joyeux anniversaire

mon très cher frère.

little

little...older

Thankful for a brother who would spend his birthday
running with slow ole' me and watching our favorite movie together:
The Replacements!!
Though you are irreplaceable, oppa bear.
You're 25 (a quarter of 100!) and still kickin'!
Praise God :]

I love you brahjah.
You aiite.

Overwhelmed

My heart is heavy, and I am helpless. 

Everything around me hurts. My insides hurt. 

I hate what I see, and I hate what I feel.

And I am at fault.

I want comfort. I want peace.

Truth, pierce this wretched heart of mine. 

Daddy, let this storm pass. Until then,

teach my heart to beat Psalm 46.

I am n o t h i n g without Y o u.

Flight 375

Travel Tip #1: always carry an orange in your carry-on bag

Usually I'm too exhausted to notice what's around me during plane rides. I sleep just as well in the plane as I do in the car, which means I doze off as soon as I buckle that seat belt and wake up right as the wheels of the plane skim the grounds of the runway.

And that is exactly what my first flight from VA to my layover in NC looked like. But when I boarded the plane again for my final destination in TX, I found myself sitting next to two women from Nigeria with an adorable baby in tow. His name was Mikey, and at just 9 months, he was already taking part in his first transatlantic flight from the Caribbean to Dallas. He had a full head of hair on his head and was squirming with delight, showing off those endearing dimpled cheeks. What struck me the most, however, was the fact that he looked JUST like THIS BABY:

He didn't give me the evil eye, but he sure was one happy little child. When I offered to hold him as his mother ate a late dinner, she was thrilled. Baby got cranky when mom tried to feed him pieces of her burrito, so I pulled out the orange that I brought from the apartment. The mom peeled it and placed it in his little hand. He grasped it so tightly that the juice began to run down his arm. When he sucked it the first time, he squeezed his eyes shut, reacting to the tart surprise before proceeding to eat some more. The mom laughed, saying it was the first time he ever tasted an orange! I was ecstatic to witness this baby's discovery of one of God's many tasty gifts to us.

I begin to tell her about how much I loved the fruit in Africa as her eyes widen--she tells me that she'll tell her friends in Cameroon how much I enjoyed their country. I tell her about Bible translation and she tells me about her own tribal language. God, you are so good.

On my lap, Little Mikey stands on his little legs and begins to stare out the window. So do I.

Here I am humbled by your Majesty
Covered by your grace so free
Here I am, knowing I'm a sinful man
Covered by the blood of the Lamb

Now I've found the greatest love of all is mine
Since you laid down your life
The greatest sacrifice

Majesty, Majesty
Your grace has found me just as I am
Empty handed, but alive in your hands
Majesty, Majesty
Forever I am changed by your love
In the presence of your Majesty

Oh, how could I describe what I saw out that window? You see, it was dark outside. But the stars, those brilliant stars. They were so clear through that tiny plane window. Right above us were those jems, and right below, a blanket of clouds. Once in a while, lightning would flash and light up the entire sky. Three shooting stars later, I glimpsed the moon glowing from afar.

Sometimes I just need to press my face against the window to be reminded of His majesty.

While rain was pounding down upon the Texan earth, I was suspended in His peaceful presence right above the clouds. As the plane dove towards the Earth, for a moment I wished that I could just stay there, suspended in the air, void of fear and filled with calm.

The second the plane passed through the clouds, however, we hit turbulence. The plane shook and that calm I experienced a few minutes ago instantly left me. How quickly that happened. As I gripped the arm rest, I looked over at the baby who by then was sleeping peacefully in his mother's arms. Head on her chest, eyes closed, a hint of a smile lingering on those little lips.

I leaned back against the seat, yearning for that kind of peace. A peace that remains even when turbulence hits. A peace that lets me close my eyes and rest my head against Him, without a care in the world.

Just like Mikey.

Apartment Love

Oh Cabell love of four,

We all thought that we would be homesick for France and Scotland after spending last semester abroad. We still have our brief moments of nostalgia, but little did we know what an adventure God had in store for us here in Cabell 104. Yes, it feels like home here with you girls.

Four of us. Completely different. God has a sense of humor, that's for sure.

I mean, come on. We have one girl who loves cleaning and is slightly obsessed with the smell of bleach. We have another who has ten thousand jobs and leaves her shoes in every crevice of the apartment. Then there's the girl who lives and breathes Harry Potter, adding coloring pages to our walls. And of course little ole' me, always in those lambchop slippers and leaving post-it notes all over the house.

We run in and out here, but we all get giddy for our weekly apartment dinner dates. We pile onto the couch and watch an episode of Gilmore Girls, eating all of Steph's leftover kettle corn. We bake far more sweets than our stomachs can handle and fit way too many items into our bucket list. We get excited to rearrange furniture for our movie night guests. We encourage each other to eat, but then guilt each other into working out (mostly the former). We stress, we rant, but in the end, we remind each other that we are blessed. Because well, we are. And I am thankful. And that is why I am writing this.

Tonight? Steph is studying in Morton (or Mordor, as we like to call it now) while Margaret Ann and Jessica are painting outside my door, watching Winnie the Pooh next to our adorable Christmas tree. When she comes back, we'll celebrate. Just another day in Cabell 104. Let me just capture this moment now.

Laughter in the living room, jokes in the kitchen, crying sessions on the couches, story time in the bedrooms. One semester is over, but I'm eager to etch more memories into these old walls.

Thankful for what He's doing in this apartment--how He's humbling, stretching, and growing us.

Daddy, teach us to persistently encourage and challenge each other.

May this apartment be a welcome home to all...that it will be used for Your kingdom.

Four of us. Completely different. God is so good.

I love you ladies. Your gentle, humble, and joyful spirits. I am so honored to be here.

May this apartment be filled with the love of John 15:13

Bucket List #3

flushed, sweaty, and in disbelief

Chick-fil-A 8k Christmas Dash: done!

This senior year Ionlyhaveonemoreyearleft high

 makes you want to do a lot of crazy things before you graduate.

Case in point: dancing in a friend's piece without any prior dance training,

presenting research in French, jumping the Governor's Palace wall, 

teaching two language classes, etc.

Praise the Lord who knows what He's doing when I really have no idea.

backstage before showcasing Sarah's piece

Today was one those let'sdosomethingnew days. At six on a beautiful Sunday morning,

Margaret Ann and I got dressed half-asleep, pinned our tags on, charged our iPods,

and drove over to Bush Gardens (first time ever!). The park was already

bustling with folks and resonating with Christmas music. Jolly people all around were stretching,

serving hot chocolate, and warming up for the race.

Running that 5k freshman year made me realize what strength encouragement can give

when you're in such a physically exhausted state. Because the money raised went to

the U.S. Marine Corps Toys for Tots, soldiers stood throughout the park

to high-five and cheer on the runners. Yay for encouragement!

Perhaps a 10k and half-marathon beforehand, 

but I'm going to write it down before I chicken out.

[Bucket List #3: run a marathon]

Why? Watching people cross the finish line gets me teary. 

I don't know why, but I got really emotional (and it was slightly embarrassing. haha). 

It was one of those moments when I saw that my soul was clearly meant to

yearn for that finish line...the race of all races, you know?

Rather than dashing like a madwoman back home to change in 2 min and 

drive over to church in 5,

we would run into the Father's embrace, and we would all celebrate together.

We would all be joyously shouting 2 Timothy 4:7

"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race,

I have kept the faith"

I can hardly wait.

Pause to Praise

The Kimyal People Receive the New Testament from UFM Worldwide on Vimeo.

It's always nice to take a study break to see what God is doing around the world.

It's nice to get a big picture perspective when all I see is the work piled in front of me.

He is worthy of all my praise. Praise You, Father. All praise be to Y o u.

Contentment

"Now there is a great gain in godliness with contentment, for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world" -1 Timothy 6:6-7

"Je suis contente". A phrase that I wrestled with and finally accepted while abroad. I quickly learned in Paris that "Je suis contente que..." was more commonly used than "Je suis heureuse que..." (literally "I am happy that...").

I had a problem with this. Even though in French, "content" has the same denotation as "happy," the English-speaker in me kept seeing this "content" as this watered-down version of being happy. So to express my utmost joy, I kept wanting to say, "Je suis heureuse!"

But contentment is s0 much greater than I had thought. I joined another fellowship's worship on campus with my roommate tonight, and boy, am I grateful for the conviction He has given me. It's a bit scary every time He exposes this heart of mine. He peels back a layer of my heart, but He does it in such a loving way that I am grateful for the temporary pain. I trust that it is fleeting next to the work He has promised to do in me.

Throughout this final (oy!) fall semester, I've been realizing how difficult and beautiful it is to be "content". In fact, I can look back on many moments during this past week when I was "happy" but when was I truly content? If I'm not content with my Father, the Giver of all things, am I seriously waiting for something greater than a relationship with Him? Job? Security? Family?

Without contentment in who He is, I will be chained to this sense of entitlement. I'll constantly be expecting something from my Father who already gave it all for me. And when He doesn't give (fill in the blank), I'll question His love for me. This is one roller coaster that I want to get off of.

"Trusting is the fruit of knowing the true nature of God."

I know God placed me in 1 Samuel and the Psalms right now for good reason. His faithfulness to the Israelites, His unending love for His people, and His incredible display of mercy to the faithless are His prodding at my own callous heart. Daddy, I don't want to be so blind-sighted. I want to see You for who You are. Paul knew of His Father's goodness. His Father's love for him. That was the key to his contentment. May I step in obedience and trust this new month.

"Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance, and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me" -Philippians 4: 11-12

Je suis contente parce que Tu sois vraiment bon.

EDIT 12/22: Tim Keller on Contentment Thankful to've come across this today. 

Fall Fluff

"It's so fluffy I'm gonna dieee!"

hehe. Sometimes things are just so darn cute that I don't know what to do with myself. This crisp fall weather also leaves me in this euphoric state where I can't do anything but throw my arms up in the air and fall in love all over again.

Thankful for His creation. For the big things that take up the expanse of the sky and the small things that come into the world and give me giggles of delight. You just tickle my soul! :)

L'automne est finalement arrivé! :)

"Let the words of my mouth

and the meditation of my heart

be acceptable in your sight,

O Lord, my rock and my redeemer."

-Psalm 19:14

Refreshing News

It rained in Dallas today. A few months ago this would not have been a big deal, but after an entire summer without rain, I've never been so excited to see the dark clouds roll in yesterday or been so happy to hear the downpour that took me by surprise early this morning. After weeks yearning for even a SPRINKLE of rain, God sent buckets. It was as if the clogged faucet upstairs was finally fixed and months of stored water had just been hurled down from the sky. Sans umbrella, I ran out to the car as I wrinkled my face and grinned with glee, letting the water droplets hit my nose and freely roll down my cheeks. So refreshing today was. God is faithful. Just like in the days of Elijah, He answers prayers and waters the earth.

On that same note, I received news earlier this week of how God is continuing to water the plants across the globe, in beloved Cameroon. He is growing the seeds that He has sown there last summer. What a joy it was to hear about the team's safe return and to see my beautiful host family through the pictures that were posted. Oh my, how they have grown! Here's a little follow-up:

(L to R) Justin delivering my care package, Billy-Brunzie with what now appears

to be a full head of hair, Chelsea a few inches taller than the last time I saw him

2010. Here I am with my then-pregnant host mom Lucy

2011. Lucy today with her new baby Faith!!

2010. We planted non-native fruit seeds in Lucy's garden last summer

2011. Paul took a picture of its progress today! Praise God :)

Though the team was a lot smaller this year, those who went were able to share with the Wimbum adults a recording of the Kande Story, a story that educates about HIV/AIDS. What an amazing opportunity. I still remember the cries and funeral songs coming from a home in the village last summer. Even within the two short weeks that I was there, I would come across a family mourning the death of a young mother who succumbed to the virus.The world is broken and hurting, but God is moving and working. I find hope in that tonight, and I will rest in that tomorrow. I praise You Lord, for the Go-ers, the Senders, and the Intercessors this year. When I see that healthy baby and that growing plant, I see nothing but Your faithfulness. And I thank You that you care for us even more than a few plant seeds.

"I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. He who plants and he who waters are one, and each will receive his wages according to his labor. For we are God’s fellow workers. You are God’s field, God’s building." -1 Cor 3:6-9

Goodnight, and happy Sunday :]

Soli Deo Gloria

Frustration.

I felt lots of it while completing just a few simple tasks today.

Nothing out of the ordinary...simply folding papers and preparing envelopes.

But I was little miss cranky pants who wanted to go home and rest.

I kept thinking about what else I could've been doing.

It's frightening to see how full of sin I am

and how quickly I can fall back.

Changing.

I noticed my attitude shifts depending on what I'm doing

not whom I'm doing it for.

While I joyfully taught Bible stories to children under the Oklahoma sun last month,

folding pamphlets for next week's worship service seemed like such a chore today.

If only I saw each task as a pleasing sacrifice to the one and only.

Would I be just as joyful serving my family by taking the trash out

as I would be in babysitting the little ones from church?

Jesus said, "One who is faithful in very little is also faithful in much" (Luke 16:10),

but was I really being faithful in the little task that was given me

when I was grumbling in my heart? sigh.

Dear heart,

why so prone to forget?

why so prone to rebel?

why so selfish in all your ways?

Unchanging.

Jesus.

I need to cling to You.

Daily. Moment by Moment.

Every day I am tempted.

Tempted to take the crown

fully knowing that its weight will crush me.

Lord of my life, help me. Forgive me. Heal me.

"So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." -Cor. 10:31

Hunger

Famine in Somalia

The breakfast biscuit that I devoured this morning

isn't sitting too well in my stomach anymore.

While I hungrily scanned the menu, little did I know that thousands of children

were starving to death in this war-torn country alone.

Yes, Texas has been going through a drought.

It has been over 100 degrees here for as long as I can remember.

I sigh every time I step out into the heat

and groan when the a/c doesn't exceed its potential.

Yet, I'm still eating. I'm still sheltered. I'm still breathing.

But in Somalia?

They're starving. They're homeless. They're struggling for life.

What is a slight inconvenience to me is a life-threatening menace to them.

How much does it take for me to realize that I don't deserve the life that I have?

That it is only by the grace of God that I'm not over there starving to death?

News like this comes up all the time, but this one hit especially hard just now.

And it very well should. All the time.

My heart aches. I am so ashamed.

My head is already days ahead worrying about nonsense

when there are others who can't fathom living another hour.

Wisdom in spending. Diligence in prayer.

Humility at all costs.

God help us.

God help me.

Unfinished

http://www.oneverse.org/project/nugunu?fb-donate=true

After hearing all about the intricate process that is Bible translation last summer, 26 dollars really seems like nothing. How many times has a book of the Bible, let alone a single verse, gotten me through a difficult period in my life? Oh, the thought of not being able to read or hear His word whenever I wanted in a language that I understood! I took it for granted for far too long. How spoiled am I.

I must remember the faces of the Wimbum men as they received the Word of God in Limbum. I must prayerfully await the return of this year's Cameroon team. Oh how much my heart ached to go back with the others when I visited the Wycliffe compound this past weekend. Oh how much I want to see the faces of the Ngome family as they open the care package, and oh how much I long to hold Lucy's new baby. Oh how my ears itch to hear the little children shout, "Kangssi"! Oh how much I long to praise with the jingweh tahtaps (strong women) of the village. Oh how much I want to chase little Billy-Brunzie through the dirt and toss a frisbee around with Noel.

Yet, by the grace of God, I will learn to be still. I will learn to pray for those God sent this summer and grow in the knowledge of a Father who is still much more than I know Him to be.

Daddy, it is truly by Your grace that my soul can rest in your goodness, in the Truth, every day. Please make this accessible to the millions, to the billions out there who are hungering for more. Give me the heart to share the Living Water with the thirsty in this dry and desolate land. Please be with Paul and Justin as they lead your workers out into the harvest. Flood Taku with Your mighty presence and renew their spirits. Bring them to yourself Daddy, for You are good.

Five Facts of Five

I can't believe it took me almost a week to fully unpack my suitcase.

After filtering through my emails, I came across a questionnaire that I had to complete for my school upon my return. It was surprisingly a good way for me to reflect on the last six months, so I thought I would post it here. So here goes!

The five things that I enjoyed most about studying abroad were:

1. Gaining a new perspective through the locals

my kebab grandpa from Tunisia! :]

2. Hearing and speaking French every day

3. Friendships at the foyer...meaningful dinner conversations

4. Working with the little ones at La Schola

precious Isabelle and Victoria

5. The ability to travel near and far (merci metro and European transportation)

Five things that were difficult or bothered me the most while I have been abroad are:

1. Returning to an empty apartment after work

2. Stumbling for words and worrying that the message didn't get through correctly

3. Homelessness in the city and an overwhelming feeling of helplessness

4. Seeing tourists from a resident's perspective and realizing just how obnoxious we could be

5. Coming to terms with my weaknesses...especially while writing my mémoire

The five things I missed most about home while I had been abroad are:

1. Sitting down to dinner with my family

brotherbear and mommy. hehe.

daddy and brotherbear

2. Small group with my nurturing group of sisters

freshmen sg all abroad (L to R): Fran, Eng, Scot, Eng, Scot, Fran :]

3. Praising God in my native language

4. Being able to call loved ones whenever I wanted

5. Not having to wordreference so much!

The five things I have missed least since I have been abroad are:

1. The huge portions...did everything get bigger?

2. Big highway

3. The scorching Texas heat

4. Fake bread. Fake cheese.

5. Taxes!

My greatest single challenge while I have been abroad has been:

Uncovering the pride within me and being forced to swallow it whole. I was afraid to speak out of fear--fear of making a fool out of myself? No, deep inside was a desire to impress and be accepted. Instead, I learned what it felt like for many first-generation Koreans like my parents, who continue to adjust in this fast-paced American society. Every laugh, jeer, even Chinese chingchongchang, was a jab at this ball of pride festering within me. I giggled with them, but deep inside I grew disheartened. The first few months were tough. Every time I lined up at the local boulangerie; every time I interviewed a teacher or parent; every time I stood in front of students to introduce myself or give a presentation. Fortunately for me, this would be the essential ingredient in truly learning another language. Funny how that works, no?

And now I would like to conclude with my own list...

Five Things I learned/re-learned about God while abroad:

1. He is faithful.

2. He loves the people of Paris.

3. He cries with me.

4. He is healer.

5. He wants me to hunger for more.

A bientot, Paris.

What do you do on your last day in Paris? At first I surveyed the list of things that I still have yet to do tacked on my wall. The piece of cardboard stared back at me with its faded traces of highlighter marks, crossed-out locations, and the occasional asterisks that put some order to it...

Being the ISFJ that I was, I began to make a list of all the things that I could possibly squeeze into one day. Then I realized, this is my last day. The museums, the shops, and the parks that I wanted to visit will most likely always be here. But the people? It started to hit me that we are all going back to our lives in the States and that I will never be able to live this moment again with them--our memories and experiences that no one else would completely understand back home.

Thus, I ended up lounging around on the grass by the foyer with some of my closest friends as we looked back on our semester abroad. What a relaxing day. It was not what I had planned, but it was simply perfect. From the wonderful company of friends, to the sunshine, the food, the music, and the conversations, I could not have asked for more.

I know I will be going home to a lot of "What was it like?" and other questions related to my experience abroad, but I can't even wrap my head around the fact that it all even happened. It's almost 5 in the morning right now as I type...the black sky has turned a shade of midnight blue and the birds are already chirping outside. The streets are still quiet, but I know in about two hours the clattering garbage truck will make its usual rounds and wake up the usual sleepers. The sun will come up and smile upon this city again, and everything will go as it usually does on Fridays. Meanwhile, one more resident will be picked up by the shuttle and she will press her head against the window to capture every inch of the city en route to the airport.

My stomach is up in the air right now. I'm at the tip of the roller-coaster right before the plunge. I don't know what to expect or how I will feel going back down. At least I know that everything I left behind will be the same and that there are others who will take part in this incredible ride after me. As of now, I'm going to throw my hands up in the air and praise the God who guides me through every turn.

I know that there's a great thrill awaiting me as I descend, and quite frankly, I'm excited.

Thank you to all my prayer partners throughout these past 6 months.
And merci mille fois, mon Dieu. Tu es vraiment bon.

Day Sixty: Last day at la Schola

no more translations, no more classes, no more paper.

done done done. shocked & in disbelief.

I'm really going to miss the routine of things.

Breakfast in the morning with the cool kids in Didot. Chuckling over morsels of fresh baguettes and tea every morning with a dollop of strawberry jam.

Waving good-bye to the lady at the front desk and a "bonne journée" to the janitor before pushing the button to exit the foyer.

Opening the squeaky hinge gate to the park next door and chatting for a few minutes with the little grandma who sits on the bench writing poems every morning...always so poised and put together with her manicured hands and bright red lipstick. Today she asked me about the DSK affair. Oy. hahaha.

Sticking my iPod in and humming along to some praise songs as I meander through the cobblestone streets and find my way to the Aleysia metro stop.

Picking up a copy of the "Direct Matin" and flipping through it as I sit in the metro.

Waving good-morning to my favorite "Turkish grandpa" who's busy prepping his kebab restaurant for the day.

Sitting at the desk translating documents and being a secretary, unless it's Wednesday when I get to hang out with the kiddies all day. My favorite. :)

Going to lunch at my favorite places: the "baby-foot" (foosball) cafe where I would get my panini or "house burger", take-out pasta place with the sweet Chinese lady, or grabbing a baguette and sitting in the park by the fountain

Packing up when the clock hits six and stopping by the Kebab place to chat with the Turkish grandpa who would always pour me a fresh glass of orange juice as we talk about our day. Sometimes we just talk about "surface stuff" while other days he gives me his take on technology and youth these days. Sometimes I jump in, but normally I just listen. And then it's an au revoir!

..but this time, it's really happening. Au revoir, la Schola Cantorum. You've been so good to me.

Eyes Wide Open

"Ah, je suis désolée mais il faut ouvrir les yeux..."

"Ah I'm sorry, but you have to open your eyes..."

Confused, I stopped mid-prayer and looked up to catch the reassuring glances of my three sisters around me. I knew about the policy of laïcité (separation of state and religion) in France but only saw its real impact when a Muslim woman recently made headlines for wearing a voile in public. I didn't realize that it would intrude upon my prayer life. I didn't know that I've been illegally praying in public for the past five months here. So there I was, sitting in a hotel lobby with three other ladies from Hillsong, praying with my eyes open in what was to be an experience that I will never forget. Despite this troubling news, I left the hotel hopeful for my first day at the halte with sisters that I just met that morning.

As we turned the corner, we saw the sun shine brilliantly upon what looked like a children's day-care center. Aesthetically and functionally, that's what it was, but there were no children running around here other than a young baby being nursed by her mother.

During the day, the building houses women who would otherwise have nowhere else to go. Even before we entered, we came across one woman washing her hair outside with a hose. She turned at the sound of our footsteps, and I immediately noticed a bloody gash on her nose. I would soon find out that she got into a fight with another woman on the streets the night before.

We went inside to find a diverse group of women sitting around the television as two workers in the kitchen began to clear the table of breakfast foods. They greeted us with enthusiasm before we immediately got to work setting up chairs and organizing our manicure sets on the tables.

Today was my first day going to the "halte des femmes", the French equivalent of a woman's shelter. The women come from all kinds of situations--victims of domestic violence, single mothers without homes, runaways, immigrants, women experiencing life on the streets for the very first time, etc.

Public evangelization is strictly banned in France, but we can share our testimonies if they ask. As we massaged their hands and painted their nails, they asked where we came from and would ceaselessly thank us. Massaging the hand of one woman who came from Sri Lanka, I began to silently pray for her. What a difference it makes to know the person whom you are praying for! Hearing her story gave me a greater urgency to pray. Relational ministry. She taught me a few phrases in Tamil and chuckled at my unsuccessful attempts. Next to me a young girl from Cameroon beamed when I recalled a few phrases of English Pidgin from last summer.

Oh man, this is why I love languages. Even if it's just a few phrases, it's a way of saying "Look, you're so cool and I want to be like you! Yes, I probably sound silly, but I want make the effort to know you on your turf!" Learning another language is the most humbling process ever, but I think of my Father who not only took upon the language but wholly transformed Himself to walk with me. Jesus, your incarnation continues to be my motivation.

One by one, we painted their nails and massaged their hands. I could tell that many of the women were not used to the gentle touch of a friend and saw the joy spread across their faces.

I may not have had loaves of bread or fish at my disposal, but I praised God this afternoon for giving me hands with years of manicure experience.

So Daddy, multiply multiply!

Thank you for opening my eyes today.

Good Ears

One afternoon not too long ago, I was on the metro reading a passage in Matthew. It was about Jesus feeding the five thousand. It was a passage that I've read many times before. The disciples see a crowd coming and panic because there's nothing visibly sufficient enough to feed them. Jesus does what is humanly impossible and astounds everyone with a bountiful feast.

Every time I read this miraculous act of God, I was always reassured of His mighty provision in my life.

This time around, I heard my complaints in the disciple's voice. You see, a few minutes before, I just barely made it through the sliding metro doors. My mind travelled back to the homeless man propped against the station wall silently staring at the paper cup placed before him. The first few weeks in Paris, I would drop in some change here and there, but after a while the homeless became just a part of the city setting and I frankly stopped noticing them in the rush of the morning commute. Although I would occasionally pray for them in my head as I passed by, it was evident that I've grown numb to their needs.

As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.” Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.” -Matt. 14: 16-1

You give them something to eat. God has given me enough already to help others. He has given me more than enough bread to share, yet I find that I tend to automatically send them to His care... not in faith for bigger things but in laziness. There is nothing wrong with asking God to heal the brokenness of my neighbors, but I realized that often my own motives are broken. So I asked God in the metro that day, Daddy, what could I do? What do you want to do through me? I don't think it's really safe to just sit and talk to them alone, but I want an opportunity to serve them. Daddy, show me a way.

Fast forward to Sunday: the Hillsong citycare team announces several ministry opportunities in the city. One involves going to a woman's shelter and painting their nails on Saturday mornings.

My ears perk up. Excited, I sign up. I attend a meeting held at a young couple's home one night.

After several email exchanges, I'm scheduled to go on Saturday May 7th.

Daddy, you have good ears.

You hear my whisper in a crowded metro.

You are itching to grant my deepest wishes.

Daddy, you answer prayers.

Relief

In regards to the news that made headlines across the pond today...

‎"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." -Martin Luther King, Jr.

It's hard to believe that I was introduced to the name Bin Laden almost ten years ago. The media taught us to hate him, fear him, disdain him, what have you, for nearly half of my life. Perhaps rightly so because his acts were abominable and certainly condemnable. As a child, I felt queasy at the thought of a man who may have been celebrating on the other side of the world when people were forced to jump to their deaths, valiant firemen were trapped in the smoking rubble, and the rest of the world was shrouded by the cloud of darkness that followed the toppling of the twin towers. I remember 9/11 so clearly and so did everyone else who recounted the horrors so vividly at breakfast this morning. I still recall finding my mom and brother waiting for me in the tiny elementary school gym that afternoon when I usually walked home. And it still strikes me as strange to see that day printed in school textbooks...is this fresh memory of mine already becoming a part of the yellowing pages of old history books?

And today the news of his death. I stared at the headlines and had a flashback of 9/11.

I celebrate justice. We humans were meant to crave justice and I saw that so clearly when following the news today. At the same time, the rowdy hoorahs are not going to change what has already happened. So is all the pomp really necessary? Something about these overdone celebrations irk me...there's something deep in the pit of my stomach, and I feel queasy again. Yes, that queasy feeling I got ten years ago when a man across the globe may have been celebrating the violent end of many others.

"Do not rejoice when your enemy falls, and let not your heart be glad when he stumbles, lest the Lord see it and be displeased, and turn away his anger from him." -Proverbs 24:17-18

Though I find it hard to pump my fist into the air and shout our nation's anthem today, I mainly find myself relieved--relieved to know a God who stands for justice but who is equally brimming with mercy and grace.

Today's events definitely shed greater light on my Father today and I am thankful for that. Because while we humans trample on and celebrate the death of an enemy, I serve a God who would die for His.

That enemy once being me.

And with that being said, I am at a loss for words.

"otter"ly speechless

I would stay up all night cooing over otters.

Seriously though, how could you see this picture and not?

"Clinging on: Just like a human baby, the whelp enjoyed suckling his mother's milk before eventually dropping off"

READ this: otter article on dailymail

my favorite part:

'They were really sweet and after a while the mother got hungry

and rolled her son into the water so she could dive for clams.'

hehe. This article made me miss my parents even more.

I miss falling asleep on my mom while watching tv together.

I miss being carried back home by my daddy after falling asleep in the car.

Sometimes I would pretend to be sleeping just so he would carry me in.

I miss that.

Goodnight, every one.

As I grow older, I'm learning more and more

that there's no better bed to fall asleep on

than the warm and secure embrace of a parent.

sigh

"Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you"

-Psalm 116:7

Good Friday

Taking an impromptu trip to Bath, England, I attended the Good Friday service held at Bath Abbey, a very old church founded in 1499 (!). It was different from what I was used to. It was a music service where a choir of fully-gowned adults and children quietly proceeded to the front and sang excerpts of Liszt. It was a music meditation service that took you through 14 stations leading to the Cross.

Quite frankly, I needed this. This time to simply rest, meditate, and pray. Though the service was a lot more formal and liturgical from what I was used to, I was struck by the reverence shown to our Father. I could tell that everything was intricately planned, rehearsed, and put into practice. Perhaps it was the voices that filled the air and sounded like a heavenly chorus, but everything just seemed so..sacred. I was reminded of God's holiness in that still sanctuary.

"Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory"
-Isaiah 6:3

Dank je wel

Pronounced "dahnk yuh vel", that has been the only phrase that I have been able to retain from this past weekend's whirlwind of an adventure. It means "thank you very much" in Dutch.

It became very useful as I met such kind people up in the north. From the waiter in Brussels who slipped us some chocolate after our meal, to the lady at the ticket counter who offered us a specially discounted train ticket, to the sweet people at the metro who walked us to our next destination, I was blown away by the kindness that I had been shown during the past few days.

3 days in 3 different cities = exhaustion + lots of good memories

I came away from this trip so in awe of how God brings people together and holds everything together. Bobae and I could not get over the fact that after all these years, a friendship that began in seventh grade homeroom had made it all the way over to Europe. It was like a dream and we had to constantly ask ourselves during the trip if this was all real.

Our first stop was Brussels, Belgium. This was our meeting point because it is situated right between Paris and Maastricht. Brussels was a lot smaller than I had expected and there were far too many peeing statues, but I enjoyed the melange of old and new in this bustling town. Did I even mention the chocolate, beer, and moules frites? Mm Mm Mmmmm ;]

The next day we headed over to Amsterdam, Holland in hopes of seeing the annual flower parade. Unfortunately, so did the rest of the world. After spending the afternoon at the Van Gogh museum, we took the bus, got stuck in traffic, ended up walking along the road in the light drizzle, and arrived to find out that we had missed it by two hours or so. It was fine though, because we came across a beautiful patch of spring flowers at the Keukenhof garden.

My last day was spent in Maastricht, Holland where Bobae is currently studying abroad. Her hotel school is located in the middle of the woods, which was already a big change from what I was used to--there were lots of trees and hardly any noise outside. Honestly, I loved getting away for a bit. We grabbed yummy fries in the city and laid out on the grass by the waterfront in the afternoon. The weather was perfect, and I would not have spent it any other way.

"And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together"
-Colossians 1:17