Memory 1

There is an organization that was a huge part of my life in my college days. That would be “Concert Choir.” At the time of my presidency, our choir took an international tour. Off to Ireland we went!

We had found ourselves at Kylemore Abbey. Have you been there before? I strongly suggest you go. A group of 50 people recuperating from jetlag is…quite a sight to see. Some friends and I were meandering around the gardens, taking in the sights, the concept of being across an ocean, and the green. We were in the midst of posing for a picture when we were approached by a couple. “Would you like someone to take the picture for you so you can all be together?” Their accent told us they were from England. We graciously accepted the offer and took this picture…

…the couple struck up a conversation with us and told us about their time in Ireland. We had a pleasant conversation about how they were simply on vacation and were heading back to London in the morning, the things they loved most about the country, and what they had done on their vacation. We told them that we were on day two of our journey, so they gave us a few pointers and sights to see. We explained that we were a part of a choir and that we were going to have a casual concert in the chapel of Kylemore Abbey. The couple was more than interested and they followed us to the chapel, sat through our ‘dress rehearsal’, and then proceeded to sit through our short 15-minute concert in the chapel. The man was taking pictures the whole time, the woman simply basking in the atmosphere of music.

After we finished we thanked them for coming to hear our music. They were truly blessed by what they had experienced. We explained to them that we were having a full concert in Galway later that night {they too were staying in Galway} and invited them to come to our concert if they so happened to be free.

Our concert came. Upon getting into position, we spotted our new English friends in the second row.

I don’t know if you’re a singer.

The little chapel at Kylemore Abbey. Trust me, it's little

I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Europe. Let me tell you, they have some beautiful churches, cathedrals, and ancient things. Every day people see these things and have their jaws drop at the majesty and beauty of it all. As a musician, factoring in the acoustical value of these venues, you can’t help but shiver with happiness and bliss. That evening was the first time I was ever to sing in a venue such as that, it was super beautiful. The concert was lovely, the sounds were lovely, the Irish people were lovely, so much…loveliness.

After our concert, the English woman friend that we had made approached a small group of us with tears in her eyes. “Thank you so much for letting us know about this. This is the greatest birthday I’ve had in years.” I was super shocked. What a super blessing to be able to meet this woman and assisting in the enjoyment of her birthday.

The power of music, people.

Memory 3

My senior year of college I was dubbed with a new title. The official title is “Senior Resident Assistant”, some call it ‘srah’, while others enjoy its full title of ‘sexy RA’. Now even though it has ‘senior’ in the official title doesn’t necessarily mean that only seniors are ‘SRA’s’…it just so happened that I was a senior, and an SRA. Okay, well what does an SRA do? Well, my rookie year of being an RA, I had a fantabulous SRA paint this picture for me. “It’s like we’re all a soccer team working together. An SRA is like the captain of the team: still completely a part of the team, just with a little more responsibility.” 

Anyways, the best part of anyone’s year [besides Christmas] was ResLife training, hands down. It was a glorious time of year to come together with strangers that you also called co-workers, begin to learn how ridiculously crazy you are, do some crazy skits, learn and re-learn how to use a fire extinguisher, and simply prepare the halls and dorms for the incoming students. Glorious.

Even though training was a solid two weeks, it still didn’t give us enough time to prepare. Every year things were rushed, schedules were crazy, and someone somewhere pulled an all-nighter before the school year even started. As an SRA, there was one thing that I wanted to be sure that we had time for as a staff: a prayer walk through our facilities.

I don’t know about you, but the first time someone ever told me about a prayer walk, I thought they were absolutely nuts, freaky, and super touchy-feely Holy-spirity kinda stuff… but I went along with it and realized woah, they’re not so crazy afterall. A prayer walk is just that: you walk and you pray, at the same time, praying for whatever comes to mind as you go, and physically putting yourself in the presence of the things/concepts you’re praying for.

I wanted to present this opportunity to my fellow workers and insisted that we, as a team, accomplish this task before students moved in. We made time for it. We gathered, and we walked. We prayed, we talked, we shared our hearts, we shared our fears, we encouraged one another, and we asked for protection and growth among the halls that we would be working, and we asked for relationships to be built among the people that would reside in them. Why is this memory so important? It’s the first memory of community being built between the Bittner-Mellinger Reslife staff, and what is life, what is purpose without a community to be a part of in the midst of it?

Memory 5

When you’re a music education major at a small private college, your graduating class is not going to be massive. Lucky for me, I got to complete my education with 13 other talented, special, and gifted individuals. By the time we had reached our senior year, we were with each other all day, every day, as every one of our classes was a music class of some kind. In these music classes we would watch each other perform day after day routines of “my turn, your turn”, watching one another be put on the spot, and struggling with those instruments that we had learned 6 semesters prior. It was an incredible feeling of teamwork and support… all egos aside and realizing that we were preparing ourselves for the fast approaching real world. It was a great era of life.

Students are students, no matter how old they may be. It was announced that there was a potential for class being canceled. These are dangerous words for any teacher to even think of uttering. They were uttered by one of my professors. The class was Elementary Methods and the dilemma was that we needed the class hours, but the teacher couldn’t be present. Now, I realize that musicians receive a lot of flack for being dim-witted, egotistical, crazy, lunatic, and a whole bunch of other adjectives of negative nature that are right the majority of the time. However, this one special day we came up with a brilliant plan…

If you do not reside or know anything about the culture of central Pennsylvania, let me tell you something important: diners are not just a place to eat, they are a way of life. For as strange as that sounded to this New York chick a whole 5 years ago, it was a part of the central Pennsylvanian culture that was quickly adapted into my lifestyle…and it was oh, so good.

The plan was this: we were still going to hold class as needed. We would just take class on a field trip. Our class was an 8am anyways, so we met in our classroom and piled in our cars and departed to Bakers, the local famous diner joint for all Messiah students. If you’re going to have class without a professor, you might as well have it with a plate of pancakes and bacon to keep you company and to make the learning process a little more pleasant. 

And that’s exactly what happened.

We also spent that time remembering, reflecting, and laughing over our journey together over the previous 4 years. 

Oh glorious day.

Memory 7

There was a precious area of my life entitled “ResLife”. When you work for ResLife, you work for a family. Simply, you don’t have a choice.

We worked for a Resident Director who was [simply] the cream of the crop, who was [and is] loved and adored by everyone and who played a [huge and significant] role in the people’s lives who worked for her. And although tests have been run as to whether or not she was genetically mutated to be SuperWoman, results have concluded that she is in fact, human. That means that she was also birthed into his world, just like everyone else. That means that one day a year we celebrate what is known as a “birthday” for her. We wanted to make it special.

My co-workers and I were trying to put our heads together. Time was running short. As some of us were standing in a circle, it was as if God dropped down a scroll of “brilliant” between us. We piled in the car to the closest Giant Supermarket. We picked up the most addictive snack in the world {party mix} and scoured the aisles for the other crucial ingredient to make “Operation Birthday” a complete success.  Unfortunately, Giant let us down, not having the needed materials. So into the car we piled again to take the longer trip to WalMart. We bought all the materials and gathered up the rest of our staff in secret location #1. At this location we gave our lungs a workout in blowing up approximately 200 balloons.

Quickly and quietly we piled these 200 balloons into garbage bags and transferred them to their final destination: the office. Now, one of the special things about being a resident director is that you get to live across the hall from your office [meaning, we had to be as quiet and sneaky as possible]. With several rounds of garbage bags and some miracle tape, we were able to completely cover the office in balloons. In the middle of the sea of color we placed the tub of addiction {party mix} along with some personal birthday gifts. We took a quick few moments to pose for pictures, proof of the brilliance, and then we scattered, as to not draw attention to ourselves.

We were happy. She was happy.

And the office smelled like latex for the next seven months.

The end.

Memory 10

A whopping four years ago there was a group of music students from Messiah College who ventured down to Oklahoma City for the annual ACDA conference. [American Choral Directors Association]. Of these students, there were four girls, and this trip would come to define their friendship over the reminder of their college careers. They did crazy things, played crazy games, and most importantly, were exposed to crazy awesome music.

I was one of these girls.

Throughout the following years we referred to ourselves as “Oklahoma Girls” frankly because we were the only girls and because Oklahoma was an awesome state {who knew?}

There was then a time in 2010 in which I was able to take a course from one of my favorite people ever birthed. Her name is Elaine. The course was vocal pedagogy, a class in which you learn about how to teach voice lessons. Mechanics, methodologies, muscles, and most importantly, your very own “trial student”. The course: spectacular, as I don’t know that I have ever laughed harder in any classroom (well…maybe…that music department…). Towards the end of the semester there was extra time for chatter at which we talked about all sorts of things, of which one topic was Harry Potter. It was expressed that some had seen the newest movie at the time (HP7 Part 1), and some hadn’t. The Oklahoma girls were sitting on the side that had not yet seen the movie. As was Elaine. As an avid Harry Potter fan, it was basically inexcusable that so much time had passed without seeing the movie, but that was soon to be rectified. Chatter continued to happen and from someone’s brilliant mouth {it could have been mine, it could have been someone else’s, I don’t remember} the idea was set forth that we as a class (10 people) go see Harry Potter together during finals week. Did I mention brilliant?

Finals week came. Things came up, people had to work, to study to clean, but there was still a glimmer of hope in seeing Harry Potter. Movie times were scoped out, times were arranged, and on that day the Oklahoma Girls & Elaine piled in one car  and made their adventure to the Camp Hill Movie Theatre.

…I mean really, how many people can say that they went to see Harry Potter with their college professor?

I win!

Vacation

Not going to lie, while living in China it's hard to remember what living “real life” is like. By “real life”, I mean life in America, the days in college where it was easy to order a pizza or hop in the car to go pick up some Micky D’s (or even ground beef for that matter). We’ve hit a wall in China where everything is surreal. Yes, we’ve been living here for 5 months. We’ve been doing this for quite some time, now we’re really doing it. We’re about to spend the holidays away form our families. We’ve finished teaching an entire semester of college. What the…?

Despite the packing limitations I was able to squeeze in the journal from my senior year of college. {yes, I’m a girl, I journal…quite frequently} At the time I thought “it would be wise to bring this in case I lose sight of why I’m in China. This journal tells the awesome story and clearly shows all the intricate pieces of my going, my journey." This is absolute truth.  Recently when pouring through my own written words I was astounded by the details, the foreshadowing, the beautiful flow of how everything perfectly came together {it must have been by some Majestic Design or something}. What I didn’t realize at the time is that it would also serve as a reminder to many a forgotten memory, some sad, some difficult, but many wonderful and unfortunately misplaced in the intricacies of my brain. They serve as a reminder of the life that I have lived; that life is a crucial part of who I am. Over the course of these past 5 months, that life that I have lived has been all too easily forgotten.

Luckily for me, I’m brilliant.

There was a time last January where I compiled a list of the “Top 10 Memories of 2010”. At the time, I had thought that these would be memories that would forever stick and freely flow out of me. As I looked upon the list the other night, I found great joy and rediscovery in all of them as they had [unfortunately] been forgotten.

My team and I are about to embark on a several week vacation together, but before we do so I think that I need to take a vacation of my own…a vacation from China, a vacation from analyzing and absorbing everything around me and spending time to reflect on where I was, who that was, and take joy in the memories and moments that were created then. I have been so absorbed in life here as every day is a new lesson or eye-opening experience, the learning curve is exponential. I need a vacation.

Throughout the next several days I hope to share these stories, these pieces of life to be elaborated by words. It’s like digging through your closet and finding an entirely new outfit you forgot you owned… you know that feeling, right?

…it’s just a metaphor.

..I’m such a girl.

Assignments

Just in case you needed some entertaining afternoon reading...

The assignment was to write a story using the following vocabulary words

sit ups, jumping jacks, running, jogging, aerobics, swimming

The following is what spewed forth from the imaginations of my students.

"Once upon a time there was a princess in a big palace, but there was no one else in this palace 

because the princess was very fat and she was always angry with others. No one wanted to live with 

her. She wanted to marry someone who is very talented and handsome. One day, a worm stretched 

itself into the princesses garden. It was founded by the princess. She was so boring at the time so she 

asked the worm to do some jumping jacks, sit ups, jogging. The worm cried at last “I suggest you set me

free!” The princess was confused. She said, “why?” It said, “I would help you become slim and find a 

good guy!” She was so happy and she agreed it. The worm said “maybe you should try some aerobics

like running and jogging every day?” The princess frowned but she do so, and she also swam every 

day. At last, she became very slim and very beautiful. One day, a prince passed by. He saw the 

princess, he was so happy and asked the princess “have you thought about to have a boyfriend?” She 

said, “yes of course!” Then they are a couple!"

"Once upon a time there was a fat rabbit who wanted to get in shape. She wanted to be the

most beautiful bride when marry Mr. Rabbit, so she set out to look for advice. She met

the elephant and asked “Mr. Elephant, can you give me some advice about getting in

shape?”

The elephant said “Yes. I suggest you do jumping jacks and sit ups”

The, she met Mrs. Tiger and Mrs. Tiger told her “maybe you should try doing aerobics

and lifting weights” Finally, she met miss monkey and miss monkey answered “have you

thought about going swimming or going running?” The fat rabbit was so happy because

of these useful advice. She made efforts to get in shape according to these suggestions.

Fortunately, she was successful! There is no doubt she and Mr.

Rabbit lived happily ever after."

"Long, Long ago there was a peaceful kingdom. A fat princess was living in there. The

princess was very lazy and she didn’t like to do exercise. One day she was going to her

grandmothers house. On the was home, she found a handsome man was swimming in the

pool. The man saw the fat princess, he laughed at her and said “what a fat girl!” The

princess was very angry. The man continued saying “Don’t be angry I will help you! I am

a strong man, I go swim and do sit ups everyday, it is so great. I suppose you do exercise

with me and lose weight. Maybe you should try to do jumping jacks, running and so on.

Aerobics is very helpful to lose weight. I often lift weights, it makes me so strong as you

can see!” The princess listened to the man’s advice even though she didn’t like to. After

doing exercise, the princess became a slim girl. The man came again, he was a prince! He

told to the princess “have you thought about dancing with me?” The princess was

surprised and they fell in love."

 

“Arthur's happy life” {written by Alan}

Many years ago, Arthur was a very fat boy and he walked so slowly. There is a very famous doctor in 

the world. That is Alan. One day, Arthur went to Alan's office.

Arthur: “Doctor, I have a serious problem.”

Alan: “Whats the problem?”

Arthur:“I’m so fat. I want to lose weight. Could you help me?”

Alan:“Sure! I suggest you do some jumping jacks, sit up and aerobics every day. It may be helpful!” 

Arthur followed Alan's suggestions, but he get fatter than before. Then he came to Alan's office again.

Arthur: "Doctor, I think your suggestions are useless. I’m much fatter."

Alan: "Maybe you should try to go swimming, go running and go jogging."

Arthur: "Are you sure?"

Alan: "I'm not sure. Have you thought about stretching?"

What a foolish patient! What a terrible doctor!

Holidays

When you teach in a second language classroom and ask your Chinese students to make a skit that includes the Easter Bunny, Santa Clause, and the Thanksgiving turkey…you’re going to hear some pretty funny stuff.

Easter Bunny: “I am better than you. I can hop!”

Turkey: “I can hop higher than you, and hop on one foot. Watch!”

Santa Clause: “Don’t be so confident. You are animals. I am a person!”

Turkey: “On my holiday, people eat me. I think it is ok that they eat me. Eating makes them happy and when they are happy they give thanks.”

Easter Bunny: “Oh you are so kind!”

Santa Clause: “But we will not see you again in the future.”

Morbidly cute, yes?

95+123

Simply, I thought I was going to die.

I mean, who in their right and stable mind would volunteer to live on the 6th floor?

That's just the thing: I wasn't in my right and stable mindset. We had just gotten off a 9 hour train ride, after a month of training, on top of awaking at 4am to catch the 6am train. We hadn't a blessed clue as to where we were. We just knew that it was hot, and that we had approximately 130 pounds of our belongings that were itching to find a place called "home". To speed up the process, someone needed to volunteer. 

What I didn't know is that there would be 95 stairs to climb in the process of getting 'here to there' [and two inches of dust waiting for me at my new abode]. Now, in all seriousness, I'm not ridiculously out of shape. Sure, exercise can be painful, but that's true for everyone. Lets do the math. Doing those stairs at least 3 (if not more) times a day to go places, get lunch, get dinner, visit friends. It's a lot.

and that was before the first week of school.

Once we started teaching classes we actually had to report to the office. That office is in the building across the street, also on the sixth floor. In the beginning, I found it funny that the trek to the office was much more miserable than the one back to my own apartment, so I quested to figure out why. Then I found the answer: the trek to the office includes 123 stairs. Not 95! What were they thinking?

Those on my team who live on the 6th and 7th floors joke that we travel more vertically than horizontally to get to work everyday. There's not many jobs out there where people can say that :). Now it's November, and I can't even tell you the thousands, yes, even tens of thousands of stairs that I have climbed since coming to China. Even though for a few weeks I was sure that those stairs would be the death of me, I'm still alive and well and kickin'! {bah. bad joke} Truly, through all of those stairs and enduring them every single day, I've learned endurance. I've learned that things that may be an inconvenience at one point can, over time, become a part of your routine. And needing to endure things can help you set goals. And over time, you can look back and say 'man remember how hard that was then? Look at me/us/you now!" Eventually, things get easier. Although I'm here to teach English, I have learned one fantastic and crucial math problem:

95+123= killer calfs 

;)

Traffic

How many muscles do you engage while riding a Chinese bus?

All of them.

Anyone will tell you that trying to get around takes a physical toll on ones body, whether that be walking, climbing stairs [China loves stairs, but that's a post for another day], or even taking the bus. Often I wondered "why am I so tired? I just sat on the bus for an hour!" Little did I realize how often every muscle of my being was engaged to keep me from flying into the people around me, to keep me upright. Riding the bus is the equivalent of a Richard Simmons workout video.

Chinese traffic definitely fits every stereotype we may ever imagine it to be. Lucky for us, the city of Harbin is in the process of constructing a subway system. What does this mean? First of all, it means that transporting oneself across the city will be much faster and efficient. Key words: will be, meaning that currently, it is not. Secondly, it means that you take every stereotypes of Chinese traffic and condense it down to only two lanes [instead of six]. Then, add some massive construction vehicles every so often. Oh, and huge pot holes and the occasional flying sparks that attack the bus. Welcome to Harbin!

Smiles Guarenteed

Do you have a go-to smile button? You know, something that is guaranteed to make you smile no matter what kind of mood you are in?

I found my smile buttons. All 140 of them. I thought I'd share three with you.

"He" by Vicky

I am telling their stories. They are stories of my students, stories that they write merely because it is a homework assignment. They have no idea how much their stories can touch the hearts of others. Even if they did, they have no venue to do so, to share.

On behalf of my students, I share this with you so that your heart can be touched, and a story can live on.

The assignment is this: 

'Like a tree, some people simply take root in our lives and never let go.' 

Write 12 or more sentences about a person in your life who will never 'let go.' Why do they mean so much to you? If they are kind, how do they show their kindness to you? If they are loving, in what ways do they show love?"

"Maybe this story have a little sad, but it is true. He--'like a tree simply take root in my heart and never let go.' He was my neighbor and we are the best friends! Though I was 5 years old than him but we played together until "that day". He had an accident. We were all worried about him. One night I dreamed him! In my dream, he didn't talk to me, only looked at me and smiled. When I waked up, my mother cried and said to me "He...passed away...". I was so sad and cried with my mom. I never believed I lost him. But to everybody's surprised, his parents agreed to donate their son's corneas to a two-year-old girl who had eyes disease. His parents said to the reporter "my son always help other at school. I think he must agree that we make this decision. And... I want to let my son can also see the beautiful world.

'Help others until the end of life.' A 15 year old boy leaves me this lesson. I will always help others like him. Just like the angel in heaven..."

Innie or Outie?

Have you recently been wondering about whether or not your outer appearance is more important than your internal appearance? I thought you were. If you’re ever in doubt, ask this question to a second language learner. Or, better yet, ask any question to a second language learner.They’ll grace you with some words of wisdom. In regards to outie appearance verses innie appearance I'll just let my students do the talking...

"We dress ourselves everyday at the same time we should dress up our heart and keep a good mood everyday." -Lourine

"Don’t let the bright appearance of your eyes covered. Open your heart window with knowledge. With the talent to open up your brilliant path to life."  -Veronica

 

"Although a clothes can make you energetic and good looking, it’s not reality. A long time later, your personality can decide your destiny." -Allen

"When the early man invented clothes, he probably wanted to keep warm. But I like to look beautiful sometimes." -Olivia

"There is no doubt that the out-looking is very important for me. I am sure that I must be a handsome boy forever!" -Colby 

Heart Strings

I have a degree in music education. I have a TEFL certificate. Within a matter of years I will be certified to be a k-12 school counselor. I can teach music, teach english, and counsel. There is no reason why I shouldn't have a job somewhere in some school system. Yet, when I think about my life the thought of teaching in a school is slightly appalling. Sorry--the vision of me doing so just isn't there. Nothing about me has ever been easy, it's never been simple. Why would obtaining a degree and getting a job be any different?

With all these certifications, with all these different outlets, there is still a type of student that takes the prize.

Students with developmental disabilities have a natural capability to break me. During the fall of 2010 we had to observe some music classrooms for a class I was taking. My group was assigned to a local elementary school at which we observed a stellar music teacher with various classes. One of these classes was a special needs class. Eight students, seven adults. At the end of class we played a Bugaboo dance game and we [as the observers] were able to dance with them.

I honestly can't give you any more details about the observation, simply because I can't remember them. What do I remember? Dancing. Twirling. Giggling.

The video below sparked my memory. Then I decided to share.

Angel Hair

I am a rather busy girl with a rather busy mind. Busier than average, trust me. There is the comparison of guys having “waffle brains” while girls have "spaghetti brains". Some girls are ziti, some are those pasta pinwheel things, while others are linguine. Me? Angel hair.

Now, I am a non-busy girl with still a rather busy mind which means something has to get released somewhere. It used to be that I could just burst out in song and that would be enough to suffice the grumbling beast of creative expression. But now my hands twitch for a sketch pad, an empty page, a pencil, a piano—something to break the dam when words are not enough.

Maybe you’ll get to reap the fruit grown by the flooded river.

The Notebook

In this day of technology and all that there is to offer with our cell phones and computers, there are still some people who like kickin' it old school... with a pen and paper. There are those people {like me} who are always scattered, a million thoughts a minute, and who crave the feel of ink flowing from their hand, making an indentation, perhaps forever, on something else. Post its, notepads, loose-leaf, an appetite that is never truly satisfied {my apologies to all of my tree-hugging greenitized friends--it's just the way I am}. There are so many reasons why a person like me could be in love with China, but China's love of notebooks is a mutual love that we share. There are so many reasons why notebooks here in China are much more lovable than back in the states.

• They have Chinglish [English with poorly written grammar, often not making any sense, or providing a wonderful sense of entertainment. Here, English is the 'cool' thing to have as long as it's English... doesn't matter what it says]
• They are entertaining [Asian culture is obsessed with anything cute, cuddly, and fluffy]
• They are random [We came across one that said nothing but "giraffe, giraffe, giraffe..." all across the front of it]
• They are cheap [I'm talkin' fifty-cents. Of course, the more entertaining the Chinglish, the more expensive ;)]

Last night, we raided our team leaders room as he was cleaning out years upon years of "stuff" leftover from other teams {at the end of each year, teams traditionally leave decorations and anything else they can't fit in their suitcase for the upcoming team...wish I had known that coming in!} There were shelves of books (quickly grabbed by Lauren), picture frames (snatched by Laura), and some office supplies, (which the men dove for). There was also a notebook up for grabs. Guess who's it is?

So as I was just sitting on my couch about to stain the perfect off-white blanket some small writing in the corner of the page caught my eye. I flipped through and realized that it was printed on every page of the notebook. I began to read through and realized that 

A.) this is actually really well translated and 

B.) this is quite an inspirational 'poem'. So, I thought I would share...

It's a long long journey
And I don't know if I can believe
When shadows fall and block my eyes
I am lost and know that I must hide
It's a long long journey
Till I find my way home to you
Many days I've spent
Drifting on through empty shores
Wondering what's my purpose
Wondering how to make me strong
I know I will falter I know I will cry
I know you'll be standing by my side
It's a long long journey
And I need to be close to you
Sometimes it feels no one understands
I don't even know why
I do the things I do
When pride builds me up till I can't see my soul
Will you break down these walls and pull me through?
Cause It's a long long journey
Till I feel that I am worth the price
You paid for me on calvary
Beneath those stormy skies
When Satan mocks and friends turn to foes
It feels like everything is out to make me lose control
It's a long long journey
Till I find my way home to you

Now, please note that upon further investigation and simply typing line one into the Master of the Internet, Google informed me that these are in fact lyrics to a song called "Journey" by Angela Zhang [who is totes Chinese]. Although there was a momentary sigh of disappointment in realizing that these were in fact copied words {and not solely written for the purpose of this notebook} I realized that they were words, nonetheless, that were meant to tell a story, meant to be shared. In China.

Sunday Sketch

Open Sea

A single speck

of your eye in mine.

An obscure glimmer.

Reason unknown.

I’m curious.

Mystified, mesmerized.

I get lost in your eyes,

drawn to pools of unknown.

And when I return a shard is lodged in me.

Driftwood on an open sea.

Maybe, just maybe

a sliver of me is in you, too.

Eyes are a window to the soul,

so they say.

Your speck of soul, stead fast and secure,

a part of my identity.

Entwined, perhaps forever,

and I am ever so thankful.

Ruined

If I say the word "bars", what automatically pops into your head? Most people my age think of a venue that involves loud music, alcohol, dimmed lighting, and dancing bodies. Fun place to be. Except that for the sake of this blogpost, I'm talking about a different set of bars. Some say "well, he set the bar pretty high", or the automatic mental picture that pops up is the "uneven bars", only televised in the gymnastics portion of the summer Olympics. {i always wanted to do those}

When you think about life, you don't often picture it as a bar. Often it's a path, or a road, or era of time. Bars are just awkward when you are measuring something of distance. But what about quality? What's the purpose of living for 120 years if your quality of life is miserable and depressing?

"Ruined for the ordinary"

A phrase that I have heard every day, often several times a day. I now live in China, and although some would argue that this is detrimental to my quality of health, it certainly is raising the bar as far as my "quality of life." There is something about living in China that just ruins you for an ordinary life. There is something about living abroad or living/partaking in another culture that "upps the annie". Many who have been abroad can agree that they can never be content with an ordinary life ever again. How could you? Then again there are millions of others who have had cross cultural experiences, and lived for long periods of time in many-a-culture and have had no impact on their lives from it whatsoever. Why the two extremes? In my drawing of conclusions {you know, with all of my years of extensive research and abounding doctoral degrees} I've come to the conclusion that one little word makes all the difference: perspective.

But us being who we are, were we ever called to live an ordinary life? Can a Follower ever be called to a truly ordinary life? Because as far as I'm concerned, having Hope makes life a little extraordinary.

Loose Terms

Sometimes I get frustrated with the English language.

Maybe that's not completely true. Maybe it's the fact that I get frustrated with how people use the English language. You see there are all these words that we have, and we use them all the time. But so often people don't grasp the depth of what they truly mean or intend. They're loose terms.

Friend, love, thank-you, what is that?

What does it mean to truly be thankful and to express a deep and heartfelt gratitude? So many times we hear people say  (often with tears in their eyes or a smile on their face)  "oh, thank-you is not enough but it is all I can say." C'mon English, step up to the plate! Is it that our language truly fails us, or is it that we haven't mastered the use of the language we speak?.... I can't decide.

The other term that always bothers me is 'friend'. I'll just put that out there. Go check out facebook, apparently you have 500 {or more} friends. But if you were in a time of need, how many of those people would drop everything they were doing to come to your aid or to assist you? Those are the people I would call my friends, and I can guarantee you that you ain't gunna have 500 people rushin' to your side. I could name you five. But what does that make the other 495 people?...you tell me.

And then there's love, basically the meaning of life, but we throw it around so loosely that it has as little impact as "a", "and", & "the".

"I love this hat"

"I love that show"

"I love Ke$ha" 

(ew...no)

I don't have the mental capacity to trace it back to the three Greek meanings of love (you know, like the root of the word and actual meaning of it from thousands of years ago). Go check it out on Google. I DO know that there was the ability to break up "love" so that when something was really and truly loved, such as a spouse or child that it wasn't deemed with the same word as fully appreciating pizza.

So now what do we do? Theres this built up anger and frusteration with the use of English, but it's simply not practical to make up new words. Or to learn another language. But when we actually want our words to mean something, how do we go about doing that when society is already mentally flooded with noise and words? How do we effectively convey to someone that we are genuine in what we mean and say without contributing to the flood of words and noises they are bombarded with every day?

I really don't have an answer. Sometimes I just think about these things.

Why

I think it’s a fair question to ask…

“Why praytell am I in China?”

I’m white, our cultures are practically opposite in every way, and even though my odds are slim I could have certainly found some job at home that would pay me more than this gig.

Now, please note that this was not my attitude at all coming into this, although these were all certainly arguments brought against me by fellow Americans in opposition to this adventure. The point has been made: there will always and forevermore be the question of 'why'. We are no different than a curious child who continues to pursue answers with the same question repeatedly, trying to take the given answer to the next level, at which some point the parent/babysitter/guardian must simply respond with “I don’t know”.

Well, the other day one of our instructors, Sally, said something. She said something drastic that changed the question of ‘why’ altogether. She said…

“We become fully alive when our passions and purpose intersect.”

I don’t know about you, but I would love to be fully alive. Who wants to live half dead? So now we take this question of ‘why why why’ and calm it down a bit. After awhile we need to realize that it is not going to take us anywhere unless other questions are asked as well. I am in China, and I’m not going away any time soon. I’m here in China to be fully alive with my passion and purpose.

…excuse me, what?

Passion & purpose. What are those?? Our focus question has been changed from ‘why’ to ‘what’. What is my passion? What is my purpose? Is music one of them? None of them? What about teaching? If teaching is one and music is none then I am about to embark upon the biggest scavenger hunt of my life. If music is one and teaching is none then… well, I’m screwed.

This upcoming year will surely be the quest to discovering what those two ‘p’ words are for me and my life. And just maybe you will be taking some time as well to discover what they mean for you. How many 56 year olds are living without either, caught in the norm of life? The answers surely are not written in the clouds, or buried in a hidden treasure chest {although what great fun that would be}. It is encoded somewhere deep within, unreadable until the right combination clicks and the lock is opened.

California

I don't mean for music to be a big part of my life. It just is.

I often find myself "praying" song lyrics. It's really not a bad thing, why reinvent the wheel? Music and lyrics often have this means of communicating things that are so much more deeper and raw than any conversation that can be had. What a better time to be raw than in prayer?

In fall semester I found myself praying a song a lot. It's a not-known song by a not-known band that laid it all out there for my heart to plea. I meditated on the bridge:

"why is 'comfortable' so uncomfortable right now? I was made for more"

It's a really good song, I encourage you to go check out the rest of it. 

"California, far from me

across the desert to the sea

a million miles away from something I don't know.

Lift my feet from here I stand,

down the street to foreign land;

anywhere you lead me, I will go."

'California' by Attaboy

China it is.

Sometimes it's {funny, miraculous, paralyzing, amazing, weird, stunning, shocking} to see how God answers prayers.