COMMIT *gulp* MENT

Hello,

Are you planning to stay for the next year. I hope you can, the student loves you, and the teaching office gives you good appraisal; that makes the university offer you a second year contract, and you will get raised in the second year.

If you are planning to stay for the second year, please let me know.

Cordinally,

Jian Qiang

I got this email recently.  It sits unanswered in my inbox.  It breathes down my neck and makes me sweat... no rhyme intended.  I was so preoccupied with the terrifying stench of commitment upon first read, I didn't even chuckle at the precious spelling of cordially.  I see it long after I've closed my internet and shut down my computer. The words dance inside my eyelids as I drift off to sleep.  Choices, choices.  I once begged an English professor at Harding University to choose a paper topic for me.  "Why?" he replied.  "Because I'm so indecisive! I drive myself crazy."  I said pathetically.  A slow smile crawled across his face, "You sure about that?"

For those who haven't heard, after weeks of painful "pro" and "con" list writing, prayerful consideration, and begging just about anyone to make my life decisions for me, I've decided, Lord willing, to come back to China for the Fall term after summer break.  I'm not sure if it's a serious case of cold feet, or what, but I've been kind of freaking out about this decision.  You may be thinking, "Honey, we are talking 6 months here, not eternity" and to this I would respond, I am turning 25 this fall! Next stop THIRTY, hello!!! Who will be here to tell me I am being ridiculous on my birthday, and my forehead wrinkles don't look that bad. Besides, pick the plank out of your own pupil!

OK, where was I before I started arguing with myself? Ah, yes- I trust that He will take care of me, but with my three closest friends here, leaving for good, I find myself becoming more keen on the idea of staying in Florida, kissing on nephews and nieces, being able to drive a car, turning on the television to find people speaking English, going a day where I eat food devoid of heaping amounts of oil and MSG. . . . you know, things like that.  I'm not going to round this post off with a moral, or the way I've come to realize I shouldn't worry about tomorrow, for today has enough worries of its own.  (Although, I know this to be true.)  Rather, I will ask you-  Pray for me.  And while you're at it, consider joining me in China, OR ELSE. Just kidding. (But seriously.)

Recall

Do you recall when I chatted with you

As I combed my Barbie's hair?

You were like my super imaginary friend;

Intangible, but I knew you were there.

 

Remember when I made a deal with you

After school on the bus?

I said if you gave me a boyfriend

I'd still (mostly) focus on us.

 

How about that time I sat in the dormitory,

Lost in confusion of where you were?

Hot tears, accused you of not listening,

Not hearing a single word.

 

Should I remind you of the time,

My trembling hand signed that contract?

I dared you to follow me,

Bit my lip, and apprehensively packed.

 

Why is it only after I've choked down humility,

And with a raw throat, sung your song,

That those lyrics, I finally recall?

I AM here, will be there, and was all along.

I AM here, will be there, and was all along.

Another week has come and gone.

Just one week ago, two members of our small family abruptly move to Wuhan. Their arrival into our lives the term before had been a gift, a sign that the work we were doing was wholly good, and so we begin to doubt. The night we find out, I fall asleep whispering pleas to Him for encouragement.

The next morning, a sister is born.

Days ago, that same sister abruptly finds out the job she has applied for, has a position ready for her. We try to keep our heads high, still excited for the new life she has chosen, and glad for her success in finding work. So, we say our goodbyes and she moves on.


This morning, we meet with our Sunday Crew, trying not to notice who isn't there. No extra chairs have to be pulled forward, no one needs the lesson interpreted. And then a friend tells us he wants to be our brother. And I look around the room at the rest of my Yichang family soaking in the elation of the moment.

You know, what's funny? Going in, he hit his head. Hard. But he's ready to give it another go. And so we try again. This time he tilts his head forward, and is finally fully immersed in His commitment. And we sing and hurriedly swipe at the tears, knowing full well the wonderful joy that comes despite the bumps. And quite inexplicably, the room is full, again.

Perspectives. Proportions.. Purpose...

There are days when the catastrophes of the world make one realize how small and weak a single pair of limbs are, a single pair of eyes, a single mind… heart. When you’re any twenty-something year old, how spiritless would you be if you didn’t feel as though the world was your stinkin’ oyster? Or that you, and you alone, had the ability to change the world- To truly make a difference. But it’s times like these that the goals that consume much of my day (i.e. today's list- plan class, eat lunch with friends, learn 5 Chinese characters, read, do laundry, floss) seem so menial. Well, they are so menial. I recently learned of the fifth largest earthquake occurrence in Chile. Soon after- one in Argentina. How many people were sleeping soundly when their homes caved on top of them? OH, Dear Lord. Thousands are mourning the loss of loved ones in South America, meanwhile, outside my window, a deafening display of firecrackers is setting off car alarms as the people of China celebrate the Lantern Festival. As Alanis would say: isn’t ironic… don’t ya think?

Last week, while the rest of my family gathered for my grandmother’s funeral in Texas, I was gallivanting around India, having the time of my life.

Sometimes I let myself slip into a darkness, in which I feel so helpless. So useless. And I wonder… what can I do, anyway? Here I am in a foreign land, teaching classes to students that don’t care about their English, and sharing His teachings with people, most of whom believe it holds no personal truth for their lives. Am I wasting my time? Maybe I should be cleaning up the rubble in Chile. Or, at least, I should be home, throwing my arms around my Daddy’s neck, and assuring him I won’t leave him, too. You know, really making a difference. Doing some good.

And it’s in these moments, when the words begin creeping into my thoughts- "Just give up. It's too much. What can you do, anyway? You can't even open a coke bottle with your scrawny hands!"- But something, or someone, reminds me - I’m not doing it alone. I’m not alone. And I take comfort in these words, that I hope will encourage you, as well:

"…Commit to the LORD whatever you do, and your plans will succeed…"

"….Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us…"

Or, as Jewel would put it: My hands they’re small, I know; but they’re not yours, they are my own... And they are never broken.

I’m small, I know; but there's nothing small about my God.





Rest in our love and His peace, Grandma Joyce.

La dee dee, it's Poetry

So, I looked at my pathetic blog and realized it needed to be spiced up a bit. I considered filling my online journal in on the Holidays... on the recent trip to Beijing (maybe I'll post pictures)... but as I pondered what to write, I decided to write a poem about writing. I'm new at this. But poetry is kinda fun, so yippee yi yay. And since I don't allow comments on my blog you can't trash my writing or think I'm fishing for approval- which gives me courage.


I want to Write


I want to write.
I want to write something eloquent.
Fashioning my thoughts
Into words
Perfectly.

I want to write.
I want to write something nonchalant.
Slapping my emotions
On Paper
Carelessly.

I want to write.
I want to write something beautiful.
Making your eye glimmer,
Your lip quiver,
Tremulously.

I want to write.
I want to write something daring.
Challenging your raised eyebrow,
Your suppositions,
Bluntly.

I want to write.
I want to write something funny.
Tickling your ribs
Until you admit I’m
Witty.

I want to write.
I want to write something meaningful.
Weaving something worthy
Of reading
Thoroughly.

I want to write.
I want to write something simple.
Smoothing your brow.
You can breathe
Easily.


I want to write.
I want to write something grandiose.
Stabbing at that which is unattainable
And doing so
Humbly.

I want to write.
I want to write something for me.
Observing merely the minute details
Between sunrise and fall
Accurately.

I want to write.
I want to write something for you.
Pulling your head
Onto my Shoulder
Tenderly.

I want to write
I want to write… something.
Hoping only that you
Will Read It
Willingly.

Note to self:

In China, "Coffee Shop" may very well mean "bar". So when someone asks you (or Zack) to come out to their coffee shop, they may be inviting you to go a loud, smoky bar that serves alcohol and no coffee, but has a sign in the front that reads "Coffee Shop."

I'm a person, ya know!

Sometimes I feel like I'm just a commodity to my Chinese friends. I just want to know who actually wants to be my friend-- Jessica Custer's friend, more than a foreigner's friend. I thought I could tell the difference, but I'm not so sure.

I guess it's just been one of those days.

It's been a little tough staying positive over here during the Holidays. Your prayers are appreciated. HE is good.