Lead, Kindly Light

I watched “Freedom Writers” with Mom this evening. It did not disappoint, because it was exactly what I expected: a moving, triumphant tribute to the harnessing the power of hope and faith in children and not accepting defeat, even when logic and experience seem to dictate that wisdom directs otherwise.

For Erin Gruwell, the teacher who gathered the mettle to guide her at-risk students over perilously troubled waters, such victory came at an enormously high price. It cost her the security of her relationship with her husband, and eventually crumbled her marriage. Still, she valued the children and continued to invest in their progress and their futures. In a particularly touching scene, her father — who evidently made a 180 from his initial opposition to Erin’s endeavors — said to her, “You have been blessed with a burden, my daughter. I envy you that.”

Since I was very young and not yet into my double-digits in age, I’ve had a burden on my heart to be a lawyer. Then, in college, I met KW — a professor who I determined was “so left of the left of the left that he looks like he’s from the right.” It’s because of KW that I received an uber-liberal education about the criminal justice system. I wrestled with 100 percent of what he offered in the curriculum (which I mockingly referred to, sometimes to his face, as “leftist propaganda” at first), and came away accepting maybe half of it.  It was enough; that half that I decided was worth something real left me stunned, and forever changed. Over the years, KW and I have remained in touch, and I have realized that God probably sent him into my path to spark in me a fire for compassion.

Since college, and since KW, my view on my life and career — and my burden — have taken a slightly different aim. I’m still headed toward the same goals, but with different intentions and with a different heart. More than ever, I believe in the importance of hearing an individual’s story, and making sense of it as part of the overall evaluation of one’s life and behavior. And I believe in not giving up on kids — if we don’t believe in them, how can we expect them to believe in themselves?

I have plans for where I’d like to end up; I want to be in a position similar to Erin’s in the future … though not necessarily as a teacher. I wonder if God will provide another, more law-oriented position for me to work through. I don’t know. But I can feel the burden within. Most times, I am very glad for it, and I almost envy myself too, as Erin’s father envied his daughter. It is a wonderful blessing to have a God to serve and a mission to live for.

But I must admit that sometimes, it feels like the burden is too heavy to carry around. Or I wonder how much easier life might be without it. I look at movies like “Freedom Writers” and see the sacrifices that the Erin Gruwells of the world must make, and while from the outside it’s easy for me to say it’s worth it — I know that if I were in their situations, the sacrifices would be extremely difficult for me to swallow and endure. Then I wonder what sacrifices I will have to make, and what costs I will have to pay. And who, besides God, will stand and walk beside me as I carry the burden around. I don’t know the answers, and sometimes that scares me.

Mostly, though, I still feel really lucky. I agree with the dad — it IS a blessing to receive a burden. And I’m reminded of how Jesus says that His yoke is easy and His burden is light (Matthew 11:30). And I’m reminded of what I read just last night in I Corinthians 10:13 — “No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it.” God walks with us all the way, and He is enough.

Mom tells me that when I was fourteen years old, she sat by me as I lay in bed, and I looked up her and said, “When I grow up, I want to defend justice. And when I die, I want God to say to me, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.'”

I’m over a decade away from that moment now, but the desire still rings true. I just find that as the world becomes more and more grey, rather than black and white, I see how difficult it is going to be to know exactly what my goals entail. But… God will help me figure it out. He’s faithful.

Philippians 1:6 – “…He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”

* * *

Memorable, challenging, and resonating passages from the “Freedom Writers” script –

Scott: If you have another glass your gonna have a headache
Erin: Your bags are backed and you think the wines gonna give me a headache? Why are you doing this?… Because I don’t pay enough attention to you?
Scott: No, that’s not it. I just feel like I’m living a life i just did not agree to, and it’s just too hard
Erin: Your life is too hard?
Scott: I think what your doing is noble and it’s good, and I’m proud of you. I am. I just want to live my life and not feel bad about it.
Erin: Well, I’m not trying to make you feel bad.
Scott: You don’t have to try..
Erin: Scott, I finally realized what I’m supposed to be doing and I love it. When I’m helping these kids make sense of their lives, everything about my life makes sense to me.. How often does a person get that?
Scott: Then what do you need me for?
Erin: Your my husband. Why can’t you stand by me and be a part of it?
Scott: Erin, if you had to choose between us and a class, what would you pick?
Erin: If you loved me, how could you ever ask me that?
Scott: Erin, look at me, this is all there’s ever been to me, this is it, I’m not one of those kids. I don’t have anymore potential.. see you don’t want to be here, if you did would you be in the classroom every night?
Erin: That’s not true. I want to be here. I love you.
Scott: You love the idea of me.
Erin: But it’s such a great idea.

* * *

Erin: The evaluation assignment was to grade yourself on the work you’ve been doing. You gave yourself and F… what’s that about?
Student: It’s what I feel I deserve.
Erin: Oh really? You know what this is? It’s a **** you to me and everyone in this class. I don’t want excuses. I know what your up against. Were all of us up against something. So, you better make up your mind, because until you have the balls to look me straight in the eyes and tell me this is all you deserve, I am not letting you fail… even it it means coming to your house every night until you finish your work. I see who you are. Do you understand me? I can see you.. and you are not failing. So, take a minute, pull yourself together and come inside. oh, and I want a new evaluation. An F? What? Are you trippin’?

• “I will support you no matter what.”

Two of my brothers told me this recently, and I realized what power this phrase has, because their saying it meant the world to me. In expressing such confidence in me, both provided an a priori blanket of security. Their expression of devotion, regardless of the circumstances, was both moving and empowering.

• “I love you.”

This phrase isn’t really said in our household, but some of my closest friends say it. And it’s more than just a simple, thrown-around phrase in my book. It means all the things that love should mean: unconditional acceptance, undying loyalty, incredible care and concern. It is good to be told that we are loved.

I should tell people whom I love that I do love them, more often. But it’s kind of hard to get the words out of my mouth, since I’m just not used to saying it. So in the meantime, I hope that they understand through my actions alone.

• “Bei bei.”

My parents call me this all the time, and explained it to me for the first time today. I always thought it was just another word for “baby,” and since I’m the youngest, I figured they just called me that out of convenience. Not so!

Bei bei is derived from bao bei, which means “precious,” and bei bei is a step up — it is a term of endearment that reflects something more along the lines of “most precious.” I’m my parents “most precious” daughter!

Lucky me. 🙂 It is good to be someone’s bei bei.

dui zhe ge shi jie ru guo ni you tai duo de bao yuan

If you have too many complaints towards this world

die dao le jiu bu gan ji xu wang qian zou
When you fall and can’t continue going forward

wei shen me ren yao zhe me de cui ruo duo luo
Why must people be so weak, depraved

qing ni da kai dian shi kan kan
I ask you to turn on the TV and see

duo shao ren wei sheng ming zai nu li yong gan de zou xia qu
How many people bravely try hard to live their lives

wo men shi bu shi gai zhi zu
Shouldn’t we be content with what we have?

zhen xi yi qie jiu suan mei you yong you
You should cherish everything even if you don’t possess it

huan ji de ni shuo jia shi wei yi de cheng bao

I still remember you said your home was the only castle

sui zhu dao xiang he liu ji xu ben pao
Running with the fragrance of the rice and the flowing river

wei wei xiao xiao shi hou de meng wo zhi dao
Smile, I know the dreams of your childhood

bu yao ku rang ying huo chong dai zhu ni tao pao
Don’t cry, let the fireflies lead you to escape,

xiang jian de ge yao yong yuan de yi kao
you can rely on the country lifestyle

hui jia ba hui dao zui chu de mei hao
Just go home; go back to the earliest happiness

bu yao zhe me rong yi jiu xiang fang qi; jiu xiang wo shuo de

Don’t give up so easily, it’s just like I say

zhui bu dao de meng xiang huan ge meng bu jiu de le
If you can’t achieve your dream, switch to another dream and it’ll be fine

wei zi ji de ren sheng xian yan shang se; xian ba ai tu shang xi huan de yan se
Put some colour into your life, firstly paint love with your favorite color

xiao yi ge ba gong cheng ming jiu bu shi mu di
Come on and smile, fame and fortune aren’t the goals

rang zi ji kuai le kuai le zhe cai jiao zuo yi yi
Let yourself be happy, this is the true meaning of life

tong nian de zhi fei ji xian zai zhong yu fei hui wo shou li
The paper airplane from my childhood, it’s finally flown back to my hand now

suo wei de na kuai le chi jiao zai tian li zhui qing ting zhui dao lei le
That so called happiness, running barefoot in the fields chasing crickets and getting tired

tou zhai shui guo bei mi feng gei ding dao pa le shei zai tou xiao ne
Picking fruits without permission and getting scared from being stung by bees, who’s sniggering?

wo kao zhu dao cao ren chui zhu feng chang zhu ge shui zhu le
I lean on the scarecrow in the wind, singing myself to sleep

e e wu hou ji ta zai chong ming zhong geng qing cui
Oh oh, if the sunshine sprinkles on the road

e e yang guang sa zai lu shang jiu bu pa xin sui

then I won’t be afraid of being broken-hearted

zhen xi yi qie jiu suan mei you yong you
You should cherish everything even if you don’t possess it

huan ji de ni shuo jia shi wei yi de cheng bao

I still remember you said your home was the only castle

sui zhu dao xiang he liu ji xu ben pao
Running with the fragrance of the rice and the flowing river

wei wei xiao xiao shi hou de meng wo zhi dao
Smile, I know the dreams of your childhood

bu yao ku rang ying huo chong dai zhu ni tao pao xiang jian de ge yao yong yuan de yi kao
Don’t cry, let the fireflies lead you to escape, you can rely on the country lifestyle

hui jia ba hui dao zui chu de mei hao
Just go home; Go back to the earliest happiness

• Because no matter how much we think we know, and no matter how justified we are in supposing that we know all there is to know, there is always and inevitably more to the story.

• Because it is, far more often than not, constructive.

• Because it is also, far more often than not, healing.

• Because it is redemptive.

• Because it demonstrates to people their value as fellow humans who are loved by God.

• Because whatever it is that we think we might lose in extending compassion — is not really a loss.

• Because really, there but for the grace of God go you and I.

What does repentance look like, really?

Is it a string of profuse apologies, babbling forth uncontrollably and repeating like a broken record?

Is it a next-day email that claims a desire to throw oneself in front of a truck?

Is it a somber admission of shame and guilt, laced with hints of a desire to hide forever?

I’ve seen all these things, and have long forgiven whatever there was to forgive. The thing that I appreciate most, and what I find most symbolic of repentance was what I heard about today. NTJ saw Mom at church, and deliberately, purposefully, and sincerely gave her a hug. That was the first time he had ever hugged her, or probably anyone in our family. Especially in light of all that happened before, I’m very touched.

SK pointed out at dinner tonight that this weekend was a hard one for me — between the SpaHa apartment and my vision for the small group that crashed last night at dinner when I posed it to a group of people whose support I feel I need, I’ve dealt with two major disappointments in the course of just a few days.

After leaving HK with a heart full of mission and purpose for my time here in the City, I prayed through my time in Cali, preparing all along for this chance to talk to my brothers and sisters about reviving a near-dead small group based on our law school fellowship. The response I received was not what I hoped and prayed for; it seems like these brothers and sisters are looking for a different kind of fellowship, one based in their respective churches, and they also want to branch out from the lawyer crowd. I totally understand their rationales, but the lack of enthusiasm for revitalizing a group that could act as a welcoming and enfolding force of spiritual bonding, care, growth, and outreach was discouraging.

So now, as I look around my circle here and find no one standing with me and sharing in this vision, I feel increasingly alone and weak. And I know it would be too great a burden to spearhead this on my own. And maybe this is God’s way of saying “No” or “Slow down” or “Not now.” J offered some insight along those lines — she said that God provides a mission, but He also provides people. Here, there are no people to walk alongside or with me on this. Maybe that’s a sign that I’m on the wrong track.

Sigh. I don’t know.

Went to Redeemer for church today, and the pastor gave yet another wonderful and soul-provoking sermon on benedictions, based on the Aaronic benediction in Numbers 6. Here’s a rough rundown of the sermon, based on some of the notes I took.

Benedictions (based on the Latin words “bene” and “diction,” it literally means “good word”) are blessings, given by God. And what are blessings? Well, when God “blesses” us, He delights in us. He wishes us well — and not just that, He bestows things/gifts to us in order to achieve our wellness. So effectively, when God blesses us, He says, “I delight in you, and I commit to achieving your good, and to be expensively present with you through your whole life. I am there for you, and committed to you.”

And since we are social beings, created in a way that we are inclined toward external validation, blessings are important to us. We naturally desire someone of great worth to tell us that we are of great worth. When God blesses us, He does exactly that — and it removes from us our otherwise great need for validation from others. So…that’s the significance of the blessing/benediction to us.

Another memorable point from the sermon was that Jesus, who is our priest, says to us what Rebekah said to her son Jacob — “Let your curse be on me.” Jesus took the curse of what we deserved, and instead bestowed on us the blessings of the right to reign and rule on the earth and enjoy a relationship with God.

These blessings change our lives because when we receive God’s blessing and His favor, His delight, it names us. To be blessed is also to bear God’s name and to be part of His family. The significance of having this name relates to identity, solidarity, accountability, security, and intimacy with God.

In response, we ought to bless others, and curse not. We should affirm and praise others for the gifts, fruits, or sacrifices that they make for the sake of the Kingdom. And just as Christ has done and does for us, we ought to bestow ourselves on other people, invest in them, and seek more blessings from and for others.

What a tremendous challenge! Amen, and amen.

I started my serious search for housing in the City today; our broker showed us five properties between 11am and 3pm, and by the time she left us, my mind was made up that we should live in Spanish Harlem.

The property that won my affections is located up at 101st Street, and it is gorgeous, brand-new, full of spectacular amenities, spacious beyond belief, and well within our budget for rent. And there is even a parole transition program next door. As the afternoon wore on, my excitement grew, and I could just see all the pieces fitting together — within two weeks I could be living super-close to Third Brother and Fourth Brother (they’d be just a few streets south), waking up in my sunny and gigantic room in a gorgeous new apartment, and padding downstairs on alternating Saturday mornings to volunteer with the parole transition program. And with some time, I’d even make friends with the locals, the hard-working blue-collar folk who called Spanish Harlem home for decades before the young professionals moved in. It would be a life-enriching experience for me, and a welcome haven from the immaculate and unrealistically-sanitized professional world that will inevitably own the majority of my waking hours.

My roommate was concerned about the area, though. SpaHa has a reputation for having a relatively high crime rate compared with the rest of Manhattan, though the NYPD stats show that the numbers for all major crimes have been coming down steadily over the last few years. We spent the afternoon crunching numbers and crime rates for various precincts around the City, and I eventually concluded that the area has become safe enough even for a single young professional woman like myself.

Still, due diligence required that we actually go out and investigate the area again at night. So after dinner, the double cousin joined my roommate and me for a trek uptown to SpaHa. We arrived around 11pm, and spent the next forty-five minutes making our way up to 101st Street from the 96th St subway station. Along the way, we stopped in at a Chinese restaurant, a convenience store manned by two Hispanic men, a 24-hour gas station staffed by two African-Americans and a self-described “white guy,” and the police station, where we conducted an extensive inquiry with the 23rd Precinct cops on duty. And I called both the Third and Fourth Brothers to get their opinions.

Some people said outright that the area was bad, but they also were the people who indicated various racial prejudices (interestingly, every race blamed those of other races). Others said that if we minded our own business and were careful not to be texting or Blackberrying while walking down the street, we’d be all right as the locals got to recognize our faces. One guy named Bob welcomed us to the neighborhood and said it was just fine as long as we stayed away from 103rd Street. My main MO involved asking whether any of these guys would let their kid sisters live in the area. Fourth Brother, the jumpiest in the clan, said he would let his sister live there if the property was spectacular (which it is) and there was nothing comparable in price or quality elsewhere (which there isn’t). But a cop said flat-out, “No,” even though he also indicated that the dangers are more perceived than actual, more figments of psychology and trained fear rather than tangible threats.

In the end, my roommate balked at the possibility of living in Spanish Harlem. Although I felt comfortable enough with the area, I know I must cede for her sake. Months ago, we made an agreement to live together, and if our positions were reversed, I would likewise hope for her grace on this issue. BUT — none of that changes the fact that I’m really disappointed.

Coming back to midtown on the subway, back to the streets that are marked “safe” and “harmless,” I grew increasingly frustrated and upset. This isn’t my roommate’s fault, so I waited until she and I parted before processing all of this with SK, who sides more with her and thinks that I’m the one with unreasonable standards. He keeps saying that the average Manhattan professional “isn’t signing up for living in Spanish Harlem,” because they earn big bucks for a reason — to move down south to the cooler, hipper parts of the island, and that he understands my desire to live in and among “real people,” but that I should anticipate that other people won’t be as keen on the idea.

I know he is right, at some level. But it disappoints me. And I think that is the root cause of my frustration at this point. This is more than just a point about housing; I am disappointed at other, deeper issues.

I’m disappointed that fear has won again. I feel like maybe crime would go down a little more if we stopped being afraid of communities… if we invested in them rather than running away from them. And I’m disappointed with how we measure danger. One of the talking points during our little walk-through interview today was how harassment might be an issue up in SpaHa. Yet as I returned to Midtown this evening, we passed by some drunk guys, and I remembered many times in college when I got a little freaked out by overly-inebriated folks who walked by. You never knew what they would do or say. And here in Midtown, at midnight, that’s normal here in Manhattan. So what’s the difference between an African-American or Hispanic man making a pass at a woman in Spanish Harlem, and a drunk white guy making a pass at a woman in Midtown? Why the double standard? Why is the former so much more “dangerous” and fear-inspiring than the latter?

If there’s one thing I learned during my stint as a defense attorney last year, it’s that people are people. I spent five months visiting clients and witnesses who live in much worse conditions than those that we saw (and could have chosen to live in) today. I’ve gone into those neighborhoods, and spoken with fathers, mothers, brothers, cousins, and girlfriends, and in the end, … they’re all just people. And yes, crap happens. Bad things happen. Dangerous things happen. And I’m not interested in inviting danger to my front door or becoming a martyr, but… I guess I just feel like living in Spanish Harlem at this particular location wouldn’t constitute an unreasonable risk. And I wanted to live close to the real world — a much more real world than what Midtown has to offer.

Along those lines, I feel like I’m letting myself down. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the rest of the City, and it’s not like I don’t realize that I enjoy the benefits and privileges of being a well-paid professional in Manhattan, of all places. But even if my work and calling requires a stint in this occupation, it doesn’t mean that the entirety of my life must reflect and buy into the lifestyle and community that ordinarily accompany the job. What if I don’t want all those “perks”? What if I want an opportunity to stay in touch with reality?

…

I’ve been chatting online with GW for a while about this and the whole housing thing, and he says, “Don’t settle.” Two hours ago, I was ready to throw in the towel and settle. Now…maybe not, after all. Though I can guarantee you that I won’t end up anywhere nearly as cool as Spanish Harlem. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.

One of the best things that happened to me during my long hiatus overseas was the chance to see Big Brother, who is arguably the wisest among the four brothers in what Jie Jie and I have come to reference as our “clan” (basically, six biologically unrelated brothers and sisters in Christ who love each other enough to call and treat each other as siblings). Every time I see Big Brother, we have some sort of deep discussion about pertinent current issues, and I always come away feeling challenged, encouraged, and inspired.

I’ve referenced this before on this blog, but it bears repeating — this last visit was particularly meaningful. One of the great challenges I received from Big Brother was to return to the City with a mission of eternal value. To take on the mindset that I am there not only to work and to gain professional experience, but also to contribute to the spiritual welfare of my fellow brothers and sisters in the City, particularly those with whom I went to law school. I have long intended for my stay in the City (however long or short, though it’s looking shorter and shorter these days) to involve substantial and intentional efforts apart from merely professional endeavors. But this commission from Big Brother was more pointed, more directed, more specific.

Today, responding to an email in which I asked for prayer as I venture back into the City this weekend to look for housing, Big Brother wrote this –

“Know that the core desire that is driving this – the desire to see beloved sisters and brothers from the past united in a God-centered fellowship to seek God and bless others – is a great desire. I cannot see why God wouldn’t be delighted in that. It was an incredible blessing for me and for the folks (including you for the summer!) who participated while it existed in vibrant form. And I feel like we had only scratched the surface of the potential that God was showing me in terms of depth of fellowship that could be developed, opportunities for community service together, bringing straying souls in [the City] to the group, studying the Word of God and applying it in our lives together, and of course, just laughing together – especially at [Third and Fourth Brothers]. Honestly, other than [ ] at the time, the small group was the one thing that really made it difficult to leave NYC – not only for what it was but for the potential that I saw. If this is a vision that God might be giving you, I would wholeheartedly encourage you to pursue it. Be zealous for unity fellowship of Christ, be passionate to be all that God can make you in [the City] – and desire that earnestly for others as well. And be strong in the Lord and in the power of HIS might.”

In the days/weeks/months ahead, I pray that God would sustain me in this time of great transition, and that He would fuel our community with a fiery passion for His gospel; supply a common vision for serving our colleagues, spiritual siblings, and broader community in the City; and motivate our hearts to seek Him as one body. For you blogreaders who are fellow believers, I’d appreciate your prayers on this too. Thanks. 🙂

Still awake at 3:20. I tried — in vain — to sleep, but to no avail. 

My mind is stuck in a jungle of thoughts, a tangle of vines — each strand of which is a stream of consciousness without an identifiable beginning or a discernible end. This mental mess so fully occupies and overwhelms the grey matter in the northernmost region of my cranium that I begin to suspect that I’m actually thinking about absolutely nothing, even though I know deep down that the opposite must be true.

I gaze for a long moment at the reverse tattoo that I have acquired on my feet in the last several months. The sun was so intense, the hours in said sun so long, and my negligence in applying sunblock so gross, that one might guess that I had spilled an entire bottle of henna on these feet. One pale and thick criss intersected by two thin (but equally pale) crosses provide irrefutable evidence that the similarly patterened sandals on the doormat outside are mine.

These feet have taken me to many places since they first reacquainted themselves with the sun in late May. As they have baked and browned over the summer, I feel like my soul and spirit have likewise ripened a bit during this season. The changes were imperceptibly subtle as they occurred, but now enough time and sufficient distance have intervened, and things are beginning to slip into focus. We may not be able to read books when they are right up against our noses, because our eyeballs get all cross-eyed and funny… but when we hold things out a bit further, the visuals kick in and we are able to read what was there all along. So it is with life, I think.

Back to the baking and browning and other food analogies towards which I tend to tend. Where was I? Ah yes, ripening. Looking back, I see that it was difficult for me to leave law school — in large part because so many significant things happened during those three years. Finally, I met a sizeable group of like-minded Christ-followers with whom I could not only fellowship, but also earnestly love, and be sincerely loved by. Finally, I was given opportunities to see the insides of courtrooms — and from the other side of the bar, the side where attorneys and officers of the court write, speak, move, and think. And finally, I visited Zhong Guo, and began not only to accept — but also to embrace the heritage that had sprung a thousand tears when I was younger.

The end of the year, graduation, and the bar exam flew by in a blur that seemed, at times (i.e. during bar review lectures), to move in agonizingly slow motion. While I was trapped in the middle of that whirlwind, I still found time to contemplate and reflect, but none of those precious spare moments could compare with the power of ten full weeks of vacation, half of which I have already consumed, and with great progress to prove it.

I’m grateful that I was able to book a ticket for a plane that would whisk me away to a distant land on the other side of the world, twelve time zones away, far from cell phones, laptops, the daily dose of the New York Times, the English language, and the American culture that I know and (mostly) love so well. Only by leaving everything that I knew and thought I understood, and being subsequently dunked / doused / immersed / submerged entirely into a wildly different universe could I step back and make a far more accurate assessment of what my world back at home looked like.

Let’s revisit the food analogies. My life in America is like good, solid Dove chocolate. It’s smooth, it’s good, it’s familiar, and common. But all around me, so it would often seem, people live lives of Godiva chocolate, Lindt chocolate, imported Swiss chocolate, and the like. Fancy chocolate — in shiny golden wrappers, some with delectable surprises of gooey caramel or airy amaretto tucked inside. And those whose lives aren’t like chocolate still live good lives of… sugary gum drops. Creme brulee. Mint chocolate chip ice cream. Even Jell-O. All are pretty darn sweet, but in a land of sweetness, even the sweetest among sweets (a.k.a. chocolate) start to seem flavorless.

Imagine that Miss Dove Chocolate gets transported to a land of rich vegetation. Life is harder in that land, but in many respects, just as good (or dare I say, better). There — instead of candy — cucumbers, carrots, cabbages, green leafy things, and all sorts of other makings of a delicious salad grow and thrive. (If you feel like this analogy is taking or has long taken a wrong direction, remember that it is 4am by now). That’s what happened to me. Chocolate doesn’t and cannot fully understand the meaning, significance, or role of its sweet existence until it relocates, however temporarily, to a wholly different environment, where the big-picture comparisons and contrasts that really matter become glaringly apparent.

That’s what happened to me. And for me.

And something about understanding what I’m really about helps me move on to the next chapter with more boldness, more enthusiasm, more optimism, and anticipation. I believe there is a great adventure ahead, and more than any other time in recent memory, I’m excited to go and live it out.