Painting Pictures of Egypt

I don’t want to leave here
I don’t want to stay
It feels like pinching to me either way
The places I long for the most
Are the places where I’ve been
They are calling after me like a long lost friend

—Sara Groves, “Painting Pictures of Egypt

I recently moved to a new home. A house. My husband and I are first-time homeowners. I have 2 kids now. A lot has changed. I was in our apartment since I first moved to Pennsylvania in 2006. We moved to our new home in December 2019. 13 years there. 13 whole years. That’s over a decade and time to plant yourself somewhere. Especially for renting.

Now I’m in my new home—house—I miss my apartment. I miss the memories. I miss the familiarity. I miss the convenience. I lived right across the street from the train station, was near a nice library, and around the block from good friends. Everything was in walking distance with access to various restaurants. It was a walkable town. It felt more like the suburbs of Long Island in which I grew up.

Continue reading “Painting Pictures of Egypt”

On Church and Cousins

I’m moving forward in trying a new church. It’s an English-speaking Korean church (ESKC) that meets about a 5-minute drive from my home and (I know this is so VAIN) has air conditioning. It’s still a part of my current denomination.

It’s got a mix of Asian (not all of them are Korean) and white members, which thrills me because I’ve bemoaned the lack of diversity at my home church for some time now. I’m tentatively moving forward in becoming more involved with the church: joining up with a softball league for July, joining community groups for Bible study, and just plain looking forward to the way God will work in that church. Maybe it will be some time before we become members. Maybe it won’t. Maybe we’ll never become members. But I’m willing to step out in faith and take the risk of making new connections. And making new connections is always messy because we are all sinful people, belief in Christ or not, and we hurt each other, sometimes far more than we ever know.

As I think about attending this ESKC, I recognize, perhaps a bit more acutely, my issues with my home church. Some of the issues are a matter of preference and the blame lies with me; the other issues aren’t sin issues but rather a culture of the church that has come to frustrate me over time.

  • The congregational singing. This isn’t the product of the song selections by the choir director at my home church, in fact, I love them! (Reason why I know and love Getty music.) I’m frustrated by the most drab and monotone way the church sings the song selections. They sing it in the way that I remember hating at Catholic Churches when I was kid: dull and lifeless. My husband would argue that it’s because the organ makes everything sound dismal, but I can’t think of a better accompaniment to “A Mighty Fortress” or any other Luther hymn. At ESKC, while the song selections tend to be more of a contemporary nature (I can’t stand this “Majesty” song), the performance is done on a low-key level with a variety of instruments (bongo drum!) that isn’t boring but provides to a quiet, worshipful atmosphere. (As opposed to simply a “worshipful” atmosphere with a loud band.)
  • The cold church culture. This is something that has always been an issue but I either failed to recognize it or purposely chose to overlook it in an attempt to become rapidly engaged with a church when I first moved to Pennsylvania. From the moment I stumbled in as a new visitor (perhaps rudely because it was unannounced), I failed to realize that people are polite and welcoming but certainly not warm. Maybe the warmth I’m looking for will never be found this side of heaven. Or maybe I can lower my expectations and not expect group hugs with tears at the end of every community group. (Just joking. I really don’t expect that.) I don’t expect every community group session to full of openness and bare feelings. But I’d like that sometimes. I’d like to know people don’t always want to hide their imperfections. I want to know that Christians aren’t afraid of showing they don’t have it all together. (A friend who was a longtime member of my home church and just recently joined the ESKC as members really talks a good game about the church and the community group. I’m putting her to the test.) My home church isn’t bad, unbiblical, or even awful. It’s right for some people, and perhaps, since it has grown over the course of 2 years without a pastor, it has grown in a vein that I don’t think I am a part of any longer. I have attempted to change the cold culture by taking a risk and being more open, and I know some people have too, but in the end, many congregants of the church prefer to retreat to their sections of privacy and keep their Christianity as well-polished vases for display on Sundays. I’ve attended the church since Fall 2006 and joined in April 2007. After four years, I believe we’ve grown away from my home church, which saddens me. Some people are okay with the imperfections. Some people don’t expect more from the Bride. I think it’s possible this side of heaven. Call me an idealist.
  • Emphasis on doctrine—the right syllable. My home church is strong—excels really—in the area of Reformed theology. There’s no i that hasn’t been dotted and no t (or f, for that matter) that hasn’t been crossed. If you want to learn more about Reformed theology in an in-depth manner and live in the Philadelphia ‘burbs, my home church would be fantastic for you. But as one friend (who also recently left my home church for another) put it, “they teach doctrine without love.” I’ve bemoaned the lack of emphasis on practical Christian teaching (taking what we know from the Bible and putting it into practice in our lives) in our community groups. (The pastor does a fine job.) I have walked away from Bible studies saddened and discouraged because I feel as though I’ve gained a lot of head knowledge and nothing useful to equip me with the tools to live out an effective life for Christ. An IKEA instruction manual is useless (more so than normal) if you don’t have the tools to carry it out.
  • Church growth. This is really an issue that I take full responsibility for. When I joined my home church, it was a smaller church of about 100-150 people. It’s grown to about 200+, making me feel a bit lost in the crowd. While church growth is important to the life and vitality of a church, I don’t really handle it well. This is an area I need to work on.
  • Disagreement in practice of keeping young children in the entire service. We don’t have kids yet, but we don’t foresee a change in this practice at our home church any time soon. Children 5 years and older are required to sit through the adult service; we disagree with this practice and feel that it is a waste of valuable time that could better be used in a children’s service. If we weren’t looking for another church now, it would happen in the next couple of years over this (provided we have children).

Those are a few issues I have, the biggest problem probably exemplified by the large paragraph I devoted to it. The ESKC won’t fix all of these things nor do I expect it to. The ESKC won’t be perfect. I will find things that I don’t like about the church. (In fact, I need to before I become a member so I’m not stuck in this position again five years from now!) But it’s a matter of priorities, and while a Bible-based church is first and foremost, I want a warmer church culture where the congregants can grow with one another. Whether that will happen at the ESKC will remain to be seen.


Cousins. I’ve written about them previously. Specifically the ones on my dad’s side. My friend who recently lost her father (to leukemia) is friends with a girl who runs in the same circle as my father’s family. My friend kindly told me in not so many words that the mutual friend said “they’re not very nice people” and that “they gossip and talk about each other behind their backs.”

Well, that answers that. I don’t need that drama. I’ll only make an effort for my mom now, especially since I realize they don’t care nor respect the connection we have through my father. (That’s fine.) When my mom moves down here or if she passes on (God forbid!), I’m not going to any of their events any longer. If I have any one major pet peeve, it’s being two-faced. If you don’t give a crap about me, don’t pretend you do. Just do your thing: say you’re busy if I want to come over, say you’re occupied—tell me this enough times, I get the hint. Our lives are too short to be wasting time on people we could care less about. Don’t waste my time; I won’t waste yours.

All Things New

Image from etsy-vintage.blogspot.com

Well, not all things are new. I just couldn’t come up with a better title.

The next two months will be busy. I will be doing things I don’t normally do. I am editing a short non-fiction book. I will be visiting friends along the East Coast. I will be traveling to a wedding in Florida. I have signed up for a summer softball league.

In August, I will be working at the library as usual and staying at home. Maybe forging ahead with that novel that burns a hole in my heart. It has not been forgotten.

What also hasn’t been forgotten is that mid-August to early October are always difficult months for me. Then I get another whammy in December. This year will mark the 10th anniversary of my father’s passing. A thin, flimsy layer of skin stretches across the hole that his death leaves in my heart, but the hole is still there. I think of him often. I guess a girl with a good dad never gets over his death.

I will be doing other challenging things that won’t be mentioned here, and whatever way it works out, it will bring some joy and grief to some extent. (A very cryptic statement, but that’s ok.)

The more I consider my personality, the more I realize I am a rather finicky, flighty sort of girl. I dabble in one thing, lose interest, and then jump into another. It’s the reason I read 10 or more books at one time.

It’s also the reason why I believe Jesus Christ is real. Thirteen years, and I haven’t given him up yet. (Or rather, he hasn’t given me up yet.) I haven’t given up my husband either, but I’m pretty loyal to people I know. (Whether he gives me up remains to be seen.) 😉

Well, maybe not all things are new. Sometimes, some old things should be appreciated for the value and worth they hold.

Changes: clarification

My most recent post on changes wasn’t about my friend and her baby so much as it was about using a recent example to highlight my difficulty with change. Namely change in stages of life. I’m a writer but sometimes I don’t write things so well.

To continue with the thought though—at the risk of totally botching this up, I wonder how I’d handle the transition to having a child of my own. I’m not pregnant or anything but I think about having a tiny, little life of my own and I wonder how much more would I be near the epicenter of my own earthquake. I like the idea of kids but am not sure that I’d do so well with them in reality. And then that puts me in a stage of life far beyond my New York friends and if I’m honest, that’s the last thing I want to do because then I wonder if that would be the final break, the final straw in us not being able to relate to one another at all.

I read a quote somewhere, might have even been T. D. Jakes in Essence magazine but he said that some people come into your life for a season and when that season ends, God takes them away. It’s not that they’re bad or you’re bad, it’s just that the season is over and it’s time to part ways.

Thinking about that always made me sad because I lament the loss of friendships all the time.

I feel sad that I never kept in touch with Tara, my best friend in kindergarten. I feel sad that a girl I once considered my best friend in elementary school decided to betray me by kissing the boy I’d hopelessly become infatuated with and prank calling me to tell me I was a lesbian. (*69 was a Godsend at the time.) I also feel sad that i lost touch with a girl who was an amazing friend and no-nonsense in my freshman year of high school. And how many more friendships have I lost or missed out on through my college years? Too numerous to count.

I suppose I’m focusing on the relational aspect of change. But I don’t do so well with moving away from places outside of New York although I’m doing all right just outside Philly in Pennsylvania. Since I’m typing this on my iTouch, I’ll leave the subject as it stands now and maybe elaborate on this post with different aspects of my life in which I have trouble adapting to change.

Leaving New York was really a BIG one. But NY became an idol so there’s more to the story.

Turn and face the strain: changes

I don’t deal with change so well. I don’t deal with hope so well either so we’ll leave any discussions of Obama’s marketing slogan for the 2008 presidential election for another day.

Change is hard for me. My husband’s most frequent comment to me is that I live in the past. He’s right; I’ll readily acknowledge that I do. Especially for someone who insists on planning for the future.

When it comes to friendships, change is especially hard for me. The changes that occurred in my friendship after I made the transition from being a single woman to a married woman were difficult. My friends were no longer first in my life; my husband now was—and that’s how it had to be from that point on.

This grieved me incredibly. I’m sure it grieved them more. Not only did I get married but I left New York state soon after to move hundreds of miles away to Kentucky. They probably felt as though I’d left them behind. And I must acknowledge that I did.

Now, I have a close friend who has just given birth to a beautiful baby girl. I am happy for her. But as I visited her and her husband today, their main attentions centered around this tiny, helpless life who needed care and attentiveness. It was then that I experienced what my single friends must have felt when I got married: I felt left behind.

My friend and her husband have moved into a new stage of life that includes a child. And today, I felt the sudden shift in our friendship like Californians feel the shift of the earth underneath. We initially became friends at church because we were one of the few young married couples who were still childless. Not that it was a stage of life my friend particularly wanted or liked but it was where she was and it was where I was and it was one of the reasons we were able to become good friends.

I have lots of friends who have children but I suppose I’ve always had a hard time relating to them because they’re moms and I’m not and I hate bugging them because their children are their first priorities. And I’ve never seen this particular friend that way but with her new daughter, that’s where our friendship is headed. And I’m sad and I grieve a bit because even though we’ll still be friends, our friendship will never be the same.

My heart now sincerely goes out to my single friends who lost me to a husband. I understand how they feel now.