alive.

Today as I was driving the kids home from their home school co-op, the windows in the van started fogging up because it was cold-ish outside and our warm bodies were heating up the little piece of space we were occupying for the moment. It made me feel so alive. It's good to be alive.

i want more.

There are things I want. Goals in life I have. Some of them are just mine to achieve, but most of them are mutual, shared with my husband. Some of them are as small as wanting to run a marathon, and some of them are so big and scary that I cannot say them out loud (yet), but Kevin knows them and God knows them.

It feels good to work towards things. Without this desire, this urgent want for some of these things, I believe my soul would shrivel up and leave me a little less alive everyday.

I know this because I've been on the verge of numbness too many times to count. And always, the music starts to play again when I bring back to my mind all those goals I hold tightly in my mind, like precious trinkets I own in a hidden jewelry box.

On really tough days, remembering that the gates to the future are still wide open - that my goals are still there to reach for, keep me going when I feel like giving up. They give me something not just to live for, but to live mightily for.

They give me something to talk to God about. They pull me out of whatever mud I happen to be wallowing in at the moment.

I believe God gave human beings this innate desire to reach for something bigger than themselves, and if not exercised, a small part of the soul dies.

I am thankful for my family, who dream big with me. The creativity, wonder and passion I see in my children's eyes every day lights a fire in me. And the biggest blessing of all - to have a husband with the gift of dreaming.

One day, not so long ago, I looked at Kevin and told him I had had a really big, almost presumptuous vision of where our family, and he in particular, would end up someday.

I didn't have to give many words to that vision, he'd been having feelings along the same lines for awhile, too and caught on immediately. It was an almost Twilight Zone moment...one that caught us by surprise and yet did not, all at the same time.

And ever since, we have had some seriously big fish in mind to catch, and the idea of it all is molding us both into better people every day, (albeit rather slowly, since the process of becoming a better person is a rather bothersome and painful one.)

God knew I needed someone who could keep me thinking big, that everything is possible, that it is ok to have big ideas.

I am happy to get out of my box every morning when I wake up, and try to make something bigger out of it. Some days I do better than others, but lately the box has seriously been getting in my way. And I mean that in all the good kinds of ways.

I want more. But if what I want never comes to me, just the wanting by itself has made me a better person. I hope I never stop wanting more.

Is there any other way to live?

i think I'm back. don't hold me to it.

Living. It has been different the last few months.

My daughter almost died and God brought her back to me, perfect and whole. A miracle.

And somehow, that's changed everything. I'm only just now starting to soak this in.

It's hard to share and I try my best to pretend that everything is back to normal on the outside.

Some days I find myself driving to the grocery store and I just cry and cry until there's nothing left to cry. God and I have many conversations in the van lately. Often accompanied by very loud music. I'm a musician, you know. My life has a soundtrack.

Today I was feeling a bit sorry for myself. The sun was hot and alive outside. I was inside, shades were drawn, house was musty, fighting leftover sadness and fear and not even understanding it.

Then I went downstairs at 2pm and I see my handsome husband soundly sleeping, sprawled out on our small loveseat. He has been working around the clock to keep our family fed, clothed and sheltered.

I stopped and just looked at him for a minute. I mean, really looked at him. He had 2 day old stubble which made my heart skip a beat. I was happy to see him finally resting. So grateful for all he has done for me and the children.

Love overcame me and I bent down and kissed him on his prickly cheek. He stirred a little, said hi drowsily. I curled up beside him and for 20 minutes he held me tightly and said over and over that he loved me and that he couldn't believe I was his. I'm even pretty sure he was 80% conscious the whole time.

That was the best part of my day, but this was definitely the icing:











Right now I'm living for moments like these. I have to. It's the real stuff of life and I have painfully learned that I have to gratefully hug (ok, in my case it's more like cling tightly to the pant leg of) each good moment, because I never know when I'll run out of them.

Living is a good thing. I will not be afraid of it.

two empty rooms.

Since the day I became a mother, one of my daily prayers has been this: that all my kids would live longer than I would.

Because no mother wants to live through the grief of knowing that a child from their womb has been torn from this world before their time. And in a perfect world, no mother would ever have to.

Five days ago, I almost lost my daughter, Trinity.

We were told on the way to the hospital that she likely wouldn't make it there. I've been thinking about that moment every hour for days, and still cannot adequately describe what I felt. I just know I don't ever want to feel it again. I don't think hell could torment me worse than that.

For 24 hours I watched in a daze as my daughter fought for her life, and I watched in a daze as a host of doctors and nurses fought to save her life.

Then I watched in a daze over the next 3 days as her life transformed into a miracle before many eyes.

I watched as she became stable, as they were able hour by hour and day by day to decrease the amount of life support drugs she was on, as her shocked kidneys began returning to normal function. I watched as they discontinued the drugs completely and as they took her off the dialysis machine. I watched as they pulled out her breathing tube, her catheter and one of her IVs, and I watched as they told me she was ready to be on liquids, just 5 days later.

I just fed her a cupful of freshly squeezed orange juice. I have heard her beautiful voice crying and saying, "I love you" and "Mommy, I need you." I have seen her smile, wince and wink. I see her as I write this, peacefully resting in natural deep slumber.

They say my daughter is a miracle.

When we first left the house during this emergency, my husband turned on the light in my daughter's room. He did not tell me this until several days later. But he informed me before I went home for the first time, that he had left Trinity's light on on purpose, and that nobody was allowed to turn it off until she came home with us.

My daughter's empty room is shining like the bright light that she is, until she is safe home where she should be.

But there is another empty room that is haunting me. A different empty room, two hospital beds down from my daughter's.

Last night I heard one of the most horrible sounds in the world coming from that room - the sound of a mother grieving for her lost child.

For a few minutes, I couldn't breathe.

That sound could have been coming from me. But it wasn't.

It was too close to home, and it was raw anguish, reliving those hours and realizing all too fully for the first time how close I came to having an empty room in my own house.

I have to walk past this mother's empty room several times a day because it is across from the bathroom here at the hospital. Every time, my stomach twists in knots, my breathing stops for a few seconds and I have to keep my eyes turned away from that empty room, that empty bed.

I have prayed for this mother throughout the day. As much as I think I can imagine how she feels today, I'm only too aware that I can't possibly know.

I am thankful that my daughter is alive today. I am thankful for the amazing nurses and doctors here at this children's hospital. I am thankful for our incredible network of family, friends and church family who have ministered to us in countless different ways during this awful time.

Above all, I am thankful for the thousands of powerful prayers offered up on my daughter's behalf. They have lifted my daughter and the rest of my family up on the wings of angels the last several days.

And I am selfishly, forever, grateful that all signs point to my daughter becoming whole and well and safely returning to her room at home again. (And be assured, I have plans to put her in a tightly sealed, giant bubble for the next few years at least.)

But I will never, ever forget this other mother and her empty room, and I will never stop praying for her.

My friends, treasure your children and your families, and revel in every moment you have with them. I know I have learned to this week, all because of two empty rooms.

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?