Avatar

I’m not sure even where to begin.

David and I watched Avatar on Saturday afternoon – our first date in over a year – and I just feel that I need to sit down and think about it. It’s been three days, and I haven’t taken the time to absorb it. With most movies, I can talk about them for a few minutes and then put them away in my mind as a “good show” or “fun two hours.” Not that Avatar wasn’t a good show – quite the contrary. But after seeing it and not having anyone to talk to about it (David’s not being the type to discuss films), I guess I need to write. It’s been gnawing at me, but I’m not sure why yet. So let me explore a little.

Without revealing too much, the basic plot of the movie is that a medically discharged Marine (paralyzed from the waist down) is asked to serve on a tour to the planet Pandora. On the corporate side, there is a metal found on Pandora that is worth billions. On the scientific side, there is a race of humanoid aliens that needs to be studied…and perhaps politely asked to move their village because of the large metal deposit beneath their home. On the military side, life on Pandora needs to be subdued if not completely crushed – including the aliens – to keep the mission and its personnel safe. And – guess what – this discharged Marine, Jake Sully, is caught in the middle.

But it’s so much more than that. The movie is chock full of colonialism, cultural diversity, newfound life and vitality, faith, values, might and right, self-discovery, betrayal … The list goes on. It’s a little overwhelming, actually, which is why I suppose I’m having trouble absorbing it. Maybe this is a good time to say that I loved the film. Although it’s not perhaps my favorite movie of all time, it’s definitely one I’ll want to watch over and over again, even though it is close to three hours long.

On a more review-type note, the movie is a violent one (in a Sci-Fi way), and I would definitely not take young kids to see it. There’s also a good deal of inappropriate language you don’t want to teach your kids. As for sexual content, it’s there but very limited and not at all explicit. The plot is complex with a few twists that catch you off guard. Great work on the music (another high-five for Horner) and fantastic special effects. Although there was not enough character development for any of the minor characters, Jake Sully definitely got his fair share of depth. The movie has adventure, romance, war, and science fiction, all rolled into one and fairly balanced.

All in all, I’d give it 4.5 stars out of 5. Maybe if you see it, you’ll know what I mean about needing to absorb it. And if you do watch it, let me know so I can have someone with whom to discuss it! As for me, I’m hoping to see it in 3-D. :)

Losing hope

After all that God had done for us to get us to this point in the process we’re going through with jobs, I was so sure that He would see us through the final round to success. But was I wrong to hope as I did? It’s all out of our hands now. We’ve played all our cards. But there has been nothing yet to suggest we have any hope of succeeding, and the time is almost up for this particular process. The little optimist hiding inside me says that it’s not over quite yet, but each day I wake up thinking maybe this will be the day, and each night I go to sleep weary and confused. Maybe I was wrong, and God is trying to teach us a very difficult lesson: to give up our dreams and trust Him to lead us to something different. But if that’s true, why does my heart wrench each time I think of what could be, and why does all our research into other possibilities end up fruitless? Don’t they say that if God closes a door, He opens a window somewhere else? So if He has closed the door to this future we had hoped and planned on, why hasn’t He opened a window for us? I just don’t understand. I am confused, discouraged, weary, and heart-broken. And I feel very much alone.

From despair to delight

Forty-eight hours ago, my heart was heavy. The past several weeks (months, really) have been hard for us as a family as we’ve been looking at our future, and everything seemed to be going wrong. Nothing was working out the way we had hoped, and I was near despair. My mind was full of questions. Where would we go from here? How could be manage financially? Would we end up in a place where David and I had to both work full-time jobs in which we’d never see each other because of overlapping shifts? What was God trying to teach us?

And then yesterday, everything turned around, with extra emphasis added this morning. It was funny to me because in my Bible study, we’ve been studying the Patriarchs, and yesterday I read about Joseph’s being taken up out of prison to interpret Pharaoh’s dreams and being set as ruler over all of Egypt during the seven years of plenty and seven years of famine. It was just a perfect parallel to me. I’ve never been in prison, but these past few months, I have felt imprisoned by fear, doubt, hopelessness, confusion, and even grief.

Yet in these past two days, God has lifted my head! I wish I could say it didn’t take His miraculous work for me to be reminded of His faithfulness. I should have been just as aware of HIs presence when everything seemed hopeless, but I doubted. I guess I didn’t doubt Him as much as the plan I was so sure He had set for us. And now I am reminded of His goodness and faithfulness to His children. I don’t want to wax eloquent on trusting God; needless to say, I am still learning how to lean on my LORD. But the relief I feel in these two acts of God – which I really do believe were miraculous – has brought me to tears over and over again since yesterday. God’s ways are higher than mine, and that sure is something to thank Him for!!

Foreigner in a strange land

I’ve known since my first day of American sixth grade in January of 1994 that I would always be different. Maybe it started before that, when I got teased in 2nd grade for wearing a pair of red “bell-bottoms” (which I don’t actually remember being bell-bottoms, but that is the phrase the kids used) from a thrift store. Didn’t I know those were so out of style? So maybe that was a clue. But in sixth grade, I really felt it hard. Really, really hard.

Since then, I’ve learned to adapt a bit. I’m not a great adaptor, even as a TCK (Third Culture Kid); I like to be comfortable, and I’m not at all good at meeting people. Plus I stink at languages and get embarrassed about that easily, so okay, I’m not as flexible as they say TCKs should be. So sue me. But I’ve moved an awful lot, and I’m really trying to feel at home where I am – enough so that I can make friends but not so much that I will be crushed when I leave.

And I’d felt reasonably at home at the church we’re attending here in Visalia. Sure, I’m constantly aware of the economic chasm between us and most of the church-goers, but it’s something I’ve put toward the back of my mind and don’t usually choose to think about. And I was beginning to feel as though I fit, sort of. This morning at MOPS, I even opened up a little to share some of our family prayer requests. It felt very awkward but relieving to talk about my life instead of just keeping it to myself all the time. And everyone seemed so sweet and interested. It was such a heart-warming experience.

But during discussion time, after hearing our speaker, something just switched off in my brain. We talked about relating to kids and husbands, and the ladies were all talking about dates with their husbands and short trips alone without the kids. All of a sudden, I felt like a complete and utter alien. Dates? Trips? to luxurious places in particular? Are you kidding me? The last time David and I went out with friends without Timothy was in June, but the last time we went out just the two of us without Timothy was a year ago November – to the senior play at Hillcrest, in fact (just after our anniversary). Yep, that was our last “date.” And a trip without Timothy? To anywhere? You’ve got to be kidding me! Not happening. Timothy and I go on trips without David. That’s how it works. A real vacation – to go rest somewhere, just we three? Not a chance. It hasn’t happened in the two years since Timothy was born, and it’s not likely to happen anytime soon. So yeah, I felt completely alienated.

And then, to top it off, we were reminded about the fundraiser MOPS is doing at Macy’s. I mentioned earlier about sixth grade, right? The one time I have ever been to Macy’s was in sixth grade. A dear lady from church, Irene, took me and another impoverished young lady to Westwood and gave us some spending money. I went to Macy’s because all the girls at school talked about it, and I thought maybe if I had something “in",” they’d accept me. (It didn’t work, by the way.) I got a nice, casual button-down long-sleeved plaid shirt that I maybe wore twice or three times ever. And I’ve never been to Macy’s since. It’s just not something that’s ever crossed my mind. I shop at Walmart. I don’t have trendy girl clothes, make-up, jewelry, or shoes. I wear nice jeans and a nice hand-me-down or thrift store shirt with my Nigerian slippers. Sure, sometimes I’d like to dress up and be a little more feminine and fashionable, but I just don’t have the money. Good grief. In an economy like this, when we are scraping to get by every month, to find enough to pay the bills and the rent, how can I possibly consider spending a day at Macy’s??

I want to clarify here that I’m not criticizing my fellow moms, or American culture, or whatever. I admit sometimes I want to be like that, to be able to throw my money away on luxuries. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m materialistic – just like you. And I already feel like I’m not a wise spender. And it’s not that I don’t want to have wealthy friends. That’s silly. But I do wish I didn’t feel like such a foreigner. I wish someone could understand where I’m coming from and identify with me in my current situation. For once in my life, I wish I could belong. Ah well, as I’m learning in my Beth Moore study of the Patriarchs, it’s my spiritual heritage to be a foreigner – teaches me to always keep my focus on the great things to come. And there are great things to come when I cross over!

The line between faith and foolishness

This is something I’ve often thought about since my college roommate first told me about her now-husband who believed in voluntary poverty and chose to work for room and board rather than a salary. Please don’t in any way think that I think he is or was foolish. Although I don’t know him very well, through his wife’s eyes, I understand him to be smart, wise, and caring, and I’m glad she’s happy with him!

But the question came up then in particular, and now I’m facing it in my own life. What do I mean? Let me give you an illustration from a friend’s personal experience, tweaked a little for his privacy. I have a friend who had a medical condition that was chronic. He spent a few weeks in a spiritual revival a few years ago, and he was 100% convinced that God had healed him of his medical condition because of his faith and prayer. He proceeded to dispose of his medication – just threw it away. He truly believed that God had healed him. The next day when the medical condition persisted, he felt a little foolish. He had to purchase new medication and make sure he took it faithfully from then on. God hadn’t healed him. Was it because he didn’t have enough faith? Or was it because it wasn’t part of God’s purpose? I don’t pretend to know the mind of God, but I think it wasn’t because of my friend’s lack of faith.

So at what point does my faith in God’s power and plan become foolishness? How do I know if I am believing the right things? God helps those who help themselves, right? I believe there can be miracles, and I believe God has absolute power to bring about any situation He sees fit. I also am convinced He has something specific for my future, and that He will bring that about. But is that foolish? What assurance do I have that this specific plan is His actual plan? What if I’m wrong? What if I’ve misunderstood all the supposed signs I’ve witnessed, misinterpreted the events around me? I know it happens. How do I know my faith is based on truth rather than delusion? I desperately want to trust and give Him my complete faith.

I’ve never been one for theology in its formal sense, but I figure there have to be answers to my question – answers that are practical and helpful rather than theological. It’s at times like this when I wish I were back at Wheaton, surrounded by spiritual leaders and mentors, people I could have called upon with such questions, or fellow students with whom to discuss the issues. Alas! I am alone and must wait on God.

Catching up with Timothy

I know I’ve been absolutely horrible about working on Timothy’s blog. And trust me, it’s not because he’s not funny or interesting! Considering how lax I’ve been on my own blog, I guess it’s hardly surprising I haven’t done much work on Timothy’s. But I’m here to say that’s going to change! So if I have any readers who were reading Timothy’s blog and gave up, the good news is I’m getting back to it! That’s a promise. If I make that promise publicly on my blog, I’ve got to keep it, right? ;)

So let me direct you to the latest post with a teaser photo.

Deepening the pain

A little while ago, I wrote about the pain of knowing that a friend is dying, and that it’s a slow death.

Well, this week I’m grading argumentative papers for my class, and a common topic has been physician-assisted suicide (PAS). And guess what – in these papers, a common example for justifying PAS is people who are suffering from the illness with which my friend is afflicted.

How do I deal with this? I blog about it.

Over and over again, I see this example and (sorry to be graphic) just want to throw up. I have to wonder if in a few years, my friend will be looking for PAS. If I had a debilitating illness that made me lose control of my body at some point, and if I knew I were going to die, would I be interested in PAS? Probably. How can I really say? But I’m pretty sure the thought would cross my mind, and often.

I don’t believe in PAS, or euthanasia, or whatever you want to call it. I know of people (though don’t know them personally) who have taken what others would consider “a sad death” and transformed it into something beautiful. But I haven’t been there. Is it fair of me to say that people like my friend should never consider PAS? I’ve never been really sick in my life, nor injured. How can I possibly understand what people in that situation might feel?

And it frightens me to think that this person I respect and admire might someday opt for PAS. Right now I’m sure he would say it will never be an option, but what about when things start to go downhill fast? When he can no longer walk, kiss his children good night, even speak? I could never blame him for wanting out, even though I see it as wrong.

How can I reconcile these thoughts? And how can I bear to think of my friend’s being in such misery that he just wants it all to end?

Oh, God, I ask that You would shower him with your mercy and me with your peace.

My pain runs deep

When I was maybe in 8th or 9th grade, my brother had a tape that included a song with sound clips from Star Trek V: The Final Frontier: “I can’t stand the pain…Your pain runs deep.” (The song is called “Painkiller” by Mortal.) I don’t remember the song at all (nor the movie, for that matter), but I do remember the way the sound clips were arranged, and I can replay them in my mind.

… Part of the reason I started blogging again was for this post. I’ve been mulling it over for two months, but I don’t really know how to write about something so painful to me. Even thinking about it is like sticking burning needles all over myself.

Someone I love is dying.

I’ve never really been able to say that before. I have been so blessed with loved ones who have great health. Sure, I’ve lost older family members, but either they went quickly, or I didn’t know them well enough to really and truly say I loved them. Maybe I’m heartless, but it’s true. My great-grandmother had just turned 96 when she died, and I loved her. But at that age somehow it’s different.

But this person is much younger, younger than my parents (who are not by any means old). He has little kids still.

Maybe you know him. I won’t give his name because I don’t know if he’s made it public yet. Let’s just call him Kevin.

Kevin has been a mentor and a friend, even though in recent years things have changed as I’ve moved away and started my own family. When I was younger, he challenged me to leave my comfort zone in ways I found terrifying yet exhilarating. He’s encouraged me and built me up, especially in times when I needed it most. He’s shown me what it means to have an older brother in Christ. I guess in some ways he pushed me out of the nest and taught me how to fly.

Of course Kevin isn’t perfect. He’s got his faults just like the rest of us. But his death will be a tragic blow to countless individuals literally around the world. And I carry that pain around inside me.

No, he’s not likely to die overnight. He still has a little while to live out his dreams and see his kids grow a few more inches, to be a mentor and friend to many more people. I know he has so much he wants to accomplish and see. Kevin doesn’t give up easily and will fight as long as he can.

But in the end, we all die, and Kevin is likely to go sooner than most of my loved ones. And his last few months are likely to be painful and debilitating. I wish I knew how to handle that fact, handle the grief. If only I could hang out with Kevin face-to-face and cherish the remaining moments of his life! But for now, this post will have to be my coping mechanism, until I figure out how to deal with this in a more constructive way.

Thanks for bearing my pain with me.