...first world problems

So my roommate has recently been telling me about the latest tag line that is floating around on facebook and we have started to insert it into our own lives. I can't help but laugh and change my perspective on life when these three words are added to almost any complaint that I have.

I don't want to take out the food trash.... first world problems.

My internet is taking forever... first world problems.

I ate so much. I have a food coma. ....first world problems.

Oh I don't want to turn around to look at your picture. I just got comfortable.... first world problems.

The maid can't come today because she's sick. We need to do the dishes. ...first world problems.

There's not enough room for all my shoes in this closet. ...first world problem.

My nose keeps running. I need nose spray. ...first world problem.

The dvd won't play! My computer is the wrong region. ...first world problems.

All my chocolate is at school, not at home! ...first world problems.

Ugh. My iPhone just died. ...first world problems.

I just missed the subway. I have to wait two minutes for the next one and it's cold. ...first world problems.

Ugh. Facebook changed their format again! ...first world problems.

We just ran out of coffee and I could kill for a fresh cup right now. ...first world problems.

The printer just ran out of paper!!! ...first world problems.

The cafeteria has the same food-- and I just can't handle pasta day because the sauce is too sweet. ...first world problems.

I got a window seat and I really need an aisle seat on the plane. ...first world problems.

Suddenly, my life's problems don't seem so bad...

And so, I am thankful... for oh so much!!!!

Closing the Back Door

My dreams,
My passions,
Me.
My hopes,
My fears,
My way out.
OUT.
My freedom,
My rebellion,
My uncertainty.
My loneliness.
My backdoor; my escape,
My escape.
My journey,
My vision,
My way.
My lust.
My self-preservation,
My autonomy,
My future.

A battle rages within me.
Burning inside me, a call so strong.

To commit fully, wholly unto HIM.

A part of me must die. Be buried.
Make room for more of HIM; for HIS ways.

Commitment.

Vulnerability to lay it all down. For HIM.

Hesitation.

Called to be a forerunner.
To be set apart.
To be a part of something bigger than me.

The Call presses in deeper, stronger.

"Do not leave prematurely. Even a butterfly has to work his way out of the chrysalis to strengthen his wings so he can fly one day."

"Do not paddle your way out without the winds to carry you."

"Hold on and flourish."

"You're on the 'Freedom Train'."

"He is your compass; keep looking to HIM."

Laying down. Dying,
Only to be brought to a fuller life.
One of glory,
One of greater victory.
Greater hopes,
Greater dreams.

I closed the back door.

Put a ring on it.

Died to myself.

Laid it all down for YOU.

Commitment brings peace.
Freedom,
Joy,
Opportunity.
Order,
Certainty amidst the unknown.
And, more of HIM.

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I'm sure there will be A LOT more dying to myself... sloughing off the flesh and growing in Christ my entire life...

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What has the Lord been asking you to commit to?
Maybe it's time to close the back door and put a ring on it.

Choose Tenderness

In each season of life we are always learning something. Of all the lessons I can learn in Korea, the one that I am finding I continuously return to is how to choose tenderness.

I was talking with my good friend today (Miss Sarah Brown^^) and, the wise woman that she is, was able to articulate so clearly what I knew I needed to do but could not express in words.

God always puts us in situations that we cannot handle without His grace. I am visiting so many friends with babies and in this season of life, God has given them the grace they need to love and raise their children. I've been living overseas and God has given me the grace and love I need to thrive in a place so different from me.

But in all of it, if we are not careful, we sometimes overlook the grace and put down bitter roots, blaming the Lord for our circumstances. In reality, the Lord loves us too much to let us stay stagnate and stunted. Instead, He allows circumstance to purge, prune, and shape us.

We can either point a finger and grow cold, or we can choose tenderness and draw near. This is not only so with God but also in relationships.(married folk, you know this is true^^)

I was watching the CNN news clips on my iPhone4 today (one of my unashamed addictions) and I came to tears as I watched the legacy of Nick Charles, a legendary sports anchor who recently died from cancer. He left behind his 5 year old daughter and wife as well as a legacy of love and words of wisdom. Days before he passed he was interviewed and said,

"I'm a forward looking person but also a living in the moment kind of person... so I wake up every morning expecting to have a good day.... but life as you get older is about 20% what happens to you and 80% how you react to it."

His words really hit me to the core. I have always thought about these things but the way he worded it made so much sense. He was a man who chose tenderness. He was a man who chose to live life fully each day and to not walk in his circumstances but to walk in joy regardless of what came his way. (Now, I didn't know him personally, but from the interviews with his close friends and family, this is what seems to be true and if he lived by his words, then I can assume this to be true).

I want to be someone who chooses to walk with a heart that is always postured with tenderness. Not weakness (as some might correlate tenderness with). A heart that is strengthened by and filled with the joy and love of the Lord, so that anything that comes my way will not cause roots of bitterness to take root or walls to go up, but rather, my heart would turn toward the Lord (or whoever) with tenderness, ready to forgive, be forgiven-- ready to love and receive love.

So-- in all circumstances-- choose tenderness.

"Put the Bait Bucket Down"

So, I was talking to my Granny, as it goes-- gosh I love talking to her. She is a born story teller with true wit and she just has this capacity to say what is on her mind and step out when no one else will. Maybe some people call her controlling or overbearing at times, but to me, she's just Granny. She's a woman who makes things happen. She has a mind of her own. Creativity is always at her finger tips and a love for life always fills the room when she is there. She's the woman who taught me about being outside and getting dirty. She taught me the important things in life, like peeing in the ocean, how to laugh at myself, how to wash up in the front yard (shampoo and all), to throw back the hermit crabs so they can be free, how to enjoy a sunrise with coffee and good company.

And she taught me how to "put the bait bucket down."

She's a counselor, you know. Naturally, she is good at asking questions, listening. She is a coach, so she always encourages you and challenges you. She is a teacher, so she loves to teach you even if she is "BSing it all." She is my Granny, so I am hers and the ocean is ours.

Today I called her and we chatted about life. As usual. She laughed because we were in the same time zone which meant one of us was not waking up to talk. She told me that I could borrow her car for a bit, "but don't be surprised if it drives you to the Coast because that's the only place it knows to go. It's not quite Ol' Blue (the tackle box on wheels), but she'll do." Smiling through her teeth she told me I could even make a sand castle in the front seat because there is so much sand!

This summer I am straddling family and friend time with grad school. I told her that I will be laying aside all obligations and responsibilities to take a week trip to Yellowstone National Park with some friends. Granny agreed, "Oh how wonderful! You're putting the bait bucket down. My ol' philosophy... you've been fishing too long carrying that bait bucket and your fingers are frozen and curled up. It's time to put that bait bucket down for a while. Then you'll fill 'er back up and start fresh, ready to fish again."

I never would have come up with that analogy on my own, but you know, it makes a lot of sense, at least to a fisherman. Being the granddaughter of a fisherwoman, I can say that I understand. And really, she has been teaching me this my whole life. There is a time and place for work and there is a time and place for play. I suppose we can't have one without the other.

So, this summer I'll be carrying that bait bucket, treading through grad work, but you can guarantee that I'll be putting that bucket down every now and then~ and most certainly when I find myself surrounded by the rugged mountains of Yellowstone.

Don't forget to put your bait bucket down, lest your hands cramp and your soul grow weary. Stop and rest a little while, have some fun and play! Or at least, that's what my Granny always says.

Process

Process. I love process. Maybe that’s why I am a preschool teacher.

Goals are wonderful. I'm quite goal oriented myself, but the process-- I've come to realize that if I only care about the goal then I would never understand the hard work put into a painting done by an uncoordinated four year old.

Without recognizing or enjoying the process, I might miss out on the beauty of waiting, trial and error, and having growing pains in life.

In preschool we love to paint. One of my favorite pieces this year is a blue blob with a brown spot.

He started with several brown, squarish blobs on the paper. After mastering his “buildings” he changed paint brushes and started drenching his canvas in blue.

Thick blue paint ran down the page, leaving a mess of streaks. Dark blue swirled around the canvas until his brown buildings were no longer in sight, save one.

I continued to watch as he put his final master touches to the painting. Twenty minutes passed in total.

“I’m done.”

“Oh yah, what is it?”

“Japan had horrible damage.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m glad that our Father sees the whole process. Otherwise, we might all just look like a blue blob of running paint. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I, too, am in process and it's all going to be okay.

Koh Samet

Here is something that I had to write for a faculty meeting (yes, a faculty meeting... we were practicing the writer's workshop from the position of a child)

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The sun rays bounced off the water, creating beautiful ripples of shimmering glitter. Semy and I had come all the way to Thailand to relax over our New year's holiday. The warmth of the day had eased us into a state of relaxation and a mild sleepy coma. We waded in the calm ocean water—so clear I could count my toes.

As we floated in the water we could hear a jet ski off in the distance, skipping the waves at a rapid pace. It created a soothing, rhythmic sound interspersed with the crashing waves. The jet ski was driven by a man with dark, tan skin and with long dark hair. The image has been ingrained in my mind.

We conversed about nothing, completely enamored by the gorgeous landscape around us. We could feel its warmth to our core, as if the beauty itself was seeping into our bones. Our senses were overloaded: the people, the heat of the sun, the smell of sea water, the sand gritted between our toes, the sky so full and blue. My thoughts wandered about, mingled with idle questions like, "What's your favorite holiday?"

"Oh, I don't know. Probably Christmas," Semy mustered up. Our conversations usually remained simple when we were enjoying the waves. We floated in the water for hours, peaceful and content.

In the distance I began to see a jet ski—the same one I had spotted earlier. Only now it was coming toward me and this man was not slowing down. He came ten feet to the left of me so I was not that concerned, just perplexed at why he was entering the swimming area so quickly.

Before I had time to think, the man immediately turned hard in order to stop before making the shoreline. Terribly miscalculated, he turned right into me.

Semy saw me from a distance and winced as she thought I was going to have my head severed.

I did not have time to think—I believe it must have been an angel that pulled me under the water just in time—only to miss the jet ski fly right over me full speed.

I felt the water push down on me and then bubbles seeping up through the water, between my body parts. My heart felt as though it had leapt up into my throat and the pounding began only after I came up and gasped for air.

By the time I came to the surface, the man on the jet ski was gone. I saw his hair waving in the wind. He turned once to look behind him, but never thought twice about coming back to see if I was alive. He kept bouncing dangerously full speed on the waves.

A man in a Speedo who was relaxing on the beach stormed out to the water and shook a fist at the mysterious man. "Are you okay," he asked. I nodded, but remained speechless. A few locals on a boat nearby yelled something in Thai to the man. I imagine it was not a friendly word.

Semy and I were so thankful to both be alive and well. That frightful moment almost cost me my life! Soon, things returned to normal and the splendor of Thailand once again swept us away like the tide going out to sea.

This is from Melody's blog, but it's my story. Why rewrite something well told?

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“ANIYO!!!”

Posted on April 26, 2011 by melody

... But before that happened we had to celebrate Easter at school right? Thursday afternoon rolls around, and after I take my students to a nearby playground to gather cherry blossoms I can see the kindergarten and first graders out in the field finding eggs they decorated for an Easter egg hunt. Little did I know… (the tale as I interpreted it* from Ms. Wheat, friend and k4 teacher at my school):

Ms. N (a kindergarten assistant teacher) rushes up to Ms. Wheat right before they are supposed to head to the field. Ms. Wheat had just finished informing her four-year-olds that while they were in P.E. the Easter Bunny came and took their eggs (“Why would he do that?!” little shouts proclaim) and all he left behind was this giant carrot, which she produced from behind her back, for their class pet Ashes (a guinea pig). She then explained that he left them, “out there!” and dramatically pointed to the field, “So we have to go find them!”

“I don’t know what happened in the ten minutes that we placed all the eggs on the field and then came back inside,” Ms. N begins to explain to Ms. Wheat. “But an old ajhussi started picking up all the eggs, taking the youngest kids eggs out of their plastic bags (they had two eggs they painted in a bag to make it easier for them to find) and smashing them. When I got out there he had about 15 eggs in his arms and he wouldn’t give them back to me! I had to get a translator to come outside and make him give them up. So… some of your kids eggs got smashed…”

A slightly disheartened Ms. Wheat took her students out onto our private soccer field to find the eggs, smashed and unsmashed alike. When they got out there she saw two adjumas come onto our field, look down, and see some of the colorful decorated eggs. They looked delighted and started to PICK THEM UP.

“ANIYO!” Ms. Wheat yells NO in Korean and begins to wave her arms at them. They think she means for them to get off the school’s field so they begin to walk away, eggs still in their hands. Exasperated, Ms. Wheat has her teacher assistant (who thankfully, is Korean) run after them and explain that “No, they cannot take obviously decorated eggs just because they are Korean in Korea and everyone is one big family.” Well… she might not have said those exact words to the two ladies, but she did get the eggs back.

*I made up the dialogue from what I heard from Ms. Wheat

Conversations in K4

Here are some cute comments from my students...I think I'll add to this now and then..

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"Miss Wheat, I don't like Balentine's Day."

Really, why not?

"Because I don't like ballet." [note: one of my students was wearing a pink tutu that day]

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"Miss Wheat I want to marry Mrs. Yu."[he mentioned this several times]

[later that day] You know that Mrs. Yu is married, right? So I'm sad to tell you that you cannot marry her.

[a few hours later] "Miss Wheat, did you know that Mrs. Yu is married?"

Yes...

"Oh. Well, I was going to marry her because I didn't know she was already married." [looking down at the ground with big sad eyes]

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"Miss Wheat, she hit me!"

"I'm not a she! I'm he."

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"Miss Wheat, he won't play with me anymore."

Well, did you hit him?

"Yes."

....well....

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The first time that I set up a handwriting center at center time:

I made sure to state, "No drawing pictures at the handwriting center..."

Minutes later I saw that some kids were drawing on the whiteboards and papers..."I said no drawing at the handwriting center..."

My kids gave me with a puzzled look...

I walked over to the center and they were tracing their hands..."but you said handwriting..."

I didn't realize I had never used that term before~

=)

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not in class-- but one of my students:

retold by melody: One of my co-workers shared a most delightful story. His son had taken his shoes off in the car during a recent trip to the grocery store. “You have to put your shoes back on! You can’t go in the store with bare feet.” His mom told him. “But mom! I have kid-feet!” The boy replied.

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...more to come...

if only I could remember all their funny comments from the whole year...

Wildflower

She held the phone up to my ear and the sound of Texas began to play. No one more country than Dolly. She sang to me as if it were a spring day in the wildflowers of Texas.

Pinky's mom sat there so content, humming to the song. We had not spoken much since we had arrived in Manipur. Her spirit was heavy with grief, but when she sung there was a lightness about her. She coached Erin Unni on the sewing machine while she held the phone to my ear.

Being from Texas, I should have recognized this song, but it was playing in my ears for the first time. Listening to the words, I felt as though the Lord was giving me a glimpse of myself and how He made me. I felt nostalgic for home and yet, I was so happy to be living overseas and traveling in India.

The breeze blew gently and the sun-rays streamed onto the porch. I could not have been happier.

There was something special about that moment-- that moment when I felt this woman's grief and she felt my nostalgia. The Lord comforted us both.

The Lord showed me that day-- while on a porch in Manipur with a woman I hardly knew-- that truly, I am a wildflower.

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"Wildflowers" by: Dolly Parton

The hills were alive with wildflowers

And I was as wild, even wilder than they

For at least I could run, they just died in the sun

And I refused to just wither in place

Just a wild mountain rose, needing freedom to grow

So I ran fearing not where I'd go

When a flower grows wild, it can always survive

Wildflowers don't care where they grow

And the flowers I knew in the fields where I grew

Were content to be lost in the crowd

They were common and close, I had no room for growth

I wanted so much to branch out

I uprooted myself from home ground and left

Took my dreams and I took to the road

When a flower grows wild, it can always survive

Wildflowers don't care where they grow

I grew up fast and wild and I never felt right

In a garden so different from me

I just never belonged, I just longed to be gone

So the garden, one day, set me free

Hitched a ride with the wind and since he was my friend

I just let him decide where we'd go

When a flower grows wild, it can always survive

Wildflowers don't care where they grow