May 7, 2011 | Life Reflections
What is it like
to wake up from your musing
to find the mist clearing up before your eyes
and see glimpses of the world beyond
What is it like
to stand at the edge of a dream
to discover that reality looks somewhat familiar
because you’ve seen it in your sleep
What is it like
to realize that talks of changing the world in times past
are not so far-fetched after all
and your hands can seize and mold the presence
What is it like
to awaken with a thrill in your heart
to feel its reverberation in your soul
and find that these are the days
when life is better than dreams
Apr 12, 2011 | Life Reflections
See if this picture sounds familiar. Your life, as it were, is a building held up by a few main pillars. These pillars are the main roles that you play in life, whether it be family, school, work, church, ministry, etc. There are times when everything is going well, the earth is stable, and you can afford to coast through your days. But if you’re like me, you wish that these pillars are firmly planted or super glued to the ground so that you don’t have to keep working to make them stand still.
Ever felt like you’re doing mental acrobatics? The pillars are swaying, each of your hand is holding a pillar, maybe one is leaning against your body, one foot stabilizing another, and the other foot on the ground. You can’t move. Because if you do, something’s going to fall, so you keep your balance ever so precariously. Or, you’re constantly running from pillar to pillar to keep them standing still, but when you let go of one, another is swaying. You run to that one, another one sways. Once you get to the end, the first one is moving again. And on and on and on… Been there?
I crack myself up every time I think of these mental images.
These scenarios are perfect recipes for burning out. You can even get burned out doing the things that you love, and out of all the good things you can do out there, the worst kind is getting burned out from ministry.
In my life, these pillars translate to, in alphabetical order, ANEW, campus ministry, family, friends, personal development, research, and Think Tank, all of which I absolutely love and don’t want to give up. Although on a day to day basis I mostly operate with the “something’s gotta give” paradigm, I still am a firm believer that you can do everything right. If everything is going right work-wise, most likely I’m not eating right, behind in laundry, haven’t done groceries in a while, etc. These are the easiest to “give.”
In fact, just until yesterday, I had no replacement for my two pairs of walking shoes, one’s 8 years old and the other’s 5 years old, that are falling apart. True story. I wear them almost everyday because they’re so comfortable, and why should I buy more? I mean, shoes are supposed to last forever right? Never thought the day would come when their soles would be torn and part of it is getting detached. Up until yesterday I was actually praying that God would keep them from falling apart, kinda like how He kept the soles of the Israelites for 40 years in the wilderness. I honestly didn’t have the time to go to the store.
They still look nice, right? Looks can be deceiving. Goodbye, old shoes. You have served me well.
But, as I said, I have not given up hope that one can do everything right, especially when God has called him/her to each area that he/she has in his/her life. Hence, I want to decode the problem and see if something can be done to remediate it. I’m really brainstorming for myself here, but also for my fellow laborers in Christ. So, I think I’m going to start a series of posts on time management, things I’ve experimented with, things I’ve failed miserably at, basically, just sharing my notes. Hopefully, someone else doesn’t have to go through the experiment again.
“And the angel of the LORD appeared unto him [Moses] in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush: and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed.” Exodus 3:2
Apr 9, 2011 | Life Reflections
This entry is to commemorate my father’s passing two years ago.
The day after my father passed away, it was determined that I would be the one to find and select the specific location where we would have his burial. So I went with a representative from a cemetery and a few of my father’s relatives.
I didn’t like the cemetery representative; I thought she was obnoxious and rude. Alas, I was stuck with her. She showed me a few options in their complex, which was comprised of several ‘gardens’ with different themes, and I could weigh the various layouts, views, etc. Meaning, not all spots were made equal. Traditionally, the Chinese cares much about giving a proper, even grandeur burial, rooted perhaps in ancestor worship. Of course I do not subscribe to that, but I saw this task as my last chance to do the best I could for my father’s honor. I felt like it was upon me to ensure that this last tribute to him would be proper and honorable.
As we went from place to place I felt the weight of the decision dawned on my entire being. I was faced with some trade-offs. There was a garden named “Sabbath” – what a proper name for a place of rest. My father died on the Sabbath day too. This garden was beautiful and it seemed like the perfect place. I thought, yea, he would like this. However, this particular spot was definitely above our budget.. The other sites were nice, although they did not strike me that much. I had to select one out of those and because I felt like they were not as special, I really wanted to drive down the cost. If we couldn’t get the “Sabbath” spot, at least maybe my success could be monetary. Inside, I was very conflicted with what decisions to make, and in the midst of this, suddenly I realized how much I missed my father. My mind kept saying, if he was here, he would know exactly what to do..
Mind you this process also involved me getting insulted by some comments that the representative made and snapping at her. At one point I couldn’t deal with her anymore and broke down. My father’s relatives had to educate her why the things that she said were offensive to the culture and to the family, which she should have known given the context of her work. They told her to stop saying those things because they hurt.
I couldn’t drive the price as low as I wanted. I ended up with a selection, although I didn’t know if I felt completely satisfied with it. Given the whole situation, a soup of emotions just flooded over me. I was literally sobbing all the way back and almost for the rest of the day. I felt like the lady insulted my father and my family, and I was angry at her; I felt like I failed my task – as the eldest, I was supposed to do this well; I questioned whether I did the right thing, whether my father would have approved and been happy with my decision; and I missed him because I knew if he was alive, even if I didn’t make the best decision and was disappointed in myself, he would have comforted me and said it was okay.
I came back to the funeral home and told my mother I couldn’t get the price lower, which was really a message loaded with my self-disappointment, and she said it was okay; we would give the best for my father. I signed the deal and the papers with the representative. I did eventually apologized to her and vice versa, although that didn’t change my opinion that she was a bad salesperson. It was ironic, but the piece of land where my father would be buried was now to be purchased under my name. Legally, that piece of ‘property’ belonged to me, and that would be so for as long as life on earth would last. Personally, I felt a weird and profound connection between my father and myself as his eldest daughter in this situation; a connection that is tinged with one word – responsibility.
I don’t think I have recounted this experience to a single soul. Alas, some things are too hard to communicate verbally. Besides, it’s been two years…
Sometimes I think about the many decisions in life that my father wouldn’t have a say in. There are many things for which I actually would want his counsel and opinions, and I have no clue what his thoughts would be because no similar situation had come up before and I simply had not asked. But I am not without counsel and I am not Fatherless, so there is no need to despair.
Time heals. It really does. But even more than that, God heals. I can testify to the healing power of the balm of Gilead, and the Lord has ministered to me tremendously the past two years. I don’t know if I can say I’m over it 100%, since there are times when it’s just simply hard, like when unexpected things come up that triggered memories. And I don’t know whether I will ever get over it 100%. But perhaps that’s okay, so as to remind me that this world is not my home.
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Here’s a video clip that I made last year: Tribute
