Ramblings...

Work sucks, but life is good... most of the time.

That's been my sentiment for the last few months. It's sad, I know. But c'est la vivre, I guess.

Pessimism aside, I am so thankful for my home group. This random hodgepodge of of people who never cease to amaze me in their pure acceptance for each other and their hunger to learn deeper the heart of God. There are no scholars or profound speakers, but we dialogue, we study the word and ask questions of it and each other. No one presumes to know the "correct" answer. No one pretends to be perfect.

Sometimes I wish I'd have met these people sooner, and wonder at God's planning; wonder if I threw a wrench in His plans with my stubbornness and fear of change and kick myself in the butt for fighting God for as long as I did, even when I knew He wanted something different for me.

Sadly, our co-leaders are leaving soon. They're heading back to Nashville and starting a new chapter and vision for/in their lives. They've no idea if it's completely the "right" thing to do, but they trust in God's wisdom and His sovereign hand at work even in this blind leap of faith they take.

It's strange how I found myself here amongst this group and in this church. But, however long it took, I'm glad and thankful for the wisdom and sovereignty of my Father.

[Annie smiley]

Speechless

It's eery that I thought of Steven Curtis Chapman last night, especially since this happened to his family. I feel so badly for the them...

Please pray for God's comfort and provision.

Note to Self:

God is God and I am not. - Steven Curtis Chapman

Out of grace, God created us as limited beings, so our lives can point others to the One who truly [and completely] satisfies. - Sarah W's Friend (not verbatim)

That's all. No more elaboration required.

Pug Life

I have no idea what this is supposed to mean, but it's funny and cute. And, that, afterall, is all that really matters at the end of the day...

A Room With a View (not really, but it sure is purty!)

My perfect room. Kitschy. Simple. Modern. Vintage. Ecclectic. Black and white with pops of color.

Sigh. I just wish I had enough time/money/energy/power tools.

"It's SO You!"

I just came across this and thought it hilarious. For those of you who know me well enough, you know this is oh-so-appropriate and very Annie-esque.

I just thought I'd share. You know, in case you're trying to figure out what to get me for my un-birthday, or whatever...

Done... As of now

Here it is folks. I hope this new layout is easier on the eyes.

We'll see how long it holds up...

Under Construction

I'm thinking it's time to revamp the ol', faithful blog... I'm starting to see zig-zaggy lines everywhere after staring at the screen too long.

Like so many things this year, it's time for a change here as well.

Stay tuned...

Today, Today.

I am officially a member of liberti. Congratulate me.

Our pastor called all the new people "coming into covenant" to stand in front of the congregation. [Awkward] He then proceeded to introduce each of us, sharing from the questionnaire he'd sent us during the week.

He began with the first person. Told of which area of Philadelphia he was from, which Home Group he belonged to, an interesting tidbit and... his testimony.

I started to freak out, but tried my best not to show it.

I was told we'd probably not have to share our testimonies! What is this? I'm not ready!!! Please give an abridged version of my story and skip all the really personal stuff. Pleeeeaaaase!

I eyed the pile, knowing that my sheet was somewhere at the bottom. Kept reminding myself to breathe. Freaked out. Breathed. Fidgeted a lot. Tried my best to hide in the crowd of people standing before a crowd of people. Listened. Freaked out. Breathed. Fidgeted... a lot.

Soon it was my turn. He read from my page. I was self-conscious. The majority of the new members had given very brief, annotated versions of their story (as asked). But mine, mine was one of the longer ones.

I wasn't prepared to be this vulnerable yet... Not in front of a crowd of people I'd yet to be introduced to (or whose names I could remember for that matter!). But there it was. I was naked. Exposed. Wanting to hide and chasing back tears.

Afterwards, we were formally welcomed into the body. We stood in our receiving line. I felt like a bride greeting the countless guests her parents had invited to the wedding. And, I stood there, smiling, breathing heavily and chasing back tears. Don't get me wrong, I was glad to be there and happy to come into the fold, but, for an introvert like me, this was a nightmare!

I found some comfort oddly enough in these almost unbearable few minutes. There were hugs and handshakes, people thanking me for sharing and telling me they were inspired or could relate. Each smile and greeting was sincere... and God was slowly reminding me that this is the body - people who are vulnerable to one another and who welcome each other in love and acceptance. My heart was stilled when my pastor came and hugged me, whispering in my ear "I'm so glad God brought you to liberti." His wife shared the same sentiment later on and, fighting back tears, told me how she could totally relate to what I'd gone through. We both laughed and tried to stop the other from crying, failed and hugged each other in support. It was a sincere moment, two sisters standing around talking after service. It was real and very needed for the both of us.

This Just In...

I really want to see Prince Caspian... and Iron Man. I am so behind and out of the loop.

And, in other news:

• Blackberries, strawberries and blueberries are just coming into season. I can't wait til peach season comes 'round the corner. [drooooool]
  
• I watched NKOTB perform this morning on the Today Show as I was getting ready for work. It was surreal. And, I realized I still have a soft spot for Jonathan Knight.
  
• Eurorebs and I are getting together tomorrow afternoon for a late brunch/lunch at Sabrina's. It's nice to know these imaginary friends of mine are actual living, breathing people and not just figments of my imagination
  
• I'm officially becoming a member of my church, liberti, on Sunday (Pray that I get there on time for the prep talk!)
  
• Every weekend 'til June is packed with retreats, birthday parties, housewarmings, etc. My wallet is starting to feel the pain and I'm starting to get tired/stressed just thinking about it.
  
• I am awfully behind in prepping for the flowers I'm doing for Hanna's wedding (June 21st! Gah!) Hopefully, I'll take a day off of work next week to get that done.
• We're only about a month and a half away from my small group leaders' move back to Nashville. We all can't believe it and are still hoping God changes His/their minds.
• I really enjoy Top Chef and Step It Up and Dance I mean really. Basically, my TV is forever tuned into Bravo
• Most of my former Youth Group students will have graduated by the week's end. Dumbfounded am I.
• I intend to watch I'm Not There. Finally.

That's all. Tune in later for the latest breaking news. This is Annie C signing off.

Miss Orderly Conduct

In many ways I am very particular . Some call me anal. Others may say I'm a bit obsessive compulsive.

Whatever.

But, seriously... what can I say? I like order.

• If it's not a right angle, it's a wrong angle.
• A straight line is a good one.
• Clarity is brilliance.

So what if I pop the gum out of it's foil-encased package row by row, left to right?

And, who's to say it's weird to like things in pairs? Noah thought it was pretty keen.

Make fun of me all you want, people. Alls I got to say about the matter is...

What-ev-ah! [raspberry] ;p

Once Upon a Time...

Per the request of Yellowinter, here is my abridged testimony:

I grew up in what I thought was a typical Korean-American, Christian home. My dad was an elder at our church, my mom a member of the choir. Although we went to church every Sunday, God and Jesus were rarely mentioned in our home.

I first came to Christ when I was about 7 yrs old while attending a VBS at a friend's church. The speaker asked us to raise our hands if we wanted Jesus to be our friend, so I did, and was led through the "Sinner's Prayer". Since salvation and the work of the Cross were rarely taught at home or church, my knowledge of the person of God was limited to Old Testament stories of a wrathful God who punished those who were bad. I feared God as the great
Discipliner and Punisher, but was ignorant of God the loving Father.

It wasn't until a fateful night at an overnight camp that I finally learned of the loving, patient, forgiving and sacrificial love of God. It was then that I was taught about God's unconditional love for me; that though I wronged Him in so many ways and was so undeserving, He sent His one and only Son to rescue me, to restore my relationship with Him. Like the beaten man on the road to Jericho, I was dying in my sin until Christ came and healed me, washing me clean of my sins. Even more astonishing to me was that He came and took my place on that road, taking my beating and my shame, allowing His clean robes to be bloodied and stained for me.

My faith was shaken, however, when my parents suddenly divorced during the summer leading into my freshman year of college. Secrets of my dad's repeated infidelities and lies surfaced and rocked my trust in him and in my heavenly Father. I was angry, bitter and confused. I couldn't understand God's reasoning or plan for all the pain He'd allowed to come to my mom, brother and myself. I couldn't let go of the dad I knew and was unable to accept this stranger who resembled my father, but who didn't seem to have any interest in remaining in the lives of his children. His infrequent visits became more and more sparse. Many nights were spent in angry, hot tears as I, in my furious and helpless state, challenged God to bring about good through all the chaos we [my family] had now found ourselves in.

Slowly, God has been revealing His father's heart for me. He's showed unending patience and compassion while I struggled to walk again. His promise to be a "father to the fatherless" has brought a silent and still comfort that have brought me thus far. He's remained faithful to His
promises and has honored the prayers whispered in desperation. He has taught me about the meaning of restoration, and has opened His heart He calls me His beloved, His daughter and His precious child. And I am so thankful because, honestly, I have no idea how or why He could sometimes.

Membership Has Its Privileges

In a matter of days I'll officially become a member of liberti. I've been itching for this for a better part of the past 2 months. The last step before the big dive into the community pool, is to answer a few general questions and write a very brief testimony. But for some reason, I'm having the hardest time summing up the change Christ started in me a lifetime ago.

How do you take years of His work and sum it up in a few sentences? [Literally, a few sentences!] How do you write Cliff's notes for that? How?

Gah!

The Sound of Silence

Last night I began to watch a documentary about a deaf couple who decided on cochlear implants. They were both in their late 50s and had 3 grown children.

I sat mesmerized as I watched this couple speak about their childhoods - about growing up in a "hearing" world in the 1950s and their struggle to belong. The husband told a story about his first years in high school. Having spent a better part of his childhood at a school that used breakthrough techniques in speech-learning, he never realized he wasn't "normal" until high school when a girl offered him her phone number.

"What was I going to do with a phone number?"

The film continued, following them as they met with specialists, scheduled and underwent operations and joined the hearing world.

It was amazing and humbling. I wondered at their experience of something I take for granted every day. What it would be like for a blind man to see or a deaf man to hear.

And then I was reminded of Christ, who took us "out of darkness and into his marvelous light." Who took what was broken and made it whole. Who took mud and made a blind man see. Who filled the mute man's mouth with praise and the deaf man's ears with song.

But I've lived far too long with these gifts and taken Him for granted in the process. Like a toddler banging away at pots and pans, I've made so much noise that I've made His voice nothing more than a whisper. I've spent way too much time tuning into myself that I've burned an image of me (and not Him) on my heart's retinas.

Lord, help me... I need some doctorin'.

Pollen-Nation

I have been in a daze for a better part of the morning.  It made paying attention to today's message quite a daunting task.  Conversations with friends has been a challenge as I'm not able to focus for more than 15-20 seconds at a time...  

It feels as if the whole world is resting on the top of my brain, over my eyes and face.  And as I lay here, I feel a disconnect - as if my body is sinking into the couch and my conscience upwards toward the ceiling...  My mind is cobwebby and unfocused like I've drunk too much wine, my body is oddly humming in a low, hypnotic frequency only I can hear...

If this is what happens when one has an allergy attack, I'd rather do without, thank you.

Clean House (In Progress)

I loved reading the Amelia Bedelia series as a child. My face would glow and giggles would scatter as I read about each silly antic Amelia found herself in. I loved her. I daydreamed about going on adventures with her and wished she'd have been my nanny. In a crowd of stodgy, old farts she'd have been the only super-cool and silly adult acquaintance. And though none of the adults could understand her, I would. In a way she was (and is) my kindred (fictional) spirit ~ a little kooky and misunderstood, but always having the best of intentions.

I have done about 4 loads of laundry today and have that much yet to fold. Between loads of laundry, I've scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom floors/counter tops, and am now prepping myself for my greatest task of the day: my chaotic room. When all of that is finished I might have time left to vacuum...

Staring at the mess left to clean, I feel more like Cinderella and less like Amelia...

Flea Marketing...

I've been in the mood to visit a good flea market. But, not the ones from my youth where tacky, handmade dolls, worthless baseball cards, stale popcorn and old motor parts were a plenty.

These Spring days leave me wanderlust, daydreaming about those fabulous California flea markets I've only seen on TV. I dream of finding some shabby-chic treasure, stripping away the paint, repainting it and then distressing it again. Or, finding some amazing antique mirror that is worn and spotted and burnished and lovely.

But, I'm poor and hate waking up before dawn...

I am the anti-flea-marketer.

Commencement

In a matter of weeks most of my former Youth Group students will be donning cap and gown, and saying their farewells to college life.

What seemed like mere days has turned to years. The children I once taught are now responsible, God-loving young men and women. These students have become peers and taught me in subtle ways the joys of friendship, laughter, serving, celebrating, giving and zealous joy.

Time flies.

An Art Exhibit

The other night my accountability group shared about the struggles with sharing our testimonies (our stories). One sister shared how the pain of her past made her too ashamed, too embarrassed, to share with people. The other shared how she envied those who had had these remarkable, life-altering, world-shaking, transformational experiences when hers was so "plain" and "boring." My story, for the most part would relate more with the latter.

But as I thought about it some more, it hit me: Who am I to diminish the power of the cross? Who are we to grade the work of the Spirit in us?

If Christ's crucifixion and resurrection are indeed the miracle of grace, aren't all our stories miraculous ones?

He pours out His love and affectionis equally to each of us. All of heaven rejoices over each believer. We are all His great works, His masterpieces. And like the talented artist He is, each of us differs in design and composition. For some, He paints in watercolor - soft strokes and lines that blend into the next. For others, He creates beautiful mosaics, which are just as breathtaking as any painting, but composed of jagged chards of discarded glass. Up close they don't always seem to fit or make sense, but He painstakingly pieces together the brokenness and joins them together with grace and love until His masterpiece is revealed.

I need to be reminded to see the art within. We all do.

Sliding Doors

Sometimes I wonder at how different my life might have been had I not made some of the decisions I've made in my life.

Where might I be had I walked through one door and not the other?
What would life look like had we stayed in Toronto that extra day as planned?