Update

Don't worry I am still alive, though my life consists of grading papers and planning lessons. I am still grateful for the blessings that God has generously given!

Feeding the Five Thousand

12 August 2009

When Jesus went ashore, He saw a large crowd, and He felt compassion for them because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and He began to teach them many things.
When it was already quite late, His disciples came to Him and said,
“This place is desolate and it is already quite late; send them away so that they may go into the surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat.”
But He answered them, “You give them something to eat!”
And they said to Him, “Shall we go and spend two hundred denarii on bread and give them something to eat?”
And He said to them, “How many loaves do you have? Go look!”
And when they found out the said, “Five, and two fish.”
And He commanded them all to sit down by groups on the green grass. They sat down in groups of hundreds and of fifties. And He took the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up toward heaven, He blessed the food and broke the loaves and He kept giving them to the disciples to set before them; and He divided up the two fish among them all. They all ate and were satisfied, and they picked up twelve full baskets of the broken pieces, and also of the fish. There five thousand men who ate the loaves.
(Mark 6:34-44)

Jesus’ feeding of the five thousand has become especially relevant and meaningful to me as I feel the effects of the recession. As I pray for God’s perfect provision over the Green house, I find hope and peace in this parable and Jesus’ message: “Don’t worry, I know exactly what you need, and I will provide.”
In the two weeks since my summer teaching contract ended, I found myself searching EDJOIN (the online job posting site for teachers) and applying to any English position I could find. This amounted to two positions, both of which I have not heard back from. Reconciled to the fact that in the fall I would complete my last semester of student teaching in a traditional setting (in a classroom with a master teacher and without pay), Ryan left for New Brunswick, Canada to shoot for Travelscope and promised to plan out our imminently tight budget. Little did we know that God knows our needs and already had made our budget planned out.
On my way in to see my doctor, I received a call from Burbank Unified’s district office. The HR personnel asked if I would like to interview that afternoon for a long-term English teaching position this fall.
“Yes,” I responded with enthusiasm.
Today, I found out I got the position. This fall I will teach English 10, 11, and 11 Honors starting on Monday.

Last night, I could not sleep in anticipation of hearing whether or not I got the job so I caught up on my Bible reading (Ryan and I committed to reading through the Bible this year and have a daily reading plan. I was three days behind in the book of Mark). I turned to Mark chapter 6 and began reading. As I read about Jesus feeding the five thousand, I remembered Beth Moore’s teaching on the parable and how she pointed out that Jesus did not simply give the crowds what they needed, but He:
1. Made them aware of their need.
2. He took what little they had.
3. He placed them in a posture to rest in His provision by commanding them to “sit down.”
4. Then, He gave them more they could ask for or imagine.
(Moore, Beth. Living Beyond Yourself. Nashville: LifeWay Press, 2004.)

God promises to provide for our basic needs and today I want to praise Him for fulfilling that promise to Ryan and I. Not only will I make more in these next three months than I make in a six months, but we will get benefits too. Ryan’s eyes have been bothering him and he asked me to look into an appointment for an eye exam for when he gets back. We do not have eye coverage, but NOW we do! Also, with this increase in income I will not have to take a loan this fall to pay for my last semester of school and we will be able to save lots to go abroad next summer! God knows exactly what we need and He pours out His provision in abundance.

Now, I need your prayers as I begin a new year. I am thrilled and completely terrified.

Julie & Julia

Charming, funny, inspiring. A must see film, especially for women who aren't sure of their purpose in life, but will try anything to find it out.

A colorful and delicious ratatouille crepe paired with a poppy Pinot Noir to follow and hours of savory conversation.

A great date with a long-time friend...

Jog Blog

Last Tuesday, I finished Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo and went on my first run. As I left the house, I called to Ryan in the kitchen, “Going out for a quick run.” Easy, right? My run began on a downhill slope. My legs pounded quickly, quickly. I felt strong and confident. After two hundred feet at this pace, I felt faint. My face tomato skin red, my lungs anxiously sucked in air, my legs like boiled spaghetti noodles. My inner voice told me to run, but my body told me that was impossible. “Pace yourself,” I heard. I always begin too enthusiastically and quickly lose all steam, which begets a cycle of fleeting highs and prolonged lows. “Once I pass the man and his dog, I will walk,” I told myself. Slowing to a walk, I felt defeated, humbled, determined. “At the next street lamp I will jog again.” As I walked briskly towards the street lamp, I listened to my winded breath and my inner voice. “I am so out of shape. This is embarrassing. This person and that person can run forever. I am out of shape. I am not a runner. I hate to run.” These self-defeating thoughts continued to beat me down until the light post when my compulsiveness made me run again. I ran for another two hundred feet and stopped at a crosswalk to wait for the light to force my inertia. I contemplated turning around, but chose to keep going. “Keep going,” I encouraged myself. “I can do this. It will hurt, but the more I practice the better I will become.” As I continued my walk and run pattern, I thought about how I have let negative thoughts ruin endeavors in my life. The painting that I have not finished because I did not get it right the first time. The Blogs I have not written because I feared sitting down at a blank computer screen with nothing important to say. This pattern of unfinished creativity that robs my loved ones and myself from the process of getting to know me because I fear the unknown, I fear mistakes, I fear my own self-judgment. “No,” I thought, “I am not a good runner, I am not a fast runner, and I am not a runner, yet!” As I ran that evening, I realized like most things in life (writing, baking, sewing, singing, sex) running takes practice to become good. Everyday this summer, I told my eighth grade students that writing takes practice, that the more you write the better you will become, that it is a skill to acquire. Running is no different. My desire to be amazing at everything I do, the moment I decide to undertake it often deters me from trying new things because of the pressure I put on myself to be a natural. I have read a lot of books, but last week I finished the longest book I have ever read (1250 pages), that day I also ran for the first time in years. Subconsciously, both inspired me to began a journey to have patience with myself. I pledge to give myself time to become a runner, swimmer, writer, gardener, and painter… or whatever, and be gentle with myself in the process of making these pursuits into genuine hobbies instead of whims. Tonight, I went on my third run. It was a little easier than the last run and a lot easier than the first run. I took fewer walking breaks in-between jogs and I ran up hill. I still cannot say I enjoy running, like I enjoy swimming, but I felt good once I finished.

February 12, 1809

Happy Birthday, Mr. Lincoln! How far our country has come since the day of your birth.

Revelations at The Getty Center, January 10, 2009

The wind blew fiercely, sending a chill to my bones. We arrived at the Getty Center just before sunset. Ryan and I sat at the outdoor patio with a thermos of coffee and watched Getty patrons fight the wind. One girl turned in circlçes in an attempt to escape the wind’s nestling of her hair. Another woman held the bottom edges of her skirt tightly in her fists as if she dared the wind to pick a row with her. We happily admired the passers-by, until the sun made his last mark on the day, smearing his honey greased fingers across the sandstone sides of the west pavilion, and finally sinking below the Malibu hills, at which point we wandered into our first gallery.
When we finished in the first gallery, traces of the sun had been wiped clean and the moon now shone in its place. (I love the Getty Center at dusk, because it offers beautiful views at sunset and moonrise.) The Getty sits on top of a hill overlooking west LA and downtown. As the sun sets on the west side, I like to look out at the diamond- encrusted surface of the Pacific Ocean. While the moon rises in the East, I like to peer out at the glimmering lights of an enlivened city and urban sea of cars below. High above and faraway from the chaos: LA looks beautiful.

(And the moonscape looked especially magnificent last night. The Santa Ana winds blew the clouds out to sea leaving a radiant night sky.)
In addition to the outward beauty that the Getty Center offers, it also possesses the inner beauty of its exhibits. Ryan and I went to see three of the exhibitions currently at the Getty: “Tango with Cows: Book Art of the Russian Avante-Garde,” “The Belle Heures of the Duke of Berry,” and “Dialogue among Giants: Carlton Watkins and the Rise of Photography in California.”
Art exhibitions have always been a pleasure of mine, but as I can recall, none, except the Hammer Museums exhibit on Japanese prints has captured my interest and imagination like the photographs of Carlton Watkins. It revealed to me truths about my existence, mortality, and beauty.
The beauty and serenity of the Getty Center perfectly complimented the magnificence of Watkins’ photographs of Yosemite, San Francisco, and mining towns during California’s famed gold rush. The magnitude of the architecture, his mammoth plate camera, and the sublime natural landscapes made me feel as tiny and insignificant as the characters portrayed in his photographs. Watkins captured raw, colossal nature. Nature and architecture were his subjects; people just peppered the landscapes as if to prove nature’s grandeur. He positioned people near enough to the lens, so that I was able to make out the expressions on their faces and see the way they held their hands, but far enough away to show their statures tiny and insignificant in view of the landscape. When I looked at these photographs, I felt as if I was looking through the eyes of God at His creation and seeing the infinitude of nature juxtaposed with the finiteness of man.
I caught my own reflection in some of his daguerreotypes. For the last few weeks, I have given up wearing make up and it has been very uncomfortable for me to see my bare eyes, cheeks, and lips. When I saw my faint image on the burned images of California’s great valleys and falls, I noticed that my face looks clean and serene without make-up. I am beginning to get used to seeing myself and I am beginning to recognize the beauty in my natural features. I am also starting to recognize the beauty of others more.


I could not find Carlton Watkins photographs to post here. See Getty exhibit: http://www.getty.edu/art/exhibitions/dialogue_giants/