"I'd like to think the best of me is still hiding up my sleeve."
:)
(Placeholder for future entries. This history paper is giving me grief.)
+
a writing sample! something i wrote yesterday for an alumni newsletter.
Imagine the patience required to reclaim the control freaks of the world. Particularly the well-intentioned ones who tell you one thing – “This is no sacrifice; here’s my life” – and within hours return to worrying and micromanaging. This past summer and semester have been an evolving, suprising lesson in patience. I entered the fall semester of my junior year ready to listen to God’s call. He’d been asking for my patience with life plans, interactions with loved ones and acquaintances, as well as something unidentified and upcoming. God is very good at waiting until He has your attention before completely turning the tables. This past October, our regional fall conference, Harvest, was themed “Playing for Keeps: All in for the Kingdom” and focused on Acts 6, obedience, and giving all parts of our lives to God. There were playful but sobering references to the times we claim to “go all in” for God while reserving “special poker chips” for ourselves that we don’t want Him to touch. It was an apt comparison because trusting God often feels like a gamble. Towards the end of the weekend, I became very aware that I’d been trying to make decisions that would give me predictable and controllable outcomes (mostly school- and career-related) and that the attempt to schedule my life so deliberately was a farce next to my promise to God to serve Him in all things. I don’t think God makes fun of us as much as He is puzzled or frustrated by our actions, but I’d be okay if He laughed really hard right now. I waited a few months for Him to send me a message; He’s been waiting all my life for me to understand that He has sovereign command over my life. My understanding is growing, but I’ve learned that God’s peace surpasses understanding, and compared to my patience, which I thought had been stretched, God’s patience is redemptive and wonderful. I’m not normally this grateful to have been put in my place.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Monday, June 2, 2008
I had a bowl of Cheerios in one hand and a glass of water in the other, and to commemorate Summer, I convinced myself to do one thing at a time - "Wait, sit down," don't go upstairs and watch Grey's Anatomy while you're eating your breakfast.
I sat down at the kitchen table and was struck by how alone I was. By the sun flooding in through the bay window and the French-style porch doors filled with light. By all of the space I had to think. And I thought of my grandfather. So many summers he visited us and sat in the chair to my right, the head of the table, eating his breakfast in silence. Oh, not for lack of things to say. I'd developed a habit of minimizing the overlap time of our breakfasts so that as he sat down I was just finishing. He felt it was necessary - I felt it was boring and constraining - to dispense no-doubt hard-earned pearls of wisdom whenever he could, whenever it was just him and me, his flighty, dreaming, American granddaughter. True to form, I nodded obediently and then slipped away at any convenient interim in that day's life lesson.
Every summer I used to wonder vaguely whether that would be the last time I'd see my maternal grandparents, then feel no remorse as school started and life filled in the empty guest room, the two chairs at the kitchen table, the spaces my grandpa and grandma occupied. The first two weeks without them would be strange, and I would miss them, and then gradually I would get caught up in other thiings and think about them less. Because they were my relatives, but a seasonal part of my life. I might have counted on seeing them again, the two were so intertwined - Summer and Grandparents visiting. And later on I knew I would see them: They were trying to get their citizenship and had to come to the States every year. I wonder if I saw them for the last time eight years ago, the last time I went back to Taiwan. My family went back last summer, but I stayed home and went to my Differential Equations class.
If I could sit at a kitchen table with my grandfather again, I wouldn't run away. I would ask him to tell me stories. That's something that's changed in me - I hesitate less before I ask questions. One thing I've learned as I've gotten older is that no one expects you to know everything (people expect you to be curious). So questions are okay. I'd squirm a little less if he decided to share grandfatherly wisdom with me. And I would ask him to tell me about of the funniest things that happened to him as a boy.
- - -
My grandfather drinks a lot of water. He's kind of a fitness nut, and he's really in shape. He goes walking every morning, complete with warm-up and cool-down stretches. This is what I thought about as I filled up the Brita pitcher this morning.
Yesterday, my mom was telling me about a book she'd browsed through at Barnes and Noble, something in the self-care/medicine section. "Haha, yeah, that's what my RA said his mom would always tell him!" For all minor ailments, colds, etc., "Drink some water and get sleep!" Oh, the curative powers of water . . .
I sat down at the kitchen table and was struck by how alone I was. By the sun flooding in through the bay window and the French-style porch doors filled with light. By all of the space I had to think. And I thought of my grandfather. So many summers he visited us and sat in the chair to my right, the head of the table, eating his breakfast in silence. Oh, not for lack of things to say. I'd developed a habit of minimizing the overlap time of our breakfasts so that as he sat down I was just finishing. He felt it was necessary - I felt it was boring and constraining - to dispense no-doubt hard-earned pearls of wisdom whenever he could, whenever it was just him and me, his flighty, dreaming, American granddaughter. True to form, I nodded obediently and then slipped away at any convenient interim in that day's life lesson.
Every summer I used to wonder vaguely whether that would be the last time I'd see my maternal grandparents, then feel no remorse as school started and life filled in the empty guest room, the two chairs at the kitchen table, the spaces my grandpa and grandma occupied. The first two weeks without them would be strange, and I would miss them, and then gradually I would get caught up in other thiings and think about them less. Because they were my relatives, but a seasonal part of my life. I might have counted on seeing them again, the two were so intertwined - Summer and Grandparents visiting. And later on I knew I would see them: They were trying to get their citizenship and had to come to the States every year. I wonder if I saw them for the last time eight years ago, the last time I went back to Taiwan. My family went back last summer, but I stayed home and went to my Differential Equations class.
If I could sit at a kitchen table with my grandfather again, I wouldn't run away. I would ask him to tell me stories. That's something that's changed in me - I hesitate less before I ask questions. One thing I've learned as I've gotten older is that no one expects you to know everything (people expect you to be curious). So questions are okay. I'd squirm a little less if he decided to share grandfatherly wisdom with me. And I would ask him to tell me about of the funniest things that happened to him as a boy.
- - -
My grandfather drinks a lot of water. He's kind of a fitness nut, and he's really in shape. He goes walking every morning, complete with warm-up and cool-down stretches. This is what I thought about as I filled up the Brita pitcher this morning.
Yesterday, my mom was telling me about a book she'd browsed through at Barnes and Noble, something in the self-care/medicine section. "Haha, yeah, that's what my RA said his mom would always tell him!" For all minor ailments, colds, etc., "Drink some water and get sleep!" Oh, the curative powers of water . . .
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Oh Schmap!
Random. Haha.
Why not.
From: "Emma Williams"
Subject: [Flickr] Schmap: Germany Photo Short-list
Date: Wednesday, May 14, 2008 11:24:46 AM
I am writing to let you know that one of your photos has been short-listed for inclusion in the second edition ofour Schmap Germany Guide, to be published
mid-June 2008.
While we offer no payment for publication, many photographers are pleased to submit their photos, as Schmap Guides give their work recognition and wide exposure, and are free of charge to readers. Photos are published at a maximum width of 150 pixels, are clearly attributed, andlink to high-resolution originals at Flickr.
Why not.
From: "Emma Williams"
Subject: [Flickr] Schmap Germany Second Edition: Photo Inclusion
Date: Friday, May 30, 2008 1:08:03 PM
You've been sent a Flickr Mail from Emma J. Williams:
------------------------------------------------------------
:: Schmap Germany Second Edition: Photo Inclusion
I am delighted to let you know that your submitted photo has been selected for inclusion in the newly released second edition of our Schmap
Germany Guide:
Wittelsbacher fountain
http://www.schmap.com/germany/attractions/p=22068/i=22068.jpgThanks so much for letting us include your photo - please enjoy the guide!
Best regards,
Emma Williams,
Managing Editor, Schmap Guides
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