jesus down. But alas, this entry isn't about recounting all the ways Judas has failed his friend and savior, but how Jesus loved him anyways.

She loves the people in her life with all of her strength, mind and soul and not even because she's a pleaser, but she's just the opposite, she's sort of the against the grain kind of rebel with a cause. She is a beautiful looking girl, smart and funny, any boy would move up on that girl but she chooses her friends from the L section of the library, the "loser" section. Where all the boring and out dated books are discarded with pages torn out and coffee stains on it's front cover. It's the ones that have deep scars and need more love than anyone could or would ever afford to give. They sniff her out like a blood hound knowing she is the kind to invite a friendless down and out to dinner at her apartment, making them all the foods she knows how. It may not be the same genre of cuisine, but she'll feed your belly and your heart.

Not only is she sought out by the world would call a loser, she is drawn to them too! She can see right through your crap no matter how put together you are, no matter if you are the deacon or the teacher, she will see you through and through. That's why when she is your friend, she truly sees you in your goodness and you have a forever ally. She plays 20 questions with you every single day, wanting a play by play of what you've done and what you've eaten, also, what your super power would be if you had a choice. She wants to know you inside out and will continue to no matter how long you've known her and no matter what uglies or sins she's already seen in you. The gospel, I mean the real gospel that's messy and filthy is a reality to her and no matter how much she complains about a person, she will go back and love on them. She is not double minded or two faced, but at the point of action, she always makes the choice to love.

I only hope to love you this way Mia. Love you.

Once there was shalom

2011-11-01T23:24:00.001-05:00

I once knew a little girl who was like Wednesday from Addams family, with long dark hair and a look of knowing. Her eyes dark and gazing, you know she's looking beyond your skin and face. You hear her small giggles, and it's like chimes or bells, crisp and pure you think it's a baby's laugh.

I once knew a girl who hand made hairpins for other little girls and although she was well grown out of those pins, she still fashioned them for ones like her. She never really changed in her spirit of purity and trusting, that's why little ones responded to her with understanding. She understood new souls like she was still one of them and spoke with them so they can make sense of this big wide world. There was no one else that quite related with children the way she did, the way she loved them, the way she cared for them. She gave them her life, selling all of her possessions, giving away all of her precious things so she can be unattached to the world except to the glory of God in those children.

I once knew a girl who saw the potential for shalom on earth, where the people in her community would be in one spirit, and share possessions, lives, conviction and above all, love. She knew how it should have been or how it should be, she was right and all of us were wrong. When she was happy and when she was who she was created to be, she was the best of all of us. She made the best jokes, she was creative with her hands and resources, she did not covet or desire possessions, she was smart and talked to kids in their words, she bantered with boys and loved Jesus. In her patience and all the strength she could muster up every day, she fought how she felt about this fallen world. We should see and realize just what she saw, just what she wanted, continuing a work that Jesus had started and soon finish, to heal each other and heal the earth.

Thank you J. for sharing with us your smiles, your convictions, your story, your life, reminding us of heaven each day. Missing you already...

Speak now.

2011-10-31T22:26:00.002-05:00

It's ironic that I cannot get my words out as I write this entry. But I have to write it down, I have to write a note to myself and to let you know that we have to say it now. We can't think about emailing, texting, making a phone call or reaching out in any form because unless you do it right at the present, the moment just passes you by. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and then years go by... I wish I had years to count with people that are on my heart now.

"She was on my heart, for weeks, I kept thinking about her for no reason." There is a reason why self absorbed people like me have a tugging in our hearts for certain people. Its pray for them, say it to them, encourage then, they need it now. I want no longer want to wait around for permission or the closeness to settle in before I speak into someone's life because I've been commissioned to love by the One True Love. I no longer want to be bothered by the idea of talking on the phone for someone for 20 minutes when you've only intended on leaving them a quick message to say "Hi, I'm thinking about you." What if it turns into a "can you meet me for coffee?" So let it.

I no longer want to have regrets like, I wish I have written her a little note because she would have appreciated something like that. Maybe with just a heart drawn on it and slipped it in her hand while giving her a hug. I had passed her by giving her a quick smirk because I was busy, I'm not sure it was that important now. I no longer want to think too much about writing someone a text, just in case they take it the wrong way, or what if I sound too earnest or needy. What if they never respond to the love I've lavished on them? I no longer want to love with this high expectation of receiving the same kind of love back from them. The same kind of caliber, the same things I would want or like or what I consider truly loving someone. Say I love you, I think about you, believe in love, believe in God, I'm sorry, I was wrong, I miss you! Say it, don't regret it.

Girl Crush Friday ~ Fearne Cotton

2011-10-28T15:13:00.001-05:00

Fearne Cotton (30) is a British T.V. Host and Radio announcer for BBC. She isn't really known to anyone in the U.S., but I happen to stumble upon her hair when I was contemplating my own cut. Needless to say, my hair was fashioned after her's and now I'm a little bit envious of her punch pink hue. I'd say I would attempt that too, but my hair is too dark to cover up with any color.

Happy Birthday Mr. President

2011-10-28T11:47:00.000-05:00

Today is my Bear's 35th birthday and he can finally run for office and become president of the United States. He now fulfills all of the qualifications to be the leader of the first world! He has deep character that is unshakable and unchanging, he is malleable and teachable in all aspects because he is humble. He makes the people believe that there is good in the world, congregating the them with love and shepherding instead of resting only on his charisma and humor. He has a heart of a pastor, a minister, a shepherd who will give and give till there is no more to give, generous in all his ways. Time, material goods, heart, and will give up his pride for sake of peace and reconciliation. His concern is for the widowed, the poor and the orphans, especially the orphans! Always wanting to take in anyone lost, isolated and abandoned. His patience runs deep and you sometimes wonder if he's just slow to act or just lazy, but you know his hand is always working, always diligent. Lazy could not be the answer.

His gruff and boy exterior lends himself to men, relying on him for loyal friendship that is relentless and unending. He will run into a burning house, jump on top of a live grenade and tell you bluntly, "dude, you're not being a man!" Although all boy with mischief, potty humor, and can't-stop-talking-about-sports antics, little girls can't pass up his empty lap. He melts into a puddle, concealing his weakness for cuteness with scrunched and turned up nose yelling, "who's kid is this?" but deep inside, he wants her to stay. He doesn't have to kiss babies to run for office because like the pied piper, a trail of tiny foot steps follow in his.

Our nation will see that nothing seems to matter so much, nothing seems so bad, now that he is president of our good country because he is the source of stability and good humor. Valuing tradition, good sense and chivalry, opening doors for ladies, pulling out their seats, still after 10 years he still puts me into the car before he gets into his side. He will work for your family and not just his own, he will make the community a safe place to live because he detests injustice and corruption. When I am with him, nothing seems so bad, things will be okay no matter our circumstance or situation. He knows my heart and more importantly knows the heart of God, so get up out of your seat ladies and gentlemen! If you are of voting age, make your vote count! Hans Shin for President.

Happy Birthday pups!

Rumor has it

2011-10-27T13:42:00.001-05:00

You're getting close you can tell, she will look for you and call you for talks. You tell her about yourself, just the safe parts, the ones you rehearsed and scripted, enough to implore her. Lure her to step into the sticky strings, she suspect something but she doesn't yet know the web of lies you weave, the paranoid stories you tell yourself and you believe. You'll have to make it up as you go because she will try to defend herself, she might contradict your tellings. You tell them something sticky sweet, a rumor, a suspicion and it's more of a concern, a sharing if you will, of what you've been worried about. Tell them in general, in broad strokes so that they will ask for the details and you'll be forced to tell. You tell so that you can arm them into your circle, "I tell you because I trust you."

They hang on your every word, it's exhilarating to have their eyes sparkling for more drama, more dynamics, there has to be a punch. "On top of that she was pregnant!" you blurt out, but you're not sure if that's even true, you want it to be true, just look at their reaction. Surprised you hear it come out of your mouth, but it's too late, you'll have to believe it, you'll have to defend it. Dropped jaws morphing into half concealed smiles as they look to see if the others are finding it just as delicious. You detect their pleasure and you add on, oh the suffering you go through, oh the drama! With your head tilted and your mouth into a frown, "I just don't know what to do about it, how can she be so mean?" Fishing for their hand upon your hand, patting and comforting, "there there my dear innocent friend, I believe you." You have them, caught in your web.

It doesn't matter if it's right or true, as long as they believe you, as long as you believe you. You'll have to tell it with confidence to anyone that will hear me. That's how rumors are begun and spurred on. They won't know who to believe or how it all started, but you'll have to have them spun and wounded in your sticky cocoon, woven from your web.

My Noah

2011-10-27T09:36:00.001-05:00

I didn't always think H was my Noah, I mean, he never understood me and always thought I was such an alien. He made efforts and I had to teach him, pulling tooth and nail the last 10 plus years. Although he tried, I overlooked him and I didn't try. Looking at him with a side ways glance and a wrinkled fore head thinking to myself and sometimes out loud, "I don't understand you, you're a weirdo." Despite the differences, we have been good friends for a long time and no one can deny our common vision for life and ministry. We've talked about adoption from the beginning, when we sat in that old Apples Bees in West Lafayette. Talking about how we would adopt, not together because we weren't getting married to each other, but separately, with other people.

No matter how many nights I've broken down feeling misunderstood by other and by him, complaining no one can know me like God or my family, he had been patient and listening. Even thought I said he never listens, he had secretly wrote down in his mind's notepad every important he needed to remember about me. After making the long list, 10 years worth, he sees me more clearly than anyone else I know. He IS my Noah. Noah isn't the one that you desperately loved and with blinding passion you are drawn to one another for life, but he let her be. He wasn't afraid to hurt her feelings, he wasn't afraid of her and all that she was, so she was. She painted, she wrote, she swam and made fun of him, teasing him, arguing with him because he let her be free.

Every time I watch the Black Swan on T.V. or in the theater I say to myself and tell Hans too that I am doing my best to kill the Black Swan in me. The one that is wanting to kill the seemingly weaker self so that she can be on top, where ever that top is, to be able to disregard anyone's thoughts about you or feelings you may hurt. But Hans makes sure I know that I am White Swan, "People may think you are Black Swan and maybe you look like one sometimes, but Sus, you are a white swan, through and through." I think I sat in the darkness of that car just tearing up because that's something God would say to me and anything short of that are lies that fill up my mind when I spiral into self doubt. He says to me, "you can't correct everyone, and not everyone can know you or believe your good intentions but what can you do?" He grounds me when he says that, and I am reminded that I don't become what people think of me, but I have to protect what good I have in me. What is Jesus in me, what's sincere and not believe the lies.

I tell him I'm tired, cold, or just plain crabby and his reaction time to me is that of lightening. He will fix dinner, put a blanket over me and feed me chocolate and wine while putting on my favorite shows on TV. I don't ask him to and sometimes burdensome because I'm afraid others will point fingers at me and think I wave my princess hand and all my dreams come true at the expense of the broken back of my slave who I call Hans.

He's my Noah not because he makes me dinner and feeds me chocolates though, he's my Noah because he knows me deep inside and appreciates that he married an alien, a little naive in her thinking, a little too idealistic and trusting, but he calls me white swan. He tells me I should write a book and "heck yeah you can!" pushing me to be happy in the things I'm good at. Singing, writing, painting, and I am just me around him all the time, the ugly and the pretty, he sees it all, but still he can call me "my angel."

Don't Judge a Book by it's Skin

2011-10-26T16:37:00.003-05:00

The gym I belong to is called the Athletic Academy and it's kind of like school because it brings me back to when there are classes for one hour, extra work, crushes, gossip and well, high school kids. I have 2 more days here at this gym because honestly we can't afford the tuition without my second income and in a way, I have to go back to my old school, which is more public. The thing I love about this place is that they have become my friends, almost like family. Maureen who is the blond part owner appears as though she's a bad biker chick who still likes to party on the weekends and doesn't care a hoot about who comes and goes through the gym as long as you pay her on time. Over time, She's become like your boyfriend's cool mom and she makes you cookies while she chats about hair but still give you wise advise about life and career.

Ryan, who likes to play hard music and has dark hair that goes over his eyes every time he looks down rarely talks and could seem gruff is my most favorite. He's the guy that makes the Tee graphics and markets the events about town, promoting boot camps that benefits families, illness, kids and the poor. He makes these low mutterings that make you laugh because it seems so off with what he looks like on the outside. He laughs about almost anything and saves my little post it notes I leave on his desk on days he's not there. I finally broke through the old man serious, who calls his live in girlfriend his "lady friend." Jason is a young slugger who is under 30 and makes his cute girlfriends like his old lady and he isn't going to joke about when you're training under him in speed and agility. Of course, when you happen look his way, little boys are always looking up at him laughing and smiling, and I always wonder what kinds of jokes Jason would make with them.

Derek is the most different from what I thought he was. He looked to me a quiet mousy blond, who didn't know what to say to girls even if he had the chance. In the beginning I mistook his joking to be serious and actually thought he was a little bit afraid of me because I was a girl. Then he says to me after a whole year of chit chats here and there, "sit down, tell us a story Susie, we know nothing about you after all this time." I did sit down, "only for a few minutes, I have to get my run in or I'll turn into a monster." I sat there for over an hour cracking up at everything he said because he was sarcastic and would boss around little boys like he was a 1940's dad always giving that disapproving look gruffly saying to them, "get a haircut."

The trainers and the owners at this Academy surprise me, but my fellow trainees have become unlikely friends, yelling "bye Susie!" in a chorus when I leave. I'm friends with a mom of three, an MMA fighter, a Bliss girl who plays football in lingerie, a half Japanese business man and a hair dresser who goes actually competes in hair contests. Included in the mix are college soccer girls, boys who play football, baseball, run track and ice skates professionally, and there is a little glimpse of what each of these would be categorized outside of the Academy, jock, that tattooed guy, the biker, the cheerleader, the popular kid, the golden boy, the geek, but at the Academy, no one is categorized as any of these things, but we are all athletes, dedicating 90 minutes to our bodies and no one is judged upon anyone else's standard but your own.

I will miss this family, a hodge podge collection of people who seem far too different to ever become friends. But we've over come age, gender, stereotypes, and race! This place taught me how I can never judge anyone by who I think they are by first glance.

Bizzaro Us

2011-10-25T17:00:00.003-05:00

Every time I'm in Korea, I wonder about how we would have turned out if we actually grew up there. If my father hadn't moved us around all over the place and especially if we had not settled in the States. In the year my father's mother died, my brother and I accompanied my dad to Korea to bury my grandmother. After the arduous task of shipping a coffin with my grandmother lying in it, and finally laying her to rest in a hole that was dug too small for an American sized box, we sat in the subway seats with a collective sigh. We squished into the three seater that was reserved for the pregnant and the elderly, ignoring the signs because the three of us wanted a little privacy, a little closeness after such a stressful three days. We sat close, talked in low voices reserved just for us, I giggled at everything my brother and my father said, wishing my mom had been there too.

My brother began as always asking questions that begin with the phrase, "what if...' This time my father was roped into his imaginary bizzaro world and he began to respond in thought. "What if we were stayed here dad? what if you were never transferred internationally? where would we be?" My dad gave this a good seconds thought and began with my mother, who would be a happy home maker taking classes on 'how to make a quilt", have daily lunch dates with her college girlfriends and would rush home just in time to make dinner. He then moved on to me, saying I would either have been a movie star or married to one of his collegues' well-to-do-sons and have lived a good life. I asked my dad how he knew that's what I considered a "good life," and he merely looked straight ahead moving on to my brother's bizzaro life. "And Jon, Jon would have been spending all of my money on girls, fast cars and coming home late every night. For some odd reason, we sat their in half agreement, laughing at the prospect of my father's predictions and we finally came to the conclusion that we were living the better life in the States. Our struggle may have saved our lives.

Granted my father had to start all over and maybe we would have been more comfortable in Korea, but God saved all our lives from the frivilous living that may have been our reality. Would we have been so influenced by the popular culture? Would I even look like myself from all the plastic surgery I would incur and the shallow, materialistic Seoul snobs I would've had as confidants? I hope to think that we would still have been the same people, but spoke less English. Of course it's foolish to think that we would be the same exact people with varying circumstances that would have led us in different directions for all of us. The three of us sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the passing people, each imagining a life of what could have been. Then my brother broke the silence by saying, "I wouldn't have been spending all of your money! Susan would be doing it too!"

Teenage trouble

2011-10-24T16:26:00.000-05:00

When you have become a responsible adult with a stable job, a steady income, a home, consecutive weeks of going to church, you feel a little better about revealing a few of your childhood escapades you kept secret for the last 20 years. I wish I had stories to tell of sneaking out of my second floor window onto the garage and eventually into my boyfriend's convertible at 12 am on a Friday night, but I don't have any stories like that. As I was telling some of friends how I really was a well behaved girl, and not only was I behaviorally serene and docile, I was innocent in mind. Sneaking out of the house never occurred to me, and if I came home later than my parents had instructed (10:15 instead of 10:00 pm as a senior in high school), I had to face the consequences.

I had lamented all those times my brother would pass me by in the hall way, while dressed in my pajamas carrying a glass of water into my bedroom to turn in for the night, he was leaving in his dressed in his jeans and a jacket, heading for the door. He wasn't sneaking out, my brother definitely benefited from the double standard that measured us both, finding independence and autonomy that I never really experienced until I was actually out of the house for college. But even then, when I did come home for breaks, I had to be home at a reasonable hour or I would suffer the lectures and the sit down conversations about being a prudent girl. Although I was already a "good girl" the relentless expectations of perfection was unbearable. My father already thought me a doll, but slight misbehavior was too much for him to bear.

My brother recently confessed to me that he had been sneaking out since he was in Junior high. He would leave out the balcony and scaffold down and his friends would pick him in the middle of the night. I was flabbergasted at the thought of my little brother, whilst all of us were snug in our beds, dreaming of lambs and lollipops, sneaked off with his leather wearing friends with flip knives, fast cars and bandannas over their heads. I interrogated him, with questions I would have asked 20 years ago, "where did you go? " "who were you with?" "what did you guys do?" I half expected some kind of house party 15 year boys threw in their parent's shed with pot and skunked beer someone had stolen from their father while they weren't looking. Taking only one at a time over several weeks so that he wouldn't notice and after the collection had sufficed for a good party, he called impressionable boys like my brother over for a good time.

But his story was different. He said he went to our youth group friends' house, to play video games. I was even more appalled at his response, because if you were going to risk getting caught sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, you better be having some kind of great adventure or involved in a delinquent act! Video games? Were you not just playing video games with these kids a few hours ago in broad day lights under the semi-approving eyes of our parents? Why risk it for video games? I was a little disappointed that I wasn't able to vicariously live out a teenage rebellion without all of the consequences and disapproving eyes looking down at me. I half wish and fantasize about making plans to meet my friends in our pj's at the park and drinking the left over champagne my father had purchased for last New Year's and giggling on the grass all night before we realize it's dawn and all of us run back to our houses. Then we would pretend sleep and perhaps pass out under my covers reeking of booze and wet grass.

If I was a regular girl, living in one town and impressionable by my peers I imagine I would be like Quinn Fabray from Glee. Not because I was necessarily the popular pretty one in school, but because I did have a squeaky clean reputation, but nothing like Quinn's misadventures and manipulations for what she wanted. I wish I had let that rebellion and carelessness play out in my youth because it's costly and foolish when you are 30 and trying to get away with a little misadventure.

Girl Crush Friday ~ Thandie Newton

2011-10-21T15:15:00.001-05:00

Thandie Newton (38) is a former dancer that sustained a back injury when she was 16 years old. She was born in London, but her mother is a Shona Princess and her name Thandwie mean "beloved" in some African languages (Thandie is the English variation). She's another one of those girls with a degree under her belt and not from one of those online ones like Pheonix, and graduated with honors.

Blowing Smoke

2011-10-21T11:35:00.001-05:00

During the day, when I encounter a crazy mom trying to get her three soul-less suburban kids in her over-sized farm vehicle and she's taking her fluster out on the innocent citizens of her town, I use to call my brother and let him have it. I mean I vent to him about her, the mean girl that's been talking smack about me and he would give me responses like, " what? that's stupid!" or "I should kick his arse!" when I call H on the other hand, he gives me a rational answer, as a man that grew up with all brothers would. He tries to talk me through my irrational rant and talk me down from the ledge. Although I appreciate this when there are serious matters and I have some serious soul searching to do, but not when I'm just blowing some steam from the stress of the day, I don't need a lecture on how we need to give people a benefit of doubt. I'm don't actually believe the things I'm saying at that moment of rage, I will eventually come down from the balcony railings and settle into my rational view of the world.

It's the same with my writing. My girlfriend J recently performed an imitation of me that deserved an award for keen investigative work and an Oscar for acting me out just the way I would look! I was amazed and a little bit horrified that she knew me so well. She acted as though I was looking out the window of the car, her legs folded up into her chest, and her sharp elbow digging in to her knee while her hand supported her delicate chin, fingers curling up on to her lips and cheek. She then has a thought, takes out her phone and types in a quote or an idea to save for the Shindig entry she will write later. I couldn't believe I was watching myself in her. I laughed a loud and suddenly had a light bulb light up to know she sees me, she really sees me.

I write down things I feel, but don't really believe to be truth, things I feel but need to fix in my own heart and things I really feel and I need to let out. There are thoughts that I process through throwing it out on the table and sort through all the colors, shapes and separating them into categories of right, wrong, indifferent and brilliant. I haven't really written too much what's been really been going on in my life but rather, raw emotions and letting word vomit soak through the fabric of this blog. (I may actually be doing that right now - a random blog entry about how this blog is random). I don't intend these entries to fit any theme, feeling or arrange my blog into a succession of stories that would ever make sense. I just want to blow hot air, writing about the suburban mom, old high school boyfriends, feelings of insecurity, made up stories, stories other people have told me and pass them along as my own.

This blog was created just for that after all...

Eventually

2011-10-20T15:34:00.001-05:00

"Time against us, miles between us..."
Eventually has come where there is a gap in between you and me. I don't know where you are when I send you messages in a bottle and there is no response. It's as though my words float along the dark waters of the digital vortex and fall down a waterfall, but when you peer down, you see no end. My thoughts and words seem like an empty plastic bag tossed to and fro in the wind and snagged on a sharp corner of a fence.

Eventually has come where you and I are finally growing apart and there is no summer to come when we will reignite and rekindle our love again, our friendship again, it's just one continuous day now, of now or never. You won't share with me what's every day and what's real, you won't share with me the life circumstances and the let downs. You don't tell me what you really feel and what your day is like, so we eventually become strangers. Eventually, you and I will be fading in the old photos that we scrolled through like obsessed madmen surveying each eye, hand and fingers on each picture we took one summer. We will pass by those pictures framed on our wall and not notice that once we loved each other with intensity. And maybe eventually, you'll take those pictures out of those frames to replace them with pictures that are more current, people who are more present.

Perhaps eventually, it won't hurt as much to think of you and resent you for not responding, not believing me and not seeing me the way you should. Maybe in a few years I won't obsessively think about what you think about me, what you're doing, what you heard from her, what you heard from him. Maybe eventually I will forget you too like we never even met because it seems that might be what's easy for me to do. Easier on me, on my heart, on my soul, so that eventually I will be able to stand up again and with my memory gone, I can love again and I can love another. I have always done just this you know? Count on "eventually" because without letting them go, I would not stand here today, I would not love you like I do today. It's because I eventually forgot about the pain and decidedly loved, that you and I are brothers, sisters, friends.

I hope this eventually will never come, although some has already been here and gone. Let me down easy, it's a high place to fall from.

If you're a bird, I'm a bird.

2011-10-19T16:26:00.000-05:00

-When she stares at your mouth kiss her.
-When she pushes you or hits you like a dummy cause she thinks shes stronger than you Grab her and don't let go.
-When she starts cursing at you trying to act all tough kiss her and tell her you love her.
... -When she's quiet ask her whats wrong.
-When she ignores you give her your attention.
-When she pulls away Pull her back.
-When you see her at her worst tell her she's beautiful.
-When you see her start crying just hold her and don't say a word.
-When you see her walking sneak up and hug her waist from behind.
-When she's scared Protect her.
-When she steals your favorite hoodie let her keep it and sleep with it for a night.
-When she teases you tease her back and make her laugh.
-When she doesnt answer for a long time reassure her that everything is okay.
-When she looks at you with doubt back yourself up.
-When she says that she loves you she really does more than you can understand.
-When she grabs at your hands hold her's and play with her fingers.
-When she bumps into you bump into her back and make her laugh.
-When she tells you a secret Keep it safe and untold.
-When she looks at you in your eyes dont look away until she does.
-When she says it's over she still wants you to be hers.
-When she reposts this bulletin she wants you to read it
-Stay on the phone with her even if she's not saying anything.
-When she's mad hug her tight and don't let go.
-When she says she's ok don't believe it, talk with her because 10 yrs later she'll remember you
-Call her at 12:00am on her birthday to tell her you love her
-Treat her like she's all that matters to you
-Stay up all night with her when she's sick
-Watch her favorite movie with her or her favorite show even if you think it's stupid
-Give her the world.
-Let her wear your clothes
-When she's bored and sad, hang out with her
-Let her know she's important.
-Kiss her in the pouring rain
-When she runs up to you crying, the first thing you say is: "Whose ass am i kicking, baby?"

You see?

2011-10-18T11:14:00.000-05:00

If you can't see what I'm talking about ...If you can't see the difference in our interaction and relationship, there's nothing to be said. How can I argue when you don't see it at all. How can you think nothing is wrong when so much is wrong?

If you don't realize and if you don't see it, then it's worse than if you had. This means she has filled in your every part of what you need and she has completely replaced everything you had in me and everything you wished I was.

Even if you call to talk, to see what we need to remedy, there's nothing to be said. You say nothing has changed, you know what I'm gonna say. You say, "what do you want from me?" there's nothing specific I can say. How can I give you rules, boundaries and stipulations and quotas in love?

I know you try, I can see sometimes when there are surges of attention, a succession of calls and reaching out. You can see it too, but that's all I need, no it's what I can cope with. I see that you and I have grown, no longer the way we were, no longer in the season of being together as friends.

As longs as I know and you remind me intermittently that you remember me that you love me despite the silence. Shatter the quiet when you think I'm losing my way...only you can awake me from the encased curse.

In The Train Of His Robe

2011-10-05T13:45:00.006-05:00

¹ In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple. ² Above him were seraphim, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. ³ And they were calling to one another: “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory.”

When I've had it up to here and all I want to do is burst into tears from all the grief, I want to run away. I see myself small, with my little girl natural curls swaying against my back as I run. My full white dress with the edges of the skirt dirty from being dragged on the floor of the forest and long dirt roads I've walked, sometime to chasing after friends, sometimes to chase my rebellious heart. A salty reservoir pools and trickles down my cheek as I blink to see through the watery haze welled up in my blue black eyes. The tears leave a trail of clean streaks down my face, revealing the dirt caked upon the rest of my skin.

I run away, dropping all my responsibilities and cares of the world, garbage and treasures a like, I leave them in the mud where I stood, always finding my way back to Him, no matter how far I've strayed or how long I've been gone. Whatever I have been depleted of, he will fill me again because what he gives me is meant to give a way and not horded. Sometimes, I am lead a stray blinded by promise of love and fulfillment, floating on a boat of darkness that has only one destination, like the river of Styx it floats onto toward death, it floats on secretly without me knowing until it's too late. My heart is ripped wide open and my soul seeping out of the wound and spirit dying as I am being consumed by them. I open my eyes wide, turning side to side, noticing I shouldn't be here and I have been misguided. I jump off the boat, swimming desperately waving my hands and grappling at the thick water, keeping my head above, while the once beautiful garb donned on me by my King is weighing me down, sinking me with its heavy cloth. My greatest gift, also my greatest downfall. I grab on to the crust of the shore and climb up, running as fast as my foot can touch the ground.

With burning in my lungs and cramping in my legs, tears in my eyes and turning in my stomach, I run through the wilderness, burst through the forest and finally seeing the mighty white tower perched upon the hill and I know I am almost there. I run faster because I can't waste any more time being alone, being without Him. I burst through the door of the castle, and down the corridor paved with marble and swirling with gold. The guards with swords step back, and I run past points of the sword, but not aimed at me, but to protect me because I have the right to be there. I push hard upon the towering cedar doors and I run to the throne, the train of his robe cradling my tired feet all the way to his lap where I bury my face. Without pomp and circumstance, without so much as a courtesy or a bow, because he is my Father and I am his child.

I cry there in silence and he wipes my face with the sleeve of his silken robe, dismissing the legion of angels, he himself takes me to a basin of water to clean me up and put on me a new tailored dress reminding me of who I am in his eyes. He says in a whisper, "I made you this way, pour out what I gave you." He crowns on my head what was lost and what is not gained by my own hands and what I am not worthy of, His love, his grace, his forgiveness and inheritance forever and ever. I lost my way or lost myself, but I will always come home to regain and recharge, so I can go back out again.

Girl Crush Friday ~ Emma Stone

2011-09-30T13:39:00.001-05:00

Emma Stone (22) is an American Actress, a comedic actress. She recently appeared in the Help, a book turned film and she was perfect. She's the kind of girl that I would want as a sister because I can imagine us in our PJ's cracking each other up at night and gang on up our other siblings and scheme under our parents' noses. She's uber pretty, but is completely down to earth and funny. I like that in a gal.

Birth order

2011-09-29T11:23:00.001-05:00

I recently read an article about the power of birth order and this is a topic I've always been interested in. I'd think about all the boy friends I had and all the girl friends my brother has had and see if I can see a pattern in the kind of people we date. I found one. All the boys I've dated have been the middle child of three boys, or the boys I've liked are the eldest of two boys, none of them ever had sisters. I'm not sure why these particular boys were magnetizing to me nor do I know why they were attracted to me in return. Even the boy I married is one of three boys, but he happens to be the eldest and this makes me think that I've been dating the wrong brother all this time and that's why the other two never worked out. All of the girls my younger brother had dated were the youngest of two girls and never did he date anyone that had brothers. I find this a little strange or maybe a little worrisome perhaps because we may be wanting to be the unique one in the family, hogging all the attention.

I've also picked up a way of sensing when a boy has an older sister. Can't really list off distinct words or pin down a distinct characteristic unique to these boys, but I can always tell when a boy grew up under the ~~ruling fist~~ loving influence of an older sister. Boys with older sisters are generally good with girls, in that they treat them dignity even when they're goofing off and even when they are making fun of you. They treat you like a human being instead of a barbie doll or some alien creature they must probe and prod to figure out how to contain them. These boys have an ease when they are talking to girls because they are trained in their youth to listen and respond to complaints from their older sister. Not the kind of listening with vague nods, eyes glazed over and "uh-huhs" we get from boys with only brothers as their educators, but listening that comes from days and years of training from their older sisters, most of the time unwillingly or even without their knowing.

Children are innately more sensitive and keen to their environment and survival than we give them credit for. We can tell this because if any of us grew up with siblings, we know exactly who which parent favors what child. Of course any good set of parents would deny any accusation of favoritism by their children, even when they are fully grown because that's the way they show love to the unfavored one. After all...even the unfavored child is your own. Birth order can show a lot about a person and when you meet a middle child, an oldest child, a youngest child, you can always tell. Middle children with same gender siblings are true middle children because they have no uniqueness to them, not gender and not birth order, she or he is neither the eldest or the youngest, slipping through the cracks and being over looked. They seem to over compensate by being the peace maker, the trouble maker, the black sheep, to stand out from the rest of them. The eldest are usually confident and mature, independent and a little bit stubborn, taking care of those around them. The youngest, which I am frequently mistaken for, are free spirited and cavalier, they are the ones that take chances and a little bit thoughtless.

It's amazing to me how the person you grow up with shape you in ways your parents cannot. You learn from your sibling how to vie for your parents affections, learn to stand out or hide, negotiate your terms of survival and learn from the mistakes your older sister makes. You find your worth from the way your older brother, your younger brother at that, treat you. What if my brother had been born a sister? I may have killed her spirit, or she might have killed mine. Maybe I would have been a good sister and she would have been my best friend, causing me not to pursue girl relationships as hard as I do. Maybe I would have married a boy who had sisters instead of these boys that had brothers only. Could I have been the person I am without my little brother?

It takes a village

2011-09-06T14:55:00.002-05:00

It takes a village to raise a child, or no child has just one set of parents is an African proverb, but isn't limited to their culture. We imagine an African tribe, living in huts with open cutouts in shape of a square but no doors, the village so close in proximity that it's more of a group camping trip than an actual village or a town. In this context there must be a need for this proverb to really play out so that there is camaraderie and trust among the villagers, keeping your children safe. There must be children spilling into other people's yards and homes because there is very little boundary in their culture, so as a village, to raise the children of others is raising your own children. Americans have boundaries set up for every part of our lives from my money, my house, my bank to my side of the yard that is drawn by an invisible property line given by the city or the village, or more distinct still, a white picket fence to properly keep the riff raff out without being rude of course.

The invisible property lines are not only drawn for our belongings and brick and mortar possessions, but those invisible lines are drawn in our day lives, between our friends, our mentality, our beliefs and our personalities. I wrote about this topic last year and I have seems more in the last year about how it does take a village to know one person fully and we may never really know our friends in their full glory to the intricate detail and I'm not sure we were meant to. We can describe to our friends how someone is when he or she is when they are surrounded by a certain group of people, but you cannot truly see. Even if you were to be around when he or she is surrounded by those certain people, your sheer existence in the room taints the her reaction to them and you effect the way they are in front of those people, not seeing how she or he would be in their presence. There's no knowing what a person is like when you are not with them, you merely need to trust whatever interaction you have with your friend is true and genuine, and accept the side you bring out in that person.

When I am with my mom and dad, I am completely content and happy, but if you throw in the mix, a person that makes me feel uncomfortable, I will be uncomfortable. The chemistry of people is drastically changed when you are in combination with family and friends, your other group of friends, your enemies and your frenemies. There are a million different combinations of people you can be with and this is exactly why you are slightly panic stricken when you see your "worlds" collide. You constantly adjust, change and accommodate, let loose, hold tight, let in and let out as you are in various circumstances and "villages." I'd love to be a fly on the wall of friends rooms and their hang out spots, their homes and their classrooms. I want to see them interact with their parents, their childhood friends, their ex girlfriends and brothers to see what they are really made of. I want to see them be their full self when no one is looking because as soon as I am there to look, they are already different. And as soon as you're looking, I'm different too.

Drowning in Molasses

2011-09-05T14:27:00.003-05:00

I just can't get back to the normal routine of things when I either come home from camp or when the Ohio people come and they leave. It's difficult to just back into reality when you're struggling to adjust your eyes and mentality, while the people you have spent a heavenly seven days with are beckoning you at the same time through letters, emails, texts and phone calls. You can to be with them, but you can't be with them all the time, there is work to be done, there are people to be dealt with, family to see. I love them with all my heart and I am willing to drown in their love, but right now, I feel as though I am keeping my head above a deep pool of Molasses and I am struggling to keep my breath. The love is sticky, thick, demanding and it makes me desperate. The sticky sweetness that I would love to die in and reincarnate into an angel, surrounded with the angels I love so much.

In my initial primal reaction, I want to protect myself from all the rawness of the love and emotion, but when I think about detaching and spending a little time away from them so that I would be able to come up for air, I'm so afraid that they will forget me. I am afraid to be forgotten by them. Are they my idol? Am I making this good good thing into something I am consumed by, putting them before Jesus and my desires for Him? When I think about losing them, is that the worst thing I can think of? I feel out of control...

I need some time away from them and let the rest of my life catch up with me, or maybe the other way around, catch up with the "real" life I live in when the high light reel is not playing...the rest of the movie that connects each of the good highlight moments and makes the story of life flow with continuum. There are moments of sadness they will never see, they will miss the nights you cry yourself to sleep from loneliness or just overwhelmed by your sin. They will not see the deepest desires of your heart and what your soul is wrapped up in. That you hunger for things that are deeper with them, but we may never reach, I want to go there with them, to the deep dark beyond. I will follow you into the darkness, hold my hand and I will blindly follow, would you follow me?

Sinking Ship

2011-09-02T13:17:00.002-05:00

I think I'm spinning out of control. The stress of dealing with friendship and relationship problems, my family dilemmas and adoption lull has been getting to me. I wasn't feeling that stressed, but lately, I'm getting a really weird burning sensation in my throat, chest and stomach and sometimes it shoots up into my brain and I get some of a brain freeze, like I slurped up too much of the stress juice. I can see visible signs of my life coming undone, literally. Half my clothes are on the floor of my wardrobe, the sink is full of dishes, the living room is strewn with random things I don't have a place for (or, they do have a place but I don't know where to put them). I am breaking out, losing sleep and losing hair, making me busy with one more thing to do, sweep up all the hair off the floor.

The funny thing is, I do feel sad and I do have bouts of crying here and there but not emotional break down. It's the kind of small releases I need, but I'm not spiritually and emotionally downing in my sorrows and foibles, which I attribute Jesus for. I am though still frustrated with too many communication breakdowns, whispers, twisting of words, suspicion and flat out lies. I am overwhelmed once again, with my own sin, and the sin of others. There were so many out pours of brokenness last night, I felt as thought there was a huge monkey straddling my shoulders. You know that monkey from the family guy and he sits in your closet with sharp teeth and points at you as the target for his next attack? That one.

I am sick of talking, defending and explaining myself and I'm beginning to hate the sound of my own voice. The things I'm saying feels like it's falling on deaf ears and what goes through my mind over and over like a Tornado warning that scrolls over your favorite sitcom says, "only if they knew me, they wouldn't say this, why would I do this? only if they knew me, they wouldn't think this, why would I do this?" I don't think I saw anything through the scrolling words in my mind because I crashed into a boat today. YES, a motor boat. A pick-up truck hulling a motor boat, most likely prepped for the holiday weekend has been leading me down Higgins Road for a whole mile. The red light signals us to stop, but I kept driving because I couldn't see anything through the scrolling words in my mind. The cop shows up and asks if I just had a blond moment, and I guess I did...absent minded and floating in space.

This boat is finally going down....Sinking Shin.

Girl Crush Friday ~ Rachel Mc Adams

2011-09-02T09:00:00.001-05:00

Rachel McAdams (32) is a Canadian actress and she's actually born in the same city as her ex boy friend Ryan Gosling (Thank God I like this girl or I'd have to hate her). Two high school girls I know actually told me I reminded them of a Korean Rachel McAdams, but I think they were flattering me and it's really not true. Regardless, I like her because she's sassy and she's not always clamouring for the spot light but getting it anyways. She's the type of girl I think I could actually be friends with because she's so down to earth and although she looks like a celebrity (and is one) she seems approachable and touchable. I especially like her in the Family Stone and the Notebook. :)

Hair cut Dilemma

2011-08-31T16:51:00.000-05:00

Every single time I grow my hair out, I get sick of it and want to cut it off short. Then, I totally regret it! I'm still stuck in the crazy vicious cycle of wanting to cut my hair just to regret, although this time I'll be in Korea when I get that hair cut. I'm busily pursuing through google images of my favorite celebrities for ideas...because I look most like them??? Anyways, these are some of the possibilities I came up with...I just don't to regret my short hair cut yet again....

Maybe it was as bad idea pulling haircut images from beautiful women and I'm just setting myself up for failure...and maybe y'all are rolling your eyes at how serious I'm taking this haircut business, but if you saw my past haircuts, you would be too. (I've cried before)

Lee Hyori: Although she's Asian, She can pull off anything! I don't know if that's the same case with me.

Same hair cut

This is the same idea...but looks different on her right? This is what I'm afraid will happen to me.

Or just go straight up short hair cut with no bangs.

She's my most favorite...she's french and this hair is very french. I'm a little afraid I'll end up looking like a Korean mom.

This is yet again, the same type of hair, but less commitment on the bangs. She's also Jessica Alba....

The Poor an the Down trodden

2011-08-31T15:40:00.000-05:00

There has been a lot of discussion about the poor lately, at church and in my small group, not to mention a friend who has been voluntarily packing lunches with a little note in it saying "you are loved and you have a God." She drives around in her neighborhood and because she lives in the city, there are a lot of rag tag groups of homeless people who gather and are looking for hand outs. All of this made me think about the unspoken rules and guidelines I have for the poor and how to handle the "situation" at large. When I think about how I handle the poor, I typically give all out to the people who are truly "deserving," although that is not something that can be judged by me. Those who are from the ghettos of China or the North Korean displaced who are desperate for freedom to live and eat, those are the truly poor and down trodden and those are the ones that I don't have a problem serving.

The people I do have a problem serving are the American poor, although I typically do stop and offer to buy food rather than give them money, there are definite rules I abide by. I don't give money because I think to myself that my few dollars will not put them back into a home, it will not give them the inspiration to put back on a suit and find a job even if it were at Mc Donald's. My few dollars in the grand scheme of things will not buy them a life suitable for human transformation, what it will buy is a pack of cigarettes or that colt 45 in a brown paper bag. At least my few dollars can fill an empty stomach and some how I'm sustaining this person's day for another meal. This is what I think when I see a homeless person in America. It's a broken system. Somewhere in the several articles I've been reading online and books, state that it is cheaper to actually take each homeless person off the streets, pay for their apartment and give them a paying job than to actually keep them on the streets. The rationality is that as long as you keep them on the streets, the truly down and out, the ones with the drinking and drug addictions will one day overdose and the cost of reviving their life and the days in the hospital will cost them more than actually rehabilitating them for life.

So why don't we take everyone off the streets that are costing us hard working, upright citizens millions in tax money? Who can say that one person is more in need of rehabilitating than another? It's a gray matter when we are talking about the poor. In some cases, there are those practically living in the suburbs with their three children off of the government, but the truly needy are dying and living off the streets. It's a broken system. All this to say, I don't have the answers to how to feed the hungry and end all poverty, because I don't even think that the American poor really knows true poverty. I want to help the poor, but the righteous judgemental side of me says, I want to keep you from having your cigarette and having a beer off of the five dollars I will give you when you refuse my sandwich. But is it so bad? That they will find a small release or pleasure out of a cigarette and a beer if they wanted? After all, my few dollars will not cure them of that either.

Everyone has a story and most of the time, the homeless are looking for dignity as much as the next person. they are being ignored by the passer-byers and I won't even look them in the eye as they walk past my car with their "I'm hungry" sign. How do know who to eve help? Some need food, some need gas cards, some of them don't know they're poor and they are offended by your offer. Some need professional help, where they are homeless because they have a substance problem, mental problems, emotional ones. How can I judge whether they just need a friendly conversation or just a silent hand out? I feel confidently fine about getting to know a homeless person's name, then their story, but I want it to stop there, I will by you a meal, have a conversation, but I don't want them as a friend. I have this twisted view of them eventually wanting more and more and wanting to move in with me and Hans some day, or even hold my baby one day. I can see that at the end of this rabbit trail of worse case scenarios played out in my head about the homeless, I am the one spiritually bankrupted and I am morally poor.

Study of Love: People I love

2011-08-31T14:58:00.005-05:00

I .....sometimes feel like it's fake

I sometimes feel like I want to detach from it all because it requires so much time and energy and love.

I sometimes feel like they forget that we are real and that we actually exist outside of our time together.

I sometimes feel used like I have dispensed all that I have, but still nothing I am gaining
I sometimes feel His love is the only thing that's truly real and we shan't expect anything on earth.

Maybe this is what I asked for but it's hard when it's reality.

Love without return and pouring out of your self without the reciprocity, it's empty and lonely and painful.

Do they think about me? What keeps us together?
Why have they all gone and found one way or another to push me away?
Maybe he's right, "you expect too much from people, I don't expect anything."
I hope that's not true...

I sometimes think that we all are a projection of what we really want in our hearts

I sometimes think that we are only a personifications of the fantasy each of us has, all different, but found in the same place, because we all become dependent on something, someone.

I sometimes think that I am seen as this old fool who is trying to live out a childhood I never had. But we all drank the punch, and we're all addicted and sold out.

I sometimes think that I am vicariously living through this time, this place, this group of what I never had as a wolf pack.

Is this desperation, this pursuing and endless talk about it a hint that I actually do love them?

Maybe I am to love them no matter what ...unconditional and that is my existence for them.

If that is the case, I am honored in a way and devastated in another....

I will hang on..

Girl Crush Friday ~ Rose Bryne

2011-08-26T13:03:00.001-05:00

Rose Bryn (32) is an Aussie actress and she has the kind of cool girl next store look that I love. First I thought she was a Brit because she does do a killer British accent, but then again she is Australian and I think that helps. She's not the pretty girl that can't take a joke or to be made to be the butt of the joke for that matter. She manages to maintain pretty while the whole scene is making a mockery of her. She's that cool.

I have a dream...

2011-08-24T16:52:00.004-05:00

Today, during our staff meeting Pastor Dave had given us a mini-workshop on the concept of what drives us and what makes one succeed and constantly innovate while others are constantly following only one step behind. He gave us several examples of men who were less equipped than their contender, but won out in the end only because of their approach in following their dreams. They began with why they believe in something...the "why not..." and the "what" came only as the tangible product of their vision. The how? everyone will need to push through the "how" but the vision cast was a better motivation for the human spirit than trying to reach for the "what."

Martin Luther King Jr. was a man of conviction and he was a Reverend that didn't love God more than the next man of the cloth. He was no more educated or no more in desperation for people to be equal in America just as we are in the eyes of God above, but how did he become the man that started a civil right movement that will not can not be conceded? Why did he stand out among all that wanted the same things? Because he had a dream. He was able to cast a vision for a better America, a reality that is better than the one that was in existence at that time. This dream can be had for any reality, your job, your relationship, your spiritual life, your physical life. I want to stop reaching for this impossible standard of who I want to be and what I can get out of life, instead, to start with the "why."

Why not have a life of freedom and love that God has already forfeited to you in full. He has not withheld anything from you. Why not live like you are rich, you are fully loved and have full access to the value and worth he's ascribed to you as his princess, his child and the receiver of everything goo? Why not be that person because there is nothing stopping you? Wouldn't that be wonderful?

I have a dream that I am a woman fully devoted to Jesus and to Him only.

I have a dream that I am wise and I will chase what is only wise and what is good. To be devoted to the decrees of God, because it is the only good thing that will keep me in the narrow path, although the yoke is easy.

I have a dream to be innocent and pure, my heart completely devoid of selfishness and entitlement or position, recognition and even love. I will be satisfied with the love only God gives and be filled with it so that I can pour out and not hoard.

I have a dream that I can be fully me and only me, to be comfortable in the skin I am given without being apologetic or bashful about it. Be proud of the person God has made me to be. I will speak my mind and be who I am without the fear of being judged.

I have a dream I will be the kind of mother that will be for every young and old. Not only for my future baby but for all who need the touch of kindness and gentleness, an openness, a listening ear, a speaking lips that drips only with Truth.

I have a dream I will not spin and toil for outside beauty and the applause of man, but I will desire the beauty that will glow out from my spirit and heart, the kind of beauty that cannot be corrupted or spoil, but will grow radiant with splendor as I age.

I will not be perfect here on earth, but I will choose to remember and believe what God has promised me. Making the decision every day to follow his dream for me.

Sing it to me over and over again my God, that I will become who you envision for me to be. Amen.

None But Jesus

2011-08-24T11:44:00.001-05:00

In the quiet

In the stillness

I know that You are God

In the secret of Your presence

I know there I am restored

When You call i won't refuse

Each new day again I'll choose



There is no one else for me

None but Jesus

Crucified to set me free

Now I live to bring Him praise



In the chaos in confusion

I know You're sovereign still

In the moment of my weakness

You give me grace to do Your will

When You call I won't delay

This my song through all my days



All my delight is in You Lord

All of my hope

All of my strength

All my delight is in You Lord

Forever more

- None But Jesus By Hillsongs

Pheonix Rises

2011-08-23T20:43:00.000-05:00

They are good, absolutely good, maybe too good in my eyes that I am willing to do anything for them. I have never known this kind of forfeiture, I feel out of control. They ask and I say "yes" without thinking about the consequences, I think, "I'll deal with it later." When I am with them I lose myself and I don't count the costs of who I am or where I am in life. I don't think any of us do, our main concern is to be with one another and consume of one another as much as we can. I know I have in me a free spirit and when I let that out, it takes over me and I am no longer Susie, but some other form of me. It's like when Jean Grey becomes Phoenix and when she lets loose her powers, her wrath, there is no stopping her, not even herself. In the end she says, "help me" in the most desperate voice, and she has to die. She herself does not want to be this person and she has to die to herself to save the people she loves. I have to die to myself and let Jesus live in me. I am that girl that can free it all up and when I do, there is a loosing that is like a Pandora box, good the bad and the ugly and maybe that's why I'm doing my best to hold it all in. I'm afraid to see it too.

I have to be the Jean that has great powers, but should be monitored carefully, she has to be subdued so that she is good for the people. I cannot awaken the inner self that was carefully avoided by the hand of God and his provision. I look young and young at heart, but I believe that I am at a stage where I am to be a nesting mother, focusing on my family so that my baby has a nest to come to. I don't want to be the mother that squandered all of her time and resources to do all that she wants to before the baby changes her life forever. I want to cultivate my heart and my soul for this child. I believe that God has allowed me to avoid a time stage in my life as a young 20 something year old and that has shaped me into the woman I am today. I have to admit that I regret not partying it out in college or even rebel a little in high school, I guess it never occurred to me or maybe He had put it out of sight. I want to be able to have the careful balance of having fun and being able to hang with them all, but at the same time know when to reign in, to be responsible. There is no one to catch me when I fall, there's just consequence now.

I'm not sure why I feel guilty for having too much fun, too much freedom lately...perhaps its all of the indulgence in every conceivable way. The food, the drinks, the desserts, the late nights and fly the seat of your pants kind of spontaneity that's getting to me. Not just with my friends, but even with my husband. Maybe it's like when you eat a whole box of Oreo cookies and although it is the most delicious thing God has ever made, you feel just a little gross after wards, even a little fat. My body definitely feels it and I have heartburn, both physically and metaphorically. I need some real food, some discipline.

Come down from up there....

2011-08-22T16:40:00.000-05:00

It subsides so fast....it's like lightening that love. It's so fast and so intense. It's here one moment, like a rush of storm, lightening crashing, thunder rumbling, then it's tranquil and quiet with only drops of rain to clue you in that it was actually here. It leaves you wet and cold and soon as you have changed into your dry clothes, the storms comes at you again. It's not sustainable or long lasting, the way we love, the way we spend all this time together. It's saturated and only reserved for heaven, and we are here on earth. Our heavenly place will have to live on only in our memories and fading photos we look at over and over as if that moment could be relived.

I wish they would stop living in my photos and in only highlight reels of my life. I wish that they would jump out of the pictures and resurrect from my memory to live on with me every day. In the life of an ordinary yokel, to grow old together as neighbors, with kids running across our yards, safe in their territory because we form a fence of safety and love around them. I wish that we can casually have a BBQ on a Saturday afternoon for no reason at all but the fact that it's summer and it's time to.

We love in an opposite, upside down ways. Normal human beings will ask who are your parents, where do you go to school, how old are you? And begin getting to know what's your favorite food, what's your pet peeve, what's your favorite color? Then finally moving on to what is your deepest fears and highest hopes? But we hug, kiss, love, share the most intense moments and then fill in the blanks when we can. It seems details don't matter when we are together. We are alien.

I wish I did know those things about you....where you live, what your parents are like, and why you don't like seafood, have you tried it? What about your brother? your sister? what are they like and how do they relate to you? how do they shape you? I have all these questions and details I want to know not because they matter in the way I will love you, but because I love you I want to know everything about you.

Can we come down from way up there? I don't want to dream any more because you always wake up from a dream.

Freedom Firm

2011-08-19T16:08:00.000-05:00

In light of the recent blog entry I wrote about girls being mean, jealous and insecure, I wanted to shine some light on women who are making a difference the lives of other women. When attend events like this, I am ashamed of myself in thinking too much of my life and the stupid first world worries I am consumed with. Freedom Firm is a rescue missions firm that seeks to eliminate child prostitution in India by rescuing minor girls, providing means to rehabilitate and prosecuting the sex traders and the pimps. This firm raids brothels and rescue young girls who are sold or tricked into prostitution by other women and sometimes even their own family members for the sake of money. They act of desperation and most of the girls grow up only knowing what it is to be a prostitute and when they are of age, as young as 12, 13, or 14 years old they are put to work. The boys that grow up in this society, grow up to be pimps and pimp out the girls that they've played with in the streets together.

After the girls are rescued freedom firm allows girls to stay with them for one to one and a half years to begin the healing process. They go through job training, receive health care and therapy while under the care of a family type setting through the Freedom Firm. When they are job training, they learn to make jewelry, cards and key chains so that they have a way of sustaining themselves and have the dignity of earning a day's wage without receiving hand outs long term. Some girls are rescued without the follow up of rehabilitation and job training, only to go back to the brothels because they don't have anything else to do or anywhere else to go.

India seems so far away and even when I write about North Korea, they seem so far away too. It poses the question, "what can I do to help this situation? I am only one person in a far away land." You can help! Freedom Firm allows you to get involved by having a Jewelry party at your home and all the proceeds go to the women who hand make then in India. For more information go to http://www.freedom.firm.in/.in

Shameless plug: If you would like to help Crossing Borders, go to http://crossingbordersnk.wordpress.com/

Girl Crush Friday ~ Jessica Alba

2011-08-19T10:00:00.000-05:00

Jessica Alba (30) has been in a lot of bad movies right? So why is she so famous? Because she's just so darn beautiful! But what a lot of girls out there want to know is "what is the big deal? I mean...she's cute, but what's all the commotion over her?" One time or another I had say to my own brother, "Ok, I get that she's cute, but do I have to hear about her every day from you?" No one can explain the essence of her lure, but one friend had said posed that she is the perfect balance of cute, sexy, and pretty, where most girls are tilted to one side. Is that it? She's the perfect balance? Whatever the heck it is, she's got it down.

Most Eventually

2011-08-18T15:45:00.001-05:00

Most eventually, everyone you know will hurt you, disappoint you, break your heart, let you down, at the very least annoy you in some way. If not in one, two or three years of knowing one another, they will in their 11th year. We are all fallen beings and not only are we naturally self-seeking and sinful, we also hide our sinfulness because we know it's shameful. Although there is heartbreak through being with one another, there should not be a fear of protecting ourselves from one another. We will have to learn to brace ourselves for the worst, but expect the best, even though that might be a contradiction in itself. We have to know that we are all standing in the same boat of loss and depravity, not one is saved except by the blood of the Lamb. Then we will understand that although we hurt one another, there is hope in reconciliation, hope for mending and fixing.

In dark times, when I am spiraling in my tiredness and lack of food or down time, I feel black swan coming up from my throat and seeping through my eyes and I think that all is my enemy and I have no one. Then I have to swallow her down to see that God has blessed me with people who love me regardless of my mistakes and my quirks, that I truly live the good life. It's only when I forsake and forget the gospel that I am without defenses against the lies that the world tells me. I want to be able to absorb the hurt and lay at the foot of the cross, tossing it like the rubbish it is and forget that you have wronged me and I have wronged you. Who are we to pick up a stone and throw it when we are in offense to God, when we are the ones to be stoned in the court yards of the town. we have been forgiven for much, so we must forgive others.

Most eventually, everyone you know will hurt you, but most eventually, there is room for hope and room for making things right again. There is wordly wisdom of detaching from everyone in your life just a little bit so that the sting of hurt will not wound you beyond your capacity, but in protecting ourselves, we harden ourselves. Never really loving, never really trusting.

Study of Love: Sin of Omission

2011-08-17T15:23:00.000-05:00

There are two kinds of sin, sin of commission and sin of omission. The first is when one purposefully or actively whether or not they are aware, performs an act of offense. The latter is when one commits a sin, again whether or not they are aware, not perform a task that offends in it's silence or inactivity. I don't consider myself someone that walks into a room to command it or to be noticed, and most days I mind my own business chit chatting and giggling with friends that make me feel comfortable and secure. Lately, I've seen a pattern in myself that may have been glaring to others, but I haven't seen it for myself. My expression of love for the people I love is so obvious that when compared to that of people I don't really know, it's a high contrast. So high, those in the contrasting side will even say, " Susie doesn't like me," or "She's a snob," as if I am purposely isolating them.

I have had several girls feel like this when I really don't mean to and to be honest, I don't think of them at all and that might even be worse, that they don't even occur to me. This hasn't been a problem I developed recently, but I distinctly remember girls questioning me because I was loving on my small group girls too much! It was almost as though I was rubbing it in the faces of the girls that were not in my group. This is my sin of omission. Jesus is ever so attentive to me and careful to listen to my heart, why won't I do the same to those around me. Sin of Omission doesn't excuse me from isolating and banishing people because "I just didn't know I was doing it." I must be aware. I must be aware of those who are being shunned by society, the poor in spirit, the down trodden and even the neglected. I'm not suggesting my love is so great that I need to share it with the world it's sweet goodness, but my overly expressive nature for those I love shows exclusivity and invokes jealousy. In turn there are accusations of my genuine heart and intentions to keep peace among some groups.

Although I do resent that girls would actually think that I would do this and that I am actually capable of girly meanness. Part of it is that girls are jealous and it comes from insecurities that they can't express besides through gossip and harden hearts. We are by far feelers rather than thinkers and no matter what we explain about friendships, love and circumstances, we will believe our hearts first and what it will tell us to feel. I have a charm that I wear every day, and it's quite large, it states in Latin, "Animum Debes Mutare Non Caelum" - "change your state of mind, not the sky." I want to logical and reasonable when it comes to the Truth and perspectives I need to change in myself so that I can love others better. At times my best guys friends would trade stories about the "crazies" in my life and laugh about it, but on the flip side, I have to take responsibility of what I can control. Me.

In love, there is no favoritism.

KCC Rate R

2011-08-16T17:45:00.002-05:00

Some KCC people came to visit this past week and it was a longer trip than we were use to. I'm not sure how we squished in all that face time in one short weekend in the past, but even the longer week didn't satisfy our desire for one another. In the end, while planning to say good bye, everyone just threw their logic out the door, cancelled and rearranged everything to be with one another one.more.night. Then that turned into let's stay just for breakfast and they finally left before it struck noon. I was especially tired this week because unlike real KCC, we were capable of so much more and gallivanted around the city, the beach, the game park, and lots and lots of just loitering around, being with one another, doing a whole lot of nothing but to be near each other.

While talking to one of the girls, I realized how when we are together, we lose all common sense and reality for the outside world and nothing else matters. No money, no time, no normal, but it's like we've walked into a vortex in a wall somewhere and we all fell oblivion and landing down on "KCC La la Land," where only we know and we can go. When we're together, we float around on our personal Cloud 9's as a vehicle and our heads are in a misty smoke of happiness and delirium. There's no judgement, there's no anger, we are who we are and appreciate one another for it. Our one purpose and our one goal is to find the next funny thing and to be around when it happens. We can't bother to eat, sleep or drink or think about things like work the next day.

While saying good bye, I felt a little bit of relief because if we in fact are a dream and this all has been a fantasy of ours, then we don't exist or we aren't real. I want the love that we have for each other to be real and not something that we have to wake up from one day. Realizing that all this was a figment of our imagination. A bunch of people having the same kind of dream and only using one another as a fulfillment of that acceptance and group. I'm in a little bit of daze from lack of sleep and finally when I got a little shut eye last night (12 hours worth) and back at work, I'm beginning to think that everything was just a dream and hope to never wake up.

Girl Crush Friday ~ Camilla Belle

2011-08-16T17:05:00.001-05:00

Yes, I realize today is Tuesday, but I missed last Friday. Not that I haven't missed other ones, but I feel like I should submit a late one today. I had so many things floating in my head and meant to post, but I can't get my mind honed in on one thing right now. So here's Camilla (24), she's an actress who speaks both Spanish and Portuguese fluently because she's Brazilian born. I don't recall her in any other movies besides 10,000 BC, do you? I thought not. But she is beautiful, and that's all that counts right? Because outer beauty is more important than inner beauty.

I may have to talk about a lot of other topics before I actually talk about how I really feel....Ready.set.go.

Study of Love: C.S. Lewis Returns.

2011-08-16T16:36:00.002-05:00

Reminder to myself:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” - C.S. Lewis

Don't Say it's Fine

2011-08-09T10:39:00.003-05:00

Don't say it's fine when it isn't.
You say with your mouth, "fine, it's fine," but your actions scream it isn't.

When you say it's fine, you put a blanket over my head and pretend there isn't a divide between you and me.
You set fire to the bridge that is already starting to give way and you let it burn while you turn away. You make yourself believe that you will never need to cross that bridge again.

When you say it's fine, you push me away and dismiss me with a flick of your hand, commanding "off with her head."
When you say it's fine, I am shut in a lonesome dungeon with no one to hear my thoughts and my cries of defense will fall on deaf years. The dragon of hate will come to consume us, the poison from it's fangs dripping with bitterness and resentment.

When you say it's fine, you turn a blind eye to the wound you have, and wound I have. You say you will not cover it or heal it. You say you will cannot be bothered to mend it's pain.
It's the pride in me, it's the pride in you that will not allow us to see. The heavy veil of pride hangs over our eyes, and plugs up our ears and you don't hear a thing but the validity of your own feelings.

Don't say it's fine.
Cross over the line to my side, because we are friends not enemies
we love each other, and we are under Christ.
Mend with me this fabric we began to wear away
Build with me this bridge we set fire to.

New normal

2011-08-09T10:09:00.000-05:00

One thing I've learned up to this point of "growing up" is that there is no normal or a basic standard of leading your life. I'm not talking about alternative living like nudist colonies or living on a compound with six other "sister-wives" and 32 children who call you mother. What I'm talking about is what every person expects out of life like get a job at graduation, get married at 26, have 2.5 kids before turning 30 and having your own house with a picket white fence. There's a standard expectation of how things will play out as you live out your life, but my life hasn't been as normal as I expected. I don't know why I'm surprised because I lived in 3 different countries before I was 12, visited over 5 countries by then and attended double the number of different schools before I entered junior high. I met my father when I was 6 months old because he was working in Amman, Jordon and brought me toys from Paris and London.

After marriage is when the normal melts into a pool of vague gray and I realize that we as a society of people have formed a cookie cutter and expect each person to cut out a life for themselves and whether you want to sprinkle them with sugar or add chocolate chips is the only choice you're given. But in the dough of your life, God's ingredients for you can vary from people to people an there is no normal. I was the only one out of my friends to marry so young and Hans and I practically grew up together in our marriage, becoming adults together from childhood. In that growing up, we found that not all are made to have children right away, we found that there are people in the world that live lives with fear in the tip of their tongues and always having to turn their eyes side to side for any tip offs to run for her life. We found that you can find family in your friends, in your small group, in campers miles away in Ohio.

My cookie dough is made of unconventional ingredients; white chocolate, some things in my life are pretty typical, education, good family, then bacon is added. Everyone loves Hans just like everyone loves bacon, but he's hardly the choice I would have made as a husband, but God must have made this choice for me as a gift because he's more than I've ever asked for. There are sour components like lemon peels making life a little sour and you figure out how you will make lemonade our of such tragedies. All in all, even when the indredients aren't conventional and may not make sense when making the dough, He puts in the oven the uncooked pile of blob and out comes a purpose and life never more clear with blessings and fulfillment. We have made sons and daughters that are not of our flesh but of the heart and of the spirit, thus pruning us to be the parents of a flesh and blood child that may not be our own, but in heart and spirit, one hundred percent ours.

I don't know if I had lived a purposeful and fulfilling life if it were not the way God had fashioned it just the way it was. He knew me in the inner most part while I was still a twinkle in my father's eye, he knows how my life is to be so that it is to the sweetest and the most yummiest cookie there is.

100 layer cake

2011-08-05T10:40:00.004-05:00

It's a like a 100 layer cake. I keep finding more and more layers to put my fork through and soon, the handle of my silver trident sinks into the chocolate frosting and into the layers. The instrument of consumption is too short and would never reach the bottom of it until it's fully submerged into the layers and layers of yummy goodness. I began another year of planning and dreaming of KCC just like all the other years, but unlike all the other years. We motioned through the same old routine of emailing our ideas, speaking up for the groups we wanted to consume, volunteering for the classes we will teach. Knowing each phase of the preparation like the top of our feet or the back of our hands.

We worked like a well lubricated machine, pulling and pushing, sawing and mending, putting together a camp worthy enough for the lovely feet that will enter into the front door of our family room. They will know we will be waiting for them at the door in our Hanboks, Kimmie in her yellow top and pink skirt, Emily in her contemporary hanbok that suits her more than the traditional ones we wore, and Joshua in the hanbok that will soon be too small for him. One by one, two by two, and some times even three, there will be campers who I have spent countless hours with will enter into those doors. There will be high pitched squeals of delight when the fab four arrive and it will take the room into a whole another level of buzz of excitement.

I know each one by name, all 55 of them and even though I had drawn a blank while staring at the past KCC pictures to jog my memory, all of their names came rolling off my tongue once I see them face to face. From a far, I see them as the fab four, the sexy six, the good looking boys, Nick Bieber, little Joshua, little Bonnie, we all have them in our minds as characters in a story or a Saturday morning cartoon. Then you look further, you look closer, and maybe ask the right questions and you'll see that there's a whole different person behind the kids you knew. They are ever changing, ever growing, having things to say about what they are learning and realizing. They surprise us with their hidden humor, unknown talents, future dreams and yearnings no one has asked them about.

They surprise you with gifts and you realize they've been listening, they've been paying attention and remembering. You dip your fork deeper and there's more of them, another layer. I thought I knew these kids, and I don't, not all of them, not deeply. Every year, you find more, you learn more and this time, I learned that camp isn't just camp, it's not just for fun, it's for life. In this layer, I see that I don't have to be desperately clutching them because they are holding on too. That I won't lose them and they won't forget me. I learned that they see more than you give them credit for and that they truly mean family when they say family. There's no way of enjoying a cake so rich, so thick but to consume it layer by layer.

The Graduate

2011-08-05T09:39:00.001-05:00

This year I feel as thought I had graduated from bathing, wiping, dancing and reading books to the little ones at KCC. It's not that I hadn't done any of things, I did! I still pick the smalls over all the mediums and the larges because I have a special way with the little ones. Perhaps because I cherish purity and innocence and morn the loss of it in myself; perhaps, just maybe their little souls will commune with mine and purify it too. I hang on their every words and their laughter fills up the energy tank like in Monsters Inc., where the laughter of a child is worth more than their cry. Still, I long for a connection deep and authentic in a different way, verbal, emotional, and vulnerable. I had graduated this year to the mediums and the larges where they crowned upon me the crown of trust and vulnerability. Handing over their coveted scepter of their true feelings and inner lives, the inner workings of their hearts. Things they would never utter to their friends or family, tears they would never drop in the presence of their own mother or father.

This year I had the undeserved honor of sharing three entries from my blog, mainly just complaining about my circumstances but over-esteemed and allowed to be shared in front of young girls and boys that I love and care for more than I had ever loved and cared for anyone. I was nervous and felt a shamed as I stood in front of the mediums and larges, with eager eyes and listening ears, I had fooled them into thinking I had anything to offer. But they were there, sitting and waiting, so I began reading my meager thoughts about losing, gaining, losing again and adoption. I read to them my letter to the biological mother of my future child. I cried, they wept. Then, we faced one another and they asked me questions seeing their own mothers on my face, and I asked questions with my child on their faces. We exchanged heart, soul, and information filling the gaping holes that created longing and angst, holes that allowed spirit and hope to seep out. I patched up theirs and they patched up mine, filling it once again with love, hope and answers that may ease and quiet our groaning hearts. Tears that washed a way doubts and debris from this cruel fallen world that began both our lives in brokenness and shattered pieces.

The misunderstandings given over to understanding and knowledge, unraveling minds that fantasize about mother and children mended and knit again, beginning the journey of wholeness and contentment. Another layer of the cake laid upon the other, or another layer of the onion peeled back, I am drawn deeper and deeper into the vastness of their love.

Girl Crush Friday ~ Emma Watson

2011-08-05T09:07:00.001-05:00

Emma (21) was born in Paris, France but of half British Blood (like Harry, he's a half muggle). You would know her as Hermoine Granger from the ~~Lord of the~~...Harry Potter series. She wasn't that noticeable as the snooty, know-it-all brown noser from Hogwarts famously quoted to say, "we might die, or worse, expelled!" She now models for Burberry and graces the covers of very grown up fashion editorials like Vogue, Elle, Marie Claire and Vanity Fair. She's beautiful no?

Girls like us

2011-08-04T16:58:00.003-05:00

Girls like us, we give over everything, when we give it, we're bankrupt.
We will be with you or we won't, don't know how to teeter, don't know how to balance.
There's no here nor there, but it's nothing or it's all.
No gradations, no easing in or out, we let you in and we cut you out.

Girls like us, we can't hide it nor fake it.
The hearts of our souls rest upon our chest
It's easy to see we've been crying, it's easy to see we're happy
no guessing, no manipulation.

Can we play a game of winning and losing in love?
It is not a weapon of war nor weapon of seduction.
We do not have the head for it, we don't have the means.
Our emotion can't be explained or controlled, not even by us.

Girls like us, we are made fools and made a muse, rising and falling easily as the other.
I love yous and I hates yous, you're beautiful, you're a monster
you have fallen and you have risen...girls like us, we believe it all.

Girls like us we need to see, Jesus' love is filled in us.
We can't let our eyes go blind, we can't let our ears go deaf.
Don't detach, don't pull back, we were made to love.
Shelter, cover, undo, unveil, kiss, embrace, engage and smile.

Girls like us we must not listen to the wisdom and the blackness of night.
Keep sights on the brightness of light!
Keep filled your heart with love, the eternal love that no one will fight.

Study of Love

2011-08-04T15:30:00.001-05:00

A Reminder to myself.

Cliques are not what makes a community, and even if you don't have friend chemistry, community is built on the love that is not your own. Love that is our own is selfish and content with the proceedings that will make us happy and no one else. What is honorable about loving someone that's easy to love in your circle of people? Has God not called us to love people, no matter who? Especially the unlovable, your enemies for that matter? I'm not one to talk, I'm a snob when it comes to love and friendships, I am a human being and at the recess of my heart lies dirt like no one else, garbage strewn, graffiti on the walls, scar tissue and barb wires to protect it. However, what floats in my heart and inspires my soul is the command to love like Jesus did and the offering of his limitless out pour so that we don't have to conserve, protect or be careful for the people we truly love on our own volition. I'm not saying we are forced to love and we have to muster up feelings, but as we pray for people and obey, it will come.

9 Years...

2011-08-04T11:24:00.003-05:00

It's hard to believe that it's been 9 years since we said "I do" at the Roselle Church alter. We had 200 guests at the wedding and 300 at the reception, you'd think it should be the other way around, but you know how it goes with people attending weddings. I was only 23 years old when promised to be married and I feel I was just a child bride given a way almost for free! We had nothing when we first began...no money, no job and Hans was just beginning at his company he still works for now. Every single piece of our furniture was a hand me down, except for our bed and mattress which was purchased new, after saving up for it with my part time Pottery Barn money. Anything new in our one bedroom apartment were wedding gifts, and in the second apartment we rented had mice.

Talking about the first years of our living conditions sound like a scene from an old English movie, where the whole family sleeps in one room with mice and rats to keep them warm, with a coal fueled stove in the middle of the room to cook food and heat up for the winter. Everyone has a perpetual runny nose and a cough that lasts year round. It wasn't nearly as bad, but we definitely didn't live the kind of life we are living now. I'm thankful for the young first years of being married without really knowing anything because we didn't expect anything. We didn't feel entitled to a brand new condo or a townhouse right as we entered marriage with a spread of beautiful and contemporary furniture that resembled a page out of a Pottery Barn catalog. We were also open to moving, traveling, relocating and being re-educated about what normal life was, we were mold-able and teachable.

I dreamed of working in foreign services or translating for the United Nations, Hans dreamed of making millions on his patented furniture and products, becoming the youngest Industrial Designer to become famous. None of that came true, but they aren't dreams wasted nor are we crushed by the disappointment of dreams unmet, but we found that God had given us new dreams and new purposes of living. We dreamed of having children 3 years into marriage, God gave us 9 years and we are still without child. Some days we cursed God and some days humbled by his provision of having the bandwidth to participate in organizations, ministries, camps, socializing, traveling, disciplining and peace in the house from not having whining children strewed among us.

9 years is a long time, but then can't believe it's been 9 years...we have a good story written so far and here's to writing another 9 years. Happy Anniversary and Love you Bear!

Tokyo Sonata

2011-08-03T10:36:00.002-05:00

Last night I watched a movie from Netflix that came in the mail. It had been sitting on my Kitchen counter for a whole week and didn't bother to watch it. It's one of those foreign Indie films that you have to muster up the mood to watch and finally I bit the bullet. I added this one on queue because I thought it was about a boy Prodigy playing piano into the hearts of his community and the response he receives from his family and his public, but it wasn't. The story is about an economic crisis in Japan, with unemployment at a high, deflation, layoffs and family units coming unraveled through a tough fiscal season. There were two suicides, a murder and a series of unfortunate turn of events that made me want to turn the movie off because it was too accurate a portrayal of the current state of our country.

The man called father deceives his whole family into thinking that he still held a job and dressed every morning to go to work, then returned every night as though he had been working hard at his office. For weeks and months he continued to stand in line at the unemployment office and made money to deposit into a remote account so that his pay checks were not erratic, but the same salaried amount he was receiving at his old company was received by his wife. Men just like him littered the book stored and loitered around remote yards to pass the time. Some even programmed their phone to ring five time an hour to deceive themselves that they had someone calling for them, that they were still useful.

This entry wasn't meant to be a commentary or a critique on the movie itself, but I had a question that may be tainted by worldly wisdom. At the climax of the movie, each family member is at the pinnacle of life crisis and find themselves at a cross road for complete abandonment of family and starting over or to return to their family unit and find themselves with new eyes for their circumstances. The father is run over by a van trying to run with a wad of cash he found in the bathroom stall while working at his janitorial job, the mother is kidnapped by a man similarly down trodden man, unemployed and desperate but become short lived lovers, the kid brother is arrested and spends a night in jail for trying to board a bus without a ticket. In the end, all returns to the home and finds that they don't have to start over, but remedy the situation as a unit.

No one asks the other where they were or what they've been through, the end scene shows the family eating in silence just as they have day after day. Now my question is this, is it always necessary to share with your friends, family or community your personal crisis if that's what you needed to see the worth of your life? If you don't tell and keep it to yourself, there's no crying, no questioning, no concern or worry. It is what it is, and what you have neatly sorted in your mind and soul cannot be revisited or rehashed again by someone else's emotional processing of your personal experience. It's not to keep secrets or be ashamed of your sordid behavior, but to save them broken hearts, disappointment, and doubts. If one person in the family had asked the question, "where were you last night?" that inquiry would have spawn forth a sequel (or too long a movie) because of the emotional trauma each one would incur the other. Do we share with one another all things, or only things that will build the relationship?

What you add to the water

2011-08-02T17:01:00.000-05:00

In Korean, there is a phrase that suggests a person or group of persons would either contaminate or enhance the "water" just by their presence. Say for instance we suggest a club in Seoul and someone says, "no, the water is bad there!" it means that the people that usually party there are either too old, too forward, too whatever you think makes the water bad. I noticed this recently, how just a few people added or substituted for new ones whether bad or good changes everything. The environment, the attitude, the experience of it all. This year at KCC, there were a lot of elements that made the water...well, not the same. I don't really want to say whether the water soured or sweetened, but I can say that it was sweet enough when things were just the way they were the last two years.

I'm not sure if it was the change of hands in parent volunteers and how they divided up the whole operation, or just the sheer fact that the Hartmans were not present, the rules and conduct for all of us have changed. The Hartmans did add a sweetness, a family oriented security that permeated through all of us and made us all feel secure, warm, protected. This doesn't necessarily mean that KCC was less or more, it just means that things were different this year. That's the refrain I've been repeating since my return and friends and family ask, "how was KCC?" in their most excited voice. Maybe it was the counselors, and as long as I've been to KCC and it hasn't been long, but it's always been the same group of people, same familiar faces. I was always the new kid on the block since everyone either grew up knowing each other or they were veteran counselors of 3 years or more. Then, this year I became the veteran counselor and instructing new ones this or that, and it felt a little bit out of body from my usual role at camp. Of course different counselors means different dynamics and I can't say we meshed as well as I'd like when we're somewhere so intimate as camp.

We also had 15 new campers, that's roughly10 percent of the kids who were new changed us in family dynamics. I was proud of the way our family welcomed these new faces but after a day or two, it began to blur, who was new and who was already part of the KCC family and by the end of camp, no could distinguish who the strangers were because there weren't any there. We deeply knew and loved every single one of those kids who lavished on us their trust, and eventually love. Whatever was in the water this year, it wasn't the same water we've been drinking out of this KCC well, but in the end, no matter the evolution, it seems that this well of water can't be contaminated. It's as if it were protected God and is renewing it's life over and over so that no one is able to change what KCC really is suppose to be, no matter who tries.... I hope this is true.

Waning Honey Moon

2011-08-01T10:32:00.000-05:00

I typically come home from KCC and immediately begin pouring out my heart, soul and brain onto this blog, in efforts to save a portion of KCC and not to forget it's small intricate details. I was determined to save in a bottle all the smells, the sounds, the trinkets of camp and display it in the museum of my mind to prove that it was once real and it wasn't just a dreamy figment of my imagination. That it isn't a reoccurring dream I'm having of a heavenly place where I am fully happy with the family I'm with. I was afraid that if I had not saved up all the emotions I was feelings and describe each and every excruciating detail, it would fall in to a vortex of darkness that swirls into oblivion, forever forgotten as a fading black and white photograph in a dusty old attic of my head. It's taking me a while to write a post about KCC this year and for a moment, I was beginning to think that I was over it or the connections I had with the kids and the counselors didn't cut me deep enough that I couldn't bleed out the love that over took me 2 years back. This was precisely what I was afraid of my second year at KCC, of having the sophomore blues, camp not living up the to the first year love struck, that I was just having some sort of high and coming down from it would be an inevitability.

When reflect on this past year at camp, I realize that out of the three summers I spent there, I finally broke into the hearts of some campers I never thought I see the inside of. I began conversations and relationships I thought were reserved only for the adopted counselors to have and not me, it wasn't my place. The mentality that there is no place for a non-adopted counselor to be in the conversation of wonder about biological mothers, anger toward them, fear of being left alone, and the whole well of other questions and statements I wasn't meant to hear, was corrected. This year, I was invited into that warm and vulnerable cocoon where it's safe to say statements of heart break, disappointment, things you wouldn't admit to yourself, and words you would never utter to anyone outside of the camp walls. I saw in each one that there is a deep reservoir of thought and deep feeling I was finally allowed to dip into and my blindness cured. The "larges" this year invited me into their secret garden and allowed me to explore, enjoy, see, and even prune in some ways, correcting and filling the curiosity of the "other side," the side of the adopted mother.

The honey moon is waning, but the sophomore blues hasn't set in. It's a deeper connection I've made, coming down from a shallow high of love at first sight, and developing a relationship that is deeper, stronger and a new layer has been peeled back. I love the "smalls" and my heart is always for them, but this year, I felt I've graduated from merely grooming, dancing, and feeding the little ones to actually having meaningful conversation about the state of one's being. Likes, dislikes, favorites and pet peeves. It's time this honey moon has waned to a harvest moon, where this family matures in love for one another. Like new lovers becoming more familiar, more comfortable and becoming more that just lovers, but a unit of functional love that teaches others to love too...even outside of the KCC walls.

Dreams or nightmares of being a mom?

2011-07-15T12:31:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure what kind of mom I would be...and no one can actually know until you become one. Before babies were the norm in our circle of friends, we talked about how we would be, how we would treat them and how we would never be over run by babies in our conversation. Some of those girls are moms now and they are very different from the talk that they talked. It's easy to say that I would be a mom not controlled by my child's mood, naps and sheer existence in my life, but who knows how I would react when all of this is a reality. It's difficult to step back and think clearly when you're tending to your little one all the day long, and all you want is for the child to be quiet long enough for you to plot your next move to pacify your baby. In desperation, I don't know if I would be so resolute as my words and claims to be the kind of mom I wanted to be. calm. collected and to be my own person.

I visited a friend who had just given birth to her second child and with only one week under her belt, she's already feeling like a cow and can't seem to see through the smog that is made up of cries of her baby number one, baby number two, cooking, cleaning and juggling to keep her own personal hygiene the best she can. After visiting this poor girl dizzied by her own hormones and tantrums, she texted me a message saying how happy she was I came to visit her and that she feels more herself after people visit her. This made me think that like for most moms, the day is made up of all that appeases and pacifies their children. Not because moms wake up and think to themselves "how can I make every whim and dream come true for my children today?" but because children are selfish and have primal needs that causes a stirring in the house that makes moms a bit nutty and in turn moms lose themselves to keep those primal needs met and the subdue the whines.

I would be proud if I became a mom just like my mom. In pictures, we were happy, she looked calm and she says that we never threw tantrums or whined for no reason. Rather than ascribing good parenting skills to my mom, maybe we were good kids? Whatever the case, my mom has been giving me passing tips about parenting and not letting your baby go into a panic stricken frenzy when they cry. She says, "babies cry, that's what they do." She also tells me various other things "in passing" I want to remember in moments of desperation so I don't pack a bag and leave those damn kids one day.

Things to remember:
1. Babies cry, that's what they do.
2. Babies cry when they're hungry, put them down and calmly fix their food. It helps them to learn how to wait.
3. Babies cry when they're sleepy, but them down and walk away...they'll give up soon or later.
4. Have a hobby.
5. Leave kids to their own devices to play, you don't have to entertain them all day long.
6. It's okay for them to be bored.
7. Have them run around in a field. All they need is some exercise.

Any other advice is welcomed...

Girl Crush Friday ~ Jung Ryeo Won

2011-07-15T08:50:00.000-05:00

Jung Ryeo Won (30) is a Korean actress and model. She's been in what is equivalent to the One Tree Hill and other shows on the WB, but recently have grown in her acting and have appeared in several movies that have stretched her emotions. She's a devoted Christian and shares her faith in her poetry, art and the blogging she does. She's a free spirit and a little shy, you can tell by her interviews and the way she interacts with people on T.V. what I like about Korean celebrities is that they are so accessible and human, and who knows you can even be related to some of them.

Heart Strings

2011-07-08T11:08:00.004-05:00

For the 7 years Harvest has been going to Tuba City on mission trips, I've been the admin here supporting part of the logistics. Purchasing, ordering and sending VBS material to Tuba City, reimbursing the team members and corresponding with the permanent missionaries in Tuba City, and keeping track of all the fundraising prior to the trip. All of those years, I've been a detached and functioning part of the mission process to Tuba City, but my heart strings were never tugged. I never understood the reason why Harvest spent thousands of dollars sending our people to put on a VBS for a people that seemed randomly picked, as though we spun the globe and pin pointed with our index finger. I didn't understand the reason why the same group of people returned year after year, even with their young children in tow. I didn't know and I didn't really care to find out until this year. After seeing for myself what Harvest, along with other partnering churches do every year, it changed my mind about our ministry in Tuba City.

While chatting with a pretty Navajo girl named Grace during dinner one night, we asked, "do you go to the Skate park often?" She tell us while picking at her food with her fork, "Sometimes....it's nice when you guys are all here and people just are there to have fun, but when you're not there, there are gangs that hang out there." It made me see that just our presence alone made a difference in the community. We've become a vigil of sort, looking after the well being of the community and bringing hope in the form of Jesus. When the team of 115 leave, it leaves a vacuum in the city and parents beg us not to go and the kids ask us when we'll be back. I have new eyes for Tuba City and the relationship formed between our two communities is a special one, a deep one. Although many have found deep connections and their hearts are desperate for the kids there, I felt a little bit disconnected and made me miss my KCC family.

Watching the others receive a flood of text messages from the kids even as we were just landing in Chicago from the flight home and facebook exploding with messages of "I miss you already," I don't necessarily feel left out, but only reminded of how it is when KCC is over with for the summer. It's funny the people that God puts on the hearts of certain people and not others, to love them for some odd reason or no reason at all. It's an unexplainable love that's not so unique to KCC, but everyone has a passion for a group of people and I don't feel we choose them for ourselves, but we are chosen for them. The way the Tuba City teachers relate to the Navajo/Hopi kids is eerily similar to the way the KCC family relate to one another. Sure there are differences, but the desperation for one another, the love, the care, the "I would do anything for them" passion is the same. Can't wait .... KCC 2011 is in 9 days...

(art work by Amanda Cass)

Girl Crush Friday ~ Lee Hyori

2011-07-08T10:23:00.000-05:00

Lee Hyori (32) is the pop diva in Korea and she intends to stay that way. She was offered to expand her brand and music to the states, but she refused, saying "I'm made in Korea, I'm staying in Korea." There are rumors that Hyori got to the top in the back alley ways of the industry, cozying up with the big dogs, but who knows if they're actually true. Getting to know her back ground and the way she loved her dad and helped around the house, she seems true blue to me. I love her because she doesn't allow her looks get in the way of saying what's on her mind and being a total goofball. I like a girl with a whip-sense of humor and honesty about who she is. It tells me she has nothing to hide and doesn't take herself so seriously!

The Forgotten people

2011-07-07T16:38:00.004-05:00

There must be many a cities around the world truly forgotten or undiscovered and untouched by civilization, going on day by day by the ancient ways of living off the land and bartering with neighbors. The reason Tuba City is different than these savage lands is because Tuba City is a piece of land reserved for the Native Americans by the United States. This city sits on the most affluent country in the world, yet, their people cannot find good produce in their supermarkets, half of it's citizens are reported alcoholics and homicide and suicide double the statistics of the United States. This isn't to accuse the United States of being a bad parent neglecting it's young, because our history goes beyond just a little bit of charity from the almighty nation that once belong to the Native Americans. Tuba city along with other Indian Reservations are independent and self governing, separate from the United States although, together in one chunk of land.

Driving from Phoenix to Tuba City, we marveled at its great canyons, majestic mountains layered like Neapolitan ice cream with earthy colors, brown, white, red. Cactus, their desert flower, abundantly lines the high ways with their prickly arms waving hello to visitors and passer-byers. By the time Tuba city was at the horizon of our eyes, where there was a line drawn between Flagstaff (the bordering town) and the reservation, all living things stepped over the line favoring Flagstaff over Tuba City. The scenery seemed to change as quickly as a flip book, deteriorating before our eyes. Dry desert, deserted with homes with only panels leaned up against one another like a house of cards and looked as though they would fold with a blow of the wind.

Their struggles are eerily similar to the problems in the inner city ghettos, fatherless-ness, abuse, alcohol and drug abuse and a school system that fails them year after year. A blanket of depression swaddles the people and its not uncommon for the mental illness to drive them down the road of any vice that would release them from the darkness. It's hard to get out of the ghettos although everyone promises to or wants to, but they never do, they never can. Many young men and women dream of cities outside of their reservation, but too uneducated and scared to leave the comfort of their country to the foreign lands of the Anglos. When a young man or woman finally leave the reservation for college, they never return, causing a "Brain Drain" where the brightest and the most talented are skimmed off the top and only the hopeless remain.

Finding ourselves closer still, the people of the reservation are of Navajo and Hopi decent. The Navajo nation is largely made up of Navajo American Indians and there are three small sub nations within the Navajo Nation that is Hopi American Indians. The Hopi Nation is also self governing and independent from the United States and also the Navajo Nation. The two tribes are relatively peaceful and does not have any ancestral war waged against one another, although many of the tribes do have animosity against other tribes over generational conflict.

The people are beautiful, and by the looks of the one's I've encountered, some of them have found forgiveness toward the "Anglos," and have left the past to their fore fathers before them. Some do harbor bitterness and prejudice that's been left to them as legacy to carry on until they are willing and spread the hatred as far as it goes. The people are peaceful still, they talk with a steady quietness that is audible and rock steady, but there's a pool of grey water settled in their eyes and their souls relaxed and unhurried. It seems they don't plan anything, but goes with the whisper of the wind and speak out as their hearts have a thought, no secrets or hiding, who they are is who they are. It's the kind of confidence they have as a people given to them as entitlement for being Navajo, Hopi.

Those who have found Jesus are bright with hope, fearlessly visiting the prisons and homes to sing and proclaim the Truth to the caged and the down trodden. "I love the Lord" they say and it's the most honest thing I've ever heard anyone say in a long time.

Father's day (a widdle bit late)

2011-06-23T11:21:00.005-05:00

The older I get the more I realize my mother and father are not just my mom and dad, but they're people. They lived vibrant lives before me or my brother and lived young and fabulous lives that didn't require grinding up apples to feed to eager mouths, nor have to bring his little girl to a boy's gathering to cramp his style while his wife was out taking art lessons. My dad had dreams of grandeur and lived out his peak days of traveling to Paris, London, living in Amman, Jordon and visiting the neighboring cities like Beruit and Istanbul, and relocating his family to Japan. Taking trips to America and always bringing back a genuine American Barbie dolls, I secretly despised because I thought she was ugly.

Two roads diverged for my dad in Japan the year of 1985 when his contract as the branch manager in Osaka, Japan ended. The company loved him so much, they wanted to extend his stay another 4 years as the Osaka branch manager and offered him quite a raise. My dad had a decision to make, to give his family a life of luxury and stability that we've always known in a country that he knew was dead spiritually and eventually would take a toll on us, or to move us to the United States. This seem like a no brainer, I mean, doesn't every one pursue the dream of living in the United States for a better life? better opportunities, white picketed fences, streets paved with gold and money falling into your lap as long as you work hard and honest? He also didn't want to return to Korea because of the arduous education system and the competitive nature of just standing out as a student. Everyone goes to after school study sessions, everyone plays music, takes art lessons and when you're in high school, you take three meals because students are in school all day long.

His decisions were based solely on the well being of his family. He finally quit the job he had with Hanjin Shipping company and relocated us to the States. In the beginning of our life in the States, my mom and dad try to make end meet by working at McDonalds washing dishes and mopping the floor, while my mom skipped lunch so that she would make that extra 4.25. My dad worked very hard to give us a good life, trying to give us any and everything we ever would wanted. There were times of short comings and when ends didn't always meet, there were times when his business ventures failed, he encountered malicious creatures who were out to prey on the innocent like my mom and dad. Living in America was not easy for my parents and although they worked more than they should have to give us a life of spiritual freedom, educational opportunity and a life of blessing, my father in the end still has that same smile at the age of 64.

Hardships my father faced as an immigrant aren't unique to him, but it was difficult to give up a way of living you've already achieved, your education, you're pride. When world was too harsh, and he was drowning in the life he was living, he did regress into a man that could not control his temper, words or emotions and the dad I use to know had disappeared for a season. My dad who calls me "Audrey Hepburn," prays for Hans to be like Abraham and delights in his sons entrepreneurial spirit had not died, and when he realized he had become what he hates, he worked hard to return again. Whether he's writing his kids a funny email, telling us stories at dinner or dropping a piece of chocolate in my soy milk, we know exactly the kind of boy and young man he was before we were ever in the picture. I'm proud and a little bit relieved that my father is still that young man of 31 when he married my mom. Laughter seeping out from between his teeth, wonder pouring out from his far away sparkling eyes, and opportunity, capability, freedom in the tilt of his frame. I'm thankful that his kids didn't cramp his mojo or hardships cripple his valiant soul, that he remained who he was no matter the testing fire of life.

On white horse, in Amman Jordon

1969 High school graduation (far right)

Happy Father's day dad! I love you!

Girl Crush Friday ~ Nicole Scherzinger

2011-06-17T09:32:00.005-05:00

Nicole Prescovia Elikolani Valiente Scherzinger (33) has a long name...I can barely make out her last name let alone all the ones in between Nicole and Scherzinger. Did you know she's part Asian? Her father is of Filipino decent and her mother is a mix of Hawaiian and Russian. These mixed kids, made up of all the best features of a race. She's the front girl for Pussy Cat Dolls and made Burlesque dancing classy, and yes Nicole, I do wish my girlfriends were a freak like you.

Girl Crush Friday... On a Thursday~ Zooey Deschanel

2011-06-16T13:12:00.002-05:00

I had several unrelated, mutually exclusive people tell me this girl reminded them of me. They can't tell me why either, they say it's not like I look like her....But I'm flattered I guess because she's obviously cute and quirky. :)

Do you love her yet?

Zooey Deschanel (31) is an actress, song writer and singer. She moved around just as much as I did and her mother is French. I swear I'm not doing it on purpose picking all these French girls...She's quirky and funny and smart. She attend the very prestigious Northwestern University in Evanston IL for 7 months before she dropped out for her acting career. She has this other worldly feel to her and she has an old soul. No one would ever think her normal, but although she's a little bit weird you are completely smitten by her. I like it that she's not completely understandable by anyone.

Saving Face

2011-06-16T11:53:00.005-05:00

Now that I am on the other side of Korea waiting for a child, I am forced to face my culture and it's Confucian ways in more of an in-depth way. Before you decide that I am anti-Korea, I want to say that I am proud of my heritage. I believe that Korean people are generally very open, warm, passionate, and there are some things you have to say in Korean because it would not express quite exactly the essence of a taste, a feeling or a situation. Korean culture is beautiful, but with the honorifics, respecting the elderly, remembering your ancestors and having pride in your family blood lines and namesakes, we are a proud people. With a strong sense of shame, Korea has in the post modernistic era, still holds the traditions of old world dignity in marriage, family and patriotism. There is a certain sense of community, where we call strangers grandma if you're a grandmother, or oppa, unni, or ahga-ya (big brother, big sister, and baby) and within your town, people are not just backdrop to your neighborhood, but they are indeed your neighbors.

This strong sense of propriety and community lends itself to shame and expulsion of any despicable act, and for as a specific example, girls who get pregnant when they are young and adoption. There was once an article written in the New York Times about Korean adoption titled "Korea Aims to End Stigma of Adoption and End Exporting Babies." Yes, the article called international adoption "exporting babies" like we're exporting sesame oil or trading coffee beans overseas. This mainly comes from the shame of North Koreans accusing South Korea of selling their babies to foreigners, when North Koreans are starving theirs. One would expect more from South Korea, who seems the more successful older brother to ignore the rantings of a troubled younger brother blurting out obscenities for the sake of boosting his own self esteem. South Korea plans to shut down all operations of international adoption by 2012.

"South Korea is the world's 12th largest economy and is now almost an advance country, so we would like to rid ourselves of the international stigma or disgrace of being a baby-exporting country" - Kim dong-won of Ministry of Health in Korea. He says "it's embarrassing." The trouble is that no one in the country of Korea wants to adopt, and even if they do, there is great shame in adoption that some men have told their elderly parents that the adopted child was his own biological child by the way of adultery. This tells us one thing, that blood lines are far more important than necessary. Why is admitting to an affair to your aging parents far less shameful than to admit that you have adopted a child because you wanted to? Some women even go through 9 months of "appearing" pregnant, setting up elaborate lies and ruses to convince their community and family members that the child they are about to adopt is biologically theirs.

Koreans are not evil people, but they are a homogeneous group of people with ideologies that date back to ancient times. Although their eyes are opening to their error in holding on to backward ways of Confucianism, like women having no rights for example, some things are still very engrained in their culture. Bloodlines, names, family background is still very important and I value that as well. It's not an evil thing to know where you come from and what kind of legacies have been passed down to you. You cannot think that you came from no where and you are your own person without roots, your parents, your great grandparents to make you who you are and that you will not leave a legacy to someone else below you. However, rejecting adoption is still an ignorance on the part of the Korean people, and if the nation of Korea cannot love and care for their orphans like their own, then you must let others who will.

The people are still beautiful, with hospitality that none can equal, except for maybe the Arabs. No one can teach these people to let loose and have fun because the culture is to eat, drink and be merry. It's totally acceptable to get a little drunk and sing at a karaoke with your boss, in fact, it's expected! The traditions, the dress, the language, the food, I don't know if I'd pick another ethnicity if I were to reincarnate, but there are a few things Korea still need to open their eyes to.

The Problem with Korea is....

2011-06-15T13:28:00.058-05:00

Korea has a long standing honorable reputation for international adoption and you can say that it's a boutique shop for orphan babies. The Country is affluent, the babies are given to foster care for one on one nurturing so that they are physically and emotionally healthier than most babies awarded to waiting parents. Korea has not signed the Hague Convention because the country has such a high functioning adoption process, if they abide by the Hague Convention procedures and bylaws, it would hinder their system. They will guarantee their babies by the signature of forfeiture by the mother and if the baby does not come with a forfeiture, say if the baby is abandoned on the streets; the child is not adoptable and is confined to institutionalized living in an orphanage. Cruel you say? Yes, but this is the consequence they face of giving you boutique service and the stamp of authenticity that the baby you are receiving is not via black market, aka child trafficking.

Although Korea has been a great source of happy families, it has its downfalls. The part of the reason why adoption from Korea is so popular is because of "Korean pride", a Confucian way of promoting their honor and sending a message to our World neighbors, especially our estranged National Brother that we are good, we are evolved, we treat our children with dignity, and they have! By all means and I don't doubt the care and the heart Korean have for their orphaned children. However, Korea has allotted a certain amount of permits called E.P to be distributed to each of the agencies in Korea for children to leave the country. Without these permits, children and their waiting families to wait until the next year when the permits are distributed once more. The problem isn't the agencies mis-allocating or mis-managing the given permits, but it is the country of Korea for sanctioning a limitation on how many are given each year instead of allowing a permit to be issued every time a baby petitions to leave the country. That is the evil of it.

It's not just Korea, it's also China and India as well. China doesn't plan on stopping their inter-country adoption any time soon because no one will ever adopt their girls. However, it now takes 4 years to adopt a a baby girl from China. India will not allow you to adopt unless you are a citizen of the country and well, to say it plainly, no citizen of India will adopt an orphan for their strong sense of family name and blood lines. There is something to be said about Korea though, although the nation believes that they are an evolved and sophisticated group of people, who no longer follows the cultural stigmas of yore, they still have not changed at all. I can talk about Korea because I know firsthand what the stigma is to be pregnant, single and 16 because I know the culture, I've grown up with that kind of shame based teachings breathing down my neck. It's the honor, the need to appear affluent and first world that whole nation continues to be unwisely stringent on how many children leave the country for adoption. Statistically that would make them third world and irresponsible, unable to take care of their own children. So, even though they will not take care of their own, they will not allow you to take care of them either.

What of the children who have been an infant waiting for a native Korean to adopt them, but have aged out to 5 months? There are no referrals given out, so these children will be skipped over until someone requests a child that is older. Which is very rare because there are more emotional ramifications attached to children who are a year and older. Attachment is difficult and the grieving the child goes through is more detrimental than if the child were of a younger age. What of the families that have already received their referral and they have seen their baby's face, only to wait clutching the picture until a new batch of permits are issued by the State so that they can pick up their baby? Do they not think about anything else but how they look to others?

There has been National Campaigns to adopt within the country and in efforts to push for that, Korean nationals were given leniency in qualifications, they were given the "first dibs" rule hence the need for children to age out to 5 months before they are matched with international parents. Celebrities donated their faces and influence in this and there has been a rise in in-country adoption, but alas as all fads in Korea, adoptions also faded quickly. I have a feeling Korea still has a long way in developing socially and morally beyond their old world culture.

Going a bit stir crazy

2011-06-14T16:26:00.001-05:00

I realized I said, not a week ago that I had not one iota of "ants and the pants" feeling about my adoption. That I wasn't anxious or feeling impatient about the child coming, but I am. It's typical of me to ignore my feelings and put on a tough face when I don't want to fully realize the fact of the matter. We have been waiting for a long time and our life stage friends are getting younger and younger. The women who have been the support group of childlessness and waiting are now moving onto having their second children. The ones that have decided, "this is my last attempt before I decide to adopt" have become pregnant. I am still waiting on my referral and although I could pursue biologically still, I refuse because I know my child is out there waiting for me as much as I am waiting for that child.

Although we haven't necessarily stopped the world from spinning on it's axis and pausing this long saga of life until we had our baby, we are waiting. We are waiting while we go out to dinner with our friends, on a whim go run out for some sushi and an occasional corn dog. We love our life and the way it's easy for us to attend multiple Cubs games on a whim if the tickets are available to us, be fully engaged and involved in various ministries and just be completely for ourselves. When we are sick of the kids we are with and one too many renditions of the itsy bitsy spider has been sung, we can hand that human being over to their rightful parents and retreat into our quiet childless, grown up condo.

I won't love changing diapers, crying children, sleepless nights and for some odd reason this is what I want now. One can only be for one self and live for one self for so long before you want to pour your life and soul into another. Some are called to pour that in to their community, making spiritual sons and daughters, but for us, adoption and child rearing is the calling. Just this Sunday I found out that our agency in Korea has run out of EPs (a permit allowing children to leave the country). Korea only has a set amount each year and it is distributed to the agencies in the country, and once you are out, you are out, no child will leave the country, for if there are too many babies leaving Korea in a certain period time, it might shame them as a nation. Luckily, I have not received a referral or a match yet and thus my child will not be aging while I wait until next year when more permits are allotted to the agencies for babies to leave the country. However, I am to wait another 5 months until I receive any word on a match until it's November and by that calculation, we won't be seeing our baby until March of 2012.

I have to remember that the baby we recieve is the baby we are meant to recieve, but it's difficult to wait for 9 months only to have it extended. I thought I had done my time....

Shifting Sand

2011-06-13T12:55:00.002-05:00

" Well I am here to tell you that whatever you think your dream is now, it will probably change. And that's okay. Four years ago, many of you had a specific vision of what your college experience was going to be and who you were going to become. And I bet, today, most of you would admit that your time here was very different from what you imagined. Your roommates changed, your major changed, for some of you your sexual orientation changed. I bet some of you have changed your sexual orientation since I began this speech. I know I have. But through the good and especially the bad, the person you are now is someone you could never have conjured in the fall of 2007." - Conan O'Brien (Dartmouth commencement)

This is the second time I've heard Conan O'Brien give a speech. He addressed the Harvard class some-teen years ago and in 2010, he addresses the graduating class of Dartmouth College in New Hampshire. The speech was funnier and well delivered, you can tell that he has come a long way since mid-career when he was in the thick of being popular and have succeeded in the dreams he set out to achieve. When Conan O'Brien gave this speech, he was now speaking as man who have seen dizzying disappointment at an age he would or should have been soaring and sitting at the pinnacle of his dreams and he's better for it. He testifies,

"It is our failure to become our perceived ideal that ultimately defines us and makes us unique. It's not easy, but if you accept your misfortune and handle it right, your perceived failure can become a catalyst for profound re-invention."

I had dreams of grandeur when I was in college, enrolling into a International Relations program, working overseas, translating and or working for UNICEF, saving the orphans and the children who are starving around the world. The dreams of my twenties lasted even after it was impossible for me to pursue those school and considered myself a failure because I did not achieve what I had set out to do, and for a perfectionist it's disorienting. I didn't know what to do with myself after the dust settled in my mind that I would have to loosen my grips on that dream. I couldn't drop it like a hot potato, but slowly loosened my grips on the images I had concocted during my day dreams. I worked at the Korea Tourism Organization in Chicago in hopes to transfer to the Korean Embassy office just a few blocks down, but didn't speak enough Korean to be a sure fit in the role. I tried throwing my family and community away in a "forget me basura" and enrolled myself in an International Relations program 2 summers a go, determined to make my dreams come true. I didn't go instead, I went to Korean Culture Camp and applied for adoption. Now and then, I still google jobs online to see if there are UNICEF Chicago jobs that could be a fit for me.

In my thirties, although I'm only at the beginnings of this decade, I see that I have been successful in the realm of family, community, and the passions I'm most proud of in myself. The good that I have cultivated is by no means something I have worked out with my own hands, but graciously given by God above, who knew just the kind of life I would like to have lived deep inside. I now I have different dreams and it seems worlds away from the ones I had as I commenced from higher establishments of academia, but by no means a failure. I dream now of receiving my referral from Korea, I dream for the future, that I would receive a few more of those referrals. Who knows though, what God will bring and choose for us, maybe I'll have a biological child and no more adopted ones. We would never know, but one thing is for sure, I have more patience and am long suffering, allowing life to happen but not to be victimized. All is shifting sand, except my Jesus who is solid rock. I guess we haven't changed much since being the child that changed what she want to be from one year to the next.

Girl Crush Friday ~ Gwen Stafani

2011-06-10T09:02:00.001-05:00

Gwen Stefani (41). Can you believe she's 41? She's still so hot and so down to earth at the same time. I loved Gwen from the days of "I'm just a girl" and "Spiderweb" lamenting your telephonic invasions, screening your calls and planning her escape from the spiderweb you're weaving. She's the cool girl that can rock with boys as her back up and have six pack abs WHILE she's pregnant. She writes all of her songs and you can see just what she's going through, break ups, make ups, new found love, or just a pesky caller, but she leave everything paper and song. In life, she's a happy rocker, never drunk in public, no vices, happy home and baby.

Waiting for the call

2011-06-09T10:14:00.001-05:00

I've been asked at church, at weddings, BBQ's, the gym, even at the grocery store if I had gotten the call. If someone didn't know I was waiting for my adoption agency to call with the news of my baby match, they would think I would have told the whole town about a boy that wouldn't call me. It's been a long road to this point and the process has halted in a way because there is nothing but a bunch of silence. We are sitting in a proverbial line for our turn to be matched with a 5 month old who has aged out according to Korean adoption policies. I'm not really anxious or impatient or exactly sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring. H on the other hand looks at my face with anticipation every time the phone rings and I check to see who's calling the screen. "It could be any day now..." he would say. Yes, it could be any day now, any minute now...but for some reason, I don't feel the same kind of anxious-ants-in-the-pants as my fellow waiting parents.

My girlfriend who is also waiting for a child from Spence-Chapin is head to head with me in the waiting process and we may even travel together when we get the call. She is filled with anxious excitement and anticipates every phone call as THE ONE. Am I not being a good waiting parent? I mean...I'm waiting but not anticipating, anticipating but not really anxious. "It'll come when it comes...." is what's running through my head. This is not to say that I am not excited for my child to arrive and I'm having second thoughts about the whole thing or that I don't really realize the gravity and how real this is. Someone is actually going to give me a b.a.b.y. a real live one! I get that, I know that...in my head....

The reason why I'm not wringing my hands in anxiety or impatience is because I know this child, this baby. When I dream about her, when I think about her, she is a specific one child that was created for me. From the time of conception, her fate was to follow a road into my arms and there isn't a sense of chance or random meeting, but completely intentional scheming by God. I don't know this child, but when I imagine an orphanage with aisles and aisles of cribs each with a waiting childing lying in them, I think of one specific baby, a light forms around her and she's the one. I don't imagine that out of the sea of little faces a human hand will pick out the child's picture when I step up from a line of parents and that kid happens to be the matching one. Maybe in reality or in human eyes, that is exactly what will happen, but in the realm of God's ultimate planning, she is already chosen and when I do step up from the line, when it's my turn to be matched, she will be the exact child God has chosen for me a long time ago.

So no, I'm not waiting in anxiety, that maybe somewhere out there, a parent is getting the baby I should have gotten, but my time has not come yet and my baby hasn't aged out to 5 months yet.*

*By Korean law and efforts to encourage Korean natives to adopt, all infants must age out to 5 months so that the Korean natives have "first dibs" on the children. Once they hit 5 months exactly, they are matched with the next pool of waiting parents in line.

Resignation as Admin

2011-06-08T15:12:00.000-05:00

I can hardly believe that it's been 6 years since I began at Harvest Community Church as the Administrative assistant, and back then Pastor Dave just called me the secretary. Since I began the job, I have had several laps of day dreaming and regretting, recounting and doing mental gymnastics to see where I would have ended up if I had finished my graduated degree in Korea and pursued other fashions of life. In this particular blog entry, two years into my employment here, it seems that I have chosen something that would have cost me something else; and I think I was right in thinking so.

If my recounting and day reveries have come into fruition, I would have missed out on the people I know now, the relationships, the calling that is so clear to me. If I had back tracked on the trajectory of my life and began where I was "suppose" to have been, in Korea, pursuing a job in the United Nations or working in a Foreign country somewhere out there, it would have cost me my calling to adopt. Yes, every choice is a forfeiture of something else, an opportunity cost but I don't believe that those costs need be calculated and put on an excel sheet of future predictions of our lives. Our lives aren't penny stocks and if we watch and weigh every mistake, experience, victories and failures, we will not live because it will paralyze us from going one way or another and that will cost us our lives.

Most days, I don't know why I was summoned here and I often repeat a sour mantra in my head, "I just let life happen to me instead of driving it somewhere purposeful." I know that the belief that I am a pool floaty that has been left behind the river and has been taking aimless and purposeless turns in a lost wood, is foolishness and insolent. To think that God does not take seriously the life he created and have spilled out his son's blood for is worthless and purposeless, that haphazardly come to a place of peace, of monetary security, of love from family, friends, and community, of calling to adoption, just by floating along the river. Could it be that because of the spirit of trust and complete freedom of his design, I have followed along the river that knew exactly where it was leading this floaty? Making strategic turns, veering to the left at the fork, leading into a wider pool, then dropping me down a waterfall only to lead me to a peaceful reservoir where children are playing and I meet them at the exact right time to be their instrument of pleasure.

All in all, I am thankful for the life God has chosen for me. I forgotten that I have asked him to lead my life, to guide me without my tantrums and my protest. Now that I am here, I don't realize that the floating isn't a passive resignation, an "I don't care what happens to me" post-it stuck to my back, but that I may have been obedient and open to the guiding hand of God. And because God loves me wildly and passionately, he would lead my life in a way most fit for me. Moving on from here, I wish I had been more alert, more attentive and perhaps try to give it my all instead of mourning a career or a purpose that I may or may not have had. I may never know why I was put here for such a long period of time, but I know that this may be the pool of water I should have sat on just for this season before I move on to a wider bend.

Crazy Girls

2011-06-07T17:06:00.004-05:00

Yeah....it's mostly true, if you're a hot girl, the crazy quotient goes across the x axis quite a bit. I don't know why it is, maybe just like Spiderman, "with great power, comes great responsibility," except with hot girls, it's "with great hotness, comes great burden." I don't know why I've been writing a lot about girls on my blog lately, maybe it's the fact that I'm a married woman and I really don't have may dating stories of recent value or dating stories I could tell of the past, because to tell the truth, I just don't have many of those either. Maybe, just maybe, I've been thinking about girls a lot because I might be matched with a little girl? Whatever the case, one of my guy friends asked me to retell all my crazy girlfriend stories to him last night like it was a bed time tale and he couldn't sleep without them. This is the same guy friend that tells me I'm a crazy b*tch magnet and I can't help that, so I might as well "Amor Fati", love my fate and accept it.

I understand to a degree because I in fact am a girl and I have my own crazies, they just don't manifest in weird ways as some girls I know. I have a theory that girls have such strong feelings and so much of it, that they just don't know what to do with all of it. When you have all of those emotions just swirling in your head, it's bound to fester and mutate into some awful monster that plan evil demise that couldn't be thwarted unless it meets it's match or she finds some poor schmuck to quiet that a little bit. On top of that, if you're hot in the least bit, you have the pressure from other girls to be down to earth and likable, or you'll be hated. Not only are you dealing with your own team, but you're constantly trying to earn the respect of men and be wanted at the same time. Keeping that balance is pretty darn tricky, and if you're not careful, you'll turn into one of those hot girls both men and women call crazy. It's a slippery slope and a thin line to cross.

Out of my league

2011-06-06T14:20:00.000-05:00

I recently read an article about contemporary women who are too busy to date. This wouldn't be so much a problem if she makes time on the weekends and occasionally cancel that yoga class you're mastering and actually go on a date. The problem really lies at the ego of a man. When a girl is too busy, it means she might be smart, talented, mastering various hobbies and languages, and excelling at work, driven, which also means she's not approachable...and if you were to approach her, you find she's too intimidating and you just don't measure up. What's worse, she might start to think the same thing about you.

A woman in her late 20's is climbing the corporate ladder, making six figures, while volunteering at the local boys and girls club during the weekends and some weeknights. She's also learning French on off nights at the local community college and is taking yoga classes to boot! Another woman in her 30's is an attorney who owns her own downtown pad, contributes her time and skills pro bono for battered women in the city who can't afford to hire an attorney when facing her assailant, and because she has interest in cooking, she takes a cooking class at the culinary school near her home. These women are beautiful and happen to have a lot interests, but if you are too involved and established as a girl, you become the competition instead, or a standard that he just couldn't measure up to.

The term "out of your league" was invented by a man and here's why. There are more women who are married to or have dated men who are out of their league than women, whether that league is above or below them. For example, how many men have you seen with a woman that is far less attractive than he is? You rarely see a good looking man, say a 10 with a woman who is homely, say a 6, but adversely, there are plenty of women who are 10 physically who date men who are a 6 or even below. There's the defense, the personality, the money, the humor makes up for the lack of looks on the man's part, but what about for women? Have you ever known a man date an overweight, not-so-pretty girl, who was rich, smart, funny, cool and has a great personality? Nope, not even if she gets you like no other. I've asked several boys "would you rather have a girl who gets you, she's smart, funny, and she's cool, but she's donkey ugly, or a girl who is dumb as nails and unkind but she is HOT, 21 on a 10 scale." Most boys would say, they would choose the hot girl because at least she's dumb, and they can always hang with the boys for companionship and understanding. Besides, what can a girl add when your guy friends are already funny and cool?

In this movie "Out of My League" the 10 girl actually dates out of her league and dips into the minors because she wanted to make sure that the next guy that she dated wouldn't hurt her. I guess this is where the tables turn because she assumed a guy that isn't as good looking would be nicer, less-playboy, less likely to break her heart. He ends up breaking her heart because he believed she was too good, too hot, too nice, too successful and even too cool and down to earth. She was everything a guy would ask for a girl to be, only to be dumped for the girl treating you like he's her personal chew toy. Why? She's too perfect and in the paranoia of a girl dumping him because he may or may not measure up to her perfection, he bails on her first.

My science teacher use to say, "the prettier you are, the less dates you have." I don't know if I fully knew what that meant at the time, but I think it's true. Just look at Gwenyth Paltrow, an overwhelming amount of people hate on her because she's so perfect. Isn't there anything she can't do? We essentially have to choose either to be pretty and dumb ourselves down to the person we are with or forfeit the date. Then while you're awaiting on the evolved man who will still maintain his manhood knowing his girl is pretty, talented and may be smarter than you, you will age. Then what happens? People will start saying things like, "she's such a catch, but I wonder what's wrong with her? why isn't she dating?" So much for women empowerment in contemporary times.

Salt

2011-06-03T16:54:00.003-05:00

Talking to J., he inquires me about my choices in girls that I post as my girl crushes and he suggests, "why not give thicker girls some love too? I mean, sure Natalie and Kate are fine, but what about the girls who really represent the masses?" Then he suggested Beyonce, Mariah, Kate (Winslet) and the like. I see his point and these women are beautiful in their own right, but I do have a preference of my own, that's why they're called my crushes and not "notable women in the media." If that were the case I would have posted the likes of Mother Teresa, Esther from the Bible and Isabel Allende. Alas, the whole notion of girl crushes is very very shallow and it's reserved for girls I want to look like, or am envious of ...or want as a sister, listed not in any particular order but shallow in any regard.

There is a pattern however, to my choosing and there are certain types of girls I choose...Salty, and if you see the types of guys I ogle, they're salty too. Example? Jude Law, Ryan Gosling, Jame McAvoy, Topher Grace, you know, the boys that look a little sweet, big puppy eyes, but they're still smart, street smart and a little rogue. Let's compare to the ones I don't particularly gravitate towards so you know exactly what I'm talking about. Boys like Chase Crawford, who are too perfect looking and they know it, then there's boys like Robert Patterson who are too sensitive and weepy, or guys like Brody Jenner, who's just stupid. Okay, enough of the boys, I'm really here to talk about the girls I've been picking....So here are the categories most girls fit into (and this is just my amateur cataloging of girls and the feeling they give off so please don't quote me on this- It's all just silliness).

1. Brown Sugar or Caramel: These are girls that are voluptuous and they are kind of girls would show up and all the heads turn in bar because how can you ignore them? Most of these girls happen to be either black or Latina. Girls like, the fore mentioned Maria Carey and Beyonce Knowles.

2. Spicy: These girls are similar to the above, but they're sassier, less sweeter but they are more exotic and a a little bit intimidating. Girls like Salma Hayek, Sofia Vergara, Emma Stone and Halle Berry.

3. Sweet: These girls are ones you find in most homes all over America. The sweet, the cute... you know million girls like these! Girls like, Jessica Simpson, Zoe Duchnel, Kate Hudson, Jennifer Aniston, Lauren Conrad, Katie Holmes, Selena Gomez, Taylor Swift, need I go on?

4. Salty: The salty girls are more...like Kate Moss, Natalie Portman, Kirsten Dunst, and Diane Kruger.

Girls I choose don't necessary have to make a huge statement as you meet them. Sure its not easy to ignore them either, but they will quietly be who they are and that's exactly where their strengths lie. Not in being the go-getter-brown-noser at your boss' Christmas party or be the bubbly, bouncy, boo-a-licious girl at that house party. She's a little bit edgy and not quite sweet in a way she wants to earn your reward and a gold star for being a nice girl. She's kind because more than she's beautiful on the outside, she's beautiful in the inside, because kindness is a virtue. For being smart, for having other interests other than the reflection in the mirror or championing a cause that is bigger than all of us and benefits the masses instead of just your own. So this describes Mother Teresa so far, but I wouldn't call her salty. A salty girl is a bit unabashed, confident, unapologetic and walks to the beat of her own DJ and yes, a little bit rogue...I guess that still describes Mother Teresa...

OK!

The kind of girl that can throw on an old faded t-shirt and some cut off shorts and look decent, sexy, smart and confident all at the same time, but when she dresses up, the dress isn't wearing her, she's wearing the dress. She's still the main event.

Girl Crush Friday ~ Amber Vallett

2011-06-03T09:03:00.001-05:00

This is Amber (37) Allegra Cole :) Yes, the Allegra we were going to name our child first child after, but we decided that there were too many of those Allegra commercials, where they urge you to discover Fast, non-drowsy allergy relief. Plus my brother says it sounds like a swarthy girl's name, you know the kind of girl that has side burns and a mustache at the age of 7? But this isn't really about a little girl that may or may not be my baby, I might be matched with a little boy! (and no we're not naming him Allegro, it doesn't quite work that way does it?!) Amber started out as a model at the age of 15, and began acting in movies like Hitch. I really fell in love with her freckles and how she seems stone cold, but she's breaks into a warm sunny smile that is of a girl nextdoor.

22

2011-06-02T17:44:00.001-05:00

If I were to make a video of my last entry, I think this is it.

Lilly Allen "22"

When she was 22 the future looked bright
But she's nearly 30 now and she's out every night
I see that look in her face, she's got that look in her eye
She's thinking how did I get here and wondering why

It's sad but it's true how society says her life is already over
There's nothing to do and there's nothing to say
'Til the man of her dreams comes along
Picks her up and puts her over his shoulder
It seems so unlikely in this day and age

She's got an alright job but it's not a career
Whenever she thinks about it, it brings her to tears
'Cause all she wants is a boyfriend, she gets one night stands
She's thinking how did I get here, I'm doing all that I can

It's sad but it's true how society says her life is already over
There's nothing to do and there's nothing to say
'Til the man of her dreams comes along
Picks her up and puts her over his shoulder
It seems so unlikely in this day and age

It's sad but it's true how society says her life is already over
There's nothing to do and there's nothing to say
'Til the man of her dreams comes along
Picks her up and puts her over his shoulder
It seems so unlikely in this day and age

Girls in their 20's (Roll eyes)

2011-06-02T00:23:00.005-05:00

I have to write a disclaimer right up to bat because some of my closest, bestest and dearest girlfriends are in their young twenties and they are more mature and more graceful than any of my girlfriends in their 30's would ever become. Even in their 40's! I'm not writing this post because I feel jealous or jaded or even offended that she cringed and said "ew" at the age bracket I belong to (ok maybe a little), but really I just want to express how some girls in their twenties do lack fore sight. I also am writing this as a huge generalization and there has been a whole lotta none-sense expressed by numerous girls in their 20's. What triggered this entry of tirade (which have only been running inside my head) is this post. Ah, yes a girl in her late twenties lamenting, "I'm old and I don't have a boyfriend." Well, no, if you had a boyfriend, you wouldn't say that you're old and you're only saying and feeling like you are old because you're afraid that you are facing a life sentence of spinsterhood. What makes you feel "old" is that you think you have hit your prime in your twenties and I consider that utterly sad and foolish because when you are in your 20's are still becoming...You have just graduated college, still green behind the ears and only learning how to get along in the real world.

You are also feeling like you are "old" and "ew I'm almost thirty"is because you consider your fresh faced, bouncy shiny hair and taut ass your biggest asset and from here on, there is nothing of value that will be added on to you in the years to come, like.... say confidence for example, love and kindness, selflessness...just to name a few. Because when you've turned 30, all you have to look forward is taking away of those "good" attributes like the fore-mentioned fresh face, bouncy hair and the license to say that you are actually TWENTY-something and not lie about it (not...that I have...nope. never.)

When I was "your age" I could not wait to turn 30. Why? When I day dreamed of myself 30 years old, I saw someone beautiful, wise, confident, not use words like "um," "like," "sooooo" and "ohmygoshyouguys!" to start a sentence and taller. Well, none of those things actually happened when I turned 30, but I do have a deep sense of gratitude for life, humility and not because I've become less young and cute, but because you see things over the decade of your twenties. Your twenties are a long decade and so much happens to you in those 10 years. You turn 21, legally drinking, graduate college, you finally stop shopping at gap kids, find a home for yourself, get your first job, maybe find your second one (something more serious, something closer to your dreams), you may find your husband, some have babies, all before you turn, ew, thirty. I hope when I'm done with this decade, I'd look back and see that there was a lot of growth in my thirties too (because everyone knows I still act like a teenager).

Even when I think about the friends I have who are on the brink of losing their 20's to father time, it is ridiculous how they think about walking through that door and coming out the other side as "old." Youth really is wasted on the young, when you think that girls that still have their youth squander it on getting what they want, using their beauty for their own sake and focusing so much on the exterior, once women become 30, they are still only girls, except it's ugly because they have not cultivated enough character and substance in their 20's to be a woman who isn't banking all their worth on how they look on a Friday night, who doesn't feel entitled to the luxuries of life without a little hard work and their whole livelihood isn't hinged on a boy that can make or break their spirit, and not realizing there is a whole world full of people who are dying without a cup of clean water to drink. If you would shake your head to this 20 year old, it's despicable when it's a 30 year old. You're thinking right now, "ok yeah, I'll just stop doing that when I'm 30," stop right there. No you won't, because a young fool becomes an old fool unless you make every effort to live a life worth watching. I'd hate to dismiss girls in their 20's and say, they're young...what do you expect?

I guess this post should be titled "Girl's in their 20's who turn into girl's in their 30's (roll eyes)"

Prayer for friends.

2011-06-01T23:45:00.001-05:00

You restore all things and reconcile all things. Knit our hearts and lives together. I love them and I think about them always...they linger like a fragrance in the air. Although the pungency has faded, it's been seeped into my skin, my hair, my clothing. I cannot wash them out no matter my tricks, antics and protest. My old ways of protection, repellent against such saturation is of no avail. I have succumbed to their hearts demands and even if their demands have died quiet or to dead silence, I want to play them my heart's sonnet all the days of my life. Amen.

He loves us.

2011-05-30T00:10:00.002-05:00

And He is jealous from me, loves like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
When all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions
Eclipsed by glory and I realize just how beautiful You are
And how great Your affections are for me

And oh, how He loves us, oh
Oh, how He loves us, how He loves us all

And we are His portion and He is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking

And heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way...

He loves us.

Song by David Crowder

Store Houses of Snow

2011-05-27T14:13:00.014-05:00

On Sunday night, we had a few people over to watch game 4 of the Bulls games (and I will only name them briefly because I'm so mad and frustrated). While the game was escalating, the storm outside our window was escalating also with thunder and lighting. Rain was coming down harder and harder, when little Ethan who is only nearly 3 says, "protect me I'm scared," and put his little arms about my neck. With every thunder strike, his arms tighter, but I took him outside on to our balcony facing his fears close and personal, and I tried to explain in most simple terms all of his stormy questions. "Why (is the thunder) so loud?" "Why lightening?" and "I think the trees are scared too." The last one was more of a statement than a question and perhaps an effort to rally around him some sympathizers. He continued to interrogate me with his limited vocabulary, talking out his fear.

"Let's make the storm go away."

"Well...we can't really make the storm go away, it just has to go away on it's own."

After a long silence, he says, "Where does the storm go when it goes away."

I had no idea what to tell him..I mean...the boy had a good point, where do they go after it actually goes away? Before I thought a 2 year old had me stumped, I told him, "everything just stops, it doesn't actually go anywhere," which seemed to confuse him even more, his big brown eyes filled with incredulous doubt. After our guest finally filed home after yet another humiliating game, I sat down to read a little bit before bed and I remembered this passage in Job 38. It says this:

²² “Have you entered the storehouses of the snow
   or seen the storehouses of the hail,
²⁴ What is the way to the place where the lightning is dispersed,
   or the place where the east winds are scattered over the earth?
³⁵ Do you send the lightning bolts on their way?
   Do they report to you, ‘Here we are’?
³⁷ Who has the wisdom to count the clouds?
   Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens ."

Storehouses, barns, and pails where God stores all of the snow, hail and rain until he decides when to pour, and when it's a enough. It's amazing how this child had made me read this verse and realize the vastness of God's control and how BIG he is. I have a sneaking suspicion that I will be learning a lot from the innocent I am entrusted with in the very near future.

I think Ethan knew after a while that he didn't need to fear, I sat down on a chair out on my balcony with him on my lap and we watched the rain for a while when he said, "oh...I love this." This two year old knows the exact thing to say at the exact moment to slay me with sweetness. At least for our moment together he wasn't afraid because a few days later, he was awake crying again because it was storming outside, and his mom said that he cried for me, "Where's auntie Susie? I need to go outside with auntie Susie." He might have thought that I was controlling the weather like I'm Storm from Xmen because I knew so much about it's comings and goings. Gotta tell him about the store houses and the rain jars.

Girl Crush Friday ~ Rachel Bilson

2011-05-27T09:00:00.002-05:00

Rachel (29) is the girl I model after in terms of how I dress because although I've never seen her face to face, I think she and I have similar proportions, small, junior high girl body, and I think she's juuust about my height. Although she's suppose to be an actress, she's not really all that great because she essentially plays herself in every movie or show, but I doubt she's famous for her theatrical prowess. She's a clothes horse and even appears in Instyle as a regular and permanent stylist that answers Q & A letters from subscribers. I love her for this, she knows what she's good at and she doesn't pretend she doesn't love shopping and dressing up. Rachel is also really really cute. :)

Girl Crush Friday ~ Song Hye Gyo on a Thursday

2011-05-26T11:29:00.001-05:00

Song Hye kyo or gyo (29) is an actress. I wanted to do this special girl crush day on a Thursday today because she did a photo shoot a while back that showed how beautiful Korean women are and how beautiful our culture can be.

Although the head dress is a little bit exaggerated and a traditional Korean woman would never be photographed just her skirt and without her joguri (her top), it's still very Korean and very beautiful.

Here nor There

2011-05-25T11:10:00.007-05:00

Can't let you go, but I want to.
I want you always, I want you close
to know and be in the inner most circle of my life
I am torn because I know you exist out there,
I'm aware of you, but are far
You are here nor there.

You hang in the wall of my mind like a dusty framed picture,
but that's all that is there.
You hang in the air like a fragrance of yore, of nostalgia and comfort
the pungency has faded, but you have seeped into my skin, my clothes, my hair

I want to cut you out of my brain

carve you out of my soul

wash you out of my skin and hair

you are so far, you are so near

You are here nor there.

I don't know how to be apart from you

but still hold you near.

I want to forget you just like I would

how my antics, my propellant would give me release.

Just like the others who I had forgotten and can't recall

I'll forget your face I swear I will

just so it's easier to embrace my life here without you.

You are here nor there.

Although your heart songs and demands of me grow dim and silent
I can't ignore it's decrescendo and mine is growing faint too in response to yours.
But I will make mine grow louder making up for thine
I will fill your heart with my sonnet songs that you don't have to return
and although you are here nor there, I will love you so that our song will never end.

Moments

2011-05-24T14:03:00.001-05:00

http://vimeo.com/8189067

I don't know how to upload videos on here, so you'll have to follow the url above, then proceed to read...I'll wait.
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Cool right? What is a moment? The best I would describe a moment is "right now." This is a relatively complicated and difficult subject for me because I am always living outside of the moment. Not necessarily the future or the past, but just outside of it, outside of my own body, my own mind, my own life. It's like I'm an avatar and I'm in a bed chamber somewhere dreaming all of this. It's not even that my life is a sequence of unfortunate moments strung together to make a film montage too difficult to watch that I have to mentally remove myself, most of my moments are pretty mundane. Perhaps this is why I have to live in some dream land in my head. No, even among the mundane moments, I do settle in and see that those moments are precise "right nows" that are so pleasant. Meeting with people, a beautiful bed to sink into every night, the brink of summer and everything smells like lilies and cut grass, the robin nest built right outside my door.

A film or a montage photos every day occurrences seem so interesting in isolation or in short clips, when those images are voyeuristic and you see that other people are doing the same old thing you are every where in the world. This is life as we know it, the living, the burying, the laughing, crying, raising babies, growing old. The same old same old of every day moments you describe to your friend a far is really what captures your life as it goes. "What are you doing right now?" seems a common question, but it's really to glimpse into what your life is like when I'm not looking, when all the highlight reels are cut. What makes you and me the same, or relate-able, what makes me know you are the small moments. Questions like what'd you eat for lunch? what are you doing right now? What'd you do this weekend? are questions we want to know of our friends, because the best parts of life can go by under your nose if you're just waiting for the airplane jumping, safari touring, death defying, life defying moments to talk about it. So...what'd you do today?