karen, maybe sharen

last year for spring sing, the girls in pi zeta phi were searching for their identities. "i got no recollection when i see my own reflection." we found our identities in drivers’ licenses and i.d. cards. BUT, can a piece of plastic honestly define your existence? who is the girl staring back at you in the mirror? sometimes i feel like mulan, wondering when my reflection will show who i am inside. alas, the question remains: who am i inside? a child was talking to his mother about God: "mom, God is inside us but He is bigger than us. so, why can’t we see Him?" when i search for myself in the mirror, i should not look for myself but God. i am His creation. as children bear physical features and personality traits of their parents, so we as children of God should reflect His glory. "for if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks at his natural face in a mirror; for once he has looked at himself and gone away, he has immediately forgotten what kind of person he was." (James 1:23-24) NEVER forget who you are. the longer you forget, the harder it is to reclaim your identity. every morning when my dad dropped me off at school, he would say, "remember Whose you are." (an adaptation from the lion king, but interesting nonetheless) sometimes i hated those words (especially when i was being dropped off in front of my high school). now i look back and am thankful for those strong words, reminding me to remember the person i saw in the mirror that morning. some people say college is a time of searching and growing, finding out who you are and who you want to be. last year, i was lost in a whirlwind of worldly things i thought defined me. it took living in another country for me to find my true identity, to find myself in Christ. "we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit." (2 Cor. 3:18) i wonder how many souls are out there searching for their identity, and i pray that in their search they seek God, the True Source of identity. "if perhaps they might grope for Him and find Him, thought He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and exist." (Acts 17:27-28) my prayer for each one of you during the rest of your adventure on earth is that you will experience Jesus Christ and reflect the glory of the Lord. i pray others will see your peace, your strength, your solid and immovable spirit. i pray you will invite them to share in your Source of these blessings and of your identity.

it's raining. it's pouring. i wish i were snoring...

early friday morning i reluctantly roll out of bed to take a shower. i rush around to get ready for the two things planned today: 1) read to elementary students at 8:15, 2) rush to the university and catch the bus to go to a festival. glancing out the window, i let out a groan. the typhoon is here...great. i twist my wet hair into two buns on either side of my head. afraid i'm going to be late, i throw my bag out the door, grab my umbrella, hit the lights and lock the door. i slide into my backpack and pull the plastic yellow rain-resistent cover over it. i open my umbrella, ready to face the stormy walk to the elementary school. a few steps out the door, my backpack cover falls off, trailing behind me in a pitiful manner. i scoop it up and try to readjust, but, fearing lateness, i stuff it under my arm and continue on my way. only a few seconds later, a gust of wind rushes past me, reversing my umbrella. in the process of turning inside out, my umbrella thought it would be a nice trick to grab a piece of my hair. remember how my hair was twisted up? yeah, talk about a predicament. so, i'm standing on the side of the road, wind whipping my umbrella around, fingers frantically grabbing at my hair, head crying out in agony. all attempt to rid myself of this evil umbrella fail; i decide to sacrifice the clump of hair. while ripping it out, i slice my finger on the metal. i throw my umbrella on the ground, stomp on it a couple times, and leave it lying, mangled and broken on the wet sidewalk. i wrap my jacket around my head to protect myself from the pouring rain. just as i approach the intersection, the wind lifts my skirt up, exposing my unders. i hussle across the intersection, not heeding the "don't walk" sign, intent on reaching my destination. at the school i pull off my soaking sandals, slip into the plastic community slippers and slip and slide down the hallways. so there i am: a drenched, bleeding foreigner with a bald spot who is supposed to read an English book to little kids and enjoy it. i pull out my book, curled from the moisture, and read to the students. my 10 minute reading session lasts about 5, so i make monkey faces for the rest of the time. pulling on my drenched backpack and drenched sandals, i step out into the drenching rain once again. halfway to school, we get a phone call saying the festival is canceled. boo... we continue on to school anyway to see our friends, passing thousands of discarded broken umbrellas on the side of the road. arriving on campus, we saw some friends and invited them back to our apartments. what began as an awful day turned out to be a good one filled with hot coffee, good conversation, a good movie and lots of laughter.