Tonight, during the last Craft night of Adventure week, I was helping an eight year old named Andrew. The craft tonight was to make life-preserver bible verse frames from two paper plates. The project was simple enough, so Andrew really didn't need help, but I needed an excuse to sit by him.
Andrew has very cherubic features: a rounded face, rosy, squeezable cheeks, sizable blue eyes and short, sandy brown hair. Andrew is also the smartest kid I have ever come across. When I say smart, I mean, he talks like a British scholar. His vocabulary is very sophisticated and proper, not just for an eight year old little boy, but for anyone! For example, after helping him punch a hole through his life-preserver frame, I asked him what he was going to do with his finished project. This was his response, word for word: "I do not know. Perhaps, I shall hang it onto my bed post. Perhaps, that may be a good idea. Do you think so?" I stared at him, flabbergasted, with my mouth agape. I just shrugged my shoulders, nodded and took a deep breath to stifle my laughter. I made eye contact with one of his group leaders, sitting in the chair next to him, and her eyes had grown as wide as her mouth was open. She was as pleasantly shocked and entertained as I was.
After I made sure I wasn't going to laugh, I cleared my throat and asked, "Andrew, would you like to pull the string through the hole?" He nodded his head and threaded the string through with his clumsy, chubby eight year old fingers. Then I asked him, "Can you tie a knot?" Andrew shook his head vigorously and said, "No, no, no. I cannot. Please help me." Once I finished tying the knot, he clapped his hands together, smiled gleefully and said, with utmost resolve: "Perfect."
After putting his project away, Andrew and I actually got into a short discussion about words. He asked me what my favorite word was. For some weird reason, the only word I could think of at the moment was "arbitrary." Andrew, in sincere eagerness, asked me what it meant. How do you explain what "arbitrary" means to a child who, according to Piadget's Stages of Cognitive Development, cannot grasp abstract concepts?
The best explanation I could come up with was that it meant something random and unpredictable. I suppose most eight year olds would've looked at me blankly if I had tried to explain a complicated word with complicated concepts, but Andrew placed his chubby little fingers on his chin and let out a contemplative "hmm." I asked him if he knew what random meant. Immediately, his eyes lit up as he replied, "of course! See, when things are in order...it's like counting from 1-10...you know...1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and on and on. But when something is random then it's like not going in order! It's like 1, 7, 10..."
I wanted to steal him right then and make him mine forever.
This is why I love kids so much. You just never know what you're going to get in terms of personality or...lexicon.
11.7.08
10.7.08
Accidents happen...for a reason.
I got a text from my brother tonight saying: I just got in an accident.
Foreboding, much?
My initial reaction was to have all sorts of horrible scenarios flood my mind. I immediately ruled out death because I figured, if he was dead then he wouldn't have sent me the text message in the first place (i know, my deductive reasoning is nothing short of amazing). After about 5 minutes of freaking out, I finally called him and asked him what happened. Apparently, a car that was slowing down and signaling right on the right lane decided to turn left just as my brother was trying to pass it. At 40 mph. Oy vey. He said that he was fine, a little shaken, but fine. And the other driver was fine, too. When asked I asked how our Toyota Sequoia was doing, all my brother could do was sigh and say, "Let's just say that there's a chunk missing."
My poor brother. I'm SO glad that he's ok. There was a brief moment where I considered the option of him not being ok and I almost cried. I praise God that the only thing damaged was the car--though the car is still a considerable problem on the financial side of things and my parents definitely need prayer about that. But it's interesting, isn't it? Christian or non-Christian, we almost always revert to casting aside the material things as rubbish when it comes to the life of someone we really love and care about. What if we thought this way about people, in general, on a regular basis? What would our lives be like?
Nothing can replace my brother. I'm kind of ashamed to admit that it took something like this to remind me of just how precious he is to me. Or how precious people are. What was it that Jesus said? "Love your neighbor as yourself?" The kind of love and affection I'm feeling now, that's the kind of love I need to have for everyone! Right?
Foreboding, much?
My initial reaction was to have all sorts of horrible scenarios flood my mind. I immediately ruled out death because I figured, if he was dead then he wouldn't have sent me the text message in the first place (i know, my deductive reasoning is nothing short of amazing). After about 5 minutes of freaking out, I finally called him and asked him what happened. Apparently, a car that was slowing down and signaling right on the right lane decided to turn left just as my brother was trying to pass it. At 40 mph. Oy vey. He said that he was fine, a little shaken, but fine. And the other driver was fine, too. When asked I asked how our Toyota Sequoia was doing, all my brother could do was sigh and say, "Let's just say that there's a chunk missing."
My poor brother. I'm SO glad that he's ok. There was a brief moment where I considered the option of him not being ok and I almost cried. I praise God that the only thing damaged was the car--though the car is still a considerable problem on the financial side of things and my parents definitely need prayer about that. But it's interesting, isn't it? Christian or non-Christian, we almost always revert to casting aside the material things as rubbish when it comes to the life of someone we really love and care about. What if we thought this way about people, in general, on a regular basis? What would our lives be like?
Nothing can replace my brother. I'm kind of ashamed to admit that it took something like this to remind me of just how precious he is to me. Or how precious people are. What was it that Jesus said? "Love your neighbor as yourself?" The kind of love and affection I'm feeling now, that's the kind of love I need to have for everyone! Right?
9.7.08
Coffee IS a drug!
This week, I'm helping out at Grace EV Free's "Adventure Week," which is the church's very own rendition of that timeless Christian standard: Vacation Bible School. This year's theme: Set Sail.
I get to help out in Crafts, which is really fun, but a little stressful. Kids + markers, or kids + scenic sand (or kids + anything, for that matter) usually equals to about...20 minutes of mayhem (which is how long the Craft rotation lasts per group). There's a lot of noise, a lot of "hey! i need more of... (fill in the blank)," and the occasional disgruntled child, who takes out the disappointment of his craft-project-gone wrong, by scowling in his chair and refusing to be pleasant to anyone.
The craft was simple enough: the kids were decorating their very own sailor hats. But I had about three million requests to draw sea creatures on hats. Five seahorses, three sailboats and four anchors later, I needed a break (there was a lot of yelling, ok? And my head sort of hurt).
I decided to step out and grab some coffee from the parent's lounge. The amount of coffee
that I drank was a mere 10 ounces, but it sure didn't take long to kick in: soon I was greeting every child in the room with a hearty, "Ahoy there, matey!"-- complete with the cheesy arm swing and squinty, Popeye expression.
It's 12:37 in the morning and I can't sleep. And 2 hours ago, I was bouncing off the walls in my room, laughing at everything and getting giddy about nothing in particular. There were other strange incidents that happened, but I've decided to spare you the details.
Now as I sit here, I feel the impending doom of a caffeine "crash and burn." It feels kind of like the end of the world--kind of. I think it would be more convenient to, instead of feeling whiny and weepy, be tired and sleepy. In other words, though I may all of a sudden gain this heightened sensitivity to my emotions, I still will not be tired enough to fall asleep. This makes so sense, because I would rather just. . . go to bed.
This reminds me of that one time I had a third of a margarita at California Adventures. I don't know why because it's completely irrelevant. I just remember that, even if it wasn't much alcohol, that miniscule amount of the lemon-lime concoction was enough to "mellow me out," if you know what I mean. You're probably thinking, "that was all in your head." And, yeah, maybe it was just a mental thing, but I assure you that I did feel very relaxed--relaxed enough to get in line for the Tower of Terror without much incident. And I can't stress enough how much I hate that ride. Abhor would be a better word choice, methinks. Better yet: loathe, detest, despise, execrate...I think you get the picture.
Anyway, that was a nice tangent. However, in light of the alcohol issue, I can't help but wonder which is the greater evil: doing more stupid things at a faster rate, or doing stupid things because you can't think straight? Hmmm?
Maybe I should quit drinking coffee? But...flub, I like coffee so much! Or maybe it likes me too much? Could I really give it up? I mean, I'm much more entertaining when I'm caffeinated. Doesn't that count for something? And since when did I start reacting to coffee this way? When did the universe fall out of alignment?
I get to help out in Crafts, which is really fun, but a little stressful. Kids + markers, or kids + scenic sand (or kids + anything, for that matter) usually equals to about...20 minutes of mayhem (which is how long the Craft rotation lasts per group). There's a lot of noise, a lot of "hey! i need more of... (fill in the blank)," and the occasional disgruntled child, who takes out the disappointment of his craft-project-gone wrong, by scowling in his chair and refusing to be pleasant to anyone.
The craft was simple enough: the kids were decorating their very own sailor hats. But I had about three million requests to draw sea creatures on hats. Five seahorses, three sailboats and four anchors later, I needed a break (there was a lot of yelling, ok? And my head sort of hurt).I decided to step out and grab some coffee from the parent's lounge. The amount of coffee
that I drank was a mere 10 ounces, but it sure didn't take long to kick in: soon I was greeting every child in the room with a hearty, "Ahoy there, matey!"-- complete with the cheesy arm swing and squinty, Popeye expression.It's 12:37 in the morning and I can't sleep. And 2 hours ago, I was bouncing off the walls in my room, laughing at everything and getting giddy about nothing in particular. There were other strange incidents that happened, but I've decided to spare you the details.
Now as I sit here, I feel the impending doom of a caffeine "crash and burn." It feels kind of like the end of the world--kind of. I think it would be more convenient to, instead of feeling whiny and weepy, be tired and sleepy. In other words, though I may all of a sudden gain this heightened sensitivity to my emotions, I still will not be tired enough to fall asleep. This makes so sense, because I would rather just. . . go to bed.
This reminds me of that one time I had a third of a margarita at California Adventures. I don't know why because it's completely irrelevant. I just remember that, even if it wasn't much alcohol, that miniscule amount of the lemon-lime concoction was enough to "mellow me out," if you know what I mean. You're probably thinking, "that was all in your head." And, yeah, maybe it was just a mental thing, but I assure you that I did feel very relaxed--relaxed enough to get in line for the Tower of Terror without much incident. And I can't stress enough how much I hate that ride. Abhor would be a better word choice, methinks. Better yet: loathe, detest, despise, execrate...I think you get the picture.
Anyway, that was a nice tangent. However, in light of the alcohol issue, I can't help but wonder which is the greater evil: doing more stupid things at a faster rate, or doing stupid things because you can't think straight? Hmmm?
Maybe I should quit drinking coffee? But...flub, I like coffee so much! Or maybe it likes me too much? Could I really give it up? I mean, I'm much more entertaining when I'm caffeinated. Doesn't that count for something? And since when did I start reacting to coffee this way? When did the universe fall out of alignment?
6.7.08
Training wheels are off.
I did not go to church this morning, which isn't the end of the world, but my conscience felt like it was. I just...decided not to go. Totally lame, I KNOW. Discouraged, dismayed and frustrated with myself, I left my house to journal and talk with God. I spent the next few hours evaluating the thought process that lead to my poor decision this morning.
At this point in my life, there literally is no one around to tell me what to do. I don't feel direct pressure from anyone to do anything. Typical expectations of friends and mentors, pastors and parents are no longer my main points of references--they do not dominate or dictate decisions I make. For example, my whole life I have always felt some sense of obligation to go to church. I hardly ever missed a service--which wasn't hard to do since I was so plugged into the high school and college ministries of my home church. Unfortunately, I realized that those obligations were predominantly founded on pleasing other people, not obeying and worshiping God. This, of course, is no one's fault but mine.
I have never been this free to live life my way. It's kind of scary. Mostly because I'm discovering a lot about myself that I don't like. Just because I'm free to live, it doesn't mean I should do everything I feel like doing. And the things I used to do when I lived under obligations and expectations, I discovered are things that I still need to do, but being freed from legalistic reasoning, I find it hard to motivate myself to do them. I need to want to do them, not for myself--or anyone else-- but for the glory of God! (i.e church attendance, discernment about what movies I watch or music I listen to, spending time in the Word, stewardship of my time, keeping my room clean, balancing my budget, cleaning up after myself, etc.).
It's like I'm learning to ride a bike for the first time. My Father has finally removed the training wheels. He wants me to learn how to balance on my own. And falling is definitely included in the learning process. I'm not going to learn unless I get back up and try again, because God's not going to put the training wheels back on. Never again.
I understand that the bike-analogy probably sucked, but my point is: I realized this morning after getting up from another fall, that the scary thing about discovering freedom in Christ and being released from the chains of legalism is now...the only thing stopping me from taking up my Cross...is...myself. I know that I have to want Jesus more than anything. No one can make me do that! I have to want to use my freedom to live as a slave to righteousness.
"Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him, rooted and built up in Him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving..."
Colossians 2:6
5.7.08
Why the heck do I write so much?
This is to make up for my novel I wrote the day before.
Movies under a tent/fort... HEE!
the setup.
good job, Kevin and Eric.
mmm. candles help with the ambiance...and the darkness.
we're endearing, i know.
(this was taken right before we were attacked by ants.)
Viva La Summer!
Movies under a tent/fort... HEE!
the setup.
good job, Kevin and Eric.
mmm. candles help with the ambiance...and the darkness.
we're endearing, i know.(this was taken right before we were attacked by ants.)
Viva La Summer!4.7.08
Happy 4th.
That little blurp is about all the patriotism I could muster...pathetic, isn't it? It's not that I don't care--I plead ignorance, not contempt. I like America and appreciate my freedom very much. There are just other things on my mind right now. Brace yourself, this is going to be a long one:
I had to work closing shift and tonight I had the privilege to work with "Steve." Obviously, that's not his real name. But I don't want to embarrass him--nor I-- in the event that he accidentally finds my blog. Being a holiday, work was pretty dead, so Steve and I got to talk a lot. It was amazing how much I found out about his life in about an hour.
At first glance, one would assume that Steve is one of those artsy-eclectic musician types, who loves the planet Earth more than his diurnal (daily) shower. He had an abundance of curly black hair that rested on his head like a well-fitted helmet. He wore black thick-rimmed glasses, a faded periwinkle t-shirt, jean cut-offs and a pair of tattered Vans. Steve seemed ethnically ambiguous because I could not tell what he was until he mentioned his Salvadorian heritage: "...sadly, I know more French than I do Spanish. And...that's not much."
Steve just graduated with a Bachelor's in English at the age of 22 and is planning to get his Master's in Poetry at Portland State University. In retrospect, Steve stated his ambitions so ardently that it was reminiscent of a young boy telling his mother how the first day of kindergarten went. Steve was also equally excited about going to Russia in a couple of weeks to meet his girlfriend's family. The reason for his excitement: "I'm planning to propose to her while we're there," he said, emphatically. He claims that he knew she was "the one" after dating the Russian beauty for five months. "Three years later, and with the both of us moving to Portland in March, I think it would be wiser to be married and live together, than live together and not get married. You know?" In addition to being "pre-engaged," Steve is also a creative and talented poet, a self-taught guitar, banjo and piano player, a self-proclaimed vegetarian with vegan ethics, lover of the Gypsy Den, and a fellow connoisseur of talented, yet obscure musicians. Furthermore, he would rather ride his bike than drive a car and he brings a Nerf gun to work with him, just in case he gets bored.
I found Steve to be super cool, refreshing and inspiring, though I think the average "normal" person would classify him as a social outcast, or someone who doesn't adhere to societal norms. I think he's "normal" enough. He's just not afraid to be different. He doesn't try hard--he knows what he likes and appreciates and doesn't need everyone else's pre-approval to act on his pursuit of those things.
I am realizing more and more how drawn I am to people like Steve. I am attracted to that sort of lifestyle--living for or under obscurity, having a genuine sense of originality by finding ways to live life differently from generations before, thinking deeply about everything, self-expression through creative means, etc. And I feel like I'm in a stage of my life where I'm trying to find a different way to live it, without losing the ultimate focus: the glory of God, through Jesus Christ. But the "way things are" just isn't going to cut it, anymore. I have outgrown the legalistic expectations of the Christian subculture. I am through with just sitting there, mouth agape. I am desperate to make the most of my time here on Earth. I am eager to see what that is supposed to look like because I am free in Jesus Christ! I am free to live my life!
But even as I say this, I hear the voices of people in my life who withhold caution from the wind with tightly closed fists: "BUT...we have an obligation to righteousness. You have to be careful not to abuse that freedom. The Bible tells us that we need to be set apart. You can't just do whatever you want. We need to fear God and obey His commands. Be careful to tame your selfish ambitions." Yes, all of that is true. But are we to be so cautious that we stray too far to the right, and become content with simply sitting and hearing sound doctrine within our respective churches without consciously trying to figure out, how these doctrines are to be lived out in every day life? Isn't it worth risking a mistake in order to figure out what it is that God wants for us to do, how He wants us to impact the world for Christ's name?
It may appear that I have diverging and bifurcating points of interests, but really, what I'm trying to say--in 200,000 words or less--is, I perceive people like Steve are people who actually live life. Granted, that is a gross-over generalization and a completely subjective point of view--in other words, my own personal opinion. I widely accept diversion from the norm as something admirable, mostly because it is hard to do.
But what about Christians, those who have everything to live for, those who have been given freedom to live life abundantly, how are we living?
I feel like we are afraid to live as freely as we ought.
I had to work closing shift and tonight I had the privilege to work with "Steve." Obviously, that's not his real name. But I don't want to embarrass him--nor I-- in the event that he accidentally finds my blog. Being a holiday, work was pretty dead, so Steve and I got to talk a lot. It was amazing how much I found out about his life in about an hour.
At first glance, one would assume that Steve is one of those artsy-eclectic musician types, who loves the planet Earth more than his diurnal (daily) shower. He had an abundance of curly black hair that rested on his head like a well-fitted helmet. He wore black thick-rimmed glasses, a faded periwinkle t-shirt, jean cut-offs and a pair of tattered Vans. Steve seemed ethnically ambiguous because I could not tell what he was until he mentioned his Salvadorian heritage: "...sadly, I know more French than I do Spanish. And...that's not much."
Steve just graduated with a Bachelor's in English at the age of 22 and is planning to get his Master's in Poetry at Portland State University. In retrospect, Steve stated his ambitions so ardently that it was reminiscent of a young boy telling his mother how the first day of kindergarten went. Steve was also equally excited about going to Russia in a couple of weeks to meet his girlfriend's family. The reason for his excitement: "I'm planning to propose to her while we're there," he said, emphatically. He claims that he knew she was "the one" after dating the Russian beauty for five months. "Three years later, and with the both of us moving to Portland in March, I think it would be wiser to be married and live together, than live together and not get married. You know?" In addition to being "pre-engaged," Steve is also a creative and talented poet, a self-taught guitar, banjo and piano player, a self-proclaimed vegetarian with vegan ethics, lover of the Gypsy Den, and a fellow connoisseur of talented, yet obscure musicians. Furthermore, he would rather ride his bike than drive a car and he brings a Nerf gun to work with him, just in case he gets bored.
I found Steve to be super cool, refreshing and inspiring, though I think the average "normal" person would classify him as a social outcast, or someone who doesn't adhere to societal norms. I think he's "normal" enough. He's just not afraid to be different. He doesn't try hard--he knows what he likes and appreciates and doesn't need everyone else's pre-approval to act on his pursuit of those things.
I am realizing more and more how drawn I am to people like Steve. I am attracted to that sort of lifestyle--living for or under obscurity, having a genuine sense of originality by finding ways to live life differently from generations before, thinking deeply about everything, self-expression through creative means, etc. And I feel like I'm in a stage of my life where I'm trying to find a different way to live it, without losing the ultimate focus: the glory of God, through Jesus Christ. But the "way things are" just isn't going to cut it, anymore. I have outgrown the legalistic expectations of the Christian subculture. I am through with just sitting there, mouth agape. I am desperate to make the most of my time here on Earth. I am eager to see what that is supposed to look like because I am free in Jesus Christ! I am free to live my life!
But even as I say this, I hear the voices of people in my life who withhold caution from the wind with tightly closed fists: "BUT...we have an obligation to righteousness. You have to be careful not to abuse that freedom. The Bible tells us that we need to be set apart. You can't just do whatever you want. We need to fear God and obey His commands. Be careful to tame your selfish ambitions." Yes, all of that is true. But are we to be so cautious that we stray too far to the right, and become content with simply sitting and hearing sound doctrine within our respective churches without consciously trying to figure out, how these doctrines are to be lived out in every day life? Isn't it worth risking a mistake in order to figure out what it is that God wants for us to do, how He wants us to impact the world for Christ's name?
It may appear that I have diverging and bifurcating points of interests, but really, what I'm trying to say--in 200,000 words or less--is, I perceive people like Steve are people who actually live life. Granted, that is a gross-over generalization and a completely subjective point of view--in other words, my own personal opinion. I widely accept diversion from the norm as something admirable, mostly because it is hard to do.
But what about Christians, those who have everything to live for, those who have been given freedom to live life abundantly, how are we living?
I feel like we are afraid to live as freely as we ought.
2.7.08
My new favorite thing
Today after working out, I decided to venture into unfamiliar territory: the Super1(one) Asian Market on the corner of Beach and Rosecrans. I needed rice so I figured it would be the best place to go.
As I walked through the automatic sliding doors, I felt like I was transported into another dimension. The asian dimension. What was supposed to be a quick run to the grocery store was prolonged into an hour long tour of the entire market. I was completely fascinated with everything that was in there--from the flower shop with authentic rainforest sounds to the lingerie shop, placed in between the "children's corner" and the deli. It was a menagerie of miscellaneous items. "One of these things is not like the other..." kept playing in my head as I browsed around.
Anyway, I managed to find the rice aisle. I was all set to go with my prize (plus a few other things I picked up on the way) when I came across this:
It's a rice dispenser! At least that's what I gathered from the picture (since I don't read Japanese). I looked at by bag of rice and then looked again at this amazing invention, thinking to myself: "Life just got a little bit easier. And more fun!" I grabbed it from the shelf and quickly made my way to the check-out counter before I was tempted to buy anything else.
As soon as I got home, I ripped the box out of the bag, thoroughly excited about my new toy. However, I ran across a slight problem. Nothing on the box was in English. Which is fine, except that I didn't know how to put it together. Fortunately, the manufacturers were kind enough to provide pictures. (Though, in retrospect, I don't think I read instructions, in the first place. It's a bad habit of mine to skim over instructions and just look at pictures. I am very much a visual person. Words can bore me sometimes. Ironic, isn't it?)
Once taken out of the box, I thought that it looked like medical supplies. Especially that syringe looking contraption in the middle. Hmmm.
At long last. It is finished:
(rice not included)
Making rice will be so much more fun now. I'm excited.
As I walked through the automatic sliding doors, I felt like I was transported into another dimension. The asian dimension. What was supposed to be a quick run to the grocery store was prolonged into an hour long tour of the entire market. I was completely fascinated with everything that was in there--from the flower shop with authentic rainforest sounds to the lingerie shop, placed in between the "children's corner" and the deli. It was a menagerie of miscellaneous items. "One of these things is not like the other..." kept playing in my head as I browsed around.
Anyway, I managed to find the rice aisle. I was all set to go with my prize (plus a few other things I picked up on the way) when I came across this:
It's a rice dispenser! At least that's what I gathered from the picture (since I don't read Japanese). I looked at by bag of rice and then looked again at this amazing invention, thinking to myself: "Life just got a little bit easier. And more fun!" I grabbed it from the shelf and quickly made my way to the check-out counter before I was tempted to buy anything else.
As soon as I got home, I ripped the box out of the bag, thoroughly excited about my new toy. However, I ran across a slight problem. Nothing on the box was in English. Which is fine, except that I didn't know how to put it together. Fortunately, the manufacturers were kind enough to provide pictures. (Though, in retrospect, I don't think I read instructions, in the first place. It's a bad habit of mine to skim over instructions and just look at pictures. I am very much a visual person. Words can bore me sometimes. Ironic, isn't it?)
Once taken out of the box, I thought that it looked like medical supplies. Especially that syringe looking contraption in the middle. Hmmm.At long last. It is finished:
(rice not included)Making rice will be so much more fun now. I'm excited.
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