Imago Dei: My small ode to AAPI heritage month

To my beautiful Asian brothers & sisters who live in a reality that demands so much of them - as women, as exotified, orientalized play-things, as fobbish, American, American-ish, wife, wife-to-be, -- should be, can't be, single & seeking, single & not seeking; As men, too feminine, too slim, too small, too short, emasculated, Jackie Chan look-a-like, must have a black belt; daring-to-dream big, pushing the boundaries of your culture - their culture, standing on shoulders of immigrant legacies daring to dream for pies in the sky, never catching a break, meeting standards and expectations, upholding roles and traditions, breaking tradition, making new traditions while trying to keep honor and avoid shame. Believing in your strength and capacity without disrespecting your elders. No one pausing to ask if you're okay. Buzzing forward at 10,000 mph, attempting perfection. In everything. Teetering between two worlds. Tottering between glimmering new horizons & beautiful, must-be-preserved customs. Forgetting parts of yourself to fit in. Rejecting parts of yourself to make it.

Breathe. Remember to choose yourself.

The self that feels complete. 

Pizza-eating, kimchi-munching, Asian-sitting, not-Harvard-bound, basket-ball loving self.

You are Imago Dei. Beautiful. Just as you are.

No less. No more.

All those voices will be there when you return to the mire.

Hold tight to your soul, lest you become only but a shadow of your true self.

It can take years to recover the pieces.

It can take decades to render the original canvas and know what it once was and is meant to be.

Breathe. Remember to choose yourself.

The self you know is 100%

Fork-only-eating, Taglish-only-speaking, Westernized, male Feminist, progressive self.

You are Imago Dei. Beautiful. Just as you are. 

No less. No more. 

Rend your soul from the grasp of those who give nary a glance at the precious cargo they've taken hold of. Who consume you and discard you. Who know you, but don't know YOU. Whose conscience is dim to the glorious readable chapters of your novel. Not just the chapters of the "American Dream" saga, where you can read about Jackie Chan, Jet Li, Lucy Liu, Harold & Kumar, the art of telemarketing and eating dog. It includes the appendix citing Japanese Internment, Domestic Worker exploitation, Refugee status, Aloo Gobi, 1947 Partition, Fish sauce & Dinogoan, Hawaii's illegal annexation, Comfort women & Islamophobia. It includes the footnotes about bi-cultural identity in a hyper-racialized world, intersectionality, and what the acronym AAPI stands for. 

Choose yourself.

Imago Dei.

Beautiful.

Just as you are.

In honor of AAPI Heritage month

Inspired by Kathy Khang's blog post:

http://www.kathykhang.com/2016/05/19/mental-health-aapi-awareness-month/#comment-3452

Harkening back...

2016 is going to be an interesting year. I'm in the throws of a turning tide in my life (not to be dramatic or anything). But I've just sensed the past 2 years has been a preparation for this time. What time? I really can't say. All I know is that I feel a transformation happening within me. Not the kind of 'floo-powder' transformation - temporary, momentarily purposeful and self-imposed. It is the kind of change that's like when your legs fall asleep and you get up and you slowly feel the tingling take over your toes, creep up your leg and you don't want to move because you're not sure if you can handle what's next if you do. And yes, I know some of you will just have all the eye rolls to give. Some of you have eye-rolled so hard you might as well take a nap. Lol. I know I sound like some hippy ohming on the floor on a yoga mat (which, btdubs. no one should hate unless you've given the practice a good ol' college try. Feel free to ask me how I reconcile my faith with yoga. I think it's possible. Not easy. But possible). But you be you. Imma be me.

So why am I telling cyberspace this? Because I was just inspired to. No particular reason. It's been awhile since I've let the click of the keyboard be for more than emails and writing up work-related word docs. 

Anyway, my post is a cheat. In the effort to just gear up my blog posting once again with little effort on the onset, I'm re-posting something I've put online before. Occasionally, I peruse the dusty old archives of my Facebook and recently, I revisited my "Notes" page. Some things date back to some OLD SCHOOL dayzzzzzz!!!!!! What I noticed was a burst of creative writing energy between 2009-2012. I don't think it's a coincidence that those years were some of the most critically formative years of my life thus far. Is it uncanny to feel that same surge of creativity returning as I sense this season of transformation unfolding in my life? I think not.

All I know is that I've called three of those years a golden age of growth in my relationship with God. A season of just hungering ravenously for time with him. A season of peace and contentment in life because I was so sure of his presence and guidance in my life. A season of personal growth and development.

This older post is a bit emo, but it was written March 22, 2009. If my memory serves me correctly that was an incredibly sobering time in my life, marked by a poorly chosen romantic relationship, compounded by desperation and character development that was so lacking because of unchecked sin and flaming idols that consumed all of my attention. I was watching my world tailspin into a direction I never thought I would have to consider as an option for my life. I know I'm being vague, but really it's something I tend to share only as the Lord leads. Some of you know what I'm talking about. If you feel compelled to ask you are more than welcome to. In hindsight, I was a month away from what I can only explain to this day as a miracle and a second chance at a life that I think God wanted me to take seriously. 

Anyway, remaining the open book that I tend to be, enjoy the small window into my past. 

May it bless you and your own mental ponderings.

=====

Thoughts for the wee hours of the morning...

It's not too late, but late enough to be the wee hours in the morning. Haha can't beat me watching Robin Williams in "In the Actors' Studio" till 5am in the morning yesterday. Don't judge me. It was fun. I don't know if it's just me being an overly emotional female, but nonetheless I have something to vent about.

In the past few days I've been thinking a LOT about friendships, the dynamics of relationships, their goods and their bads. More importantly I've thought about how I've treated mine, how much I've messed them up, and how much they've been essential to my maturity as an individual.

I can only thank the grace of God which manifests itself in the particular friendships that have been my most cherished relationships in my life thus far. These people know me literally inside and out. They've seen the worst of me. They know my deep dark secrets. They know what I look like in my pajamas, without the done up hair, the smell goods, and the eyeliner. They've been beneath the surface of my pretend-perfect-no-mess-ups life.

I've learned a lot from them. Awesome things. Great, and hilariously fun things. They've taught me how to make jewelry, where all the cool spots are. They've stayed late nights with me doing homework, studying for tests, eating pizza at 4am in the morning. They are the people I can have deep, soul-searching conversations with and even disagree upon, but laugh and smile with the next day.

On the flip side, I have probably learned the most painful, life-altering, character-building lessons from those very same people. As old-school and cliche as it seems, your actions really do speak louder than your words. I've learned, that especially in the name of Christ, how our lives speak to other people is quite important. To those who you hold most dear, your life is especially magnified, and I had friends who were bold enough to let me know when my words did not quite line up with my actions. They were also bold enough to tell me what, when, and why choices I made were selfish and had managed to put them in the crossfire, hurting them deeply.

Some of the most wonderful friendships in my life have been shredded to bits because of this. Some are only poor excuses for the kind of bonds we had in the past. Our endless evenings of laughter, and priceless moments of just being have turned into an awkward hello when our paths cross, or random conversations here and there. The worst are the moments when you remember what it was, as you look them in the face and wish it could be so once again. Alas, I believe that the Lord "gives and takes" according to the specific trajectory he has in mind for each of us. Only He knows best, and for what reason things or people happen to step into, or fall away from our lives.

The last I can say is that I've realized that I've become somewhat of a relational nomad. Save for one or two people who've been consistently present in my life, I don't really have a nest to fly home to. Or perhaps what's more accurate is that those nests have always been there, and I've not chosen to come enjoy it as often as I can. It's a naive thing for anyone to think that just because you consider them your closest buds, that you can disappear from their sphere of influence and return as though nothing will have changed. Life moves forward, and I've learned that people invest and make time for those who invest and make time for them. If you disappear for too long, they'll forget. And it's not their fault they don't remember to call you. Perhaps it's because you forgot to call first. I fear I've perhaps jeopardized some of my best relationships because of my naivete. By God's grace, He'll keep them in my life.

Well...done for now. Thank you to all of my wonderful, beloved friends.

Rodelyn

My FB response to the conversation about McKinney, Texas on my wall. LONG POST ALERT!!!

So I've thought carefully about what to respond to or with because there is so much subjective evidence and different perspectives regarding this incident. But I've decided that I no longer will become part of the public jury in the analysis of the video and case. What I will explain is my original reactionary post and what I do understand about the larger reality around the incidents being publicly released and the conversations flowing from them (i.e. Ferguson, Eric Garner, McKinney, etc.). James and Donny, I absolutely agree - that not every single thing where race is highlighted as part of the issue is helpful or even realistic to consider. But when it comes to incidents with law enforcement and brown people - particularly Black people, the matter of race will likely not ever leave the conversation, or at least be difficult to erase as a possible factor in their mind's eye. This really comes from the historical trauma that black communities have carried coming first from centuries of racism and it's relationship with government and law. For example, emancipation was instituted during the Civil War. Slaves who attempted freedom prior to and even afterwards by escaping into the union states were hunted down by law enforcement, often awarded for their bounty. If you hit the Jim Crow era through the Civil Rghts movement, Law enforcement often worked closely with the KKK to resist and terrorize the movements against racial discrimination and segregation. This was taking place a little over 50 years ago.

Something that has also inflamed this reality is that since emancipation, while freedom was made possible, there was no economic structure and plan to provide education, financial stability and occupational security to millions of people whose only prior option was slavery. And while ingenuity and sheer perseverance led to a heyday during the Harlem Renaissance where for the first time the black community was enjoying economic flourishing, this reality was still built within a society that continued to relegate them as lesser than equal and enforced law to keep it so.  This resulted in policies that disenfranchised the black vote in the south. It resulted in exclusion from quality education systems all over the nation, and created a general lack of access to financial stability - leading to poverty, vagrancy and for many, feeling like criminal activity might be the only option to thrive socially and economically. It has entrenched millions of families in a cycle of almost inescapable generational poverty. 

So finally, it comes together with law enforcement having to enter into neighborhoods rampant with illegal activity, full of people with a history of trauma, violence and discrimination triggered by those in uniform or those who hold a title of law-enforcer.  It doesn’t help when racially-biased incidents still occur between predominantly white law enforcement and black people like the Rodney King incident back in 1992. It also doesn't help when the criminal activity is equally violent and dangerous - putting police and innocent bystanders at risk.

In the past, I might have said things like, “All that was so long ago. What does that history have to do with the realities now?” But what I’ve grown to accept is that trauma for a single person can have long lasting effects. A soldier returning from Afghanistan likely deals with PTSD and people that look like their enemy overseas could be a trigger for anger, paranoia and distrust, just like the sound of an airplane overhead can resurrect instances of trauma in the battlefield. It’s the same for a female rape victim towards men, or an abused puppy towards humans. Some of this trauma is irrevocable for a single person after decades of coping. It is difficult for me to believe that whole communities who have faced such a history of violent trauma can just table the so-called “race card.” 

Transversely, I think people whose experience has largely been positive with law enforcement and understand that people in uniform signify trust, safety and control it is natural to defend the police who protect and serve because the history of trauma triggered by law enforcement in the United States has not been shared. It is why I had some mental work to do when I first wrestled with these conversations because I largely trust white people and the police. As a Filipino with a particular economic status, my family and I have the luxury of setting aside discrimination to some degree. That is not true for much of black America (or Latino, Arab & Indigenous America). So yep, I think that the race card gets pulled A LOT. Some of it might not be legitimate/but much of it still is (that's another conversation). Regardless, It is an example of a reactionary response of any trauma victim that is trying to prevent the same thing from happening to them again. 

In all this, I also recognize that there has been trust broken on the side of white folks and police. There is a long history of being villainized. There is exasperation because it seems like every time a situation with a brown person comes up, a white person/cop is going to get accused of racism. There is trauma in this too because it involves the same hope that the black community has of wanting to make sure the ugly history doesn't repeat itself. There is trauma in this too because while institutionalized discrimination leading to economic disenfranchisement might not be shared, the emotional barrage of being hated, mistrusted, accused and villainized just for having fair skin or wearing a uniform is frustrating and demoralizing. 

But there is a distinct difference in how each group is coping. It is not about reliving the history of trauma over and over again for cops and white folks, it is about denying the gravity and impact of the messy history of a nation that is desperately attempting to move on and be proud of itself. So each 'race card' - each accusation becomes a frustrating reminder that the conversation isn't over yet. It's like every time I'm convinced I've conquered a personal flaw and find myself making the same mistake it crushes my world! It's like the middle child whose trying to earn the favor of their parent by acing their tests, but is told that they are still not good enough. So like the soldier who has PTSD, trauma manifests in anger, depression, delusion and so much more. It creates broken trust with people they love. It might instill fear because of outbreaks of suppressed rage or involuntary responses to their triggers. Inevitably, it creates more distance and brokenness because of great misunderstanding with the community around them. It's what happens every time another police-related incident blows up on the news.

With a trauma victim, the restoration takes owning that there is something wrong. It involves experts committed to finding the root of the trauma and unpacking the experience. It also involves a loving community committed to the long journey of healing, humble enough to learn and be transformed by new understanding. Another key aspect  of restoration in trauma is that their reality and experience is not invalidated. It is why we thoroughly investigate any possible sign of sexual abuse towards a child, taking them at their word. Finally, whether we are comfortable with it or not, trauma not dealt with can have decades/centuries/generations of impact. Just think of family feuds and grudges caused by a single incident.

We are a nation that's trying to cope with trauma on a massive scale - scrambling to move on without doing the hard work. Instead we are invalidating one another's narratives - breaking more trust, and refusing to own the impact that centuries of such violence from our past has on our society today. We have no interest in choosing the restoration process because for both sides, myself included, it's easier to be mad, sad or indifferent rather than do the work of healing.

My post was an attempt to raise a red flag that we are still yet to deal with our trauma and spur on conversation. It is why I am saddened and grieved as I watch people tear one another apart on Buzzfeed, FB, wherever. We relegate "those people" to scum rather than approaching one another in love. It is why I prefer to have these conversations privately because I know my own tendency to be quick to speak and be about winning an argument, projecting bitterness and spewing hate because it feels good to put someone down, or post angrily because it doesn't require relationship. I commit myself to stepping back and think thoughtfully about how to approach people who share vastly different opinions than mine with love, respect and understanding. I force myself to see the humanity of each person especially when I disagree. That won't always mean that I won't be direct and call things out, but I refuse to allow social media to become another forum to break trust and create greater divides. 

This all just barely scratches the surface and doesn't even address what it will take to restore trust and bring healing - that's honestly for another day and another thorough conversation. But I Look forward to your responses. I continue to welcome your feedback and perspectives. 

P.S. Full disclaimer here - I am no expert on trauma. I am drawing fully from my personal experiences and little learning. I am also just a student of sociology and a voracious reader of social psychology and matters regarding racism and human rights.There are far more learned people who have given all of my "ideas" a publication date fleshed out and backed up by pages of scholarship and study. Let me know if you want any of those resources. I am also fully open to be corrected if I present something incorrectly or I'm just not making any sense. It'll be a tough pill to swallow, but I'll receive it!

P.S.S. To my fellow Asians and Asian American brothers and sisters who might read this post - you might have noticed that I didn't list you (us). because there is a distinctness in this conversation of our experience in the U.S. and that alone is so vastly different depending on which people group you are talking about. I just couldn't figure out away to nuance that reality in a speedy manner. Please forgive me if you were miffed! 

Back in the Blogosphere! My Ode to Indiana's Winter Shenanigans

So, I'm posting for the heck of posting just to force myself to blog again. It's like that moment when you've decided you are going to workout again and the first step is to get up and put on your workout clothes. But truly. I must blog. It calls to me. It gives me so much joy to blah blah blah on the internet. I don't know who reads my stuff, or even gives a rip about what I have to say, but my brain reels with thoughts all of the day long, and it's pretty cathartic to have the illusion that someone is hearing what I'm thinking about. Call it my parking lot of verbal vomit, my storage unit of dusty mind boxes, my shoe rack of proverbial flip flops, my backpack of virtual notebooks. 

I'm not even going to pretend that I'll be consistent about how much I'll post. We all know how that panned out. I might be tempted though to schedule in some "spontaneous" creative times in my calendar as forethought. Regardless, here it is 2015. I've begun to write again. 

Enjoy my first attempt this afternoon!

So what do you do with the 5-6 inches of fresh snow that has fallen in your front yard? Make a coffee slushy. You should have seen the ridiculous parental (not a real word - I know) look my husband gave me when I asked him to fill a coffee cup with snow before he proceeded to do grown up things like shovel our sidewalk. His side eye essentially said, "You. Are. Being. Juvenile." Mind you, only moments ago I slid down the steps in my pajamas just to irritate him. Lol. What more did he expect from me at this point? 

While he sweat and toiled I giggled to myself like 5 year olds do when they are inspired within their little minds to make a delicious snowy, coffee, creamy slushy concoction.

So down to business. Follow this process very carefully if you want the best treat you've ever spontaneously created from the natural elements afforded to you by mother nature. Come to think of it, it was probably so satisfying because I felt so self-sufficient! You know, like catching a fish yourself, skinning it, gutting it and frying it up for dinner over a campfire. Discovery Channel should really make a show about this.  

Step 1: Find coffee mug of choice and ask household adult to fill mug with snow instead of doing it yourself in order to avoid the snowmaggedon that decided to show up on your doorstep weeks before Spring is set to arrive. You missed your turn Winter. Don't be so selfish. (Bitter much? Yes.) 

Step 2: Brew coffee of choice and chill. In my case, use leftover coffee of choice** and pour over mug-shaped snowball. It is important to focus on taking pictures of the perfect pour instead of realizing that you might be spilling on the kitchen counter. 

Step 3: Take flavored creamer of desired choice and pour over mug-shaped snowball. Again, insert moment of narcissistic photography, paying no mind to the other responsibilities that might be calling to your attention like laundry, or making breakfast. 

Step 4: Use spoon to stir and enjoy! The best bites are at the bottom where all the cream and sugar has settled. Mmmmm. Mine tasted like a vanilla latte. 

Optional Step 5: Spend such an exorbitant amount of time touching up photos and making a collage of your coffee slushy adventures just in time to have it all melt into a standard, very boring cup of iced coffee that made this whole process a complete waste of time.*

This was a treat y'all! Another post coming soon. Hopefully. Maybe. 

<3 Rodelyn

**Shout out to Hopscotch coffee for you Bloomingtonians. I'm always down for a new cup o' Joe. Hopscotch just opened this year and locally roasts their beans. You can find them on the Beeline off of Walnut. No convenient parking unfortunately.They also are fair trade, which I'm super stoked about. Although, they should really get Fair Trade certified. People trust the branding - And please get World FT cert. plzzzz? NOT the joke that the standard FT logo has become! A sticker saying Fair Trade doesn't mean much. But anyway, I'm partial to my medium roasts from the Latin Americas, and their medium blend from Oaxaca is delicious. I approve! Not that my say means much of anything. But seriously though. Go check 'em out. Support your local businesses!

*Be forewarned about Step 5. It's not worth the effort. For a whole hot minute my dreams were crushed. If you bother with this step though, comment below and let me know about what delicious coffee concoction you created!

Turning Point

Age 9, I applied to be student government secretary. 

Feeling tiny, small and out of place I approached my teacher with my application. 

"Are you ready to give a speech?" Ms. Witcher, my 4th grade teacher said. 

I squeaked to myself slightly and felt my heart begin to race.

A speech? In front of people?!?!?!?!

                      But who would listen to me anyway?

               I 

                        was 

                                     that 

                                                 nice

                                                         quiet

                                                                    (asian?)

                                                                                  girl.

                                                                      I 

                                                        shrank

                                         within

                         myself.

"Nevermind!" I said. And ran away. 

I remember the slightly disappointed look on Ms. Witcher's face. The soft wrinkles of 

her mid-60 year old face slightly frowning, wondering why I didn't even dare to try. 

Why didn't she give me a pep talk? Tell me that I was capable -- That I had a voice worth listening to. 

I remember talking myself out of the opportunity to run for student gov't secretary. 

"You're not actually that popular." 

"Who would vote for you?"

"What would I have to say that's worth them picking me?" 

I remember telling my parents about it. 

What I don't remember is their response. Did they encourage me? 

There's a blank space there...

..

..

..

..

..

..

7th grade year. Concert master of my orchestra. 

8th grade year. Ditto. 

Ditto till I graduated from high school. 

I coached, I taught, I led sectionals.

Nowhere else did I feel so confident behind my violin. 

Did I actually have clout? 

I'm 

         still

                 that 

                          quiet 

                                    (Asian?) 

                                                  girl/teenager.

                                        We'll

                         see

             I 

guess. 

Age 24. InterVarsity Campus staff minister (member, just to be safe.)

It was the next step that made sense. Grateful for a lineage of mentors.

Janet. Michelle. Genese. 

Grateful for allies. 

Mark. 

Not all places feel safe. 

I remember walking into a ministry outreach meeting. 

    ed  

Su          nd

                             rr ou              BY MEN.

I'm 

         still 

                 that 

                           quiet 

                                     Filipina (Asian on the harder days)

                                                                                         WOMAN.

                                                                        Where's 

                                                              my 

                                                place

                                     in

                          this

  conversation?

Boy the testosterone was thick. 

Am I really the only person that's going to raise their hand? 

Am I really the only person who's going to wait for the other person to finish talking? 

Must I assert myself always? 

Thank goodness one gentleman noticed my hand up, or heard the little gasp of air I made that one makes when they are wanting to say something. I really can't remember. 

The meeting ended. TIME TO GO!

Age 26. Fairview United Methodist Church. March 30, 2014. 11:20am.

The last butterfly left my stomach as I stepped onto the pulpit. 

He made my mouth like a sharpened sword,

                                                                                                                                      in the shadow of his hand he hid me;

                               he made me into a polished arrow

    and concealed me in his quiver.

All I remember is my voice sounding slightly distant, echoing through the speakers. 

(Is my mic on?)

Notes before me. Ephesians 5:1-8. 

(Just open your mouth.)

Remember this moment. This turning point. 

YOU CANNOT FAIL.

(Is my voice really that high-pitched?)

(How weird. I'm not that nervous.)

(Am I really talking?)

                                                                                                                                        now. :)

                                                                                                                              back

                                                                                                                    turning
                                                                                                             no 

                                                                                             There's

                                                                          WOMAN.

                                                           Filipino American 

                           quiet (only when I'm shy)

                  that        

         still

I'm 

                                           

Tis the Season for Soups!!

NEW ENGLAND BOIL - A Lipumano-Smith Favorite

I'm not going to claim any credit for this. A kind gent from my husband's former workplace passed this recipe along. The only adjustment we made was adding the kale for a nutritious boost! It's day 1 of Autumn. And for me, that means soup, soup, soup!! I mean, we ate this even during Bloomington's 90 degree weather. But now is the time! Take a Saturday or Sunday to chop this up, throw this in a pot and curl up on your couch with a good book to read while it cooks up! And then curl up on a couch with a bowl of hot soup and a good book to read when it's finished. And then curl up AGAIN with a bowl of hot soup and a good book to read after a long day's work. And THEN...

Well... you get the picture. 

All in all, it works wonders for a home that's chock full of busy. Gregory and I have made giant batches of this and thrived the whole week. No brainer to pack for lunch on the way into town for work. And instead of slightly crying inside because food doesn't make itself when you get home and just want to crash, we just pop a bowl in the microwave and suddenly, a home-cooked meal is ready. :) 

5 Carrots (sliced into 1/2 cm rings)

1/2 Bunch of Celery (sliced into 1/2 cm)

Small Cabbage (Shredded)

1 small bunch of any kind of kale (Chopped 1-2in. width)

1 medium onion (Sliced) 

4 large red potatoes (Dice large pieces) 

1 16oz. can of diced tomatoes (don't drain) 

1 lb. of Hillshire Smoked Sausage 

1 32oz. container of chicken broth

====

1. Prep all ingredients and place in large stock pot except for chicken broth

2. Add chicken broth

3. Fill chicken broth container with water and add to pot

(All ingredients should be submerged in water. If not add water until this is the case.)

4. Set on medium-low heat and allow to boil/simmer for 1 hr (stir well, occasionally)

5. Once boiling set on low-simmer heat

6. Add salt, pepper & garlic powder to taste. 

Other alternatives to this recipe:

Option 1: Buy some ground sausage/ground beef, cook halfway in a pan and throw in during boiling process.

Option 2: Add some curry powder/pinch of cayenne pepper to taste

Option 3: Veggie option - slightly sautee diced extra firm tofu in a pan and throw in right before you add seasoning.

HAPPY FALL!!!

“Good soup is one of the prime ingredients of good living.  For soup can do more to lift the spirits and stimulate the appetite than any other one dish.”

Louis P. De Gouy, ‘The Soup Book’ (1949)

Fitness Journey #2

Ok ok ok ok....

Day 2 - didn't work out :-/

But I was productive! Full work day!!! Promise. Started my morning hanging out and sharing life and caring for our line of work at 8am with a colleague and friend. Ended my day bonding through Starcraft with my husband and brother. Had good, sobering & necessary meetings with important people in my life. So fitness fail??? Maaaaaaybe. Relationship success? Tooooootally.

For now, enjoy some hilarious animal memes. I loves them :) 

A candid moment...

alartdesign.com

"Oh soul wrapped tightly in a bosom discouraged.
Wanting for hope and desolate in a placid external reality.
Inside, the storm rages, wailing for a touch from God.
I will not forsake thee. I will tread on with your promises.
Do I not still taste food fit for a king?
Do I not still sleep in a warm bed?
Your provision glares like the sun.
Pray-tell my ravaged soul of your promises oh Lord.
My lips can barely utter the shame of doubt which troubles me.
I will not forsake thee.
Though my heart pries itself from within your grasp, I will not forsake thee.
For I have tasted the fragile whims of earthly comfort.
It has wrought nothing but emptiness and conviction.
I hunger for you again, to be cherished;content within the fold of your hand
despite myself."

A Modern Psalm 2013

showyourhope.com

Life in Haiku

Hello friends, 

A lighter post is due. This will be my attempt to not be so intense for once! Maybe. You tell me what you think. I'm taking a break from my love of spoken word and revisiting my AP English days and trying out Haiku. I'm the type of person that loves being presented with minimal resources and given a task to create something incredible out of very little. For example: I'll sometimes fly home to California with the bare necessities, a pair of jeans, a skirt and 3 shirts. I'll find a way to turn 2 outfits into 7 and still look faaaaabulous! :) 

www.laimyours.com

The haiku traditionally consists of 17 syllables, 3 lines of 5 syllables, 7 syllables & finally, 5 syllables. These rules don't have to be strictly followed as you'll probably notice in my own work. I'm a pretty gregarious person so to be challenged to convey life, thought and profundity (yep, I totes used that word) in almost just one breathe or moment is an awesome challenge. But it's been a super-gratifying hour of reflection, creativity, and processing. 

I've been in California on business and pleasure for the last few days. It's been a slew of visits, mileage, airplanes, cars and people. But it's good to be back on old stomping grounds. That's right. I may be turning into a Bloomington townie, but I'll always be a valley girl. 93257 for life!!!

A few notes on the Haiku experience and my pieces:

1. They are purely objective. 

2. My job is to show. Not tell.

3. These aren't in any chronological order. 

4. Interact! Let me know which ones you enjoyed, respond with your own Haiku, ask me your questions.

5. Refer to this great Haiku writing guide if you don't know where to start: How to Haiku!

Even if you don't want to respond with your own haiku, you should try an hour of expressing your life and experiences in this way. I hope you find it as gratifying as I did. You could totally zen out the whole experience by finding a spot to disappear and be undisturbed. Yoda style. 

www.charmedyoga.com

(I've changed the settings on posting comments so you should be able to post now.) 

========================================================================

Energy and peace!

Mint, cream and coffee entwined.

My sip of comfort. 

Unbridled freedom.

A scripture coated in ink. 

Love is revealed. 

Day 6 is here. 

My cell phone buzzes.

"See you tomorrow."

Longing confirmed. 

Grit and sun are holding hands.

Porterville. 

Reconnecting, 

A game of scandal on cards.

Best job ever. 

Siblings unhinged. 

Windy car rides; young at heart.

Frozen adulthood. 

Pile of treats at home.

Favorite foods on the stove. 

Mom is nowhere found. 

Laptop whirring

Ambiguous calendar. 

Shorter days to come. 

Hands clammy with sweat.

Voices feeding through headphones.

Ownership transferred. 

Patience (Recycled wisdom falling fresh)...

I'm learning so much these days...

Isn't it so true though? Deep in the core of who I am, I want to know that I have full direction of my life and everything in it. It breaks down quickly when I fixate on one of my deepest desires as a human in community to experience genuine love. I have zero control over my externals - who laughs at my jokes, who tells me I'm smart, who says I'm beautiful, who breaks my trust, who slanders my name or who offends me and mine. But I can lead myself in the way of love, to be the best example towards those I love and to those who I have difficulty loving. And I believe that love begins with patience. 

"Love will inspire you to become a patient person. When you choose to be patient, you respond in a positive way to a negative situation. You are slow to anger. You choose to have a long fuse instead of a quick temper. Rather than being restless and demanding, love helps you settle down and begin extending mercy to those around you. Patience brings an internal calm during an external storm...Patience gives [people] permission to be human." 

Patience is like a rock you're trying to push up a hill. Striving to get somewhere, you'd rather leave it behind and run straight forward with all that you have to offer. For me, that would honestly mean that I offer a short fuse, snipey words, lack of understanding and mercy for any opposing community, person or circumstance which comes my way. The world, already pretty messed up doesn't deserve one more person ready to snap.  So patience it is. It's not an inherent characteristic. But boy has there never been a better time to learn it than when I became married. But it's worth it's weight in gold, and more valuable than any precious metal. 

You see, I committed to Gregory Denis Lipumano-Smith till death do us part. 

That is fo-eva.

 

Our dating relationship could not have even projected the kind of perseverance it would take to be teammates in life!  

In my short span of living and experience, I've found that patience is one of 2 cornerstones of love. The other is kindness.  

But now, I don't have an out (nor do I want one). Pending exceptional circumstances, divorce is not an option.

Soooooo...

Patience is what it's going to take, because patience requires all of the things counter-intuitive to my impulses.

Self-sacrifice instead of selfishness.

Humility instead of Arrogance. 

Willing to be wrong instead of needing to be right.

Winning a brother/sister instead of winning an argument. 

Dialogue instead of Divisiveness.

Understanding instead of Bull-dogging. 

Empathy/Sympathy instead of Cold-shouldering.

Forgiveness instead of holding grudges. 

Working through instead of walking out. 

Serving instead of demanding to be served. 

Mercy instead of condemnation. 

Grace instead of getting even. 

Re-building trust instead of Building up walls. 

Loving instead of hating. 

I pray that I strive for nothing less. 

(How Gregory exhibits patience after I've righteously annoyed him and am trying to apologize.)

Thank you to the dozens of people who have taught me so much about patience - parents, husband, family, friends, mentors, etc...

Reflections on a Savior Complex: A Christian Response to IUonStrike

DISCLAIMER: LONG BLOG POST COMING. 

         See that picture? That's pretty much how I want to feel. Every. Day. The desire to be a superhero really began when I got involved with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship in college and started rubbing shoulders with brilliant students who wanted to live out the radical display of world-changing transformation that Jesus demonstrates in the New Testament of the Bible a. It was fueled by Shane Claiborne's book The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical and Jesus for President. I was blown away by the mind of a role model that lived so against the mainstream, was unafraid to engage in the mess of this world as well as exhort my generation of Jesus followers to bravely intersect our Christlikeness with politics and uncomfortable conversations that demanded introspection and a prophetic voice that speaks up against the evils of the status quo. 

(WARNING - RABBIT TRAIL: And that is why, I am unafraid to associate myself with hipster culture. Shaine Claiborne is my idea of what a hipster should be. Ironically cool in the most purposeful and transformative way. Yes. That still means showering less. Wearing torn jeans and listening to cool music before everyone else. But minus the exclusivity and arrogance.)

Aaaaanyway...back to the main topic. I found great purpose in my faith! And still do, by the way. I was proud to be Christian! My shoulders were held high, ready to save the world!!! I quickly became a fair trade fiend, started subscribing to BBC news, al-jazheera, CNN. Started reading the Economist, Foreign Affairs, and Sojourners to keep up with the latest current events. I joined the Campus Coalition Against Human Trafficking. I re-routed my academics to focus on human rights, and global issues. I became "that person" that asked whether the chicken being served at the restaurant was farm-raised (Portlandia anyone?). I started riding a bike and using public transportation to reduce my carbon footprint. The whole. 9. yards. But anyone relating to my journey knows that difficult moment when you hit THE WALL. That wall where you become overwhelmed by the swath of problems, the number of causes you have to support, paralyzed because you feel like a drop of change in a sea of brokenness. And the worst part of it all - the realization that you actually can't eliminate all of the evil and injustice. You could be the next Martin Luther King Jr. with the most strategic task force to effectively dismantle a systematic wrong and realize that there are limits to what you can do. I was crushed. I thought I could do it. I thought I could save the world. I'd developed a savior complex. 

Don't get me wrong. I'm still going the whole 9 yards. It's been 5 years since the start of my journey and I've gone through some fierce cycles of heroic valor, to complete paralysis, to apathy & complacency and back around again. It's been a relatively short journey compared to some of my Christian role models who've been living out transformative world-healing purpose since the Civil Rights Movement! But if I dare impart some discoveries as nuggets of revelation, I pray you'd bare with me and hear me out. 

1. A savior complex is unhealthy, Christian or not. The bar is perfection and no human is capable of that. It sets everyone up for disappointment, especially yourself.

2. Apathy is unacceptable, Christian or not. But especially if you claim to be a follower of Jesus. As much as society has bought into individualism, one cannot live in a vacuum that excludes the communal experience which engages in the suffering of others. 

That means, that the best place to be is in the middle ground between heroism and complacency. It's a tough road to tow. But necessary, because both extremes fall into the world of selfishness. From my own experience I know that the savior complex stamps out the insecurities of weakness and insignificance, while apathy fuels a desire for comfort and success with no negative consequence. 

So how do you stay in the middle? I've been trucking my way through a great book by Tyler Wigg-Stevenson, The World is not ours to Save "Finding the Freedom to do Good" which tackles the notion of the savior complex head on. I was profoundly struck by something I read in this book today:

"Our heroic impulse also reveals something dark and sinister about human nature. After all, superheroes require super villains...In a strange way, to accept evil as our opponent is to affirm it. This forecloses the possibility of imagining the holy alternative, where evil is not fought because it does not even exist. Finding ourselves in an arena with evil, we happily draw our swords and wade into the fight. But this means fighting on the devil's own terms, accepting the boundaries he has drawn for our gladiatorial arena. Loving the fight with sin means loving sin itself. It means that you can't want to win. What would you do if you did?" 

Bam. Sit on that for a bit. 

Stevenson is essentially saying that we all run the risk of being selfish humanitarians! Altruism for our own sake because it feeds our desire for significance. It is selfish benevolence at its best. I think that it is important for us to often examine our motives when we plunge into "the battle for good" for this reason. Because if we don't it can often manifest in arrogance, pride, hatred for the apathetic, and paternalistic towards those we wish to help. 

For me, as a Christian I live in the paradox of the cross that Jesus died on. He proclaimed in his last breath - "It is finished." As Stevenson so poignantly states, "...that all the heroism the universe could need was exercised there, in one man dying for the sin of the entire cosmos." I am humbled by a reality that a man named Jesus has already done the work and my response to believing that as truth is to vigorously exemplify the hope he proclaimed for humanity through my own personal transformation in word and action. And what good is a message of hope that isn't actually tangible? And followers embody the likeness of their leaders right? I think Jesus would expect no less. 

= INTERMISSION =

I began that way because, I think its important that you realize where I am coming from before I make any comments regarding the strike that is taking place at Indiana University that is protesting tuition hikes, unjust work policies & wages for support staff among other things. If you want to know more check out this link: http://iuonstrike.tumblr.com/

To be honest I was ecstatic about the strike! My husband, Gregory and I have been talking about the issues IUonStrike has raised for a LONG time and have felt little power to take action in the past. So to see a student-driven movement begin to snowball into something that could actually influence the university honestly brought me to tears. We decided to attend an organizing meeting for the strike to learn more about the strategy and motivations. After sharing a few questions and concerns we walked away a little disappointed and unsure whether we should participate at all. But since then, I've been wrestling as to whether it is even right for me to take part. That little hero inside was getting fired up again. I am torn even now with some moral reservations. 

Despite any criticisms towards the movement, I believe that the desire to act on behalf of something bigger than selfish ambitions is something students in the last decade have lost much conviction for. The United States has carried a legacy of student-led revolutions that have died out since the 1980s. So to see this happening at IU marks a tide that is turning, where the youth can become that prophetic voice against the evils of the status quo once again. So maybe it's loosely organized and can have a more unified voice but that is how grassroots movements begin! Frankly that's how anything usually begins -- Sheer inspiration and ambition motivated by personal experience and passion. We celebrate innovators and entrepreneurs that start things like FB from their garage. Ask them if they new what they were doing, if they had all the research and all the experience, and all their "I"s dotted and their "T"s crossed. I doubt they'd say "yes." 

But they grew with each moment that passed. They refined their product or program knowing that it could always be more effective. And that is what I see in the IUonStrike movement. They are taking a first step that no one else is willing to take. I pray that they will continue to persevere and not let the results of this first campus wide strike be the last, because like any movement for change it is a long road. 

 As for my views on the strike as a Christian, I believe that more of us should be engaged in the cause. In fact, I would expect church communities closely connected to the university to use this as an opportunity to teach effectively on how believers should appropriately think about, respond and act on behalf of these issues. 

• Tuition hikes can easily spark a conversation about what it means to appropriately steward financial resources and avoid debt slavery.
• Unjust work practices for support staff inspires a biblical call to fight on behalf of the marginalized not just from afar but for those within our reach.
• Unjust wages and wage freezes calls us to question the idolatry of name and fame of University presidents & athletic coaches who receive signing bonuses and $25,000 for team wins when custodians can barely make enough to support a family. 
• Increased enrollment for black students & proper care for undocumented students in the university inspires a biblical response to issues of racial injustice and a need for reconciliation.

The church should be the most willing to engage in robust dialogue, action and effective discipleship of Jesus followers when it comes to this stuff. But I'd argue that we remain the least vocal and the least equipped to respond. 

I know that I am biased because I have worked alongside staff in the student union who have been screwed over because of unjust work practices, I am a graduate strapped down by college loan debt, and I hear the stories of suffering experienced by minority students I work closely with through InterVarsity. It is difficult to disengage amidst such realities. 

I have had many conversations with people one-on-one who align with my perspective, but I cannot say that swaths of the Christian community have a resounding voice. In fact, I find myself aligning more and more with non-faith communities and individuals who desire to be a part of transformative healing and restoration in the world. What does that say about the church? (The Western/American church in particular?) What kind of discipleship are we exhorting people to? It's no wonder our 'good news' falls flat on its face!! 
The resounding question of youth today is, "Is God Good enough?" The Christian community must have an answer that begs more than a sound theological argument. "You will be my witnesses..." Jesus cried out to his disciples as he ascended into heaven. *Sigh*

I pray that I can be proven wrong on this account. 

Regardless of where you stand on faith and humanitarianism I hope that if nothing else you are moved to evaluate your goals and passions.

Even despite my reservations about IUonStrike, I am choosing to participate because I am in a position to advocate for those too afraid to vocalize their hurts because too much is on the line for their families, or that too much is on the line for their potential tenure and job security, or too much is on the line for their ethnic community. I'm choosing to walk my talk.

Christians -- I hope I see you on the front lines tomorrow. 

Call or text me if you want to strike together you Bloomingtonians: 

559 300 3775