Lead, Kindly Light

and always in some kind of a rush.

Speeding past the yellow lights, and tapping my inner foot at the red ones for which I’m forced to stop. Weaving my way down the sidewalk, politely, around those who have opted for a more leisurely pace, but leaving a wake of wind as I pass. Always mentally calculating the fastest, most efficient way to get from Point A to Point B — and efficient could be determined either in terms of saving time or getting more exercise, depending on the day.

And sometimes, as now, even in a hurry to have a chance to slow down, to get rest, to fall asleep.

To see the morning sun streaming through trees and onto my lawn of green, green grass.

To command a courtroom with a mere look, a simple statement, or a well-timed turn.

To understand justice the way God does.

To carry with grace the blessing and burden of wisdom.

To breathe sighs of genuine contentment more often than not.

To love purely and unselfishly.

To be truly generous.

To realize more fully how much I need God.

And then to actually dare to need Him.

To design cards for Hallmark. Or create new ice cream flavors. Or learn flower arrangement.

To have and to hold, and to be had and to be held, as long as we both shall live.

To save the lives of children — figuratively, literally, and spiritually.

To be a good mom.

To never be forgotten.

To die knowing that I did not waste my life.

To make a difference in this world.

Finally, a moment to pause, breathe, sit, write.

The last few days have been a huge blur of unpacking gigantic brown cubes of corrugated cardboard secured by bands of long sticky lengths of tape. The floor plans of Home Depot and Bed Bath and Beyond have become familiar in just five days, such that I can walk into either store and find what I’m looking for within five minutes. Scary. And my feet, for the first time in who-knows-how-long, are begging for rest. In this season of moving and transition, I am so grateful that I have the capability to walk, to climb stairs, to lift boxes, to strain my muscles — it’s not fun, but I can’t imagine the frustrations I’d face if God didn’t equip me with the physical health to get me through.

This evening is the first time I’ve settled down at this desk without chaos around me. Finally, we have a couch out in the living room. Finally, our kitchen is unpacked and all the pots and pans have safely found their new cavernous homes in cupboards or on our newly-constructed shelf. Finally, I have reduced the mess in my bedroom to a livable standard that is bordering on neat. I like living in this space; I am grateful to have found not just an apartment — but a home — here in the City.

As for friends, I’ve been flitting about on mandatory breaks from moving. Since arriving here at the end of last week, I met up with eight friends from law school over the weekend, a dear friend from college, and new friends from the church I’ve been visiting. Then tomorrow I plan to have lunch with a former colleague and then have dinner with another new-ish friend who I met this year. I love being with these people, and I feel so blessed to have them here with me. The large network of close friends I have here certainly makes the city feel smaller and more like a home.

Still, I know that this busy schedule is more than just a happily cluttered calendar. I can be honest with myself — I’m darting around. I’m keeping myself occupied. I’m rushing from place to place, scheduling the minutes from waking until sleeping. And all of this — because I’m not at peace. Much as I look at my new apartment and its ambitious vibe as a neat and organized environment… much as I see familiar and well-loved faces… much as I construct list after list of must-dos, would-like-to-dos, and should-dos… I know I’m not really settled here. I may be settled on the outside, but I am hardly settled on the inside — not in all ways, at least.

I’d like to be 100 percent settled on the inside. That certainly would be nice. I’d like to have that feeling that I get when I go home to see my parents and visit SINE… or that feeling that I had in Hong Kong when I visited my brothers and my sister… or that feeling when I saw C in Cali for a week. During those times, it wasn’t the fact that I was on vacation that gave me rest. It was the assurance of complete and unconditional love that gave me rest in my heart, and hence rest in my being. In those environments, in those places, and around those people, I know I am completely and utterly surrounded by love. There’s nothing I have to do to earn that love; it’s mine for the receiving, and mine for giving. That’s a very freeing type of environment, and it frees me to just be.

But here — and everywhere apart from those places — I have this nasty habit of doing-doing-doing that starts to kick in. On one hand, of course, it makes me a successful professional and a dedicated friend — and it keeps my life moving and interesting. On the other hand, I know that I am driven to resort to that nasty habit because I feel like I need to earn my keep here. And even though I have friends whom I love and who love me here, it’s not the same. It’s not that deep and unconditional love (yet?), and that deprivation inspires the need to impress, to earn, to prove myself.

…I wonder what the next three months will bring. My life will change significantly again next week as I head into the workforce again and take on cases that promise to offer challenging issues and challenging hours. I keep remembering what Oldest Brother said to me in HK — he said that life in NY is an adventure that God will walk through with me. I agree, and certainly look forward to having God take my hand and guide me through each day’s joys and trials, unexpected bumps and mercies.

And gradually, I hope that my heart will settle down, and I hope that God and His love would become even more real to me here. I’m guessing that if I could just palpably sense His unconditional love for me, then that would be enough to calm me into contentment and a less frenetic pace. Maybe?

But… all in His good time. I’m sure He is teaching me, even here and now within my self-imposed express lane lifestyle.

This is my prayer in the desert
When all that’s within me feels dry
This is my prayer in my hunger and need
My God is the God who provides

This my prayer in the fire
In weakness or trial or pain
There is a faith proved of more worth than gold
So refine me Lord through the flame

I will bring praise, I will bring praise
No weapon formed against me shall remain
I will rejoice, I will declare
God is my victory and He is here

This is my prayer in the battle
When triumph is still on its way
I am a conqueror and co-heir with Christ
So firm on His promise I’ll stand

I will bring praise, I will bring praise
No weapon formed against me shall remain
I will rejoice, I will declare
God is my victory and He is here

All of my life
In every season
You are still God
I have a reason to sing
I have a reason to worship

This is my prayer in the harvest
When favour and providence flow
I know I’m filled to be emptied again
The seed I’ve received I will sow.

I will bring praise, I will bring praise
No weapon formed against me shall remain
I will rejoice, I will declare
God is my victory and He is here

I’m back in the City, and this time for good — at least for the predictable future. This afternoon, I walked up and down an avenue that will become an oft-used thoroughfare in the weeks, months, and years to come — as long as I retain my residence on the east side. It occurred to me also that this City is now mine; I live here. Permanently. It’s a strange thought.

More than a year has passed since July 4, 2007. I still think about that day sometimes, but not nearly with the same frequency as before, nor with the same degree of that odd roiling mixture of regret, hurt, and sadness. Mostly, I just think about what might have been, and what it could possibly mean — that what might have been never became, and will never become. I still don’t understand the purpose of that whole section of my memory. I don’t know that I ever will.

… It’s okay, though. My life is good, and I am open to whatever God might see fit to toss my way. Sometimes I see favorable attributes of my girlfriends’ husbands or boyfriends, and I pray that God will grant to me a man who is that God-fearing, that patient, that understanding, that [insert positive trait here]…the favorable attributes are many. I’m trying to change my ways, though, and trying to pray instead that God will send the right one, and the one of His choosing, and that I’ll have the wisdom to see who it is.

Because the truth is, no one is going to be all those good things. I’m certainly not all the good things that I’d like to see in my life partner (though I pray that God will cultivate those things in me, too!), and in the end, the most important thing is that God has His way. Whoever He chooses must be the right one, even with whatever faults he brings (and I bring) to the table. As Double Cousin once told me, “You’re not looking for Mr. Good, you’re looking for Mr. Right.”

And only God knows who Mr. Right really is. It’s obviously not the one I thought it might be, so… I just keep stepping along, day by day. Trying to be patient, trying to continue in the way I feel led. Hopefully the paths will intersect at the right time (and soon…?).

It gets difficult to stay hopeful sometimes, because all my closest girlfriends are engaged (or practically engaged) or married. There are moments when I feel like it’s my fault that I’m different and still single at this age. Was it something I did? Is there something I missed? Are my standards too high, or have my standards been too low? Is the status quo going to last?