Home Sweet Home?

So this is home now...a dusty confusion of people, cars, and oh yes, plenty of bikes.  I have long awaited writing this entry, and am eager to convey a bit of what has been on my heart in recent days.

I miss home.  And by home, I mean home home.  There's nothing as splendid as the familiar, where everything is understood by means of law and reason. Here there is seemingly no order, or perhaps I bring too much demand for my rights into this place.  I find that I am silenced here without the language capacity and am increasingly annoyed when locals try to pin me into a box to no avail.  Am I Ch.?  Am I straight up American?  Korean?  Then the question inevitably comes to my teammate Anita: So what's up with your mute friend?  (Okay, so that's not the literal translation, but that's what it feels like...)

I struggle with an attitude of humility and find that my joy flickers on and off.  Our first night here a terrible stench permeated our apartment.  It was such a foul smell, and though it was humorous, it made me long for home.  I've managed to ride my bike ("shao lan") along the dusty streets without incident, but let me just say that I know what it means that my life is in Greater Hands.  Trying to figure out the 'system' and way of life here is also difficult.  We've been scolded for not knowing the rules, and then pitifully asked where we come from.  We are strangers here, no doubt. 

All beginnings are hard.  And while I sometimes inwardly loathe how life is conducted here, I am encouraged by a Greater Purpose.  This is home for me now, and I know that Joy accompanies it. 

(P.S. I love your comments...just pls. remember to post with discretion.  Thank you :)

Smiling.

I'm smiling as I sit here in HK.  The first leg of my journey is complete!  From now on I'll be writing you from the 'east side' =)

My sendoff was not without its highlights.  I'm usually pretty stoic during goodbyes, but my tears managed to get the best of me.  I tearfully handed my boarding pass and passport over to the airport employee as I said my goodbyes and turned my back to my family and friends, and my life in the States.  That was hard.

I pulled myself together as I walked towards my departure gate.  My plane ride was smooth...though sleepless.  I managed to read through the letters that many of you wrote to me...thank you.  There were some more tears shed right there :)

I got off the plane a little dizzy...I had decided that some white wine would help calm my nerves some on the plane, but I think it made me a bit tipsy...can you imagine?  My first step overseas and I'm feeling a bit tipsy :) 

I had another funny moment taking the train...I stuck my hand out to stop the door from closing, but it closed on my hand!  This ain't Joe MUNI anymore.  So with the door closed on my hand I managed to pull it back out...but not without someone gasping behind me in English (with a Ch. accent) "Dangerous!"  Yes, dangerous--that's my determinedness to make things happen sometimes.  But I was being watched over, and I'm thankful for His care.

I miss you guys already.  But I"m here...en route to my final destination city, and I can't tell you the joy that wells up within my soul knowing I'm on this grand adventure.

Here Comes the Sun.

The sun is shining!  This makes me sing of my Maker...for He has made me glad!  (For other city folk, you know what seeing the sun feels like...)

This is the last post stateside.  Here I go!!

Hope.

So this is goodbye.  For real this time, after months of saying my  various goodbyes.  I almost don't know what to say now that the time has come.  I will say this: my heart's prayer has been that I would grow in my dependence on Him.  This means that I must be continually stripped--for the testing of our faith develops perseverance--perseverance character, and character, hope.

Who, or what, do you hope in?  When life comes at you full force in a mad game of chicken, daring you to concede, who do you run to?  I hope your answer is our Rescuer. 

My preparations came to a screeching halt when I got a call from my friend WK yesterday.  Her voice didn't quite sound right, and she went on to explain that she had some bad news.  JC had passed away.  My voice went cold.  What? Are you sure??  It couldn't be real.

Not only was this unreal, it seemed to me also cruel.  JC had such a beautiful spirit, one that followed hard after G...one that took her to pursue his calling overseas to the Philippines.  She had been there a month, and had loved it.  I remember sitting across from her during MN's pho party and admiring her zeal.  In subsequent months I grew to admire her love for G in reading her xanga posts. 

I couldn't concentrate after hearing the news.  My own preparations seemed secondary.  I couldn't help but think that this was her exactly a month ago, getting ready to leave. 

But I can't sustain a cruel image of our Father.   I put my hope in Him.   My life is in His hands.  He has appointed all my days.  And He walks with me.  Julie, this I have learned from you...to love my Savior with a reckless passion.  Thank you for your life and example.

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones.

But words can never hurt me?  Just the opposite, actually.  My sister pointed out to me yesterday that I really take offense to certain things people tell me.  Last night my dad half-jokingly called me high maintenance in front of my uncle, to which I responded, "I AM NOT high maintenance!"  Later on at home I told me dad to take it back.  "You know I'm not high maintenance!"  Then he said, "Well, you're really independent, but you're high maintenance for some things."

Okay, white flag of surrender.  It's true.  There's things that I'm totally clueless about and that I need help in.  I hate that position of helplessness...a position that I know will come to humble me when I'm overseas.  I'm competent in my life here...what will happen when everything that I claim my competence in is stripped?  Language, culture, environment, people? 

Fanfare.

It's crazy to think that in less than a week I'll be away from everything that makes me feel comfortable, secure, and competent.  As much as I want to deemphasize these next two years, I'm realizing that this is all pretty huge.  It has demanded much faith, at times much more than I think I can muster...to come to this point of finally leaving is unreal.

The hardship surrounding my decision surprises me at times.  I forget that faith cannot be forged without resistance.  Yet I can resolutely declare that this is worth it (this said with tears streaming down my face).  "Be strong and courageous.  Do not be terrified, do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go."

I have always been one to seek the approval of others.  I want the pomp and circumstance.  That is, "Hey you out there, don't you care that I'm leaving?  I deserve your recognition!"  I think I may qualify as one of the ugliest felons because while people applaud my humility, I'm secretly prideful to the core.

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.

If you give a mouse a cookie...he just might decide to stay...and have himself a little par-tay.  That's the case of our recent uninvited house guest, Mr. Scampers-poo.  He was first spotted a month ago munching on a cookie on Sherilyn's desk [Sherilyn vehemently denies any role in giving Mr. Scampers-poo reason to stay].  In subsequent days he raided the pantry, leaving behind little 'presents' to let us know he appreciated us.  I don't think we returned the sentiment.

There were other sightings in following weeks, and just when we thought he had left, more 'presents' were found.  Out came the traps, but Mr. Scampers-poo was on to us.  More presents, but no Mr. Scampers-poo.

Mr. Scampers-poo is a sneaky mouse.  So sneaky that I had never actually seen him...until tonight.  He came dashing out of nowhere when I was in my parents' room, which erupted from me a scream, followed by me slamming the door and yelling for back-up.  He skirted into the closet, and I decided to go on a stake-out, flashlight in hand.  The plan was to put a waste basket over him.  And then what?  Good question. Brilliant, I know :)

The waste basket idea proved unsuccessful, but good 'ol dad stepped in.  My dad brought in the vacuum cleaner, which scared him out of hiding.  We had sealed all the rooms in the hallway, leaving him only one exit--the front door.  Mr. Scampers-poo didn't seem to want to leave, though.  (I suppose he knew our house was too much of a good thing)  As my dad tried to shoo him out with the vacuum, Mr. Scampers-poo stubborness proved to be his downfall...he ended up a victim of the Hoover.  Poor Mr. Scampers-poo.  And he was a cute mouse, too.

There's always something that ends up in our lives uninvited.  RIP, Mr. Scampers-poo.

Congrats!  (and to Stacey/Chris and Esther/Richard, whose weddings I couldn't attend!)

Goodbyes.

Goodbyes are hard.  What is goodbye supposed to look like anyways?  I've decided that it's impossible for me to leave here without regrets...I will always have regrets about something or another.  I just need to trust that at my appointed time to go, I just need to go--and not look back.  Decision making is rather easy for me--it's the follow through that literally kills.  My initial decision to transplant overseas was easy in that I had yet to deal with the follow through.  Finishing out my time here is reminiscent of finishing my marathon--those last few miles were ug-ly!  But I pushed on, sometimes only inching along.

Thank God for a wonderful supporting team.  Here are pics with college buds at my farewell dinner.  Thanks for walking with me all these years!

   

Fear Factor.

I think I'm addicted to reruns of Fear Factor.  Now that I have cable (this is a big WOW coming from a girl who didn't have TV until she was in sixth grade), I am now exposed to what we call popular culture.  You ask, what's the draw to Fear Factor?  I'm not really sure, but I'm thinking it has to do a lot with what's been on my mind lately.

If you haven't watched Fear Factor, allow me to summarize: 3 contestants compete on 3 stunts to see who can look fear in the eye and become Fear Factor Champion. Stunts include traversing freakish heights to complete a challenge, being trapped in enclosed spaces (sometimes under water), and eating really gross stuff (like horse rectum...mmm...).  One of two things happens on Fear Factor--you either rise to the occasion, or fall flat (in more technical terms, this is the 'fight or flight' syndrome).

I was a Sociology major, so analyzing people is what I do best (if you haven't caught on :)  Most contestants on Fear Factor really talk themselves up--I'm tough, I can do anything, I once wrestled an alligator, etc.  It's a pride thing.  No one admits to being weak or that they can't complete the stunt. And then there's the trash talk--I'm gonna do this and beat your___ (well, you fill in the blank).

So this is where I try to insert myself in the contestants' position.  I really don't think I could complete 90% if the stunts that they feature on the show.  But part of me wishes I could.  It's the part that wishes I could that kills me.  Because I keep chasing after the elusive hope that I can be tough, I can overcome anything.

I had 4 fouls early in today's basketball game, which gave me lots of time on the bench.  I'm watching these girls play and thinking--Man, I wish I could be that aggressive and confident in my game. 

My Enemy in life is my flesh, along with Satan and all his principalities.  There's a lot of trash talkin' goin' on from the other side...but louder still is the voice of Encouragement that says, "Let me fight for you."

Bring it on...