About two weeks ago, I had an idea.
It was about 11pm, and I was probably looking at some photo blog or another, just unwinding at the end of the day. Then I thought, how cool would it be if I had a bunch of my friends join me in my Photo-a-Day project for just one day. Have everyone take a few photos of whatever they were doing, wherever they were, on one specific day. So I picked a random day the following week, and created an event on our favorite social networking site. I invited all my friends, and waited.
I had, what was for me, an overwhelmingly positive response. I figured that I could probably twist the arms of those in Singapore with me and my family members--I was hoping for maybe 10 contributors tops. What I got was close to 70 yays.
August 19th came and went, and I sent out pleading emails and texts to remind everyone to take and send me their photos.
In the end (including myself), there were 43 contributors representing 9 countries, and a total of 155 photos (more than I could have hoped for!). I'm really proud of everyone who came through!
Along with their photos, a lot of people told me how much fun they had had taking photos that day. That they went on an awesome walk or took photos of things that they do or see every day but had never thought to take a photo of before. Most of the time, we only take photos of special events, to record once in a lifetime things. But if you think about it, there are a lot of little special things that we see or do that we take for granted. From doing a Photo-a-Day, I've learned to seek those things out rather than waiting for them to show up. I am so glad to have been able to share in that similar experience with all the contributors on August 19.
Stay tuned for the next Day in Photos opportunity!!
24 August 2011
19 August 2011
Ten Years
Ten years is a long time. Babies are born, trees get really big, kids grow up, grown-ups get married, cities evolve, friendships are formed and others dissolve, things change. And yet, we have an amazing propensity to remember those changes as we face them, and we file them away in the form of memories.
I remember August 19, 2001 like it was yesterday. I honestly can't believe that it's been a decade. I won't be able to tell you what the weather was like, or what I ate for lunch, or who I had a conversation with that afternoon. What I can tell you is that that night, my Mom's Dad passed away.
We were sitting in the living room, playing a card game. It was sometime after 9 pm, and my younger cousins were sound asleep in various rooms around the house. When the phone rang, I knew in my gut what it was. Grandpa is gone. Even though we knew to expect it, it still came as a blow. Shoes were gathered, kids carried groggily to the car, and we all piled in. I was sitting in the seat directly behind the driver's seat.
It's funny the details you remember from a day so long ago. I remember sitting in the car wondering why I wasn't crying yet. I even laughed about something ridiculous (and probably inappropriate), but then, laughing has always been my coping mechanism. I remember how it felt like the world had stopped, and that nothing mattered but getting to the Hospice. Then the tears finally came, and I remember wondering why they wouldn't stop.
We all crowded into a lounge type room, my family members, the pastor of our church, and some other people I can't place. My cousin was asleep on the couch and everyone was talking in low voices. And then one of my parents asked if I wanted to go see him. I followed them across the hall into the room that was so familiar due to the daily visits of the previous month. And there he was, but it wasn't him. I remember saying that. It was just a shell, Grandpa wasn't there anymore. I held his hand one last time and said my goodbyes.
It's so vivid in my mind, it could have happened yesterday. We still miss you Grandpa R, but we know that you are having the time of your life with Grandma right now.
I remember August 19, 2001 like it was yesterday. I honestly can't believe that it's been a decade. I won't be able to tell you what the weather was like, or what I ate for lunch, or who I had a conversation with that afternoon. What I can tell you is that that night, my Mom's Dad passed away.
We were sitting in the living room, playing a card game. It was sometime after 9 pm, and my younger cousins were sound asleep in various rooms around the house. When the phone rang, I knew in my gut what it was. Grandpa is gone. Even though we knew to expect it, it still came as a blow. Shoes were gathered, kids carried groggily to the car, and we all piled in. I was sitting in the seat directly behind the driver's seat.
It's funny the details you remember from a day so long ago. I remember sitting in the car wondering why I wasn't crying yet. I even laughed about something ridiculous (and probably inappropriate), but then, laughing has always been my coping mechanism. I remember how it felt like the world had stopped, and that nothing mattered but getting to the Hospice. Then the tears finally came, and I remember wondering why they wouldn't stop.
We all crowded into a lounge type room, my family members, the pastor of our church, and some other people I can't place. My cousin was asleep on the couch and everyone was talking in low voices. And then one of my parents asked if I wanted to go see him. I followed them across the hall into the room that was so familiar due to the daily visits of the previous month. And there he was, but it wasn't him. I remember saying that. It was just a shell, Grandpa wasn't there anymore. I held his hand one last time and said my goodbyes.
It's so vivid in my mind, it could have happened yesterday. We still miss you Grandpa R, but we know that you are having the time of your life with Grandma right now.
17 August 2011
First day of School!! First day of School!!
It's hard to comprehend, as someone who has spent the better part of her life as a student, that there could be a better day than the first day of summer. It's the day that screams FREEDOM for a whole 3 months.
But I have found such a day. And it is the first day of school. As they read this, students everywhere are cringing and thinking "Why, why would she say such a thing?!" I never thought I would say it, but it is true.
I now join multitudes of mothers (though I am not a mother quite yet), in their feeling of elation that only comes as their kids leave the house, backpacks in tow, for another year of education. The house is quiet and still, and there is an aura of productivity in the air.
Kids are awesome and fun to have around, but it's hard to beat the ability to clean the kitchen uninterrupted (and for it to stay clean for more than 5 minutes!), to fold laundry without the neat piles being tossed around and jumped on, and to sit on one's backside, responding to emails, enjoying a cup of tea, and playing Monopoly.
Ah yes, the first day of school...
But I have found such a day. And it is the first day of school. As they read this, students everywhere are cringing and thinking "Why, why would she say such a thing?!" I never thought I would say it, but it is true.
I now join multitudes of mothers (though I am not a mother quite yet), in their feeling of elation that only comes as their kids leave the house, backpacks in tow, for another year of education. The house is quiet and still, and there is an aura of productivity in the air.
Kids are awesome and fun to have around, but it's hard to beat the ability to clean the kitchen uninterrupted (and for it to stay clean for more than 5 minutes!), to fold laundry without the neat piles being tossed around and jumped on, and to sit on one's backside, responding to emails, enjoying a cup of tea, and playing Monopoly.
Ah yes, the first day of school...
12 August 2011
Conversations with Cabbies
Normally a conversation with a cab driver goes something like this: "Um I'm going to the Woodlands near the American school. Do you know Woodgrove Ave?" "Yes yes. Go by BKE or PIE?" "From here? PIE. Thanks. Are you having a good day?" "Yes. Fine" and that's that. You listen to some bad eighties rock or the news in Chinese and then the ride is over. But every now and then you get a driver who talks your ear off about the most fascinating things, dropping little nuggets of wisdom or simply describing an interesting life story.
Once I spent the half hour drive to the airport talking about food-- our favorite things to eat and where to go to get them. Another airport drive was spent listening to a lengthy monologue about why Singapore has so many trees and ended with him telling me to be careful on my trip to Indonesia and to be sure not to get mugged.
Some drivers have inquired about my life, where I work and about my family. When we get around to this they generally ask what my parents think about me living so far away and agree that I'm too young to get married.
Every now and then I get to here a life history. Like the guy who has been driving cabs for just over two years and before that had been charge of inventory at a grocery store chain for decades. That is, until a larger chain bought them out and he was out of a job. And that's when he became a cab driver.
The other day I had a driver who's only been driving taxis for nine months. He retired from his engineering job of 40 years(!), spent a few years traveling, and then decided that sitting around the house doing nothing wasn't cutting it. Apparently his wife agreed. So he started driving cabs. He told me about all the job offers that he's gotten from people riding with him, but that if he wanted to be an engineer again, he would go back to his old company.
One time, the simple question of "Are you having a good day?" got me an emphatic explanation about how we need to take each day as it comes. The driver had been cheated out of a fare the day prior and that day had been inspired by his niece to be thankful for every day that we have and to treat it as a clean slate.
So many times we treat cab drivers like the people next to us on the train--strangers with strange lives, of which we aren't a part of. But we are a part of their lives, and they a small part of ours. There is hardly a better venue to share stories, bits and pieces of who we are, and to bless or be blessed by a complete stranger.
Once I spent the half hour drive to the airport talking about food-- our favorite things to eat and where to go to get them. Another airport drive was spent listening to a lengthy monologue about why Singapore has so many trees and ended with him telling me to be careful on my trip to Indonesia and to be sure not to get mugged.
Some drivers have inquired about my life, where I work and about my family. When we get around to this they generally ask what my parents think about me living so far away and agree that I'm too young to get married.
Every now and then I get to here a life history. Like the guy who has been driving cabs for just over two years and before that had been charge of inventory at a grocery store chain for decades. That is, until a larger chain bought them out and he was out of a job. And that's when he became a cab driver.
The other day I had a driver who's only been driving taxis for nine months. He retired from his engineering job of 40 years(!), spent a few years traveling, and then decided that sitting around the house doing nothing wasn't cutting it. Apparently his wife agreed. So he started driving cabs. He told me about all the job offers that he's gotten from people riding with him, but that if he wanted to be an engineer again, he would go back to his old company.
One time, the simple question of "Are you having a good day?" got me an emphatic explanation about how we need to take each day as it comes. The driver had been cheated out of a fare the day prior and that day had been inspired by his niece to be thankful for every day that we have and to treat it as a clean slate.
So many times we treat cab drivers like the people next to us on the train--strangers with strange lives, of which we aren't a part of. But we are a part of their lives, and they a small part of ours. There is hardly a better venue to share stories, bits and pieces of who we are, and to bless or be blessed by a complete stranger.
08 August 2011
Branded.
It started in High School. My friend Rose, an exceptional artist, had been doodling on my arm during Biology, when I turned to her and said, "Will you design me a tattoo some day?". She looked at me, a little taken aback, and said "Sure!". So a year later, I had her design my first tattoo--a small cross with the "Proverbs 3" written up the side.
I sat on the design for a while and after Christmas in 2006, Rose, my friend Annemarie, and I made an excursion to the Tattoo Studio. Thus appeared the small black tattoo on my right ankle. And my introduction to the world of body art.
A year and a half later, I found myself living in Senegal for a semester abroad. Shortly after I arrived, I decided I wanted to memorize Romans 8. I kept getting stuck on the verses about Creation, and how ALL of Creation was waiting to be redeemed and reconciled to God. And then I started thinking about Colossians 1. "All things were created by Him and for Him, thing in Heaven and things on Earth." and it's connection to Romans 8.
An image came into my head and started nagging at my mind. It was a picture of a globe, with those words surrounding it. For weeks it lingered in my brain. So I emailed Rose, told her what I was thinking, and asked if she would design it for me. And so she did.
I immediately fell in love with the design, it was exactly what I had imagined. It went up on my wall, as a "some day" tattoo. On the back burner it stayed, stewing, for almost 3 years. Until yesterday.
Little did I know that the inspired design of 3 years prior would come to mean more than originally intended. It has evolved to not only serve as a reminder that ALL things were created by God and for Him, but also as a more personal reminder of where I have been and where I am going. It's a reminder of my past--living in Pakistan and Senegal; my present--living in Singapore; and my future--going where ever God leads me.
It isn't done yet...In a few months time text will be added to read "All things were created by Him and for Him; things in Heaven, and things on Earth".
And that is the story of how I got branded.
I sat on the design for a while and after Christmas in 2006, Rose, my friend Annemarie, and I made an excursion to the Tattoo Studio. Thus appeared the small black tattoo on my right ankle. And my introduction to the world of body art.
A year and a half later, I found myself living in Senegal for a semester abroad. Shortly after I arrived, I decided I wanted to memorize Romans 8. I kept getting stuck on the verses about Creation, and how ALL of Creation was waiting to be redeemed and reconciled to God. And then I started thinking about Colossians 1. "All things were created by Him and for Him, thing in Heaven and things on Earth." and it's connection to Romans 8.
An image came into my head and started nagging at my mind. It was a picture of a globe, with those words surrounding it. For weeks it lingered in my brain. So I emailed Rose, told her what I was thinking, and asked if she would design it for me. And so she did.
I immediately fell in love with the design, it was exactly what I had imagined. It went up on my wall, as a "some day" tattoo. On the back burner it stayed, stewing, for almost 3 years. Until yesterday.
 |
| Working on the design. |
 |
| Working on me. |
 |
| Final product |
Little did I know that the inspired design of 3 years prior would come to mean more than originally intended. It has evolved to not only serve as a reminder that ALL things were created by God and for Him, but also as a more personal reminder of where I have been and where I am going. It's a reminder of my past--living in Pakistan and Senegal; my present--living in Singapore; and my future--going where ever God leads me.
It isn't done yet...In a few months time text will be added to read "All things were created by Him and for Him; things in Heaven, and things on Earth".
And that is the story of how I got branded.
03 August 2011
Flying faster than time
Once again, I have made the flight to go from one side of the world to the other. Flying outside of time from one channel of my life to another. My brain handles the change better than the rest of my body. I see Asian people, I smell Asian smells, I see cars on the left side of the road, and my brain is already halfway there.
It's the rest of my body that has issues. Switching the routine of my body from night to day and day to night is not the easiest. My stomach wants to eat lunch at midnight and doesn't want anything during the day. My whole body suffers from the inevitable fatigue of a new sleeping schedule.
So take the internal battle of my body and mix in some jet-lagged children, and what do you get? A house of chaos. One kid awake and hyper, and the other lethargic and crabby. Ten minutes later, it reverses. Meanwhile, I have hardly enough energy to think about unpacking, let alone to run around playing baseball and shooting rockets.
My foggy brain has a hard time imagining an end to the vicious cycle of jet lag, but having done this many times before, I have to trust that there will be an end as there always has been before.
It's the rest of my body that has issues. Switching the routine of my body from night to day and day to night is not the easiest. My stomach wants to eat lunch at midnight and doesn't want anything during the day. My whole body suffers from the inevitable fatigue of a new sleeping schedule.
So take the internal battle of my body and mix in some jet-lagged children, and what do you get? A house of chaos. One kid awake and hyper, and the other lethargic and crabby. Ten minutes later, it reverses. Meanwhile, I have hardly enough energy to think about unpacking, let alone to run around playing baseball and shooting rockets.
My foggy brain has a hard time imagining an end to the vicious cycle of jet lag, but having done this many times before, I have to trust that there will be an end as there always has been before.
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