Dear Keren #12 - 4 Years Ago...

Dear Keren,

I will always remember the events of this night four years ago.

Likewise, I will always remember the events of this day four years from now.

So much to feel, think, say, do, write.

But for now, sleep calls.

Love,
Me

Dear Keren #11 - Softly and Tenderly, the Cornfields are Calling

Dear Keren,

This summer has been full of randomness. Mostly because whenever someone calls, as much as I can, I drop everything to go hang out with them. Who knows when the next time will be?

But the one recurring pattern for this summer has been the 30 minute drive through the cornfields to get to Noblesville to bead and to share stories. I still think it's weird for me to think of it this way, but that weekly 30 minute drive has provided some sense of normalcy and routine.

As I drove through those cornfields today, I was suddenly brought back to the first time I took my own solitary road trip. I was going to Courtney and Kyle's wedding, and driving Andrew's car since he was in Uganda and his car was going to just be sitting in the parking lot at church. The winding cornfields and country roads that took me from Anderson to Monticello. Ah, yes. Wide open spaces. I was starting to fall in love.

The date was May 7, 2004. I had just landed in these cornfields and someone had signed me up for my auditions with the Music Department. The events of that weekend was such a whirlwind, and then we were off on our roadtrip. I think there were 7 women, and my poor pastor, the only male. Anyhow, at one of the bed and breakfast places that we stopped at, I remember this guy asking us what in the world we were doing in the cornfields of Indiana. I don't remember what our response was, but it was something along the lines of, I didn't know we were in the middle of cornfields.

Having spent a significant part of my life in the city, it was weird for my mum and I to think about me spending the next four years of my life in the middle of cornfields. New experiences were exciting, but I wasn't sure I would ever feel at home in the middle of cornfields.

Driving through the cornfields today, I realised a few things: 1) Growing up in the city, I always knew what bus or train got me to where I needed to go, but I could never tell you what street the place is on, or how to drive there. 2) I still got lost around the cornfields some, but I knew I-69, I-465, I-65 and I-70, SR-32 and SR-37 well enough to maneuver around without getting too frustrated. 3) I couldn't deny it any longer: the cornfields have become home too.

And I hear them calling. Softly. Tenderly.

But they don't say come home, come home.
They say go. Take off. Soar. Fly.
But remember where you are rooted.
Not just in the wide open spaces and the cornfields.
Not just in the bright lights of the big city.
But in the spiritual beings that give you home.
And come back when it's time.
And take off again when it's time.

Home will never hold you back from being the best you you can be.

Dear Keren, you have been a big part of helping me find my home. Not just while you were here those three years. But even in the life after, our friendship continues to remind me that home is never simply a geographical location.

Home is the souls that you can keep in your pockets and take with you wherever the wind blows.
Home is the little notes to cheer you on in the middle of the battle.
Home is, I believe you.
Home is, I'd love to keep you here, but you need to go so you can be the best you you can be.

Softly and tenderly, the cornfields are calling...
Go on...
Go on.

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.

Dear Keren #10 - The Last Supper

Dear Keren,

After a full-day of sitting out in this ridiculous heat waiting for people to show up to the least-attended garage sale so far, I'm completely spent. But I still spent the last 2 hours doing the prep work for dinner tomorrow night. Why, you ask?

Well, it's one of the last suppers.

Tomorrow night, Paul, Debbie and the rest of the gang get home and I'll be done house-sitting. The last time for a while, I guess. Tomorrow night, I return Paul and Debbie the key that I've held on to for a long while "just in case they needed me to check on Fritz." Tomorrow night, we sit and visit with Matt, Tamara, Keira and Judah, and Jenny.

Which makes me wonder, was this what Jesus went through that night of the Last Supper? He knew he was going to see those people at the table again in one of the many rooms in his Father's house. "If it were not so, I would have told you." I'm becoming even more convinced that his anguish about the cross isn't just about the physical pain, but the emotional pain of between the cross until the next time.

And yet, in the midst of all this preparations for the end of this chapter, there's nothing I find myself desiring more than a sense of normalcy. This summer has slipped by way too quickly, and has been a little too spontaneous for my liking. I've greatly missed the intimacy of friendships that normalcy provided. I miss sitting in the SOT computer labs whining about the latest of someone's theological development that is making us wince, or the Charlie Sheen scandal. Instead, I'm being swarmed with questions about how the preparations for New Zealand are going, when all I want to do is scream, what about my soul? Do you care more about the things I'll be doing in New Zealand than about my soul? But if I don't have a soul, I wouldn't be able to do the things in New Zealand anyway.

But to be fair, I don't want to talk about my soul either. Because I'm afraid if I start, I won't be able to stop crying. As it turns out, leaving Anderson is much harder than I thought it would be.

I wonder too, if this was what that whole deal about going into the city, and meeting the man carrying the pitcher of water. I mean, Jesus' disciples were already used to his riddles and mysteries by now, so perhaps getting them to do another ridiculous thing was just another part of this creating normalcy in the midst of the chaos and the internal storms that are brewing.

What was it like for you, in those last moments before the truck got too close? Did you have those internal storms too, in the moments between then and when they finally pulled you off life-support?

Dear Keren, I hate endings, but I love beginnings. I love going, but I hate leaving. I crave normalcy, but I'm also desire adventure. And there's only eleven days left. And I miss you for being my first sense of home in the land of displacement between cultures. And...

In the words of Regina Spektor, "I'll come back when you call me, No need to say goodbye."

Love,
Me

It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word


And then that word grew louder and louder
'Til it was a battle cry


I'll come back
When you call me
No need to say goodbye


Just because everything's changing
Doesn't mean it's never
Been this way before


All you can do is try to know
Who your friends are
As you head off to the war


Pick a star on the dark horizon
And follow the light


You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say good bye


You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say good bye


Now we're back to the beginning
It's just a feeling and no one knows yet
But just because they can't feel it too
Doesn't mean that you have to forget


Let your memories grow stronger and stronger
'Til they're before your eyes


You'll come back
When they call you
No need to say good bye

Friend of the Wind

An old friend from college wrote for this next season of my life. Thank you, B-row.

Friend of the Wind
Take to the skies once more and leave your fears behind you
It's time to fly again, my friend of the wind
Beyond the borders of the walls that could not hold you
His voice is calling now, my friend of the wind

Spread your wings; fly again
Open skies will lead you home

And as the way unfolds the mystery, hope and wonder
You'll learn the reason why, my friend of the wind
Memories of laughter for the friends you left behind you
In time we'll meet again, my friend of the wind

Spread your wings, fly again
Open skies will lead you home

It's still such a long way
But we're drawing closer with each day
To those who've gone on to the hope just beyond this fragile veil

Spread your wings, fly again
Open skies will lead you home

Dear Keren #9 - My Life Is Full

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

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."

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

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.

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. I don't apologize.