Beginning in Wonder

It's a new day, a new door, and a strange one, I don't know what all to expect. I'm hoping, I've been hoping that this day will come for a long time. School starts in an hour. Yes, yes, it does! Soon, I'll be on campus, a real college campus, as a real college student. I am so happy I'm lost in wonder.

I wonder at both the little things and the big and the paradoxes in between: how the sky opened up to receive the sun, how I can walk without any trace of a limp, how small my Bible feels in my hand, the fact that I'm even holding the very Word of God, how far some dear friends are yet how close their prayers and love have made them to me, and the wind blows through my window, how it makes me feel alive.

So, I start my college adventure now. I thank God for His faithfulness and mercy and love. And I wonder like a child at how great God is. Whatever happens next, He promises it will be glorious.




Two Summer Blessings

This beautiful girl came and visited from TX. She stayed for an entire week (!). We drove down PCH from Malibu, window shopped at Beverly Hills, squished seaweed in Laguna Beach, and saw the sunset at Santa Monica Pier. We watched Inception, and I took her to In-N-Out. We also managed to have gluten-free (GA) and dairy-free (me) meals for most of the week. We had a beautiful time together.

Mom, my two sisters, and I drove for 7 hours to see this lovely friend. We went star-gazing and saw blazing Arcturus through the eye of a telescope. We went up on the deck, and she read aloud by the light of candles. Sunday morning, we sang out of the Cantus and read some more. We had a beautiful time together.


I love these girls :)


Thankful, So Thankful

The test results were negative. :)

Praise God from whom all blessings flow...


The Box Called Tomorrow

The word sits like a hot coal in my mind. It burns through all my defenses. No matter how many boxes I try to put around it, it breaks out and lands right beside me. For right now, I'm putting it in a box called tomorrow, far away from today. Please, stay there.

Rewind two weeks ago: I had gone to USC for a visit with my doctor, and she found a diagnosis - Job's syndrome. It's extraordinarily rare and also incurable, but definitely something that can be controlled. The downside is that it is connected to two forms of cancer. I was tested for one of those two weeks ago. I should get the results tomorrow. That's also the word (cancer) that burns through my mind. I have a ridiculously dramatic imagination.

Today, I found myself jumping every time the phone rings. I check the caller ID - if it's not USC, I put the phone down with a lot less enthusiasm than when I picked it up. It's silly, I know. Then I realized. I just have to laugh it off, hug whatever sibling is closest to me (there's a bunch of them), and go on with life. Let worry keep itself company.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll find out I do have cancer. Or maybe the sky will fall and dragons will populate the earth. My worrying will not change what comes tomorrow. I could spend a lot of time wondering what could happen, but what will happen is ordained by the Lord of the universe. I'm going to rest in that. And with His grace, I'll also take joy in it.

For now, there's a beautiful sunset. Stars will come out. And the Lord was, is, and always shall be faithful, holy, and sovereign over everything. Even that box of "Tomorrow".


These Small Hours

The enormous expanse of blue above enveloped us in strong color. Sticky watermelon juice ran down on faces and through our fingers. We stood in the middle of nowhere. Goodness and mercy stood by our sides. The little one insisted on keeping his sweater on, even though it had to be above 75°.

We laughed and finished half of a watermelon. It was just us three - Dad, youngest brother, and me. Splashed cold water on our faces to erase the memory of the stickiness. Then chased each other with water bottles, making small puddles of mud in the dry dirt.

We climbed back into our small white car. Home was three hours behind us, and rest just four hours ahead. Dad started the car, and we drove on.

Time falls away, but these small hours,
These small hours still remain.


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