Africa in Pictures & Song

I put together a power point of my trip to Africa...

Unfortunately the music did not sync well with the slides once it was uploaded to the web... I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Here is a link:

http://www.authorstream.com/Presentation/dewheat-459300-nigeria-summer-2010/

Unrevised. Unfinished : Africa

I've never been more sure about something than this... "I MUST GO." Everything in me cries out to go. Since I was 11 years old I have cried out to go. I have now tasted and seen... I must go. I must some how find my way back to the unadulterated soil of Africa. My heart is bursting with a sense of longing as I've parted ways. Bitter tears surface as the long awaited journey to Africa has come and now gone.

It is not romanticized any longer. It is real. Hard. Sweat. Toil. Tears. Hardship. My heart cries out to the one in poverty... the downcast... the unreached people... the uneducated... the war-torn...

Here I am in the countryside of Texas, back from the wilderness of Africa and in less than a week I'll be drowning in the roar of the city life in Seoul, Korea. How is that possible? The transition will be quite abrasive.

Their smiles and innocent faces are marked on my heart forever. As if a gift, they have offered me a long awaited answer to this deep cry emerging from my soul. No words were needed to answer-- solely their presence-- digging up the bones of desire...

Colorful fabric and adorned jewelry, barefoot and carrying a load atop their heads, these women bore the markings and elegance of hard work and suffering.

They stroked their hands across my pale, soft skin with curious looks, wondering how I was not so dark and where were my callouses. One group of women even thought that all white people lived under the water. The innocent thoughts and conclusions they have peak a curiosity in me-- to know more about these simple, nomadic people we call the Fulani.

I, too, wanted to stroke their beautiful, dark skin, curious of how God has made such lovely people. I couldn't help but wonder what it must be like to grow up in a tribal setting such as this.

Our way of life must be so unimaginable to them. How can I ever begin to explain how we live. Many of these camps have to walk miles just to fetch a bucket of water. I walk 30 seconds and have a hot shower.

The children. O, the children. So gorgeous. I remember the first time they saw ice. All were amazed and a little skeptical at first. Everyone's hands reached for the ice in a need to witness it first hand. Upon touching the ice, their faces winced and they jerked their hands away in shock and disbelief-- only to reach out and touch it again. Chuckles rippled through the groups of kids and we all enjoyed their simple pleasure.

The roads are eroded to the point that 25 miles of driving takes 1-1.5 hours. We take for granted our paved roads. But, I have to admit, there's something enjoyable about the imperfections. Seeing the rustic buildings and landscapes, I cannot help but see beauty and a depth of life the West does not experience in its strife for perfection. The weathering seems to carry a wisdom and well of untapped richness.

Perhaps it has something to do with my realization that the imperfections did not make me love them less. In fact, my capacity to love seemed even greater. In my own attempts to gain worth and value, perfectionism has often been to my demise. This, I suppose, shed light on my own perfectionism in a new way... my value stands alone-- without regard to perfection.

The authenticity of the people can be seen in the peeling and faded paint on the houses, in the dirt roads, muddied water, and dusty floors. Crusty snot on kids noses, bare-feet, and weathered skin-- something in all humility echoes from their presence. The worn down, the cracked walls, the idiosyncrasies of poverty-- they all display a richness of life, a wealth of wisdom, a depth of beauty, and a simplicity that beckons humanity in its purest form.

My indulgences in life cannot begin to ponder the wealth I have acquired from a glance into the life in Nigeria. The two are so vastly different and cannot begin to understand each other. Some how, that third cookie just doesn't taste the same anymore because of what it signifies. The excess in which I live almost repulses me. I have been among people who have never seen an oven much less know what a homemade cookie tastes like. And yet, I must not forsake or rather be embittered toward a materially blessed lifestyle. The two lives cannot rival one another because they exist on entirely separate plains. It's a matter of finding a balance. Enjoying and appreciating the excess for what it is while not living beyond your means or scorning it. Enjoying and appreciating the simple, impoverished lifestyle while not pitying or crying over it. Both are in existence. Both carry joy and life. Finding the joy in both may look different but the rewards of knowing the two and finding peace in the differences is something of a beautiful sort.

Community takes on a whole new meaning in a culture such as this. Everyone shares the duty of raising the children. Everyone takes on each others' burdens. People are always around-- not just around, but available for talking to and laughing with. Neighbors know each other. It's an intimacy and form of community that the West has all but lost.

...

so many thoughts yet to be articulated...

black money in the water

a black gusher
oozing out, turning her waters to blood
in the name of greed-- wait no, of course not greed.
her life being suffocated, destroyed
her beaches
her shores
her tides and waves
infiltrated with black money
-- now debt
i wanted to cry
i did
my Granny wanted to cuss
she did:
"ocean appropriate language. damn, damn, damn."
what would her waters say?
her fish
her sea life
the two don't mix
the two don't dance
the two poison each other
or perhaps we poison the two-- our crime in mixing them
she cries as the fish float ashore
birds no longer fly
the colors turn
thick, dark coats
layers and layers
trails of invasion
marshes corrupted with substance not quite mud
grass wearing dark trousers
the waters stand, defenseless
her animals, helpless
and our hands, washed clean of the blood
though tainted with black
perhaps this is her cry
that gusher, shouting
her chance to speak
will someone listen this time?

Jacket Holder

Not realizing what I was doing, I complied and took hold of her little jacket. Before I knew it, I was holding several of "her jackets" and some of "his jackets."

Beads of sweat had formed on their little foreheads. Running up to me they handed me jacket upon jacket. Soon enough I had two arms full of jackets. I was the check point. The base. The jacket holder.

The thought didn't enter my mind until I, too, wanted to strip my jacket off and find someone to hold it while I had fun in Korea's [much too short but] beautiful spring weather.

Suddenly I stood there stunned. It hit me like a ton of bricks. It's official. I am not the kid. I am the adult. I've hit the point of no return. There, with my feet planted, the wind blowing my hair, and arms full of light winter coats I began to realize the reality of where I was on this time-line of life.

It brought me joy-- to see them running around, playing with free spirits. I couldn't help but think of my freedom as a child.

Everything in me wanted to set the jackets down and play, too. Perhaps I should have. But who would hold my jacket? Why did I have to be an adult?

I saw my mother. My dad. My Granny. My grandma. Old teachers. Even the big oak tree with long, sinking branches. Seeping into my soul, a feeling of honor settled over me. I now had the privilege of being the jacket holder.

Jacket Holder. Oh the weight of such a job. Who else could be trusted with her little jacket. Surely not a stranger. Surely not the dirty ground. Not even a fellow friend who too would be running around. And no big oak trees around.

With a smile, I took that role.

Spring air has come and given us freedom to have bare feet and run without the weight of winter coats. And with that, there must be a trusted Jacket Holder.

Though, I most certainly intend to find an oak with long, sinking branches suited for securing my jacket-- along with those little ones whom will be with me... giving us the freedom to play.

"The nations will be your oyster."

She reached into the cabinet.

"Here," she directed. "These are for you. I want you to have them." Her delicate, Korean hands lifted up, presenting a string of pearls dangling and interwoven between her fingers.

Taking off the price tag before I could see, she affirmed me through a smile, "Oh dear, I know that your prayers are more powerful than money. And don't worry. Not expensive but good pearls."

She pointed for me to lower my head as to allow her to lock the pearls around my neck. I tried to turn down the offer but she had already made up her mind and defying that would only offend her.

I lowered into a bow and she gently draped the pearls around my neck, locking them, doting, "They look beautiful on you."

A loss of romance, my relationship with HIM had become tiresome. I missed being wooed and rather in this city always being busy. In her hands were HIS. In her words were HIS. He whispered, "My beloved. My pearl of great price."

And to think I had gone out in hopes to bless others and pray for people on the streets of Itaewon. Somehow I found myself among another woman who knew HIS love and she kindly shared it with me.

She thanked me and I thanked her. He knew I would never have bought myself a string of pearls. He gave them to me. What a lover.

It was only later that the Lord reminded me of a word He gave me a few years ago before coming to Korea: "The nations will be your oyster, making you into a pearl."

Lord, You know me. You pursue me. You woo and romance me. Even in the busyness. You draw me into your embrace.

Penmanship

I remembered her asking me. She gently rubbed her little finger across the calloused bump protruding from my middle finger. The one on my writing hand. Admiring the deformity on my finger, her big eyes looked up and met mine.

She was a beauty. One I admired. Her simplicity and good spirits. I often wondered how the soul of a child maneuvered through this world with such ease and joy, as if ice-skating, gliding across a frozen tundra-- some how skimming over the all-too dark and murky water.

"Tell me a story, will you? Write it down, so I'll have it forever."

Her words wrote love on my heart.

Looking down at my finger now, the sign of a writing hand has long disappeared. I suppose it to be possible for callouses to form on the tips of your fingers from typing; however, mine have not. More likely, I suppose that over time, my penmanship has slowly faded into months of busyness. Should I suppose that callouses form over a writing heart? Nay.

Today, a little girl interlocked her fingers with mine. She did not find the same curious bump. Yet, she looked up at me with those big eyes requesting, "Miss Wheat, tell me a story."

It's something from within. She did not need outward evidence... only a hunger. Hunger for creativity. Hunger for someone's heart. Hunger for a story.

Even if, but for a moment, my hand must begin writing again. Sitting stagnate, this muscle must be awakened... must be exercised...

If not for me, I must write for that little girl who believed in me.

Breaking Down

It's been a love-hate relationship. To be honest, Korea has been a hard place for me to live-- all the while a place of deep waters and revelation. A land of testing and growth. A land that presses me and either hardens me or breaks me to the core so that God can rebuild me with a strength of a lion but the gentleness of a lamb. A land of extremes. A land that God has used in specific ways to form me.

Recently, I've had to face the things that have hurt me and attacked my identity while living here. I'm beginning to work through them with forgiveness and brokenness as I let go of any bitterness, taking on a banner of love and a new lens to see this country through. A new lens to see how God is moving in my life while I'm living in a culture so foreign to my own. A new lens to see myself in...as God is shaving down my hard edges and forming me into something He's always seen me as. A new lens to see that I have actually loved my life here.

The biggest struggle for me in this season and place is to find extended time to rest, process, and be in HIS presence. These things are so crucial to my health-- physical, emotional, and spiritual. There has been a tremendous grace over me during this season. A grace that I cannot understand. A grace that has sustained me while I've had to work against my natural tendencies, allowing me to be sharpened in areas of my life that are not generally near the surface of my strengths. Going against the grain of my natural flow has been wearing and trying in so many ways, but it has been a training ground, making me more whole and like Jesus. In the end, I am thankful.

After a year and a half of living in the go, go, go of Korea, I finally reached my limit and found myself breaking down-- just as the song says. Not caring if anyone was around. The first time I heard the song I didn't really listen to the lyrics, but my spirit was so moved.

I began to meditate on the lyrics and found that I could relate to the song so well. I long to be Mary Magdalene, at the feet of Jesus, pouring out perfume. I long to be in His presence. John Mark McMillan is so raw. So real. Just how I have been feeling. I'm breaking down and I don't care who is around. I'm Mary Magdalene and tonight is a bottle of perfume. ...So meet me here where we shine like gold!

I realize that I can always be aware of HIS presence at any moment, but there is something so rich about being alone with God-- not on a subway or in the midst of a crowd. These are the times I have been longing for. Not when I'm on the brink of exhaustion... but times when I have the day for HIM. Time to let revelation sink into my spirit. The times when I am consumed by the richness of God in His glorious presence-- when I can lay out on my floor and weep or pray and contend-- those times when I can go out to the mountains and cry out his holy name. These are the times that I long for.

I will fight harder for these times. I will rearrange. I will do whatever it takes. But my life cannot continue in this pace without the deep, quiet times of rest before my King.

After reaching this point of exhaustion, I was graced with a day off from work as well as a real Sabbath this Saturday. It was the first in months. Truly, I have been refreshed.

I have learned to relate to God in new ways and sustain His presence even in the busyness of life... but I must and shall fight for my time with HIM. Heidi gives every morning to the Lord-- be it a bike ride or scuba diving-- she spends time with HIM. Finding time like that is hard here. But I must.

O LOVER take me away! Take me to the wilderness! Refresh me! Let me drink deep of your love. Let me find refuge under the shade of your wings. Hold me tight. Keep me close. Speak tenderly to me. Cover me with your grace. Cover me with your love.

It's out of the overflow that we pour out. It's from a place of rest that we let the Father fight out battles. It's from a place of favor and victory that we must live. It's from His heartbeat that our heart beats. It's from His love that we may love. It's from His word that we must eat. It's from His presence that we must walk. It's in HIM where we must abide. I am a branch and He is the vine... May I always abide in HIM. ALWAYS. Even in the busyness. In him I can walk peacefully, even when the rest of the world is frantic and running. In HIM I find life. In Him I can be a life-giver.

You are mine and I am Yours!


--------------------------
Explanation for the pictures:

Someone had a vision of me that I was like a flower grown out of concrete-- that beauty came out of the most unlikely circumstances...

Another person said that the roots of flowers in concrete are eventually strong enough to break through the concrete.

Someone else gave me a word that they saw a vision of me as a tree. The roots were stopped by a rock, but then they broke through the rock and went down deep.

Even if... God is enough!

My roots will go deep, breaking through the rock of busyness and I will drink from living waters! I will not wither. I will be an oak of righteousness planted by living waters! Selah!

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This song has been blessing me a lot lately:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gQI4PbKM9kE

"Breaking Down" John Mark McMillan

I'm making plans to waist my life on you
I'm making plans to waist my life on you
Cause New York City and Hollywood combined
They ain't got enough lights
To make me want change my mind about you

Cause I'm breaking down
I don't even care if there's anyone else around
Cause I'm breaking down
I always fall to pieces whenever you're around

I'm Mary Magdalene and tonight is a bottle of perfume
I'm Mary Magdalene and tonight is a bottle of perfume
There's not enough dignity to hold me now
When I know your going to meet me here
There's not enough gravity
To keep me away from you

Cause I'm breaking down
I don't even care if there's anyone else around
Cause I'm breaking down
I always fall to pieces whenever your around

So meet me here
Where we shine like gold
Like the light beneath the embers
Of the burning coals
And I will spill my bottle
Like in days of old
On the song that bleeds from the breaking down

India, where God used even me.

My Testimony

Inida 2010

Nothing I can write will encompass the entirety of our trip to India, for there are too many angles, experiences and perspectives to cover, though one theme entangled and wove its way through the entire team and mission trip: the Father’s heart.

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“He is jealous for me; He loves like a hurricane; I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy…”

These lyrics filled the air numerous times, both in serous and light-hearted settings. We left for India wearing the Father’s love on our shirts and on our hearts. We had great expectations and HIS love proved even greater.

Leading up to India I found myself asking God how He would use me and what He had in store for me on this trip. I had been struggling with confidence in a way that I had not struggled with in a long time and a great doubt came over me that God would use everyone but me. Some people encouraged me that I would be used in a mighty way and this was an attack on my identity. I agreed and went forward, covered in prayer, asking God to help me walk in faith rather than fear. God is so faithful to answer prayers.

Before entering Delhi, God started to raise up boldness in me as well as others on our team. During our flight God’s grace poured out as He empowered us to reach out to several of the flight attendants. One of the most powerful moments on the entire trip was when I walked out of the airplane bathroom to find Mina speaking to one of the flight attendants. Suddenly I was invited into a portal of glory as we prayed for this woman’s neck and back pain. God came down and met her need! Her neck and back pain were gone! After discovering that she had one leg shorter than the other, we asked the Lord to touch her and sure enough, her leg grew out! I could hardly believe my eyes and needed her to verify that indeed, she felt a stretching sensation in her leg!

This was the first time for me, personally, to lay hands and see physical healing other than a headache going away. I was so humbled and honored that God would use even me, one who had doubt that He would heal others through me.

God’s love for the people on the flight began to explode as her testimony went out like a sweet fragrance. By now several of the flight attendants expressed a need for prayer and healing. Two other men received prayer and felt the fire of God in their necks and shoulders; one man claimed he was a Buddhist but he wanted the same love of God that healed his back to come into his heart. After praying he began to bubble up with joy and laughter as he felt a burden lifted off of him. I could not contain my own smiles as I, too, felt God’s deep affections for me. How could he entrust me to minister in such a way that would radically touch someone to the core of his being? It was beautiful to see the Holy Spirit at work so effortlessly.

There was so much faith on the plane that several of the flight attendants asked us to stay back after the flight landed so that we could pray for them as well. Our flight set the precedent for the entire trip. We would recklessly pursue healing for others and know that God’s love was thick enough to come down and touch someone here on earth. My personal faith grew to a new level—especially the belief that God would use even me.

Our team held two revival services the first day—one at Last Resort Church and one at the Kuki Church Service. Both of these revival services had a different flavor and our sensitivity needed to be heightened, so we entered into the sanctuaries ready to roll with the punches.

Our team had really congealed over the course of our training and we had only grown closer since the healing outbreak on the plane. We were ready to roll! Some of the ministry was tough, but the team pushed through, worshiping in a way that would shift the atmosphere. We were to be the thermostat, not the thermometer. During these services we witnessed God break out and touch some people deeply. The floor was opened up for sharing words of knowledge and then we were released to pray. On the outside it seemed quite discouraging, but as we pressed in, we began to see God touching individuals. In the end, we saw about fourteen physical healings including stomach and head pain disappear, arm, shoulder and neck pain go, as well as inner healing take place. We were amazed!

After the revival services we headed for the orphanages. The atmosphere of the two children’s homes is very different. Mary Clare’s is much smaller and tight knit with about 20-something children, mostly from Manipur and Myanmar. Grace home is across the city and has a larger number of children, about 105. The culture there is more of a typical Indian culture.

For me, the most beautiful part of the trip was ministering to the children—or should I say the children ministering to me? Upon arriving at Mary Clare’s Home, I was absolutely in awe by the level of faith and depth of relationship that these children had with the Father. We spent time with the kids, hanging out as well as sharing VBS songs and skits. I even had the chance to slip over to the slums with Danny and befriend some of the children living among the trash. This, in itself, touched me deeply. It seared my heart with a compassion so deep I knew that I would one day return to a place like this.

A Most powerful moment came, when on the roof in the middle of the slums, we all began to sing, “Victory” and shouted this prophetic declaration over all of India: “There’s gonna be revival in this land!…” Everything inside of me believed it! There was such an excitement among the adults and the children began to raise their voices as well, sending out these declarations. It was so moving. I could feel the Father’s heart bleeding with excitement and love!

At Mary Clare’s Home we broke up into smaller groups to pray and coincidentally we witnessed one of the children’s legs grow out as another child commanded the shorter leg to grow! Many of the children knew they were sons of the most High, so they prayed with greater authority. The message shared was on empowerment and how God can use children to do mighty things for the Kingdom; this really raised the level of praise in the house—to a level that brought tears to my eyes. I personally prayed with little Rosie and a few other small ones. Their sincere prayers melted my heart. At one point I had to step back and watch as the children zealously prayed for one another. Who was doing the real ministry here?

After being in a small children’s home we left for Grace Home, ready to pour out more love. By now, I was in love with our team and the way God had woven us together. We truly had become one body and every single person had great importance and significance on the team. The thought of going home and not being around each one of these people was a little disheartening, but I knew that living in this kind of love was a taste of heaven.

Our last revival service at Grace Home manifested a great outpouring of healing and love. The praise and the message raised up the level of faith to a place that rendered the heavens to come down. The primise of the message centered around Jesus’ words, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” (Matthew 19:14). Our team shared words of knowledge and then we individually took two children each to go and lay hands on the sick. We all went into the crowd where some people had come 50km or more just to receive a touch from God. And o, how He showed up. The glory was thick in the house. I was once again so excited when the lady we prayed for confirmed that her leg pain was completely gone after years and years of pain. I was so proud of the children and I was so grateful that God would use, even me. That night we saw about ten physical healings as well as some inner healing. It was a testament of the Father’s love sweeping across His children.

Our trip to India was one of love and empowerment. For me, I realized that God will use a broken vessel, such as myself, to meet the needs of others. The anointing is not for me, but rather to give away and touch others with HIS love. I do not have to perform. I only need to love. God will do the rest, for the same spirit that raised Jesus Christ from the dead is living inside of me! It’s all HIS grace. It’s all HIS love.

An Old Love Letter

My heart beat faster as I began to reach for her. There she sat on my shelf, untouched for some time. Within her binding she held on to a sweet recollection of time-- a time when my heart had first found love, a love so deep and pure.

The tattered pages, the smell of a worn and used vessel, the markings of years past... she seemed to beat in sync with my heart. The Words that had spoken deeply to me are the same words that have spoken for thousands of years; the ancient cry she holds continues to beckon broken vessels such as myself.

After a chapter in my life drew to an end, she had become too frayed to be rebound. All her wisdom began to tatter and fall out, followed by a Prophet. These lovelies hang out beyond her borders and hold on with a temporary adhesive. I shelved her with sorrow and pardoned her as I received a new, crisp binding of papers with her same proclamations of love.

I looked at her and my heart felt as though I had escaped back into those first years with my Lover. He had taken me down ancient paths of suffering, jealous pursuit and redemption. His love letter to me quickened my heart. Oh how He had breathed life into me. So personal, my love letter has become-- a living Word that draws me into His heart. I must eat and drink from His Words.

I looked at my new love letter. She, too, is becoming a memory and providing deeper revelation of His great love. But those first feelings of deep adoration-- and oh how I was faint with love-- how they surface when I hold her in my hands and He reminds me of those first years.

Milk and honey from my Lover. Whispers and etchings of His love. Our love grows deeper still. Those first years were only the beginning of a lifelong love that sends its roots deeper and deeper beyond measure.

A new chapter, He writes, with more love letters; He holds my hand and we continue in this adventure-- together. Inseparable.

Big Enough to Hold Me

//Waterdeep : "Big Enough to Hold Me"//

the space in my mind is too small for You
the space in my heart is too small for You too
and all of things of the earth that i know
are too small for all of the greatness You've shown
but in all of this i'm still facing my needs
and i'm scared of how big they feel to me

i know You, You, You are big enough to hold me
i know You, You, You are big enough to hold me
i know You Lord, yeah You
will carry me through

the space between stars is billions of miles
the space for the famous and millions of eyes
but not all of the stars in the heavens and earth
none can compare to Your infinite worth
and i still get lonely and wonder outloud
if anyone notices me in a crowd

i know You, You, You are big enough to hold me
i know You, You, You are big enough to hold me
i know You Lord, yeah You
will carry me through

i know You, You, You are big enough to hold me
i know You, You, You are big enough to hold me
i know You Lord, yeah You
will carry me through

how great, how high
how deep, how wide
is Your love

the space in my mind is too small for You
the space in my heart is too small for You too
and all of things of the earth that i know
are too small for all of the greatness You've shown
but in all of this i'm still facing my needs
and i'm scared of how big they feel to me

nothing can separate from the love of Christ
all my doubts, He sees past and things to come

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jCTj4jQ_2Oc

City Light

City Light is a church in NYC that my friend goes to. Check out the podcasts... some great stuff. really loved "What Kind of Father is God?"

http://citylightnyc.com/#/3/0/

Diamond Day

Vashti Bunyan "Diamond Day"

Just another diamond day
Just a blade of grass
Just another bale of hay
And the horses pass.

Just another field to plough
Just a grain of wheat
Just a sack of seed to sow
And the children eat.

Just another life to live
Just a word to say
Just another love to give
And a diamond day

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...Simple vestiges of my past, though I never lived on a farm. The idea of it always appealed to me and I suppose it still does. The profound simplicity of it all and yet the sweat of hard work and rough hands from labor speak of a richness found only in the dirt and grime of toil. Just a blade of grass, yet a miracle of life. Just another life to live and yet we all have a personal fingerprint. God is so intentional. Overlooking the simple, may just be overlooking a miracle.

Seasons come and seasons go. Talking to my roommate I expressed the great sorrow I always experience as I transition from one place to another, and yet the same intensity of great excitement and anticipation comes. Faces I leave, new faces I meet. The new become old friends and new friends come again. I long for a day when we can all be together. Whether it be due to circumstances growing up or the way I'm wired, transition always seems to bring a deep sadness coupled with a jubilant joy.

I find that as the Lord takes us through this life He loves to take us from glory to glory. Since I've known the Lord I have yet to experience disappointment in what He has in store for me. I cannot grapple with the fact that He is ALWAYS looking out for my best interest. Whether, in His wisdom He is allowing something painful to happen that He could prevent with His power, or whether His joy consumes me, I find that His love is ever-present and all consuming.

Diamond days. These are days that I have with the Lord. No matter how complex or simple the day proves, one thing I am always certain of is my position before the Lord. His daughter. His Beloved.

Two lives separated by the ocean-- it's a catch-22. On the one hand I can long for my life back home or on the other hand I can go home and long for my life overseas. This always takes me back to contentment. The discipline of being content. The Lord has me in certain places at certain times for certain purposes. I accept this. But not only do I want to accept it, I want to embrace it.

This second round of Korea, I find that embracing my life here is a little easier and yet harder in other ways.

Work has been all time consuming. My season is about decreasing and letting Him increase. In my mind I thought that meant more involvement at church. On the contrary, it meant that a time of intense work was about to be birthed.

Recently I discovered that out of a place of complete exhaustion is when He says to minister. Why? Because I have died and He can work.

With work, comes the fight for time. Time with You, Lord.

My eyes filled with tears as I remembered the sweetness of the hours upon hours we used to have to spend together. I likened it to the first years of a married couple. In those years they have the time to build the foundations of their marriage. In those years they weave their lives together intricately, in such a way with such a strength that the years to come will not tear them apart.

I have realized that my first years with the Lord are similar to this.

O, my Lover, how I have missed You.

I never thought that I'd be so blessed by something so awful. H1N1 has shut down our school for a week... I have finally found the time to rest with Him for more than the little spirts of time here and there. He always makes beauty from ashes. I should have known.

He is the sweetest Lover.

The fragrance of flowers likened to Jasmine fill the room, even penetrating through a stuffed-up nose. The new plants I bought bless me more and more. I am once again amazed by God's beauty. The air in my house has filled with a fragrance of the Lord's sweetness. For the length of my time with Him I have escaped the city and rested my head against His chest.

His eyes, His gaze has melted me. I am enamored by His love.

Circumstances change. The world moves madly on. Seasons change. I change. But one thing always remains-- His love. His constant love. Oh, my Lover. You have ravished my heart!

My heart bursts with love as I am reminded of His great kindness. The love He had to woo me to Himself. To sweep me up out of my blood and speak life into me. To clothe me and fill me with His love. Oh how those first years wove a beautiful bedrock of love. A love that never fails. A love that cannot be taken away. A love that conquers. A love that breathes life.

He holds my hand. Diamond Days. Brilliance in every day. A simple, mysteriously profound love my Jesus pulsates. To the rhythm of His love, I desire to live.

Take me away, my Lover.

...for so many

please listen to this message and send it to someone that needs to hear it.

http://video.oru.edu/chapel/20090326_Rev%20Larry%20Stockstill%20-%20Spring%20Revival%2010am.php

book recommendation on marriage

In light of the fact that the number of my close friends (as well as acquaintances) who are married and getting married is beginning to exceed the number of my close friends who are still single, I decided to pick up a book called, The Mystery of Marriage, by Mark Mason. (a solid recommendation by David Grotheim...Thanks!) Hands down, this is the best book I've ever read on the topic of marriage. If you are considering reading a book on marriage, I highly recommend this book. Mason has such a way with words and such depth and insight.

No book has ever made me long for marriage more, nor has any book ever made me more sober minded about marriage and able to enjoy the season of singleness that I am currently living out.

Singleness is a gift. So is marriage. We mustn't regard one as better than the other. We must embrace the seasons that God has us in. In your singleness you learn to cling to HIM alone and to go deeper and deeper as you long for that companion.

I've asked several older married women about what I should take advantage of in my single years and the one thing they always tell me is: "your time with God".... "treasure it because you don't have to share that time with anyone right now...not a husband and not kids."

Pastor Ray always said, "Just when you think you can't die to yourself anymore, you get married. And then just when you think you can't die to yourself anymore you have children..."

Anyway, my point is, singleness may be hard at times, but the grass is always greener on the other side. We've got to learn how to be content no matter what side of the fence we are on... no matter the season God has us in.

Having a partner will not completely satisfy. Only God can. God could always take your partner in an instant and you'd have to know where your roots lie. They can't be in a person. They must be rooted in God. He is the only one who is unshakable.

So all you singles, enjoy the ride. Pursue God whole-heartedly and prepare yourselves for the next season.

Them's my 2 cents. I got more but I'll leave it at that.



http://www.amazon.com/Mystery-Marriage-Meditations-Miracle/dp/1576737799

a funny

Afternoon class with 9 year olds
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Assignment: Write 3 questions about a marine animal that you would like to know more about.

//Sharing time//

Student: How can dolphins get married in the sea?

Me: Um, what did you say? Get married?

Student: How can dolphins get married in the sea? [with a very serious look... she was not trying to be funny...]

Me: Oh.... um, well, dolphins don't get married. Yah, they don't get married. Only people do.

Student: [with a very puzzled and sad look] Why? Then how do they have babies?

Me: Um...

Student: How do they have babies in the sea then? [cocking her head to the side with a most confused expression]

Me: Okay, what's your next question?

more than tiny flowers

I write so many journal entries in my head but they never seem to make it to paper. Here's one I remembered after talking to my sister two nights ago. Short and sweet.
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My sister, she could always find the tiniest flowers.

She never brought my mom big bouquets of flowers like I did-- no, she'd somehow find the smallest flower there was, pick it with her tiny hands and present it with a humble gesture of love. I can still see my mom's smile and hear my dad's little chuckle as he, too, disbelieved that she could manage to find such a small, lovely treasure.

It didn't matter where we were; we could be at the beach, in the desert, in the city or near a river and she'd somehow find a tiny flower. She has a gift for this sort of thing.

I remember being at Magnolia Beach one summer and she went off on her own for a while. I, of course, was probably being too loud and down by the water or doing something bold and daring. While my sister, she was always so delicate and sweet. She was dainty and would float along always being run over by her older sister. She was the little "Queen of the Lanterns" and I was "Dyanamite" as Dad called me.

Well, time passed and here she came with this grin on her face. A little angel offering a flower so small you had to squint to see it. It was one of those flowers that needed to be taped down in your journal, otherwise you'd never appreciate it's beauty as it'd be swept away by just about anything. She handed it to my Granny and looked up at her with those big green/blue eyes that so resemble Mom's.

I was always amazed by the intricate and strikingly beautiful flowers she would uncover as they seemed to be hidden away. My dad always said it was because she was closer to the ground than all of us. I think it's because she looked for them.

Besides little flowers, she also always managed to find heart-shaped rocks. This was another gift of her's. Anytime we went camping or to the beach, she'd stumble upon a rock that nevertheless resembled a heart. Growing up, I loved this about her. I don't think I appreciated her as I do today, but I always knew that she had something special. A gift to find beauty and share it with others.

This is something I have always tried to do, as well. I think it's something that our parents passed down to us. Whether it be dad taking us outside or mom writing poetry with us, we grew up with parents who had free spirits.

Beauty is something that I am always on the look-out for. And you know, I believe that I learned it from my four year old sister. Perhaps I had always hunted for beauty as well, but she taught me to look in the most unlikely places. She taught me to look even when no one else is looking. And, she taught me that you just have to look.

I see this in my walk with the Lord. He has all these treasures hidden, but they're not so hidden that we can't find them. All we have to do is look. He has more than just tiny flowers hidden away for us. It's time to go looking...

Proverbs 25:2
It is the glory of God to conceal a matter;
to search out a matter is the glory of kings.

waiting for the rain

A storm's a-brewin' and the winds a-blowin'. I heard thunder for the first time since I've been in Korea (or so I can remember). Walking home tonight, the urge to rest under the security of a wooden deck like the one in Colorado at Pam's house or the one at the 'Y' suddenly came upon me. Low and behold, there she was. Her sanctuary of peace opened to the outdoors all the while shielding me from the droplets of rain that, unannounced, would fall from the sky sporadically.

Rustling trees sang a tune to me as my hand gently caressed the pen under the glow of a soft street light. Shadows danced in the wind and people passed with a quickness in hopes of returning home before the rain showered the land. I, however, rested. For once, I had stopped to remember the sound and smell of a storm.

My thoughts ventured to my days of living in Colorado where I had sat so many nights on that wooden porch at the Admin Building, watching the sun set behind the mountains, leaving a glow of silhouetted peaks. Fading away, the sun would be replaced by the porch lights. Elk drifted past, tending the lawn as they ate away. Chilled and fresh air filled my lungs with such refreshment.

Even now, I sat on that wooden porch, in the middle of Seoul. The air, not so clean, yet the rain brought a freshness. I have experienced God's rain in so many places... some in more beautiful surroundings but all the same, it brings delight and freshness to my soul.

The smell of the rain makes me think of my time when I first arrived in Korea. It's an earthy smell, washing away all the dirt and leaving the skies a bit cleaner and trails of yellow dust from the Gobi Desert.

Tonight I rested with the Lord as He stirred up the weather. I longed to be in the mountains or the hill country of Texas, but I reckoned that since God had me here I might as well embrace it and love it. I started to cherish the moment-- as one day I will reminisce about my time in Korea--even the big, tall buildings.

It's interesting how storms take on different character in different places. My memory of storms in Colorado, Texas, Florida, Costa Rica, Dominican Republic, and Korea are all so different. I love how the rain came so suddenly and timely in Florida-- 3pm everyday without skipping a beat. In Costa Rica it was very similar only the storms were not nearly as violent and dark as Florida unless they happened at night. I miss the lightening storms in Florida and Texas--especially in the hill country. The rain would linger but the sky would light up with dancing beams of light, bouncing between the clouds with the thunder echoing through the hills. In Houston the skies would turn green and the rain would come down in such heavy sheets that you could not see to drive. In Korea, the rain seems to come more silently, with a heavy atmosphere and big drops of water that wash away the dirt in the city. The sky darkens a little but the rain does not usually stop daily life as it does in Houston sometimes. Instead, rivers of umbrellas wind through the sidewalks and streets of Seoul. In Texas, at times I'd have to hold my umbrella in front of me because the wind blew so hard the rain came straight at you rather than over you. Here, the rain gently rolls in, maybe for a few hours or maybe for a few days and then dries up with the sun and a cleaner sky. Nothing too dramatic. In a land of extremes, I'd expect more intense thunderstorms, but I have yet to experience them in the land of Korea. There is not ever really a 'thunder' storm.

I looked up to see the stars, half forgetting that I was in the city. I dismissed the idea of stars before I finished looking up. Instead, I enjoyed the moment. ...for this too shall pass and a new season will arrive, leaving only memories of my time in Korea.

Though I miss the outdoors and lush greenery, I am somehow trying to learn to like living in the city. I am forced to search out beauty... it's here; I just have to look harder. (but I won't lie, I'll be happy when God takes me to a more lush environment! ^^ ...as someone put it, Korea is a place where character is grown... so the 'garden of character' to grow the fruit of the spirit... a season to be pruned and refined... )

Today my school visited a farm to let the children see their cabbage they planted a few weeks ago. It was so wonderful. When I was a kid I used to garden in my backyard... as I've gotten older time has not allowed for such outlets. I envied the old women tending the garden and thought of how great it'd be to work in a garden like this--even if it was just for a hobby! I wonder how much it costs to have some of the community land for farming. I think that it'd be so fun to have some land in the city to garden... fresh veggies! mmm...

I actually found some dirt the other day in a pot that was being thrown out. I have been wanting to replant my mint and rosemary as it's growing like crazy. I carried the pot home and hope to replant them soon! Only, my apartment doesn't get very much sunlight (a little depressing), and my last rosemary plant died, so I might have to keep it at school and wait to replant it when I move.

So, the rain still hasn't come, but I am enjoying the cool breeze in my room!

Maybe it'll be one of those mornings where it's raining and I just want to sleep in or read a book. Those are my favorite, IF, and only IF it's on a day I don't have work. haha

so, G'Night! I must get some rest now lest I have to wake in the morn to a gentle rain that sings me a lullaby!

like a child

As my feet hit the ground in a steady rhythm, the distance between us became shorter. His clapping hands and state of bliss in a world, that in many ways, remained out of his consciousness seemed to speak volumes to me. I wondered when it is that we lose our ability to not care what others think. For me, I can remember being self-conscious in Kindergarten. A shame, really. For others, the later elementary years or even as late as their teens. I admired how this child, maybe eight or nine, just enjoyed his own hand clapping and not a thing in the world was about to make him self-conscious about it.

I smiled as I passed and pondered what it would take for me to enter into that kind of carefree walk once again. I suppose that any step I take outside of feeling self-conscious is a breakthrough for me (and many others I presume). It's funny because we tend to live in this fear of man's judgment (some more than others), rather than embracing who we are and enjoying our own oddities and unique ways that we're wired. I have become more free in the last few years, but I know that I have a long way to go if I desire to have the freedom of a child in the way that a child lives outside the thoughts of man.

The Father calls us to be childlike.

Mark 10:15 I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."

Matthew 18:4 Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

While we are called to grow up, eat meat rather than spiritual milk, and serve others, we are still called to like children in our walk with God. Once again, a paradox that we must dive into.

We are to be wise, mature, servants, etc, but we are to have faith like a child-- that we could crawl up in our Daddy's lap and know that He is good.... to know that He gives us good gifts when we ask. This childlike awareness and love of God brings down the Kingdom.

There was a time for all of us that we did not care what others thought. I see the kids that I teach and can easily see this as they do all sorts of things, not caring one bit who sees or what someone thinks. At one time, we freely gave what we had to offer our parents-- though it was nothing really-- save a gesture of love, which is something far greater than words can express. In the same way, we have nothing to offer God except our lives and love. This outside of Jesus is nothing, but because of Him, it is a most beautiful thing-- especially as we do so with the heart of a child.

Many times, our walk with the Lord is hindered by our own thoughts and self-absorption. We must look to HIM and see Him as a child does. You tell a child that he can pray for healing and he believes it. You tell an adult and he becomes offended or in a state of mockery. Why have our hearts hardened in such a way that we don't allow the miraculous? I have seen miracles and I know that God is alive and powerful. He is the healer. He is moving in power today. I've seen too much to deny it. However, I am also pleading for the Lord to give me a childlike faith and heart that I might live in the miraculous every day (with awareness). We so easily weave between the faith of a child and the stone heart of a jaded adult. Lord, may we not harden our heart to You! May we believe you for great things! Greater things still...

As I passed, I made eye contact with him. He did not even hesitate or become embarrassed for a second. He kept on smiling and clapping as I ran past. Little did he know that his bliss had spoken deeply to me.

May we walk with this kind of freedom. May we not walk in the fear of man, nor the self-absorption of what others think of us. Rather, may our eyes be fixed on Jesus, walking forward in our faith, ready to run freely like a child and all the while, leading and serving as adults.

May we step out in faith...bringing the Kingdom with us...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=saEC5g2TDgA

a moment to write

I'm going to try and be more faithful about capturing some of my thoughts and experiences in Korea. This helps me process my life here as well as giving a small perspective on the culture here. In no way can I fully capture the culture and probably, most certainly have a biased view of things here.

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Really, I think that most cities allow for indulgence. The fact that I can walk two minutes and buy fresh Sushi and fried shrimp for 6,000won is incredible. Though I am suffocated by tall buildings, I am surrounded by little blessings such as my neighborhood Sushi restaurant. Across from that little treasure I can buy all my fruit and veggies. Outside of my workplace, I can go down to a corner store in the same building and buy snacks, visit an ATM, etc. So convenient. It's funny how some things are highly convenient and other things are super inconvenient-- such as meeting up with friends or going to church, buying large amounts of groceries or buying jeans.

I find that living in a city, I have to 'up' the notch of self-discipline regarding eating. Comfort foods are all around and everyone likes to eat out. Cooking is not the norm, especially since most people don't have ovens here (me included). This is not an ideal place for me to learn how to cook. Fried eggs, soups and the like are what I'm sticking with.

In the city there are so many kinds of indulgences that don't seem to find as much strength nor the avenues to take root in a smaller town. In Seoul if you want to indulge in spending money, eating, having sex, gambling, walking, -- whether morally acceptable or not-- it's here and readily accessible. This is something that I find very interesting about living in a city. Not the suburbs. Not smallville. But a city that encompasses 40 plus million. Now, that's a city.

I was eating tonight and could not figure out if my server was a girl or guy. No, seriously. I caught myself staring a few times trying to figure it out. Sweet spirit, just not sure of the gender. My heart sank. Something that I can't quite get used to here in Korea is that many of the men here are very feminine. This definitely is not appealing to me. I was talking with some Korean Americans and I expressed how it is a little disturbing that many of the men here wear make-up or have more feminine tendencies than I do. Of course, what does that say about my femininity but what in the world? I'm sure that I am way too strong and masculine for their taste, while for me they are way too feminine! This is mostly seen with the younger generations. The older men tend to be business men who divulge in drinking way too much. Many of the men have man bags (and I can understand that since they have to track across the city, but some of those bags...); the make-up-- I can't understand that at all; the clothes-- when I question who the girl is in the relationship as I look from a distance, that's just not cool. Sometimes the only distinguishing factor is that the woman is wearing high heals. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but seriously. The long hair-- now I don't mind long hair on men as long as they are manly, but combine long hair with feminine men and that's just not cool. I'm probably really stepping on some toes right now. I don't mean to offend. I'm just stating my opinion. I have no problem being friends with these men; I just think I would never date someone that made me question my femininity! I was told by a native Korean that I should dress up more and wear more make-up. Of course, my grandma has told me that since I was a child. I think that I like to be feminine but I also like to be comfortable. Stilletos are not comfortable so I'll stick with cute flats (and flip-flops, sorry). My coworker, who's dating a native Korean, was told by him to wear bigger earrings because they were more 'Korean' and feminine. We often laugh about how we are probably too strong and independent for Korean men. Hey, just to let you know, I don't believe that all Korean men are like that and actually most the men from my church do not fall into that category (just in case someone was reading and suddenly became insecure or defensive). Wow, where did that rant come from?

I went to dinner with a Korean coworker the other day and we enjoyed a delicious Italian meal with the Korean flair of Kimchi. Of course, you can't get a single meal in Korea without Kimchi. ^^ That's okay,though, because I have acquired a love for kimchi and quite possibly an addiction. It's funny because I hated kimchi the first time I tried it and wanted to spit it out. However, a few someones told me that it was healthy and being that in Korea the people eat it with EVERY meal, I decided to force myself to consume it. After three months of taking small portions and forcing it down, I came to LOVE kimchi. Actually, it was the first food that I craved after a ten day fast. I mean, after that, I realized I was acclimating to this culture. So, out to dinner with Ally, and the restaurant was empty. We were enjoying a long conversation about our travels and such as well as work and other life happenings, accompanied by a lovely window view of the Samsung Plaza. Interestingly enough, we were asked to leave after we had occupied the table for more than an hour and a half. I found this funny as there was no one waiting to be seated and the restaurant was not closing. Ally shook her head and said, "Oh, Korea." She's a native but has traveled enough to know that that is silly. I wondered if that would have happened in the States. I suppose it could. I can't recall that ever happening unless there were people waiting, and even then sometimes the restaurants just let you talk on and on.

The most bizarre thing happened the other day while I was running. Up ahead I spotted two older women. Just about the time I spotted them I saw one grab the other by the waist and proceeded to pull down the other woman's pants as they both squatted in sync. Right there, on the grass by the track. I diverted my eyes, feeling as though I was violating them or perhaps being violated. haha The only thing I could think was that perhaps the older woman had some physical/medical issues and had to relieve herself right then and there otherwise there would be a mess in her pants. I felt bad for her. How embarrassing. Though, neither of them seemed to care or seem to have even the remotest shame. 'Hey, we're human. You poo too." Maybe that's what they were thinking. Anyway, my friend Christie describes life in the Korea the best: she says, "My life in Korea is so random. Every day something random happens." That's about how I would describe my life here. Maybe as a native it wouldn't be so random, but then I wonder. It is the city and when you put this many people in one place, I'm sure that out of the ordinary happens both for the foreigner as well as for the native. I think that if I lived in NY or LA I'd probably experience some crazy stuff too. People are people. And sometimes that means strange things happen.

This week I have had parent meetings for my MK students. I love my little babies. And by babies, I mean my five and six year olds. They really are so young! One of the biggest things that I cannot get used to is that the parents will ask about other students and expect me to tell them. And in fact, the Korean staff allows it and encourages it as well. I hate it. In the States you'd be fired. Period. End of story. A violation of privacy. We have some meetings where all the parents come and then I have to share about each child in front of all the parents. It's so awkward. However, the parents all talk anyway and control the school by coming in numbers as well as force. The give the money so in the end they control the curriculum and the rest of the school in a lot of ways. There is one parent that is the head parent for a class and they generally have a lot of say and power. I've got a parent coming in tomorrow with three other parents in order to discuss the curriculum. Many of the mothers don't work and spend all their time bringing complaints and searching for a new, better Hogwan to transfer their child to. Hogwans are very transient in nature as children are often uprooted and replanted to new schools for petty reasons. It's a very interesting system. There are some parents that do work and in the Bundang area they are usually doctors and sometimes cocky and hard to please. However, I've had a few really wonderful parents to work with. I'm so thankful for them. There are a lot of politics within the Hogwans (private schools in Korea). For the most part, I've learned to conform and just do my job while loving the kids and trying to do what's best for the children. I will say that I'm excited to be in a more professional setting as I move to an International school this next year. Oh, there's so much to say about Hogwans. Maybe another night I'll share more thoughts.

I've gotta clean up a little and read.
G'night!

rambling thoughts; efforts to get back into writing; nothing profound tonight.

Running tonight, I was thinking on the way the seasons change and how easily I seem to be affected by the weather-- not something I'm particularly happy about but I've noticed how long winters with little sunlight really do bring a limp in my step.

Recently the warm air and sunshine have been seeping deep into me and I've been finding myself a lot more comfortable in my skin, as though something awakened in me that has been hiding away these past 9 months in Korea. Or, perhaps it's the time factor... growing friendships, the knowledge that I'll have a trip home soon, or it could even simply be that I've finally satiated (for a time) my hunger for the arts after our pottery throwing lock-in. Whatever it may be, I am beginning to feel more comfortable with myself in this foreign land. (This is not to say that I haven't enjoyed my time here because I have certainly loved being here and I'm glad that I will have longer to explore this land and people.)

Like running, writing is an exercise and when out of practice it shows. I've found myself writing less and less these days. Being an adult with a full time job and other responsibilities, I have forsaken my love of writing. I desperately want to get back in the habit of writing each week.

I suppose that it makes it harder being a worker, as my most creative times tend in the wee hours of the night and into dawn when the street lights fade with the rising sun.

Maybe it's the silence. The feeling of being left alone to sort out my thoughts. The feeling of being intimately wrapped up in my Lord's arms. The soft breeze that accompanies the settling dew. It's a time when I can evade the world and draw nearer to the Lord in a more real way. Not the way I do in daily life. No, a real drawing near. No interruptions, save the passing yawns that make my eyes water so I cannot read what I am writing.

Spring in Korea never came and it seems that summer is hear already. I miss Texas springs. I'll be honest, I'm not a fan of Korea's weather. It's either rainy and hot or way too cold for way too long with gray skies. It's just depressing. So, days like today, I treasure! Though the sun was already setting when I left work, I went out to run by the river that stretches through this part of the city. It's so beautiful down there. I like to run past the buildings 'til I get to a clearing where I can see the mountains which are now covered with lush greenery. I think that deep down I might be a tree hugger as I just can't stand being in a place without trees and beautiful terrain. Maybe that's why I love the mountains so much, especially the Rockies. Even in the winter the ferns are still green. However, I do have a friend that thinks the Rockies are rugged and ugly. I suppose the ruggedness is something I find attractive. Something about their ruggedness is alluring-- it's untouchable and foreboding, yet beckoning. I think God is kind of like that. Beautiful and yet frighteningly powerful. You are drawn in but know that you must respect Him. In the same way, you must respect the mountains or you might find yourself a victim to their uncontrollable power of being. It's just how they are. ...I still can't think of a more beautiful place than Glacier National Park in Montana.

It's ten tonight and I know that I should go to bed soon, but I don't want to. I can't seem to break my habit of staying up late. If I ever want time to myself then I have to stay up late-- after school and meeting with people. I just had an orange and some tomatoes. I can't get over how expensive fruits and veggies are in Korea. Back in Texas I would always buy so much fruit and vegetables. I'm not a vegetarian, but I love eating healthy. I'm a sucker for a medium-well steak, don't get me wrong. Korean food is pretty healthy overall, minus the MSG that plagues almost all food you eat in restaurants. However, having the genes from my mother, I can't take in as much rice as a Korean otherwise it just all likes to stay around if you know what I mean. I have to really watch my carb intake here in Korea. Back home I liked to eat the whole wheats and steer clear of empty carbs, but here it's really hard to do that and quite frankly I haven't seen any whole wheat bread (though I haven't been to the Costco). Living with a nutrition major and other health conscious roommates, I learned how to eat more healthily but I think that I have lost some of that discipline being in the city and surrounded by new foods along with unhealhty comfort foods. It's funny how being in a foreign country can cause simple things to some how become more complicated-- like buying food. I now understand why the foreigners refused to eat food at the 'Y' in Estes Park. They'd rather starve themselves than eat all that processed food. Living overseas I can now understand as most other countries use fresh foods. I miss Latin America for that reason. I used to get freshly cut fruit on my way home from work in the DR. Wow, I miss Latin America. I hope that one day I'll be back there for a more extended time and finish learning Spanish. That is a dream of mine.

I found some more stuff in the trash last night. On my way home I found a cool picture frame and a big picture of some movie I've never heard of: French Kiss. It's got a sweet picture of Meg Ryan and some guy dancing. Anyway, I figured that I could put another picture in the frame or if I get tired of it I'll just stick it back in the trash. There aren't really thrift stores here in Korea which I terribly miss! Colorado and Michigan had the best thrift stores. I miss the $1 bag days in Estes. Never could I force more stuff into one bag than on dollar bag days. I remember when Nicole got a ski jacket and ski pants for one buck. What a deal! Can't beat that with a stick as my dad would say. I don't understand why some people won't wear anything that's not brand new. People give me a hard time when I get stuff from thrift stores or the trash, but hey, if it's usable and in decent quality, why not? Helping the world out, recycling and saving a few bucks.

I'm looking at my Nikon d40 and thinking that I should probably just download the manual on line and figure out the cool functions of this camera. I mean, really, it's way more advanced that I am.

I haven't talked to my sister in so long and she's had a baby already...I just can't believe how fast we all grow up and how fast this life flies by. It's funny how we all just go our own ways and live our own lives. I never would have dreamed that she'd be in England, married and with a baby while I'm away in Korea and my parents are back home. It's just so crazy! We really have become quite a globalized people.

They came and vanished
Cherry Blossoms, sweet Spring snow
A tease, here and gone.

I could not believe how quickly the Cherry Blossoms came and then one day they were all dead or blown away. They were beautiful for about 2 weeks (if that).... like a gentle snow in the Spring as the wind blew their petals through the air. Lovely.

You know, in Korea you build up a tolerance and endurance to ruthless stares. I mean, I have never in my life been stared at by more sets of eyes than in Korea. You'd think I was out of a zoo or something. At first I thought maybe it's 'cuz I clearly looked helpless and lost, but now that I generally know what I'm doing (unless it's new terrain) I find that the stares continue. I've sort of gotten used to it. It's more of how to respond that I don't know... sometimes I ignore it, other times I smile just to make them feel awkward (since Koreans never smile to strangers unless they're Korean-American) or I stare back at them with the same intensity of curiosity. It's like we're both different creatures or something. It really bothers me sometimes and other times I just let it go. I'm not sure why it bothers me so much other than maybe it's 'cuz I feel a little violated with these glaring eyes that follow me as I move. My friend, Alyssa, told me how once she saw a woman drop something so she kindly picked it up and handed it to the woman. Upon such a gesture, the woman seemed to have had an 'aha' moment and realized that Alyssa was human, too, with feelings. It really depends on who you run into in this place. I've had some very odd encounters and some really genuine crossings. I love the little market I go to by my house. The people are always really friendly and help me get the cheaper fruit. One man even gives me free samples sometimes to try and persuade me of the latest shipment.

Living in the city has definitely given me an appreciation for the countryside...even more so than I had before. I have always been a child of nature (not to be blasphemous of course, haha). I often feel as though the endless sky scrapers are going to suffocate me. Thankfully Korea is blanketed with mountains which weave in and out of the roads and buildings. I am hoping that I can find some other campers soon and go camping in June or in August when I return. If I didn't feel a call to ministry then I'd most certainly be living somewhere in the mountains probably near a beach as well so maybe the West coast, though I could handle Colorado or some other beautiful place as well. Maybe one day my call will be somewhere like that! Being in Seoul has definitely allowed me to search out beauty with more vigor. I'm thankful for the flowers that are planted around the city and the backdrop of mountains mingling with the tall man-made structures.

I think that I realized a few nights ago that this city never sleeps. Never. People were out and about all night long and when we left at 5:30 am people were up all around the city. It's not like in good ol' College Station where the roads are completely empty after 2am or so, especially into Bryan away from campus. I miss those nights of driving home on an empty highway with the occasional headlight beaming at you as it passes in the opposite direction.

I think that recently I've been understanding why my step-mom always talks about her college days and how much she loved that time. Now about a year and a half out of college, I realize how much I miss that life. Not the stress of testing and cramming but definitely the atmosphere and lifestyle of college... I walked on a few campuses here in Seoul and it was definitely a bittersweet feeling. I couldn't help but be a little envious of the students, knowing that they still have so many great memories to make, so many great experiences and believe it or not, free time. The mingling of finding oneself and following the flow of life. There is so much growth to be done in those years-- pivotal years that do really help to set the course of your life. I'm so glad for Jesus. he so wonderfully interrupted my life. I couldn't have asked for anything better.

I was just talking with a friend the other night about how I wished that I would have had enough guts to be an arts major. However, I never had enough courage to do something that I would have really loved because it didn't' seem practical enough. In the end, I am happy with teaching and know that it's a calling on my life... and yet I can't help but long to take some classes in photography, art, music, writing, pottery, etc. Maybe some cool history or English classes... sadly my major didn't allow for any electives and I had to take 5 maths and 4 sciences...not my cup of tea! I also wanted to meddle in International Studies and maybe focus on the Middle East or Latin America. I suppose I can always go back to school one day... who knows. I do know that the Lord told me to get a teaching degree and that teaching would be my passport... and look who's teaching overseas! ^.^ In the end, I am pleased with how the Lord has led my life. I can rest and trust Him with my future as well.

I'm listening to a song called, "Traveling Light" by Luke Brindley and I think of how I am always so torn between living freely and living captive-- captive to responsibility and call. And yet, in Christ I am more free than ever, traveling light in a different sense. I still have urges to just go and travel. I've got the traveling bug in me and can't deny it. I wanna get out of the city and see some more of Korea. I wish that I could some how just speak Korean. I know that God downloads languages to people, and I believe that if He wanted to, He could give me Korean. Norberto received English suddenly. That's just so cool! Anyway, I'm glad that I'll be in Korea longer than one year so that I can really establish myself here more and continue allowing God to work in my life and use me in whatever ways He desires. I've been praying about North Korea, but I have no real conclusion about that right now, so right now I'm pleased to know that Korea is a training ground for me and then God will show me the next step in time whether I stay longer or move on from here. Secretly, I want to go to Latin America (or maybe not so secretly).

I've also considered Cali -- going out to Bill Johnson's school in Redding. I'd love to go have some hard core training and by then I hope to have my loans paid off-- debt free and ready to 'go'.

I don't ever know where to focus my attention sometimes... I want more time to play flute, to write, to soak up the Word, to brush up on teaching techniques, to spend time with friends, to visit family... it's times like that I wish I were more choleric by nature. Roy was pointing out to me the the other day that our personality temperament is the laziest of them all because the melancholy-phlegmatic sways from being a perfectionist and not getting anything done to the lazy phlegmatic. With Jesus there is hope! That's all I got to say!

"the edges are torn and the sky is hazy" so i press into prayer and keep asking God about my future. I'm excited because my life has been 100x more interesting since I've known the Lord and I know that He has great plans...

You know I wish that we could all just burn the disguises that we put on. I mean, especially since I've been in Korea I feel that way as everyone tries to blend in. No matter what I do I'll stick out, which doesn't bother me so much, but I am bothered a bit by the all-consuming need to be the same. I find that it really does feel oppressive at times. I suppose I'm glad that I'm not Korean in the sense that I automatically am excused from that expectation. Though, I do find that when I dress down, I feel a little less at ease. If I could wear linen and flip flops everyday I would. And in college, I did wear flip flops just about everyday-- even through Texas winter sometimes, which isn't much of a winter at all. I always wanted to live somewhere where the leaves change colors and the seasons shift... Korea seems to have a really short Fall and a nonexistent Spring. In that case, I'll take Texas weather. You know, you don't really know what you have until you leave or have it taken away from you. I never knew I was so proud to be a Texan until I started traveling. I remember returning from the DR and I never was happier to hear someone say in a Texan accent not to mention, "Welcome back to the United States of America." and then to drive through the open roads of Texas, quiet and beckoning. No matter where God takes me, I know that Texas will always be dear to my heart. It is my homeland away from Heaven.

I finally buckled and just bought a pair of new running shoes. I waited four years even though "they" with a capital 'T' say that you should have two pairs and rotate, not using a pair of running shoes more than six months. Heh, I suppose I violated that rule big time. My friend Aimee came with me to Samsung Plaza which was recently renamed.. I was so shocked that I didn't even remember the new name; of course, I'm no good for remembering names, anyhow. I did find a pair of glove-fit running shoes. They have pink on them and I was hesitant to wear them because I'm not a pink kinda girl. Aimee was like a sales person and kept showing me shoes and trying to persuade me of their worth. She somehow convinced me to branch out and just buy the shoes since they were good shoes, cheaper than others and hey, they didn't scream, 'girly' but instead, 'I am woman, hear me roar.' With that, sold. Not that I am a feminist (or I try not to be these days), but I also am not a girly-girl. I like to play in the mud, go camping, catch bugs, and play video games (but only old school like mario kart). so, I bought the shoes and they have been a good fit for me and yes, the pink has grown on me. I suppose that when I branched out to own some pink tops I should have known that eventually I'd have shoes with pink, too. Now, if you ask me to go as far as the Koreans and wear heals everyday, even unto hiking and the beach, forget it.

I love the smell of rain and as the warm weather has brought the showers of rain, I find myself remembering my first days in Korea. The smell, so familiar, as I came during the rainy season. The rivers of floating umbrellas that sail along the sidewalks and streets... the earthy smell as the dirt in the city is washed away... the clearing of pollution in the sky-- leaving clear skies when the clouds pass... the hushed city beats on during the rain.

A bunch of us from church and a few new faces headed out to Hongik University the other night to have an all night affair with art and the pottery wheel. I found myself really loving it, the mud under my fingernails and the gritty feeling of clay between my fingers... it took me back to the days of gardening as a child and some in my college days. I miss having a backyard to dig in; the best I can do is keep some mint and rosemary in my classroom and an ivy at home. :) The clay melded with my hands and I knew that this is something that I should have done years ago. I am envious of people who can make masterpieces, though I know that their skill has taken time to attain. I hope that I have another opportunity to stand in as the potter.

I will confess. I've been in Korea for 9 months and I haven't sent any postcards home. I feel terrible for this so I think that I better send them soon so that they make it home before I do. I find myself not feeling like Korea is that foreign as it is so globalized and westernized. And yet, other times I know, without a doubt, that this land is absolutely foreign to me. Mostly that feeling comes when I am faced with some blatant cultural difference or unlikely happening except that I'm in Korea and that's what happens here. I find some things so funny. I was passing the cross way today on my way back to work after getting coffee on my lunch break to be entertained by the sight of a bus driver getting out and smoking during the red light. I mean, I suppose it's not that weird to me anymore but I remember that the first time I saw a bus driver leaned up against his bus in the center of the four way intersection six lanes wide, puffing on a cigarette and waiting out the red light, I couldn't help but laugh and think, "What the heck is that driver doing?" That just wouldn't pass in Texas. However, the road rules here are definitely not the worst I've seen. DR was probably 10x worse! and the Middle East...

O, I wanna have a night out barefoot on the grass, dancin' to some acoustic folk. Just sayin'.

You know, I've talked a lot about things I miss and things that are hard in Korea, but I have to say that if I were leaving Korea for good in July, I would miss this place terribly. My friends, the food, public transportation, walking everywhere, and yes, even the city life--as much as I dog on it. This is a season and I am loving it. God has been good to me. Korea is a lonely place for a foreigner but God has given me some great people to connect with. That I am so thankful for. Truly. In some ways, I am falling in love with this land. I think that if you're somewhere long enough you inevitably grow a fondness for the place. It intertwines with you and your memory so that you can no longer look at it from outside of that personal encounter. It's like Houston. I hate that city, but it carries a dear song to me-- a song that tells my heart of so many rhythms I once danced to hand in hand with the land in that all too humid and busy city. Seoul, the city that never sleeps, has definitely been singing a song to me-- one I cannot quite sing with yet, but find myself moving to-- it will be all too soon before I am singing the song of Seoul.

This is not a culture that embraces you. Rather, you must forcefully impose yourself or you will never grow to love this land, or so that is how I can explain my experience. I am used to the warm culture of Texas and Latin America. Or even the inviting cultures of the Muslims and Africa. The culture in Korea is definitely different from my previous cultural experiences. So, I reach out and force myself upon the culture. In doing so, I've found myself to grow into a fondness for the people and land. It's taking some time, but it also took me three months of eating kimchi everyday before I actually liked it. Now, I can't get enough. Or coffee for that matter...it took me two overseas trips to Latin America and living with Kara who couldn't get by without having a cup of coffee each day before I could say that I liked coffee. An acquired taste. Now, I LOVE coffee and even like to drink it black. ...Yes, to me, this culture is an acquired taste. It's growing on me. And I'm finding myself quite at home in many ways.

I found the coolest coffee shop ever! Of course, it reminds me of Costa Rica. It would. It's at Apujeoung exit 6 and is real quaint and cozy. There is real ivy hung up around the lil' shop and a coffee bean factory machine (not sure of the name) with coffee beans spilling out over the top onto the floor. They import REAL coffee from Latin America and it's freshly brewed right there. It's amazing. I wish I lived closer; then again, if I did I might become addicted to coffee again. I've steered clear of that addiction. I drink it every now and then and get the shakes. I have to make sure that the caffeine works when I really need it so I make sure I don't get addicted. Plus I hate the headaches that accompany the addiction and I don't like being dependent on anything like that. While I lived in DR I had black coffee every morning...coming off that gave me a lot of headahces! oh do I miss the fresh coffee there!

I could really go for some humus right now. I think that'll be my next project: making humus in Korea. Nothing better than homemade humus and pita bread! mmmboy! My mouth is watering already! I miss middle eastern food for sure! I love to visit Iteawon just for the food! There are a lot of Turks there and I can never get enough of Turkish food or the people!

I'm going to be returning home in July and I plan to get rid of most of my possessions save a few (well a lot) of pictures and videos and some little sentimental things. I think that I'll take pictures of some things I can just get rid of that way I can remember. My friend, David, who is also really sentimental told me that he did that when he married Kara because she doesn't like to keep anything as much as a spare piece of paper. Staying in Korea has been a good incentive to finally do the unthinkable: get rid of all my junk! And boy, do I have a lot! As Benji said, it is no "one-man operation." So much for being resourceful and a pack rat. It's only brought me more burden. I'm hoping to give away a lot of stuff and maybe sell a few pieces for some extra cash. I'm a little nervous since my time home will be so short but I know that this needs to be done. My dad used to say, "Denny, you're room is going to fall through to the first floor." I'd laugh, and then he'd say in a serious tone, "I'm not joking." So, I'd laugh harder, partly out of embarrassment. I suppose that I get it from my mom and grandma. They're both pack rats. I think that it's partly being resourceful, partly a fear of not being provided for, and partly a comfort factor as I've always grown up with a lot of stuff around. Even as a kid, I always liked to collect things, even if I never used the stuff. I had all kinds of collections: rocks, trolls, fairy winkles, my little pet shop, disney movies, stuffed animals, stamps, coins, okay...so maybe I slightly had ocd as a child. But I've always liked to collect things and now I collect things and actually use them--not just for the sake of having a collection. As a child I just wanted to preserve everything. However, I have to have a spring cleaning to keep me in check and ditch whatever is not being used on a regular basis. I used to think that it saved me money to have so much stuff, and granted it does, but in the end it can become a burden--especially now that I'm traveling and don't have a home base anymore. And more than a burden to me I hate having my stuff be a burden to others. I suppose I don't know what to do with some of the stuff I've acquired over the years, such as the stuff I inherited after deaths in the family. With my mom gone and my dad remarried, there's not really anywhere to store the stuff. I've become the protector of pictures and such. Ugh. I just wanna be free from stuff! As I've lived with some women that are less prone to being a pack rat, I've grown to appreciate the simplicity of having nothing. After living in Latin America I found the joy of simplicity as well. Yet, even in Korea I have somehow attained a lot of stuff, even though I have refused to go shopping. I guess that would be the result of trash surfing. Oh, well. I'm excited to rummage once more through my junk and pray that I have it in me to finally get rid of most my stuff--especially if it's sentimental.

You know, I've gone through a lot of healing, but there are still days that something will trigger a brief moment of sadness. A song, a scent, a voice, a laugh, a memory will be jogged by something and I'll think on what my life would be like if my mom were still alive today. You know, I really hate the work of satan and I think that I've really grown to hate how he destroys people, espeically in the case of depression.

After hearing Brother Michael's testimony, I realized that I, too, have a powerful story, but it's not as easy to just say it. With him, I used to be a drug dealer and then I had an encounter with God when an angel pulled me away from a drug deal and nothing has been the same since (or in short, that's his story). I think with my story I have to ease into it a little. I still haven't found a very tactful way in doing this at least without people wanting to console me or feeling bad for me. I think that sometimes I don't share simply becuase I don't want to face people's reactions. You know, I'm not the only one who has lost a parent. Though, suicide is definitely an unnatural death, but with eternity written on our hearts, no death feels natural. It's all the same in some sense.

Finding myself after my mom died took several years and really didn't transpire until I met Jesus. He has gently been wooing this little girl to himself and speaking tenderly to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her as the tears finally surfaced after years of being hardened and nubmed to life. I step back and see how far God has taken me and where He has me and I can't help but praise Him! There's this one Jolie Holland/The Be Good Tanyas song that always makes me think on my mom. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NKcQigkBnU4 I actually can't understand what she is saying but it's the sound of the song and the footage of the movie, Fly Away Home. I find myself identifying with the feelings of that girl who lost her mom in the movie. I was that little girl. Or I think on Veta from My Girl. or Corina, Corina. All those movies... I find myself relating to in a very deep, and unspoken manner. Over the years the Lord has been healing me and drawing me out, calling me up into womanhood and into a place of walking as a daughter of the King. It's been a beautiful dance with Him, the whole way, tears and joy mingling together, a tender and bittersweet (but more sweet than bitter) song. I think for me the thing I regret the most is not knowing my mom as an adult. I'll always only know her through the eyes of a child. Knowing that she'll never be around to see me grow up saddens me, but I know that the Lord is taking care of her now just as He is taking care of me. You know, speaking of her death is still surreal to me sometimes. And honestly, when people try to show compassion or feel bad for bringing it up I don't know what to say. It has been almost 12 years and counting. The first six of those years I was shut off to emotion and tears. The latter six the Lord had me on the threshing floor. I find that the waves of grief that come are less intense and farther apart. I would lie to say that I never cry anymore, but I would also be lying if I said that I was not healed and doing well. The Lord is so good. He knows how to meet us in the darkest places and bind up the broken hearted. That song came on my itunes shuffle and led me to thinking about my mom... I like to hear that song and watch the clip from time to time just to remember how far the Lord has brought me.

Spring, or should I say pseudo-spring, has put a skip in my step. As I mentioned before, the weather has really been sinking into my bones and I feel it all throughout. I just wanna go sit in the sun. During my lunch break sometimes I find a bench and sit in the sun for no good reason other than to get my vitamin d and to enjoy the heat as it warms me and brands my skin pink. Back in March I remember feeling as if my humanness was being stripped as I became whiter and whiter. I was becoming ghostly, almost frightening to myself when I would see the undersides of my arms. On one particular day that the sun decided to show its face, I found a bench and I laid down at an angle so that the sun would grip my face. It was cold that day, so I curled up on the bench to keep warm, but I HAD to get some sun. Being in Korea I've felt a little like a vampire at times, hiding away in the warmth of my darkened room or the chains of the workplace. I'm so thankful that the days are longer. For a while the only sun I saw was in the morning on my walk to work because by the time I left it was dark. It's so wonderful to have an hour of sunlight after work...even if it's hidden behind buildings, at least it's still there. That's all that matters to me.

I've been reading up on North Korea and watching documentaries on youtube. Unbelievable. I think that one book I read tormented me a little. Eyes of the Tailless Animals. I can't unravel all my thoughts and feelings about what I am learning and what is going on in that forsaken land. So, I pray. Trying to divulge everything that has been going on in my heart and mind regarding that land would be futile because everything is so fuzzy and mingled with the bitterness of the situation and my emotions as well as a deepening compassion for the people in that land.

I think of my complaints in life and they pale in comparison to what other people are enduring even as I type this out. It puts me to shame and I have to buckle down and repent of my unthankfulness. We have so much to be thankful for.

I am filled with thoughts and things to write, but none of which really need to ever be voiced or heard. After having several nights of little sleep, I need to call it a night check out. I'm not sure when I'll have time again to spill leaky thoughts but hopefully I'll take up the discipline and joy of writing once again. I'm afraid that some of my precious moments in Korea have not been jotted down and may not ever be recovered in my memory. Alas, I must begin the memoirs even if it is in a very scatterbrained fashion.