I remember on our last night, this small child I played with yesterday gently tapped my shoulder and asked in Spanish, "Chinita, are we playing again later?" Smiling back, "Sorry, we are going to leave tonight" He looked at me pouty faced like he knew despair. i'm sorry kid, for coming and playing with you like I wasn't going to leave

I wish I was seven year old. I wish I was home, pouring tea for my grandpa. I wish I could've told my grandma I loved her. I wish I had treated her better. I miss those bruises on my legs, that bowl cut. I miss running around in the sun. I miss playing in the dirt until it got dark and cold.  I miss my mom and I miss my dad. I miss everyone I love in Chicago. I miss sitting in my dad's car. I miss putting bubble suds on flipped over cups at Ho Luck. I miss it

Nightmare awake

I wonder if this is what's meant to be for the rest of my life, living in white culture, being different, being a minority, being extra sensitive to certain things.

I feel like I'm witnessing a murder in a busy hall and I'm screaming and no one is looking, no one is stopping, no one is responding, no one is doing anything. They don't see it. They claim they can't because they're different. No one sees anything. It's like I'm screaming in an empty room of people. I feel like the one getting murdered. People I know, people I love are just walking by and going on their way. God, right now, at this temporary moment, I hate this people. I hate this people that I am a part of. I hate it. I hate it. How can they

Lord, my heart is pestered, my heart is annoyed, my heart is sad.

There was a girl who said something unintentionally incredibly offensive and racist and so freaking ignorant I wanted to call her out on what the freakin crap bullpoop freak poop she was saying. God, there was so much freakin damn ignorance. But I am no judge. I look back at myself and my transgressions, how can I keep angry? how can I ask for justice? What ignorance for me to speak of justice.

girls. girls. girls. girls. girls. Why, Lord? Why are we this way? So full of ourselves, so ignorant, so obnoxious, so pathetic? Why are we so far from your image?

All the time in the world

If I had all the time in the world, I would write each of my friends a book about how special they were and how loved they were by God. If I had to point at what my heart loves most, it's either babies or trying to take pain away from people. When I was really young I used to think a lot, because I was alone a lot. I used to think about people who were in the hospitals, people in opposite parts of the earth and how they might be hurting right now and at that moment. How one person might be experiencing an unimaginable amount of pain. I didn't know God yet, but I prayed that some of that person's pain could be relieved onto me. Whoever it was, so that the person might hurt less. Then I thought, today might be someone's birthday. Today might be someone's happiest day of life; today might be someone else's most painful day. I prayed that something would help the hurting people. And when I hurt, when I had stomach aches which brought tears to my eyes, I wondered if that was what I had asked. 'Am I relieving someone else's pain?'

Lord, renew my heart and let me overflow with Jesus.

That first time I led worship, oh how desperate they were to have asked me, but still thankful.

PEACE.

This semester. A missions trip. A four month lag to completing a class. A broken car. A desperate search for a third roommate. A lack of work hours

This semester my parents paid for all the remaining of my tuition. My dad just talked to me over the phone yesterday and he wanted to send me money to pay for.. practically the rest of the rent until the lease is over. "Stop it," I said, "You don't have to do that." I recently learned about love languages, and I realize that my parents show love by giving me things and providing for me. They don't give hugs. They don't say nice things. They don't necessarily make dates with us besides for meals. If I take away my need for them, I take away the way they know how to display love for me. Last semester and this semester, I chose hunger before I would ask for help. It's my pride, my worthless pride.