The Ordinary

For a long time now I have felt numb. Numb to saying goodbye to people and places. Numb to recognizing beauty and uniqueness.

Though as I sit quietly on the shores of the Agean Sea, I am utterly amazed by the beauty God has placed in even the simplest of things. 

A sunset. It happens every day, and yet we often miss it. We seek instead, satisfaction in the new, the untouched, the latest news, the newly released album, finding that once we get those things, we are simply eager for more. We go on seeking to find something unusual and unique to satisfy us, living as if the everyday gifts like a sunset are not enough; as if they are "ordinary."

Ordinary?! That we would choose to believe that a flaming sphere that warms the earth and provokes the seasons and gives us light and causes plants to grow and keeps us alive and rises each morning and sets each night is ordinary? Our perspective must be changed. 

In the past week I've wandered through ancient Ephesus, tracked up hillsides of long-forgotten ruins, explored where Paul the Apostle once walked 2000 years ago, walked the streets of famous Antalya, stayed at a 5 star hotel, been offered nine different kinds of Turkish baklava at one meal, walked on the beaches and eaten the foods of the Mediterranean, been around a hundred kids who grew up abroad like me, seen best friends from my past, watched my beloved sister get engaged, flown five times in ten days...

Yet, I continued to be numb to the significant beauty of it all until I took a few minutes to watch the sun go down one day. It caught my glance. It captivated me. It showed me that if there is awe-inspiring beauty in the simplest of things, there must be beauty in the seemingly bigger things too. 

If something we see each evening is that amazing and can impact us so much, how much greater is the beauty that God desires for us to partake with him each day?

All the while this past week, the sun set each evening and rose again each morn. How did I manage to let it slip by unseen? I know nothing but this: through my many imperfections, God has shown me grace. 

As the sun sets and I see Your face,

May I remember Your intimate grace,

You washed my feet, You formed my hands,

You made me a part of Your great plans.

Though I choose to see the earth as plain,

As uninteresting, unsatisfactory, known, the same,

Though I am numb to your great design,

And see this world and its ways as mine,

You warm my heart and make it new,

And in my failures, I turn back to you.  

You rub my numbness. You help me heal,

And pinch by pinch, teach me to feel. 

Though many sunsets pass me unseen,

I doubt not Your grace and love for me. 

For You take my "simple", my "ordinary",

And in one moment, make it extraordinary. 

Raisins

There is a part of town in Istanbul called Zincirlikuyu that is known (by me at least) for its metrobus stop. The metrobus is a long bus that gets its own express lane on the highway. I've taken it a few days by myself, but they've changed around the exits since when I used to live here and I've gotten lost with all the signs. It's like an underground maze, with miles of walking and signs few and far between. Sure, it's easy for those who have taken it often during the last year, but for one who expected it to be an easy "turn right and go up the stairs" like it used to be, it's not so easy anymore. Not only are the signs difficult to follow, the experience reminds me each time that I'm living in a labyrinth of time. Though my body is in the present, my head is still stuck in the past and my mind is focused on the future.  

Change is hard. Returning to a place you once knew well and realizing it's different is like biting into a raisin cookie when you thought it was chocolate chip. 

On Friday I returned to my high school for "alumni day". Ten alumni showed up and considering the size of my school, it was a pretty good turn out. It was wonderful to be back at the school again and see some old friends, but it was also a big reminder that things change. I barely know any of the high schoolers now, and many teachers have turned over too. They've also remodeled the outside playground area, and made some fixes to a few rooms inside. 

Of course, many things have stayed the same. The stage still has the ugly, stained blue carpet that I played piano on for four years during assembly, and the staircase still has that low spot where those of us taller than 5'5" have to duck. Amidst all the changes with people and remodeling, it's these little things that hold me together. 

I watched Kate & Leopold this last week. (I needed a sappy romance movie to cheer me up after a frustrating time at the Korean consulate). It's another Meg Ryan movie about a man named Leopold from the 1800s who comes to present day New York through a time portal. He goes through complete culture shock and simply, ultimate change-shock! I feel like I can relate to him a lot these days. 

But even raisin cookies can be good when you throw out your expectations and find something else good you weren't even looking for. Leopold fell in love when he went to the future. The new remodeling of the school actually looks nice and was a good investment. The new people in high school show that the school is growing and thriving. 

Despite change, being back has been a really good experience and I have loved the time I've had to catch up with family and old friends. 

Even if it means I have to eat a raisin cookie every so often, it has all been so worth it. :)

Story Shoes

"...Ballet Shoes and Skating Shoes and Theater Shoes and Movie Shoes...I'd start with Skating Shoes, it's my favorite, although Ballet Shoes is completely wonderful." -- You've Got Mail

You can tell a lot about a person by their shoes. 

Leather shoes, tennis shoes, work shoes, lace-up shoes, stiletto shoes, dirty shoes, rain shoes, no shoes...

When there are 18 million people living in your city - that's 36,000,000 shoes being worn on one day, in one city alone. (Then multiply that by how many pairs each person owns! Wow.)

Above are just a few of the shoes I saw today. I am back in Istanbul now and it's been great to see old friends and make new ones too. I've spent the last few days outside of the city, skiing in Uludağ and swimming in the thermal pools of Yalova for the holidays. 

Today I was reminded of the movie "You've Got Mail" which stars Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. If you haven't seen it, there is a scene in the movie where Meg goes to the children's area in Fox Books and helps a lady find the "Shoes Books". Because of Meg's circumstances with loosing her job,  confusion in her romantic life, and connection with the books, she cries when helping the lady. 

Thee "Shoes Books" series by Noel Streatfeild tells stories about the lives of children who wore different types of shoes. Though I've never read the books myself, as I was waiting for public transport and staring down at the shoes around me today, I was struck with the fact that everyone has a story.

There are so many we pass each day whose story we will never hear. This past week I got to listen to my dad tell stories of his past, and hear about the hard and good and crazy things he has done over the years. I got to listen and learn from the wisdom of old and new friends as they shared what they had experienced over their life and what they had learned from their mistakes and accomplishments. and most importantly, I got to tell someone about my life story and why I decided to give my life over to God because of how Jesus Christ walked in my shoes 2000 years ago.

Whether you're wearing ballet shoes or skating shoes or no shoes at all, you have a story and someone is yearning to hear it. Don't hesitate to share it. Take time to listen to the stories of others who are needing to share theirs too, you both will be glad you did.

Now that my ski boots are off and I am back in the city, I am ready for things to calm down a bit and return to a balanced schedule. I look forward to the next two months and all that I will get to experience here. Day by day, I hope to be able to hear even more stories of the lives of those walking all around me. 

I'm bound to catch at least one.

There's 18 million of them.