I had a dream last night that I picked up a guitar and was strumming, strumming, strumming.  When I woke up, I was reminded of this list.  Looks like I’ve finished quite a few things since the original post date… It’s time to add a few more things to the list!  Or perhaps, I need to make a whole new list, since I wrote that list 6 yrs ago, and so much has changed since then.  The man who inspired this list had 127 things on his list.  I definitely need to set a higher goal than 42!

My List of Everything I Ever Wanted to Do
Original Post:  Jan 14, 2004

1- Speak Vietnamese fluently
2- Speak one other language fluently
3- Play guitar well enough to participate in leading worship once
4- Go to Vietnam for a missions trip
5- Go to Prince Edward Island for vacation
6- Live outside of US for over a year
7- Climb Half Dome
8- Publish one book
9- Read Tozer’s major works
10- Read a work of Bonhoeffer, Augustine, Calvin, Luther, Spurgeon, Andrew Murray, Nouwen, David Brainerd, Jonathan Edwards, Teresa of Avila, Brother Andrew, Watchman Nee
11- Ride a hot air balloon
12- Have one white Christmas
13- Know the entire New Testament as well as I know the Gospel of John .
14- Know the Old Testament as well as I know John
15- Memorize John 11 (narrative of Lazarus)
16- Memorize a book of the Bible
17- Pray with my mom & dad
18- Share the Gospel with a receptive Mom & Dad
19- Share Jesus with Dad’s parents
20- Share the Gospel with all my aunts & uncles
21- Share the Gospel with all 28 cousins

Things I’ve Already Done

1 - Lead & disciple at least one person to Christ who will ”reproduce”
2- Ride a horse
3- Read all of Jane Austen’s major works (6 novels)
4- Overcome fear of public speaking (speak in front of at least 100 people)
5- Read every book in the Bible
6- Share the Gospel with my sister, help her walk with Jesus
7- Share Jesus with Mom’s parents
8- Take a trip with best friend Sam (Chang) – just the 2 of us (Portland. TIU).
9- Move out of parent’s house on good terms
10- Have a good relationship with both parents
11- Go on staff with a Christian ministry (Navs, Campus Crusade, PESI)
12- Have one of my written works published in a book (it was a poem)
13- Get baptized (7/20/97)
14- Go on a short term missions trip (summer 03, CSM LA)
15- Go to China for a missions trip
16- Watch the sun rise over the ocean
17- See one of the Wonders of the World (Great Wall on 7/17/04)
18- See a Shakespeare play in a theater
19- Learn how to ballroom dance (Viennese waltz with Dad for my wedding)
20- Ride a train (China)
21- Walk down the aisle as a bride

“Car worship” – not worship of cars but worship in a car.

I had forgotten — until yesterday — about the multitude of special moments I’ve had with God while sitting in my car.  It happened as my car has always been like a second home to me. 

As a college student, I commuted 30 minutes to get to campus, and therefore, I would spend ample time in my car waiting for the next class or waiting for fellowship/Bible study to start (rather than driving all the way home and back again).  In fact, my car was stocked with supplies – a little blanket and a mini pillow for the occasional nap, an umbrella in case it rained, rice crackers or some other snack for when I got hungry, and most importantly, my car supplied quiet and privacy for the ever-constant need of desperate prayers and heart-pourings.  And everywhere I went, of course, I carried my Bible and my journal.  So my car became my bethel (my special place of meeting God).  Many important decisions, conclusions and revelations were conceived of right there in the driver’s seat (and sometimes the backseat).  The car was often too small to contain the mighty presence of almighty God. 

After college, I had a similar commute to work for my first job (being that my office was directly across the street from the university campus) and later when I worked for the missions agency (being that I had to cross a very long bridge in order to get to that office).  Lunch time became a time of escape from the world of smoking cessation therapy and missions recruitment strategy as I threw myself at the feet of Jesus — in my car.    Because it has always been that a whole ‘nother world was carrying on, unseen, my car has also always been the key to an opportunity to process it all with the Savior.  It’s incredible that a small ordinary space like that can really be such holy ground.

Recently, I have started to get ‘stuck’ in my car again with growing frequency.  It happens when my little mini-me (who looks nothing like me) falls asleep in her car seat.  I decided that staying put was the best course of action — after several failed attempts of carrying her in (with my weak arms and a lot of jostling), which resulted in an awake baby.  It took a few of these moments of boredom (waiting for her to wake up) before it occurred to me that I needed to re-stock my car once again.  The result?  Two days ago, beautiful car worship. 

Sometimes I wonder if people really want honesty.  I really appreciate authenticity, and for a long time now, I believed everyone else did too.  But it’s come to my attention in more recent times that being truly honest may be considered “TMI” to some and can often be misconstrued as too much complaining to others.  Honesty, to me, consists of vulnerably laying out my struggles and the challenges I’m facing.  It’s resisting the urge to put on a clown smile and simply respond that everything is great.  In truth, everything is great.  Blessings abound in Jesus, and I don’t have anything to complain about — but this doesn’t mean life is not without its challenges.  So if I were to give you a little more of myself, then I am to tell you what lays beneath the surface.  To me, it is loving to reveal more of my heart.  It is not loving to say nothing at all.

But it’s not always easy to tell who wants to engage in conversations that delve deeper than the surface and difficult to know unless I throw it out there and see how it is received — and by “it”, I mean my heart.  But one can only throw their heart around a few times before it can no longer bear the beating it gets.  Sometimes it really just seems far easier to lovingly say, “everything is great” than engage in true discourse, but does anybody gain from that?  I’m not sure they do. 

For a long time now, I’ve taken my wounded heart and gone into hiding.  I mastered the art of sharing things that appear deep but are not truly personal and have often opted to say nothing at all.  As I begin to seek deeper intimacy with Jesus again, I am finding that hiding away is not the same as hiding myself in Him.  What does it mean exactly?  I’m not sure, but I am wanting to find out.    

I was greatly motivated by Sunday’s sermon about choosing the better thing as Mary did.  One of the things that has been difficult for me since becoming a mom has been learning that my time does not belong to me anymore.  It belongs to my baby — or, rather, I must always consider her needs alongside my desires.  I used to spend extensive extended time with God, uninterrupted.  Now interruptions and the possibility of interruptions keep me too distracted to have deep, lengthy times with God, even during the times when I have the chance.  But Jesus was always interrupted by crowds of people with needs, and yet he still found time for intimacy with the Father.  So I need to pick up some tips from him and learn how to work around the interruptions.  I need to adjust better and re-claim my time, so that I can cultivate deeper intimacy with Jesus. 

It was on Thursday that I was sitting at the end of my baby’s hospital bed, watching her sleep in the dim lighting, with the EEG electrode cap on her head.  It had been three weeks since we had observed some things that had brought us to this point.  And as I sat there with possible prognoses as a specter overhead, I thought about how God had asked Abraham to sacrifice his son, and I wondered how the story might have been different if God had asked Sarah instead.  I won’t pretend to know what a father’s heart is like, but I do know a mother’s.  It is not a nearly impossible, but a truly impossible request.  I am quite certain that asking me to put myself on that altar and sacrifice myself would be infinitely easier than the thought of my child being placed in harm’s way.  But if God were to ask me to do something similar, what other choice do I have?  I can’t fathom following through with such a request, but I knew in that moment that hinneni (“Here I am”) is the only option for me.  My desire to hold on tightly to my baby to protect her was being eclipsed by the realization that she belongs to God.  For as intense as my desire might be to shield her from a life full of challenges, there is really nothing I could do to prevent it.  She belongs to God, and if he wanted her to have an illness for her whole life in order to bring him glory, then there’s little I can do – nor should I do – to change it.  If his calling for my life is to focus on care for her, then that’s his will for me.  A calling is not something I can fight.  It’s a privilege.  It’s a destiny.  When we fulfill his calling for us, we bring him glory. 

While I sat there with my little baby, waiting as the test was running, and wondering about the result, I prayed over and over again, “She belongs to you, she belongs to you…” as an act of surrender, a declaration, an affirmation, a confession, and a request to help me remember and believe.  I am only given charge over her life to nurture her and help her understand and fulfill her giftings and calling.  She does not belong to me.  She does not belong to me.  This was surely another defining moment in my young career as a mother…

The results came later affirming what we had prayed for all along — the EEG proved normal.  I guess God has a different calling for the three of us (and I must admit — as I’m sure Abraham could concur — how thankful I am for that!). 

I started another blog awhile ago in order to focus on topics that don’t belong here.  If you are interested, please message me, and I will send you the link.    (There’s a link to message me in the column to the right.)

Before I became a parent and before I was introduced to Dr. Harvey Karp, I always wondered what receiving blankets were for.  Granted, I had vague notions of swaddling babies, starting from when my cousin (who is now 20) was born, but I never knew the wonders of receiving blankets until I became a parent.  Tonight, Sam and I were trying to figure out how we can fix something, and then I came up with the bright idea of using the receiving blanket for it.  In response, he said, “The receiving blanket is the answer to everything.”  I laughed in agreement.  We then proceeded to list all the things we’ve used the receiving blankets for:

1.  swaddling baby for sleeping
2.  as a light blanket during the day
3.  to shield baby from sun when in the stroller
4.  to shield baby from wind when in the stroller
5.  as a ‘mat’ for tummy time
6.  rolled up as a pillow for baby’s head
7.  rolled up to block the baby from rolling over
8.  to cover me when I’m nursing
9.  to cover the car window while I’m nursing
10.  to cover baby’s toys that we don’t want baby to play with
       (what she doesn’t see doesn’t exist at her current stage)
11.  to wipe up drool
12.  to wipe up spit-up
13.  to wipe up tears
14.  to wipe up sweat (from crying so much)
and lastly but best of all…
15.  to soak up diaper explosions (read:  watery poop in projectile motion during first mos) 

Receiving Blankets have been life saviors in our household… 

I took a nap today and woke up feeling even more tired than when I went to sleep.  My body just aches with exhaustion, feels like a Salvador Dali clock sort of dripping, drooping, melting, wilting.  These last few months have felt like I’ve been running a relay with myself.  It feels like I’m running and running and passing the baton to myself.  And as long as I keep a steady pace, I actually don’t feel the brunt of my exhaustion, but sometimes, it hits me hard and I am suddenly aware of what my body has been going through.  That was today and yesterday and the day before that.  When it happens, I’ll fall into a deep sleep for a few hours and won’t even hear the baby’s crying (until it gets really loud).  And strangely, it’s at these times that I find out that the more I sleep, the more I realize how much sleep I need.  Too bad the race is still going on, and I need to keep pushing forward.

Tonight, as I was putting my baby down in her crib, I looked at her peaceful, sweet, little face and felt my heart soar.  She gives my heart wings.  I tell you, this race is so worth running.

I have yet to find a perfect game plan for grocery shopping with a baby who is not yet able to sit without tottering.  Previously, I put my groceries at the bottom of her stroller, but there’s a weight limit for that; and now that she has gained a lot more weight, there is a lot less I can put down there.  Shopping carts weren’t really designed for car seats to be put on top, and I tend to be the overly cautious type when it comes to safety, so that option is out for me.  And I do have a baby carrier (mei tai), but I don’t always want to take the time to put it on (granted, it’s really not that long, but still).  I want it to be bam, bam, bam — go in, get out, done, done, done — but it seriously takes forever long with a baby.

Anyway, today I went to the market to buy some rice. Obviously, I can’t put the big bag of rice in my stroller (certainly, it would exceed weight limit), and I didn’t want to bother with the mei tai, especially if I was going to leave empty-handed (the store might not have my brand of rice), so I decided to carry her into the store.  This turned out to be a poorly thought plan since I ended up having to hold her with one hand and pushing the shopping cart with the other.  It wasn’t all bad though — not as bad as the time I had to push the stroller with one hand and a shopping cart with the other.  In the end, I did manage to get to my car, park the shopping cart next to my trunk and put my baby down in her car seat.  With that accomplished, I went back to the shopping cart and sighed a big sigh as I thought about having to heave the rice bag into my trunk.  At this point, I noticed that there was a man walking toward me. 

When he got to me, he asked, “Need some help?” 
Gratefully, I said, “Yes.” 
He got the rice and put it in my trunk in a cinch. 
Then he said, “Can you help me?  I need some money.” 
At this point, I was thinking, “OH.”  I hesitated for a second,
and so he said, “I need some bus money.” 
“How much?” I said. 
“$2.25.” 
I went to get my wallet in my backseat and gave him all the money I had in my wallet — which was $5. 

He helped me, and so it was my turn to help him.  I’m not exactly sure whether he really used the money for bus fare, cigs or alcohol, but it’s always been my conviction that it’s not up to me.  In the last days, what will matter to me is how God will be judging me, not how he will be judging the other person.  Did I act justly?  humbly?  mercifully? 

Five dollars probably doesn’t seem like a lot of money to you, and in the scheme of things, it’s not a lot of money in general.  But to be honest, it really is a lot of money to me, because I am the kind of person who comparison shops, and I will drive the extra mile to save two bucks.  Obedience is no small thing.  But I came home tonight and happen to come across Psalm 112 in the Message.  I am eager to be this blessed person whose “generosity goes on, and on, and on”, because that’s exactly what God is like.   

My husband is such a good daddy.  I watch him with our baby girl and I’m fascinated by the way he interacts with her.  He makes every effort to make her laugh because he loves to see her laugh.  Her face lights up when her daddy enters the room.  Her response to him is because she knows he loves her.  I love watching him with her.  I am so blessed to have a husband who is such a good daddy.