- What is it about a freshly-cleaned apartment that makes one feel as if all is right with the world? Two hours spent washing dishes, folding clothes, vacuuming, doing laundry, and sorting...and I feel as if I can take on anything. Is this what they refer to as the "nesting instinct", or is that only for pregnant women? In any case, it's delightful.
- Why is it that once something becomes available, the desire to have it all but disappears? This came up in conversation with some of my friends today - electronics, fashion, relationships, jobs: the urge to possess them is overwhelming right up until the moment that they present themselves to us on a silver platter. Then...forget it. We want something else. Something unattainable. Marriage must be difficult.
- While lamenting to a friend that I wished I had several parallel lives to live (in one I could be a full-time artist with a gallery, in another I could travel the world and never settle, in one I could be a stay-at-home mom with several bubbies, in another I could make a living as a writer...), she answered, "Why can't you?" Which made me think that it's actually possible. If you're capable of letting one go as you reach for the next. In summary, if you're capable of knowing your identity lies outside of what you DO.
- If cats experience vast ups and downs in their energy level (11:00 a.m. - if I were to pick him up and toss him across the room, he would remain in a comatose-like state; 11:00 p.m. - he's throwing himself across the room in a frenetic fashion), shouldn't we also expect to experience the same? Cats don't even drink coffee. Does this mean that there is a natural "high" point of the day for each of us? I'm going to discover mine and make the best of it.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Thoughts On a Thursday Evening
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Beomgye & Me
Enjoying a comfortable Tuesday evening in with m'kattin. He's helping me as I type this.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Kitten
I'll be the first to admit that this wasn't the best decision. It was base entirely on a desire: I want a cat. I have wanted a cat since I arrived in Korea, I miss the cat I left in Toronto, I thought I was in need of fur therapy. Granted, it is delightful to be woken up with soft mewing and purring, paws in my face and nose in my hair, but I have also been rudely reminded of the fact that I am more than slightly allergic to felines and perhaps more so now that I haven't been around them for over 10 months. I am also leaving the country in less than two months. I already have a large sized box in the middle of my already-cramped studio apartment to fill with things to send home in the post. So the box, plus the assorted piles of things to be packed, plus the paths that I require to actually do anything in my place (for example, reach the fridge, bathroom, or front door), plus a small ball of fur jumping madly around my ankles...well, it makes for a frustrating existence.
But it is delightful to be woken up with soft mewing and purring, paws in my face and nose in my hair.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Do You Like Scary Movies?
We are victims of our own paranoias. Think about it. The thing that makes your skin crawl, the thing that makes your heart palpitate, the thing that keeps you up at night, or, conversely, wakes you up from a dream so real that you are bathing in a slick of your own sweat...who created these fears? Not I, said the victim. And it can't be God, because no fault can be found in him. So it must be our enemy, the thief of our peace, the anti-comforter: that Devil.
A friend of mine has recently joined me in Korea and, as an only child, fears the prospect of life in a single apartment by herself. Outrageous! said the oldest of two younger brothers. A life spent in an apartment, without friend or sibling or friend in the world, is heaven. A pure and blessed respite from a life spent in constant communication and interaction with other human beings, whether voluntary or otherwise. But my friend's fears should not be minimilized. For her, the fear of an empty apartment, without roommate, is real. The fear is internal, is believed, is BREATHED in, and is invicible to logic. I can attempt to calm her with promises of copious visits, wall hangings, and my own abode as refuge, but the fear remains: I am alone.
" There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear..." (1 John 4:18, NIV), or, my personal favourite, "There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling..." (the Message translation). There is no ROOM in love for fear? That means that it is full to capacity. The type of love that Psalm 23:5 talks about, "...my cup runs over..." Superfluous love. Love that is almost unnecessary in its excess. But absolutely necessary in the fact that we, as humans, are riddled with our petty fears.
I have a fear of bats. Why? Because I spent one night, just one night, in a room alone in Panama when I was twelve with a bat who spent the hours between midnight and daybreak making numerous swoops at my face. It was most likely curious. I have a fear of underwater. Why? Because I flipped through a National Geographic magazine when I was young and saw images of glow-in-the-dark sea creatures with underbites that terrified me. Now, I can appreciate that these creatures were created by God, beautiful in their own way, and they glow in the dark, for crying out loud...that's beautiful. I still have a difficult time with the thought of skuba diving. And my friend, my dear friend from Toronto, who can't stand the thought of coming home to a delectable two-room apartment (while the rest of us make do with studios) fears every moment she spends there because she grew up devoid of siblings. She believes in the thought that she is alone. I belive in the thought that bats will swarm me in a darkened cave.
God's love casts out fear and yet, as Christians, "filled" with God's love, hold on to their fears as familiar territory. Even as I write this I realize that I am, once again, stating, in print, that I "have" a fear of bats and a fear of deep sea creatures when really I am only chosing to accept that fear into my life. The fears seem real because we have adopted them. They have been a part of our reality since twelve years of age or since childbirth. God's love should be enough, IS enough, but perhaps we don't access this love.
The Love that speaks simple truths, such as, "You are not alone." and "Bats will not swarm you." is absolutely pivotal to our spiritual walk. To say the words, "I was petrified of _______, but now, because of God's all-consuming love of me, I have been freed of that fear. I live my life devoid of unfounded fears because I feel that God understands my littleness and comforts me enough that I can face life uninhibited by them." makes your testimony real. No one can console you in your most fearful hour, just as no one can argue the fact that you live a live outside of fearful hours entirely.
" You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies." (Psalm 23:5)
A friend of mine has recently joined me in Korea and, as an only child, fears the prospect of life in a single apartment by herself. Outrageous! said the oldest of two younger brothers. A life spent in an apartment, without friend or sibling or friend in the world, is heaven. A pure and blessed respite from a life spent in constant communication and interaction with other human beings, whether voluntary or otherwise. But my friend's fears should not be minimilized. For her, the fear of an empty apartment, without roommate, is real. The fear is internal, is believed, is BREATHED in, and is invicible to logic. I can attempt to calm her with promises of copious visits, wall hangings, and my own abode as refuge, but the fear remains: I am alone.
" There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear..." (1 John 4:18, NIV), or, my personal favourite, "There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling..." (the Message translation). There is no ROOM in love for fear? That means that it is full to capacity. The type of love that Psalm 23:5 talks about, "...my cup runs over..." Superfluous love. Love that is almost unnecessary in its excess. But absolutely necessary in the fact that we, as humans, are riddled with our petty fears.
I have a fear of bats. Why? Because I spent one night, just one night, in a room alone in Panama when I was twelve with a bat who spent the hours between midnight and daybreak making numerous swoops at my face. It was most likely curious. I have a fear of underwater. Why? Because I flipped through a National Geographic magazine when I was young and saw images of glow-in-the-dark sea creatures with underbites that terrified me. Now, I can appreciate that these creatures were created by God, beautiful in their own way, and they glow in the dark, for crying out loud...that's beautiful. I still have a difficult time with the thought of skuba diving. And my friend, my dear friend from Toronto, who can't stand the thought of coming home to a delectable two-room apartment (while the rest of us make do with studios) fears every moment she spends there because she grew up devoid of siblings. She believes in the thought that she is alone. I belive in the thought that bats will swarm me in a darkened cave.
God's love casts out fear and yet, as Christians, "filled" with God's love, hold on to their fears as familiar territory. Even as I write this I realize that I am, once again, stating, in print, that I "have" a fear of bats and a fear of deep sea creatures when really I am only chosing to accept that fear into my life. The fears seem real because we have adopted them. They have been a part of our reality since twelve years of age or since childbirth. God's love should be enough, IS enough, but perhaps we don't access this love.
The Love that speaks simple truths, such as, "You are not alone." and "Bats will not swarm you." is absolutely pivotal to our spiritual walk. To say the words, "I was petrified of _______, but now, because of God's all-consuming love of me, I have been freed of that fear. I live my life devoid of unfounded fears because I feel that God understands my littleness and comforts me enough that I can face life uninhibited by them." makes your testimony real. No one can console you in your most fearful hour, just as no one can argue the fact that you live a live outside of fearful hours entirely.
" You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies." (Psalm 23:5)
Monday, September 19, 2005
A Pale Moon Rises...
Do you ever have a visceral feeling that life is much grander than you can comprehend? It happens to me when I'm listening to the Lord of the Rings soundtrack, or hiking in the woods (which I like to refer to as "walking" as hiking sounds too premeditated), or reading the Bible. I have to stop, lift my head, and breathe it in: life is huge, God is huge, truth is huge...and I'm very puny.
Recently, my future plans were, *ahem*, altered on my behalf by the Almighty. Being an event coordinator, I had coordinated the events leading up to September of next year (yes, that's 2006...I was really prepared) when, suddenly, unexpectedly, almost rudely, the rug was pulled out from under my event coordinating self. Flailing in the refuse of my dreams, I pulled and clawed at many typical paranoias. "Well, what am I supposed to do NOW, huh? Can you answer me that? I have NO plan now. NONE. I could do this... Or I could do that... But what about finances? What about my desire to travel? And then, on the other hand, what about my calling? Where is this GOING, exactly? Are you going to ANSWER me or something?" There was a tear-soaked pillow at one point, and a heavily scrawled journal entry, and a few conversations with friends.
As I floundered for the week or so that it took me to remember that I know how to swim and, to be honest, I haven't had an orthodox path to tread for a while, I tired and gave up. I flipped my pillow over and went to sleep. There isn't anything I can do about a canceled school, or a shift in the wind, or a sneeze. There is only God. There has only ever been God. There only ever will be God. He is Alpha, He is Omega. He created musical geniuses who write orchestral songs for movies about elves, He created Soori Mountain in Pyongchon, He breathed life into the scriptures. He is love. And if He's writing my story, then whom shall I fear?
It just occurred to me that someone that balks at the idea of participating in a premeditated "hike" should probably learn to chill the heck out about coordinating life's events.
"Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see.
All of your fears will pass away.
Safe in my arms,
you’re only sleeping.
What can you see,
on the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea,
a pale moon rises.
The ships have come,
to carry you home."
- Into the West
Recently, my future plans were, *ahem*, altered on my behalf by the Almighty. Being an event coordinator, I had coordinated the events leading up to September of next year (yes, that's 2006...I was really prepared) when, suddenly, unexpectedly, almost rudely, the rug was pulled out from under my event coordinating self. Flailing in the refuse of my dreams, I pulled and clawed at many typical paranoias. "Well, what am I supposed to do NOW, huh? Can you answer me that? I have NO plan now. NONE. I could do this... Or I could do that... But what about finances? What about my desire to travel? And then, on the other hand, what about my calling? Where is this GOING, exactly? Are you going to ANSWER me or something?" There was a tear-soaked pillow at one point, and a heavily scrawled journal entry, and a few conversations with friends.
As I floundered for the week or so that it took me to remember that I know how to swim and, to be honest, I haven't had an orthodox path to tread for a while, I tired and gave up. I flipped my pillow over and went to sleep. There isn't anything I can do about a canceled school, or a shift in the wind, or a sneeze. There is only God. There has only ever been God. There only ever will be God. He is Alpha, He is Omega. He created musical geniuses who write orchestral songs for movies about elves, He created Soori Mountain in Pyongchon, He breathed life into the scriptures. He is love. And if He's writing my story, then whom shall I fear?
It just occurred to me that someone that balks at the idea of participating in a premeditated "hike" should probably learn to chill the heck out about coordinating life's events.
"Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see.
All of your fears will pass away.
Safe in my arms,
you’re only sleeping.
What can you see,
on the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea,
a pale moon rises.
The ships have come,
to carry you home."
- Into the West
Saturday, August 13, 2005
It lived under the sink...
I have been taking a course called Cleansing Stream with the local church that I attend here in Korea, and one of the books I had to read was entitled "Ridding Your Home of Spiritual Darkness" (Chuck D. Pierce & Rebecca Wagner Sytesma). The book covers a variety of objects including how the spiritual laws work and rule in a home. I was profoundly impacted, again, by how simple the concept of spiritual darkness is: sin = stronghold = years, even generations, of negatively affected people. Applying the Biblical truths to an unwelcome situation at home (confessing, repenting for, and renouncing the sin) is likewise a simple and efficient solution to what sometimes poses as a very complex problem.
A good friend of mine had visited my apartment a day before and mentioned that the place had a "funny smell". I had noticed said "smell" since before my habitation here, when the place was owned by another teacher friend of mine. Unsure of what it was, I lit a few sticks of incense to mask the smell and my friend and I laughed it off.
After finishing "Ridding Your Home...", in a spontaneous fit of housekeeping, I decided to take out my garbage - a habit that has become more and more frequent since the hot, humid, muggy weather of July and August hit Pyongchon. A few of us in who share the same building have had problems with fruitflies but, in my case, not only the adult fruit flies but also their colonies of disgusing, fruit fly larvae crawling all over my garbage bags prior to take out. Although I had increased garbage removal duty to three times a week and had copiously cleaned and disinfected the cupboard area under my sink, the garbage was always well-occupied with maggots.
Nauseated and frustrated, I began yet another cleaning bout and this time made sure that I scrubbed the area where the cupboard meets the floor. During vigorous scrubbing, the false-front of the cupboard came loose and fell down, revealing...goodness knows how many years of THE MOST FOUL KITCHEN DETRITUS I HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED. The only explanation for (some of) it was that someone at sometime (circa 1890) dropped a pot of something on the floor. It may, at one time, have been eatable (perhaps circa 1890), but had since turned into a putrid mass of swill. I gasped. I gagged. I actually uttered the words, "I did not want to be exposed to this information."
And then God spoke. I realized that the whole situation - my friend noticing a smell in the apartment (one that I had become used to by climatizing myself), the reoccurring (and very tenatious) fruit flies and their spawn, the never-ending cycle of cleansing and recleansing (to no avail), and the disgusting (but necessary) revelation - was a mirror of what I had just read about the spiritual forces of the enemy. Someone, at sometime, made a mistake. Through years of omission, ignorance, and laziness, nothing had been done to right the wrong. Now the misconduct had bred creatures which, having found a snug home under the counter, were not deterred by my superficial cleaning because they could so easily regroup and repopulate. The root of the problem was not the smell, nor the maggots, nor the garbage, but the spilled "something" UNDER the counter which was the source of all these manifestations. A spill that I was not at fault for, yet I had the responsibility and authority to take care of.
I snapped on a pair of gloves, sprayed half a bottle of bleach-based kitchen cleaner into the crevice, waited a few minutes, and wiped the past away. I am happy to report that my apartment now smells quite delightful.
A good friend of mine had visited my apartment a day before and mentioned that the place had a "funny smell". I had noticed said "smell" since before my habitation here, when the place was owned by another teacher friend of mine. Unsure of what it was, I lit a few sticks of incense to mask the smell and my friend and I laughed it off.
After finishing "Ridding Your Home...", in a spontaneous fit of housekeeping, I decided to take out my garbage - a habit that has become more and more frequent since the hot, humid, muggy weather of July and August hit Pyongchon. A few of us in who share the same building have had problems with fruitflies but, in my case, not only the adult fruit flies but also their colonies of disgusing, fruit fly larvae crawling all over my garbage bags prior to take out. Although I had increased garbage removal duty to three times a week and had copiously cleaned and disinfected the cupboard area under my sink, the garbage was always well-occupied with maggots.
Nauseated and frustrated, I began yet another cleaning bout and this time made sure that I scrubbed the area where the cupboard meets the floor. During vigorous scrubbing, the false-front of the cupboard came loose and fell down, revealing...goodness knows how many years of THE MOST FOUL KITCHEN DETRITUS I HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED. The only explanation for (some of) it was that someone at sometime (circa 1890) dropped a pot of something on the floor. It may, at one time, have been eatable (perhaps circa 1890), but had since turned into a putrid mass of swill. I gasped. I gagged. I actually uttered the words, "I did not want to be exposed to this information."
And then God spoke. I realized that the whole situation - my friend noticing a smell in the apartment (one that I had become used to by climatizing myself), the reoccurring (and very tenatious) fruit flies and their spawn, the never-ending cycle of cleansing and recleansing (to no avail), and the disgusting (but necessary) revelation - was a mirror of what I had just read about the spiritual forces of the enemy. Someone, at sometime, made a mistake. Through years of omission, ignorance, and laziness, nothing had been done to right the wrong. Now the misconduct had bred creatures which, having found a snug home under the counter, were not deterred by my superficial cleaning because they could so easily regroup and repopulate. The root of the problem was not the smell, nor the maggots, nor the garbage, but the spilled "something" UNDER the counter which was the source of all these manifestations. A spill that I was not at fault for, yet I had the responsibility and authority to take care of.
I snapped on a pair of gloves, sprayed half a bottle of bleach-based kitchen cleaner into the crevice, waited a few minutes, and wiped the past away. I am happy to report that my apartment now smells quite delightful.
Friday, August 05, 2005
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang...
What are your thoughts on participation in and commitment to church ministry?
I have recently found myself involved in several areas of Christian training/missions and suddenly am neck-deep in fundraisers, team get-to-know-yous, preliminary meetings, real meetings, and wrap-up meetings.
After being asked to get on board with (yet another) fundraiser I felt it important to pray about whether I should a) agree or b) decline, and risk offense. God gave me a rather creative method of rejection, one which the team involved was able to understand, and He confirmed the increasing desire to recharge and "come away" with Him.
As a natural-born Yes Person, I'm not sure if I would have been able to set up the necessary boundaries had God not stepped in and taught me about them. Or, I would have performed an evasive maneouver on my own and felt quite guilty about it.
"With the crowd dispersed, he climbed the mountain so he could be by himself and pray. He stayed there alone, late into the night." (Matthew 14:23)
I have recently found myself involved in several areas of Christian training/missions and suddenly am neck-deep in fundraisers, team get-to-know-yous, preliminary meetings, real meetings, and wrap-up meetings.
After being asked to get on board with (yet another) fundraiser I felt it important to pray about whether I should a) agree or b) decline, and risk offense. God gave me a rather creative method of rejection, one which the team involved was able to understand, and He confirmed the increasing desire to recharge and "come away" with Him.
As a natural-born Yes Person, I'm not sure if I would have been able to set up the necessary boundaries had God not stepped in and taught me about them. Or, I would have performed an evasive maneouver on my own and felt quite guilty about it.
"With the crowd dispersed, he climbed the mountain so he could be by himself and pray. He stayed there alone, late into the night." (Matthew 14:23)
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