You can't get a cup of tea big enough or a book long enough to suit Me.

Once in awhile, God reminds me that my view of Him is distorted or incomplete. We talk to God as a friend, tell him about our day, what's going on today, what we want Him to direct us today, what He has for us for the day, as if He's our friend. It's true that we're a friend of God, that He loves us and that He redeemed us from death so that we can live in freedom.

But, God is also God who started everything and that even the thought of Him we can't contain in our little mind. He reminded me of that this weekend. ChrisTomlin concert, a concert I planned to bail from because I am just overwhelmed with things to do, not for my day job, but for other projects I work on in my own time (thank God for being single and young and free). I like contemporary Christian music, but not so much compare to my other joy of listening to jazz, classical or local music. Beside, it's not "cool", whatever it means. The only reason I listen to this kind of music, is that, the lyrics said words from the bible, or that it is literally speaking of life (without we have to digest it through our creative thoughts because the words are simple). And, when I went to similar concert last year, I was bored to death when my friends left and right danced and sang joyfully. But, I went to the concert anyway this weekend, and I didn't regret it.

God took me into another perspective of how to look at Him. The concert include a presentation of how science had discovered facts that, over and over, confirmed God's authority of life and his indescribable being. That in the universe, the earth is only one small golf ball in the sea of galaxies and stars lies from gazillion light years to the other that we can't even get to in our short life span. But we are also created, perfectly, as a being created in the image of God, regardless how small our place is in the universe, and that God has a purpose for each one of us, and that purpose is to become One with Him, to worship Him in our lives, to love Him and to love others. These are his commands, not his "suggestion". I couldn't even describe the feeling I had. It's overwhelming to know that I, this tiny little soul standing with three square feet personal space, in a planet as big as a golf ball in the sea of galaxies of stars, is loved by, the creator of this world, who didn't even lift a finger to create the universe, and that my soul worth his love, and that He came down to be one of us and saved my life. Because He loves me! God cannot be contained in anything.

When I went home, there is one thing I want to look up at Google: laminin. Check the diagram, look up its shape and be ready. It's a type of protein that glued together every cell that formed our body. It's an affirmation that we can grow to our best potential when we received Jesus as our savior and our God. There's no other way.

What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step

Rarely I found the news as encouraging. So did this morning news about hunger of over 400 million children and malnutrition problems in Darfur or Ethiopia. So, what! we might want to say. We heard the news over and over that somewhat it seems to fill up less capacity of our thoughts. One of the head officers of the UN whose in charge of eradicating the world hunger and his final words was that it was overwhelming to see the world hunger with his own eyes, a problem that we all know how to solve. He said that the world need to be more generous and we all could do better.

The problem with that was not that some developed, wealthy countries are not generous. There is a deeper politics involved in that, for example, I could go back to the BlackGold movie I watched and talked about in the last post. The USAID program has increased its budget to help Ethiopia with commodities but not cash. But, if, only if, fair trade is in effect, Ethiopia will not need any aids after all from anywhere. The sufficiency they have will reach about three times of the aids they currently receive. That's my preliminary thoughts based on the movie, I don't have any elaborate research on that. But all of that make sense. Only if, inequality is erased.

Will fair trade save our world from inequality? May be. Will it save the children that are right now, dying in hunger when there are food to purchase? I think not. The world is cruel, but we can't just say that this is how things are supposed to be either. Do something.

just when you think you know love, something little comes along to remind you just how big it really is

Have you ever been to a therapist? Someone who was paid to listen to you, and then hear you asking questions and answer your question by returning the question to you? I'd never believe in therapist or spending my money to listen to myself. But something magical happens mostly when I was listening to myself, talking about things, when the therapist direct you to the events that happened in your life, or the questions in your mind. To me, it's mostly feel like when I was writing. Such as right now, when I write my heart out. Writing the puddle of thoughts in my head. Trying to figure things out. And to really listen.

Don't make a sound...shh..listen..

Going to a therapist, for me, is equal to general check up with doctors, although that also, I rarely do. I dislike doctor and hospital environment..but it's something that I have to do to know that I am okay.

Last week was the first time after several years I went to a counseling session. It was triggered by my resentment of the past, my willingness to be emotionally healthy and ready to be healed if there's something need to be resolved. Therapist will not heal me, but listening to myself will, when God lead me to do that. And I believe the entire path to go to this counseling session last week was also guided by Him.

And something magical happened when I listen to myself. I went home from a one hour session of listening to myself, trying to explain to this stranger about my life. I went home feeling almost nothing but congratulating myself to be able to share what I feel to a stranger that I know can be trusted.

But I was humming something else, that God may heal me through this process and that He will heal me and make me a better person in everyday I wake up. That's all I pray for that night.

The next morning I woke up with a puddle of thoughts getting clearer and I can see the beauty of the paths in my life. How I saw everything in a different light, where I have left out a very significant fact. I have been exposed to a culture full of love expressions in both words and actions. My entire life, my parents and family love me more than any other people I met in life, but they had expressed their love in a different way. Love was not said, but was profoundly acted in my life when I was closer to them.

When I was about ten year old, I was sick and had to stay in bed for almost two months, eating nothing but half-boiled eggs and later on I could eat some snack. Everyday when he got home from work, my dad always brought me my favorite snack. He didn't have to say anything...I knew that he loves me.

The first time I tried to sing in a birthday party when I was four, I completely lost all my thoughts and forgot the words I had to sing. I didn't sing but stood there in front of people for awhile, and then went back to my seat next to my sister. She was old enough to be ashamed of what happened, but she told me "it's okay" instead. I knew then that she loves me.

I left home since I was in high school. When I went home, my mom gave me a "lecture" about one thing and another. Her words seems so long when I really had to listen to back then, but those words came back I was faced by circumstances similar to what she talked about. Every time I thought about it, I knew that all she wanted to say was "I love you".

No matter how many times I screwed up running kites for my brother, he always let me to hold another one, and another one. Although he's six years older than me, he always let me played with him, went fishing, or just listening to his music. His gentle words always melts me down when my stubborn head could not stop thinking about not listening to my mom. She knew just how magical my brother's voice was to me. Although he didn't say it, every hug and kiss from him just meant that he loves me.

My brother traveled to my parents' house for hours, because he knew he could only see me for eight hours, before he went back to work the next morning. Even if he didn't say it, I knew that he loves me.

The puddle of my thoughts is clear now, and when it became muddy, I know just how to cope with it. CS Lewis said that we should look at the past to know what's ahead of us, not to try to forget the past because it won't be possible, but to know how to overcome the circumstances and how to handle everything with love. Because God loves me, I know I can love others too. Because God's grace is overflowing in me, I know I have more to share with the same people who are broken just like me.

Love can overcome everything. It's stronger than death. It's bigger than my past.

With the possible exception of the equator, everything begins somewhere.

On Thursday afternoon I am almost finished. I've spent most of the time working on the foreclosure research and I still have more to go until the second week of March. What could be more dull when you're working with data and staring at the screen all day long? But what fuel me was the sound of phone calls from the room across the hall, where my coworker sits down. She's a housing counselor working directly with people who have problems with foreclosure. The phone calls do not stop all day long. She might not be there in her office, and I could hear clearly the messages. "I am gonna loose my house in three days, please call me back." or "I just got laid off and I was behind three months on my house payment. I got the letter from the sheriff yesterday. Please help." or "I don't know where else to go, I am sick and I could not work, and I don't have nowhere to go if I have to leave my house." Those were some of the messages I heard from across the hall. What I am doing might be dull, but there's something wrong in the system when people keep loosing their house...

A very good question from a friend about the word "mortgage". Why is it called mortgage at the first place? Mortgage came from a french word that means dead vow. So when you're signing a mortgage, you could be signing your life away.

The market, policy and the nature of business has changed in the last thirty years. Thirty years ago, low-income and colored people could not get a mortgage. No one would lend money to them to buy a house. The CRA (Community Revitalization Act) came to the rescue, started in 1977, when the banks' and lending institutions' performance s was monitored or else they would not be able to expand. After that, lending institutions started to realize that poor people are market too. It means business to lend to them. Then there's subprime lenders, the good responsible one and the others. They don't care anymore if a person could afford a mortgage within their income. All they want is to get more money and more mortgage as possible from people regardless. With limited knowledge of mortgage and housing market, add to that desperation of owning a house, and add to that life! people were trapped into the mortgage, the dead vow, that lead them into long life misery of not being able to pay, of losing the house, of being in debt as long as they live.

There are too many things to be aware of in terms of mortgage and the nature of how they trapped people, it's getting trickier, I thought there must be a new method created everyday. Baloon payment, adjustable interest rate, late fees that's higher than the mortgage itself, rent-to-own, lease-to-own, interest only payment, the list goes on and on. The offer could come through your friends, your neighbor, your church buddies, but it doesn't justified if the mortgage would lead you to a house or a misery. The key is common sense. Read everything, question everything, never sign anything we don''t understand, never take word for word but get everything in writing.

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.

The spin of the leaf came from a combination of many factors that happened at the right time, amount of light, and exact velocity. You can't make it to happen, or you can't help it to happen. All you have to do is waiting for it to happen while happily pedalling your bike. You can feel the wind when you hear the leaves, the branch, and the tree stump touching each other, creating a hizzing sound that you won't only hear, but feel on your bone. You can see the perfect amount of light required that would not only goes through the shady trees as much as it can, but also feel the glow. And you can't stop pedalling while waiting it to happen. The three factors are I think, the factors that would form the perfect spinning leaf.

Thirteen miles two hundred feet has passed by, the wind blows, the sun shines, and the leaves fall, but no leaves form the perfect spin.

One leaf had caught in between my front tire and the break. It made the squicky noise that no one wants to hear. I could not hear a word that you said. Go on, leaf, go on with your life and don't ever come back to me anymore. You were just a leaf that I didn't want because you failed to make a perfect spin.

The other caught on your shoulder and you tried to find out how long would it stay there. It caught on you after you finished your quest to ride without steering for more than one mile. You did it. It was finished, and you need to move on to another quest, which was perfect because the leaf landed on you.

I forgot about the sunny day, crips air, green and yellow leaves, and the smell of the trees. All I can feel was grief, if this is what it is. Moving down my stomach, up to my brain, going through my throat, and somehow reach my eyes. Almost similar with the feeling I had when I was five year old, when I drown and when my dad saved me from water. It's in my chest and told me not to even fight for my life for it's useless.

The only way I know to fight fear, is to face it. And may be tomorrow I will remember the perfect spinning leaf, sunny sunshine early fall day, and the smell of soil touched by the rain for the first time...

Let's pray that the human race never escapes from Earth to spread its iniquity elsewhere

I drink too much coffee. Too much that I don't pause and take time to think of what I've consumed. I've been buying fair traded coffee beans and I thought that was enough to cover the guilt, of not noticing the hardwork of coffee farmers across the continent and not paying the equal price and leave them starve.

I saw BlackGold last night, a movie from the 2006SundanceFilmFestival that reveal the industry, and how understanding and choosing what coffee I buy make a difference. My friend told me, "don't feel guilty after the movie," joking, anticipating that the movie will put guilt on me with the amount of coffee I drink and where I bought them from. I don't, at least try, not to buy from big corporation roasters that don't appreciate the equal value of the bean, such as Starbucks (But even Starbucks can make a difference if they {ever} want to).

One thing I realize from the movie that the bean had a long journey before they reached me. The coffee plant need to be nurtured for five years before it yields cherries that can be picked. Farmers picked, skinned, and meticulously separate the good quality beans from the rest. There were about six chains from farmers to roasters and retailers before they reach costumers that greatly reduced farmers' profit. Buying coffee beans that resulted from this chained trading market, even in its fair trade price, still won't make that much of a difference for coffee farmers. In Ethiopia, farmers received $0.12 per kilogram of coffee while Starbucks sells $2.90 per cup of brewed coffee. In comparison, for one kilo of beans, we can make 80 cups of coffee. Sure, there are processing, distributing cost, etc, but still, the inequality is outrages.

Farmers Co-op organization eliminate the chain, and farmers gained more when consumers purchase coffee from co-op organization. Starbucks is the most obvious corporation that consumed the most coffee in the world, although many others such as PG and SaraLee also ranked the highest. I wonder what could be changed if they take the idea of buying coffee from co-op farmers with equal price. Okay, some of them might now started to sell a small percentage of fair trade coffee, but that's not enough! We'd have a perfect world when corporations think about the producers more than their profit margin.

As a big people power believer, I notice that consumers have the power to drive the market. And big corporations including starbucks knows this (that's why they started to buy fair trade coffee, because organizations such as oxfam organized campaigns to make these giants to change their attitude).

I've never been to Ethiopia, but as far as I know, where coffee grows, food also grows. Although I notice the lack of available water supply might be the challenge to grow food. I can't recall the last time I was hungry. I've never seen anyone being so hungry when a year old baby could weigh only nine pounds. A school cannot even purchase a new black board. The challenge is unbelievable when faced with extreme poverty. People are forced to ignore their ethical values when they are starving: they would grow chat (marijuana substitute that is legal in East Afica and elsewhere but the US) when the price is higher than coffee. Extreme poverty in the world where compassion is abundant is not acceptable. What could we do? Purchase only coop farmers' fair trade coffee beans. Buy coffee from roasters who bought their beans from coop farmers. Find fair trade logo on the package. Accept nothing else.

Time hasn't stopped for any troubles, heartaches, or any other malfunctions of this world, so please don't tell me it will stop for you

And what about Monster Trucks? Or I should say monster wheels? I was just amazed of where the audience came from. They're not your average football goers, or any other sports of all kinds. There were kids, toddlers, babies (with their parents), men and women with tatooes, the kind who seems like bikers on the road, and teenagers, cheering for their favorite monster truck drivers. And the enthusiasm was amazing! Parking lots was full, online ticket box was empty before the show, and every face seems glowing from the excitement.

And they all came for what? Monster truck. The regular pick up truck modified with giant wheels crushing newly painted old cars with its machine removed, duck in a row. The air quality was bad because of the fuel, evidently this kind of performance should be done outdoors. The sound quality will damage your ears if not ready with some earplugs. Some people even wore the earplugs in a shooting range.

But imagining myself as a monster truck driver, pushing the gas in a rhythm and crushing the cars with the wheels made me ducky! The sport (close enough to sport, I guess), provide a "save" anger management activity. I was sitting there thinking about one more of my problems that I should deal with. You know everyone on earth has one of those. It's gripping you like the past when you don't deal with it right now. And I know exactly that in reality, being a destroyer of junk cars is not the answer, but bravely looking through the past and examining what happened would give us more courage to be a better person in the future. That does guarantee that we won't repeat the past? Not at all, but giving everything to God will lift our burden. Take it from ourselves, and we would be made new again. And I know, I can do this on every sun rise, on every second.

Monster truck was an interesting way to look at a culture. Or subculture. But, the monster truck I saw last week brought me a new perspective to come back to God one more time.