Questionings

I paged through the anthology, looking for words that would describe the somewhat empty echo inside me, twisting the spiral silver ring on my finger with its inscription The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, and found myself wondering which step I was on. Did my journey have more than a thousand miles, because it must needs be one that had traversed the globe multiple times, criss-crossing until my life map looked like a badly tangled ball of yarn a kitten had given up playing with?

It was a melancholy night. Swirls of life seemed to be mixing together faster than I could put them into their proper boxes, labeled work and friend A and friend B and creativity and adventures and so on. Being the strange mix of personality I was, where I treasured quality time with a friend but floated in more than 5 or 6 circles which did not overlap, I did not know how to balance the internal expectations I had to ensure everyone's holiday season was filled with joy and good cheer.

Having made the grown-up decision to stay in the country during the extended Christmas break meant that my days were spent either in my dorm room or out with friends. I kept my phone close by, ready at any invitation to leave the cold tiled all-purpose room where I would sit on my bed avoiding the chores I knew I should be doing. Why did holiday seem to spell baseboard and fridge deep cleaning, sorting of that drawer I'd been stuffing papers into for the last six months, and such like?

To a friend I wrote, Christmas will be strange this year, as I do not know where I belong. I'd always spent Christmas with family, even last year when my dearest sister had flown thousands of miles, on a peak-season ticket, to spend 10 days with me out of which she was sick with a bad cold for half of them. Suddenly I found myself facing a holiday by myself that used to mean sleeping in, waffles and fake turkey and warm dinner rolls with cranberry sauce, a plastic green miniature tree on top of the heavy-duty wood stove we hadn't used in years because of its fire hazard, and stockings filled with little surprises stacked next to brightly wrapped boxes of various sizes. I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself.

Then Christmas Eve found me in the home of two dear friends sharing food and laughter, leaving the house just in time to catch my very first midnight mass. On Christmas Day we spent another evening together and I found myself steeping in a deep sense of peace that reassured me I was indeed where I belonged.

Perhaps this wistful questioning was not one limited only to the adult TCK who couldn't return to childhood traditions, feel comfortable spending Christmas with relatives, or prepare familiar family recipes to celebrate the season. Perhaps there were others who also didn't know how to best handle a time defined by family--by those closest and dearest to our hearts. Perhaps some wished for the days to hurry by so sad memories would not linger long.

Am I already in the middle of the thousand-mile journey, or is each morning the first step on an ever-evolving revolution of a wheel set within a wheel? I am not today who I was yesterday and tomorrow I will once again change, perhaps micro-cosmically but still significantly. In the midst of the Olympiad symbol where I stand, parts of me split between realities that still do not inter-mesh, I pause for a moment and contemplate. I am where I belong. I belong where I am. This is the simplistic beauty of it all. Each step brings me closer to integration yet further from definition, because who I am will never be the same. Perhaps I will only ever find the stillness in your calm certainty. I am where I belong. I belong where I am. I belong with you.

Of Sesame Doors and Falling Stars

So I'm a bit of a wreck, really, when it comes to trusting God. I go through this cycle over and over and over again, and I imagine He's up there wondering why I don't seem to be able to grasp the simple fact that He loves me very very much and would never do anything to hurt me. Perhaps it's because I've rarely stopped to allow myself to think that God may not be like the one who was supposed to model Him best to me, or like the many other broken human beings in my life who were just trying to keep their own lives from falling apart.

I started reading a book today titled The Way to God and How to Find It by Dwight L. Moody. I was sitting in a grand cathedral with more than half an hour to spare while I waited for a Christmas choral concert of John Rutter selections. Idly opening up my Kindle, I realized there was nothing really interesting to read, so I decided to browse the book by Moody. I had set out on the evening by myself, determined to go to the concert alone as nobody else could make it, because I needed some quiet time alone with God. Hence, the book.

Two chapters later, I reluctantly turned off my phone to concentrate on the concert as the musicians began to enter. Though I don't often read religious books voraciously, this one caught my attention from the first sentence and it was difficult to put it down. The topic? God's love.

Moody writes in an interesting fashion because he sprinkles in many short illustrations, stories I had not heard before, and his old-English style is much welcomed after reading the sentences classified as English but really, they are so low on the rung that it is almost impossible to agree. Yet these are not the main reason why I continued to read page after page, though I am rather loathe to read on electronic devices. It was the topic that caught my attention.

So, many of us have discovered something of the love of God; but there are heights, depths and lengths of it we do not know. That Love is a great ocean; and we require to plunge into it before we really know anything of it. . .the love of God is unchangeable. (ibid)

I've been having some heart-to-heart talks with God lately about something we've been talking about for quite some time now. Every time I try to take matters into my own hands, I find myself getting stressed and anxious and certain that things will fail. Every time I pray and ask God to guide my life, I find my heart filled with peace and joy. Yet for some reason I can't seem to learn the lesson well enough for it to stick. I keep trying to do things my own way, having unrealistic expectations, or believing the devil's lie that God won't fulfill His promises and doesn't want me to be happy.

I came home after the concert feeling somewhat down. I recognized the melancholy feelings immediately, and instead of staying in my room, I grabbed an old blanket, my headphones and phone, and headed up to my quiet place on the roof. After spreading the blanket on one of the pillars, I hopped on and stared out at the city, whilst scrolling through my YouTube mix to find the perfect song.

Several fails later, I decided on one I knew would speak to my heart as it had so many times before. I pressed play and then answered some unknown nudge to look up. Hillary Scott sang, Thy Will Be Done as I watched a falling star explode into a perfectly bright white cylinder of light before trailing off into nothingness right in front of me. I could have almost reached out and touched it.

As the star vanished, my first thought was, how could a falling star be so close? Isn't it supposed to be up in the sky somewhere far away? Then I realized, why couldn't God place a falling star right in front of me? It was His star, after all. It was then that I cried.

I've been here for 1 year and 10 months now. During that time, I've never seen a falling star. I've always wanted to see one. I'm just enough of a romantic to believe that you can wish on a falling star so every time I was up on the roof at nighttime, I would gaze up in the sky, squinting my eyes to see if perhaps somewhere there was a glitch of light that would poof into oblivion. Alas, there wasn't. Most nights it was hard even to see the stars as the smog would obscure their crisp twinkle.

Then, in the perfect moment, the star appeared.

I can imagine God looking down and saying gently, See? I'm listening. I'm here. I know what your heart is longing for and this special message is just from Me to you to remind you that I will answer in My perfect timing. Just like this star.

Hashtag Blessed

He was dressed in a sky blue shirt and dark blue suit that complemented his warm brown eyes, standing outside after church talking to a friend. When the little tyke stumbled on the step nearly as tall as she when hurrying by, he quickly reached for her hand and steadied her. She smiled shyly, studying the next step, and he held her hand until she'd reached the last one and could toddle off to her mother.

That afternoon, though it was technically his day off, he went to visit a refugee family living in a small apartment, 8 of them crammed into a 2-bedroom place with peeling paint on the ceilings, black mold insistent on growing anytime it rained, and furniture limited to beds for the grandparents while the rest managed on sagging mattresses or on the third-hand sofa that sat with mismatched chairs in the living room. Yet, in spite of their distressful situation, they still produced a beautiful tray with four bone china coffee cups thick with Turkish grounds.

He politely took a sip, as they spoke from their heart. Papers had come through and half the family was relocating to Sweden while the other half was going to the USA. They were excited of the hope of a new life but sad because these were the last days they had together as a whole family. Soon they would be separated by thousands of miles of ocean that would be too expensive to cross for perhaps years. Thank God for WhatsApp video chat, they all agreed. He listened quietly, gently encouraging them to see the joy ahead.

His phone lit up, someone wasn't feeling well, could he come and pray with them? He turned the car around and instead of heading for home, he expertly navigated the angular side streets, searching for the address they'd sent him. Finally he found the apartment complex, stepped into the cubicle lift, and pressed the 3rd floor button. When they opened the door, he quickly assessed the man needed medical help. Two family members came along, supporting the man who was pale and not doing well. Then the search began for a hospital that would treat the patient who clearly was a refugee.

Finally, three hours later, a friendly Christian hospital welcomed them in. After filling out several forms and waiting in the lobby for nearly an hour, the nurse called the man and the family members followed where the man was settled in a hospital bed and an earnest prayer was sent up. The nurse promised to call if anything else was needed and he left. He slipped into his car, plugged in his dead phone to the car charger, and waited for it to light up with messages. One name brought a smile to his face, even as he felt a twinge of sadness that he hadn't been able to reply sooner. He sent a quick answer and started the car. Juice?