Haunting

I saw this photo the day after Christmas and I remember feeling utterly shocked. It seemed like a scene from a movie: the composition, colors, drama. I felt even more saddened by the fact that this was not fiction.

Here's the story that goes with the photo:

Nigeria Pipeline Explosion Incinerates Hundreds

December 26, 2006—More than 260 people are dead and over 60 injured after a gasoline pipeline that had been tapped by thieves exploded early this morning in the Abule Egba district of Lagos, Nigeria.

Emergency workers were held back from the epicenter of the carnage until the early afternoon by intense heat, melted cars and electrical lines, and crowds of grieving people. Crews battled the blaze for more than 12 hours before getting the flames under control.

Thousands of residents, such as this man washing soot from his face, wandered across the charred landscape searching for missing loved ones.

Although officials say they are not sure what ignited the blaze, locals told the Associated Press (AP) that thieves had originally ruptured the pipeline and had been tapping it for months. On Monday night the thieves left without fully sealing their opening, and people from the neighborhood rushed in with bags and buckets to collect whatever they could from the leaking pipe.

Although Nigeria is Africa's largest oil producer and the fourth largest exporter of oil to the United States, corruption and poor infrastructure create frequent fuel shortages across the country. Tapping is a relatively common problem, since cans of gasoline sold on the black market can fetch high prices.

"How can this be, that people are so poor in Nigeria that they will risk their lives for a little thing," Bode Kuforiji, a university lecturer, told AP. "But boats leave for America every day filled with oil."

—Victoria Gilman

The "M" word

Not marriage, Mon.
.....
I called my mom on the way to San Diego last night. I was quite ecstatic to share Pastor Roy’s message with her. Pastor Roy spoke about tentmaking in the world. He spoke about the need for professionals in addition to traditional missionaries. He mentioned Paul as an example. He worked full-time and ministered to everyone he encountered. I was so encouraged by the message because that’s pretty much my dream. I always dreamt of working in a different country, living with the natives, helping them, learning from them, sharing God’s love with them.

I have always shared this desire with my mom. She knows I dream of living in France, South Africa, North Korea and anywhere else in the world. I just never used the “M” word – missionary. I thought the missionary part was implied. I figured I was a missionary wherever I was anyway. I guess my communication wasn’t so clear. I thought my mom would be my biggest cheerleader. She always has been. She suggested that I visit China to see my uncle who frequently visits North Korea for business. She writes me encouraging letters. So, I was saddened and disappointed when my mom didn’t share my enthusiasm as I shared about Pastor Roy’s message. She never thought that I was going as a missionary. So, I have to talk to her some more and try to widen her perspective of missions. I don’t think she fully understands missions. Towards the end of the conversation, I felt too sad and drained to persuade.

After we hung up, I thought about our reality. I realized that for my mom this is shocking news. My mom waits for me to end my AmeriCorps service and get a secure job somewhere where I’ll receive a decent salary to support our family. I momentarily forgot about this reality.

My mom thinks that I can and should be a missionary wherever I am (here in the States). I agree, but what do I do about the burden I feel and tears that unnaturally form quickly when I think of the lost souls in the world?

Prayer is a given. There must be and is more.

Perfected Love

There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love.

We love, because He first loved us.

What I do

If you're curious about what I actually do here at the D.A.'s office, here's an interview with my boss regarding the program that I work on: Prisoner Reentry

Feel the breeze

I checked in with Arlene yesterday. I'm not sure if I've written about Arlene yet, but if I have, oh well. Here I go again. Arlene is an analyst here at the office and we verbally agreed that she would be my mentor. She reminds me so much of Missionary Mira. I think that's why I was so drawn by Arlene's spirit. I confide in her about spirituality and my doubts about the future. She's all about positive affirmations, so she's constantly telling me, "Grace, you're an intelligent, capable, dynamic and creative person. So be who you are, instead of getting caught up in your doubts. It's okay to be scared. But, be the wonderful you that you are." I always feel so encouraged and blessed after some good Arlene time.

Yesterday, we talked about God's presence. She said that our whole life has to be about realizing and acknowledging those little moments when God moves. She compared it to Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden experiencing God through a breeze. Before, she didn't really talk to God or ask him for anything because she didn't want to bother him. She realized that this was silly and that God is honored when we constantly talk to him and ask him about little things because it reflects our belief and faith in Him.

So, I encourage you to feel the breeze as you drive to work, walk to class, sit at a playground, talk to colleagues, smile at a stranger.

As a sweetly awkward sister of mine wrote: Be still and hear his voice.

The cure

I couldn’t fall asleep Thursday night. I stared at the ceiling of stucco and thought that without my glasses, the little bits of stucco were barely visible to me. I thought, ‘I need a new prescription’. I stared and stared trying to make out a few little bits, but eventually closed my eyes again in frustration. I plopped over on my stomach with my face in the pillow. I remembered I used to do that a lot when I was a kid. There was something excitingly refreshing about taking a breath of air after mildly suffocating in one’s pillow. Why is holding one’s breath such a fun challenge? Is it because we think we’re playing with death? Do we feel that we’re in control of life and death?

I digress.

My face was buried in my pillow. It was getting harder to breathe. I turned my head to the side and appreciated the cool breath of air that slowly spread to my lungs. It’s amazing how one can feel that when the air is extremely hot or cold. My shoulders were beginning to hurt so I bent my knees and stretched my arms forward with my head balanced on my pillow. I think it’s some kind of yoga position. I brought my arms into my chest and squirmed around to get fully under my blanket. I felt so warm and safe. I realized that I hadn’t prayed on my knees for quite some time. I decided to pray. It had been so long, I didn’t really know where to start. So, I didn’t start. I just stayed in the same position for some time. The word, “forgive” started floating around in my mind. I tried to dismiss it, shoo it away, but it cleverly dodged my efforts. The word started getting bigger and bigger. Then, I thought, ‘why not? Why not forgive?’. I think I expected some ‘aha’ moment or dramatic moment of enlightenment, brokenness to lead to forgiveness. It’s simply a decision.

The time leading up to this decision may have been a process and filled with such dramatic moments. I prayed to forgive for what they did and how they made me feel. It felt real and cleansing to list how they made me feel because I think I tried to forget about that. I was swallowed by guilt. The prayer wasn’t especially long, verbose or eloquent. I didn’t cry. My heart and head didn’t feel tingly.

I inhaled the cool air as I came out under my covers. I imagine that’s how my soul feels.

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There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.
~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

I took a bath on Saturday or Sunday night. I think the water was too hot. I always do that. Taking a bath is relaxing for most people. It’s absolutely exhausting for me (mainly because the water is too hot). I end up feeling purged and faint. I like that feeling. It’s the complete opposite of taking in a deep breath after pillow suffocation. The feeling after a hot bath is release. I feel weak and hollow. I like that feeling, just as much.

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I finished Anderson Cooper’s book. It was an easy read, but I couldn’t read too much at one time because it’s a bit depressing. It’s a different kind of depressing from novels because it’s true. I liked it. I recommend it to anyone who might just have a weekend of nothing to do. You can finish it in a couple of days. As he documents his accounts of Katrina, Somalia, Kenya and other places, he interweaves his own story and struggle with pain. He was intrigued by and attracted to stories about war and conflict because he didn’t know how to deal with his own pain. Overall, it’s a fascinating and enlightening read.

"I'm voting for Dukakis."

I saw Michael Dukakis today at a luncheon. His wife, Kitty Dukakis spoke about how electroconvulsive therapy helped her deal with depression. I was pretty jazzed to see Michael Dukakis because I didn't expect him to be there.

Michael Dukakis was the Democratic presidential candidate in 1988. He ran against Daddy Bush. He said that he felt a bit responsible for the mess in the Middle East: "If I would have beat daddy, we wouldn't have even seen the son". I remember the election between Bush and Dukakis (it's the first election in my memory). I was in the first grade. We took a poll in our class and most everyone voted for Bush (because their parents were probably voting for Bush). I don't remember voting for anyone. I was barely learning English.

Michael Dukakis reminds me of my good childhood friend Matt Robison. I remember Matt telling me about how they voted in his first grade class too. He was the only one who voted for Michael Dukakis. I wonder how Mattie is doing. He's the most brilliant writer I have ever known. I think he's working at a magazine in New York. I expect to see his stories in The New Yorker some day.

Have a joyful birthday Dan

Thanks for being such an uber rad brother.

love,
your geeky little sister

A Book Chair!!!

(thanks Andy)

Hide and Seek

I'm addicted to this song.

Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.

Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years they were here first.

Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this still life.

Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.

Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Ah off course it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it’s just what we need? And you decided this.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I dont believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.

2006/2007

When I reflect upon 2006, I think of regrets, disappointments, pressure and stress. I didn't necessarily experience anything tragic or sad according to the world's standards, but I went through some kind of internal struggle in 2006. It wasn't a good year. It wasn't a bad year. I learned new things about myself and others. Learning is always good. The means to my lessons may have not been so good.

However, I'm taking the lessons and looking to 2007 to start anew. I think I still need to process, but I'm in the process.

I ended 2006 in a state of being that pretty much reflects the year: sickness. I know that I have a pretty weak immune system, but I don't remember such a year of sickness as 2006. Yesterday, I wavered back and forth in deciding whether I should go to church or not. I decided to go not necessarily to worship, but to say 'goodbye' to Kristine and Charlotte before they both left for the east coast.

Pastor Ty, a guest speaker, spoke about forgiveness. Unforgiveness blocks the power of the Holy Spirit. Unforgiveness blocks the power of our prayers. Unforgiveness becomes a cesspool - a perfect breeding ground for bitterness, rage and anger - in our hearts. Forgiveness is not about forgetting. Forgiveness is not saying that what the other person did was okay. One can't wait for the other person to apologize before forgiving. He also said that unforgiveness can even negatively impact one's physical health.

I never thought of myself as a bitter person who holds grudges, who never forgives. For the most part, I think I don't have the right to forgive because I may have just been hurt, not necessarily wronged. It's all still a bit unclear for me and I need to think about this some more. During the time of prayer when Pastor Ty asked us to pray a prayer of forgiveness with someone in mind, I simply sat there. I felt a few tears, but I didn't know for what or for whom.

I talked to Mama Liu about the sermon. I was encouraged and touched by my mom's attitude towards my father. If she can forgive, why can't I? I don't really even feel justified in my discontent towards my father, yet I feel it and I can't seem to stop it. However, I really want to surrender this to God this year. We'll see what happens.

I feel excited about 2007. I think it will be a year of forgiveness and healing. I am thankful that I can be forgiven because I forgive. I can forgive because I am forgiven.

hope always.