Staying up late

Vacations are wonderful.  We should have more of them!

On average, we have been going to bed at around 12:30 or 1 a.m. for the past three nights because of games.  On Wednesday night, we played Settlers of Catan; Thursday, we played Guitar Hero; Friday, we played Bang.  Luckily, I could wake up anytime I wanted the next morning!  Going back to school on Monday is going to be tough.

Finally, we were able to mail out about 100 cards today!  We started working on the "thank you" cards for our wedding back in July, but it's been at a stalemate for some time.  It's a good thing people are generally understanding and give newly weds a one-year grace period to write these cards.  :)

Blackouts

This week I experienced two blackouts. 

Monday morning: a manhole exploded a couple streets away from my school, so they shut off electricity in the immediate vicinity; consequently, school was canceled and all enjoyed a pre-Thanksgiving day-off. 

Last night, J and I, along with two friends from our house church, enjoyed a quiet evening at Qdoba's, followed by an "Advent Pre-funk" at our place.  While in the midst of reading Scripture and meditating on the world which is to come, the power went out. 

The first candle of Advent had been lit, and for the next hour or so, we sat around the candlelight in pitch darkness, admiring the flame's beauty and enjoying the warmth of conversation.  Without electricity, we felt naked and helpless, yet because we were in the company of a single light source that was unaffected by the power outage, we felt secure. 

Prior to the blackout, the candlelight danced fervently to capture our attention, but we did not notice it because we were focused on other tasks.  Yet when the entire room suddenly turned pitch black, the only thing that captivated our attention was the candlelight, which became the centerpiece of conversation. 

A sudden moment of clarity.

Modern life, with its bright lights, instant messages, and disposable materials, can make us lose sight of our light/life source.  While we're busy looking in every which direction, the candlelight dances and bides its time. 

Run.

Yesterday I worked out at the YMCA for the first time.  It was strange to be in my stretchy pants and work out clothes, all the while self-conscious that my students would somehow recognize me.  Most of them play ball in the gym, and with plenty of windows all around the elliptical machines, I would be hard pressed to escape their notice.  I thought I was free until I looked up to see a toothy grin staring at me through the window. 

[caught]

At this time, I should probably strap on my gym shoes and head out for a jog. The weather is too nice to pass.

Good thing it takes blogging to motivate me.

See ya!

Dreams, strange ones

I had an appointment at 4 p.m. with my former piano teacher, yet I had time to kill. Therefore, my mother dropped me off at the local thrift store to shop for shoes. She was supposed to be back in time to take me to my lesson, yet at 4:12, she was still no where in sight. When I found her eventually, she seemed oblivious to my predicament, at which point I unleashed a volley of invectives.

As soon as those harsh words escaped from my mouth, I awoke from my dream. My first thought: it's Sunday. My second thought: I didn't do any work yesterday so I have to work today. My third thought: I hate work. My fourth thought: "Whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." I felt immediately convicted and confused, as if this dream was supposed to have some spiritual significance. I usually don't read much into my dreams since they usually don't make sense, yet this one is making me pause.

The strangest part of this dream was that even as I was yelling at my mother, I felt a sense of guilt welling up inside. This incident could have been avoided if I had simply told my mother about this appointment ahead of time, and I also could have sought her out earlier rather than wait around for her to pick me up. As I was yelling at her in my dream, I realized this truth. Yet it felt good to unleash my anger on someone else and it was much easier to blame others than to take responsibility for my own actions.

This particular thought hit home as I realized the way I have been approaching work lately. My mind has been drifting between two worlds: the present, laborious, day-in, day-out tasks of lesson planning, grading papers, and going to meetings vs. the amorphous future that ever titillates my imagination. My approach to work these days has been to put off responsibility whenever possible, since I am too tired or otherwise preoccupied to do what I'm supposed to do.

"Whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." This reminder both convicts yet annoys me. It's easier said than done.

A page out of my journal: February 10, 2005

Surely, meeting this guy has not changed my life, but it has infused a
fresh perspective in me. Being a teacher is being able to see the
potential in another person, even when he or she cannot see it within
him/herself. This guy was able to get out of selling drugs and living
a "messed-up" life because one of his former teachers called him out.
But being able to see someone's potential is not enough. A teacher
must have the courage to speak truth, to provide opportunities for
growth, and to be patient even when people don't respond well.

Sometimes I get this inkling that I will be severely challenged, maybe
even persecuted some day down the road. Though right now I am
comfortable, I don't imagine things will be always be this way.
Comfort leads to apathy. I do not ever want to be apathetic, for
apathy kills the soul.


What happens when you realize that your older self is wiser than your current self and you have become the very person you vowed never to become? What happens when you grow cynical and tired, and the brightness of yesterday's ideals have been dimmed due to the dreary circumstances of today? What happens when you begin to hope for a change, yet you are afraid that you might not be strong enough to go through the fire?


I wonder if this morning's dream was supposed to nudge me back into life somehow. Music and writing -- two forces that once occupied the forefront of all my creative energy -- are so much on the peripheral now that I must focus my energies on teaching. Perhaps I am late for my appointment with these creative forces? Perhaps I need to stop waiting for them to find me and take proactive measures to seek them out? Perhaps I need to start taking responsibility for my own actions, rather than blame my work for making me tired and stressed all the time...

I've been reading a book lately (loaned to me by a friend): China Road by Rob Gifford. Whenever I read books of this sort, my heart leaps and I wish that I could have a writer's life.


[Baby steps]

Revisiting old flames

At a wedding reception last night, J was talking to a friend and said, "Maybe we should just go. We've been talking about it so much that if we don't do it, we may always wonder 'What could have been?' Let's just go to China next year. There's no better time than now!"

I was shocked to hear J's statement, since he is usually one to be meticulous and thoughtful about his decisions and words. This kind of impulse would be more likely to come out of my mouth than his. Strangely though, after I heard these statements, I was immediately excited, then saddened. The thought of actually picking up and going to the country that has captured my imagination since high school made my heart leap for a moment. Yet as I thought about the friends we have made in Boston and the lifestyle we have come to enjoy, I knew that we would be giving up many things that have come to mean so much to us.

A life overseas promises excitement and challenges. In the past, I would have thirsted for this kind of lifestyle, yet lately, I have grown too comfortable in my current state to desire such a radical change. Perhaps that is precisely why change is in order. I'm not sure what is in store, nor am I sure that this is even the path God is outlining for us. Yet I do know that if we do make a decision to go overseas, it will be entirely an act of God!

I feel like Indiana Jones who is standing at the brink of the abyss: the bridge is invisible and my fears are palpable, yet I need to take that first step and trust that the map and legends indeed show a bridge exists.

* Sucking in my breath *

Here we go!

Mystic

This weekend, J and I took a trip to Mystic, Connecticut, to celebrate our six months anniversary. Amazingly, we are already half-way through our first year of marriage! Since both of us have been under a lot of pressure at work lately, the weekend get-away was timely, refreshing, and educational.

We visited the Pequot Museum, in which we were able to learn about the culture, life, and history of the Pequot tribe. Visiting this museum was an added bonus, since I had just been teaching my students about the Pequot war of 1636-37, yet I did not know that I would actually visit where battles took place when we decided to go to Mystic. In addition, my students had been writing argumentative essays on the issue of tribal gaming, and many of them have parents who often go to Foxwoods, a grand casino near the museum that is owned by the Pequot tribe. Learning about these connections have made history come alive for me. As I have learned more about history of various Native American tribes, I have become more saddened and angered at the mistreatment of these people. The silver lining, however, is that the Native Americans are still very much alive and active. The fact that the Pequot tribe has been able to create this remarkable museum is a testament to their resiliency.

J and I hiked a trail this morning that began at the Denison Pequotsepos Nature Center. Within the woods, we noticed traces of stone walls that must have marked private homesteads at one point in time. Yet the homesteads have been long abandoned and the woods have once again reclaimed its land. As we hiked, I imagined myself to be a Pequot woman, manuevering a familiar trail that would have posed a danger for me in the 1630's. I listened to the leaves rustle and the trees sway in the wind, telling me stories that have been buried under layers of earth. A powerful gust of wind sent a flurry of fallen leaves across our path.

This image reminded me of a certain e.e. cumming's poem:

1(a

le
af
fa
ll

s)
one
l

iness

A friend from college introduced me to this poem and said, "This poem is me." I remember being sad to learn that she often felt like a single falling leaf and always in a state of loneliness. A leaf, just like a human life, must separate itself from its community and "die" alone. Yet in the image that I saw this morning, not just one leaf, but a multitude of leaves fell to their final resting place. It was as if the trees wanted to show me just how many human lives have fallen on this soil hundreds of years ago, dying all at once due to human stupidity, injustice, and greed.

I cannot help but grieve for the human condition.

Sometimes, it takes all my energy to hold onto hope, a hope in the kind of redemption that would make all wrongs right. All is not well, yet I cannot succumb to fatalism that would swallow me in anger, pity, or vengeance. Sometimes, though, I am tempted to be angry at the Creator -- why so much suffering? Why do you allow such rampant human stupidity?

Another day, another month. Time whizzes past me like a meteor falling from the sky.

In the midst of an extremely busy week, I am grateful for small things like:

- warm cups of water
- African violets from my husband
- marinated beef
- invitations to dinners
- journal entries
- satisfaction of having had a full day
- understanding friends who are forgiving with me falling asleep on them
- music from my guitar
- Chuck
- silence

Lasagna, nostalgia

Last night a former student of mine called and asked, "Ms. Lu, would you like to eat lasagna for lunch tomorrow? I'm making some right now and I thought you might like it!"

How could I refuse?

So today we ate lasagna together and caught up on our summers. I was so touched by his gesture of generosity and thoughtfulness. He was one of the main organizers for the group of students who came to my wedding back in April. Fifty years from now, when I'm wizened and senile, I will probably still remember this moment, when a student initiated a gesture of kindness.

I still see my former students around the school, and while I am happy not to be teaching them anymore, I do miss their vivacious (and psychotic) presence. My ninth graders this year are much more tame, mature, and respectful of one another. I am grateful for this change, yet it will take awhile before I can reach that same level of closeness with this class!

WaterFire

Primal
Instincts gather
'round the fire
to dance in its dangerous rhythm,
bask in the glow of spirits
and perchance
glide along the slope of time--
halted, fixated
upon a moment of conversation
like kindred blood.

Fire
on
water

separated
yet
united
a supple, yielding dance

T. L. - 9/14/08

Little things matter

I have recently decided to let go and let it be. The result has been marvelous. I am free from my own frustrations, free from imposing my standards on others, and free to simply let them be. Why hadn't I thought of this earlier?

Today a little comment really got to me. It struck at the core of who I am, a woman who desires to be special. It had been awhile since I felt the need to compare myself with others, yet lately, dissatisfaction comes more easily. Why do people seem to like her more? How come they get invited to these things that I don't get invited to? Yes, very middle school, I know.

I fumed about the comment, then later cried on J's shoulders. The release was cathartic, and after a good meal, I am back to my contented self.

I am beloved...by no other than the Majesty of Heavens, the Intimate One.

Days 1 & 2

Humanities 9

Preparing to teach a new curriculum has been challenging yet enjoyable. This year, for the first time, I am collaborating with two other 9th grade Humanities teachers, which makes my work all the more interesting. I am held accountable to a greater degree, which pushes me to work out the details of my lessons ahead of time. This leads to greater professionalism and at the end of the day, better classroom experiences.

Resting over the summer has allowed me to regain perspective and confidence; that, coupled with three years of experience under my belt and a co-teaching stint with LaurieAnn during VBS, I felt a marked difference in my personal attitude and ability to garner students' attention and impart upon them the urgency of education. On my first day, I was no longer nervous and unsure of myself. Rather, I commanded their respect for me and for their own learning. It helps that I have a good group of ninth graders, with whom I can establish a new relationship.

After teaching my first 100 minute block yesterday, I was extremely pleased with the ways in which students were interacting with me, with the text, and with one another. They were eager to learn and to do well in high school, and I was ready to make sure that they have these goals in mind. We began the discussion with elements of success. Many of them listed "hard work," "never giving up," "finding support," etc. as important qualities to possess in a successful person. We looked at a story of a 400 pound man who walked across the country in order to lose weight as well as to regain his sense of self. We looked at the map of the world and made connections between ourselves and our history. We looked at the human condition -- our ability to create and to destroy, to reproduce, to tell stories.

"Conscience and Perspective" is the theme for this first term. What shapes our "inner sense of right or wrong?" What would motivate a person to act out or reject his moral conscience? How would seeing things from different perspectives alter our conscience and actions? These are difficult questions, but I'm looking forward to exploring them this year!

"Stone"

Go inside a stone.
That would be my way.
Let somebody else become a dove
Or gnash with a tiger's tooth.
I am happy to be a stone.

From the outside the stone is a riddle:
No one knows how to answer it.
Yet within, it must be cool and quiet
Even though a cow steps on it full weight;
Even though a child throws it in a river;
The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed
To the river bottom
Where the fishes come to knock on it
And listen.

I have seen sparks fly out
When two stones are rubbed,
So perhaps it is not dark inside after all;
Perhaps there is a moon shining
From somewhere, as though behind a hill--
Just enough light to make out
The strange writings, the star-charts
On the inner walls.

- Charles Simic

Jet Lag

I have had trouble sleeping the past couple of nights since coming back from California.

So I stay up to read A People's History of the United States by Howard Zinn. I am often angered as I finish each chapter, first on behalf of the Native Americans, then of the women, then of the blacks. Incredibly, textbooks leave out the perspectives of these people, considered to be under-class and unimportant. What's even more outrageous is the fact that the name of religion has been invoked on many accounts for the sake of keeping these people "in their place." This baffles and angers me most. I'm not sure that I can be objective in my teaching of this material -- maybe objectivity should not be the main goal. Perhaps, history in and of itself is subjective in nature, and the truth is a walk on a thin line.


In preparing these materials, I have been trying to come to terms with the role religion has played in history, verses the role "religion" has played in my personal life. Much of the material I have read seem to depict religion as a heartless monster with a brazen attitude intent upon devouring all who are weak and helpless. Yet this is not the Christianity I know. How much could I demonstrate in the classroom that Christians throughout history have also countered injustice with kindness and goodness. To what extent would I be able to show them the multi-faceted ways in which our beliefs dictate our choices and the ways we see others?

When I first started teaching, I had a difficult time understanding why so many of my students hate "white people." Their attitudes are just as racist as a white man would have against a black, or a latino against an Asian. Yet they seem to find no problem in stating point blank: I hate white people. They may have respect for individual whites, yet they hate the entire "race" as a whole.

In reading history from the oppressed perspective, I am beginning to understand my students' perspective a bit. Whites have historically been the oppressors in the Americas, even before Columbus set sail on the Ocean Blue. Before him were the conquistadors, who slaughtered and subjugated the Natives in Central & South America, and even up to the present day, despite race relations having improved, whites still hold positions of power, influence, and wealth in this country. Even people across the world strive to emulate the West and are quick to dethrone their own cultures.

Yet even so, this is no excuse to hate.

Recently, a news article appeared on CNN.

If churches are not places where racial reconciliation takes place, then what good is a church? Jesus calls us to love our enemies. This is a high calling and a difficult one. Why not take the easier route? Stay in our comfort zones and be blind to the injustices we see?

I am excited about this year, though I always feel this way right before school begins...then once the sh-- hits the fan, I often wish I had chosen a different profession. However, I think this year will be different. I feel more centered, more at ease with myself, and more willing to ask for help. I'm looking forward to collaborating with two other new teachers in the 9th grade; the past three years have often been lonely for me, as I am left to my own devices without a clue as to whether I am doing things right or not. Yet with two other colleagues with whom to share ideas, I feel all the more equipped and ready to take on challenges.

For lack of words...no title

My apologies once again for the absence. I guess I have some legitimate excuse for not writing as of late. Where am I? Currently, in Santa Clara, California! J and I have been on the West Coast for the past week spending time with parents, cousins, nieces and nephews, and inevitably -- eating our way through the West coast.

Speaking of food, this trip thus far has yielded much food for thought on issues of parenting, mainly because we get questions like this almost everyday now: "So...when do you guys want to start having a family?" Each time, J and I look at each other and shrug our shoulders. Ideally, at least a year, but preferably two or three? We say with our fingers crossed.

After babysitting for our pastor's kids and hanging out here with my niece and nephew, I have a new-found appreciation for parents. I have always known parenting to be difficult, yet this requires a whole new level of self-sacrifice that I am not yet ready to give -- or maybe more poignantly, I am not yet willing to give!

That being said, however, if I were to embark on the journey of parenting with anyone, I'd want J to be with me. Our different strengths (and weaknesses) will hopefully hone and sharpen us to instill godly values in our children. I asked him today, "What are some principles you would like to have or things you would like to do as a parent?"

"To instill in them the value of simplicity," he replied. "One of the strongest forces in the United States is materialism. One wonders why we hardly see in America the spiritual forces that seem to be so active and blatant in other countries: here, we are blinded by materialism."

Having lived in a land of opulence, we have come to expect material goods to satisfy our needs and wants. I never cease to be amazed when I walk into grocery stores, even small mom and pop shops, where aisle after aisle of goods are piled high from floor to ceiling waiting for human consumption. Lately, I have become obsessed with searching for "Made in China" labels, just to confirm my suspicion that China is really taking over the world. Americans may dislike the Chinese for taking their manufacturing jobs, but Americans cannot help but live on the very products that low-wage earning Chinese workers are producing. Materialism feeds this perceived need, and at the end of the chain are the poor and defenseless who endure harsh working and living conditions, just to satisfy the wants of people half-way across the world. Ironically, materialism is also eating its way through China, where the rich are idolizing and buying "American" goods, while the working class can't even afford to buy the very products they make. For a fascinating view of Chinese-American developments, see Ted Koppel's recent series on the Discovery Channel: People's Republic of Capitalism.

I have once heard someone say that you should not share your dreams with too many people. I never really understood why that should be so. Perhaps, by sharing your dreams too openly, you put your dreams at risk of being prodded, poked, or even rejected before they even have the chance to fly. Yet at the same time, by not sharing your dreams, you run the risk of not even flying at all.

Once upon a time, an idealistic me wanted to open a school in China. I don't know how this seed was planted in my head (perhaps my mother had a lot to do with it). Maybe the source of this desire runs even deeper -- back to that time as a sophomore in high school when I was the only one who stood up in response to the call to do missions at a winter conference. China was on my heart, though I had never been there, nor even knew much about her people or history. Over the years, as I have learned more about God, about China, and about my own strengths and passions, my desire to go to China has waxed and waned. At times, I longed to be there like one would long for a homeland she has never seen; at other times, I tired of dreaming and settled for this American life.

Each time someone asks me when I want to start a family, I am all the more confused. I would love for my parents to be readily accessible and close when I have kids, especially when they are young. Having grown up in the States, far apart from my extended family in Taiwan, I longed for grandparents, aunts/uncles, and cousins to be near me. Thus, I would not want to deprive my parents the joy of seeing their grandchildren grow up. However, doing so would require us to move to California, which means that China would be on hold...

Yet what of China? What of my dreams? What of J's dreams and visions?

The impatient part of me just wants to up and go. Yet perhaps we are here in a holding pattern for yet a while longer. This incubation period is meant to purify, refine, and redefine my notions of passion, vision, success and failure.

Geez...all this from a simple question on parenting...!

Friendships

Certain people stir up instant feelings of warmth and a desire for closeness. This can happen with anyone -- big or small, young or old, male or female. I felt this the other night at the cook-out, when I sat next to the eighty-six year old mother from Pakistan. She was a wealth of stories. Even though I had a hard time understanding her due to her thick accent, I simply enjoyed being in her presence.

However, true friendships are ones that go beyond those initial moments of connection. I have experienced intense friendships that have sprung up overnight yet faded with the passing of time and the disadvantages of distance. On the other hand, I also have friends with whom distance is a non-matter; no passage of time or expanse of distance would hinder us from laughing or crying with one another even after playing phone tag for six months.

Friendships that have been tested by fire -- and survive -- are indelibly carved into our memories. I have had my share of friendships that have failed the test, as well as those that have survived. Yet both sets of friendships remain a constant source of reminder that forgiveness and grace can lead to healing.

Then there are certain friendships that change in nature over time, and I become increasingly at lost over how to best love and care for that person. Yet out of loyalty to our past relationship and a hope for a better future one, I hold on. Loving this kind of friend is perhaps the most difficult, for it involves acknowledging that as others change, I must also change. The old way of knowing becomes obsolete, and I am forced to explore new ways of knowing and loving.

I wonder if that is why marriage is so difficult for many people. As couples grow older, enter different stages of life, and face more difficult challenges, people inevitably change. Some grow more cynical, easily stressed, and lose sight of what was once attractive or lovely about the spouse. Yet it could also go the opposite direction as well! I hope that as I grow older, despite having to face many more challenges, I will change in ways that allow Jonathan the freedom to grow.

Moon Watching

Last night, Jonathan and I went to a fellow teacher friend J's house for a cook-out. My friend is originally from Pakistan, and despite having been in the States for twenty plus years, he sounds like a lyrical flute with a hint of Urdu when he speaks.

We set up shop in the backyard, with Indian rice, savory BBQ chicken, lentils, pupusa, home-made chutney, home-made hot sauce, and white wine to top off the spread. Next to me was a woman from Columbia who is married to L, a math teacher at my school. He is from El Salvador. Across from me sat a wizardly-looking man from India. He has a face that has seen a thousand suns. Further down the table, my friend's eighty-six years old mother reclined on the lawn chair and relished in the food she created. She is from Pakistan as well. Of the eleven people at the table, we represented at least seven different countries!

As the night snuck up on us, we noticed the waxing gibbous moon peeking at us through the trees. On our walks, Jonathan and I often make casual observations about the moon. Just a few days ago, it's crescent shape hung low in the sky; now it has taken on a fuller, more voluptuous form. At that moment while watching the moon, I felt infinitely small yet at the same time singularly significant. The moon tenderly spoke to me with its caressing beams of light billions of lightyears away.

I wished to absorb its radiance into the caverns of my soul.

Okay. So I lied.

I said in my previous post that I would blog for 15 minutes every day. Well, as you can see, I am not one for daily disciplines! It's hard to get back into the habit of blogging once I have fallen out of the habit. Today, Jonathan said that my brother-in-law commented on the fact that I have not been blogging for 15 minutes every day, which lulled me out of my laziness. I had no idea people were actually still reading (and perhaps anticipating) my writing! The perfectionist in me tricks me into thinking that every entry has to be a good entry; hence, if I don't have anything inspirational to write, then don't write anything at all.

Well, screw perfectionism. :) This one is for you, bro-in-law!

This summer, I have been reading a lot -- some pleasure reading, some more serious reading in preparation for the upcoming school year. I actually derive a lot of pleasure from reading about "serious" issues. For example, two of my recent finds have been on issues of oppression, war, ethnic tensions.

1. Brother, I'm Dying by Edwidge Danticat: a memoir about the life of two brothers from Haiti, who survive political upheaval, war, and eventual "exile" in the States.

2. What is the What by Dave Eggers: a semi-memoir about the life of Valentino Achek Deng, a surviving Lost Boy of Sudan who is now residing in the United States.

Lastly, my "serious" reading is Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong. I usually do not have patience for dense reading such as this, but this book is fascinating and makes me re-think the way our understanding of history is construed and colored by the perspective from which we are taught.

More on this later... my fifteen minutes is up! :)

The Spirit of the Disciplines by Dallas Willard

This summer, I aim to blog for at least 15 minutes per day on a particular reading or news event, as a way to push the limits of my imagination and understanding of God, the world, and my self.

"Multitudes are now turning to Christ in all parts of the world. How unbearably tragic it would be, though, if the millions of Asia, South America, and Africa were led to believe that the best we can hope for from The Way of Christ is the level of Christianity visible in Europe and America today...this is an age for spiritual heroes--a time for men and women to be heroic in faith and in spiritual character and power. The greatest danger for the Christian church today is that of pitching its message too low" (Willard, xii).

"A successful performance at a moment of crisis rests largely and essentially upon the depths of a self wisely and rigorously prepared in the totality of its being -- mind and body...The secret of the easy yoke is simple, actually. It is the intelligent, informed, unyielding resolve to live as Jesus lived in all aspects of his life, not just in the moment of specific choice or action"(Willard, 4, 10).

I picked this book off J's bookshelf. Immediately, I knew that the contents would meet me where I am. So where am I exactly? In the desert. I have been wandering around the desert for some time now, with glimpses of oases on the horizon, yet they never seem to quench my thirst. I long to walk in lush gardens, replete with morning dew and goodness.

Yet as Willard points out, the secret to having a heroic faith and spiritual character is rather simple. To fight the good fight and to build strength of character, one must resolve to live in a manner that allows Christ to permeate all aspects of life. Spiritual heroes are not born out of Sunday to Sunday sermons, but rather, they are born out of the secret, daily meetings with the Author of the Universe.

New Leather Wine Skins

Why "Leather Wine Skins" you might ask?

Leather: durable, versatile, organic, and warm. Before plastics came along, leather dominated our world. From handbags, vests, saddles, to wine flasks, this material provided sustenance for human civilization for centuries.

Wine: gets better with age. I'm not getting any younger, which means that with each passing year, I must be growing more fragrant and tasteful.

Skin: regenerative and protective in nature. The skin constantly renews itself and also serves to keep germs from attacking our system and our guts from spilling out. It's a beautiful organ.