head in the sand

At some point, we all struggle to face the big issues in our lives, and it's common to go into denial, ignoring our mistakes and hoping our problems will disappear. Turning a blind eye is tempting because when we can't see something, it seems to cease to exist.

Facing the realities of life can be stressful, painful, and admittedly embarrassing, especially when we are personally accountable for our actions. During my rebellious phase in senior high, I made excuses or denied all blame to disguise my failures. As I got older and took on more responsibilities, it wasn't as easy to bury my head in the sand.

We often choose ignorance because accepting accountability to God, rather than to material things, would require us to change our lives. We should live the life He chooses for us rather than following our human desires.

Thanks to a kind reminder from my fellow Christian friends, I will repent by tackling my issues and stop impersonating a human ostrich - burying my head in the sand was only fun when I didn't fear God, who is both fair and very forgiving.

email

I archived my personal emails in a private Hotmail account. Did you know Hotmail clears your inbox if the account is inactive for 4-6 weeks?

I did.

Back when I was sentimental, I’d log into my private account every now and then to keep it active. But life happened, and I stopped signing in for a while. Tonight, I discovered my inbox empty. Gone are the personal emails dating back to 1997 - the one from my first boyfriend in 9th grade. Love notes, breakups, makeups, and all my high school correspondence with my best friends. Over a decade of documented drama, vanished.

Next, my hard drive might decide to end it all, erasing files from 1999 and digital photos from 2002. But I won’t panic; I’ve backed up everything onto DVDs and an external hard drive. I could’ve backed up my emails too, but in a way, I wanted to let go and didn’t have the heart to delete them myself.

who's the boss?

I've been feeling rather lethargic these days - a polite way of denying laziness. The more inactive I am, the more drained I feel. Instead of rotting in my patch of lethargy, I've decided to dust myself off and return to the fruit farm of productivity.

June marks the first page of my busy calendar, thanks to my extra ministry commitments. I've signed up for an intense 2-year Advanced Discipleship Training program with nine fellow church friends, hosted by our Minister. While the course will help me grow in Christ, it's also designed to train future leaders. I'm too lazy to consider myself a leader; I just excel at delegating and don’t think I’m a suitable candidate. 

I'm nervous about maintaining my commitment to this time-consuming and in-depth syllabus, but I'm also excited about theological concepts that will challenge me. I desperately need biblical discipline to strengthen my spiritual walk. I've also volunteered to disciple a new visitor at Church, guiding her through the 6-week Christianity Explained series. Pray that my efforts will be fruitful as I welcome my new sister into God's Kingdom.

On a culinary note, I learned how to bake lemonade scones on Saturday night and brought them to Sunday School for everyone to sample. I'll bake scones this Sunday for Australia's Biggest Morning Tea, a charity event to raise money for China and Burma.

Aside from ministry movements, weekly Bible studies, and baking experiments, I'm taking hip hop dance classes to occupy my Monday nights. It's a great opportunity to catch up with girlfriends who don’t live nearby. Geography may strain relationships, but I refuse to let postcodes steer me away from my chickadees.

The sudden urge to fill my diary with activities reflects the emptiness I've been experiencing. It's ideal to say that Christians are fulfilled by God's grace, but stuck in this hollow human shell, I sometimes stray and get stained by worldly affairs. By cramming activities and social events into my calendar, I feel a sense of control - much like how girls cut their hair after a breakup. 

I'm a go-getter and action-oriented; I make things happen. But at the end of the day, I know that all this is just a poor attempt to fool myself into thinking I have taken control of my life. It’s unwise to think I can use busyness to escape the truth: God is in control. He has a plan for each of us, and I trust that His plan will work out because it's perfect, just like He is.

nostalgic pool

I was having a hard time concentrating at home, so I decided to visit an old friend called Liverpool. This suburb has a special place in my heart. I grew up here, so the feeling of belonging is natural and comfortable. Some would consider it a tacky town, but whenever I'm here, I feel 15 again. It's all familiar in a nostalgic and amusing way because everything reminds me of something else. I love it like a sister loves her daggy brother whom she doesn't want to be seen in public with.

I browsed the town and drove past my high school. I strolled around the plaza, smiling at all the shops that my best friend and I used to visit. I skipped past the bus stop where I had my first kiss. I remember being scolded by the same mean bus driver at least once a week for missing the 843 school bus and using my school bus pass after hours.

My next stop was the Liverpool City Library, which holds many fond memories. During my primary school years, the library was my fortress of solitude and a humble home for the bookworm that I once was. In high school, the library was a convenient canopy for the social butterfly that I had become. Whatever reason I had to be in that building, it was always a great experience.

When I stepped into the library today, my heart skipped a beat and my cheeks ached from grinning. The library still has the same effect on me; the warmth (mostly because the air conditioning is always at the perfect temperature) and security (no bad people here) is what brings me back. The librarians are the most helpful people known to man, eager and happy to assist with any inquiry. I don't think I've ever met a grumpy librarian. The library now has a café in the foyer and free wireless internet access, so my laptop happily connects with its new friend. Kids are so privileged these days - back when I was in school, I had to line up to use the communal computer for 15 minutes.

I chose a window seat that faced the park to help me get into study mode. Maybe it was a bad idea, because I'm just gazing into my past instead of writing my essay. From where I am sitting, I can spot the tree that I used to nap under when I skipped classes. It's ironic how I hated school, yet I am back at UNSW to study Secondary Education. The difference is, I am learning to teach, not learning to learn.