Lessons of the Week

Shopping and Food

I feel like Stephen and I do a good bit of shopping. But the vast majority of it is finding out what we can potentially get. Today we found out there are used clothing spots in 'the market,' as well as lots of seamstresses to make curtains and top sheets (since they don't sell those in stores), there is salsa at lotte mart as well as tortillas, there are 5 pound bags of cheese (or at least close enough to cheese product) for ten dollars at the local restaurant store (at which you can also find cheese sticks and chicken nuggets- however finding an oven is more difficult), there is a sweet indian food place called maya which has lamb curry, and there are 35 cent (350 won) and 500 won ice creams under my work. I do not know how children here are not all obese. I would be lapping up that ice cream with every spare quarter mom gave and a few found pennies from the street.

All this to say, I am starting to feel more comfortable with shopping. And no, that is not a bad thing, this just means I have enough food to start cooking- however much I loath washing dishes. So mad that there are dishes in my sink right now and I only have 2 spoons, one of which is wooden, and both of which are dirty. I think I might have to invest in more utensils rather than was the dishes in a too small sink with no drying space.

So yes, I have salsa, tortillas and cheese. Great success Korea.

And it is about time I found things I can cook, because eating out all the time is so pricey!

Guilt

We walk out of eating at Maya's and there is a man on the street. His eyes look foggy and he is very tiny, maybe only 4 feet tall and hunched over and he is waddling around the street begging for money. He however did have on newish looking pants. But I felt so bad for him. I felt like I should give him something. Everyone kept avoiding his gaze and ignoring him knowing with enough he would just walk by. But that man is a man. He is human. Yes he was begging, and yes he may be trying to scam us to buy his next pack of cigs or a beer, but why must I pretend he doesn't exist and continue in my conversation of where to buy cheap t-shirts that are really hip? It's really quite disgusting. And being told "Just ignore him, he'll go away." sounded so logical and correct; but why does my heart still hurt. I mean none of the Koreans who passed this man took notice of him, he seemed to be cramping their style, an ugly obstacle in their walk along the sidewalk in their bedazzled jeans and polo's with the too big logos and upturned collars. I mean what do I do in that situation? Jesus would have spoken to his heart, touched his life, healed his back or simply shown love. How do I do that without knowing Korean and without giving money? Do I run in the convenience store and buy a snack for him? And why is it that moments later as we passed another man sleeping on cardboard I automatically judged him as an alcoholic and lazy because he was younger and not as ugly as the first elderly man.

I read about my friend Jessica working as a nurse in Bolivia and her seeing death before her eyes, and watching people live in the most dire conditions and have to deal with crime and unbelievable emotional strains with family deaths and stress of life on mountain cliffs, and it feels so foreign. I feel guilty for not fully comprehending, for buying a sweater at the store for 10 dollars and for joyriding on the scooter, worrying that I will crash, or spending 28,000 won on dinner and walking past a beggar, but what has happened to my heart? Am I responsible for this man that Korea has brushed off? Am I to assume that he made his choices and that is the life he chose, that he lost his pride long ago and is a worthless being more akin to the scavenging stray cats than to the good working class citizens of Korea? That is how I feel we treat him.

I am so ill equipped. So worthless as a mouthpiece of Christ's love to that man. God is good. God is Love. God is Just.

God is Just.

I have to trust, that even in my lack of goodwill to that man, the Lord is sustaining his life and loving him more than I ever could show or speak even in perfect Korean. The sins of the world that stain that man, those of him and society against him, they do not change the perfect character of God. Our free will to act in ways contrary of the will of God does not change his goodness. Because the sins of the world continue to stain itself does not change that God is the definition of justice. Some say God couldn't be good because look at the pain in the world, but we are created to be in a relationship with a creator whose heart breaks again and again at his children's choices to disobey and the affects that has had and is having on the rest of his creation, and as we begin to allow Christ's love to transform us, should not our hearts start to break as well? Should not the Jesus inside us start to be let out and start to heal and touch others, breaking this cycle of freewill in the wrong direction?

I clearly have the freewill to ignore, but I want the freewill to love as Jesus did.

A Dream

They made such orderly graves as they fell.

Pristine black and white, without life; without smell.

My mind lied, the images reversed

resurrection not martyred. Preserved.

I snatched up the child her warmth reassuring

with her, I ran into the forest searching

finding only anxiety amidst the crowds

I crumpled, rocking into a tiny mound.

I awoke. Without the warmth. No child found.

It all started with a crash.

Plane after plane felled into the sea

rummaging through wave beaten trash

a small life. Chubby hands, holding history.

Perhaps this poem makes no sense to anyone but myself, but every time I reread it I can see it again. Stumbling upon a beach with debris washing ashore and finding a small girl in the water holding a picture of young people awaiting their untimely fall into dark holes before them; a holocaustal image and still, their figures were lively and hopeful. Almost in rebellion, jumping off the image in resistance against the moments after the photo was inevitably taken. They won, I believed them raised rather than fallen. And as the people around me ran off into the forest I swept the child into my arms and ran into the hills only to fall to the ground with the girl in a feeble attempt to comfort or protect or escape, and then, then I awoke.

My Off Centered University

So I went to the Registrars office to hopefully get my diploma so I can appease Immigration in Korea and fly off to a new exciting adventure. Well little did I know there is adventure in the Registrars office.

Yes, to my dismay I reached the office only to find out that the diploma printer was "broken" and someone was supposed to come that afternoon, or hopefully that week.

Great.

I already spent 30 dollars to send my visa info to Korea, now they want a scan or copy of my diploma and I can't even get it in hand.

Fabulous.

Perfect.

Sarcasm.

Reality= tears?

So I kindly say that this is crazy and I could potentially lose my job and, although sympathetic, the girl I spoke to said there was nothing she could do.

I walk out, about to cry, to my car and I try and call my mother only to reach my brother instead.... and no offense to John, but he is not who I wanted to talk to. So I sit in my car and contemplate bursting into tears, but decide first to conference with Jesus. So I sit and ask him what can I do? I trust He will take care of things but maybe there is something I can do today.... what about....what if I go in and at least ask for a letter on Radford letterhead saying I graduated (since really that was Korea's problem with my State Apostilled letter from the Registrar- not on letterhead so not official looking enough). I gave up and admitted it was worth a shot and it was completely up to Him to take care of this whole situation, lose the job or not.

I calmly and full of trust in the sovereignty of the Lord, walked back into Heth Hall to ask once again for another letter. I explain to a different lady my situation and she goes to the Registrars office to ask about my "situation" and returns to let me know the Registrar (who I have already talked to and left many messages for, e-mail and phone) would soon be able to come talk to me and "just wait a few mintues".

I sit down and wait and am soon joined by an older music grad student who I find out has just been doing the run around all morning. (I am very familiar with this game- tsk, Radford)

He told me of how he was in a class and went to pay for the class only to find the bursars office doesn't take credit cards-unless you pay online..... so by the time he paid and went to class the online system had kicked him out already (for not paying...) and he had to run back to the registrars office to get put back on the list. I love college.

After some lovely conversation about my situation and teaching overseas, Registrar Andrea comes out to talk to me, I stand up and say "Hi, I'm Hannah Dorrell" she just says "Oh, hold on one minute" and turns around again leaving me to watch her re-enter her office to write my letter. Or so I thought.

She re-appeared with what appeared to be a diploma with MY NAME ON IT!

Stoked.

So she says "Here is the deal, the printer has been printing the diplomas off center."

Off center? OFF CENTER!! Who gives a flying flip.

"So I can give you this copy and then we can send you a perfect one to your house?" she continued.

YES!

So if I hadn't prayed and gone back in, I would be in a tizzy waiting for my diploma; all because it was printed.... off center.

It's funny, I realize now that the Lord broke that printer for me. I never would have had the level of peace that I received after completely giving up and giving over the security of my job. I got to experience God's faithfulness, yet again, in a trial that turned out right in the end, not because he owed it to me for having faith in his sovereignty, but because he loves me and wanted to make it clear to me that he was in control the whole time and just wanted to make that clear.

Now the only question left is; can you even tell that it is off center?

I guess it's the same with my life, only the Lord knew I needed to be re-centered in those moments of uncertainty.

Goodness I love that guy. :)

For the Count

everytime pictures go up

another finger, another ring

another gown

and then im down

for the count

one. high horse unmount.

two. God is in Control

three. my heart He stole

four. I have more than a crush

five. so no need for a rush

six. dating=more roses

seven. poems he composes

eight. God is good.

nine. I would.

ten. just a little more time.

soon, soon he will be mine.

but until then, with Him I dine.

not a bad dinner date I've won,

three men, Father, Spirit, Son.

yippee-cai-yay

a good life, I'd say.

Squirrel the Dog

Before I start this story, I must let you know that it is the co-result of my boyfriend and I as we sat through his brothers High School graduation in a non-air-conditioned building (Burrus Hall for those who are familiar with Virginia Tech). We alternated every sentence or so which will be shown with italics for Stephen. So without further adieu....

Once upon a time there was a squirrel named Dog. His name quite confused his woodland critter friends. Woody the woodchuck was so befuddled that when he heard from Squirrella the Squirrel that "Dog" was coming for a visit, he upchucked a large chunk of wood from fear of a teethy barking minion. Squirrella, apalled by Woody's behavior exclaimed in disgust, "No, you coardly woodchuck! Dog the squirrel."

"Oh," He responded a bit ashamed, "Why ever would a mother squirrel name her squirllet 'Dog,' such a ferocious animal." and he gave a little shiver just thinking about it. And that's when Dog arrived and Woody knew exactly why his mother had named him after such a ferocious beast. His ears were floppy and so was his tongue. It Hung stupidly from his mouth, but not in an entirely un-cute way, more in a puppy-like fashion. His puppy-like demeanor explained why Squirrella was so entirely smitten with him.

To the passer-by his puppy face made him look a bit like a Ruhtah (the term for socially inept Squirrels), He in fact was not and Squirrel was a little stumped for words. Though he might have looked like a Ruhtah, Dog was quite the adept acorn acquirer which made him all the more attractive to Squirrella. Even more endearing was the way his ears and tongue flopped around as he slipped with ease up and down trees, twirling round limbs and oh, how he scurried! But now was the time; Squirrella had put Dog on an unachievable pedestal for far too long- he HAD to be hers. So she opened to squeak and said, "Aye Dog, I like your nuts....." then blushing at her word vomit she continued to explain saying, "No, no! I didn't mean it like that! oh I've Ruined things. I should go."

But chuckling at Squirrella's Blushing fur Dog replied, "No, Don't I picked out two expecially large acorns just for you. I know acorns are your favorite flavor nut. Would you like to go for a scurry?"

Delighted at the invitation, Squirella graciously accepted and they scurried the day away until they fell from exhaustion. As they lay laughing at their fun filled day Dog noticed something he hadn't before....Squirrella was painfully unattractive. He waited until she fell asleep and left to never return. Dog lived happily ever after.

Unfortunately, Stephen took the ending of the ceremony to end the story in a most sad way, but I like to think it is closer to reality than many squirrel stories.

Sputtering Words

My words, once, all a sputter

twirled and skipped into your ear

finding no rest they started to mutter

of all my unhinging fear.

so nervous was I, made to stutter.

things should not have felt so queer.

you said I'll make a good mother

but never will you see it dear

Although your voice, smooth as butter

my life was changing, shifting gear

"I love you" never did I utter.

surprised it ended, with more than one tear

On Gold finch wings my heart a flutter

my God did find me and together we're

in love unending, safe and pure; what're

we to do but dance, in a joy so severe.

This is a poem I wrote a good while back in the process of getting over someone and the realization of my dependence on the wrong thing. What's interesting is the insecurity and unease I felt with my ex doesn't exists with my current boy. It took being with someone who knows me and likes me regardless of the spit that comes from my mouth to see.....

I know there is some charm and fun in being nervous with someone you are starting to love, but it's premature, it's only the beginning the more charming is the comfort in knowing you're accepted.

It is like a great man of God and L'Abri once said

" The assurance of forgiveness and acceptance helps us to forget how we look to ourself and to others and we start to rest in God's love......Guilt disappears in forgiveness and shame disappears when I, in the depth of my being, start to understand that I am accepted."

-Henrik

So thanks to a young man in my life, I am able to relate this truth of God in the reality of relationships I live in. I like resting in love. How much greater to rest in Love than to enjoy charmed nervousness.

Reflections in my art history

I was recently a chaperone on an 8th grade DC trip for the school I student taught at and went to in my younger years. I half agreed to go on this silly little trip, in traumatic heat with 11 small hooligans to herd, all for the joy of roaming the halls of the national gallery or at least the hirshorn galleries/sculpture gardens. To my dismay none of the 11 students in my group wanted to go to an art museum.

Somehow, to these children, art museums seem boring compared to Air and Space or the Natural History museum or American Indian museum. I was completely floored. This makes no sense to me. And how did I, the resident arteest, end up with 11 kids who don't particularly care for art.

I think it is needless to say that I sucked it up and went where they wanted to go. However I may have manipulated them to go to the American Indian museum over natural history.....but how could I resist there was a Brian Jungen Exhibit and it was AMAZING. How could anyone not appreciate an ostrich made from suitcases. It is even more impressive on display since it hangs alongside other suitcase animals such as an armadillo, gator and shark on a giant mobile. (don't tell Calder)

I really encouraged the boys in my group to at least see the exhibit. I talked of how he makes sculptures out of nikes and baseball gloves and that one of his sculptures you can walk inside and actually sit in it (they were really big on just sitting).

Unfortunately I was wrong on one part, the large wigwam sculpture made from trash-cans.....you can't sit in it, well you can, and I did, but you aren't supposed to. Fortunately for me, the cute african american man guarding the art, wasn't upset at all and actually found my lounging, in it's perfect stadium seating, amusing.

The boys eventually came through and loved the art; so great success, middle school boys realize art isn't 'totally lame.' I feel I won a small battle, and maybe one day they will be cultured young gentlemen.

So I got off track. When I was younger I appreciated the impressionists and meticulous skill in painting. I even thought Bob Ross a great talent. As I went through art school, I suppose I was brainwashed and now I appreciate so much more.

I can only hope that there's been a spark in them of some form of love for art.

Thank you Brian Jungen, you have made art relevant to teenage boys.