(Photo: The heavy snow outside my school in Daejeon – absolutely vanished the next day)
For everything, there is a season.
Familiar words and yet, no one warns you of the day that you suddenly just can’t do things as naturally any more.
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(Photo from my hike on Gyejoksan Trail (계족산 황톳길) a few days ago)
Lent always sneaks up on me. I knew it was coming up soon and so I looked it up the other day and saw to my surprise that it had already started. With a sinking heart, I started berating myself that I’m such a bad Christian, that I can’t even keep up with one of the more important Christian seasons, followed quickly by the thought that, “Well, it’s too late to do anything now, so why bother?”
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Ma’s Donuts.
The picture sat in my inbox. A picture of an old recipe, brown with age, short on detail, ending with an abrupt: Roll out 1/4 inch think Fry.
Comical spelling error aside, there was only one short message sent with the image: It’s cold here!
Sent December 22, 2024. Not from my ma. Nor indeed from her ma. But from my dad’s ma, my Nana.
A donut recipe passed down through generations and one that we – my extended family and I – were all keen to make sure was passed down to us. Nothing was quite like the simple potato donuts, spiced with nutmeg, and fried to a golden brown.
And we all knew, though we didn’t say, the one who made these magical treats wouldn’t be around much longer.
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“It’s like they were building you a little shrine, even though you’re still alive,” my friend commented in the aftermath of my telling 2nd grade that I was leaving the school.
And it really was – I’ve never said goodbye to so many little people at once and their reactions were so heartbreakingly touching. 2nd grade took it upon themselves to start giving me whatever precious treasures they happened to have on hand. This included half-finished bags of candy, a handful of crunchy noodles, some stickers, a piece of cardboard with a drawing on it, and a rock.
They were just one of the eight classes I visited to tell them that I was leaving Malaysia. And then there was the aftermath of the middle schoolers finding out and forming a circle around me as they chanted “Don’t leave!” – one girl asking, “What in the summoning circle?” while another responded, “We are casting a spell so that she can’t leave!”
Have you ever said goodbye to 100+ students in one day? It is exhausting – I think I went to bed at 8:30 that night.
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“When are you coming back home?”
It’s a question I get every time I return home.
What’s different about it now is that I get it from two different places when I return.
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“Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God” (John 6:68-69).
This is one of my absolute favorite Scripture verses and one I find myself returning to again and again.
I recently returned from an amazing vacation to Vietnam (known now in my mind as “The Great Food and Coffee Tour of Vietnam”) and mixed in with all of the delicious food, beautiful sites, and grand adventures, one of the most precious memories of this trip is getting to have deep, meaningful conversations with some friends that I haven’t gotten to know very well up until this point.
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Everything changed when the third grade attacked.
Okay, I’m being dramatic and just like to channel Avatar: The Last Air Bender at any and every given moment. But the last few weeks have flown by in the slowest way possible – yes, somehow it is true to blink and a month has gone by, but every day feels like a week long.
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Some people are surprised to find out that I’m an introvert. And granted, I’m a little surprised at how much I’ve changed too.
I used to be much more outwardly visible as an introvert – didn’t speak up much, was shy around strangers, vanished at parties after a while.
Lately, I’m much more likely to speak up and meet new people (though inwardly a lot of the time I’m still cringing about how much I don’t like doing these kinds of things). But honestly, I am getting better at it. I’m not quite the awkward turtleduck in conversation that I used to be – I even, dare I say it, enjoy it sometimes?
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The conversation went something like this:
“I haven’t struggled with insomnia like this since my most stressful semester in college.”
“How did you cope then?”
“I muscled through it and got pneumonia at the end of the year.”
“Great.”
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ali oleary 