Christmas comes with a song and a dance

The weeks leading up to Christmas have become a time for us to teach and coerce our students to sing Christmas songs. Not only is singing required but dancing as well. In fact, I'm starting to notice that we don't teach our students a single song that isn't in some way choreographed, the doings of my boss. And so, each year the Christmas season arrives at my school with a song and a dance. The older students are counting the days til Dec. 26, but the younger kids are usually excited or at least amused by the sight of the teachers acting a fool.

This year the teachers at my school are actually catching a break from the holiday madness that generally surrounds this time of year. Last year my school's Christmas party was a big to-do open to the public and featuring a musical performed by our Bible class students and performances by a group from Taipei. This year, however, we're holding a low-key food centered celebration that will include turkey. The downside - it's being held on Christmas because it's just another school/work day in Taiwan. Though I did manage to get the day off of work, I plan to drop by for the party to hang out with my students. Yes, a bit sad, I know. I'm not married to my job, really.

Also this Christmas my co-workers and I have been relinquished from our duty of performing a Christmas show at an area elementary school. This has been done for the past several years as a ministry outreach that many parents and educators view as free English exposure. Last year our Christmas song and dance routines, as well as a puppet show, were performed for nearly 2,000 kids in a chilly school courtyard over the course of several mornings. I think by the end I was the only one with any amount of voice left (due to performing in the cold and being sick) and therefore got stuck doing the voices for about 4 different puppets. Boy did things get a little interesting trying to keep character voices and accents straight, as well as the confusion of holding conversations with myself. Thankfully I still had only one puppet to man.

A Christmas memory from that event that I had totally forgotten about until a reminder today was the dvd that was made and distributed to the school's classes. This was done to familiarize students with the songs (and dancing - can't forget the dancing) prior to our visit. It was so funny to be recognized from the dvds and thus greeted by students with expressions of "hey, I know you." We were instant celebrities further immortalized by several photos that were taken. Following the shows we had some time to interact with the kids and a friend's photo was taken while using her monkey puppet to talk to students. The photo has been used on the cover of that elementary school's student communication books for the past 2 semesters.

In other song and dance news, a Taiwanese co-worker roped me into a bit of early morning tap dancing last week. I danced for several years as a child but not since. It was a fun workout. She taught me the steps to a Christmas number for a show she's in this season. Following our morning session she came up with the brilliant idea that we should perform a number together next year if the school returns to its annual Christmas shows. Umm, no. I tried to distract her from the idea, but apparently my efforts were in vein. When I went to work later that day, one of my older students told me she couldn't wait for next Christmas to see said co-worker and me performing a dance show. Oh, brother! Now pondering if I should resolve to move before next Christmas rolls around.

good n' plenty

Good things come in small packages, but sometimes they come in great big ones too! I got a long awaited package from home today. It was chock-full of good stuff, so much so that after 2 hours of sorting and reveling, I still haven't explored all its contents.
The story starts about 5 months ago when I was home on summer break. I packed a box of stuff that wouldn't fit in the suitcases to get shipped at a later time. Included were several Christmas gifts for people here. Over the months the box got opened and repacked several times by the folks at home and more stuff added, including Christmas gifts for me - woohoo! In addition to the items I packed were tons of unexpected goodies. Receiving the box felt like Christmas, oh wait, it almost is.
Favorites among the anticipated goodies include, but are not limited to: a slew of new cds to obsess over including some Sufjan Christmas tunes - oh yeah, cold weather gear - new fleeces and very cool legwarmers I might add, developed photos from a roll I left behind - what a treat- I had forgotten about most of the pics taken, a can opener that actually works - how I've longed for thee, and some new games and books - Canasta anyone? Topping the cool surprises: creme de methe baking chips, Peppermint Patties, dad's homemade jerky, and of course, gifts waiting to be open (some of them anyway).
Well, time to go bask once more in the goodness of it all, or at least put some of it away so I can get out the door for work in the morning.

the weekend to do:

weekend lessons: taught

winter clothes: unpacked and put to use - winter coat now essential for scooter driving - hat, gloves, scarf, and well - a car, wouldn't hurt either

dinner out: old favorite, new location. old roommate, new conversation. good times ensued.

gifts: a few given, a few purchased, a few sorted, and a few planned

finish holiday shopping: why do today what I can put off until tomorrow? - not necessarily words to live by

Christmas cards: now mistaken for living room floor tiles - must write and send

set up new printer: still packed ever so nice and neatly in unopened box since wednesday

home improvement tasks: weather stripping - bought awaiting installation; marry someone tall who likes to change light bulbs and in the meantime bring in ladder

water plants: does today's rain count? another reminder as to why I should not get a pet

make dish for Christmas potluck: sweet potatoes a roastin'

obsess over some new tunes: underway

decorate: tree box moved from cabinet to floor. baby steps.

clean house: looking more and more like a task for next week

clean room!!!: can a mess a year in the making be done away with in one weekend?

bake cookies: supplies replenished awaiting time/motivation

buy something festive for the season: poinsettia acquired

blog: done

an evening under the stars

I just got perhaps the coolest birthday party invite - cool because the party will consist of several of my favorite things: countryside, cool, fresh air, and stargazing. To celebrate his birthday, a friend has proposed the following opportunity to gather with friends. Leaving behind city lights (and hopefully clouds and pollution) we'll take an evening ride to a spot where we hope to observe a meteor shower expected to occur this evening. It has been too many winters since I've seen a meteor shower so I hope this evening's event does not disappoint. However, I suppose even if we do not get to see the stars fall from the heavens, the evening will still be worth it to take a break from the weekly routine and spend a evening with friends roaming the countryside.

beating them off with a stick . . . of bread

During a recent conversation, I enlightened my boss as to my tendency to acquire a park stalker, leading to the need to change jogging locations. The occurrences have been more annoying than menacing, though I think there may have been some scooter tampering once. My current location has been great - I've been jogging there happily for nearly a year. My boss found this all rather amusing and I think is now biding the time until the day I have an unwanted follower at my current spot.

Last night he was helping me give out the snack after the children's bible class that I run. During my quick trip to the store I also picked up one or two items for myself that remained in the bag with the snacks. Reaching in, my boss pulled out a bag of bread and the conversation flowed something like this:

B: I'm guessing these aren't for the kids.
Me: Nope, mine.
B: That's some serious bread. Oh, it's protection, right?
Me: Huh?
B: For running.
Me: What?
B: For the stalkers. Do you throw pieces at them or just swing the whole bag?
Me: Um, no. What are you talking about?
B: The bread! What do you use it for? That's serious bread!
Me: Eating?
B: You can eat that stuff?
Me: Um, yeah . . . for breakfast.
B: Bread that dense I though could only be used as a weapon.

Perhaps the funniest/strangest thing about the conversation is that my boss was completely serious throughout. And now, said bread, which apparently can not only be eaten but used to ward off attackers.

marking the day

Today is the day in my family's house known as the day I broke my mother's heart. It's otherwise known as my Taiwan anniversary. Today marks 4 years in Formosa and true to tradition, I again find myself wondering "What was I thinking?" Will there be a 5th? At this moment, I can safely say, only time will tell.


In other celebratory news, I recently received a box of cakes to commemorate the one month birthday of my boss's son. In Taiwan, several occasions are marked by gifts being given to friends and family - not just to the one with something to celebrate. For example, when a couple gets engaged, boxes of cookies are given out to relatives, friends, and acquaintances. For the one month birthday of a child, cakes are given. It's an interesting contrast from Western traditions.

misery welcomes company

I'm actually not miserable, not at the moment anyway. I had a fantastic weekend away with several friends. We ushered in the holiday season by attending a madrigal dinner - the second I've been to during my years in Taiwan. It's the closest my season comes to feeling like Christmas at home. For a few hours, I was not in Asia but a Renaissance castle with festive decor, song and show, and food, making this time of year a bit more merry.

The misery came into play later in the evening. No, I'm not talking about having to see Patrick Swayne's appearances in Havana Nights, though that was part of our post-madrigal evening. As the Christmas dinner took place in another city, some friends and I planned to spend the weekend at our friend's home in town. I shared a room with one of my old roommates and we were perhaps perfect company for one another. Between my random upright bolting coughing fits and her random attacks of vomiting, we were up about every hour or hour-and-a-half throughout the night. I think as much as we hated that someone else had to suffer through the presence of us sick, it was nice having someone there - someone to hand you a tissue or fetch a glass of water. Also, I'm sure the others were certainly glad they didn't get stuck sharing a room with either of us for the night. It was not the anticipated restful night that ensues when provided with a warm, comfy bed but it was not entirely awful either.

Sunday morning found us a little worn but still glad to be retreating at a friend's and out of our smog buried city. We rounded out the trip with a visit to McCafe before heading home. McCafe is a coffee shop/eatery within McDonald's. I was first exposed to one in New Zealand and let's just say, when the commercial came on, I thought it was a joke. But their existence has proved real in several countries I've been to this year, though I haven't heard of any in the States yet. The coffee drinks are decent and the food of a healthy variety, at least compared to the traditional McD's fare. It's just weird to be sitting in a McCafe within a McDonald's, a place I otherwise avoid.

you know it's been too long since you last cleaned your room when . . .

• you find an unopened Christmas card from last year

• you find an old job application and some old college catalogs - how these came to find me in this foreign land, i've yet to recall

• you find manuals for things you no longer own
  

• you find a prescription issued 2 months - i searched for weeks! every time i'm gone for a weekend, things seem to magically re-appear - it's those dang elves

• you find about $100 between envelopes from various occasions - sometimes it pays to clean

• you find expired gift certificates you didn't know you had

• you find lost addresses and phone numbers of people who have since moved several more times

well, this has been a real fun evening, but i think it's time to call it a night. be sure to tune in tomorrow when I go exploring in the deep, dark realm known as the back of the fridge to uncover things not intended to be long forgotten.

the ghost of one who knew me

to forget people
to not know them
to not know myself

to lose my freedom, my independence, my identity

When I was young, very young, and naive, very naive, I believed it would be so cool to live to be 100. I have long since changed my stance on aging. So much so that for awhile I've even had trouble picturing and planning for the future because perhaps I've secretly thought I'd not have a long one to face. I don't think I've ever known someone who died of old age. There always seems to be a tragedy waiting long before that time can arrive and I suppose I hold no great hope that my life should be any different.

I've seen people, people I've known slip from the strong, determined, opinionated, giving, caring person they were to a frail, weakened ghost of the person they had been. While it can have many names and faces, I've seen it most in the form of cancer. As I've mentioned previously, I've grown up loosing people I was close to and have come to accept and expect it as part of life. What I'm beginning to learn now is the pain of being with someone alive and yet dead to me.

While not biologically my real grandma, there is someone who is for all intents and purposes, my gram. She's someone who has known me since I was a few months old and has been a big part of my life ever since. She babysat me a lot when I was little and I loved it! I loved her. There was a time once when my dad was napping and I was probably bored so I called her and told her I was home alone (at like age 4 or 5) and she, in her late 70's, walked a mile uphill to our house to look after me, only to discover my dad had been there all along and yet, I don't think she minded. It was something we still joked about until a year or two ago.

She's been around for the milestones in life - birthdays, graduations, holidays - particularly Christmas. Perhaps that's why I'm missing her and who she was so much right now. I hardly have a Christmas memory that doesn't include her. It became a long standing tradition that she would sleep over Christmas Eve and be there with us Christmas morning to unwrap gifts in pajamas and snack on holiday goodies. She'd usually leave at meal time to join relatives but always returned in the evening to spend more time with us. We have family we're given and family we choose and it's nice to feel chosen. We also have a post-Christmas breakfast tradition that I think began because of her, starting small with one or two of us kids and eventually growing to include our whole family. Yeah, I miss her. I miss who she was - who she has been to me and to my family.

I now find myself mucking about in uncharted territory. It's uncomfortable and I'm squirming. You see, things have changed. If I have had any doubts, they were quickly laid to rest during my visit home this year. She knew I was coming home for a visit and yet, during all the time I spent with her, I don't think she knew who I was once. She was trapped somewhere a lifetime ago and I was just part of the delusion. On most of our encounters, she was 16 again and anxiously anticipating her sister's arrival home to hear about her first day at work. I was a guest at her family's home who had come for dinner. The irony of her seeing herself as a child is that it's how she now has to be treated - not with the respect that a person of her age and life experiences should be treated, but in a fragile, tender, childlike manner.

I teach and while I sometimes feel like I give performances for a living and my daily routine is largely impromptu speaking, it's different to suddenly be doing improv to someone's misconstrued reality. Her quick wit and our sarcastic banter will be no more. It's a hard reality to face that a relationship of 26 years is suddenly gone, yet that person is still very much alive and right in front of me. It's hard to be with someone who doesn't even know I'm there.

I'm good at shutting people out when it becomes too painful for me to know them, a folly I'm aware of. Too often I give little regard to what they're dealing with and how my absence/silence affects them. Instead, I shut down, detach, and throw myself into distractions. Sadly, it's what I know and what I far too often do. Here I am once again at the same crossroad. My instinct is to raise my guard, back out, and shut down before it gets any more difficult, but at the same time, she doesn't deserve that - not from me or anyone else who knew her well, even if she no longer knows us. It's hard. There's no hope to cling to that things will get better. There's only holding close and letting go.

A widow with no children of her own, she took to us and we to her. Though now 98 years old, I've always seen her as someone full of spunk and life. I've always admired her independence; she still lived on her own until about 2 years ago. Her unconditional love for my brother, perhaps for all of us, has always astounded me. She saw us kids at some of our best and worst moments and still decided that we were worth being a part of her life. Is she not still worth being a part of mine? When her hip was fractured, she lived with us. When her eyesight failed, we became her eyes, but when a mind slips, there's little that can be done but try to ease the passing of time, try to hold on to good thoughts and memories, remember what once was and fight reason to cherish what still is. Life will be over too fast and I'm not up for facing more haunting regrets. Reality: life is difficult. In the infamous words of a friend, I've got to "suck it up cupcake."

dance

Lately I've been in the mood for a little dancin', and my friend, on a dance movie kick. We're getting together for the weekend, so there's no telling what could happen. This morning it was requested that I remind another friend to bring along Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. Definitely not on my list of movies I can't wait to watch again, though I did find it slightly better than the original Dirty Dancing - another movie I saw fit to only see once.

I can still recall the hype that surrounded that movie when it came out. Back then it was a big deal to have seen it, at least if you were a kid. Many parents forbade their young, impressionable daughters from watching, but then again, a lot of my friends' parents wouldn't let them see Goonies either. I, however, saw Dirty Dancing at a 3rd or 4th grade birthday party and it was the talk of the school for weeks. A friend's parent owned the town's video store so she could hook up birthday parties and sleepovers with practically any movie requested.

It was one of those movies that many girls loved still making it onto favorite movie lists everywhere. Patrick Swayze commanded a swoon factor for mothers and daughters alike, something I found more than a little disturbing. Shortly after the party, I confessed to my mom about watching it. I figured it would get back to her eventually and I wanted to clear my conscience. To my surprise, she didn't much care. I mean, she seemed to care that I told her about it but didn't seem concerned that I had seen it. Maybe she knew I was growing up and stuff like this was going to enter my world - one of those rare 'cool mom' moments for a kid. Come to think of it, she was cleaning her room at the time. Perhaps the furniture polish was getting to her and confusing her thoughts. I don't think I've watched it since, despite loving it so much the first time, but I have been to the place in Virginia where it was filmed - an experience I enjoyed far greater than watching the movie.

Rest assured, no dirty dancing is in store for the weekend ahead, but there are rumors of Thriller moves being performed. Kodak moments anticipated.

Today I
woke uncharacteristically early
filled the house with the smell of banana bread and clean laundry
found an old cd I missed
had all green lights on the commute to work - I pass through 18 so I consider it an anomaly
basked in the mixture of warm sun and cool air
found myself thinking it feels like winter at 75 degrees F
enjoyed my job
was rescued from city stench by new flowers in bloom
will probably fall asleep before I intend with a good book in hand
was made content in the small things the day has given me

for the English teachers

I enjoyed this too much not to share.

the can of worms is open

While I'm on a roll, here's my weirdness of the day. During my evening jog I started craving eel! Who craves eel?? Not just any eel but a particular dish from a favored Japanese restaurant. Still, weird. I blame the octopus balls (as in balls of octopus meat) that I ate mid-week. They must have opened the door for other random seafood hankerings. Also, every night this week I found it necessary to eat a pack of peanut M&M's during my dinner break in order to pull through my round of evening classes. Ultimately, I think it's a protein deficiency that bringing this on. As long as it's not seafood together with peanut M&M's that I'm desiring, I'm prepared to humor the cravings a bit longer, or at least until I have eel next weekend.

6 weird things about me

As though I've not provided sufficient examples already, I've been tagged to blog on the topic of 6 weird things about me. Despite protests, I've decided to concede. So here it goes, 6 weird things about me:

1. From as far back as I can remember, I've known I not only wanted to travel but spend some time living abroad. From childhood, my heart longed for something it didn't know, yet knew it couldn't live without. I've had an innate yearning to see the world. I even went through phases of trying to convince my parents to move to places such as Norway and I think Siberia.

2. I had this thing about considering non-conventional careers as a kid - President, commercial fisherman, and funeral director, just to name a few. Probably my most unusual though was my declaration that I was going to be a nun, especially considering I wasn't Catholic. However, as a young kid, I already saw life scripted - college, marriage, family - and I figured becoming a nun would be the most socially acceptable way to excuse my lack of desire for marriage and a family of my own.

3. A piece of my skull is chipped - Jr. high miniature golfing mishap.
Also on the subject of anatomy, I have crooked pinkies, but that one's hereditary.

4. In general, I hate drinking. It's like a chore. Plus, I think water tastes foul. Averting dehydration is a daily battle.

5. I've got sleep issues. First of all, I'm an insomniac. I love to be awake when the world sleeps and I'm most productive at night - it's when I'm at my best. When I do sleep, I average 5-6 hours of rest a night. The enigma, however, is that for as much as I hate retiring the day, I also hate parting with a cozy bed in the morning.

Additionally, and more amusing to others, is the fact that I've been known to talk in my sleep. I have a sibling who's also a sleep talker and our evening confabulations across the hall would amuse our parents.

Better still, however, are the phrases I come up with while in a semi-conscious state, such as when being startled awake or trying to fight off chemically induced drowsiness - anything that might make me drowsy, will. Things muttered all make sense in my head but my brain and mouth are no longer friends. It's frustrating because I can hear it all coming out wrong, yet I'm powerless to stop it or even know how to fix it.

Actual example: "I'm looking for the bubbles for the tank."
Translation: I can't find my retainer.

6. I didn't like foods that most kids enjoyed: pizza, spaghetti, mac & cheese, hot dogs, french fries, or fish sticks. I'd sometimes have to eat before going to birthday parties and friends' homes. They're still foods that I don't care for much.

Rich and Handsome

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.

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'?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.)

Just for fun

If there's one thing I'm good at, it's procrastinating, so here's what I did this evening instead of researching graduate programs.

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!

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.

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!

Happy Halloween!

One down, one to go. I just survived my 4th Halloween in Taiwan. My school had it's party this evening and I have one more party to assist at tomorrow night and then the hubbub will be over for another year. This holiday has been evolving in Taiwan over the past few years, and sadly, I think it's reached the point where it's a much bigger deal than Christmas at a lot of schools. The selection and availability of Halloween paraphernalia seems to increase steadily from year to year, though I was still only able to find one store carrying pumpkins. Above is my creation, carved with a very basic design because it was part of a story illustration for this evening's party.

Halloween parties have come to be expected at English schools, and for the past 2 years, we've aimed to approach the event as a ministry opportunity. Last year we did it with Veggie Tales and the theme: Where's God When I'm Scared? This year's theme was: The Good Farmer. Last week we had a staff meeting that went something like this:

Boss: As you know, next week's Halloween and we'll be having a party. For the main feature, Kara will be telling a story about a pumpkin that presents the Gospel in a very clear manner. Why don't you tell us a bit about it now?

Me: Umm, do I know this Kara? I mean, okay, well . . .

You see, I mentioned in passing that I was going to do a pumpkin story for this week's Bible class, which would be tomorrow night, but that was somehow interpreted as me volunteering to do it for the entire school tonight. I didn't mind though, it was a great opportunity, it's just that it's always bit awkward being informed that you're going to be doing something the same time everyone else finds out.

So yes, the evening started with me relating a story about carving a pumpkin to God and mankind: God helps us grow, God chooses us, God can change us within, from the inward change comes an outward one, and the light placed within us. It ended with teaching This Little Light of Mine, a song most of my Bible class students already know. It might sound cheesy, but a room of 80+ kids singing it was pretty cool. Afterwards, it was onto an evening of games, activities, and of course, candy.

Be still my heart

It's a Friday night. Another week of work is complete and I'm ready to unwind, only I can't. My heart is still racing from my mass consumption of caffiene today. Ugh.

I enjoy both coffee and tea, but for the most part, avoid them. I get hooked on caffiene way too easy and I hate the side effects. For whatever reason, I've felt drained this week and needed a boost to get me through the day, so I had a small pot of coffee with lunch. Mistake. By my afternoon classes, I was shaking and for the rest of the day, I've felt my heart racing. Great.

Tonight with my dinner, I decided to order an Ovaltine. Again, mistake. Somewhere along the line, there was confusion and instead, I recieved a giant cup of coffee! When it arrived, I happened to be in class, parched, while my water bottle was in another room, so what did I do - I drank some of the coffee. Not all, probably not even half, but any amount was more than what I needed. There came a point where I felt as though I was going to cause my own death if I consumed anymore. I can see it now - joe delivered the final blow. Here's to hoping rest comes despite my mistakes.

On a side note - the coffee I brewed this afternoon was fantastic! A friend bought it at a night market over a year ago, gave it to me when she moved, and it's been in my freezer ever since. Though she assured me it was good, I was skeptical - perhaps one of the reasons it's been in my freezer so long. However, it's quite delish. Night market coffee - who knew!

Best left unsaid

Being that I speak very little Mandarin and read even less, I really do appreciate restaurants that use photos on their menus, or better yet, incorporate English. However, there are the occasional translations that should be forgone. Case in point, driving past an area restaurant this week, a friend and I were amused to discover a new banner stating "Mandarin Duck Chaffing Dish."

Children can also have an interesting way with words. Tonight a young student shared that his uncle died this week. The uncle had jumped from his (the uncle's) 9th floor balcony, to which a classmate quickly added, "and now he's in hell." Woah! I think I'm the only one who understood what the classmate said and was slightly amused/intrigued that he was so quick-witted in his sarcasm and frankly, bold enough to make such a remark, much less know how to say it in English. However, in retrospect, I'm a bit shocked. In this predominately Buddhist country, that's not a typical comment an adult, much less a child, would say, whether in English or Chinese. I was beginning to think that maybe I've just not heard it here because people express it in Chinese, but I asked around and even the Taiwanese people I checked with were surprised. Hmm.

Strike a Pose

Sarah strikes a pose, originally uploaded by redjett.

After a whirlwind 9 days of traveling Taiwan and visiting with a dear friend, routine took over today. Things got started Friday (10/6) in Taipei where we spent a few days sight seeing, visiting with my Taiwanese big sis, sampling local cuisine (mmm, fresh squid and octopus), and relaxing at the hotel catching up on movies and learning to immitate the Taiwanese commercials (la,la,la so happy!). I somehow acquired a reputation as one who eats beside a trash can, but it was sheer coincidence or necessity. Come on, would you really want to walk through crowds at a night market while trying to de-gut your squid? I also had to break into some good old fashioned jumping on the bed while at the hotel - ahh, nice beds and high ceilings. Hanging out with a friend from my youth must bring out the kid in me.

On Monday (10/9), it was an island hop for a day and a night to take in a bit of snorkeling, beachcombing, and exploring tide pools by day and chilling seaside under the stars by night - refreshing breezes and lightening bugs - sweet!

From there it was a scooter trip on Tuesday to Meinong, a.k.a. Taiwan's handpainted umbrella capital. There was even time for a tea break to make some famous Meingong tea. We had the shop to ourselves and the servers brought out special costumes and props for an outright photo shoot of the foreigners dressed in Hakka garb. Finally, back home to Kaohsiung to recoup - 7 hours on a scooter in one day is more than enough for me.

Beyond Tuesday I was back to work but the week still held more treats and adventures for my guest. We met up with Becky for most of the remaining activities including Meinong, mtv, hiking on monkey mountain (I opted out of that adventure), the toilet restaurant, tepanyaki, Lotus Lake, and a hair wash.

We departed Kaohsiung Saturday afternoon for the trip to the airport. Sarah flew out late in the evening and 25 hours later, I found myself back at home. I stopped over at a friend's for the night on my trip back for a good night's rest and an overdue visit. It was funny to think that Sarah got home before I did, but sometimes the journey takes precedent over the destination. I spent the rest of Sunday catching up on, umm, sleep, and today, back to work. Sadly the visit came and went in a flash, however, it was nice to once again share my home and life in Taiwan with someone I'm close to. Thanks for coming Grasshopper!

Broken things

a colorful beach
Originally uploaded by redjett.

I'm sure shores were not intended to be this colorful. In fact, the enriched display is the result of litter, yet, on a beach of broken, bleached coral, I've come to fancy the colorful contrast of broken things. I even like to collect a few pieces each visit for some yet unknown future project.
I love how the shards of broken glass become smoothed over by the tide, rough edges polished. While the broken pieces won't become part of the whole again, they can be changed into something new. Though caught up for a time in the turbulence of the sea, beaten by the waves, many pieces still come to bank on the shore. While still susceptible to being swallowed up once more by the sea, there is also the potential for getting pushed farther and farther ashore, away from the temultuous sands and nearer to the weathered rocks.
I love the bits that are "fresh," still wet from the tide and glistening. They're most beautiful when reflecting the sun.

Sometimes I am a broken thing. Much like the glass without eyes, I fail to see the broken things around me. I'm still catching my breath and taking in the warmth of the Son, hoping that despite being tossed and tumbled, a piece of me can still reflect Light.
Like glass, I'm sometimes left feeling transparent, exposed, and vulnerable, at least for a time.
Sometimes the brokenness results in refinement. Other times, some rough edges remain, still waiting to be smoothed out. Even so, each time, the result is change. It's impossible to escape unchanged.

No Soup for You!

While my health wasn't completely restored overnight, I did awake feeling tremendously better this morning. I had just spent the past 2 days with a fever which hung around 102 degrees while I spent 10 hours at work yesterday. I did manage to slip out briefly in the evening for a quick run to the dr and the medicine she prescribed started to help soon after taking it last night.

While I was still presented with a very sore throat and almost no voice today, my energy level was high, just in time to finish cleaning up the place for my friend's rapidly approaching visit. I even felt well enough to make myself some homemade chicken noodle soup since it became apparent that my mom was not coming to make it for me. Thanks mom. Sure, I still had the aforementioned ramen, but mysterious seafood flavored soup just doesn't hold the same appeal as chicken noodle comfort food. But alas, it was not meant to be. There would be no soup for me. While I thought I had everything on hand for my culinary concoction, I was dismayed to discover the chicken had gone bad. By that point, the heart had gone out of the endeavor and I had no desire to go to the store for more meat. However, I think tomorrow I shall delve into a new realm and attempt some lemongrass and clam soup. It can also be quite satisfying when sick.

Ramen to the Rescue

Here's a story from a few weeks back that I've been meaning to share.

It was once again that time of the month - time to pay the rent. The landlady would be arriving shortly for her monthly collection so I made my way to the corner 7-Eleven to use the ATM. After withdrawing the necessary funds, I came to the sober realization that I had an equivalent of $1 US in the bank until my next pay day, still at least 2 weeks away. Wow. Though I had just had my best summer since being in Taiwan, it was probably my worst summer financially. The cutback in hours for the summer schedule in July and August were catching up with me now in early September. Basically, for the next few weeks, I was broke. There was not even money to spare for those little luxuries in life known as food and water (yep, gotta buy drinking water). Now it's true, my cupboards are full of food, but most things require an ingredient I don't have in order to make them.

As I got back to my apartment, I was thinking some more about what it meant to not even have money to spare on food for the next few weeks when the doorbell rang, or chirped, as the case may be. It was the landlady, no surprise. As I handed over the envelope of money, she handed be a paper bag from the grocery store. Inside where two big packs containing 10 regular sized packs of Ramen noodle soup. She found this particular kind to be good and thought I might enjoy it, though no, she's not in the habit of bringing me things. As we said good-bye and I closed the door, I couldn't help but chuckle at the though of how only minutes earlier I was wondering how I was going to afford food and here it was, free food being delivered to my door. Oh, the irony. It reminded me so much of friends' stories about praying for something and God answering their prayer but in a way very different from what they had in mind.

Oh snap! At the same time, what a slap. I hadn't even gone to God about the situation. I was still mulling over it in my own mind. I appreciated the reminder that God cares for us and about us even when we think things too insignificant to bring before Him. What a great reminder of His provision as well as a reminder of the insignificance of things of this world and how often I spend too much time toiling over things I shouldn't. For the second time that evening, I felt stunned.

The following morning, a group of people were at my house for house church. A Taiwanese friend I hadn't seen in a while happened to come and brought a large jug of tea for me. She claimed her father sent it to thank me for a time that I treated her to lunch. It was a thank you for looking out for her. Oh, the object lessons seemed to be coming in abundance that weekend. I was reminded of how God can not only meet our needs but exceed our expectations. It's cool too how God can bless us through those who are Christians, and through those who aren't, like my landlady.

Cynicism with a side of Sarcasm

Bunny. Now there's a word we never seem to teach to kids in Taiwan. Rabbit, they know, but bunny, not a clue. Anyway, that's not the point of this exercise.

One Friday night after a long week of work, I stepped outside the front doors of the school and saw a white rabbit hanging out at the shoe rack. I probably did something like rub my eyes in disbelief or checked to see if someone was hiding nearby carrying out some sort of practical joke, for not more than a few yards away is an area known for park dogs, against which a rabbit would not stand a chance. Though it hopped into one of the cubbyholes of the shoe shelf, it didn't seem to mind my approaching it. Obviously, it had been someone's pet. Apparently that someone decided they no longer wanted it and as people here tend to do with their dogs (even expensive purebreds), the owner dumped it off. After all, it's common knowledge that domesticated rabbits are known for their street smarts and survival skills when abandoned in a city full of street dogs. I'm sure it was no accident that the rabbit was left near a school where surely some child, parent, or in this case, teacher, would take pity and adopt the stray street bunny. The plan worked. After calling out my co-workers to insure that I indeed wasn't seeing things, one decided to take it home, clean it up, and eventually find a new owner for it. We found out later that a few of our students saw a man drop it off outside earlier that day, discarding his once pet.

Last night, another Friday night after another busy week at work, I once again spotted a rabbit in a place where it didn't belong - my building's elevator. This time, however, the rabbit appeared in the form of the Easter Bunny on a newly posted sign. My guess is that the sign is regarding festivities at my complex for the upcoming Moon Festival, but what really caught my eye was the Easter clipart in a lower corner. You can't get much more Easter inspired than a collage with a cross, lilies, colored eggs, and the Easter Bunny. Sure, I suppose that not knowing it's intended use, one might not think it an unusual selection. It probably just seemed like a nice or perhaps even festive general purpose picture. However, I would think it quite obvious to not fit with the Moon Fest theme, but maybe that's just me.

9/28

To my cohorts in Taiwan, Happy Teacher's Day! Though the day has actually been labeled such to commemorate the birthday of Eastern scholar and teacher, Confucius, it's become used to recognize educators island-wide as well. While I didn't take in the morning festivities this year at the city's Confucius temple, it was still a day made a bit sweeter by the well wishes of students. For some reason, many seemed quite excited this year to bestow greetings, cards, and treats. It was such a nice day that it would have made for a great Friday to leave the work week on such a happy note, however, one more day to go. I rarely dread Fridays, but this week, I make an exception. What I hate more than going to the doctor's is going to the doctors in Taiwan, something I've gotta do tomorrow morning. Okay, time to redirect my focus to something more favorable - Sarah arrives in one week!

Cool.

Yesterday I was bestowed with good news not once, but twice. One of my best friends from the U.S. bought her ticket and is coming for a visit and a NZ photo of mine has been included in a newly released Christchurch guide.

Sarah-babey is coming to Taiwan - woo-hoo! Yeah, I'm beaming slightly. A friend from home is coming for a visit and in just 2 weeks - eek! - so much to do, but how exciting! The timing is great. She arrives on Moon Festival Day which means a 3 day weekend for me. Sadly, the day probably won't wind down by eating bbq and wearing pomelo peels on our heads under the full moon, traditions for such a holiday, but it's bound to be an exciting weekend nonetheless. Better still is another built-in day off while she's here, Double 10, Taiwan's national holiday. (Glad we'll be out of Taipei for that one, kid.)

As for the photo, that process began over the summer when I was approached about permission to have a photo considered for an upcoming Christchurch city guide. I had almost forgotten about it until I received word this week that is was accepted for inclusion and appears in the new guide. It's by far not one of my favorite trip photos, however, I guess it happened to be of something they were looking for.

and now... i've seen it all

I thought I had witnessed the most interesting dog-in-traffic senario the time I saw a man stuff his compact canine into his scooter seat, close the lid, and drive off. That one beat out the time it appearred that an English Sheepdog was driving a scooter as it stood on the floor with front paws on the handles while its peitite owner was behind it somewhere buried in a mass of flying fur. However, based on this afternoon's traffic encounter, I've surely seen it all.

In Taiwan, we have a plethera of what we refer to as "blue trucks." They're a small delivery/service/construction/makeshift-food-or-produce-stand type of pick-up truck, invariably painted blue. They have a rep for having careless, accident causing, often betel nut chewing, drivers. Yesterday, one such truck was ahead of me at a red light. Nothing unusal about that, expect perhaps that the truck was stopped at the light instead of trying to barrel through, but I digress. No, the unusual part was that a medium sized dog was sitting on the roof of the truck - not in the bed, but on the roof of the cab. The dog looked around lazily and yawned while the growing pack of scooter riders pointed and stared. As the light changed to green and the truck proceeded onward, what should the dog do but rise to its feet and stand, roof-surfing, as the truck made its way through traffic winding and weaving. True to blue truck driver fashion, the driver made wild illegal turns and sudden breaks. How that dog stayed aloft standing on the roof is beyond me. What a moment to not have a camera.

Instant Success

Ever find yourself wishing you could have instant success?

Well, now you can! Just head on down to your local Taiwanese baking supply store and get yourself a box today.

What must be baking powder, or baking soda, is a box labeled Instant Success. Though I've seen it here for several years, I still crack a smile when I pass it in the aisle.

Why didn't some marketing genius in the US think of this, or perhaps one had? Just think of the possibilities - All you need to make the perfect cake is a pinch of Instant Success. Sounds like something right out of the 1940's or 50's.

Blest Be the Tie

I was reminded of a favorite hymn as I played a cd this evening that was given me over the summer. The cd consists of guitar music performed by a member of my home church - mostly the musician's favorite hymns and some patriotic stuff, but I've been enjoying it greatly nonetheless. When it reached track 10: Blest Be the Tie, I was flooded with memories of singing that tune in church, especially during times when the church or its members were facing hardships. It's amazing now to reflect upon those times and see how things have changed or unfolded since then. What a joy it is to see how God worked through some of those challenges.

The song also brings a touch of comfort. Hearing someone I know, someone I even had weeknight "jam" sessions with on my bass, made home feel not so far away and somehow makes Heaven feel not so far away either. It's cool to think of the ties that bind us to others - others across town, across the country, across the world. This summer Becky, Rick and I had the opportunity to share a bit of our life, work, and ministry in Taiwan with our home church. It was great to form stronger ties with those already connect to us as prayer partners and wonderful to make new ties.

Finally, despite my current longings to be home experiencing a beautiful Fall, the song serves as a reminder that my delight should be found in the Lord, that my heart should be set on Heaven.

1.Blest be the tie that binds
Our hearts in Christian love
The fellowship of kindred minds
Is like to that above.

2. Before our Father's throne,
We pour our ardent prayers;
Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one,
Our comforts, and our cares.

3. We share our mutual woes,
Our mutual burdens bear;
And often for each other flows
The sympathizing tear.

4. When we asunder part,
It gives us inward pain;
But we shall be joined in heart,
And hope to meet again.

-John Fawcett, 1782

What a great reminder that no matter what far reaches of the earth I find myself, I am tied to those who lift me up in prayer and to those I pray for, bound to others by burdens shared, and joined with hearts in friendship and love.