Back from Outer Space

Hide and Seek

2010-01-05T09:45:00.000-05:00

I wonder, what was the allure? Counting, hiding, finding. Hide and seek is one of those games that almost every child has played. We teach it to our youngest in the form of "Peek-a-boo", training them for when their little legs can carry them to the far off corners of the house in an attempt to not be found.

Whenever I visited my cousins during my childhood we played together, but they always knew the best places to hide because it was their house. I hated being "it", counting with my eyes closed and knowing everyone would be gone when I opened them. But there was some measure of curiousity that drove me, wondering where everyone would be and searching everywhere I could think of. And sometimes I'd get side tracked as I explored a new closet or secret corner. One time I found a toy bow and arrow, which I started to play with--and then accidentally broke. Of course, everyone was hiding, so who would know?

The odd thing about hide and seek, was that no one really wanted to be too good at it. Did you ever find a hiding spot that was just so amazing that no one could find you... ever? After singing all your favorite songs in your head several times over and counting how many seconds you could hold your breath before your vision got blurry, the whole affair lost its appeal.

But we kept playing anyway. We still play as adults, constructing walls and veiling emotions. Alter egos and character sketches carefully designed for every situation and every need for escaping discovery. We've gotten better at it, learning to distract and divert attention, letting the obvious hide the important. Why do it?

When I was very young, I took up the tradition of hiding when my dad came home. Every evening, the sound of the lock turning triggered a mad dash for concealment. We lived in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn at the time, so hiding spots were slim, and with my dad only seconds from being inside, I always ended up in the same spot: under my parents' comforter. I'd try to scrunch my body up to look like folds in the blanket, and sometimes my dad would pretend he didn't know where I was. But then he found me--he always found me--and that was the part I loved. I loved the moment when he peeled back the blankets and I could jump into his arms.

So what's the allure? Why play the game, even when we are long past the age of sneaking into closets and crouching under tables? Maybe it's because we all just want people to be curious enough to look, because it's so much more meaningful when care is taken to discover a secret.

And maybe, we all just want to be found.

I'll Kiss the Sky

2009-11-30T14:02:00.002-05:00

I ran down the hill with my arms thrown wide open and my heart exposed to the sun. It was euphoric and wonderful. I'd been thinking about flying and how spectacular it would be to pilot a plane, and as I crested that hill the sound of an engine buzzed about me. Squinting through the star-bursts of sunlight through the trees, I saw a small plane rolling and flipping through the air. I stopped and watched as it flew back and forth, flying toward the sun and barrel-rolling back down. It looked like a leaf dancing with the wind. I was enthralled. As pretentious as it might sound, it felt like that plane was there just for me to see, to compliment my earlier dreams of flying. And I wondered, why did it just have to be a dream? I've learned to dive deep into the blue below, why not soar in the blue above? It sounds corny now, but I thought, "I'll kiss the sky before I die" as I finally tore myself away from watching that pilot doing his stunts in blissful freedom. It filled my mind with fantasy the whole run home so that I couldn't even feel the miles go by.

I'm going to learn to fly.

No Regrets

2009-11-28T22:15:00.000-05:00

I just saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and it set me to thinking. Thinking about the value of memories and the power of the emotion attached to them. The story is about a man who decides to have his memory erased of a relationship gone wrong, but as he's watching the memories disappear, he realizes he's losing the good with the bad and desperately wants to hold on to the good ones. But he can't. It's all or nothing. Yet even after it all, when the memories are gone, as soon as he sees the girl again, even though he doesn't know he's loved her before, he falls for her all over again. Because, you see, even without the memories, he is still the same person and she is still the same person and they are still drawn to each other.

Lately, I've wished I could erase some of my memories. I feel haunted by them, and I'd rather not have them at all than have to deal with the emotions that go with them. It confuses me because I used to strongly assert that I would always take the good with the bad and never complain, that the bad memories also help shape me and that there are always things that I can learn that can make me stronger.

When did I become such a coward?

I've been running. Trying to hide from the things in myself I don't want to face. I may have been running for a while. I recognize the familiar patterns in myself, the avoidance of anything real. But what if I stopped? What if I stopped and just let everything catch up to me? You can't hide from yourself, and I don't think I want to. I want to be free to be who I am, to be free to be who God made me. So what holds me up?

My will. That's what it is. When things don't turn out as I hope, when I'm disappointed, I have a hard time accepting. I get caught in the broken record loop of trying to figure out how I could have changed it, what I could have done differently. It's a sign of immaturity I think, that I can't accept when things don't go the way I want. It's why my memories sometimes seem to become a web that entangles me, it's why I feel bound, why I can't just be free. My carnal, selfish, nature holds me back.

So I need to let go, to resurrended to God and to His will. Let go of the expectations I've had and the desire to change things. To trust in God and have faith that He knows what He's doing, that He's shaping me into something, and that every experience has value. I don't like being afraid. It makes me angry and unhappy with myself, but the only way to escape these fears is to let God have control and stop trying to grab the reigns myself. I realize this has been my struggle lately.

I have to take the good with the bad. To thank God even for the hurts I've experienced because they teach me things and give me an opportunity to grow. I'm just me. Sometimes I mess up. But I'm learning. And what I've experienced is part of me.

At the end of the movie, the main characters end up deciding to be together even after finding out they had been together in the past, failed to make it work, and had the memories erased. They decided to make exactly the same decisions they made before. Why? Because they needed to. They needed those experiences becasue they were still the same people with the same thoughts and feelings and reactions. God knows the experiences we need.

In the past, I've been asked if I regret things. I always used to say that regret didn't really make sense. Even if I could go back to try to change something with present knowledge, if I changed it, I wouldn't have learned the lessons I know now. I'd be the same person, and as soon as the opportunity arose again, I'd make the same decisions I made originally. So all this regretting I've been doing recently? It's completely out of line with who I am and it is completely useless.

I've written about stuff like this before, I know. I suppose this must be some sort of cycle I go through when dealing with disappointment. But even though I might be sounding repetitive here, I don't think I'm simply looping back to where I've been. Each time I go through this learning cycle I'm a little different, and the lessons go a little deeper. Carnality is hard to change and character development is an intense process. Sometimes God has to beat things into/out of us. And me? I'm a little stubborn. I'm sure I'm not done learning these things.

But anyway, I'm ready to be out of this slump and attack life with all the passion and drive I can muster.

Hello again world.

Does anybody read this?

2009-11-23T13:56:00.002-05:00

I'm thinking of ending the blog.

Self-abstracted

2009-11-09T16:27:00.001-05:00

Dancing in these tattered rags

I'm here, peeking through

Stitch the holes, patch me up

Plaster of Paris and I'm stiff again.

Who was I then, in those halycon days?

And would I ride the axis of time if I could?

I'm not trying to be cryptic, just ambiguous.

You understand.

Oh, and I don't want to be a pillar of sand.

Streched too far, maybe I'll tear

Grow me back stronger

And try me again

Show me the mountain, I promise to climb

Can't stop in case I don't start again

Momentum taking me, where was I going?

I'm not lost, just finding my way.

You understand.

Oh, and I just don't want to be the giving up sort.

Remember the time I didn't know the answer?

But I do, I think

It was hiding, behind a plastered wall

And I wonder if I should tear it down

And will it grow back stronger

I'm not trying to be sensitive, just cautious

You understand.

Oh, and I don't know if I'm ready yet.

Reflections

2009-09-09T09:14:00.000-04:00

There are surprises cradled in every new day. It's the run-up to another Feast, and I can't help but reflect on where I was a year ago--caught up in the tornado trial of preparing to move to Ireland. And here I am... back in the same place but not where I started. I think about the person I am now and the person I was then. I think I've learned some prudence and maybe some patience too.

In some ways I think I'm more spontaneous now. Even the best laid plans don't always yield the results you expect. I follow my impulses more, and in some way, that might make me freer. I'm much more inclined to take off my shoes and run outside in the rain just because I feel like it than I was a year ago.

Everything is a choice. I don't believe in blaming anyone for who I am or what challenges I face. Does it even matter who's at fault? Maybe sometimes I'll suffer trials because of the mistakes others make, and while I may struggle not to point the finger, in the grander scheme of things, it's just another opportunity to grow. It's hard to keep things in perspective. This life is a training ground to teach us the fruits of the spirit and the fruits of corruption. An illustration of right and wrong and the consequences that result. It's a challenge to learn to uphold godly principles in a satan-driven world.

As I enter into another relationship, as I pull down my defenses bar by bar and risk getting hurt, the theme of choice is foremost in my mind. I can choose to be afraid, to pull back, to refuse to get too emotionally involved. Relationships are dangerous stuff after all. But I'd hate myself if I did that, and even worse, I'd be left to regret the chances I didn't take.

Every day and every moment I decide whether to be a good daughter, a good friend, a good girlfriend, a good employee, and a good Christian. One day I may get married and have kids, and then I'll have to decide to be a good wife and a good mother. The choices never stop.

And so, instead of being afraid, I'll pour that energy into being the best I can be for you. Maybe it will be enough and maybe it won't, but I promise I'll give it all I have. And if one day we part ways, well, there will be more choices to make about who we'll be, but in the end I think we'll make each other better.

I wonder what kind of reflections I'll have a year from now.

Red Bull gives me wings!

2009-07-29T11:19:00.000-04:00

So this morning I decided to experience my first Red Bull. That’s right, I’ve never tried one before. I just like coffee so much that I never saw the need for an alternative caffeine source. But this morning, falling asleep at my desk, I decided I was in the mood for something new.

I also decided that I should document this experience.

9:19AM – Just bought my Red Bull. First observation: the can isn’t all that big. That’s a lot of caffeine in a small space. Also, I’m having a hard time restraining myself from repeatedly saying, “Red Bull gives you wings!” with extreme enthusiasm. I’ve already said it about 5 times on my way in with my new purchase. I think I’ve reached the socially acceptable limit. ;-) Also, my co-workers might hurt me if I say it again…

9:21AM – First sip. And the first thing I thought of was anit-freeze. I don’t know why. I’ve never tried drinking anti-freeze… I promise.

9:30AM – Wow. This stuff is like a little can of happy. I feel great. I just got back from the restroom and had an almost uncontrollable urge to skip down the halls. I can’t believe how quickly this is affecting me.

9:35AM – Last sip. Have you ever read the label of promised benefits on a can of Red Bull? Let me enlighten you. 1) “Improves performance, especially during times of increased stress or strain”. Stress and strain?!? Now… I’m a mechanical engineer (news flash!). So, stress and strain mean something very particular to me. What do they think people are doing when they drink this? Let me go draw a Mohr’s circle for my increased acceptable stress and strain limits—this way I can make sure that bridge I’m holding up won’t permanently deform me. 2) “Increased concentration and improved reaction speed”. Yes, I feel very focused right now. Quick, try to punch me and see how fast I react! My spidey sense in tingling—or maybe that’s just a caffeine overdose. 3) “Stimulates the metabolism”. Yay! King-size chocolate bar, here I come!!! Guilt-free! Woohooooooo!

9:58AM – Ahem. I have the giggles. Hehe.

10:09AM – My throat muscles feel tight. I blame it on the glucuronolactone. My body doesn’t know what to do with that many letters.

10:18AM – Almost an hour post-Red Bull. I feel like the high is starting to wear off.

10:53AM – First post-Red Bull yawn.

10:55AM – Somebody stole my wings! Also, I’m tired of writing this blog. It reminds me of why I hate Twitter. Multiple life-updates an hour are tedious for all involved.

11:18AM – Well, that’s that. I’m back to falling asleep at my desk. It was a fun ride though! This concludes my documentation on Red Bull consumption.

Please stay seated until the ride comes to a complete stop...

2009-07-28T08:02:00.001-04:00

I’m contemplating change, and what the effect of it is. After a year full of change, I sometimes wonder where I’m left after it all. The shape of my anticipated future has morphed and warped so many times that I’m afraid to even look at it anymore. But even though it’s been a rollercoaster of ups and downs, I can’t say I’ve suffered any sort of tragedy—just what’s to be expected for someone unwilling to let a challenge or opportunity ever pass by.

I find myself praying that God will let me off the rollercoaster—show me now if my newest aspirations or hopes will fall to ruin. I suppose I’m afraid of getting hurt. I feel so fragile these days, and I hate feeling fragile. My mom used to always tell me I was sensitive when I was younger, and I always took great offense to that. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to never show tears. I wanted to be able to take on anything.

But what is strength anyway? Particularly for a Christian? I no longer believe that if I cry sometimes, it makes me weak. Yet at the same time, it’s something I do in private and I always hate myself for it if I slip up in public. So maybe I still am ashamed in some way.

In the face of change, stability comes in the Lord. I know faith in God and in His plan for me is what’s gotten me this far. But there’s still that carnal side of me that wants to hide a bit from the next thrill ride. I won’t, because that’s the way I’ve always been. It may be a struggle against myself, but I’ll always get on again. Maybe that’s what active patience is all about—being willing to face life and give it your all even when you’re not completely sure where the rollercoaster leads yet. I have to believe it will pay off in the end.

I feel a bit skittish today and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the last bits of poison from my recent struggles seeping from my pores so I can move forward uninhibited. I don’t mean to say that the trials themselves are poison, but the fear and doubt that sometimes result. Jesus Christ was ridiculed and persecuted, yet He never shied away from doing the work. How can I shy away from something so simple as living my life and applying myself to both the opportunities and trials God gives me? As a Christian, I can’t. As a carnal human, I can. So I guess what it comes down to is growing in faith and God’s spirit. And as I climb the rollercoaster, all I can do is pray and trust that God knows what He’s doing.

I guess I really am sensitive. It’s still something I hate to admit to.

Pinnacle

2009-07-15T08:49:00.000-04:00

We stood at the pinnacle of a new day,
Sun cleaning the world and turning the ocean to glass.
I imagine lava-blackened sand warming our toes.
Imagine--because it hasn't happened yet,
And I hear there are rocks on the beaches.
I wonder what we'll think in those captured moments,
Suspended in time by the dreamers still in their beds,
But not too much--because it hasn't happened yet,
And I want it to be a surprise.
Will it seem that the Kingdom has descended around us?
God's spirit enhancing every exhaled breath.
There is a timid anticipation of expectation,
But not too much--because it hasn't happened yet,
And I want the moments to bring themselves.
So if we do stand there one day,
Watching the sunrise on the tropical shore,
I'll smile and look at you with thanks,
But not yet--because it hasn't happened yet,
And now is the time for hope.

The Year of the Rollercoaster

2009-07-13T08:44:00.000-04:00

A sense of euphoria colors the paint on the walls brighter
And I wonder if it's real,
Hoping the high-noon sun won't burn it away
And leave something faded and pealed.
Inquisitively hopeful on my knees I pray
And tell God I'll wait and see.
Active patience will bring me
To where I need to be.

In the Whirlwind

2009-07-09T14:55:00.000-04:00

Confusion. The blown leaves of past emotions gathering at the door, impeding its swing as I stand there, hesitant about whether it should even be opened. Sometimes I feel handicapped by the passions that grow so easily inside of me and sometimes I want to stand beneath the caress of the sun and scream. Impatience. Show me the end before the beginning and I'll make the journey all it can be. Catch 22 because the journey is made by the mystery ahead. But I just don't want to wait to find out that I'm wrong. Fear. Often denied but always present. Are my steps too quick and am I all I need to be? Always the threat of coming up short. I have before. Stubbornness. I'll open the door and let the leaves blow through, step quickly inside and scream as I do. When I fall, there will be scars and pain, but I'll always be quick to get up again. Limping on in an attempt to redeem, but hoping for someone on which to lean.

Beauty in the Breakdown

2009-06-17T10:43:00.001-04:00

Standing on the porch, watching the rain fall--not the soft diamond-drops of an overcast day, but the violent downpour of a desperate, emotional storm--she turns to me with absolute calm. "It's alright; there's beauty in the breakdown."

I look back at the rain, ripping through the grass lawn and leaving puddles of mud to flash back reflections of lighting. They are song lyrics that have been stuck in my head for days. "I love the rain," I say. The lyrics are true. Emotional drama today, but new beginnings tomorrow. Tomorrow the grass will be greener, the trees fuller--reaching toward a sun that seems as if it will always shine.

"Jonah was shipwrecked and in the belly of a great fish for three days and nights, but afterwards..." Her voice is lost in the crying of the wind.

"...But afterwards, a whole nation repented."

"Do you fear the storm?"

Do I? I have to think about this. "I always say I'll take the good with the bad."

She laughs. "That's something people say in good times."

And now? In the middle of this whirlwind of lightning and thunder? Despite the rain, I can hear voices from inside the house. Trickles of laughter and memories of smiles. I know them, all of them. They make me feel warm despite the cool dampness of the air. God says to fear nothing but Him. God speaks in the gentle quiet of those voices. Together we are stronger.

"No, I don't fear it."

"But it hurts, right?"

I close my eyes, let the full force of my deeper emotions take me. "Yes. It hurts."

She is quiet now. I open my eyes again, take a step toward the front steps. A fine spray of water prickles my skin. The trees bend at impossible angles with the force of the wind, but somehow, they stay standing. It is beautiful, in its way. The powerful energy of it, the strength of the things that survive, the reshaping of the world in the turmoil of a short time, and the hope of tomorrow. The confidence that the sun really will shine again. And then? What then? Endless possibilities and an overflowing of adventure. And eventually... the Kingdom.

I won't be afraid. The rain won't wash me away. I was here before and I'll be here after, rebuilt into something better. I nod to her and smile, despite it all. And then, I step out into the rain.

It's alright; there's beauty in the breakdown.

Latter Rain

2009-05-27T14:09:00.000-04:00

Upturned eyes and outstretched hands
Lips parted to kiss the drops of
Latter Rain.
Here, yearning and eager I stand
Waiting for you to fill me with
All You became.

Dance for joy in streamers of living waters
And sparkles of treasured moments with
Your lambs.
Look, the hills once red with the slaughter
Are now white with the harvest of
A new land.

De Brief

2009-05-26T19:23:00.000-04:00

I just had a really amazing weekend. A lot more amazing than I expected it to be, considering the circumstances (or one circumstance in particular). Camping in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with a group of friends harkens me back to those first years of LYC, when I was just learning to express myself socially.

Everyone has their sense of tragedy that they cling to, and mine is that I’m an only child who frequently moved and changed schools as a kid. I rarely had a group of friends for longer than a few years, and always I was facing the harsh judgments and critical eyes of a new set of classmates. My first years of camp gave me a safe place to test my personality amongst others, and to learn that I could contribute to a group. Each year saw more of my shyness (almost crippling at the start) and insecurities fall away.

I still don’t get many opportunities to spend time with groups of friends, or at least, less opportunities than I’d like. So, often after one of these experiences, I expend a lot of energy on self-reflection. I wonder how others perceived my actions and what impression I left. I think about what I’d like to do differently and who I’d like to be in the future.

Usually social situations still give me slight anxiety, but strangely, I had none this weekend. I felt more comfortable with myself than I remember ever really feeling for such an extended time, and as a result, I think my personality came out much more than usual. I think this was because of a combination of factors. Having moved to another country and back, lived on my own, and shown I was willing to make life changing decisions has left its mark on me. It’s made me feel more like a capable adult and less like a child. But another factor that seems to be prevalent is a particular person, and this perplexes me a bit. I’ve never experienced someone bringing me out of me (perhaps even the best of me?) without actually being present. How can someone effect me so drastically so quickly? This is kind of one of those “does not compute” moments and I think I’m better off not trying to analyze it too much. I can’t decide if I’m thrilled or terrified.

Getting back to my reflections on my personality, there are two main areas that I tend to be insecure about. One, which I’ve blogged about before, is my worry that I’m not feminine enough. I know a lot of my interests and hobbies tend to be ones associated with guys and I wonder if some of my personality traits have that tendency too. The other thing I worry about is coming across as annoying or bothersome. I tend to be an extremist with things, so when I’m in to something I’m 100%. I can also be a bit crazy sometimes, especially when I’m happy and hyped on caffeine. I don’t know if this can sometimes become overbearing to others.

I probably spend too much effort thinking about how I’m perceived through the eyes of others. It seems that this could easily be vanity but it could also be consideration for others. Don’t you have to do this to an extent to avoid offending your brother? We are told to examine ourselves, but that is in the context of setting Christ as the example. Hmm. So I guess the difference between staring in the mirror for vanity’s sake and staring in the mirror for self-examination is whether you have Christ standing there behind your shoulder to compare to. That changes the perspective a bit, and maybe instead of focusing on whether my personality is socially acceptable, I should be considering whether my actions are godly. If I strive to treat others with the fruits of the spirit, then the rest should just fall into place.

Grasping at the Wind

2009-03-30T13:10:00.000-04:00

So I've discovered that working out like a mad person pretty much negates my need for sleep. It all seems very counter-intuitive to me, but the more energy I expend during the day, the more wired I am at night. I wonder if there is a limit to this?

Anyway, I'm down to about 3-4 hours of sleep a night. That means a lot of time to talk to people, read, play video games, etc... I alternate between distracting myself from the the contemplations of life and lying on my bed in deep reflection. So I can't say I'm indulging in escapism, just breakism.

Do I feel guilty about how my last relationship ended? Yes, if I'm honest about it. I don't like knowing I'm the one who did the hurting at the last. I'd much rather have been horribly mistreated so I could feel free of any responsibility. But that just isn't how it happened. My own personal hurt was slow and steady, culminating into a gnawing need for something to change. But who was to blame? When compatibility is the issue, when you discover maybe you didn't fit someone as well as you thought, who can you point the finger at? Especially when at the end, you still consider the other a good person.

All this makes self-reflection rather difficult. I want to see clearly the mistakes I made, to know how to avoid a repeat future, but I'm having a hard time pinpointing it. If I had to do it all again, I think I would probably do everything exactly the same way, because my feelings were always genuine and I think my actions always honest. So what now? What do I take away from this?

And how many times to I go through this same line of thinking, to come again to an answerless dispersion of thoughts. With Passover coming, I feel desperate to see my sins clearly, to make things right somehow. What is the conclusion of the matter?

How do you atone for something you don't regret? Do you? And am I wrong to have no regrets? I loved with all my heart, I learned with all my heart, and I made my choices with all my heart. But at the end of it all, there is hurt, there are scars, there is the need for healing. Logically, my mind tells me that pain is the evidence of something done wrong. And herein lies my dilemna-my need to discover what my fatal mistake must have been. Because my internal logic doesn't just believe that pain is the evidence of something done wrong, but something *I* did wrong.

Ah, vanity. I'm grasping at the wind.

Hello World!

2009-03-26T10:12:00.001-04:00

Hello World! Could you please provide me with a printf of my life? I’d like to evaluate the output and revise the code accordingly. (//Adding comments for clarity). Several do-while loops are running simultaneously, and it’s hard to keep track. Blowing bubbles with my gum while typing on my keyboard (if jaw is sore, then spit out gum and end loop). Flexing my leg muscles in sequence while rotating my ankle (if something pops, end loop). Reflecting on my past while contemplating my future (infinite do-while). Renaming machine learning attributes while listening to emo/indie/alternative/rock (if emo penetrates skull, end loop). Perhaps I need to go through this line my line, defining all variables and checking for errors. Sometimes I miss a semi-colon or two, such a minute detail, and I find myself completely derailed and on the floor in a heap. The next step is to run diagnostics on my knees, and recompile. I’ve been a bit slow getting to diagnostics mode this time, and my finger is sore from jamming the compile button so many times (Fatal Error!). I’m getting there though, and it will be time to write new code soon, but there is evaluation that needs to be done first, structure defined, clear logic planned. There are risks to take… if I get it wrong the crash could be damaging. Truncated logic bits scattered amiss. But I have to try anyway, to get the architecture right.

Because what’s the point of a program of do-while loops that doesn’t actually DO anything? I aspire to be more than just a “Hello World!”.

Oscillations

2009-03-23T08:06:00.000-04:00

I oscillate between moments of contentment and extreme emotional distress. I wish I could control it better, but I suppose I've always been one to go to extremes. I don't really know how to halfway do things, so I'm either in turbo drive or I'm not going anywhere. I haven't figured out yet how to harness my energy and make it consistent. This is particularly a struggle in spiritual matters. I find myself going through periods of zeal and vigor followed by shear ladeocean laziness.

I also find that I seem to be out of sych with people sometimes. Something that seems like a fair sacrifice or a worthy challenge or an obvious reaction will seem like going overboard to others. I don't mind this, but I do wonder if I really am a bit crazy.

If I could just permanently switch myself onto extreme God-seaking mode, I'd be golden. In the meantime, I'll continue to struggle with myself.

The Race

2009-03-20T15:14:00.001-04:00

The sun will rise again, and I'll wake to its warm yellow-joy rays shearing the night from my skin.
The rain will fall again, and it will rinse clean the blood spattering of my sins (they're living waters, you know).
Another Passover, another Pentecost, another re-affirmation of covenant and promise.
Take the momentum and run,
There's a race to be won.

Demand Response

2009-03-20T07:53:00.000-04:00

Well cyberspace, what shall I tell you today?

I haven't a clue. My brain is clogged with unfinished thoughts. And I really, really want to go skydiving. That probably sounds completely illogical, but emotional strain makes me crave extreme, adrenaline-pumped, experiences. Perhaps it's escapism. Actually, scratch that, I know it's escapism.

I wonder sometimes if my fundamentals for evaluating the world are wrong. That's mostly because I know I don't yet have enough of the mind of Christ in me so say that I'm not missing anything crucial in my assessment of situations. I think I'd rather be dead than imprisoned. Doesn't that sound horrible? When I feel held back and my growth stunted, I'll viciously fight to break free--that is, when there's a clear challenge before me.

Relationships are hard because I can't always identify what the challenges should be. I have a tendancy to bend around people, to try to make myself what is needed, but sometimes I bend too far and then I snap. I did this recently, and now I have to figure out how to tell the person involved that our synchronization wasn't natural. I want to be a giver, and I'm striving to learn what Godly femininity should mean. Submission is important to me, but I also think it is important for me to encourage whoever I'm with to be the best they can be. But if the person doesn't want to be pushed, I have to submit anyway, and that has a tendancy to leave me frustrated. In a way, I guess I feel it limits me, because in driving others I can also drive myself. Maybe I just need to learn to relax. But it's that whole finish the race, fight the good fight, thing. Sometimes I get the urge to reach out to others and drag them toward the finish line with me. Meanwhile I often find myself neglecting the things I need to do to ensure my salvation. How hypocritical of me. But I often feel it would be so much easier to surrender completely to God if someone were holding a gun to my head and demanding I curse Him.

So how was that, cyberspace?

I'll bare all...

2009-03-19T14:00:00.000-04:00

Funny how things work... I had a whole blog written, something pretty raw, and with an accidental slip of the finger, it was gone.

It wasn't the kind of thing I could rewrite.

Something totally different is about to come out instead.

I moved a lot as a kid, and because of that I think I developed some insecurities with myself. I never really saw my long-term value to others, because I was never long-term with others. The hardest move was from Pennsylvania to Long Island, because I went from the mountains to the suburbs. I'd been a city kid before that, but in the mountains I found something that appealed to me--freedom. I don't know if I've ever been happier than in that year and a half I spent wandering the woods and riding my bike over gravel roads.

But in the suburbs of Long Island there was none of this. I wasn't allowed to ride my bike past the block because it wasn't safe (not that there was anywhere fun to ride), and the kids at school were much harsher, more judgmental than they had been in Pennsylvania. Couple that with slowing adolescent metabolism and I was suddenly the overweight shy kid in junior high. I was a prime target for teasing and attack.

I rode the school bus home every day, and this one boy started sitting next to me uninvited, spending the entire half-hour trip telling me how much he liked me. My blushing was embarrassing. Even my skeptical self started to believe he was genuine after months of this. Every day, asking me out and me shaking my head 'no'--mostly because I was too shy and awkward with boys to manage much else.

And then one day it changed. One day he sat next to me, one of his friends in the seat across, and told me I was fat, and ugly, and that he'd never go out with someone like me. I was trapped, forced to stare out the window and hold back tears as they verbally abused me and shattered what little hope I'd had that maybe someone found me desirable.

Of course, everyone has stories like that. It's funny how things that happen to you as a kid can stick with you and feel so significant even later on. I grew out of my awkward stage, and feel relatively comfortable with myself now, but the truth is, I learned doubt from that experience.

And now, here, looking back on a relationship that ended with an unwillingness to do everything needed for our future, I wonder if it was a joke as well. And I wonder what it will take to make me trust again.

This childhood memory has been forward in my mind lately, and I'm figuring that means it's related to what I'm feeling now. A whole lot of insecurity.

But what's the proper response? I've thought of how liberating it might be to erase all hope, all dreams, all aspirations, to be a current of the wind, intangible, something you can't even point to and say, "there". And in the next thought I've been angry with myself, refusing to give up on dreaming, refusing to be discouraged.

And I've gotten reckless, craving adrenaline and danger. Driving dangerously, training for a marathon that's already doing damage, looking for something to push my limits. I want to do something incredibly stupid. That probably sounds self-destructive, but that's not the impetus. The point is survival, to feel alive, to refuse to let myself grow numb and curl up in a cocoon of anti-socialism.

And so the recklessness will likely continue, in every way. I'll bare myself, and bare I'll stand. I'll open my emotions up, open myself up to the criticism of the world. Tell me what you see. Tell me! I want to know. How desperately I want to know... Am I a disease that ruins a good thing? Am I too critical, too harsh? Could I ever be a good wife, a good mother? Or is there just too much work I have to do to get there? Maybe I'm just too independent. Is there someone out there who I won't drive into the ground with my over-achieving personality? Can I slow down long enough to settle down? I'm so restless sometimes... Tell me what you see. And maybe it will help me become a better Christian, a better daughter, a better friend, a better soldier of the truth.

Yet I haven't a clue who I'm talking to, posting on a blog no one knows I'm using.

Please tell me.

Taking off the Cape

2007-08-27T21:23:00.000-04:00

I’m not superwoman. As much as I like to pretend, I’m not. At the end of the day, I’m human and I’m flawed and I’m quite a bit of a mess, but I think, maybe, that’s okay.

I’ve been facing several trials lately, all compounded into one theme: I have limits, and my pride keeps me in denial of them.

This is going to be hard for me to write because I can’t write what I’m going to without feeling a sense of shame. That’s my pride again. There are likely to be tears also, and I know that might seem strange to some, but this topic runs deep for me. It runs through every level of who I am, straight down to my character.

When I wasn’t even five years old, I was told I was “smart.” It was like a label someone stuck on my forehead that I would have to live with from Pre-Kindergarten on, and that label left a residue that I still feel, still try to scratch at. Labels identify things, they set out certain expectations of what a thing is and what it should be able to do. The “smart label” is no different. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t feel like I had to constantly prove that label belonged on me. In the end, I don’t think I’m especially intelligent. I’m simply stubborn, and stubbornness can account for a lot.

I can’t really blame the way I am only on the expectations of others. It’s my personality too. It’s my desire to be accepted and my desperate need to be “good enough.”

I suppose now I should explain what I mean by “the way I am.” I have a tendency to overload myself. I’m often told I overdo things. When faced with two options, I won’t pick the more logical one, I’ll pick the more difficult one. My justification is that making things harder for myself will build my character and make me a better person in the end.

Do you see the basic flaw? I’m going to pretend I don’t just for a little bit longer, at least until the end of this discourse.

My most recent predicament is that I’m trying to work a full-time job (plus overtime), train for a 26-mile marathon, do three courses at Living University, and be a good Christian to my family, friends, and church. Lately my prayers have begun and ended with “help”, without very much in between. I’m that kind of desperate and that kind of prayer-blocked.

I have a knee injury that’s threatening to destroy my marathon goals and I’m finding myself completely unable to keep up with my Living University course load. I’m trying to do too much and something’s gotta give, but I just don’t want to let go. I don’t want to feel like a quitter and I don’t want to give up. So I’ve been telling myself that I’m simply pushing myself like God would want me to. I’ve been telling myself that even though I can barely walk some mornings and I barely have time to catch a few hours of sleep some nights, that I’m simply giving God the chance to intervene and carry me through.

Maybe that would be true if I weren’t me. But remember, I’m the one who likes to pretend I’m superwoman.

For about a week, I’ve been considering dropping a Living University course. It’s gotten to the point where I’m simply trying to get my assignments done as quickly as possible, without considering the content at all. I’m trying to remind myself why I started Living University in the first place. I was to learn and to grow. It was to invigorate my bible study and my relationship with God. It was to stir me up so that I can serve others better. …Right?

Today I read on the Living University website that the date for withdrawing from a class had passed. That doesn’t mean that I can’t still drop a course, but it does mean that I won’t get refunded (which I don’t care about) and that I’ll get a “W” on my transcript (which I do care about). And suddenly, I couldn’t fathom dropping. A “withdrawal” on my transcript? That would be failure, wouldn’t it? That would be giving up…

And it hit me. I was in denial again. Yes, I started Living University because I wanted to learn and grow, but how I approached my course schedule was motivated by something else. When I was faced with the choices of degrees to pursue, I picked the bachelor’s degree because that would be the hardest. Even though I never intend to use such a degree, I wanted it. Why should I care if there is a “withdrawal” on a transcript I’ll never use?

My “smart label” is itching. This is all a matter of pride. I’m at Living University to learn and grow spiritually. I can’t do that if I don’t have the time to focus on the classes I’m taking. I can’t do that if I’m using all the tricks I know (and I learned a bunch in engineering school) just to get assignments done as quickly and efficiently as possible. God wants quality, not quantity. Gideon’s army was only 300 strong. The apostles were only 12. Our current church ministry is terrifyingly tiny.

“Thus I fight: not as one who beats the air. (1 Corinthians 9:26)” I’ve often used that as one of my inspiration scriptures for running because when a runner gets tired, they beat at the air. I always thought that Paul meant you should never let yourself tire. But now I don’t think that’s quite the whole story. Maybe it also means that you need to pick your battles. I can’t keep punching at every shadow I see. God’s example is that He is careful, particular, and patient. A few scriptures before, in 1 Corinthians 9:25, Paul says, “And everyone who competes for the prize is temperate in all things.” Doesn’t temperate mean moderate? Avoiding extremes?

I have a bad habit of making absolutes. I come up with these equations in my mind and try to apply them to every aspect of my life. One of these equations is: more = better. The more I try to do, the better a person I’ll be.

So here it comes… more Living University classes does NOT equal better. I’m not doing the quality of work that I think God expects of me. I’m not putting my hand to each of my classes with all my might. As terrifying as it is, I need to cut back. The class I drop will be there next year. I can take it then and learn more from it because I will have the time.

And in the meantime, I will free myself from my strict regiment of work, exercise and school. I’ll allow myself the time I need to focus on developing my relationships with people in the church. You know, I was thinking about something earlier today while I was running. There aren’t many things you can take with you from this world, but there are two that I can think of. Your relationship with God and your relationships with other people. That’s lasting. I can gain all the bible knowledge in the world, but if I don’t apply it by fellowshipping with others, I’ll never learn a thing.

I can’t build my own character by choosing my own trials. That’s presumptuous and probably a little insulting to God. I can challenge myself, and I think that’s good, but my attitude has to be right and my trust has to be in the right place. God wants peace and balance. He didn’t create a world of all mountains or all forests or all water. He didn’t create a bible of all law or all parables or all sermons. There are beautiful literary works like Song of Solomon and Psalms and emotional personal commentaries like Ecclesiastes and Lamentations. Everything has a season. Everything has a time.

Am I less of a person if my transcript has a “withdrawal” on it? I can’t take my transcript to the Kingdom with me.

I talk big, but this still hurts. It tears at me and makes me feel a little sick. Dropping that class will be terribly difficult. Dropping that class will be like taking my superwoman cape off and falling on my knees before God.

I took a pottery class once. I enjoyed it, but I wasn’t extraordinarily good at it. God’s the Master Potter. I need to let Him do the shaping.

The Point is to Kill

2007-03-17T15:31:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, I was in Toys R' Us wasting some time. It was the store in Times Square and I'd never actually gone inside before, but my mom and I were waiting for a musical on Broadway to start so we decided to go in.

I've never been much of a gamer, but I played my fair share of nintendo and sega genesis as a kid, so it isn't too surprising that I gravitated almost immediately to the video game section. Mostly, I was curious. I guess I was wondering if I would find anything there that I could get into. Part of me misses the hours-a-day I used to spend playing Zelda, or maybe it's not that I miss it, but simply that I tend to get nostalgic over things.

Anyway, I found a random demonstration console that wasn't being used and decided to give it a try. I can't really remember what platform it was now, but the game featured a little alien guy running around the streets of a city.

My first impression was: "Okay, Little Alien Dude. I like sci fi, so this is a good sign. And ooh, look, he's got a little ray gun. Look at that futuristic technology. Cute."

After this my brain thought something along the lines of, "Sooooo... now what do I do, Little Alien Dude?"

I ran around a bit, got hit by a few cars, and then noticed there were pedestrians walking on all the streets and that everytime I passed one they would cower and seem to beg for their lives. Hmmm... I tested out my ray gun. Now really, I didn't mean to actually hit any of the people, but being that I was running around in circles shooting aimlessly, it was really only a matter of time. So the person dies and I get points. Despite how horrified I was, I shot someone else. It was a woman and man walking together (husband and wife?!?). I shot the man and the electricity jumped from the man to the woman and took them both out.

I blinked. I really couldn't do much else.

A little kid walking behind me broke my horror-induced paralysis.

"Hey!" he said. "I have that game! It's awesome!"

I looked over my shoulder. The boy standing there couldn't have been more than nine or ten.

"What's the point of it? Just run around and shoot people?" I asked.

He nodded and grinned. "Yup. Just shoot everyone. It's great!"

I can't remember if I responded or not, but I do know that I dropped the controller soon after and walked hurriedly away. The incident has bothered me for weeks.

Now, I've definitely never taken a strong stance against violence for entertainment. I've never loved it either, but I guess I avoided forming any strong opinions. Braveheart was one of my favorite movies for a while. I spent many years obsessed with various superheroes (and superheroes do kill, by the way). I did the X-Files thing back in the day. I love anime and manga (though there's plenty of pacifist stuff out there to suit the non-violence agenda. Just take a look at Rurouni Kenshin--the manga, not the anime if it can be helped). Anyway, what I'm getting at, is that the senseless killing affected me a lot more that day in Toys R' Us than I ever remember it affecting me before. Maybe it had something to do with that little kid's enthusiasm. If somebody put a real gun in his hand, would he have that same enthusiasm?

I feel like I sound paranoid saying all this, but, judging from the way things are going and what is prophecied to happen, maybe it's not.

In general, I've been getting less and less tolerant of pointless violence. When I saw X3 (which was a huge disappointment for lots of reasons), I was upset by the scene where Magneto moves the Golden Gate Bridge. Yes, ooh, aah, Magneto is so kick-ass cool and he's got such amazing powers and boy, is he evil. Yippee.

Meanwhile, cars are sliding into the ocean and civilians are being crushed.

I felt like raising my hand and saying, "Umm... Hey guys, does anyone care that several hundred people just died?"

Oh, but wait, silly me, we're too busy watching mutants doing kamikaze runs at each other with all sorts of lethal and unoriginal superpowers. Oops, my bad.

Sorry for my sarcasm, but I really, really, didn't like that movie.

My point in all this? I feel like something is changing inside of me. I wish I could say it's because I'm becoming closer to God, but that's not true. I'm actually struggling a lot right now, but despite that, I can still feel that something is terribly wrong with our society. An aspect of it that I used to ignore before has now become important to me. In the last days, a lot of people are going to die. It won't be a movie or a game; it will be real. If I take death casually, then I can never really understand what it means when God predicts destruction. How can I truly motivate myself not to be Laeodicean and to prepare myself for the tribulation if I'm too desensitized to really believe in it.

Many people will die. Many people are dying. That means something real.

Do I understand that? Do any of us?

We are certainly blessed to know that death is only temporary, and I think I used to justify watching lots of people die in movies with that thought. I'd insensitively think, "Oh, well. They'll be resurrected in the Kingdom anyway." I don't think that way anymore, because I was missing the point then. It's not the person who dies that suffers, but those left behind.

I don't really know where I'm going with all of this. These are just some things that have been on my mind lately. Maybe I'm not saying anything more profound than: I like pacifist manga.

Maybe this is all part of my hero complex. If I could save the world, I would. If I could take a bullet for someone, I'd do that too. Unfortunately, that sentiment is much too based on pride, but that's another story.

On that note, I conclude.

A Blessing a Day...

2007-02-05T19:37:00.000-05:00

This is going to be a normal post, unlike my scary last post.

I've decided I need to set more goals for myself, like immediate every-day goals. I want to compile a list of blessings God has given me by adding a new blessing each day. Today's blessing is my familiy, particularly the fact that they are faithful to God. This has shaped so much of who I am and I'm thankful that I can go to them when I have questions or simply need to be inspired. There were a lot of mistakes I didn't have to make because of their guidance and their teaching.

Thanks Mom and Dad. I love you guys.

end of days

2007-02-03T08:05:00.000-05:00

Reading this post over, I think it needs a little explanation. I don't want anyone to misinterpret. This is a reflection of my own frustrations with myself and how complacent I can sometimes be. I saw a television program about children starving in a foreign country while I was running on the treadmill at the gym one day, and it really effected me. I couldn't get the images out of my head. But I was frustrated too. A couple of years ago I signed up with "Children's International" to help support a child in Ecuador. Since then, I've forgotten why I'm doing it, and I numbly let them take the money out of my account every month without actually acknowledging that this child is a real person. I've become desensitized. I've also come to feel that support programs like this one take the humanity out of donating money. I have barely any personal interaction with the child I help support and am completely out of touch with her life. I was recently shocked to see in the updated status report of her life that she was listed as only having one sibling. When I first signed up to support her, I know she had three. What happened? Did they die? How? Was I just supposed to notice that? I don't know why, but I felt disgusted that they never notified me in any way. I want to support this girl with more than just money if I can. I could have at least written a note of encouragement through their penpal system if they'd told me. But then, maybe it was just a typo, and her siblings are still alive and well. There's really no way to be sure.

It also makes me frustrated because I know the end is near. I also know that I'm not ready for it. I'm still too afraid to be an Ambassador for Christ with boldness. I'm too afraid of rejection and of people casting stones at me. So I'm discreet about it, quiet about it. I'll answer questions if asked but I'll avoid them if I can. I admire those who can live God's way with boldness.

Anyway, that's where this came from. My complacency broke long enough for me to write this.

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Treadmill running, heart pumping, mind blanking and going nowhere fast while staring at a TV screen of children starving somewhere in who knows where with swollen bellies and I don’t understand how they can look so full and be so empty but I bought a child once, sold on the street like some figurine by a man in a yellow jacket saying “hey girl you can save the world just save this child and all will be well” so I took out my credit card and signed it away because who wouldn’t want to be the hero that day? And I chose my child, thinking so hard to make the right choice of who was worth my money and time and then there was the picture of a girl with a smile so wide and she was alive even though her country was poor but when they sent me the updates of my child in the mail her smile was gone and I couldn’t understand and it broke my heart because she looked increasingly sad and I know she had three siblings once in the original specifications of her life but in the updated version there’s only one and I wonder did they cry when they died or were they lost in the paper shuffle, busy day bustle of the business of selling kids on the street to college students like me who want to change the world as quickly and easily as I can—do it now!—got a New York minute to spare, something that my supported child in Ecuador couldn’t understand and I saw on the news today that there’s more killing in Iraq—the Apocalypse is coming, are you ready?—shot down an Apache and two soldiers died buried in the sand of a foreign land and a yellow sun that was part of God’s plan of creation—are you ready?—it’s coming to a close and they say we’re accelerating towards a certain cause and effect but the cause has taken years and the effect will be here like a thief in the night—are you ready?—I can’t keep the focus of my sight on those swollen bellies and those smoking guns because every second another 4.17 kids are born and how many of those are gonna die from sword and famine and pestilence—are you ready?—but we try to tell them, try to make them change, Ambassadors for Christ, such a shiny term for living my life and praying in quiet and trying to show the world my example but not too loudly because then I’ll be weird, labeled an outcast in the days of the end with a stamp on my head—do you get what I mean? Because the time is near and we’ve got to be watching and prepared and ready for war because we’re soldiers fighting in God’s holy army so you gotta know—are you ready? Are you ready? Are you ready?

I’m not ready.

The Flood

2007-02-01T19:36:00.001-05:00

I found a link to a bunch of different versions of the flood story across many cultures. It's amazing how even though what God did with Noah and the ark has been twisted in its retelling over the years, all these different versions of it are still recognizable as describing the same event.

Take a look: http://www.dreamscape.com/morgana/titania.htm#BAB

To Be a Woman

2007-01-28T21:37:00.000-05:00

This is kinda personal essayish, but I'd have to develop it more before I'd call it something worthy of throwing onto my writing blog. I was just reflecting on my experiences in the 6-month job assignment I recently finished up in the leadership training program I'm enrolled in at work. It's more about the question of what it means to be a Christian Woman though...

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Sometimes, I would stand in the middle of the work yard, surrounded by men much older than me, and I would listen to their gruff voices cursing and yelling and laughing. I would look down at my nondescript blue work shirt, my jeans, and my torn-up brown steel-toed boots and I would wonder what it means to be a woman. There wouldn’t be much time to think though because there was always something to take care of, and I would continue walking to where my crews were so that I could give them the work for the day.

The men that I supervised were all older than me and all more experienced than me. Me, this fumbling kid just out of college, this novice that knew nothing about electric and how to run a utility, this girl who was standing alone in a man’s job. But it was my job, and when I accepted a place in the leadership development program Con Edison offers, I accepted the chance that I could be standing exactly where I was, managing union field crews to maintain the electric distribution system.

Leadership. What does that mean? Or more exactly, what does that mean for a woman who is trying to work hard with the gifts God has given her and be a good Christian at the same time?

There was always that moment of tenseness, of stress, every morning when I gave the work out to the crews, because usually, there was fighting. Oh, was there fighting. Itwasn ’t fighting born out of any dislike between me and the guys on a personal level. Actually, we got along quite well and we could sit around talking comfortably for hours. The fighting was a power struggle. They were fighting for control over what work would get done and how much. They were fighting for me to submit.

But my job wasn’t to submit. I had work goals to reach and a manager to report to and demands from other departments. My job was to make sure things got done and to direct the work force to do it. So I fought back. I worked as hard as I could to gain their respect and to show I respected them, to develop a team and to balance listening to their advice with making my own decisions. My manager praised me, my crews learned to accept me, and I knew that I was steadily improving.

But when the day ended and I was home, stumbling upstairs into my room, kicking my boots off and falling onto my bed, I was emotionally drained. There was nothing left of me and I felt tattered, like sandpaper had been rubbed across me all the way through. Everyday, at least once, I thought of quitting, and I’d stay up late at night, refusing to go to bed because I knew the sooner I did, the sooner I’d have to wake up and go to work again. I felt… lost. I felt unnatural, twisted, perverse… wrong.

I wrestled with the question: what is true femininity? And then there was the further question of, what should I be doing with my life as a single woman? Because I was terrified, terrified that I was taking myself farther and farther away from the goal of marriage and a family. Terrified that I was developing into a woman of the world and not a woman of God.

The way I saw it, there were two paths. One involved the development of my talents as an engineer, continuing the role of a career-minded woman working hard to be the best she could be at her job. The other involved developing the attributes of a Christian wife in preparation for the day when I do have a family, learning to submit and to take care of a home and to raise kids. I felt like I was following that first path and I knew I couldn’t ignore the opportunities God has given me (the way things worked out with getting my job, I’m sure God intended for me to have it—but that’s a story for another time), so Ididn ’t see much other choice. I also knew, though, that this path was taking me in the opposite direction of the other one. Now, I’m no long jumper, and when the time comes that I do find a husband, there’s no way I’m going to fly off of one path onto the other without some sort of transition and a few bruises.

I’ve always wanted a family and I’ve always been, and still am, willing to give up any career for it.

But how could I prepare for a family of my own and busy myself with the challenges offered by my job at the same time? I was being torn in half.

The idea of Godly femininity has always been problematic for me. I guess I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy, at least in my tastes. I obsessed over comic books in high school, love Star Wars and Star Trek, went to a mostly male school to study the male-dominated field of mechanical engineering, have always had mostly guys as friends, and will happily sit around watchinganime for hours.

Recently, while trying to figure out what being a woman means, I read a booklet Mr. Meredith had written in 1973 for Worldwide entitled, “True Womanhood.” Here’s a quote.

“The warm and responsive woman who doesn’t try to conquer or rule the man has an inner serenity and security not found in the aggressive, raucous, competitive type of woman. She is glad to be a woman.”

I thought back to my “power struggles” with the guys at work. I thought about the definite lack of inner serenity and security inside of me.

Another quote: “Automatically feeling tender and yielding toward her husband, she will naturally walk more softly, talk more softly and dress in a more soft, feminine and attractive way for her husband. Frankly, any truly feminine woman will dress, fix her hair, wear perfume and accessories and so conduct herself in all these ways in a manner to please her husband.”

Granted, I’m not married yet, or even dating anyone for that matter, but I couldn’t help looking down at my slightly-muddy work boots in the corner. I definitely wasn’t walking softly in those. And talking softly? I’m from Brooklyn. It’s like, in my blood or something to be loud.

I read that booklet and oh, was I confused. More so than ever.

At one point, I was so frustrated that I asked God why He had given me this job in the first place. Why did He give me talents in things that tend to go along with traditionally male jobs? Why did He make me so that I’d rather take apart a car engine than sew a pillow?

I started asking several of my male church friends what they thought of being a Christian woman in today’s world. I remember Juan’s comment of, “Wow, you girls have it hard.” I appreciated his sympathy and his perspective on the things we discussed, but hecouldn’t offer any easy solution. There is no easy solution.

Finally, I spoke to Mr. McNair about it. It was funny how that worked out. We were both flying back to New Jersey after Julie’s wedding in Texas, and we happened to be on the same flight (total coincidence). The plane was delayed an hour and a half. So we talked, and eventually the topic turned toward my job dilemma.

God answers prayers in good time. I didn’t know it, but that talk with Mr. McNair was exactly what I needed, because he brought up a good point. I was looking at my life as two paths spread out in front of me. On the one hand, there was engineer/career/manager Rachael. On the other hand, was wife/mommy/family Rachael. But why does it have to be one extreme or the other? The are more than just two options, and in my limited perspective I was missing that fact that there is so much more to choose from. Mr.McNair ’s point was this: the talents I have don’t have to just apply to a career or a job and nothing else. They are talents God meant for me to learn to use in raising a family too. God gave me more technical, male-associated talents, but thatdoesn’t mean they can’t be integrated into being a house-mom. They can be, but I’ll just have to be creative about how I do it.

The Proverbs 31 woman went out and bought and sold. She went to the market and made crafts. She worked on projects. We weren’t designed to have a work self and a home self. That would be like having a church self and a world self. We were designed to incorporate the two into one. One body, one spirit, one mind. There needs to be a synergy between the goals I set for myself at my job and the goals I set in my personal life.

So I finally understood. I finally understood what I’m supposed to be doing in this single-woman period of my life. I have a question I need to answer, and as I answer it, the two paths I once saw for my life will merge into one. The question is this: how do I develop as a Christian woman while incorporating the natural talents God has given me?

And that was all I needed. A goal. To know what I was developing in myself. Knowing that made work just a little easier. Instead of power struggles, I tried to find different ways to work with the guys I supervised. I thought of myself as their support, and their helper, and as their guide. When times came that I still had to assert authority, I tried to use it as a learning experience, to see how it affected both me and the men under me. To learn why that isn’t the best way for things to be (and oh boy, do I understand now). I’m a pretty strong-willed, determined person and who knows, maybe I might have wanted to fight for control with my husband had I not had this experience. I’ve learned from it though why that doesn’t work. I’ve learned how it makes me feel (bad) and how it wears me down (I was always exhausted). I’ve learned how it makes the man fight back harder and how it makes him lose heart. Hard lessons, but ones I needed.

I’m still learning and I’m still not clear on it all. There’s a lot more to this story, but to tell it all would take so much more time. I just wanted to share a piece of it. As an update on my life, this job that I described is over now. It was only supposed to last 6-months, after which I was to be transferred somewhere else in the company to help me learn more about the overall business. Now I sit in a desk in an engineering department and I am only responsible for my own work. It’s peaceful, fulfilling, and I feel like something inside of me is healing that had been battered down before. I can’t really put into words what it is and this may sound crazy, but I feel more like a woman again.

And you know what? It might be in my head, but I think maybe I’m walking and talking just a little bit more softly.

Writing Blog

2007-01-26T18:40:00.000-05:00

I've created another blog just for my writing:

http://rachameglomac.blogspot.com/

Take a look? Thanks.

Chinese Fast Food

2007-01-22T21:36:00.000-05:00

So I was walking down Little Brazil Street in good ol' NYC (that's really the name of the street... it's also called 46th street. See, here's where the grid system fails. People just can't be content with their numbers. Instead they have this intense desire to throw some words in there too - hence, the double naming of streets). And what do I pass? A place called "Chinese Fast Food."

Before you ask, no, I didn't eat there. I'm still alive to write this post, aren't I?

Anyway, this sighting has raised several questions.

First, what is a Chinese place doing on Little BRAZIL Street. I think we have our continents confused.

Second... Chinese Fast Food... Isn't that redundant?

Third, if it isn't redundant, than how much faster can this fast food chinese food be than normal chinese food? What really defines fast food? Does this Chinese food get an extra dosage of grease thrown into it? I'm so confused.

Fourth, yes there's a fourth, does anyone actually eat at a place like this?!?

And fifth, just how many noodles are there in an average sized large carton of chicken lo mein?

I think I'll stop there.

Hey, thanks for the comments mis amigos. I appreciate it. HUGS and free (totally kosher) love!

Ugh

2007-01-20T20:31:00.000-05:00

I feel pretty worthless right now. Angry too. Definitely angry.

I wish I weren't so sensitive. I try so hard to be tough but I'm not.

When I Grow Up

2007-01-20T10:19:00.000-05:00

When I was a kid I wanted four things when I grew up:

1. To go to Ambassador College.
2. To live in a log cabin in the middle of the woods and write novels.
3. To live on a farm and have 8 kids with lots of cows (I love cows--MOOOOO!)
4. To join Starfleet and become a pilot for the Enterprise.

It didn't really matter that some of those options might preclude the others from happening, just like it didn't really matter that Starfleet didn't exist (hey, I was young. There was time for the space program to get up to speed before I'd be ready to enter it). These were just fantasies I had.

I'd still join Starfleet if I could. I think I meet the prerequisites: I'm a total nerd and a total master at the Vulcan "Live long and prosper" sign. I can do it with both hands simultaneously. I wonder if that's a cultural taboo for Vulcans though? Does making the sign with both hands at the same time negate the one-handed sign? Maybe what I'm really saying in Vulcan is "I hope you're poor and die." That's pretty cryptic. Maybe I'll stick to one hand.

Anyway, I remember when I first realized that I wouldn't be able to go to Ambassador. Even after Worldwide went haywire, I think I still believed for a while that things would straighten themselves out. But then I was in high school and it was time to think about colleges and I realized I'd actually have to look for one. That was a weird feeling. I thought I'd had it all planned out.

I went to engineering school to build spaceships. Yes, I know, I'm a dork. But what else was I supposed to do? Starfleet still hasn't been formed yet. Engineering school was rougher than I expected and I fell apart for a long time. I spent my first year in pieces, living away from home for the first time, confused about who I was, and lost. I remember that year in fractures, glints of recollection that I wish I didn't have. I'd do it over if I could, and it's taken me a while to learn to look back on it with a certain calculating numbness rather than regret.

But I learned something. I learned that even if I had gone to Ambassador College, things wouldn't have magically been perfect. I had myself to battle and Satan's influence to combat. I was falling into a dark pit, and I'm so stubborn that it wasn't until I was about to hit the bottom that I finally reached up and asked God for help. Maybe God knew I needed that. Maybe He knew I needed to fall to get up. I'll always choose the hard way rather than the easy way. That's just how I've always been. I'm the kind of person that is an insomniac by choice, just because I'm too stubborn to go to bed.

Why am I reflecting on this now? I guess I'm trying to remember the events that led up to my baptism 3 years ago (3 years?! ...when did that happen?). Sometimes I get distracted and I have to remember the reasons why, you know? I have to remember why I am who I am and how I became this person. It's the only way I can look forward.

This blog is the newest in my chain of blogs. I've used two other blogs previously, so if you ever want to follow the history of me, do it in this order:

www.xanga.com/galaxia_alpha
www.myspace.com/galaxia_alpha
This one.

Yes, the dorky Galaxia Alpha name is the same. I just like to travel around a bit. I don't know how long I'll stick with this blog, or what direction it will go in. My xanga one was a lot of self reflection. My myspace is a lot of more creative writing type stuff. We'll see what happens here.

So about my other two childhood desires for when I grow up...

Anybody want to get married and have 8 kids with me? We can milk the cows as a family.

I still wouldn't mind living in a log cabin and writing novels. I'm working on a story now that I'm really enjoying, but it's fanfiction, which I write a lot of. There's a novel inside of me that wants to be written, and I've tried starting it several times, but I'm just not ready to write it yet. I'll know when the time is right.

This is probably a good time to end this blog, mostly because I need to get ready for church. We're having a public bible study today in New York City. I'll let you all know how that goes.

HUGS FOR EVERYONE! (Live long and prosper).

Toodles,
Rachael