I love January 1st.
It is, bar none, my favorite day of the year.
I love new beginnings. I love blank slates. I love a white canvas, waiting for color and life.
For Brandon and I, much of December is spent discussing the changes we wish to make in the following year. We look back at the past twelve (and sometimes twenty four) months and determine what we liked - and didn't like - about them. We weave our way through pleasant family memories. We stumble through recollections of arguments or difficult decisions.
2010 has been... easy. Compared to 2009, in which we moved to and from a strange land, redefining ourselves and our family, 2010 was simple.
We worked. We played. We settled into a new groove of American living.
And as we look into, and pray over, 2011... one passage of scripture keeps coming up...
Starting with 2 Corinthians 8:1...
(1-4) Now, friends, I want to report on the surprising and generous ways in which God is working in the churches in Macedonia province. Fierce troubles came down on the people of those churches, pushing them to the very limit. The trial exposed their true colors: They were incredibly happy, though desperately poor. The pressure triggered something totally unexpected: an outpouring of pure and generous gifts. I was there and saw it for myself. They gave offerings of whatever they could—far more than they could afford!—pleading for the privilege of helping out in the relief of poor Christians.
(10)So here's what I think: The best thing you can do right now is to finish what you started last year and not let those good intentions grow stale. Your heart's been in the right place all along. You've got what it takes to finish it up, so go to it.
(9:1-2)If I wrote any more on this relief offering for the poor Christians, I'd be repeating myself. I know you're on board and ready to go. I've been bragging about you all through Macedonia province, telling them, "Achaia province has been ready to go on this since last year." Your enthusiasm by now has spread to most of them.
(3-5)Now I'm sending the brothers to make sure you're ready, as I said you would be, so my bragging won't turn out to be just so much hot air. If some Macedonians and I happened to drop in on you and found you weren't prepared, we'd all be pretty red-faced—you and us—for acting so sure of ourselves. So to make sure there will be no slipup, I've recruited these brothers as an advance team to get you and your promised offering all ready before I get there. I want you to have all the time you need to make this offering in your own way. I don't want anything forced or hurried at the last minute.
(8) God can pour on the blessings in astonishing ways so that you're ready for anything and everything, more than just ready to do what needs to be done.
(12-15) Carrying out this social relief work involves far more than helping meet the bare needs of poor Christians. It also produces abundant and bountiful thanksgivings to God. This relief offering is a prod to live at your very best, showing your gratitude to God by being openly obedient to the plain meaning of the Message of Christ. You show your gratitude through your generous offerings to your needy brothers and sisters, and really toward everyone. Meanwhile, moved by the extravagance of God in your lives, they'll respond by praying for you in passionate intercession for whatever you need. Thank God for this gift, his gift. No language can praise it enough!
More to come...
Friday, December 31, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Full
My little bloggy world feels like a distant memory these days. I could complain about the sickness(es) we've been battling, the stress of basketball season when married to a coach, the endless meetings at my job, and the fact that my house can never stay clean for more than 2.3 seconds.
My life is very full right now. At this very moment, walking through my living room requires crossing a gauntlet of sofa cushions, stuffed animals, crushed cheerios, dress up clothes, and the occasional dirty sock.
The sounds of my house are those of little girls giggling, humming, pretending, and the occasional whining.
My husband is studiously grading papers and gathering up the necessary DVD entertainment for our upcoming trip to Athens, in between filling the alternating rolls of a giant, Prince Charming, and a puppy named "puffy."
The Christmas tree is lit. Last week's "sparkly" sugar cookies are almost gone. A few presents are wrapped (and re-wrapped) under the tree.
The truth is that the last few weeks have felt chaotic. I feel as though I'm behind on all my "should-be-doings" in life. We have battled some rather scary illness. I have felt a lot like a single mom as my superman teacher hubby coaches young boys in basketball and in life. Work has been busy with meeting after meeting in preparation for upcoming changes. And my house has been in a constant state of upheaval in the midst of it all.
But as I look back on the past few weeks, I think about how blessed I really am. We are all healthy and active, despite the sickness. My husband is busy doing what he loves, and what he is called to do - a fact that gives him confidence in himself and closeness to his God. The meetings at work are leading to a new system that will make my job easier in less than two months. And my house? The upheaval is caused by the same two little girls who curl up in my lap at night to snuggle into me while we read the Christmas story. They climb in my bed in the morning and make it so much easier for me to wake up. They tip toe around in their tutus and pajamas, stopping occasionally to hug my leg before they scamper off into their next adventure. The gauntlet that is my living room right now is the very evidence of life and imagination in my house.
I'm busy, yes. Sometimes stressed. Overwhelmed? Often.
But that is to be expected when one's life is full. Full to the brim.
Overflowing.
In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity.
2 Corinthians 8:2
My life is very full right now. At this very moment, walking through my living room requires crossing a gauntlet of sofa cushions, stuffed animals, crushed cheerios, dress up clothes, and the occasional dirty sock.
The sounds of my house are those of little girls giggling, humming, pretending, and the occasional whining.
My husband is studiously grading papers and gathering up the necessary DVD entertainment for our upcoming trip to Athens, in between filling the alternating rolls of a giant, Prince Charming, and a puppy named "puffy."
The Christmas tree is lit. Last week's "sparkly" sugar cookies are almost gone. A few presents are wrapped (and re-wrapped) under the tree.
The truth is that the last few weeks have felt chaotic. I feel as though I'm behind on all my "should-be-doings" in life. We have battled some rather scary illness. I have felt a lot like a single mom as my superman teacher hubby coaches young boys in basketball and in life. Work has been busy with meeting after meeting in preparation for upcoming changes. And my house has been in a constant state of upheaval in the midst of it all.
But as I look back on the past few weeks, I think about how blessed I really am. We are all healthy and active, despite the sickness. My husband is busy doing what he loves, and what he is called to do - a fact that gives him confidence in himself and closeness to his God. The meetings at work are leading to a new system that will make my job easier in less than two months. And my house? The upheaval is caused by the same two little girls who curl up in my lap at night to snuggle into me while we read the Christmas story. They climb in my bed in the morning and make it so much easier for me to wake up. They tip toe around in their tutus and pajamas, stopping occasionally to hug my leg before they scamper off into their next adventure. The gauntlet that is my living room right now is the very evidence of life and imagination in my house.
I'm busy, yes. Sometimes stressed. Overwhelmed? Often.
But that is to be expected when one's life is full. Full to the brim.
Overflowing.
In the midst of a very severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity.
2 Corinthians 8:2
Friday, July 23, 2010
Just a reminder...
I am still here. I'm just not here here. I'm here. At least for a little while. Clear as mud?
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
On this American Holiday
One thing I don't talk about (very much) on this here little blog, is how much we miss Korea.
Because we do.
Miss it.
A lot.
It's funny how that is, isn't it? When we were there, we missed being here. When we are here, we miss being there.
I recognize that, ultimately, it's a longing for our True Home, but that doesn't change the fact that, occasionally, "homesickness" for Korea sinks in and takes hold.
We had a wonderful July 4th this year. Friends from Georgia came to visit. Friends from Tennessee invited us to hang out with them. All of us spread our blankets on the grass and watched the fireworks while listening to Lee Greenwood.
As much fun as we were having, I couldn't help but think of this special night on a rooftop in Korea.
So, in recognition of the wonderful life-changing experience we had in Korea, here is a list of things I miss about my Korean Home:
1.) I miss Easter. She became one of my dearest friends while I was there. She lived one floor above me and would come knock on my door once or twice a week so that we could have coffee and let our girls (who are close to the same age) play together. I miss her so. very. much.
2.) I miss the sound of the Korean language being spoken outside my window. We lived right next to a very vibrant, busy church. There were always deacons and cooks and pastors and elders and samonims and children walking by our apartment, talking and laughing and heading to whatever class or service they attend. I miss hearing that sound.
3.) I miss the physical contact. I never (NEVER!) thought I would be saying that. In the church, at the store, on the subway, Korean people simply don't have the "personal bubble" concept we American's do. There were times that this REALLY annoyed me. But when we arrived in the states, I remember going to sleep at night and feeling so isolated. So alone. It was then that I realized - with the exception of my husband and children - I can go days and WEEKS in America without touching another human being. No wonder I felt/feel so disconnected sometimes.
4.) I miss our apartment. The heated wooden floors. The all-tile bathroom. The huge sliding windows. The deep kitchen sink. The little laundry room (my favorite room of the house) that looked out over a rice patty and the skyline of the city. Chloe's princess bedroom. Maple's dragonfly baby room who's wallpaper reminded me every single day of how much the Samonims cared for me. The smell of food cooking in the hallways.
5.) I miss the mommy-baby room at the church. For church services, all of the mommies with small children would go to one room. We would sit and chat or sing or listen to the sermon, while our children would laugh and play and share snacks.
There are so many other thing I could mention here - like gimbap, and the little garden behind the church, and small children with big brown eyes, and elderly women who coo at my babies, and ice cream after church, and the silouette of the mountains behind our home, and the peace of staying home with my girls all day.
Many things we miss. Many people we miss.
So on this American holiday, as we celebrate the blessing that is our great nation, I give a nod and a "thank you" to our other home.
Let no foreigner who has bound himself to the LORD say, "The LORD will surely exclude me from his people."
Isaiah 56:3
And foreigners who bind themselves to the LORD to serve him, to love the name of the LORD, and to worship him, all who keep the Sabbath without desecrating it and who hold fast to my covenant- these I will bring to my holy mountain and give them joy in my house of prayer. Their burnt offerings and sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house will be called a house of prayer for all nations."
Isaiah 56:6-7
By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.
Hebrews 11:8-10
Because we do.
Miss it.
A lot.
It's funny how that is, isn't it? When we were there, we missed being here. When we are here, we miss being there.
I recognize that, ultimately, it's a longing for our True Home, but that doesn't change the fact that, occasionally, "homesickness" for Korea sinks in and takes hold.
We had a wonderful July 4th this year. Friends from Georgia came to visit. Friends from Tennessee invited us to hang out with them. All of us spread our blankets on the grass and watched the fireworks while listening to Lee Greenwood.
As much fun as we were having, I couldn't help but think of this special night on a rooftop in Korea.
So, in recognition of the wonderful life-changing experience we had in Korea, here is a list of things I miss about my Korean Home:
1.) I miss Easter. She became one of my dearest friends while I was there. She lived one floor above me and would come knock on my door once or twice a week so that we could have coffee and let our girls (who are close to the same age) play together. I miss her so. very. much.
2.) I miss the sound of the Korean language being spoken outside my window. We lived right next to a very vibrant, busy church. There were always deacons and cooks and pastors and elders and samonims and children walking by our apartment, talking and laughing and heading to whatever class or service they attend. I miss hearing that sound.
3.) I miss the physical contact. I never (NEVER!) thought I would be saying that. In the church, at the store, on the subway, Korean people simply don't have the "personal bubble" concept we American's do. There were times that this REALLY annoyed me. But when we arrived in the states, I remember going to sleep at night and feeling so isolated. So alone. It was then that I realized - with the exception of my husband and children - I can go days and WEEKS in America without touching another human being. No wonder I felt/feel so disconnected sometimes.
4.) I miss our apartment. The heated wooden floors. The all-tile bathroom. The huge sliding windows. The deep kitchen sink. The little laundry room (my favorite room of the house) that looked out over a rice patty and the skyline of the city. Chloe's princess bedroom. Maple's dragonfly baby room who's wallpaper reminded me every single day of how much the Samonims cared for me. The smell of food cooking in the hallways.
5.) I miss the mommy-baby room at the church. For church services, all of the mommies with small children would go to one room. We would sit and chat or sing or listen to the sermon, while our children would laugh and play and share snacks.
There are so many other thing I could mention here - like gimbap, and the little garden behind the church, and small children with big brown eyes, and elderly women who coo at my babies, and ice cream after church, and the silouette of the mountains behind our home, and the peace of staying home with my girls all day.
Many things we miss. Many people we miss.
So on this American holiday, as we celebrate the blessing that is our great nation, I give a nod and a "thank you" to our other home.
Let no foreigner who has bound himself to the LORD say, "The LORD will surely exclude me from his people."
Isaiah 56:3
And foreigners who bind themselves to the LORD to serve him, to love the name of the LORD, and to worship him, all who keep the Sabbath without desecrating it and who hold fast to my covenant- these I will bring to my holy mountain and give them joy in my house of prayer. Their burnt offerings and sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house will be called a house of prayer for all nations."
Isaiah 56:6-7
By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.
Hebrews 11:8-10
Friday, July 2, 2010
A(nother) New Blog!
Ok, so here's the deal. I'm on this whole "healthy lifestyle" kick right now. I'm working out every morning. Slowly but surely cutting back my calories.
Slow and steady, folks. Slow and steady.
And because it's all new and exciting, it's pretty much all I think about (narcissistic much?).
So, instead of turning my beloved blog space into a "guess how many calories I ate today?" black hole, I decided to start another blog over here.
But before you click over there, let me give you my list of warnings (if you read them fast, like the guy at the end of drug commercials, they might be more enjoyable/bearable):
1.) Shrinking120is a place for me to talk about weight loss, healthy food, exercise, mood-altering drugs and any other random topic that happens to pop into my mind during my 6am workout. (Oh, you'd be surprised how many topics are popping that early in the morning.)
2.) It's probably boring to read.
3.) I'm ok with that.
4.) I promise to update it as often as I update my12hats.
5.) I'm glad you find that humorous. I'll pause while the laughter subsides...
6.) Side effects may include: nausea, dizziness, fatigue, dry mouth, x-ray vision, and the ability to leap small children in a single bound.
7.) Contact your doctor if you feel the need to throw your computer across the room.
8.) Contact your spouse if you feel the need to throw your cat across the room.
9.) Not recommended for anyone who suffers from short-sightedness or who listens to music by any member of the Cyrus family.
10.) Results may vary.
Anyways, check it out: http://shrinking120.blogspot.com
Slow and steady, folks. Slow and steady.
And because it's all new and exciting, it's pretty much all I think about (narcissistic much?).
So, instead of turning my beloved blog space into a "guess how many calories I ate today?" black hole, I decided to start another blog over here.
But before you click over there, let me give you my list of warnings (if you read them fast, like the guy at the end of drug commercials, they might be more enjoyable/bearable):
1.) Shrinking120is a place for me to talk about weight loss, healthy food, exercise, mood-altering drugs and any other random topic that happens to pop into my mind during my 6am workout. (Oh, you'd be surprised how many topics are popping that early in the morning.)
2.) It's probably boring to read.
3.) I'm ok with that.
4.) I promise to update it as often as I update my12hats.
5.) I'm glad you find that humorous. I'll pause while the laughter subsides...
6.) Side effects may include: nausea, dizziness, fatigue, dry mouth, x-ray vision, and the ability to leap small children in a single bound.
7.) Contact your doctor if you feel the need to throw your computer across the room.
8.) Contact your spouse if you feel the need to throw your cat across the room.
9.) Not recommended for anyone who suffers from short-sightedness or who listens to music by any member of the Cyrus family.
10.) Results may vary.
Anyways, check it out: http://shrinking120.blogspot.com
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Book Review: The Noticer
So I realize I'm a bit behind the times in reviewing The Noticer(especially since I received my copy from Thomas Nelson last year).
Still, better late than never, right?
The Noticer, by Andy Andrews, is about an elderly gentleman who appears on the scene at the opportune moment and disperses just-in-time wisdom to individuals in crisis.
Ok... can I just be honest here? This book was a nice read. Nice. That's how I would describe it.
It wasn't rivetting. It didn't reveal untold wisdom. It certainly didn't present many original ideas.
For most of the book, I felt as if I were reading a conglomeration of several recent catch-phrases and pop-sermon series that have appeared on the Christian scene in the past 10 years.
At one point, I even said out loud, "I swear I just read that in The 5 Love Languages."
All in all, it was nice. A nice read.
As for a recommendations? I would say...Take it to the beach. Chillax with it in the hammock. Leave it on the back of the toilet. But don't expect it to change your life.
Have you read it? What did you think?
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The Second Time Around
There was a time in my life when the biggest thing I dreamed of - the thing I believed for and prayed for and invested all my time in - was a house. A big white house with Charleston green shutters, a red front door, green gables, and a wrap-around front porch. I had dreams about this house. I knew that I knew that I knew that this house was destined for me and I for it. I figured the reason the "Lord" had put this desire in my heart was because of my gracious hostessing skills (ha!)and because He had some fabulous home ministry planned for us. I believed this statement so much that I was absolutely convinced the Lord was going to give me my house. Not "provide a mode of payment" or "supply an excellent mortgage rate." No, I believed the Lord was going to flat-out give it to me. I was certain that I would come home one day to find a deed in my mailbox. Seriously, y'all.
My husband wasn't quite this dramatic, but he too desired a house like this one. Even as a teenager, when I asked him what he wanted for his life, he responded, "I want a wife and a family and a home (with a swimming pool) where our children can grow."
But in the past year (more accurately in the past six months), the Lord has done some work in our hearts.
It has been a long time since I stopped believing for that house. It wasn't a big, dramatic event. I didn't decide one day that God wasn't going to do it and so I should just give up on praying for it. No, what has happened has been more gradual, more grueling, more (I believe) eternal.
The "American Dream" that we have always wanted has been replaced by a different kind of dream. Bigger houses and nicer cars and well-paying jobs suddenly seem insignificant.
I don't know what that means for us. I don't know where this new world-view will take us. What I do know is this... I don't want what I want anymore. As I look back over the past 6 years (since Hubby and I have been married), the Lord has systematically given us everything we have asked for (in one form or another), and what we have discovered is this: the things we want - the things we have spent time and energy and prayers and faith and money and our life trying to achieve - they are vapors. Paper. Bricks and mortar. They don't last, and they often disappoint.
So now? Our goal is to get away from them. Proverbs says "The borrower is a slave to the lender," and boy don't we know it. Because of the debt that we have accrued, our time and money do not belong to us and therefore cannot be committed to God or His Kingdom. So, for now, we give Him what is His (the tithe of our money and time) and we bust our booties to buy our freedom. Because this time, freedom will look different. It won't look like houses and cars and nicer clothes.
It will look like surrender.
My husband wasn't quite this dramatic, but he too desired a house like this one. Even as a teenager, when I asked him what he wanted for his life, he responded, "I want a wife and a family and a home (with a swimming pool) where our children can grow."
But in the past year (more accurately in the past six months), the Lord has done some work in our hearts.
It has been a long time since I stopped believing for that house. It wasn't a big, dramatic event. I didn't decide one day that God wasn't going to do it and so I should just give up on praying for it. No, what has happened has been more gradual, more grueling, more (I believe) eternal.
The "American Dream" that we have always wanted has been replaced by a different kind of dream. Bigger houses and nicer cars and well-paying jobs suddenly seem insignificant.
I don't know what that means for us. I don't know where this new world-view will take us. What I do know is this... I don't want what I want anymore. As I look back over the past 6 years (since Hubby and I have been married), the Lord has systematically given us everything we have asked for (in one form or another), and what we have discovered is this: the things we want - the things we have spent time and energy and prayers and faith and money and our life trying to achieve - they are vapors. Paper. Bricks and mortar. They don't last, and they often disappoint.
So now? Our goal is to get away from them. Proverbs says "The borrower is a slave to the lender," and boy don't we know it. Because of the debt that we have accrued, our time and money do not belong to us and therefore cannot be committed to God or His Kingdom. So, for now, we give Him what is His (the tithe of our money and time) and we bust our booties to buy our freedom. Because this time, freedom will look different. It won't look like houses and cars and nicer clothes.
It will look like surrender.
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