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.

------------------------------------

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.

------------------------------------


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