Words to Live By

A couple days ago, I read a beautiful blog post about one mom/missionary/cancer patient's sincere and honest struggle with God's Word.   Her story and life always amazes me...and this post in particular really encouraged and challenged me in the way I view Scripture memorization.

When I was growing up, it was all about memorizing the verses to rack up stickers on a memorization chart.  It was always about memorizing - trying to get the exact wording right and feeling successful when I did it.  I saw the benefit of it - being able to recall applicable verses when situations arose...but at the heart of my motivation was the pride in my accomplishments and my memorizing ability.

I feel challenged to dwell on the Word of God - not just be able to recite it from rote learning.  I truly believe that God's Word is living and active...and I want to spend time mulling over Bible verses, turning over the words in my heart, and giving time and space for God to speak through them.

I figured a good place to start is with our youth group's weekly memory verses.  I will be making printable memory cards for the verses and posting them here for anyone to use. :)

The dimensions are perfect for printing out as 4x6 photos, if you choose!

These verses are from the 2011 edition of the New International Version (NIV).  (Since I grew up reading the 1984 edition, some of the slight changes throw me for a surprise)

We began memorizing back in September, so I will be posting verses we've previously memorized, as well as adding to the list as time goes on!

Hope this helps anyone else who is looking to spend time meditating on Scripture!

Hold Me.

It was a rough morning.  We were running late.  The house was a mess.  Jonathan turned a deaf ear to my requests for him to clean up his toys.  Abby spit up all over herself and me right as we were leaving the house.  Jonathan had a meltdown because he wanted to keep the screen door closed between us.  I (arms full of diaper bag and snacks and baby) opened it anyway.  His screams echoed down the street as I put Abby in the car.  He then refused to be buckled into his own car seat.  I finally managed to wrangle him into his seat and started driving down the street, exhausted, frustrated, and emotions strung high.

Jonathan screamed at the top of his lungs from his seat.  I cranked up the music to fight back.  My patience for his tantrums was running thin.  I was going to win this battle.

But then something strange happened.  Despite the loud music, I could hear him crying/screaming - not "NOOO!" - not "STOP!" -


...but "UP!"

And even though we were a solid thirty minutes late and everything in me wanted to remain firm and strict and teach him a lesson in obedience...

I turned off the radio, put the car in Park, hit the hazard lights, and got out of the car.  I climbed into the backseat of the van, unbuckled his straps, and just held my boy.

That was all he needed.  As soon as my arms wrapped around him, the tantrum was over; his anger dissipated.  His small body, rigid and tense just moments before, melted into my arms.

And so did my heart.

Because, as I rocked my not-so-baby boy, God gently reminded me of the times He's held me, too.  When all I do is scream and turn the opposite way.  When I resist His ways and insist on my own.   When the things I do don't even make sense and I don't care.  

When I deserve nothing but to face the consequences of my decisions...He extends grace.

No matter how grave the sin, every time I reach out and cried, "UP!" there He is.  Quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.

Psalm 139:7-10

Grace has been extended to me over and over again, as He has held me fast and forgiven me plenty.

As a parent, I look to the heavenly Father as my model; my Example -  He who loves perfectly and guides gently.  I only pray to extend that same grace to my own children...that it would point them to the Father that loves them and holds them too.


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The title of this post, ironically, is also the title of one of Jonathan's favorite songs. "Hold Me," by Jamie Grace (feat. TobyMac)

Generosity.

Sorry I've been a little MIA on the blog recently.  We've been a bit busy.

Neon is best.

Just the clothing...

In my first post of this blog, I wrote about my list of ten things.  

Well, I'd like to make a little update:

Here's my list:

1. Potty train Jonathan

2. Start blogging as Gummy Bear Mama

3. Write a draft for a children's book

4. Go running/walking every week & lose baby weight

5. Learn to make pho

6. Complete a project with the sewing machine

7. Download iPad app and make my own fonts

8. Fill up photo albums with all of the photo prints we already have

!!!  9. Raise at least $500 for Carlin*  !!!

10. Finish reading through the Bible and read through it once more

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*Carlin is the sweet 4 year old daughter of my friends Catherine & Michael.  She was diagnosed with cancer over the summer and has been bravely undergoing many medical treatments.  You can read more of her story here.  Thanks!

Photo credit: Augustine

All I can say is that God is so, so, so faithful.  But first, let me back up a minute and give a backstory.

About a month ago, we started thinking of fundraising ideas for Carlin.  The first thing that came to mind was a yard sale, so we set a date (no school on that Friday was a major plus!) and got approval from our church to hold it in our church parking lot.

Photo credit: Augustine

We prayed hard for good weather.  God answered.  :)

Photo credit: Augustine

This kiddo was a real trooper.  He actually came down with a fever the day before the yard sale, but kept smiling and had a lot fun that weekend.

Photo credit: Augustine

AND our Team Carlin shirts came in just in time for us to wear them to the yard sale! :)

Back of Team Carlin Fundraiser Shirt:
Nothing is impossible...the word itself says, "I'm Possible!" 

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The week before the sale, someone asked me what our goal was.  I hesitated because I had been reminded of a church yard sale from about five years ago.   Only about $200-$300 was made at that time, so I went into this yard sale with similar expectations.  

After all, the $500 goal was for the end of 2014 and seemed like a lofty one, at that.

How easily I forget that God loves to be generous.

And He works through generous people...

...like every single person who scoured their homes for items to donate (even brand-new and like-new items that could have been easily sold for profit)

...like every person (our youth group kids in particular!) who volunteered their time to help out.  They signed up for three-hour shifts, but most of them stayed the entire day!

...like the mothers who thoughtfully volunteered to spend both mornings in the church kitchen, whipping up Korean goodies to sell (and to feed the volunteers)!

Photo credit: Augustine

...like every person that came to the yard sale and/or gave a donation.

Photo credit: Augustine

...and like Rebekah (my eleven year old buddy who blogs over at Patience is Virtue).  She came a-knockin' on my door one night to donate an envelope full of her hard-earned babysitting money.

And she even apologized because the money was mostly in 1's!

Generosity like that of those above just blows me away.

But not as much as the generosity of our God.

He says:

Too often I tentatively open my mouth just a crack, timid to ask too much, afraid that He might not do as I expect, and fearful of anything unexpected that might potentially rattle my faith.

And every time He responds with lavish generosity, leaving me shocked and in awe.

It shouldn't surprise me by now, really, but it still does.

2,119

That's the magic number.

Not 200-300.

Not even 500.

But $2,119?   That's more than four times the goal I had set for the coming year!!!  Indeed, I am still learning to expect great things from God.

Incredible.  Unbelievable.   Lavish.   That's our God.

Mirror, Mirror...

Growing up, I didn't have the greatest self image.  I fell prey to the comparison game, even from a very young age, and always worried I wasn't "enough"...i.e. I wasn't pretty enough, skinny enough, interesting enough, funny enough (and, as one of only a few Asians in my predominantly white town, even American enough) for others to like me.

Fast forward a decade or two and a whole lotta grace.

This past week, Abby turned four months old.  She's super alert and strong and holds up her head quite well.  She loves to sit in my lap to observe the happenings around her.  And she especially loves to interact with herself in the mirror.

I took this 10 second video about a month ago, but these days she is still just as fascinated (if not even more).

She lights up, as if to say, "Hey beautiful! There you are again!"  And she does this.  EVERY. TIME.

I love it.

I realized that I loved this not only because I love this girl... but especially because so often you will see the exact opposite reaction from girls when they gaze into a mirror.  "Ugh.  I'm so ugly!  Eww, what is this pimple?  I hate my  (any body part)!  I wish I had your hair!"

I'm sad to admit that most of these are direct quotes from my adolescence.

I'm a big proponent of humility and not thinking of yourself more highly than you ought.  But sometimes we go in the opposite extreme, which is also not so good.

After all,

Psalm 139:13-14

This is the verse I have been memorizing this week and it is my prayer for my little girl and all little ones (and grown up ones!) everywhere... that they would know that they are fearfully and wonderfully made.  God takes pride in His creation, which He crafted intricately and purposefully.

And every time we look into the mirror, instead of focusing on imperfections, we can smile and be reminded of a God who lovingly formed us with the greatest care. 

Delight

I am a stickler for correct pronunciation.  Maybe it's the teacher in me, but I always feel compelled to correct someone when I hear something being pronounced incorrectly.

Except when it comes to my kid(s), apparently.

Yesterday Jonathan began correctly pronouncing "Brown Bear."  Until now (almost 27 months of age), he has been replacing the "R" in brown with an "L" sound, which is both amusing and endearing.  Most people would probably be quick to applaud their child's correct pronunciation, but I've been enjoying this mispronunciation so much that it saddened me a bit...after all, it had been a token, if you will, of his remaining babyhood.

While there is a part of me that looks ahead to the future in anticipation (e.g. when Jonathan learns to read, when Abby is able to go on piggyback rides, etc.), there is an even larger part of me that wants to preserve them, just as they are now, forever.

Like when Jonathan calls his favorite snack "aminal crackers"...

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...or when Abby's face completely lights up when we are being silly...

Photo credit:  Augustine

...or when Jonathan randomly puts on his shoes and a backpack and tells me he's leaving to go to school (his only concept of "school" so far is that it's where his daddy goes every morning)...

...or when Abby furiously gnaws on her itty bitty fingers...

...or when Jonathan plays with the guitar picks his Uncle Joe gave him...

Yes, he is strumming the guitar on his robot shirt...

...and uses them to play his plastic toy guitar (while singing songs he learned from the radio)...

...or when Abby sits on our bed like a tiny queen on her throne...

"Farm Boy, fetch me that pitcher..."

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I take delight in my kids through these different ages and stages.  They don't have to do anything particularly amazing or funny for me to love them.  I simply love to marvel at who they are and what they do.  I take delight in them and who they are right now, just as they are.

I am reminded of one of my favorite verses -  Zephaniah 3:17:


God's reminding me that He too delights in me (and you!) through all the ages and stages of my life.  I don't have to do anything particularly impressive or noteworthy for Him to notice me and love me.

He takes delight in me right now, even when all I see are the areas in which I need to grow.  Even when I mess up, lose my temper, or lose patience...

He takes delight in me.

All because I'm His.

Something Better

My husband and I have been together for almost six years, and one thing that he knows well about me is that I like surprises.  Of all kinds.  Whenever he plans a special date, he keeps everything a secret just so I can be surprised.  This is one of the many things I love about him.

Last year, I turned 30.  The day fell on a Thursday, so Aug said he wanted to take Jonathan and me out for a surprise family celebration.  

He took me to a cute Korean restaurant that served one of my favorite dishes (kimbap - aka Korean cooked "sushi" rolls) and then we drove around a beautiful park.  

Everything about the evening was so thoughtful and sweet, but somehow as we were driving around, I started getting inexplicably sad.  Now that I look back on it, I realize I had just gotten pregnant then, so maybe it was the extra hormones flying around.  But despite all of the sweet gestures and plans, I think I felt sad because I was turning 30 and I hadn't realized until that moment that I had actually wanted to celebrate with other people.  I had built it up in my head as a magical and amazing day with everyone dropping by with birthday wishes... but as the day came to a close, I found myself feeling discontented because it was turning out to be a relatively normal day (especially in comparison to the grand day I had imagined.)

On the drive home, I cried to my husband out of confusion ("I'm not sure why I'm crying!" and "I didn't realize I wanted a big celebration!"), all the while unsuccessfully trying assure him that I was really grateful for all of the surprises he had planned - and that this was just a hormonal moment.  Aug was so sweet through it all, patiently listening and enduring my brattiness.  I dried my tears and got over it myself.  30 was just a number, after all.

Saturday rolled around, and Aug told me that he wanted to take me out on a date.  

Little did I know that this date would turn out to be a surprise birthday party at a restaurant filled with many of my closest friends!  Aug had been planning it for weeks.

I was stunned and sincerely touched by everyone's presence and, most of all, by my husband's thoughtful plans and patient silence as he had given ear to my whiny complaints just two days earlier.  

He knew what I didn't.  He knew something better was in store, just around the corner...something even better than what I had imagined.  Yet he loved me enough to let me wait for the surprise.

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I used to be a pessimist.  I used to tell myself, I would rather have low expectations and be pleasantly surprised than have high expectations and be sorely disappointed.

But this isn't the way God works. 

William Carey once said, "Expect great things from God.  Attempt great things for God."

My Father knows what I don't.  He knows the greater things yet to come, and He always comes through.

Instead of settling for low expectations so I can be "pleasantly surprised" by the mediocre, He is calling me - challenging me - to expect great things from Him.  Even when His answer to my prayers is "No," or "Wait," I can hold onto the truth that it's because He has something better planned.

And I'd take that over the best things I myself can fathom any day.