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| [Been trying to catch up. Thought a little dose of vulnerability would keep you readers reading. Here's a journal entry. I can't help it guys, I'm still old school and this computer thing just doesn't beat paper and pen]
So much of this rollercoaster line has been wondering when and where this line will end. Impatiently, frustatingly, bitterly inching forward wondering if ever EVER it would be my turn. Before, I thought I was waiting alone. Then you came and stood beside me, smiling every time I wondered what it would be like. Sometimes you picked me up when I wanted to sit down. I wanted to jump the line but you held me back. I wanted to leave the line but you kept force feeding me hope. Hope kept me curious; your company kept me sane. Everything you have has also been given to me? You can't be serious. Everything? Your will, Your position, Your peace? Even while shadows overhang the end goal and things slow to a miniscule crawl?
"If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you... As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love." (John 15:7,9)
She looks out at the parallel track. Definitely doesn't sport any measure of safety nor sensibility. In fact, the wood... rickety, who knew how much longer this "joy ride" could stay intact. This is what she waited for? For this? She looked behind her and fought the urge to scream to her waiting companions, "Just forget it! It's not safe! We could DIE!" And right next to her, he smiled and offered companionship. "C'mon, we'll go together." And she looked at the offer and her heart stopped for a moment, joy overshadowing fear, and in that moment her soul leapt into the seat but her body was slow in coming. She looked for Him, the one that had been preparing her, she needed permission. He was the one she knew; He was the one who would ensure her safety. "He's here, in our seat" her companion smiled (a mind-reader?).
"Is He coming too?" she asked tentatively, not sure what to make of the three-seater.
"Wouldn't have it any other way." He smiled again. She looked in the direction of the tracks; slowly they disappeared into the mist. Would they continue past her sight? There's no way she could know. But her heart wanted to try it despite her mind's naysaying. "Is this for me?" she asked. Was there a nod? There's only one way to find out. Step in. | | |
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To all my readers who have missed my entries, this is for you.
Note-to-self #25: Your roommate catches you in good times and bad times. But when said person has a camera, it's mostly just bad times.
Don't you worry, our relationship still remains hanging on a thread of grace. | | |
| Ode to Dirty Dancing
I know, two posts in one day... what's gotten into me. But I was prompted to dedicate this entry to the students that partook of our conversation regarding "grinding" up at mini-camp.
Did you know that as the bridal party, you are almost obligated to partake of the dance floor? I was particularly nervous since I haven't had much post-conversion dancing experience. But I did in fact brave the dance floor. Let me just say that dancing to "Baby got back" with my parents is something that... well, I just don't have words. But that's not the point of this entry.
Girls, I think it is indeed difficult when a guy happens to find you "grindable." Now, let me just paint the picture here. MY PARENTS WERE PRESENT! I think that's enough said. Lucky for me, my dress was all poofy. Sure, I had some cleavage issues, but my bootie, it was definately protected by a ring of tool and frills. But I think I was dancing for a good 5 seconds before I realized that one of the groomsmen found me grindable. And since I'm so cool and suave, I proceeded to whip around, yelp like a dog and grab his hand and pull him next to me. Which I'm not sure succeeded, since the actual touching of his hand gave him more impressions I think than grinding with him. And since it was such a "smooth" move, my disruption of the dance left both he and I utterly confused and offbeat for the rest of the song. So yes, I agree that there's more to be had in the discussion of whether or not "grinding" is appropriate for us as Christian leaders. And here's a picture of the groomsmen. I'll let you all decide which one was the culprit. But I look forward to our discussion come August.
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| A CALL TO ORDER
Yay weddings. I'll be returning from California and my cousin's wedding on the 27th. And I would like to confess that I'm a fabulous bridesmaid! In fact, I'm so good, someone else has booked me again. But to many of y'all's surprise, it's not because I'm beautiful! It's actually because of my shrill piercing voice. Tried and tested... it pierces through crowds of over 120 people. My official title for this wedding was the "the herald" or in layman's terms "freakin' loud girl." So as an advertisement to my beautiful 6-yr old voice, I shall put up many pictures of me with my mouth closed.
Isn't my cousin Ann-Ming (the bride) a hottie?
That's why we're hrmm hrmm-ing behind her back.
And here's the lucky man. I'm cozying up to him right underneath my coz's nose. I think Evil-Jean took over there. | | |
| I like the phrase "Life gets away from you." I imagine my life as some sort creature springing legs and running madly to freedom. I then picture myself as the new crocodile hunter, combing the jungle in search of it. "Sssh... behind this marsh perhaps we'll catch a glimpse of the elusive creature known as Jean's life."
So to my avid readers, I apologize for my lack of contribution in the past few months. I was hunting. And you know what? This kind of hunting requires time travel. But I uncover more traces of predatorial confrontations than the animal itself on these adventures. Memory lane is sometimes full of lions, tigers, and bears.
Glimpses include:
- Jeannette's flashing of Neil's porous nose in her talk not too long ago. (I miss my intern team, even their strange bodily functions.)
- Telling traumatic stories of wearing clothes from China to school, aka creating cross-cultural fasion faux pas (Oh Gloria, we should have some sort of support group!)
- Questioning how WHITE is my Christianity. (Almost lost my faith there. It's those who bring you closest to God who often take you the furthest away.)
- Somehow Microbiology is relevant, or at least my students say so. (Olivia, wherefor ever art thou so far away?)
Those dastardly memories, they conjure more injury than drinking snake-venom martinis. But dear memories too, despite the feelings they conjure, for they are a composite of this silly life. | | |
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