Some say she doesn’t use patterns. And that she’s never heard of a measuring spoon. But we all know is she’s called a maniac.
I’ve always aspired to the words of Miss Frizzle, that in life it’s time to take chances, make mistakes, and get messy. That is my creative approach whether with thread, paint, or in the kitchen. It is my ethos. I am not organized, but I have flair! I enjoy a good adventure in learning, even if that takes me to a destination unexpected. It was the journey that mattered most. That is why my creative personality has gravitated toward hands-on jobs – campus mail carrier, paint crew, library assistant, switchboard operator, or Appalachian culture site manager. The list goes on and on. There was more freedom to be me, and less pressure to conform.
I do not translate to an office job. Although I tried my hardest to be what they wanted me to be. I stuck it out for 3.5 years in a corporate marketing department, my creative style was highly reigned in. I made my deadlines and was as focused as possible, but it just wasn’t a good fit. Not like cooking, baking, sewing, knitting, writing, painting – making things is such a joy. I think because the process is messy. It is a flurry of creation. And that suites me.
I’ve learned that choosing not to follow the exact directions and recipes for creativity’s sake, can seem odd to a type-A, organized person. This has been particularly evident in marriage as Kyle and I can be complete opposites sometimes. But it works because teamwork has ebbs and flows. In time, our differences have become endearing to one another. I think that one of the coolest think the most extraordinary thing about relationships is that you grow to appreciate each other, including your differences.
In my maniac fashion, I’ve discovered new recipes I’d not tried without experimenting. I’ve also learned how march to the beat of my own drum, even if that is weird for people. I’ve also accepted the fact, that even when I am trying so hard to be precise, my creative nature and clumsiness will inevitably take over and that’s okay. I can make messes without feeling like a failure. I don’t have to compare myself to the Pinterest-worthy images that wallpapers the internet into an aesthetic monotony. Sometimes a little spice of imperfection is good for the creative soul. And thanks to Stray Kids’ Oddinary comeback, I have an anthem!
A little disclaimer: this post is written in good fun. As an Top Gear fan, the word maniac is beloved (and a term of endearment between Kyle and me). It’s not being used offensively. Please don’t take this out of context. Thanks ♥️
For a week, I decided to do something a little different with my Bible reading. Instead of reading a chapter or two, from whatever book I happened to be studying at the time, I’ve been reading, slowly, methodically over the first 40 verses of Psalm 119. If you’re not familiar with this passage, Psalm 119 has a unique structure. It is 176 verses in length that are divided into 16 sections, each section is named for a letter in the Hebrew alphabet. It’s not a quick read! And usually, I don’t approach this reading with enough attention. My usual posture is to power through its length, but this time I wanted to get a bit more knowledge out of it. The idea was to push my mind to get acquainted with the text and the wisdom of the lines of the page.
Because to be honest, this chapter is dense with words, imagery, and lessons. The sentence structure of the ancient Hebrews is tricky, I read the words in the wrong order and sometimes miss the point of what I am reading. So either I can get discouraged by the intricacy of studying this section of the Bible or I change my approach. I chose to expand my idea of what my time studying the Bible looks like, as an experiment to see if meditating on the words, is as important as they say.
Restful Reading
After my interval training workouts, I like to cool down by laying on my yoga mat with my legs and feet up against a wall. The feeling of my back realigning while the lymphatic draining, makes me feel leaner, and the posture of lying on my back staring at the ceiling provides a moment of total relaxation after pushing my muscles. It is something I look forward to. Sometimes I push myself to workout, just to do this part. Usually during my legs against the wall session, I’ll watch a Youtube video or possibly a music video, something that will excite my mind with stunning visuals or thought-provoking content, usually about fashion history.
But what about those seasons of dryness? I’ve been in a three-week slump of a spiritual desert. I want to dig into the Word, stay focused on the Lord, and be prayerful throughout my day. I have not been. I’ve been leaning into distractions, into music, video games, etc. So I decided to challenge myself during a rest on my yoga mat, to leave my phone on my dresser, and pray. To be completely alone with God, and dwell in His presence instead of distractions. With a rapid-fire list of K-Pop songs swirling in my head, I asked God to help me focus on Him and Him alone. I wanted the ability to shut out all distractions.
My internal playlist went from 11 into a whisper, then silence. Like a volume dial turned by His hand.
The next day, I missed my workout but I was craving some downtime. After my shower, in the quiet of the evening light, I spread out my yoga mat on the wood floor and extended my hand out towards my bed, to my Bible. I asked the Lord to guide me, what should I be focusing on tonight? What would you like me to learn about you? I felt a pull towards the Psalms, instead of my current place in Isaiah. To Psalm 119. Not a psalm I gravitate towards, a marathon more than a read to me.
I was thinking about the way in which Biblical scholars read the Bible, and how the Israelite men used to study the scriptures in the temple schools. The slow recitation of the scriptures, a wandering path through the wisdom instead of a sprint, in order to store the word of God in their hearts and minds.
Scripture Stored in My Heart
Although I’ve been reading the Bible a lot more since 2020, I do not have the scriptures memorized. A few verses here and there from Sunday School and Christian education, but not a backlog of wisdom to pull from in moments when encouragement is needed. I’m disappointed in myself for how little attention I’ve had to studying and memorizing so that it is in my heart. So many other useless things I carry around in my mind like quotes that make me laugh or lyrics to entertain me but, none of these sustain me.
I felt quite convicted by this. I like to put 100% into what I do, for the glory of God. I’m a passionate person. Understanding that in reality, I am not as passionate about learning scripture as I would profess. Because if I was, I would be doing it. Seeing the reflection of who I really am and what my priorities look like, can only be from God, but also was a harsh reality of how much spiritual maturity is still out there waiting to be acquired. If I only give it my full attention. That’s the tough part. It requires discipline, focus, and drive. This world is waiting with bated breath to keep us as distracted and far from God as possible. We have to push back the distractions with our own free will to seek God and seek His will in our lives.
The Start of Something New
Fully convicted and invigorated for change, I opened my Bible to Psalm 119. I asked the Lord to help me only focus on Him and to learn what He would like to teach me through this time with Him. I began to read slowly, line by line. Slowly, line by line, reading, considering, pondering the meaning and significance of each line.
א Aleph Blessed are those whose ways are blameless, who walk according to the law of the Lord. Blessed are those who keep his statutes and seek him with all their heart— they do no wrong but follow his ways. You have laid down precepts that are to be fully obeyed. Oh, that my ways were steadfast in obeying your decrees! Then I would not be put to shame when I consider all your commands. I will praise you with an upright heart as I learn your righteous laws. I will obey your decrees; do not utterly forsake me.
Psalm 119:1-8 NIV
The lines hit me differently. In a fashion, I can only describe as meditating on the word with the Lord. Some words jumped off the page, and others carried more weight than they had before. It was a remarkable time of fellowship with God. I’ve now read this first section, at least six times over the course of a week. Each time slowly, with time to ponder how this wisdom applies to my life and the world I exist in. I plan to discuss more of what God has been teaching me as I read through Psalm 119. Thank you, dear reader, for spending time with me today. ❤
One of my biggest fears was realized when death came knocking and was forced to live apart from my grandpa. He was such a big part of my life growing up, filling both the role of grandfather and dad when I was young.
In 1st grade, fresh from retirement from his role as an athletic director, he suited up he said for his most important job yet – picking me up from school. Every day he lined up his truck in the parking lot with coffee and newspaper in hand, chuckling to himself that he was the only “old guy” there in a sea of minivans and stay-at-home moms.
I got used to his presence, whether it was the car rides home from school with a serenade of his music, usually The Brothers Four, or another singing group he liked in college. Sometimes it was Willie Nelson, Vince Gill, could be Alabama. If there was a quartet performance coming up, he would practice his part as the high tenor of The King’s Men gospel quartet. After school, he might teach me how to hit a baseball properly or we would wash the car. When I got a pet rabbit in 3rd grade, Papa was by my side caring for the rabbit like it was his own. He built me a swingset and went to every chorus content, home volleyball game, art show, open house, jog-a-thon, etc.
As I grew older, and my mom bought her own house, our relationship had to change because instead of seeing him at the breakfast table and after school, I had to be intentional. I talked to him and Grandma after school on the phone. I’d visit them on the weekends and on breaks from school, I always knew I was welcome to be there. On Saturday mornings, we made a standing date to get breakfast at a local diner. We had a special order, he would order eggs, bacon, and toast with an extra plate. I ordered the pancakes and we’d split the lot. He taught me how to ride a bike, so why wouldn’t I look to him to teach me how to drive? It just made sense. Moving into college we had pizza lunch dates, where we’d discuss my classes and his current readings. In the fall, he was my football game buddy.
It was his opinion I cared the most about, from what career choice I made to the boy I started dating, and was getting pretty fond of junior year. When that boy asked me to marry him, Kyle became part of our little circle. I knew time existed, and the limitations of age and health would get us eventually, but when death came to take Papa away, I realized how scary it was to think of carrying on without him. It felt impossible. Unnatural.
Today is the third anniversary and I’m relieved that I feel okay, as weird as it is to be okay. I didn’t think I could find this place of being okay. Overcoming my fear took practice. When death happens you don’t really get a chance to prepare. The moment it happens there is no going back and it’s weird.
Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer’s; he makes me tread on my high places.
Habakkuk 3:17-19 ESV
What helped me get through this fear the most was the support to keep walking forward, my support came from the Lord and my wonderful friends (and best friend, Kyle). I had to believe that God’s promises were good. Like the words of Tauren Wells’ song “God’s Not Done” I had to trust that there was more for me coming than the dead end, I felt stuck in. Fear is a liar, as Zach Williams writes, and pushing the fear back into its place was what ultimately helped me. But this journey has been three years of hard work and there are still moments where I feel like I’ve made zero progress. That’s when I remember Habakkuk 3:17-19 and Lamentations 3:22-24. It’s a tough road, but I am learning to feel the emotions instead of being afraid of them.
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”
The sweetest package arrived early Thursday morning! I saw pure bliss for my tired and angry eyes – new glasses with fresh blue light blockers. My eyes were fried. Had been frying for weeks without me noticing. It happened slowly, building, draining, and then bam my eyes let me know, yes indeed, it was time to get new lenses. If not I think they would have gone on strike. Those headaches are such a nuisance. The aching of tired muscles around my eyes, and how heavy my blue frames, were the perfect combo for a week of migraine woes. But alas, it’s in the past and I am thrilled. For a few reasons! The new spectacles are super light. They are a fun style I wanted to try out after seeing Changbin wear this look for a stage performance, and I got the cutest dust cloth of a bun wearing glasses and a tie.
With the eye fry though, getting worse with time on my computer or phone, I took last week to give my eyes a break from screens until the new frames came. And it turned into a tremendous creative recharge time. I knocked out my open sewing projects, finishing my backlog of stretch-knit fabric items floating on their own island of procrastination. This was a problem because I had real projects for friends to work on and their procrastination island was taking up valuable real estate on my worktable. So it was time, and without the prompt of my lens wearing it may have been another month before I finished the stretch knit pieces. It was a good thing. I also used the time to sketch out potential maps for a novel idea I have. Well, two novel ideas, actually. I developed two plots and worlds, flushed out in my notebook with the settings, names, and timelines of the plot I want to write. Once I decide on which project I should move forward on, I’m excited to share it with you.
I’ve noticed taking a break, even just for several days in a row of not writing, my brain feels rusty and I feel clunky with my words. This skill of writing is so much more like a discipline of exercise than an art form sometimes.
To recharge my mind, and get those creative writing juices flowing hopefully better than before, I realized I should get back into reading to be immersed in fiction in order to learn from others what it takes to write a good original story. Someone I admire, without finishing the book yet, is the work of Judy I. Lin. I started her novel, A Magic Steeped in Poison back in September 2022. With my Autumn/Winter Collection sewing schedule I put it aside to keep my deadlines – it seriously pulled me in and plan to write a bigger appreciation post for her work. I jumped back into the story this weekend and dang – being fully immersed in a fantastical story with such layered culture and characters – it is just pure joy. I forgot how wonderful reading can be. With the final act of the book before me, I hunger for more of the story. I can’t wait to jump back in this week and carry onward into the sequel of the Book of Tea Series – A Venom Dark and Sweet.
The cherry on top of this weekend though was the S-Class M/V from Stray Kids along with 9 new songs! I absolutely adore the 5-Star comeback, from the style choices to the music. It really showed their range. The bonus content of the band reacting to the S-Class music video and unboxing their album together was the wholesome coziness I needed before today. Seriously, if I.N. is smiling, how can anyone frown? I needed that going into today, especially. It’s a day I remember a lot of pain and loss, but although how small it may be, the joy of a favorite band releasing a new album with their unique charm has been a wonderful distraction from the gloom that usually takes hold on this day.
As we begin this new week, I wish you love and hope that it is a good one for you.
I’ve decided to get back into fiction writing! It’s been a long time, so long I almost forgot how to begin. Because of how fuzzy my creative brain has felt, I’ve been stuck in the confines of what feels familiar. I’ve been wanting to go back to what I made before. At first, I wanted to bring back Udal Cuain from memory. The bits and pieces of the characters still live in my mind, but upon trying this without my manuscript – it is a bit daunting, near impossible to remember what I wrote 6 years ago. I considered rebooting it in a new story. I could fix the decisions with the plot that irked me, revising it into a thing, but at that point, why not just branch out to a new world and new characters that embody who I am now as a writer instead of what I was. And so here we are, and I’m excited!
The Writing Prompt
Since about October 2022, the pull to dabble in fiction has returned. This was in part from a close writer friend who challenged me with a writing prompt. She asked me to write about my favorite garment from fashion history and write a story from the perspective of the person who invented the garment. I began to research, to study, to not just pick a garment but pick several and then try to place them in a world with character. There were so many evolutions to this! It was an endless pit of inspiration.
With some time to dream and consider, my first choice was the corset – it is the ultimate historical fashion garment to me because of the craftsmanship, the foundation it created for silhouette and style, and truly to challenge the many people who use it as a scapegoat in the fight against the patriarchy. If only they would do some research (I’m talking to you BBC and Netflix). I ran into a problem – what iteration of the corset would I focus on? Should I include stays? How much is too much detail? Yeah, it was a bit too broad for the kind of historical mind I possess.
My friend suggested I narrow my wild mind down to one era, my favorite era of fashion history. What is my favorite era of fashion history? Well, I broke that prompt too! I could not decide between the 1890s, 1910s, and 1690s. I blame the fantastic fashion history content of Nicole Rudolph’s 1690s-inspired Winnifred Sanderson costuming, Bernadette Banner’s 1890s-inspired garments, and Bernadette’s 1910s Mary Poppins Jolly Holiday Lingerie Dress. My little fashion nerd heart was too enthralled to choose between them. I waded deeper into the idea. Maybe social and cultural norms would flush out the true winner. A character, if I placed her into these time periods, what would her life look like? Could she be a fashion designer like I strive to be or would limitations be placed on her talents?
If she would be prevented by society to make clothing openly, what story would there be to create? I realized I was approaching the prompt from the wrong point of view. It is not if she would be making clothes, it is in what context. A home sewist? A professional seamstress for a rich or royal family? Were women head tailors? Yes, yes they were until the mid-19th century and Frederick Worth changed the industry to a male-dominated designer world. With the right context, there was a bit more wiggle room. She could be a tailor.
There was that curve ball though, I was supposed to write from the perspective of the designer who invented the garment. And this is where my historically trained brain couldn’t seem to get out of its own way. Although I wasn’t finding a credited person for these garments, I was afraid of misrepresenting the history. If nothing else, the fashion industry has built itself on a shady foundation of misappropriating cultures, using questionable materials, pushing toxic beauty ideals, and mistreating its workers. My gut was scared of what romanticizing a garment could do to the real history at play.
Razor Clams and Melancholy
Alright, so what now? Well, I thought, what about the Alexander McQueen Razor Clam dress sketch literally tattooed on my shoulder? I mean isn’t that my ultimate garment? Isn’t he the one designer that captured my imagination? Yes, yes he was. I found security in knowing a rich history of who and how this piece of art came to be. It was safe yet true to my love for fashion design. This dress has always taken my breath away. There is something unbelievable about its construction, yet undeniably beautiful in execution, like a character in a fantasy novel standing before you with a real flying bison and bending to prove it.
I didn’t realize for years that it was made from real razor clam shells, I thought that the shells were 3-D printed. Understanding the realism captured by the use of real shells makes this dress so full of life and story. Literally, these pieces could not be here without a whole story of their own, from their former life as the home of razor clams, amidst the ocean waves to the cleaning and preparation to be sewn one by one into one garment. The time and care required to make this garment is extraordinary. I thought about my own connection to the sea, picking up seashells along the beach. Walking side by side with my Grandma, talking and stopping to discover every little gem of shell and sand. It was our thing. From Marco Island to New Smyrna, to St. Augustine, to Nags Head – we combed those beaches soaking in the memories of time, we can never replace.
I thought about McQueen and his close relationship with his own mom, and the pain that hung over him after she passed away. I pictured in my mind a day of walking the beach, with the razor-clam shells washing up. Could he have been a shell seeker like me? Could he have been as inspired to create as Grandma and I did with our favorite shell finds? Stringing them onto necklaces. A little souvenir of our walks together. As I wrote, the pain and loss washed over the words a melancholy snapshot took form on the page of a heartbroken fictional character making this dress out of heartbreak for the one he loved. The process was awful. As I wrote, tears slipped down my cheeks and I hated it.
Our Creative Well
The next time my friend and I met to discuss our writing progress, I told her of my switch to the Razor Clam dress and how what came out of my writing broke me. I was in a melancholy cloud missing the flurry of indecision compared to this. In all this chaos, I learned an invaluable lesson. As my friend phrased it, I tend to create from a place of sadness. I seek out the dark and dismal places in my brain to feed whatever I am making, like a tortured artist drinking absinthe or the despair of Poe, I am drawing upon the wrong thing to write from and therefore, my projects hurt me. The same thing happened during the Udal Cuain project. It got dark, and I couldn’t live in that world anymore. She challenged me to find a new place to rely on while I write, to create from a place of joy instead of sadness. It’s changed my whole way of creating as I mentioned in #17- Bad Writing Habits.
Where do you create from? Is it a place of joy or of pain? It’s an interesting thing to consider, and can definitely affect your tone, plots, worldbuilding, etc. I think the biggest takeaway from this process of failed writing prompt drafts was to reinvigorate my brain to imagine worlds from a simple inspiration, and to begin the path of research and brainstorming for characters, stories, and plots less traveled by the current influx of fantasies, thrillers, smut-tok, superheroes, and meta-storytelling. We need new kinds of stories. With that in mind, I’m excited to keep moving forward. I hope you join me on this journey.
It’s funny how the Christian life works, as you grow in your faith and your dependency on God to lead you, life does fall into place because you have the peace of being in the center of God’s will for your life, but life also becomes more complex. Especially when the enemy is determined to knock you down into the pit of discouragement.
The last few weeks have been odd, as I mentioned before in #23 – Neon Shoes & Sichuan Peppercorn, I’ve been feeling a bit off. Mother’s Day reminds me of my miscarriage and the ever-growing complexities in my relationship with my mom. Little waves of sadness lapped at my shore, I can handle that, but the big one, a towering wave of anxious thoughts came from the weird qualifications of renewing my lease. In the past renewing leases has been quite simple, in my previous apartment in Meadville, we simply told them our intention of staying in a note with our rent check and they made us sign a new lease one time, the next we didn’t have a written lease at all.
In our current place, we have renewed once already, and that was a simple process last year. They came, we signed and they asked if we would be interested in buying the place if they sold it. No big deal. This year, there were changes. Communication has been a bit awkward for me with the landlord because of some neighborhood dynamics. Here’s what happened.
Mean Girls Don’t Grow Up
Last summer, a very nosy and gossipy neighbor, who claims to be best friends with our landlords, began letting her dog poop in our vegetable garden. When I tried discussing it she became more and more aggressive. Eventually, when I returned her dog who had wandered into our garage, the neighbor and her 18-year-old daughter screamed at me in front of the whole neighborhood. They told me no one wanted me here, everyone hated me, that my landlords were going to evict me, and basically I should go into my house and never come out again because I was a worthless human being. When I said, “You can’t speak to me like this,” the daughter haughtily confirmed that they can and will bully me and that I should just take it and shut up.
Another neighbor, who lives on the other side literally went to get help when she saw the bullies screaming at me because she thought they were going to hit me. It was so Jersey Shore. In true Mike “The Situation” fashion, when he knocked his own head into a wall, the bullies flailing in anger, escorted themselves back into their house with gnashing of teeth, when I firmly stood my ground by not answering back but not leaving. I just looked at them. The houses are very close here, so needless to say it has been an awkward year living next to people who hate you. We haven’t spoken since.
And so, I’ve been nervous in all interactions with my landlords since, because what if the bullies tainted my reputation with my landlords. What if it was true and they all wanted me gone. It’s dumb, but those insecurities took root in my head. Probably because it has happened before, with my own family. Everyone ganged up on me and essentially kicked me out of my family for standing up to the bullies within the family. What if it was happening again? Anxiety rose up into a building sea. I was a ball of nerves when I asked about renewing the lease, and the wave grew higher when my landlord required a walkthrough to sign the lease. A walkthrough? For what cause? My mind began to question if they didn’t trust us anymore? What if they were looking for a reason to kick us out? The what-ifs grew and grew!
My mind went through preparing for the worst, searching for places, cleaning every nook and cranny, and reading the Bible for hope in the midst of confusion. I asked close friends to pray for God’s direction in this time, of what felt like a testing ground. I knew could simply leave and start a new chapter, that became clear but it didn’t feel like it was what God was leading me towards. I felt as though if I took the easy way out and found a new place, I would be missing out God on teaching me something. I prayed and leaned on Him to unwind those knots in my mind from betrayal and past hurt to believe that even in the midst of uncertainty He is holding me in the palm of His hand.
He also taught me something painful, to forgive the bullies of my own family and my neighbors. I was resistant to this process, to say the least. All year long the grudge grew inside me against my neighbors until their general presence annoyed me. I was full of bitterness that was holding me back from the peace God wanted to give me. I held on to my anger like an idol and I was missing the point. If I had run to a new place, I would have missed the lesson of forgiveness, because when I finally submitted my anger to God and asked him to help me forgive my neighbors the darkness and fear I felt lifted. I even found myself feeling forgiveness for my family members that abandoned me. God provided everything I needed from the perspective to the understanding to be prepared for the walkthrough.
A Lesson from Hezekiah and Sennacherib
He clothed me in his peace and love so that I could walk confidently into the situation. The morning of the walkthrough I opened my Bible for my next reading and I noticed it was a familiar passage. Isaiah 36-37. In this passage, King Sennacherib from Assyria is threatening Jerusalem with destruction. He is essentially a big bully. He taunts not only the Israelites but God himself. Sennacherib tries to bait the people into putting their trust in him, instead of the power of God. In response, Hezekiah prays that God will rebuke the Assyrian king for his ridicule of God.
“Therefore pray for the remnant that still survives.” When King Hezekiah’s officials came to Isaiah,Isaiah said to them, “Tell your master, ‘This is what the Lord says: Do not be afraid of what you have heard—those words with which the underlings of the king of Assyria have blasphemed me. Listen! When he hears a certain report, I will make him want to return to his own country, and there I will have him cut down with the sword.’”
Isaiah 37: 4-7
Like the big bully he is, Sennacherib is enraged to hear that Hezekiah will not back down and doubles down on his mockery of Hezekiah’s faith. Sennacherib doubles down on his threats in order to manipulate and intimidate the people of Israel so that they will question their faith in God for Sennacherib’s gain. How often do we see this in life? Politics and news outlets certainly use this tactic to get the people to align with the agenda, but also we do this to each other. And most importantly, in those moments of fear the enemy capitalizes on this strategy. If you don’t listen to the devil the first time, he’ll just yell louder. And that is what I felt as the walkthrough approached. Although I was seeking after God and learning how to forgive, if I lost my focus for a second on God, the enemy started coming for me. So the fact that I read Isaiah 36-37 the morning of the walkthrough was not a coincidence.
“Hezekiah received the letter from the messengers and read it. Then he went up to the temple of the Lord and spread it out before the Lord. And Hezekiah prayed to the Lord: “Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, enthroned between the cherubim, you alone are God over all the kingdoms of the earth. You have made heaven and earth. Give ear, Lord, and hear; open your eyes, Lord, and see; listen to all the words Sennacherib has sent to ridicule the living God. “It is true, Lord, that the Assyrian kings have laid waste all these peoples and their lands.They have thrown their gods into the fire and destroyed them, for they were not gods but only wood and stone, fashioned by human hands. Now, Lord our God, deliver us from his hand, so that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you, Lord, are the only God.”
Isaiah 37:14-20
As the chapter continues, Sennacherib ignores the warnings from God, he is arrogant and full of hatred. His words spit fire and poison. He is used to getting his way and regales the Israelites with a list of his conquests. He claims that he is unable to lose, and claims that He is more powerful than God Almighty. Yeah, this is not going to be good for Sennacherib! But he sounds a lot like the world. He sounds like those structures in our society that claim more power, more authority over us than the Lord himself. They try to diminish the Lord’s power. I’ve even heard the Navy does this in the submarine program. They try to break the sailors who work in the subs, by telling them that under the water they are too far away from God to be in His presence. How sick is that?! Anyways. This is how God responds to human powers and their arrogance:
“Therefore this is what the Lord says concerning the king of Assyria: “He will not enter this city or shoot an arrow here. He will not come before it with shield or build a siege ramp against it. By the way that he came he will return; he will not enter this city,” declares the Lord. “I will defend this city and save it, for my sake and for the sake of David my servant!” Then the angel of the Lord went out and put to death a hundred and eighty-five thousand in the Assyrian camp. When the people got up the next morning—there were all the dead bodies! So Sennacherib king of Assyria broke camp and withdrew. He returned to Nineveh and stayed there. One day, while he was worshiping in the temple of his god Nisrok, his sons Adrammelek and Sharezer killed him with the sword, and they escaped to the land of Ararat. And Esarhaddon his son succeeded him as king.”
Isaiah 37:33-38
I read this and felt this strange peace wash over me. I knew that it was going to be okay, I can’t explain why. I was still scared, like if I paused to think about the what-ifs of the walk-through – what if during the walkthrough my bully neighbors came outside and began bad-mouthing me? What if the landlords will make me answer for that? What if they gang up on me too? What if my landlords go through my stuff? The fear was still there; unless I focused on God. As I focused on God, I felt the mental clarity to move along with my day and had a very productive day instead of quivering in anxiety. Like Peter stepping out of the boat, as long as I looked at Jesus I could walk on the water, the minute I looked down I began to fall back into worry.
Unexpected Roofers
The time came. The clock showed 4pm. I waited for their car to drive up the street. Nothing. I checked my phone. Nothing. I looked again. They said they were running late – so odd for my normally punctual landlords. They arrived, wearing smiles, with greetings of friendly conversation. Just like I remembered them to be. This is where it gets interesting.
A few months ago tornado producing storms came through the region, damaging their roof. For weeks they waited for roofers to come with nothing to show for it. Except, that the roofers arrived exactly when God planned. Minutes before the landlords left their house to do our walkthrough an unexpected company of roofers arrived at 3:45pm on a Friday to start repairing the roof. The roofers were non-native English speakers, they were not able to converse with our landlords about how this was a bad time and set to work. Therefore our landlords were in a huge rush, they barely wanted to do the walkthrough! How incredible is that?! They stayed less than 10 minutes, I’m not joking. I barely had time to read through the lease, they were so anxious to get back home. The best part – none of my neighbors were home. None, which is unnatural for the time of day.
A peace that surpasses all understanding has washed over the neighborhood. I used to feel like I didn’t belong here like I couldn’t go outside without waiting for another verbal punch. I felt judged and unwanted. I don’t feel that way now. I know that God has provided a place for me. As long as this is where he has called me I shall not fear.
I don’t know how you explain that without God. He took every piece, every what -if and neutralized the fire. He did it his way and in doing so I learned a whole lot about the kind of God he is. I gained forgiveness, peace, and experience in weathering the storms of life. I also learned that bad things, although the pain can stay with us, are not bigger or more powerful than the provision of God. If God is in your corner, you don’t need anyone else to make things happen. You are not beholden to other people’s opinions, condemnation, or approval. How incredible is that?
For lunch, I made a PB&J sandwich. I was in a rush and wanted some quick energy. The sourdough bread, which had been with us for a few days needed to be used, enjoyed. I had been sewing up until my husband took his lunch break at 12:30pm, I didn’t want to cook anything, I just wanted to eat and clear out the fridge, so to speak, of leftovers and such. No big deal.
So I reached for the bread, still pillowy and bouncy with all those lovely fermentation bubbles that make sourdough bread rise. I toasted in and made my sandwich. Which tasted delicious, and normal. And yet, my innocence was about to go bust. Kyle, who was eating leftover pasta, went to the kitchen to find a piece of bread to soak up the sauce in his bowl. The sourdough he reached for and found something that truly ruined my meal – the bottom of the bag was riddled with mold. Something that I am allergic to, not to mention is just so gross.
This is not the first time this happened to me actually, I remember packing a moldy bread sandwich in my lunch in school because I made it when I was half-asleep before school. It’s a rude awakening to realize the thing that once tasted so good to your appetite is not what you thought it was. I thought I was getting energy and some probiotics, instead, I got a little something extra I didn’t want. Something that could make me sick and break out in hives. Appearances can be deceiving, that is why I am reflecting for so long on this mold.
We live in an odd time, with the rise of social media there is a significant rise in transparency in the world. We know more about people we follow than sometimes we would know if we had a normal relationship outside of these social platforms, especially the strangers we look up to like musicians, celebrities, designers, etc. There is also a new kind of anonymity, a facade that curates a public persona for how we want the world to see us. We can post the best moments, the curated things which compound to create a personhood that is foreign to reality, if we so desire. So how do we be authentic? I’m not sure, it’s become such a complicated thing in the digital age.
Before I took a deeper look at the loaf of bread, it seemed so normal and fresh. Without seeing the mold that had spread throughout the loaf in the bag, I would have thought my two pieces of bread were good. But they were still exposed to the environment, the mold would eventually spread to those as well if it already wasn’t there. That got me thinking, about humans. If we consume things, that are negative, full of vitriol, or void of substance and we take those into our hearts, will that eventually affect our goodness, our freshness? Now I know humans are not bread, I don’t mean goodness or freshness in the same way. I’m thinking more about our motives, the way by which we interact with each other. If we consume things that are tainted and no longer nutritious for our souls our inner being takes a hit.
This is true Biblically, where because of the sin that continually tries to creep back into our thoughts and habits, God’s word reminds us to be wary of what we take into our hearts for they can change our beliefs. I think this is true for the effectiveness of our actions in our interpersonal relationships. If we consume or surround ourselves with influences that reflect spite, negativity, and bitterness, I think this will flavor how our love and care for others will be exhibited. It will dilute the potency of our love. Like the mold, diminished the nutritious value of the bread for me.
I don’t want my love for others to be changed by bad influences, like media that encourages hatred, and jealousy, or in TikTok’s case the Kia Boys who like to encourage crime. It’s even as simple as considering the things I subscribe to that populate my feeds. Music too can truly rot the mind from the good things that I want to cultivate like self-control, gentleness, and selflessness. No one wants to be a moldy sandwich for those who depend on you. I encourage you to preserve the good in your heart so that you can make a difference in the spaces you are needed most. I guess what I mean is to keep your character and your values even if it’s not trending. Until we meet again ❤
After a tense Thursday-Friday which I’ll go into in another post, Friday night felt like a breath of fresh air to my mind. The pressure was gone like all the weight on my shoulders melted away. To celebrate, my husband and I decided it was time to return to our favorite restaurant, Golden Dragon, which in our little town, no joke, has awarding winning Chinese cuisine. His food is legit.
Since we have been watching Strictly Dumpling at lunch and Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations in the evenings, we’ve been hungry for some spice, something new, something mouth-wateringly delicious. We mixed up our usual order. Kyle decided on Moo Shu Pork and I chose the long-awaited Mala – I chose Sichuan Chicken. It was good, just as addictive as they say! I went with medium spicy thinking there was no way I could hang at that level, but it was pleasant for my spice tolerance. I’ve been leaning more toward spicy food recently like gochujang and mango-habanero sauce along with vinegary flavors for the health benefits. It’s definitely refining my palate, from someone who didn’t enjoy spice, to someone who could handle it with dairy, to learning dairy was making me sick, to learning how to manage my spice without any dairy cool down. Isn’t interesting to think about how our tastebuds change?
I’ve watched Mike Chen and his Strictly Dumpling content for five years now, and in that time it has educated me and encouraged me to get out of my comfort zone, such as trying hot pot, appreciating mochi, miso, and now the Sichuan peppercorn. When I first started watching, I didn’t think anything of what I was watching other than, it was an escape to travel vicariously through his content when I was broke, but it has truly been a cuisine education, like watching No Reservations.
Back to the food – Golden Dragon’s Sichuan sauce had so much flavor. I was expecting it to be spice-forward without the layers of flavor, there was sour, savory, sweet, and warming spice. The peppercorn is fragrant, floral, unlike anything I had tasted before. I literally felt warm inside as I ate it! And the numbing sensation was fun, addictive, a rollercoaster ride of taste. I definitely want to try it hotter next time. Something I appreciated was the fact that it didn’t give me a thunderclap headache like Thai chilies have given me in the past. The experience made me so disappointed because the flavor of the Thai chilies was incredible! Oh well, at least I found a new friend in the Sichuan peppercorn.
On Saturday, we were going to go bowling at the local lanes. Both of us enjoyed bowling as kids and hadn’t gone probably since college. With a rainy mist in the fall-like air of May in Western Pennsylvania, we went to explore the unknown of our small town’s bowling alley – it was a rather disappointing discovery. There are those bowling allies stuck in the seventies/eighties that have a certain charm because of their vintage and rundown aesthetic, like a time capsule. There are also those bowling allies that have been renovated that may be stuck in the cosmic bowling thing of the aughts, I don’t mind that. But this place was just unwelcoming.
So we bailed and headed over to the outlets to walk around in the clearing sunshine. I’m really glad we did because there was one of those once-a-season mega sales at Under Armour where my husband was able to find something he had been looking to replace for years! When we started dating in college, he had this pair of neon green sneakers. I think the original pair were from Nike. He wore them to pieces, literally the sole falling into worn-out layers. Since then the trend cycles changed the styles, and there have been no sneakers such as the beloved neon ones. He has hesitated to commit to any pair, finding the necessary pairs to get by but nothing as beloved as the neon green ones with black accents.
Behold! We walked around the outlets, to a far arm where Under Armour resides, a store we tend to avoid because the prices are outrageous. Normally. Not this time, we hit like the motherload of clearance. We just had that feeling, the feeling of we should go in there and I’m so glad we did! Perched toward the back is a glorious neon green shoe, with black accents, as though Kyle sketched out a shoe, and of his dream. The white whale. That’s not the best part! The shoes are on sale for $50, regularly $100+! I was shocked, he was delighted. It was a good trip for sure. I love to see my buddy smile.
Another small delight, I spotted as we made our way our way out of the outlets, was this one car. It had a curious, yet strangely familiar phrase written on its back window. “The one, NCT vega.” I had a feeling, there was another one among us and I was right – I was in the presence of another NCTizen! Anytime I see a K-Pop reference on a car, a shirt, or a hint of a song on the radio, I feel this wonderful sense of camaraderie with whomever the stranger is. They get it. ❤
It was one of those good, simple weekends. I restarted my Stardew Valley farm and my husband leveled up his grilling prowess with an impressively tender pork loin. We closed out our time with the 2023 PBR World Finals and a delicious bowl of ramen. I hope you, dear reader, are able to relax and recharge, whatever that looks like in your schedule. Enjoy the little moments with the ones your love.
I woke up this morning and was scrolling Instagram to wake up, I was feeling pretty groggy from a mediocre night’s sleep. Acid reflux got me again! Anyways, I saw a post from the Stray Kids official account with a dark square. I immediately had a sinking feeling. After the tragic loss of Moonbin, I knew that Bang Chan was struggling. I hoped everyone was okay. I scrolled down to see the English caption and found a puzzling series of paragraphs. I like many other Stays found this morning, an apology from Chan for his comments during his most recent live on Youtube, Chan’s Room. To be honest, even though I had seen the clip he was apologizing for, it took me a few minutes to register what he was talking about. That is the reason I am writing this, I think some things on social media are getting out of hand, especially for those of us with a gentle soul like Bang Chan. Since this drama was created by K-pop fans, I think as a K-pop fan I should do my part to counteract all the negativity being thrown around and show some love, Stray Kids fam style.
What do I mean by Stray Kids’ fam style? Well, it’s a bit of a tangent, but if you are not familiar with Stray Kids and their band culture – they are one big supportive family. They love “Stay” the fandom name for Stray Kids enthusiasts. They also love each other, showing up in the joyful moments and the hard ones. For example, when I.N., the youngest member, sang off-key at a K-pop competition called “Kingdom” he was so disappointed in himself that he was overcome with emotion that he cried back at the band’s apartment. When the other members, who were in the living room saw I.N. crying in the kitchen they went to him and enveloped him in a group hug, wanting to know what was wrong and how they could help. They are a really sweet group of guys. They are also quite passionate about their work, being one of the hardest-working bands at JYP Entertainment. Bang Chan who is the leader of the group, along with Han and Changbin write and produce the band’s music. He also hosts a weekly live stream on Youtube called Chan’s Room where he interacts with the fans through live chat.
As a fan, not knowing him personally, he comes across as a very dear person, truly caring for the fans. His responses to questions are so thoughtful. He genuinely does not seem affected by their fame, it is one of the reasons why Stray Kids is so popular. That is why this whole controversy is so bizarre to me. Okay with context established, so a fan on the live asked about an event called Music Bank Paris that happened in April, I believe. There were a lot of bands at the event, and at these events, the bands have some interaction. They at least greet each other and are generally friendly. I mean for them it’s literally a work event, being friendly just seems natural. Chan mentioned that it was frustrating to see some younger bands not greet the older bands, which he claimed he may sound like a “boomer” for admitting. He never mentioned names, he did not call out anyone in particular and he was respectful in how he shared his thoughts.
That’s pretty typical of Chan, he is professional and respectful when he shares his opinions. He is not aggressive in his delivery, this is why I was caught off guard by his apology. I’m not the only one! Most of the comments below the apology expressed confusion and disappointment in the pot-stirring fans who created rumors about who Chan was referring to, creating the drama. The fans also expressed frustration at JYP Entertainment for their role in the apology and called JYP out for not doing a better job at handling this when K-pop idols are pushed to do these live-stream shows by the company. I have to agree, this was all blown out of proportion by social media. Just like a rumor mill in a small town, a few gossipy viewers decided to assume which bands Chan was referring to and ran with those ideas, inventing the entire thing. That’s poor behavior. They are the ones that should be apologizing, in my opinion.
Because Chan is such a sensitive person, he conveyed in the apology how much he was grieved by this situation and never meant to hurt anyone. I love that about him, but I don’t think he hurt anyone. I think the random commenters who decided to figure out the band Chan was referring to did the hurting. And to be honest, respecting your elders in many cultures, especially Korean culture is a big deal. So greeting the older bands at events like Music Bank Paris seems like a no-brainer to me just like being respectful and kind. The fact that none of the drama-crafting fans stopped to consider the cultural side baffles me.
This whole situation points to a deeper problem for me, as a fellow sensitive person, with a few sensitive and gentle friends – why does it seem like the people who are genuinely nice seem to be ripped apart on social media more than the aggressors? Do you know why? Cause I see it all the time. It’s why I don’t have Twitter or TikTok. There is a growing culture of nastiness on these platforms that is trickling into the culture. And it concerns me. Why does our social media society seem to reward rudeness and hearsay? I don’t think we should have to respect the mob mentality that dictates that might is right. Social media clout lacks wisdom and generosity of spirit, which are key ingredients that make communities function in a healthy state. Take a look at what happened to the girls in the viral “Baseball Mean Girls” TikTok video, they were doxxed because the cloud of social media outrage descended into their personal lives, although the girls made it right with the woman they flipped off in the video outside of TikTok, none of this seems to matter to those carrying forth the social media justice. And I digress, my point is that Chan’s apology is a symptom of a bigger problem of the heart we are seeing in the people within our societies, and if we don’t address the heart and start acting in kindness and grace toward others when you think someone has made a mistake, we are in for a lot of strife.
Thank you Chan for being Stray Kids’ best leader! The music you create with 3racha and the rest of Skz has truly made such a positive impact on my life. Even if you make mistakes, this Stay will show you grace and love.
One Rabbit Riot 