Crazy Fear

Back on campus for nearly a week, now. Almost feels like summer break never happened...

 –

I've been reading Francis Chan's Crazy Love for the past couple days. My uni schedule this semester allows for at least half an hour or an hour of reading between breakfast and my first class, most days of the week. This book has been rocking me -- I would make notes all over the pages if it was my own copy, but as it happens, I am borrowing it from a friend. So sticky notes will have to do.

This book has also been a seriously disrupting wake-up call, to the extent that it forces me to face what I know has been wrong for a long time. If you haven't read the book already, Chan devotes an entire chapter to describing the "lukewarm" Christian. The one who goes to church once in a while, does "Christian" things, and will say they believe in Jesus, but then don't follow through with the endlessly chasing after Him and loving Him completely, like you would if you really did believe in Jesus and what His crucifixion means.

I have been a lukewarm Christian, and I have been so for a long, long time.

I knew it when I stopped getting so many prophetic images in my head. The past winter, I was practically on fire with them, when I worshiped and when I had intimate conversations with people. But then it started to peter off, and I can think of many reasons why that might have happened.

1 - Uncomfortable truths about my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, and the aftermath, were being dragged into the light. It's a first-world problem, but I've had not really good luck in the romantic relationship department, and it's really hard for me to have a charitable view of any man outside my circle. The break-up itself wasn't that explosive, but the months following just about ruined me. I had buried it as best I could, but erosion brought it all up again.

2 - At the same time as this, I was reeling from attacks of anxiety about the future, in multiple dimensions. I don't know if it was some bizarre way of the "2012" culture getting to me, but I couldn't go one day without thinking "What if--?"

3 - I've been growing more distant from my parents since I've started living on campus for college. When I go home for summer, I don't feel so close to them. I still have talks with Dad, but I can rarely have a conversation with Mom anymore without inadvertently saying something that raises her hackles at me. My love for my parents doesn't feel so desperate anymore, and that's cooled love I felt anywhere else -- including for God.

My job is to love God, and to love others, and I haven't been doing much of either.

If love is supposed to be like a river, then I feel like my love is a river that's been dammed. And it hurts, sometimes. And I'm the one who's keeping it there.

I judge. I'm selfish. I'm self-centered. I hold grudges to a person's face even if I say in my solitude that I've forgiven them.

I project things onto myself that probably aren't true. I purposefully exclude myself. I come up with reasons that someone in particular might not want me around. They have homework; they have work work; they have other friends they'd rather hang out with; they have a boyfriend or girlfriend they haven't spent time with in ages; I'm not their best friend, and they'd rather hang out with their best friend.

I don't tell myself I don't contribute anything once another friend takes over the conversation. I feel like I have no influence, without nagging or guilt-tripping someone for ignoring me. I don't want to bother anyone.

I resign myself to solitude. But I don't want to live my life alone.

–

Jesus didn't do that. He knew whether anyone really wanted Him around, but He never let that stop Him from doing what He wanted. He would have presence whether it was a "good time" or not. His love never paused, stopped, or ran out.

–

So how do I break that dam across my heart?

I know I need to take this to God. But I don't, because I'm scared of what I might find out, and that fear always holds me back. I am meant to fear God as I love Him – but I do not love Him as I am meant to, which is fully, completely, essentially; so I don't fear Him as the One who can take my life with my next breath.

Instead, I fear the repercussions of the secular world. I fear what might happen if I stop taking refuge in what I have to concern myself with – school, money, finding a job – and run head-first into Him. I know that the Bible says He will cover me in a all ways. But I don't believe that in my heart. I have faith that He will carry me through, but not enough faith to let go of the ground.

Even now, I'm seeking distractions from this important reflection because I'm scared of the tears that I know will come out of the uncomfortable truths. I'm not scared enough of what will happen if I don't give everything up for Him. Why, when I know and have seen what happens in the lives of those who devote their very existence to worshiping and following Jesus?

I would ask for prayers, but my heart doesn't believe they can do anything. And this is a huge problem that definitely needs some prayer.

On Doppelgangers and Smiling Because They Happen

Original Posting: August 2011

Today was my first day working with a group of Japanese students as part of my university's summer cultural exchange program (I believe I yammered on about that in the previous posting). Now, everyone who is non-Asian (and many Asians themselves) know the trope: All Asians look alike.

Anyone who has spent a significant amount of time with at least a very small portion – say, a group of students studying abroad at a particular university, like mine – of an Asian population, as I have, knows that this is a stereotype in its purest form. Generalization? Yes. Based upon an element of truth? Oh, yes.

I definitely don't subscribe to Political Correctness Gone Mad, but I do try not to stray into offensive territory when describing non-Caucasians. I am well aware that there's a generalization right there in what I just wrote, but, see, generalizations are nice sometimes. But I digress.

The point I intended to make is: Asians don't all look alike, but you can confuse two who look similar; you can do exactly the same for two Caucasians, two Africans, two Arabs, and whatever other ethnicities your culture recognizes.

Case in point: One of the students (although I believe she is actually functioning as one of the guides for the students) looks uncannily like my roommate from the Fall 2010 semester.

I don't recall off the top of my head if I've talked all that much here about Mami, but before I go on, I think you should know that we became very close by the time she had to go back to Japan. We were best friends, and we loved each other dearly. I was so, so terribly sad to see her go, and I've missed her ever since. I think about her a lot; whenever I hung out with my Japanese friends the spring semester, I would wait to here her chime in with something, or think, "Mami-chan would love this..."

I remember waking up on morning toward the end of the year (recall from my more recent posts that I was completely not in my right mind), and I saw Risa at her desk, I think doing homework, and I just saw her silhouette, and for a moment I thought she looked like Mami. I literally had to think to myself, "She is not Mami." And I felt so lonely.

She shows up in my dreams occasionally. We just hang out. It's usually those dreams that make me think about her, but sometimes I'll see something and just think of her. She's told me recently that she is making plans to visit during one of my breaks from school. I don't think she knows for sure yet, but I am definitely looking forward to it. It has been far, far too long!

So when I saw the group of students from the Mukogawa University in Japan for the first time, and then Rie-san was introduced, I balked. Right down to the hair; when she smiled, it was wrenching. Her style was even a bit similar to Mami's. I stole glances at her all day, trying to figure out if I was going crazy.

I know she's not Mami. If I get a chance to one-on-one with her, I'll have to remind myself of that, just like I had to do the same with Risa.

Rie is not Mami.

But I wish she could be.

It makes me feel very sad. That's the simplest way to put it. Makes me wonder why time couldn't move faster so I could get closer to when Mami would visit. Or makes me wish Mami was here instead of her, on some level.

But this day... To have so many students from Japan, with their endearing Japanese ways, was just... wonderful. It felt like home. It made me so extremely happy.

It was only on the way home on the bus that I started to feel sad. Because I started to remember Mami, of course. And also Megumi, and Honoka and Saki and Konomi and Masashi and Kotomi and Iku and Mai and Souichiro, and also the friends from Korea I made last semester, who I sadly wasn't able to spend so much time with – Sori, Sujin, Amy, Emily, Hyosuk, and others whose names I haven't the foggiest how to spell.

It's those faces from last year who made my freshman year special. It's Mami and Megumi and the others from that first semester who lit it up and made it memorable. I thought about them on the way home and it made me sad, even though it was the last thing I wanted to be, especially now that I'm thinking so much about my life back on campus for my sophomore year.

I think about it again now. Specifically how I look at this batch of students from Mukogawa and how I see my friends' faces among them. And I don't want to be sad. Everyone knows the saying, "Don't be sad because it ended; smile because it happened."

Sadness is an expression of regret, isn't it?

So that makes me wonder, what is there about my time with Mami-tachi that I regret? Nothing. Not a darn thing. I still miss all of them, certainly; I am allowed to, because I always will miss them and there's no reason to deny myself that freedom. But I don't have to cry about it. That wasn't our last good-bye. We still have Facebook to stay in contact, so it's not like we'll never hear from each other again.

If anything, as uncanny-valley-esque as it might feel to me, Rie's resemblance to Mami proves one thing: That Mami holds a special place in my heart. Everyone does. These students who I am just getting to know (along with their names and faces!) now, I'll have a special place in my heart for them, too, after they've passed out of my life for the time being.

We all make mistakes; we all carry regrets, but regrets can weigh us down like a disease. So isn't it only fair that we make an effort to have as few regrets as possible?

When I see Rie's smile tomorrow, I will remember Mami.

And I will smile, too.

♥Sarah

In Which I Backpedal

Original Posting: January 2012

Cultivate your own relationship with God, but don't impose it on others. You're fortunate if your behavior and your belief are coherent. But if you're not sure, if you notice that you are acting in ways inconsistent with what you believe – some days trying to impose your opinions on others, other days just trying to please them – then you know that you're out of line. If the way you live isn't consistent with what you believe, then it's wrong.

~ Romans 14:22-23, The Message

This passage hit me more strongly when I initially read it in context of what I was thinking about at the time. But the post hinges on this.

–

As the title suggests, this is a response to my most recent blog post. Having had some time to myself after posting it, I finally realized what it was about the post that never sat right with me.

I cited 1 Cor 7:7 and 7:38 in my last post, that God gives the gifts of singlehood and marriage to different people, and that neither is inferior or superior to the other, as a sort of disclaimer. And indeed I said it was my opinion.

The problem, I realized, was that my belief – the Word – did not line up with my opinion – singlehood is inherently better than marriage.

Keyword: Inherently.

–

You might have gathered from my last post that I have a lot of trouble seeing romantic relationships in a positive light at this time. There are reasons for that. I started to really think about it after one of the last times I was at youth group. It was a Q&A night, and one of the topics that kept coming up was romantic relationships – specifically, how do you know when you're going too far, and if you don't want to go that far again, what can you do to keep it from happening?

I thought about contributing to the discussion, but I didn't realize an "audience" member could do that. And by the time I learned that, we were wrapping up.

I only realized a couple of weeks ago that I went further with my ex-boyfriend than I wanted to go. Didn't go too far – thank God – but still further than I was actually willing to go. I didn't realize my discomfort meant exactly that at the time, because I thought I was just breaking out of my shell – stepping out of your comfort zone is supposed to be a good thing, right? Well, not so much for intimacy, it turns out. It's about all I can remember when I think about the relationship, and it colors any outlook I have on future relationships.

Takeaway: Going further than you want to go, at all, does your mental/emotional health bad.

He manipulated me. I don't know if he realized that's what he was doing, but he guilt-tripped me into pushing further and further out; I did it because I didn't want him to get bored, and I wasn't about to lose the experience so quickly when I had waited all of high school for a boyfriend. I told him once that I didn't like the "ickier" stuff as much as the innocent stuff we did in public; I don't remember his response word for word, but it came down to him not seeing it as such a big deal, and me then feeling like I was too chaste for anyone's good.

If there is a next time, I know that I'm going to have to outline my boundaries right up front – if he still wants to cross them, or agrees with me but still hopes to cross them via wearing me down, then he's going to have to move on to someone else. I'm sorry, but that's a whole mess of conflicting emotions that I really do not have the time, energy, or mental stability to deal with.

So I realized all of this a couple days after that Q&A night, because I was thinking about it; thought about posting the same thoughts on the Facebook page for the youth group, or one of the devotional Groups I'm in, but for whatever reason I never did.

I realized that even though I said I believed what God said – that singlehood and relationships are on the same level – I did not conduct myself that way. I conducted myself with the opinion that relationships cannot hold a candle to staying single, and I imposed that on others in my previous post. Given a chance, I might have done the same in real life.

I don't know how well this is coming through. What I am trying to say is that there was a disconnect between what I said I believed online, and what I actually believed according to how I conducted myself.

The real problem: it was affecting other relationships in my life, particularly concerning trust. I had difficulty trusting friends, parents, even God – BIG no bueno.

The syllogism is supposed to run like this:

God wants a relationship with you.

All things that come from God are good.

Therefore, relationships are good.

Well, okay; my Philosophy professor would have a thing or two to say about how that is false, therefore unsound, but you get the idea (I don't feel like fixing it). If all kinds of relationships come from God, then all kinds of relationships are inherently good – it's human error that makes any of them abusive.

If I insist on viewing romantic relationships negatively, unwilling and unable to trust him, then how can I expect to have positive, trusting relationships anywhere else in my life?

It sounds a bit weird to me, to say that looking down on – even hating – the idea of romantic relationships would consequently poison friendly relationships and father/mother-daughter relationships, but it turns out that can happen. It makes sense given my personal relationship with God – I said in my post about Song of Songs that it's a deepest devotion, and to me that means romantic. I am the bride of Christ, after all.

So that's my self-improvement project for the time being: Learn to view romantic relationships in a positive light again.

This won't happen overnight. I'm not sure how I'm going to go about this, because I'm still not in any mood to get into another relationship. I suppose more time is the answer.

We'll see what happens.

~Sarah

On Forgiveness

Original Posting: October 2011

I ended up growing up not believing in apologies. I never meant it whenever I was told to say "sorry," therefore I never believed anyone when they apologized to me. I don't like telling people I'm sorry for anything I've done, because that would be admitting that I was wrong. I always tried to avoid being in the wrong, because being in the wrong meant that kids would bully and make fun of you.

But lately, I've been gaining more and more hints that forgiveness – giving and receiving it – is the most important thing for me to learn right now.

--

I thought, when I spent so much time at SMU feeling so good about things, that I was okay. But I think if there are still things that make me stop and turn pensive, and make me want to cry, then I should know instantly that things are not okay.

I thought I knew what was wrong – that I was merely not quite over my ex-boyfriend yet – but it turns out I wasn't quite right. It was more specific than that.

I've been holding onto grudges and guilt, for even more than a year. I've known it for a while. But I didn't realize how much of an effect it was all having on me.

Grudges and guilt. Neither is healthy, but both can be difficult to deal with if you're not used to them.

The grudge is obvious. I was angry at my ex-boyfriend. After we broke up, I had those four long months of summer to think about absolutely everything, as I'm sure I've said before, and I drew possibly erroneous conclusions. That he got a new girlfriend – whom he's admitted point-blank to me that he loves, is even thinking this might be the girl he wants to marry – so soon after we broke up, completely did not help. It felt so unfair to me that he should move on so quickly while I was stuck.

We ended up talking about it a little, very briefly, the other day. I could tell he was trying to get me to at least smile a little at first; I'd been very cold to him the last several times we'd been in proximity to each other, ignoring him and otherwise being rude. He initially didn't understand why I was acting like that – he thought he'd treated me well while we were dating, and to get that in return, as he put it, felt like a slap in the face. He texted me asking why, a few days before this conversation, and I just left it. I thought he shouldn't need to ask in the first place; since he asked, he needed to take some time to mull it over.

Anyway, he realized I wasn't going to smile for him. I just remained impassive, generally expressionless. Then he caved, got serious, told me he understood why I was upset with him – he had gotten caught up with this new girl, had forgotten that he had been my first boyfriend, for so long, didn't realize how crushed I would be for so long, didn't really consider my feelings. He never meant to, as he put it, step on my toes like that. Turns out he was pretty heartbroken after we broke up, for a while, and stuff happened there...

And then he apologized.

I had asked myself over and over again, what did I want from him? Did I really expect him to consider my feelings in everything he did now that we weren't together anymore? Did I really expect him to meet a girl and say, "You know, I really like you, but for the sake of my ex-girlfriend's sanity I don't think we should date for at least a few months"? Did I want an apology?

I told myself I shouldn't really expect an apology, because he was only doing as guys do; to guys, I'm just another girl.

But then he apologized.

I don't know if I can adequately describe the change from him just saying "I'm sorry." It feels really kind of lame to say that there was a total change... but there actually kind of was. It really does feel like this weight, of confusion and sorrow and rage and even some insecurity, has been lifted off of me.

I don't want to say that things are okay now as far as the ex goes. There are still some issues and complexes I need to work through on my own, or maybe with a little outside help, depending on what God reveals to me. But a lot of healing came out of those two little words that I spent so much of my childhood attaching no meaning to. I think it's because I could tell that he meant it.

This may be preemptive, but I think I'm starting to believe that maybe we can be friends again after all this is over... Yeah, definitely preemptive. I have a lot of suspicions to let go of, too... Blah.

--

I am not perfect. I make a point of never declaring that I am, because people tend to mock me for my faith when they find out my flaws, but I still need to stress that I am not perfect.

I try to be nice, or at least polite, to everyone. Being rude or mean puts a sour taste in my mouth and a bad feeling in my stomach. But sometimes I screw up.

One of my regrets for the past year regards a guy I dated briefly in high school. He was the first guy who ever asked me out, and we were able to stay friends after "breaking up." (I never considered us "together" in that sense – just casually dating.) I know he wanted an actual relationship – in fact after he took me to his senior prom he asked if I wanted to make it a relationship. And I didn't want to. And... well, I know that's something he always wanted with me. And looking back on it, I took advantage of that because, even though I didn't have any feelings for him beyond simple friendship, the attention was nice.

After I started dating my ex-boyfriend I found I had a problem – how do I tell him that I'm in a relationship with someone?! I really wanted to tell him to his face, and not over the phone even though he kept calling me... But it just never happened. Things got too busy, and then he stopped calling me. I assumed he'd found out through a mutual friend, and then... I let it go. It weighed on my mind until I stopped getting reminded that I needed to take care of this thorn. And then I never did.

I realized, just yesterday, that this is one of those triggers that's now subconscious. Honestly, I'd forgotten about him... But I know I've broken his heart multiple times and come out of them thinking I was unscathed. To an extent I was, but now I feel guilty.

I sent him an email today. Very sparse; just told him that a lot's happened in the past year, and I felt that I haven't been fair to him at all. I told him I was sorry and that I understood if he didn't want to to still be friends. Told him I was willing to discuss what had happened via emails.

I know now that I should have told him the first time he called after I got in a relationship with my ex-boyfriend, but... I was just too worried about the consequences. I hope things work out...

--

I'm well on the road to recovery, I'm almost there; but I still have demons that I need to take care of, things I've been avoiding that I need to face. They're being revealed to me one at a time as I walk through this Season. This is a Season of change and growth for me, and I need to step up to the challenge.

...

It is time for me to stop running. It is time for me to stand and fight.

♥Sarah

On Single-Serving Friendships

Original Posting: August 2011

Over the summer, I had the incomparable pleasure of hosting two students from Okazaki Women's Junior College in Japan. This hosting came as part of my duties for SMU's Cultural Ambassador program. I was a bit nervous going in. It's strange to think that after my fall semester roommate spent the three weeks of winter vacation with me, a weekend stay is still a big deal for my mom. The house needed to be straightened up from top to bottom (I wrangled my way out of most of it because I was simply too busy with ushering Mukogawa students around); we needed to have a solid plan that included meals and activities, and sleeping arrangements needed to be just right. Naturally things got a bit complicated once we found out we would be hosting two students instead of just one, but it was nothing we couldn't handle.

It's always a gamble when you invite someone new to share your space: I went through it with Mami; I went through it with Risa; and now I got to go through it with Naho and Naoko. I have been fortunate in having nothing but good roommate experiences so far; I'm just waiting for it to run out...

While Naho and Naoko were not roommates in the sense that Mami and Risa were, they were nevertheless people who would be spending the next 48 hours sleeping, eating, and generally just hanging out with me. And with these two, it was my job.

Fortunately, we got along quite nicely.

Language barriers can make things difficult, naturally. Neither girl was particularly proficient in speaking English (although Naoko often took the job of translator), and I'm not particularly proficient in Japanese even though I have been a learner for four years. We could bridge some gaps – and they both had their nifty dictionaries that all the foreign students seem to have and I really wish I knew where to look for them in America... (to the internet!) But something I have come to realize in my all-of-one year of experience with this sort of thing is this: True bonding happens with the things you do.

The first night that Mom and I met Naho and Naoko, we talked for hours over strawberry shortcake and green tea about their time so far in America, and about their homes in Japan. We laughed until we cried, and established inside jokes. I brought out "My Neighbor Totoro" to play in Japanese for them when it came time to take turns for showers before bed.

On Saturday, we went to the Bon Odori festival in downtown Olympia; I thought it would be interesting for the girls to see an Americanized take on traditional Japanese festivities, and we even saw other students from the CA program there. We actually got there about two hours before the dancing started, so we passed the time conversing with friends and sampling some Japanese food – hooray for curry! After eating, I showed the girls Capital Lake and the Olympia fountain.

Last year, I had the privilege to dance in the same Bon Odori festival; while I still had my happi (rhymes with poppy) coat, I didn't wear it this year because with my shorts underneath, it looked like I wasn't wearing pants! However, I did have a button-up shirt that my grandmother made with the leftover fabric, so I wore that instead. I did not dance in the festival this year, partly because I didn't quite remember the moves, but mostly because I felt sluggish; I had eaten dinner at home before I ate that curry. However, I did get pictures, and we did all have fun while we were there.

Sunday saw a bit of a disaster... I found out that morning that my ex-boyfriend had met a girl in Austria and was now in a relationship with her. I was crushed and angry and on the brink, and it completely derailed me. My parents got upset with me for sulking when I had a job to do, and none of that helped my attitude for the day. I walked on egg shells the rest of the day and wanted nothing more than to have the weekend over so I could go back to work as a CA. I felt like a terrible hostess and didn't know how to explain to Naho and Naoko what was wrong. They didn't force me to say anything; they sat and were quiet, and waited for me to come out of it. Then they made me laugh.

After I took the girls back, I tread carefully around Mom, who seemed to have decided to let it go for now. Either that night or the next day, she consulted me about giving gifts to the girls during the farewell dinner the following Tuesday; it made me feel better to know she wanted to include me in her plans. Naho and Naoko had given us both gifts the first night. I have gotten gifts from my Japanese roommates, and I got gifts from all the Mukogawa girls; it felt right to finally give something back.

At the farewell dinner, I realized how much I had already come to care for these girls over just that small, short weekend. We revived all the jokes, and remembered all the minutia of their personalities and tastes. We presented them with our gifts and they gave us handmade Thank You cards – which were absolutely perfect. I have them with me in my dorm right now; one way or another they will make it onto my dorm wall.

I didn't realize until I was leaving the dinner with them that it was good-bye. We all started crying without any prompting, and didn't want to stop hugging; didn't want to admit that it was the end of it.

I went through the same again with the Mukogawa group a week later; not realizing until the final moment when they all accompanied me from the bus dropoff to my car, that we were just trying to make it a little longer until we had to walk away, pretending for a few more minutes that it didn't have to be over.

It's hard to make that final farewell. I don't like making farewells; some people say "See you later!" And it's true that I can go to Japan, or they can come to America again. And, as I've said before, there's always Facebook. But I always feel sort of hollow afterward, like something's been ripped out of me and I have to find something to fill it back up again or I'll waste away. And it is true that something has been taken from me when that happens; a presence in my life that satisfied one need or another – or else why would they have come into my life at all? People leave and they take little pieces of you with them, but you also have a piece of them to hold onto for yourself. You only feel hollow until you find a way to fit those new pieces into the spaces of your heart those friendships left behind.

You know they're not a single-serving friend if their pieces fit just right.

♥Sarah