Yes, The Year of the Lord's Favor

Isaiah 61:1-4

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,

to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,

and provide for those who grieve in Zion--
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor.

They will rebuild the ancient ruins
and restore the places long
devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
that have been devastated for
generations.

XX Trip to America XX

I decided to risk a rejection and apply for a visitor's visa to the US. It's worth it to me to try to see Katie get married in July. Cross my fingers, pray to God, I am hoping to be interviewed by someone who will see that I'm no fraud trying to squeeze my way into the pool of "illegal aliens."

So if all goes well, I will be involved with the wedding July 21st-28th, then after that, for about 3 weeks, I'm considering taking a roadtrip across the country starting in CA. I haven't made any decisions regarding my destination points or budget, but my two goals for the trip are to reconnect with old friends and make an art tour out of it. Some states I'm considering are...OR, WA, CA, CO, TX, IL, IN, FL, DC, and NY. So I'll be in touch with some of you to see if I can crash at your place;);)...I'd love to see you!!!

Lots of planning to do...if you're familiar with roadtrip planning, I'd gladly take some wisdom from you!

Chastisement

I'll call him Sam, a student of mine. Last night, while matching antonyms to words from a novel, Sam kept whining that he couldn't concentrate. Finally, I asked him what was on his mind. He was going to be chastised (one of the words we were learning) today in school by his teacher. Apparently, she had asked him a question and because he didn't hear her the first time he turned to his classmate sitting next to him and asked, "뭐래?" (What did she say?). Teacher thought he had failed to use the polite version of the question, and she told him that he would be punished today. The punishment would take form in one of two ways. He would either be asked to join 30 other delinquents in doing one thousand and six hundred squats (bending the knees down and up) or wearing a sunflower in his hair and SKIPPING in and out of all the classrooms. After my laughing fit, I told him that she was probably just threatening him so he would pay attention to her for the rest of the day. But like him, I'm not so sure...these Korean teachers carry bizarre philosophies and methods for classroom control. I'll just have to wait and see if Sam comes into the academy limping or with an orange face from a mixture of yellow sunflowers and red blushing.

sifting

She met him when cuticles didn't hurt anymore and
the world seemed to her a sifted white
of tasted forgiveness. She forgot meetings like these were alive.

And they connected, to her like the weight
of magnet she hardly recognized with her past. Her chest
beat faster than a heart.
A heart still layered, but her scales of tin dropping,
once twice. Until

he pressed her back with his hands of man, melted,
we became shame of falling hair of night. Repeated.
Then she saw her cries muted inside his neck,
you couldn't hear me, behind sweat
dropping on white, white losing color, as
he moved her like that. STOP.
And he left.

Two days, she talked to him with the voice that was
gathered for her by wood nail and blood,
and he told her he felt like shit and
she, inner thighs, calmed because she heard
an apology, not vague as men before
no, he was sorry, deeply grieved, and

I hurt, forgiving, for this time she knew how to
forgive, quickly. A goodbye I could cup and free.

~

The white is still sifted, and she knows
what is
pure,
cuticles, pulled and bleeding with flesh, cut today and washed for healing,
this time with her back,
standing and waving flags. This, she remembered childhood stories of gowns.

Blood wet then dried, peeled and clean. I will remember new.

I'm a driver again

I just got my Korean driver's license. Public transportation is a beautiful thing here but not so convenient at times.

Back to my crazy driving...

Koreans, keep your Korean names please.

We have a new group of kindergarteners that I don't have to teach, thank goodness. During their water break, I asked the name of one of the girls. RABBIT, she said. I almost burst out in laughter. But I just said "REALLY?" ... "REALLY?" ... "REALLY?" like four times.

Oh, another boy's name is SONIC.

Another of Katie's

For you

When it all began a while ago
I first noticed the way your hair fell beneath your shoulders
like a mane of white petals
We traveled places together, and shared water
until there was nothing but blood between us

I've loved you in a way that makes no sense
in a way of snow on tree limbs, falling leaves,
changing winds
Your voice will sing many songs left
to stitch the wounds only you know are there
in the world

By Kathryn Tschabold

Katie's words

A best friend of mine, Katie Tschabold, arranges her life and words in ways that pierce my tear sockets. I just spent a good two hours reading and crying over her new creation, "Leaving the Apiary." I'm posting a couple from the selection. I love this woman, I would not be living so fully without her friendship. I miss you, Katie!

A letter

I try to tell her
the space between you and I is tinier
than her fingernails, or the way she closes her eyes
when sun rises through the window on noon's elbows
Tinier, even, than the teeth she waits for,
patiently, night the same as day, another hour to sleep or
wake for food, my breast, amazement

Earthly things are soil and planting the
question of breakfast, long minutes waiting for coffee
my brewer old and sputtered like a drowning fish
And still I think the space between us is nothing

I've made thousands of cups without you
taken steps, closed my front door, waited for
change, a paycheck, clouds to rain
I've seen rainbows and a man's hunched shoulders, praying
women, none as honest as you were to me
when there was nothing between us
but a door

When you visit
flying over Montana, or Oregon,
alone, or with you own baby,
will you hair be longer than now or short and firm,
closer than your arms are to your sides,
or will they be open and will nothing be between us
the space tiny as it always was
like a child

By Kathryn Tschabold

Time to post some pictures...

at the pusan film festival


passing out christmas presents at the orphanage, Angel House


celebrating the end of winter intensive, some of my students:)

The Mr. Yummy

I meant to post some of these pictures a while back when we had our visit with Yong Jun. I miss him a lot!

I'll be quoting from Madeleine L'Engle a lot...

"Until I tell God what I want, I have no way of knowing whether or not I truly want it. Unless I ask God for something, I do not know whether or not it is something for which I ought to ask, and I cannot add, 'But if this is not your will for me, then your will is what I want, not mine.' The prayers of words cannot be eliminated. And I must pray them daily, whether I feel like praying or not. Otherwise, when God has something to say to me, I will not know how to listen. Until I have worked through self, I will not be enabled to get out of the way."

Madeleine L'Engle, Walking on Water, p. 24.

e. e. cummings...

i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday, this is the brith
day of life and love and wings; and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth
...
now the ears of my ears are awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened