Whirlwind Summer Treasure Trove

4 weeks. 4 incredible weeks.

They have been incredible not because I got to check out of real life for a while.
Not because I got to be on vacation.

No, because of the people.
I don't have much, but I have people.

To you that provided a place for rest in between the scurrying--whether in Portland, Anderson, Edgewood or Denver, thank you.

To you that shared your family--whether your great-grandkid, your newborn, your partner, thank you.

To you that provided me transport everywhere, thank you.

To you that was present in some of the lowest moments of the trip--whether by a Facebook message, a text, or staying up late to talk, thank you.

To you that kept pushing me to a better good--whether for my own spiritual well-being, or for communal good, thank you.

To you that allowed me to wallow in the parts of life that involve a small dose of cynicism, thank you.

To you that laughed with me as I found harmless ways to rebel break the rules work around the systems, thank you.

To you that said you will continue to walk this crazy, whirlwind journey with me, thank you.

To you that agreed to support one more chapter of my unpredictable life and ministry, thank you.

To you that believe in me so I can believe in myself again, thank you.

To you that sat with me through all the Mexican food, Sno-Castle, IHOP, Olive Garden and other meals that I've missed and craved, thank you.

To you that gave hugs, thank you.

To you that gave me grace for not having the time to catch up, thank you.

To you that allowed and pushed me to confront myself, thank you.

My life is better because of each one of you.

4 weeks of incredible people.
I don't have much, but I have people.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Jamie and I were talking about how we never quite expected to run into each other, especially not after only a few years have past, much less in Denver, of all places. But here we are.

We'll see each other again, I'm sure.
But until then,
i carry your heart
(i carry it in my heart)

I'll come back when you call me, no need to say goodbye.

Morning Meditations: Thoughts From the Garden

Chad and Diane have taken his parents to the South Island this week. Which means it's another week that I get to cause as much trouble as I want without them around :)

It also means I have to make sure the household is still looked after while they are gone since we practically live on a farm. Missy, the mutt of a dog, is with her maternal grandparents this time since I'm staying over with Ariel while Rhonda is in Australia over the weekend. But the chickens still need to be fed and watered, eggs taken out from the coop and poop cleaned up. And since the last time they were gone, Diane also put two new fishes in the pond in the front of the house.

Last Sunday, as we were getting ready for church, Chad asked if he could walk me through all the tending that needed to be done in the garden. I thought to myself, does he think I'm that silly that I don't remember what needed to be done since the last time they were gone, which was only less than two months ago? But I went with him anyway, just in case there were things I forgot.

As I mentioned, we practically live on a farm. Chad's parents, Warren and Suzanne run a business where vegetation is their thing. I don't know what the official title is, but it involves scientific research of horticulture, and Warren often gets invited to speak about... stuff. Clearly, I know a whole lot about plants. But what that meant was Chad and his brothers grew up going on walks frequently with their parents and Warren would point things out about plant life.

This also means Chad takes gardening very seriously. I often tease him about spending his days off in the garden much like William Wilberforce in the scene in Amazing Grace where he simply lies on the grass in the quiet until his butler comes calling for him. So when he asked if he could show me what needed to be done in the garden, I knew to take him seriously.

I'll let you in on a secret. I hate tending to the plants and animals. I would happily do it for a couple weeks while they are gone, but I simply don't have the patience for these things. But Diane takes such delight in her animals that out of love and respect for her, I've allowed Missy and Penelope, the littlest of all the chooks (Kiwi lingo for chickens you keep as pets), to grow on me. You've probably noticed Missy in a bunch of my pictures from our adventures.

And then there's the garden. The last time Chad and Diane were gone in November, every morning I would wake up praying it had rained in the night so I didn't have to go out and do the watering. It was the beginning of planting season, so there was hardly anything to harvest, but plenty of watering.

But this time, when Chad was giving out instructions about the garden, there was more to do. He had put in even more stuff in the last two months and we're starting to get the first of the harvest. Chad gets giddy like a child in a candy store at the first fruits. When my parents were here over Christmas and New Year's, Mum noticed how much pride Chad had in his harvest. Diane often has to tell him we don't have to immediately eat what he's harvested, and that we can leave them for a couple of days. When we got home from Tiritiri Matangi last week, Chad said he was going to check on the cucumbers. The conversation went something like that...

Diane: Ok, you're just checking on the cucumbers, right? You're not going to harvest them yet, right?
Chad: Yeah, I'm just going to check on them.

Few minutes later, Chad walks in with a handful of cucumbers in hand.

Diane: I thought you weren't harvesting them? Well, fine. But we're not going to eat them right away.
Chad: Yeah, ok.

Next thing you know, he had cut one up. "Well, I just need to make sure they're ok! It's a different kind we put in this year. I need to have a taste so that I know when's the right size to harvest! Here, try some."

Diane refused. "It would be like I'm giving him permission to keep doing that!"

I felt like a kid stuck between two fighting parents and having to take sides.

But learning about gardening reminded me of The Poet Gardener, the text we used in one of Dr Brewer's pastoral care classes. About how pastoral ministry is like tending a garden. About how the needs of a garden are different in every season. And even in every season, there are different things that need to be done at the beginning, in the middle and at the end.

It also begins with an understanding of what it means to take care of a garden. Like going on walks with someone who's done the work, and having them point out what each plant looks like and need. And then one step at a time, learning the ropes of working in a garden.

It's the same with doing Church and soul-care. It's a process of learning and experimenting and not always getting it right.

Chad often said to Steve and I (back when Steve was still around) that WCF was a safe place for us to experiment and make mistakes. We both have had our theological training--a time of learning about the plants and the needs of the garden--and now it was time to experiment and make mistakes.

I'm thankful that for a first real gig in a church, the lead pastor I've gotten to work beside has that gardener's heart. Chad will be the first to admit sometimes he gets a little too "take care of business" -minded, but I have that same struggle. It helps to know I'm not struggling alone, and sometimes, watching him get business-minded makes me stop to self-reflect and remind myself to continually put relationships first.

And on the days that I run out of patience and just wish it would rain so I didn't have to go do the work of watering the garden, I hope remembering that child-like giddiness of harvest time (allow me also to point out here I don't define "harvest" by evangelical terms of number of converts, but simply as a matter of tasting the fruits, whatever that looks like) will keep me going even as a grumble my way through.

Rites of Passage

Growing up, I was never the kid who loved school. I was (and still am) socially awkward, had a substitute teacher come in at the end of the year who picked another girl to be prefect over me even though I had been on my best behaviour and was the top girl in my class that year, and a best friend who eventually decided it was cooler to hang with the good kids than the one who didn't turn in her homework on time. I even told Mum once that I had really bad cramps because I was tired of being the black sheep that got to school late.

I had every reason to hate being at school. But every year, at least at the beginning of the year while I was in Primary, I LOVED starting school because I had new textbooks that had pages that still sometimes stuck together and smelt like they came fresh off the press. There were no creases in the spine--at least, not yet--a reminder that it was another opportunity for a fresh start, another opportunity to make it better than the last year.

And there were the coloured pencils. Every year around December, Mum would take us shopping for new pencils and erasers and coloured pencils and clothes for Chinese New Year. Every year, I would wrap those up and tuck them under the Christmas tree until Christmas morning when we got to unwrap all our new school supplies.

I didn't realise it then, but that became my rite of passage into a new school year--the little things we did to celebrate another year, another day.

This year, I find myself looking into the faces of the kids in Kids Club, each one of them proudly telling me, "I'm one year older this year, one year closer to being an adult." I marvel at their joy and pride in growing up, and wish I could keep their childlike perspective so I don't lose sight in the everyday miracle simply known as Life.

And the precious year 6s who will be graduating and heading on up into Intermediate, where they finally get to hang out in youth group with those cool big kids--an experience all fun and terrifying at the same time.

I remember being 11. I started being a part of the worship team at church, which brought with it questions of why I'm even serving when I don't get what being a Christian meant. It was the same year I wrote in my journal that I felt like a rubbish bin that was used by the once-bestfriend where she unloaded and unloaded all her junk, then set me out on the street for the dumpster-man while she ran off to play with the pretty girls. The dumpster-man that never came.

I look back on those experiences now and wish there had been an adult in my life that I could talk about those experiences with. Adults who would allow me to question my faith instead of telling me I just needed to know the Sunday School answers. At 11, Sunday School answers weren't cutting it anymore for my faith journey. I knew them all, but still they did nothing for my feeling like a complete fake when I sat at the piano in front of the church because what I claimed to be believing had no real meaning.

And then I look back again at the faces of the precious year 6s whom I've had the joy (and sometimes sorrow) of walking with in the last year. I wonder if I've done enough to help them along their journey. I want to say to them, it's ok if you don't understand the faith thing. It's ok to have questions. It's ok to be socially awkward. You don't have to pretend to be looking forward to Intermediate if you're terrified deep down inside that you're not going to be the big kids at school anymore.

I want to tell them, I was a mess when I was 11--still am a mess today. But we have a friend who knows our mess and will not leave us out on the streets for the non-existent dumpster-man. And you have friends in this place we call Church who will walk with you.

In a little less than a month, we'll be kicking-off kids' church for the year. Just like the coloured-pencils I looked forward to every year, I hope whatever we end up planning for the kick-off will be that same celebration of a rite of passage for these kids. But more importantly, I hope they know that these same people (maybe not the exact same faces, but the same people we call the Church whanau) who celebrate their rites of passage with them now will continue to celebrate every milestone with them along the way.

Happy 2013, my little people.

Celebrating Across the Seas

Well, it's officially "Black Friday" on this side of the world.

In all my years of celebrating Thanksgiving, I've only done the Black Friday madness once--only because Jenny and Becca convinced me that since it was my last Thanksgiving in the US, I had to at least get out there in the wee hours of the morning once, even if just for the cultural experience. I can't say I enjoyed the experience much; but maybe it's because I was more used to parking down in the Rhynard house for the Thanksgiving weekend 007 marathon with my homework or crochet, and trying to keep warm in the Michigan winter.

I remember my first snow. Danielle and I were going to pick Cody up from high-school (yes, Cody, I know you're grown-up now because you're in seminary, but I'll always remember you as that dorky high-schooler who wouldn't stop giving your sister crap, as all good brothers should) the day before Thanksgiving. We were walking in to the school when Danielle stopped me and said, "Look! It's snowing!"

Folks always talk about being excited about snow. But that first snow, I thought I was going to slip on the snow, hit my head on the side-walk and die. It didn't help that I crash-landed in a pile of snow when out on my first snow-mobile ride with Danielle and Cody. "Death by snow on her first Thanksgiving." Great headline, eh?

The years passed quicker than I was ready for them. My last two American Thanksgivings have been characteristically un-snowy--rainy at best, but snow would have been a major fluke in the weather system.

So we learn to adapt. We don't do snow or snow-mobiles, but we do stories. Turkeys cost four times as much here as they would in Michigan or Indiana, so we do chicken. Pumpkins only happen as a whole fruit and not in cans, so we puree our own for pies and coffee creamers. And we include friends for whom Thanksgivings may have never been, or will ever be, traditions, but whose stories we get to write together at least for this season.

It wasn't that many years ago that traditional celebration story-sharing started. Those first awkward Chinese New Year celebrations in the dorm rooms without a real kitchen to work with, or easy access to an Asian grocer. And we learnt to adapt anyway.

That's the life of living all around the world. We carry our stories, our food, our traditions and celebrations with us. We adapt where necessary, and we start new traditions and carry those with us to new corners of the world and fill even more pages of our stories with new friends, laughter, and always, always food.

And after the dishes have all been cleared away, we pause to sit down with a cuppa joe. And we give thanks for the stories we get to be a part of, the table of food and laughter shared, and for a rich and abundant life.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. May it be filled with love and laughter.

Celebrating 11 Years of Laughter

Every time I'm back here, I feel like I can be a kid all over again.

Friends from way back, talking about stories from way back.
It's like we're all still sixteen and seventeen and things haven't changed.

We still find the same things ridiculously funny.
We still kaopei (literally translated: curse father) about the same types of things.
Bunz, as usual eats a lot.
Juan, as usual is always late.
Ivy, as usual is trying to keep up with everyone else.

But there's always the subtle reminders that these are no longer our green pinafore days.
Lisi is getting married.
Bunz and Ivy are talking about raising families together since they're going to be neighbours.
Everyone is nagging at Juan about the same old business.
And it always ends with the usual, "So when's the next time you're coming back?"

Life isn't as simple as the green pinafore days anymore.
The world isn't only about our kangkong eating habits anymore.
Or hyperventilating over maths formulae anymore.

Life has become about paying bills, switching jobs, planning weddings, travelling, heartbreaks and the other things that seem to indicate we're supposed to be grown-ups.

But put the six or eight of us together in one room and it's like nothing has changed.
Bunny may have switched jobs a few times.
I may have moved around the world a few times.

But that we still laugh every year at the fact that we're anything but moribus modestus makes me thankful for these girls.

Thank you for reminding me to take time to laugh.

Celebrating 11 years of laughter

I have the best friends in the world.

Treasure Trove

Opened my treasure trove again today.

In it, I put Shireen, the Malaysian auntie from the $2 shop who has been looking out for me because "we're from the same kampong." Today, she gave me a big bag of clothes and a box of books for the kids in our church.

I also put in Verena, the Singaporean auntie I met at the Singapore Club Chinese New Year dinner who told me to be in touch with her if I need anything since they live pretty close by. Ran into her at the grocery store on Monday and she wanted to know how I've been.

And Auntie Enid and Uncle BK, friends of my parents, "I've known her since she was this tall..." for curry puffs, loaning their steamboat for Chinese New Year, making sure I've tasted feijoa, and homemade achar.

And dinners, evening walks, ice-cream, ridiculous laughter and theological brain explosion with one of my favourite people in the limited time we have left being in close physical proximity.

And visits from fine folks from a time and space outside of Auckland.

Today, I'm thankful.

I Have the Best Friends in the World

First of all, let me address this just to get it out of the way. In no other century in history has it been possible for me to be ripping open a package and reading the taunts from Michael Smith from across the Pacific Ocean and the reactions of the other fine folks who added to my box of randomness.

Facebook, I salute you.


In spite of the intensity of all the craziness of the last couple of months, today, I consider myself blessed beyond measure to have some of the best friends in the world.

No really, I do mean the world.

I'm thankful for the tweets from Yu Lin and Juan, nagging at me to take care of myself while I'm sick. More than ten years have passed since the beginnings of our friendship. Sure the course of these friendships haven't always been smooth. But today, I'm thankful I still have both of you gals in my life. And thankful for the best friends I could possibly have in Singapore.

I'm thankful for Pia who continues the poke war on Facebook. And for Jonas, who, though twelve time-zones away, still finds the time to harass me on Facebook chat once in a while to give me more German lessons. And Rhonda, who helps me celebrate the little things of living cross-culturally. It's been nearly two years since my Deutschland chapter. But today, I'm thankful for the little things that remind me of all the lessons I learnt from that chapter. And thankful for the best friends I could possibly have in Deutschland.

I'm thankful for my box of randomness from Emily, Jenny, Michael, Yoc, Jason, Wolfgang, Nate, Leslie and Josh. The little things that remind me of the times we laughed so hard about Glinda, beating up a TV or eating roadkill for Passover, rugby lessons and a last mad dash to Sno-Castle, or the Skype conversations to catch up. Seven years of major growing up made Anderson a difficult family to leave. But today, I'm thankful that sentimentality aside, I had people alongside who challenged me to open my mind to embrace new possibilities. And thankful for the best friends I could possibly have in the US of A.

I'm thankful for Josh, Chris and Steve, three crazy little brothers who not only make me laugh because of their ridiculousness but also let me know that they've got my (and each other's) back(s). Three guys who make a big mess in my kitchen but also clean up after themselves. I'm thankful for the Mama figures in PJ, Katherine and Helen who nag at me about going to the doctor and taking care of myself; for Auntie Enid who takes care of the Singaporean child in me; and for my big brothers and sisters, Kathrin and Stefan, and Chad and Diane. No buts. I'm thankful for the best friends I could possibly have in Aotearoa.

No really, when you have the best friends you could possibly have spread out across four different time zones in almost equal geographical distance between each, I think it's only fair to say I really do have the best friends in the world.

That's ok, you can be jealous.
As for me, I'm just thankful.

Coffee Shop Conversations

She sat behind her computer typing away furiously with a slight frown. Occasionally she would look across the rows of trees below to let her thoughts breathe for a few seconds, and the frown would ease up just that little bit as she sipped her cappuccino.

For that few seconds, she let her mind race back to the last time she was in that coffee shop and a slight smile crept up on her face as she continued typing furiously. It was the beginning of a summer that was about to change her life, except she didn't realise it yet. And the people around that table--an eclectic group nonetheless--seemed to fit in so well with the fact that they were just outside of Berlin, Germany. "If Portland was the capital of Weird in the US, Berlin would probably be that equivalent for this part of the world," she thought to herself. Of all the places she had traveled to, it would of course make sense that these were her top two favourite cities. She was, after all, weird and proud of it.

She took another sip of her cappuccino as she furiously tried to put to words all the thoughts and theological implications that had gone through her head in the last week or so. "In every circle of friends, there has to be an old soul," she smiled as she remembered that comment she made in passing in one of those conversations. That was when she realised she had so many people in her life to fulfill the many layers of human relationships that were required for healthy human functionality. Each one of them gave her something different to be thankful for, and something else to think about. And she was becoming increasingly confident that regardless of where in the world she went to, it wouldn't be difficult to establish these circles again from next to nothing.

So lost was she in the attempt to process the current theological ramblings that she jumped when she finally looked up again and saw him sitting there.

"Holy crap, Papa! Don't do that to me again!" she let out in a harsh whisper. He simply smiled back.

"How long have you been... Never mind, don't answer that." She knew. He had followed her from the house to the bus-stop, to the train station. Then again, she was pretty sure he was at the airport with them earlier that day as well when the kids in the youth group decided to head there after church. And the last time she was at that spot. And the day she moved to Anderson. And TKGS. And...

"Ok, ok. Got it. I'm guessing we need to talk?"

Again, he said nothing and simply smiled.

"I know I've been doing a lot of thinking, and very little feeling," she finally said after some time passed since his silence. "And we both know that I've been doing a lot of thinking so that I can avoid feeling. I'm frustrated because I'd rather be in Auckland. But truth be told, this whole process has worn me down a lot, and I'm not even excited anymore. Everyday is just blah because I want a sense of "normalcy" and don't laugh because we all already know my life has been and will continue to be anything but normal. But that's not what I mean. Even if it turns out that Auckland would only be for a little while, I want to feel at "home" somewhere for that little while. I want to be able to walk into a shop somewhere and say, "I want this for my living space, and it's reasonably-priced and sized," and be able to buy it instead of thinking that it won't be able to fit into my two pieces of luggage. I've loved being able to drop everything at the last minute to go spend time with people because I don't know when's the next time I'll get to see them, but a loose schedule like that for more than just a couple of months is about to drive me crazy. I may have spent a lot of time with the Kenyan sisters this summer, but I'm still used to having SOME kind of structure. Am I ranting?"

He still said nothing and simply smiled.

And that was when she understood. Through all these transitions she craved nothing more than just one constant. That Constant had created all the circles she had just been so thankful for to hold her through each change, but Constant was still constant. And Constant constantly gave her space to think as she needed to think, feel as she needed to feel, not feel as she needed to not feel...

Constant constantly gave her space just so she had space.

"Hopes told you you had the gift of giving space," he finally said after she caught her breath.

"But I only have space to give because YOU give me space," she said.

"My child, I don't need answers from you. I don't need you to figure me out. I don't need you to rant when you're frustrated, sing when you're happy, or cry when you're upset.

I just need you to be you."

This Week's Treasure Trove

Thankful for:
Darlene and Doris, for throwing together a lunch for my SOT friends. You remind me of the family that Park Place has become for each other, and for me. Thank you.
Paul and Debbie, for dinner, for space to housesit--but also to retreat to. You remind me that no matter where I go, there's always space for family. Thank you.
Carma, for giving me space to be where I am with Park Place. You remind me of the journey we have been together, and for all the other persons who have been my pastors. Thank you.
Emily, for beads and stories. You remind me that we live in a dark world, but there is hope yet.
The not-so-baby-anymore sister, for reminding me of how we've all grown up. You remind me of the beginning of my Anderson journey, I'm thankful that we can now have discussions that we never used to be able to have.
Amanda, for being born. You remind me of the importance of deep friendships, and that no matter which corner we land, there's always room for each other.
McC, for dim sum and social studies lessons. You remind me to always take time for friends and their stories regardless of where we each are in life.
Dan and Christy, for the tradition of the Nile. You remind me to keep dreaming, and to spread my wings, and to never be afraid of following through with the journey.
Emily and Ashley, for friendship and community. You remind me that it's more important to be authentic than to always agree.
Doris, for fluffy scrambled eggs, overdone bacon, and a little too hard muffins. You remind me that life isn't always perfect, but we always have friends for the journey.
Tamara and Jenny, for sushi and fellowship. You remind me that even in the busyness of life, there is still time for friends.
John and Jodie, for fellowship of kindreds. You remind me again that once we stop being able to laugh at the craziness of life, it's time for a vacation.
Jacquie, for not only taking an interest in my passions, but helping me with resources to pursue them. You remind me to keep the intergenerational connectivity alive.
Alex and Michaela, for Harry Potter. You remind me that life doesn't always have to be about all the deep stuff, and to take time for the little things.
Becca, for Anderson "lasts" adventures. You remind me that friendship doesn't always require a lot of time or effort, but simply knowing that the other is always there.
Jess, for kitties and food. You remind me to be thankful for the times I get to celebrate new beginnings with friends because life doesn't always allow enough time to celebrate or mourn everything.
Patricia and Zach, for pizza and friendship. You remind me that no matter how much time has passed, some things about friends and friendship never change.
Heidi, Thad, Toby and Theo, Greame and Caroline, Bryler and Ada, for pool craziness. You remind me of the awkward kid I was seven years ago, and the friendships that I have found.
Michael, Jason and Royce, for hosting community dinner. You remind me that blatant honesty and authenticity often make for better friendships than surface conversations pretending that all is well in our world.

So, so thankful.

I've always had an appreciation for wordsmiths who craft words succinctly and with a dose of wit, or simply have the ability to say things in a way that makes you go, wow. I recently started collecting a treasure trove of these words, and here are a bunch of those to help remind me there are people who believe in me even when I don't believe in myself.

"You cannot stop the birds from flying around your head, but you can keep them from making nests on your head." - Nathan Smith (via Ann), on anger.

"I'm proud of you and how far you've come. In my book, we have equal authority on these things." - Greg Robertson, on my theological formation.

"I was just in awe after realizing last night that grownup me has known you for ten years now. And you're forever chasing some dream and getting there eventually so soldier on!" - Crystal Abidin, on my dreams.

"You belong to us! You are always at home with us. Never forget that, wherever Abba takes you." - Papa Eddie Paul.

"Some people have an uncanny gift of hospitality. Wherever they go, they make everyone around them feel at home in their presence. YOU are one of those unusual and special people, Jael. You take home with you wherever you go ... because you make everyone around you feel at home. Get ready NZ ... something really cool is about to happen to you folks down under!" - Jim Hawkins

Unrelatedly, my gripe for this week is the silly 4-way stop sign turning on to the street outside our neighbourhood. All three years that we have lived in this house, I have hated the double-lane 4-way stop because people don't always stop to allow the ones on the turning lane to turn. Three years later, Indiana drivers are still stupid, and double-lane 4-way stops and train tracks are still annoying.

Random, I know. Life isn't perfect.

But still. So thankful.

I don't have much materially, but what I do have are friends. And I'm thankful. Because technology makes it easier for me to keep them in my pockets rather than having to pay extravagant costs to cart them around the world.