silent reverie

Sitting in front of this blank screen with my eyes closed, I reach back into my memories for moments of beauty to crystallize with words and share with my small online world.  I have recently discovered that the intentional remembrance of small wonders in daily living can help me endure the monotony of routine, the pangs of loneliness, and the crush of disappointment that sometimes meet me along my way.  This meditative thought-gathering starts in my mind, travels through my heart, and settles into my soul, which in turn reminds me that it is well.  All is well - this life brilliant in its beauty and pain - and my God is good through it all. One of my clients is a teenage girl who sits in my office every other week and declares, with equal parts conviction and despair, that this world - and in turn her whole life and future - is boring.  She loses herself in novels and movies, and is deeply afraid of turning her attention back to reality for fear that the bleakness...

A while ago, my therapist asked me if it was difficult for me to "own my negative feelings".  I had no idea what she was talking about. Negative feelings aren't for me to own, but to throw away as quickly as possible!  They're the messy remnants of relational friction, the ugly parts of an immature heart. Isn't a whole and happy person someone who refuses to accept anger, sadness, disappointment, but one who rises above them, casts them off, and continues sailing through life with a smile? I believed that negative feelings, although natural and unavoidable, were to be dealt with as swiftly as possible, either through prayer or sheer force of mental willpower.  "You don't have to be in a bad mood", or "you can change your emotions", I would say to myself.  And when I couldn't, I would pretend that I did. One of the earliest compliments I can remember receiving on a consistent basis was in Chinese, and often said to me by my relatives....

"Think of something beautiful you saw today, and write about it", he said.  I looked at him, thinking through my ordinary day and feeling skeptical about the beauty in editing a presentation for class or a routine trip to the local HomeGoods.  "The sunrise was beautiful this morning..." I admitted, knowing that it was a typical answer but not having anything else come to mind.  "Yeah, it was really beautiful" he agreed, drifting off to sleep.  I sat there for a moment, and then began to write on the erasable board we keep near our bed. A timid, pale yellow creeps up from the horizon, softening the shadows and warming the edges of the austere concrete shapes of the freeway overpass.  The yellow is trailed by a bolder orange and a brightening of the skies that brings out the colors of the trees and passing cars. And finally, like a beautiful woman entering a room, comes the brilliant red, heralding the sun's arrival and the start of a new day. ...

Some people are "morning people" and others are "night owls".  I've recently realized that I'm actually both - or maybe I'm just not that into afternoons. I like the mornings because they bring a promise of productivity. And one of the perks of working three 12-hour shifts a week at the hospital is I have a lot of free days.  And on these days off, I always wake up with the desire to really do something special, to make something of myself, and to get one step closer to becoming the person I've always dreamed I would be. And then the afternoon creeps up on me.  I've cleaned my room, listened to music, caught up on my shows, and it's probably time I figure out what I'd like to eat for lunch! Before I know it, the promise of productivity begins to feel less like a promise and more like a deadline.  My optimistic vision for today is not exactly turning out the way I planned, and the more I putter around my house the more I find myself lo...

The room is quiet again; the small tentative wave of discussion once again receding in the wake of yet another outburst, another strange question, another meaningless ramble.  I look around the room and see faces in various stages of impatience and indifference and the thought comes to me unbidden: "I wish he just didn't come anymore." The last few months, our small group of relatively like-minded believers has been surprised by the arrival of people who are by every definition of the word "different".  We've seen them as a chance for our group to exhibit true acceptance and sincere love for people who are unlike us but need Jesus as much as we do.  However, as the months past, we found ourselves more and more at a loss as to how to connect to them, how to help them change and see true growth.  If they don't change or if they begin to make our other church members feel uncomfortable, what do we do?  How much do we risk in hopes that they will somehow f...

Three months ago, I arrived at JFK bleary-eyed and frazzled after a 2 hour flight delay, and walked into a lobby filled with my closest friends and family.  My bewilderment was quickly replaced with excitement as I realized exactly what was happening: Jesse was proposing to me.  As much as I knew that we were heading towards marriage, when the proposal actually happened I was still stunned and surprised.  I said yes, of course, and was immediately engulfed by joyous cheers and warm embrace of Blueprinters, childhood friends, and family.  The memory of all the unrestrained expressions of love and excitement for me still brings a tear to my eye. Like many newly engaged girls, I gazed at my ring for days and became an obsessive wedding blog follower.  What used to be casual browsing became a sort of eager and desperate search for more picture-perfect DIY rustic chic weddings that attract repins on pinterest like hipsters to thrift stores.  As if the more of ...