ggpwn3d #13- Mustard Seed of Mine

I promised myself not to write any more posts about Stefghanistan and all the twists & turns my life has experienced since then, but this is a story that I cannot keep to myself. It is one that I would want everyone in my life to hear & witness because it marks one of the most remarkable encounters I have had with Christ.

For those of you who are friends with me on Facebook, you may be familiar with an incredible story that I have shared on behalf of myself & my dearest friend, Sabera, who was my Dari tutor in Afghanistan in the summer of 2011.

When I moved to Afghanistan, the org did not find the local security in Kabul to be safe enough for me to attend a language school. I was then introduced to Sabera, a local Hazara villager, who dropped out of high school at age 17 when her father passed away to support her family of 9 younger siblings and their mother. She had been trained to teach Dari to expats which is how we got connected to one another. In that time, I was already falling into my pit of loneliness & shedding my weight along with my joy in my physical & spiritual state of defeat. However, every working morning, my day began with Sabera knocking on my door, which triggered a sense of relief from the waking moments of anxiety.

In our sessions of broken English & Dari, the focus would always digress from household & marketplace vocabulary words to our lives— our two lives from complete opposite worlds in wonder of where the other one came from; connecting in our own longings to share our stories.

When I finally conceded to my own pride & realized that I had to leave Afghanistan, it was Sabera & our relationship that tugged my heart. I felt the burden that my presence was a sense of hope for her, the way that her's was mine. In our last session together, we spent the entire 90 minutes in laughter & tears. We fantasized about our future, going through every area of our lives from dream jobs to inviting the other to our wedding. It was all a make-believe, but neither of us wanted to be the first to admit to reality. What the laughter concealed was the actual pain of hopelessness, convinced that our lives would never realign in any moment in time.

My faith, smaller than that of a mustard seed.

You can say otherwise, but Sabera was living in a 10x10 small quarter with her family of 11. They had no electricity in their space & my words of comfort to her were solely that— words. I had no real solution to ever bringing her, let alone her entire family to the States.

Receiving a phone call from an unknown number this past June & hearing a distant yet familiar voice on the other end marks a moment in my life that has taken God & his supremacy to an unimaginable level. Sabera is now living in the outskirts of Chicago with her entire family, together, pursuing the American dream.

How can I say this in any better way.......  I suck. My words will fail to really display the true glory of God.

Just watch this video & may it tug at your heart to believe in a God who goes to an extent far greater than that of our hearts & minds.

Continue to keep Sabera & her family in your prayers. Our friendship is only the beginning to what the Gospel truly has in store for this fantasy.

Falling Forward

I have so many thoughts that need to be written.

This blog-esque life is so blasé— why.

Xanga used to be soOoO eAsY foR mE to wRiTe my rAmbLinGs of tHe eVeRy dAy.

I made an unspoken resolution with myself to "actively" blog (aka, at least one entry a month). The year's end is coming close as we enter the last quarter and by the looks of my log, my writing career is yet a career.

Fortunately, I am past the stages of Denial & Depression (of a failing blogger) and now at Acceptance, so I would like to continue this post by moving forward.


This day began early this morning, in a chilly lodge in Big Sur with my parentals & Jona. Currently, I am winding down the night back in our home in La Cañada, rooting on this dying massage chair from letting me be the last of its decade run: If you die on me now, I will forever be that family member. Please, not yet, not now.


As of last Friday, I finished my work at my first job since Stefghanistan. I then survived a sleepless week & coordinated my first wedding of two friends I love on Saturday. It was a BANG, BAM, BOOM kind-of week where thoughts were screaming in my head alongside the droning pounds contained in my heart.

When such weeks depart and days of absence follow, I need time to regroup myself and catch my off-beat step. Except I went on a mini-family vacation for the past few days, making stops in SF, Napa Valley, Big Sur, 17-mile drive, Salinas, Pismo Beach and back to home sweet home.

One thing I realized from this trip: 1) Family vacations are never really a vacation. 2) Being a parent must be so exhausting. 3) My parents should have Road Trip 101 Tutorials for Koreans. Driving tips, restaurants, coastal & national routes, the whole shebang. 4) Childhood memories last a lifetime & parents pave the way.



With that, I digress my night back to this muttering machine (that had to be restarted 3x since the start of this post) and let my vacation commence.

"I lie down and sleep;

    I wake again, because the Lord sustains me."

Psalm 3:5

Thank you, Jesus. You sustain me, entirely.

Weight It Out

I started this post in April, but my thoughts were still a jumble, so I left it as is, without any written words; just a lurking reminder to myself to write it out like this:



What I have come to realize as I am no longer a girl, not yet a woman– an awkwardly disproportional adolescent continually growing disfigured before my own eyes– is that every girl + woman, no matter her size, age, race, relationship status, social class, etc has an ongoing battle in her own mind, that distorts her identity.

I am guilty. I have been, as long as I can remember from the time I wore my first swimsuit to the person who walks out of the shower every day. At my stature, I can be considered "small" or "petite" by my height measurement, but the calculations of the rest of my self punch out to be a "big, small girl". And you can totally judge me at this point, by telling me otherwise, but that is that. I am not saying that I always hate the way I look & feel, because what girl does not have a fat day? In my defense, there will always be another girl who would want what I have, that I would want in someone else. (Though, there are some girls who I can stare at endlessly and not find a single flaw in their outer appearance... from which then on, I would train myself to think, "God is fair. She probably has bigger insecurities than my muffin top & gelatin thighs.")

Where am I going with all this?

I hate to keep bringing up my time in Afghanistan, like every single previous post, but it marks such a crucial point in my life thus far. So, I have to.

In my complete misery that lasted from June to August of last year, I reached a point where I was mentally, emotionally and physically distraught with barely any spiritual strength left in my being; though being in a third world country was really the last detrimental issue. I remember calling my bedroom a prison cell, where I would do reps of 100 sit-ups & 10-min jump ropes while making up any creative exercise that I found effective. Mind you, I was going diarrhea 15-20 times a day & surviving on less than 700 calories in my daily intake. It all began with the salmonella, which led to Typhoid fever & so on & so forth. But I think that all took me to a place where I was so lonely & messed up in the head, that the only thing I had control over was my lack of appetite & durability work outs.

Though I lost 12 lbs in those 8 weeks, I remember looking at myself in the mirror & seeing someone so ugly. At any other point in my life, I would have been so ecstatic for finally getting past my goal weight, but I was genuinely dissatisfied in my situation & my conditions.

"I would rather be 12 lbs fatter & be happy than the person looking back at me right now." My thoughts reflected that statement & much worse because why? Because there really is no satisfaction in such things!

Now fast forward to this new year, where I was those pounds heavier & now, happy. I really was happy, in my circumstances and all the events that followed my feeble return. Then, I realized my words became reality and for some reason, when it clicked to me, I became unhappy again. How come there is no balance between the satisfaction of my weight & my happiness??????

That is the state that I have been overcoming in the past 3 months; wanting to find contentment in my true identity rather than the calculations on a scale. There is no end goal to what I want to look like at the peak of my joy. My end goal is Christ and my joy is found in Him. And guess what? It is everlasting. Then, who is this being that I keep exercising in my thoughts?

As a girl/woman/whatever level I am in this so-called 'womanhood', I have found that my self cannot be based on the standards that I created in my twisted mind. He has redeemed me from such a place that there is no longer any separation from who I am in Christ and how I should view myself.

"I have loved you with an everlasting love;

therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.

Again, I will build you, and you shall be built." 

Jeremiah 31:3-4

How can I say that I am praising God for his works when I cannot find peace in my very own self-worth in Him? I am His new creation, worthy to call upon His name. Say whaaaaat? His work in me is truly beyond my comprehension, that it overtakes me; all of me, in entirety.

Then, Stef, why would you not value who Christ has redeemed in you?

What makes me ugly is not who I see in the mirror, but what lies deep within my soul– my unending sins. What makes me beautiful is then found in my restored image, created in the likeness of Christ himself.

"Above all else,

guard your heart, 

for everything you do flows from it."

Proverbs 4:23

With that all said, LADIES, treat yourselves right & well. Be good to your heart, mind & soul. Let yourselves be the pursuit of Christ before any guy. Be healthy, in your thoughts, actions, and standards. Do not let this world be the determinant of your joy. Join my efforts of living a balanced life, by feeding our heart, mind & soul with the Word & feeding our bodies with what is good. (Portion control is good, too.)

"She is clothed with strength & dignity;

she can laugh at the days to come.

Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting;

but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised."

Proverbs 31:25,30

Now, that, is beautiful. I want to be just that.

No Other Way

A song came on at Cafe Dulcé tonight & it immediately took me back to an exact moment in 2005 when I was 17 young, wild & carefree. What flooded in my mind for those few, slow & good minutes made me zone out & backtrack to that night–

Black Honda Element
710 South freeway
Early April
Minutes past midnight
Windows down all around
Me, myself & I.

Thinking back, it is all but a mysterious memory that lasted for the night. No one was aware of it then, and no one around to give account of it now. My life has always been so obscure, to myself more than anyone else. Or maybe it just tends to present itself to have been cooler than it actually ever was.

Music can do that to you.
Here is to my ongoing soundtrack of my ever-so-cool life.

Crossroads

Forefront of my life–
a hazy glaze of the past 
and its time ahead

Limitations of the now
though much to aspire,
yet what cannot be withheld
are the remains of my desire

Chances & choices
extending beyond a reach,
that longs for settlement
of a faith that seeks

To whom it may concern?
                  the effect of my deeds,
          those incessant needs,
  where this step leads

The havoc of silence
that mouths direction;
branching into the woven roots
that swallow in depth, my convictions

–a fine line that separates the peace of settling to the dangers of sinking;

Stand firm and set forth
This dusk promises for new hope.

Battle Studies

"The land of the free, and the home of the brave.."
(Last photo I took on Afghan soil)

With Kabul & the Afghan Parliament under attack by the Taliban yesterday, I could not really put a grasp around the idea that  I was supposed to be there right now. My room in Kabul shared walls with the Afghan police post that guarded the Parliament building, just 20 steps away. I sit here, in safety, writing this post and praying for the brave souls who remain there. 

But then I think of my flesh and its natural desires that wanted to be in the rubbles of such disaster and how God allowed me to flee from all of that. Leaving Afghanistan was the hardest decision I ever made, not because I was called to stay there, but because I fought against every dust of my pride that longed to remain in a safety zone for wallowing pity.

I find that such bravery came in disguise, as He delivered me from an inner place far more dangerous than that of lockdowns & Taliban– my heart. I praise Him because I am not there anymore.

"...for when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:10

Buen Friday

Ready to take on this last day, in remembrance of the ultimate sacrifice that paid for my all.
In reflection of the past 40-some days of lent, a poem.
________________________________________________________________________


My thirst, unquenchable by the world
No single thing that can capture my all
The dry hours in my stillness,
reminding me of my failing attempts to satisfy the soul


This cry in my thirst,
triggered by my inability to replenish the self
At the marks of my belief,
I come bare with all my darkness exposed
For in that place, the longings of my parched soul are met;
in that moment, this self is held in secured captivity


Loss for words, in my blinded sight of Your grace
Weakened knees folded in my surrender
This pursuit of love you display,
silencing me in awe, 
unashamed in my brokenness


What I confess may fleet in the eyes of men
but in Your sight, take account Lord
May my obedience not be temporal
Make this transformation settle into stone
Take this thirsty heart, in its entirety
for I know you satisfy in whole.

Make a Dent

Lent begins in a few minutes.

I never participate in lent.. I never have.

But this year, Hillside is going through a series leading up to Easter called Season of Transformation.

As leadership, we all committed to giving up something for the sake of mindful transformation.


I have been anxious the past week, knowing that this 40-day struggle will begin...... and today, my palms started sweating as I drank my last cup of morning coffee.... and then I had a large genmai-cha from Cafe Dulcé before our meeting....... I will also share that I indulged in very many glasses of wine the past few days.......

and so there it is.

I am giving up all non-water beverages. * faint *

For me, this is a struggle against my physical, mental & spiritual state of being since I really cannot go a day without a combination of my morning espresso, my green & ginseng teas at work & my love for wine on nights-in and/or evenings-out........


But yes, I know that the struggle will be a beauty in the light of this season of being transparent & transforming before the cross.

I want to make a noticeable dent in my walk this year.

Last year was brokenness.
This year is transformation.

Onward.

Such y Such

Así es the vida–

Temporadas
de los días
that han pasados
y los que pasarán

sin parar.

Los momentitos

escritos.

–la que nunca falta;
sino llena las cua<3dras
en eterno, fully.

Sí, sí,
eres para
mí. Mi 


Fortaleza, Herencia,
por siempre;
Y así es Él,
Él que me quiere so.

Que Será, Será

2012, really? Just like that?

I swear I thought my Blogspot negligence was only a few weeks... or a couple months at most. The weird thing is, I came to this blog about two dozen times now since November, wanting to write about something, everything & anything. But every time, there was some sort of unsettlement in my thoughts & my words that would make the red X on my screen look so creepily inviting. I really wanted to recap 2011 before the new year rang in............. but oh well, so much for that.

But yes, 2011. What. A. Year.

In order to prevent myself from writing a 200-page satirical novel about my never-ending year, I will exert my thoughts into a form of poetry, called flow-etry. Whatever comes, I will write. I assure you that it will not make sense, nor will it be profound, let alone be entertaining. But really, here is to a God who endlessly pursues after my wandering heart. Every today is Your's.

___________________________________________________________________
In a Nutshell
by Your's Truly

January, Refresh & Repeats–
An afterthought of a momentous year;
        España, a romantical getaway with God
        New York City, a new light of determination
But revert back to square one to start it all off
on the wrong foot of such things as my failing flesh.

Month of de-romance
marking an end of an era
where a four-month separation with one
that shaped my adolescent heart,
came to its final halt, with no direction for where credit was due;
yet came settling in His sovereign grace & peace.

Decisions made, preparations ongoing, Afghanistan ahead.
                            days, weeks, months;
spent, or rather unspent onward His direction.

Digressing in myself, 
         so deeply 
                          s
                            in
                               king 
                               into the c  r ac   ks 
                               of the self-made.

The territory of terror
not nearly as dangerous than 
that of one's heart that cheapens His grace;
a place where those who hunger & thirst
are waiting upon the living Bread of Life.

Shootings, bombings, attacks
                    ...steps away from my hiding spot.

Meanwhile, celebrating my 24th, bedridden at the E.R.
Yet what trapped me more than the surrounding walls of barricade and illness
was the pit of my relentless heartache,
holding onto the end of my wholly commitment,
unwilling to surrender my fixed pride & pain.

My home of 80-so days described in 20 words or less:
Bare-riers of solitude, 
             captivated by His endless desire for my all, 
                                     pouring my weaknesses unto Him.

Reverse culture shock to Seoul–
Late night strolls by the river
State-of-the-art hospital beds
Overwhelming amounts of life
Piecing together myself
             in the company of
             a handful of greats.

                                                                    Going, going 
                                     Back, back

California Soul.
Searching peace.
Maker of Heaven.

Have.
Found.
Praise.

Where to conclude this story?
                                                 Hey look, it never began nor did it end there.

History, His story for me.
It keeps going.
He keeps yearning.
His grace keeps saving.

Not anyone nor anything, more than Him.
In any case, take it all away.
Whatever captures my heart more than You, release me.
Whatever makes me fall deeper into You, bless me.

A
firm foundation,
certain clarity,
true transformation;
                                 a year of settling.


Onward, 2012.