Moors and Mr Darcy

Goodness...

Setting: This afternoon at the School of Statistics...

I was standing in the hallway waiting for my class and feeling a tad lonely and pine-y again... I look up and suddenly "see" Mr Darcy (Matthew McFadyen not Colin Firth) striding across the moors towards me... Oh my... Oh my...

*Shakes head violently*

The movie trailer seems to have left some rather adverse side-effects on me...

"You have bewitched me, body and soul..."

"Oh thank goodness! Everyone behave naturally!"

Buuuhhh-laaaaahhh

Classes were cancelled today. Actually the announcement went on the Inquirer website at around 9:30 last night. Some Marines were at Fort Bonifacio standing against the "dismissal" of their chief and they were calling civilians for support. Cory Aquino went over there and joined the prayer rally. Mom was getting speculative again and telling me to stay on campus. It was a little funny, because where would I go at 9:30PM? Anyway, the whole Fort Bonifacio issue settled down before midnight.

I slept the morning away. This is the downside to a long weekend, you tend to get lazy. Tomorrow, it's back to work and classes. Unless something spectacular happens tonight. I don't think anything will happen though.

I find all the rallies a tad annoying. GMA will call off 1017 when she thinks the situation isn't volatile. Rallies and all this political bockering don't help with getting an early lifting of the state of emergency which is wrecking havoc on our economic prospects. God help us.

I want to go ice-skating. When my allowance gets to me, I think I'll go have a spin. Whether I have companions or not. It's an awful thing to do when you don't have someone to pull you off your butt when you fall, but that's life. Feel the pain.

People I've told: II. Our pastor said something about God ending lives early because of one's continuous rebellion. I wonder, how long will God let me live?

Look on the bright side Krissy. You're spending summer in the USA and in Singapore. The decision is final. How's that for the goodness and faithfulness of God? You should be ashamed of yourself.

I'm feeling a lot like Israel in Hosea right now. Gomer actually.

I wonder, do I work for NSCB in April or May? Trip schedule has yet to be worked out. Yo bros of mine, please wear decent shoes this time. We don't want a repeat of the Singapoe Shoe Incident. It's a 14 hour flight. You know that at the end of it all, you'll have to take care of me instead of the other way around. You guys are so lucky not to have motion sickness.

Ingat po tayong lahat.

---

Appendix A: Singapore Shoe Incident

When I graduated from high school, my Auntie Fina and Uncle Rey invited us to spend summer with them in Singapore. Just the three of us, me and my two brothers. My parents were going to the US.

My youngest brother had a pair of sandals that he loved very much. He received them as Christmas gifts two years before the trip. The sandals were really comfortable but they were also really old. They looked every bit of their two years of walks, runs, and plays. Mikhael decided to wear them for our flight to Singapore. My Mom couldn't dissuade him from doing so. We all kept warning him that they would fall apart sometime during the trip. But he argued confidently that they could take it.

The sandals survived the car trip from Pangasinan to Manila. They got through the baggage check-in and customs. My brother was wearing a smug expression on his face the whole time. While waiting to board, I bought some candy and gum to help me survive the flight.

When our flight was announced, the three of us stood up, stretched and gathered our bags. Everything was fine. Mikhael was still feeling really happy and really smug. Then in the middle of the tube-thingy that connected the airport door to the airplane door, Mikhael's left sandal disintegrated---the sole came off. It hung on by just an inch. I was so annoyed at my little brother. Omar and me walked slowly as he limped behind us, listening to Omar's sarcastic jokes and my steady barrage of irritation.

When we finally got to our seats on the plane, Mikhael was looking very embarrassed and very tired. Omar and me sobered up. We started thinking of ways to handle our arrival in Changi Airport with Mikhael's sandal the way it was but our brainstorming was cut short by the plane's take-off. I began feeling queasy so I rummaged in my bag for the gum I bought earlier. Mikhael saw the pack and grabbed several sticks and started chewing in earnest. Omar and me just stared at him. Mikhael was looking happy and smug again. He didn't care to share what he was thinking about. I was too sick to think anymore. Omar started reading the inflight magazine.

Some minutes after, Mikhael tappped both of us and smiled. He took the chewing gum from his mouth and then stuck it to the sole of his sandals and stomped the sole firmly back onto the rest of the sandal. He looked up at his two older siblings and beamed at us. We had to laugh.

The sandals made it through Changi Airport and even survived until we got to our Auntie's home. We had a lot of laughs at the dinner table over the incident. Then we all watched the sandal go down the garbage chute.

Let Me Hear If You're Speaking...

trouble there out in the world
turmoil here within
so many voices shouting
and i can't hear the one that matters

i'll take your neatly packaged love
with a liberal dash of emotion
it will take a while to be rational
but some would call that pride

i guess it is and i guess i am
and that's a constant beat on my ego
and issues undealt chime in
a cacophany of relationships gone wrong

so many voices shouting
and i can't hear the one that matters

While reading "Dragons in the Waters"...

Wer zu Grunde gehen soll, der wird zuvor stolz; und Hochmut kommt vor dem Fall.

---Sprueche 16:18

L'orgueil précède la ruine; un esprit fier annonce la chute.

---Proverbes 16:18

Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.

---Proverbs 16:18

Stat 136 Exam Results

I studied for almost two weeks, went a little crazy when I got copies of sample exams because they were out of this world, then the insanity toned down when I was taking the exam because the questions were within the Earth's atmosphere, and now, I'm a little peeved at the result.

I got 25/34 on the exam, which is pretty good relative to the total class performance but relative to my academic goals this semester, it's quite dismal. It's not a failing grade (our paasing grade is 55% in this subject). But it feels like a failure.

Stat 136 = An emotional rollercoaster though multiple regression analysis

Hey, but I still like what I'm doing as a Stat major. Today is one of my better days.

Sage Advice

I spent a good portion of cellphone text credit telling my Mom about the room "crisis", uncooperative problem set partners, homesickness, ballet and dance ministry updates, internship application woes, and general feeling of loneliness and sadness.

My mother replied with a single message:

"Go out and take a long walk. Sit down in that Sunken Garden and think. You know what you have to do. I will pray for you. Have you been praying? You go pray."

Ay, a walk indeed. Never failed to clear my head. At least someone still knows me and can cut through my mess of words to the real problem.

PS. Scraps of Paper and The Studio have been updated.

Aiyeeee! Aieeeeeee!!!

Pride and Prejudice, whether in the form of a worn paperback or in it's latest film adaptation, tends to have that effect on me. I find myself floating on such rapturous delights that broach no doubt as to this book being my favorite. Jane Austen, you are the best. Where would I be without you? (Maybe a little OA, but like I said, rapturous delights!)

In Blue Like Jazz, Donald writes this of Pride and Prejudice:

"I understand you can learn a great deal about girldom by reading Pride and Prejudice, and I own a copy, but I have never read it. I tried. It was given to me by a girl with a little note inside that read: What is in this book is the heart of a woman. I am sure that the heart of a woman is pure and lovely, but the first chapter of said heart is hopelessly boring. Nobody dies at all. I keep the book on my shelf because girls come into my room, sit on my couch, and eye the books on the adjacent shelf. You have a copy of Pride and Prejudice, they exclaim in a gentle sigh and smile. Yes, I say. Yes, I do."

Although a little indignant that Austen or Pride and Prejudice be called boring, I had to laugh. I know few men who enjoy the novel. And, yes, I exclaim and smile when I find that out.

Does it contain the heart of a woman? Hah, what is the heart of a woman? It sounds nice when someone calls it pure, lovely or good. At the moment though, my heart is more monstrousity than beauty. If it shall ever be pure and lovely and good, I don't know and in my despair, I can barely believe that I am a new creation. But, I digress.

Pride and Prejudice, romantic as it can get, is always described in introductions to be a satire of many things. I won't go into that. The first line of the novel: "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." tells us that the book will be about courship and marriage and that the book will be simple yet witty. I'm no literary critic, I confess, but that's what I thought. (I feel weird writing this knowing the great Butch Pang might rove over my blog and see this)

The book seems to be a compilation of Austen's thoughts on marriage (among other things admittedly), herself never married. Darcy and Elizabeth seems to have the most successful marriage, based on a mutual understanding. Their affections were certainly not broought upon by appearance and it took some time to get over their prejudices and their pride for them to get to know each other. It is a book to be read and reread. I purchase my own copy when an edition with a cover using the latest film's poster comes out.

Here's a quote from the movie:

Mr. Darcy: Miss Elizabeth. I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you... I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth by rank and circumstance. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony.
Elizabeth Bennet: I don't understand.
Mr. Darcy: I love you.

----

PS Upon reading my latest posts, it seems I vacillate beteen sadness and rapture. Oh well, one cannot mope around all day.

Word For the Day

hubris n. overbearing pride or presumption; arrogance from excessive pride

as in: "A little less hubris on both sides would go a long, long way."

Of Soul Mates and Second Thoughts

There is one person out there for you. The lovely concept of a soul mate. That thing that makes movies like Serendipity, Jerry Maguire, and While You Were Sleeping our favorites. But do those movie scenes translate to real life?

I feel most people think they there is indeed someone especially for them out there. When a couple get engaged, we all sigh and moon over how great it is that they’ve found each other. When couples break up, we shrug our shoulders and say maybe that guy/girl wasn’t the one for you. I’m as guilty as the next person of believing that God has created a man out there for me and that He has hand-picked me for someone out there too.

"Come to think of it, I’d be truly lucky to find The One. What is the updated ratio? 6 to 1? Six Christian women to one Christian guy?"

Sarcasm aside, is there really just one person hand-picked by God for us to fall in love with, marry and grow old with?

I’m in the book of Hosea right now and God certainly didn’t tell Hosea to go buy Gomer and make her his wife. The instructions were simple. Find a prostitute and take her in marriage. David? Well, David had a couple of wives and the Solomon had hundreds. True loves all? Unlikely.

Did Boaz know Ruth was The One? Did Ruth go seduce Boaz because she knew he was The One? I think she did that out of a need.

Adam and Eve seem like the closest thing to soul mates because, well, it’s not like there were “choices” and God did make Eve because Adam needed a company, among other things.

Elizabeth Elliot has been married three times and as far as I can tell, she’s pretty happy. I have Aunties and Uncles who have been widowed and then remarried. In fact, I am a product of marriage the second time around. Not my parents, although theirs is an interesting story of break ups and make ups. I mean my grandparents. My grandparents were widows when they met and you know how the rest of the story goes.

And then there are divorces and break-ups and people who fall in love as often as they eat out.

There was a question asked during the Pre-Valentines Treat: “Can you fall in love with someone who is not your God’s will?” One of the men answered: “Yeah, you can. If you’re that stubborn and you really refuse to listen to God.”

Perhaps there is more than one person out there a person could marry. The thing is, a marriage will work, a relationship will work, if God is part of it. I think marriage works when God’s guidelines are followed and when people stick to the commitments they have made. I've never been married so take my thought with a good sprinkling of discernment. But I've been around a couple who have shown me the truth about the latter part of my statement above. My parents are great examples of keepers of marriage vows, having stuck to them through thick and thin for 22 years already.

The concept of a soul mate… I don’t know, I’m having second thoughts.

What are your thoughts?

Painfully Aware

It was a day to remember:

1. My insides fell out. Naturally that hurts. Still does actually and I'm trying to nurse it away with some good green tea.
2. I was lonely not because I was single, but because it seems like I've lost all the good friends I could share silences and shouts with.
3. An older brother in Christ cared to come out all the way to the dorm and listen to me rant. Thank you po. Thank you so much for listen ing and praying.
4. Gillian, my roommate, gave me a white rose. She's the first roommate to do that for me.
5. Jordan and the other guys at Yakal got serenaded by the YCF women. They also got flowers.
6. I actually got an affirmative answer from my Mom when I asked for more money in the middle of the month!
7. Just when I thought I'd never have to think about her again, she writes me a letter and gives me a few scalding remarks not just about my character but about my dancing too. There is a thin line one has to walk in rebuking people. On one side is love, on the other is judgement. I have walked and slipped and I've asked forgiveness. No need to condemn me. No right to do so either. And did you not read that I was about to exhausted to the point of tears that day when I danced that way?
8. On other fronts, a friend laughed when she saw how I was feeling what I had inflicted on her. I probably deserve that. But it still hurt. And like I said, I'm all alone.
9. So with no best friends and no money, I hear the God's curse on Eve echoing in my head. Could it be that God is hemming me in so that I would surrender and look to Him? I feel like Israel in Hosea---as if God is stripping me of everything that I may return to Him for His love tolerates no rivals.
10. Circumstances thereby found me flopped down on the grass in the Sunken Garden, furiously writing out poems. I don't really like poems because I need someone to read them out to me for me to appreciate tham, but there I was churning out verses. I don't think they're very good. But perhaps, they are a start. I think it will do no harm to borrow some Dickinson and E. Bishop from the library.
11. Lord, I pray that You grant me the power, along with all You people, to understand the greatness of Christ's love--- how wide and how long and how high and how deep that love is.

Singleness

I woke up late and found this on my desk.

Who bothered to get me one? A roommate probably but they're all out.

"Yey! A rose!"

Delayed reaction.

Drapes

I’ve always wanted to make-up my eyes this way. But opportunity has never presented itself and I have never been a fairy for one night.

I went out this afternoon wearing some olive eyeshadow. Not because I had a date. Not because I had a party to go to and thankfully not because I was having an exam. My roommates were a little intrigued by my reply to why I had bother to do my eyes today: “I just felt like it.” I’ve been feeling very girly lately. Suddenly I want to revamp my wardrobe, add some more feminine blouses and frilly skirts; buy some pearl earrings; get new flats and a pair of wedge espadrilles; get some new nail polish; and experiment with bolder colors and combinations of make-up. I must be growing up. In an entirely different way. Or maybe just changing. And I hope it’s for the better.

***

I want to go home and hug my Mom, inhale the smells of her cooking, bite into freshly-picked fruit, tease Dad about his obsession over fallen leaves in the yard, and watch a movie with my brothers. I miss my family terribly.

***

It’s that time of the year again and I can’t help but remember you. I no longer recall the bad times before the good times, and that must show that I’m healing and perhaps learning to forgive both of us. You’re the only guy who knew me to that extent, whom I’ve trusted implicitly and loved, and perhaps that is why the betrayal wounded me beyond what you could ever know. And wounded creatures can become the most frightening ones. And that, you came to find out in the weeks that followed. Have you forgiven me for my “Count of Monte Cristo”-like revenge?

I no longer ponder the what ifs of our fated relationship. I believe God led me through that and He used that to powerfully speak to my life in ways I can only appreciate now. You made me wonder what I was going to spend my life on, you challenged me to form my own opinion, you held me up and stood beside me in the glare of so many lights, through you I learnt that risk can pay-off, you encouraged my dreams and ambitions, you made me do the craziest things that will forever be precious memories and you cried when I cried. There is so much to be thankful for in the years we had. Our mothers might not have been told directly but I believe they knew and when it ended, it was ironic how they tried to have us make peace.

I had thought back then that we were wiser than our years. Perhaps not.

I’ve chosen to wait on My Master’s leading in these slippery paths the heart can take. I trust He knows me better than I do, than you do, than my own mother knows me. And He loves me beyond measure. Love covers a multitude of sins and fears, or so I’ve read.

I hope you are fine, that you’ll find your way back. I am afraid to break it to you yet again, but His love demands exclusivity, He is a jealous One, and while that may seem imprisoning, it has been only a walk of freedom for me. And freedom and abundance is what He has promised. You know these words… I’m sorry for repeating them.

I’ll be around if you’d like to share a cup of coffee and a few stories. I wish you peace, my dear friend.

A Visit to Mars

Last Wednesday, we had a pre-Valentine treat care of the thoughtful guys at Narra and Kuya Dave. But instead of the usual joint fellowship fare of someone (usually Kuya Dave in this case) speaking a message, Kuya Dave made us do something rather exciting and, well, the only word I can think of is illuminating. He gave the each of us ladies a list of questions and assigned us to a pair of guys.

Our instructions? “I want the ladies to pick a question and ask the guys it. The ladies will answer first and then the guys will give their honest answers. Ladies, be bold! Ask them the questions that will embarrass them the most!” Those were our instructions, clearly enunciated by Kuya Dave with a lot of gesturing, who admitted that this was something of an experiment. He said we’d probably end up arguing and that the whole thing would be a disaster. But it wasn’t. Personally, it turned out to be one of the most revealing and interesting fellowship I’ve ever been to.

I learnt some new things about guys and their opinions on love, courtship and marriage. Things like their struggles with purity, their rules when taking a lady out on a date, how they react when they like the same girl and how they know if they love someone. In response to that last question, one guy said his criteria included the following questions: Do we like the same things? Do we have the same calling in life? Is she single? What’s God take on this? I had to laugh at the third criteria given.

They were honest when asked about sexual struggles and now I understand the need for modesty from a different perspective. They were intrigued about women’s attraction to romantic novels and they asked why. Bryan and Gideon talked about how they would appreciate some sort of signal from us if we liked them. They talked about what sort of woman they would like to marry. When they gave me answers to the question about how to break off a relationship, I wanted to haul my ex over to the group and have them talk to him. The guys, I’m sure, would give him plenty of good advice. (Not that it would affect me but, hey, his next girlfriend deserves better treatment.)

The conversations weren’t only honest, they were funny. On group of guys asked me what women liked them to do on a date. I replied that they should be gentlemen and that I couldn’t speak on behalf of the entire population of my sex, creatures that were each unique and mysterious. But they pleaded, all four of them, asking me to pretend like I was teaching a bunch of Kindergarten boys how to be gentlemen. Oh, good grief! Where to start? I guess, being the neat freak that I am, I told them to come in clean clothes, freshly bathed and smelling good. They laughed. Did I offend anyone, I wondered aloud. They said no but it was just funny. I laughed with them. Hey, we spend a lot of time planning what to wear and then actually wearing it and getting prepared and all that jazz—we deserve to have you spend considerable time on your appearance too, I said between chuckles.

The guys made me feel appreciated and interesting as a woman. During the prayer time we had after the discussions, Dan prayed “Lord, thank You for the good and beautiful heart You’ve given Kristina. I pray that You would lead her to a man who would treasure this heart as You treasure it. In the mean time, I pray that You would help her wait for that time and that man.” It was one of the sweetest prayers I’ve heard said on my behalf. And this from a guy!

Kuya Dave and the Narra guys, thank you so much. Here’s to the post-Valentines soiree this Wednesday.

PS Does anyone have a cocktail dress I could borrow? We ladies have been asked to dress up for the next treat. :)

Randomosity

It is amazing how a simple act of giving out a cake recipe can lead to a series of interesting events. Now, whenever I see Luis Manzano or make that ref cake, I'll remember you, my friend.

***

Sheena was fleeced of her bag (containing her digicam, cellphone, wallet, flash disk, clothes, and most important, her lab notebook) last Friday. The bus she took to Pangasinan was held-up by five armed men. Thank God she's safe and that no one on that bus got hurt. She pleaded to have her bag back just so she could take her lab notebook which was essential to her thesis but was too scared to press the point. She's pretty composed but then it's been two days and she the type that has really delayed reactions.

Boy, am I so glad she's safe. It's a shame she lost all those expensive things but I think the lab notebook costs way more than any of them, seeing as she's already having a hard time finishing her thesis.

So please pray for the talk that she'll be having with her thesis adviser and for some specimens of Acantamoeba to show up in her experiments so that she can finish her thesis, graduate, go to med school and become a doctor. Thank you.

***

Must. Not. Read. Those. Books. 3AM is finding me outside inthe garden dancing ballet or writing just so I don't read them. I need a seriously large and interesting stock of good, clean books or else... God have mercy on me and help me.

Under the Wraps

"Desire, Passion, Excellence" sign greeted me as I pushed the studio doors open. It looks like Ms. Mylene has come up with a motto for our wee ballet school. She made us stand and read it out and think about it as we did our barre exercises. I love Ms. Mylene and the way she resembles what I imagine to be the ideal master to an frustrated apprentice way back in the Middle Ages. She is a reservoir of wisdom, knowledge and inspiration.

Cute new centre work for Level C: glissade, assemble (3x) sous-sous combination and the jete (4x), pas de bourree, pas de chat (2x) combination. Of course, I looked like a nut the entire time I was trying to do them, avid fan that I am of shortcuts and flexing instead of pointing my stupid foot (pointe shoes don't make life easier either). But, hey, I finished well (as always) and I tried and I pushed myself. Next ballet class is another chance to look less like a nut case.

Cheers to me for not falling off my pirouettes this time (and I hope it stays that way). But, even without getting to see how I look like when doing them, I know I look bad there too. I spin with a retire at the back of my knee and it's sheer genius how I manage to turn completely without falling because it feels like I'm leaning back somewhere in my turn. And in the time you're supposed to do two singles, I can only do one. Well, the point to celebrate is that I looked less like a nut because I didn't fall.

Thoughts while undressing after class: "I'll have to give Carlo that member list soon...Sheesh, Ate Anj gave me a Feb 15 deadline for the Sunset Service web content...My big toe really hurts. I must get new toe pads when I have the money. *strips off tights* Is that what I think it is?! Is that blood?! Why is my toenail bleeding?!!! Aaargh!"

And this is just the beginning. Sigh.

February

The month where the world gets heart and Cupid crazy is here. For my part, I think I'll just go a little gooey every now and then by posting my thoughts on love, courtship and marriage. I hereby forewarn each reader that anything I might write on relationships will simply be my own humble opinions and are by no means whatsoever the definitive thing to go by.

***

The guys at Narra have arranged a sort of pre-Valentine fellowship with the Kamia and Ilang ladies, which I think is rather thoughtful and sweet of them. This gives us all a chance to break the Synagogue Habit of ours. The Synagogue Habit is one wheere the ladies sit on one side and the guys sit on the other side of the room and we just stick with our group.

It feels weird because I think we ladies are thinking, "Um, we're supposed to let you be men and let you do the initiating right?" or "Do I just go over there and strike up a conversation? Gee, that seems a little daunting..."

And the guys must be thinking (a Kuya at church told me this), "If I go over there and talk to her, she might think I have a wrong motive" or "Kapag gagawin ko ito, baka mahahalata ako."

And so all these thoughts are flying around over our heads with ackward smiles all around from both sides of the gap. At least that's my comic image for it. It's sorta hilarious. But mostly just really ackward.

Another weird thing is walking together. We don't actually walk together most of the time. In my experience, I'm either walking ahead and thinking "Should I stop and wait for him?"/"Is he walking too slow or am I walking too fast?" or I'm walking behind him feeling absurdly Japanese (Japanese wives were required to walk three feet behind their husbands).

I guess both sides have lots to learn. I would appreciate a little agression though.

Teach Me How to Sing This Please

...so I might sing and not recite.

Come Thou Fount

Come thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing your praise
Streams of mercy never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount I’m fixed upon it
The mount of thy redeeming blood

Oh to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be
Let your goodness like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to thee
Prone to wander, Lord I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here’s my heart Lord,
Take and seal it
Seal it for thy courts above

Bridge: Prone to wander, Lord I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Prone to hear you and not heed it
Prone to scorn you in your love
Prone to wander
Prone to wander

Oh to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be
Let your goodness like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to thee
Jesus sought me while a stranger
Wandering from the heart of God
And He to rescue me from danger
Used his own precious blood

Dancing Without A Mask

At the ballet school I attend, we are not only trained in technique, but we are trained to be performing artists even if most of us will never see a professional career. Every so often, Ms. Mylene takes the time to tell us that the audience, whoever they may be, does NOT care about our dead toes or cramping calves. We, as performing artists, exist solely to transport them if even for just two hours into a world of beauty and no worries. We exist to entertain them, spin stories with our bodies that will have them smiling when they remember the dance and to them leave the theater feeling hopeful, light and perhaps giddy. Ms. Mylene is good with words too. =)

So smile as your ankle shatters, and let your eyes twinkle when your back groans. After months of this, the ladies and I have become quite adept in swallowing our groans. We haven't quite mastered the smiling part but the fact remains that since our art is a visual art, our faces serve to mask the agony and fatigue we feel while dancing.

The problem lies in the fact that I do not want to wear such a mask when I perform as a member of the dance ministry at church. Something I just figured out last night before dancing at the Sunset Service 12th Anniversary. A lot of things in my body were a bit "off" --- my back was still hurting from ponches and crunches at class, my achilles tendons were aching, my toes were giving me an excruciating time and my calves were cramping. There was plenty to "mask". Not just the pain and me being tired and not yet fully rested after two classes on pointes (my first time too), but the fear and anxiety about not having a perfectly choreographed piece, not being in-sync during our "duet" in I Can Only Imagine, dancing on tiled concrete floors and the potential hazards of hurting my knee or slipping in the wrong way and twisting somthing, the proximity of the crowd and my own bad sense of space.

I could have danced last night wearing the mask. But I didn't want to. So I spent myself in tears and prayer. I was in desperate need of His assurance and His presence. I wanted to dance out of the peace that is beyond understanding and the assurance that God was with me. (Am I still making sense?) I didn't want a mask but a face that radiated His strength, His assurance that even if I fall or we forget our steps, He is still God and He is still pleased and He is still, somehow, magnified.

Exodus 33:12-16 is a conversation between Moses and the Lord that holds similarities to the situation last night. I did not want to dance without God. I would not move if He didn't move. For I don't only dance with an audience of One but I have to dance with the One who puts me on that stage in the first place.

I would have appreciated a supernatural surge of strength in my legs and a supernatural numbness in my feet, but all God gave me was a quiet assurance and a weird sense of peace. As Salve got dressed, I warmed up in my toe shoes. The pain was still there but I was no longer grimacing, which is supernatural, don't you think?

We survived last night, much to our surprise. I fell during a souttenu in "What Child is This?" but as soon as I crawled to the "stage wings", I found myself chuckling at the experience of once again, falling during a turn. At least now I know that the fall during ballet class served to prepare me for a quick get up and grabbing my presence of mind. And the best thing? God was indeed there with us.

"My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest." --- Exodus 33:14

And now, it's off to rest. Goodnight to all you children and beloved of the Father.

...3, 4..5 and I'm Spiiini---Oh No, I'm Not!

We tried attacking (precisely the word Ms. Mylene used, perhaps to assimilate a sense of aggression in us who fear and loath pirouettes for a good reason) single pirouettes in toe shoes this evening in ballet class. One is supposed to execute a clean turn after five retirés done with a relevé. I survived the five retirés and then went into a pirouette and for a few microseconds thought I would actually make it the whole 360 degrees. But as fate would have it, I landed on my butt (Ouch!) after a meager quarter of the way.

But I got up and went straight into our finishing position (Ms. Mylene's words of "Always finish well!" echoing in my head).

The great thing about it? No one laughed. Not even a chuckle. No one had anything to stifle either. Ms. Mylene asked, "Are you okay? Good girl. Good girl. Everyone falls."

Now that reflects the kind of community I would like ICF to be. And it's a picture of the community of mercy that I find at church.

***

The DCBC Sunset Service will be celebrating it's 12th Anniversary tomorrow. Thank You God for that. Do come and join us at 4:00PM at the School of Statistics Audi.

We'll be doing a repeat of the Cantata performance, with the unavoidable changes due to schedules and venue. Me and Salve will be dancing "I Can Only Imagine" and "What Child is This?" I'm so thankful that God has given us the steps to make up for the parts of the original dance that required all six ladies and that we were able to practice them in just an afternoon. We're still fretting over it of course. Salve just texted me and she's still very much awake. We're both having a case of bad nerves over this.

Since Lulu can't make it, I'll be dancing "What Child is This?" alone. I'm losing sleep over it because I'm so worried. I actually hoped I'd sprain my ankle or something in ballet class awhile ago just so I wouldn't dance to this song because I feel like it's such an impossibility. As God would have it, I am undamaged. But my body is crying out for a period of recuperation, which is no surprise as we've graduated from using toe shoes on Saturdays only to using toe shoes every ballet class. There is a pronounced difference in the amount of strength and energy required between the two.

Choreography is coming slow too. I have to do it after my study load for the day which is usually around 3AM and by then, I'm hanging by the thread consciousness-wise. And I have to stop every so often to still myself before God. To surrender this to the Lord and try not to do it on my own strength and creativity. I'm finding that I am nothing apart from Him and that my movement is grounded in the stillness before the throne of grace.

Many are my complaints and doubts and fears. Oh but Lord, let Your joy be my strength and this dance be for You and let Your love, that is so great, cover my multitude of boogymen.

***

Relevé = springing onto your toes or to demipointe when wearing soft shoes
Retiré = looks like this