work it out

everything else is warm up.

when it starts getting uncomfortable, painful, unbearable, unsettling

that's the beginning of the workout.

that's when God wants you to work out your faith and grow stronger.

i guess this is just the beginning.

purple lunch pail

my lunch pail was purple with my name written on the top with permanent marker.
even though i was little, i didn't fully appreciate the fact that my mom wrote my name on everything i owned. with the same black permanent marker in her all-caps writing.
"ASHLEY KIM"
i wanted a cooler lunch pail. not necessarily the metal ones, pink, and hello kitty everywhere. but i wanted something more than my plain purple lunch pail. i never knew what i wanted so i ended up using the purple lunch pail, every day.

i remember i tossed it everywhere
i threw it in my cubby, next to my backpack.
i slammed it on the blue lunch tables, i threw it in the car when my mom picked me up after school.

i was so careless with my lunch box.
i was also careless with my lunch.
i was embarrassed to eat my egg sandwich.
i loved my tuna sandwich but was self-conscious of what my friends would think of my fishy sandwich.
i got sick of rice crispies and chewy granola bars; i probably gave them away. or threw them away.
i only ate my doritos, cheez-its, and goldfish.

so spoiled. so loved.

but i didn't know anything.
i was jealous of my friends standing in the long lunch lines for their slice of pizza and curly fries.
i was angry that my mom didn't give me money for lunch.
why isn't she like other moms? why can't she just let me eat at school? does she not want to give me money? does she not trust me? does she not want me to be happy? haha

the thing is, once my mom did start giving me money to buy lunch from school,
i would lie that i ate lunch and hide the money.
i don't even think i was saving up for anything.
somehow, even at a young age, i liked and valued money. even more than curly fries. and i looooooved my warm, spicy curly fries with ketchup. mmm~

i remember one day when my mom saw my lunch money nearly falling out of my side pocket.
i didn't know. so when she asked me what i'd eaten for lunch, i replied, "mm. tacos. yes, tacos!"
i remember i'd make sure to memorize the weekly menu to make sure i answered correctly.

then. before my eyes. my mom put in front of me all the money that i had hidden in my drawer.
and i was dumbfounded. i was so scared.

last night, 15 or more so years later, i remembered that scary night. and i imagined the shock and sorrow in my mom's heart. how would i react if my daughter did that...(oh Lord..have mercy..)
why did my daughter do this??? what the haiiiiiil is my daughter thinking?!
honestly, i don't know what i was thinking.

but man, i really miss my purple lunch box.
i wish i ate every single thing that my mom ever made and put in that purple sack of love.
egg sandwich, tuna sandwich, rice krispies, fritos, everything.
even tomatoes, even if they make me gag.

but do you get me?
so often, we don't know.
too often, we don't understand.
the heart of a mother,
the faithfulness of a mother.

and as always, her love reminds me of the love of my father in heaven.
i remember his faithfulness and patience with me. loving me when i don't get a thing. loving me when i don't understand a thing.
and only he can bring me to a tearful heart of repentance and relief, with a simple reminder before i sleep,
of my dearly missed purple lunch pail.

set apart

simple revelation

powerful reminder:

i'm sorry for the thing i've made it

when it's all about You

it's all about You, Jesus.

mark 5:35-36

while Jesus was still speaking, some men came from the house of Jairus, the synagogue ruler.
"your daughter is dead," they said. "why bother the teacher any more?"

ignoring what they said, Jesus told the synagogue ruler,
"don't be afraid; just believe."

while Jesus was still speaking, some men came from the house of Jairus, the synagogue ruler.
"your daughter is dead," they said. "why bother the teacher any more?"

ignoring what they said, Jesus told the synagogue ruler,
"DON'T BE AFRAID; JUST BELIEVE."

"DON'T BE AFRAID; JUST BELIEVE."

thankful

so thankful.

nothing's changed.
circumstances aren't changing.

but man.
my heart is filled with thanksgiving.

last year, around this time,
mi madre spent thanksgiving alone,
and that probably grieved God.
i'm sure that grieved God.

so this year, he's making sure we don't make that same mistake.
compared to last year, nothing's changed.
if anything, the circumstances have gotten worse.
but God has taken the thanksgiving in my heart to a whole new level.

this thanksgiving is going to the most thanks-filled thanksgiving of my life.
man... truly, God makes the impossible possible.
He is so good to me.
He is so good to us.

new word i learned today from mark 5:7
Dios Altísimo = God Most High, Most High God
so many beautiful names for our Lord...
so thankful that i can call out and experience the meaning and prophecy of each name.

thank you, Jesus, name above every name.

wednesday night

this is all from my head.
inside my cave.
my mom leaves the room.
my dad opens the garage door and steps into the house.

the stairs creak as usual.
every night when i'm about to sleep the garage door opens, stairs creak. door opens, stairs creaks.
i memorize the rhythm, the sound of the door knob twisting followed by dad's tip-toe footsteps.
i can hear everything from my little cozy cave.

the stair creaking is interrupted
by my mom's stern yet gentle voice.
she tells him to sit down.
her face, paler than usual.

not again, he thinks.
but he knows he can't say that out loud.
he knows better.

she says,
"피 말린다.
숨 좀 쉬자."

silence.
he knows i'm listening.
he knows better.

but does he know i'm on my knees
in silence
?

silence.
"ok. ok. i know."

silence.
stairs creak again.

my mom remains sitting, silent,
her face paler than usual.

from my cave,
i feel the atmosphere.
heavy with hurt

thorns of anxiety dig into my mom's frail mind.
boulders of burden weary my dad's frail shoulders.

i'm on my knees.
why do we hurt those we love the most?
the love is great, but the hurt is greater.
or is the hurt great because the love is too great.
or the greater the love the greater the hurt.
the greater the hurt, the greater the love?

maybe it's obvious
but i try to understand and reason love and hurt in my head.
maybe i'm thinking too much, as usual.
but God knows what i'm thinking. he understands and listens, always.

he reminds me how great his love is.
Jesus.
he reminds me of the hurt he endured.
Jesus.

i remember the cross.
where the greatest love bore the greatest hurt, the burden of the world, the pain of the piercings in his side, hands and feet, the weight of sin, the heavy crown of thorns mocking him as king of the jews when he is actually King of all kings, King of the universe. King of my life. my Deliverer. my Savior. my Healer. my Refuge. my Counselor. my Peace. my Father. my Friend. my Love. my first Love.

in my blindness, i nailed my greatest love to the cross.
1 John 4:8 says God is love.
i am a murderer. shameless. foolish. selfish. clueless. murderer.
we hurt those we love the most.

i wonder what my mom is doing.
i step out of the cave and see
she is sitting at the dining table,
staring at nothing.

i love her.
she loves my dad.
my dad loves her.
they love each other.
i love them.

i want to comfort my mom
but i conclude
that we don't know how to love.
we try. but we don't know how to love on our own.

but God loves me. God loves us. He created us out of his love. He created us to love us.
Romans 5:8 says God demonstrates his own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
1 John 4:19 says we love because he first loved us.
we love because he first loved us.

we may not know how to love perfectly like God does, but this perfect God loves us.
we imperfectly love him and our loved ones because we are imperfect (and so are our loved ones, so no wonder the love is not perfect)
but our perfect God loves us perfectly, and he allows the manifestation of his perfect love, Jesus, to dwell in imperfect man through belief in Jesus' love for us. so imperfect we are made perfect through the indwelling of Jesus Christ, and we are able to learn, share, practice, and experience love.
only because God first loved us.
thus imperfect man is able to perfectly love imperfect man and perfect God because perfect God first loved us perfectly. and God's perfect love is able to flow out of imperfect man.

this was all in my head.
and i concluded: there is hope. there is faith. there is love.
but the greatest of these is love. (1 Corinthians 13:13)
we will never be able to fully comprehend God's perfect love, but we can start enjoying it now.

this was wednesday night, november 7.
november 2012.
it's only been a week.
but you are a month to remember.

thank You, Jesus.

no me gusta

when people tell me to STOP.

like this morning..
i was explaining myself to someone and she said,
"stop talking."

...
that just makes me want to keep going.
so i tried to explain myself even more and she said,
"stop lying."

cherry on top:
"be true to yourself."

oh man...
i held my tongue.
tried to be the "bigger one."

but that lasted a good 2 seconds because
i stomped up the stairs and yelled,
"i'm SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO annoyed, God!!!!!!!!"

all around 6:30 in the morning...
the calm before all the rustling and bustling of the day.

i don't like it when man tells me to stop.
my pride..........
my mom....
my freaken pride...
my lovely mom......
how can i love my freaken pride over my lovely mom.
such is man.

but God.
God tells me to keep going. God is the ultimate encourager.
He tells me to go forward, be bold, don't be afraid
speak out, speak up, go, go, go...don't stop. keep talking to me. keep walking. keep your eyes on me. i'm listening. you can complain, but give thanks in all circumstances. don't stop. follow me. have faith. don't stop having faith. don't stop believing. keep fighting...FIGHT! he tells me to FIGHT! he tells me to YELL! he tells me to destroy. he tells me to conquer. he tells me to live life to the full, full volume.

but i whimper. i don't even move.
if i do, i walk one step and immediate look back.
and to the right. to the left.

MAN.
what's wrong with me?

i feel like my PMS-ing goes to a new level every year.
or every month.
so this little rant/revelation may be a result of PMS.
but yea.
that was my morning of november 9.

and i declare that there will be no such mornings like this one in Jesus' Name.
help me, dear Jesus.
quick to hear,
slow to speak, and
slow to anger.