Readers, Digest

7 The law of the LORD is perfect,
reviving the soul;
the testimony of the LORD is sure,
making wise the simple;
8 the precepts of the LORD are right,
rejoicing the heart;
the commandment of the LORD is pure,
enlightening the eyes;
9the fear of the LORD is clean,
enduring forever;
the rules of the LORD are true,
and righteous altogether.
10More to be desired are they than gold,
even much fine gold;
sweeter also than honey
and drippings of the honeycomb.
11Moreover, by them is your servant warned;
in keeping them there is great reward.

12 Who can discern his errors?
Declare me innocent from hidden faults.
13 Keep back your servant also from presumptuous sins;
let them not have dominion over me!
Then I shall be blameless,
and innocent of great transgression.

14Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
be acceptable in your sight,
O LORD, my rock and my redeemer.

[Psalm 19:7-14, ESV]

Today's message was about the word of God and the importance of it. It was a message that hit way too close. It shone a light into this darkness I've been in. It was blinding.

Are you living under the the God's Word or above it?

Do you live as one who submits to God's Word and listens for what He reveals to/in you? Or do you sift through it until you find what YOU want Him to say?

I listened in silence. The realization that God's sweet and treasured voice has been little more than a paperweight in my life this year shook me. I think if my soul had knees, they'd be shaking.

Let God's Word infiltrate your life. Let it mark and shape you. Let it inform your days.

[Red alert! Red alert! Intruder! Intruder! Someone has broken through the barricades I'd put up around me.]




A new year is approaching. I've never been one to make New Year's resolutions, but today, as we prepared to take communion, I prayed to my God.

I prayed for His light to shine into the darkest parts of me, for it to expel and remove the impurities.
I asked for His vision and hand to move about and within.
I prayed for His patience and His urging.
I asked for a heart and thirst to follow and search for Him.
I prayed for forgiveness and asked that His life-giving blood would surge through these shallow veins.


I've been paralyzed by fear, hurt, and bitterness for far too long, the muscles of my faith atrophied from little use.

I'm learning to walk again. Please bear with me should I stumble.

Lost In Translation (Mindless Drivel)

I've always been a curious child ~ wanting to see the ins and outs of this world. Nothing has changed.

There are a few moments of silence here in the office. The boss has left and the office staff is readying themselves for the weekend.

One of my bosses and the Office Manager are taking a moment to have a drink and watch the news. I think the news program has just aired more coverage of the Bhutto assassination.

Both sit in their confusion discussing what's happened. They're trying to wrap their minds around this culture that seems so backwards and alien. Angry, decisive, judgemental words escape from their mouths. Why do they act this way? They're crazy! Just look at them!

And I sit here. A quiet unseen observer and contributer.

Man is an odd creature. We react so vehemently against the unfamiliar.

We make up our minds without learning the full story. And we are satisfied ~ to continue on in ignorance for fear that the unknown things will alter us, will weaken our resolve or direction. That they will consume us like some incurable virus.

Ignorance is bliss. It's just easier.

As the years have passed - as I've watched/read reports or met people face-to-face - I've grown to become more uncomfortable with my ignorance. To know that there is more out there. That there is color and vibrancy outside Auntie Em's black and white world. I've learned not to take things at face value. To let the eyes of my heart adjust to the newness that confronts them as the clouds of unfamiliarity and fear lift.

I like to take in all aspects. Blame my overactive imagination or my unyielding desire to find out all I can. It can be an arduous task sometimes, especially when necessity calls for quick decisions.

I am a tortoise among hares.

Some issues don't have clear sides. They dance around in the gray like ghosts. It's usually those ideas that create the most havoc. These are the important matters, the ones that stir us. They require extensive periods of mulling and stewing even if no decision can be made about them.

I (think I still) am a tortoise among hares.

This Christmas will be...

This Christmas was a unique one.

My brother and I overslept and missed the Christmas service (all in Korean). A few hours later, we along with the majority of our extended family here in Philly went to help my mom clean out half of her store (for the renter who will be taking over in January). There were disagreements about our plan of attack, but when we finally stood together as a united front, I thought to myself,

This - as disfunctional as my family may be - is what Christmas is about, family.

Later that evening, my brother and I headed over to our friends' home, a place where you are never turned away, but always welcomed with food and laughter and a moody (but loveable) mutt named Peanut. The house was full, as usual, with friends and food. Some of us gathered upstairs to watch the VH1 marathon of "Hits of the '80s" then the "90s", all the while reminiscing over who and where we were when these songs first aired.

Towards the end of the night, a friend with a sense of wanderlust in her voice confessed, "It doesn't feel like Christmas anymore." And in ways, she was right. Sadly, Christmas does not hold the same sense of excitement as it did in our younger years when we would eagerly hope for gifts from Santa and the sound of reindeer on the roof.

Santa is no more, buried deep within the crevices of past childhood memories.

It saddened me to think that we'd reduced this special day to yet another consumer-driven occasion in our consumer-driven lives. I, too, had/have forgotten the awesomeness of what took place on this day thousands of years ago in a manger in Bethlehem, the home of David and had to agree with her, it didn't feel like Christmas anymore.

I think back on the early believers who'd clung to the hope of a Messiah in the midst of persecution and dank situations. Treated as second-class people. Under foreign rule. Forever concerned with decrees and ordinances and the watchful eyes of Big Brother Pharisees and Saduccees.

They knew there would be freedom from all of this one day. They hoped for it in their own lives for thousands of year and through thousands of generations.

For the faithful, each moment was one step closer to the realization of this hope. But many, still, lived in discouragement, their patience exasperated, their expectations unfulfilled.

But hope did come in the form the son of a lowly carpenter and his young wife.

And even though we know this Messiah came and lived and died and rose, we still struggle to hope and remember Him. We half-heartedly celebrate or hang our heads low because the feelings of childhood no longer linger here.

We are older now. Our struggle is no longer with fighting the urge to peek under the tree, it's in trying to focus on HIM and not us. To celebrate HIM, not our new toys. To remember HIM. To tear into the miraculous, awe-inspiring gifts HE brings.

We need that sense of wonder. We were made for it and wait for it once more.

Thougts On Christmas (repost from 12.24.2005)

It's so strange... it doesn't feel like Chrsitmas.

For one thing, we've had unusually warm, spring-like weather up here in Philly. No snow, no yearly visit from Santa at our store. It feels as though people have even forgotten about it (and I am guilty as well).

I've been swept up in all the Christmas-like things - shopping, spending, wrapping presents, etc - but have forgotten about CHRIST (for whom we are to celebrate this season).

When God sat down and began to write this chapter in history (the birth of Jesus), there was no mention of Santa, or Black Fridays. None of mistletoe either. Rather, he penned the story of a little babe, born in a stable, who would restore hope to a lost world. He would be called "King of kings" and "Prince of peace." This babe, born of holy lineage, having the very DNA of God Himself was welcomed into the world with no fanfare or celebration, however. No, instead he was welcomed into the world in the most humblest of ways.

The head upon which a holy crown once lay rested not on silk but upon a thin layer of hay, poking and prodding Him as he slept.

The hands that would one day heal the sick and calm storms held no silver rattle, but lay open to the world, ready to embrace it and one day be pierced for it.

The ears that once heard all of heaven sing, now heard a chorus of livestock mooing and baaing through the night.

And the eyes that once beheld the loving gaze of God Almighty now rested on the face of a carpenter and his young wife.

The heart of Him, pure and holy still, never forgot the reason He risked heaven itself. He sacrificed royal spendor for ridicule and persecution. Comfort for pain. Even during those first few moments, as he adjusted to the candlelight, and the smells and voices in the stable, He knew His mission. He knew He would one day suffer the cross for a world that refused Him. He knew He would be labeled a lunatic, a heretic and a fanatic. He knew He would be laughed at and scorned; mocked as He hung on the cross. He would have to endure hell itself.

And the amazing thing is that He - knowing full well what He would face and what He would have to give up - came. And he did so willingly. He came for you and for me. He was born and died for you and me so we would know rebirth, restoration and life-everlasting in Him.

As we share in this holiday let us be reminded of this. With each gift we give/receive would we remember His gift to us all.

Merry CHRISTmas everyone. May you be gifted with His love and favor.

Sisters. There was never a pair of better sisters...

I don't have any sisters per se though I've always wanted an older one - she would have been invaluable during those adolescent years (and probably now). But I have a couple of friends I would consider to be surrogate sisters. One said "sister" is in town visiting from Boston. We've known each other since 6th grade when she was the popular girl (still is) and I was the quiet, awkward girl in the corner bunk of the cabin (still am *sigh*).

We've always been TERRIBLE at keeping in touch, but when we do find the time, it's as if nothing has changed.

Last night the 2 of us headed downtown to grab some dinner at one of Steven Starr's 50 (slight exaggeration) restaurants here. Afterwards, we headed to my favorite chocolatier for some hot chocolate (think warm, deilicious, makes-you-feel-heavenly chocolate). During those 3 hours we caught up. We talked about what's been going on in my heart and life these days and the transitions that have begun (slowly). I shared about the discouragement I've felt in a particular community and how it has wrecked my walk.

She listened. To all of it.

And when I was through, she voiced what my heart and soul already knew, but what the anger and hurt had clouded:

Annie, it's OK. The thing is: you're walking. You're still walking and that's all that matters.

She told me she would have understood if I'd decided to turn away from the church altogether because of what had happened this past year. Others would have bolted for the door. I would not be at fault for doing the same and being jaded.

I am thankful for sisters like this who listen with understanding, who offer their support and wisdom without judgment or rebuke.


Tonight we talked some more - this time about her life and the possible transitions to take place in the next year or so. Finding herself in a lull, she's waiting for a sign, a green light to take this leap into the next stage of her life.

I'm happy for her though saddened at the thought that she'll be thousands of miles away... again. It's been hard enough keeping in touch on the same coast, I don't want to think about what it will be like (again) if/when God leads her west.

In between these talks about our future plans, we talked about deeper issues. We shared our frustrations with the lack of social awareness in our circles of believers, about how so many Christians turn a blind eye to the obvious needs both at home and around the globe. We talked about faith. We talked about what it means to each of us to be Christians in the "modern" age and the legacies we hope to leave behind once we're gone.

I'm so thankful for my sisters E and M. Though both live miles away, I know I can always turn to them and not feel insecure or judged. Without relationships like these, I think I may have ended up in a padded cell or shaving all my hair off a la BritBrit.

"Faith without deeds is dead..."

My heart stopped as I heard these words in one of my favorite songs, Albertine by the lovely and sweet Brooke Fraser. It's one of those songs that brings tears to my eyes and deepens my conviction to one day go to Africa and reach out to the broken there.

I will strive to live by those 5 words. I will challenge myself to follow in the steps of Mother Teresa who said,

In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love.

I hope and pray God's influence and grace will wear away at this desire within me to be great and do great. That He will make malleable that which is so concrete and stubborn about me.

Faith without deeds is dead.
Things done in vain are worthless.

We are to live for Him.
Live love.
Be love for the world.

Live love.

Be love.

Meet Jo(seph) Black?

Tonight I watched "The Nativity Story"... for the third time.

It's sad to realize how easily we all forget the true meaning of Christmas.
It was (is) a beautiful one that brings tears to the eyes and a sense of wonderment to the soul.

As I watched the film, I couldn't help but be mesmerized (that's not the right word, but it's late and I don't wanna think of another one) by the portrayal of Joseph. I thought to myself,

I want to marry a guy like Joseph!
Someone kind and selfless with a gentle spirit.
Someone who'll protect and look after the welfare of his family.
Someone with a quiet strength who will rise to the occasion when necessary.
Someone who will stand strong in his faith and lead his family to do the same.
Someone who will live by the sweat of his brow with steadfast integrity.
I want to see tenderness and joy in his eyes and see the twinkle in his eyes when he smiles
I want my heart to warm when he laughs

It would be even better if he was a little artsy, scruffy, played the guitar and wrote me songs, too. And if he had a heart for the needs of the broken... he'd be perfect!

Haha... I'm not being picky at ALL!

Extra! Extra!

This just in:

I've received word that one of the organizations I try and sponsor is doing a joint endeavor with a missions organization - they're planning 2-week long trips to Africa!

For those of you who know my story, you know that I've been wanting to go to Africa for a short term trip, but have been too chicken to take the necessary steps.

The first trip starts in late May...

Crossing fingers and praying for guidance

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

This past Saturday I visited a local "farmer's market" to check their stock of baskets and wicker trays for work.

I came across some adorable tiny, glittery, gold metal Christmas trees. With tax, they would have come to about $ 2.00 a piece. I really wanted to buy two to decorate my desk at work...

But then I remembered I work for a KOSHER catering company...

*sigh*

Almost Famous and Jumping the Bandwagon

The following article was posted by Craig Borlase.

There’s a guy I quoted once – a friend of mine – who said something that I actually thought was pretty worrying. We had different perspectives on a certain topic, and his words sent me off on a whole chapter’s worth of ranting and raging about the myopic nature of the church.

Anyway, this summer we were chatting and once again he said something that made me stop and think. The only thing about this time is that instead of being opposed to his opinions, I’m wholeheartedly in agreement with them. In fact, his words were so accurate that I’ve adopted the sentiment and the sentence as my own.

We were talking about the workings of the Christian industry – the machine that offers both he and I occasional trips out of smaller, more local, more anonymous work. In this small pond we are eclipsed by other, far larger fish, but from time to time we swim along with them. Anyway, enough of the words, the deal is that he’s a worship leader who occasionally makes albums and I’m a writer who occasionally writes books.

He was relating an incident that had just happened. He’d returned home to find a bit of promotional material for a forthcoming product he was involved in that mentioned all the contributors’ names but his own.

He was, at first annoyed. He hatched a plan to put things right – a phone call to the main man, a few home truths. He might even get a few other issues out in the open too – explain how he’d been feeling kind of frustrated about being treated like a lesser version of all the others, about how he’d had enough of being put down in the subtle ways, of being passed over and ignored.

Then he stopped. And he listened once more to the thoughts he’d been thinking. And he despised what he heard.

Telling me his story, he delivered his killer line:

“I hate the person I have to become in order to be a part of all this.”

All this – this Christian industry where reputation and influence and fame seem to create a not-so-alternate version of the more secular worlds around us - worries me. It worries me for the person I become when I get tempted to strategise to increase my readership, when I take offence at the snub I think I ought not to have received, when I wonder about a future characterised by sales and an oh-so-flawed view of success.

I hope this doesn’t make much sense to you. I think that this probably affects a handful rather than the bulk of us, but despite that, it’s something I frequently need to get off my chest.

Perhaps that’s just the point. Perhaps it’s better to wince at the bitter aftertaste of the cult of Christian celebrity rather than to crave its sweetness. Perhaps there’s no point in decrying it completely, but instead to keep a check on the personal. I don’t know much more, but I do know that I hate the person I have to become in order to be a part of all this.

Slowly I realize how this little flame - this wanting to be recognized and appreciated - burns inside of me.

It is with great regret that I jump on this bandwagon.

Blast from the past (My life in vivid technicolor)

I caught the tail-end of this movie tonight.

The story was all too familiar. It told of the struggle of an Asian-American girl trying to balance (and honor) her heritage and her identity as an (North) American. Her parents want her to be one thing. She knows she was made to be something more.

She falls in love with an "American" boy and all hell breaks loose when her parents learn about it. After much persuasion and guilt, she gives in and continues her (un)happy existence trapped in her parents' home and their overbearing expectations.

The scene I caught was eerily similar to what I had experienced this past Thanksgiving.

Her parents - and their friends no doubt - convince her to go on a blind date with a DOCTOR (and every mother in the world sighs hopefully for their daughters)

Jade (Sandra Oh's character) lets her mom dress her, style her hair and paint her face until the funky starving artist she once knew herself to be is but a faint memory. The Doctor arrives. She submissively allows him to seat her in his BMW. They drive away.

Away from her parents' home and watchful eyes, she asks the the Doctor to pull over and exits the car. She walks, then jogs, then runs away. Away from him, away from the expectations and opinions. Away from the fear (or maybe towards it?) And all the while, you can hear her panting, trying to catch her breath and breathe in freedom.

I wanted to run like Jade, but there were no familiar streets for my feet to pound. Like Jade, I realized that my time here within the confines of my family's expectations is slowly coming to a close. A new chapter is being written, new scenes and characters are being added to this story. The director is calling for a change of scenery and a new resolution.




It's odd. I first saw this movie in high school, just catching the first third. I think I changed the channel that Saturday afternoon because of an uncomfortable scene [Annie blushes]. Or maybe it was because BayWatch or Star Trek: The Next Generation was due to start. I don't know. But I find it to be in God's perfect timing that I caught the end of the movie tonight. I don't think it would have resonated as much then - in my naiive, overly sentimental and anxious self - as it does now in this place I find myself in today.

As He's constantly urging me to take off my old self, I'm (daintily) removing these old garments of obligation and expectation. I'm starting to like the things He's clothing me with and am cringing at what He's revealed.

It's like looking through old pictures from the early '90s. You can't help but shudder in disbelief at the person you were (and dressed like) back then.

Now is better.

SO much better.

The End Is Just the Beginning

Our time here is short.
Like leaves in autumn, we turn and change.
We resemble what we once were,
but we are marked by time.
And when it is time for us to let go of this world,
to pull away and fall
we find ourselves carried away to our new home.
To settle in with the saints
Cushioned by they who journeyed before us
And to marvel at the masterpiece displayed -
The intricate colors woven and layered together
A glorious display of lives touched and saved by His grace

The end, you see, is just the beginning...

Thoughts.

This weekend was a reminder of the circularity of this thing called life.

Just yesterday a friend celebrated her 29th birthday. I hear it was a wonderful time of love, laughter and an appreciation for the life and person she is (and is becoming).

As one group celebrated life, another group remembered a life cut short. We learned that a former employee passed away over the weekend. He was 63.

EDIT: I just learned that someone I know had their baby boy today. And so the cycle
continues...

I know you ~ I danced with you once upon a dream...

Last night I had a strange dream...

I was at a wedding or similar occasion requiring pretty dresses and crisp suits.

I bumped into a guy I knew a lifetime ago - someone I'd taken to my Senior prom and whom I'd pushed away (along with many others) later that summer when I learned my parents were getting a divorce.

We hugged. We smiled. We laughed.

And I swear I felt a flutter in my heart...

Jack (Frost) the Ripper

It's a balmy 36 degrees today. The wind is howling at equal speeds.

Had it not been for the roller-coaster-like fall season we've experienced this year, I feel our bodies would have better adapted - that the blood would run thicker, more concentrated and determined in the veins. But right now, I feel as though my innards (and outers) are screaming in shock.

And as I sit here typing, snowflakes fall sparsely in the night sky. They are the first signs that winter is indeed on its way. And I'm not quite ready.

This past Sunday, we had a guest speaker at the church I've been visiting. He spoke with the passion and fire I've only witnessed in the Baptist church.

He spoke truth.

And as I sat there receiving God's Words, the speaker reminded us all that the Advent was upon us.

The Advent - the hopeful waiting of a lost world for a Messiah, a Deliverer.

That thought remained with me throughout the day. It continues to cause a ripple in my thoughts now.

And I realize: These messages - this hope-filled longing - were (are) the first signs. But, like the the abrasive cold that seems to steal my breath tonight, I'm not quite ready for it.

This world is/was lost. It needed EXRA-ORDINARY hope. It needed (we need) extraordinary help. We find that in Jesus, our WONDERFUL, EXTRA-ORDINARY counselor... Everything, EVERYTHING - every answer, every hope, EVERYTHING - is found in Him.
- Paraphrased from this Sunday's message. (My brain isn't very good at retaining info for more than a day these days... sigh... but you get the idea)

Peace Pipes and White Flags

To update the 2 of you who read this:

I gathered up all my courage and confronted my mom.

There were tears... all mine, of course (I HATE confrontation or causing discomfort)

She spoke her mind. Shared how she was disappointed and shocked that I could behave the way I did.

We both realized our wrongs. We both apologized. (Again, I cried)

I expressed my feelings of hurt, manipulation, and entrapment; finally shared all the hurt and burdens I've been carrying with me for the past year; and expressed my intentions to see change happen.

I hope she's beginning to see my point of view and will allow me room to breathe and make my own mistakes. We both realized we need to trust God more - she with my life and myself with my relationships (with her and others).

To those who prayed for reconciliation, THANK YOU.

What's in a name anyway...

One of our event staff members called me "Anita" this morning.

We were speaking on the phone and it was still fairly early (for me), so I assumed my ears/brain had yet to recuperate from their slumber state.

Hmm... Maybe she said "Need a..." Like, "I need a time sheet for the weekend."

Alright, thanks, Anita. I'll just call in a bit later. Bye. [click]

Nope. Sure enough she had called me ANITA.

Strange.

I've been called:

• AMY
• ANNA
• ANN(E)
• EMILY (your guess is as good as mine there) - (thanks Panera-man)
• ANDY (another shout out from my Panera peeps, yo!)
• MAMA CHO (by my former Sunday School girls)
• AKOH (NOT to be confused with A-kon)
• ANNIE-GIRL
• ANNIBELLE

... But ANITA?!?!


REALLY?


Alrighty, whatever... we'll just add that to the slew of nicknames/identities of mine.

The gods aren't angry

Last night I went to into the city to hear Rob Bell speak.

It was an interesting experience - part monologue. Part sermon. Part lecture on the history of man and his innate desire to appease the gods.

Towards the end, Rob shared a story that hit all too close to home...

Years ago, Rob found himself at wits end, caught up in the act of being a "good Christian." Overly concerned with what this person thought of him or that person had to say.

He was exhausted... "down to [his] very soul."

Soon after, a friend invited Rob out for coffee. This brother looked at him and, with love and concern in his voice, said, "You know, Rob... it doesn't have to be like this."

I know, I know, but you don't understand...

Rob... it doesn't have to be like this...

Yeah, but...

ROB, it doesn't have to be like this.

His friend continued to calmly repeat this mantra - a plea for the very life of his friend. And each time he did so, it was as if he was throwing a lifesaver out into the ocean Rob found himself drowning in.

I could relate to Rob. I, too, have found (am finding) myself gasping for air. Like a ghost dragging along an ever-growing burden and desperately searching for relief, a hand to guide me through the mire.

My heart has been heavy these past few days. Each day welcomes me with dark clouds. Each moment, a silent plea for rescue.

But I will remind myself once again (and every moment my heart will allow)...

Annie. It DOESN'T have to be like this....

A Bird in a Cage is Worth 2 in the Hand

Last night was possibly the worst holiday I've ever had in my entire life.

My mom asked me to take her to her friend's house in the early evening, claiming that the swelling in her limbs was especially severe. I conceded like the "good" daughter I am and spent an awkward 2 hours at the home of a woman whom, to my recollection, had not spoken more than 2 hours worth of words to me in the 18 years she's known my mom.

Towards the end of the night, I sensed something awry in the air.

My intuition never deceives me

I had been speaking very briefly with a girl my age when my mom sat down beside me. A few moments later I overheard my mother and the girl talking.

Girl: [in Korean] So this is whom Mrs. ___ was trying to set up with my brother.

They thought I didn't understand what they were saying.

Moments later Mrs. ___ and an awkardly quiet gentleman proceed to saunter into the small den.

I couldn't believe them.

I walked out of the room to go read in quiet, Mrs. ___ grabbing my arm to try and stop me.

I could here them whispering and talking. My mom trying her best to excuse my behavior with her charm.

I was fuming. But I had no place to go.

I felt trapped.

A caged bird with no place to go.

I put on my sneakers and went out for air. And as walked around this foreign neighborhood, an overwhelming sense of frustration filled me, suffocated me. I tried desperately to breathe in the cold air, but anger boiled within me.

How could these people try to manipulate me? How dare they try to force my hand or think they know what's best for my life!

I began to understand the turmoil of all those ill-fated heroines of 19th-century literature. Here and now, I had been thrown into my own 21st-century Edith Wharton tale.

I returned to that unwelcoming home and, glaring at my mother, stated we were leaving. And as we drove back, my mother began to lecture me about how she worried so for my future well-being. That, if she were to die, I'd have no one to take care of me. That I needed to find a man to watch over me.

I stared straight ahead at the road.



Later that evening we drove to my aunt's home (a woman notorious for getting under my skin with her unending nosiness and pointless, irrelevant "advice").

We were able to sit for all of 20 minutes before my mother and aunt started up again about the awkward gentleman they'd tried to force me to meet an hour prior.

Aunt: Sister, you should have dressed her up better and made her put some make-up on... What is that!

I felt the noose around me.

Thinking me to be some deaf and ignorant child, they continued to talk, to whisper, to scheme.

The noose tightened. And I heard the the door of the cage close behind me.

I asked them to stop. They wouln't.

Angrily and loudly I reasoned my case. My hostile disposition concealing my desperate pleas to stop, to let me be. To let me be. To preserve what little amiability was left.

They would not. And, again, I went out into the darkness.

Realizing I had no place to go and no one to call upon, I began to cry in desperation.

They say an animal will chew its own leg off in hopes of freedom.

Last night, I was that trapped creature - staring down at my leg, wondering if I have it in me to do it... to break free.


I'm counting down the days, fearful that it may never come, but pleading with God to make the days run faster.

Puzzling, Isn't It?

There are moments when everything falls into place and lays just so. Perfectly aligned and moving forward.

Then, there are moments life throws you for a loop and you're left frantically searching for that missing piece. A sign of hope.

I'm not sure where I am at this moment.

Maybe we're all lost somewhere in the in between.



And maybe, just maybe, that's a good thing.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow...

... bluebirds sing.

Tonight I came face to face with bluebirds. Beautiful creatures who sang and laughed, had passion for things outside of their comfy little worlds. Wonderfully gracious things that welcomed a little bird like me with a broken wing and heavy heart.

I am inspired.

And the search for my rainbow continues...

Greener Pastures Up Ahead

Just came back from my first "house show." One of the performers - a dearly sweet man - reminded me again the emotive, connecting power of songs/words/art as he sang aloud the words life had penned in my heart.

The room was filled with members of a particular church here in Philly that I'd really not heard anything about until recently. And I played the wallflower perfectly - my introverted awkwardness causing unknown numbers of odd phrases and behavior to escape from my mouth/body.

But as I watched these people interact with one another - sharing thoughts, laughs, opinions, inspiring each other - my heart released a hopeful sigh. A whisper of reassurance filled my soul. Soon, dear child. Soon.

Hanging By a Moment

As I was driving home late one night after running errands for my boss, the following song played on the radio. A familiar song. A heart song whose lyrics I'd almost forgotten.

The song resounded into the empty void, filling my head and heart.

I was moved to tears. And with great hope and expectation I sang along in prayer:

Desperate for changing
Starving for truth
I'm closer to where I started
Chasing after you
I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you

Forgetting all I'm lacking
Completely incomplete
I'll take your invitation
You take all of me now...

I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you
I'm living for the only thing I know
I'm running and not quite sure where to go
And I don't know what I'm diving into
Just hanging by a moment here with you

There's nothing else to lose
There's nothing else to find
There's nothing in the world
That can change my mind
There is nothing else
There is nothing else
There is nothing else

Desperate for changing
Starving for truth
I'm closer to where I started
Chasing after you....

I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held onto
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you
I'm living for the only thing I know
I'm running and not quite sure where to go
And I don't know what I'm diving into
Just hanging by a moment here with you

Just hanging by a moment (here with you)
Hanging by a moment (here with you)
Hanging by a moment here with you

Currently listening : Hanging by a Moment By Lifehouse Release date: 05 June, 2001

What a Difference a [Year] Makes

Today (Sunday, November 4th) was my mother's birthday.

As crazy as she makes me (enough to run screaming in the opposite direction) - and as hurtful as she can be in her weird Korean way of showing love - I'm thankful to God for pulling her through another year.

This time last year we were celebrating her birthday as she lay in bed in a hospital room due to what we would later find out were complications stemming from a bad liver infection.

She is still in recovery a year later, but healthier and getting stronger each day.

In hindsight, guess I should be happy she's nagging the crap out of me these days. It's a surefire sign that she's almost back to normal.

Here's to a better and healthier new year...

My Mama Ain't Raise No Fool...

That, unfortunately, is not a universal statement.



Both the Office Manager and I had our heads ripped off by 2 lovely "gentleman" about matters not involving us which were out of our hands and realm of responsibility.

Evil men. Spiteful. Bitter. Vindictive. Threatening. Irrational (as my friend so happily reminded me).

One called me a phony, implying I was lying to him.

And I'm wondering, Why did his words cut through me like they did? Why am I so enraged and wanting to kick something in protest?

He questioned my intregrity, my values. The core of who I am (or strive to be).

Unfounded. Beligerant. Hurtful. Judging. Bad, bad man.

Just let it run off your back. He was wrong and you know it. That's all that counts.

To be graceful and courteous when your blood is boiling... it's possibly the hardest thing to do.



[Fuming]

[Panting]

Just breathe...

When It Rains, It Pours...

I tried to hide behind my stone wall
But you could see the tiny cracks
They deceived my stoic posture

I desperately tried to plug the leaking holes
But the dam let loose
The pent up emotions rushed out

The forecast called for clear skies tonight
But inside it poured

With bloodshot eyes I walk to my car
The bell tolled

I walked past a homeless couple bundled up, fighting the cold air
I, too, attempted to gather myself,
Wrapping my unraveled composure about me
Fighting the ambush of hot tears running down a stone face

I was soaked

The forecast called for clear skies
But inside, inside it poured

D

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P
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A

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F

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My heart deceived me

New beginnings?

My friends' wedding has come and gone. Months of planning, researching, scheduling and countless discussions are done and over with. My job as "the wedding planner" is over.

I'm relieved/exhausted. Wanderlust.

I told myself I'd hold out until this next week is over. Hold on and hold my breath a little longer before I blow out these candles and slowly turn the page to the hopes and wishes that await me. Before I take wobbly steps forward to a life fully my own.

For the past year or so I've been perusing Craigslist. Looking at apartments and job openings in a few cities I've eagerly wanted to go to for over a year now. Creating imaginary budgets. Daydreaming about finally seeing something other than these all-too-familiar bleach-white walls of this ho-hum life of mine. My stomach flutters a little like it does when you catch the glance of that guy you've been crushing over all semester-long.

But things are coming up.
Family obligations again.
Fear of failure.
Fear I won't be accepted or fit in.

It's those same feelings I had my very first days of high school and summer camp.

[FYI: I've been known to be quite wall-flowerish and awkward at first. Some have mistaken my silence for snobbery.]

There are days I wonder if I should just do it. Go for it now and not wait 'til the spring like I'd originally planned.

But...

I must wait. Hold out a little longer. Cushion the finances a little more.

Plus, I like the idea of leaving in Spring. It's a time of new beginnings and fresh skies.

I like that.

I need that.

It may be what's keeping me going in this Cloroxed, sterile life.

Hope's Diamond

I used to daydream a lot when I was a young thing.

I'd had hopes of a huge wedding: an elegant affair of champagne and black ties. I'd wear Vera or Monique, he'd wear Armani. I'd polish my Asscher-cut diamond ring and slip on its matching band on that fateful day. There'd be a full band and loads of dancing and laughter...

We'd live in our suburban home with our 2.3 kids and our dog, Skippy. I'd work from home and be the epitome of Martha Stewart Home while balancing my successful career in fashion/interior design. I'd raise my genius children to be well-mannered and responsible human beings. My husband would be strapping, athletic and successful. (Oh, and funny... mustn't forget his contagious laughter and sense of humor!)

I would go to Africa and fight AIDS. Become a doctor and create some miracle cure-all.

Star in a major motion picture or go double-platinum in my solo music career.

I had BIG dreams back then.

As the years pass, I feel God chisel away at this gem of mine; these dreams and hopes I'd made and treasured as gold. And as He chips away at each flawed thought and hope, He reveals a purer and more beautiful thing my lame ideas had clouded and masked.

My hopes (I hope) are more streamlined these days. I'm striving for simplicity and fighting the urge to polish what's been done in me. What He's done (is doing) in me.

I don't know where He's taking me or why it seems like a lifetime away, but I eagerly await the day. The day when all of this FINALLY makes sense.


He's shaping new dreams out of this rough, jagged piece of coal.


He has BIG dreams for us.

I eagerly await the day...

"I'm finding myself at a loss for words..."

I'm finding myself in a somber mood. I blame the gray skies overhead these past few days.

Today I listened to a familiar song and it tugged at heartstrings I thought I'd pulled taught.

They let loose; I unraveled.

I am still unraveling as I take in more words, more thoughts.

I am thankful yet disheartened. Confident yet stepping away from the ledge. Hopeful in my lonesome state.

I breath in. I breathe out. Hopefully, each breath will bring me that much closer to life again.

I am coming out of this self-induced coma. I'm hoping and reaching for the light.

"I'm finding myself at a loss for words, but the funny this is, it's alright."

Squeaky clean

This past week Jews all around the world observed Yom Kippur, "Day of Atonement." It's the most holiest day n the Tishri, a day when man "afflicts his soul" to reconcile himself to God. It's the last and final opportunity to wipe the slate clean as one enters the new year.

Our office manager at work explained it to me this way:

It's when all your sins are atoned for... then everything is shot to hell. Literally.

It broke my heart when she said that.

My day of atonement began before my creation, on an old rugged cross where my Savior and King took upon Himself my afflictions, my sins, my curse. And by His perfect sacrifice I have been completely reconciled to God.

There is no shame.
No question of my salvation or status with God.
No fear.

I belong
I am a child of the Father of Lights
I am renewed
Clean
Free

Love & Marriage (Part Deux)

One of today's headlines on MSN read as follows:
THE STARTER HUSBAND: Is it Wrong to Have a Practice Marriage?

The fact that we as a society pause and have to THINK about our response disheartens me.

BUT, it is, unfortunately, a reality in some circles. These "practice" marriages.

As it stands now, marriage is just some frivolous game to play. Like childhood games of House or Cops and Robbers, we play our adult games. We play until things get a little too serious or we become bored with our matrimonial playmates. "Time out!", we call or just end the game. Walk away to find more interesting and fun playmates. Some spend more time and money planning for the wedding than their marriage. They scrutinize the color and fold of a napkin, but make little effort for the things that matter.

My friend just learned that her former coworker is getting a divorce from her high-profile, rockstar husband. They've been married since January. True, I don't know the reasons for their decision to end the marriage, but it's just so sad. They didn't even last long enough to celebrate an anniversary or take a bite from a piece of frozen wedding cake.

I'm sure people will say of them Poor things. They didn't know what they were getting themselves into. They're both so young, y'know.

I cannot accept that as an excuse. OF COURSE marriage is hard! It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that! Marriage should last longer than puppy-love. Marriage should be as it was intended, a commitment. An eternal bond and profession of your love and belonging to another. It will, of course, be difficult as we are all so unwilling to let go of our independence.

There is no quick-fire, rapid-release remedy for the disagreements you'll have. It requires compromise. Sacrifice. Selflessness. Time. Patience.

Yes, it requires a lot. But, if you can get past the rocky hills and bumps along the way, it's a beautiful thing to experience.

I'm sure of it.

An Illumination (of sorts)

It's been an eternity since I picked up the Bible. I have been a spiritual anorexic, starving myself of spiritual food in order to gain back a (false) sense of control. I have failed. Miserably.

Today I took my first baby steps back and awkwardly pulled His Word out.

I decided I'd start new. A clean slate. A fresh start.

I started at the very beginning. I read. It was as if I was finally coming up for air.

One part stuck out at me. A merciful and much needed smack in the face from my Father in heaven:

15 and let them be lights in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth." And it was so. 16 God made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. 17 God set them in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth, 18 to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw that it was good.

Verse 18, in particular hit me hardest.

God created the light "to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness." Once light was formed from the depths of His mind, there was no turning back, no running away from its presence. Light became permanent, a constant in creation.

[Below is what I wrote in response to what I'd read]

God created light to rule, separating it from darkness

Light | Darkness
Morning | Evening
Good | Evil
Saved | Lost
Healed | Broken

If I am a child of God, if I profess that Christ's blood has rescued me, than I am in His light and favor. And though I may presently feel as if I'm consumed in darkness, I am not. Like the heavenly bodies that consistently reign over the day and night, He reigns in the good and bad of my life.

Just as I know the sun is still shining even when storm clouds try to mask its splendor, I know deep down His love burns brighter despite my troubled, wandering heart.

Living out Romie and Michelle's HS Reunion...

An invite to my 10-Year high school reunion arrived in the mail today. I stared at the envelope, opened it and stared blankly at the poorly-copied and brochure-like layout of the "invite."

TEN years.
I was shell-shocked.
Then depressed.

Please fill out the attached info page and keep us up-to-date on what you've been doing.

Name: Same
Spouse's Name: Negative and thanks for the reminder BTW! I appreciate it.
Children's Names: Negative, unless my students count
Where are you? In a constant state of transition turned self doubt because of this HORRID questionnaire
What are you doing? Working for a company whose office decor is straight out of some horrid 80s flick

I HATE this part of growing older as it reminds me how "unsuccessful" I've been according to normal standards. It's like that annoying woman at EVERY wedding who prods, "So, are you seeing anyone?" or "When are you gonna get married" or "You should REALLY find someone soon... you're not that young anymore."

The funny thing is: I've never been the ambitious type. Not really at least. I'm not one of those 5-Year-plan types... at least not anymore.

Sure there was a time when I painstakingly planned out my life. But, as I've grown into ME, I've realized that it's all pretty much in the wind, in God's hands (not to say there haven't been moments when I've wanted to have a hand in penning the chapters of my life).

I guess more than anything, I'm worried (not really) of what my old classmates might think of me. To see them boast about their husbands, wives, kids, jobs, bank accounts, etc. And then turn to ask, "And you, what have you been up to?"

I could lie like Romie and Michelle did. Say I invented Spenda or something. Dance and fall in love with the Class Geek (FYI: I went to a Magnet/Gifted school, so we were all pretty much GEEKS in our own ways) But why? Who are these people that I should feel the need to impress them?



As I'm growing in my understanding of who I am in His eyes (still don't have a clearly defined picture), I'm growing more comfortable in the fact that I really don't need a lot. No fancy cars or clothes (though I will continue to drool over Marc Jacobs, Tracy Reese, Chloe, Stella McCartney, Tod's, shoes, bags and more shoes and bags). I don't need a 6-figure income or a gigantic house I won't ever really appreciate.

I want to LIVE.
See the world.
Encounter different cultures and people.
Engage in deep discussions that stretch my understanding and comforts.
Forge close, intimate relationships.
Challenge and be challenged.
Help those in need (still trying to figure out how exactly to do so)
Embrace music and laughter.
Weather Life's storms.
Soak in Grace and Acceptance.
Stretch my faith and GROW in it.
Find a place to root myself.
Find and hold onto love.
Not be afraid to love and be loved.
Belong.


I don't need a lot. Wanting, however, is a completely different story and somewhat of a struggle to overcome.

It's a sobering thing to know that you've unknowingly encountered death. My body has gone numb. My mind races. And my heart is confused.


I feel so ungrateful, so guilty.

a tree grows in brooklyn...

They say that a tree must have room to grow. Enough space to dig its roots deep into the soil where the best nutrients are. Freedom to twist and stretch out its branches.

And if it can't. If it finds itself trapped in too small or shallow a plot...
... The roots tangle.
... They twist around themselves.
... And the tree suffocates.
... It dies.





A tree may grow in Brooklyn, but I'm afraid it won't grow here.

I REALLY am special, just let me show you how much!

Last week, as my coworker and I took another breather to chat while the boss was out of town, she told me about the little "presents" her golden retriever pup, Tango, had left her.

She shared how after he had spent much of the afternoon running around the yard with his brother, Tango stumbled upon a foreign hole, the contents of which he thought were worth sharing. So, when my coworker called "the boys" in, she was horrified at the "gifts" Tango had brought her - 3 tiny little bunny babies, half-dead.



It seems little Tango wanted to show his mommy just how much he loves her...



Yesterday at church, the pastor spoke on Galations 1:1-5. He vehemently attempted to remind us that God's grace and Christ's sacrifice are enough. That we needn't let the burden of sin consume us because we were/are free, FREE in Christ.

It was a comfort to be reminded of that... to let the message of grace consume my guilt at not being or doing what is considered "right" in my own shallow faith. And as I sat and listened, encouraged by the fact that I had NO part in my salvation apart from Christ, I was reminded of poor little Tango.

Too many times in my life, I have been hard-pressed to show God how thankful and appreciative I am - serving here, sacrificing there - but always fearful that it wasn't enough. Like Tango, I kept trying to bring my soiled, yet well-intentioned gifts to the throne when all He wanted was me. My devotion. My faith in Him. Me.

Just me.

I think I'll let my heart chew on that bone some more...

well, is that all...

i was watching television with my younger cousins, commenting on kimora's most recent addition to her "fabulous" team (yes i'm afraid to admit that i'm addicted to 3 vh1 shows), when the older - who is about 8yrs younger than me - began to ask a series of questions about diamonds... namely engagement rings. our repertoire for the next 10 minutes or so included my asking ad nauseum for her to clarify. after i finally got an idea of what it was that she was asking (i.e. her idea of the "perfect" diamond), i responded with a very generic quote in the 5-digit range to which she quickly responded, "oh, is THAT all?!"

i looked at her in shock.

"what do you mean, 'is that all?'?!?!"

"well, ______'s ring was like $400,000.00." [spoken VERY matter-of-factly]

in all honesty, i told her that i was/would be disgusted if ________ had told me she/her husband spent THAT much money on a tiny little thing like a ring.

she was noticeably defensive. and tried to rectify the situation by telling me she would be FINE with a $ 10,000.00 ring.

i told her how i didn't understand how someone could waste THAT much money on something as small as a ring. i adamantly voiced that i'd rather spend that on a house or a car (or, in retrospect, my future children's education).

she jokingly responded, "yeah, i'd rather have the ring!"

"do you know that there are people in this world who will NEVER see that much money in their ENTIRE LIVES?!," i blurted out.

she was struck and even more defensive. i was defensive and heated. we ended the conversation there as she stepped out of the room.

and as her younger sister and i finished watching the show - witnessing the new assistant's jaw drop and drool pour out of her mouth as she toured the Lee-Simmons "humble" abode, i began to worry...

i worried what had happened to these girls, now young women. i wondered who or what had corrupted their minds to convince them that their worth was in the THINGS they owned and was disgusted at their lack of concern about real matters of the world... outside of the ones they'd created.

you have one life, unni... you should enjoy it!

their words echoed in my head and heart and i was scared. scared for them. scared for this generation. (yes, i know i sound like an old bitty!)

in this time of instant gratification (e.g. my typing this blog and sending it out to the masses with a click of a button), i wonder at the state of the nation.

girls are once again told they must measure up to the standards of "hawt" boys and the media (e.g. the not to bright girls of "the pick-up artist").

we are told it's OK to lie and screw people over if it means you get what you want.

money makes the world go round

you're only as good as the things you own and the labels you wear (so true of "urban" areas like mine where people are prone to spend their last dollar on butt-ugly "designer" duds if it means they look like "rock stars")

emulate the paris hiltons of this world... they're at the center of what matters

[ blah blah. gag gag. barf barf. roll of eyes ]

now, am i saying that i'm above all this? certainly not! i'm as much a slave to consumerism as the next gal. i just hope that in the end i'll be impressed not by the balenciaga bag you carry, but by your burdened heart for the poor. that i'd be impressed with your desire to walk in the shoes of the brokenhearted, not your brand new jimmy choos. that i'd admire your passion and concern for a (good) cause, not your size 0 status. that i'd be made to feel inferior and question myself not because of your to your 6-figure salary, but your ability to forgive and show grace to other, to me.




"you have one life... you should enjoy it!"



something i guess i need to consider more...

The Fear You'll Leave

I had a dream the other day.

Yes, I realize this is no monumental feat since we all dream, but you must understand this: I rarely remember my dreams. They're too clouded by shear exhaustion, victims to a brain and memory that go on strike each night. The ones I do remember, however, haunt me. They linger and stake their claim to my days. Like a gnat searching for warmth, they stay close and pester me.


I dreamt I was married. Living a quiet life with my husband out in the old prairies. Making a home of our modest abode.

My Mr. was kind and handsome, tall and fit. He had a warm demeanor and there was a gentleness in his eyes. When he held me, the world melted away. I felt secure. Safe. Confident.

But it was when I wasn't in his arms, that my insecurities raised their hell.

I worried if he loved me. I was scared that he didn't care or find me desirable anymore.

I could see my anxiety wear away at his patience and yet I couldn't shake this plague of thoughts. It came to a point where he would hold me once again, wipe the tears and kiss my forehead, and yet, my doubt wouldn't subside.

I woke up at this point and that feeling of inadeqacy and self-doubt lingered. I have felt the weight of the world on my shoulders once again as my heart did it's bidding.

I'm afraid that this week my heart is up to no good...

Blogging, Squared.

I wrote the following in response to AllieDearest's last blog.

[Yes, I blogged within a blog... I wonder if I just started some apocalyptic chain of events in the blogoshere?!?!]

... i see the demolition tape all around. i can hear the jackhammers as His heart's beat grows louder in mine. and it terrifies me sometimes.

the pieces crumble, the cracks appear and i am not who i was.

i can't make sense of the rubble around me, but i need to remind myself to hold on, to trust and have faith.

but darn it, i keep getting my hands dirty, trying to interfere.

there i go again...

These have been an awkward few months for me. Knowing that I'm being called (lured) to another place and yet, unable to make the trek just yet. I'm not one of those spontaneous, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants types. I plan. I think. I budget. I try to save.

Though I know it's months away... I find my heart making its peace with this place. This city. This home that has begun to suffocate.

Slowly, I take in the surroundings.

Breathe in the air.

Breathe out the anxiety

whether it's the right thing to do.

In the quiet of sunset,

with the gentle breeze blowing,

the trees wave their farewells.

And I prepare.

My mind

My heart

My hopes

My nerves

For what lies ahead

Artificial Heart

I spent a full day gluttonously consuming an assortment of wondrously glorious grilled foods.

2 barbecues in less than 10 hours. I am full and sleepy even now as I relive it...

As I was leaving the home of my co-worker, she gave me a big bear hug and whispered in my ear "I love you."

Those words resounded in my body and sank like a boulder in my sea of thoughts.

"I love you"

I

LOVE

YOU

I've never been one to be open about my affections or endearment for others. Having had so many people in my life leave has caused me to be a bit callous. And it TERRIFIES me. I wonder aloud sometimes What the hell is wrong with you?!?! Why can't you just say it? It's just 3 little words.

But they're not. Not little in the least. Between the spaces, between the words and letters are intricately deep rivers of emotions.

Attachment.

History.

Connection.

Rivers that have been flooded with painful memories. Rivers I have drowned in and then been reborn through once His hand has pulled my out from the trenches of my sins and past. And yet those words... those little words. They get stuck in my throat like thistle.

I

LOVE

YOU



These 3 little words... Why do they intimidate me so?

It's hard to let go... to say farewell... to say your good-byes to something so familiar. To step out now into the undefined and trust His hand will guide you through the fog and disillusions.

Fin

After nearly 8 years of weekly practices and fun (and not so fun) times, I am closing the door to a small chapter of my life.

It is, in its most innocent ways, a bittersweet farewell... this letting go. But it's for the best. For me. For them. Time for a new group to come up - people, God-willing, more talented and spiritually equipped than I. Those with thicker skins and softer hearts.

New(ish) Stuff

There are some new things on the other blogger site.

Feel free to check them out if you like.

I won't be insulted (too much) if you don't. ;p

It's time we DTR

Today I am going to talk to my boss to discuss this summer. He and I are butting heads about my hours (or soon to be lack there of). I've been putting off talking to him about it. I blame my Koreanness and my distaste of confrontation.
Anyhow, so yeah, I will be speaking with him today. I don't know if it's the weather (gloomy and raining), my lack of sleep, or other factors, but today... well, it just feels off.
If you get the chance, please say a quick prayer.
- annieisoffkilter

True Irony...

... is when the boss who is NOTORIOUSLY LATE and NEVER responds to ANY calls, gets mad at the fact that someone else had him wait for once. Even more ironic is that he who purposefully tries to put people in their place and berates them, complains (whines, really) that the person who had him wait is showing him "disrespect."

I love my job.

Always Online...

People have been astonished at the fact that I can survive - am upright, really - with what little sleep I get in a day/night. I don't know what it is. Call it chronic, life-long insomnia or my fear of missing out (see blog below). I don't know. I just don't like the act of sleeping. Being inactive. Immobile. Offline.

It's catching up to me, however. Each morning is a battle that I lose.

Body-12182083, Annie-0

Hmm... Maybe I should "act my age" and head to bed at a more reasonable hour...

1am? Yes?

The Consequences of Aging... Gracefully?

I've always had these puffy little cushions under my eyes. They plump up when I smile. Surrounded by dark circles since as long as I can remember. Casualties of my many late nights as a child, never wanting to fall asleep for fear that I would miss out on something amazing.

Cover-up is my best friend, but...

My skin is not what it used to be. I think it's in some weird rebellious phase - reverting back to its Junior High pubescence. It's breaking out... all over.

*sigh*

Why is it that...

... you're never quite as popular as when you're about to leave or go through some MAJOR life-altering event?

Shouldn't you be thought of - and people want to share time with you - just because? No motives. Not because you're going away. Not because everyone's afraid you're going through some major meltdown... Just because. Because you're YOU and that's enough.

...

Just a thought.

On Slowing Down...

The official busy season here at work is drawing to a close (for the time being) and I'm finding myself... well, bored. Useless. Twiddling my thumbs and staring into space.

It's a dangerous place for me - this state of momentary pausing. Too much time and the mind starts to wander. It starts to go to places and dreams for the future. Traverses the past and present circumstances.

I search.
I wander.
I hunt.
And I wonder.

Trying to find your place in this world [that OLD Michael W. Smith songs starts resonating in my head] is a daunting task. I see glimpses of it, yes... but they're so fleeting. Like mosquitoes in those humid summer nights, they flit and flee... zooming by your ear. And when you turn to find them, they're gone... off to haunt another.

buzz...
Huh?
whizz...
Hmm?

Gone.

THITH THUCKS

So, I apparently bit both sides of my tongue whilst sleeping last night. Maybe I was hungry. Maybe I had a hankering for some chewing gum. I dunno. All I DO know is that my tongue hurts. It's swollen and uncomfortable in my mouth.

I sound like Elmer Fudd's cousin in the UK. A cousin who likes to store marbles in her mouth.

Awesome.

And I Quote...

Two quotes. Both from "Sister Act II" (Stop laughing!)

Word-songs have power...



I will live rejoicing...

Extreme Makeovers...

[Haha... I'm recycling blogs... Sorry! I'm lazy!]

I'm sitting here in my room. Much too cold out to be wandering about the streets of Philly (though I wish I could!). I think the cold would be more bearable had we any evidence that winter was indeed HERE. Where is all the snow?!? Seems winter is refusing to cooperate with us, save for some "sprinklin's" (to borrow a friend's words) and the BLISTERINGLY cold winds. It must have been tired of all the complaints of snow from all the years before... Odd when the sun is wanting to share its warmth but finds itself battling to do so in the midst of the blowing winds. But I digress...

But yeah... Here I am sitting in my room and all I can hear is this constant BANGING and CRASHING. You see, my neighbors are renovating. I take it from all the banging and ripping and gouging and hammering that they must be re-tiling the bathroom. It's quite annoying actually because there is NO way to buffer the noise... or get around it. It follows me EVERYWHERE! I've tried to have my AnnieTunes running full blast as high as it can go... but loud noises scare me. I COULD stick my fingers in my ears and scream at the top of my lungs, but I find that to be very tiresome... Besides, how on earth would I be able to type this poignant and eloquent blog? ;p

All this talk and noise of renovating has me wondering about life. So many times I have tried to rehab my life, but been unsuccessful because I'd only been trying to fix the outward things. You can put on the make up, the clothes, the smile, the laugh... but at the end of the day, you are exactly who/where you were/are. Nothing has changed. Have you ever had those moments when you felt like a clown? Trying desperately not to let anyone get close enough to see the cracks in your mask? Wanting to spare them the chaos?

But your problems don't go away because you turn a deaf ear to them. Like this incessant banging next door, you can't avoid the problems in your life. You have to face them dead on. Face the ugliness of your past demons - those monsters and skeletons in the closet of life. And as scary a thing it is to do, to take comfort in the fact that Christ has suffered these demons for us. He's seen the piles of skeletons I've locked up behind closed doors and fake smiles and hasn't blinked an eye.

He's wanting to clean out the closet and hang his forgiveness and acceptance there. To hush all the commotion of life and our sins, so that His voice rings clearer...

Wow, the banging next door has stopped for a moment... time for me to be productive I guess. Until next time friends...

~ a

Currently listening : Just Another Diamond Day By Vashti Bunyan Release date: By 19 October, 2004

These Nail-Pierced Hands

After discussing Matthew 8:23-34 with a friend (particularly v. 24), I was moved to write and reflect upon it. If you're interested at all, you can read it here on my Xanga blog (yes, I'm EVERYWHERE! muahahahaha....)

Joke of the Day...

Someone sent this to me and I thought I'd pass it along to you... Enjoy!

************************

A new preacher was visiting in the homes of his parishioners. At one house it seemed obvious that someone was at home, but no answer came to his repeated knocks at the door. Therefore, he took out a business card and wrote "Revelation 3:20" on the back of it and stuck it in the door.

When the offering was processed the following Sunday, he found that his card had been returned. Added to it was this cryptic message, "Genesis 3:10."

Reaching for his Bible to check out the citation, he broke up in gales of laughter.

Revelation 3:20 begins "Behold, I stand at the door and
knock."

Genesis 3:10 reads, "I heard your voice in the garden and I was
afraid for I was naked."

What Your Soul Really Looks Like

You are a warm hearted and open minded person. It's easy for you to forgive and forget. You are a grounded person, but you also leave room for imagination and dreams. You feet may be on the ground, but you're head is in the clouds. You see yourself with pretty objective eyes. How you view yourself is almost exactly how other people view you. Your near future is all about change, but in very small steps. The end of the journey looks far, but it's much closer than you realize. For you, love is all about caring and comfort. You couldn't fall in love with someone you didn't trust.

Inside the Room of Your Soul

Theme Songs...

My life as a song...

"Fidelity" by Regina Spektor

Yup. That's me...
Head in the clouds.
Talking/laughing to myself.
Daydreaming.
Talking to my imaginary yet-to-be Mister.
Heart on my sleeve.

That's me in a nutshell.

[sigh]