Showing posts with label living. Show all posts
Showing posts with label living. Show all posts

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Time to Speak

http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3113/2656383155_29ffb77685_z.jpg




Today I went to Kettering to see a friend. We drove around Dayton looking for some Thai food. I observed the downtown Dayton businesses in a way I have not seen them before.

When we got out of the car to see if the restaurant was open, I noticed that the neighborhood was littered with girlie bars, strip clubs, and adult shops. I have seen those before and have felt disgusted, but today I felt more than disgust, I felt sorrow.

I felt sorrow because I saw them as possible businesses of sex traffickers. Women's faces came to my mind and I saw people who are scared, abused, and do not realize what love is. I saw men who are not controlled, who think they're just having fun. I saw other men who understand what they're doing and want more. More money, more power, more success. Today my heart was saddened in a way it has not been at the sight of downtown "night life". Praise the Lord, today He has grown my heart.

What to do, what to do?

Just take a step...and more will follow.

It is time to act - with words.

How can that be enough? How can that matter?

Will any of this make a difference?
Is that mine to decide?

Hmmm....
Nope. I guess it's not mine to decide.
It is my opportunity to cause an effect in whatever way the Lord would choose to use and direct it.

May He be glorified and may people know His love.




Saturday, May 4, 2013

Gone Away


Grown Up and Gone
Away


I do not know how to

love.

The ones I loved have gone.

And now love is no more.

How rapidly time has

flown.

If only I had known this day would come.

It came far quicker than I could judge.

And now love is no more

The ones I loved have


          gone.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Noisy American!


Here I sit in a Tianjin Costa Coffee shop. The environment is more Korean than Chinese. More “tai gui le” (expensive) than “pian yi dian’r” (cheap). I am drinking a medium mocha that cost 34RMB. (Approximately 6USD. This place was made for the rich and the foreign.)
I came here to chat with a foreign friend and read and write in a calming environment. 

Part of this dream was to be.

While my friend and I were talking, I started laughing. The man sitting caddy-corner to us caught my attention and put his index finger up to his lips to indicate that he needed me to be less exuberant in my conversation. I was a little too loud for his baby sleeping in the stroller.

I thought I was speaking at a lower volume. I thought I stopped laughing. Unfortunately, the baby woke up and started wailing.

Poor Asian dads. They have no opportunity to practice caring for the children and they just don’t know what to do with them, even if it’s not a screaming baby.

As I continue sitting in this coffee shop, the 18-month-old has continued his tantrum. The Korean mothers on the other side of the wall have started to look around for the perpetrator. They have tried to go back to their conversations, but they cannot. They see the pathetic look of the father, searching for the return of his wife from her shopping trip. He is telepathically begging her to return with speed, wishing the child had kept on sleeping, hating that I came to sit next to them. The man looks so helpless and frantic. He is trying to quiet the baby, but he doesn’t know how. People don’t want to talk and drink when there’s a toddler wailing at the next table. He feels great pressure.

I feel guilty. Was it my fault? Did I continue speaking too loudly? I thought I had kept an indoor voice. Irene assures me that my tone was fine.

Pretty soon my friend has left and the Korean moms can contain themselves no longer. They have to instruct the helpless father. They try to show him how to hold the baby, “Pick him up. Hold him close to you. Stand up. Rock him back and forth. Pat his back.” The baby’s legs are flailing. He’s throwing a fit and the dad doesn’t know how to hold him.

The poor man, at least he is showing great patience. All eyes (except mine) are on him. A westerner on his right, Korean moms peering on his left, and then approaches one of the male baristas to offer advice. (I was surprised at this!) The Korean moms approach again and try to show him that he needs to stand up and rock the baby back and forth. The dad stands for a while, but keeps coming back to his seat. (Why?!)

My goodness. Could the man not even hold out on his feet for a little while?
And this baby! My goodness. What a B-R-A-T. He can’t even let his dad hold him.

But, of course, that’s how they have chosen to train him. The baby’s chubby face reveals that he is not lacking in a full supply of food and attention. His every whim is catered to and pre-met. Too bad. Brat-made.
(Alas, that sentiment may just be my cultural perspective. They know they have provided him with comfort and security. A baby’s demands should always be met, first. That is love.)

Now the dad is holding the child in his left hand and an iPad in his right. The child has been hushed for a while. Watching the iPad. Sick. Oh my goodness. 18-months-old and the iPad is already a comfort. The mom has returned. The baby is immediately calmed. Bleh.

The Korean moms go back to their conversation. Their expressions are peaceful and happy. They know this is the way it is supposed to be. Men know nothing about how to care for babies. It’s the ladies’ work. Children are supposed to be cared for by the women and the men are supposed to earn the money and watch.

Epilogue
After the baby was well calmed, the father told his wife the story of me being too loud for the baby to sleep. I could tell not because I can understand his language, but because he subtly pointed to me and re-enacted putting the index finger to his lips to indicate the need for being quiet. I have failed as an ambassador. It could be that he will hate and blame Westerners for the rest of his days. Certainly, he will stereotype and declare that we are all too loud for the good of society.

Extended Epilogue
As they leave, mom dresses the baby in a cute, striped hat and scarf set. The mom holds the baby while the dad tries to snap a shot of him with the same iPad that was to be his distraction. The dad loves him. He just doesn’t know how to care for him. While the mom tries to put on her coat, the dad takes hold of the baby. And what do you know? The baby starts crying again. Swiftly, on goes the coat, baby is swept up into the arms of the mother, and the cries are stilled.
The father fears and the baby controls.
Not that this will always be the case. Eventually, and not exactly, the roles will be switched.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

My Middle Ages

Christmas comes once again, filled with the joy, expectation, and sentiment of the season. It is a time for children, who fill homes with energy, excitement, and sheer joy. And it is a time for the aged, who cherish Christmas memories drawn from decades of Christmas celebrations.
(Albert Mohler, And Them That Mourn)

I read this quote and I was stuck. I am supposed to be planning my ECC assembly right now, but my brain must write.

-->
I suddenly feel that all I have left of life is to get old and then realize what life was really about.
Not to say that I have actually lived. I have not. But, I am past the age of awe-filled rapture and what is to become of me now? Nothing but further decay, various choices being made, and the onset of age (aka “the grave”).

What is life, but the end, and thus the discovery of what we have been doing and if it has been profitable (aka “God-glorifying”)?

I don’t think I like these unknown, middle years. How do I know if they will be profitable? How do I know if what I am doing is worthy? (Hold it up to the light of God’s Word.)

I know that childhood was meaningful, productive, and a thing to be cherished.
I know that old age will bring answers because I will have lived through and learned.
But, I know nothing of these middle years. There is too much variance and possibility of change.

In childhood, you can assume that you are growing and learning. That is your purpose.
In your latter years you can assume that you are even closer to death. You know that you have lived, what you have done, and you can evaluate.

What about the middle years?!
They tell us nothing until we have lived them -- and by that time we're past them.

And, good grief, there are so many of them.
(If the Lord allows us to have them all, of course.)

Friday, December 28, 2012

Frustrated with the "Normal Guilt"

I happened upon this blog when I was preparing to write my other blog about normal.

She tell the tale of how she and her husband didn't want to live the "normal Christian life" when they were first married, but how marriage, children, and a mortgage changed those aspirations. She continues to say that they soon realized the idol of complacency and comfort in their hearts and decided to change the trajectory of their lives. They sold their home and got involved in full time ministry.

I only skimmed through her writing, but I found the conclusion of her post and one of the comments she received intriguing.

Her conclusion (Underlines added are mine):
They [friends] are displaying the gospel, and there is nothing normal about their lives. And every time I get off the phone with her, all I want is to have nothing normal about our lives. She still bleeds God, and her life is being poured out on the neediest and the most broken. She traded entitlement for surrender, and God took her up on it.
What if heaven and God and forever became our normal?
Wouldn’t that change everything?

One of three comments the post received:
Normal.  Right.  Sometimes I would love to be normal.  Instead, I am a 59-year-old-maid who set aside career plans to care for my mother in her declining years until she passed.  Yes, I have a family, I'm guardian for a disabled brother and uncle.  Yes, I have a house...all 700 square feet of it...in need of new wiring, plumbing and a roof...and no way to pay for them.  Yes, I have a job...actually three of them, but none provide health insurance, and the combined income still leaves me well below the poverty level. Sorry to whine, but when it takes everything to just get by, "doing great things for God" just sort of flies out the window.

My heart grieves for this lady! Her "great thing" seems to have been right under her nose the whole time, but she has chosen bitterness instead.

My response to the comment:
I would like to say that whatever you are doing, when done with the right heart and attitude, can be the "great thing" God Himself has given you to do. (Ephesians 2:10 -- The works that He has prepared for you to walk in.) I struggle to answer how "normal life" can be a great thing for God, but it's not the doing that He cares about, but the relationship of love. It sounds like the Lord has given you "great things" to do in caring for your mother, brother, and uncle while working three jobs (dying to self). I hope that your heart will be comforted and the Lord will show you how He has allowed these things for His glory and your sanctification in Him.

 I was particularly moved because this is my struggle. I have two fears in life:
1) I don't want to be alone for ever. (Without my sisters in particular.)
2) I don't want to live a complacent, comfortable, un-sacrificed life. (I don't want to be "normal".)

I desire to be known for accomplishing a great task (for the Lord). I want to be one who has taken risks and started things. I want to stand up for the rights of the poor and feeble.

As displayed in this woman's blog and the reader's response, we have wrongly connected "not normal" and "heavenly focus." Our eyes are supposed to be fixed on Jesus, not the way to be the most radical. We've then said that service in the slums and/or foreign countries are the best ways to not be normal.

We as a culture, and I know that I in my own heart, need to assess and re-define "normal", "radical", "heavenly focus", and our calling in Jesus.

(Here's the quick answer:
Whatever we have to do -- do it as to Jesus!)

Hating Normal

 Mini: Not Normal (commercial)
 "Normal isn't great. It isn't fantastic. Normal can never be amazing."

The commercial revealed the desperation of mankind to have a glorious identity and a fulfilling purpose.

I started crying before Les Miserables even started.

Most of us are normal. Though it has been said that "the only normal people you know are the ones you don't know well enough," most of us are not above average. Most of us will never not be average. That's why there are "standardized" tests and procedures. We are normal.

And yet, what is the normalcy in which we [the culture of America] have allowed ourselves to be cooked?
Stupidity.
Laziness.
Discontentedness.
Selfishness.

And our hearts are aching.

We, the people, reach for drugs, clubs, music, sex, world travels, coffee, cars, clothes trying to escape the feeling of being normal, complacent, comfortable, average. We (particularly those Americans between 18-34,) are choking to find a purposeful identity, but it's being shoved in our faces as something that we need to go out and buy, or make, or become, or accomplish for the world.

Christians have this problem too. We don't want to be normal. We feel the guilt of enjoying our middle-class luxuries while those "other people" are dying in poverty and biblical ignorance.

And how do we stop up this pain?

Crying.
Mission trips.
Giving money.
Discussing our shock and horror.

Is this the biblical view?

Is being normal (living a comfortable, middle class American lifestyle,) a sin?
--It depends on who we choose to serve. God or money? Do we hold on to our possessions and position with a tight fist? Are we willing to share and give sacrificially when and as the Lord directs?

Was Jesus normal?
--In many ways, yes. Most Bibline heroes were normal people who stepped up when the Lord called. It was not that they cut their own path to be radical -- they just trusted and obeyed when the Lord directed.

Have we forgotten our identity?
--The world dies in their pursuit of "radical" and "anti-normal" because they do not know for Whom they live. But we who have been born again and are purchased by the blood of Jesus in order to share in His inheritance and to be built up as His living temple, have we neglected our calling?

Paul's letters were written to people living normal lives. His letters promoted the idea of normal lives being lived out.
Don't be busybodies.
Work hard as if you were working to Jesus.
If you were saved as a slave, stay a slave.
If you were saved as a free man, stay a free man.
Offer your bodies as living sacrifices.
Live so people will see you and glorify God.

The world is feeding us lies of distraction and death.

"Normalcy" isn't the problem. Forgetfulness is the problem.

The commercial made me cry because I thought about those acting in the commercial and represented by the commercial. All they want is to know that they are important and have a purpose in living, but they refuse to go to the One who satisfies.

Constantly searching for a release from themselves and a salvation from the lives they try to love, but they won't look to Him who is beyond comprehension and who has created them for His eternal purpose.

They want to be valued and identified, but they will not look to the One in whose image they have been created.

I cried for their blindness, for their hopelessness, for their despair. They grasp and consume in vain, when He is near! The glorious One calls out to them, but they will not listen. 

Louder they sing their woeful tunes, higher they punch their clenched fists, faster they drive their cars, and longer they curse their wasted existence.

May those who have their identity in the Beloved not grow hard to the cries of the world, nor be ensnared in the chains of their idles. <- font="font" pun="pun" purposeful="purposeful">


Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Addictions of Various Kinds

Interesting websites that some friends brought to my attention:

South Korea "Digital Addiction" -- It's actually pretty crazy how deep this addiction is running.

Fasting from Facebook (school project) -- Interesting idea, but how long will the "mountain top experience" (aka technology-less hype) last?
(I must admit that my time away from Facebook has been nice, though there have also been times -- at this moment, in fact -- when I would like to sign back on to share something and/or to look at a sister's picture that people are commenting on. I see the comments in my email box.)

Argentina Mom Rescues Sex Slaves -- Happens in the States too. I just watched a powerful documentary about the worldwide sex trade. I am about to finish the book, "Not for Sale".
("About finished" meaning -- before I return to the States for Christmas.)

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Anti-Aging Creams

I have been on the “Good Housekeeping” website in order to (why??) search for their reviews of point-and-shoot cameras. (I don’t know why I went there to do that.)

As I searched, I kept seeing all these advertisements for “anti-aging” creams. Now I want to know: who was the original marketer of those types of products? Who was the one who coined the phrase “anti-aging cream”?

Then comes my next question: who are the ones that have bought in to such a thing?

Me. My culture. Not that I have ever purchased any of the aforementioned products, but I have never before seen the lie in the phrase.

Anti-aging cream? Really? Yes, yes, I know. It’s against the aging process. It’s trying to ward off the aging process. But guess what? It’s going to happen.

It’s a hopeless case. What you are paying to prevent – what you are “waging war against” is all in vain.

I suppose you couldn’t (and wouldn’t) market your product as the “slowly-aging cream” or the “gracefully-aging cream.” (Maybe I would feel better if that was its name.)

But, I can’t fight off the aging process. If I don’t die before it happens – I know that the affects of aging will overcome me.

Why do we allow ourselves to be tricked? Why do want to be “forever young”? Why do we spend so much time, money, and attention preventing the aging process? It’s going to happen.

I just want to be worthy of my wrinkles.

I know there will come a day when I will pass by a mirror and take a second glance because I can’t believe that the gray, sagging person I see is the person I have become, but why should I fear those days? Why should I build up this anxious need to push those days back with creams and colors?

They may soften my appearance, but it can’t change reality. Sin has come and we wither, decay, grow old, and die.

Of course, don’t believe me yet. Wait until I get there. See what I do when the reality of aging has arrived.

(Just don’t tell me too bluntly that you see the affects of its coming when it does.)

*Disclaimer: I am not against keeping ourselves healthy and “life-ful”. I advocate the use of lotion and staying out of the harmful rays of the sun. I am merely disgusted by the push of the product and the self-focused marketing campaign behind it.*

Friday, November 2, 2012

Football, Boys, and Korean Girls


Ahh!! These kids. Not quite as hyper-active as my first graders at Grace Academy, but they are VERY active. I love it. (Imagination and energy are my top delights in children.) When they walk to line-up, they hop because they just need to release a bit (more) of their energies.

I have one “all-American” boy who brought his small “nerf” football to school. 
“Miss Martin!” 
“Yes, Oliver?” 
“I brought my football!” 
“Oh YES! I am so excited!” 
“Miss Martin!” 
“Yes, Oliver?” 
“Want to come out and play FOOTBALL?!!?!?!” He furrowed his blonde eyebrows with intensity. His sparkling blue eyes were gleaming in delighted anticipation of my answer. 
"OF COURSE I DO!!!!" Mine was an equally enthusiastic reply.

After lunch recess, I let my students stay out for a bit of extra play time... (instead of “rest reading time.” heh heh) And I taught my (primarily) Korean class how to play American football. 

From the beginning I had my doubts about this plan. Korean (girls) are usually a bit more fragile than most. But, Oliver was pretty pumped -- and I had been wanting to play some FOOTBALL too.

The class itself seemed pretty excited, and so we went for it.

They decided that it would be best to split up boys and girls. Fine. Fine. I explained two-hand touch football, where they should be running, how to hold the ball while running, and that the boys must try to be GENTLE and KIND with the girls while playing. (Sure.)

We began.

A couple plays into the game, the girls had the ball. The most petite of the Korean girls snatched up the ball, wove her way through the kindergarten crowd, and got to her team's touchdown line. The boys caught up and pretty much mooshed her. (So much for gentility.)

Intensity was the expression on every face. Boy, girl, they were all pulling for the ball. 

The rest of the girls came and they joined in the foray with equal determination. 

And then, the sound of tears. An injured (Korean, female) student.The same one who had scored the touchdown.

Within seconds of the touchdown (actually) I was at the mob, trying to break it up and pull the small girl up from the side-bottom of the pile.

The teeniest piece of skin had been scratched from her finger.
I wanted to give her the wise wisdom my father often gave to me, “Why don’t we go rub some dirt on it?” Or, “There’s no crying in football!” But, I refrained.

I made her stand up.
I inspected the small scratch on her finger, kept her pulled in to a tight hug, and then declared that there could be no more football unless the girls were ready to get hurt. 

A couple were willing to play again. The boys were all for it. We continued playing a 5-year-old international version of football, but we had a great time. (After I had finished soothing the injured student and had showed the boys how to show compassion to a girl who has been hurt. Yes. Yes.)

I am thankful for Oliver’s American spirit. We continue to play football with some other brave souls at some of our “outdoor playtime.” It’s great. He likes to be tackled and I like to pound him down on the grass -- while he giggles with delight. (Of course.)

Post Note: The next day the injured girl came up to me to show me her wound. She used some words like, "Look Miss Martin, my football injury is getting better!" hah hah I do wonder what her parents thought of us. "Yeah, we played American football today. Miss Martin showed us how to play, then I got smooshed."

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Today on September 22nd

Today I went to a Chinese wedding where I was billed in the program as, "Let's Play!"

I haven't performed in front of people (outside the short people I perform for 5 days a week,) since my college days. (And those days are quickly receding further and further into my past.)
It was fun.

I like energizing people.
I like energizing crowds.
(I wish I could participate in the theatre!)

Today I tried to converse with a young Chinese girl in Chinese. I like young Chinese-speakers. They keep talking, thinking you understand, realizing you don't/won't, but still trying and talking. We counted together and chatted about...milk.

Today I loved seeing the wedding ceremony. So simple! Much different than weddings in America. Much different from the weddings I have seen in China, thus far. More prayer, more Bible reading. I loved the simplicity -- of the furnishings, the clothes, and the venue. We were there to support and celebrate the union of the bride and groom. What else should matter?
My young chatting companion and one of my sister-colleagues.

Today, after the wedding, we went to eat at a restaurant. (Common for American weddings to operate in this way, but Chinese weddings are usually held in a restaurant -- sometimes the ceremony is happening while the guests sit around the not-yet-filled tables. The ceremony itself is actually much influenced by the West -- wedding dresses, rings, songs, etc.) The food was SO YUMMY!! Fried pumpkin bread -- doughnut-like. Muy delicioso. (Hao chi.)

Today I chatted with some of my national colleagues. Very nice. I loved feeling our connection -- as co-workers and sisters.

Today I walked home and smelled the "aroma" of Tianjin. Not a delight.

Today I paid 32RMB ($5.50) for a 60 fluid ounce bottle of bleach. (Last time I bought bleach at the import store I paid a similar price for double the beach. I "need" my bleach.)

Today I went to the market and bought my niu rou (beef), ji rou (chicken), almonds, flour, cai (vegetables), and shui guo (fruit) from the sellers on the street -- and the meat sitting out on the counters, with the cloth fans flying above them. (An effort to fan away the circling flies.) I spent less than $30. I still need to get yogurt and bread -- maybe some bananas, but these should last for half a week.


Now I am sitting at my computer, pondering the time, pondering the possibilities.

Today on September 16th


Today I rode a few (?) miles on my bike with a fellow teacher riding on the back.

Today I sang and worshiped with a whole bunch of internationals, covering each continent (minus Antarctica). We sang a song in Swahili. (?) The worship leader is from Sri Lanka. I've had Passover dinner with her before. --In the home of a family from South Africa, England, Taiwan, and mainland China.

Today at church, I grooved while I sang.

Today I ate a whole bunch of jiao zi (pumpkin, donkey, shrimp, curry with cow, and regular kinds too).

Today I saw the baptism of 3 foreign teenagers in a river and sang worship songs outside in the park.

Today I walked a lot and biked A LOT.

Today I participated in a surprise 50th birthday celebration of the leader of our small group. (I got to eat a piece of cheese cake.)

Today I ate some delicious kimbap (tuna) and drank a delicious mango smoothie.

Today I had interesting conversations with high schoolers, fellow teachers, and parents.

Today I put my leftover jiao zi under the car. (Stupid. Why?) When I came back, it was gone. I hope the street sweeper ate it.

I experience these things and I interact with these people and I don't want to go.
Tianjin -- view from Trash Mountain



Must I go?
Will I stay?

If I go, will I ever come back?

As I was walking today the realization struck me that if I must leave -- I may never be able to come back again.
That is a deep sorrow to my soul. Not so much because of the PLACE, but because of the PEOPLE.

The sorrow still lingers from Washington...a bit from California, and now I have China to (perhaps?) add to the list.

I tried to imprint on my mind the sights, sounds, textures, and scents of Tianjin in the throes of Fall.


Beauty can be seen here too.

Today on September 15th




http://www.kentkedl.com/?tag=staring



Today we walked down the street carrying a vacuum. As they do, people seemed interested in the foreign-made spectacle.

Today we tried to pay our phone bill, but no one was at the counter and we couldn't read the Chinese signs.


Today we won't be able to pay our phone bill. We will have to pay on another occasion, maybe with some help from a Chinese friend. (True, our friend went and paid for us after we tried a few times.)

textually.org
Today we tried to pay our cellphone bill. We tried to follow the "normal procedure," but they have changed the normal procedure. Instead of going to a person, now they have technology. We have to pay our cellphone bill at an automated machine -- in Chinese. We had to stand and wait for help. They were kind. They helped us.



Today we saw (once again) how helpless we are in this foreign land. When systems or procedures change, when people aren't sitting at their normal desks, we have no idea what is going on and there is no real way that we (by ourselves) can figure out why that person is not sitting at their desk at 2:15 in the afternoon. (It's not lunch time, but we can't read the signs -- or understand the words that would tell us what is the new procedure and how we should come back and conduct ourselves.)
Today is another day in China.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

New Bundles of Kindergarten Energies


Summer has ended and the school year has begun. I just finished my third week (I think?) of teaching. This year I have 16 students. (Last year I started with 10 and ended with 8. Yeah. I scare away the children.)

Here's this year's language/culture breakdown:

3 Chinese speakers: 1 is very low in his understanding/speaking of English. The other 2 are medium in speaking/listening.
2 Japanese speakers: Both are very low – one is named YuICHIRO (I know, I heard -- he's gone to the Yankees.)
3 Native English speakers: 1 is high in reading, 1 is middle, and 1 doesn’t yet know his letter names. 1 French speaker: He is still in France and won’t be coming until September 19th. Last year he was speaking English.When he gets here, we'll see how he's doing.
7 Korean speakers: Most of them are middle to low in their speaking abilities, though some of them can read fairly well.

My goal: SWBAT read, write and speak some (kind) sentences by the end of the year.  
We shall go forward!

Readying ourselves for the BEAR HUNT!
 

Funny side story/sneak peak into my classroom:
The other day I wanted a group of them to come to the floor with their paper and pencil. So, I picked up a pencil, “Get your PENCIL.” And I held up the paper, “And get your PAPER.” And I then began to motion to the floor, “And come SIT,” I began to sit, “on the FLOOR.” I pointed in the direction of the floor with my index finger. 
I repeated myself. “Get your PENCIL, and get your PAPER, and come SIT on the FLOOR.” 
Same words, same charades. Great efforts, yet no one came. Even the native English speakers gave me blank stares. 
“Please come, now.” I said. 
Eventually their bodies began to move in the direction of the floor.

My goal for this year was to have self-control and not sing or dance at random times during class. I was going to make them raise their hands and never speak out and we were going to have STRUCTURED stretching times rather than FREE wiggle/dancing time.



I am not sure that it even lasted two weeks.

I almost died.
They almost exploded.

I cannot deny that the “don’t smile/be silly for the first month” would have been profitable, (it definitely DID help me to clearly define times to raise hands and other expectations,) but I couldn’t last a WHOLE month. I had to hold in too much of my own energy let alone my students’ energies. I was getting annoyed and they were getting discouraged. It’s just not happily feasible for kindergarteners (or a teacher named Miss Martin) to contain their energy ALL day long. 

As a remedy to our troubles, this week I started singing and dancing at random moments and we have been having “free” wiggle/dance time once again. (No running, no flying shoes, and no yelling. Those are our guidelines.)

Our song of choice last year was “High School Musical” – per their request. This year we happened upon “Cotton-eyed Joe” and a bhangra/Bollywood song. They love it. And WOW! Are they dancers, or what?! I have never seen some of the moves these children are bustin’ out. They have skills. (I also wonder what some of them watch at home with their parents.)

When I visit the States for Christmas I will try to post some dancing videos. (I don't have patience for the uploading time here.)

Friday, August 31, 2012

Psalm 29:3-4


Ascribe to the Lord, O Heavenly Beings
Ascribe to the Lord GLORY and STRENGTH.

Ascribe to the Lord the GLORY due His Name; worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness.

--In the clothing of holiness.
Set apart. Consecrated.
Living Sacrifice.

The voice of the Lord is over the waters;
The God of glory thunders,
The Lord over many waters.

The voice of the Lord is powerful.
2) the capacity or ability to direct or influence the behavior of others or the course of events.
3) physical strength and force exerted by something or someone: the power of the storm.
The voice of the Lord is full of majesty. 
1) impressive stateliness, dignity, or beauty: experience the majesty of the Rockies.

Ascribe to the Lord, O Heavenly Beings. (command)
Ascribe to the Lord GLORY and STRENGTH. (command)

Ascribe to the Lord the GLORY due His Name; (command)
worship the Lord in the SPLENDOR of HOLINESS. (command)

“Ascribing” is also a type of call to worship – we are attributing to Him certain characteristics. Bringing GLORY to His Name because we are declaring our delight and love for Him and Who He is.
Four times we are commanded.
We are even told WHAT to ascribe – glory and strength.
We are even told how we may come – in the SPLENDOR of holiness.
And, HALLEUJAH, how do we get these garments of splendor?
I cannot make them myself – only through the death and resurrection of Jesus ad the indwelling of His Holy Spirit. THEN we will be presented blameless before Him – in our garments of holy splendor.
Now, we fight and press on for those garments.
Now we stand in the complete work of Christ – fixing our eyes on Jesus; setting our minds on Heavenly things; presenting ourselves as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to Him. (Hebrews 11; Colossians 3; Romans 8)

The voice of the Lord is over the waters.
The GOD of GLORY THUNDERS,
The Lord, over many waters.

Repetition to make a point.
Review.
Pictures of Genesis 1:2 come to my mind.
How can a voice be “hovering” (so to speak) over the waters?
“Hovering” brings to mind a picture of thickness.
I love that phrase, “the God of glory THUNDERS.”
Wouldn’t you love to hear that delightfully horrifying sound?

A sound that strengthens you but shakes you to the core of your being – the ultimate adrenaline rush.
I can’t wait to hear His Voice and not just the shadows of it in our thunder.

Maybe that’s why we, as a people are drawn to the sights and sounds of the storms and the waters.
Truth be told, I like the ocean waters so much that I get a little teary-eyed when I think about their absence in the new earth. (Of course, whatever is there will be MUCH better and I will laugh at myself for being so silly.)

Perhaps, because the voice of the Lord thunders and sounds like rushing waters, maybe the need for the ocean’s waves is gone.
Maybe the sounds of the seraphim and cherubim and the four living creatures and the elders will scatter away in “lost dreams” the sounds of the ocean.

How is a voice “full of majesty”?
I looked it up and my computer dictionary had a good sentence, “Experience the majesty of the Rockies.”

Breath-taking and overwhelming is the voice of the Lord.

A voice that is foreshadowed by all the created things I love: oceans, mountains, and thunderstorms.

Ascribe to the Lord the glory DUE His Name.
Forever is not enough.

A Little Breakfast with My Science


As I took my breakfast from the refrigerator this morning I was thinking about my “disciplined” life – if it could happen. It just seems that with the unpredictability of the world, this is not possible. People come, you talk, and the whole schedule of the day (life) changes. You aren’t working, so work gets put off. As you talk, more work comes. You work on work at a later time because of the aforementioned conversation. You go to bed later than scheduled. Going to bed later makes it much harder to get up at the appointed time. You push snooze. Pushing snooze then makes you unable to shower AND work out AND have quiet time. And so, you must make a choice. Schedules shape life, life changes the schedule. Nothing in my schedule can be for sure, it would seem.

Life is unreliable because I don’t know it.

Maybe that’s (one reason) why tragedy is so shocking for us. Tragedy is unplanned and it messes up your schedule for the rest of your (day) life. It's the horrible, black, unknown that controls you suddenly, when you had other plans for your future and didn’t want to be controlled.

As I continued down this thought-path of nothing being for sure, not being able to count on anything, and why try when all plans get tossed out the window anyways, I realized that I was (and do) depend on something.

I was relying on the reality of the laws of physics. I was relying on the hope that the fridge will remain upright and will not crush me (as long as there is no earthquake and I don’t try to pull too hard to open the door).

The vegetable is held in its place by gravity and I can see it, reach out my hand, aim for the vegetable, move my fingers to grab it, pull it up, and bring it to my mouth. The position of the vegetable does not suddenly change, at this moment I can control my arm and hand muscles, and the location of my mouth remains the same.

Laws/attributes of physics, though they are subject to sudden change, are reliable. Even when physical changes suddenly occur, they happen within and according to the laws of physical/chemical/biological/geological/etc. possibilities.

We walk without worrying too much about bleeding-out on the ceiling.

Could these things be manifestations of the character of God? A cry to the world that there are laws, standards, constants?

Of course, the reality that we identify and live according to constants would seem to display the reality that they had to be organized and ordered -- by Something.

They can’t all be questioned and left forever in that “almost law because we can never be sure that something won’t change and so we can never actually know anything to be absolute.”

I don’t live that way.

I open my fridge (with the correct amount of force,) and I trust that it will not crush me. I don’t cringe in fear, worrying that this could be the moment when we discover that these laws, (which I don’t know,) aren’t actually laws after all.

Of course, physics is the great mystery – the mystical world of science. The developments of Einstein, the theory of relativity, the metaphysical world.

The physical world is beyond us.

 (Ironic, what we are is too much for us to be and know.)

The physical and the “outside of what we see and experience” have different dimensions.

Another testament?

God is reliable and does not change. He can be trusted. He can speak and we can believe His Words.

And yet, He is also far beyond our comprehension. Far beyond what we can comprehend, or even fully appreciate and worship. We cannot know Him fully nor predict what He will do or why He will do it, but we can rely on what He has revealed of Himself.

And He calls on us to know Him.
He wants to be known.
He has opened to us the mystery of knowing Him.

Mystery.
Must be solved.
Mystery with an answer.
Mystery with several layers.
Some reliable and told.
Some yet to be revealed and unpredictable.

The knowable, reliable, trustworthy, mysterious, and powerful I AM.

And so, though there is this mystery of the unknown and inability to comprehend, overall there is consistency in our world. Even if it is shocking, unplanned, and upsetting, we trust that the night will come, and then the sun will rise. The world continues to rotate and we (developed countries) continue to grab food from our fridges in order to feed our bodies.

The reliable within the ungraspable. 

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Lifestyle Challenge


During this month of August I am conducting a “lifestyle experiment”. I want to see how leading a more scheduled and disciplined life affects my life. How does it affect my attitude? My health? My students? My friends? My ability to serve and love others? And, my relationship with the Lord?

Often, it makes me feel constrained, frustrated, and annoyed. But, the Lord has been teaching me and I think my heart is changing.

I have made an outlined schedule for myself. But the schedule (to me) is not as important as completing the tasks, and yet, the schedule is necessary so that I can complete the tasks.

You see, I have noticed that when I choose to be scattered, last minute, and/or lazy rather than planned, organized, and diligent I am often (indirectly) choosing to be self-focused and inhospitable to others. I want this to change.

I always make goals, I always have ideals and hopes, but how often do I consistently pursue and complete them? Why don’t I? I am scattered and lack endurance.

So, what are my goals?:

(You may laugh…another weakness and reason for my failings…too many goals…):

DAILY:
--Memorize a selection of Scripture. (August’s focus is Psalm 29. I have broken it up by weeks.)
--Fellowship with the Lord – in prayer and Bible reading (consistent prayer for others and 3-4 pages of the Bible daily. I will read the Bible, as I like to do, but have failed to attain, in one year.)
--At least 15 minutes of Chinese study. (Will do on the bus ride home from school.)
--Drink 2.5 liters of water.
[These goals are the more flexible "daily" ones...]
--Exercise (This goal has been made PARTICULARLY so I can use some energy and be less energetic in the classroom and…more self-controlled and serious. Truly, I look forward to our wiggle time as much as the kids.)
--Shower.
--Sleep no later than 10:30pm-5am (I would prefer 7 hours consistently.)
--No more than 3 dirty dishes left over night.
--Sweep the public floors.
--Mop up the public floors. (Like wiping off the table, not DEEP cleaning.)
--Read various books on the way to school. (Recipes, rhetoric, human rights, science, philosophy, physics, education, and theology. –I just feel as if my brain is shrinking. It must be strengthened. I am forgetting facts I learned in high school. They must be revived. First, I will attack my stack of unread books sitting at my bedside. Good!!)

WEEKLY:
--Laundry (Saturday)
--Pintai (cooking room -- Sunday)
--Sweep and mop bedroom (Friday night)
--Re-organize (Friday night)
--Bathroom (Saturday)

BI-MONTHLY:
--Clean out cabinets (scrub, throw away food, etc. – This week and the 25th.)
--Clean the fridge. (shelves, etc. This week and August 18th.)

I see the trap these lists could be: self-glory and legalism. I am seeking to guard against those, but I don’t think I should stop BECAUSE of those things.

The Lord has convicted my soul in recent days that I have not only neglected fellowship with Him, but consequentially, I have forgotten and neglected the actual PURSUIT and FIGHT for holiness.

Discipline is a piece of holiness.
Structure gives us opportunity to be ready to love people more.

I hypothesize that if I practice these things I can be (better) prepared with a clean home, food to cook, lessons plans that have already been written SO THAT I can focus on the person and not neglect my other responsibilities and/or life tasks (exercise, shower, sleep, etc.)

It will require WORK.
I don’t look forward to that, but that’s the problem. I need to build up my endurance for being disciplined.

I also hypothesize that this will make a difference in the order and structure of my classroom and I need those things to be affected.

We will see how it goes. (True, it has already started.) My goal is August. (Good thing August ends on a Friday. If I plan well Saturday, September 1st could be a good time to reflect and see how I would like to change and plan for September.)

I look forward to how the Lord will change my heart as I consistently (key word) spend time with Him.

Problems that I see: where have I scheduled time to Skype people and/or to go on Facebook and/or to write friendly emails? I don’t know how to work States people into my schedule.

Friday, April 27, 2012

Breathing the Fumes

Pollution was in the "purple zone" (don't go outside and breathe) range this afternoon in Tianjin. My students and I were outside in our Early Childhood Center garden when my principal came out and said we had to go back inside because the air was too toxic. Who knew?!

An hour and a half later I was back outside killing my lunges in order to participate in community and relationship-building by playing a game of friendly futbal.

I think my throat felt scratchy by the end. I know my voice sounded a bit hoarse.

And yet, it could have been the dust that was kicked up while playing. Pollution tends to go away rather quickly when the wind's blowing...

In my apartment complex we have sitting areas. Some of the sitting areas have gazebos. These gazebos were painted a bright orange three weeks ago. I can still smell the fumes when I pass them by.

Around the same time as the gazebos, guys were coming around to paint our apartment building "gates" (doors). For a full week I was practically choking when I entered the building. Even if I chose the elevator over the stairs -- the smell of the toxic paint was still present. It hasn't been until this last week that the fumes have lulled a bit. Maybe my nose hairs have merely been subdued.

To leave on a high note (hehe) -- there are lilac bushes and cherry trees planted in my apartment complex, and the sweet smell of their blossoms makes up for the noxious fumes of the others. I never expect the coming of their scent and suddenly, I am walking towards them and, "Ahh! How lovely!"

Praise the Lord!!

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Living in China: Ideas of (Physical) Beauty


As I write about my understanding of what I observe and experience in China please remember that I am not here to study the culture. Culture is such a multi-faceted, multi-layered structure that I don’t know much after being here for only 9 months. Knowing culture takes time, but I will try my best to communicate what I observe to others.

It would seem that Asians (I am thinking particularly of Chinese, Koreans, and Japanese,) are more focused on their appearance and the aesthetic beauty of things than I have felt coming from the States.

Appearance seems to have a higher priority in the mind of the Chinese person because (I am hypothesizing,) beauty has to do with ideas of “saving face” and making sure that you look good and “put together” in front of others. 

In general, Asians do not want to reveal true emotions publicly. Your appearance is often a window into how you are doing. You can make yourself appear better off, happier, more confortable, richer, more at ease if you look good.

Your appearance is also important because it speaks of your status in society.

Elementary kids must wear red scarves to school, high school kids must wear tracksuits decorated specifically for their particular school, street cleaners must wear orange coveralls, massage workers (?) wear blue “scrub” type outfits, professionals wear suits, pregnant ladies wear these chest-to-abdomen-covering aprons that are supposed to protect the babies from radioactive waves from computers and (I say) are also supposed to let the world know that you’re fat because you’re pregnant (not because you’re a glutton).

Chinese people stare…and not just at the foreigners. They stare at each other. Judgments are based on appearance and they seem to be very important and authoritative.

Is that so different from the States? 
Perhaps not SO different, but it does seem to have a sharper edge.

KEYS to Chinese beauty:
White skin.
Not fat.
Light hair is admired.

I was talking with my TA, Nancy Zhang about what the normal Chinese person is looking for in a boyfriend or girlfriend:
--skin color
--fatness
--personality
--money 

According to Nancy, if a guy and girl go out on a blind date, they will look at skin color first. If this is okay, but the person is too fat the date may not go long. If the person's skin is too dark, the date may be finished.

From Nancy I learned a Chinese proverb, 
If you are ugly, but have white skin, you are more beautiful than the most ugly person.
 Instead of having products to make skin darker, as is the case in the States, Chinese (Japanese and Korean) women use face washes, lotions, and foundation that make their skin whiter. Dark-skinned people who come and live in China, (many people from Africa come to study,) are not treated kindly. Taxi drivers will make comments, some children have not been allowed to attend Chinese schools, and various other things Chinese people do when you don't fit in their mold of beauty.

Even my Asian students have made comments about dark-skinned people when I have taught them about Africa and have shown them pictures. They yelled at the screen, called their skin ugly, and declared they never wanted to look like that. We have had many good discussions about the Lord creating us all and people having varieties of skin colors, and still loving God and being kind on the inside, but these are deeply rooted and culturally taught concepts that are hard to break.

On the other hand, some types of perspectives are changing. Chinese people are becoming more aware of black people. Chinese acquaintances from English corner and the Catholic church really like President Obama and are more willing to look past the color of non-Asians' skin color. (And yet, one of the girls who has said she loves Obama and black people, still uses white foundation to make her skin look white.)

Fatness is also not admired in China. People will openly say, "She's fat. You are fat. I am fat. He's fat." I had not known someone for longer than two minutes when he declared, "You're not as fat as you were in the picture." Oh thanks. (There are a growing number of fat Chinese people, particularly in the cities, however. Also, countryside/farmers have a different type of "thin" as well.)

In Korea and China (western) people have been told to stop looking in clothing stores because they are too fat and won't be able to find any clothes that fit anyways.

I can't tell if fat is repulsive, like skin color, or if it's just a matter-of-fact observation. It seems to be more the latter.

In one English corner we were talking about American presidents. I told them that President Polk had a bathtub made particularly for him because he was so fat. One of the young university students tried out his English language humor, "You mean he was fatter than YOU?!"
Nice boy.

Chinese beauty bonuses:
Hair cut should be “carefully” chosen: longer hair is preferred with ladies. If you are a lady with a certain personality, you can try to pull off the short hair cut, but you will be judged according to your hair cut. Long hair is definitely seen and accepted as feminine and more appealing to the men. 
Guys take time on their hair. A comb-over is more accepted than a bald head. (I have found myself being shocked when I see a bald head in China.)

Nice clothes are important. Clothes should NOT get dirty. (My students are always telling me that they can’t sit on the ground because they will get dirty. I want to say, “Stand up and brush it off.” But their clothes are important and it’s harder to clean them here and excessive to spend more money on lots of new clothes.)
Clothes should be FITTED to your body – to make you appear thinner. 
Short skirts are a go.
Shorts are not often worn and I am shocked when I see naked legs now.

Nice shoes are important. They give you height and (for girls,) a nice feminine appeal.

For women: being feminine and cute is IMPORTANT. You must look nice and girly. (Bows, sparkling diamond sequins, and cutsie cartoon pictures on clothes and in your hair only add to this effect.) There does seem to be pressure on women to be feminine. I don’t really feel that pressure in the States, but here I do. For instance, going to the store in workout clothes is a strange thing to do. In America, this might be encouraged.

For men: how they dress is often dictated by their career. As is often the case, men get away with a shirt and pants. “Boy band” look seems to be the cool way to go. Men in China tend to have a more “feminine” look, though not always (and not as much as Koreans), but they tend in that direction.

Muscles aren’t so important for girls. It’s not so much getting a six-pack for either men or women as it is to just have no fat. Especially for girls, they aren’t supposed to have (many) muscles because they will look too manly. A guy coming for English corner saw my Jillian Michaels’ DVD and said, “I don’t think many girls would want to do that workout.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“She has too many muscles. Your arms will get huge and you’ll look like a man.”
I then told him that many woman want to do Jillian Michaels’ workouts in the States and that she is very popular. I did, however, also reassure him that I did not want massive muscle-arms either.
He ended by joking that maybe he should get that DVD for his wife so she could work on getting muscles bigger than his.

Overall, these observations are mere generalities, but they seem to tug at the culture. Chinese people are detail-oriented and highly value beautiful things. It demands honor and respect from others and reveals where you are socially.

"Luckily," I am of European decent and so have some aspects genetically given to me: white, light hair, light eyes, and the ability to speak English. They can, I suppose, overlook my other flaws.