Each year's crop of new students brings an assortment of interesting names. This year's toppers among my lot include children named Rich and Money. Recently, while reading over a communication from a parent, I was amused to discover the array of interesting monikers also extends to the fine folks at home. My favorite so far has been a father named Handsome.
I guess with a name of your choosing that can be easily changed with a say so, there's room to play and be whimful in the selection. In Chinese, however, the name game is serious business. In fact, it is a business. As I learned from 2 students in a recent lesson on the topic of naming a child, in Taiwan there are those whose job it is to select a name or list of possible names for a child. It's practically a science incorporating Gregorian, Lunar, and Chinese calendar systems. I barely understand the process so I'm not about to explain it, however, naming a child right is believed to set the tone for the child's future. I've even had students whose Chinese names have been changed in order to improve their prospects and give them a fresh start.
My naming was more like a hit and run than a science or an art. Part of becoming a foreign resident of Taiwan is taking on a Chinese name that legally represents you. Since this was done during my first few weeks in Taiwan among signing mounds of documents, I had little idea I was being assigned a name. It was selected by a staff member who left the school a few weeks after I began. Basically, she chose a 2 word name that sounds a bit like Kara: ka-la. It literally means "card" "pull" and together, has no real meaning, however, if pronounced in wrong tones, it's the name of a KFC chicken sandwich. Great, my name sounds like fast food, something both friends and students have discovered. I've since acquired a more meaningful Chinese name, however, the former is still technically mine.
During Taiwan: The Early Days, a friend and I asked a Taiwanese chum what some traditional Chinese names were for females. Since males were prized in a family, naming a daughter was of little consequence, and so their names had meanings such as "I guess I will feed you" and "the one who calls after the son." Fortunately, the outlook for females has since improved - at least in Taiwan. A Taiwanese pastor I heard earlier this year spoke on the meaning and weight of names. He was mainly speaking on how Christ changed Peter's name to Peter (Petros, meaning rock, a solid foundation) from Simon (meaning reed, easily bent by the wind). I suppose there are those who hold the idea that a name should not merely define who we are but shape us as well, and so, in some cultures, it's hoped that children will live up to the meaning of their name. The pastor gave another example of the weight of a name, this time from an experience in a hospital waiting area. When the nurse awkwardly called out the name of the next patient, the name translated was "vessel of chicken sh*t". Wow, what a name to give your son. Can't you just feel the love? If you thought your parents stuck you with an awful name, perhaps you're now beginning to reconsider.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Thanksgiving at the kiddie table
Last night I attended Thanksgiving dinner. In the company of friends and strangers, Americans, Brits, South Africans, and Taiwanese, old traditions were shared and new ones forged. Amazing food abounded. Lively conversation, show tunes around the piano, and wine flowed freely.
A few brought their families and that meant kids. While there was no kiddie table, there was a kiddie room where the troops were entertained with George of the Jungle. In the presence of a roomful of interesting adults, I chose to hang out with kids, the very creatures I'm surrounded by day in and day out. My recent state of anti-social melancholy led me to seek sanctuary among those who wouldn't expect me to talk or to have something interesting and snappy to add to the conversation. It was a rewarded decision. In the midst of self-banishment, I found myself happy. For the first time in days, unforced smiles returned.
Later in the evening when the place cleared out, 4 of us remained and we had an impromptu Simpson's mini-marathon. There's no replacement for good friends. It was great to laugh again. It was great to want to laugh again. It was great to feel happy, even if just for awhile. I don't know why the cloud of gloom has been overhead recently but it was nice to escape its shadow for a bit and feel warmth again. Today the doldrums resumed but I'm determined to drive the blues away with punk and ska. After all, how can one feel down skankin'?
A few brought their families and that meant kids. While there was no kiddie table, there was a kiddie room where the troops were entertained with George of the Jungle. In the presence of a roomful of interesting adults, I chose to hang out with kids, the very creatures I'm surrounded by day in and day out. My recent state of anti-social melancholy led me to seek sanctuary among those who wouldn't expect me to talk or to have something interesting and snappy to add to the conversation. It was a rewarded decision. In the midst of self-banishment, I found myself happy. For the first time in days, unforced smiles returned.
Later in the evening when the place cleared out, 4 of us remained and we had an impromptu Simpson's mini-marathon. There's no replacement for good friends. It was great to laugh again. It was great to want to laugh again. It was great to feel happy, even if just for awhile. I don't know why the cloud of gloom has been overhead recently but it was nice to escape its shadow for a bit and feel warmth again. Today the doldrums resumed but I'm determined to drive the blues away with punk and ska. After all, how can one feel down skankin'?
Friday, November 24, 2006
31 days
With Thanksgiving over, the countdown to Christmas has begun. Today's mail brought my first Christmas card of the season. This afternoon, the Christmas display at my local grocer was already in place selling Christmas wares while "Christmas" music played in the background. The music, however, sounded an awful lot like Do You Know the Muffin Man with some sleigh bells thrown in. What's funny is that four years ago, during my first Christmas in Taiwan, that store probably didn't even have Christmas merchandise. In fact, any evidence of the holiday was hard to come by back then, but after just a few years, Christmas has been staking a claim, at least in the commercial realm. Despite the disheartenment that Christmas is growing in its international commercial appeal, it's still a welcomed sight. I love Christmas and it's so hard being so far from home this time year, so I can't help but embrace something familiar, something that feels, at least in a small sense, like home. My first encounter with Christmas festivities is a mere 2 weeks away. I'm ready. Bring it on.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
another Thursday
Last night when I got home I was so exhausted that I fell asleep the first place I sat down - my desk chair, and I was out within minutes. At some point I must have moved to bed. I felt rather well rested and happy when I woke this morning - the sun was shining, the sky was blue, birds were chirping. But then a few minutes later, I realized it was Thursday, not Saturday (it was one of those perfect mornings that felt like it must be Saturday) and then I realized it's not just any Thursday but Thanksgiving Thursday and my It's a Beautiful Day attitude dispersed.
Instead of spending the morning in pj's watching the Macy's parade, the afternoon enjoying an amazing home-cooked feast with family and miscellaneous guests, and the evening watching movies (probably Christmas ones) with my parents, I'll be teaching. Today's grand meal will be something along the lines of salad, pizza and Ovaltine. It's not the knowing that I'm missing out on something good that's causing my current doldrums, it's knowing what it is that I'm missing out on that's left me in a slump. However, I refuse to let the nonsense of "woe is me" rule the day. I'm am blessed and thankful to be where I am and doing what I'm doing today, turkey or no turkey. And besides, turkey shall be had on Saturday when friends and I gather to celebrate. For now though, I wish those back home a Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy the holiday.
Instead of spending the morning in pj's watching the Macy's parade, the afternoon enjoying an amazing home-cooked feast with family and miscellaneous guests, and the evening watching movies (probably Christmas ones) with my parents, I'll be teaching. Today's grand meal will be something along the lines of salad, pizza and Ovaltine. It's not the knowing that I'm missing out on something good that's causing my current doldrums, it's knowing what it is that I'm missing out on that's left me in a slump. However, I refuse to let the nonsense of "woe is me" rule the day. I'm am blessed and thankful to be where I am and doing what I'm doing today, turkey or no turkey. And besides, turkey shall be had on Saturday when friends and I gather to celebrate. For now though, I wish those back home a Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy the holiday.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
the golden ambitions of the kool-aid kid
Now that Fall has set in and given over to its signature color, grey, blue skies and golden sunlight fade into memory. True to tradition, no longer spending much time outdoors, sunshine tresses also fade with winter's approach. In other words, my hair tends to darken a bit in the fall and winter - a phenomenon that does not escape my students and continues to intrigue them, as does blonde hair in general. In Asia, I don't exactly blend in, which would be handy occasionally.
Every now and then I get the crazy notion to dye my hair something a bit different such as brown. As a kid, I wouldn't dare consider brown hair. Blonde locks set me apart from the other members of my family and supported my "adopted" or "switched at birth" theories.
However, I eventually accepted that it takes more than a variant hair color to beak ties of resemblance. Once in late high school or early college, I was out to lunch with an elderly friend. Throughout the meal, a senior citizen from another table kept glancing our way. I figured that she perhaps recognized the person I was with, however, upon the completion of her meal, when her party was preparing to depart, she approached me and apologized for staring. She said it was because I looked exactly like her close childhood friend and schoolmate. She then said the woman's name and it happened to be one of my dad's elder sisters, who had passed away a few years before. I was speechless. To her, seeing me was like seeing a ghost of her past - it would have been about 40+ years prior when they would have been my age at that time, yet I guess the likeness was so strong, she in a sense knew me without knowing me. It was strange, but alas, I digress.
While I relished in not having brown hair as a kid, there was a phase when I was 4 or 5 that I was obsessed with all things Chinese and I'd sit in front of my mirror staring for long periods of time, as though if looking long and hard enough, I could will my hair black and my eyes dark and almond. Obviously, it didn't work and once I learned about the plight of daughters in China, the fixation flatlined.
In high school and college, I had a secret ambition - blue hair. In high school, I had a friend whose hair corresponded with his favorite Kool-aid color of the week and I always wanted to go blue. There never seemed to be a good time to do it though, a possible regret, but I still think about it (and keep Kool-aid on hand, though not necessarily for that reason). I don't think it would go over well in my current profession, but perhaps one day yet, as long as I'm not one of those blue haired old ladies.
Despite my crazy desires (I had to talk myself out of going reddish blonde this very afternoon), I think I'm content with the way things are. I suppose for now my thoughts will be on sunlight and my ambitions, golden.
Every now and then I get the crazy notion to dye my hair something a bit different such as brown. As a kid, I wouldn't dare consider brown hair. Blonde locks set me apart from the other members of my family and supported my "adopted" or "switched at birth" theories.
However, I eventually accepted that it takes more than a variant hair color to beak ties of resemblance. Once in late high school or early college, I was out to lunch with an elderly friend. Throughout the meal, a senior citizen from another table kept glancing our way. I figured that she perhaps recognized the person I was with, however, upon the completion of her meal, when her party was preparing to depart, she approached me and apologized for staring. She said it was because I looked exactly like her close childhood friend and schoolmate. She then said the woman's name and it happened to be one of my dad's elder sisters, who had passed away a few years before. I was speechless. To her, seeing me was like seeing a ghost of her past - it would have been about 40+ years prior when they would have been my age at that time, yet I guess the likeness was so strong, she in a sense knew me without knowing me. It was strange, but alas, I digress.
While I relished in not having brown hair as a kid, there was a phase when I was 4 or 5 that I was obsessed with all things Chinese and I'd sit in front of my mirror staring for long periods of time, as though if looking long and hard enough, I could will my hair black and my eyes dark and almond. Obviously, it didn't work and once I learned about the plight of daughters in China, the fixation flatlined.
In high school and college, I had a secret ambition - blue hair. In high school, I had a friend whose hair corresponded with his favorite Kool-aid color of the week and I always wanted to go blue. There never seemed to be a good time to do it though, a possible regret, but I still think about it (and keep Kool-aid on hand, though not necessarily for that reason). I don't think it would go over well in my current profession, but perhaps one day yet, as long as I'm not one of those blue haired old ladies.
Despite my crazy desires (I had to talk myself out of going reddish blonde this very afternoon), I think I'm content with the way things are. I suppose for now my thoughts will be on sunlight and my ambitions, golden.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
the early birds
The Taiwanese have a way of redefining the term early bird. As I made my way home at 4:30 this morning, I was amazed by all the older folks already out at their neighborhood parks for their morning exercise. It won't even begin to get light for at least another hour, but there they were, the early birds, on their bicycles or out for a walk.
My other brush with early birds this morning: the neighborhood rooftop roosters, which I previously discovered start crowing around 4:00 am. You know you've been up too late when the roosters start crowing before you've gone to sleep and yes, I live in a city with 2.6 million people and a few roosters.
My other brush with early birds this morning: the neighborhood rooftop roosters, which I previously discovered start crowing around 4:00 am. You know you've been up too late when the roosters start crowing before you've gone to sleep and yes, I live in a city with 2.6 million people and a few roosters.
Friday, November 17, 2006
an evening with Mr. 2 Left Feet
With another day of work done, I went to the park to take in a run. I glanced at my footwear while crossing the street. Time to be replaced - the tread is worn and they're getting quite beat. I thought briefly of the places they've been: 6 countries, 3 continents - they've had a good life.
As I approached my destination, I noticed something was different this evening. On the curb where I stretch, he was having a seat- a man I shall name Mr. 2 Left Feet. At once I had noticed his shoes didn't match - one sandal, one sneaker; it was hard not to catch. Not only was his footwear mismated, a left shoe was with the wrong foot acquainted.
While he sat quite peacefully watching others pass by, I could feel my discomfort growing. The pang of guilt for thinking about new shoes and for knowing I could buy them while feet away sat a man who was shod with the scraps of other. I perhaps shortchanged my warm up but I didn't care. I was ready to run, ready to flee, ready to clear my head and feel free. But physical distance cannot separate one from what's already in one's head.
A few cards, when played, will always defeat me. Things that I can ignore, avoid, escape, or detach from, but in the end, never quite become immune to or desensitized towards. Poverty is one of those cards and it's not like I haven't seen it in the extreme. When I did volunteer work in Haiti, life was poverty. Most people I encountered knew no other reality. It's difficult to grasp how something so widespread and extensive can exist. Yet in Taiwan, it's not so widespread. Statistics claim that 1% or less of Taiwan's population lives in poverty. This is a prosperous nation which enjoys a lower cost of living that the States. That combined with the extended family community brings a certain amount of security and stability. In a park surrounded by high-end high-rises and constant growth, building, rebuilding, and refacing, the poverty I see nightly seems so out of place, nonetheless, it exists. Something about the changing weather brings the resurgence of park dwellers this time of year. Empathy is not enough; this year I've got a plan, and for that, I hope we meet again Mr. 2 Left Feet.
"Now I know I have a heart because I can feel it breaking." - Wizard of Oz
As I approached my destination, I noticed something was different this evening. On the curb where I stretch, he was having a seat- a man I shall name Mr. 2 Left Feet. At once I had noticed his shoes didn't match - one sandal, one sneaker; it was hard not to catch. Not only was his footwear mismated, a left shoe was with the wrong foot acquainted.
While he sat quite peacefully watching others pass by, I could feel my discomfort growing. The pang of guilt for thinking about new shoes and for knowing I could buy them while feet away sat a man who was shod with the scraps of other. I perhaps shortchanged my warm up but I didn't care. I was ready to run, ready to flee, ready to clear my head and feel free. But physical distance cannot separate one from what's already in one's head.
A few cards, when played, will always defeat me. Things that I can ignore, avoid, escape, or detach from, but in the end, never quite become immune to or desensitized towards. Poverty is one of those cards and it's not like I haven't seen it in the extreme. When I did volunteer work in Haiti, life was poverty. Most people I encountered knew no other reality. It's difficult to grasp how something so widespread and extensive can exist. Yet in Taiwan, it's not so widespread. Statistics claim that 1% or less of Taiwan's population lives in poverty. This is a prosperous nation which enjoys a lower cost of living that the States. That combined with the extended family community brings a certain amount of security and stability. In a park surrounded by high-end high-rises and constant growth, building, rebuilding, and refacing, the poverty I see nightly seems so out of place, nonetheless, it exists. Something about the changing weather brings the resurgence of park dwellers this time of year. Empathy is not enough; this year I've got a plan, and for that, I hope we meet again Mr. 2 Left Feet.
"Now I know I have a heart because I can feel it breaking." - Wizard of Oz
Thursday, November 16, 2006
afternoon
you stand before me
painstaking look on your face
one hand outstretched, looking to be filled
other, gripping your stomach, also looking to be filled
thin but clothed and shoed, not yet a hollowed shell, but not far off
skin tanned and wrinkled from the elements
today was not our first meeting
however, it seems we're always meeting this way
you, standing at the edge of traffic, slowly, desperately,
placing yourself in the path of others,
pleading for help and demanding someone take notice.
yes, it seems we're always meeting this way,
me on my way to or from meeting someone,
usually over food or a drink,
you, wondering if either shall find you this day.
it is time for us to stop meeting this way.
painstaking look on your face
one hand outstretched, looking to be filled
other, gripping your stomach, also looking to be filled
thin but clothed and shoed, not yet a hollowed shell, but not far off
skin tanned and wrinkled from the elements
today was not our first meeting
however, it seems we're always meeting this way
you, standing at the edge of traffic, slowly, desperately,
placing yourself in the path of others,
pleading for help and demanding someone take notice.
yes, it seems we're always meeting this way,
me on my way to or from meeting someone,
usually over food or a drink,
you, wondering if either shall find you this day.
it is time for us to stop meeting this way.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
drained
Ah, the euphoria of suddenly feeling better after having felt so miserable.
For the second month in a row, I've been blasted with illness, feeling more sick than I have since I was a kid.
On Friday night, my weekend began something like this:
16 hours of vomiting
2 hours of rest
7 hours of high fever
5 hours of rest
Thankfully Sunday has found me feeling much better, not fully recovered, but definitely much improved. I was slightly dreading the jam packed Saturday I had set myself up for. It had been a draining week with little sleep and what I wanted more than anything, I guess, was to catch a break this weekend. God provides again exhibiting His humour once more. Guess the only way to clear my schedule was to be taken out by illness.
The weekend was certainly made more bearable by the blessing of friendship. Becky not only brought me crackers and various beverages, but went to the pharmacist on my behalf to get meds - I was too sick to even leave the house to go to the drs. She checked up on me during the day and even stayed the night on Saturday in case I needed to go to the hospital during the night. Wow - what a friend! To boot, she whipped up some of her fabulous homemade chicken noodle soup this afternoon and had me over for a late lunch. It was nice to get out for a bit of fresh air. Ah, nearly well again just in time for work in the morning. So much for the weekend.
For the second month in a row, I've been blasted with illness, feeling more sick than I have since I was a kid.
On Friday night, my weekend began something like this:
16 hours of vomiting
2 hours of rest
7 hours of high fever
5 hours of rest
Thankfully Sunday has found me feeling much better, not fully recovered, but definitely much improved. I was slightly dreading the jam packed Saturday I had set myself up for. It had been a draining week with little sleep and what I wanted more than anything, I guess, was to catch a break this weekend. God provides again exhibiting His humour once more. Guess the only way to clear my schedule was to be taken out by illness.
The weekend was certainly made more bearable by the blessing of friendship. Becky not only brought me crackers and various beverages, but went to the pharmacist on my behalf to get meds - I was too sick to even leave the house to go to the drs. She checked up on me during the day and even stayed the night on Saturday in case I needed to go to the hospital during the night. Wow - what a friend! To boot, she whipped up some of her fabulous homemade chicken noodle soup this afternoon and had me over for a late lunch. It was nice to get out for a bit of fresh air. Ah, nearly well again just in time for work in the morning. So much for the weekend.
unraveling from both ends (Act 3, I suppose)
So in case you've been wondering, no, I'm not a cold hearted jerk, at least, I don't think so. On the contrary, I care very much for and about people. Though guarded in feelings and expression, there are at least 2 truth based principles I subscribe to about love.
1. Love is a choice.
Though it's also the Bible's greatest commandment to love God and love others, it's still something we must choose to do or not do. There is a choice to give love and to accept love that is given. Additionally, not only do we choose to love, but we are chosen to be loved.
Some people are easily likable and easy to love. With others, it's not so easy. I can think of at least one person whom, for most of my life, I've not had an ideal relationship with. We're very different from one another and consequently have had difficulty getting along most of our lives. Yet, in spite of our differences and hurt this person has caused me and others, I still love him, even when finding it difficult to even like him. It's the idea that "I don't love you because you're lovable, I love you because despite everything, I still choose to love you." With choosing to love comes an ongoing commitment and effort.
Turning the tables on myself, in my own pride, selfishness, and ignorance, I've both intentionally and unintentionally hurt people who love me. Forgiveness, healing, and restoration take time, but the idea that someone is willing and able to do this for me astounds me sometimes, especially when knowing that it's possible, if not likely, that I'm going to fail again and hurt them once more.
How amazing is it then that God not only loves us but chooses us. None of our faults are hidden from Him yet great is His love for us. Yet again, a choice, an action is required on our part to accept and receive this love.
2. Love is costly.
I recently bought a new computer that I'm now beginning to love. It has taken some getting used to though. There were the initial reservations and hesitation because of the cost involved, followed but the awkward transition period of learning to adjust and get familiar and comfortable with the changes, a bit scary and exciting at the same time. Though the computer was expensive and required an openness to change on my part, I'm still glad I made the choice to purchase it.
As a kid, getting up the nerve to ask my dad to buy something for me wasn't always easy. "What is it and how much is it going to cost me?" was the common response. Perhaps loving things is sometimes easier than loving people because the cost is more easily defined. With loving others, "What's it gonna cost me?" holds a greater unknown variable. In the end, love might cost you everything, including your life.
Throughout history, people have given up their life for love - love of country, ideas, God/gods, and people. Regardless of religious faith or lack thereof, giving up one's life for another is considered one of the greatest demonstrations of human love.
Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:13)
The difference between human love and God's Divine love, however, is that God lays down His life for His enemies (Romans 5:10). Not that humans aren't capable of giving their life for their enemies, but our ability to do so is due to God's redemptive nature.
Jumping heart first into things can land us in trouble when we've not taken time to consider the cost. However, I'm so grateful that when Christ considered the cost, I was still worth it. I've not only been chosen to be loved but I've been purchased for the most costly of prices, Christ's blood. And again, I know I'm going to fail and hurt even the one who has given the most to love me. And again, I'm going to be amazed that forgiveness, healing, and restoration can be offered be. But again, I'm so grateful that they are.
Despite my hang-ups and apathy towards love, I at least have an easier time accepting God's love than man's. I suppose it's because in faith I trust that God has what's best for me in mind. It's not what's easiest, it's not always what I'll like or want, but I trust it's what's best. What human can you hold accountable for doing that? Secondly, I trust that God's love is perfect. As humans, we're fallible. Our version of love is tainted and knowing this makes it all the more difficult to accept sometimes, even from family or friends.
I was reading some notes by Oswald Chambers this weekend and came upon something that felt particularly familiar. He stated:
Self-regarding love is part weakness, part selfishness, and part romance; and it is this self-regarding love that so counterfeits the higher love that, to the majority, love is too often looked upon as a weak sentimental thing.
I think that's where I'm usually stuck in my view of love. It's nice to have an opportunity to be reminded of the different view God's love provides.
1. Love is a choice.
Though it's also the Bible's greatest commandment to love God and love others, it's still something we must choose to do or not do. There is a choice to give love and to accept love that is given. Additionally, not only do we choose to love, but we are chosen to be loved.
Some people are easily likable and easy to love. With others, it's not so easy. I can think of at least one person whom, for most of my life, I've not had an ideal relationship with. We're very different from one another and consequently have had difficulty getting along most of our lives. Yet, in spite of our differences and hurt this person has caused me and others, I still love him, even when finding it difficult to even like him. It's the idea that "I don't love you because you're lovable, I love you because despite everything, I still choose to love you." With choosing to love comes an ongoing commitment and effort.
Turning the tables on myself, in my own pride, selfishness, and ignorance, I've both intentionally and unintentionally hurt people who love me. Forgiveness, healing, and restoration take time, but the idea that someone is willing and able to do this for me astounds me sometimes, especially when knowing that it's possible, if not likely, that I'm going to fail again and hurt them once more.
How amazing is it then that God not only loves us but chooses us. None of our faults are hidden from Him yet great is His love for us. Yet again, a choice, an action is required on our part to accept and receive this love.
2. Love is costly.
I recently bought a new computer that I'm now beginning to love. It has taken some getting used to though. There were the initial reservations and hesitation because of the cost involved, followed but the awkward transition period of learning to adjust and get familiar and comfortable with the changes, a bit scary and exciting at the same time. Though the computer was expensive and required an openness to change on my part, I'm still glad I made the choice to purchase it.
As a kid, getting up the nerve to ask my dad to buy something for me wasn't always easy. "What is it and how much is it going to cost me?" was the common response. Perhaps loving things is sometimes easier than loving people because the cost is more easily defined. With loving others, "What's it gonna cost me?" holds a greater unknown variable. In the end, love might cost you everything, including your life.
Throughout history, people have given up their life for love - love of country, ideas, God/gods, and people. Regardless of religious faith or lack thereof, giving up one's life for another is considered one of the greatest demonstrations of human love.
Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:13)
The difference between human love and God's Divine love, however, is that God lays down His life for His enemies (Romans 5:10). Not that humans aren't capable of giving their life for their enemies, but our ability to do so is due to God's redemptive nature.
Jumping heart first into things can land us in trouble when we've not taken time to consider the cost. However, I'm so grateful that when Christ considered the cost, I was still worth it. I've not only been chosen to be loved but I've been purchased for the most costly of prices, Christ's blood. And again, I know I'm going to fail and hurt even the one who has given the most to love me. And again, I'm going to be amazed that forgiveness, healing, and restoration can be offered be. But again, I'm so grateful that they are.
Despite my hang-ups and apathy towards love, I at least have an easier time accepting God's love than man's. I suppose it's because in faith I trust that God has what's best for me in mind. It's not what's easiest, it's not always what I'll like or want, but I trust it's what's best. What human can you hold accountable for doing that? Secondly, I trust that God's love is perfect. As humans, we're fallible. Our version of love is tainted and knowing this makes it all the more difficult to accept sometimes, even from family or friends.
I was reading some notes by Oswald Chambers this weekend and came upon something that felt particularly familiar. He stated:
Self-regarding love is part weakness, part selfishness, and part romance; and it is this self-regarding love that so counterfeits the higher love that, to the majority, love is too often looked upon as a weak sentimental thing.
I think that's where I'm usually stuck in my view of love. It's nice to have an opportunity to be reminded of the different view God's love provides.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Feel the Love (Act 2)
I'm beginning to relent, though I suppose I've committed myself, so here goes everything and nothing in one fell swoop.
There are times when I'm independent to a fault, dashing convention, tradition, and expections along the way, and occasionally relationships and the feelings of others as well.
A year or two ago, a sibling made reference to a statement my mom made to him that I'm her least affectionate child. He jokingly tried to use it against me, as though it was some sort of amunition - "at least I'm not mom's least affectionate child." After a laugh and a moment's consideration, I realized I couldn't argue the notion. I suppose there's an ideal that at least your firstborn will find you, the new parents, endearing. I have always loved my parents, but I guess a bit of independence and self-reliance took hold from an early age, and so I shied away from sentiments of love.
Loving means loosing, a reality that I first learned at age 5 when I attended my first funeral. It was for my grandmother, the only grandparent I had ever known, and I loved her. I remember my mom breaking the news to me on the sofa in our old house. It was the day I learned what a heart attack was. From the moment I realized I'd never see her again, my world view was altered. And thus it began, a childhood marked by additional funeral parlor visits and new unpleasant vernacular, such as cancer. Gradually, it became easier to put up walls, to fight, argue, become competitive, detached. Thus, I can say I love things much more easily than I can express or even allow myself to feel an attachment or affection for people.
No more I love you's. I didn't need the words. In fact, being told such was considered an insult to my intellegence. What, you think I don't already know and thus you actually find the need to tell me? I believed people said these words for their own sake, not mine. Seeing dishonesty, distrust, biterness and brokeness in the relationships of relatives, friend's families, and eventually my own family and friends, being told, "I love you" felt cheap, even when genuinely expressed. It was a marketable phase that became words without meaning. Perhaps it was a somewhat weighty opinion for a kid to carry. I guess I've softened a bit since then, if not for my sake, then for the sake of others. I've come to understand how important it is for some to hear those words. Realizing this, I've learned to suck up my pride and say it and it's not disingenuine - I do feel love, whether or not I feel the need to say it. Sadly, it was the passing of another loved one during my college years that taught me to say it more.
Moving right along, here it is . . . I have a tendency to view love as a weakness, or at least the need for love as such. I've heard and read it so many times - people expressing a feeling, a desire, a need to be completed by someone else. I guess I'm the odd man out, or woman as is the case, because I just don't feel that same void. Furthermore, wow!, what a burden to put on another person, to say I expect them to make me/my life feel complete. That would take the responsibility for my happiness, for my emotional wellbeing, off myself and place it on another, someone who isn't necessarily willing or able to meet/fulfill that need.
I'm not going to try to tell you that I've never felt any sort of hole, void, emptiness - call it what you will. It's just that my response is typically to try to get to the heart of the matter - why am I feeling this way? As a christian, I want to know what God is trying to teach me, giving the empty spaces over to Him to fill. But I've seen those who are too quick to turn to the offerings of another to fill a vacancy without stopping to consider why one exists in the first place. It's no wonder addictions are successful- we turn outside oursleves and become needy and dependent on something that's not a solution but a replacement, an oasis, or a delusion.
No, I'm not putting love on the same level as addiction, but seeking either can be spurred by an attempt to satisfy a need or desire. Additionally, I'm not saying to avoid looking to others. Friends, family, a spouse, counselors, pastors, teachers, etc., can be an invalable source of ideas, advice, support, strength, and comfort.
I suppose I could continue to bable about how I think love can be selfish, full of expectations, and wanting of change, but I won't. You probably already think I'm screwed up enough without me providing further evidence, but it's okay, I forgive you.
How does this all relate to the book? I consider the genre of romance novels and love stories to be a bit hokey because I consider the idea of romance to be a bit hokey. It stems from my views of love and feeds my love is a weakness theory.
And now you know, whether or not you should.
I'm beginning to relent, though I suppose I've committed myself, so here goes everything and nothing in one fell swoop.
There are times when I'm independent to a fault, dashing convention, tradition, and expections along the way, and occasionally relationships and the feelings of others as well.
A year or two ago, a sibling made reference to a statement my mom made to him that I'm her least affectionate child. He jokingly tried to use it against me, as though it was some sort of amunition - "at least I'm not mom's least affectionate child." After a laugh and a moment's consideration, I realized I couldn't argue the notion. I suppose there's an ideal that at least your firstborn will find you, the new parents, endearing. I have always loved my parents, but I guess a bit of independence and self-reliance took hold from an early age, and so I shied away from sentiments of love.
Loving means loosing, a reality that I first learned at age 5 when I attended my first funeral. It was for my grandmother, the only grandparent I had ever known, and I loved her. I remember my mom breaking the news to me on the sofa in our old house. It was the day I learned what a heart attack was. From the moment I realized I'd never see her again, my world view was altered. And thus it began, a childhood marked by additional funeral parlor visits and new unpleasant vernacular, such as cancer. Gradually, it became easier to put up walls, to fight, argue, become competitive, detached. Thus, I can say I love things much more easily than I can express or even allow myself to feel an attachment or affection for people.
No more I love you's. I didn't need the words. In fact, being told such was considered an insult to my intellegence. What, you think I don't already know and thus you actually find the need to tell me? I believed people said these words for their own sake, not mine. Seeing dishonesty, distrust, biterness and brokeness in the relationships of relatives, friend's families, and eventually my own family and friends, being told, "I love you" felt cheap, even when genuinely expressed. It was a marketable phase that became words without meaning. Perhaps it was a somewhat weighty opinion for a kid to carry. I guess I've softened a bit since then, if not for my sake, then for the sake of others. I've come to understand how important it is for some to hear those words. Realizing this, I've learned to suck up my pride and say it and it's not disingenuine - I do feel love, whether or not I feel the need to say it. Sadly, it was the passing of another loved one during my college years that taught me to say it more.
Moving right along, here it is . . . I have a tendency to view love as a weakness, or at least the need for love as such. I've heard and read it so many times - people expressing a feeling, a desire, a need to be completed by someone else. I guess I'm the odd man out, or woman as is the case, because I just don't feel that same void. Furthermore, wow!, what a burden to put on another person, to say I expect them to make me/my life feel complete. That would take the responsibility for my happiness, for my emotional wellbeing, off myself and place it on another, someone who isn't necessarily willing or able to meet/fulfill that need.
I'm not going to try to tell you that I've never felt any sort of hole, void, emptiness - call it what you will. It's just that my response is typically to try to get to the heart of the matter - why am I feeling this way? As a christian, I want to know what God is trying to teach me, giving the empty spaces over to Him to fill. But I've seen those who are too quick to turn to the offerings of another to fill a vacancy without stopping to consider why one exists in the first place. It's no wonder addictions are successful- we turn outside oursleves and become needy and dependent on something that's not a solution but a replacement, an oasis, or a delusion.
No, I'm not putting love on the same level as addiction, but seeking either can be spurred by an attempt to satisfy a need or desire. Additionally, I'm not saying to avoid looking to others. Friends, family, a spouse, counselors, pastors, teachers, etc., can be an invalable source of ideas, advice, support, strength, and comfort.
I suppose I could continue to bable about how I think love can be selfish, full of expectations, and wanting of change, but I won't. You probably already think I'm screwed up enough without me providing further evidence, but it's okay, I forgive you.
How does this all relate to the book? I consider the genre of romance novels and love stories to be a bit hokey because I consider the idea of romance to be a bit hokey. It stems from my views of love and feeds my love is a weakness theory.
And now you know, whether or not you should.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Feel the Love (Act 1)
I love that good decaf can be satisfying
I love that the air was a bit cooler tonight
I love the sweet, intoxicating flowers that kiss the night air with their
fragrance, contributing to a more pleasant evening run
I love Peter Pan, which I finally started to read last week
I love having lunch with a friend
Noticing a common thread? Besides the overuse of love, for the most part, the things I love are just that - things.
text message received @ lunch: "Can we read two more chapters of the book for Saturday? I'm finding it fascinating!"
rxn: sigh.
I've begun meeting with a friend weekly to help her prepare for grad school in the States. We both had the idea of selecting a novel to read and discuss and as luck would have it, we happen to have a lot of the same novels that we haven't read yet. However, there was one particular book that she had brought along to our first meeting, uncertain about her desire to read it, though it came highly recommended by the friend who passed it along to her. I recognized it immediately, for I have a copy of the same book, buried on a book shelf. I too was given the book by a friend and before receiving it, had heard its title mentioned time and time again by a few others. However, one glance at the title (Redeeming Love) and cover art and an immediate eye roll ensues. A romance novel? A 464 page romance novel? Grrreat. Yet, on the recommendation of several friends, I hung onto it, though it eventually got buried on a bottom bookshelf, that was, until today.
What an odd coincidence. Was it our inevitable fate to read this book? We decided the buddy system was the only way to make ourselves accountable for attempting to read it. The decision was to commit to a few chapters and if we were ready to bail after that, so be it, so imagine my surprise when I got the message this afternoon.
Crap! We're meeting for our first discussion on Saturday and here it is Thursday afternoon and I haven't even unearthed the book yet. Okay, that was actually no big surprise. Curiosity got the better of me though, and I spent part of my lunch break getting through the first 20 pages. So far, interesting. The novel is supposed to be a sort of retelling of the book of Hosea.
So why the aversion to romance novels? Oh, if you only knew, though now you shall! On the occasional weekend gathering of friends, a particular friend occasionally entertains us by reading excerpts from romance novels bestowed upon her, usually Christian ones actually, and we try to contain ourselves, at least until the end of the recitation, when we, inevitably, assail the storyline. In our defense, they are typically poorly researched and written, romance or not. Even before these happy occasions began, however, I could seldom hear the term "romance novel" without offering a snicker. (Apologies to the romance novel fans out there, you know who you are. It's just not my thing, and as you'll probably soon discover, if you haven't stopped reading by this point, my opinion of love is anything but mainstream.)
I love that good decaf can be satisfying
I love that the air was a bit cooler tonight
I love the sweet, intoxicating flowers that kiss the night air with their
fragrance, contributing to a more pleasant evening run
I love Peter Pan, which I finally started to read last week
I love having lunch with a friend
Noticing a common thread? Besides the overuse of love, for the most part, the things I love are just that - things.
text message received @ lunch: "Can we read two more chapters of the book for Saturday? I'm finding it fascinating!"
rxn: sigh.
I've begun meeting with a friend weekly to help her prepare for grad school in the States. We both had the idea of selecting a novel to read and discuss and as luck would have it, we happen to have a lot of the same novels that we haven't read yet. However, there was one particular book that she had brought along to our first meeting, uncertain about her desire to read it, though it came highly recommended by the friend who passed it along to her. I recognized it immediately, for I have a copy of the same book, buried on a book shelf. I too was given the book by a friend and before receiving it, had heard its title mentioned time and time again by a few others. However, one glance at the title (Redeeming Love) and cover art and an immediate eye roll ensues. A romance novel? A 464 page romance novel? Grrreat. Yet, on the recommendation of several friends, I hung onto it, though it eventually got buried on a bottom bookshelf, that was, until today.
What an odd coincidence. Was it our inevitable fate to read this book? We decided the buddy system was the only way to make ourselves accountable for attempting to read it. The decision was to commit to a few chapters and if we were ready to bail after that, so be it, so imagine my surprise when I got the message this afternoon.
Crap! We're meeting for our first discussion on Saturday and here it is Thursday afternoon and I haven't even unearthed the book yet. Okay, that was actually no big surprise. Curiosity got the better of me though, and I spent part of my lunch break getting through the first 20 pages. So far, interesting. The novel is supposed to be a sort of retelling of the book of Hosea.
So why the aversion to romance novels? Oh, if you only knew, though now you shall! On the occasional weekend gathering of friends, a particular friend occasionally entertains us by reading excerpts from romance novels bestowed upon her, usually Christian ones actually, and we try to contain ourselves, at least until the end of the recitation, when we, inevitably, assail the storyline. In our defense, they are typically poorly researched and written, romance or not. Even before these happy occasions began, however, I could seldom hear the term "romance novel" without offering a snicker. (Apologies to the romance novel fans out there, you know who you are. It's just not my thing, and as you'll probably soon discover, if you haven't stopped reading by this point, my opinion of love is anything but mainstream.)
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Monday, November 06, 2006
A lovely box of co-co-nas
You'd think that working in an industry where English is the commodity, little things like correct spelling and grammar on signs and postings would be of some importance, but that's not always the case. My perhaps favorite example of someone's failure to double check was the day I walked into the teacher room and saw a new sign posted on a bookshelf stating: "Do not take boobs off the preemies!" (Yes, the preemies hate that!) Oh, but it gets better. There was a second sign stating: "Please return boobs when finished."
Was this a joke? Did I somehow fail to realize it was actually April Fools Day? I could barely contain my laughter and hardly wait for my friend to arrive to drag her in to see the new signs. While the signs' author was innocent in intentions, the signs themselves were not quite so innocent. I understand spell check isn't going to pick up such errors, however, working in an environment with native English speakers, I'm sure at least one person could be asked to proof things beforehand.
That was a while back and while similar mistakes have not popped up, this week I was amused to see a box of leftover Halloween coconuts labeled: "Co Co Na." For the love of Pete! They're called Coconuts!
You'd think that working in an industry where English is the commodity, little things like correct spelling and grammar on signs and postings would be of some importance, but that's not always the case. My perhaps favorite example of someone's failure to double check was the day I walked into the teacher room and saw a new sign posted on a bookshelf stating: "Do not take boobs off the preemies!" (Yes, the preemies hate that!) Oh, but it gets better. There was a second sign stating: "Please return boobs when finished."
Was this a joke? Did I somehow fail to realize it was actually April Fools Day? I could barely contain my laughter and hardly wait for my friend to arrive to drag her in to see the new signs. While the signs' author was innocent in intentions, the signs themselves were not quite so innocent. I understand spell check isn't going to pick up such errors, however, working in an environment with native English speakers, I'm sure at least one person could be asked to proof things beforehand.
That was a while back and while similar mistakes have not popped up, this week I was amused to see a box of leftover Halloween coconuts labeled: "Co Co Na." For the love of Pete! They're called Coconuts!
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Remember, Remember the 5th of November,
…Gunpowder Treason and plot
I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Happy Guy Fawkes Day.
So a friend and I recently watched V for Vendetta, incase you couldn't guess. Well, it just so happens that she's having a bonfire of sorts, okay - firepot, at her house tonight. Living in different cities, though, I won't be attending. She put a friend in charge of the evening's "entertainment," or perhaps it was self-appointed. I can only guess at what my friend had in mind - some music, a movie, a few games perhaps? But alas, no, her friend seems to have something a bit more "festive" planned - effigies, or as we like to call them, F and G's - inspiration drawn from an email I got from someone near and dear to me referring to DNA as D and A. Brain farts - providing endless amusement for others.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Salute Your Saint
For the past 2 years my boss has been toying with the idea of an All Saints Day party rather than a Halloween party for our students. We narrowly escaped that fate this year. Seriously though, what would you do for such an event? A feast, as is the intent of the day? A day of no school? Okay, not likely for us, but I still remember how the Catholic school punks got the day off of school. Oh, the perceived injustices of childhood!
For the past 2 years my boss has been toying with the idea of an All Saints Day party rather than a Halloween party for our students. We narrowly escaped that fate this year. Seriously though, what would you do for such an event? A feast, as is the intent of the day? A day of no school? Okay, not likely for us, but I still remember how the Catholic school punks got the day off of school. Oh, the perceived injustices of childhood!
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