That one finger grip
So odd when documented
but natural then.
I haven’t done one of these in a while! Coming back from the last Chapter Camp (an InterVarsity conference away in the woods to wrap up/ring in ends and beginnings) I am reflecting on several truths, and how often I’m tempted to live out in the opposite of those truths. As transitions have come and are coming, I can make decisions out of fear, out of self-protection, out of self-doubt. But I don’t want to be spurred on out of fear. Instead, I want to choose into things bravely, knowing that there is a perfect Love that already has deemed me as worthy to be loved perfectly.
Got a chance to take some headshots of my absolutely lovely friend, Sarah. I like to call this series “Future President of Everything.” Still very much learning on how to use my camera, but it’s been such a fun process! Thanks, Sarah, for letting me photograph you!!
Yes. Two completely unrelated musical artists in one post, but I have perfect occasions for both to be playing with the volume waay up in the background.
Small Black’s No Stranger came on the radio while the 6:28pm sun was blinding us as we maneuvered the bumpy roads of Adeline and 61st. The wind was sweet and warm, and Garrett and I were well into our first official day as “graduates.” It never felt more like summer than in that moment. They sort of have the same effect that Bombay Bicycle Club has except they would incur different types of dance moves methinks.
Okay here’s the curveball. Bluegrass, what?? Yes. See, on this same Monday evening, Garrett and I were driving to have dinner with our lovely friends Ryan and Colette (hey, you cool cats!). They always cook up some smashing lebanese meal–this night it was bottomless dolmas–and after we polish off the last bit of chocolate whoopie pie, etc. we begin the music-making. Last time, Ryan busted out his accordion and dang, that thing is heavy but crazy beautiful! Naturally, that was because we were doing some Beirut covers. But this time, we kept it more folksy, probably because Gillian’s sorrowful crooning was melting our bones during dinner. Seriously, I was surprised at how perfect this Appalachian music-inspired lady’s tunes were with our dinner and conversation. Give it a try!
Yes. Today is officially the last day of my undergraduate experience at UC Berkeley. I feel…weird. Happy weird, sad weird. But mostly, I want to celebrate! I want to celebrate all the beautiful and great people I met whilst here, I want to celebrate all things learned and realized, and I want to celebrate with ice cream sandwiches! So. I’m hosting a little gathering and I made this little invite for it, inspired by washi tape and subway tiles. I’m excited to come back and post more photos from the night!
Probably every daughter thinks her mom is the most beautiful woman in the world, and I am inclined to think the same x200.
I love my mother’s hands. Her fingers, so accustomed to years of practicing across black and white keys, continue to play a melody on my own hands. Her music-making fingers are like magic, I hear the faint echoes of a Chopin sonata with no piano in sight. Though they have donned the battle scars of maneuvering the kitchen for so many years, her hands haven’t lost any of their grace or beauty.
She smiles easily and frequently, and has teeth so straight and white, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she’s married to a dentist. But, you would be surprised when you learn she’s never had braces or major dental work; her grins are au natural. I’ve seen random strangers pour out their life story to her because she exudes a welcome and calm, amplified with her smile, that makes people feel at home.
Over the years, I’ve also witnessed my momma sport numerous hair styles–mostly all of them some variation of the classic Korean ahjumma perm–but my favorite is her morning look. We used to joke it was her Cruella deVil/Einstein ‘do, but I love it. She sports the look during all the mornings she’s gotten up earlier to wake the house with wafts of frying egg and rich, radish soup.
She is much more than a domestic goddess. My mother has created and nurtured life through her selfless and humble heart, and tirelessly continues to do so. When I see the many memoirs out there of daughters writing on their mothers, I’m not surprised. If I could detail every gesture of love, grace, and sacrifice my momma has shown to me, it could easily be the next Tolkien trilogy. I will continue to write more and more of how thankful I am that you have taught me what it means to have steadfast faith, to love freely, to give graciously, and to dance weirdly. 엄마, 사랑해요. I wish I could give you this card in person but because I can’t, I will live and love well, just as you do.