"Tell me the story again," she said with a quiet urgency.
I took a sip of my warm milk. What did a young woman like her want to have anything to do with this old lady? The history books gave me a few short paragraphs, and I was only to be remembered as the lady who drove the tent-peg into the head of the enemy.
"Even if they remember my story, they don't remember my name," I whispered under my breath. "And rightly so. Who remembers a Jewish name that means "mountain goat," much less the name of a woman whose husband is barely mentioned?"
"Please, ma'am," she begged. "It's important to me."
I looked into her eyes for the first time. They had an urgent sense of purposeful searching, and while I didn't know her story yet, I had a feeling it would be important I told her my story.
I took another sip of my milk and inhaled slowly.
"It was a day like today..."
To be continued...
Based on a loose interpretation of Judges 1-5.
05 January 2013
20 December 2012
Joy: A Paradox
I've started writing, stopped, deleted the draft and walked away. A few days later, I come back to that same place of starting, stopping, deleting and walking away.
How do we talk about Joy of Advent while this heaviness looms over our heads?
People are hurting.
People are talking.
People are rallying.
People are fighting.
People are trying to find someone or something to blame.
Whether we realise it or not, whenever tragedies strike, we try to find someone or something to blame.
If she hadn't gotten into the car that day, that wouldn't have happened.
If we had done more for his mental health, he wouldn't have gone and shot kids.
If people were in better agreement about the legal stand on violence, he would not have owned the gun in the first place.
She said...
He said...
Today I went over to meet with Nina about costumes for the kids for something we're doing on Sunday. We both knew we had most of the ideas sorted but we always need that one extra meeting just to talk it through again.
But today, we didn't really do much work. We sat outside and watched the dogs play. And we talked about the heaviness.
This is Nina's first Christmas without her dad who, for 51 years, had been the rock in her life. She said she kept putting off the Christmas cards because she didn't want to not be able to send one to her dad.
And then we talked some more about death and dying. And about how we always feel the need to find something or someone to blame--the forces of nature, God, legislature, sin... the list goes on.
"But that's not what really matters, is it? I mean, we think that finding someone or something to blame helps us bring closure when the reality is, with some things there will never be closure."
Every August, I watch the seasons change, remembering the autumn leaves that sat with me in a very dark place when first Keren in 2007, then my uncle and grandpa in 2008, died.
Every time a kindred from SOT days posts something on Facebook or Twitter that makes me jump up and down excitedly screaming inside, "YES! Someone gets it!", I weep a little that I never had time to grieve leaving one of many communities I hold dear to my heart because everyone was ushering me off into the excitement of New Zealand that I wasn't ready for.
Arthur says it's important to remember. "It is, I'm convinced, a spiritual practice that, like all practices, needs to be practiced!"
So we sit outside and sip wine when Erin arrived after picking the girls up from school. And we talked some more and remembered some more.
"So what do we do? We just love one another. People are not going to stop dying or leaving. But loving one another--that, we can do."
So we sit outside a little longer and watch the sun begin to finish its round for the day, and welcome the evening air. The sun lifts the spirits, but sometimes it's too much, too strong, and too soon. But a greater Light is coming that will defeat the darkness not in a piercing ray, but in tenderness that says,
And until then, we keep on carrying each other's hearts.
O Come Emmanuel
How do we talk about Joy of Advent while this heaviness looms over our heads?
People are hurting.
People are talking.
People are rallying.
People are fighting.
People are trying to find someone or something to blame.
Whether we realise it or not, whenever tragedies strike, we try to find someone or something to blame.
If she hadn't gotten into the car that day, that wouldn't have happened.
If we had done more for his mental health, he wouldn't have gone and shot kids.
If people were in better agreement about the legal stand on violence, he would not have owned the gun in the first place.
She said...
He said...
Today I went over to meet with Nina about costumes for the kids for something we're doing on Sunday. We both knew we had most of the ideas sorted but we always need that one extra meeting just to talk it through again.
But today, we didn't really do much work. We sat outside and watched the dogs play. And we talked about the heaviness.
This is Nina's first Christmas without her dad who, for 51 years, had been the rock in her life. She said she kept putting off the Christmas cards because she didn't want to not be able to send one to her dad.
And then we talked some more about death and dying. And about how we always feel the need to find something or someone to blame--the forces of nature, God, legislature, sin... the list goes on.
"But that's not what really matters, is it? I mean, we think that finding someone or something to blame helps us bring closure when the reality is, with some things there will never be closure."
Every August, I watch the seasons change, remembering the autumn leaves that sat with me in a very dark place when first Keren in 2007, then my uncle and grandpa in 2008, died.
Every time a kindred from SOT days posts something on Facebook or Twitter that makes me jump up and down excitedly screaming inside, "YES! Someone gets it!", I weep a little that I never had time to grieve leaving one of many communities I hold dear to my heart because everyone was ushering me off into the excitement of New Zealand that I wasn't ready for.
Arthur says it's important to remember. "It is, I'm convinced, a spiritual practice that, like all practices, needs to be practiced!"
So we sit outside and sip wine when Erin arrived after picking the girls up from school. And we talked some more and remembered some more.
"So what do we do? We just love one another. People are not going to stop dying or leaving. But loving one another--that, we can do."
So we sit outside a little longer and watch the sun begin to finish its round for the day, and welcome the evening air. The sun lifts the spirits, but sometimes it's too much, too strong, and too soon. But a greater Light is coming that will defeat the darkness not in a piercing ray, but in tenderness that says,
"Very truly, I tell you, you will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice; you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy ... So you have pain now; but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you."
And until then, we keep on carrying each other's hearts.
O Come Emmanuel
15 December 2012
Requiem for Joy
Children are children all over the world
They share the same big sky of blue
The earth is like God's egg. He sits on it and protects it.
Francisco and Martita
El Salvador/Romania
Keren
Gerson
We sat across each other at IHOP years after you were gone.
Holding hands.
Crying.
Praying.
Too soon.
They share the same sun and the wind and the rain
The moon, and the same stars as you
And then there are earthquakes and volcanoes.
Sieg and Sanna
Hannover, Germany
Amy
I don't remember your name.
But I slept in your room on your bed after you were gone.
And watched your parents and sister quietly grieve.
Too soon.
They find games to play, just like you, everyday
They have birthdays and holidays, too
There was the one in Japan two years ago.
I was 7, and I cried and cried hoping it wouldn't get to New Zealand.
I wasn't ready to die yet.
- Stella Maaka-McCrea, 9
Todd and Steph
Auckland, New Zealand
I don't know half the story.
Only that it happened
Too soon.
Did you ever think children all over the world
Are just little children like you?
oh, let me never forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
god is the ruler yet.
So we light a candle anyway.
We sit in darkness and grapple with what it means to make room for joy even when we're not ready for it to come.
Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison
O Come Emmanuel
They share the same big sky of blue
RT @ChannelNewsAsia *JUST IN* Shooting at an elementary school in Connecticut, USA: police
The earth is like God's egg. He sits on it and protects it.
Francisco and Martita
El Salvador/Romania
Keren
Gerson
We sat across each other at IHOP years after you were gone.
Holding hands.
Crying.
Praying.
Too soon.
They share the same sun and the wind and the rain
The moon, and the same stars as you
RT @ChannelNewsAsia Children among dead in #newtown shooting in Connecticut, US
And then there are earthquakes and volcanoes.
Sieg and Sanna
Hannover, Germany
Amy
I don't remember your name.
But I slept in your room on your bed after you were gone.
And watched your parents and sister quietly grieve.
Too soon.
They find games to play, just like you, everyday
They have birthdays and holidays, too
RT @ChannelNewsAsia Up to 27 killed in #SandyHookElementary school shooting in #Newtown #Connecticut, 18 dead are children. Gunman in 20s
There was the one in Japan two years ago.
I was 7, and I cried and cried hoping it wouldn't get to New Zealand.
I wasn't ready to die yet.
- Stella Maaka-McCrea, 9
Todd and Steph
Auckland, New Zealand
I don't know half the story.
Only that it happened
Too soon.
Did you ever think children all over the world
Are just little children like you?
RT @nzherald "Our hearts are broken today ... for the families of those who are lost." @BarackObama
Today we're lighting a candle for faith. Does anyone know what faith means?
"Faith is like believing in something that we cannot see." - Esther McNickle, 7
How are we supposed to light tomorrow's candle for joy?
I think of sweet Essendon at school.
She's not bossy, just a little angry sometimes.
Always ready to protect.
I think of kind Jesse at church.
I told you last week I would help you put up the decorations.
Always ready to help.
I shudder at what it would be like to lose them.
Or to walk with them through an episode of innocence lost.
And then Jen reminds me...
this is my father's world.I think of sweet Essendon at school.
She's not bossy, just a little angry sometimes.
Always ready to protect.
I think of kind Jesse at church.
I told you last week I would help you put up the decorations.
Always ready to help.
I shudder at what it would be like to lose them.
Or to walk with them through an episode of innocence lost.
And then Jen reminds me...
oh, let me never forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
god is the ruler yet.
So we light a candle anyway.
 |
| Hope, Faith and one for the children in Connecticut and around the world |
We sit in darkness and grapple with what it means to make room for joy even when we're not ready for it to come.
"For darkness will not overcome the light."
"There is no way to God except through human frailty ... Only when we encounter God in our deepest, darkest places do we have something to offer the world" - Jim McInnes, Te Atatu Bible ChapelKyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison
O Come Emmanuel
13 December 2012
Currently: Second Sunday of Advent
Since I haven't really had the inspiration or desire to write proper blogs, I got this idea from a blog I stalk from time to time. The blogger just had a baby recently and had kept a list of questions she answers to keep folks up to date with the pregnancy.
Well, since my life isn't quite as interesting as having a baby, my questions might be a little duller but hopefully I'll start doing a better job of updating from time to time hey?
John - Advent reading through the book of John.
Psalms and Bonhoeffer's Prayerbook - Rhonda e-mailed me the reading guide that XZBerlin is following at the moment and I've found myself missing that part of communal reading. So this.
A Year with Thomas Merton: Meditations from his journals - just because.
Christmas music - a mix of Straight No Chaser, Vienna Boys Choir and songs about Mary's journey.
The Third Place project - Recently realised we're communicating a lot more these days, but not conversing as much. Working on figuring out the whys and implications.
Mission Master Chef - This began as a challenge to find recipes that would cater for folks of all backgrounds - ethnicities, diet constrains, budgets, time etc. Currently on break because of the busyness of Christmas season.
If all have sinned, and all sin is equal, does that mean all are also equally righteous?
There's a difference between condoning certain behaviours and standing in solidarity. We don't condone alcoholism, but we stand with the alcoholics while they go to AA, just as we don't condone kids acting up and being a distraction in kids club, but we stand with them and help them figure out how to manage their own behaviour.
Well, since my life isn't quite as interesting as having a baby, my questions might be a little duller but hopefully I'll start doing a better job of updating from time to time hey?
Currently...
Reading:
Numbers - Since Seminary, I've lost the desire to read the Bible because it started getting too academic. I'd want to exegete everything I read. But a few months back, we were working through stories from 1-2 Kings with the kids and suddenly I realised I wanted to read the Bible just as a storybook all over again. This is probably the furthest I've made with Bible-reading that's non-academic.John - Advent reading through the book of John.
Psalms and Bonhoeffer's Prayerbook - Rhonda e-mailed me the reading guide that XZBerlin is following at the moment and I've found myself missing that part of communal reading. So this.
A Year with Thomas Merton: Meditations from his journals - just because.
Listening To:
AUSOT podcasts - recently became a normal part of the spiritual diet.Christmas music - a mix of Straight No Chaser, Vienna Boys Choir and songs about Mary's journey.
Watching:
The Hobbit - went to the midnight premiere with Janice. Feels a lot closer to home this time than watching the LOTR trilogy partly because I actually live in Middle Earth. Martin Freeman does an amazing job as Bilbo Baggins. But of course, Andy Serkis as Gollum is still my favourite.
Sherlock - found out Janice owns the first 2 series when we helped her move several weeks ago. Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman are awesome.
Experiments:
(This will feature updates about a couple projects I'm working on. The long term goal of these projects is to figure out what it means contextually to find space for spiritual conversations to happen.)The Third Place project - Recently realised we're communicating a lot more these days, but not conversing as much. Working on figuring out the whys and implications.
Mission Master Chef - This began as a challenge to find recipes that would cater for folks of all backgrounds - ethnicities, diet constrains, budgets, time etc. Currently on break because of the busyness of Christmas season.
Musings:
If native folks were left alone in the first place, would social welfare even be necessary?If all have sinned, and all sin is equal, does that mean all are also equally righteous?
There's a difference between condoning certain behaviours and standing in solidarity. We don't condone alcoholism, but we stand with the alcoholics while they go to AA, just as we don't condone kids acting up and being a distraction in kids club, but we stand with them and help them figure out how to manage their own behaviour.
Ministry:
Highlights:
WSKC (Westside Stars Kids Club) kids seem to be getting into the whole Advent calendar thing. And no, I'm not just talking about the countdown calendar, but the liturgy and the story.
SUPAkidz had our last run for the year. It was manic as usual since we're severely under-staffed, but the kids I ran into at Carols on the Green all seemed to love it and want to come back next year.
Lowlights:
Exhausted. It's been tough trying to keep energy levels up on all fronts of the children's ministry at WCF and as much as I've enjoyed both the activities and the kids, I've been simply running on adrenaline since October.
Life in General:
Highlights:
Life has never been as random and spontaneous as it is now. Family coming in 12 days.
Lowlights:
It's difficult being in a place where there are hardly any other 20-somethings close by. While I love the folks I live amongst, most of them are in a different place of life than me and it would be really nice to, for once in my life, act my age.
So there you have it. I'll try to keep this up at least once every other week or so.
23 November 2012
Today
Today
Today a brief note from The Big Death flew in through the window
Today my blood boiled
You killed a part of me
Today
Today I went and sat outside
Today I stared into emptiness
You had more strength, less heart
Today
Today I lamented and wept
Today I ached for depth and authenticity
You didn't know
Today
Today I fell into the arms of community that loves and carries me
Today they kicked me in the behind and said, you're letting THIS get you down?
You can't stop me
Today
Today I put my bare hands to the shattered pieces from The Big Death and slowly sweep them up
Today I allow myself to feel that pain all over again as they pierce my fingers
You can't stop me
Today I'll write stories again
Today I'll feel again
You can't stop me
Today I'll be vulnerable again
Today I'll trust wholeheartedly again
You can't stop me
Today I'll learn to love you again.
Not because I want to. Not at this moment, I really don't
But because you're family, I'll learn to love you until it comes naturally again.
And no, this time, you can't stop me.
Because the tsunami of Agape has more weight than human boundaries and social structures.
Today I'll choose to love you.
And no, you can't stop me.
Today.
And everyday.
Today a brief note from The Big Death flew in through the window
Today my blood boiled
You killed a part of me
Today
Today I went and sat outside
Today I stared into emptiness
You had more strength, less heart
Today
Today I lamented and wept
Today I ached for depth and authenticity
You didn't know
Today
Today I fell into the arms of community that loves and carries me
Today they kicked me in the behind and said, you're letting THIS get you down?
You can't stop me
Today
Today I put my bare hands to the shattered pieces from The Big Death and slowly sweep them up
Today I allow myself to feel that pain all over again as they pierce my fingers
You can't stop me
Today I'll write stories again
Today I'll feel again
You can't stop me
Today I'll be vulnerable again
Today I'll trust wholeheartedly again
You can't stop me
Today I'll learn to love you again.
Not because I want to. Not at this moment, I really don't
But because you're family, I'll learn to love you until it comes naturally again.
And no, this time, you can't stop me.
Because the tsunami of Agape has more weight than human boundaries and social structures.
Today I'll choose to love you.
And no, you can't stop me.
Today.
And everyday.
Celebrating Across the Seas
Well, it's officially "Black Friday" on this side of the world.
In all my years of celebrating Thanksgiving, I've only done the Black Friday madness once--only because Jenny and Becca convinced me that since it was my last Thanksgiving in the US, I had to at least get out there in the wee hours of the morning once, even if just for the cultural experience. I can't say I enjoyed the experience much; but maybe it's because I was more used to parking down in the Rhynard house for the Thanksgiving weekend 007 marathon with my homework or crochet, and trying to keep warm in the Michigan winter.
I remember my first snow. Danielle and I were going to pick Cody up from high-school (yes, Cody, I know you're grown-up now because you're in seminary, but I'll always remember you as that dorky high-schooler who wouldn't stop giving your sister crap, as all good brothers should) the day before Thanksgiving. We were walking in to the school when Danielle stopped me and said, "Look! It's snowing!"
Folks always talk about being excited about snow. But that first snow, I thought I was going to slip on the snow, hit my head on the side-walk and die. It didn't help that I crash-landed in a pile of snow when out on my first snow-mobile ride with Danielle and Cody. "Death by snow on her first Thanksgiving." Great headline, eh?
The years passed quicker than I was ready for them. My last two American Thanksgivings have been characteristically un-snowy--rainy at best, but snow would have been a major fluke in the weather system.
So we learn to adapt. We don't do snow or snow-mobiles, but we do stories. Turkeys cost four times as much here as they would in Michigan or Indiana, so we do chicken. Pumpkins only happen as a whole fruit and not in cans, so we puree our own for pies and coffee creamers. And we include friends for whom Thanksgivings may have never been, or will ever be, traditions, but whose stories we get to write together at least for this season.
It wasn't that many years ago that traditional celebration story-sharing started. Those first awkward Chinese New Year celebrations in the dorm rooms without a real kitchen to work with, or easy access to an Asian grocer. And we learnt to adapt anyway.
That's the life of living all around the world. We carry our stories, our food, our traditions and celebrations with us. We adapt where necessary, and we start new traditions and carry those with us to new corners of the world and fill even more pages of our stories with new friends, laughter, and always, always food.
And after the dishes have all been cleared away, we pause to sit down with a cuppa joe. And we give thanks for the stories we get to be a part of, the table of food and laughter shared, and for a rich and abundant life.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. May it be filled with love and laughter.
In all my years of celebrating Thanksgiving, I've only done the Black Friday madness once--only because Jenny and Becca convinced me that since it was my last Thanksgiving in the US, I had to at least get out there in the wee hours of the morning once, even if just for the cultural experience. I can't say I enjoyed the experience much; but maybe it's because I was more used to parking down in the Rhynard house for the Thanksgiving weekend 007 marathon with my homework or crochet, and trying to keep warm in the Michigan winter.
I remember my first snow. Danielle and I were going to pick Cody up from high-school (yes, Cody, I know you're grown-up now because you're in seminary, but I'll always remember you as that dorky high-schooler who wouldn't stop giving your sister crap, as all good brothers should) the day before Thanksgiving. We were walking in to the school when Danielle stopped me and said, "Look! It's snowing!"
Folks always talk about being excited about snow. But that first snow, I thought I was going to slip on the snow, hit my head on the side-walk and die. It didn't help that I crash-landed in a pile of snow when out on my first snow-mobile ride with Danielle and Cody. "Death by snow on her first Thanksgiving." Great headline, eh?
The years passed quicker than I was ready for them. My last two American Thanksgivings have been characteristically un-snowy--rainy at best, but snow would have been a major fluke in the weather system.
So we learn to adapt. We don't do snow or snow-mobiles, but we do stories. Turkeys cost four times as much here as they would in Michigan or Indiana, so we do chicken. Pumpkins only happen as a whole fruit and not in cans, so we puree our own for pies and coffee creamers. And we include friends for whom Thanksgivings may have never been, or will ever be, traditions, but whose stories we get to write together at least for this season.
It wasn't that many years ago that traditional celebration story-sharing started. Those first awkward Chinese New Year celebrations in the dorm rooms without a real kitchen to work with, or easy access to an Asian grocer. And we learnt to adapt anyway.
That's the life of living all around the world. We carry our stories, our food, our traditions and celebrations with us. We adapt where necessary, and we start new traditions and carry those with us to new corners of the world and fill even more pages of our stories with new friends, laughter, and always, always food.
And after the dishes have all been cleared away, we pause to sit down with a cuppa joe. And we give thanks for the stories we get to be a part of, the table of food and laughter shared, and for a rich and abundant life.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. May it be filled with love and laughter.
20 November 2012
On Merton
I haven't written in a while. Not because I haven't had anything to write about. But because everything's been such a whirlwind that nothing has really had time to stew. And writing... At least, my writing, needs stewing.
So in the midst of the hustle and bustle, I'm stopping for what Anne Lamott calls "radical self-care".
Earlier this year, Emily sent me a copy of devotional meditations from Thomas Merton's journals. I read it consistently for a couple weeks, then as usual, chucked it aside. Maybe it's because the busier I get, the more I crave putting in disciplines (I am a J according to Myers-Briggs after all), so I recently picked it up again. And the more I read it, the more I crave simplicity.
I had the idea a couple weeks ago of checking out the monastic life, then realised I would probably miss my people too much to live in a monastery full time. The concern I have with monastic life is that in taking folks in to the inner spiritual life, there is the risk of forgetting there's still an outside world that exists. The greatest commandments are to love God AND our neighbour, and I fear that I'd forget the neighbour outside of the monastic walls.
Anyhow, that is a whole separate discussion that I need to do more research about. But I came to realised today it's time to start thinking about resolutions for 2013. And since I have a record of not being great at keeping resolutions, I had almost decided to stay away from those this year since I didn't need another thing to potentially fail at. But the more I thought about it, the more these two things stuck out as must-dos for 2013.
1) Intentionality
2) Simplify
In this crazy season leading up to Advent, I haven't really had time to think about what it really means to wait for the Christ-child and the anticipation and expectancy involved. But stripping everything else away, the two still remain. I want to be intentional. And I want to keep things simple.
Love God. Love people.
Be intentional.
And keep it simple.
So in the midst of the hustle and bustle, I'm stopping for what Anne Lamott calls "radical self-care".
Earlier this year, Emily sent me a copy of devotional meditations from Thomas Merton's journals. I read it consistently for a couple weeks, then as usual, chucked it aside. Maybe it's because the busier I get, the more I crave putting in disciplines (I am a J according to Myers-Briggs after all), so I recently picked it up again. And the more I read it, the more I crave simplicity.
I had the idea a couple weeks ago of checking out the monastic life, then realised I would probably miss my people too much to live in a monastery full time. The concern I have with monastic life is that in taking folks in to the inner spiritual life, there is the risk of forgetting there's still an outside world that exists. The greatest commandments are to love God AND our neighbour, and I fear that I'd forget the neighbour outside of the monastic walls.
Anyhow, that is a whole separate discussion that I need to do more research about. But I came to realised today it's time to start thinking about resolutions for 2013. And since I have a record of not being great at keeping resolutions, I had almost decided to stay away from those this year since I didn't need another thing to potentially fail at. But the more I thought about it, the more these two things stuck out as must-dos for 2013.
1) Intentionality
2) Simplify
In this crazy season leading up to Advent, I haven't really had time to think about what it really means to wait for the Christ-child and the anticipation and expectancy involved. But stripping everything else away, the two still remain. I want to be intentional. And I want to keep things simple.
Love God. Love people.
Be intentional.
And keep it simple.
05 November 2012
Culture Shock: Paradigm Shift
I've now spent nearly a third of my life away from my country of birth, and every day I'm even more aware of the things I have yet to learn or re-learn.
Like most days, I fumble over grammar. Is this the right English word to use in this English-speaking country?
Or the cucumber story. I still don't know where to find them in the grocery store in Singapore. Every time I'm back, I have a mild panic attack before I head downstairs to the shops because I wouldn't know where to find the cucumbers.
Or the realisation that I've lived in Western countries for the past 8 years but I still don't know how to make a white sauce.
Today it was the realisation that my cultural biases toward racism surprised even myself. While I was at the store earlier, these two men were yelling rather loudly at each other. It took me a while to realise the store manager, a White man (using "White" here because I couldn't figure out if he had non-European blood as well), had been accused by an Indian man of being racist. These were the bits I caught:
"I'm a customer here. Don't think that just because you're the manager here, you can tell me to come back later."
"I was saying that to the other man."
"Don't think that you're the manager here so you can be racist."
"I don't think you understand what that word means."
It went on for quite a while, but out of fear that someone would end up getting hurt, I quickly got my yoghurt and walked down the next aisle.
That was when I realised that I was feeling sorry for the White man even though I hadn't had the full story. The bits I gathered seem to suggest that he wasn't the one at fault, but again I didn't have the full story.
But it made me realise too, in similar situations of ambiguity, I always end up feeling bad for the White folks. Then I had another mild panic attack. Have I become that kid that thinks of her roots as inferior to the Great White that I should always assume they're right? Or was it something else?
I had a moment of flashback to Freshman year. It was a very vivid scene where I was sitting up in the balcony with the other international kids (cos we're badass like that). Bear in mind these were in my good-girl days where I decided I was going to hang out with the "bad" kids so that I could influence them to be like me and Jesus AKA before the realisation we were all equally bad, just at different things. It was the usual chaos that I tried to tune out, but the Gospel Choir leading the Black History Month celebration was the bigger distraction this time.
Why in the world is it necessary to celebrate Black History Month, asked the kid that grew up in multi-culti Singapore where the worse of racial riots happened in the 1960s, prior to our independence. Why can't everybody just decide they want to get along and do it? I mean, I acknowledge Singapore is small and the history of racial tensions is short compared to the rest of world history. Still, it's been so many years since Dr King's assassination. Aren't people tired of that tension?
It wasn't until much later when someone pointed out the far-reaching effects of slavery that I understood why it was difficult. Reconciliation IS hard work. But reconciliation can't happen while one side hangs their head in shame while the other continues wagging a finger at them. They'll always hear the, "Bad dog. Bad, bad, bad." We know it's not good for kids' self-esteem so we avoid it, but why do we do it elsewhere?
I remembered having the same struggle in Germany. How long are we going to wag fingers at them for the 2 World Wars? Or the Pakeha for not holding up their end of the Treaty of Waitangi?
Maybe it's easy for me to speak since I come from the part of the world that history books would paint as victims of violence rather than perpetrators. Maybe it's because neither of my grandmothers have any stories (or at least, not ones they've told) of being raped by the Japanese soldiers. Maybe it's because I live in such a safe bubble that I don't have any reason to hate the perpetrators of violence. Maybe it's because as I loaded groceries in the van, I caught a reflection of myself--that Asian-looking girl that sounds American but is dressed like a hippie (I know, I know, I'm far from looking anything like a real hippie since I'm still refusing the dreads. But try convincing my ANTM-watching sister of that...) and drives a family van that's only loaded with kids on the rare occasion--and realised anyone meeting me for the first time would have no idea what box to put me in so I feel less judged by either side. Or maybe it's just very simply because I haven't gotten the whole story, or the historical accuracy of the stories.
But really, how long?
And what are WE, as Christians, supposed to do about reconciliation?
I don't know how I would respond if the day should come where I, too, become a victim of violence. I hope someone would look and say, "She responded with the love of Christ," but I also know I'm human.
Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison.
Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy.
Like most days, I fumble over grammar. Is this the right English word to use in this English-speaking country?
Or the cucumber story. I still don't know where to find them in the grocery store in Singapore. Every time I'm back, I have a mild panic attack before I head downstairs to the shops because I wouldn't know where to find the cucumbers.
Or the realisation that I've lived in Western countries for the past 8 years but I still don't know how to make a white sauce.
Today it was the realisation that my cultural biases toward racism surprised even myself. While I was at the store earlier, these two men were yelling rather loudly at each other. It took me a while to realise the store manager, a White man (using "White" here because I couldn't figure out if he had non-European blood as well), had been accused by an Indian man of being racist. These were the bits I caught:
"I'm a customer here. Don't think that just because you're the manager here, you can tell me to come back later."
"I was saying that to the other man."
"Don't think that you're the manager here so you can be racist."
"I don't think you understand what that word means."
It went on for quite a while, but out of fear that someone would end up getting hurt, I quickly got my yoghurt and walked down the next aisle.
That was when I realised that I was feeling sorry for the White man even though I hadn't had the full story. The bits I gathered seem to suggest that he wasn't the one at fault, but again I didn't have the full story.
But it made me realise too, in similar situations of ambiguity, I always end up feeling bad for the White folks. Then I had another mild panic attack. Have I become that kid that thinks of her roots as inferior to the Great White that I should always assume they're right? Or was it something else?
I had a moment of flashback to Freshman year. It was a very vivid scene where I was sitting up in the balcony with the other international kids (cos we're badass like that). Bear in mind these were in my good-girl days where I decided I was going to hang out with the "bad" kids so that I could influence them to be like me and Jesus AKA before the realisation we were all equally bad, just at different things. It was the usual chaos that I tried to tune out, but the Gospel Choir leading the Black History Month celebration was the bigger distraction this time.
Why in the world is it necessary to celebrate Black History Month, asked the kid that grew up in multi-culti Singapore where the worse of racial riots happened in the 1960s, prior to our independence. Why can't everybody just decide they want to get along and do it? I mean, I acknowledge Singapore is small and the history of racial tensions is short compared to the rest of world history. Still, it's been so many years since Dr King's assassination. Aren't people tired of that tension?
It wasn't until much later when someone pointed out the far-reaching effects of slavery that I understood why it was difficult. Reconciliation IS hard work. But reconciliation can't happen while one side hangs their head in shame while the other continues wagging a finger at them. They'll always hear the, "Bad dog. Bad, bad, bad." We know it's not good for kids' self-esteem so we avoid it, but why do we do it elsewhere?
I remembered having the same struggle in Germany. How long are we going to wag fingers at them for the 2 World Wars? Or the Pakeha for not holding up their end of the Treaty of Waitangi?
Maybe it's easy for me to speak since I come from the part of the world that history books would paint as victims of violence rather than perpetrators. Maybe it's because neither of my grandmothers have any stories (or at least, not ones they've told) of being raped by the Japanese soldiers. Maybe it's because I live in such a safe bubble that I don't have any reason to hate the perpetrators of violence. Maybe it's because as I loaded groceries in the van, I caught a reflection of myself--that Asian-looking girl that sounds American but is dressed like a hippie (I know, I know, I'm far from looking anything like a real hippie since I'm still refusing the dreads. But try convincing my ANTM-watching sister of that...) and drives a family van that's only loaded with kids on the rare occasion--and realised anyone meeting me for the first time would have no idea what box to put me in so I feel less judged by either side. Or maybe it's just very simply because I haven't gotten the whole story, or the historical accuracy of the stories.
But really, how long?
And what are WE, as Christians, supposed to do about reconciliation?
I don't know how I would respond if the day should come where I, too, become a victim of violence. I hope someone would look and say, "She responded with the love of Christ," but I also know I'm human.
Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison.
Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy.
02 November 2012
Dinner With A Politician
The year is 2004. George W Bush is running against John Kerry in the US presidential elections where Bush is hoping to be re-elected for a second term. The war in Afghanistan has been raging for about three years now.
I was talking to the boy halfway across the world whom I was dating, and he wanted my perspective on the political climate in Anderson Indiana since I had recently moved there. All I said was, "What's wrong with Bush? I don't like change, so he can remain in office for all I care."
The response I got was one of gentle mockery. "You can't make decisions based on whether or not you like change. That's not very rational."
Fast forward a couple years. I'm sitting in Convocation, listening to student candidates running for Student Government elections. They're making promises about stuff that I wasn't even sure were within their control. My inner child is rolling his eyes and has already made the decision not to vote that year.
Most folks whom I've spoken candidly with about politics know I'm cynical. Sure, I may appreciate one side a little more than the other(s). But the way it's been presented to me, it always boils down to the same thing: everyone's talking and nobody can tell who's lying or about to lie until they've been elected. Then everybody has an opinion of whether the elected's policies are working as promised, and nobody really wins.
I'm not saying you shouldn't vote or pay attention to politics. You definitely should; it is your right and civil duty after all.
But in a lot of ways, I'm really glad that in my nearly 27 years of life, I've only been in the right place at the right time to vote once. The candidate I ended up voting for seemed almost to good to be true (as most of their party members do), but the others needed too much work with their talking to not sound like fools. Even though I no longer lived in Singapore, I wasn't ready for the country that owns my passport to be represented by a fool--even if they only sound like one but are actually highly intelligent.
Especially not after one of my favourite politicians had just been voted out that same year.
The 2011 General Elections in Singapore was something I watched more closely than ever thanks to social media. Of all the talking going on, there was one politician that emerged my favourite even though I tried really hard not to like him. His brother was a former colleague of my mother's so he really had to convince me to work through my emotional bias (I can't just like the guy because I kinda/sorta know someone who knows him).
George Yeo was foreign minister at the time of the 2011 elections. Part of my interest, admittedly, was caused by the fact that I was about to move halfway across the world again. It made me realise for the first time the importance of an effective foreign minister for a nomad like me whose passport will probably always belong to the Republic of Singapore.
But his effectiveness as foreign minister wasn't quite what impressed me. He struck me as really down-to-earth for a politican, humble and willing to admit the faults of the government, but also very much in touch with the grassroots. He's always had a keen interest in the youth of the nation, recognising "they have to rebuild a world that is corroding," and was the first Singaporean minister to engage in social media. That he was a good ol' Catholic boy didn't hurt as well (although faith backgrounds have MUCH less presence in the political scene in Singapore than in other parts of the world).
Yet what impressed me most was the way he conducted himself throughout the elections. He stuck with his party even though the closer they got to the elections, the more it became apparent they weren't going to win. Word on the street was that most folks would vote for him if the others weren't involved. When they eventually lost, his Facebook page was flooded with folks asking if he would run for the presidential elections.
2-cents worth says he probably would be president of the Republic now if he had decided to run. While it would be nice to have a president as connected to the grassroots as he is, I found myself empathising with his decision not to run for presidency. I don't know that this is his reasoning for not running, but I've found that grassroots people work better collecting information for someone else to pass policies and make other decisions to effect change.
So why the heck am I randomly writing about George Yeo, you ask?
Well, I came across this today and thought of the dream I had the other night where I had dinner with him. Grassroots people networking, doing what we do best. It made me realise there are so many things about how he functioned as a political minister that I want to emulate as a religious minister. But if I didn't also add that that was an intimidating dream, I wouldn't be telling the whole story. It was one of those that you wake up feeling like the dream was real and you can't shake off all the carry-over emotions.
At the same time, it was the nudge I needed to kick-start a new project that I'm calling "Operation Third Place." More to come on this at another time when it's not 12:47 am.
Hey, all you kids in the US of A, go vote on Tuesday. Ok? Ok.
I was talking to the boy halfway across the world whom I was dating, and he wanted my perspective on the political climate in Anderson Indiana since I had recently moved there. All I said was, "What's wrong with Bush? I don't like change, so he can remain in office for all I care."
The response I got was one of gentle mockery. "You can't make decisions based on whether or not you like change. That's not very rational."
Fast forward a couple years. I'm sitting in Convocation, listening to student candidates running for Student Government elections. They're making promises about stuff that I wasn't even sure were within their control. My inner child is rolling his eyes and has already made the decision not to vote that year.
Most folks whom I've spoken candidly with about politics know I'm cynical. Sure, I may appreciate one side a little more than the other(s). But the way it's been presented to me, it always boils down to the same thing: everyone's talking and nobody can tell who's lying or about to lie until they've been elected. Then everybody has an opinion of whether the elected's policies are working as promised, and nobody really wins.
I'm not saying you shouldn't vote or pay attention to politics. You definitely should; it is your right and civil duty after all.
But in a lot of ways, I'm really glad that in my nearly 27 years of life, I've only been in the right place at the right time to vote once. The candidate I ended up voting for seemed almost to good to be true (as most of their party members do), but the others needed too much work with their talking to not sound like fools. Even though I no longer lived in Singapore, I wasn't ready for the country that owns my passport to be represented by a fool--even if they only sound like one but are actually highly intelligent.
Especially not after one of my favourite politicians had just been voted out that same year.
The 2011 General Elections in Singapore was something I watched more closely than ever thanks to social media. Of all the talking going on, there was one politician that emerged my favourite even though I tried really hard not to like him. His brother was a former colleague of my mother's so he really had to convince me to work through my emotional bias (I can't just like the guy because I kinda/sorta know someone who knows him).
George Yeo was foreign minister at the time of the 2011 elections. Part of my interest, admittedly, was caused by the fact that I was about to move halfway across the world again. It made me realise for the first time the importance of an effective foreign minister for a nomad like me whose passport will probably always belong to the Republic of Singapore.
But his effectiveness as foreign minister wasn't quite what impressed me. He struck me as really down-to-earth for a politican, humble and willing to admit the faults of the government, but also very much in touch with the grassroots. He's always had a keen interest in the youth of the nation, recognising "they have to rebuild a world that is corroding," and was the first Singaporean minister to engage in social media. That he was a good ol' Catholic boy didn't hurt as well (although faith backgrounds have MUCH less presence in the political scene in Singapore than in other parts of the world).
Yet what impressed me most was the way he conducted himself throughout the elections. He stuck with his party even though the closer they got to the elections, the more it became apparent they weren't going to win. Word on the street was that most folks would vote for him if the others weren't involved. When they eventually lost, his Facebook page was flooded with folks asking if he would run for the presidential elections.
2-cents worth says he probably would be president of the Republic now if he had decided to run. While it would be nice to have a president as connected to the grassroots as he is, I found myself empathising with his decision not to run for presidency. I don't know that this is his reasoning for not running, but I've found that grassroots people work better collecting information for someone else to pass policies and make other decisions to effect change.
So why the heck am I randomly writing about George Yeo, you ask?
Well, I came across this today and thought of the dream I had the other night where I had dinner with him. Grassroots people networking, doing what we do best. It made me realise there are so many things about how he functioned as a political minister that I want to emulate as a religious minister. But if I didn't also add that that was an intimidating dream, I wouldn't be telling the whole story. It was one of those that you wake up feeling like the dream was real and you can't shake off all the carry-over emotions.
At the same time, it was the nudge I needed to kick-start a new project that I'm calling "Operation Third Place." More to come on this at another time when it's not 12:47 am.
Hey, all you kids in the US of A, go vote on Tuesday. Ok? Ok.
18 October 2012
The Call
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
1) The maps. Oh, the maps. And the highlighters. And where to sit in the classroom so you don't get called upon to tell the class where things are on the maps.
2) The bee-box story. Yes. Anyone who has been in one of Dr Ross's classes would have heard this one.
3) The videos. And the ones he himself fell asleep watching.
And then there was that paper that he had us write at the end of our first year of seminary.
The Call Paper
Second semester of Old Testament was on the prophets. The final paper for that class was kind of a reflection based on the prophet Jeremiah's prophetic call. We were to read portions from the book of Jeremiah and then write about our own call to ministry.
That was a paper I would never forget writing. At the end of the term, we all had to do a very short presentation from our papers. And then he concluded the term saying, "Never forget this paper you've written. The ministry journey will be difficult. But never forget your call so that as things get more and more difficult, you will remember this call, and it will keep you going."
Recently, I've been prompted by a few different occasions to think about this call. MaryAnn had asked if I would do a piece about it. Since I will be writing a full-length piece that's going to print, this is more of a first draft/idea bank than anything else, but also a reflection of the week at camp.
Paul, who directed the camp, had asked us all to spend some time before the campers arrived to reflect on why we follow Jesus today. He made it clear we weren't supposed to be thinking about "when we first got saved" because kids would rather know how it's relevant today.
The theme for the camp was Xpedition Force, and as an introduction within each small group, kids were asked to share about the biggest adventure they had been on. Each night, one of the leaders would share the stories of why we follow Jesus, if they felt comfortable doing so. So really briefly, this was the kid-friendly story that I shared around the campfire one night.
Remember when we went around in our small groups on the first day of camp to share about the biggest adventure we've been on? Well, tonight I'm going to tell you a little bit about the biggest adventure I've been on.
I was born in Singapore and when I was 18, I moved to the US for uni. I was nervous and afraid because I had no idea what to expect, and I was leaving my family and friends, and everything I knew behind.
The last Sunday I was in Singapore, my pastor got me up to the front of the church so that they could pray for me before I left. The last thing he said to me that day was to read the passage from Luke 5 about Jesus calling his disciples. The story went something like that:
These two men had been fishing all night and caught no fish. Then along came this Jesus guy who told them, "Hey, take your boats out a little further and throw your nets a little deeper." Of course, they were thinking, "Well, we've done this all night and caught nothing. And we've done this for our whole lives, surely we know what we're supposed to do?" But they did it anyway, even though they still didn't really know who this Jesus was or what he was up to. And of course, what happens when they threw their nets out a little deeper? They caught a whole ton of fish! They were probably thinking, "Hmm, maybe this Jesus guy does know what he's talking about."
And that was how my adventure began. In the same way that Jesus was with his disciples and looked out for them and their fish, every time I move somewhere around the world, whether it was to America, Germany, or now New Zealand, I remember that Jesus said to throw my nets out a little deeper because it's going to be the greatest adventure ever.Of course, the Luke 5 story is also weaved into the very beginnings of the existence of this blog, which started as a place to chronicle the adventures in Germany. Little did I realise that the week at camp was about to be the roughest week I've experienced in my short career in children's ministry.
As we were leaving the campfire that night, I remembered thinking about how Kylee had once shared about how she usually feels really vulnerable after preaching because it was like she had just completely bared her soul. Any response to the sermon could be taken very personally because of that vulnerability.
That was how I felt that night.
"Was that story cool enough for the kids?"
"Do they now think I'm a complete nut-case?"
"Maybe moving around the world as an adventure isn't that interesting of a story for kids..."
The grass couldn't have been more fascinating that night even though it was pitch dark as I kept my head low to avoid anyone or anything that would make me feel less than human. Then along came this figure whom I recognised as one of the older boy campers who enjoyed appearing tough with the rest of his mates.
"That was a really cool story."
"Yeah? Which part?"
"The one about Jesus asking them to take the nets out further..."
(Awkward silence proceeds because Jael is shaken out of vulnerability bubble and gets flabbergasted really easily under normal circumstances anyway. And then panic ensues because Jael doesn't want to lose the interest of the young chap.)
"Yeah? Well, it is found in the Bible..."
(face-palm. What are you doing Jael? Get it together. You've gotta be cooler than that.")
"Really? Where?"
"It's in Luke 5. You can go read it if you have time."
"Oh cool! I'll do that."
It's never about me, is it?
That same night, I had my first homesick camper. I tried convincing her the story I had just told about moving away from home at 18 years old was the same thing as being away from home for the first time at camp.
Smooth. Real smooth.
The next day, the homesick camper would not stop bickering with the BFF who was in the same small group. Halfway through one of the craft activities, one of them left in tears because they had gotten into another fight.
"She said..."
"But she said..."
"No but..."
Sigh.
That night, as the campers filed out to their cabins after supper, Jacolize, the camp mum, found me. I had a minor breakdown as she prayed over the situation, wondering again why in the world I was working with kids when I had no experience and didn't even know what it's like to be or to feel as a kid would. My childhood was mechanical, and any emotion I have the ability to express today came from the intense hormonal re-structuring from the 4 years in an all-girls school in my teenage years. When I eventually returned to the cabin, Paul and Gwen had sat the girls down to talk to them about respect.
As if I didn't feel low enough, now all these other adults needed to come out to help me with my kids.
I don't know how or why, but I had packed my pink Kaleo shirt along to camp and as I put it on the next day, everything about Dr Ross and the bee-box and the Jeremiah paper came back.
Kaleo means "I call" in Greek.
I thought about my friend Emily, and how proud she would have been that I had brought that shirt to camp. It was the momentary high of the morning until the next bicker between the BFFs. It was a good thing the camp schedule was so full on that I didn't have time for an argument with God or the whole, "You know I didn't want to do the ministry thing, or the seminary thing, or the work in a church thing, or the children's ministry thing and yet I've submitted to it all so why the flip do you not make it any easier??" conversation would have made its pointless loop all over again.
I knew exactly why.
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
It was The Call.
I got curious, and so I answered.
And off we went.
I've always had the opportunity to stop any time I wanted.
But really, the highs are so much more fun that the lows can eventually become negligible.
As I began to put more of these thoughts together, the song that became the theme as I transitioned out of Anderson last year came back.
It started off as a feeling
It's the same song that has kept me through all the weaving in and out of stories in the past year. Stories that I've interacted with along the road, even the ones I've only spent a day or a week with.
The Call is what I make of it.
I'll come back when they call me,
No need to say goodbye
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