When we first came to the US (as far back as I can remember, anyway), my parents and I shared a townhouse near GMU with a couple of other Taiwanese grad students. I must've been 4 or 5 then. We were in a basement room first, but then moved to a largeish corner room on the second level that faced the street and had its own bathroom.
I think we got that room b/c my parents were the only couple who had a kid. It wasn't weird or anything, since in Taiwan it's pretty common to sleep in the same room with your entire family (at least it was for mine). I was actually a little bit afraid of sleeping in a room by myself until fairly late in elementary school. In Taiwan, my parents had what is like a little studio apartment at my paternal grandparents' home, so we all slept in the same bed (or my dad would sleep on the floor). At my maternal grandparents' home, I always slept with my grandmother in her room. I guess it wasn't as common to have beds then, b/c we always pulled blankets down and spread them on the hardwood floor. She still slept like that until just a year or two ago when she broke her leg and couldn't climb the stairs anymore. They've put beds (very hard beds) in the other bedrooms though.
I remember the townhouse room as being pretty big, with my parents' full size mattress on the floor against one wall, my little twin bed in another corner. My mom also put two big pillows next to my bed in case I rolled off, which did happen once or twice. I once woke up with my head on the air vent b/c I had rolled off both bed and pillows.
The bathroom was small though, and I remember being afraid of flushing the toilet (very loud) and brushing my teeth (disgusting "strawberry" flavored toothbrush that made me want to gag). But mostly I remember the smells of the bathroom after a shower: the warm, wet smell of steam; sharpness of soap and, sometimes, bubble bath; faintly sweet smell of lotion. The drier climate of Virginia made all of us rabid lotion users, and I still keep an eye out for any miracle cream that claims to quench my dry skin woes. My brother and I had really bad eczema as kids; I learned to sleep with my limbs straight out b/c if I slept curled up, in the morning, when I unfurled, the creases in my arms and the backs of my knees would crack open and bleed. My brother more or less manned up through it (which means he's got a fine collection of scars).
So anyway, I remember the smell of lotion and showers as associated with that cozy, blurry time when it was just the three of us living in one room together, when my dad was still a student and I hadn't started school in the US yet.
I was feeling nostalgic and homesick a while back, so I went out and bought a bottle of Vaseline lotion and a little blue tub of Nivea creme. It doesn't smell quite the same though. Maybe they don't use the same fragrance as they did 20 years ago. Maybe you can't bottle up the smell of your parents, ages 30 and 33. But sometimes, when I put Nivea on my face and smooth Vaseline lotion on my arms after a shower, it will smell just right for half a second and I'm 4 years old again.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
i like this, but...
Today's post will be dedicated to things I like...but also hate.
1. I like that women and men are, essentially, equal in many facets of life, which is a good thing...but I hate when younger men push their way in front of old ladies in the bus line. I mean, seriously? You're going to let a poor little granny with a little travel cart of groceries wait out in the rain while you hop on the bus so you can call some chick who doesn't even want to talk to you anyway b/c it's around dinner time and she's trying to eat a salad? You're not even going to help the old lady with her cart? Seriously?? Is a little bit of chivalry too much to ask for??!
2. I like that Greek yogurt has twice as much protein as regular yogurt...but why does it have to taste like raw sourdough? But everyone seems to be on this Greek yogurt craze! I've tried a couple of brands and flavors, though, and am determined to find a go-to Greek yogurt b/c that extra protein is for real. I decided to try fasting for Lent, which mostly means I don't eat lunch. The little bit of extra protein in the Greek yogurt really tides me over! Too bad it tastes like old milk...which I guess it is...hmm. Ew. Why is it that most types of dairy is kind of gross if you think about it too hard?
3. I like that my company is trying to be more environmentally-friendly...but I'm sad that we no longer have plastic coffee stirrers, which I used to double as a straw. Yes, I drink coffee through a straw. I, too, scoffed at it when I first saw my friend Anna doing it. And then I tried it and my entire coffee-drinking experience was changed for the better. Try it sometime, if your company hasn't switched to using those skinny wooden popsicle sticks. I've taken to stealing regular drinking straws from the cafeteria...b/c awesome coffee-drinking requires a cylindrical drinking tube made of rainforest burning, ozone-destroying, baby seal-killing plastic. Yum.
1. I like that women and men are, essentially, equal in many facets of life, which is a good thing...but I hate when younger men push their way in front of old ladies in the bus line. I mean, seriously? You're going to let a poor little granny with a little travel cart of groceries wait out in the rain while you hop on the bus so you can call some chick who doesn't even want to talk to you anyway b/c it's around dinner time and she's trying to eat a salad? You're not even going to help the old lady with her cart? Seriously?? Is a little bit of chivalry too much to ask for??!
2. I like that Greek yogurt has twice as much protein as regular yogurt...but why does it have to taste like raw sourdough? But everyone seems to be on this Greek yogurt craze! I've tried a couple of brands and flavors, though, and am determined to find a go-to Greek yogurt b/c that extra protein is for real. I decided to try fasting for Lent, which mostly means I don't eat lunch. The little bit of extra protein in the Greek yogurt really tides me over! Too bad it tastes like old milk...which I guess it is...hmm. Ew. Why is it that most types of dairy is kind of gross if you think about it too hard?
3. I like that my company is trying to be more environmentally-friendly...but I'm sad that we no longer have plastic coffee stirrers, which I used to double as a straw. Yes, I drink coffee through a straw. I, too, scoffed at it when I first saw my friend Anna doing it. And then I tried it and my entire coffee-drinking experience was changed for the better. Try it sometime, if your company hasn't switched to using those skinny wooden popsicle sticks. I've taken to stealing regular drinking straws from the cafeteria...b/c awesome coffee-drinking requires a cylindrical drinking tube made of rainforest burning, ozone-destroying, baby seal-killing plastic. Yum.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
me vs dishwasher
I don't know if it's because I'm Asian or because I have deep-abiding trust issues, but I do not trust my dishwasher to do anything other than hold my dishes while they dry.
Yes, I realize that thousands and millions of Americans regularly use their dishwashers and everything comes out squeaky clean and beautiful. But that has not been my experience. Part of it is that my mom, who is Asian and adorable, also has trust issues regarding her dishwasher. (Truth be told, though, she has trust issues with everyone regarding clean dishes. She absolutely hates it when I do the dishes, though it may also be b/c I've broken like 3 of her nice drinking glasses while trying washing them. But I digress.) So I grew up watching my mom do dishes by hand, and so, naturally, when I started living on my own, that's what I did, too.
Turns out I have a lot of the same dishwashing issues as my mom. My boyfriend is a very smart, tidy, and generally careful sort of person, and I still hold my breath whenever he does my dishes. Sometimes I'll be over at his place and I'll re-wash all the dishes in his drying rack b/c a fork will look a little smudgy.
So last night, I made roast lamb and potatoes and homemade bread, and the pans were looking a bit crusty. Normally, I would just wash the dishes, then soak everything else and do a scrub in the morning. But no, I thought, "Tonight I will conquer my fear! According to commercials, dishwashers can take care of day-old lasagna pans; surely it can handle a little roasting pan or two!" I let the pans soak for about half an hour while we watched the Chicago Code (I think the main character looks a lot like Tyler! Not only b/c he's white and has brown hair). Then, Tyler helped me load the dishwasher and set it to "Heavy Washing." I went to bed thinking, "Well, that wasn't so bad! It was pretty easy, actually. This could be something I could get used to! I hope it works."
WELL. I woke up this morning and hastened to the kitchen to check on my dish-cleaning status.
Horrible. It was horrible. The pans were not clean; a bowl had turned over and was filled with brownish gunk; my chopsticks fell through the little grate and was under the dishwasher's blades. I was so unhappy. I couldn't bear to leave the dishes in such an unhappy state, but I had to go to work. So I decided to just let it run again, and hopefully when I get home, things will look a bit more manageable and I can do a real scrubbing.
What am I doing wrong? How is it that like, 95% of America (I'm basing this percentage on the fact that Asians make up only about 4.5% of the total population) can operate a dishwasher properly but I am a total dishwasher fail?!!? I am a college grad! I have a Master's degree! I can put on eye make-up evenly! So WHY can't I get my dishwasher to clean my dishes properly?!?!
So I guess I'm going to stick with washing dishes by hand from here on out, unless someone can explain to me what I'm doing wrong. I know that if I don't run the darn thing occasionally, my plumbing will mold over or explode or whatever. So sometimes I'll put it on rinse and let it get everything swished around. But if Asian moms have one thing right, it's that dishwashers are the devil.
Yes, I realize that thousands and millions of Americans regularly use their dishwashers and everything comes out squeaky clean and beautiful. But that has not been my experience. Part of it is that my mom, who is Asian and adorable, also has trust issues regarding her dishwasher. (Truth be told, though, she has trust issues with everyone regarding clean dishes. She absolutely hates it when I do the dishes, though it may also be b/c I've broken like 3 of her nice drinking glasses while trying washing them. But I digress.) So I grew up watching my mom do dishes by hand, and so, naturally, when I started living on my own, that's what I did, too.
Turns out I have a lot of the same dishwashing issues as my mom. My boyfriend is a very smart, tidy, and generally careful sort of person, and I still hold my breath whenever he does my dishes. Sometimes I'll be over at his place and I'll re-wash all the dishes in his drying rack b/c a fork will look a little smudgy.
So last night, I made roast lamb and potatoes and homemade bread, and the pans were looking a bit crusty. Normally, I would just wash the dishes, then soak everything else and do a scrub in the morning. But no, I thought, "Tonight I will conquer my fear! According to commercials, dishwashers can take care of day-old lasagna pans; surely it can handle a little roasting pan or two!" I let the pans soak for about half an hour while we watched the Chicago Code (I think the main character looks a lot like Tyler! Not only b/c he's white and has brown hair). Then, Tyler helped me load the dishwasher and set it to "Heavy Washing." I went to bed thinking, "Well, that wasn't so bad! It was pretty easy, actually. This could be something I could get used to! I hope it works."
WELL. I woke up this morning and hastened to the kitchen to check on my dish-cleaning status.
Horrible. It was horrible. The pans were not clean; a bowl had turned over and was filled with brownish gunk; my chopsticks fell through the little grate and was under the dishwasher's blades. I was so unhappy. I couldn't bear to leave the dishes in such an unhappy state, but I had to go to work. So I decided to just let it run again, and hopefully when I get home, things will look a bit more manageable and I can do a real scrubbing.
What am I doing wrong? How is it that like, 95% of America (I'm basing this percentage on the fact that Asians make up only about 4.5% of the total population) can operate a dishwasher properly but I am a total dishwasher fail?!!? I am a college grad! I have a Master's degree! I can put on eye make-up evenly! So WHY can't I get my dishwasher to clean my dishes properly?!?!
So I guess I'm going to stick with washing dishes by hand from here on out, unless someone can explain to me what I'm doing wrong. I know that if I don't run the darn thing occasionally, my plumbing will mold over or explode or whatever. So sometimes I'll put it on rinse and let it get everything swished around. But if Asian moms have one thing right, it's that dishwashers are the devil.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
knuckles and gauges
So Young Finance Guy is abroad right now for a business trip and then European vacation which means I'm back to riding the bus until April. In the space of approximately 24 hours, I have had not one, not two, but three (three!) Strange Bus Encounters. Consider:
Encounter #1
Older black guy stares at me intensely for most of morning commute. Turns out that he was lusting after my copy of the RedEye. Strangely enough, that does not make it any less creepy.
Encounter #2
White guy about my age, very tall, very loud, like Jason Segel might be if he were an amateur consultant. I can feel him looking at me from across the aisle as I work on my crossword. He reaches over and taps me on the arm. "Hey, what happened to your knuckles?" he asks.
WELL. A few weeks back, I had skin lesions on the back of my hand sliced off and frozen. Bled everywhere, very gross, still wearing bandages.
Not quite the flirty answer Loudmouth was looking for.
Encounter #3
Loudmouth and a few friends are waiting for the same morning bus as me. He makes a few more comments about my knuckles (so charming), asks my name, promptly loses interest in talking to me when he spots another girl he knows coming off a different bus. "Heyyy! Why didn't you tell me you were taking this bus? Hey, you trying to avoid me? You know, if I had your number, I could have texted you this morning about what bus I'd be on, you know, dialed it in, you could've checked and been like 'Hey, gotta avoid this guy!'" Uber charming! The poor girl rolled her eyes and walked away to call someone on the phone. Loudmouth jokes that she's calling the cops on him. What a gentleman!
So we get on the bus, and Loudmouth's friend with gauges in his ears takes the seat in front of mine. I pull out my book. A few moments later, this conversation ensued:
Gauges: Excuse me, but what are you reading?
Me: [holds up the book: Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood]
Gauges: [visibly crestfallen as he reads the title] Oh.
Me: [goes back to reading]
Gauges: [tries again] Do you read lots of books?
Me: Yes.
Gauges: Yeah, well, I'm looking for some books to read, you know, do you have any recommendations? I'm on like a book kick. [He waits, nervously defiant]
Me: [relenting] I don't know, what kinds of books do you like to read?
Gauges: Well, the last book I read was called "Sex at Dawn" and it was about the development of sexuality in the beginning ages.
Me: Oh. Well, that sounds interesting...
Gauges: I like a lot of non-fiction. Hermann Hesse is my favorite writer, you know, Siddhartha?
Me: Oh, yes. I've never read it though.
Gauges: [determined] Yeah, I like him a lot. Sometimes I just spend hours at the library, you know, just looking through books? I love it. Just love it.
Me: Yes, that's good. Um, well, maybe you'd like Michael Crichton? Lost World, Jurassic Park, Timeline. Guys tend to like that kind of stuf.
Gauges: I'm not really into fiction. I like non-fiction, biographies, stuff that really makes you think. Makes you think deeper.
Me: Oh. I think all I read is fiction.
Gauges: [sounding desperate] I read the whole Twilight series though. I don't know why! I just couldn't put them down, I had to read them all. I thought they were really good.
Me: I didn't read any of them.
Gauges: [disbelief] Why not?
Me: Not really into the whole vampires thing, I guess.
Gauges: Oh. [pause] Wow, this is really not off to a good start.
I could barely keep from laughing, it was all very awkward-high-school, especially since his thought process was very easy to read. After a while, Gauges asked me how old I was, told me that he often spoke with "older people" about these things, then doubled-back and tried to reassure me that he didn't mean that I personally looked old or older, he just wanted to know how old I was. (He's 21.) I did feel sort of bad that I couldn't offer him any book suggestions, and he told me that it was okay, that he was sure we'd see each other on the bus again and to just let him know what I thought of anything. Hilarious. And mostly harmless. Seemed like a nice guy.
Encounter #1
Older black guy stares at me intensely for most of morning commute. Turns out that he was lusting after my copy of the RedEye. Strangely enough, that does not make it any less creepy.
Encounter #2
White guy about my age, very tall, very loud, like Jason Segel might be if he were an amateur consultant. I can feel him looking at me from across the aisle as I work on my crossword. He reaches over and taps me on the arm. "Hey, what happened to your knuckles?" he asks.
WELL. A few weeks back, I had skin lesions on the back of my hand sliced off and frozen. Bled everywhere, very gross, still wearing bandages.
Not quite the flirty answer Loudmouth was looking for.
Encounter #3
Loudmouth and a few friends are waiting for the same morning bus as me. He makes a few more comments about my knuckles (so charming), asks my name, promptly loses interest in talking to me when he spots another girl he knows coming off a different bus. "Heyyy! Why didn't you tell me you were taking this bus? Hey, you trying to avoid me? You know, if I had your number, I could have texted you this morning about what bus I'd be on, you know, dialed it in, you could've checked and been like 'Hey, gotta avoid this guy!'" Uber charming! The poor girl rolled her eyes and walked away to call someone on the phone. Loudmouth jokes that she's calling the cops on him. What a gentleman!
So we get on the bus, and Loudmouth's friend with gauges in his ears takes the seat in front of mine. I pull out my book. A few moments later, this conversation ensued:
Gauges: Excuse me, but what are you reading?
Me: [holds up the book: Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood]
Gauges: [visibly crestfallen as he reads the title] Oh.
Me: [goes back to reading]
Gauges: [tries again] Do you read lots of books?
Me: Yes.
Gauges: Yeah, well, I'm looking for some books to read, you know, do you have any recommendations? I'm on like a book kick. [He waits, nervously defiant]
Me: [relenting] I don't know, what kinds of books do you like to read?
Gauges: Well, the last book I read was called "Sex at Dawn" and it was about the development of sexuality in the beginning ages.
Me: Oh. Well, that sounds interesting...
Gauges: I like a lot of non-fiction. Hermann Hesse is my favorite writer, you know, Siddhartha?
Me: Oh, yes. I've never read it though.
Gauges: [determined] Yeah, I like him a lot. Sometimes I just spend hours at the library, you know, just looking through books? I love it. Just love it.
Me: Yes, that's good. Um, well, maybe you'd like Michael Crichton? Lost World, Jurassic Park, Timeline. Guys tend to like that kind of stuf.
Gauges: I'm not really into fiction. I like non-fiction, biographies, stuff that really makes you think. Makes you think deeper.
Me: Oh. I think all I read is fiction.
Gauges: [sounding desperate] I read the whole Twilight series though. I don't know why! I just couldn't put them down, I had to read them all. I thought they were really good.
Me: I didn't read any of them.
Gauges: [disbelief] Why not?
Me: Not really into the whole vampires thing, I guess.
Gauges: Oh. [pause] Wow, this is really not off to a good start.
I could barely keep from laughing, it was all very awkward-high-school, especially since his thought process was very easy to read. After a while, Gauges asked me how old I was, told me that he often spoke with "older people" about these things, then doubled-back and tried to reassure me that he didn't mean that I personally looked old or older, he just wanted to know how old I was. (He's 21.) I did feel sort of bad that I couldn't offer him any book suggestions, and he told me that it was okay, that he was sure we'd see each other on the bus again and to just let him know what I thought of anything. Hilarious. And mostly harmless. Seemed like a nice guy.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
choosing one master to serve
I don't often do this, but the timing of these events can't ignored.
I think God is sending me a message.
In the last few weeks, I've fretted a lot about work and my career progression. I like working at my present company very much, but I can't ignore the fact that I am the subordinate person in a two-person department. I look around and it just seems like I have nowhere to go. Sometimes it feels like everyone else is moving along quicker and further than I am on their careers, whether it's at a magazine company, a financial corporation or the federal government. I know a number of people younger than me who are rapidly rising through their company, making twice as much as me and traveling to exotic locales on their company's dime. They're adding stamps to their passport, buying their first home and laying down the foundations for a real adult life. I can only dream of a day where I can buy a house with stairs that I don't have to share with 24 other units. I think it'd be really nice to have my own stairs in a little two-story home.
So I'm not proud of this, but I can't help but be jealous, be a little bitter. I'm jealous that they are on their way in their career, that they have such a clear path ahead of them while I'm floundering here, trying to figure out what it is that I even want to do. I'm bitter that I will probably never make that much money even though I have a master's degree from a top-ranked school and they "only" hold a bachelor's in business and/or have well-placed parents.
And here's the thing: I don't even want their life. Not even a little bit at all. I have no interest in finance or international business or working for the government. I have no desire to work 70 hours a week, where the most I see of my family are in the pictures I keep on my desk or wallet. And I love being with my Gentleman Companion (as H so fondly calls hers) enough that foreign ports don't quite hold the same allure if he can't be there with me. And my parents raised me to be frugal, so I don't even know what I'd do if my income doubled overnight. Honestly, I would probably feel too guilty to spend it.
I had shared some of these thoughts to Tyler as we drove down to Danville on Saturday night. I worried, I fretted, I wondered if me trying to control all these things was contributing to my unhappiness. I even wondered if I should just leave it up to God. Tyler was as supportive as always, but had no answers for me. He has his own set of burdens and worries; this was mine alone.
When we went to church on Sunday, this was the Holy Gospel:
Matthew 6:24-34
Jesus said to his disciples: No one can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they? Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span? Why are you anxious about clothes?
Learn from the way the wild flowers grow. They do not work or spin. But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was clothed like one of them. If God so clothes the grass of the field, which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith? So do not worry and say, ‘What are we to eat?’ or ‘What are we to drink?’or ‘What are we to wear?’ All these things the pagans seek. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides. Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil.
The Danville priest talked about money and jobs and material goods. He said he spent hours researching the new iPhone and was so frustrated when the launch date kept getting delayed. It was important to him to stay on the cutting edge of technology. "Then I realized: I can't serve God and Verizon," he said. Isn't that the truth.
And here's the other thing: normally, we'd be in Lent right now and would be using different gospels. That means that this particular gospel only comes up every few years. What incredible timing is this, that these words would come just as I was struggling with all these worries and fears?
I was awed and humbled that God would reach out to me in this way, and tried to keep that message in mind as I went back to work yesterday. It's hard to let go of worries, to really relinquish control and trust that everything will work out, though. I began worrying again today -- seeing no future ahead of me, being out-paced by my peers in every field, never being satisfied with my career progression. I was on the cusp of really working myself into feeling hopeless and sorry for myself when I spotted a link on my Facebook newsfeed. A girl I hadn't spoken to since high school had posted a link to her sister's blog. I don't know either girl very well at all, but I clicked on the link anyway. And what was the first thing that caught my eye on her blog?
No one can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and Money.
Coincidence? Or another gentle reminder that I should not worry so much because God will provide for me? I don't know. But I think these things happened in too close a proximity to be ignored. It's not easy, but I am going to try to not worry so much and trust in His plan for me. My career path will work itself out. And, hopefully, somewhere down the line, it will help to strengthen my faith. I have so much trouble with belief, but I want to, so bad.
I think God is sending me a message.
In the last few weeks, I've fretted a lot about work and my career progression. I like working at my present company very much, but I can't ignore the fact that I am the subordinate person in a two-person department. I look around and it just seems like I have nowhere to go. Sometimes it feels like everyone else is moving along quicker and further than I am on their careers, whether it's at a magazine company, a financial corporation or the federal government. I know a number of people younger than me who are rapidly rising through their company, making twice as much as me and traveling to exotic locales on their company's dime. They're adding stamps to their passport, buying their first home and laying down the foundations for a real adult life. I can only dream of a day where I can buy a house with stairs that I don't have to share with 24 other units. I think it'd be really nice to have my own stairs in a little two-story home.
So I'm not proud of this, but I can't help but be jealous, be a little bitter. I'm jealous that they are on their way in their career, that they have such a clear path ahead of them while I'm floundering here, trying to figure out what it is that I even want to do. I'm bitter that I will probably never make that much money even though I have a master's degree from a top-ranked school and they "only" hold a bachelor's in business and/or have well-placed parents.
And here's the thing: I don't even want their life. Not even a little bit at all. I have no interest in finance or international business or working for the government. I have no desire to work 70 hours a week, where the most I see of my family are in the pictures I keep on my desk or wallet. And I love being with my Gentleman Companion (as H so fondly calls hers) enough that foreign ports don't quite hold the same allure if he can't be there with me. And my parents raised me to be frugal, so I don't even know what I'd do if my income doubled overnight. Honestly, I would probably feel too guilty to spend it.
I had shared some of these thoughts to Tyler as we drove down to Danville on Saturday night. I worried, I fretted, I wondered if me trying to control all these things was contributing to my unhappiness. I even wondered if I should just leave it up to God. Tyler was as supportive as always, but had no answers for me. He has his own set of burdens and worries; this was mine alone.
When we went to church on Sunday, this was the Holy Gospel:
Matthew 6:24-34
Jesus said to his disciples: No one can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they? Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span? Why are you anxious about clothes?
Learn from the way the wild flowers grow. They do not work or spin. But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was clothed like one of them. If God so clothes the grass of the field, which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith? So do not worry and say, ‘What are we to eat?’ or ‘What are we to drink?’or ‘What are we to wear?’ All these things the pagans seek. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides. Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil.
The Danville priest talked about money and jobs and material goods. He said he spent hours researching the new iPhone and was so frustrated when the launch date kept getting delayed. It was important to him to stay on the cutting edge of technology. "Then I realized: I can't serve God and Verizon," he said. Isn't that the truth.
And here's the other thing: normally, we'd be in Lent right now and would be using different gospels. That means that this particular gospel only comes up every few years. What incredible timing is this, that these words would come just as I was struggling with all these worries and fears?
I was awed and humbled that God would reach out to me in this way, and tried to keep that message in mind as I went back to work yesterday. It's hard to let go of worries, to really relinquish control and trust that everything will work out, though. I began worrying again today -- seeing no future ahead of me, being out-paced by my peers in every field, never being satisfied with my career progression. I was on the cusp of really working myself into feeling hopeless and sorry for myself when I spotted a link on my Facebook newsfeed. A girl I hadn't spoken to since high school had posted a link to her sister's blog. I don't know either girl very well at all, but I clicked on the link anyway. And what was the first thing that caught my eye on her blog?
No one can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and Money.
Coincidence? Or another gentle reminder that I should not worry so much because God will provide for me? I don't know. But I think these things happened in too close a proximity to be ignored. It's not easy, but I am going to try to not worry so much and trust in His plan for me. My career path will work itself out. And, hopefully, somewhere down the line, it will help to strengthen my faith. I have so much trouble with belief, but I want to, so bad.
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