Monday, December 28, 2009
Christmas: In Hindsight
I am also thankful to my new friend Chohee who I met in my yoga class, and who left a present for me with my doorman which I opened a few days after Christmas. In it, with the very sweet present she'd bought, she had enclosed 4 cards which she had lovingly decorated. One of them had the verse, "Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know." (Jeremiah 83:3) She had no idea how grounded in all the workaday blah-blah stuff I had been feeling, how lonely, how unmysterious and grey everything had been seeming. She reminded me to look up - life is about more than what we see. Sometimes it's about more than what we experience. God was calling me through that blessed little card to be absorbed in him for a while and listen for the "great and unsearchable" things. He has been reminding me that he's leading me, he is always there, and that there are blessings to be experienced everywhere - sometimes we just need to open different eyes to see them.
And in the end, Christmas is not about gifts, or even about being with loved ones (although those things are extraordinarily good), but it's really about remembering what we have in Christ Jesus and his death and resurrection. When we belive in him, we have new life. We have the same spirit living in us that raised Christ from the dead. We have strength even in our weakness. We have love when we feel loveless, hope when all seems hopeless. We have the only perfect parent, the one who promises, "I will never leave you nor forsake you," and who promises, "I am with you always until the end of the age." Another of Chohee's cards said, "He is always with you, everytime, everywhere." It's not grammatically perfect, but the sentiment is so true. He is. He truly is. And once over the hump of grumpiness and self-pity, I am very grateful for this.
Now to see how grateful and unself-pitying I can be when working 14 hours on New Year's Eve, and all day New Year's Day. To see how open my eyes are to his blessings... I am trying... I really am.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Academy Christmas "Party"
Monday, December 21, 2009
Song of Hope
I've been the songbird of solitude and I've learned to be lost and alone.
Learned to sing solemn and frightened tunes, they were all this girl had ever known.
Oh, but there beneath the noise of fear there's a melody I hear.
I let go of the sad songs 'cause I'm learning a new one.
It sounds like, "Hallelujah". A song of hope.
I've been afraid I've been terrified and it's been my song for many years.
Lifted so many prayers to the sky and sleepless nights wondering who hears.
Oh, but there beneath the noise of doubt there's a voice that's singing out.
I let go of the sad songs 'cause I'm learning a new one.
It sounds like, "Hallelujah". A song of hope.
There's a new song in my heart - I could sing it all day.
There's a new song in my heart - and everything's changed.
I let go... I let go... I let go.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Live Octupus
Monday, December 14, 2009
Christmas Preamble
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Korea to America and Back Again
Being home was wonderful, but not in the way I had expected. I don't really know what I expected, but I had envisioned everything in slow-motion and soft-focused, bathed in yellow light. I would well-up with tears thinking about hugging my parents, cutting into a turkey, spending time with my friends, even doing things like taking long bike rides on the beach with my mom (something we've always loved to do together), or shopping in stores where the clothes are long enough and the shoes are big enough, or getting a martini with my best friend and talking for hours. The actual experience of those things was not bathed in yellow light, of course, but was more real, and so then inherently better. I took those bike rides almost everyday. I had the martini (or 2 or 3), and I did a lot of hugging. I definitely went shopping. All of these things were wonderful and felt like they recharged my battery. One of my friends said to "soak up all of the love" when I was at home, and I feel like a sponge that did just that.
But, here's the most surprising thing, and something I hadn't expected: I have changed. Granted, I was only home for 8 days, but even in that time I realized and could sense and discern that I have grown. I think I was able to see this because I was back in the old environment, and the old environment beckoned me to respond with the same fears, the same anxieties, the same mindset that I have been running in like a looped tape going over and over again for the last couple of years. Leading nowhere. And I felt that anxiety try to grip me again while I was home, but it didn't have a hold on me. It doesn't have a hold on me anymore. I think being here, being alone, having to face things, having to find God in the frightening hours, realizing God rushes in like a tidal wave to cover me with his love and grace when I'm in need - this has changed me, refined me a little more, like the biblical metaphor of gold being refined by the fire. Korea has been a gentle fire, I know. I don't pretend to have experienced some of the true flames that others have. But in my own personal journey, this has been significant. Life-changing. I am less and less afraid everyday. I am more and more enamoured of God and less worried about myself. I am more excited and hopeful about the future. I have a song in my heart again. And I'm only half-way through!
The hardest part of being back again will be the lonely hours - I'm not in a house full of people anymore with friends to see in the evening. I'm alone during the day and I work at night. It's a different kind of life. But I have songs to write still, and am learning to appreciate the stillness and the quiet. Maybe it has to do with being comfortable with myself? I don't know...
I realize now it's taking me much longer to write than normal. My brain is a cloudy, messy place, so I should probably retire this entry. More later on what's going on here in Suwon, not just in my head.