this is beautiful.

thank you for your Sovereignty Lord.

After being home a lot this summer, I decided I needed to re-organize every single thing I owned. My room at home, my things in that room at home, my memories, my sock drawer, etc. I’m sure the inspiration to do so was brought on by living so simply for the few months that I did. I was so grateful for my motivation, because now I don’t have as much junk as before, nor as many socks.

After getting through a huge portion of it one night, I decided I really needed a bookshelf. Books were swimming around me as if the beige carpet beneath them was their home. I tell you, it is no longer librarial. I went out and purchased a bookshelf. Everything found it’s place inside those stacked rectangular boxes over the next few days and I became quite pleased with the lack of seaweed grabbing at my feet every time I crossed my room.

A few days later, I went and purchased the same exact bookshelf for my parents to use in their office. Actually, I bought two. After feeling mighty capable of setting up three bookshelves in one week, a close friend of mine told me she was also about to purchase a bookshelf. Then another day came when a second friend told me of all the books she had and how she really desired a bookshelf.

Bookshelf, bookshelf, bookshelf.

I’m old enough to have bookshelves. I’ve lived long enough to read a few of the contents I’ve got stacked back to back all over them. My eyes have finished looking at certain word patterns and sentences and are opening themselves to newer ones. This means a lot, but basically, it just means things are changing.

And all I’m really thinking right now is that just a couple of years ago, I hadn’t read all those books, or seen all those sentences. Today, I have. And today, all my friends are getting bookshelves.

Bookshelves lead to life, I guess. They lead to life, marriage and babies inside tummies. They end up leading you to your own home, where your college roommates don’t live anymore. Proof: One of my old roommates is got married last year and is having a baby soon. I’m pretty sure she has a few bookshelves.

I like bookshelves. I like watching them being built too.

This summer, I took a class for my degree, but it ended up feeling like a class I might have taken for my own fun. It was a writing (and how to grade it) class and our professor lent me a really great idea. It’s a wonderful idea for the classroom, but for me…it’s a just a plain ol wonderful outlet for words. She read this one book by this one guy while she was in this one hotel in Hong Kong and immediately caught on to this guy’s idea.

Seeds. Writing just a bit of whatever you want to possibly, eventually, maybe develop into something whole. a plant. I LOVE it. You keep a folder for all of your seeds to sit in. Mine was green, appropriately. We had to write 30 seeds for a grade and were to develop 3 of them for “celebration” services we had throughout the class.

I loved this and I already miss writing them…so i’m going to share some here.

Who knew I’d ever be so into gardening?

Seed # 4         7.13.08

I’ve often wondered why I don’t like pets. Dogs specifically receive my hatred. They’ve really done nothing to deserve it, but i just keep on disapproving of their every way. Their every way turns into their every smell, which persuades me to notice their every lick and bark, which makes me disgusted at their urinating habits. All of these things, my irritations, seem to result from a tall halogen lamp and a stuffed animal for a dog named Lady.

I cannot stop moving. I cannot sit still. hey, you’d think it was the coffee i just made at 3:50 in the afternoon …NOPE…I made the coffee to make me be productive. strange.

today’s been that. strange. the end of something, the beginning of another. and a million other mysterious things that i can’t decipher. it’s just one of those days that makes me think and think and think and think.

…drinking coffee that’s not really mine, because i can’t find the container i bought the other day
…listening to music that’s not mine, because i’m tired of all my faded options.
…wanting to sit, because i know there’s something in me that needs to be sifted through once i do.

I just can’t escape it. there’s this chord in me that breaks when a certain thing happens. I usually see the thing, sometimes i hear of it, never really smell or taste it..but i always, ALWAYS feel it. It rumbles inside my core, echoing itself against the memories of previous violent storms. I just hate it, but also feel so much familiarity and identity there too. Today, there was no lighting before the boom to warn me. I was at the movies with a beloved friend and while just sitting there, loving the fact that it was 10:45 a.m. and i paid a mere $2.50 for a good flick…BAM!!….hello broken chord. Um…please stop being broken. I’m supposed to be escaping reality right now with with my friend. Why stupid chord, are you sitting next to me? Why are you creeping yourself up into my heart again, being broken where broken is all you really know?

So…I come home and move. i move from my washing machine to my desk, from my dishwasher to my couch, from my mail box to my car, from my cell phone to my coffee pot.

I should have made decaf.

father…sift me thoroughly, sift me real.

I’m sitting in a cafe in Texas today, listening to some women discuss a book a few feet from me. I had lunch with my extended family today and just a second ago a 14 year old skater boy with a bandana asked to use my phone. Welcome back to America! I arrived one week ago and things have been NON-stop for me ever since. I love that and I don’t love that.

I’m very aware that my season in Asia is complete, but a little part of me grieves that completion. On the plane ride home, I was in limbo- in between 2 places that were comfortable to me. I’ve never been comfortable in more than one place before, so being in between them both was like a game of tug-of-war for my heart. My heart seemed to rip and fray during those long hours in the sky. Really though, the 777’s direction was already set: America. It ended up tugging the hardest . At least in a physical sense it did. I’m not so certain it won out in all the other arenas. Time will tell. And while it does, Father will introduce me to a new season. I’m certain I will become acquainted with it and find growths, challenges and blessings along the way.

I loved my time away. I loved the ability I had there to not be so easily distracted by American things and the freedom there was to engage in a culture that was completely different from my own and uniquely beautiful in itself. But….I’m also really loving the comforts that this place brings. A good friend of mine made a “happy list,” a couple of days ago and it really inspired me to make a similar list. So….I’ll leave you with that…and a few pictures to go with it.

My top 11 favorite things about being back in the good ol’ USA:

11. Walking out of the terminal and being greeted with some of my favorite people on earth. And then feeling my legs shake uncontrollably from excitement/shock.
10. Eating at restaurants with friends, discussing the waiter’s type of car, and laughing at how weird we can be as humans.
9. Driving in my car for hours to visit really, really great friends and then having them show me their town’s pride and joy: two extra large plastic cows.
8. Being pushed into a pool with my clothes on and then swimming with 8 other girls, also in their clothes. (aka-acting like a bunch of junior high girls and loving it!)
7. Seeing my family and loving the normalcy they carry along with them. And…marveling at how my 7 year old niece can grow 2 inches in 5 months.
6. Seeing kids in stores and staring at them because they’re cute, and them not staring back because I’m a white girl, but because they’re just kids who still stare.
5. Finding healing in things once broken and frayed.
4. That kind of laughter that comes and makes some people roll on the floor and others bend over, breathless.
3. Deep and wonderfully rich conversations with friends about what Father is doing in our hearts and in his world.
2. Looking at those friends while they’re talking and remembering why I love them so much.
1. Singing with a room full of people who are singing for that same wonderful reason and not being fearful of who might be listening, but knowing full well Who is listening.

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My niece Jenna, loving the chocolate fountain my friend Leeann brought out one night!

My friends are just so wonderful. A few of them made this sign to greet me at the airport. FYI: Jerthcur= Jessica. For about a year and a half now, a few of us have had this “language” we speak in…it’s really an accent and it’s just really wacky. You either love it or hate it. I happen to love it.

Some of my favorite friends, hanging out my first day back!

This super fast internet motivates me to write more…so we’ll see about that.

Lately my life has been a bit busy. Hmm…I wonder if any generation from America will ever be able to say the opposite of that ever again. It’s like it’s faux-pas if you DON’T say that. Hmm.
I traveled to Hong Kong last week with 2 of the gals from the family I’m staying with. Let me try to explain what HK was like for me:

America(n people, tastes)
Europe(an products, people, influences)
Asia(n smells, sights, sounds, faces, languages) +
___________________________________________
Hong Kong

I really enjoyed myself there. Aka- found some milk, cozy coffee shops, a good book store and cinnamon flavored things. Ooooh, these comforting, home-reminding things just almost made my heart do cartwheels. Things were easy there. Convenient. “Normal,” if you will. It was easier than I assumed it would be to just pick right up and get used to everyday things being effortless.

Then…I saw the faces of the place. Their real, worn, regular ol faces. He always does that to me…shows me His people when my eyes aren’t ready (so I think). I start looking at them through my eyes and He never fails to take my chin, turn it in His direction and make the things once blurry, defined. I was riding on the subway, extremely content with my surroundings and letting these repetitive words flow through my ears (with a catchy, subway-friendly beat, of course):
Someday I’m gonna see, see the King.
Someday I’m gonna see, see the King.
Someday I’m gonna see Him.

As these lines whizzed through my mind, so did the faces of those I was whizzing underneath a mega-city with. It just burdened me and I remembered why (again) it really doesn’t matter if I get real milk, or if I can have all my convenient comforts.
They can’t sing this song with me.
They can’t hope for this like I can.
They can’t, because sometimes I just won’t give up my milk.

Milk. Are you really worth that much? Is that why I’m living? You sure do taste great, but I know something that’s Sweeter. Tastebuds, crave what’s lasting, please. And share that Sweetness.

I know a lot of you have e-mailed, called and asked about the earthquake. I did not feel anything, but was saddened to hear of the many who lost their lives that day. When I was in HK, the flags were at half-mast for the country. There was a 3-minute moment of silence a week after in most of the cities in this country. I took a picture of a newspaper, documenting those standing still for those who have passed. Please continue to lift this up. One of my team members is helping out now and has numerous opportunities to be JC’s hands and feet.

The cabs in HK were so cute!

The rain kept us inside for the first couple of days, so we found one of those comforts I mentioned earlier:

Maybe It’s European, maybe it’s Hong-Kong-ian…but, these curvy escalators were just plain nifty to me.

For some more pictures, check out my photography blog. (It’s on the links under “blogroll” on the top right hand side of the page!)

Sometimes my kiddos ride their bikes to my house for school in the mornings.

Have I mentioned that my house is 5 feet from theirs?

They are cute!

One day…everyone was wearing pink or red…so we pretended it was Valentine’s Day. Then yesterday, all the girls were wearing skirts, except me. They told me we all had to be the same, so I HAD to change into one. We weren’t able to convince Spencer to do the same. Poor guy.

A few of you are cringing right now…and I can imagine..it’s the third time straight I’ve caused this cringe in you.

Here’s a fact: My middle name should be Typo. In fact, I typed “type’ instead of typo just now…proof! (and prrof in stead of proof that time). My fingers were just not made for keys. They weren’t gifted for them, but really like their cousins, buttons.

I just sent out an update e-mail and AFTER I pressed send, I noticed I made the SAME exact typo I made in a previous update e-mail.

Hear-verb-to perceive with the ear a sound made by something or someone.
Here-adverb- in, at or to this place or position.

I do know their difference and will teach my fingers soon. We’ll be having lessons tomorrow. At least last time, I was referring to the deaf when I used hear instead of here, so maybe some thought I was being poetic or something. I wasn’t.

Let me know if your fingers need to borrow my curriculum. I also have the following in stock.
-”the” and not “teh”
-”something” and not “soemthing
-”time” and not “tiem”

I visited a familiar restaurant in town this past weekend. I usually LOVE their food, but this time was just unique. I have NEVER, in my entire 8,000 plus days of existence had an experience quite as spicy as this one! The food was so good…but there was something mysterious hidden inside my noodles a la veggies. Seriously…my lungs were having trouble operating and I was certain my lips had already fallen off by the third bite. Eating my plate full felt like running a marathon. And I didn’t even finish it. Recovery time: 22 minutes, maybe more. IT. WAS. SO. HOT.
And yeah…I’ll probably go back.

At least their menu made me laugh:

Haven’t you always craved words for dinner? I know one girl who might , but most people would prefer a good ol’ cheeseburger.

Or exquisite small article foods?

And you HAVE to take the dancing coffee of iron! …what’s in that?

I find myself in one of my favorite locations right now. It is so rare to be in one these in this hemisphere, so I’m trying to soak it all up. Ambient light shining on my fingers as I type, books galore standing upright beside me, the strong aroma of the coffee of the day lingering through the air and to my welcoming nostrils, and some of my favorite sounds dancing in my ears. This is a coffee shop and this feels like home.

This is just one of many places that feels like home though. Today, the whereabouts of the others have been stirring in my mind. There seem to be so many cozy places that warm my soul. This is good, for it makes it easy to keep out of the cold…but this new line of, “simplify,” keeps resounding in me.

I feel like this man. I’ve got these things right in front of me, but I don’t know which to choose. They all look so appealing…and they all are beneficial. It seems that He wants to help me pick out a few…OR…can I really purchase each thing?

I’m not sure what to do with this, but Father is quickening me to ask Him repeatedly. I am grateful, once again for this silence. It seems to make Him so much louder. Louder in that soft and extremely gentle kind of way. When He speaks…it’s so strong. When I abide and listen, it’s even stronger.

I will leave the city that has the coffee shops tomorrow. At least I’m simplifying in that way!