Welcome to the planet, welcome to existence...

I was standing at the front yard of my parents' old house that is now a ruin, with my uniform on ready to go to school, singing, humming a song I couldn't recall, and walking back and forth to track the straight row of bricks on the ground, looking at my moving feet, and thinking "how did I get here?" I was probably four years old. That's my most vivid memories of my childhood.

I was talking to Jenna, a three months old, when my friend was trying to eat something in between holding her. Jenna was lying there, looking at something, not the screen, not the ceiling, not me either. She was trying to say something, may be a story, as I was talking to her about how beautiful the rainbow I saw on the way there. And how I always connect rainbow with hope, where in my world, yellow would be a dominant color. I also talked to her about how I spilled gas on my jeans that I had to go back all the way home and took a shower before anymore people asked if they smelled gas. I was tired to saying, "that's my new perfume..". I don't think Jenna was listening, I think she was interested in telling her own story, whatever it was that she was trying to tell me. And then I realized. I didn't just get here.

I woke up the other day feeling more alive than I've ever been (no, I lied, I had these kinds of moments a couple of times in my life). Not because of the Buckeye Brew Becky and Allisa brought back to me before they went off to take care of things, but because I loved what Nicole and I did with the entire exhibit. The space was like a regular house with inadequate lighting and ugly (ew!) lampshades, one worn out greenish-topped corner table, a couple of "office chairs" and a fake fireplace. It was a nice place that let you host about 200 people at the same time without being bored of bumping into each other the whole time. A nice enough place that has a large bar and a separate dancing floor. But, not for the artworks. I had about a hundred artworks to arrange, and that was the first time I saw the space, the first time I saw the artworks.

This never happened before when I try to set an exhibit. I always knew everything, planned things on paper, calculate the space, the artwork, the flow of people and all that. That was then. I started to work on arranging the artworks and Nicole helped me hanging them on the wall. I forgot when was the last time I arranged an exhibit, but that was what made me wake up alive again. And then I realized, I didn't just get here, to help Becky getting this done. I remember our breakfast meeting, bike "date", telling her, "You can do it," and seeing every answered prayer, watching her do all the work, helping her putting together a submission guidelines, finding options of art galleries, listened to every progress she made and off to the Philippines they will go next week, to bring love and making artworks together with kids. I didn't just get here.

I've been "ignoring" my painting hobby for a long time. Compared with my activities in to write, it's way abandoned, painting to me was always be the "alternative" when I was stuck in writing. But arranging a gallery and selling artworks was a lot of fun. I talked to people about the artworks, listened to artists' stories about their artworks, and to communicate that to those who came, was a lot of fun. We made a lot of money. And for first time, I actually sold my pieces that I donated for the benefit. I don't know if it was I who helped Becky, or if it was she who helped me to reveal my other abandoned instrument of my passion, but I knew, I didn't just get there.

I didn't just changed my major overnight as a coincidence. I didn't just get lucky to know the people I knew who helped me grow, found my passion and actually feel alive. Regret never stayed very long, when I made mistake. God always turned it into an abundant experience. One of the people was my friend Rubi. He described himself as an includer; I've never felt like I was an "outsider" around him and his wife and other friends I've been with. That's almost always the case, by the way, I am too liberal around christians and too conservative around the secular ones (whatever that means, it could be one other post someday). In addition to my cultural background (growing up in Java and had to catch up with childhood books my friends read to get into the conversations), being single, and had an odd job for most people (I've discussed this in previous posts), trying to fit in was a waste of time, all I did was being myself, and Rubi was the best in understanding who/what I want to be. He taught a class at church called "finding your passion" and let us to write down every single thing that we love to be. Tracking back what we were best at, good at, and not so good at, how we view ourselves and how we think God think of us. And art was always became part of me that makes me who I am. I didn't just get here, I know that for sure.

I know God is up to something after the Vineyard called to see if anyone is interested in organizing a mural project in Over-the-Rhine. For their big event, SummerofService, I will be a part of a planning/creative team to put this project together, working with CityGospelMission, another church on Reading and FindlayMarket/KeepCincinnatiBeautiful. And I am not alone in this, I have a team to work with, and more people will join in the implementation part of the project. Oh, I am so excited! I can't wait to see this happen.

God, the God of the universe, knows about this before I was even born. He who created the entire universe, knitted every single cell in me, creatively arranged my DNA to form ME, to be created just for this purpose, right here, at the present, to serve Him, gladly, according to my passion and my purpose in life, to Glorify Him with my life. Now, God, I have one request. Let "me" go out of the way of your Glory. You who dwells in me are doing all of this.

And then Jenna made some "other" noise, the kind of noise, that you know what she's doing was apparent. Babies tend to do that. That's what they're here for. And I had to call her mom cause I am not good at changing diapers (I'll learn that someday..).

title: Switchfoot, DareYoutoMove