Last Flight Out

I am packed and ready to go. It’s Friday, July 9, Aussie time. I am to leave Sydney at 9:20pm. Nat just arrived from camp, Antonia was hanging about and Karen was ready to take me to the airport. We decide to leave at 6:45pm in order to arrive at the airport at 7:15pm. We finish eating at 6:45pm, and although we leave 15 minutes later than intended, I don’t feel pressured because I know I have everything in order. We put the bags in the car, and I begin to gather my belongings (laptop, purse, sweater). Karen sounds off, “Do you have your passport?” I reply, “Yes,” knowing that it is inside my purse. She continues, “And your ticket?” “Oh, no! I forgot to print it! Won’t take but a minute.” So I dash to the computer to print off the ticket. As I’m doing so, I am attempting to finish off a kebab from dinner (which happened to be Antonia’s--she didn’t want to finish it) while holding all my belongings. I finally print off the ticket and we’re out the door.

The ride to the airport was pleasant. Nat told me a bit about the camp she attended, Antonia told funny stories from “when she was young”. Karen chimed in every now and then, and the four of us laughed together. It was to be the last time we’d be in the same car for a quite a while.

We arrive at the airport and I see a long queue next to desk F, the desk where I am to check in. I line up and wait, Nat and Antonia by my side (Karen had left to park the car). We’re standing there talking, and Nat says, “Are you sure this is our line?” So I ask the gentleman in front of me if he’s on his way to Hawaii. He confirms, but says, “The flight’s been cancelled.” I immediately think he’s playing a joke on me, but he’s serious as death. An assistant comes up to me and begins to explain that flights will be deferred to Dubai for the next day. I ask her, “Is this the flight to Hawaii?” and show her my printed confirmation ticket. She nods and confirms that I am, in fact, in the correct line. I feel my heart drop to my stomach. What shall I do? No point in complaining, the situation is out of my hands. So I decide we should call Karen and let her know the flight’s been cancelled. At that moment, I realize... where’s my purse?

I immediately think, “It must have been left in the car”, and ask a gentleman for some change to call Karen from a pay-phone (my cell phone “just so happened” to have gone ka-putt that Monday). As we’re calling her, Natalie yells, “There she is!” We rush to her and explain the situation. First thing’s first--I need my passport, which is in my purse! She rushes to check the car, while the girls and I wait in line once more. I begin to read the paper that had been handed to me and begin to get a sense that something isn’t right. The flight they have listed is not my flight! I approach an attendant and show her my documents and she says, “No, this is a flight to Melbourne. You’re in the wrong line.”

I hop back to the girls, now joined by Karen. Karen states that the purse is not in the car. My purse, with my passport, ID and money, is 25 minutes away in Artarmon.

We call Tim and Fliss, who are on their way to the airport to see me off. Tim states that he’s already at the airport, that we should find someone to pick up the purse from Artarmon. Phones are ringing, questions are flying. Finally, Bronwyn, Karen’s sister, confirms that she can pick up my bag and bring it. The confusion of this particular time is too complex and daunting to explain, but it must be known that Tim and Fliss once again blew my mind away with their selflessness.

I approach the counter and ask Those In Charge if I have any hope. I’m told that it will be fine. I begin to relax. I decide to weigh my bags to make sure they are the correct weight. I end up having to shift stuff around. After what appears to be forever, Bronwyn and Mr. Murphy (the father) pull up with my purse and jacket. I rush to the car, grab my belongings and dash, all the while crying out, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!”

As I get to the counter, a blonde lady begins to ask Those In Charge if I’ll still be allowed on. It seems everyone’s been checked in, and now they’re admitting those on stand-by. What is the verdict?! Yes. Let her on. As the blonde lady is rushing to enter all my information, I ask, “Where should I go? Do I have time? Will I make it?” She looks at me seriously and says, “You are at gate 51. Run!”

I am darting left and right, weaving between small children and bewildered Asians. As I cross behind the security wall, I hear the voices of my Aussie family calling out, “Bye, Jo! Bye!” I half-yell, half-pant a strangled “Goodbye!” as I continue on my course. When I reach security, a man greets me with a nonchalant grin. As he’s checking my passport, I tell him that the lady at the front told me to hurry. He states, “Chill, you’re making me nervous. Just give me your thing”. “What thing?” “The thing.” “I don’t know what ‘thing’ means.” When he’s done verifying my information, he hands me my ticket and passport. I stand there, waiting for instructions. He ignores me and is about to help the next customer. I ask, “Where do I go from here?” He looks at me as if we’ve never met before and waves his hand ambiguously behind him. “That way”. I think to myself, “Oh, Australia...”

I run, run, run, thank God for the flattened escalator-walkways (I used to wonder...who could ever be in that much of a hurry?) and curse my poor eyesight, which is making it difficult to read the signs until they are just a few feet ahead of me. Lo and behold, there is gate 51!! And there is a long, beautiful queue of people who have yet to board. I’m not late!

My legs ache, I am sweaty, and I feel nauseated from the run, but I MADE IT! As I hand in my ticket and passport, I see the same blonde lady who checked me in. She smiles and congratulates me, “Good on ya! Ya made it!” I smile a big “thank you” and head down to the plane. As I walk, I begin to laugh inwardly. This is my life! The flight crew greets me and I am told I am in seat 11G. I make my way down the isle and see that my seat is right behind the club seats, with plenty of leg room, a huge screen right in front of me, and plenty of leg room. Did I mention plenty of leg room for my 9hr flight?

As I sit down, my inward giggles turn into audible laughter. I can’t help it! I’m so happy! A lady across the isle glances at the strange, smelly Dominican with fuzzy hair laughing to herself, and it makes me laugh harder. I begin to thank God for sparing me the trouble of missing the flight. For keeping me safe through the year. For the hearts of those who give and give and give without complaint. For allowing me to live with the wonderful family that will always be a part of my heart. For the friends I’ve made and for the life I have. For everything.

As I settle down, two lovely sisters, Carmen and Lisa, sit next to me. We begin to talk and I share my crazy story. We laugh. I then remember that in my rush, I failed to take air-sickness medicine. Carmen just-so-happens to have some. The plane begins to gain speed, and we soar off the ground. I look out the window, and it hits me.... it’s been a year. I am on a plane home. I made it. God brought me thus far. I have a family on the ground who sacrificed so much to make sure I made it safe, and a new family awaiting my return.

The emotion of this and the knowledge and experience of grace manifests itself in tears. The twinkling lights of the city below me begin to blur, and I feel a lump in my throat.

“Josmery, here’s a candy to help keep your ears from popping,” Lisa says. I smile.

What a year.

Madre

When I was born, there you were. I clung so tight, I didn't know what else to do.

When I could talk, there you were. I babbled on and on, but you drank in every word.

When I began to walk, I had two left feet. I dawdled and ran too fast and fell many times. You were always there to guide me.

When I began to read, my imagination exploded. I interrupted your day with a hundred crazy ideas, but you never made me feel stupid. You listened intently and encouraged me to dream.

When I had that assignment in class, I freaked out. I had to dress up as BENJAMIN FRANKLIN! I had no clue what to do. But you were there, and you gave me your silk shirt and helped me look the part. I got an A.

When I fell in love with music, I sang so many wrong notes. I cracked, I squealed, and I thought I was so good. You told me I had the most beautiful voice in the world.

When I felt like an outsider at school, I would cry. I hated everyone. I hated you for letting me be me and not like everyone else. You took the blows and said nothing, silently loving.

When I thought I had found what I wanted, I was lying to myself. I lied to you, to friends. I made so many mistakes. You gave me the space I needed without leaving me completely, no matter how hard it was for you to see me suffer.

When I graduated and went to college, I chose to study music. You supported me without question and never asked me what everyone else does... "how will you make a living?"

When I gave my heart to Christ, I finally saw reality for the first time. You were awed by the change in my life, and you too gave glory to God.

When I fell in love, my focus shifted. I no longer called you first about everything, no longer told you my deepest secrets. You smiled through tear-blurred eyes and prayed for us.


Mom...

I'm still clinging to you. I love you.
I love telling you stories. I love you.
I will walk in your steps. I love you.
I still dream because of you. I love you.
I have an education because of you. (I'm ready to be done with school!!!) I love you.
You are still "the wind beneath my wings"... I love you.
I've learned to bridle my tongue, that words are diamonds. I love you.
I'm still growing and learning, thanks to you. I love you.
I will always remember your voice singing me to sleep. I love you.
I know Christ, in part, because of your faithfulness. I love you.
I am so proud to have you give me away next year (God willing!!). I love you.

Happy Mother's Day

New Twist

For some time now, I have been focusing on what I do not have.

I am not home, with all the friends and loved ones I hold dear.
I am not with my fiance, and because of that I do not have the joy of feeling his touch or looking into his eyes or laughing with him.
I do not have hugs from him.
I do not have the ability to enjoy my mom's new house, nor to help her keep her new little garden.
I  can't spend time with my sister and encourage her.
I am not home.

For this slight and momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.


Paul is talking about the physical suffering and persecution they endured for Christ's sake, especially death. Yet, suffering is not only physical, but emotional as well. I know that being here in Australia is and has shaped my character tremendously. It teaches me to rely on God alone. And it helps me to appreciate blessings in disguise.

I have lived in two lovely homes and become a small part of two amazing families.

I have the privilege of using Skype and Gmail to communicate with my beloved in a way that is far more satisfying than scripted letters alone. I am learning to speak a new love language outside of physical touch.

I get to hug my new friends and "family"!

I have the honor to help out around the house and enjoy another's blessing of a beautiful home, garden and so much more.

I  have experienced being a "big sister" and have fallen in love with two beautiful, smiling gifts from God.

I am in Australia!

...we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

I hope in God's promises, because God is the only thing that is sure. I am fickle, and this life is so short. I am here to be made more like Christ.  

None of this really matters, in the end. My reputation, my "achievements", my engagement to Brian. It is all vanity, if the goal is not God's glory.

He must increase, and I must decrease.

Expectations and Canvas

Everyone has expectations. I believe they are wonderful to have, for they keep us all "in line" with ourselves. They're the unseen code. Most of our adult behavior is defined by what we learn as youngsters, by what is expected of us. I still hear my mother's voice echoing in my ear every time I walk into my room and see that I haven't kept it tidy... "Clean your room, Josmery." Especially true in this area is when I first wake up and actually get out of bed. "Make your bed before you do anything else, and you won't have to worry about it later."

Some things take years to stick. :)

But what about when your desires begin to change? What about fulfilling the duties you once completely believed in but, with time, have come to see they in themselves are no longer what you truly desire?

I want to paint the canvas. I used to think the best way I could paint was by using this one set of brushes, yet I have grown to see that a completely different Brush makes far better strokes. It is THE brush. It was made for painting. It is the paint.

Some people expect me to continue with the first set of brushes.

I know what I want.

I have heard it said, "It doesn't matter what brush you use, as long as you paint. So continue with the first set."

I want to ask, "Then what is the issue with me using the best Brush? Please try it. You will see the difference."

But some people cannot see the colors.

Father

I don't know how to say this,

Don't know if you'd believe.

But somewhere 'neath this carcass I still desire to see

You. came and went like breezes, empty,

Where no caress was felt.

And now you're back into my life, the one that nearly fell

Apart. from all the lies you've told,

And all the rancid acts,

Apart from all of "could have beens", I know this is a fact

Of life. there is no limit

For He has conquered death.

It is His love that I can give, because in me's His breath.

Of what use is it to focus on what I do not have? On what wrong has been done? Can I alter anything but my own actions? Can I take a magical eraser and make it all go away? No.

Ask yourself: would you choose to have the hope of joy, or not know what joy is at all?

Me? I choose to hope.

Update #Whatever

*voice of Shirley Temple*  Oh, my goodness, oh, my goodness!!

Life has taken too many shots of caffeine and I can't seem to catch up!

Yet, I have had such fantastically wonderful experiences of late, that I kind of don't want to! I just returned from camping with the Becketts at the Wombian Caves. It was sooo fun! I did real exercise for four days straight! I know, I know... amazing. Mind you, there are many funny stories to be told with said trip, but you'll just have to wait until I see you in person.

I finally finished choosing my rep. for this semester (something I should have done 1 mo. ago), and I have to say, I think it's pretty good! I look forward to seeing what my teacher says about my choices. I'm so glad to have had Ms. Greschner for 4 years, with a wicked knowledge of repertoire and literature to help choose it!

A lot is going well, really well. But my heart longs to go home. I'm counting the days! Let's face it. I was at a different point in my life two years ago, when I first applied for this scholarship. Now, I want to settle down and cuddle with Brian for the rest of my life.

Sigh... it's just one of those nights where I really miss him. It's been one of those nights for a looong time...

Needed Reminders from Romans 12

Bless those who persecute you. Bless and do not curse them.

Live in harmony with one another.

Never be wise in your own sight.

Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all.

If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

Worth the Hour

Jamberoo, Woo Hoo!

I find myself in places and situations that are so far removed from reality that I think, "Am I real? Did I faint along the way and now I'm just having a crazy dream?"

I'm in Jamberoo, NSW, where I have just entertained a group of goodwilled guests who donated money to Rotary's charity funds.

If you could see this place!! (I'll post pictures later) I literally feel like I'm in a Jane Austen novel. I have come to a friend's estate to entertain guests, and I am surrounded by rolling hills, misty mountains and beautiful flora and fauna.

I was blessed to have a fantastic accompanist, David Vance, who tickled the ivories while I sang well-loved tunes and lesser-known, yet equally lovely, art songs. It's been a while since I've traveled to that "special zone" that I reach when I'm really entrenched in a performance, yet I got there today. It was during Samuel Barber's The Crucifixion. Ah! I just love that piece. It gives me chills every time.

I am so grateful for my voice. It's interesting. Ever since I decided that pursuing an opera career in itself was NOT what I wanted (this developed just a few months ago), I've dived into music like never before. I think the reason for this is because I no longer have this weight on my shoulders of needing to prove to anyone that I can do it. I don't care anymore. I just want to do what God wants me to do. And I love to sing. Somehow, the two are mixing, binding and fusing together to create a solid vision...a calling. I still can't see it very clearly, but I can sense it's there. My "giving up" the opera dream has helped it materialize. Now it's just a matter of taking another step towards the now-hazy vision.

For now, I see in a mirror dimly, but then, face to face...

Nerds Rock

Well, I finally had my "first day of school" this semester! The night of, I was tossing and turning like a five year-old ready for the first day of kinder-year. Ha!

I am taking two pedagogy classes, the first of which is Principles of Studio. The class is mainly online-learning, but we discuss a lot of stuff in class. My teacher, Dr. James Renwick, is really funny and very passionate about what he does. YES! There is nothing worse than taking a course from a teacher who feels obligated to be there.

My second class is Methods of Teaching 1, with Dr. Rowena Cowley. In this class, I will be learning about teaching solely vocal students--YES! The class is tomorrow. Yipee!!

Lastly, I'm taking from a new teacher, Anke, which happens to be Barry's wife. She is a fantastic teacher! Some things I'm like, "huh?" (i.e. she forces me down into a weird squatting position while singing, trying to get me to feel..I'm not sure exactly what lol), but for the most part, I feel like I'm already improving! Plus, I'm doing Strauss lieder, and the fact that she's German helps out tremendously! Get it from the horse's mouth, I say!

Ah, I love school. :D

Change is Inevitable

Big update: I have moved out of my host counselor's home and into a new one! John and his family were very kind to let me stay with them so long! Ha ha... I was very blessed to have them in my life. For sure.

Story goes: I sang for a women's Gingerbread House-Making Night last semester, and a lady named Karen Becket was there. She inquired of my friend (also my pastor's wife), Margie, who I was and whether I needed a place to stay. At the time, everything was working out fine, so I didn't take her up on her offer.

Well, this semester, money became extremely tight. As in, in the negatives, tight. So I called Karen up and she and her family invited me to stay with them for the rest of the semester! They looked forward to having an "older individual from a different culture" around for the sake of their two girls, knowing it would be a good experience for them. Antonia, 9, is a character and just an all-around cool kid. Natlie, 13, is a lovely young lady with a somewhat mysterious beauty. If you ask me, it seems I'm the one benefitting! Karen and her hubby, Brendan, are hard workers with generous hearts. I look forward to the coming months!

I am also in a new curriculum at school. Instead of two ensemble classes (a class where I'm in a group of musicians whom I have no real choice to be with and we put on a concert), I am taking two pedagogy (how to teach) courses. I am sooo excited!! A bit uncertain about all the writing I'll have to do, but besides that, I'm stoked!

I finally posted videos on YouTube of me singing. They aren't really me in the act of singing, but just my voice. Same audio as the links I posted here on my blog, but now there's a picture of my face you can stare at too. :D

Please visit! Josmery's YouTube

A few not-so-good things have arisen as well, things that I have no real control over -- but what DO we control, in truth, anyway? I'm learning not to be anxious for ANYTHING, but to trust God and ask Him to help me out of the worry. One day at a time.

Life.

LV

I just got my Valentine's present in the mail today :)

I love you...

Short Vent

Sometimes I feel like Jekyl and Hyde. Or however you spell their names.

So many icky, sticky, fickle pickles of animosity lie beneath this lovely exterior, I surprise myself. Kind of.

So why rage? Why growl? Why wail at the moon when you know your real identity is hidden in lovely Love?

Oh, to tear off this dead carcass and be free of the struggle forevermore!! Let it come...

Thank Goodness for DVD Friends

I despise when people complain about something when they have so much to be grateful for. So I had purposed to be completely 100% satisfied with being away from my fiance on a day that, in reality, is only important because Western culture says it is.

But, alas, I am a hypocrite in many ways, many times. What can I say? I'm human. I miss him. And I couldn't help but feel bitter and envious of all my friends today, hand-in-hand with their husbands. *pout* I want to make cookies!! And dance to romantic music by candlelight. And watch sappy movies. And knit a sweater. Okay, okay...the sweater thing is a bit far, but can ya blame me? I grew up watching reruns of Happy Days.

So, to lessen the ache of being o-so-lonesome, I picked up on Season 4 of Gilmore Girls. Don't have Season 3, so I skipped a lot, but, I'm desperate. Oh, Gilmore Girls. You always seem to keep me company in the hardest of times. I love you. :D

Rain

Do you like rainstorms? I love 'em. I get all squiggly inside when I feel the suspense before a downpour. Like when you're at the top of a roller-coaster, and you're weightless for a split second...except with a storm, all of creation is weightless for however long it takes the clouds to come, billowing and raging.

I couldn't fall asleep the other night, and decided to observe the rain instead. Crawling to the window, I looked and allowed my eyes to adjust to the unaccustomed darkness. Everything was gray and a very dark, dark green. The light from surrounding houses cut through the trees, giving the "ray" effect you see when walking through a forest. But the light was silver, drenched with newness.

I love the trees in Sydney. They are soooo BIG!! I gazed at them in the dark, their dusky silhouettes lurching in the breeze. It was a bit scary...

Such a tall, proud thing, with roots deep in the soil, its arms reaching towards the heavens! Yet for all its strength, it was being whipped around, forced to bend, forced to move along with the wind and the rain.

I thought about my life. I ask God to grow me, to shape me, to teach me to love. To renew my mind, to refresh my spirit. And He does. Sometimes, it is an unassuming mist of love. A comfort that surrounds and seeps into my skin. Other times, it is a kind, gentle sprinkle, each raindrop a whisper of promises. Yet, in other cases, it is a storm. It is an arch-my-back-lest-I-break wind. A power that calls me to bend, to humble myself and acknowledge that I am not in charge. And yet, all the while, the rain pours. It hits every nerve, it bleeds into every crack of me. And with it, comes life. With it, comes a strength to persevere amidst the turmoil.

After the storm, the dead leaves that were once caught in a tree are swept away. Dead branches tear off. Withered leaves disappear, allowing the new fruits to prosper. And the rain sinks deep, deep into the roots, allowing the tree to grow and provide shade, food and shelter to so many creatures.

The first verse of one of my favorite songs, How He Loves, says:

He is jealous for me

Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree

Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy

When all of a sudden, I am unaware

Of these afflictions eclipsed by glory

And I realize just how beautiful You are

And how great Your affections are for me

He loves. Oh, how He loves! I hope you can see how God loves you. It never makes sense while we're in the storm. Only hindsight provides us a clearer answer to "why". And sometimes, not even then. But God says He is good and that He will never stop doing us good (Jeremiah 32:40). He promises that. That's all we need to cling to, to dig our roots into.

I suppose the soil is important as well, since a tree that is not well-rooted can easily be ripped up. But that's a whole 'nother analogy... :)

Money "Matters" (but shouldn't)

A few days ago I went wedding dress shopping. I don't know why, but I feel very vulnerable when walking into a store where one item costs more than I can make in a month. The main displays hung on headless mannequins mock me while I peruse their cheaper, forgotten counterparts. Yet buried beneath layers of chiffon, lace, silk and other materials dubbed "feminine", there are dresses that are quite lovely. Did I purchase anything? No. But I did find a couple that I looked very pretty in. I'm not being arrogant, just truthful :D

Who began the wedding gown phenomena? I'm convinced it's another consequence of the Fall, how things are today when buying a wedding dress. That must be it! Dresses were intended to be affordable, every style perfectly fitted to every body type, and shopping for a dress was never meant to take more than one hour. Ha! I wish...

But, even if I found "the dress" today or tomorrow or whenever, I wouldn't be able to afford it. Not because I don't have the money, mind you (technically), but because I don't have the money.

"Huh? Did she just contradict herself?"

No. I'm simply describing my current predicament. This is the first time in my life I have experienced the effects of America's changing economy directly, and I must say, NO BUENO!

When looking at living expenses for Sydney, I knew I would need to raise some "extra" funds from friends and family back home in order to make ends meet. Well, the response was more than enough to make ends meet!...so I thought. I never took into account the issue of the USD dropping so significantly in value, but, OUCH! It's amazing that just a few cents can make such a difference!!

So I began studying the "wanted" ads in the local paper lately. There is a shocking need for accountants and real-estate agents in Northern Sydney! Too bad I have no skills in either area! Haha

*sigh* It will all work out, I know it. Just kinda stinks to realize that my dress-shopping was in vain, since I'm not even sure how I'll get a ticket back home!

So...who needs a vocalist with wicked photo-editing/graphics design skills? Someone told me I was a good writer. Journalist? Editor? Toilet-cleaner? Anyone? Anyone?

BAM!

I was recently pleasantly challenged by a message focused on Psalm 69. The question asked was, "Are you finding yourself 'backing down' when you face spiritual oppression? Do you think, 'it will just be easier if I'm not so passionate'?"

Boy, have I ever!

I've discovered there's a fine line between being passionate about something and being dumb. Haha! Consider: When Emeril Lagasse cooks, boy, does he excited! Here is a clip of him doing his thing. His famous catch phrases are "bam!" and "kick it up a notch". Now, I think it's great. I get pumped when Emeril BAM!'s his way through lunch. But then, it got to be too much. They used him for a Crest Toothpaste commercial, and it was just....yeah. Unnecessary.

I have seen that my passion for Christ is very much the same. Now, I must give a forewarning that I am NOT saying anyone could ever have too much excitement for Christ. Ever! What I'm saying is that the passion for the Lord should be placed in the Lord, not in anything else. Like Emeril...his BAM should be in cooking. Not toothpaste.

Looking back on my time here in AU so far, I have to say that my passion for Christ, though unbeknownst to me at the beginning, was seeping into the cracks of other things. Self-praise. Pride. The fear of being an outcast. I was driven more by the desire to "prove I'm right" than by a genuine love for people and for them to come to know Christ. Big mistake.

But, thankfully, I see that God's not given up on me. His grace is enough!

No mistake is too big for God. He always turns our bad into His good. Always.

So, Emeril's show may not be as popular anymore, but he still has a restaurant that's booming. I may not have glorified Christ to the best of my ability in every circumstance, but I'm still here, and He's still using me. I see it. And boy, am I humbled by it.

What's wonderful about God is that no matter how little faith we have in Him being able to create good from our shortcomings, He never even blinks at "trials". He already sees the solution. And He revealed it to us two-thousand years ago on a wooden cross. Now, that is well-placed passion.

I Have a Personal Chef

It's as easy as pie, really.

Perfection will come, like the rise of the sun

Blinding illumination.

I am called to be perfect.

It's as easy as pie, really.

No greater love than to die, pour the blood

Crimson stains cleanse.

I am called to die.

It's as easy as pie, really.

As far East is from West, no grudge is possessed

Love isn't bitter.

I am called to forgive.

It's as easy as pie, really.

Pressing on towards the goal, no matter the toll

Bread reigns in deserts.

I am called to persevere.

It's as easy as pie, really.

But God knows I can't cook.

Fresh Start

At times one discovers they are dream-walking. You can almost step back from your body, observe the situation at hand and think, "This is my life? How did I get here? Is this real?"

I've had that happen many times these past few weeks! A Christmas without my family has left me remembering all the times I used to wish I had something else to do than spend the holidays with them--was that really me? Did I really think those horrid thoughts about my own flesh and blood?

I spent the holiday season with the D's and their family in Melbourne. It was a fantastic Christmas present :D I was often at table with three generations of Italian heritage. There they were... Immigrants from long ago, who worked and sacrificed most of their lives to bring their children better opportunities. Their children, now grown, having experienced similar circumstances, yet with far more "freedom" than their parents had been offered. And then, my generation, reaping the benefits of both and wishing to burn a path of their own making.

Each one thinks the other could do things better. It's so interesting, when I sit back and observe a situation, instead of jumping in and trying to "fix" things. It's a dangerous thing when the first words out of your mouth are, "Well, I think..."

I never knew my grandparents. My grandmother passed away when I was five or six, so the "age-old-wisdom" of my ancestors is pretty much gone. It was wonderful hearing another's take on life and how to live. Such passion, in the Italian family! Nothing is said without much conviction. A simple reference to the weather can make one feel as if the question of whether it's "cloudy" or "partly-cloudy" is a life-and-death situation. Reminds me some of my own family. :D

We are all just trying to make it, trying to show each other what works and what doesn't.

I'll curb the stories of Melbourne for the one I truly wish to write of. On January 1, Brian David Mulvahill came to Sydney! He brought with him all the joy and positiveness that makes him him. *sigh* He makes everything better. I mean, Sydney's beautiful, but with Brian, it's gorgeous! I accomplished more sight-seeing with Brian than I have all by myself! Sad, but true.

On the day before he left (Tuesday, January 12, 2010), he and I had a wonderful time enjoying one another's company. Most of his stay's agenda had been arranged by both of us, but Tuesday was his especially. That evening, he took me to a restaurant at the edge of the harbour, called Sails. I have never tasted such fantastic food!!!!!! Exquisite. Then, we began to walk along the water, through a tiny park. I wondered at his knowledge of the area (he has a not-too-good sense of direction), but felt safe and happy. We walked up the stone steps and looked at the view, the wind blowing cooly, the night sky winking with distant stars. He held me, whispering beautiful words meant only for me. Then, he said my name in the most loving way I'd ever heard it spoken: "Josmery, (bends down on one knee) will you marry me?"

The rest is a blur of tears, laughter, questions, encouragement and above all, grace. I had the notion, the hope, that he would propose, but...it actually HAPPENED!!

I stepped back from myself and looked. Was this my life? How in the world did I end up in Sydney, Australia with the most wonderful man in existence asking for MY hand in marriage?

Grace. Grace!!! I am the future Ms. Brian Mulvahill. Josmery Mulvahill... (still gotta get used to that haha)

A new year, a new life. Something I've learned is that looking towards the future is great, but the danger is that you overlook what's going on now. When I was young, I looked so forward to being "grown-up". I didn't relish my childhood as much. I am now looking very much forward to returning and being with my beloved and all my loved ones! But I don't want to miss what God's placed right in front of me now. Live for today! That's all we can do.

I leave with words of great joy...

Isaiah 61:10-11

I will rejoice greatly in the Lord! My soul will exult in my God, for He has clothed me in garments of salvation. He has wrapped me with a robe of righteousness as a bridegroom decks himself with garland, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. For as the earth brings forth its sprouts, and as a garden causes the things sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.

Reflections

What an emotionally mixed-up last few days!

I've heard it said that "getting control over one's emotions" is something we should strive for--an emblem of true maturity, in a sense.

I would agree, to some extent. However, I find it excruciating to force myself to appear one way when I'm clearly not. Of course, certain times call for composure. I try not to lose my composure, but, more often than not, I fail. I've been told many a time that I wear my heart on my sleeve. It gets me into trouble. But, sometimes, I think it's HEALTHY to show our emotions. To say, "Here I am world, I am alive, and I feel!!"

I just discovered a few days ago that my friend Seye's (pronounced shay) mother passed away. Seye is also an Ambassadorial Scholar here in AU. He's from Nigeria and is a Neurologist. I've grown quite fond of him, as he reminds me of a lot of my close friends back at home, all rolled into one. I feel so, for him and his family. I'm glad God doesn't mind us asking "why, God?"...

Then, completely on the flip-side of my emotion-o-meter, I got to sit with friends and be in awe of a fantastic performance of Wicked. It was sooo good. No, great!

I can't help but feel somewhat guilty for having a good time while my friend was on his way back home to grieve the loss of the woman who gave him life. I feel even stranger just typing about it...

What makes us keep going? What gives us the ability to not be consumed by every grievance in this world, and to smile? Sometimes it's selfishness. We're too self-absorbed to have any real empathy. Sometimes it's detachment. I've no personal acquaintances with those across the seas, so it's hard to understand what war must be like. Many times, though, for me, I know it's God. He keeps me going. This battered, beaten ol' carcass of a woman. He uses me. *shakes head* Hard to believe, isn't it?

"To love your brother as yourself", then, is quite a serious business. Do we cry for one another? Do we comfort? Not just a sad, "I'll keep you in my prayers", but a real, step-out-of-the-comfort-zone sacrifice?

I want to do that more. I need to do that more.

I'm such a selfish creature. Since I came out of my mother's womb, I've been crying for things my way! Love never takes...it gives. And gives. And gives.

God, help me love.