2014: In Pursuit

I am not one for making resolutions-- resolutions that go missing and forgotten as the new year hurrah crumbles then fades into an abyss of b l a h.

In lieu of such sorrowful traps, I started characterizing my years with a word that I wanted to pray over my life.

2012 was a year of settlement.
2013 was a year of joy.
2014 will be a year of love.

Now, this is a scary way to live out your year or so I have learned in pattern. In 2012, I became funemployed late September and had no idea where the year would end. And as mentioned in my last post, I never felt like I had to fight so hard for joy as I did in 2013. So what am I really getting myself into this year of 2014 as I pray for love in my life?

Before you go on to think that I am sulking in my singlehood and seeking to find Mr. Right during this fateful year, stop right theeeere. What I mean when I pray for such bold things as love is that I pray for the pursuit of love. I read this post on Desiring God and for the last few days of 2013, I let the idea marinate in my mind: make 2014 a year where I pursue love with more intentionality than I ever have before

I pray for my fickle heart that fears to mutter the word in hesitation of discomfort; I pray for this prideful being within me that fails to express it in my coldness; I pray for my inward & outward character to be covered by a grace that has set my heart to love so freely; and I pray that all this stems from my growing knowledge of the gospel that saves me from myself.

And as I reflect on how the last two years had ended, I remember that in December 2012, I started the job that I am still currently working at and also received a $500 check to use on myself from an anonymous giver; in 2013, Red Thread, King's Table Men's Home & Breaking Bread Homeless Ministry were yearlong projects that allowed me to exercise my joy in offering and in return, got more blessings than I could have ever asked for. Sighahh.

So I brace myself this new year and take a step forward with my eyes closed to dabble in this thing called love— to always remember & never forget our God who has pursued my heart relentlessly through my wilderness years until now.

2013: A Clog

Tomorrow is 2014.

365 days ago, I was on a NYE hike up Echo Mountain, overlooking the greater city into the new year with high hopes for the uncertain days ahead.

A year later today, I sit here at my work desk in an almost empty office and have little to say about 2013— not to say it was bad in any way. The past year was goood for my soul. It was stretched, twisted, numbed and reshaped to its original form all at once; my heart. 

This year was also the least I ever journal-ed or blogged. Hence my title, A Clog. I feel it in me. I know all the thoughts that took residence in the entirety of 2013 and all the profound, deep quotes I could have written of this grand ol' life of mine. It should have been blogged out for my peace of mind. But alas, no evidence. The disconnect from there to here is a giant clog of internal sh!t and the struggle is real my friends! (Pretty much just Saehoon, Will & Cadengo-- hi friends.)

But really, the struggle is so very real. I got straight up dominated by my newest friend, Eczema, along with the company of old ones-- Cold Sore, Ulcer & Chan Hos—  all by the stressors of killjoy. Whatever it was, I never felt like I had to fight so hard for my joy, inside and out. I forget life before all these scars and scratches on my neck and stomach. Yet in the bigger scheme of things, the joy I gained through & through have never been this satisfying & this constant. 

Joy is above my circumstances. 

And circumstantial joy is but happiness. 

"2 ...Remember the whole way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that he might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments or not. 3 And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. 4 Your clothing did not wear out on you and your foot did not swell these forty years.  

5 Know then in your heart that, as a man disciplines his son, the Lord your God disciplines you. 6 So you shall keep the commandments of the Lord your God by walking in his ways and by fearing him.7 For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land..." (Deuteronomy 8:2-7) 

Do not be so quick to forget, Estefania.

To the good land we go-- goodbye to one, hello to tomorrow.

Humbly & Simply Put

This email keeps speaking life into my heart. For 2013, I decided to commit my selfish singlehood to become a season of selflessness. Mind shift— Singlehood is the only season I have to offer all of my time, energy, resources & presence to others. (How long this season should last is yet another wonder.)

Reading this email humbly put me in place. Nothing I do is ever in vain or even for any gain. When I commit to greater things than myself, God uses me; not as a do-er of good works, but as a witness to His works. 

My hands and feet are for His kingdom- Today I am grateful for witnesses. We all have the power to speak life to those around us.

Thank you, MW.

Scatterbrainiac

I scrolled down through my previous posts and noticed that the word "digress" has made repeated cameos. I personally do not like overkills, so it made me cringe a bit.

Digress, digress, digress.

Why do I digress so much?

How come our my social attention span is that of a 3 year old going through the early stages of brain development?

When does multi-tasking become destructive rather than productive?
Is it ever productive?
I am a self-renowned multi-tasker.
Does this make me unproductive?

Someone needs to filter my internal hard drive.
My Blogspot & all its unpublished posts.

My scatterbrain-
digressing again
and again
& again.

On-The-Go

I have once again neglected this blog for a period of too long. (surprise, surprise)

I spend less time on my laptop nowadays which is hardly a bad thing. But in the midst of my days and wanting to scream my momentary diarrhea flashes of words on top of words, by the time I actually open up my MacBook and click on Google Chrome, they are all but present in my mind.

This may be a result of my 4-month inauguration as a new iPhone user. I drafted an ode to my late-BlackBerry Style named Neo after my crossover, but that never got posted either. With that, the iPhone was a bit of a disappointment and not as life-changing as I had expected it to be, which made my separation from my BlackBerry flip that much more (de)pressing. [Insert "first world problems" hashtag here]

I digress.

Anyway, the purpose of this post and my subtle return to Blogspot is, ironically, all thanks to my iPhone 5; for the extensive world of worldly apps that gives me access to everything I (n)ever really need in life.

So, goodbye BlackBerry. When you return with an HD camera, we will reunite again. Until then, I am blogging on-the-go; toilet, traffic, cubicle & all.



Hi Saehoon & Cadengo.

I lied. The iPhone did change my life.

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.

ggpwn3d #12- Coming to Terms

July 14, 2011
Kabul, Afghanistan
My room


It just hit me. I was eating a silent meal; a rare jewel for me here.

After a week-long of purging my mental & emotional state of disorder, I was defeated. Living in my confined space, day & night, close to no interaction with others; no outlet, no freedom, no accountability– overwhelmed. I counted the past 8 days of crying- not just a single burst of teardrops- but at any given moment, I found myself literally releasing all the suffocation & distress that I had piled inside of me. With barely any appetite for food after a month-long of my physical battle, I sat there and just went numb to the silence.

I reflected on my 44 days here. I then began to think about the whole process that led me to this point; from this experience having been just a thought.. an option.. a decision– mm, a decision. I came here, following not a command from God where it was forced upon me, but a thoroughly thought opportunity where I would exercise who I was in Him. I remember I knew 100% that even if I had chosen my other job option, He would have blessed me either way. He, who searches my heart, my thoughts, my desires and blesses me, accordingly.

Well, of course, being here, I have spent my time with God crying in distress, asking for clarity, wanting release.. from this place, from my guilt, from the bounded approval of others. I wrestled with Him.

But today, during my silent meal, I did a replay of the past new year since my version of "The Decision". I cannot say that it was a mistake or a regret. And it all clicked. If I had decided to let go of this experience, then the trail of events and changes that have happened since January would not be of existence today. I would give you a long, chronological list of examples, but I like to keep some part of my life a mystery. Therefore, I refrain.

Now onto Pastor Joey's prayer over me during my last Sunday commissioning service,

Father, would you receive her dedication & year-long sacrifice in full. Even if she cannot stay the entire time she has committed, would you bless her in its entirety. As when Abraham was obedient to lay down his only son, you took his faith over his sacrifice so that he would receive his blessings.

I remember when he prayed those words over me and it seemed foreign and a bit unexpected. In my mind, I paused for a second and thought, 'waittt.. whoever said I was not staying there the whole year?', and the words were somewhat fleeting. Perhaps because it had not made sense at the time/peak of my long, awaited departure, or perhaps because it was interrupting myself-glorified timeline.

And then it hit me! (yes, that ! was necessary) As I have been here, struggling and trying to find worth in my defeated self, I had been consumed about my committed time span; about all those who I would "disappoint" if I left early; about my guilt towards everyone.. the organization, my supporters, my family, etc. But in this moment, I remembered Pastor Joey's prayer. It had crossed my mind a few times since I got here, but I could not find peace with it because I did not want to justify my explanation.

Yet today, I saw it. I saw why he had prayed that over me. God had already seen my circumstances, before I came here & before I got to this frail tip of self-destruction– and had spoken those words to comfort me, now. That while I had been so caught up with the hype & excitement of "sacrificing" myself-made "strength", He had already seen my weakness. Sighahh, ggpwn3d.

And that is how all of this is no longer foreign to me. It was the moment I was longing for; the comfort that my tears and hours of pensive idleness failed to bring.

Thank you. Thank you for your timeless perfection; for not disregarding my rebellious heart and for bringing me sense & peace to my stubborn, self-absorbed battle.


No fretting. I am not taking the next flight out, yet.
So, to you who with your own explanations, I kindly ask that you refrain from making me fall into this pit again.

“Because [she] loves me,” says the LORD, 

“I will rescue her; I will protect her,

for [she] acknowledges my name.
[She] will call on me, and I will answer her;
   I will be with her in trouble,
   I will deliver her and honor her.
With long life I will satisfy her
   and show her my salvation.”

Psalm 91:14-16

My Golden Year

What a birth day.
The past 3 days, I was probably awake for about 12 hours of it. But I am now alive & well......(not completely, but compared to yesterday)!

If you told me a year ago, that I would spend my 24th birthday in Afghanistan.. in the ER.. feeling half-alive.. I would have laughed at your face.

But that was that; I woke up yesterday morning, feeling crummy & emotional from being sick on my birthday. My heart was racing at 120 bpm for a couple hours until the doctor at 'Sunday School' said I needed to get to the hospital. It so happened to be the last day that Dr. Tim & his wife would be with us, as their 7-year service to this country had ended. Dr. Tim started Afsher Hope Hospital, which is where I was admitted yesterday, and they were really great with me. Way better than the German Medical Clinic that I went the past few times.

My birthday party- no one showed up

2000 mL of IV Serums later.. my birthday present

Anyway, with my heart racing, fever going & stomach pains still around, I was stuck up with 2 doses of IV while getting my heart stabilized and tested with an EKG... then more blood tests & another failed stool test. (Guess how much it all came out to? 1000 Afs, which equals ~$23 USD, amazing.)

This post is not about yesterday though.

It is about my best birthday-to-date, 2 years ago, in Tipitapa, Nicaragua. Being in a place with no materialistic goods, but just the company of amazing people, enjoying the simple beauty of nature, His creation... is really more than anyone can ask for. I guess the difference between then & today, is that absence of good company, which I have come to realize that human beings are meant to be surrounded with people they love. That really makes all the difference in the world.

What I meant by the 'beauty of nature'..

Having no other care in the world

15 of my favoritest people (including t-tom behind the lens) & then some..

Yes, the dark thing in the middle in yours truly

Best birthday or not, I am learning to find joy in my circumstances, whether I am in the company of loved ones or not.. Perhaps this year will be Golden, in some way that I have yet to comprehend.

Happy 24th to me.

Free≠dom

Independence Day has been one of my favoritest days of the year because 1) someone is always throwing a bomb-beque, and 2) La Cañada Country Club parking lot is always the spot to be for all the fireworks around LA.

Today, I found a new appreciation for America and its freedom of speech & religion.

Wait, not only that, but the freedom to wear whatever I feel like.. to go out & enjoy a day off with company or solo.. to be a girl out & about in the streets JUST BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE IT.. to enjoy a glass of wine anywhere, especially my own home.. to drive my car with the windows down, singing along to my blasting music.. to take my dogs out on a walk & saying hello to other dog owners who share the same affinity for dog-walking, to laugh & smile because I want to express an emotion called happiness..

Living in this country is probs the closest thing to experiencing a life without freedom; at least for me. I have been here for 34 days and am sitting here, telling you how sorry I feel for me, myself & I, for spending endless quality time together in my 10x10 bedroom.

Yet these people live through this all their lives. These women, especially.

Speech & religion. In this country, a person who believes in Him has to live a lie to everyone else around.. How can one express the joy of being found in the One when it is forbidden to do so? How about the women who are most 'free' inside the boundaries of their own home, yet cannot speak a word against her husband?

But then again, is it harder for a person who has lived all their life without freedom, never getting a taste of its goodness?

Here, I spend an entire day, in my room- my desk, my bed, my floor.. and I can do whatever the hecks I want because I am the boss of this room. Anything I say goes, and I say that freedom is free inside these walls. *crowd*cheer*

Perhaps it is getting to me; the lack of freedom outside these walls. Maybe I have to suffer through this feeling, so that I would literally feel the pain of these people. Maybe this is exercising my freedom in Him.

Red, White & Bluez, cheers.

Jumblelaya: Thoughts That Think

• It has officially been a month since I came here. Today is July 1st.

• It is also a week before my 24th birthday. Funny though.. nearly a year ago, I was "planning" my next birthday to be my Golden 24Kobe Year.. especially after starting off my 23rd year being quite a hotmess in front of my closest friends & family. Man, what a shame... if I knew I would be spending my 24th, away from home, let alone Afghanistan, I might have acted more accordingly that day one year ago... haha, probs not.

• Well, I guess have to throw out the gold-themed extravaganza I was planning on having... perhaps this year is meant for something less glam, more basic. Yeah. That is pretty much what I have to be grateful for here. I am living in a third world country yet I am living in luxury, in terms of what people in surrounding areas have in comparison to me.
  
  What I have here:
  I have three meals a day (even if my stomach rejects it all), I have working electricity (most of the time), I am able to take a warm bath every night (I downsized to one plastic tub of water from my first week here.. go me!), I have 4 pairs of pants & 8 tops to choose from every day, I have access to internet (even if it feels like 56K) that lets me Skype with my family every day or so, I have a Dari language tutor that I pay 100 Afs/hour for (45 Afs = $1).

• Geez, looking at the things I listed above... living in America automatically labels my life as 'Spoiled'.
  
• A month is too early to say, but I am still waiting on Him to see what I came out here for. There have been a lot of running thoughts in my mind.
• Before I came out here, I said that the only reason I would go back home, short of my yearlong commitment, would be if I felt uneasy about my safety here. I guess Osama's death kind of jacked it up for my arrival here because I do not think I have felt safe since the day I got here. 
• People in the US all heard about the hotel attack in Kabul earlier this week, which was a big attack & quite intricate. But only about 21 people (9 bad guys, 12 good guys) died. I say only as if I am not phased by these things happening around this country, every day... but it is true. The other day 35 women & children were killed in a maternity ward of a hospital, with about 20 more injured on top of that. That kind of stuff breaks my heart more.
  
  
                      Looks like a scene from a Hollywood film
  
• I live next door to a police compound that was placed here as headquarter for the Parliament building across the street a week or so before I came here. We share walls with the unit and it honestly does not make me feel so good. I always hear them talking at night, along with the army helicopters that run all night.. and then add the 12:30AM & 3:30AM Muslim prayer time. I sometimes hear a single gunshot noise somewhere in the distance.
  
• I am pretty lonely here. I share a house with M/M Pae who are great to me and I have no complaints being with them. But our times are limited to meal times. Besides that, I am alone. I think it took me a while to accept this, even though it is one of things I prepared myself for before I came out. It was on my list of P-requests and I know a lot of people are P-ing on my behalf. Maybe that is why I was denying and holding it in, even from myself. I did not want to disappoint the obvious. After spending 90% of my waking hours alone in the past two weeks, I had no where to hide from the rather large elephant in the room. 
• So I did it. I cried last night. I was walking around aimlessly in my house and then it just went off. I cried for about 3 hours; in the bathroom, on my bed, at my desk. I just let it out to Him. I felt like I had to, after a month of suppressing it; it was the only thing left to do. I wanted to do it without feeling guilty, for the people who were supporting me & my pride that always seems to act stronger than I really am.
• Of course, this is nothing new to the One who brought me out here. He knew I would be like this as it happened a year ago in Spain. He embraced me. He reminded me of Hosea's wife, just as it was revealed to me then, in a different place/time in my life. "Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her." (H. 2:14) 

Anyway, I am just running off on a million thoughts. A lot of people are P-ing for different things for my time here. Some are asking for Him to release me early, some for me to do amazing work, some neither, some etc etc etc. I had a long talk with my Leader from Hillside. He reminded me to not to stay here or go home for my own set goals or for the expectation of those who sent me.. It was a much-needed reminder. I will be more intentional in my p-time and seeing what really is meant from all this.

In Her Loss for Words

Can I share a story today? I call it a (non)fiction narrative account. You can believe it or let it be fleeting words. It is my burden to share.

It takes place in Afghanistan.

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There was grief in his voice, but deep sincerity.

"I am very sad this morning. Something very bad happened to my sister," said my driver, in his heavy accent, with his eyes coated with a layer of hazy water; maybe his tears, maybe his rage.

He had received a phone call at the break of dawn from his niece. Her mother had taken a destructive fall down the stairs after a violent encounter with her husband. She was not doing well. After receiving another phone call from his nephew who was far away in a different province, he rushed over to his sister's house.

Inside, he found her curled- broken, in all ways imaginable. Her face, covered with dark colors of heavy bruising and marks of blood that trailed down to her clothes; her body, lifeless in form with only a painful gaze showing any sign of life. There she was, in speechless fear, yet her silence cried louder than audible words.

He boiled from the inside of his stomach with hatred towards the man who had done this to his sister. As he searched every corner of the house, he could not find the person whose life he wanted to destroy with his own hands- the coward who had fled from his own doings. Even an upright man like him, in his right state of mind, would find it hard to express grace to someone who left his sister like that.

When he went back to her, he observed her bloody mouth that had swollen up in the waiting hours and her broken nose with purple bruises extending to her half-shut eyes. She did not speak up; not only from her physical pain, but her words were crushed deep into herself.

"She did nothing horrible, my sister. Her husband wanted to arrange marriage for their 18-year old daughter with their nephew. He has no education and he smoking hashes every day. My sister thinking... her daughter too young and still going to school, she deserving a better future, not with that nephew. That is all she wanted to tell her husband."

As I heard him telling me this, my heart was crushing inside of me like his sister's words. This was reality, not some article from CNN or a documentary of oppressed women in Muslim culture. She was one person, in this country, who was living this identical, unspoken life that so many other women like herself were hiding in. Some women are left with nothing, a family who departs from her in times of agony, who turn the other way to avoid acknowledging this reality; some who do not wake up in a hospital bed, surrounded with her supportive family and her loving brother. You can say her story is a fortunate case.

In his disheartened sigh, he wished his culture would respect their women- their words and their work. If only there were more people like him in this country- my thought- people who praised their wives and loved them for their worth.

Maybe it is because he finds the beauty of his wife as a reflection of Him who lives inside of her; called to love her as He loves His church.

What a blessed pair they are, in this dark world.

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This is the world where I am living in right now. It really hurts me....... so deeply to open my heart to a place where this is the norm, what is accepted. It tests my faith to seek justice for these people..

My prayer is that this girl will not grow up into
the world these women are living in today

"The Lord is King forever and ever;

the nations will perish from his land.

You hear the desire of the afflicted;

you encourage them and you listen to their cry,

defending the fatherless and the oppressed,

in order that man, who is of the earth,

may terrify no more."

                                                Psalm 10:16-18