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!
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
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?
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?
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
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
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
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