Pay attention girl, you might learn something.
It’s like a voice says it, out of nowhere, as I sit on a stool surrounded by people in a kitchen.
The bowl of rice in my palm is heavy and my right index finger cramps from clutching chopsticks for the—what is it?—third time today…?
Maybe.
And the languages mix and I’m getting used to this. I’m getting used to hearing it first one way and then waiting for the translation.
How strange is it that we’re saying exactly the same things—just in completely different ways.
So, pay attention, girl. Pay attention—you, who worked so desperately hard to predict every instant in your life. You who tried to say where you’d be this time this year.
You, who in a million years, would have never, ever seen yourself doing this.
I watched my students run yesterday. I was yelling, cheering along with them. Pulling for them to run faster. To close the distance and win this race. You would have thought it was the Olympics and not a simple school-wide competition for all the fervor and confetti.
I loved it.
You go out to find how ‘the same’ you are in all your glorious differences.
I’m struck by the creativity in that thought. We are all so the same, but yet, we are all so different. On every stratosphere of humanity—we are the same, but different. Who is this God? Who is this God who has it within Himself to be so many different things, while still being only one all the time?
