The Remedy

Growth group these last few weeks has been interesting in a somewhat uncomfortable way. It seems that God is challenging a handful of people around me to wait on Him, but in the waiting, they grow increasingly impatient to the point of despair. A young man visiting us for the first time cried as he shared of his struggle to find a job that used his gifts, and June shared that one of her sons also shed tears while talking about his struggle to find his first job out of college. And then there are two dear friends whose hearts have been terribly broken over the loss of men who they thought were there with them for their lifetimes. How much my heart aches when I remember being in the throes of depression because of similar circumstances. I wish I could have taken a double heaping then to shelter them from theirs now.

People close to me seem to be experiencing health scares as well, and I am not yet convinced it has anything to do with age. My own recent blood screening shows some abnormality that is "nothing to worry about", until you read the fine print, where talk of early demise seems to be a common theme. In all this turmoil, I find myself helpless, though desperately wanting to strip away pain from my hurting friends. Praying seems to be the only remedy.

The one thing, though, that strikes me in all of this is how God's will is bigger than a single decision. God has given me peace about certain decisions so much so, that whichever way I stepped, God would still gain glory and bless me in the process. What I find is most important is my position in relation to God in that decision, so that when it's not a matter of right versus wrong, it's a matter of submission and desire to let God lead. No one can stymie His destiny for us. We can make some bad choices, though, making the path there more painful, but God will get us there. It's all a matter of trusting God. Molly shared with me something profound that C.H. Welch wrote: "The Lord may not definitely have planned that this should overtake me, but He has most certainly permitted it. Therefore though it were an attack of an enemy, by the time it reaches me, it has the Lord's permission and therefore all is well. He will make it work together with all life's experiences for good."

I am so relieved to know that God is good, and even more glad to know that He loves me with all His goodness.

Who Do You Think I Am?

I finally made the time to look up my categorical personality transformation, according to the pervasive Myers and Briggs. I most definitely earned my Inspector title back in my college days, and as a dear friend summed it up, "you have ice running through your veins". There has been much change since then, though, including a dramatic disappearance of an irrational anger. I also admit that the "F" in me has since completely emerged, often surprising even myself in the way I cannot control my tear ducts (maybe it's just a medical condition?). But I adhere to my sister's theory that we were emotionally repressed growing up, and so we are simply making up for lost time (my apologies to y'all who must endure the emotionally unstable Annie). I wonder, though, how much of this gradual change has to do with maturity that comes with becoming a responsible adult and how much has to do with the internal grinding and refining the Lord has seen fit to do. All I know is that He is not done with me yet.

Inspector (then) - ISTJs have a keen sense of right and wrong, especially in their area of interest and/or responsibility. They are noted for devotion to duty and their punctuality. ISTJs often give the initial impression of being aloof and perhaps somewhat cold. Effusive expression of emotional warmth is not something that ISTJs do without considerable energy loss. They seem to perform at highest efficiency when employing a step-by-step approach. Once a new procedure has proven itself, the ISTJ can be depended upon to carry it through, even at the expense of their own health. ISTJs are easily frustrated by the inconsistencies of others, especially when the second parties don't keep their commitments. But they usually keep their feelings to themselves unless they are asked. And when asked, they don't mince words. Truth wins out over tact.

Provider (now) - ESFJs are generous entertainers. They enjoy and joyfully observe traditions and are liberal in giving, especially where custom prescribes. All else being equal, ESFJs enjoy being in charge. They see problems clearly and delegate easily, work hard and play with zest. ESFJs are easily wounded. And when wounded, their emotions will not be contained. Not that the ESFJ is paranoid; "hyper-vigilant" would be more precise.

Always Something There to Remind Me

"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-17

But...but...but...oy.

Surrender

I'm ready. I am so ready to give it all up - the job, the family, and whatever requires effort. I feel spent, like I have no power left to push past the status quo. I don't want to resolve, but I know I should. I don't want to work, but I have to pay the bills. I don't want to run, but there's that pesky race looming. I have no desire to even smile, which if you know me, is a chore in itself (I am not predisposed to pleasant facial expressions). The stress on my face is so apparent that a coworker decided to write my resignation letter for me. With a few slight amendments, I think it will be good to go.

Mark,

As the quarter is rapidly coming to a close and review time not far behind, I am thinking about my next position in TTC. My 2-year tour of duty, and believe me it has been a war, will come to a close soon – just in time for Christmas. For most people time flies, but for me I feel 10 years older.

Let’s consider the Annie before and after I (under duress you will recall) took this insane production management job.

Before: Happy, young, well-liked, actually had time to golf.
After: Happy (now that you can take back your job and shove it), sprouted at least 2 gray hairs per week for the last 104 weeks, people try and hide when seeing me come, and I’m lucky to be able to still spell “golf.” Not to mention that I know Rita on a professional level way more than I ever wanted.

Remind me again why you thought this was a good idea? This is not my-bad; I think it is your-bad.

So you have had 2 years to think about this. What do you think?

Ms. Annie B. Chang,
ENGINEER, formally production mgr.

What a terrible feeling of listlessness. It's exactly what I preach against at the office, and yet here I am, sucked into the quagmire of mediocrity. I would look for the root cause of this newfound apathy, but then that would take energy.

"It will be like a hungry man dreaming that he is eating, only to awaken and find that his stomach is empty. It will be like a thirsty man dreaming that he is drinking, only to awaken and find that he is still weak and his thirst unquenched." Isa 29:8

You Make Everything Glorious

"You make everything glorious,
You make everything glorious,
You make everything glorious,
And I am yours,
What does that make me?"

As much as I think David Crowder is a little strange (have you seen this guy?), he does write lyrics that resonate in me from time to time. Usually I'm touched by a melody, rarely just by the words of a song. But this particular exerpt appeals to the engineer in me. The syllogism makes sense. But do I live like I really believe it? Perhaps it's the Asian humility that stirs up the inner turmoil, as it has always been a struggle figuring how to live out the tenet that God is proud of His creation, that being me. I suppose it's because many of the decisions in my life have not been glorifying, choosing to follow temptation's path just short of my own destruction, you know, not thinking about the consequences of going after all that temporal "good" stuff. Having not gone through the mental exercise of decoupling my poor choices with His creation has not helped either. Add in a pinch of culturally induced brainwashing, and you have for a not so glorifying perspective on this life. So how much less glory do I offer to my Creator in the way I look down on myself? There is a balance of humility and marvel to be struck in me that I pray He will help me achieve...sometime in this lifetime, perhaps.

Soon and very soon.

More Than Fine

Have you ever asked someone how they're doing, but tossed back at you is an insincere "fine"? This isn't delivered with any kind of malice; you just get the feeling that there is more going on underneath the claim of normalcy. Well I'm here to break the mold and profess that I ain't fine. Perhaps the offshift hours have finally taken their toll or I've finally reached the limits of my so-called relational agility, but staring at the ceiling seems to be a part of my nightly routine these days. Just wishing that they would leave me alone probably isn't the best of options, but secretly, I hope for that. It feels wrong to "wish them away", but helplessness can often lead me to desperate, not so realistic thoughts.

In this life, there will be trials. But is there never to be reprieve, if only for a moment? I think I got a tiny taste of fleeting happiness on Sunday afternoon, when I shot a 37 on the front nine at Deep Cliff. A birdie, along with setting myself up for a handful of pars definitely helped. I can't say my back nine was as good, but for a combined personal best of 79, it was a good day of golf for me. But then coming into the clubhouse, life came back into focus, and once again, its pressures bore down without mercy.

Fortunately for me, God reminded me that He has invited me to share in His joy. Truly, His mercies are new every morning, even after losing in a staring contest with my vaulted ceiling. It's an interesting cycle to experience - bringing stress to bed, only to cast them on my Savior so the morning is new and less burdensome. I hope the load gets lighter with every night of rest; I'll let you know if it's true when I can begin to lift it on my own. Or maybe I'll just let Him carry it until it's gone. My back will thank Him for it.

What's your sleep number?

Sunday

Huddled together under the sparse shade of the surprisingly less than adequate umbrella (certainly Starbucks could spring for larger patio furniture), we laughed and lamented the impending start of the new school year. Grateful to be immune to the fall's back to school anxiety, my happy go lucky attitude turned into a bit of amazement, both in a good and somewhat regretful way. I was a bit awe struck thinking about what would motivate adolescents to want to hang out with not-as-hip adults. Could it be the free algebra tutoring? Or how about the free pass to hide behind the sound board during service? Oh I know. It's the free rides around town when the parents can't play chauffeur. Well, whatever the reason, I guess the Lord makes us relational in ways we don't always deem "expected".

But what struck me more was an unexpected sadness that the grande Frappachinos and Chai teas (which Kamala's mom mistakenly orders as "tai chi") we were clutching were the primary drivers for my challenge to spend a daily five minutes with God for a week. The Type A-er in me wanted to see change - that those five minutes of fellowship would spur them onto a desire to give that time to God without any external motivation. I wanted to hear that their times were so good that five extended into ten, and the value of being in the Lord's company was well worth the investment. But I suppose I should leave the growth part to God. In the meantime, I'll keep watering, even if it is with hot white chocolate.

Nothing’s sacred, the days are cheap
Truth is thin on the ground
Still our prophets are crucified
Nobody believes we’re stumbling
It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming

Someone’s saying a prayer tonight
For hungry mouths to be filled
Someone kneels in the dark somewhere
And darkness is already crumbling
It’s Friday, but Sunday comes

(Chorus) Sunday – Hallelujah – it’s not so far, it’s not so far away
Sunday – Hallelujah – it’s not so far, it’s not so far away

Broken promises, weary hearts
But one promise remains: Crucified, he will come again
It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming
It’s Friday, but Sunday comes (Chorus)

Darkness is already crumbling
It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming

Just for the record, I don't think teenagers should be allowed to drink coffee. There, I said it.

Fear

Coming to a threeway intersection on the way to the next tee box, I was practically thrown out of the cart when my driver slammed on the brakes (whiplash hardly begins to describe what I experienced with all the rather abrupt stopping that afternoon). A right turn would turn us uphill into a wooded area. A left turn carried us down into an equally wooded unknown. And going straight invited us to bump on down a pothole riddled, narrow path just wide enough to squeeze us through. Of course, no tee box to be seen from where we sat. But how can I know what will happen if we choose to veer right, towards the shaded, less paved path? Is there enough room up there to make a U-turn? If only course knowledge came with a paid green fee.

Will I carry regret with me for years to come if I say no? How will he feel if I take steps this way instead of that way? How will she treat me if I do invest that time for that particular thing? There is always risk involved when a decision cannot be calculated or extrapolated, without that valuable course knowledge. And sometimes that risk brings fear...fear of the unknown. But if we never move, how do we ever get anywhere? How can I ever get to the next tee box?

When you do what you know is true, things get clearer. When you don't do what you know is true, what you don't know paralyzes you.

This statement struck me enough to cause me to risk my life, fumbling to find a pen to write down the nugget of truth on the remnant of a Post-It while I drove to my dental appointment. When I don't stand on the rock of truth, I cannot budge. Fear grips me to waver and even avoid the issue. But how I am fueled with confidence when my faith in God cements truth behind my actions. I have no need to doubt, no need to regret, no need to weigh the dissenting opinions of those who find it necessary to voice their thoughts.

And so I listen and look intently for God's leading, letting faith be the data I rest on to inch my lead feet forward with itty bitty nudges that grow bigger with that faith. Can't wait to dance with God!

My Way

Morgan Pressel pulled out driver on her approach to the green on the par 4, 14th hole in the final round of the US Open at Pine Needles. I suppose being 4 shots behind the lead with only four holes to go can make you whip out the big stick when you're not on the tee box. And to my utter amazement, I did not hear any protests from the announcers in regards to club selection. Instead, they remarked that it had come down to doing what you gotta do when you wanna save a stroke to win. On top of that, they sarcastically remarked, "How often do you get to practice this shot?" I had to laugh out loud, because I have heckled a fellow golfer for pulling out his driver on the fairway, even though that's his most reliable club. You just don't do that, y'know?

The other day, I picked up a copy of Golf magazine, of which I am four months behind reading. My scanning eyes happen to get stuck on the monthly "Cool Shots" article that coincidentally read, "Hitting Your Driver off the Deck". Now that had to be one of those times when God says to the nearest angel, "Watch this" punctuated by a big grin. Apparently this is not an original shot, so much so, we need to be taught the proper way to do it.

God continually has a sense of humor when it comes to these life lessons. In all this, I was keenly listening to what God wanted to teach me, since it definitely wasn't the golf shot (I can hardly hit the driver off the tee box; there'd be no way I could hit it off the fairway). For most of my life, I have been aware of a sense of doing things in a particular way. As an example, I very much prefer that cups and smaller bowls are placed in the upper carrier of my dishwasher, while pots and plates go in the bottom. My brother doesn't seem to share the same sentiment. In fact, I rather doubt he has sentiment at all when it comes to placement of dirty dishes. I have learned to suppress this frustration, though, since it is so not worth an argument. But I do not think suppression is what God wants me to go after. I feel He is telling me to let go of things that are not a matter of right and wrong. Let Rich put a cup in the lower carrier. Let my golfing friend use his Taylor Made on the short grass. Let them be who they are, and enjoy who God made them to be. Lighten up, Annie, and enjoy God's creation. I think I will find that they enjoy me more too.

In the meantime, do you think you can teach me how to hit my driver off the tee, God?

Baby Come Back

A few days ago, I noticed an eerie shadow protruding slightly behind the sponge that sits on the far side of my bathtub. The shadow didn't disappear with the time of day, so after awhile, I finally mustered up the courage to investigate. That little shadow was the short stem of a baby flower! I quickly recalled the cleanup from some gardening I had done just a week ago, and realized that this scrubber, which was just one step away from the dumpster, lay host to a new plant. Once used for the occasional tub scrubdown, that raggedy ol' sponge had transformed into the new home for a poppy sprout.

Just recently, I was once again struck by the awesomeness of God's redemptive nature - His extraordinary ability to redeem that which was lost, and even that which is outright antagonistic, where He is consciously forsaken. Our souls can be dead in the world, but then the Spirit reinflates our hearts the moment we turn back towards Him. How close to that trash bin we can be, and then suddenly, there is life renewed. What an opportune time for that sprout to bring life to that seemingly useless sponge. Rubbish becomes the bearer of new life. So once again, I was reminded that the Lord confirms the truth He communicates to us. I bet that's just God's form of punctuation. "Let's just make sure they know it's Me and that's My message...period...for now." But oh, just to hear His sweet voice. It's music to my ears.

If we would just stop feeding Him illustrations, maybe He could stop preaching. Until then, I'm going to first service to get a seat up front. Wanna join me?

Let Go Part II

All I have in my head for this entry is the urge to let go. God has been admonishing me to more than just be still, be patient, and wait. He has been admonishing me to let go. It's like that feeling of learning to ski. As a beginner, I was stiff and unyielding, overadjusting and flexing every muscle to compensate for the imbalanced slipping and sliding on the slopes. Once I relaxed a bit (mind you, this took a couple seasons), the turns came much more easily. I don't know about you, but it is amazing to me how much easier it is to capitulate than it is to labor, and yet I fight it every step of the way.

It is burdensome to hang onto what ails you or what you don't understand or what is not completely in your control. People can easily fall into one of those categories. We're all so different, and those who find their way into the intimate confines of your constitution can be, well (if I may call the glass half empty), liabilities. You risk their making a misguided move only to wound you. It is a gamble we willing take in order to enjoy the fruit of friendship, and better yet, fellowship. But when the inevitable contusions are inflicted, forgiveness is the only way those wounds and scars can heal.

In Matthew 5:3, Jesus wisely affirmed this in the truth that "blessed are the poor in Spirit". How ironic is it that once we reach the end of our proverbial rope, God will go beyond our earthly limitations if only we ask Him.

And so I humbly acquiesce, I willingly yield, I surrender all. "...Yet not my will, but yours be done." (Luke 22:42)

Looking forward to the freedom.

Sifting through my past blog entries, I was surprised to see that in my first edition of Let Go (http://anniebob.blogspot.com/2006/01/let-go.html); God was teaching me something somewhat different.

Long Way to Go

Friday, 24 May, Sunol Valley Palm Course, Hole #8 195 yards to the center of the green.

As we waited for the green to clear, my impatience surveyed the situation - an impending, unwelcomed gallery and the opportunity to tee off first in my foursome (as my fellow golfmates had decent chances to land the green). My driver was the perfect club for this hole, as it had never allowed me the luxury of more than 200 yards. My debate to hit or not lasted all of 10 seconds, at which time I stood up on the box, launched my slightly scuffed Lady's Precept straight at the pin, and fished up my brush tee before seeing the ball land. Chip and putt for par was the last thing I thought while my buddies prepped for their shots.

Driving up to the green, we counted 1 on the green, a 2nd near the right bunker, and a 3rd in the sand trap. Driving donuts in front and to the right of the green, we all could not believe my straight shot was nowhere to be found. So I settled for a drop and the unsatisfying feeling of having hit a decent shot that would get lost in a double bogey or worse. But as I scurried to my back of the green chip, I noticed a ball about 15 yards beyond the green. There it was, over 220 yards from where I had smacked it. In disbelief, I chipped on, and two putted for bogey. Good thing I let those guys in front of us clear before I hit!

Not a hole in one, and not even par, but passing the 200 yard mark was pretty sweet. When's our next tee time?

What a Feeling

Remembering our spiritual forefathers, I am drawn to the example of Aaron and Hur and how great a role they played in Moses's victory over the Amalekites. If it weren't for their unselfish gestures of support, how would the landscape of history have changed? How would God have shown His sovereignty and glory if not through the raised arms of Moses, held up by the strength and endurance of his trusted compatriots? I'm sure God would have devised another amazing, maybe even stupefying way to display His mighty fist. But this story speaks intimately to me through those two, who steadied the banner of God, which just so happened to be the weary arms of a friend.

I have been poked by this, because sometimes I only minister to the needs of my friends when they hurt, when they've fallen down the proverbial hill, and when my eyes see the blood. Would I climb the mountain to persevere for them? My heart cries out "of course I would!" because it breaks when their pain is evident to me, whether spoken or simply sensed. But what about the times when they are experiencing His joy? He has designed us to be limited, and even in the times when we are joyfully serving Him to our utmost, there are some tasks that do require a third or fourth hand. Why do I only look for the fallen, when I can also be used to give a boost to the faithful servant who could reach a little higher if only with a bit of help?

My 7 year old nephew sparked this notion in me one Sunday in GX service. Motivated by the speaker's assignment to not only befriend those who would be there for you, but also to be the kind of friend people seek out, Nicholas asked me how my big toe was doing. This threw me for a loop, because I had practically forgotten about my latest mishap. Back over Christmas, I had pulled a ligament in my right big toe while working on the master bathroom. And here I was, more than three months later, still nursing my "work"-related injury, but going at it solo, because those around me had moved on with life. It's not to say that I expect my friends to nurse me back to health (how would they?). But the mere mention of it struck an encouraging chord in me that I have long not felt. The same chicken nugget consuming boy who I am quick to reprimand for drinking too much milk before dinner's end reached out to hold up my arm...I mean big toe. When I questioned why he recalled the clumsy event, he simply replied, "I knew it hurt a lot." And even though I was walking almost normally that day, somehow he knew I had just gotten used to the pain. Now his asking did not instantaneously heal my toe, but it may as well have. This kind of championing made me walk with less of a limp that day.

Ultimately, what is my driving motivation? To encourage (which is not my gifting) so that my friends feel better no matter what level they're at? Possibly. But more likely, God is just waiting for another tidbit of glory to come His way. And that morsel doesn't always have to come from His pulling us from the wreckage.

On an indirectly related note, check this out. Now this is tight. Why can't it be this simple?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpVsF4W8V2Y

I Will Remember You

Easter Sunday will never be the same. To me, it has always been the celebration of God's power, the satisfying of His wrath, and His triumph over the sin of man. But now it will also be the anniversary of a death. My mind is charred with images of friends shrouded in black, and my heart is stirred with pangs of regret and endearing words spoken too late. Too young, too soon, too many unnecessary tears.

As family and friends touted the finer points of his life and personality, I was struck with the realization that my friends may not be able to say the same things about me. Granted, I'm not him, but the qualities that touched their lives are ones I would do right to emulate. But sometimes I find myself living my life like He's already finished making that proverbial, dramatic change in me, and there's not much left to do but tweak here and refine there. True, He has done an amazing work these past 10 years in quelling my irrational anger, but shoot, I ain't perfect...not even close! I walked away from the memorial wanting so much to step aside and allow God to continue to change me, however painful the molding might be. I have to trust that He will complete the good work He has started in me, however much time I have left on this earth.

May you find rest, L.

C is for Cookie

Which is your favorite Girl Scout cookie? A coworker coerced the rest of us into shelling out our hard-earned loose change (which isn't so loose anymore - $3.50 a box?? you almost have to take out a loan to buy a box of cookies that costs 85 cents to make) to send her niece to Disneyland. No fair using a green beanie clad youngster to pull heart strings and expand waist lines.

Girl Scout cookie popularity and associated personality:
Thin Mints 26% Popular, strong, confident
Samoas 20% Brainy, complex, mysterious
Tagalongs 13% Artistic, creative, dramatic
Do-Si-Dos 10% Easy going, trustworthy, friendly
Trefoils 8% Loyal, true blue, honest
The other varieties combined account for the remaining 23%

Well, whichever cookie is your favorite makes you too weak to say no to kiddies bearing age old sweets. Yum.

Prop Me Up Against the Jukebox if I Die

If I were stranded on an island and could only listen to three songs for the rest of my natural life, these are the three I would choose. When I was asked this, I couldn't even consider any secular songs; I would want the words of God to be what keeps my mind and heart hopeful. And these days, I'm also finding myself skipping over the secular songs on my iPod (yes, I have an iPod - that's a whole 'nother blog entry) when I'm running or cooking. My heart just wants to sing the praises of God. Now how cheesy does that sound?

So here are the three songs I can't get enough of today:

How Great Thou Art sung by Gary Chapman

Your Grace is Enough sung by Chris Tomlin
Great is Your faithfulness oh God
You wrestle with the sinner's heart
You lead us by still waters and to mercy
And nothing can keep us apart
So remember Your people
Remember Your children
Remember Your promise Oh God
Your grace is enough
Your grace is enough
Your grace is enough for me
Great is Your love and justice God
You use the weak to lead the strong
You lead us in the song of Your salvation
And all Your people sing along
So remember Your people
Remember Your children
Remember Your promise Oh God
Your grace is enough
Your grace is enough
Your grace is enough for me (x2)
So remember Your people
Remember Your children
Remember Your promise Oh God
Your grace is enough
Your grace is enough
Your grace is enough for me
Your grace is enough
Heaven reaching down to us
Your grace is enough for me
God i see your grace is enough
I'm covered in your love
Your grace is enough for me For me

Still sung by Hillsong

Hide me now

Under your wings

Cover me within your mighty hand

When the oceans rise and thunders roar

I will soar with you above the storm

Father you are king over the flood

I will be still and know you are God

Find rest my soul

In Christ alone

Know his power

In quietness and trust

I watched this documentary relaying a few accounts of Christians who were persecuted for their faith in China. I was struck by this one man who was imprisoned for over 20 years, all the while remembering the words to "The Old Rugged Cross". On the video, he and his 70? 80? year old (shoot, they looked practically 90) wife sang this hymn for the cameras with an outstretched arm and fist seeming to keep the beat, but I think more to symbolize how much he believed in what he was singing. Those words carried him through two decades of imprisonment. Pretty powerful.

So what are your three songs?

Boy in the Box

If you ask me, sometimes I do believe we are dealt raw deals every now and then. Now this isn't a red flag to warn of a venting session fueled by self pity for somewhat uncomfortable circumstances. No, this is simply an attempt to offer an entry and give some indication that I am still alive and kicking!

I think I may have missed the mark, though, in that my attitude has not been right in relation to a friend holding a proverbial bad hand. Reading in James about exuding God's peaceable and gentle spirit made me think hard about why I can't seem to love my friend as she needs to be loved. Maybe because I'm not God? Seems too simple an excuse. I seem to be suffering from feelings of having something to teach her, as if my similar experiences give me special insight into her situation. I am praying that I would step aside so that God could do His thing through me instead of my trying to do God's work for Him. Definitely character building for me.

The Lord has beset a less than subtle nudge that I need to show care for her in this time, and that means I need to make myself available to her, even in the midst of my busy schedule. This doesn't require me to initiate; she tends to seek me out with a frequency that is less than commodious. Who knew I was claustrophobic? Times like these, though, I am grateful my time is practically my own. I think my friend just needs company and someone to bounce her thoughts off of. Maybe she can get her emotions out on Wii Sports. It's amazing how therapeutic boxing can be!

In the meantime, is it too early to pack? Can't wait to leave.