Dear Keren,
I'm sitting in my retreat space, completely surrounded by the bagillion thank-you cards that need to be sent out to the people who have made an impact on my life in the last seven years in Anderson. Right now, my life feels as full of chaos as the stuff that I'm surrounded by, and the condition that my room is in. A part of my stuff is already filling up a suitcase, a couple boxes have been filled that will be going to the garage sale that's happening this weekend, and another trash bag full of stuff that I'm just throwing away or recycling.
And it's 2am, and I'm finally taking a sanity break from this day. I'm still awake, but I think I'm going to go ahead and blame this on the Pacific Northwest for messing up my sleep-cycle. I guess the fact that I'm functioning on my own schedule now doesn't help huh.
These last few days in Anderson are now being filled up faster than I can catch up with.
There's a ton of sorting and packing that needs to be done. And in the middle of doing that, I found a bunch of old photos that I forgot existed. Cards that still make me smile. Papers I had written in undergrad that make me realise how much I had learnt in the last seven years. Not so much about how the dominant seventh chords should resolve, or what songs to teach children for each developmental stage of life they are in, or how to plan a worship service. But realising how focused I was in undergrad that I never really made time for people.
There's errands that need to be run like making sure my car gets sold, the insurance gets cancelled, the bank accounts get taken care of, and silly things like that that's supposed to make life easier but really just complicate it more.
There's a bagillion thank-you cards that need to be made and sent.
And a bagillion people I need to see. I'm getting to the point where I feel like I'm just seeing people for the sake of seeing people and I hate that feeling. Deep down inside, I really wish I could spend more time with each of the people I'm visiting with, but even if I had all the time in the world, it wouldn't be enough. So I pay my dues to each person and I move on. And it drives me crazy after I do that, but I don't know how else to manage.
As I looked through all the junk earlier today, my allergies started going crazy from the dust that had accumulated over the last couple years since the last time I moved. But more than that, for that few seconds, I felt like my soul had just disconnected from my body and, looking at all the junk that surrounded me, realised what a fascinating journey this life so far has been. And I'm only 25, but the Creator still isn't quite done with me yet. How can this be? And what more is there to come?
And sure, I have seven years of junk I need to get rid of, but quite frankly, that's all that is. Junk. The real treasures are the people, and yet I don't even get to carry all of them together with me. It almost feels kinda silly that I'm filling suitcases with clothes and stuff instead of memories.
But yet, as much junk as there is surrounding me, my life is full. Thinking back to the last couple weeks, I've been reminded again and again of all the people I have in my life.
At NAC, I got to spend time with countless old friends from seminary. Friends who, each time I converse with them, fill my soul.
And countless old friends from the missionary community. Friends who relate to my somewhat strange worldview.
And their children. Friends who embrace me with complete abandonment not because I do them favours or anything like that but simply because they love me out of their innocence.
And others in the Church who believe in love.
In the Pacific Northwest, I got to spend time with Arthur and Judy, Dave, DeAnn, Sherri, Neil, Andi and Audrey, Jenny, Dave and Connie, Becca and Ryan, Laura, Jess, Isaac, Minnie and EJ, Ryan, Robin, Ella and Lunden, Lauren, Katie and Ashley, Perry and Carla, Cassie, Bill and Mary, Stephanie and Brett, Kelly, Randee, Sean, Jeff, Christina and Tymon, and Matt and Abbey.
Since coming back to Anderson, I had lunch with Amity, Scott and Rick.
Beaded and talked till 3am with Emy.
Went to Frazier's with Michael.
Frolfed and harassed Coppess with Rick then went to dinner with them.
Visited with Mac and Jean.
Watched Harry Potter with Tim, Nikki, Tim, Kit and Jacob.
Had ribs with Jason, his dad, Michael and Royce.
Had pizza, played Phase10 and watched the Newsies with Julia and B-row.
Hung out at Keren's tree for her birthday.
Caught up with Ryan and Anjie.
Said our "see you again" with Mike and Wendy.
Hung out with Greg, Linda, Nathanael and Abigail, Laura and (crazy drummer) Kirk.
Catch up with Danielle.
And tomorrow I get to have lunch with Jen and Mary.
And play games with Xen and Sarah, and Becca and Ryan.
And have tea with Ann.
And Wiffleball Wedneday.
And lunch with Mac and Jean and the sibs.
And bead and talk some more with Emy.
And Freak Freer-Fry Friday.
And garage sale Saturday with Ginny and JM, John and Elizabeth, and Jason.
I'm blown away that my life can be this full. Because just a few years ago, I wasn't sure I knew how to be in relationship anymore. Remember, we had this conversation just a couple years back? I was just starting to get to the place where I could say ok, I'm ready to have people in my life again. It started slowly, and painfully, this learning to be vulnerable in relationships again. And before I even realised it, four years have passed since the day you went away, and here I am.
Still miss you. Still wish you were here. But my life is so full, and I've never been more thankful.
Love,
Me
19 July 2011
18 July 2011
Journey to New Zealand Update
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
The Road goes ever on and on
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
- Bilbo, in JRR Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings
Dear friends,
The seven-year journey in Anderson is finally coming to an end, but the road keeps on going. Come September, I will be moving to New Zealand for the next chapter of this journey.
If you are reading about New Zealand for the first time, I will be moving there in September to work with the children's ministry at the Church of God congregation, Westside Christian Fellowship in Auckland, New Zealand. While I have not had much experience with children's ministry, my years in Anderson have taught me the importance of an inter-generational church. I am excited to be working with the children's ministry, and seeing how God will continue to bring generations together while also giving space for each of us to be ourselves.
In the meantime, I will be flying back to Singapore on August 4. I have to do some fundraising and work on my visa application, which will be easier to work on from the country that holds my passport. And my last couple of weeks in the States will be spent packing and visiting with friends who have made my time here so meaningful.
Friends in the Pacific Northwest, it was so good to have been able to spend some time with you while I was out there. Thank you, each one of you, for your amazing hospitality.
Friends from AU and Seminary, thank you for walking with me, and for pricking me in so many ways so I can be who I am now.
Park Place family, you have truly taught me what it means to be a family that can learn to fight fair and still stick together. Thank you.
Missionary community and others who have paved the way , I have learnt so much from you. Thank you.
Friends in Germany, you will always have a special place in my heart. Thank you.
Friends in Singapore, I look forward to being with you again soon!
And as you think of it, here are a few things you can pray for as well.
1) Transitions have become somewhat normal for me now, but they still are never easy. Pray that the packing, the "until next time," and the flights will go smoothly.
2) Pray for the people I will be doing life with in New Zealand. Pray for the ones I will be living with, the ones I get to work alongside of, and the ones that I haven't even met yet. Pray that above all the other things that we do, we will keep the Kingdom in perspective.
3) Fundraising and visa applications are still tricky. While I have had experience walking with other missionaries through those processes, because I am not a US citizen, the procedures for me to get these things taken care of will not be ones that I'm familiar with. Pray that the pieces will all fall into place.
If you would like to receive updates by e-mail and have not already received something, please send me a message with your e-mail address.
Thank you all for being a part of my journey. In the words of e. e. cummings, "I carry your heart."
Down from the door where it began.
The Road goes ever on and on
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
- Bilbo, in JRR Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings
Dear friends,
The seven-year journey in Anderson is finally coming to an end, but the road keeps on going. Come September, I will be moving to New Zealand for the next chapter of this journey.
If you are reading about New Zealand for the first time, I will be moving there in September to work with the children's ministry at the Church of God congregation, Westside Christian Fellowship in Auckland, New Zealand. While I have not had much experience with children's ministry, my years in Anderson have taught me the importance of an inter-generational church. I am excited to be working with the children's ministry, and seeing how God will continue to bring generations together while also giving space for each of us to be ourselves.
In the meantime, I will be flying back to Singapore on August 4. I have to do some fundraising and work on my visa application, which will be easier to work on from the country that holds my passport. And my last couple of weeks in the States will be spent packing and visiting with friends who have made my time here so meaningful.
Friends in the Pacific Northwest, it was so good to have been able to spend some time with you while I was out there. Thank you, each one of you, for your amazing hospitality.
Friends from AU and Seminary, thank you for walking with me, and for pricking me in so many ways so I can be who I am now.
Park Place family, you have truly taught me what it means to be a family that can learn to fight fair and still stick together. Thank you.
Missionary community and others who have paved the way , I have learnt so much from you. Thank you.
Friends in Germany, you will always have a special place in my heart. Thank you.
Friends in Singapore, I look forward to being with you again soon!
And as you think of it, here are a few things you can pray for as well.
1) Transitions have become somewhat normal for me now, but they still are never easy. Pray that the packing, the "until next time," and the flights will go smoothly.
2) Pray for the people I will be doing life with in New Zealand. Pray for the ones I will be living with, the ones I get to work alongside of, and the ones that I haven't even met yet. Pray that above all the other things that we do, we will keep the Kingdom in perspective.
3) Fundraising and visa applications are still tricky. While I have had experience walking with other missionaries through those processes, because I am not a US citizen, the procedures for me to get these things taken care of will not be ones that I'm familiar with. Pray that the pieces will all fall into place.
If you would like to receive updates by e-mail and have not already received something, please send me a message with your e-mail address.
Thank you all for being a part of my journey. In the words of e. e. cummings, "I carry your heart."
17 July 2011
Dear Keren #8 - Becky and the Church Part 4, and a Happy Birthday
Dear Keren,
This week, I have been angry. Really angry. Angry to the point that I'm even surprising myself that I have the capacity for this anger. Angry to the point that Michael and Jason are slightly concerned by the amount of physical violence I'm threatening.
(Don't worry, I'm going to try to deal with this healthily. They are going to look for something for me to beat up to take my anger out. Or something.)
I've talked about the "Dark Year" for a while now without ever really getting into it. There really isn't a point in talking about that year anymore, because the part of the family that made that year so dark has fought hard amongst themselves to the point where I think we are starting to make some headway. Sure, it hasn't been easy, but was the fight worth it? I think so. I do wish some of the sacrifices that had to be made never happened, but look at us now. I'm grateful.
Yet on the other hand, there's another part of the family that seems to be taking one baby step at a time to make my life a living hell. Don't get me wrong; they are not bad people. They're very well-intentioned, but sometimes I wonder if they really took the time to think through the implications of what they are deciding to do.
There are times in our life-cycle where we fall and make a boo-boo, and a little bandage with the Hello Kitty or the Smurfs will do fine. There are other times in our life-cycle where it's a matter of internal bleeding, and no amount of Smurf bandages are going to help anymore.
In the years that have passed since that Dark Year, healing has come for that part of the family. But my wounds are only just starting to heal... and not because a doctor with magical powers came to wave their wand over my wounds, but because time, and a significant enough number of people from that family have allowed me to grieve with them over those wounds.
And now this. This is cutting deeper than the wounds left behind from the Dark Year.
Maybe it's because I had naively allowed myself to, even just for a second, think that we're making progress as a family.
Maybe it's because my old wounds have only just started to heal.
Maybe it's because for a second, I thought this family had learnt how to genuinely care for each other, and for relationships.
Maybe it's because I thought it was safe for me to assume I had enough of a relationship with that part of the family to depend on them for just that little bit of support to get me through this ending/beginning season of life.
Maybe, maybe, maybe...
Whatever the reason, the truth is, we're all a bunch of messed-up people. Each with our own baggage bringing our messes to the table. Whatever we decide to do with that, I think the Creator will use to fashion into the beauty that is a part of a bigger tapestry than we can see at the moment.
But the other side of the truth is, it still hurts like hell right now. It's like that same feeling of lying awake at 2am the nights after you went away, wanting to scream but not even sure what words to use.
I've always struggled with being as authentic as I can in my relationships. When I was younger, it meant I didn't say anything to anyone because this is my baggage to carry. As I got older, I thought being authentic meant learning to trust a few with my inner-most thoughts and those relationships always ended abruptly when I least expect. Then when you went away, I wasn't sure I would ever be able to give anything more in my relationships because eventually shit happens, and then we die.
Yet I had to relearn what it means to choose life again, and a part of that meant learning to be authentic in my relationships again instead of simply giving the "Hi, how are you, I'm good." answers and walking away. Because in light of this week, I want to stop feeling. Because my anger toward that part of the family is making me react negatively to other parts of the family. And I have less than three weeks left to pack things up around here. That's not enough time to screw up relationships now and try to reconcile before I leave.
In light of the fact that it is your birthday in a few more minutes, I want to be able to say I will choose life even while my heart is hurting right now. I know this will turn around, and not because I believe in the family. At least, right now, I don't anymore. But I believe in the Creator of Love, that is Love in itself. And I believe eventually this love will overwhelm again to the point where healing can begin.
But right now, this just hurts like hell. And maybe for right now, choosing life is choosing to feel the hurt of the frailty of humanity.
Happy 25th Birthday, KEB.
Miss you so very much,
Me
This week, I have been angry. Really angry. Angry to the point that I'm even surprising myself that I have the capacity for this anger. Angry to the point that Michael and Jason are slightly concerned by the amount of physical violence I'm threatening.
(Don't worry, I'm going to try to deal with this healthily. They are going to look for something for me to beat up to take my anger out. Or something.)
I've talked about the "Dark Year" for a while now without ever really getting into it. There really isn't a point in talking about that year anymore, because the part of the family that made that year so dark has fought hard amongst themselves to the point where I think we are starting to make some headway. Sure, it hasn't been easy, but was the fight worth it? I think so. I do wish some of the sacrifices that had to be made never happened, but look at us now. I'm grateful.
Yet on the other hand, there's another part of the family that seems to be taking one baby step at a time to make my life a living hell. Don't get me wrong; they are not bad people. They're very well-intentioned, but sometimes I wonder if they really took the time to think through the implications of what they are deciding to do.
There are times in our life-cycle where we fall and make a boo-boo, and a little bandage with the Hello Kitty or the Smurfs will do fine. There are other times in our life-cycle where it's a matter of internal bleeding, and no amount of Smurf bandages are going to help anymore.
In the years that have passed since that Dark Year, healing has come for that part of the family. But my wounds are only just starting to heal... and not because a doctor with magical powers came to wave their wand over my wounds, but because time, and a significant enough number of people from that family have allowed me to grieve with them over those wounds.
And now this. This is cutting deeper than the wounds left behind from the Dark Year.
Maybe it's because I had naively allowed myself to, even just for a second, think that we're making progress as a family.
Maybe it's because my old wounds have only just started to heal.
Maybe it's because for a second, I thought this family had learnt how to genuinely care for each other, and for relationships.
Maybe it's because I thought it was safe for me to assume I had enough of a relationship with that part of the family to depend on them for just that little bit of support to get me through this ending/beginning season of life.
Maybe, maybe, maybe...
Whatever the reason, the truth is, we're all a bunch of messed-up people. Each with our own baggage bringing our messes to the table. Whatever we decide to do with that, I think the Creator will use to fashion into the beauty that is a part of a bigger tapestry than we can see at the moment.
But the other side of the truth is, it still hurts like hell right now. It's like that same feeling of lying awake at 2am the nights after you went away, wanting to scream but not even sure what words to use.
I've always struggled with being as authentic as I can in my relationships. When I was younger, it meant I didn't say anything to anyone because this is my baggage to carry. As I got older, I thought being authentic meant learning to trust a few with my inner-most thoughts and those relationships always ended abruptly when I least expect. Then when you went away, I wasn't sure I would ever be able to give anything more in my relationships because eventually shit happens, and then we die.
Yet I had to relearn what it means to choose life again, and a part of that meant learning to be authentic in my relationships again instead of simply giving the "Hi, how are you, I'm good." answers and walking away. Because in light of this week, I want to stop feeling. Because my anger toward that part of the family is making me react negatively to other parts of the family. And I have less than three weeks left to pack things up around here. That's not enough time to screw up relationships now and try to reconcile before I leave.
In light of the fact that it is your birthday in a few more minutes, I want to be able to say I will choose life even while my heart is hurting right now. I know this will turn around, and not because I believe in the family. At least, right now, I don't anymore. But I believe in the Creator of Love, that is Love in itself. And I believe eventually this love will overwhelm again to the point where healing can begin.
But right now, this just hurts like hell. And maybe for right now, choosing life is choosing to feel the hurt of the frailty of humanity.
Happy 25th Birthday, KEB.
Miss you so very much,
Me
Pacific Northwest Adventures Part 2: Friends
It was probably around 11 pm or so when Bill and Mary had just dropped me off at PDX. I was getting caught up on my social media updates and was starting to work on my next blog when from the corner of my eye, I saw him.
Could it be...?
And then she followed along behind him with her red carry-on luggage. Yup, it was them. The same couple that had travelled the same itinerary as I did only eleven days ago and found ourselves stranded in the MSP airport for seven hours.
We got to talking when she asked if I taught. It's not the first time I've been asked that question by a random stranger, so apparently I look/dress like I'm in the education field. Or something. Anyhow, she found out I was moving to New Zealand soon, and that I lived in Anderson but I was originally born in Singapore. To which she responded with, "You know, you meet lots of people at the airport, some of them, like you, just have fascinating stories."
I guess I've officially joined the ranks of the "cool airport gang." Or something.
But that brought me back to a conversation I had almost continually with Mary over the weekend that I was in Woodburn. She kept pointing out that I knew a lot of Church of God people, which... in all honesty, made me a little squirmy. It's not that I mind the association as much as... I don't like being one of those name-droppers. I don't like claiming to know people just to impress others that I'm well-connected.
I realised this during NAC week. I was doing a lot more networking than I was really comfortable with, because I hate acting like I know people when the truth is I've only had a 5-minute conversation with them, probably talking about something or someone we had in common, but not really about either of us.
And I think that's why more than anything else, I HATE networking and the whole fundraising thing because all that people want to hear is "the ministry." And the problem is I'm still having a hard time detaching myself from "the ministry" because what I do flows out of me, not out of an obligation to a to-do list.
But as I think about it some more, I'm not sure I mind having that problem. Because the truth is (at the risk of sounding arrogant and full-of-myself ), I don't see myself being separated from my "ministry." And the problem with networking is that I'm not really being myself if I have to take myself out of the equation to simply talk about the trivial things like the weather or the speaker of last evening's service.
Which is why, as much as it terrifies me to acknowledge this, I do know people. Which is why, while I was in Oregon, I did see a lot of people, but these were also people that taught me things.
So thank you.
...Thank you to Arthur and Judy, for helping me see that sometimes when two paths diverge, the one that is less traveled is really the one that walks the fine line to between holding on to and breaking apart from tradition.
...Thank you to the Shrout/Hodges families, for showing me how families work together to involve everyone, even the rowdy kids that could potentially make a wedding less than perfect.
...Thank you to the Marbles, for showing me that families can work efficiently together in times of crisis, and that hospitality sometimes goes beyond simply providing room and board.
...Thank you to Perry and Carla, for the friendships that happen almost immediately, and for such acceptance into the forever family.
...Thank you to Stephanie and Brett, for showing me that friendships do have the ability to transcend time and space, and that whenever we see each other again, the friendships will still be there.
...Thank you to Bill and Mary, for giving me space time and time again, even if it's once every two years or so, and for asking and noticing things that I thought were trivial.
...Thank you to Randee, for long conversations, for time for friendships to be rekindled, and especially for reminding me that Christ never intended for the Gospel to be safe.
...Thank you to Sean, for friendships that don't ask too many complicated questions, and for always being available and wanting to simply hang out.
These are the people I know in the Pacific Northwest. And yes, I do know them.
Could it be...?
And then she followed along behind him with her red carry-on luggage. Yup, it was them. The same couple that had travelled the same itinerary as I did only eleven days ago and found ourselves stranded in the MSP airport for seven hours.
We got to talking when she asked if I taught. It's not the first time I've been asked that question by a random stranger, so apparently I look/dress like I'm in the education field. Or something. Anyhow, she found out I was moving to New Zealand soon, and that I lived in Anderson but I was originally born in Singapore. To which she responded with, "You know, you meet lots of people at the airport, some of them, like you, just have fascinating stories."
I guess I've officially joined the ranks of the "cool airport gang." Or something.
But that brought me back to a conversation I had almost continually with Mary over the weekend that I was in Woodburn. She kept pointing out that I knew a lot of Church of God people, which... in all honesty, made me a little squirmy. It's not that I mind the association as much as... I don't like being one of those name-droppers. I don't like claiming to know people just to impress others that I'm well-connected.
I realised this during NAC week. I was doing a lot more networking than I was really comfortable with, because I hate acting like I know people when the truth is I've only had a 5-minute conversation with them, probably talking about something or someone we had in common, but not really about either of us.
And I think that's why more than anything else, I HATE networking and the whole fundraising thing because all that people want to hear is "the ministry." And the problem is I'm still having a hard time detaching myself from "the ministry" because what I do flows out of me, not out of an obligation to a to-do list.
But as I think about it some more, I'm not sure I mind having that problem. Because the truth is (at the risk of sounding arrogant and full-of-myself ), I don't see myself being separated from my "ministry." And the problem with networking is that I'm not really being myself if I have to take myself out of the equation to simply talk about the trivial things like the weather or the speaker of last evening's service.
Which is why, as much as it terrifies me to acknowledge this, I do know people. Which is why, while I was in Oregon, I did see a lot of people, but these were also people that taught me things.
So thank you.
...Thank you to Arthur and Judy, for helping me see that sometimes when two paths diverge, the one that is less traveled is really the one that walks the fine line to between holding on to and breaking apart from tradition.
...Thank you to the Shrout/Hodges families, for showing me how families work together to involve everyone, even the rowdy kids that could potentially make a wedding less than perfect.
...Thank you to the Marbles, for showing me that families can work efficiently together in times of crisis, and that hospitality sometimes goes beyond simply providing room and board.
...Thank you to Perry and Carla, for the friendships that happen almost immediately, and for such acceptance into the forever family.
...Thank you to Stephanie and Brett, for showing me that friendships do have the ability to transcend time and space, and that whenever we see each other again, the friendships will still be there.
...Thank you to Bill and Mary, for giving me space time and time again, even if it's once every two years or so, and for asking and noticing things that I thought were trivial.
...Thank you to Randee, for long conversations, for time for friendships to be rekindled, and especially for reminding me that Christ never intended for the Gospel to be safe.
...Thank you to Sean, for friendships that don't ask too many complicated questions, and for always being available and wanting to simply hang out.
These are the people I know in the Pacific Northwest. And yes, I do know them.
09 July 2011
Pacific Northwest Adventures Part 1: Airports
Today marks day 10 of my adventures in the Pacific Northwest. I've said it before, and I'll say it again.
Someday, I will live here.
But that's not exactly the point of this entry.
Wednesday morning was the beginning of something I had been looking forward to since the day I knew I would be able to make this trip. This was to be my graduation gift to myself. Prior to this trip, I've been out this way three other times, and loved it every time I'm out here. The only difference this time is that I find myself repeating over and over again, "Don't over-romanticize the PacNW. You've always been here on vacation, so your perception of this place will probably be rose-coloured."
Well, naturally when I ended up spending seven hours at the Minneapolis/St Paul airport because of flight delays, I was irritated. A part of me still wanted to be in Anderson, knowing that the hustle and bustle of the North American Convention of the Church of God was still going on. Another part of me wished I was already at PDX, just because I've always loved being here.
All at the same time, given that airports and airplanes have become a second home after Singapore, Anderson and Berlin all lumped into one, I got comfortable a little too quickly, then realised, "Oh crap. Now I have to deal with myself."
Sure, there had been a lot of highs and lows within the span of the few days prior to Wednesday. But it was there that I started grieving how airports shouldn't really feel like home, but it did. Airports are transitional places; and no one should live life being comfortable with transitions. At least, that's what I think.
And yet the reality of my life is exactly that. The in-between times of coming and going shouldn't be comfortable, but yet I've gotten used to them. But at the same time, do I look forward to going? Yes. Do I ever want to leave? No.
There is a sense that, "For every beginning there is an ending... and for every ending there is a beginning." (Thanks, Jacquie Gross) Every transition brings with it a deep sense of celebration of things to come, and also a deep sense of mourning the things that are left behind. Every transition brings with it a sense of guilt as I try to embrace celebrating the things to come. Because even while I'm look forward to things that are ahead, I don't stop mourning the things that are left behind.
I've often asked myself if I'm simply in over my head with being emotional. But the truth is, I mourn not simply because I don't know when I will see the ones I'm leaving behind again. Heck, I'm not a person that can stay put in one place for a long time, so I might eventually find my way back to some of these old haunts with these good ol' souls again. But I'm starting to wonder if the time of separation between now and "until next time" is in its essence a reflection of the grief of "eternal" separation. If I have loved the ones in the "now" the way Christ would have, even if I knew for sure there was a "next time," the time between "now" and "next time" should be hellish, right? (Let's leave my theology of hell and universality for another time, k?)
I'm not saying that Christ allows suffering of this nature, but... I kind of am. I've been thinking today too, that I've never encountered any kind of theology of suffering that I've wholeheartedly agree with. It's either been packed away neatly in a box as, "If we are TRULY in Christ, we will have no suffering because Christ's burden is easy and light," or as "If we are TRULY serving Christ, then we should suffer for Jesus." And quite frankly, I'm not ok with either.
But maybe that's just because I have a twisted theology of suffering that says you have to suffer through your theology of suffering in order for it to 1) make sense; 2) be ok with where you land with it.
Wow, this post got nerdy again. Idon't apologize.
Someday, I will live here.
But that's not exactly the point of this entry.
Wednesday morning was the beginning of something I had been looking forward to since the day I knew I would be able to make this trip. This was to be my graduation gift to myself. Prior to this trip, I've been out this way three other times, and loved it every time I'm out here. The only difference this time is that I find myself repeating over and over again, "Don't over-romanticize the PacNW. You've always been here on vacation, so your perception of this place will probably be rose-coloured."
Well, naturally when I ended up spending seven hours at the Minneapolis/St Paul airport because of flight delays, I was irritated. A part of me still wanted to be in Anderson, knowing that the hustle and bustle of the North American Convention of the Church of God was still going on. Another part of me wished I was already at PDX, just because I've always loved being here.
All at the same time, given that airports and airplanes have become a second home after Singapore, Anderson and Berlin all lumped into one, I got comfortable a little too quickly, then realised, "Oh crap. Now I have to deal with myself."
Sure, there had been a lot of highs and lows within the span of the few days prior to Wednesday. But it was there that I started grieving how airports shouldn't really feel like home, but it did. Airports are transitional places; and no one should live life being comfortable with transitions. At least, that's what I think.
And yet the reality of my life is exactly that. The in-between times of coming and going shouldn't be comfortable, but yet I've gotten used to them. But at the same time, do I look forward to going? Yes. Do I ever want to leave? No.
There is a sense that, "For every beginning there is an ending... and for every ending there is a beginning." (Thanks, Jacquie Gross) Every transition brings with it a deep sense of celebration of things to come, and also a deep sense of mourning the things that are left behind. Every transition brings with it a sense of guilt as I try to embrace celebrating the things to come. Because even while I'm look forward to things that are ahead, I don't stop mourning the things that are left behind.
I've often asked myself if I'm simply in over my head with being emotional. But the truth is, I mourn not simply because I don't know when I will see the ones I'm leaving behind again. Heck, I'm not a person that can stay put in one place for a long time, so I might eventually find my way back to some of these old haunts with these good ol' souls again. But I'm starting to wonder if the time of separation between now and "until next time" is in its essence a reflection of the grief of "eternal" separation. If I have loved the ones in the "now" the way Christ would have, even if I knew for sure there was a "next time," the time between "now" and "next time" should be hellish, right? (Let's leave my theology of hell and universality for another time, k?)
I'm not saying that Christ allows suffering of this nature, but... I kind of am. I've been thinking today too, that I've never encountered any kind of theology of suffering that I've wholeheartedly agree with. It's either been packed away neatly in a box as, "If we are TRULY in Christ, we will have no suffering because Christ's burden is easy and light," or as "If we are TRULY serving Christ, then we should suffer for Jesus." And quite frankly, I'm not ok with either.
But maybe that's just because I have a twisted theology of suffering that says you have to suffer through your theology of suffering in order for it to 1) make sense; 2) be ok with where you land with it.
Wow, this post got nerdy again. I
08 July 2011
The Rain Falls On The Just And The Unjust
I've always heard them say, "The rain falls on the just and the unjust," and wondered what they mean.
See, the thing is, I've always loved rain. Growing up, Mum always made us carry an umbrella to school so that even if it rained on the way home, we would be sheltered from the rain. Sometimes, even if I had an umbrella in my bagpack, I would still walk in the rain because I loved the way it fell on my head and my skin, and even the squishy feeling of my wet socks rubbing against the insides of my shoes. But once I got home, I would hurriedly take off my socks. The moist feeling wasn't quite so fun anymore and I'd be eager to get dry. But then I moved to Anderson, and the rains there were not the warm rain that I could cool off in. The freezing rains annoyed me because I quickly learnt how much I hated the cold weather.
Which makes me wonder, when they say "the rain falls on the just and the unjust," do they mean the warm rain in Singapore that I love, or the freezing Anderson rain that I detest?
And who do they mean by just or unjust? See, I used to have clear definitions of who the just were and who the unjust were. The just were the good people--the ones who overflowed with Jesusness and everything they did was Christian and Christlike. They had decent jobs and a good reputation. And the unjust were... Well, the ones who clearly could do better with their lives but weren't willing to try hard enough.
I don't know when the lines started to blur for me, but I finally noticed it last summer. The people I hung out with and would consider to be my friends fell into the category of the ones that I would have previously labeled unjust and have nothing to do with. I wish I could say it was because I was overflowing with the love of Jesus to the point that whether they fell into the category of just or unjust didn't matter anymore, and that I would be able to love them anyway.
The truth is, if I were completely honest, the reason why I hung out with them was because I thought I had something to offer them. But when I heard all the stories that led them to the places that they were when we became friends, it was then that I realised how I had made those judgment calls of "just" or "unjust" based on the way I was socialised to interact with them.
I used to think that aside from the poor little women in Africa who made TAPP beads and the likes of them, everyone else who was HIV-positive got it because they made irresponsible life-decisions. Would I have chosen to not associate with them simply because they were HIV-positive? I think not. But the friends that I got to know last summer made me realise that even though they were in places that I wouldn't have usually found myself in when we met, the reality is that I could very well be where they are, even given the upbringing and socialization that I've had. Sure, they've made a few choices that I'd like to say I would never make., but if I were in the circumstances that they found themselves in when they started making the first "bad" decision, I don't know that I would have done anything different.
But the rain falls on the just and the unjust. If Justin had a choice, I'm not sure he'd start down the path of drug abuse which eventually led him to the day that, even after deciding to get cleaned up, he received his diagnosis of being HIV-positive.
All that to say, I'm not sure who the just or unjust are anymore. But I know that I hate the word cancer. Even more than that, I hate HIV. And not because the physical suffering of one condition is worse than the other, but because I'm guilty of having judged one as "deserving" of suffering.
When the truth is, as it boils down to it, who am I to judge? Besides, the rain falls on both the just and the unjust. So what does it matter?
See, the thing is, I've always loved rain. Growing up, Mum always made us carry an umbrella to school so that even if it rained on the way home, we would be sheltered from the rain. Sometimes, even if I had an umbrella in my bagpack, I would still walk in the rain because I loved the way it fell on my head and my skin, and even the squishy feeling of my wet socks rubbing against the insides of my shoes. But once I got home, I would hurriedly take off my socks. The moist feeling wasn't quite so fun anymore and I'd be eager to get dry. But then I moved to Anderson, and the rains there were not the warm rain that I could cool off in. The freezing rains annoyed me because I quickly learnt how much I hated the cold weather.
Which makes me wonder, when they say "the rain falls on the just and the unjust," do they mean the warm rain in Singapore that I love, or the freezing Anderson rain that I detest?
And who do they mean by just or unjust? See, I used to have clear definitions of who the just were and who the unjust were. The just were the good people--the ones who overflowed with Jesusness and everything they did was Christian and Christlike. They had decent jobs and a good reputation. And the unjust were... Well, the ones who clearly could do better with their lives but weren't willing to try hard enough.
I don't know when the lines started to blur for me, but I finally noticed it last summer. The people I hung out with and would consider to be my friends fell into the category of the ones that I would have previously labeled unjust and have nothing to do with. I wish I could say it was because I was overflowing with the love of Jesus to the point that whether they fell into the category of just or unjust didn't matter anymore, and that I would be able to love them anyway.
The truth is, if I were completely honest, the reason why I hung out with them was because I thought I had something to offer them. But when I heard all the stories that led them to the places that they were when we became friends, it was then that I realised how I had made those judgment calls of "just" or "unjust" based on the way I was socialised to interact with them.
I used to think that aside from the poor little women in Africa who made TAPP beads and the likes of them, everyone else who was HIV-positive got it because they made irresponsible life-decisions. Would I have chosen to not associate with them simply because they were HIV-positive? I think not. But the friends that I got to know last summer made me realise that even though they were in places that I wouldn't have usually found myself in when we met, the reality is that I could very well be where they are, even given the upbringing and socialization that I've had. Sure, they've made a few choices that I'd like to say I would never make., but if I were in the circumstances that they found themselves in when they started making the first "bad" decision, I don't know that I would have done anything different.
But the rain falls on the just and the unjust. If Justin had a choice, I'm not sure he'd start down the path of drug abuse which eventually led him to the day that, even after deciding to get cleaned up, he received his diagnosis of being HIV-positive.
All that to say, I'm not sure who the just or unjust are anymore. But I know that I hate the word cancer. Even more than that, I hate HIV. And not because the physical suffering of one condition is worse than the other, but because I'm guilty of having judged one as "deserving" of suffering.
When the truth is, as it boils down to it, who am I to judge? Besides, the rain falls on both the just and the unjust. So what does it matter?
04 July 2011
I Used To Dream
I used to dream that wars would end
That walls would crumble and unity would happen
And strife would cease, that love would prevail
I used to dream that girls would see their God-created beauty
That boys would know it's ok to cry
And societal labels would cease, that love would prevail
I used to dream that over-zealous religiosity would stop defining "the common good"
That self-interest and preservation would stop limiting commitment to relationship
And hypocrisy and judgment would cease, that love would prevail
I used to dream of clean water and food for children all over the world
That slavery and oppression of colour, gender and age would be exposed
That injustice would cease and love would prevail
But now I no longer have the ability to dream
For those dreams have been crushed by the brutality of what is real
Reality that is uncontainable chaos unleashed
Where the only way to navigate is to hold on to pieces of tangible beauty in the midst of suffering, and hope for Kingdom come
But dreams...
Dreams are words, images of ideals
Ideals crafted by the selfish desire for perfection
Ideals separated from the reality that perfection--holiness?--of the self, the world and everything in between is never possible because created being's definition of "perfection" insists on tracing its roots back to the self
Yet I will choose to dream a different dream.
A dream that one day I can be set apart from my self.
That my disillusionment from reality being so far removed from my selfish ideal would no longer cripple me.
That my standards of judgement of how the world should be instead of how it is would cease...
And that the only constant of my dreams...
That love,
Only love...
That love will prevail.
- June 29, 2011
That walls would crumble and unity would happen
And strife would cease, that love would prevail
I used to dream that girls would see their God-created beauty
That boys would know it's ok to cry
And societal labels would cease, that love would prevail
I used to dream that over-zealous religiosity would stop defining "the common good"
That self-interest and preservation would stop limiting commitment to relationship
And hypocrisy and judgment would cease, that love would prevail
I used to dream of clean water and food for children all over the world
That slavery and oppression of colour, gender and age would be exposed
That injustice would cease and love would prevail
But now I no longer have the ability to dream
For those dreams have been crushed by the brutality of what is real
Reality that is uncontainable chaos unleashed
Where the only way to navigate is to hold on to pieces of tangible beauty in the midst of suffering, and hope for Kingdom come
But dreams...
Dreams are words, images of ideals
Ideals crafted by the selfish desire for perfection
Ideals separated from the reality that perfection--holiness?--of the self, the world and everything in between is never possible because created being's definition of "perfection" insists on tracing its roots back to the self
Yet I will choose to dream a different dream.
A dream that one day I can be set apart from my self.
That my disillusionment from reality being so far removed from my selfish ideal would no longer cripple me.
That my standards of judgement of how the world should be instead of how it is would cease...
And that the only constant of my dreams...
That love,
Only love...
That love will prevail.
- June 29, 2011
27 June 2011
NAC: Last One For A While...
Right smack in the middle of my last North American Convention of the Church of God, and so much has happened already. So many highs, so many lows.
It all began Thursday afternoon when I met with Don and Caroline Armstrong, who will be my Regional Coordinators when I get to New Zealand. Because I'm not a US citizen, the visa/fundraising process has been a really interesting one with lots of twists and turns, hoops to jump through, doors to knock on only to find them shutting before I even get a word in. Prior to the meeting with Don and Caroline, I was starting to lose hope, and had even considered moving back to Singapore. The process would be so much easier.
But... For whatever reason, I always find myself ending up with the processes that are much longer, more complicated, more frustrating... and eventually, more rewarding. Would I trade it for anything else? I think not.
Then Thursday came around and we had a really brief meeting just to touch base on where we all are with things. After some very encouraging words, they also offered to help me connect with other 501(C)3s that might be able to help accomplish what I needed. I was to show up at a fish-fry on Saturday (something I've heard about every year I was on staff at GM, but never thought to go to), and they would get me connected to a possible answer.
Thursday was an encouraging day.
Friday came around, and I got to spend the day painting and hanging out with some of my favourite people who feed my soul. Friday was another encouraging day.
Saturday came around and as I picked Jenny up to head over for our first ever NAC speaking engagement, I remembered telling her the last two days have gone very well, and I was afraid of what that day might bring. Since being an introvert comes more naturally for me, I had forgotten what it was like to face the NAC crowd. It wasn't that I didn't like being around crowds; it was more of trying to remember the art of putting aside the introversion that I had mastered because of my 2.5 years with GM.
It wasn't until after that was over and when I went over to the tent that it hit. This was my last NAC for a while. I wasn't one of those kids that grew up going to Campmeeting, but this convention had become so much a part of my Anderson life that it was another "see you later" that I had to do. And I also realised then how much I missed being around the missionary community. Not that I thought they were more special than ministers in the US, but they, too, had become such a regular rhythm of my Anderson life.
And then I went over to the fish-fry. I had barely even gotten there when I was being introduced left and right to people who would be helpful with my New Zealand process. And Don and Caroline were keeping track of all the stuff that I had to do. So... We are a go now, that I've found the 501(C) 3 that has agreed to work with my fundraising! When it became the right time, it only took three days, as opposed to the few months that I had tore my hair out being frustrated about it. Mind-blowing? Heck, yes.
The service on Saturday night blew my mind. Things that I had given so much thought to were being articulated to the masses in a way that would hopefully be heard and actually permeate the culture as is the theme for this year's convention. Wow.
Saturday was an up and down day.
Church this morning was packed out with all the good old Church of God saints. One of my favourite NAC moments is when all the AU/AC/Park Place Choir alum gather together to sing "I am a Child of God." (Yes, go ahead and laugh at the fact that the Church of God nerd that I am know that that is hymn #567 in the red Worship the Lord hymnal). Standing up front with all those people was another one of those moments that I took in deeply, knowing it will probably be a while before I get to do that again.
Getting to greet and eat with some of my once-a-year friends? Another favourite. Honestly though, I don't think it's fair that it's easier for people to remember me because I'm the tall Asian so I stand out. And as Mike and I have joked about, all white people look the same, so it's so much harder for me to remember them. But all the same, being able to greet people who remember me again? Another favourite.
Spent the afternoon setting up for Kid's Place, trying to track down a few people that I needed to see, and beginning to process everything that has happened in the last week... and getting a little bit overwhelmed. But hey, at least I have time to breathe this year!
Hardly warmed up my seat in Reardon before the evening service tonight and Caroline Ackerman leans over and asks if I've heard that Cheryl passed away at 4. And all of a sudden it was too much to take in. I may not be commissioned tomorrow night, but Don and Caroline have made it clear that they see me as a part of the Asia/Pacific region (and not just because my passport belongs in Singapore). So many thoughts swirled in my head about what this would mean to the whole family that I've gotten to know as a result of all our involvement in cross-cultural work. But not only that, what did that mean for the Church of God in Japan now?
Then later on in the service as I watched Pastor Lwo walk down the aisle to be anointed, that was when it hit. Cheryl's passing didn't just impact her family. Cheryl had done so much writing for and about the Church of God that her passing meant the end of an era. And the Asia/Pacific region that I had just been welcomed (back) into have already had enough losses first with Susan, then more recently with Cindy, and now Cheryl.
And running into more familiar faces and starting the, "Well, I'll see you again probably in a different land" conversations...
Tonight has been a culmination of a lot of different kinds of emotions.
Tomorrow will be Day 3 of my last NAC for a while. Off to bed before an early morning.
It all began Thursday afternoon when I met with Don and Caroline Armstrong, who will be my Regional Coordinators when I get to New Zealand. Because I'm not a US citizen, the visa/fundraising process has been a really interesting one with lots of twists and turns, hoops to jump through, doors to knock on only to find them shutting before I even get a word in. Prior to the meeting with Don and Caroline, I was starting to lose hope, and had even considered moving back to Singapore. The process would be so much easier.
But... For whatever reason, I always find myself ending up with the processes that are much longer, more complicated, more frustrating... and eventually, more rewarding. Would I trade it for anything else? I think not.
Then Thursday came around and we had a really brief meeting just to touch base on where we all are with things. After some very encouraging words, they also offered to help me connect with other 501(C)3s that might be able to help accomplish what I needed. I was to show up at a fish-fry on Saturday (something I've heard about every year I was on staff at GM, but never thought to go to), and they would get me connected to a possible answer.
Thursday was an encouraging day.
Friday came around, and I got to spend the day painting and hanging out with some of my favourite people who feed my soul. Friday was another encouraging day.
Saturday came around and as I picked Jenny up to head over for our first ever NAC speaking engagement, I remembered telling her the last two days have gone very well, and I was afraid of what that day might bring. Since being an introvert comes more naturally for me, I had forgotten what it was like to face the NAC crowd. It wasn't that I didn't like being around crowds; it was more of trying to remember the art of putting aside the introversion that I had mastered because of my 2.5 years with GM.
It wasn't until after that was over and when I went over to the tent that it hit. This was my last NAC for a while. I wasn't one of those kids that grew up going to Campmeeting, but this convention had become so much a part of my Anderson life that it was another "see you later" that I had to do. And I also realised then how much I missed being around the missionary community. Not that I thought they were more special than ministers in the US, but they, too, had become such a regular rhythm of my Anderson life.
And then I went over to the fish-fry. I had barely even gotten there when I was being introduced left and right to people who would be helpful with my New Zealand process. And Don and Caroline were keeping track of all the stuff that I had to do. So... We are a go now, that I've found the 501(C) 3 that has agreed to work with my fundraising! When it became the right time, it only took three days, as opposed to the few months that I had tore my hair out being frustrated about it. Mind-blowing? Heck, yes.
The service on Saturday night blew my mind. Things that I had given so much thought to were being articulated to the masses in a way that would hopefully be heard and actually permeate the culture as is the theme for this year's convention. Wow.
Saturday was an up and down day.
Church this morning was packed out with all the good old Church of God saints. One of my favourite NAC moments is when all the AU/AC/Park Place Choir alum gather together to sing "I am a Child of God." (Yes, go ahead and laugh at the fact that the Church of God nerd that I am know that that is hymn #567 in the red Worship the Lord hymnal). Standing up front with all those people was another one of those moments that I took in deeply, knowing it will probably be a while before I get to do that again.
Getting to greet and eat with some of my once-a-year friends? Another favourite. Honestly though, I don't think it's fair that it's easier for people to remember me because I'm the tall Asian so I stand out. And as Mike and I have joked about, all white people look the same, so it's so much harder for me to remember them. But all the same, being able to greet people who remember me again? Another favourite.
Spent the afternoon setting up for Kid's Place, trying to track down a few people that I needed to see, and beginning to process everything that has happened in the last week... and getting a little bit overwhelmed. But hey, at least I have time to breathe this year!
Hardly warmed up my seat in Reardon before the evening service tonight and Caroline Ackerman leans over and asks if I've heard that Cheryl passed away at 4. And all of a sudden it was too much to take in. I may not be commissioned tomorrow night, but Don and Caroline have made it clear that they see me as a part of the Asia/Pacific region (and not just because my passport belongs in Singapore). So many thoughts swirled in my head about what this would mean to the whole family that I've gotten to know as a result of all our involvement in cross-cultural work. But not only that, what did that mean for the Church of God in Japan now?
Then later on in the service as I watched Pastor Lwo walk down the aisle to be anointed, that was when it hit. Cheryl's passing didn't just impact her family. Cheryl had done so much writing for and about the Church of God that her passing meant the end of an era. And the Asia/Pacific region that I had just been welcomed (back) into have already had enough losses first with Susan, then more recently with Cindy, and now Cheryl.
And running into more familiar faces and starting the, "Well, I'll see you again probably in a different land" conversations...
Tonight has been a culmination of a lot of different kinds of emotions.
Tomorrow will be Day 3 of my last NAC for a while. Off to bed before an early morning.
22 June 2011
Sing A Sad Song Just To Turn It Around...
I'm not usually one who posts videos, but today's a different day, so just go with it.
This one's dedicated to the couple folks whom this day has not treated very well. Click here and let the song play in the background while you soak in the melancholy of this day. Even if you're not the folks that I'm currently thinking of, this one's for you anyway.
Not trying to be a Debbie Downer or a Perky Polly. Just saying, take a deep breath and sing the sad song together with me and the other person(s).
I can't tell you whether tomorrow will be better or worse, but at least for today, we'll sing a sad song together.
After all, together is better than not.
This one's dedicated to the couple folks whom this day has not treated very well. Click here and let the song play in the background while you soak in the melancholy of this day. Even if you're not the folks that I'm currently thinking of, this one's for you anyway.
Not trying to be a Debbie Downer or a Perky Polly. Just saying, take a deep breath and sing the sad song together with me and the other person(s).
I can't tell you whether tomorrow will be better or worse, but at least for today, we'll sing a sad song together.
After all, together is better than not.
20 June 2011
Stop This Train...
Dear God,
Today has been one of those days that it hasn't been easy to pack.
In the last few weeks, I've been getting rid of things that have been easy to get rid of. Sure, there have been things that held sentimental value, and ones that as I think about the stories that came along with those things, made me smile and maybe even shed a tear.
But as we're paring down to the bare minimal now, it gets harder. It's no longer, "Should I keep the Martin Hall t-shirt from my freshman year or the ISA one from my senior year?" But it's, "Do I keep the jars that the Santonocitos got me from Italy, or do I keep the necklace that the Millers got me from Bolivia?"
Or maybe it's just... The reality is hitting that my time here really is ending. I think it's fair to say I've been dealing with this ending fairly well, but today is not one of those days.
At church today, I started taking in all the little things that I will miss.
Papa Ed bringing me coffee from the coffee area in the dressing room behind the sanctuary, and the way he makes ecclesiological connections to everything.
Carma's postmodern thoughts and her realness that comes through in the worship services--and her ridiculously high heels.
Theo waving at me in the middle of the service from the corner where the young families sit Sunday after Sunday.
The people that pour that orange juice and cut up the bagels and serve the donuts.
The reality is sinking in.
Time is running out and I have too many things to do but I'd rather be hanging out with people that I don't know if/when I'll ever see again.
Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't but honestly won't someone stop this train
Like I said, it's hitting hard today
I know it's all going to get done, but I don't want to compromise spending time with my Anderson family to pack and write letters and do things that suddenly seem very silly.
Why can't moving across the world be an easier thing?
It's not that I'm not willing to go, but why do I have to do things to appease people so that they will help me get there?
Why do I have to write fundraising letters?
Why can't there just be an organization that will work with my situation and not say, well we've never had to deal with a situation like yours so we don't have to procedures set up for this and we're not going to?
And why does it feel like I'm trying to carve this new path completely on my own?
Sure, I've had a LOT of encouragement along the way, but I've still had to write my own letters, mail them out myself, do my own thank you notes, figure out my own budget and all the other stuff that back at my old job, I did for others.
That, on top of just trying to live everyday life, and accomplish all the things that I've made commitments to getting done.
Dear God, why me? Just because I'm willing?
Why do I have to be the one that, with all due respect to tradition and the good old ways of doing things, not let them dictate the NOs in my life?
Dear God, did I hear you wrong?
Should I keep walking down this path, or is it time to turn around and do something else?
Dear God, stop this train.
I don't have much left in me.
Today has been one of those days that it hasn't been easy to pack.
In the last few weeks, I've been getting rid of things that have been easy to get rid of. Sure, there have been things that held sentimental value, and ones that as I think about the stories that came along with those things, made me smile and maybe even shed a tear.
But as we're paring down to the bare minimal now, it gets harder. It's no longer, "Should I keep the Martin Hall t-shirt from my freshman year or the ISA one from my senior year?" But it's, "Do I keep the jars that the Santonocitos got me from Italy, or do I keep the necklace that the Millers got me from Bolivia?"
Or maybe it's just... The reality is hitting that my time here really is ending. I think it's fair to say I've been dealing with this ending fairly well, but today is not one of those days.
At church today, I started taking in all the little things that I will miss.
Papa Ed bringing me coffee from the coffee area in the dressing room behind the sanctuary, and the way he makes ecclesiological connections to everything.
Carma's postmodern thoughts and her realness that comes through in the worship services--and her ridiculously high heels.
Theo waving at me in the middle of the service from the corner where the young families sit Sunday after Sunday.
The people that pour that orange juice and cut up the bagels and serve the donuts.
The reality is sinking in.
Time is running out and I have too many things to do but I'd rather be hanging out with people that I don't know if/when I'll ever see again.
Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't but honestly won't someone stop this train
Like I said, it's hitting hard today
I know it's all going to get done, but I don't want to compromise spending time with my Anderson family to pack and write letters and do things that suddenly seem very silly.
Why can't moving across the world be an easier thing?
It's not that I'm not willing to go, but why do I have to do things to appease people so that they will help me get there?
Why do I have to write fundraising letters?
Why can't there just be an organization that will work with my situation and not say, well we've never had to deal with a situation like yours so we don't have to procedures set up for this and we're not going to?
And why does it feel like I'm trying to carve this new path completely on my own?
Sure, I've had a LOT of encouragement along the way, but I've still had to write my own letters, mail them out myself, do my own thank you notes, figure out my own budget and all the other stuff that back at my old job, I did for others.
That, on top of just trying to live everyday life, and accomplish all the things that I've made commitments to getting done.
Dear God, why me? Just because I'm willing?
Why do I have to be the one that, with all due respect to tradition and the good old ways of doing things, not let them dictate the NOs in my life?
Dear God, did I hear you wrong?
Should I keep walking down this path, or is it time to turn around and do something else?
Dear God, stop this train.
I don't have much left in me.
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