You wanted love so desperately that you forgot that love is patient, and now you’re broken hearted with a world full of regrets.

Have heart, beloved! Christ’s love is patient, and He is not prideful; return to Him, and find that love that you have craved for so long.

T.B. LaBerge // Go Now (via tblaberge)

(via before-i-even-speak)

making sense to no one but me

Writing’s too hard. How do you transcribe heartbeats into words? Transfer fragmented thoughts onto paper? Call on the glorious abstract and turn them into tangibly ugly characters in this three dimensional world? The emotions of my beats and the confusions of my thinks, they’ve become so compressed within the confines of my body, claustrophobic, it’s all wrong inside of there…

But finally, my organs have democratically ostracized them (they were sick), squeezed them out as tears, one by one, one by one, oh what freedom each tear feels as they experience themselves in exposed and liquid form, at last a glimpse of the land above epidermis rather than below,

Each tear linking hydrogens and oxygens with the other- one unified stream- quick, taste the beautiful outdoors before you evaporate into thin air, but don’t yet think about it, don’t yet worry, and definitely don’t yearn for where you just came from (guts), the past is just as dangerous as the future but seize 

seize every living second and make sure that second honors your Creator, we must flow together, as one, forward, yet present, evading rocks as they come, dodging logs as they appear, over, flowing, what undeserving grace, is this, water rushing through and over once dried and abandoned land,

undeserving, oh my dear God, this grace, pulses through my body as a new blood, my organs wouldn’t dare vote it off and yet it’s compelled to explode out from my hands and feet out of sheer necessity, this mere vessel of skin and bones can’t hold it in, can’t hold it together, can’t

what shame? what guilt? what sorrow? an old song, a haunting tune, replays itself and terrorizes my dreams but 

an older song, a louder song, drowns out the ringing in my ears, singing come, come, child, come, 

no need for writing clearly what you barely know how to understand,

simply taste, taste,

for it is very, very, good.


help each other, love everyone, every leaf, every ray of light, forgive

I watched the Tree of Life a few weeks ago with Christine and even though the whole movie was awestruck beautiful, this line has wormed its way into my mind. I didn’t even expect it to creep into my brain and snuggle into the membrane of my thoughts. 

The past few weeks have molded me in ways I could not have imagined, in the smallest changes. I realized that the catalyst for this shift lies in the change of season in my life. I’m really not a child anymore! The world is so open to me. I feel like I am standing on the beach holding an intricate shell and all I can see in front of me is the ocean, but all I have from that ocean is that tiny piece of shell and I’m holding it in my hand like it’s the most precious remnant of something huge and amazing and I’m inspecting it, but I don’t really know why it’s so beautiful and I’m afraid to lose it. I don’t really understand all of this jargon, but its the image I have in my head when i think of my life ahead of me. 

The Lord has been teaching me that my grandiose plans of adventure might not be as near to me as I desired them to be. My heart is ready to dive into a career I am passionate about, and all I can think about is how many people I want to serve. But the doors are left kind of ajar and I have no idea if they are all going to slam in my face or if there is a beckoning to step inside. There is a dull ache, a slow longing in me to see things that are greater, to love everything deeper. I am learning to be content in my circumstances, even if I do not understand them. I am learning that a joy in Christ surpasses the worth of every thing in this life I could possibly fathom to satisfy me.  I had a thought the other day, just a random one, of what I would want a future spouse to think about me. The responses in my mind unraveled pretty fluidly, and I can sum them up, so far, as such: a loving mother to care for his children and foster them to see the world both as complex as a mathematical equation for time travel and as simple as watching a leaf fall from a tree, a partner above any other woman he would want to argue with, and above all, a desirable wife who is desirable if not just for her measure of godliness that is worth pursuing. 

So far, I am none of these things. But they are lofty goals, and certainly if and when they happen, I hope I will not be able to recognize them because I will be consumed with doing all good works that the Lord has laid in advance for me to undertake. 

45 minutes until you’re born

It’s almost my birthday.
My very zeroeth birthday, the big zero zero,
and it’s going to be glorious.

They said the keeper of life would be in attendance,
someone named air, just air,
I guess when you get that high up, it doesn’t matter what you’re heir of or heir to,
because you’re, well, everywhere,
pushing against the wall of lungs telling them to

make space,

coming and going through the heart’s chambers teaching them what commitment is- 
intangible and difficult but essential for anything to stay intact, to keep alive-
breathing into each beat,
“I will be back,
I will be back,
I know sometimes you feel like the weight of the entire world teeters right on top of your head
and your lungs don’t possibly have the capacity to keep gasping for air underneath the pressure,
and I know sometimes you keep running, trying to catch me, but if you’d just pause for a second and rest you’ll see that
I will be back,”

In fact, I can’t wait for every birthday
if it means I can encounter the faithful heir.
You know what they say- you can’t be zero forever, but…

I’m scared to age.
To grow accustomed to breathing,
start wagering breath like poker chips,
gambling off pockets of air while counting heartbeats like cards,
A royal flush of thirty, forty, fifty years,
Collecting suits of diamonds rather than hearts.

No more granting wishes on my birthday,
if it means I start taking each day for granted, I
need to remember where I came from- age zero.

And only because of air, the precious heir that some people on this earth so rightly call Jesus,
can I even begin to age to year one.

a childlike fascination of those feathered flying friends


i’ve been thinking for a while about getting into bird watching as a hobby, trying quite unsuccessfully to identify backyard birds but still reading any bits and pieces that i could about those little flying creatures; this avid intrigue of them has just strangely seized me .. and then i came home to parents who had ALSO been strangely struck with the bird-watching urge, and my dad has been faithfully tearing up old pieces of bread and donuts and lying them out on the railing of our back porch, and our family dinners have been often interrupted with one of us squealing in sheer joyful exclamation “A BIRD! A BIRD” or “HE’S BACK!!” or “WOW THAT SQUIRREL IS HUGE!” or “HEEHEEHEE SO CUTE SO CUTE”

when i told my parents that the birds in rebecca’s backyard would wait in line to eat from the birdfeeder, my dad exclaimed, “WOW! birds are more civilized than chinese people!” to which my mom happily responded, “oh come on, i’m chinese and i’m civilized!” 

i don’t know, there’s just something about how they always wake up with each day’s rising sun with a song that can’t help but to burst forth, how they without fail can find their way back home no matter how far away you bring them or how you might try to disorient them. 

anyways, i bought the the feeder today, and when i put it out there it was as if the entire forest of birds was chirping with curious excitement. oh boy, oh boy, with what great anticipation do we wait for the first bird to come feast on these delicious seeds.