March 26th, 2014

Today, I really had to deny myself to go back to campus for the bible study after my observation at Joslin school. My route for today was like this: home> UT> home> Joslin> home> UT> Lucia's> home. I usually take a bus to get to the campus from home, and it takes about 45 minutes and vice versa. I spent, therefore, more than 3 hours just commuting back and forth. I wanted to take a long nap after playing with the kids in the schoolyard, but I took the bus again to share my little portion in the bible study and go to Lucia's. Well, it was worth it. SeEun, Ailey, Lydia, Jose, Martha and I got invited for the dinner tonight by Lucia and Alfredo. We all had a good amount of Mexican food and had sweet fellowship - our college life before the Lord, the matter of coming to the well of Issac (source of the river of the water of life), our growth in the Lord, etc.

I'd like to describe what we enjoyed in more details, but I should go to bed at least earlier than last night. I'll add details later.

"If you're putting on a huge banquet" Quick write

Quick write
You are putting an a huge banquet. All of your friends and relatives are coming. You have plenty of money to spend on food and drink for this celebration. It is going to be the best feast ever. What will you serve?

What kind of banquet is this? The first thing I need to do is to figure out the purpose of this huge banquet. Well, If I'm putting on a banquet, those whom I will invite should be the ones who are somewhat related with church life. In fact, I'm pretty much used to having home parties; I call them home meetings though. I have at least three home meetings a week. Mostly, I'm the one who's invited because I'm a full-time student; however, sometimes, I also invite some people.
According to the bible, man was created as a tripartite man: body, soul, and spirit. (Thessalonians 5:23) Therefore, I would not call it the best feast if I only provide physical food. The best feast would be the one where people can fully rest, be comforted, and satisfied. Since I have plenty of money, I will call several best friends and by them lunch (or dinner) in a decent restaurant to have fellowship about how we could arrange everything for the upcoming banquet. And then, we will meet two more times praying, having a fellowship about the practical matters.
In terms of food, I'm not a picky person at all, so I really don't know what kind of food would be the best. But, I'm sure one of my friend would have something come up in her mind. Such a cooperation will surely lead us to have the best feast ever.

An Ordinary Sort of Morning

Writing Project2 - Descriptive Writing Assignment for Writing7 

An Ordinary Sort of Morning

            Hearing the soft sound of my alarm, rather than becoming alert, I feel like I’m a burnt piece of toast stuck in a broken pop-up toaster. All over my sore body, which suffers from on-going muscle pain because of the weight training class I’m taking this semester, lies a huge and thick blanket. Between opening my eyes and actually getting out of the bed is usually a five-minute gap, because it surely takes some time to escape from the toaster, tightly tying down my body. Well, I get over it anyway pretty much every day. I pick up the edge of the forest green colored blanket and pull it over all the way up to the half of a mint green pillow. The next thing I do is dampening the hard and dry toast with not-too-hot water in order to make it a little moist. Then, I’m ready to go get my breakfast.

            I come across a big dining table to get to the kitchen where a chubby refrigerator is full of food and leftovers. On the kitchen table is a dark chocolate wooden basket with bananas, oranges, and apples in it, reminding me of a typical still-life painting by one of the finest artists. When I’m about to reach one of the bananas there, Camila, in her casual but supremely neat clothes, shows up saying “good morning!” with a wide smile. I love her good-morning. It is bright and has vibrant rhythms, but they become slow like “good moooourning.” when I step out of my room around nine o’ clock in the morning, implying that I am supposed to get up far earlier than that.

            While waiting for my cut-in-half bagel to become crispy and get lightly browned, a few pieces of bacon is sizzling on Camila’s pan. Suddenly, the air is filled with the nice nutty smell of sputtering bacon and the delectable smell of a freshly toasted bagel. After cracking two eggs into the other pan, she starts singing hymns very softly but in a way that I can tell she was a music major. Then, I hum the same tune. Once I start singing to myself, she follows my melody. It’s quite amazing how well we can communicate with each other with the songs that we know. Language barriers don’t exist there.

As I take a bite of my evenly cream-cheesed bagel, I check the temperature reading the thermometer hanging on the 200-year-old oak tree standing in the backyard garden. Through a wide French window by the counter I can see most of the garden. Birds are gathering as a group right behind the window. I think their twittering sounds peaceful, but then I hear a rattle. Immediately, the birds fly with flaps. Here is Bill striding out from the garden with a handful of spinach in his left hand and a funny-looking carrot in his right, which has already a bite taken out of it. The garden is called Bill’s garden; gardening is mostly his job along with accounting. He now sits down on his own designated spot that is the crimson, old-fashioned sofa and places his big, black laptop over lap to work.

            The biggest clock in the house strikes with a muffled sound telling me it’s eight sharp. I’m ready to leave for the campus after pouring water into my coffee-colored, stainless steel water bottle. I pass through the work room to go out where a sewing machine has just begun to make regular beats. Sometimes I can’t believe that Camila, who starts working long before even I open a book, is in her mid seventies. Behind her stands me hesitating to say good-bye, a little bit afraid that I might bother her. She notices me, grins broadly, and recites a verse that she has been enjoying this morning in a pleasant, silvery voice. I repeat after her and say, “See you later!” Energized and charged, the one who is leaving the house is not a burnt piece of toast anymore.