Want

As I lay here in the dark, staring at my desk across the room I notice all the shadows of the little trinkets overwhelming the surface. 'Gosh, I am so rich,' I thought to myself. God has blessed me so much. Although if anyone saw the little stuff I collected-- burnt out light bulbs, box tops for my church back home, ducky shower cap, 3D glasses, towels from Aeromexico, Rhema booklets, one yellow plastic glove, etc-- they may seem like garbage. But my little mess. I am so wealthy. What more could I want?

I want to buy a flute so I can practice again. It's been four years, but I still remember most of the notes. My favorite was F for some reason.

I want to buy a camera. It can be a very humble digital camera. I learned from that little 3.0 megapixel canon in high school that it's not really up to the photographer to take a beautiful picture. The beautiful picture is already there! All the time.

I want to buy two more wii motes for my wii console so the maximum number of people can play.

I want some business-y shoes (to match my fancy pants) I can wear to the airport since my oxfords broke.

I want some kind of dresser to put my clothes in so they don't have to still sit in my suitcase.

I want a simple life.. wouldn't it be sweet? I can take a simple and humble job. Come home in the afternoon to play some music. Live in a small and humble home with a God-fearing husband and children who have the freedom to chase after their dreams. Maybe that's just madness. I guess so. Who would ever want that.

But God's plan is always better, and most usually more challenging and convicting and way out of our comfort zones.

Pouring Out: Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

Christmas. Christmas. The word hurts my heart. It hurts my heart this year more than ever before, just simply by remembering what Christmas was for me growing up.

Disappointed by the song Santa Claus is Coming to Town because he made a list and checked it twice to make sure of whom was naughty or nice. I first heard about Santa in school I think, maybe my younger uncles and aunt may have told me about him as a tease, or maybe my sister heard about him first from when she started to go to school. But it didn't matter and my parent never bothered to talk to us about him. No matter how many letters I wrote Santa, no matter how hard I wanted to be a good girl, I realized that I wasn't good for even one day. I thought that Santa would make his new list every year after new years. I would try so hard to be good so Santa would visit that year. So Santa would love me and give me a present. But every January 1, before it even got dark, I would've done something bad, and I would just feel so rotten and disappointed because I was on the naughty list for the rest of the year. I could never be good enough for Santa. I was a bad child. Santa was never going to visit me. He never did, because I was unlovable and unforgivable.

I remember as children Christmas did not really exist in our home. Our uncles and aunts who loved us out of the sake that we were super cute and we were the first babies in the family showered us with toys regardless of holiday. One of my favorite parts of my childhood home was probably the one strip of Christmas lights my dad would put up on our living room window. I was always amazed at how he was able to shape the lights into a christmas tree, and that was almost every year until we got older. I loved that Christmas light tree, although it was flat and cheap and simple. It wasn't really meant for me or Kelly. I remember my dad said it was so other people could see it. I loved it though. Christmas lights take my breath away. As children, sometimes our dad or uncle would drive us through a suburb to look at houses that decked it all out with Christmas lights. Kelly and I would go "oooh!" and "aaaah!" endless through that entire five minute cruise.

For some reason my mom hated Christmas trees. While me and my sister loved them so much and begged so much, we never got one. One year, after all the begging, one of our aunts gave us a small tree. It felt really huge because of how small we were, but I'm pretty positive it was small; it was probably about four feet tall. We managed to put it up by ourselves. Nothing really for ornaments (maybe a few red bows were in the box), but we were just so happy. Our mom came home that night and got so furious. She took it down and she threw it away, that very same night. I don't remember if I cried. Knowing the kind of kid I was, I probably did cry a lot.

One year, when I was about nine or ten years old I had a hold of $20. I went to Card Factory Outlet, and there was this beautiful pre-lit Christmas tree. It was so so so beautiful. I wanted to buy it and my uncle who was there with me, bought it for me and told me to not tell my parents he bought it. We walked back with it to the family restaurant. I proudly showed everyone the tree, and when I was asked I told everyone I bought it for $20. Then my dad yelled at me in front of everyone, "Why did you spend $20 on a stupid tree when we could've used it for flooring instead! Useless! Go return it." Whatever the words he used, it was harsh, and I definitely cried. I stayed in our little closet-size of a play room at the restaurant and cried and cried and cried. For some reason my sister came into that room and she was being nicer to me than I ever remembered and she said, "Tori, don't worry you're not fat." What the? I just continued in my bitterness and I vowed to hate my dad forever, never speak to him again. I wanted his heart to break.

Chest nuts roasting on an open fire, when I hear that I realize I have no idea what that means. Gosh I really wish I knew. Hearing that song hurts my feelings and it reminds me of my un-American-ness. What does a real pine tree smell like? It probably smells disgusting to me because I never got to sync the idea of pine tree to lovely feelings. The only pine tree I knew of was the big and ugly one I passed by everyday on my way to and from school. It always poked kids who walked past it and weren't careful enough to dodge it's prickly stems.

Hearing about international students visiting people's homes for Thanksgiving and Christmas. All the food and love and joy and decoration and festive spirit. I don't know that. Christmas almost means nothing to me besides family sometimes is off work and come together for meal and then head to the casino.

Would I lie to my kids about Santa so they could have an authentic American make-belief-Santa-Claus-god Christmas? I don't know, but it would hurt my childish feelings to bring it up.

Lord!

Lord! Show me Your discipline! Be it in Your will and make use of me in Your kingdom.

mucho

 "If the head of the house has been called Beelzebul, how much more the members of his household!"
Matthew 10:24

Jesus, the most innocent of all, the most upright was called Beelzebul, the foulest, most repulsive name you can call anyone, the prince of devils. They called Jesus the prince of devils. Jesus. They called Jesus, who is our messiah, redeemer, Christ, son of God, prince of peace, the prince of devils. How wicked. How wrong. How terribly terribly wrong.

I've been called a lot of names, too, in my life: lesbian, freak, worthless, idiot, slut, whore, b-t-h. Why should I be surprised? No matter how upright I try to live my life, those not of the spirit of God will not cease. 

Jesus said, "Father forgive them for they do not know what they are doing." And they divided up his clothes by casting lots.
Luke 23:34

truly how much more can be expected of me when at my best of bestest I can only hope to be as good as Jesus. How much more. 

Yesua, I'm sorry for my generation that goes against you. Yesua, I'm sorry for the generation that crucified you, our Savior. Yesua, Yesua, Yesua.
Jesus, you're pretty awesome. I mucho love you. 

Not-yet-identified

So this post is mini-inspired by this guy on Facebook. In a lack of pretty words, he's like a Facebook status-whore. I mean that in the best possible way. Sometimes seeing his posts gets annoying just cause' some things mentioned are so personal or subjective, and it doesn't necessary portray Christ-like love like he intends. So he sometimes writes facebook status letters to his future wife, and that's really sweet. I wondered about praying for my future husband and writing to my not-yet-existent-husband. I wasn't sure if that fantasizing would be healthy for my heart, so I never really did it. And sometimes I wonder if God is gonna use me like how he uses those Christian women who are in their mid-thirties and still have never had their first kiss. I guess I lost my first kiss to a girl at a fear factor food challenge, and the next moment to a guy. Anyways, that's not really kiss though, so I'll say that one doesn't really really count.  It was pretty gross, bleh. Anyways anyways, a letter for my not-yet-identified-husband.
_____________________________________________________________________

Hi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I've been waiting to meet you for as long as I can remember!!! I've mistook you for some other characters in my life before, but I'm sure you're a pretty cool guy if you're my husband. And I'm sure you were worth the wait and anguish. I guess there hasn't been serious anguish much at all, because God's protected me from a lot of that stuff. God's protected my heart.

Right now I'm at a stage where I really wish I knew who you were already. And almost every single-man in my life, I see him and I think that he can potentially be you! And that scares me. But most of the time when there's a guy, I try to avoid all possible ways of leading him on, because I want to wait for you.

Where ever you are, I hope that you're healthy. I hope that you're happy. I hope that you've surrendered your life to Jesus already. I hope that you're already experiencing the joy of having His sovereignty rule in your life. I wish the very best for you. And sometimes I wonder if you've ever lost pieces of your heart to other women in dating and stuff. It makes me sad to think that you might have given pieces of your heart to other women before me, while it feels like I'm just waiting for you so lame and helpless and Disney. But it's gonna' be ok. So I pray that God is protecting your heart too. I pray that you are my brother in Christ right now.

I can't wait to meet you in God's perfect timing. Maybe we've met already, but I can't wait to meet you as my husband. I really can't wait to meet you, but right now God's working on this ole' heart of mine. He's growing me before I get to meet you. I hope I can be a good wife. I hope my cooking will be better by then. I hope I would have gotten more mature by then. I hope I would have gotten wiser by then. I hope I can be the godliest woman I can be for you. I can't wait to know who you are, but for now I pray that you can be patient, too, trusting God's perfect timing.

Raw Sin

The other day, things got a the most tense it's ever been between me and my roommate. Our other roommate left and it's just been extremely draining (spiritually, mentally, emotionally) to think/talk/mention ANYTHING about our other roommate. I can't pin the issues all on any one person, and I can't say that I've been blameless during this whole entire experience, but the other day I just felt pushed so hard. I felt like I was my dad, the way my mom suffocated him with her words. "I wish I never married you. You're scum. You're useless. You can't stand up for yourself, you can't stand up for me, you can't stand up for your kids, you piece of shhh" Ok she never really said "piece of shhh", but sometimes you don't need to explicitly say the words to bring up the same emotions if not worse

"You can't stand up for yourself. All you do is say, 'It's ok baby, I'm here." FAWE@%#$&!!!! I hate, I ABHOR  I DESPISE that freakin damn voice she uses to mock me. I haven't longed to curse so bad since Beechpoint when someone was trying to put me down mentally for not being well-versed in the Bible. My flesh is so raw. All I really did was raise my voice for maybe 5 words, and it was so unexpected for the both of us. "What did you say? You mean that to me?," she said. What does she friggin' want me to do? Flip some damn tables? Slap our old roommate? Verbally destroy her and ban her from all church activities?  Freaaaaaaaaaaaaaak! If she wants ungodliness from me, it's here. Lord, I'm dying. Save this f-ed up heart again that's back at square 1.

Perfect Plan Perfect Pace

Whatever you want to do with me God, do it. Whatever you want for me God, let it be, let it happen.

The other week I was feeling impatient about the topic of singleness, my singleness. Almost twenty and still haven't yet, but still I am so so so so SO glad God shielded me from the mess that could've been. So one weekend, as we were gliding along the roads circling the hills, I was looking through the sunroof in the car. I was enjoying the breeze softly caressing my head and my hair running wild in the air like spilled ink.

"God, I want what you want for me. I want what you have prepared for me. Because you know all my needs. What you have intended for me, is all I want," I thought to myself. "If that's really what I want, then why am I so impatient? Why am I so doubtful? Why am I shaming my Father's name with my lack of faith? If I really want God's will, then I should be more patient, more faithful, more at peace." So God, I will be patient. I will be content. Because God, you know me better than anyone else knows me. God knows what I need. So I can trust that His plans are far better than mine. So I will be faithful. Lord, I will walk at your pace. Not that your pace is slow, but because your pace is perfect.

Every moment of every second

I think I'm still soaking it all in. All the hell that I've been going through because I've been trying to finish up this flight class from May, this license I've been working on since August 2011. I got it today! It's mine. It was completely grace. God's grace and the check airmen's grace. I knew the odds of me passing were slimmer than slim jim, slimmer than a piece of angel hair. In one of my many emotion breakdowns from the stress of this course, I cried out, "I thought the odds of me passing this course was maybe 10 or 20%, but actually the chances are zero, none. Absolutely none. I can't pass if my maneuvers are not to standards, and only one of all my maneuver was to standards the last time I flew." I didn't even practice short field landings since May! I couldn't even get my soft field landings to flare. Hell, even my normal landings were questionable. But that flight, my landings were beautiful. I'm not sure if the instructor helped me land, but I don't think so. It always feels like someone else is on the controls with your feet for some reason. My gosh, my biggest fear: Short-field landing. Upon touchdown of the main wheels, within maybe 2-3 seconds you apply breaks, flaps up, apply back pressure. I can't even describe how freakin' awesome my short field landing was. What the heck. Every single landing, the flare, the part I struggled with the most wasn't even the slightest problem today. My God in heaven who is almighty today and everyday.

After the check airmen passed me by his great grace and mercy I ran up the stairs to my 201A flight instructor who is my 200 ground instructor this year. My eyes were tearing up when I knocked on his door, but no answer. Then down the hall I saw my current instructor. Ah, I just couldn't hold it. I cried my little eyes out. How much I wanted a hug then, from anyone. I didn't even mind personal space at that moment, but I didn't ask for one, nor did I get one. But I just cried and gasped and smiled and cried and laughed. I took a breather outside and prayed and called my dad and tried calling some other people. Then I cried another time to someone else just by pure joy and pure I DON'T KNOW!!! Finally.. the sweetest part of my day. I waited for him after class, and showed him my private pilot wings. We went to his room to get my gift. I knew he hung a tshirt of my face in his office on the day that I had my first solo. The school was doing this new thing celebrating aviation milestones of the students in their program and putting a picture of the student and the plane online, He handed me a package and told me to open it. I opened it, it was pictures I posed for the website that he took after I landed on my first solo, I thought. I looked through more and more, and there was a picture of an airplane. And another picture of a take off. And another picture of a plane taxiing. And another picture of a plane in the sky. "What do you think, Tori?"
"I had no idea," I cried my heart out. He was there watching me the whole time. And he showed me the back of the t-shirt that I never got to see. "Don't give up on me, Mr. T" I told him that during one of our flights together, teary-eyed and feeling worthless and pathetic.

The experience getting my private pilot felt like hell, especially since March after getting lost and sqwaking 7700. I went through so many emotional explosions and I put myself through so much crap because I was drowning in self-pity, in guilt. "I feel stuck." If anything this experience made my passion for this career take root. I won't be blown over so easily. I am still not 100% sure what aviation will be for me in the future, but for now I feel confident that God says I can continue my flight training.

God was in control this whole entire time.  I went through all that, where I could've doubted and questioned where was God's love and mercy. Every moment of every second, he was there. He taught me so much more through the extra three months it took me to finish this course, the extra $4,000. Haha. But I trust in my God today. I trust in Him forever.

For Joy

I need some cliff to scream on.

Belong to Jesus

I'm useless to my King if I do not abide in Him. I am useless to my King if I do not believe in His commands for me. I am useless to my King if my passion for Him is simply lukewarm. I am useless to my King if I don't understand the urgency of my faithfulness.

God wake me up. Slap me silly until I realize my calling, until my faith is strong. I don't want to be useless. I don't want to be lukewarm. I don't want to be stale. I belong to Jesus. I want to be radical for Jesus. Jesus, help me die to myself daily so I can love more like you.

The Crazy Roommate

Who is the crazy roommate? The crazy roommate never knows that she is the crazy roommate. The crazy roommate always believes that the other roommate(s) is the crazy roommate.

The past eight-weeks I've been hearing two completely different stories. (1)From the person. (2)About the person. Is she who she says she is. Or is she how others tell me she is. Since contents from (1) and (2) are such polar opposites, it either makes (1) a psychopathic liar or (2) a psychopathic liar.

God I have no ideaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa........ WHO IS THE CRAZY ROOMMATE. MAYBE I'M THE CRAZY ROOMMATE. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.. no this is the work of the enemy. If we can't put this behind us with love and mercy and forgiveness, then it will swallow us whole and spit out nothing left. Lord, this is crazy.

My heart was once hardened. My faith was once myself. My hope was once nothing.

Wx

I feel so blessed. I have so many people in Carbondale praying for good weather.

Encrypted

Yesterday I called my dad after Kelly and Jason left

T: Daddy, I'm really blessed that you're my dad. Daddy, I'm really blessed that mommy's my mommy. I'm really really blessed.

D: Mmmph. It's no problem.

T: Dad. Did you know I love writing? Did you know that I write a lot? I wish I can write to you. I wish I could express myself to you better than how I know to express myself to you.

D: It's fine. Life is like this.

Jesus, thank you for taking my shame away. The shame I've felt, the shame I've carried, the shame that I am- Jesus, you took it all away. I am sinful. I am not perfect. I make mistakes everyday. I make so many mistakes. So many mistakes that if not for the freedom granted through Christ, my head should be down for all eternity. My neck would be broken by shame and my eyes would never be lifted up to see the white horse coming. God, thank you for blessing my life with so much love and grace and mercy and humor. I am blessed and even more blessed to be able to recognize my blessed-ness.

Let's live a life worthy of Christ.

Have I

I didn't really consciously want to admit it at first, but some major problems I was dealing with at camp last summer are still problems I need to work on right now. At camp, I struggled a lot with being the authority figure with my cabin each week. I just wanted to be the fun loving one. Then I realized I didn't know how to love my girls through discipline. I couldn't get them to respect me as a leader. I couldn't be the one to impress commands.

After two of my girls got in argument, one of them tried to step on the other girl's fingers. "No! You do not do that." She walked away and talked to another cabin leader.

 "Don't you have any respect for me? Do my words mean nothing to you?" I asked her. But no words. I walked to the other room and cried.

I know she loved me. I know she knew my love, but she wasn't responding to me as authority because I never enforced that idea. No matter who I am paired to work with at camp, the other is always the disciplinary one. My partner is always the leader. I'm the one that babies them and sometimes they listen out of guilt. Week after week my partner always struggle with being the "mean" one and the one "less loved" or sometimes "hated one."

 The same is happening in my apartment. We have a child living with us that I'd say is physically grown up but has the needs and issues as a camper. I did the same again and spoiled the girl with love that isn't Christ's love, it's a servant's love. It wasn't love by grace, it was love by stupidity. She couldn't see the things I did for her as acts of love, but as her well-deserved right.

My last day of campers for the summer, possibly for life. This girl was crying by herself because she didn't get her canteen money back. One of my proudest moments. Possibly my last moment of camper actually.

"Why are you crying? Didn't I tell you that everyone would get their canteen money back?"
    "..but I didn't get mine!"
I got on one knee, to reach her eye-level like we learned in training.
    ..crying..
"K___, have I ever lied to you?"
    "no"
"let's go get it back"

I still want to become an airline pilot.

He goes before me

When he brings out his own sheep, he goes before them; and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice. —John 10:4

Before I even fully grasped how financially unstable I was, God went before me and prepared the way. Before I even realized that by the end of this month I wouldn't have enough to pay for this month's dues (rent, utilities, tuition, gas, food, etc), God made a way, and gave me this random financial need grant. 

I'm not sure how exactly to pay next month's stuff. I better be more wise in using my car and my wallet. God is still awesome. While money is a little iffy... I tithed that grant. While I know my sister might lecture me about how it's not really my money to tithe, but it's my mom's and dad's because they carry the bigger burden of my tuition and living. So true. But that grant money did not belong to me, I didn't earn it or deserve it. I needed it, but I didn't deserve it. All that I have has been given to me by our gracious God. Even my earthly parents were given by Him and I am thankful for them. I am thankful for the love that I've felt from my earthly father, because I know that the love of my heavenly Father is greater than even that, which is already so great.

Praise God for His mercy. Praise God for His love for us. Praise God for His righteous character that makes no sense to be received by us. Praise Him forever and ever. May the offering of the little that I have (in comparison to what He's given) be an act of worship, a testament to His glory. 

We can never out give God.

Mt. Lies

After all that had been done. She said to me, "I don't flush the toilet paper."

God says to me, "Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? ⁷ If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it."
Genesis 4:6

Cast your burden upon the LORD and He will sustain you; He will never allow the righteous to be shaken.
Psalm 55:22

笨蛋

Knotted

This year, I committed to living with international students, hoping to be a Godly roommate, a representation of Christ. It's the second week of school, but I'm already losing the ability to decipher depth in time. Lots going on. As clear as mud. A lot of stuff. Like, having practically only one week to get back to where I was three months ago, before I left everything in Carbondale to chase after other things in Michigan. I left tearful and confused and bitter. "What have I done?" I thought as I left Carbondale to pursue my commitments with God. I felt broken, facing the epitome of my failures.

There are so many thoughts going on in my head, and I've totally admitted that I cannot handle my problems on my own. While anyone who knows the process of the flight program might say the odds are against me in passing this course, I feel a comforting glimpse of peace.. but some reason I still want to cry.

 My first flight instructor. My first checkairmen for 201A. My second checkairmen for failing my 201A checkride landings. My instructor that witnessed my dumb 7700 experience. All the other staff, faculty, and students that know about my dumb 7700 experience. The chief flight instructor. The safety inspection guy. All the people in the control towers. My professors for my AVM classes. When I walk down the narrow, and seemingly endless hallways of the second floor of the new TEC building, where rooms are as tight as spandex to skin. I walk past the opened doors and glancing eyes. I recognize the voices that go on in each room. "Why are these halls so damn long!" I keep my head down, and I walk faster and faster to avoid glances, to avoid awkward hellos, how-you-doing's, to avoid the possibility that someone might recognize me and remember my mistakes, my failures in this flight program. And I want to cry. I want to be gone, forgotten. Each time my adviser walks past me at the front desk, I feel shame. Whenever I see my first flight instructor, I want to cry out "I'm sorry." When I'm in the proximity of my previous check airmen, I wish that I truly confidently feel like I deserved their kindness even in their failing my checkride, there was kindness. When I bumped into my previous instructor who had to bear through so many of my mistakes and failures, I want to cry and scream "I'm sorry" I thought he left instructing because of me. I thought I was his SIU nightmare. I was nervous to go to church, that I might see him and make him uncomfortable. That I might make him feel sick by the sight of my face, the sound of my name. That I had become repulsive.

I'm sorry for my deficiencies. I'm sorry I wasted your time. I'm sorry I'm still here. I'm sorry I exist. I'm sorry I interrupted your life. I'm sorry you have to walk past me everyday.

Ah. I finally get this out. I finally get to express something I've been going through. I can finally get this out. I can finally lay those thoughts out. I can finally point to these tangible thoughts and say "these are lies" God heal this heart

I need God more than I need air. I need God. I need Him. I need my heavenly Father.

Last two weeks I spent maybe 3 nights at home. Everywhere else that wasn't home made me feel guilty because I left my family waiting for me. I felt like a terrible daughter for not spending the summer home with my parents who miss me to death. Now I'm home, and I don't want to be. Parts of it are so beautiful and sad, parts of it are so ugly and evil. I know Chicago isn't my home anymore. I'm pretty certain God doesn't want me to stay here.

I don't want to be home to see the ugliness. I don't want to be away form home and feel guilty. I don't know where my future leads. I don't know if aviation is where God's called me to be. I don't know if I like flying anymore. I don't know if I could do it anymore. I don't know if there is any passion for it left. I feel like a liar, like I lied to everyone when I told them I loved aviation, I wanted to be a pilot. I have no idea! But if this is God's way of telling me I'm in the wrong field, then by God's great name, I'm leaving it. I seriously have no idea. Prayer for peace, for faith.

Matthew 18:21-35

Struggling with financial stuff, and I just had an amazing week with God in the upper peninsula of Michigan. Lots of brokenness got brought out of me that I didn't even realize was still there and still so strong.

Give with love and intentions. I could be selfish and unreasonable and bitter and say some bad stuff. Blame failing my oral exam because I took it when I knew I wasn't ready, I took it so I could be done and so I could go to MI. But it was entirely my fault. I should have managed my time better. I should have went at my own pace even if that is slower. God's been so good and so faithful.

We drove my car from Carbondale to Chicago and then to MI. Chicago to MI was about 10-11 hour drive because of picking people up and stopping because my car was so old. Right now, I think my car is broken. The pedals were really worn out when we got back and I felt something scraping a hard surface every time I touched the pedals. Creepy stuff. And everyone underpaid with gas. I was bitter about it. If I didn't go, everyone in my car probably couldn't have made it. Yet they didn't pay me enough. My car is in such a bad condition right now, yet they didn't even pay me enough for gas. but God, I am even more angry at my bitterness. I could have been stern about it and said, hey you're all paying wayy less than you're supposed. I could call each of them right now to pay me extra, but that feels so wrong and ridiculous.

I should be way less bitter. I'll assume they had better judgement to know what they gave wasn't enough. I'll assume that they need the money more than I do, even though it doesn't seem like that right now. In the end, my life is still good.

I'm not sure if I'll pass my exam when I get back to Carbondale, I just lost a lot of confidence in that and I haven't gotten to study a lot last week. I'm not sure if I'll have to take that class over. I'm not sure at all if my parents can afford the extra hours I've taken for flight because of my inadequacy and mess-up's. I'm not sure if I can even last after sophomore year because I'd have used up my academic scholarship.. not so smart. Ah.. but even if I fail this class and take it again, even if I have to stop school after next year, God is still here. That doesn't mean I won't try my best, but God's sovereignty will always rule my life no matter what my mess-up's, failures, choices, etc. So glad my God is stronger than all my faults and failures. So glad.

nube

Today, like a lot of my other mornings, there was a stabbing pain in my gut that extended to my heart, worrying about flight. Even this morning when I knew I needed to fly today, I secretly prayed for cloudy skies so I didn't have to fly. Overwhelmed with gloom, this reoccurring thought haunted me, "Is this going to be the rest of my life?" That gloom lasted no more than 30 seconds. Sometimes it was for hours, or the whole morning.

God, what's wrong with me?

Lord, I pray for clear skies, calm winds on Friday.

Remember Isaiah 43

I shall not fear, for the Lord, our God, is with me.
To worry, to fret, to fear-- is to sin, is to doubt the authority, the amazing grace, the unfailing love of our Father, our Lord.

When I think about this research paper about faith, I just want to cry and run into my God's arms. Am I lazy, Lord? I truly truly don't want to do this.

International Bible Study

"Would either of you like to pray with me?"
...
"Well prayer is just us talking to God. God is here with us right now, and we're just talking to him."
..."so if I asked God who created him, he would tell me?"
"Yes, yes he could."

This is the first year of the international ministry with InterVarsity, it just sort of happened out of no where and it grew so huge that the apartment we've always met at no longer fits us all comfortably. That's amazing. Tonight as we sat together in discussion of a passage in Mark, international students asked questions. And I just thought about how much more demanding this new ministry will become of all the leaders', including my own, energy and concentration. We'll really really need God.

This student, she asks a lot of questions. Generally, they're very insightful questions, but last night I felt like she  wanted to prove Christianity was flawed. I prayed in my head, while she asked questions, for God to soften her heart to understand and for me to have the authority to speak to her about the questions. Led far astray from the bible passage, she said she believes in the science truth of how humans formed, she said other religions accept the possibility of sharing the same God except Christianity, our God isn't fair because he should judge by how much good works people do not just by believing, not everyone is sinful but God makes everyone go through the same punishment, if God created all things, who created God. My goodness, she has such a brilliant brain. I was so thankful that she felt comfortable enough to ask all those questions. I really tried answering to the best of my abilities and knowledge and experience.

She laughed at some of my answers. She laughed when I said she could pray and ask God who created Him. But in our prayer, I prayed for softened hearts. God continue to give this ministry's leaders boldness in knowing that this is in your will. The Holy Spirit is definitely with us. Thinking back about some of the things I spoke in reply...they were quite decent.

A Revealing Day

Today I guess was supposed to be a terrible day. If I didn't have God and if I didn't know Jesus, I might have said today was the worst day of my life and I might have never ever stopped crying and I might have just died from hating myself.

But through all the unfortunate things that happened today, I still felt God's grace. As long as I take a step back, and as long as that step is far back enough, I can see God's incredible mercy.

I woke up at 4:46am today. That is special, because in my rush yesterday night for today's flight I had forgotten to set my alarm clock for 5am. If I hadn't suddenly burst out of bed at 4:46am, my alarm wouldn't have rang until 8:10am. By 8:10, I would have been late for my first class and I would have been 10% complete in my flight planning for my 10am flight.

After my 8am class, I rushed back and packed everything to go to my car to get to the airport as soon as possible... That is until I discovered a flat tire! It was super flat.

I had to wait for the bus. But I got to do my devotionals and really trust that God is with me. No matter what happens, God is with me and I should be comforted by that. Even if I were late, if I missed the whole thing if I woke up at 9:30am for goodness sakes, God is still with me and He still loves me and I should be comforted by that because none of those things really mattered as much as I made them up to be.

I'll skip a whole bunch of what happened next, but just believe me that it was embarrassing and it was so stupid of me. So incredibly stupid, and I risked the lives of other students and possibly my instructor's job in today's flight. I was a danger in the air. I started to fret in the plane, and things just went downhill. If I had calmed down and if I had just relied on what I was trained to do, everything would have went exceptionally well.

But the best part of tonight, maybe was talking to my dad on the phone. Talking to him and crying and him saying it's ok.. you're still learning. And I saw my roommate. I thought, 'she must have loved her dad this much.' How incredibly hard it must be for her. I can't even imagine that the summer after my freshman year, I would lose my dad. She is so strong. I think I would cry myself to sleep every other night.  I know she misses him, I know she loves him. I know he loves her.

God, please say Yep

I'm so glad God softened my heart to hear to much more and know so much more. I feel like I'm similar to the Samaritan women at the well, who was really dense. Jesus really wanted to save her; she was lost. He spent so much time telling her about the living water, she takes it literally and misses the whole meaning. Then Jesus continues throwing at her "living water, eternal spring, worship in spirit and truth." And SHE STILL DOES NOT GET IT. Then Jesus just says "I who speak to you am he" Jesus says, I am the messiah!

A lot of times, I feel like I am that woman. And so many more times, I am so thankful God has been so patient with my stubborn mind and just my denseness. It took so long for words' meanings to really sink into my heart. God, so many instances, has just swooped down and saved me from my problems. And so many times, God has been so gracious that He closed the doors that would have led me away from Him. He has been protecting me, and letting me grow. It took me five or six years, but roots are finally growing in. There are roots! Hallelujah!

As I laid in my bed pondering about God's will, I asked a question I always ask, "God, where do You want to use me? Where do You want me, Lord?" 'If it isn't aviation, I would quit immediately!', I thought. But then I thought about all the shame I'd feel, going back to my family and friends and telling them I quit, I gave up. And then having to take extra courses to make up for them. And because God has so obviously shown me that the Holy Spirit is with me, I wonder where God wants me. I was His messenger.

Before, I would cry about it because I didn't want to leave aviation and it made me worried to not know where God wants me. Now, I am still a little worried. But the idea has latched onto me, I think. The possibility of working in ministry. Then I should major in something else, because if I don't plan on becoming a pilot, aviation will just suck all the money out of me. God, I am as dense as the women on the well. Please make it so obvious to me where You want me. To be honest, my heart is facing that ministry option. All I need is God to say "Yep." Please, God, say "Yep."

If God doesn't say Yep, and I don't have His blessings, if that isn't in His will, then it could go very wrong. I need to entirely rely on the Holy Spirit if I were to evangelize or give sermons or teach workshops or whatever else. God, please show mercy on me again, as You already have time after time. Say "Yep or No" 

Passion of the Christ

Yesterday was the first time I watched the entire movie from beginning to end. The whole movie, I kept a thought to observe, 'Who is Jesus?'

Something else I've been constantly asking prayer for, is my desire to be deeply in love with Jesus. A sister told me to continue my devotions, reading the bible to learn Jesus' character.

The whole movie, I kept thinking 'Who is this man, and why does he love me so much?'

After the movie we (international bible study) had discussion time. I'm not sure if it was because I was cold, but I couldn't stop shaking. It wasn't convulsive shaking, it was like very unsteady constant shivering of my entire body. Just who is this man who loves me so much?

One truth I love to tell others and to say aloud so I can hear for myself,

"Jesus is the greatest evidence of God's love. If you don't know Jesus, you have no idea how much God loves you." Truly, truly.

Who is Jesus, that he would carry the cross for me? Who is Jesus, that he would hang on the cross for me? Who is Jesus, that he would endure death for me?

But that greatest question to ask among these: Who am I?

Who am I that Jesus should do anything for me? Who am I that God should show so much mercy and grace? Who am I to receive that mercy and grace for how undeserving I truly am? Who am I that God would pardon me and send Jesus, His son, His incarnate to save me, to conquer death. To endure the punishment for OUR SINS.

I am sin, I am the dog that hungers for crumbs, I am that sheep that betrayed its shepherd.

God loves us so much.

Whatever it takes

A lot of times, I really wish my parents knew Jesus. "I don't want it to be Tori's thing," I told the guy who interviewed me for Beechpoint, the camp I'll be working at this summer. I had a conversation with my dad about Jesus. God, I am so amazed at how we even managed to get there with what little Chinese I now know. I just wish it could always go further and further. And I wish I could have more and more stuff to say and that he'd be interested in hearing what I have to say.

Recently I've been going through those conviction feelings or just really strong reminders about evangelizing to my parents. I want to see them in heaven, I want them to know how much God loves them. The only thing I fear about death is missing all the people who don't know Jesus Christ. Well I'll probably flinch if you point a gun to my head, and I'm most likely going to be afraid if you poked a knife into me. They're just natural instincts, to want to stay alive in an earthly context.

I always joke about having a tumor from the accumulated stress I've had because of school work and the people in my life, but on occasional headaches I wonder if there could be that possibility.. haha. And so I have these thoughts.. what will it take for my parents to know Jesus? And I imagine stuff. If I get cancer, and my dying wish was that my mom would go to church with me.. then she'd probably come. And during all that time I can explain how much God loves me through my suffering. And she'll be receiving the Word at church with me, and possibly after I die, she'll keep going to church. But then I'd hope I get as long as possible to have cancer before I die so I can keep going to church with my mom. If it takes cancer, if it takes my death.. then by God's great name, I'd love to die so my parents can accept Jesus.

But if cancer isn't the answer, then maybe I should just keep asking my mom to go to church with me. That's hard.

So much on my mind

Jesus is Real

I'm on a new journey. I can't say how devoted I will be or how long I could possibly last or if the results will even mean anything.. but today I made a proposal in my ENG120H class while we were discussing possible paper topics for this research paper assignment.

I told the class I was going to write about how Jesus really did exist, putting aside his claims and claims of his miracles being true. I told them I was going to write about Jesus actually once existing, once walking on this earth, once breathing this air that is so available to us.

I'm super nervous. I don't even want to analyze the stares I got, even from my professor. Do they think that I am crazy? I just felt so much conviction to write about that topic, that I wouldn't want to write or research about anything else. And I am truly curious about this topic. Maybe I should have been more humble in proclaiming my topic to the class, but I was just so excited. God, please help me. I'm not even sure if I'll stick to this topic because of how difficult it will be. But God, please help me. Please show me you want me to write this paper about You.

Holy Spirit

Shared another testimony last night. The Holy Spirit was definitely there with me.

The is the third time I strongly felt the Holy Spirit. But this time I actually recognize that it is the H.S. It keeps me up like a child. My heart is pumped and excited. The H.S. gives me amazing fluency in my expressions and words.

Last night, I was a messenger. The words were like magic. I can't stop remembering, but I don't want to stop remembering either. I'm hearing them over and over again in my mind. Like confirmation, people came up to tell me they were touched, that they felt my vulnerability, that my words really sunk in deep. I am so glad God was able to use me. Of course God is able to do anything, but I mean that I am so glad that I am useful to the One who doesn't need me.

I'm God's beautiful little girl. He is proud to call me His daughter.

And I bawled.

Another Break Down to Someone Who Doesn't Know Me

ENG120H

I totally dread writing. I dread the writing process. This semester I accidentally signed up for three writing classes. What I meant by accident is that I didn't know one of them involved so much writing and reading novels. English 120H, my only 100-level class this semester, turns out to be quite scary. And in class today, I got my paper back. I worked really hard on this paper. I mean I finished it with more than a week ahead of the due date to get it revised and stuff.

 I tried really hard, because I really didn't want to believe that I sucked at writing that much. I really wanted to get through these three writing classes. I even handed the paper into the professor, believing it was an A paper. After announcing to the class that a large majority got A's, I got mine back. I slowly flipped through the pages, read through the comments on the margins and the last page, B-.

Ok, maybe you'd say B- isn't that bad. But B- meant close enough to C+. I imagine my professor writing that B with her solid red-ink pen. She probably stared at it for half a second, and added the - to the B and made it a B-. B- is an insult compared to B. It's an extra detail that says 'kinda, sorta, not so good'.

It was especially embarrassing because I really felt like I poured my heart into the paper. I felt like I would blow my professor away with my creative analogies and beautiful uses of anaphoras, jargon, parallelism, and other rhetorical devices. She said  there would be absolutely no rewrites.

After class, I asked her if I could rewrite it anyway so I can know what it takes to get an A paper. She said that wouldn't be a problem and she said we could go over what I did wrong in my paper. We did, and I felt the unreasonableness in her tone. She just stuck so strongly on the things she wrote on the margins. To be honest, I don't think I deserved that B- still. I think it was at least B. Tears were running down my face and snot was just covering up my face, I felt it. "Ah, what the freakin hell" I thought in my head. "What the freaking hell. Crap." But I couldn't stop. And I spoke with that out of breath voice, where every word was interrupted by a heavy breath and a shoulder reflex going up, back, and down.

"I really appreciate your criticism, and I really want to become a better writer. Now I know what I need to work on and I will work on it."

I could tell she was grossed out by my snot and tears. I wiped myself down on the sleeves to my soft maroon jacket. She will remember those snot stains and those tears that fell like beads.

I don't think it was completely the paper that drove me to break down like that. It was just a lot of stuff building up. Lots of disappointment, grief, and stress building up. I'm really surprised my hair is still in tact sometimes.

God, wrap me in Your love. Wrap me with it like a cocoon. Wrap it on me so tightly that I loose the air in my lungs. I rather feel Your love than breathe.

It disgusts me when people complain about being poor and they do nothing about it. They still eat out when they have meal plans. They buy stuff like soda, gum, and candy. They buy even more things they don't need. It disgusts me, because I am jealous. If they complain that they are poor, why are their sacrifices not even as small as mine? How dare they pay to eat at the student center and still complain about being poor? How dare they? Are they mocking the people who are actually poor?

 I hate reckless spending, but I bet I am guilty of it too. I bet if I spent even a day volunteering at a homeless shelter, even an evening, I'd realize how materially wealthy I am. I'd realize how spoiled I am. How obnoxious for judging other people, how hypocritical for calling myself poor. I can still afford to be in school, to live, to walk in shoes, to have clean water. How dare I say that I am poor and mock those who have even less than me? How dare I?

Had I known

Had I known his last words for me were "Hi Tori!" and my last words for him were "Hi Tom!"

I love him so much.

God, come and save me from my sinful heart and my clouded mind. Let Your grace fill the emptiness and mend the broken hearts of those I love.

God, I love You. I belong to You, and I pray to never forget that.

My Roommate

Sometimes I feel really bad for her. Sometimes she's so blunt and seemingly carefree, I forget about all the terrible things that have happened to her several months ago. I forget her perspective. I forget what she might be going through. I forget to pray for her. I forget. Although I am not allowed to complain in our room, she has given me a lot of comfort on many occasions.

   ⁴³ “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor^[i] and hate your enemy.’ ⁴⁴ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, ⁴⁵ that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. ⁴⁶ If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? ⁴⁷ And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? ⁴⁸ Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

My God is so awesome.

Chicago

Chicago, I never longed for it so much in such a sad and nostalgic way. Coming back at night time, my train glided past condominiums downtown, and through the gigantic glass windows, I saw people. I saw a woman sitting in her office, a man in his living room on his laptop, and a family cooking dinner. I thought, "they have no idea how lucky they are." It was my first time missing Chicago since my parents dropped me off. Perhaps it was my realization that Chicago will only be my hometown from now on.

I could tell that my parents really missed me. They way my mom sprang out, way past her usual bed time, at 10pm get my luggage. The way they were fretting about making me liquid food post-wisdom-teeth-surgery. The way my mom sounded when she realized I was leaving Sunday at 8am and not Sunday at 8pm. I am so blessed. It's my first time missing being a baby since my parents dropped me off. Bleh, so much to talk about.

Overall, I am super glad my wisdom teeth got yanked out. I'm really really glad I got my insurance long enough for that surgery. I am so blessed. I should have held back on eating solid foods though. I guess I am paying for that now with my chipmunk face and my swollen gums.

Discouragement

"So that was the last straw"

This week, things have really been building up. Commitments with groups, events, and people. Responsibilities with groups, school, and home. For all the time I've been at Carbondale, I don't think I have ever cried as hard as I did today.

I called my insurance company, which was public health care and free until I turned 19. I called them because I needed the monthly insurance card by the time I got back to Chicago this weekend to get my wisdom teeth out. I called and told them I haven't received it yet and I would be 18 for two more weeks.

They put me on hold for a good two minutes to tell me I don't get insurance anymore. That was the last straw. In question form, I repeated what the woman over the phone had just said to me. 'Yes', she said, 'you no longer have insurance' 'Oh.' I said with a long pause 'Thanks' and we both hung up. That was the last straw. I stood there, supposing to breath, but it was like someone punched my solar plexus and I was hysterical. I called my dad. "Hello, tori?" I couldn't say it. I couldn't say anything. "Tori?"
"Dad, I don't have insurance anymore"
He didn't say much, but it was obvious I was crying. "We'll just pay for it then"
"Dad. It's $300 per tooth"
"We'll just pay"
We hung up, and I just cried and cried. I felt out of breath, like there wasn't enough oxygen at some points. There was another guy standing behind me while all that happened. He was probably scared and confused. It went something like, phone call, talk talk talk, cry, phone call, talk talk talk in another language, cry, couldn't breath, cry.
 I hid away and called for cell phone prayer. This surgery took 6months to get. A lot of emailing professors and paying extra train fare and changing things around just to make it work. And I just felt screwed. Like life just played a nasty prank on me. And I cried and cried.

I went back to my dorm after an hour of calming down. I ended up taking the elevator with some floormates, and I had some baby tears left unwept. And they thought I cried because of a bad flight. Being the guys that they were, they were scared and didn't know what to do, so the sent another girl to comfort me, haha. I did have a bad flight, it was a terrible flight. It was disgusting. It was like I was worse than before I started. Like I didn't learn anything ever. It really was that bad. But I am blessed with an instructor that didn't scream at me or tell me to quit flight. I am blessed with an instructor that told me to not get discouraged, to have a good weekend.

It's like my progress is going backwards and downhill from where I started, as if that were ever meant to be possible. At Aviation Management Society, the guest speaker from Delta shared his experience with a very bad co-pilot "Some people just aren't born to be pilots. I'm not sure how he passed, but that's what CFI's are for" I'm pretty sure he caught a glance at me, and I'm pretty sure my face had despair all over it, like he was narrating my future. How did I pass 201A? Wasn't it just all by grace? I know it was all by grace. I shouldn't have passed. They felt bad for me. It was the last day before break began. There was a time crunch. How did I pass 201A with my dangerous landings?

God, I wish I was good at flying. I wish it came easy to me. I wish it came at me at a normal pace and not this  reversing one. God, I wish I could fly all day without it costing me so much, so I could get better. God, I wish I were already better, so my parents wouldn't have to pay so much extra. Will I ever even get there? How long will it take?

God, should I sell my hair? I suddenly want to do that, and to sell my blood plasma. But how can I do that? How can I try so hard to seek comfort by the number in my bank account? I'm gonna cut off my hair, and donate it.

Married to Jesus

Although I've never dated, I would say that my heart has a good history of being fluttery, obsessive, desperate, and just down right crazy sometimes for guys.

At retreat last month, I shared a cabin with high school girls. Naturally, we got on the topic of dating. And honestly, I told them I've never dated and I was the oldest girl camper with them. Which I said with humor and absolutely no shame, until they actually thought that I was hurting or something and they tried to comfort me. "It's ok that you've never dated. God will find you someone." "Don't worry about not finding a boyfriend, Tori. You remember blah blah blah? Well he's like way older than you and he hasn't dated either."

I was disgusted that they thought I was ashamed or sad because I never dated. I suppose that there has been many many times where I questioned myself critically for being single my whole life. But thinking about it now, I am so glad I haven't dated. I know so certainly, that I would have worshiped the guy. It wouldn't matter who it was, because I was so desperate. I wasn't going around flirting with everyone or something, but my heart was easily moved. And while I was in school, I did notice when girls started to date, then there were a couple more, and more and before I knew it, I was one of the very few that never even held hands with a guy before. I am so glad I didn't date. With the list of priorities and thoughts and principles and the gigantic lack of wisdom I had, I know so surely now that it would have went downhill faster than a greased marble, riding on banana peels, down a buttered ramp. God's been totally watching over me even before I knew Him.

Even now, I find myself to be distracted by guys. Definitely not as much. With some thought, I think I should make this commitment with myself and God that dating for the next year will just not even be an option. This way I can stay more focused on my relationship with Jesus. And I'm growing really tired of thinking about guys. Tired about blogging, talking, and thinking about them. I think God's really helped me in taking away a lot of that obsession and worry I had. It was so pathetic and sad. God must have felt hurt for me when he saw me so desperate, so lacking of faith. I think this will be one of the best decisions to make right now. Just, not even think about how that guy thinks about me, or anything bleh like that. I will just think to myself .. dude, I'm not gonna date this year. It's not gonna happen. Married to Jesus right now.

I'm going to hide my facebook relationship status. I know it seems kinda silly, to have to keep it so accurate, but I think it can have effect. If you put out dating or engaged or married, then you know that person is off limits, but if you put single, it suggests.. no, it doesn't suggest, it SAYS 'I'm available for dating'. I'm gonna hide it for me. And it's definitely not like anyone is hounding at my door or anything. Just make a mental note for myself that dating is not what I'm looking for right now and it doesn't concern anyone on Facebook whether or not I'm available.


It's probably going to be a little weird or difficult at first. But I really wish I made this choice a lot earlier.

My heart will only beat for Jesus. Everything I do will be for Him, not for man. Pure mind, good thoughts, peace in my heart.

When You Pray

God will say one of three things:

1. Yes
2. You're not ready yet.
3. I have something even better for you.

Lord, give me a servant heart

Lord, I pray for clean minds and pure souls.

I need prayer. I feel very over-exerted and worn out since the past week. it's been hard to do my best and stay energized. I've been more forgetful, more easily irritated, and just feeling kind of exhausted. I need God's strength, God's wisdom, God's love. I need to draw myself from Him. He needs to be my Source. Then I'll never grow weary or tired or empty. I'm tired, because I've been trying to do all those things myself, without God, as if that were possible.

Hold on Tight

In Carbondale: A normal week is 7hrs of bible study. Two sessions of worship and service. Discipleship.

In Chicago: A normal week, sunday school and service. Two sessions of worship. Friday fellowship.

I come back and I tell people it's been a lot harder to stay in Chicago. I've been telling people that being in Chicago for the break hasn't been really good on my spiritual life, in my attempts to living it out for Jesus. And no one seems to understand what I'm talking about. The difference can't simply compare. The difference is so huge. Not just because of the time commitment. While I get faced with many challenges away from home, I get to witness so much of God's grace and love. Things are not perfect and I am not perfect, but I love the way God has been changing me since I came here.

Once I go back to Chicago, my whole lifestyle changes. It's so good to be back in Carbondale. I love it here so much that I begin to worry about when I have to graduate and when I get out of this loop.When I am away from my brothers and sisters. When I'm pushed into a place where I am uncomfortable and the ground where my faith stands constantly shakes. Will it stand?

But if God calls me to those places where I am out of those physical spiritual resources, where my brothers and sisters are more than a phone call away, where I get uncomfortable, where the ground that my faith stands constantly shakes, then I must go there. God calls me to be His servant. I am so glad, my King loves me. "God doesn't call the qualified; He qualifies the called." I still have so much growing to do. For now, I am so glad I am in this loop, although my body gets weary and my eyes get tired.

This year, I pray for a faithful heart

If my God, who has everything, says He needs me
If my God, who needs nothing, says I am useful
If my God, who is omnipotent, says I am in His will

then by God's great name, I should run to Him. By His great love and mercy and grace, I should cry out. How amazing is the paradox, that my God who is perfect, all powerful, and almighty would say I am useful, I the sinful, faulting, foolish mortal. One out of six billion, and He doesn't even need any of us. How amazing that I am alive, how amazing that everything I see in front of me exists, the soft microfiber blanket, the skinny black lamp, the oscillating Lasko fan, the yellow pillow pet. What amazing grace! And my God says that He needs me! My God says that I am useful! My God says that I am in his will.

My Children's Name

Cella
Tom C.
and
Kason
Conan
if I ever need to go that far

Cloud

My best friend is dying. What can I pray for?  I pray that I'll see him again in heaven, that he'll do his itsy bitsy spider and say T.O.McDonald and pretend that he is Santa with his HEHEHE. And I could make him crab rangoons, hot sour soup, war bar soup, or those sandwich squares. And I can make them sweet and sour chicken, and pork and shrimp.

My best friend, my oldest and dearest friend who met me before I learned to walk, is dying. And I've been given his phone number in the hospital to call him, but I'm afraid. Afraid what my reaction would be. Because I'm not good at comforting people. I'm not good at expressing sympathy and motivation and encouragement. I'd either cry with them or stand and watch.

I don't know what to say to him. It's been so extremely long since I've seen him, maybe 2 or maybe even 3 years. I love them so much, but I'm afraid of the change that all of us have gone through. I'm afraid  to sit with them, at their table like I'd used to and watch them eat. I'm afraid I'd have nothing to say. I'm afraid I'm not cute enough anymore. My best friend is dying and I don't know what to say to him. It'd be a lot easier to not call him, but I know that would be the wrongest choice.

He and Sue were my truest friends. They were more like grandparents. I loved them a lot, but in a distant way where calling them and going out of my way to see them for two hours was bothersome. I feel the same way for my real grandparents. Except I don't think I can cry for my grandparents, not out of bitterness but placidity.

My best friend is dying and he's asking to talk to me and Kelly almost everyday. My best friend is dying and all I can do is talk to him, but I don't know what to say. I'm afraid I'd start crying he second I hear his weakened voice. I'm afraid there'd be no words coming out and I'd make him feel unloved.