I went to Iowa last week to visit my brother and his family. I wrote these poems while I was in transit.
Blizzard Haiku
snow rages in the night
fierce winter winds howl and scream
clean, fresh, bright morning.
Seasoned Traveler
I wish I were one of those well-dressed travelers
Pea coat and set of matching luggage in toe
Bright, mascara'd eyes and sleek black boots.
But I am sweatpants and sneakers
Over-packed backpack
Knit cap and scarf.
I have spent too many hours in airports and train stations
For pretty sweaters and shiny heels.
Or maybe, I am not seasoned enough
Maybe, I have not yet learned the art.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Thanksgiving
Last night, we had what may have been the largest Thanksgiving the Vineland Vieras have ever seen. The guest list was extensive.
The Patriarch (my grandfather) and his wife. (2)
The Sister (Hortencia) and her husband, her four children, her expecting daughter-in-law, and her in-law counterpart. (9)
The Daughter (Mary Helen) and her daughter (me) and son-in-law (Michael). (3)
The First Son (Pablo Ernesto) and his wife. (2)
The Second Son (Otniel Ismael) and his wife, his three children, his son-in-law, and his in-law counterparts (father-in-law, mother-in-law, and son-in-law to his oldest daughter). (9)
All together we were 25 persons gathered around the table, giving thanks for all the good and the bad the last year brought, and rejoicing to be, one way or another, family.
The Patriarch (my grandfather) and his wife. (2)
The Sister (Hortencia) and her husband, her four children, her expecting daughter-in-law, and her in-law counterpart. (9)
The Daughter (Mary Helen) and her daughter (me) and son-in-law (Michael). (3)
The First Son (Pablo Ernesto) and his wife. (2)
The Second Son (Otniel Ismael) and his wife, his three children, his son-in-law, and his in-law counterparts (father-in-law, mother-in-law, and son-in-law to his oldest daughter). (9)
All together we were 25 persons gathered around the table, giving thanks for all the good and the bad the last year brought, and rejoicing to be, one way or another, family.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
More Thoughts on Family
Today I got an email from my good friend, Robbie about the haps in his life over the last few months. This email was in response to a series of emails written by people I lived and worked with while I was in still overseas.
I smiled as I read the email, excited for him and his new wife, about God's leading in their life, about his new job and the cool new opportunities it brings...Just like I was excited to hear about Melissa, and Ross, and SamandJoan (in my mind SamandJoan are actually only one person) and all the haps in their lives. And when I got to the end of Robbie's email, I sighed the way content people do and I thought to myself, "It's good to catch up with family."
And then I had the sudden realization that Robbie, Melissa, Ross, and SamandJoan are not actually related to me. That we share no bloodline and except through an arranged marriage of our children/grandchildren, we probably will never be "related" to each other.
But we are family in the way that the intensity of our shared experience, coupled with the Faith and Spirit that binds us, AND the similarity of our hopes and ambitions for the present life make us Family. And I thought about other people in our lives who are significant in this way, and I missed them greatly and ached for eternity.
It is indeed good to keep up with Family.
I smiled as I read the email, excited for him and his new wife, about God's leading in their life, about his new job and the cool new opportunities it brings...Just like I was excited to hear about Melissa, and Ross, and SamandJoan (in my mind SamandJoan are actually only one person) and all the haps in their lives. And when I got to the end of Robbie's email, I sighed the way content people do and I thought to myself, "It's good to catch up with family."
And then I had the sudden realization that Robbie, Melissa, Ross, and SamandJoan are not actually related to me. That we share no bloodline and except through an arranged marriage of our children/grandchildren, we probably will never be "related" to each other.
But we are family in the way that the intensity of our shared experience, coupled with the Faith and Spirit that binds us, AND the similarity of our hopes and ambitions for the present life make us Family. And I thought about other people in our lives who are significant in this way, and I missed them greatly and ached for eternity.
It is indeed good to keep up with Family.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Family Reunions
On Tuesday, Michael and I rode down with my mother, my uncle, and two of my cousins to Maryland for a not-so-happy sort of family reunion. My Great-Aunt Sylvia passed away last Friday, and Tuesday we were gathering for a funeral and burial.
Tia Sylvia was the last of her generation, the middle child of the five children my great-grandfather had with his fourth and last wife, my great-grandmother. And so, the American branch (or at least the Mid-Atlantic branch) of the Flores family came together, Tuesday morning at 11:00 am in Greenbelt, MA to pay final respects to her and to that generation.
In attendance were:
From the Clan of Mariana Flores: My mother, two uncles, one aunt, two cousins, my grandfather and his wife, Michael and myself.
From the Clan of Edilberto Reyes: two cousin-uncles (as we call them), their wives, and their combined seven children.
From the Clan of David Flores: two cousin-uncles, one aunt, and their combined six children.
From the Clan of Sylvia Flores: two cousin-aunts, one cousin-uncle, and their combined seven children.
(Ismael Flores, who died in his youth, had no clan to represent him.)
These forty persons represent only a fraction of the Flores family. There remain at least seven more cousin-aunts/uncles in Honduras, their spouses, and their children, as well as those spread throughout the United States, and perhaps throughout the world.
Though the circumstances of this particular reunion were less than ideal, it allowed me the space for contemplation that the previous three reunions (a.k.a. weddings) did not provide. For the first time, I was impressed with the sheer size of my family tree. I have, of course, always known my extended family was...extensive. Besides the Flores family, there is also the Viera family, the Sauceda Family, and the Rodriguez family, each at least as large as the Flores, if not larger. But on Tuesday, as I observed each of my cousins mourning the oldest generation, I was deeply impressed that so many people share some little bit of blood, of genetic code, of history with me.
I was also deeply impressed with the connection we continue to maintain despite the very mobile lifestyles each member enjoys. Despite the fact that my great-grandfather never left his hometown, his progeny have spread not only to various Honduran cities, but many American cities, across several states, as well. But as it has always been true since I can remember, when we come together it's as if no time has passed at all. There are just more children.
I was most deeply impressed, however, by how little I know of our own story. Of who they all were before America, before me, before. And as I watched my youngest cousins drop roses into my great-aunt's grave, I thought about how much story is left to tell, and how few are left to tell it.
And maybe this is what I mourned most when I mourned my great-aunt Sylvia, the last of her generation.
Tia Sylvia was the last of her generation, the middle child of the five children my great-grandfather had with his fourth and last wife, my great-grandmother. And so, the American branch (or at least the Mid-Atlantic branch) of the Flores family came together, Tuesday morning at 11:00 am in Greenbelt, MA to pay final respects to her and to that generation.
In attendance were:
From the Clan of Mariana Flores: My mother, two uncles, one aunt, two cousins, my grandfather and his wife, Michael and myself.
From the Clan of Edilberto Reyes: two cousin-uncles (as we call them), their wives, and their combined seven children.
From the Clan of David Flores: two cousin-uncles, one aunt, and their combined six children.
From the Clan of Sylvia Flores: two cousin-aunts, one cousin-uncle, and their combined seven children.
(Ismael Flores, who died in his youth, had no clan to represent him.)
These forty persons represent only a fraction of the Flores family. There remain at least seven more cousin-aunts/uncles in Honduras, their spouses, and their children, as well as those spread throughout the United States, and perhaps throughout the world.
Though the circumstances of this particular reunion were less than ideal, it allowed me the space for contemplation that the previous three reunions (a.k.a. weddings) did not provide. For the first time, I was impressed with the sheer size of my family tree. I have, of course, always known my extended family was...extensive. Besides the Flores family, there is also the Viera family, the Sauceda Family, and the Rodriguez family, each at least as large as the Flores, if not larger. But on Tuesday, as I observed each of my cousins mourning the oldest generation, I was deeply impressed that so many people share some little bit of blood, of genetic code, of history with me.
I was also deeply impressed with the connection we continue to maintain despite the very mobile lifestyles each member enjoys. Despite the fact that my great-grandfather never left his hometown, his progeny have spread not only to various Honduran cities, but many American cities, across several states, as well. But as it has always been true since I can remember, when we come together it's as if no time has passed at all. There are just more children.
I was most deeply impressed, however, by how little I know of our own story. Of who they all were before America, before me, before. And as I watched my youngest cousins drop roses into my great-aunt's grave, I thought about how much story is left to tell, and how few are left to tell it.
And maybe this is what I mourned most when I mourned my great-aunt Sylvia, the last of her generation.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Rounding Out the Year
Last weekend, Michael and I celebrated our one year anniversary. I cannot begin to express how crazy it is to be standing on this side of that year.
In the last eighteen months, we have done the following:
Year Two is starting out just as eventful. We're looking to move again, this time not so transglobally (I think I just invented another word), transcontinentally, or even transprovincially/transstately. We're only going transcountyly this time. More on this in posts to come.
(P.S. We're not pregnant.)
In the last eighteen months, we have done the following:
- lived in China
- returned to the United States
- signed two year contracts for cell phones
- got engaged
- moved our former lives in Iowa and Texas/Oklahoma to New Jersey
- planned a wedding
- found a house to rent despite being unemployed
- got married
- lived off our savings while working less than 15 hours a week each for 8 months
- found full-time jobs
- in Michael's case, said full-time job ended; in Elena's case full-time job turned out not as expected
Year Two is starting out just as eventful. We're looking to move again, this time not so transglobally (I think I just invented another word), transcontinentally, or even transprovincially/transstately. We're only going transcountyly this time. More on this in posts to come.
(P.S. We're not pregnant.)
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Mercy and Justice: Human Dignity
Job’s Example
Job 31:13-15 reads:
“If I have denied justice to my menservants and maidservants when they had a grievance against me, what will I do when God confronts me? What will I answer when called to account? Did not He who made me in the womb make them? Did not the same one form us both within our mothers?” (Job 29:7-17 and 31:13-23 both are passages that will stir up good things in you)
There is something here about Mercy and Justice that shakes me to the core. It’s Job’s philosophy of man. It’s his basic reasoning of why he should act justly and be merciful to others. (There is in fact two things here but right now I’m just focusing on one. I’ll cover the other one at another time.) So, what was this reasoning? What was this philosophy of man? It was this: My neighbor and I were both made from the same hands. We come from the same Creator.
Job knew that his servants, no matter how poor and “insignificant” they were to society, were to be valued as fellow human beings. He knew that they were created by the same God who created him. Therefore, valued them. He knew of the dignity they deserved just on the basis of where they came from. Therefore, when Job acted justly with his servants, he was valuing and preserving their human dignity.
Shem and Japheth’s Example
Genesis 9:18-29 records the story of Noah getting drunk and passing out naked in his tent. His son, Ham, went into the tent and, after seeing his father’s nakedness, proceeds to tell his brothers about it. The brothers, Shem and Japheth, took a garment with them, walked into the tent backwards, and covered their father’s nakedness with their faces turned away. After Noah awoke and found out about all of this, he cursed Ham and blessed Shem and Japheth.
I’ve read this many times in my life and I’ve always thought that the curse upon Ham was pretty harsh just for something that the National Enquirer would reject because it’s not very sensational. But there is something here about Mercy and Justice. And that something is crucial. That something is called shame. The injustice that happened was that Ham brought Noah’s shame out in the open by exposing his nakedness.
Here are two examples of shame: 1) The shame a father feels because he doesn’t have the means to buy enough groceries for his family. 2) The shame a peasant farmer feels because he is powerless to fight against the government who steals his land. The first of these deals with what Mercy does. Mercy provides for the poor. Mercy is open-handed to the needy. Mercy has a fat heart of compassion for the poor. The second deals with Justice. Justice fights for the oppressed. Justice speaks up for those who cannot speak for themselves. Justice has a hatred for injustice.
In the story about Noah and his sons, Ham exposed Noah’s shame. Shem and Japheth, on the other hand, restored their father’s dignity. Our natural sinful selves are interested in scandalous and sensational stories. Shem and Japheth no doubt had that same sinful nature. But they didn’t submit to it like their brother did. Maybe they remembered God’s words to Noah: “God made man in His own image” (Gen 9:6) and therefore made a connection between God’s image and human dignity.
Shem and Japheth saw something in creation that brought worth to others. They knew that people were image bearers of their great and glorious God. Noah had brought shame upon himself. Ham brought that shame out in the open. Shem and Japheth took on the role of restoring Noah’s dignity and by doing so, restoring God’s glorious image in Noah.
The Exchange
I see that an important goal of Mercy and Justice is taking shame away from others and trading it in for human dignity. Why? Because everyone, although totally depraved, was created in the image of God. Mercy and Justice is about exchanging shame for dignity. It is exchanging shame for the image of God. It is exchanging shame for the glory of God.
How Did Job, Shem, and Japheth Exchange Shame for Dignity?
Job valued and preserved human dignity in his servants. Shem and Japheth restored human dignity in their father. Valuing, preserving, and restoring dignity in the poor are all very important jobs of believers who desire to live the command “to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)
Mercy and Justice is valuing, preserving, and restoring dignity in fellow human beings.
It is valuing, preserving, and restoring the image of God in fellow human beings.
It is valuing, preserving, and restoring the glory of God in fellow human beings.
Job 31:13-15 reads:
“If I have denied justice to my menservants and maidservants when they had a grievance against me, what will I do when God confronts me? What will I answer when called to account? Did not He who made me in the womb make them? Did not the same one form us both within our mothers?” (Job 29:7-17 and 31:13-23 both are passages that will stir up good things in you)
There is something here about Mercy and Justice that shakes me to the core. It’s Job’s philosophy of man. It’s his basic reasoning of why he should act justly and be merciful to others. (There is in fact two things here but right now I’m just focusing on one. I’ll cover the other one at another time.) So, what was this reasoning? What was this philosophy of man? It was this: My neighbor and I were both made from the same hands. We come from the same Creator.
Job knew that his servants, no matter how poor and “insignificant” they were to society, were to be valued as fellow human beings. He knew that they were created by the same God who created him. Therefore, valued them. He knew of the dignity they deserved just on the basis of where they came from. Therefore, when Job acted justly with his servants, he was valuing and preserving their human dignity.
Shem and Japheth’s Example
Genesis 9:18-29 records the story of Noah getting drunk and passing out naked in his tent. His son, Ham, went into the tent and, after seeing his father’s nakedness, proceeds to tell his brothers about it. The brothers, Shem and Japheth, took a garment with them, walked into the tent backwards, and covered their father’s nakedness with their faces turned away. After Noah awoke and found out about all of this, he cursed Ham and blessed Shem and Japheth.
I’ve read this many times in my life and I’ve always thought that the curse upon Ham was pretty harsh just for something that the National Enquirer would reject because it’s not very sensational. But there is something here about Mercy and Justice. And that something is crucial. That something is called shame. The injustice that happened was that Ham brought Noah’s shame out in the open by exposing his nakedness.
Here are two examples of shame: 1) The shame a father feels because he doesn’t have the means to buy enough groceries for his family. 2) The shame a peasant farmer feels because he is powerless to fight against the government who steals his land. The first of these deals with what Mercy does. Mercy provides for the poor. Mercy is open-handed to the needy. Mercy has a fat heart of compassion for the poor. The second deals with Justice. Justice fights for the oppressed. Justice speaks up for those who cannot speak for themselves. Justice has a hatred for injustice.
In the story about Noah and his sons, Ham exposed Noah’s shame. Shem and Japheth, on the other hand, restored their father’s dignity. Our natural sinful selves are interested in scandalous and sensational stories. Shem and Japheth no doubt had that same sinful nature. But they didn’t submit to it like their brother did. Maybe they remembered God’s words to Noah: “God made man in His own image” (Gen 9:6) and therefore made a connection between God’s image and human dignity.
Shem and Japheth saw something in creation that brought worth to others. They knew that people were image bearers of their great and glorious God. Noah had brought shame upon himself. Ham brought that shame out in the open. Shem and Japheth took on the role of restoring Noah’s dignity and by doing so, restoring God’s glorious image in Noah.
The Exchange
I see that an important goal of Mercy and Justice is taking shame away from others and trading it in for human dignity. Why? Because everyone, although totally depraved, was created in the image of God. Mercy and Justice is about exchanging shame for dignity. It is exchanging shame for the image of God. It is exchanging shame for the glory of God.
How Did Job, Shem, and Japheth Exchange Shame for Dignity?
Job valued and preserved human dignity in his servants. Shem and Japheth restored human dignity in their father. Valuing, preserving, and restoring dignity in the poor are all very important jobs of believers who desire to live the command “to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)
Mercy and Justice is valuing, preserving, and restoring dignity in fellow human beings.
It is valuing, preserving, and restoring the image of God in fellow human beings.
It is valuing, preserving, and restoring the glory of God in fellow human beings.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
3 Poems
The clanking and whirring of the machine in the next room
And the muffled shouts of workers telling stories through through their tedious shifts,
Push their way through the dry wall and mix with the ever-ringing office telephone
And the buzz of air-conditioning and my laptop's fan.
These industrial, commercial Monday through Friday sounds only emphasize
the loneliness in me
That waits patiently for the 5 o'clock bell and my return
To the more familiar sounds of our drippy faucet, our broken ice cube maker, and our merengue-loving neighbors
Where I wait for you to come home to me and relieve me of my loneliness.
Too often
I have tried to reinvent
myself
into the various personas
of alternate existences
when all along
There has only been
singularly
me.
This person
fond of typewriters
with nimble fingers across keys
Only ever fully incarnated in the collecting of words
across a page.
There are 1000 poems
trapped inside my fingers
just underneath my fingernails
itchy where I can't scratch
Pushing their way through
finger tips
reaching for paper and pen
or keyboard keys
or even sidewalk chalk
searching for whatever means they can find
to work their way out
And the muffled shouts of workers telling stories through through their tedious shifts,
Push their way through the dry wall and mix with the ever-ringing office telephone
And the buzz of air-conditioning and my laptop's fan.
These industrial, commercial Monday through Friday sounds only emphasize
the loneliness in me
That waits patiently for the 5 o'clock bell and my return
To the more familiar sounds of our drippy faucet, our broken ice cube maker, and our merengue-loving neighbors
Where I wait for you to come home to me and relieve me of my loneliness.
Too often
I have tried to reinvent
myself
into the various personas
of alternate existences
when all along
There has only been
singularly
me.
This person
fond of typewriters
with nimble fingers across keys
Only ever fully incarnated in the collecting of words
across a page.
There are 1000 poems
trapped inside my fingers
just underneath my fingernails
itchy where I can't scratch
Pushing their way through
finger tips
reaching for paper and pen
or keyboard keys
or even sidewalk chalk
searching for whatever means they can find
to work their way out
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The Business Trip
Okay, so it wasn't quite as "soul-sucking" as I imagined it would be.
But I am really glad to be home. I called Michael at least four times yesterday--when we got to the hotel/before dinner, after dinner, before I read Eldest, and before I went to bed. I called him this morning, too, when I woke up, and again before he left for work. Call it newlywed-whatever, but I do not care to repeat our long-distance experience.
So yeah, it wasn't as bad as I had anticipated. (Even the nine hours we spent in the car were much less awkward than I had feared.) My next trip probably won't be until November, I don't think. And I'm okay with that.
- Dinner was great. Not only was the restaurant one of those chic-but-down-home-local places, the company was warm and witty.
- I took a shower in a full size bathtub, not in the small broom closet we have at home.
- Our meeting was not in an over-air-conditioned conference room, but in an (albeit over-air-conditioned) atrium filled with plants, a pond with coy, and a coffee bar.
- The weather was beautiful, and even though I didn't visit any farms or see any of the campuses, the mountains and the trees and the blue sky did me a whole lot of good.
But I am really glad to be home. I called Michael at least four times yesterday--when we got to the hotel/before dinner, after dinner, before I read Eldest, and before I went to bed. I called him this morning, too, when I woke up, and again before he left for work. Call it newlywed-whatever, but I do not care to repeat our long-distance experience.
So yeah, it wasn't as bad as I had anticipated. (Even the nine hours we spent in the car were much less awkward than I had feared.) My next trip probably won't be until November, I don't think. And I'm okay with that.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Coming of Age
Tomorrow, I am going on my first ever "business trip" that didn't involve a Chinese train station. I'm going to State College, Pennsylvania with my boss to visit one of our customers, a scientific products distributor, and hopefully get some deals made.
According to some very reliable sources,
I doubt I'll get to see much of that historic tree-filled mountain farmland, or that zip-code hogging McAllister Building (does it rival Friley Hall?). I am realizing that this blackberry-business-card American coming of age thing doesn't lead to inspirational walks through real places with real people, but only to continental breakfast in business hotels and over-air-conditioned conference rooms. And I am starting to think I prefer my Chinese coming of age, where paying the phone bill meant a twenty minute walk and getting my electricity ration sometimes meant arguing with a man twice my age in a language I don't quite speak. Not only have I successfully completed that coming of age, I think I enjoyed the picking peanuts from the roots on a wooden bench with an old lady more than I will enjoy tomorrow night's steak and seafood dinner.
According to some very reliable sources,
State College evolved from village to town to serve the needs of the fledgling Pennsylvania State College, founded as the Farmers' High School of Pennsylvania in 1855. Since then, the school has grown into a major university, renamed in 1953 The Pennsylvania State University. State College was incorporated as a borough on August 29, 1896 and has since grown with the university, sharing a symbiotic relationship. In 1973 State College adopted a home rule charter which took effect in 1976. The areas outside of State College are filled with historic towns and villages, immense tracts of farmland, and an expanse of mountains and forests.
The university has a post office address of University Park, Pennsylvania, which is sometimes a cause for confusion. When Penn State changed its name from College to University in 1953, its president, Milton S. Eisenhower, sought to persuade the town to change its name as well. A referendum failed to yield a majority for any of the choices for a new name, and so the town remains State College. After this, Penn State requested a new name for its on-campus post office in the Hetzel Union Building from the U.S. Post Office Department. The post office, which has since moved across a street to the McAllister Building, is the official home of zip code 16802 (University Park).
I doubt I'll get to see much of that historic tree-filled mountain farmland, or that zip-code hogging McAllister Building (does it rival Friley Hall?). I am realizing that this blackberry-business-card American coming of age thing doesn't lead to inspirational walks through real places with real people, but only to continental breakfast in business hotels and over-air-conditioned conference rooms. And I am starting to think I prefer my Chinese coming of age, where paying the phone bill meant a twenty minute walk and getting my electricity ration sometimes meant arguing with a man twice my age in a language I don't quite speak. Not only have I successfully completed that coming of age, I think I enjoyed the picking peanuts from the roots on a wooden bench with an old lady more than I will enjoy tomorrow night's steak and seafood dinner.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
SPIN Selling
I've been reading a book called SPIN Selling by a guy named Neil Rackham. It's about major sales (think several thousand dollars as opposed to a couple hundred...) and what strategies are most successful. The book was first published in 1988 and it tore down a lot of traditional ideas about how to be a good salesperson.
But here's the thing. It says things like: don't be pushy, to try to close too much, don't assume things, don't bore the customer with stupid questions, be respectful, build relationships, be reasonable, help them solve their problems.
Granted, it's a little more scientific than that, based on research of lots and lots of sales calls, and lays out a very specific, very practical method. But I can't help but feel a little like the key to being a good sales person is to not be a jerk. And I wonder why it took until 1988 for people to start saying, "Oh, maybe we shouldn't be jerks" and why it 2010 and people are still jerks.
Neil Rackham tells a story about a guy (a purchasing agent at a company) had a strategy for dealing with jerky sales people. He'd gone through sales textbooks and written on index cards all the different tricks sales people use. And when some punk sales guy would come in and feed him some line, he'd put the corresponding index card on the table. Then he'd say, "You get three chances. When you get to three index cards, I'm throwing you out of my office." Needless to say, people stopped trying to sell him crap he didn't want or didn't need.
It's a good book, though. I've enjoyed reading it, and even though I don't often buy things valued in the thousands of dollars, I feel a little bit better equipped to go into a buying situation. If I ever am in a place where I have to make big purchases for a company or I have to sell several thousand dollars worth of things to make a living, I feel like it's not as scary a thing to do.
But here's the thing. It says things like: don't be pushy, to try to close too much, don't assume things, don't bore the customer with stupid questions, be respectful, build relationships, be reasonable, help them solve their problems.
Granted, it's a little more scientific than that, based on research of lots and lots of sales calls, and lays out a very specific, very practical method. But I can't help but feel a little like the key to being a good sales person is to not be a jerk. And I wonder why it took until 1988 for people to start saying, "Oh, maybe we shouldn't be jerks" and why it 2010 and people are still jerks.
Neil Rackham tells a story about a guy (a purchasing agent at a company) had a strategy for dealing with jerky sales people. He'd gone through sales textbooks and written on index cards all the different tricks sales people use. And when some punk sales guy would come in and feed him some line, he'd put the corresponding index card on the table. Then he'd say, "You get three chances. When you get to three index cards, I'm throwing you out of my office." Needless to say, people stopped trying to sell him crap he didn't want or didn't need.
It's a good book, though. I've enjoyed reading it, and even though I don't often buy things valued in the thousands of dollars, I feel a little bit better equipped to go into a buying situation. If I ever am in a place where I have to make big purchases for a company or I have to sell several thousand dollars worth of things to make a living, I feel like it's not as scary a thing to do.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
America Runs on Dunkin
I have been sitting in Dunkin' Donuts for the last hour watching people come in and out, ordering donuts and breakfast sandwiches and coffee with cream or milk or Splenda. And I have made a great realization about Dunkin' Donuts.
I should first perhaps confess that I have a great love for Dunkin' Donuts. The midwest, or atleast the regions of Iowa in which I resided, were greatly lacking in Dunkin' Donuts. The greater love, it seems, for the residents of those areas is Krispie Kreme Donuts. But to me, Dunkin' is the mark of superior donut-making, of artisan-ship and quality. I can't remember when I first started this passionate love-affair but I can tell you that there were three things I missed most during my time in Iowa: the ocean, the boardwalk, and Dunkin' Donuts.
Sometime while I was departed from this great, Dunkin' Donuts-filled land, Dunkin' began a advertising campaign hinged on the slogan, "America runs on Dunkin'." And I have thought, since returning, "Now, Dunkin' is great, but can we really claim that America runs on Dunkin'? The good people of Ames, Iowa certainly don't."
Today, I have come to believe that this is a perfectly legitimate claim.
You're probably thinking, "Elena, seriously, sitting in Dunkin' for over an hour on a Thursday morning? Why aren't you home sleeping like usual, or doing laundry or scrubbing the tub or baking a three layer banana-peanut butter cake"--I do tend to do these things at strange hours of the day (or night)--"like usual? Out? At Dunkin' Donuts? Your love must be great..."
My love is indeed great. But that's now why I've chosen to be here now. I drove Michael to work today, and rather than driving an hour back home to Vineland and then and hour back to his office and another hour back home, I packed up my bag with lots of reading (and my laptop) and have made myself comfortable in the all-American haven that is Dunkin' Donuts of Northfield, NJ.
See, America does run on Dunkin'. I, being somewhat stranded in this strange, new town have found a safe place to be. And I have watched everything from BMWs, Acuras, and Lexus...es? all the way to dingy AC Repair vans and pick-up trucks pull in to order their morning fix. Through these doors have walked business men in suit and tie, retired folk, moms and summer camp bound kids, secretaries, plumbers, and high-power career women. Dunkin' Donuts is the great equalizer, the place we all come to, regardless of of walk of life, to get geared up for the epic journey that lies ahead of us each day.
Yes, America, we run on Dunkin'. (But what does this say about us that, unlike the Chinese who love a good workout routine in the morning, we all love a good donut?)
I should first perhaps confess that I have a great love for Dunkin' Donuts. The midwest, or atleast the regions of Iowa in which I resided, were greatly lacking in Dunkin' Donuts. The greater love, it seems, for the residents of those areas is Krispie Kreme Donuts. But to me, Dunkin' is the mark of superior donut-making, of artisan-ship and quality. I can't remember when I first started this passionate love-affair but I can tell you that there were three things I missed most during my time in Iowa: the ocean, the boardwalk, and Dunkin' Donuts.
Sometime while I was departed from this great, Dunkin' Donuts-filled land, Dunkin' began a advertising campaign hinged on the slogan, "America runs on Dunkin'." And I have thought, since returning, "Now, Dunkin' is great, but can we really claim that America runs on Dunkin'? The good people of Ames, Iowa certainly don't."
Today, I have come to believe that this is a perfectly legitimate claim.
You're probably thinking, "Elena, seriously, sitting in Dunkin' for over an hour on a Thursday morning? Why aren't you home sleeping like usual, or doing laundry or scrubbing the tub or baking a three layer banana-peanut butter cake"--I do tend to do these things at strange hours of the day (or night)--"like usual? Out? At Dunkin' Donuts? Your love must be great..."
My love is indeed great. But that's now why I've chosen to be here now. I drove Michael to work today, and rather than driving an hour back home to Vineland and then and hour back to his office and another hour back home, I packed up my bag with lots of reading (and my laptop) and have made myself comfortable in the all-American haven that is Dunkin' Donuts of Northfield, NJ.
See, America does run on Dunkin'. I, being somewhat stranded in this strange, new town have found a safe place to be. And I have watched everything from BMWs, Acuras, and Lexus...es? all the way to dingy AC Repair vans and pick-up trucks pull in to order their morning fix. Through these doors have walked business men in suit and tie, retired folk, moms and summer camp bound kids, secretaries, plumbers, and high-power career women. Dunkin' Donuts is the great equalizer, the place we all come to, regardless of of walk of life, to get geared up for the epic journey that lies ahead of us each day.
Yes, America, we run on Dunkin'. (But what does this say about us that, unlike the Chinese who love a good workout routine in the morning, we all love a good donut?)
Friday, June 18, 2010
By the way
I got a new job.
For the last couple weeks I have been thinking to myself, there was something I was going to post about...I need to write a blog...what was I going to blog about? Just now, I remembered. I was going to blog about my new job.
I'll be working at a place called Worldwide Glass Resources. My title will be Associate Chromatography Product Manager. My actual day-to-day job is somewhat amorphous, but I've been telling people that it's marketing and sales. In the first year I'm going to learn all about glass, glass manufacturing, sales, marketing, and customer relations. Plus I'll get to do lots of writing, including revamping the web content and the product catalog. I am very excited about all these things.
I know a great number of you are thinking, "But Elena? What about California? And Linguistics? And life overseas?" Those are all very valid questions. And the only answer I can think to give you is that the good Lord does things in the fullness of time. And right now, it seems, my time will be full of Chromatography products.
We're thinking a lot right now about Michael going back to school, which my single self had not fully taken into account and my transitioning-into-one-flesh-with-a-complete-other-person self was trying to compromise priorities with. We still want California--and I definitely still want Linguistics--and an eventual life overseas, but I am realizing that even a month ago, I wasn't thinking "what's best for my family?" only, "what would I want to do with my life?" And that's not really a good place to be.
So I'm glad God does things in his fullness of time. Because he's giving me some time to learn some good things.
Amongst other things, perhaps not as blog-worthy, I have been learning to speak up for myself, to be realistically ambitious, to take risks, and to let people believe in me. These are also good lessons.
Today was my last day at the diner. I hugged the girls goodbye and waved to all the cooks and clocked out for the last time. I came home feeling a certain lightness I haven't felt in a long time. Yeah, God does things in the fullness of time.
For the last couple weeks I have been thinking to myself, there was something I was going to post about...I need to write a blog...what was I going to blog about? Just now, I remembered. I was going to blog about my new job.
I'll be working at a place called Worldwide Glass Resources. My title will be Associate Chromatography Product Manager. My actual day-to-day job is somewhat amorphous, but I've been telling people that it's marketing and sales. In the first year I'm going to learn all about glass, glass manufacturing, sales, marketing, and customer relations. Plus I'll get to do lots of writing, including revamping the web content and the product catalog. I am very excited about all these things.
I know a great number of you are thinking, "But Elena? What about California? And Linguistics? And life overseas?" Those are all very valid questions. And the only answer I can think to give you is that the good Lord does things in the fullness of time. And right now, it seems, my time will be full of Chromatography products.
We're thinking a lot right now about Michael going back to school, which my single self had not fully taken into account and my transitioning-into-one-flesh-with-a-complete-other-person self was trying to compromise priorities with. We still want California--and I definitely still want Linguistics--and an eventual life overseas, but I am realizing that even a month ago, I wasn't thinking "what's best for my family?" only, "what would I want to do with my life?" And that's not really a good place to be.
So I'm glad God does things in his fullness of time. Because he's giving me some time to learn some good things.
Amongst other things, perhaps not as blog-worthy, I have been learning to speak up for myself, to be realistically ambitious, to take risks, and to let people believe in me. These are also good lessons.
Today was my last day at the diner. I hugged the girls goodbye and waved to all the cooks and clocked out for the last time. I came home feeling a certain lightness I haven't felt in a long time. Yeah, God does things in the fullness of time.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
This Poet does a little Painting
Yesterday marked the end of my Painting with Words poetry class. I was sad to see them disperse, but encourage by all the parents who thanked me so enthusiastically for investing into their children. One little girl gave me a jar of strawberry preserves from their garden and I was delighted to receive it. I watched her each week as she carefully arranged inside her folder all the post-it note reviews I would write for her poems. She took the writing process seriously, thought long and hard about her words and assembled them neatly on paper. She was truly a delight and I will remember her sweetness with each bite of strawberry preserves. (Okay, so I'm gushing a little...)
Lacking my students poems to share, I've decided to post a couple of my own that I wrote during the class.
"Color"
There's something about orange that borders on obnoxious
But that I find attractive all the same.
That bright, almost glaring quality that boldly forces itself
Into one's line of sight.
Maybe I admire orange
For being so willing to declare its presence,
While I timidly wait on the outskirts of conversation.
"Movement"
I often find myself plunging into things
Before I know exactly what I'm getting into.
It's as if all I know to do is charge
and catapult
and stampede.
I had once hoped that I, with age,
would learn grace;
That I could learn to glide, maybe,
or meander
or pad
or step.
But, no, it seems that age has not tempered me
Only flung me into the next misadventure.
But I suppose I am not made for those gentle journeys,
Too antsy and fidgety for anything less than the roller coaster ride I'm on.
Lacking my students poems to share, I've decided to post a couple of my own that I wrote during the class.
"Color"
There's something about orange that borders on obnoxious
But that I find attractive all the same.
That bright, almost glaring quality that boldly forces itself
Into one's line of sight.
Maybe I admire orange
For being so willing to declare its presence,
While I timidly wait on the outskirts of conversation.
"Movement"
I often find myself plunging into things
Before I know exactly what I'm getting into.
It's as if all I know to do is charge
and catapult
and stampede.
I had once hoped that I, with age,
would learn grace;
That I could learn to glide, maybe,
or meander
or pad
or step.
But, no, it seems that age has not tempered me
Only flung me into the next misadventure.
But I suppose I am not made for those gentle journeys,
Too antsy and fidgety for anything less than the roller coaster ride I'm on.
Monday, June 7, 2010
An Update on My Painting Poets
The first class was a disaster. I didn't prepare interactive enough activities, I didn't set up "poetry" and what it means in an accessible way, and the age gap between my kids (ranging from an 8-year-old girl through to a 14-year-old boy) was too great for the kids to form a connection.
But things since then have gotten much better. Kids love words, and they know how to stretch them and manipulate them and couple them. They even know how to keep from using them. As we've gone through the weeks, the kids have written for me amazing poems about the feeling colors produce, the movement of animals, the sounds of cars and crowded classrooms. I wish I still had them so I could recite them to you, but I've given them back to their authors. What I find most fascinating is how each child has his or her own style. One girl, age 9, is extremely lyrical, long lines draw out shy feelings wrapped in detailed descriptions. Another girl is punchy, with vivid imagery couplets that take you by surprise. The boys show meticulousness, choosing their words carefully in short lines that leave the reader wanting to solve the mystery of their descriptions. One boy, paints vignettes with his words, little word-pictures you see clearly as they flash through your mind in his economy of language.
Kenneth Koch was right. Kids are perfectly able to write mature modern poetry. I am glad I believed him enough to take on seven kids, between the ages of eight and fourteen, even though my experience was severely lacking and my self-esteem through the basement floor.
I'd do it all over again. Heck, I just might.
But things since then have gotten much better. Kids love words, and they know how to stretch them and manipulate them and couple them. They even know how to keep from using them. As we've gone through the weeks, the kids have written for me amazing poems about the feeling colors produce, the movement of animals, the sounds of cars and crowded classrooms. I wish I still had them so I could recite them to you, but I've given them back to their authors. What I find most fascinating is how each child has his or her own style. One girl, age 9, is extremely lyrical, long lines draw out shy feelings wrapped in detailed descriptions. Another girl is punchy, with vivid imagery couplets that take you by surprise. The boys show meticulousness, choosing their words carefully in short lines that leave the reader wanting to solve the mystery of their descriptions. One boy, paints vignettes with his words, little word-pictures you see clearly as they flash through your mind in his economy of language.
Kenneth Koch was right. Kids are perfectly able to write mature modern poetry. I am glad I believed him enough to take on seven kids, between the ages of eight and fourteen, even though my experience was severely lacking and my self-esteem through the basement floor.
I'd do it all over again. Heck, I just might.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
The Night the Bat Reigned
Some of you may have seen from our Facebook statuses that we had a bit of an incident this week. For the sake of recording personal histories...
I (Elena) came home from working at the diner at about 3pm on Tuesday. I came in, glad to be home, took off my work shirt, went to the bathroom, left my buckle undone as I made my way back to the bedroom to change into civilian clothes. BUT as I came into the kitchen from the bathroom a BAT came swooping through and hung itself by its claws on the curtain rail. I, naturally started screaming, and ran from to the bedroom (doing up my pants--why I was worried about my the bat in pants, I don't know. I wasn't logical at that point). I called Michael--aware that he was completely powerless to help me from his office in Northfield--but not knowing what else to do. He told me to find the phone book and call Animal Control, and I searched for the phone book only to encounter the bat again, flying circles through all the rooms. Since I was screaming again, we decided to call my uncle instead. That conversation went like this:
Ring Ring
Tio: Alo?
Me: Hola, Tio.
Tio: Hey you. What's going on, what's new?
Me: (trying to keep calm) Uh...well, I have a problem I was hoping you could help me with.
Tio: Yeah, what's up?
Me: There's a bat in my house and I need help getting out.
Tio: Well, can't you get it?
Me: (trying not to cry) Uh...well, I'm scared and it's gross.
Tio: Well...okay, we're coming. We're coming.
Then I realized that I had locked the door and that unless I made my way out, they we're going to be able to come in. So while the bat is circling, I grab the standing mirror (it's plastic and not attached to the wall like it's supposed to be) and use it like a shield to get outside.
I make it to the door, I unlock it, I go outside and breathe deeply for the first time. Feeling a little bit more in control of the situation, I decide to go back inside and look for the broom. I'm tip-toeing like a teenager trying to sneak out the house through my own house, hoping to see the bat but not rouse the bat. I get the broom and go back outside without sighting the bat.
My uncle, my aunt, and my cousin show up and bang on all the furniture and shake all the curtains, but no bat ever appears. He convinces me that the bat must have flown out while I was getting the broom. I give up and let them go, but still feel paranoid, so I change into some shorts, gather up my laptop and some books and go to dunkin donuts for a while. I go back to my uncle's house and hang out with my cousin until Michael gets off work.
When Michael gets home, he searches the house to no avail. We leave to do some shopping and return fairly late. We go to bed exhausted, turn of the light, and start talking through some loose ends from the day. Suddenly,
scratch scratch scratch
Michael and I stop short, look at each other. I duck under the covers, he puts his glasses back on and turns on the light. No bat. I dash outside in my night clothes (little shorts and a tank top) and Michael gets the flashlight and broom. He searches behind the dresser but can't find anything. We go back to sleep, this time Michael on the dresser side and with the light on. "The bat won't come out if the light is on," we say.
At about 3:00am, I wake up and roll over. Michael wakes up, too. The light keeps us from getting into deep sleep. At the exact moment that Michael looks at me...
scratch scratch scratch
I look over at the dresser and see the bat crawling out from behind the mirror. I scream. Michael can't see anything and his glasses are next to the bat. I dash outside and Michael runs to put his contacts in. He comes back to the room--no bat.
He starts poking around with the broom again and suddenly the bat comes flying out of nowhere. Now, Michael gets entrenched in a battle that lasts forty minutes to catch the bat inside a box and free it to the outside world.
When that moment came, Michael was so pumped full of adrenaline and so covered in his own sweat that going back to sleep--to wake up an hour later for work--was quite impossible. Needless to say Wednesday was not one of our most productive days.
But that's the story of the Night the Bat Reigned.
I (Elena) came home from working at the diner at about 3pm on Tuesday. I came in, glad to be home, took off my work shirt, went to the bathroom, left my buckle undone as I made my way back to the bedroom to change into civilian clothes. BUT as I came into the kitchen from the bathroom a BAT came swooping through and hung itself by its claws on the curtain rail. I, naturally started screaming, and ran from to the bedroom (doing up my pants--why I was worried about my the bat in pants, I don't know. I wasn't logical at that point). I called Michael--aware that he was completely powerless to help me from his office in Northfield--but not knowing what else to do. He told me to find the phone book and call Animal Control, and I searched for the phone book only to encounter the bat again, flying circles through all the rooms. Since I was screaming again, we decided to call my uncle instead. That conversation went like this:
Ring Ring
Tio: Alo?
Me: Hola, Tio.
Tio: Hey you. What's going on, what's new?
Me: (trying to keep calm) Uh...well, I have a problem I was hoping you could help me with.
Tio: Yeah, what's up?
Me: There's a bat in my house and I need help getting out.
Tio: Well, can't you get it?
Me: (trying not to cry) Uh...well, I'm scared and it's gross.
Tio: Well...okay, we're coming. We're coming.
Then I realized that I had locked the door and that unless I made my way out, they we're going to be able to come in. So while the bat is circling, I grab the standing mirror (it's plastic and not attached to the wall like it's supposed to be) and use it like a shield to get outside.
I make it to the door, I unlock it, I go outside and breathe deeply for the first time. Feeling a little bit more in control of the situation, I decide to go back inside and look for the broom. I'm tip-toeing like a teenager trying to sneak out the house through my own house, hoping to see the bat but not rouse the bat. I get the broom and go back outside without sighting the bat.
My uncle, my aunt, and my cousin show up and bang on all the furniture and shake all the curtains, but no bat ever appears. He convinces me that the bat must have flown out while I was getting the broom. I give up and let them go, but still feel paranoid, so I change into some shorts, gather up my laptop and some books and go to dunkin donuts for a while. I go back to my uncle's house and hang out with my cousin until Michael gets off work.
When Michael gets home, he searches the house to no avail. We leave to do some shopping and return fairly late. We go to bed exhausted, turn of the light, and start talking through some loose ends from the day. Suddenly,
scratch scratch scratch
Michael and I stop short, look at each other. I duck under the covers, he puts his glasses back on and turns on the light. No bat. I dash outside in my night clothes (little shorts and a tank top) and Michael gets the flashlight and broom. He searches behind the dresser but can't find anything. We go back to sleep, this time Michael on the dresser side and with the light on. "The bat won't come out if the light is on," we say.
At about 3:00am, I wake up and roll over. Michael wakes up, too. The light keeps us from getting into deep sleep. At the exact moment that Michael looks at me...
scratch scratch scratch
I look over at the dresser and see the bat crawling out from behind the mirror. I scream. Michael can't see anything and his glasses are next to the bat. I dash outside and Michael runs to put his contacts in. He comes back to the room--no bat.
He starts poking around with the broom again and suddenly the bat comes flying out of nowhere. Now, Michael gets entrenched in a battle that lasts forty minutes to catch the bat inside a box and free it to the outside world.
When that moment came, Michael was so pumped full of adrenaline and so covered in his own sweat that going back to sleep--to wake up an hour later for work--was quite impossible. Needless to say Wednesday was not one of our most productive days.
But that's the story of the Night the Bat Reigned.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Surely I have a delightful inheritance
Last Monday as I was driving from the Studio to the house, I got stopped behind 3 school buses dropping kids off from school. Phoenix's new song Lisztomania was playing on the radio as the school buses took me down memory lane to a time when I was 10.
Then, just as sudden as that memory had flashed in my mind, I thought of this:
When I was 9, Granddaddy died.
When I was 10, we changed churches.
When I was 12, we moved to Midland.
When I was 13, my parents divorced.
When I was 16, Meme died.
These are the great hurts and disappointments in my life. God then showed me that these were my foundation, my security and my salvation:
My grandparents
My home church
My hometown
My parents' marriage
As suddenly as everything had been revealed to me before, God then revealed to me that it was He who took these away from me. It was He who ordained them to happen. It was He who orchestrated my life...
But before I could be resentful to God for doing all that to me, He revealed to me that it was He who orchestrated my life so that He alone would be
my glorious
and sovereign
and joyful
foundation,
security,
and salvation.
And that made me so happy. I think I'm not resentful anymore of my grandparents and parents' marriage and hometown and home church being stripped away from me. On the contrary, my heart is filled to the brim and overflowing with joy over the fact that God would love me so much that He would give me these disappointments so that in the end He would be my sole foundation, security, and salvation.
When I was 17, I was reconciled to God
Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup;
You have made my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance.
Psalm 16:5-6
Our church van took Daniel and I to church many Sundays even though Mom and Dad also went to church. I think it was that my brother and I liked riding to church with our friends. One Sunday morning before heading out the door to Sunday School, our parents sat us down to tell us that we were going to begin attending a different church. Just as they were telling us the big news, the church van started honking and we had to tell the driver that we wouldn't be riding the van anymore.
This was a big deal to Daniel and I because we had gone to that church since we were born. All of our friends went to that church. That's where we learned about Creation and Jesus and the Cross and Resurrection. That church was like a home to us.
Then, just as sudden as that memory had flashed in my mind, I thought of this:
When I was 9, Granddaddy died.
When I was 10, we changed churches.
When I was 12, we moved to Midland.
When I was 13, my parents divorced.
When I was 16, Meme died.
These are the great hurts and disappointments in my life. God then showed me that these were my foundation, my security and my salvation:
My grandparents
My home church
My hometown
My parents' marriage
As suddenly as everything had been revealed to me before, God then revealed to me that it was He who took these away from me. It was He who ordained them to happen. It was He who orchestrated my life...
But before I could be resentful to God for doing all that to me, He revealed to me that it was He who orchestrated my life so that He alone would be
my glorious
and sovereign
and joyful
foundation,
security,
and salvation.
And that made me so happy. I think I'm not resentful anymore of my grandparents and parents' marriage and hometown and home church being stripped away from me. On the contrary, my heart is filled to the brim and overflowing with joy over the fact that God would love me so much that He would give me these disappointments so that in the end He would be my sole foundation, security, and salvation.
When I was 17, I was reconciled to God
Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup;
You have made my lot secure.
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance.
Psalm 16:5-6
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Misery Swallowed Up in Mercy
After reading this on a friend's blog I had to post it here.
“Every good thing we could think or desire is to be found in this same Jesus Christ alone. For he was sold, to buy us back; captive, to deliver us; condemned, to absolve us. He was made a curse for our blessing, sin offering for our righteousness; marred that we may be made fair.
He died for our life; so that by him fury is made gentle, wrath appeased, darkness turned into light, fear reassured, despisal despised, debt canceled, labor lightened, sadness made merry, misfortune made fortunate, difficulty easy, disorder ordered, division united, ignominy ennobled, rebellion subjected, intimidation intimidated, ambush uncovered, assaults assailed, force forced back, combat combated, war warred against, vengeance avenged, torment tormented, damnation damned, the abyss sunk into the abyss, hell transfixed, death dead, mortality made immortal.
In short, mercy has swallowed up all misery, and goodness all misfortune.”
—John Calvin, preface for Pierre Robert Olivétan’s 1534 French translation of the New Testament
“Every good thing we could think or desire is to be found in this same Jesus Christ alone. For he was sold, to buy us back; captive, to deliver us; condemned, to absolve us. He was made a curse for our blessing, sin offering for our righteousness; marred that we may be made fair.
He died for our life; so that by him fury is made gentle, wrath appeased, darkness turned into light, fear reassured, despisal despised, debt canceled, labor lightened, sadness made merry, misfortune made fortunate, difficulty easy, disorder ordered, division united, ignominy ennobled, rebellion subjected, intimidation intimidated, ambush uncovered, assaults assailed, force forced back, combat combated, war warred against, vengeance avenged, torment tormented, damnation damned, the abyss sunk into the abyss, hell transfixed, death dead, mortality made immortal.
In short, mercy has swallowed up all misery, and goodness all misfortune.”
—John Calvin, preface for Pierre Robert Olivétan’s 1534 French translation of the New Testament
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Some Thoughts on Poverty
Last weekend, my mother in law's church, Covenant Orthodox Presbyterian Church, hosted a group of teenagers to participate in World Vision's 30 Hour Famine. Elena and I were both asked to speak about living in a poor country and how that affected us. Here's what I shared:
Poverty was always far away from me. It was in Africa. It was on TV. It was in downtown New York or Los Angeles. But it was never in front of me. That is until 2004 when I went to China as a church planter. I knew China was a poor country. I had heard that it was under developed. Most of the people in my area are poor farmers who live in houses with dirt or cement floors. Their walls are planks of wood with old newspapers as wall paper.
I expected that much.
The poverty that affected me the most were the beggars on the sidewalks in the city that I lived in. That was hard core poverty that was sometimes too much to handle. Many of these people have bosses who get a percentage of their earnings. Most of them have physical problems (blindness, missing limbs, huge growths) of which they may or may not have personally inflicted on themselves to get people's sympathy. And some are children putting on small circuses on the sidewalk.
The beggars were a subject that my roommate and I would come back to a lot. We had questions and we still don't have everything figured out about how to minister to them. But one thing we did was to let the Word of God guide us in how to think about them and how to treat them.
I learned that I should see them as FELLOW human beings because did not He who made me in the womb make them? Did not the same One form us both within our mothers? Job 31:15
I learned that I shouldn't be tightfisted but rather open handed when I walked by them. Deut 15:7-8
I learned that I cannot sing praise and worship songs to God while treating others unjustly. Amos 5:23-24
I learned that one of the reasons I should earn a living is to give to those in need. Eph 4:28
I learned that the great church planter and theologian, Paul, was very eager to remember the poor. Gal 2:10
I learned that a real relationship with God requires that I
undo the chains of injustice,
untie the cords of the yoke of oppression,
set the oppressed free,
share my food with the hungry,
provide the poor wanderer with shelter,
clothe the naked,
spend myself in behalf of the hungry and
satisfy the needs of the oppressed.
Isa 58:6-10
I learned that he who mocks the poor shows contempt for their Maker. Prov 17:5
I learned that whoever is kind to the needy honors God. Prov 14:31
I learned that if a man shuts his ears to the cry of the poor, he too will cry out and not be answered. Prov 21:13
I learned that God will take up the case of the poor if I exploit them. Prov 22:22-23
I learned that God commands me to speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. I should speak up and judge fairly and defend the rights of the poor and needy. Prov 31:8-9
I learned that what it means to know God is to do what is right and just; to defend the cause of the poor and needy. Jer 22:15-16
Now recall the story of the feeding of the five thousand. The disciples brought complaints about the hungry multitude to Jesus and he responded compassionately by blessing the bits of food from a boy's lunch - five loaves of bread and two fishes. He blessed the food then gave it to the disciples who, in turn, passed it out to the hungry crowd. Everyone ate and was satisfied. Imagine if the disciples didn't give the food to the people but instead kept it all for themselves saying "Thank you Jesus! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" And even under all the fish and loaves the disciples could be heard complaining, "Jesus, what are you going to do about the hungry multitude?"
As I think about people who are suffering in North Korea and India and in many nations in Africa, I can say "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you Jesus for allowing me to have food and clothes and parents. Thank you for ordaining that I live in a place that's not war-torn. Thank you that my government is not totally corrupt or unjust. Thank you for all the power, protection, freedom, justice, food, water, clothes and shelter."
Usually my prayers end there. But I should continue to pray thus: "What have you given me that I might help those who don't have power, protection, justice, freedom, food, water, clothes or shelter?"
The last three paragraphs were taken from a book I read in China:
Gary A. Haugen, Good News About Injustice (InterVarsity Press, 1999) pp 100-101
Poverty was always far away from me. It was in Africa. It was on TV. It was in downtown New York or Los Angeles. But it was never in front of me. That is until 2004 when I went to China as a church planter. I knew China was a poor country. I had heard that it was under developed. Most of the people in my area are poor farmers who live in houses with dirt or cement floors. Their walls are planks of wood with old newspapers as wall paper.
I expected that much.
The poverty that affected me the most were the beggars on the sidewalks in the city that I lived in. That was hard core poverty that was sometimes too much to handle. Many of these people have bosses who get a percentage of their earnings. Most of them have physical problems (blindness, missing limbs, huge growths) of which they may or may not have personally inflicted on themselves to get people's sympathy. And some are children putting on small circuses on the sidewalk.
The beggars were a subject that my roommate and I would come back to a lot. We had questions and we still don't have everything figured out about how to minister to them. But one thing we did was to let the Word of God guide us in how to think about them and how to treat them.
I learned that I should see them as FELLOW human beings because did not He who made me in the womb make them? Did not the same One form us both within our mothers? Job 31:15
I learned that I shouldn't be tightfisted but rather open handed when I walked by them. Deut 15:7-8
I learned that I cannot sing praise and worship songs to God while treating others unjustly. Amos 5:23-24
I learned that one of the reasons I should earn a living is to give to those in need. Eph 4:28
I learned that the great church planter and theologian, Paul, was very eager to remember the poor. Gal 2:10
I learned that a real relationship with God requires that I
undo the chains of injustice,
untie the cords of the yoke of oppression,
set the oppressed free,
share my food with the hungry,
provide the poor wanderer with shelter,
clothe the naked,
spend myself in behalf of the hungry and
satisfy the needs of the oppressed.
Isa 58:6-10
I learned that he who mocks the poor shows contempt for their Maker. Prov 17:5
I learned that whoever is kind to the needy honors God. Prov 14:31
I learned that if a man shuts his ears to the cry of the poor, he too will cry out and not be answered. Prov 21:13
I learned that God will take up the case of the poor if I exploit them. Prov 22:22-23
I learned that God commands me to speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. I should speak up and judge fairly and defend the rights of the poor and needy. Prov 31:8-9
I learned that what it means to know God is to do what is right and just; to defend the cause of the poor and needy. Jer 22:15-16
Now recall the story of the feeding of the five thousand. The disciples brought complaints about the hungry multitude to Jesus and he responded compassionately by blessing the bits of food from a boy's lunch - five loaves of bread and two fishes. He blessed the food then gave it to the disciples who, in turn, passed it out to the hungry crowd. Everyone ate and was satisfied. Imagine if the disciples didn't give the food to the people but instead kept it all for themselves saying "Thank you Jesus! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" And even under all the fish and loaves the disciples could be heard complaining, "Jesus, what are you going to do about the hungry multitude?"
As I think about people who are suffering in North Korea and India and in many nations in Africa, I can say "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you Jesus for allowing me to have food and clothes and parents. Thank you for ordaining that I live in a place that's not war-torn. Thank you that my government is not totally corrupt or unjust. Thank you for all the power, protection, freedom, justice, food, water, clothes and shelter."
Usually my prayers end there. But I should continue to pray thus: "What have you given me that I might help those who don't have power, protection, justice, freedom, food, water, clothes or shelter?"
The last three paragraphs were taken from a book I read in China:
Gary A. Haugen, Good News About Injustice (InterVarsity Press, 1999) pp 100-101
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Painting With Words: An Experiment
I recently read a book called I Am a Pencil by Sam Swope. Sam Swope, it turns out, is a children's book author and not actually a pencil. As he explains, he stumbled on teaching creative writing to third graders in Queens after struggling through an extended writing slump. His book is a research project turned novel that chronicles the three years he spent with the same elementary school class teaching story and poetry. It's well-written, honest, heart-on-your-sleeve stuff. I really liked it.
But this post isn't about I Am a Pencil; it's about why I read I Am a Pencil. I read I Am a Pencil because I was looking for Wishes, Lies, and Dreams by Kenneth Koch, who taught first through sixth graders in Manhattan how to write poetry some 30 years before Sam Swope, but the library didn't have it. Sam Swope was as close to Kenneth Koch as I could get until my order came into Barnes and Noble.
But this post isn't about Kenneth Koch, either. I was trying to find Kenneth Koch because I decided to teach a children's poetry class. I'm not exactly sure why I decided to teach a children's poetry class, but I can tell you how it happened. Sandy (of Magnolia Hill fame) asked me what I thought of my teaching experience overseas. I told her that while I was teaching, I found it absolutely draining and that I felt that it was not something I could do for the rest of my life. But, I continued to explain, now that I'm back in the US and not doing it, I miss it a lot. She told me that if I wanted to teach that she'd be willing to loan me the studio and help me find students.
A few days later while I was riding in the car or wiping tables at work or spacing out on the couch or something, I thought, "I'll teach poetry to children."
So since I decided to teach poetry to children, I also decided I should learn how to teach poetry to children. Hence Kenneth Koch and Sam Swope. I also read parts of Stories, Songs, and Poetry to Teach Reading and Writing by Robert and Marlene McCracken and The Art of Teaching Art to Children in School and at Home by Nancy Beal with Gloria Bley Miller. And I have, I think, learned a little. And in my usual fool-hardy way I'm going to attempt something big with only very little.
I talked to Sandy about it again yesterday and sent her a course description I'd written up. This is how it goes:
It's ambitious and I am simultaneously excited and terrified. (Sandy seems excited and a bit more confident of the class's success.) If any kids sign up for this class and I actually get to teach it, I'll let you know how it goes.
But this post isn't about I Am a Pencil; it's about why I read I Am a Pencil. I read I Am a Pencil because I was looking for Wishes, Lies, and Dreams by Kenneth Koch, who taught first through sixth graders in Manhattan how to write poetry some 30 years before Sam Swope, but the library didn't have it. Sam Swope was as close to Kenneth Koch as I could get until my order came into Barnes and Noble.
But this post isn't about Kenneth Koch, either. I was trying to find Kenneth Koch because I decided to teach a children's poetry class. I'm not exactly sure why I decided to teach a children's poetry class, but I can tell you how it happened. Sandy (of Magnolia Hill fame) asked me what I thought of my teaching experience overseas. I told her that while I was teaching, I found it absolutely draining and that I felt that it was not something I could do for the rest of my life. But, I continued to explain, now that I'm back in the US and not doing it, I miss it a lot. She told me that if I wanted to teach that she'd be willing to loan me the studio and help me find students.
A few days later while I was riding in the car or wiping tables at work or spacing out on the couch or something, I thought, "I'll teach poetry to children."
So since I decided to teach poetry to children, I also decided I should learn how to teach poetry to children. Hence Kenneth Koch and Sam Swope. I also read parts of Stories, Songs, and Poetry to Teach Reading and Writing by Robert and Marlene McCracken and The Art of Teaching Art to Children in School and at Home by Nancy Beal with Gloria Bley Miller. And I have, I think, learned a little. And in my usual fool-hardy way I'm going to attempt something big with only very little.
I talked to Sandy about it again yesterday and sent her a course description I'd written up. This is how it goes:
Like acrylics and watercolors and oils, words can be used to paint powerful and expressive works of art. More than just a means to communicate our needs or ideas, words can be beautiful and breathtaking, dynamic and impressive. This eight-week course designed for middle school students (ages 9-12) will focus on developing a love for language and an understanding of its versatility. By exploring the work of modern poets and experimenting with our own language, we will discover how to paint new pictures with words.
It's ambitious and I am simultaneously excited and terrified. (Sandy seems excited and a bit more confident of the class's success.) If any kids sign up for this class and I actually get to teach it, I'll let you know how it goes.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Habakkuk
Last night I read Habakkuk and I think it may have been the first time for me to read the whole three chapters in one sitting. I just swallowed the minor prophet whole. It's hard for me to say what book of the Bible is my favorite but after last night's reading, I had to enter Habakkuk on my list of favorites. Here's why:
Habakkuk covers some really important themes:
Habakkuk, the man, knew that only God could satisfy his deepest desires (3:16-19).
Habakkuk is a man who seems to have no feelings hidden from God. He reminds me of the psalmists David and Asaph and the apostle Peter.
Habakkuk is a book that can be read in one sitting. That makes it easier for me to understand.
Habakkuk covers some really important themes:
God's sovereignty
"For behold, I am raising up the Chaldeans [to punish Judah]...But they will be held guilty" (1:6, 11). This is one of the things about God's sovereignty that repels people from believing this doctrine or even Christianity altogether but nevertheless it's Biblical. Compare Romans 9:11-24 and Romans 3:19 and Ecclesiastes 12:14.
Righteousness through faith (2:4)
Paul expanded upon this in Romans and Galatians, Martin Luther was saved through Paul's explanation of this doctrine which was a major cause of the Reformation, and everybody's eternal joy relies upon their understanding of this doctrine.
God's glory (2:14)
Reverence for God (2:20)
God is eternal (3:6)
God is so everlasting that ancient hills collapse and perpetual mountains shatter in God's presence.
Habakkuk, the man, knew that only God could satisfy his deepest desires (3:16-19).
Habakkuk is a man who seems to have no feelings hidden from God. He reminds me of the psalmists David and Asaph and the apostle Peter.
Habakkuk is a book that can be read in one sitting. That makes it easier for me to understand.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Magnolia Hill Studios
So my mom knows this rockstar family that owns/runs a fine and performing arts studio. They've been doing it for six years and I had no idea, mostly because I didn't live here, but now that I know, I think it's just about the coolest thing ever. And as many of you know, I am currently 90% unemployed (90% because sometimes, I waitress at a dinner and at some banquets, but mostly I don't), and have lots of time to do lots of random stuff. So one day, Sandy, the owner of the studio asked my mom if I'd be interested in helping out in the office at the studio like a volunteer internship type deal. And when I talked to Sandy about what they do, I was totally impressed and am very very happy to be getting involved.
One of the first orders of business I did for Magnolia Hill is a profile which appeared in The Grapevine, a local newspaper/advertising magazine. You can see the profile (a short little thing) in the February 10 issue on page 17, and the ad on page 12.
Anyway, I love Sandy's story about her dancer daughters and their experiences in different dance studios and dance companies. Sandy herself is a painter, and believes art is beautiful and uplifting, inspiring and edifying and wanted to give the South Jersey community a place where art feels that way. Not only that, she wanted to create a space where children can learn to discern good art from bad, both technically and tastefully, by learning how to make art themselves.
I love it. I remember I went to DC once and sat on a bench in the basement of the National Gallery of Art, staring at a Jackson Pollack and wondering at the way paint sticks to canvas.
I am very excited about getting involved over there, about my life intersecting with such cool, inspired art people and about offering a helping hand. Unemployment, it turns out, hasn't been all bad.
One of the first orders of business I did for Magnolia Hill is a profile which appeared in The Grapevine, a local newspaper/advertising magazine. You can see the profile (a short little thing) in the February 10 issue on page 17, and the ad on page 12.
Anyway, I love Sandy's story about her dancer daughters and their experiences in different dance studios and dance companies. Sandy herself is a painter, and believes art is beautiful and uplifting, inspiring and edifying and wanted to give the South Jersey community a place where art feels that way. Not only that, she wanted to create a space where children can learn to discern good art from bad, both technically and tastefully, by learning how to make art themselves.
I love it. I remember I went to DC once and sat on a bench in the basement of the National Gallery of Art, staring at a Jackson Pollack and wondering at the way paint sticks to canvas.
I am very excited about getting involved over there, about my life intersecting with such cool, inspired art people and about offering a helping hand. Unemployment, it turns out, hasn't been all bad.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
A Few Good Songs
I'm more of an album person but here's some songs that I've been digging lately:
The Airborne Toxic Event - "Sometime Around Midnight"
I had heard this song on the radio once a few months ago but didn't know who performed it until Elena heard it two weeks ago, looked it up and found the acoustic version.
Modest Mouse - "Float On"
We love their album The Moon and Antarctica.
Broken Bells - "The High Road"
The singer here is James Mercer, the lead singer of the Shins.
Weezer - "Can't Stop Partying"
Elena wrote a post about this last week.
Paramore - "Decode" (Acoustic)
This was performed at the studio of a favorite Philly station of ours and I heard it several times in September and October but didn't know who it was until recently.
The Airborne Toxic Event - "Sometime Around Midnight"
I had heard this song on the radio once a few months ago but didn't know who performed it until Elena heard it two weeks ago, looked it up and found the acoustic version.
Modest Mouse - "Float On"
We love their album The Moon and Antarctica.
Broken Bells - "The High Road"
The singer here is James Mercer, the lead singer of the Shins.
Weezer - "Can't Stop Partying"
Elena wrote a post about this last week.
Paramore - "Decode" (Acoustic)
This was performed at the studio of a favorite Philly station of ours and I heard it several times in September and October but didn't know who it was until recently.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Michael's New Favorite Song
We have a lot of good friends. A lot of good friends who, for our wedding and for Christmas, gave us iTunes cards with which to indulge our musical sensibilities. Maybe yous know that Michael and I are really into music. Maybe you don't. (I'm brewing up another post about this...)
Anyway, we've been choosing slowly, wanting this free music escapade to last. And after we heard "(If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To" on the radio for about the one billionth time, we decided to buy the new Weezer Album. (We didn't know about the snuggie deal, so we bought it on iTunes.) We've always been Weezer fans--we've already decided to name our son Rivers--but the whole living in another country thing sort of disconnected us from the Weezer happenings. But we're back on track and Michael has not stopped playing Raditude since we bought it.
His new favorite song is "Can't Stop Partying." And he can't stop singing:
and rapping:
not that there is any mixing of anything with pharmaceuticals around here--or really partying of any kind--but he is bouncing around the house and he can't stop "can't stop partying."
There's no official video yet, but you might want to check out the Chamillion version, the flute version, or the concert version.
Anyway, we've been choosing slowly, wanting this free music escapade to last. And after we heard "(If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To" on the radio for about the one billionth time, we decided to buy the new Weezer Album. (We didn't know about the snuggie deal, so we bought it on iTunes.) We've always been Weezer fans--we've already decided to name our son Rivers--but the whole living in another country thing sort of disconnected us from the Weezer happenings. But we're back on track and Michael has not stopped playing Raditude since we bought it.
His new favorite song is "Can't Stop Partying." And he can't stop singing:
I can't stop partying, partying
I can't stop partying, partying
I gotta have Patron, I gotta have the beat
I gotta have a lot of pretty girls around me
Oh, I can't stop partying, partying
I can't stop, partying, partying
I gotta have the cars, I gotta have the jewels
And if you was me, honey, you would do it too
and rapping:
Party like tomorrow is my funeral
Gotta stop mixing alcohol with pharmaceuticals
And the unusual is the * usual
not that there is any mixing of anything with pharmaceuticals around here--or really partying of any kind--but he is bouncing around the house and he can't stop "can't stop partying."
There's no official video yet, but you might want to check out the Chamillion version, the flute version, or the concert version.
New Jersey Fun Facts (#2)
Those of you who've known Michael or are from the great nation of Texas are already familiar with the second person plural pronoun "ya'll." I would now like to introduce to you the South Jersey/Philadelphia equivalent: "yous" or "yous guys".
Urban Dictionary offered the following definitions for "yous guys":
People really do talk like that up here. At Walmart the other night, the cashier handed us our bags and said, "Yous have a good night." At marriage class, every Wednesday, our small group leaders greet us, "How yous been doing this week?" During post-season every one was asking, "Did yous see the Phillies game last night?" Now they're all asking, "What do yous think about the Eagles?"
Perhaps our brains are over compensating. All the other personal pronouns have singular and plural representations, how come the second person got left out? And we all, in our respective regional ways, are trying to make it better. I wish I had retained all that wonderful history of English knowledge passed on to me by Prof Hagge in English 411, to offer some other sort of explanation as to why you is different that the others and why we feel the need to intercede. But I sold the textbook the day of my final and have not meditated much on those matters since.
I think I'm going to start writing down real-life instances of "yous" and "yous guys" so that yous can see how it's really used.
Urban Dictionary offered the following definitions for "yous guys":
- Yous guys are all wrong. Yous guys is a northeast phrase (often used by jersey girls and long islanders) meaning you guys. The extra 's' is not silent and is added for no reason whatsoever.
"Eh, maybe later I'll meet up with yous guys." "Yous guys keep your mouths shut." "Very funny, least I'm not stupid like yous guys." - A version of "you guys," which is mostly associated with New Jersey, but is also heard in other metropolitan areas, such as New York and Chicago. It may also be spelled "youse guys" and is much better than saying "y'all." "Yous guys want to go to the concert tonight?"
People really do talk like that up here. At Walmart the other night, the cashier handed us our bags and said, "Yous have a good night." At marriage class, every Wednesday, our small group leaders greet us, "How yous been doing this week?" During post-season every one was asking, "Did yous see the Phillies game last night?" Now they're all asking, "What do yous think about the Eagles?"
Perhaps our brains are over compensating. All the other personal pronouns have singular and plural representations, how come the second person got left out? And we all, in our respective regional ways, are trying to make it better. I wish I had retained all that wonderful history of English knowledge passed on to me by Prof Hagge in English 411, to offer some other sort of explanation as to why you is different that the others and why we feel the need to intercede. But I sold the textbook the day of my final and have not meditated much on those matters since.
I think I'm going to start writing down real-life instances of "yous" and "yous guys" so that yous can see how it's really used.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
"And since nothing appears within us
or around us that is not tainted with very great impurity, so long as we keep our mind within the confines of human pollution, anything which is in some small degree less defiled, delights us as if it were most pure"
-John Calvin, The Institutes of the Christian Religion, Book I, Chap I
-John Calvin, The Institutes of the Christian Religion, Book I, Chap I
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Faithful in the Face of Persecution
"Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed."
- I Peter 4:12-13
From May 2004 to July 2009, I lived in the southeast prefecture of a very poor and underdeveloped province of southwest China. This prefecture consists of 16 counties and I lived and studied in the prefecture capital city. In the north part of the county I resided, about an hour and a half bus ride away, there is a village that has grown to be a very small town. Though this town has elements of "town", being, buildings, it still is mostly old school village.
In one of this town's backyards lays 3 graves. These people really don't care for the graves and has offered them to a friend of mine; gravestones, bodies and all. But these graves are special to the rest of us. Here's whats engraved on the tombstones.
========================================================
The first grave belongs to a local man:
新故潘公
生于咸丰七年五月十六日为传福音真道不料于光绪二十四年九月二十一日路过重安江遇害寿终四十二岁
孝男义德女桂珠
光绪二十六年三月吉日立
为真道杀害身体
蒙主恩得救灵魂
Translation:
Pan Gong (is most likely his full name though we know for sure that his family name is Pan).
He was born in the 7th year 5th month 16th day of the reign of Qing Dynasty Emperor, Xian Feng (1857).
Because he preached the gospel of the True Way he was unexpectedly murdered at the Chong An River in the 24th year 9th month 21st day of the reign of Qing Dynasty Emperor, Guang Xu (1898). He was 42.
He was survived by a son, Yi De (Yi means righteous/righteousness and De means moral/morality), and a daughter, Gui Zhu (Gui is a kind of tree in South China and Zhu means pearl).
This grave was erected in the 26th year 3rd month of Guang Xu (1900).
Because of the True Way his body was killed.
Because of God's grace his soul is saved.
========================================================
The second grave belongs to a Westerner.
主赐尔永生 is written at the top of this tombstone. It means "The Lord gives you eternal life"
Shall Rise Again
In loving memory of William S. Fleming of the China Inland Mission.
Aged 31.
Died Novem 4.1898 at Tsong An. *
First Protestant Martyr in Kueicheo. **
Whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the Gospel's shall save it. Mk viii 35
Erected by the bereaved family.
必定复活
明鉴光先生来黔传福音于光绪二十四年九月二十一日路过重安江遇害寿终时年三十一岁
Translation:
He will definitely rise again.
Mr. Fleming (I think his Chinese name was 明鉴光) came to Guizhou to preach the Gospel and in the 24th year 9th month 21st day of the reign of Guang Xu (1898) at the age of 31 he was murdered at the Chong An River.
* Tsong An - Chong An, a river and town in Guizhou province. It is the out-dated romanization of the Chinese characters 重安 (Chong An).
** Kueicheo - Guizhou, a province in China. It is the out-dated romanization of the Chinese characters 贵州 (Guizhou).
========================================================
The third grave also belongs to a Westerner:
The top of this man's tomb reads 耶稣使死无权 (Jesus makes it so that death has no power)
In loving memory of Charles Chenery whose body lies here waiting for the appearing of his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
I shall be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness.
秦公尔锐英人也于光绪二十八年遵 主命来黔传福音引人悔改弃假归真不幸于光绪三十一年三月十四日离世归 主享年三十有二岁
光绪三十一年十月二十一日立
Translation:
In the 28th year of the reign of Guang Xu (1902), Charles Chenery (I think his Chinese name was 秦公尔锐), an English man, also obeyed the Lord and came to Guizhou to preach the gospel, lead people to repent and abandon what's false, and return to the Truth.
Unfortunately, in the 31st year 3rd month 14th day of the reign of Guang Xu (1905), Chenery left this world and returned to the Lord at the age of 32.
This grave was erected in the 31st year 10th month 21st day of the reign of Guang Xu (1905).
========================================================
Something interesting that I find is this: Pan Gong and William Fleming were murdered at the Chong An River in 1898 for telling people about Jesus. In 1902 Charles Chenery went to the same area of the same province to do the same thing that got two men killed just four years earlier! It may have been a little different if just the local man was killed and the foreigner got kicked out of the area or vice versa. But the fact that the locals were so hostile to hearing about Jesus that they would kill a foreigner and a fellow local is not to be overlooked. But Charles Chenery went to that place just four years later to serve God. He didn't die of martyrdom. He just died. I don't know the cause of his death. Maybe illness. But the thing that I wanted to point out is this: Fleming and Pan did not back down when hateful men murdered them in a river. Chenery did not back down when he answered God's call to be a missionary in a place where missionaries are killed. These men were faithful in the face of persecution.
- I Peter 4:12-13
From May 2004 to July 2009, I lived in the southeast prefecture of a very poor and underdeveloped province of southwest China. This prefecture consists of 16 counties and I lived and studied in the prefecture capital city. In the north part of the county I resided, about an hour and a half bus ride away, there is a village that has grown to be a very small town. Though this town has elements of "town", being, buildings, it still is mostly old school village.
In one of this town's backyards lays 3 graves. These people really don't care for the graves and has offered them to a friend of mine; gravestones, bodies and all. But these graves are special to the rest of us. Here's whats engraved on the tombstones.
========================================================
The first grave belongs to a local man:
新故潘公
生于咸丰七年五月十六日为传福音真道不料于光绪二十四年九月二十一日路过重安江遇害寿终四十二岁
孝男义德女桂珠
光绪二十六年三月吉日立
为真道杀害身体
蒙主恩得救灵魂
Translation:
Pan Gong (is most likely his full name though we know for sure that his family name is Pan).
He was born in the 7th year 5th month 16th day of the reign of Qing Dynasty Emperor, Xian Feng (1857).
Because he preached the gospel of the True Way he was unexpectedly murdered at the Chong An River in the 24th year 9th month 21st day of the reign of Qing Dynasty Emperor, Guang Xu (1898). He was 42.
He was survived by a son, Yi De (Yi means righteous/righteousness and De means moral/morality), and a daughter, Gui Zhu (Gui is a kind of tree in South China and Zhu means pearl).
This grave was erected in the 26th year 3rd month of Guang Xu (1900).
Because of the True Way his body was killed.
Because of God's grace his soul is saved.
========================================================
The second grave belongs to a Westerner.
主赐尔永生 is written at the top of this tombstone. It means "The Lord gives you eternal life"
Shall Rise Again
In loving memory of William S. Fleming of the China Inland Mission.
Aged 31.
Died Novem 4.1898 at Tsong An. *
First Protestant Martyr in Kueicheo. **
Whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the Gospel's shall save it. Mk viii 35
Erected by the bereaved family.
必定复活
明鉴光先生来黔传福音于光绪二十四年九月二十一日路过重安江遇害寿终时年三十一岁
Translation:
He will definitely rise again.
Mr. Fleming (I think his Chinese name was 明鉴光) came to Guizhou to preach the Gospel and in the 24th year 9th month 21st day of the reign of Guang Xu (1898) at the age of 31 he was murdered at the Chong An River.
* Tsong An - Chong An, a river and town in Guizhou province. It is the out-dated romanization of the Chinese characters 重安 (Chong An).
** Kueicheo - Guizhou, a province in China. It is the out-dated romanization of the Chinese characters 贵州 (Guizhou).
========================================================
The third grave also belongs to a Westerner:
The top of this man's tomb reads 耶稣使死无权 (Jesus makes it so that death has no power)
In loving memory of Charles Chenery whose body lies here waiting for the appearing of his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
I shall be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness.
秦公尔锐英人也于光绪二十八年遵 主命来黔传福音引人悔改弃假归真不幸于光绪三十一年三月十四日离世归 主享年三十有二岁
光绪三十一年十月二十一日立
Translation:
In the 28th year of the reign of Guang Xu (1902), Charles Chenery (I think his Chinese name was 秦公尔锐), an English man, also obeyed the Lord and came to Guizhou to preach the gospel, lead people to repent and abandon what's false, and return to the Truth.
Unfortunately, in the 31st year 3rd month 14th day of the reign of Guang Xu (1905), Chenery left this world and returned to the Lord at the age of 32.
This grave was erected in the 31st year 10th month 21st day of the reign of Guang Xu (1905).
========================================================
Something interesting that I find is this: Pan Gong and William Fleming were murdered at the Chong An River in 1898 for telling people about Jesus. In 1902 Charles Chenery went to the same area of the same province to do the same thing that got two men killed just four years earlier! It may have been a little different if just the local man was killed and the foreigner got kicked out of the area or vice versa. But the fact that the locals were so hostile to hearing about Jesus that they would kill a foreigner and a fellow local is not to be overlooked. But Charles Chenery went to that place just four years later to serve God. He didn't die of martyrdom. He just died. I don't know the cause of his death. Maybe illness. But the thing that I wanted to point out is this: Fleming and Pan did not back down when hateful men murdered them in a river. Chenery did not back down when he answered God's call to be a missionary in a place where missionaries are killed. These men were faithful in the face of persecution.
Friday, January 22, 2010
"I have learned the secret..."
I googled the phrase "the secret to" and pulled up 43,100,000 results ranging from "the secret to raising smart kids" to "the secret to skinny" to "the secret of Google's success".
People, it seems, are into secrets. The classified how-tos of life that someone somewhere had, until now, been withholding. But thanks to the investigative perseverance of magazine editors all over the world, we now have access to them. About 1,950 years ago or so, there was another certain man, a writer of letters, who revealed to the greater public a secret he himself had uncovered.
In his letter to the Philippians, Paul writes,
How exciting! Paul found the secret to contentment, to release from this weary life into one that is sure to offer satisfaction. But Paul tops the magazine writer's three step plans because he's only got one step.
1. Paul learned the secret: I can do all things through him who strengthens me.
Jesus himself told his disciples,
Here's my point. Paul learned thirst by being thirsty. He learned hunger by being hungry. And he learned contentment by recognizing that his situation was what God had ordained for him and that God was going to pull him through.
When Paul was called to become an apostle of Christ, the Lord said of him,
Contentment is a funny word because it means happy but it doesn't. It has no elation or excitement, no swelling to a crescendo in the heart. It simply is, it abides, steady and true. Moments before disclosing his secret, Paul commands the Philippians to rejoice and not to be anxious about anything. He commands these things because they are contrary to our natures and our habits. Contentment, likewise, is against our natures.
And that's why it must be something we learn. I always thought of this passage as if he was suddenly injected with a dose of grace that worked like local anesthesia, protecting him from the pain of circumstance. And I figured the anesthesia was the "I can do all things" part, like doctors calling orders during a code blue, we shoot up our prayers and we get insta-strength to collapse the temple on the philistines. (I'm mixing metaphors, sorry, but I hope you get the gist of my train of thought.) But it's more like physical therapy, I think, where you come and the doctor exercises you in a very specific way and it hurts but your muscles get stronger and eventually you've trained them to know what to do.
So after being hungry so many times, Paul learned how to be hungry and how to trust the Lord and depend on the Lord.
And that's the secret.
People, it seems, are into secrets. The classified how-tos of life that someone somewhere had, until now, been withholding. But thanks to the investigative perseverance of magazine editors all over the world, we now have access to them. About 1,950 years ago or so, there was another certain man, a writer of letters, who revealed to the greater public a secret he himself had uncovered.
In his letter to the Philippians, Paul writes,
"I rejoice greatly in the Lord that at last you have renewed your concern for me. Indeed you have been concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it. I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength."
How exciting! Paul found the secret to contentment, to release from this weary life into one that is sure to offer satisfaction. But Paul tops the magazine writer's three step plans because he's only got one step.
1. Paul learned the secret: I can do all things through him who strengthens me.
Jesus himself told his disciples,
"In the world you will have trouble."And Paul, we know, had trouble. In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul wrote,
"To this very hour we go hungry and thirsty, we are in rags, we are brutally treated, we are homeless. We work hard with our own hands. When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it; when we are slandered, we answer kindly. Up to this moment we have become the scum of the earth, the refuse of the world." 1 Corinthians 4:11-13
Here's my point. Paul learned thirst by being thirsty. He learned hunger by being hungry. And he learned contentment by recognizing that his situation was what God had ordained for him and that God was going to pull him through.
When Paul was called to become an apostle of Christ, the Lord said of him,
"This man is my chosen instrument to carry my name before the Gentiles and their kings and before the people of Israel. I will show him how much he must suffer for my name." Acts 9:15And the same Paul wrote to the Corinthians in the same aforementioned letter,
"No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it."
Contentment is a funny word because it means happy but it doesn't. It has no elation or excitement, no swelling to a crescendo in the heart. It simply is, it abides, steady and true. Moments before disclosing his secret, Paul commands the Philippians to rejoice and not to be anxious about anything. He commands these things because they are contrary to our natures and our habits. Contentment, likewise, is against our natures.
And that's why it must be something we learn. I always thought of this passage as if he was suddenly injected with a dose of grace that worked like local anesthesia, protecting him from the pain of circumstance. And I figured the anesthesia was the "I can do all things" part, like doctors calling orders during a code blue, we shoot up our prayers and we get insta-strength to collapse the temple on the philistines. (I'm mixing metaphors, sorry, but I hope you get the gist of my train of thought.) But it's more like physical therapy, I think, where you come and the doctor exercises you in a very specific way and it hurts but your muscles get stronger and eventually you've trained them to know what to do.
So after being hungry so many times, Paul learned how to be hungry and how to trust the Lord and depend on the Lord.
And that's the secret.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Honduras
Last night at Abuelo's house, the family was testing my Spanish by asking me the meaning of the names of Latin American countries and some of the states in the U.S. I had no idea that Montana comes from the Spanish word for mountain (montaña) and Venezuela is Italian for "little Venice" and Colombia is named after Christopher Columbus (I never really thought about it!).
Come to find out, Honduras literally means "depths" in Spanish. Columbus is traditionally quoted as having written "Gracias a Dios que hemos salido de esas Honduras" (Thank God we have come out of those depths) while along the northeastern coast.
Paul, who had suffered much for even greater things than the discovery of new lands, said
I'm thinking that the depths of the raging and vast sea that I face in my life will not separate me from God's love. I'm also thinking that these "depths" are not accidental but are a part of God's plan for my maturity and His glory. In that, I find much comfort and I also say with Christopher Columbus, "Thank you God!"
Come to find out, Honduras literally means "depths" in Spanish. Columbus is traditionally quoted as having written "Gracias a Dios que hemos salido de esas Honduras" (Thank God we have come out of those depths) while along the northeastern coast.
Paul, who had suffered much for even greater things than the discovery of new lands, said
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Rom 8:38-39and
We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raised the dead. II Cor 1:8-9
I'm thinking that the depths of the raging and vast sea that I face in my life will not separate me from God's love. I'm also thinking that these "depths" are not accidental but are a part of God's plan for my maturity and His glory. In that, I find much comfort and I also say with Christopher Columbus, "Thank you God!"
Friday, January 8, 2010
A New Church Home
Thanks to all of you who wrote or called to encourage us on our "Church Search". Thanks for sharing your stories. They really were encouraging.
We did settle down at a church, Living Faith Alliance, part of the Christian Missionary Alliance. Our first official Sunday was last Sunday, the 3rd, the first Sunday of the year. I'd written in my journal on December 31, "So tomorrow's the new year and I didn't mean for this to be all introspective 2009 and new beginnings and whatever. Honestly, I think I'm too emotionally fragile right now for all that. But I am in my will choosing to believe he will be (is) faithful to me."
December was a hard month for us. A lot of things happened, and a lot of things didn't happen, and I was getting stressed and overwhelmed. I didn't, as I said in my journal, want to reflect on the past year. I wanted to continue living one day at a time, hoping to make it from morning to night, repeating to myself, "The Lord is faithful. The Lord is faithful."
But on Sunday, January 3rd, The Good and Faithful Lord had other plans for me. The talk Sunday morning was about reflecting on the past year and looking forward to the new year. The pastor, through Romans 12:2
He said, "The conclusions we draw from a given situation--and not the circumstance itself--determine our attitude and direction." And he showed us that God wants us to reflect and to make decisions as we are transformed and our minds are renewed. And he showed us how Paul did it: after having suffered he explaining that the suffering taught him to rely on God. And that what he needs to remember is that God does deliver and will continue to deliver. So he gave us a little worksheet and asked, "How has God blessed you this past year? And what challenges have you gone through? And what truths did God teach you?" And he gave us some time to think about it and he said, "And what conclusions are you going to draw, what attitude are you going to take on, what direction will you follow in this coming year?"
It felt good to be all introspective 2009 and new beginnings and whatever. And instead of repeating my little "The Lord is Faithful" mantra, I can re-enter relationship with a living God who loves me, guides me, teaches me, and leads me into his glory.
We're not entirely sure if Living Faith Alliance is Calvinist or not. But I think Sunday, January 3rd was pretty good confirmation that we found a church that loves God and loves people and wants to see people love God and love people. And that's good enough for us.
We did settle down at a church, Living Faith Alliance, part of the Christian Missionary Alliance. Our first official Sunday was last Sunday, the 3rd, the first Sunday of the year. I'd written in my journal on December 31, "So tomorrow's the new year and I didn't mean for this to be all introspective 2009 and new beginnings and whatever. Honestly, I think I'm too emotionally fragile right now for all that. But I am in my will choosing to believe he will be (is) faithful to me."
December was a hard month for us. A lot of things happened, and a lot of things didn't happen, and I was getting stressed and overwhelmed. I didn't, as I said in my journal, want to reflect on the past year. I wanted to continue living one day at a time, hoping to make it from morning to night, repeating to myself, "The Lord is faithful. The Lord is faithful."
But on Sunday, January 3rd, The Good and Faithful Lord had other plans for me. The talk Sunday morning was about reflecting on the past year and looking forward to the new year. The pastor, through Romans 12:2
"Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind."and 2 Corinthians 1:8-11
"We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed in out hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers."led us through and exercise of Biblical reflection.
He said, "The conclusions we draw from a given situation--and not the circumstance itself--determine our attitude and direction." And he showed us that God wants us to reflect and to make decisions as we are transformed and our minds are renewed. And he showed us how Paul did it: after having suffered he explaining that the suffering taught him to rely on God. And that what he needs to remember is that God does deliver and will continue to deliver. So he gave us a little worksheet and asked, "How has God blessed you this past year? And what challenges have you gone through? And what truths did God teach you?" And he gave us some time to think about it and he said, "And what conclusions are you going to draw, what attitude are you going to take on, what direction will you follow in this coming year?"
It felt good to be all introspective 2009 and new beginnings and whatever. And instead of repeating my little "The Lord is Faithful" mantra, I can re-enter relationship with a living God who loves me, guides me, teaches me, and leads me into his glory.
We're not entirely sure if Living Faith Alliance is Calvinist or not. But I think Sunday, January 3rd was pretty good confirmation that we found a church that loves God and loves people and wants to see people love God and love people. And that's good enough for us.
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