It's Steph's birthday.
Today mother got mad at me for inviting dad to dinner with us at Cebu.
It was reflection night at youth group, but they couldn't find letters for me and Jerry Lin, so we just sat and chatted in the nursery. He & Yawen are moving forward in their relationship. Interesting. He got upset that his dad didn't remember her name -- "that girl... from California..." I wonder would my dad even care and understand?
I remember sitting on a porchswing with Bobby and Tim at the Chou's during the 4th of July barbecue. Bobby was asking about dating, and I recall explaining how it was the last thing on my mind, and that I would be staying single for a very very long time... despite the many options I usually have in the form of suitors. Knock on wood. Did he like me at the time? Surely he must have heard, he agreed that dating was not really relevant for him at that time. (So why did he still DTR and why all this mess... Oh well too late for those questions). All I know is that Christ equips His men to woo even the most guarded of His women.
I talk to Mr. Chou from time to time. Thank God he's stepped in as a godfather. Him and the Mrs too. I know that as recently as a year ago, I would just have been bitter about how I can never share my life with my dad, how he wouldn't even care. I had resigned to the way things were. But now, though the prospects are dim sometimes, I at least desire that reconciliation. When I am talking to Mr. Chou, there's this dull ache in my heart as I wish it could be my dad that I were having the conversation with.
But I dunno how much room a dad like that would leave for me to desire Dad. Surely He knows that I would have been too easily contented. Maybe someday.
I got blood drawn today for THS and LH tests.
I picked up my dress from the cleaners. What an awkward day that was. She gave me a pretty hefty discount compared to last time when she altered my prom dress. I guess pricing is completely at her discretion, but this alteration was considerably more difficult and time consuming than my $28 prom dress. I wonder if I have her favor. I wonder what she knows.
I love evening gowns. There are not nearly enough occasions for them. Excited for Courtney's wedding in April. Man it's so weird, I don't think I could ever get married before I'm done with school. Their family is... extravagant. Happy. Content. And... I guess that makes sense why they hardly find God to be necessary.
I wish they would recognize the Giver.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Virtue and Its Impostors
"Three things confuse a Christian;
Yeah, four confound any man.
"Unbelief masquerading as wisdom,
Enthusiasm presenting itself as faith,
Fear pretending to be patience,
& permissiveness claiming to be love."
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Idolatry
Have you ever so desired closeness and nearness with somebody that it distracted you from the very One who satisfies and overwhelms with His helloI'malreadyhereness?
Have you wanted? Have you wanted to belong to and to claim a body who you should be pushing to be free of the world, slave to Christ & lover to God?
Have you wanted to be his, his comfort, his affirmation, his other, his help, his... idol? Wanted to be found in him, to know his approval and delight? Struggled against your want to include him and to let him know that he is preferred, desired, esteemed, liked and missed? Did you idolize?
Have you had to forfeit even the right to friendship as you wrestled with these desires, have you wanted in spite of the offering for him to know your affection and for you to understand his?
In your want, did you compromise? More, did you cause another to stumble? Were you impatient?
(Yes to all of the above)
waiting in expectancy
surrendered to Your sovereignty
we're longing for true intimacy, Lord
& for the things of Your heart
The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
Have you wanted? Have you wanted to belong to and to claim a body who you should be pushing to be free of the world, slave to Christ & lover to God?
Have you wanted to be his, his comfort, his affirmation, his other, his help, his... idol? Wanted to be found in him, to know his approval and delight? Struggled against your want to include him and to let him know that he is preferred, desired, esteemed, liked and missed? Did you idolize?
Have you had to forfeit even the right to friendship as you wrestled with these desires, have you wanted in spite of the offering for him to know your affection and for you to understand his?
In your want, did you compromise? More, did you cause another to stumble? Were you impatient?
(Yes to all of the above)
waiting in expectancy
surrendered to Your sovereignty
we're longing for true intimacy, Lord
& for the things of Your heart
The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Open Letters
Today we know Paul through his epistles.
I wonder what things would be like if I lived my life in open letters, if instead of private and protected blog entries and signed, sealed, and delivered musings and caffeinated (or Tabasco Sauce marinated) one-on-ones with lovely confidantes and the occasional confident I were held publicly accountable.
I wonder if I can ever reconcile all the different compartments of my life and live as I so admire in some of my friends as an open book. Well I guess I don't need to wonder about this one, because obviously I haven't succeeded. Christ is the Only who can firm and gather such a scattered heart as mine into a life of consistent worship.
But then where is that line... Between transparency and discretion, edifying rebuke and destructive scorn, sharing and gossiping. Much to learn.
I wonder what things would be like if I lived my life in open letters, if instead of private and protected blog entries and signed, sealed, and delivered musings and caffeinated (or Tabasco Sauce marinated) one-on-ones with lovely confidantes and the occasional confident I were held publicly accountable.
I wonder if I can ever reconcile all the different compartments of my life and live as I so admire in some of my friends as an open book. Well I guess I don't need to wonder about this one, because obviously I haven't succeeded. Christ is the Only who can firm and gather such a scattered heart as mine into a life of consistent worship.
But then where is that line... Between transparency and discretion, edifying rebuke and destructive scorn, sharing and gossiping. Much to learn.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Five Love Languages
I dug through my old Xanga (did any Asian not have one back in the day?) and found my March 30, 2006 results for a quiz based on Dr. Gary Chapman's The Five Love Languages:
Quality Time: 10
Acts of Service: 7
Words of Affirmation: 6
Receiving Gifts: 4
Physical Touch: 3
So of course I took it again to see if much had changed in 20 months:
Quality Time: 10
Words of Affirmation: 8
Physical Touch: 5
Acts of Service: 4
Receiving Gifts: 3
Obviously the quiz has its limitations and some of the questions are very telling or just silly (like choosing whether "kissing me unexpectedly" or "giving me a gift for no occasion" excites me -- wouldn't both of those excite anyone? and what if I just like spontaneity in general?) but I'd say it's pretty accurate at identifying your primary and secondary ways of receiving love. The questions remind me of those career map survey thingies we did in high school -- "Do you enjoy watching for forest fires? Do you enjoy packing things into boxes?"
In answering many of the questions, I had to think about which of the two I was most craving or lacking at the present. Which helps me understand a little bit of what Plato meant in his Symposium when he said that love was the child of lack and abundance.
Also it's interesting to note that the way you express love to another, although I guess we tend to surround ourselves with people who speak the same love languages so it's some form of mutualism, can vary from person to person, and I think that is because if we really loved someone we would try to understand him and to place his needs and desires above our own. And I think this is why we sometimes have to learn to love certain people whose ways of communicating love differ from our own. But as long as both parties try to speak the other's love languages, maybe in some mutually commensalistic arrangement although this would clearly require more effort, the relationship can work out. A somewhat related thought: I don't necessarily believe in "the one" but that is a wholly separate discussion.
Quality Time: 10
Acts of Service: 7
Words of Affirmation: 6
Receiving Gifts: 4
Physical Touch: 3
So of course I took it again to see if much had changed in 20 months:
Quality Time: 10
Words of Affirmation: 8
Physical Touch: 5
Acts of Service: 4
Receiving Gifts: 3
Obviously the quiz has its limitations and some of the questions are very telling or just silly (like choosing whether "kissing me unexpectedly" or "giving me a gift for no occasion" excites me -- wouldn't both of those excite anyone? and what if I just like spontaneity in general?) but I'd say it's pretty accurate at identifying your primary and secondary ways of receiving love. The questions remind me of those career map survey thingies we did in high school -- "Do you enjoy watching for forest fires? Do you enjoy packing things into boxes?"
In answering many of the questions, I had to think about which of the two I was most craving or lacking at the present. Which helps me understand a little bit of what Plato meant in his Symposium when he said that love was the child of lack and abundance.
Also it's interesting to note that the way you express love to another, although I guess we tend to surround ourselves with people who speak the same love languages so it's some form of mutualism, can vary from person to person, and I think that is because if we really loved someone we would try to understand him and to place his needs and desires above our own. And I think this is why we sometimes have to learn to love certain people whose ways of communicating love differ from our own. But as long as both parties try to speak the other's love languages, maybe in some mutually commensalistic arrangement although this would clearly require more effort, the relationship can work out. A somewhat related thought: I don't necessarily believe in "the one" but that is a wholly separate discussion.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
December
Hooray for December. Definitely one of my top 10 favorite months.
One winter, my brother and I made an igloo. It was so... baller. What a convenient word, to be used in place of anything adjective with remotely positive connotations.
My mood is so entirely governed by the weather, it's sickening and SAD.
Today it got dark at 4PM. The shortened daylight hours constrict the span of time in which I can safely tromp around Harlem. Perhaps this year I will finally invest in full-spectrum lighting.
Today the heavens opened up and unleashed some freezing acid rain fury. Is there such a thing as acid snow? Slushy New York city streets, socks wet and grey, puffy down jacket and puffy down comforter and puffy down pillow are at home.
A snippet of a conversation I once had with a dear dear boy:
XX: Oh my goose!
XY: Oh no, what happened to your goose?
And now I can give a plausible answer: I killed it and stuffed my belongings with its feathers.
One winter, my brother and I made an igloo. It was so... baller. What a convenient word, to be used in place of anything adjective with remotely positive connotations.
My mood is so entirely governed by the weather, it's sickening and SAD.
Today it got dark at 4PM. The shortened daylight hours constrict the span of time in which I can safely tromp around Harlem. Perhaps this year I will finally invest in full-spectrum lighting.
Today the heavens opened up and unleashed some freezing acid rain fury. Is there such a thing as acid snow? Slushy New York city streets, socks wet and grey, puffy down jacket and puffy down comforter and puffy down pillow are at home.
A snippet of a conversation I once had with a dear dear boy:
XX: Oh my goose!
XY: Oh no, what happened to your goose?
And now I can give a plausible answer: I killed it and stuffed my belongings with its feathers.
Home
Where with my soul all was well
Here, still I'm always sheltered from hell
Where I'd been since the 80's
Here, men don't hold doors for the ladies
Where even strangers are polite
Here, I can't wander the streets at night
Where Fridays meant church, not bars
Here, the streetlamps upstage the stars
Where the carpet was lined with my hair
Here, I can't ever go with my feet bare
Where each meal had a serving of rice
Here, at the subways I count up the mice
Where I could always just hop in my car
Here, every person is just so bizarre
Where my mother looked out for my health
Here, are extremes of both poverty and wealth
Where I barely ever saw my dad
Here, I know he cares if but a tad
Where I airsoft-hunted rabbits with Josh
Here, pooping pigeons are my entourage
Where birds sing and the willow trees weep
Here, the sounds of the city stall sleep
Where I leeched Carina's WiFi
Here, everyday is a chicken and fish fry
Where my mother at me always frowned
Here, still her lectures and warnings resound
Where every next house had a lawn
Here they'll raise skyscrapers until the sky's gone
Where my bed- and bathroom are unkempt
Here I'm so crazy... lame poems I attempt
Where life was so comfy I settled
Here I've learned that I'm not self-contrettled
Where everyone knew of my name
Here the bohemians put me to shame
Where at times, I could kneel and be small
Here, I think I have no choice at all
Where I tried more to write meaningful things
Here is God still... and then my soul sings
Where my heart stays although I leave
Here, for the comforts of home I do grieve
Where the Lord prepared me for pain
Here, it seems godless but remnants remain
Where it's comfy but we still lack shalom
Here, I dream of again going
Well I'd say more about home vs. the Big Apple, but this is getting boring and difficult because rhyming is hard and obviously these couplets don't really contain direct comparisons and are starting to just be nonsensical strings. It's hard to stay afloat, alert, hungry, focused in a fast and godless city, my corner of which always smells like fried chicken and where living somewhere between the urban poor and the rich & famous, I forget ubuntu, forget shalom, and start to think that I'm okay doing nothing where I'm at. Cowering from pigeons is easier than fearing the Lord. Groping around in a dark pit is easier than reaching out and trusting that the pit is not too deep for His presence, because He is present... even here.
Here, still I'm always sheltered from hell
Where I'd been since the 80's
Here, men don't hold doors for the ladies
Where even strangers are polite
Here, I can't wander the streets at night
Where Fridays meant church, not bars
Here, the streetlamps upstage the stars
Where the carpet was lined with my hair
Here, I can't ever go with my feet bare
Where each meal had a serving of rice
Here, at the subways I count up the mice
Where I could always just hop in my car
Here, every person is just so bizarre
Where my mother looked out for my health
Here, are extremes of both poverty and wealth
Where I barely ever saw my dad
Here, I know he cares if but a tad
Where I airsoft-hunted rabbits with Josh
Here, pooping pigeons are my entourage
Where birds sing and the willow trees weep
Here, the sounds of the city stall sleep
Where I leeched Carina's WiFi
Here, everyday is a chicken and fish fry
Where my mother at me always frowned
Here, still her lectures and warnings resound
Where every next house had a lawn
Here they'll raise skyscrapers until the sky's gone
Where my bed- and bathroom are unkempt
Here I'm so crazy... lame poems I attempt
Where life was so comfy I settled
Here I've learned that I'm not self-contrettled
Where everyone knew of my name
Here the bohemians put me to shame
Where at times, I could kneel and be small
Here, I think I have no choice at all
Where I tried more to write meaningful things
Here is God still... and then my soul sings
Where my heart stays although I leave
Here, for the comforts of home I do grieve
Where the Lord prepared me for pain
Here, it seems godless but remnants remain
Where it's comfy but we still lack shalom
Here, I dream of again going
Well I'd say more about home vs. the Big Apple, but this is getting boring and difficult because rhyming is hard and obviously these couplets don't really contain direct comparisons and are starting to just be nonsensical strings. It's hard to stay afloat, alert, hungry, focused in a fast and godless city, my corner of which always smells like fried chicken and where living somewhere between the urban poor and the rich & famous, I forget ubuntu, forget shalom, and start to think that I'm okay doing nothing where I'm at. Cowering from pigeons is easier than fearing the Lord. Groping around in a dark pit is easier than reaching out and trusting that the pit is not too deep for His presence, because He is present... even here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)