Lead, Kindly Light

This Christmas feels very special to me. But it takes me a bit of thinking to ferret out of my subconsciousness all the reasons why this is so.

A big part of it is because my dad is home with us, rather than away. And what goes along with that is the fact that he is doing pretty well health-wise, which has been of great concern to me for a long time now. Another big part of it is that it feels like a big relief to be home. I sat on my bed last night before bed, writing in my Happy Book [the book in which I daily record events and things that made me happy during the day], and marveling that I had just been at school a single day before…all of it — my Federal Courts final, watching “Ratatouille” to celebrate, shopping for shoes with a friend dinner at IHOP, and spending way more than I should have at Ann Taylor right before leaving for the airport. All that is gone from my immediate memory, and I rather like it that way.

Here’s my Christmas list – a different kind of Christmas list…it’s one of recognition and gratitude for the many things that I am enjoying this season of peace and joy.

Peace is:

• Resting at home with the parents, having them mill around the house chattering away
• Going to sleep in a warm, cozy bed surrounded by my stuffed animals [yes, even some adults still enjoy those furry critters with the cute faces]
• My brightly-lit Christmas tree glowing in the evening
• Eating home-cooked meals made with lots of thought and love
• In simple tasks like grocery shopping with my dad or shoe shopping with my mom
• Being able to sit with my mom when I bring her to see the doctor
• Knowing that one day the whole world will be made right when Jesus returns

Joy is:

• Cutting my finger while chopping onions and having my dad around to help me dress the wound
• Sleeping in, as long as I want
• Getting hugs from my parents on “demand”/request
• Visiting with friends from home
• Baking cherry macaroons with Mom in the evenings
• Playing Christmas songs on our piano
• Watching movies together after dinner
• Doing impressions of my law professors and Food Network hosts, and having my parents laugh up a storm

It’s great to be home with my parents. As I walked past security in the airport, I started grinning instinctively – it is so nice to be back here with my mom and dad, especially after all that we’ve gone through in the last three weeks. I feel really content for the first time in a long while.

We went to have sushi for dinner – yummmm. The quality may not match that of Sushi Yasuda in New York City, but the value is way higher, I must say. I have never seen such huge pieces of sashimi. Incredible.

Then we went to Kohl’s Department Store to find a blanket… then we came home… I modeled for Mom some of the clothes I bought during my Ann Taylor shopping binge this afternoon… watched my dad cook one of my favorite dishes [niu jing]… drank some riesling… played some Christmas songs on the piano… watched Mom iron some clothes with her new steamer… sat and chatted with my mom… got up to bug my dad a couple times…

It’s all pretty every-day stuff, but it’s what makes me really happy. There’s no place like home.

The holidays are a tough time to be single, and I feel it more and more strongly every year. As friends continue pairing up and marrying off, in my weaker moments I feel like I’m part of that small remnant of athletically-challenged runts chosen last for a dodgeball game in middle school gym class.

In my stronger moments, I pray to God and tell Him again that I’m trying–really trying–to give this issue over to Him. It’s part of what I’ve been trying to “give up” for Advent (and beyond). You know, going back to that whole, cast my anxiety on Him because He cares for me thing. It’s hard for me, though. Maybe it shouldn’t be–but it is.

A couple days ago I was commiserating with a friend of mine who is also uncontentedly single. We were on the phone moaning and groaning about it, and while I felt bad for both of us, I was also secretly comforted at knowing that I’m not the only one left who feels this way. I had to laugh at one point when he said, “You know that Christmas song – ‘All I Want for Christmas is You?’ Yeah–one of these years…I’m going to listen to that song and not have my heart break.” So true!

Ah, but when? And how? I look around me and see that so many of my girl friends and guy friends have already found their mates. How did they do it? What did they do? When did they do it? How did they know to take the risk, make the leap, bite the bullet? And what’s wrong with me?!

My dad always has this vague statement that’s somehow supposed to comfort me (and almost never does, despite his best intentions) – “When it’s right, it will just happen.” Other times, he says things along the lines of, “You’re so special – but very few people will be wise enough to see it, and really appreciate you for who you are.” Thanks,…I think? Cuz that starts to sound like few people can really appreciate me–does that mean that I’m not generally likeable or lovable? Seriously. I love my dad and I know he means nothing but good, but–what is that supposed to mean? And is that intended to make me feel better?

This post isn’t going in any good direction. Which…makes me think that maybe I should delete everything I’ve just written….

But no. I’m not going to delete it. This is really how I think today and at this moment. This is really my struggle, and it may be a bit ridiculous, but maybe that’s good–for me to see how ridiculous I really am, and start thinking more positively about things. Actually, I don’t think the “more positively” part is going to come any time soon. Need to pray more about it – and really really give this over to God.

Anyways, that’s where I’m at. This is a big sore spot in my life. And I’m going to go ahead and publish this post… and not because I’m proud of my lack of faith in this area. Rather, I’m going to retain the memory of this writing because I know that it’s so easy – when things turn out all right in the end – to forget our times of anxiety and worry. It’s so instinctive to bask in the glow of better times, and allow the memories of tougher times to fade into the past.

The result is that we fail to recall the times when we cried out to God and begged that He would make things right. Case in point: there were certainly times in college when I seriously doubted my capacity to get into law school…get into this law school…graduate from law school…be a lawyer…. but today, when I’m six months away from graduating from a great law school and all set with a wonderful job, it’s easy for me to be blase about those worries and dismiss them as insignificant.

But they’re not meaningless. They weren’t then, and wonderful as things are now, those concerns of the past are not meaningless now either. They were cracks along the way, but they retain importance because they live on today as cracks that God faithfully filled. And by not remembering those cracks, I forget the providence of God’s hand in shaping my life, the persistence of His presence, and His unending generosity and faithfulness.

So here I memorialize the current cracks in my life…so that one day, God willing–when He has sent someone to join me on my life journey–I will go back and read this, and my faith will increase.

I’ve been reading I Peter 5 for the past couple days – lingering on that chapter because it seems to be the type of chapter that I need right now. Especially the latter half of the chapter provides a lot of firm, but gentle instruction. Be humble. Be aware of the enemy. God called you, and He is mighty, and will restore you Himself. Incredible. And yet…how easily I forget. So I need the daily reminder–hence why I’ve kept reading the same chapter day after day.

The verse I picked out above has struck me, especially. I memorized that verse many years ago, and often think back to it–but mostly I have focused on the instructional part–”Cast all your anxiety on him.” That part tells me what to do – tell God what’s going on, tell Him what’s worrying me, tell Him about all my concerns and troubles.

But what I noticed as I’ve been rereading I Peter recently is the explanatory part of the verse–”because he cares for you.” The first time it really sank in, I remember doing a double-take inside, kind of saying, Whaaa–? Because He cares for…me? Cares? As in, is concerned about…? As in, loves…? As in, is paying attention to…? As in, is invested in…? God? Me? He cares?

Elementary stuff, right? And pretty basic knowledge (one would think) for someone who claims to be a Christian. Well I’ll just be honest. It kind of took me off guard–in a really good way–when I really thought about it. Suddenly the verse had a much more warm tone and meaning to it.

It wasn’t “Cast your cares on him because He told you to.”

It wasn’t “Cast your cares on him because I told you to.”

It wasn’t “Cast your cares on him because it’s the Christian thing to do.”

It wasn’t “Cast your cares on him just because.”

Rather, there’s something much deeper going on. God wants me to lay all my burdens at His feet, because He really loves me and wants me to come to Him as Abba Father and approach Him with trust and know that not only is He God, but He really loves me a lot.

I have a lot of anxiety, and a lot of cares that I carry around from day to day. I wish quite often that I could just turn off my brain and my emotions and just take it a little easier. But I worry. I worry about my clients. I worry about my significance in life. I worry about whether I’m wasting my time doing what I’m doing. I worry about my parents. I worry about my friendships. I worry about finding someone to spend the rest of my life with. Or more like, I worry about not finding someone to spend the rest of my life with. I worry about my worth. I worry about whether I’m making a difference in anyone’s life. I worry about whether people will remember me when I’m gone. And to top it all off, I worry about how much I worry.

Well – hopefully as I continue to meditate on these verses, God in His mercy will continue to let it sink and soak in–it will probably continue to take time, but I’m hopeful that one day I’ll really “get it” and it will be like second nature to me, to instinctively cast everything into God’s hands, knowing that He really and truly does care. It’s amazing thought–and almost seems too good to be true. Even though it’s not.

I have an exam to take tomorrow morning/noon/afternoon – it’s one of those eight-hour monstrosities that will thankfully only strike once this semester. And in precisely seventeen hours, time will be up and I will have had to turn in my paper, and thus conclude the one course I took this semester (excluding the clinical course).

I’ve been preparing for this final since Thanksgiving, which is why I’ve been able to afford to slow down quite a bit in the last two days… anything that might show up on the exam, I have either studied and understood or willfully ignored. And though I could have studied more, I can’t say for sure that it would really help – so I stopped.

Studying for finals is a lonely business. I’ve been cooped up in this apartment for a week now, with very little human contact. This law school isn’t as bad as it was in the “Paper Chase” era, but people still take things really seriously around exam time. I do too, but – never thought that taking some time off to share a meal together was undoable. This week has shown me that I’m in a rare minority.

Anyways, that’s fine. I’m just excited for the exam to be done, and to get through my paper-chasing in court on Monday (I have to visit four different courts to seek various witness records), and get home to my family on Tuesday night, God willing. More so than I was before my August, October, and November visits back home, I am desperate to see my parents again. This has been a trying semester — between personal life drama, the crazy ups and downs and steep learning curve involved in the clinical, and my dad’s surgery — I feel all at once worn out yet stronger, and discouraged yet hopeful. It’s a strange panoply of emotion, but it’s all there.

So I am longing for a return to my roots, to my parents, whom I’ve missed so much especially in the last couple weeks  of stress and anxiety when they were at the clinic. I like to think that they need me to come home–but really, I think it’s more that I need them. And I need to be there for them.

I’ve been very solitary and very brood-y lately. Lots of time spent alone (mostly by choice), lots of tears shed only before God, lots of conversations with Him–asking and begging Him to take care of everything, to take care of my parents, to take care of me, and give me faith that He will. I know He can…it’s a question (?) of whether He will. And it sounds absurd–because of course He will, and He wants to, and all that. But…well, then I ask for forgiveness for my unbelief.

Enough of the brooding. Off to bed, to tackle that exam in the morning.

We got about ten inches of snow yesterday – breaking a local record for most snowfall in a day (previous record was about 7 inches)!

This morning, it was beautiful outside…here are some pictures I took…

Are wonderful.

I seem to have a sort of disorder that prevents me from getting much sleep the night before I have to do anything related to my clinical. Whether it’s a court appearance or my weekly meeting with my advisor, I always have trouble falling asleep the night before. Usually my sleep aid of choice is Nyquil, but last night at 2:15am I opted for melatonin instead.

Anyways, I only got six hours of sleep… so that, plus the fact that the subject matter of my upcoming exam (Federal Courts) is rather unexciting, led to a strong desire to take a nap right around 1:45pm in the afternoon. I peeled off my sweatshirt and socks, and climbed into my soft, comfy bed. And I actually grinned as I slipped between the covers–and breathed a sigh of contentment…and thought, I’m so lucky that I can take a nap right now.

Because next year, and every year after that, there will be no time for naps. And I could adopt the mindset that since I won’t have this luxury in the future, I shouldn’t take advantage of the opportunity now…but…I don’t think so. Maybe a couple years ago I would have resisted a nap under that reasoning. But now–I say, enjoy it while I can.

I think this rises from a general and gradual shift in my point of view that has evolved over my recent bit of life – tomorrow may never come, so make the most of today.

Here are some useful quotes and passages I’ve come by as of late. I’ll let them speak for themselves.

Folding a losing hand gives you a chance to hold a winning one.

“We look for visions from heaven, for earthquakes of God’s power, and we never dream that all the time God is in the common place things and people around us. If we will do the duty that lies nearest, we shall see Him. One of the most amazing revelations of God comes when we learn that it is in the common place things that the Deity of Jesus Christ is realized.” – Oswald Chambers

Men are from Earth. Women are from Earth. Deal with it.

Nostalgia is like a grammar lesson. You find the present tense and the past perfect.

I don’t know what it is – but every time I talk to my parents these days, I cry. Especially since they’ve been at the clinic, I’ve been calling anywhere between three and five times a day. And the first couple days, I was pretty good about it. In fact, it wasn’t until the day before the surgery that I cried for the first time after hanging up with my dad. And then I was pretty dry until Sunday.

But Sunday, Monday, and now Tuesday…it doesn’t matter whether I talk to my mom or my dad – it just makes me cry. Even though my dad is out of the clinic now and he sounds better and better every time I call, I still have this tension inside rising from fear because things are NOT completely okay yet. Nor do I know when they will be.

And what lies before me now? I have one parent, whose body was brutalized (even the nurses admit this) through a surgery that hopefully will work – but comes with no guarantees. The other parent has been struggling to walk and stand due to a pain in her knees/ankles that has now spread to her back. So look – I have two parents, both of whom are unwell. And there’s nothing I can do from here, over 1000 miles away. All I can do is call them from day to day, and check in and say hi, and listen to their reports from the doctors. And choke back tears because I want more than anything to be there for them, and I can’t.
I can pray for them, though, and this I do. But I feel like my prayers are weak and plaintive and stupidly uncreative and repetitive. They come mostly in the “help Dad make it” and “help Mom to heal” variety – but I don’t know anymore if I’m even reaching out in faith. Maybe this is what makes me cry — if I don’t even have hope that God will help (I certainly believe that He is able, I just…tend to have doubt as to whether He will), then I have no hope at all.

I’ve been living on borrowed faith lately – asking my closest believing friends to pray on my behalf since I’m currently a lot less able to about these things. I’m still good about praying in faith for other things–but maybe because my parents matter so much to me, I can’t let them go to God? I know…it doesn’t make sense to me either. You’d think that if my parents were so important (which they are), and if I believed God were so powerful and loving (which He is) – then my natural reaction would be to thrust them both into His hands in faith. And now that I type it out that way and look at it myself, it seems to make a lot of sense. Why am I suddenly so untrusting?

This excerpt from an email I sent to a friend explains the current situation well:

…I’m having a very strange semester. It’s good in many ways – I’m getting good experience with my clinical, and our Bible study was a success (measured by overall strong takeaway knowledge-wise, growth in relationships among our group members, and a deeper understanding of compassion as practiced in our lives) and I finally settled into a new church that I love, so far.

But at the same time…in the midst of all these troubles, I have found myself withdrawing to be by myself and be with God. And being with God is a good place to be, and sometimes it’s just Him and me mulling around this apartment together… but I can’t say that I find Him super-comforting at all times. So sometimes I feel like I’ve mainly been handling this thing with my parents on my own…..Well, that’s not true. A lot of people have been supportive in prayer and over email–but in terms of who I call when I’m crying and feeling helpless…it’s just been God and me. And I feel good about that, but bad about that too. I don’t know. People have offered, but somehow, it’s really just my parents who I want to be with  — and that’s not really feasible right this second. 

I don’t know where all this huge mix of frustrations/paradoxical feelings is coming from. It’s not like God hasn’t proven Himself to be loving and generous and good, time and time and time again. But then again, that same God does allow suffering–and I believe that that has nothing to do with His nature as a good and loving God… it just comes back to that whole thing about this not being the world we were supposed to live in. Our world is filled with flaws and tragedies – because our lives won’t be perfect until we go to heaven. So from now until Jesus comes back to make the world new again, bad things will happen. And God doesn’t promise to be a big Santa Claus in the sky who fixes everything and makes all dreams come true… but He does promise to come and sit with us, be with us, and meet us in our pains and suffering. And He has…
So maybe this is okay. Even if my prayers are small and stupidly plain and even if they merely mutter along like a broken record, maybe the God of mercy in whom I believe can forgive me for my current low-grade faith. Maybe He is just okay with me sitting here, crying only to Him, and hearing the fervent prayers that my soul is silently crying out.

This poem is significant because my Torts Professor (Jon Hanson) read it to us during our last day of class years ago. It seemed very appropriate–summing up, perhaps, what he had spent the entire semester trying to tell us.

The river is famous to the fish.

The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.

The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.

The idea you carry close your bosom
is famous to your bosom.

The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.

The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it
and is not at all famous to the one who is pictured.

I want to be famous to shuffling men
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.

I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do.