Dearest Samuel,

Baby Samuel, thank you for fighting. Did you know that through your life, the Body of Christ was joined together? Did you know that your story was heard across the country and across the globe? You are not only loved by the Creator and your parents, Dan and Kelly, but your name has been spoken countless times today. You are an example of God's power, God's goodness, and God's unfailing love. Your parents had and have this unfailing faith and enduring desire to seek the Lord's will first. Do you know how encouraging that is? Challenging? Admirable? Life changing?

You're with the Lord now. I'm so lucky to have heard your story and to have prayed for you. Even after the decision to take you off of life support, during that interval of prayer, I truly believed that God had the power to keep you alive. You don't know me, but I'm often doubtful and quick to assume the practical/probable. I realized even before I heard the news that the Lord has used you to grow my faith. To grow the faith of all believers who have heard your story.

I think that the world now has a greater understanding of what love looks like. What the church was meant to do...love one another and proclaim the Truth about God and Christ for the world to hear. Merry Christmas, Samuel.

Music, "you put the art in my heart".

Success

Who is the more successful?

A doctor or a baker?

A lawyer or an artist?

A stay-at-home-mother or a psychologist?

A pastor or a rock star?

A scuba-diving instructor or an elementary school teacher?

A queen or a trash man?

A burger-flipper or a neuro-surgeon?

A dog-walker or a missionary?

A librarian or a farmer?

How do you define success?

Do you define yourself by your level of success?

Should you?

Does it control how you define others?

Should it?

What do you want in this life?

To be successful?

To be happy?

To take risks?

To stay safe?

To be smart? About everything?

To make someone happy?

What if you took the idea of success and accomplishment away?

What if you took away salaries, expectations, and pride?

What if there were only attempts, goals, dreams and struggles?

Who are you now?

Is this version of you less great than the one that "succeeds"?

Why?

According to the Bible, we believers all have the same ultimate purpose. Perhaps we walk in different directions, earn different amounts of money, and dress in different brands of clothing, but we're walking on the same type of path designed by the same Creator for the same reasons. And unlike the world, we're allowed to fall on our faces because it doesn't change our purpose and it doesn't change how the Creator sees us. In 100 years, there will only be one whose love towards us remains. So why are we so bent up on "succeeding" when no level of "success" can ever take away or add to the amount that the Lord loves us? Why are we so concentrated on giving into what the world has created to be "success" and forgetting about who God has created to be heroes, givers, and faith-based people?

When the salaries, titles, recognition, looks, knowledge, scores, schools, and approving nods are stripped away, you are finally just...you.

Auntie Jackie

She would sit in the center of the campground, coffee thermos in her pale hands, and feet propped up on the stone wall of the fireplace. I always remember her wearing fleece. I always remember her smiling. I loved her slight Irish accent.

Auntie Jackie was my Girl Scout leader for 8 years. That's 8 years of patience, teaching, guidance, advice, encouragement, laughter, adventure, learning, and growing. I think as young girls, we couldn't entirely understand a person's character...especially not that of an adult (we think we know their characters!). Now that I look back after having grown up some, I realize the amount of energy it took to keep up a household, 3 children and their schoolwork, endless extra-curriculars, and community work. But it's not just the time and energy that's striking. It's the desire to give even to strangers. To others in the community simply because she was grateful. Compassionate.

Auntie Jackie was diagnosed with ALS about 4 or 5 years ago, and somehow dealt with losing all independence. Losing the ability to communicate. The ability to bathe herself. To feed herself. To decide. For the past couple of years, my mom and I haven't been involved with her life...but I do remember seeing her unable to move and speak. My friend, Auntie Jackie's daughter, was hurrying around the house fulfilling responsibility after responsibility as if the typical adolescent matters suddenly vanished.

Jackie's with the Lord now...as joyful and beautiful as ever. Here on earth, at school, I see her heart and attitude lived out by her daughter. I see the way she bravely takes on challenges, yet still cares so intimately for her friends. The way she fulfills her responsibilities, yet is able to use art to express herself. She is beautiful and she will always be remembered as a super-mom for all of us.

Troop 678 <3

Laundry Room

I was just spending some time practicing the violin in the laundry room. Even though I've been playing this specific concerto for almost a couple of years now, there are still problem areas that come back whenever I don't practice consistently. And I'm recording the last segment (hopefully!!) of my college tape this weekend! (...except for arpeggios. I can't seem to find my workbook of arpeggios...danggit UCI!)

A couple of years ago, when my half-brother Kevin was visiting home from New York, he told me to try practicing in the laundry room. "It's like playing in a concert hall compared to the carpeted living room," he said. Since then, whenever I felt like I had practiced hard and was still dissatisfied with my sound, I'd treat myself to a few minutes practicing in the laundry room. With eyes closed, I really could imagine that I was playing for a crowd in a music hall.

Aside from beautiful acoustics, the laundry room is also a closed, clean[er] space compared to the rest of the house. And it's not too cold like our bathroom....(from which the neighbors can hear my playing O_O. ) I can always concentrate in the laundry room, and because of the privacy, I can also exaggerate my musicality and explore styles to find the type that fits me or fits exactly what the composer's looking for.

Today, I traced my time in the laundry room back to Kevin, and really wanted to hear him play again. How can a neuro-surgeon ever have the time to just play the violin?? Today I wonder if he ever does. I wonder how he'd sound now. I wonder what kind of magic happened in that laundry room. Sure, I agree that it takes discipline and persistent practice to really improve, but I also think being able to pretend that I'm playing in a large hall, sound soaring through the air, can bring that music to the next level. Beginner, amateur :), or professional.

Speaking of New York and big brothers, ERIC'S COMING HOME IN TWO WEEKS!!

Keith

Our tour guide and friend from Ireland!

"In conflict, the first casualty is the truth"

"The oppressed become the oppressors."

"Every man's revolutionist is another man's terrorist."

In my travel journal I made the note..

"**Think: compare the freedom fighters to those we see as terrorists. Are they in the same situation as these nationalists?"

What the crazies...

God be with you

In Literature class, we're reading a book called A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce, an Irish modernist. As we're going over not just text but Irish history, so many fond memories of Ireland are brought back (my classmates Charis, Ted, John, Sophia, and Selene were all on the trip, too). Today we discussed the IRA and significant characters that led movements, held power, and fought for their country. It's hard to believe and remember the struggle that still goes on within Ireland today.

During our time in Belfast, we had the opportunity to meet Catholics, spend time with them, and even bring them over to a Protestant church. Rossi (sp?) was an especially memorable guy for me, because at first glance he seemed like a fine-and-dandy, always happy or couldn't care less kind of guy. As we spent the whole day with him, we slowly uncovered how the terrorism and struggle was really a part of his past and present, knowledge and belief. He came with us on a tour at a Protestant police station, and joined us for dinner before we left Belfast. I'll never forget how eager we were to find out more...how eye-opening and heart-wrenching it was for us to hear stories from people who still experience that terrorism, knowledge, courage, loyalty, and patience. A few of us even kindly asked him to switch seats in the middle of dinner so that we could all hear him speak...and by the end of the night, his plate was cold and full because he was too busy sharing (poor guy!)

I think the burning question that we all had was, "When is it going to end?" We wanted a happy ending. A solution to the conflict. We're used to a story with hope, with answers. As I think about it now, I realize that this is why all our hearts still feel close to our time in Ireland-we want our friends to be okay (Protestant or Catholic). For even a few days, our experience in West and East Belfast, simply driving along the dividing wall or meeting fighters who had been in prison, was frightening. Intense. Surprising. I can't imagine not being able to go to the grocery store 5 minutes away because it's on the opposing side. I can't imagine having to drive/walk an extra 15 minutes out of fear of getting jumped.

Yet as Rossi talked, he seemed to have hope. He was grateful. He knew that the Protestants have been hurt, too. He knew that both sides have suffered and that both still hold a defiant belief, but not without a constant and nagging fear or caution. So many questions pop up for me now. How far would I go to defend my faith? How far would I go to defend my country? Am I, like Joyce, disapproving of this conflict and constant struggle? When would I lose hope? When would I lose sight of God?

I really hope to be back in Ireland one day. I told myself that I would pray for these people, our friends and even strangers, who live simple lives in the rain, in the culture, in the farms and cities. Tonight I wonder how God's moving and working and loving in Ireland. I wish I could see!

Rossi taught us a couple of phrases. I just googled them and those pronunciations seem to be different. Google's wrong, Rossi's wrong, or they're both right. Just like northern and southern Ireland huh?

"Hello" or "God be with you"- "gia-dutch"

"God be with you, too"- "gia-maya-dutch"

The internet may tell me otherwise, but I'll never forget these..and how much we wanted to remember and pronounce these correctly because we loved these friendly yet powerful (at least in translation) phrases.

God be with you, Rossi.