Just in case!

I have no idea if anyone is still out there reading this blog...but if you are,

a) Wow, you have the patience of an elephant
and
b) I AM planning to begin blogging again soon. I'm in the process of moving this blog over to my husband's new website/blog software coming out shortly, and I have some very fun plans for this blog! So stay tuned if you're interested. :)

In the meantime, feel free to read my crazy Going Bananas blog. I blog there often.

Have a great rest of April!

samwise gamgee, it's a beautiful life.

Today I begin a new decade of my life. Normally I don't care about birthdays. In my late 20's I actually started getting confused about how old I really was. Several times, I accidentally told people the wrong age. It just really didn't seem to matter. 26? 27? What was the difference?

But this year, my birthday suddenly matters. As a wise man recently said, "30 is for women what 40 is for men." A counselor told me last year that most people figure out who they are and who they will be for the rest of their lives, by the time they reach 30. After hearing that, I promptly set out to spend most of my 29th year making as many mistakes as I could and getting them out of the way so that I could start off with a perfect, umblemished life once I hit 30. That's the plan, anyway. ;)

I begin my 30's with many things going right for me. I am starting to like who I see in the mirror every morning now. I see a wife and mother who's at least trying really hard to do a good job. I see a woman with abundance - abundance of offspring (haha), abundance of possibilities and opportunities, and abundance of people who care about her. I am beginning to see glimpses of the woman I wanted to become when I was a child. I'm not quite there yet, but it is encouraging to see that I am at least hobbling my way down the path that is right for me, even if I have tripped and fallen on my face every 5 minutes of the journey. (I was born a klutz.)

To celebrate my 30th birthday, I begged and begged my husband for... a puppy. Yes, this is the man who told me firmly that we would never have a) cats and b) indoor dogs. I mean, I cried about it each time I wanted another pet and he initially said no. Eight years, two cats and two indoor dogs later, it has become obvious that either I have him wrapped around my little finger, or I have superhuman persuasive powers. Perhaps a little of both.

Some of you may recall that last year when I turned 29, I begged for and got...a puppy. So why the heck would I want yet another...puppy?

To be honest, I can't pin one solid reason down. I was turning 30 and simply felt an urgent need for one fluffy cuddly puppy RIGHT NOW DANGIT! Plus, even though our first puppy, Sydney Bristow loves me, she quickly became Kevin's dog - a fact which he still gloats about to this day. I'll admit it...I wanted a dog who would choose ME as it's "person".

So, after talking Kevin into getting me yet another...puppy, I went on a (practically) nationwide search and last week we brought home Samwise Gamgee, also known as Samwise the Brave. We named him thus because he is very hobbit like in general, being of rather...um...diminutive stature and having the shaggy wavy/curly hair usually found on hobbits - but more than that, he has quickly become my faithful, loyal companion, following me everywhere I go like my shadow, just like the character we named him after. As I type this, Samwise is sleeping at my feet.


As I begin the rest of my life, I look around me and see a collection of 3 lovely, darling children, 1 cat (the other ran away, PRAISE THE LORD) and now, not one, but two dogs. It is official. Old age clouds my better judgment. And poor Kevin is already mentally preparing himself for what I'm going to talk him into when I turn 31 next year. Suggestions welcome - for the record, I do think I'm done with puppies and babies, and I'm not really into horses or fancy cars.

the post that made up for (3?) months of unposting.

The following video was shown at RHCC's Saturday night worship tonight and as a 1) Mac snob (I'm SORRY! I didn't plan to become one! I just couldn't help it, my Mac is just THAT cool, dude!) and a 2) trying-really-hard Christian who's throw-up sick of the fakeness and judgmentalism (yes I made both those words up on purpose because my brain is a little on the slow side tonight after being around a bunch of crazy lovely family) I often feel around me, this video made me crack up SOOOO much (oops, hope it's okay to laugh - really obnoxiously - at church...) that the first thing I did when I got home was to get on the internet, use my super internet sleuthing skills and find it so I could post it for your viewing pleasure. Also that was one very, very long sentence. I'm gifted like that. Anyway, I don't think it needs further commentary from me. See you in 3 months!

fulfilled.

On Saturday night, for the very first time ever, I played the piano in a church of Christ worship.

It was a pretty powerful experience.

I was nauseatingly nervous before. I mean, in what other universe would I be standing alone on stage with Rick Atchley, playing a solo and making up background music on the spot? What if I messed up the transitions, messed everyone else up, made a fool of myself? What if I went up on stage too early or too late and got glared at by Rick Atchley? (haha, band people were teasing me about that, but it wasn't quite so funny at the time, I promise.) WHAT IF LIGHTNING STRUCK?

Praying with band members beforehand really helped.

Having a pure hearted singer stand in my line of sight almost the whole time and watching her sing her heart out, out of the corner of my eye helped.

Seeing my husband, children's and sister's shining, worshiping faces in the audience helped.

But when the music began, I pretty much forgot everything but the music and the words, and who they were going to. I'd like to think I was doing my part leading worship and ministering to the people through my playing.

I'd like to think that I have finally been able to thank God for the gifts He has given me and offer them back to Him with my whole heart.

People at that church keep telling me I'm a blessing to them, but what they don't understand is that they're blessing me more than I could ever bless them. I was shriveling up inside my soul and they have watered and fed me God's words and spirit. They have given me back my music.

Perhaps the best part was afterwards, when a family who used to attend a different church with us not so long ago, came up to me and said, "When you started playing, we thought - this is exactly what she needs to be doing." They were obviously so happy for me, that I have found my little place to minister.

It meant so much, coming from them. It meant so much that they understood.

I'll never forget my first time.

very impressed.

I'm utterly impressed that some people actually remembered that I'd promised to divulge something 10 days ago.

It's actually not that exciting...some of you will be like, "Um. Duh. Didn't she already try that before? Booooring" And many of you already knew, anyway, because I'm such a big blabbermouth.

But here goes anyway.

Doesn't she have enough blogs?

because you didn't already think I was weird enough.

Well, you get what you ask for, Shenna. You people really are gluttons for punishment.

(Yet) Six (More) Weird Things about Me.

1 - Our fish tank exploded a few days ago. Now we have 653 baby tetra fish. And what I do? I stand there and stare at the cute little baby fishies all day long. I can't take my eyes off of them, they are mesmerizing. Hey, anybody want to start a fish tank? We'll give them away to anyone who promises to be a responsible fish parent. (Also, Kevin now thinks he's the World Champion of Fish Spawning and he says I'm not allowed to ever say he's a bad fish parent again. Because the ability to mass reproduce life means that you're a good parent. Whatever.)

2 - I sniff my dog's ears all the time. I think they smell irresistable. Unlike her gas emissions, which makes our houseplants wither. Ok, we don't have houseplants, but if we did, they would wither and die from her gas emissions.

3 - I'm the only asian I know with curly hair. Okay, that wasn't really true. But I have very wavy hair. Problem is, I grew up thinking I was cursed with normal straight asian hair that just happened to be frizzy and messy, unlike my relatives' shiny straight locks. It wasn't until I was in my mid-20's that I realized that if I just quit brushing it out straight, that I actually have curly waves. Duh. Most people think I have it permed, which drives me nuts. If you knew me, you'd know that I'm a bonafide tree-hugging back-to-nature kind of gal and would never perm my hair, although my Mom talked me into getting my bangs permed once when I was like 9 or something.

4 - I get obsessed with researching things that interest me. When something piques my interest, I immerse myself in it. I research and research and research for days, months and years until I'm totally sick of it. It's a cursed talent. Or a talented curse. Something like that.

5 - All Apple computers come with a handy built-in camera. Since I got my MacBook a couple of months ago, I haven't ceased to be highly entertained by taking very stupid photos of myself, my children, my sister and my dog, Sydney Bristow. I just sit there and crack up, so badly. Because I'm four.

6 - I've been doing something that you would all think is totally weird, for 20 days straight. I've decided that when I've reached 30 days, I will post about it on this blog and share it with all of you. (Some of you already know what I'm talking about...shh.) So, this one is kind of a cop-out and a teaser all at the same time! Here's some clues: It's sort of related to no. 4 and no. 5. Just come back to my blog in 10 days already. Deal?

the longest post in the entire universe and you know you wanna read it.

I was a preacher's kid.

When I was two, we lived in a little apartment above the church building. I had this little dinky toy piano. My mother was astonished one day to hear me plunking out hymns on my little dinky toy piano. "She must be a musical prodigy!" my parents thought. They immediately began what turned into years of financial sacrifice and started sending me for piano lessons at the tender age of 3.

For years, the Spirit, several teachers and lots of money from my parents cultivated this gift of music in me - piano playing in particular. (I have perfect pitch, can effortlessly sing in tune and blend in seamlessly with a choir, blah blah, but I have neither a beautiful nor powerful solo voice.) So the piano became my voice, my expression, my heart, and eventually when I grew up, I even got a degree in piano performance.

But in all my 29 years, I never once got to play my instrument in worship to God, except in very private moments when I was playing alone with Him.

Why? Well, because my Christian heritage is Church of Christ, and traditionally, Church of Christ-ians largely believe that the Scriptures tell us to worship only with acappella (vocal) music.

I feel embarassed to admit this, but here is a true confession - growing up, I truly wondered if some of my friends who went to denominations were actually Christians, mainly because they all worshiped with instruments and I was taught that this was unscriptural. I never actually said this to any of them though, because deep inside, I could not quite believe that God didn't think they were following Him. I watched their lives silently and saw that their faith was pure and sincere. When I was in high school, I joined the little Christian Fellowship at my school and some of my friends brought in their guitars. That was truly my first exposure to instrumental worship, and although it made me feel uncomfortable at first, I came to observe that their worship was genuine and it was nothing to do with whether they worshiped with instruments or not.

Seeds of conflict started to grow within me - seeds that have taken me years to work through.

I thrived and flourished in college because my life was so immersed in music. My piano professor, Dr. Rathbun (who was more than just an educator to me - he was my friend, mentor and someone I will always deeply respect) helped my music wings to soar to levels I had not reached before. He told me once that if I ever went without playing the piano in my life, that I could not be whole. I didn't realize then what tremendous wisdom that was. Music - and piano playing in particular - was the biggest way I connected to my world and to God. It brought stability and harmony to my life in so many ways.

After I graduated from college, (like, the very next day!) I got married to an amazing man. Kevin believed SO strongly in my gift that he bought me a beautiful grand piano that cost more than a new truck. This wise young man saw clearly even back then that music was my voice and he wanted to nurture his beloved wife and make sure she did not lose her voice. I appreciated the gift so much and was all set to embark on some kind of music career.

But situations that we were in at the time got to me so much that slowly and surely, I began to neglect my piano playing. First of all, we were working, worshiping and serving in traditional Churches of Christ, where instrumental worship was taboo. Second, I up and had TWINS! And my life would never be the same again. Although many good musicians have kids and continue to be serious musicians, something started dying slowly inside me as I became overwhelmed with the busyness of motherhood and different ministry settings. I did continue to do some accompaniment and teaching on the side but it did not even come close to fully utilizing my gift.

Things became so dismal, that by the time we moved to Texas in 2003 when Kevin became the preaching minister for a Church of Christ here, the grand piano that my husband so preciously gifted me had become more of a guilty burden than a blessing - it was a big white elephant sitting in the corner staring me in my face and reminding me of all that I had given up. We even attempted to sell it several times, although mysteriously (or maybe not so mysteriously) that never worked out. I barely touched it more than once in a blue moon, and the less I played, the more I was losing my skills and the less I desired to play it.

At ACU, I was the piano chick. In Oregon, I was the chick who could do some really decent piano accompaniment. By the time we moved to Texas, nobody really knew I played the piano. Certainly, nobody ever HEARD me play it.

Pretty soon, I mostly forgot that I ever could play Chopin or Bach. Once in awhile, I would remember things I played in college and would feel jolts of genuine surprise at the memories - as if the person that once played like that was surely not me, but somebody else I used to know. I threw myself into nurturing my family and being the best wife, mother and child of God I could be. But there was a hole in my spirit and even though I kept trying to ignore it and keep going, it was starting to devour my entire being. A few times, I would be running some mundane errand in the van and a piano piece that I used to love or play would come on the radio and tears would start running down my cheeks and then I'd find myself having to pull over and sob uncontrollably for a few minutes.

At this time, Kevin and I were starting to have some serious discussion and study together about music in worship. Because sometimes, when I thought about my gift of piano playing, I just wanted to scream into the heavens and ask God why He had given me this gift if I couldn't use it to worship Him and help others worship Him. It also seemed hypocritical to me that it was apparently okay to listen to instrumental worship music at home or in the car, but not in a worship setting. After all, aren't we supposed to worship God every day, with everything we do, in every aspect of our lives?

With much prayer and study, we both came to see that while we love and appreciate our Church of Christ heritage, maybe we hadn't gotten it all right. (What a humbling thought!) And God kept bringing several of my beautiful and talented friends, Sarah Lynn, Elisa E. and Jolene to my mind - three girls I highly love and respect, girls who show me Christ, girls who worship God whole-heartedly with both their voices and their other instruments.

Although Kevin and I both thoroughly enjoy pure, simple acappella music, we could no longer feel convicted that the Scriptures were telling us that worshiping with instruments was wrong, or worse - a sin - like I know some in our fellowship believe. With all this stripped away, I began to feel deeply ashamed and pharisaical about all the judging I had been guilty of with my Christian friends from other denominations - and not just with the music issue either, but that is a whole other can of worms and let's not go there right now, shall we? :)

In 2006, our family went through some major stuff. Kevin and I were suddenly cut off from our church family and were devastated at the time at how things happened. Even though we knew God had plans for us and we looked forward to a bright future, we still had some hurt to work through. I couldn't see this at the time - but although I'm sure we all wish that the situation had been more positive for everybody involved, God was invisibly starting to pull me out of the funk I had been in, and in hindsight, and at the risk of sounding totally cliche, this experience was going to be a blessing in disguise.

We spent the summer healing, surrounded by family, good Christian friends and wonderful neighbors. At this time, we realized that we badly needed to be a part of a healthy, thriving church family, and so we became members at the Richland Hills Church of Christ, where much healing happened for us. We also listened to God's calling and began to plant the seeds of a baby church plant in our neighborhood as well.

And then, unexpectedly, God began to use people in my life to confront me about this whole music thing. It started when my neighbor Angel and I had a little heart-to-heart late one night at her kitchen table about why I wasn't playing the piano anymore. A few weeks later, she twisted my arm into giving piano lessons to her sweet daughter. (Okay, she didn't exactly use brute force but I know that she was partly asking me because she wanted to see me use my gifts.)

And then, people who came to Life Quest Church (our baby church plant) started asking me if I was ever going to play the piano for them. It was a lot of pressure and I was seriously being pushed out of my comfort zone in a big way. You see, going from "I can't say anymore that I believe it is unscriptural to worship with instruments" to "Hey y'all, lets jam to my piano playing during worship, woo hoo!" was a BIG leap for me. I resisted it and resisted it, then I resisted it some more. I made up all kinds of excuses, from "I haven't played in forever, I stink" to "I'm just not emotionally ready to do this."

And one day, I simply ran out of excuses. Kevin begged me to consider playing at Life Quest Church's Christmas Eve morning worship in our home last month. Yes, he seriously begged me. He apparently felt that it would be a blessing to our church. I finally said "Yes, fine, okay, if you'll clean the cat litter for 6 months." (Kidding! I'm kidding!) And then I went into a state of utter panic.

Christmas Eve morning rolled around and I was so nervous I wanted to throw up. Then we began worshiping our God together and everything became a glorious blur, because, guess what? Playing the piano in worship to God is a natural thing to me, as natural as breathing. I hadn't done it in so long, I had forgotten.

I do vaguely remember holding back some tears at the thought of blessings I had missed out on over the the last few years because of my reluctance to use my gift. I remember our friend Tim saying that he barely made it through the first piece I played, which made me want to cry even more. I remember accompanying and singing, "I Can only Imagine" with my dear husband Kevin on his guitar. And I remember everyone giving me requests and me feeling genuinely happy to oblige. I remember realizing that this whole thing wasn't about my piano playing at all, but about me giving my spiritual gift of music back to God and using it to serve and bless others in worship to Him.

I have turned a corner, musically, spiritually.

And now, this week, God gently took me by the hand and said, "My child, here is your next step." So on Tuesday night at 9pm, I walked into Richland Hills Church and somehow landed the very last audition slot for their newly forming praise band*. And today I found out that I made it. Not because I'm some piano prodigy (ha, in my dreams), but because I have finally listened and surrendered my gifts back to God and He is affirming my pitiful but sincere offering. I am honored and humbled to be a part of this new ministry.

I don't feel this post can be complete without sharing with you something that my beautiful sweet friend, Sarah Lynn emailed me today. It is something I will take to heart. She is someone I've admired greatly from the moment I met her and I'm grateful to call her my good friend. She is a gifted musician herself, moved people to tears at my wedding and has helped lead worship at just about every church she's been a part of - by playing the piano and also with her gorgeous voice which I'm completely and totally in envy of.

"I know worship music is so much simpler than classical but it is so fulfilling to me when I am helping lead people before the throne of God in worship. It's humbling. And not all about me or how good the band sounds (though it's important to do your best) but about hearts worshiping our Father."

I am crying inside. They are tears of joy.


*To learn more about Richland Hills Church's decision to add an instrumental service, click here.

what's she up to now.

At 9pm yesterday night I auditioned for something. It was the first time in years I'd auditioned for anything. I was the very last person they heard, because it was sort of a last minute decision and I got the very last slot available. I have been interested in this opportunity ever since I heard of it, but I decided to wait and pray about it a little and not stress out about making a decision. I figured if God wanted me there, He would pick me up and put me there.

Well, the details miraculously presented themselves to me in a neat little package on the last day of auditions, 5 hours before it was all due to be over. I didn't have much time to prepare and I wasn't sure I should even go in, but then suddenly I found myself there. There was no turning back. God definitely picked me up and put me in this one.

Now I wait to hear back from them.

If I make it, I'll tell y'all what it was. If I don't make it, I'll consider telling y'all what it was.

hey, is it december already?

True confession:
I never thought it would be possible... but lately I've been bored with the whole blogging thing. I know this must come as a shock to many of you. :) I haven't decided what I'm going to do about that yet. Ride it out? Shut it down? Maybe I'll take a poll. Okay, all of you who're tired of reading my babble, write me an anonymous comment telling me how bored you are with my blog already. Just kidding!

By the way,
I was going to tell you about all this great stuff that is happening in my life right now. For example, my daughter says such unbelievably cute things. And my sons are so much like my husband, it's scary cool. And we just watched an entire season of 24 on dvd. Boring but neat stuff like that.

A new addition:
Also, I had another child, her name is Fiona MacBook and she came into my life on December 11th at 10:20am, weighing 5.2 lbs and measuring 12.78 inches. Here is a picture of my baby, isn't she gorgeous?


Important Prayer Need.
But tonight I got an email from a friend that made my heart stop for a minute. Sometimes, life is just so not fair. My friend's sister just had a baby at 25 weeks and 1 day and this family is facing some challenges in the coming months. The baby's name is Grace, she's beautiful, she's alive and she's a fighter. If you're reading this, please take a few minutes to pray for baby Grace and her parents. I'm just feeling so sad that any mother has to go through watching her baby fight through the first few months.

I don't mean to end my blog on a depressing note this year, so let me say this loudly and clearly - I know that God can, will and already has been working miracles for Grace and her parents - just ask me about my neighbor Ann and how God has healed her through prayer! Maybe I'll blog about that soon - it has been a very important and spiritually forming event in my life this year, and it wasn't even about me.

So, all my friends out there, go and be blessed. Love your families this coming year, kiss your babies on every inch of their bodies - well, almost every inch, spend lots of quality time with your children and be thankful every single day - not for what you have - but for who you have. And keep praying for baby Grace. That would mean a lot to me and I know it would help Grace and her family a lot.

p.s. This one was for Scarlet and Scott. Thanks for keeping me on track with my monthly blogging schedule. :)
p.p.s. Okay, I have to tell you this - we got some new living room furniture recently. So when I was blogging tonight about Fiona MacBook, I googled for a picture of her I could put on this post. I hastily picked one and added it to the post. Upon closer inspection, I realized.... that the person who took that picture, HAS THE EXACT SAME COFFEE TABLE AS WE DO. I need to find this person who has my MacBook AND my coffee table! We must be kindred spirits!

presenting your token november post

Well, well, well.

First of all, I have to admit that the only reason I'm posting this is because in over three illustrious years of blogging I don't think I've ever missed an entire month before, and I realized tonight that if I don't post at least once in November, then "November 2006" will be missing from my archives and that will totally freak me out inside, sorta like when the orthodontist pulls a perfectly good tooth to make room for your other teeth to move into proper alignment in your mouth but even though your mouth looks normal to everyone else, you'll always know inside that a tooth used to be there and now it's gone forever. Or something like that.

Life is rich and beautiful, and for that I am thankful. I'm so happy. And I'm so happy that for the first time this year I can honestly say that I'm so happy. My family is healthy, whole, undeservedly blessed by God and surrounded by folks who seriously care about us. My children are funny, precious little people who have made us laugh more this week, it seems, than we have laughed all year. They are just so delighted about the world, life and God that they can't help but rub that enthusiasm off on me a little. I'm so grateful that I get to hang out with them every day and pretend to teach them things when actually it's more the other way around. Also, my husband is doing things with his life that fulfill him, with people who genuinely like him and give him the respect that he deserves - and that has rubbed off on the rest of us too. Plus, we have the coolest dog in the world named Sydney Bristow, which is totally sweet icing on our proverbial cake. No, I'm not trying to make my life sound perfect - because it's so not and you'd see through it anyway - but you have no idea how thankful I am right now for everything I have been given.

On the shallow side of things, I'm extremely excited because the other day, our couch broke. You know - that futon thing that looked like a kid named Paisley had thrown up all over it? (Yes, I have heard of kids named Paisley and actually I think it makes a cute name if you try not to have a mental image of an ugly couch stuck in your head when you say it.) Anyway, I honestly can't remember the name of the drug I must have been taking when I chose that couch cover. Because IT SUCKED HIDEOUSLY. I can admit this to myself now that it's broken and I'm finally free from it's bondage.

The day after I chose that paisley couch and paid for it, I almost wanted to kill myself because I realized that I was going to have to live with a funky colored paisley couch for the rest of my life. Because with my luck this couch would have a longer lifespan than the giant tortoise and we are not generally the type of people who go and buy a new couch every 4 years just because they made a huge mistake and chose a paisley one the first time around. We're just too miserly and boring for that. But then I got a grip on myself and tried to make the best of it. Over the years I've purposely taken many pictures of my kids on the paisley couch, which definitely made it better looking. Also I simply pretended on the outside that it is perfectly normal and in excellent taste to own a paisley couch. Reverse psychology worked, mostly. I was going to sit on a paisley couch for the next 177 years (in keeping up with my giant tortoise lifespan theory) and by jove, I was going to learn to cherish my paisley couch.


So when Kevin announced angrily to me one day that while moving the couch to vacuum underneath, he'd broken the paisley couch...I did not yell gleefully or dance around the room right away. I held my breath and asked him to explain what exactly he meant by "broken". Was that "broken", as in, oops, a tiny piece of wood had fallen off and we'd have to drive to Home Depot, what a bother, and spend $10 on super paisley futon glue to glue it back in place so it wouldn't look more hideous than it already did? Or was that "broken", as in, it had fallen so much apart that nobody was permitted to sit on it ever again? When he confirmed that it was the latter, I exhaled slowly, tried to still my wildly beating heart and finally managed to squeak in a tiny voice,

"Um, does that mean we have to buy a new couch now?"

Only when he answered in the affirmative did I allow a tentative grin to slowly take over my face. Then I hugged my husband, tightly. And thanked him for breaking the couch. And kissed him a lot. And treated him very well that night, making him wish that there was 20 more paisley couches in the house to break. Then I spent three days looking through the Pottery Barn website and my old Pottery Barn catalogs that I've pored over a hundred times but have never bought anything from and never will. (I have this thing against their ridiculous prices but oh, I so do admire their style.) A month later, after a very long search to reconcile style and budget, I think we have found couch nirvana at our local IKEA. Forget the paisley thing, we're going for really cool stripes this time!

I'm so joking. I have learned my lesson. We're going for a plain, boring, beige couch with MACHINE WASHABLE COVERS. And sometime in the next year, when we actually have time to drive to Frisco and purchase the stuff and haul it back and set it up, we will be finally able to sit on a real couch again instead of the various constellations of folding chairs that have been dotting the universe of my living room for the last month (sorry, Life Questers).

Yes, life is good. And I wish the same, and more for all of you out there. This holiday season, cherish your families, enjoy your children and please, with all things paisley...small doses...small doses.