the twinkling of an eye

I've moved!

2009-02-07T10:07:00.000-08:00

My new blog layout is pretty. So go see it! :)

Moors

2009-02-01T13:49:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone! Okay, so I'm going to be jumping on board Abigail Kraft's Monthly Poetry Mondays. I won't always be posting recent work (the poem I'm posting today, for instance, was written when I was 15), but I'll try to participate as often as I can. :)

So, here goes...

MOORS

the moors lie, an open canvas
blown smooth by the wind --
barrenness, barrenness, barrenness that
gives birth to so much beauty.

the opening dawn brushes the heart
steals it away into the sweet, the familiar mundane
wavering chords of birdsong
weave through thick emptiness
fading, fading, fading
into the fog; straying,
waking in the rain.

lost hope is called back
and love wanders into the sun,
leaves its nest behind
to soar into heaven's sanctuary,

circling, circling, circling
over the gentle folds of the earth.

.

so much more

2009-01-26T12:31:00.000-08:00

.

there is
a time to speak,

and a time
to fall silent.

we were meant to be
so much more than
noise.

Mathematical Musings

2009-01-24T19:37:00.000-08:00

In the midst of exams here, sorry for my lack of posting! I've only got one to go -- math -- and I'm writing it Monday morning. I should be practicing my probability, which is a bit rusty still, but my brain is such a muddle of fractions and decimals and equations that I honestly don't know how I can possibly keep studying. It really does seem that the more I study, the less I understand.

I'm not overly worried about doing poorly on the exam -- I've calculated that, even if I get a low mark on it, I can still retain a 90-average because of other work that I've done in the course. My concern isn't that I'll bring down my mark; it's that I'll let my teacher down. Just a few days ago, he told me that he was really pleased with how I was doing in the course and asked if he could use one of my projects to show as an example to future classes.

This was a very pleasant surprise, considering how much I've hated math all my life. Oh, I know that most everyone "hates" math -- but I'm sure that few people have ever cried every day for a whole year before math class, as I did in fourth grade (we were learning long division -- now, I have a scientific calculator for that chore!). Math has always scared the wits out of me, and, even though I've always managed to scrape by with A's in the subject, I never really understood it or felt confident in it. It's only in my final year of high school that I've managed to find an aspect of math which I enjoy. I never expected to like math -- much less be good at it -- so this has served as a nice lesson in doing hard things for me.

The problem is, I still feel like my good grades aren't really representative of what I know. In many of the units, I only got high marks because tests were easy and I happened to memorize the right notes; not so much because I understood what I was learning.

And now I'm feeling the pressure. My teacher, who thinks I'm great at math, expects me to get an equally great mark on the exam, and I just don't think I'll be able to manage it. I've memorized all the formulas and practiced all the questions, but get stuck as soon as I encounter a new question, and only manage to understand it after I check the Answer Key. Plus, my brain's really, really about to melt.

So I'm really going to let down my teacher on the exam -- and I hate that feeling! We've all seen singers release not-so-great albums, athletes do sub-par on the Olympics, writers publish disappointing sequels -- I hate to think that I'm going to make someone feel that way with my own work. I really don't like letting people down; whether I'm blogging, Flickr'ing, or working on schoolwork, I'm always worried about how my work will measure up to all that I've done in the past. In fact, that's why I quit writing for several years after sixth grade -- I wrote a few good (for my age) stories that won me an award, and I stopped experimenting, afraid that I would fail to produce something equally good.

This fear of pressure is also why I stopped blogging three times (on other blogs, not this one) and quit art in middle school. It's ruled a lot of my life. I've learned, in time, to overcome it, but it's getting the better of me tonight. And it's making me wonder.

Why do I care so much about what my teacher will think of me if I fail, and so little about what God thinks when I disappoint him? God has seen me as a devoted, trusting, and on-fire disciple, and now he sees me slipping away, running after the transient, emphemeral charms and deceptions of this earth instead of stepping closer to him. He sees me trip over the world's worthless lies, and fall so, so far below what he wants and expects me to be.

Why do I care so little?

Granted, there's no pressure. In God, I am free from pressure, competition, deadline, and stress. He wants me to work, rest, and commune with him out of my own will, not as a response to prodding or force. It's my choice to serve God, and it's my choice to care.

Tonight, I feel at peace. Whether I do poorly on tomorrow's exam, or whether I hear another "Good job, Oksana," I know that only one thing matters: it's whether or not I will hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

Only one thing matters.

Pattern

2009-01-15T18:01:00.000-08:00

i've talked of heaven's gates in terms

of geometric patterns --

the golden bars, pearl-laden and parallel --

repeating, repeating, repeating

infinitely...

their endless panoramas raced through my mind while i sat

mastering the equation

and missing the entrance.

but you

you haven't learned arithmetic yet

and your faith makes me restless.

i believe

when i see your fingers reach for mine

the lines in the palms of your hands,

which you clutched so tightly

in the womb --

these

are your patterns.

lift them, child,

leave your imprints in the air;

our unseen fingerprints are

His to breathe in

His to remember...

and He will collect your patterns,

guard them tightly between the pages of His book

save the songs you spun in worship

eternally

forever and ever and ever and ever

and always.

it is a pattern, child

and it's dancing.

Inspired by Brooke Fraser's song "Seeds." Read its lyrics -- they're amazing.

and in the midst of the christmas frenzy, she crept out the door for a breath of silence

2008-12-30T12:28:00.000-08:00

steal away,

steal away to Jesus...

steal away,

steal away home...

i ain't got long to stay here.

The Stable

2008-12-25T10:55:00.000-08:00

"There was no place for them at the inn." -Lk. 2:7

I used to be an inkeeper. My life was so filled with the temporary guests and transient visitors of this world that I had no space for Jesus. It wasn't that I cared about the people and things upon which I lavished so much time and care; it was simply that I could not afford to let them go. What a cost to my reputation it would be if I stopped swearing, stopped laughing at crude jokes, stopped dressing in the latest, revealing styles! Who would stop by my inn if I made room for Christ? No, I had an image to uphold: I was the keeper of an inn that invited all the latest trends, all the coolest people, all the riches of the world. A young wife gasping in labor and about to give birth to a child? A baby, still in the womb, lauded as the perfect Son of God?

Sorry, no space here.

"When Herod the king heard [the wise mens' news], he was troubled ... he sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem." -Mt. 2:3, 16

I used to be a ruler. Herod was my name, and, although I didn't personally know this Jesus, I had heard enough about him to decide that he was my ultimate enemy. A King who would grow to be greater than me? Could anyone dare to even think of pushing me off my throne? No, I was the center of the universe. My needs came first, my glory was sought before anyone else's. Could a carpenter's son tell me otherwise? I would not stand for anyone trying to rule over me. To be my guide? To make me conform to a standard other than my own? The thought disgusted me, and I set out to destroy anything that even mildly smacked of this Son of God. Prayers and hymns were put out of my mind. The name of God I dragged through the dust, trying to empty it of its glory. I was certain that the Messiah had to exist somewhere -- in organized religion, maybe, or in stained-glass windows, in nativity sets, or perhaps in the syllables "Jee-zus." So I slayed those things, taking care that not even a fragment of them should remain near me.

I was an innkeeper and I was a ruler. I rejected my savior and persecuted my God. Salvation was for the weak; I sure didn't need it. I had all I wanted: I was rich, and powerful, and important.

Or, at least, I thought I was. But, in reality, I was a sad, sorry sight. A dirty stable, cold and worn to bits, with loose boards and a caving roof. I was smelly and full of waste. My walls were stained and my floor was a sea of wet, sticky mud. I was a foul, disorganized, broken mess.

And God chose to lay the Savior in me.

In my empty manger, God placed the Bread of Life. On my dark, shivering floor, God placed his warmth and light. Into my dirt, God placed the world's purest soul. And into my lonely silence, God placed the sacred cries of a child who would become my King.

It's then I realised that my famous inn and my great kingdom were but illusions. Suddenly, my riches seemed like dust in my hands, and I saw that all my past glory was nothing but a foolish mirage. That knowledge broke me; it hurt to feel my poverty and see my ugliness. But that night, as the star shone over me and as angels sang above my roof, I felt myself starting to become rich in a whole new way. I, the run-down stable, had become a dwelling place of God. My worthlessness was being transformed into purpose, and my affliction into peace.

The innkeeper in me vacated his rooms and the Herod I'd been stepped off of the throne, because now, the King of the galaxies was alive in me.

And, even if I'd had the whole universe laid out before me for the taking, I couldn't have asked for a better gift than that.

Merry Christmas.

Photo from JupiterImages. Verses from ESV.

Winter Warmth

2008-12-22T08:03:00.001-08:00

We could never guess

2008-12-20T11:52:00.000-08:00

tiny little bundle, you

your skin delicately pink
blanketing your warmth
eyes of awe

your beautiful lashes and tiny hands
little noises
the very veins in your eyelids

are melodic

small translucent ribcage

your breath
is bigger than you

and God pours life
between your fingertips

you hold your mother's skin

your purpose here
is bigger than our imagination
we could never guess

but maybe someday

when we dance
through the universe
perfected

we will know

.:.

Dedicated to little Kayleigh, whose story I've been following breathlessly over the past few days. She has already touched my life, and she's changed the world in ways that we might never even guess at until we see the God who sustains her face-to-face. He has plans for her that exceed our imagination. Kayleigh is truly a miracle; please keep her in your heart today.

http://kayleighannefreeman.blogspot.com/

Seventeen

2008-12-11T15:57:00.000-08:00

Note: The date above isn't my actual birthday; I'm not allowed to give the real date online (parents; privacy reasons), but it did happen recently! :)

I turned 17 today.

Before I go deeper into that, let me backtrack for a moment. There's something I need to say about my "sweet 16": honestly, I'm not very proud of it. Somewhere (maybe even on this blog; I can't remember), I called it "a season of realization of my fallenness." I did a lot of things that I was, and am still, ashamed of; and in many ways the year was more a "shrinking" for me than a time of growth.

So it isn't without a little trepidation that I face a new year of life: the year when, God-willing, I will graduate high school, move to a new city, and begin university. I have many regrets about my past: I feel as if I've wasted far more of my life than I should have (and, if you look at my hours and hours of internet surfing, you'll agree) while failing to learn the lessons that are supposed to lead me into adulthood. My "spiritual maturity" level is still set somewhere between the pacifiers and the first steps, when I should be running marathons (1 Cor. 9:24). All my life, I've been rejecting opportunities, shirking responsibilities, and neglecting Jesus, and there's been a nagging hopelessness in me that this year will probably be the same.

However, just a few days before my birthday, God gave me a revelation that has been encouraging me as I enter my 17th year. It's a very simple statement, yet eternally comforting: God doesn't define me by my past.

This truth hit me while I was reading Numbers. What amazed me most about chapter 20 was the fact that God didn't care about Moses' and Aaron's track-record of faith when telling them they would not see the promised land because of their new faithlessness. Who they were at present was more important to him than who they had been in the past.

The incident brought to mind an exchange between Jesus and Peter in the New Testament: Matthew 16, to be exact. The fact that he had just named Peter the Rock of the Church and the keeper of heaven's key didn't stop Jesus from rebuking him as an instrument of satan several minutes later. Jesus was concerned with who Peter was now, not five minutes ago. In the New and Old Testaments alike, the present meant more to God than the past -- the long-lived faith of Moses, Aaron, and Peter lost importance in the face of the present.

I stopped to think about that. Even if I had been an amazing Christian last year, all my past faith and piety would not remove my responsibility for the now. The Bible shows that a faithful past can teach you lessons and equip you with Godly skills, but it cannot do the work that you must do today. It can be a well of encouragement and beautiful memories, but not an excuse to slack off ("I read my Bible every day last year; will I really lose out if I miss a day?").

But what what about a faithless past like mine? The Bible shows us that side of the picture as well -- a notorious theif hangs crucified beside a King, recieving a new life with his last breath. A persecutor escapes a lifelong hunger for the blood of saints, and his murderous hands become palms of apostolic healing. A prostitute faces judgement, wincing at wounds of her past, and is welcomed into God's family. Certainly, God can make good use of broken yesterdays.

Our pasts -- with all their shame and all their glory -- are in God's hands; to us, he gives a daily gift called the present, and that is what we must focus on. "Today," he tells us. "Today ... do not harden your hearts." So, even though my life so far has been less-than-satisfactory, God isn't going to let it haunt me. He has put away my past, and yearns for me today.

Today.

Today I turn. Seventeen, but not only that.

I turn to Him.

Love, Oksy

Picture from Jupiter Images.

Gary

2008-11-14T15:07:00.000-08:00

In my 3-and-a-quarter years of high school, I don't think I ever saw him talk to anyone.

I had him in a couple of my classes. Every day, without fail (excluding test days), he spent the entire period with his head laid down on the table. Sleeping. Or so it seemed -- I mean, it's not like anyone ever bothered to check. He wasn't on my mind a lot -- or ever. I only thought about him when a teacher would ask off-hand in the middle of a lesson, Is that Gary sleeping again? Had he been oblivious to the giggles and the laughter as jokes about him cracked over his head? I knew that he wasn't because, sometimes, he'd lift his head and look up long enough to show that he was not asleep. Yet that didn't stop me from laughing along.

When he looked at you, his eyes would flinch nervously -- or defiantly -- from yours. His expression was fierce. And utterly silent.

I never thought about him. No one ever did. Until Thursday, that is.

On Thursday, Gary brought a home-made bomb to school.

The police were called in. His locker raided, his belongings confiscated, his school records stamped with "Expelled."

It's probably the last I'll ever see of him.

However, it certainly hasn't been the last I've thought of him. My first thought, right when I heard the news, was probably the same one that's running through your mind right now: My gosh -- that could have killed someone! Was he crazy?! How could he?

My second thought was: Well, what did you expect?

The bomb he brought was no joke: no little sparkler or mini-firework. The bomb could have left people blind, disfigured, or worse. But what did I expect? The guy who was, to us, nothing more than some wierd kid who always slept and never talked -- did I expect him to see us as anything more than a homogenous group of jeering, uncaring teenagers? Could I really expect someone upon whom we had never bestowed any value to see our value? We had no regard for his life -- why were we so surprised to find that he had no regard for ours?

In no way am I condoning what he did, or planned to do. I'm merely saying that we'd been doing the same to him for many years, minus the explosives. And I did nothing to set myself apart and show him the love that God has for him.

Thursday evening, I put these thoughts aside for a while to surf some blogs. On one of them, Casting Crowns' "If We Are The Body" came on in the flash music player. I sang along, swaying my head and lifting my eyes at all the appropriate moments.

To God, that must have been one of the most ironic moments of history.

"But if we are the Body

Why aren't His arms reaching?

Why aren't His hands healing?

Why aren't His words teaching?

And if we are the Body

Why aren't His feet going?

Why is His love not showing them there is a way?

There is a way..."

In my 3-and-a-quarter years of high school, I don't think I ever saw him talk to anyone. Certainly not to myself.

Or maybe, I was the one. Who never stopped to speak. Never stopped to listen.

Name of student changed to protect his identity. Photo from JupiterImages.

Award

2008-11-14T08:19:00.000-08:00

I've been awarded a "Thank You Blog Award" by Kaysie of Alabaster Box. My first ever --thanks! :)

In turn, I'd like to award a couple of the bloggers who have helped me "break through" into the blogging world and have supported me by coming by to read and comment on my posts.

Phylicia: Her blog is filled with helpful, relatable, and relevant advice that I believe all girls need to hear. Thank you for taking the time to fill this world with the godly attitudes that it lacks so much, Phylicia! I know I'll be reading your blog for a long time to come!

Ruthie-Roo: She's an absolutely wonderful blogger who really knows how to strike a balance between the light-hearted and the serious when it comes to posting. Her blog is, in turns, heartwarming, smile-inducing, and soul-convicting -- and always God-glorifying.

Laura: She recently deactivated her blog, but I have greatly enjoyed her encouragement and friendship, and I think she deserves this award for everything she's done for me this year! :)

Carmen: Another frequent commenter with a very enjoyable, interesting blog; going through her posts always brings a smile to my face! Thanks Carmen!

Kaysie: Am I allowed to award someone "back"? Hopefully, because I certainly think that Kaysie deserves another one of these awards. She's truly a light in this world, and I'm glad I found her blog, because it has already done a lot in my life.

Have a great friday everyone!

Love,

Oksana

Wherever Arms are Raised, a Battle is Raging

2008-11-08T19:18:00.001-08:00

Moses lifting his hands on the hilltop. There's something about that scene that gets me every time. I can see it right now, even as I type -- the powerful, electrifying strength with which he raised his arms for the first time over the raging battle scene -- the pain that gripped them as they grew unrelentingly heavy and fell to his sides -- the weight of his body slumping down upon the rock -- the weak, numb arms falling into the hands of Aaron and Hur -- the gleaming arrows whipping through the blazing atmosphere -- the victory proclaimed by sunset.

It's so awe-inspiring: that the stuttering, awkward man was chosen to stumble down from the montain of billowing smoke and proclaim the law of God before his people. That the same old man -- overcome by weakness, desperately yoking his tired arms about the shoulders of his descendants -- led his nation to victory. That the man who cried, "Send someone else!" out of the depths of his fears and insecurities would be told, "I send you."

I stand in wonder of the God who pours his strength into our weakness; who does not despise our messy, blundering offerings; whose makes victorious those who have no strength to hold up their own hands.

I see glimmerings of Moses everywhere: in the young man lifting his arms during worship, overcome with waves of doubt and condemnation; in the young woman raising her hands in prayer, crying as she looks back on the life that's brought her to her knees; in the mother raising her newborn above her head and feeling a piercing pain as she remembers the father he will never meet.

Wherever arms are raised, a battle is raging.

Arms raised, falling, crumbling collapsing, descending, embracing, supporting, rising, linked, outstretched, interwoven, unrestrained...

Wherever the day is dying, hope is fading, and sunlight is languishing, the God of light waits to lavish victory upon his people.

I think of Jesus. His arms straining, his body heaving, his weight pulling his hands above his head; his head falling. As the sun began slipping silently towards the horizon, the world saw two arms raised in helpless defeat.

But they weren't. They had been raised in petition, stretched out in forgiveness, lifted with reckless abandon in passionate worship.

And now, supported on either side by two dark, gleaming nails, they were raised in victory.

The battle was won.

Images not mine; copyright goes to their respective owners.

Live and Let Live

2008-10-25T20:12:00.000-07:00

I saw that video a while ago, and was really moved by it. I watched it again, and again, and again, and soon enough, the bigger picture began to unfold. Why is it that we so often avoid things because of our limitations, incompetence, or inabilities? Why, when there are so many other people who can be our support and help us do the things that we alone cannot? Is it just because we want to steal the show? To be the only spotlit, center-of-attention performer -- or else not perform at all?

Seeing this video makes me wonder how much could we do if we could only let others be for us the things that we are not... and do for them what they cannot do. It seems as if we live our lives fruitlessly trying to perform an arabesque without a leg to lift, while our healthy arms dangle uselessly. We try to choose what we want to do, when God has already chosen other roles for us -- roles that might not be as glamorous or fun as those of others, but roles that are perfectly allotted by God to make the Christian body into one complete, unified being.

I mentioned a while ago about the hard (for me) decision to become a writer. I had been jumping from one thing to the next -- trying to teach myself piano, trying to master wheel pottery, trying to learn to sing, trying to learn Italian on my own -- and ended up leaving my gift for writing stagnant and under-nourished. I was like a gardener who planted a hundred different seeds, and spent so much time jumping around from one to the next that none of them ended up growing.

I'm all for trying new things, but there's a difference between a focused, concentrated effort on several key projects, and spreading yourself too thin. I think that, if -- figuratively speaking -- God gave me a "hand" so that I could be a hand to those who have no hand, I should focus on using that hand instead of bemoaning the foot that I don't have... there are others who "be" that foot for me. That's how we are made: there are no trials that have no way out, no deficiencies that cannot be filled in by others.

One of the central characterstics of a servant is to do your part to the best of your ability, and let others do their part. I mean, Jesus, who has absolutely no incompetencies, imperfections, or inabilities, still allows and encourages us to be his hands and feet. It's not that he needs us to do these things for him -- it's that he entrusts us to do his work here on earth. He lets us do it so that we can grow.

I guess we sometimes misinterpret messages such as "expand your horizons," or "do hard things," and turn them into instruments of selfishness. It becomes a race for quantity, not quality. You learn to sing, though you nave neither talent, nor desire, nor passion for it -- you just want to put your hundredth accomplishment on the list of "Things I Can Do." Your lackluster efforts are copied by other people who are looking for easy ways expand their lists. The standards of quality in the music world begin to fall. People who are passionate, anointed musicians get discouraged by the low standards invading the industry, and either fall to meet those standards, or choose a different path.

And all this time, your God-given talent for drawing is left neglected and forgotten by you.

Wouldn't it have been better for everyone if you'd fulfilled your role and let others fulfill theirs? You see, that's what Jesus does -- he lets us do his work so that we can grow from it. Sometimes, you've just got to give up the microphone to the people who were meant to sing -- who will actually grow by singing.

The young woman in the video didn't try to perform lifts using her one arm -- she let the man do that, and he ended up strengthening his arms. Likewise, he didn't try to do jumps and footwork that required two legs -- he left that job to the young lady's strong legs. Together, they reinforced their strengths and filled in each other's weaknesses.

And it was beautiful.

A couple of things

2008-10-23T14:09:00.000-07:00

...that I felt like blogging about, but which didn't really deserve separate posts of their own. This post isn't going to have a ton of insight of depth, just a list of interesting and not-so-interesting things that have been going on in my life.

1. MMM is out! The new issue is now up on the website (which has undergone a major redesign). Please click on the cover to your left to go read it. And maybe tell a friend or two... pretty please? :)

2. I'm very busy. I've got a lot of homework and assignments piling up on me, so my blogging will be on the more sporadic side for now. I hope to get back to it soon, because I find that in many ways, it's a really fulfilling exercise -- it prompts you to reflect on your day and search your life for lessons and knowledge that can bless others. So I want to start blogging regularly at some point...

3. Today was the first "serious" frost of the season -- absolutely beautiful. :) Of course, I'm wearing gloves as I type this (I never knew how warm apartments were 'till I went to live in a townhouse) but I'm looking forward to tomorrow's frost.

4. A skunk tried to break into our back door. (I think it was trying to get back at me for using skunks as metaphors for sin/evil a few posts ago. Oops. ;)

5. A couple of weeks ago, something strange happened. In the middle of the night, for no rational or explainable reason, the battery fell out of my alarm clock. Which made no sense, since, for 8 years (yes, my clock is old), generations of batteries have sat tightly in the battery compartment with no problems at all. Anyway, back to the point. So I woke up and put the battery back in. The next night, one of the hands fall off! Wha-? How do you explain that?!

6. The song, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," by Casting Crowns, is indescribably beautiful.

7. Google notebooks is seriously one of the most helpful, useful resources you can find for organizing major school projects. I think I'll start using it to put together ideas and drafts MMM.

8. Apparently, "dwelve" isn't a real word -- the right word is "delve." I honestly never knew that.

9. I need to block out some time to spend with God, because I've been getting very distant lately.

10. I can't wait to get my hands on the new ESV study Bible. It hasn't been available in any book stores in my area, but I really hope it gets stocked soon, because I'm going through the OT right now, and I'd love some visuals and commentaries to help me through.

So there you go... a hodge-podge of things that have happened since my last post. Be back later!

Oksy

Life is But a Dream

2008-10-12T19:09:00.000-07:00

I had a dream today. In it, I was working on a painting for a school project, and somebody I am very close with came up to me and tried to help me. She was more of a hindrance than a help, though, and -- long story short -- she ended up mixing the entire contents of two bottles of paint together so that I no longer had the most important colour I needed to finish the painting with. I lost it. "Get away from me!" I yelled.

Then I woke up. Gee, I thought, that was nothing to get angry over. It was just a dream.

That's the point, God gently told me.

If this had been real life, I can bet you this whole blog that I would have probably reacted in a very similar way. But 'real life' -- this life -- is but a dream compared to all of eternity. Do I really want to look back someday and think, what a thing to get upset about. What a superficial, fleeting, transient matter to get caught up in. How quickly it passed -- how unnecessary was my anger!

Yes God.

That's the point.

Love, Oksana

Me from my

2008-10-07T15:31:00.000-07:00

I've been studying Psalm 34 lately; going through it line-by-line to really savour the meaning of each word. As I was reading, several verses reallys truck me, and have been tumbling about in my head ever since like stones when they are being polished into gems. By now, a clear-enough message has emerged from the rough, but I'm still struggling to find just the words to explain what I mean. I'll try to do my best...

Here are three verses from Psalm 34, each following a distinct pattern:

4: "I sought the Lord and ... he delivered me from all my fears."
5: "The Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles."
19: Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the LORD delivers him out of them all."

I've generally been in the habit of asking God to take my fears, afflictions, and troubles, from me. This Psalm opened my eyes to the fact that, if I want God to change something in my life, I'm the one who has to be moved. You see, God does not deliver your problems from you, he delivers you from your problems, by taking you to higher ground. If you want deliverance, you can't just open one small part of your life to God: you have to let him change everything that has been affected by your sin, and that means he's going to lift you out of your comfortable world and into a place where none of your past can enter.

To illustrate this better, take a moment to imagine a beautiful, comfortable, luxurious room. It's a room that's practically perfect in every way, except for one little thing. A skunk has decided to make one of its corners his residence.

You're left with two choices. The first is: take the skunk out of the room. Which -- as you'll know if you've ever had the good fortune of coming near a skunk -- certainly won't make the room smell any nicer! The second choice is to relocate yourself and move to a place where the skunk can't follow. You've not only left the source of the problem, but you're also leaving everything that has been affected by it, as well as sparing yourself any future trouble.

In a spiritual sense, it's the same thing. If you want to be delivered from a sin, you have to realize that your whole life, not just part of it, has been affected. Which means that you can expect a huge upheaval in everything that has been comfortable and familiar to you. God isn't going to weed out the sin and leave you in the same place as you were before, he's going to pluck you out of that situation completely and draw you to a place that may be completely different from anything you've ever known. A place that is closer to him. A place where not a single scrap of your past can survive.

This speaks to me right now, since I've had several problems with my approach to Multi Media Ministry, my e-zine: I feel I'm not glorifying Jesus through it as I should. And I spend so much time making lists of things I need to change and pointing out specific errors and whatnot, when God just wants me to leave behind all of my comfortable, familiar, preconcieved ideas about what this ministry should be, and let him take it to a place that I can't quite comprehend, control, or imagine yet. It's not the problems that need to be removed from my e-zine, it's that the e-zine needs to be moved closer to God.

The only thing I can do is let go.

Love, Oksana

What I've been doing

2008-10-02T17:47:00.000-07:00

The last post hopefully gave you a little update and insight into my thoughts on my lovely new location on this planet... now I'll tell you what's been filling up my time during this literal and figuartive 'season of change' ...

1. Multi Media Ministry. The newest issue of my e-zine (see the link on the sidebar) is in its final stages of production: it's been amazing to see everything coming together. I'm tempted to tell you about an important lesson that God taught me several weeks ago while I was working on a feature that didn't seem to be coming along, but I'll leave that for the next post I have planned. Meanwhile, here's a quick list of what you can expect from the fall 2008 issue: an extensive Photography feature, with work and interviews from several teenage photographers; a back-to-school special feature with dozens of practical ideas and tips on serving God in school; an interview with CCM artist Tayla Hodges; as well as articles on The Rebelution, Ananias and Sapphira, and persecuted Christians. Hope you guys check it out when it's done (next week, God-willing :).

2. Reading Mansfield Park. I was really unsure about whether or not to take this book out of the library -- when I'd looked it up on the web, most of the reviews called it things like 'flat,' 'long-winded,' and 'undimensional.' However, it was the only Jane Austen available at the time, so I decided to take a chance, and I'm so glad I did -- I actually enjoyed it more than Pride and Prejudice. The problem with P&P was that it was a bit too predictable -- predictable enough that the ending was given away on the book's back cover! With Mansfield Park, I had no clue how the story would turn out, even 20 pages from the end. I think part of the reason for that is the 'unidimensionality' that people complained about so much. The characters in the book are indeed so typical, so 'set-in-their ways' and clichéd that they barely ever act out-of-character, so you're left with a lot of suspense over who will give in first. (The characters do end up developing over the course of the story, but in a really natural, slow, and unforced way. I love novels that are allowed to run their course that way). The situations in the story are very real, many of them still relevant to our lives, and I think you'll be surprised at how much food-for-thought you'll find in this novel. Highly recommended!

3. Writing a short story. It's funny -- I started writing about a little girl called Jamie, who was poor (I definitely think Mansfield Park sparked that idea!). She was walking to school during the wintertime and hiding her hat in her pocket because it was a second-hand hat which had belonged to another girl at her school, and Jamie didn't want to reveal her financial situation.

Somehow, the story sort of evolved into a tale about abortion during the mid-20th century.

Yeah, I know. Don't ask me how. I just think it's so cool when a story takes on a life of its own, and turns into something you never expected it to become. I'm not even close to having finished it, but I'll post it when I'm done. It still involves the little girl and a hat of some sort, as well as a teacher (that's where the abortion part comes in), and it might be set during the Great Depression; I'm not quite sure yet. (If it is, I'll have to find a less modern name than Jamie). I'm not trying to make it into some preachy social commentary, though I am pro-life; I'm just telling a story... and I've enjoyed doing that so far. :)

4. Trying not to have too many emotional break-downs over university. This has really challenged me to put my faith in action. I write so much about giving things up to God and trusting him to take control, but I've lost count of all the times I've cried this summer/fall over not knowing what to do with my future. As I researched more and more uni programs, my list of options grew smaller and smaller, until one thing was left for me to apply for. It's not my favourite thing to do. It's not my dream job. It is, however, something I am good at, and it's one of the most-needed skills in Christian ministries -- and that's my greatest aspiration: to have a career in which I can actively glorify God. The career I'm talking about? Writing.

It's taken me a lot of 'wrestling with God' to realize that he wants me to be a writer, even if my personal preference is, by a large margin, graphic design. I've always taken my writing ability for granted, and I think God wants me to finally offer it up to him, instead of letting my gift stagnate while I veer off into other things. Which is hard, because I don't actually enjoy the writing as much as I enjoy those other things (art!). I guess this is a lesson in denying myself and doing what's best for him. (No doubt learning a lot along the way, as well!)

Other than that, I've been sort of drifting in and out of my walk with God... consistency is something I really need to work on. I've been learning many things about him, though, which I plan on sharing on this blog now that I've gotten all the updates on my life out of the way.

Hope everybody has a blessed Saturday! :)
Oksy

PS. In case anyone's wondering (and has actually read up to this point in the post without falling asleep! ;), that pastel drawing I was working on is far away in a box somewhere, so you won't be seeing any progress on that front for a while! Sorry!

Where I've been living

2008-09-28T10:11:00.001-07:00

Hi friends! :)

Wow... it seems like an eternity since I last sat down to write a blog post. Lots of exciting things have happened, and, while I'm still somewhat in the process of catching up with all your blogs, I'll take a few minutes to fill you in with what my own life's been like. In a nutshell, I no longer live in an apartment (yay!) because, for the first time in my life, we've moved to a townhouse.

It didn't take me long to get used to the change, but there are a lot of little things that still catch me off-guard about living here. Like being so near the ground. When I was at the apartment, I always had the habit of looking out the window at what was going on below. There was a little crows' nest in a tree below our window that I loved peeking into... I watched the birds grow from tiny babies to dark-feathered teenagers who constantly squabbled for food. There was a tennis court where people walked their dogs or ran around with their kids, but rarely played tennis; I loved watching that too. Now, everything is so big and close and life-sized that I feel like I'm intruding on peoples' privacy when I peer out the window. It just feels awkward when you're trying to look at a squirrel (I never saw so many squirrels up close and personal before!) and there's someone sitting in their back-yard -- not the best scenario for taking pictures, either. I've barely taken any since coming here, mostly because I've been so busy, but here are two I snapped yesterday:

Just a note about that... from the ninth-floor window of our old apartment, all the treetops were below us. It's an interesting feeling to be surrounded by trees, to look outside and not see the horizon because the view is obstructed by branches and leaves. Because of that, I no longer get the direct, uninterrupted sunlight I had at my old apartment: the light here flickers. I was sitting in the living room at about five o'clock one day when I noticed that. It was a really magical moment... the sunlight produced a kaleidoscope of moving, shifting shadows as it passed through the branches and fluttering leaves outside the window. It created the same sort of atmosphere as a flickering candle does, only in the daytime. Little, minute details like these are what I notice and love most about this new home.

My favourite room here is actually my own. I had it painted in Behr's "Ocean Pearl" -- a sort of sage-green, beige-ish, greyish tone. It's given everything in the room a sort of vintagey feel, and, as time goes on, I plan to add some little Victorian details like roses and letter-boxes to accentuate this theme.

Anyways, this post has been way too long. I'll write a second post, "What I've been doing," in a few days.

Love, Oksy

Work in Progress (to be continued)

2008-09-11T18:14:00.000-07:00

Day 1... I sat down and began sketching a red book lying flat on the table ... the rest of the image just began to emerge.

Day 2... she has the beginnings of a face! Sorry about the colours... this photo was shot under indoor lighting.

And she has an eye. :) A left eye, no less. Which, of course, means that I have to painstakingly cover up the right side of the picture while I do the other half so I don't smudge it. I should have thought this out better!

I'm moving tomorrow... will be off the computer for at least a day or two.

Lesson Learned.

2008-09-06T11:03:00.000-07:00

As I was walking into my apartment building the other day, I saw a frail, elderly man walking up to the elevator. I noticed that he had deep blue eyes; they stood out against his pale skin and fine silvery hair, but they seemed a little unfocused -- uncertain. He clutched a newspaper with his plaid sleeves.

In our building, we have one big elevator on the left, and a small one on the right. Between them is the call button. The man entered the lobby from the left, passing the large elevator, and pressed the button. He didn't turn to watch the elevator he had walked by, as if he only expected the other one to open. Instead, he turned his head towards the large panoramic window by the door, and commented, "It sure is windy out there." Behind him, I saw the large elevator open with a "ding!" and, after a few seconds, close. He didn't hear it: he was waiting for the other elevator, and watching the wind.

I felt like going up to him and giving him a big hug. I didn't, but that's what I wanted to do.

As I thought this over later, God spoke to me about my own approach to life. The sweet old man's situation seemed to be a reflection of my own:

I ask God for a blessing, but I've already decided in my mind what form I want that blessing to take. I'm so busy waiting for what I've determined is right for me, that I don't realize it when God opens bigger doors for me. That, or I'm too caught up in the winds and storms of the outside world that I forget to focus on what I can do in the safe arms of God.

I think there's a lot to be learned from the mundane little occurances around us. What have you learned today?

Love, Oksana

Fragment

2008-09-02T16:11:00.000-07:00

I woke up briefly at 5 this morning, probably from being so nervous over the first day of school that I couldn't sleep. Faintly, I could hear birds chirping and cawing, and, while I slipped out of bed, the sound grew in intensity as my consciousness awoke. I turned to my window, and, for a second, the sight arrested me.

The scene was cloacked with a rich, frosted blue. Each form was gauzy in the fog, outlined with black shadows and softly kissed by the fading starlight. A streetlamp cast a rusty, orange glow upon the road, its ruddy light fraying as it crept into the center of the asphalt. The air was filled with the sound of birds.

It lasted just a minute; then, the deep, dark blue began to lift, replaced by that misty, grey hour just before the dawn. The birds continued to call, each voice weaving its way through many other voices, echoing back endlessly from horizon to horizon. Wind tousled the pale and drowsy trees, and fell in wispy cobwebs to the damp road. And the streetlight still shone, like a beacon of silence on a planet determined to shake itself free from the night.

As I watched this unfold, words and thoughts just welled up in me... it was like entering a poem or tiptoeing through a fairlytale. I love this view.

In just a few days, the view is going to change. We're relocating to a different part of the city... or, rather, a different spot in this part of the city. So, to commemorate its beauty, I'll share with you some snapshots I'd taken from my bedroom window at various times over the last two years. Enjoy... :)

Love, Oksana

Track 6

2008-08-31T19:40:00.000-07:00

I'm probably not going to do a track-inspired post for Track 5 of the Matthew Perryman Jones CD... The song is called "All the King's Horses," and the only memory/thought it brings up is a situation involving two other people that I'm not going to post about on the world-wide-web... so here's track 6 (my favourite song from the album!)...

Lord, I feel the weight of a mountain

Pressing down inside my soul

I can see the pillars fallin’

There ain’t nothin’ left to hold

The reigns are broken too

I can’t steer this

There’s nothing I can do

Except to throw my arms out

Take me to

A place where love can mend these wounds

Where mystery can dance with truth

And the broken soul finds refuge...

Lyrics from "Refuge," by Matthew Perryman Jones.

This year was a real eye-opener for me: a season of realization. Realization of my own fallenness. I failed God in just about every way a human can fail him. I also hurt a lot of the people around me, needlessly (not that people ever "need" to be hurt, but they really didn't deserve it at all). When I did manage to be polite and kind towards others, it was only outward; inside I was losing hope fast. The standard I held myself to kept slipping lower and lower with every new sin I added to the list. My grades slipped horribly -- for the first time in my life, I actually toyed with the idea of skipping an exam (which, thanks to God's grace, I did very well on, despite having only a single afternoon to study a 400-page textbook).

I was so relieved to escape into summer. I knew vaguely that I wanted this summer to bring me closer to God, but I didn't expect all the changes he's made in my life in these past two months. Wow -- two months! It seems like a lifetime since July, when I let the Son sweep me off my feet and ask me: "How much do you really love me, Oksana?" No, scratch that. He's always been asking me that, ever since I told him I'd be his forever. What made this summer different was that I was finally broken enough to answer him honestly.

Now it's time to be honest with you, and tell you a secret: I have not read the entire Bible. I've read the NT and most of the Psalms, and started 3 different yearly Bible-reading plans, but got so far behind on each that I never made it far past Numbers. This summer, I felt compelled to begin reading it again; for different reasons than in the past. Before then, I'd read the Bible just to have it done with, to fit in with more mature Christians and appear more knowledgeable. Obviously, that wasn't my conscious thought-process each time I began to read it, but there was a lot of pride involved. This summer, I didn't print off reading plans that I knew I'd never be able to keep. Instead, I took a few blank pages of paper, and really began to dig deep into the word. I spent an entire afternoon making notes and meditating on half a chapter of Genesis.

I started to eat the Bible.

Not literally, of course. (When I was 1-3 years old, I did eat books. Apparently, it's not that uncommon -- eating non-food items is a condition called "pica" and happens often with little kids... and I ate all the paper I could get. Back to topic...). By "eating the Bible," I mean satisfying my hunger for God. I didn't just skim, I tried my best to savour and understand every word... give each God-written phrase the attention it deserved. A month later, I'm still in the middle of Genesis, and I don't feel the need to rush it. I've learned tons, some of which I will post on this blog, some of which I'll share in my e-zine (which, by the way, needs some contributions -- see this link for details). I feel refreshed and ready to pursue a better way. It's time to put all my 'lessons learned' to use.

School starts tomorrow, and I still have some thinking/praying to do, so, 'till then, as usual...

Love, Oksy

Pastels

2008-08-27T18:41:00.000-07:00

Today, I dwelved into the wonderful world of pastels. :)

I just love the way pastels let you 'interact' with your picture. It feels almost as if you're sculpting something, when you blend them beneath your fingers, pulling colours across the paper with your bare hands. Pastels have this very unrefined, 'raw' feel to them. Instead of drawing perfect, smooth, artificial lines, they crumble and smudge and fill the air with colourful, floury dust. It's so therapeutic to create art with this feeling of freedom -- this reckless abandon -- where you don't have to calculate your every move. I worked on two pieces today. The first one is complete... I made it for my mommy:

The second piece is still in progress. It's going to be a portrait of a girl who's leaning against a book with one hand, leaning her head on her other hand, daydreaming. I put a smiley face on the photo at the left to show you where the head's going to go (the sketching is kind of hard to see).

The spine on the green book is done all wrong, but I'm going to fix that when I do the background -- probably all-black. I'm also really bothered by the fact that I didn't give the poor girl an elbow... I'll see if I can add that without messing up too much of what I've done. But first, I'll finish her head, arm, and hand... it's going to be kind of hard to reach into those spots without smudging everything I've already done... Normally, I'd probably give up on this piece -- I don't usually work on art for more than one sitting; but, now that it's up here for the whole world to see, I feel like I have to finish it. I work well under pressure. :) I'm pretty pleased with it overall, despite some of the flaws... it'll keep me busy over the next few days, at any rate!

In other news, God has answered a prayer (thank you, Lord!) of mine that I've been praying for over 3 years. It means some huge changes in my life, so I'll be off the Web for a while... will probably return to regular posts in mid-September. I'll try to fill you in as much as I can in-between then!

Love, Oksana

The Preenses

2008-08-24T09:12:00.000-07:00

I discovered this 'gem' in an old workbook of mine from first grade. Most of the spelling and grammatic errors have been replicated in their entirety.

Onc's upoun a time there lived a beauty who had a green dres and black boots. She was looking like a St. Patrick preenses. But she wasen't marite. She was a grate beauty, oh wat a grate pursine. Rily she was looking like a preenses even if she didn't have a kroune. I want to look like her when I grow uq. One day she walk'd by her kastle. She walk'd and she saw a preense standing by. "I am yore frand," siad the preense. "I never had a frand," siad the beauty. So they marite together. They lived together happy as can be!

I can just hear the applause. ;) Thank you, thank you...

Firstly, a disclaimer: This was written about a year since I came to Canada, and about 5 months since I actively started to learn English... hence the horrible spelling. Yet, as frivolous and Disney-ed as this "story" is, there's more to it than meets the eye...

The reference to St. Patrick puzzled me when I first read it. St. Patrick princess -- wha? Then, I looked at some of my other stories... they were all about Valentines Day, Christmas, Halloween... I realized that I had been absolutely smitten with "Canadian" holidays like St. Patrick's Day, things that were not celebrated in the Ukraine. I don't know if it was so much that I enjoyed them, as the fact that I just wanted to belong. To belong to a world that was new and didn't understand me. I felt that if I reached into these holidays and celebrated them like everyone else did, I'd gain something that would make me the same as everyone else.

I guess that's what people mean when they say things like, "Christmas will bring us all together." At Christmas, everybody is longing to share -- share a feeling, an experience, a season. Christmas is that magical time when even the most simple people decorate their homes, even the most introverted people give strangers smiles, even the most stingy people buy gifts for others. Everybody is willing to step outside their comfort zone and into a place where they can belong... but then, like the snow, that fragile, crystalline Christmas spirit melts away as quickly as it came. How impermanent that magical, happy feeling is, when it's based on material things!

Getting valentines and cutting out green shamrocks did nothing to make me feel like I belonged in first grade, in Canada, or in this world. Only love could do that. That fateful dialogue at the turning point of my story: "I am yore frand" -- "I never had a frand," speaks volumes about my own feelings back in first grade. I must have set the record for the loneliest six-year-old ever to grace the classroom... I cried in class every single day, to the point that I almost got kicked out of school for distrupting other students. I still don't know why I was like that, but I'll venture a guess: I just needed a friend. When I joined a different school for second grade, I found some wonderful people who were willing to share their recesses, snacks, and schoolyard secrets with me, and I barely shed a tear all year.

Perhaps I'm over-analyzing, but even the simplest, smallest, most mundane, most forgotten things in your life say something about you: the state your desk is in, the way you are sitting, your tone of voice when you told your mother you love her, the story you wrote back in first grade... it speaks about who you are. It's so much fun -- fun, and a little sad at the same time -- to look back and find all the little things that I now see in a totally different light. Some of these 'little things' are already in the trash, forgotten... by me, at least. But not by God.

He remembers and treasures up our every thought, want, and need, and gives us according to our needs in his perfect time. It took me several years to understand the real meaning of the holidays I celebrated. It took me several years to find some real friends who would stick with me through thick and thin. It may take me several years more to find my Prince Charming, if that's part of God's plan for me. But I think it's safe to say that, already, I'm living "happy as can be!"

Love, Oksana

Prayers for a friend

2008-08-23T13:01:00.000-07:00

I'm sure Laura won't mind me posting this. Today, the following update was posted at her blog.

Laura asked me to post this if she didn't and seeing as she hasn't - I thought I should. Right now, Laura and her family need your thoughts and prayers. Especially her Papa. If you could be so gracious as to do so it would be very much appreciated. She would have written this herself, however she had to drive to Mass. last night around 11 or so. Her Papa is dying. I'm sure we all know just a bit of what's that like; I know I do.

I met Laura at a forum where she gave me some very helpful advice on a problem I was having. Since then, we've been reading each other's blogs and commenting occasionally. I don't know her in person... and I've only known her through the web for just a few weeks, but she really feels like a sister to me. She is a beautiful example of a Christian, a very talented writer, and one of the friendliest, most encouraging people you can ever meet. Please send up your prayers today for our sister-in-Christ and her family...

Love, Oksana

Track 4

2008-08-19T15:47:00.000-07:00

Climbing onto giant shoulders

And looking out

Longing eyes scan for a sign

Where are you now?

I don’t know

So I’ll fall on faith...

Lyrics from Sinking Wishes, by Matthew Perryman Jones.

I'm one of those people who is seriously lacking in the gift of awareness/ perception/ thoughtfulness... whatever you call it. Let me illustrate: ever been in your school's locker bay, when somebody was standing in front of your locker? I'm the sort of person who won't notice that you want to get to your locker unless you actually tell me to move over. Or, when an elderly lady comes on the bus, it doesn't cross my mind to stand up, even though I wholeheartedly believe it to be the right thing to do. I would get up immediately if I were thinking about it, but, when my mind is wandering elsewhere, I usually need someone to give me a poke so I become aware of what's happening around me.

It always amazes me when I see somebody doing something simple and thoughtful for someone else, like offering to help carry a bag, or holding their locker door open so it doesn't invade the next person's space. Usually, I find myself thinking -- wow, I wish I had the presence of mind to think of doing that... I mean, I have it in me to do the same thing -- I just never notice the need. There is no doubt that this part of my character is something I really, really want to change.

That's where everything gets complicated. As you can imagine, I go around being (not unjustly) seen as rather thoughtless, uncaring, etc. Because of that, I think my motive for wanting to be kind has gotten a little skewed. Is to to be caring, or to look caring before others? I would really like to say that the former is my motivation, but, if it was, I'd be just as eager to do unnoticed acts of kindness as noticed ones. Yet, I'm not nearly as excited in learning to do chores when unasked, or quietly cleaning up litter, as I am about standing up for elderly ladies in crowded buses. The reason is obvious: more people will see my kindness when it's on the bus.

(Sad, I know. But I think that being honest with myself can help me change this. And, as hard as it is, I think that posting this publicly will help me even more... and perhaps help others like myself. So I'm striving to be fairly honest and open on this blog.)

This is where the lyrics of the song come in. My God is an amazing God in that he does things for his love's sake, not just to get glory. He is willing to give "silently," in ways that he knows we will probably overlook. As the song says -- in the bad times, we look for God's blessings, seek a sign, try to find him; never realizing that we are already standing on his shoulders. "... It was then that I carried you..." as the famous poem says.

Sometimes, when I pray, I thank God for everything that didn't happen today. It reminds me not to take the 'little' things for granted, and it gives me an example of how to love others. Sure, there's a time and place to be kind in public, but I'm starting to realise that, perhaps, my lack of thoughtfulness comes from the fact that I want it for the wrong reasons. I need to let God change and refine my heart; trusting what he says, even if some of his commands are less glamorous than others.

And, maybe, just maybe, you'll see me get out of your way when you need to get to your locker. :)

One cool fact: I hadn't really thought about this before I had read this song. How I love songs that make me think!!

Track 5 coming later!

Love, Oksana

With a 'Woof' and a Wink, or, why I love photography

2008-08-18T19:32:00.000-07:00

.

_____I love capturing God's sense of humour. :)

Do you see the puppy shape in that cloud? Click on it to see larger!

Love, Oksana

False Identity

2008-08-16T13:19:00.000-07:00

I'll return to my Matthew Perryman Jones-inspired series soon (he has a new CD coming out this week, btw), but a something has been heavy on my mind this weekend, and I'll share it with you before returning to my regular posting...

I discovered the horrible reality of a disease called Cystic Fibrosis several months ago, when I found Confessions of a CF Husband. Before I continue, let me urge you to visit that blog and dwelve deep into the archives... you will find so much strength, inspiration, and faith there. God has used this family in incredible ways, and it's a story that deserves to be heard.

After I lurked around on the above site for a while, I began to visit the comments section. I found several other people with CF, and visited their blogs. Somehow, through one of their blogrolls, I happened to come across Gina, a young woman with end-stage CF -- constantly on the ventilator, fighting to breathe, unable to eat, barely staying alive. I read each and every post on the blog, added it to my bookmarks, and began to pray for for the young woman nicknamed "Pepe."

It's amazing how quickly I found a love in my heart towards Pepe. Perhaps not real love, just yet... it's hard to really love someone when you know so little about them; as the blog mainly chronicled Pepe's technical, health-related details, rather than her life and personality. It wasn't love, but it was a connection. I thought about Pepe in my spare times. I began to carry her burdens. And I'm not bragging about this... I was only doing what we are all supposed to do. But, yesterday, that bag of burdens suddenly burst, and hundreds of thousands of people found out that it had been completely empty all this time. Gina exists. She is healthy. The "Pepe" we'd all come to know is simply a fictional character.

The blog "Friends of Pepe" had been kept by a man named Paul, who is a real CF sufferer and transplant survivor. He got email and phone updates from Pepe and her "friend," sharing them for the world to pray about. He wrote the following today:

Today, my trust was breached in a way I can hardly convey. The consequence is that yours was violated as well. Pepe confessed to me after much prodding that she has been propagating a series of lies, that no transplant ever occurred, that no transplant was even in question, that Blake does not exist, and that Pepe has in fact been at home most of this year rather than in ICU as I described in FOP [the blog]. This makes a moron of me, of course, and a farce of FOP, which 275,000 visitors took at face value for many months. It mocks the hardship I have personally faced, having actually been at 12 percent [lung function], as well as the battles many of you wage on a daily basis. It mocks the readers who wept literal tears over her drama, who worried, and who placed their full trust in what was, admittedly, a compelling story. ... Please know that no one has shed more tears over Pepe's fictional saga or suffered more from this betrayal than I have. As you know, I spent this year in a dual role: trying to help Pepe make it to "transplant," staying up till all hours with her, while simultaneously trying to recover from my own.

I cannot even begin to imagine how much this hurts people who have CF. It's hurt me, even though I've never felt any of Pepe's suffering first-hand. It hurts me, even though I've never chatted with Pepe, sent her gifts, or stayed up all night praying for her. Other people have experienced all of these things, and their pain is unfathomable to me. To me, it's like the loss of an acquaintance; to them, it's like the loss of a sister. This incident has occupied a lot my time for the past few days. Here are some thoughts currently running through my mind:

- I am so grateful that people are so willing to trust others online. I hope that this test of our trust will only make it stronger.
- I am so grateful that the internet allows people with CF to find support and mutual understanding, as well as giving people like me an opportunity to look into a different way of life.
- I don't think we should regret praying for Gina. I have no doubt that there are people going through the same sort of nightmare.... people who perhaps don't have access to the Internet, or a friend like Paul to make their stories public. I don't think our God had any problem redirecting those sincere prayers to people who really need them.
- I feel sorry for Gina. I hope she admits her problem, gets help, realizes how blessed she is not to be sick, and finds someone who can love her as the healthy person she is.
- Lastly, being on the recieving end of a false and exaggerated story has really shown me the importance of honesty. I'm definitely the sort of person who tends to exaggerate things to get a point across or get a reaction. Not, obviously, from 100,000 people, but that's irrelevant. I'm going to think more about my words, because there's no such thing as a "white lie." They all hurt.

Love, Oksana

Track 3

2008-08-13T09:05:00.000-07:00

Put your defense down
open up your heart and lay
all of it out
I know how hard it sounds
but loneliness will have its way
in feeding your doubts

waiting on the light
waiting on the light to change
I’m chasing out the lies
chasing out the lies
that keep you caged
I’m waiting, waiting on the light to change

No matter what’s inside
There is nothing you can say
to cause me to hide
You know I’m broken too
I’ve fallen far, I lost my faith
been found and made new...

Lyrics from Matthew Perryman's song "Waiting On the Light to Change."

"...loneliness will have its way in feeding your doubts..."

That is so very true. With God, you're never, ever alone, yet his word stresses the importance of fellowship with other people. God is love, and we are priveledged to be entrusted with the task of reflecting his love into the lives of others. I think the best way one can 'prove' his existance to somebody is to love them.

I wish I were more loving to the people closest to me... my family, for instance. It happens that many of them don't share most of my beliefs, and I keep forgetting how I should be treating them. Some things, like fellowship and marriage, are reserved for people who are like-minded. But love is for all. I need to remember that... and I'm so grateful for the humbling effects of Christ's example of love, which reminds me daily how I should be.

"...I'm chasing out the lies that keep you caged, and waiting on the light to change..."

I love that part of the chorus. I often fall into the trap of trying to deal with the big situation, getting overwhelmed, and giving up; when I could just stick to my part, giving everything I've got, and let God change the light. Of course, constantly "chasing out the lies" isn't glamorous or comfortable work, so this lesson is easy to forget.

Track 4 coming later...

Love, Oksana

Track 2

2008-08-12T15:39:00.000-07:00

This post inspired by excerpts of the lyrics from "Breaking Out the Windows," by Matthew Perryman Jones.

"You got soul under your skin
What happens when you don’t know who to let in
Will we ever understand?
We’re just breaking out the windows..."

It's interesting... Matthew Perryman speaks of having our soul hidden behind our "skin," our physical selves. But shouldn't it be the other way around? Aren't the attributes of our soul more obvious than our physical attributes? It isn't the crown that makes someone a king; it isn't the hug that makes someone a friend; it isn't the kiss that makes someone in love. When someone comes into the room, it isn't from their clothing or their posture that you can tell whether or not they are loving or courageous.

I'll admit I don't always look past people's appearance when I meet them... but there are some people who just naturally cause my attention to shift from their outward attributes to their inward attributes. Mother Teresa is one example... her message was so compelling, and she gave of it so generously, that you couldn't care less if she had wrinkles or not. You can't necessarily control how other people percieve you, but you can still influence it. If you notice that other people focus more on your appearance than your soul, that might mean that you're focusing too much on it yourself. Have you ever been talking to someone, they looked away, and you followed their line of sight to see what they were looking at? If your attention is on how you look, you will command other peoples' attention to the same area.

I'm not saying you shouldn't care about how you look... just try wearing your soul over your skin, not hiding it underneath. Dressing 'hip,' acting 'cool,' and getting Botox won't make people more receptive to your message.

Speaking of skin and soul, did you guys hear of the scandal over the Chinese Olympic opening ceremony? The little 10-year-old girl who sang 'Ode to the Motherland' was actually lip-synching to a recorded song. No, that's not too bad -- what kind of ten-year-old would have the courage to get up there and sing live, after all? The problem is, the track had actually been sung by 7-year-old Yang Peiyi (on the right), who was not allowed to perform after officials decided she wasn't pretty enough.

I'm really at a loss for words. The excuse given was that Yang had "crooked teeth" and could not do justice to the "image of the country." How can you tell a child something like that? How can you make a little girl believe that she is not good enough to share her skills and talents with the world just because she doesn't look a certain way? (And, personally, I think Yang looks positively sweet. :) She has a real innocence about her, and her genuine smile in the snapshot above brings me more joy than the manufactured smile which was somehow deemed "prettier"...). Sigh. Your thoughts?

Before I go, I just want to comment on another part of the lyrics in this song...

"How did we get so far?
Running to hide these scars?
Love’s not afraid of what it finds in the dark..."

Somebody once told me a nugget of truth, that has never failed to comfort me. I just want to share it with you. It's simple and it's a wonderful thing to remember...

God knows your past, your present, and your future, and he loves you anyway.

Track 3 coming later...

Love, Oksana

Track 1

2008-08-11T19:01:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone...

I've had serious blogging-block for the past few days, so I've decided to try something different. I downloaded a really great album by Christian indie artist Matthew Perryman Jones at Noisetrade.com (a site where independent Christian musicians offer their music for free to fans). It's an album that has really inspired me and made me think, so I've decided to write a series of posts inspired by each of the tracks on the CD, "Throwing Punches in the Dark." We'll see how it goes. :)

Meghan's Song

Baby, sleep in peace tonight
Angels bend to watch the sight
And may your dreams be sweet tonight
Dance the sky in sweet delight

And know I love you
I always will
It’s my favorite story
I have to tell

And Baby, let’s go far away
See this world that God has made
And know our hearts are in his hand
This lovely one who counts the sands...

Wow... now that I've actually posted the song, I'm not sure what to write. I guess I'll just share a few of the things that it makes me think about and feel:

"...may your dreams be sweet tonight..."
I remember for most of my life, all I had were nightmares. I don't know why. I never looked forward to sleep because I'd dream about all of the horrible stuff I'd seen on the news or heard about in school... I guess I was just a really sensitive kid. What I tried to forget about by day -- the wars, the violence, the slavery, the terrorism that was happening all over the world -- haunted me by night. It wasn't until I began to pray a little about the things in the world that bothered me, that the nightmares fell away almost instantly. I think that's what nightmares are, sometimes: reminders of the things that God wants us to deal with, so that we can sleep on this earth with a cleaner conscience.

"...dance the sky in sweet delight..."
I remember this one dream I had when I was about 3 or 4... for the longest time, I couldn't understand whether it was a dream or a real memory, but my parents tell me it couldn't have been real, since there was no such spot in Ukraine, where we lived at the time. I dreamt that my mom and I were walking through a marketplace, with elderly ladies selling their wares on either side of us. We kept on walking, and suddenly, the road ended in a rocky cliff. Beyond it was a brilliant crimson sunset. There was nothing below; only glowing sky... we were at the edge of the earth.

"...let's go far away / see this world that God has made..."

I've never travelled. I've never actually gone on vacation or journeyed long distances for reasons other than moving. I'd love to, but I know I'll probably never have a chance to visit all the places where I want to go... all the oceans, all the plains, all the mountains, all the sunsets that I want to see. Yet, I don't feel as if I'm missing much more than what seasoned tourists experience. I might not be able to see a sunset over the mountains, but God still gives me ways to experience it...

The photos above, which I took on different days, give me a glimpse of what the smouldering sun must look like over the icy heights of the Alps. Even if I never go there, I've still seen the same kind of beauty, and didn't have to look much farther than my own windowpane. Just like, sometimes, a caring hug or a warm word can give you a glimpse into what heaven is like. As Emily Dickinson would say, "I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea; yet I know how the heather looks, and what a wave must be."

Track 2 of my CD-inspired posts coming soon...

Love, Oksana

Pet Stores

2008-08-04T11:18:00.001-07:00

This post is dedicated to my dad. I told him I'd give him a link to my blog if he read it and commented occasionally. He agreed (so, daddy, I'm hoping to find a comment here, sooner or later ;). Then I asked dad to give me a blog topic. After much deliberation and a visit to a pet store, he decided on ... "visits to pet stores." Go figure! Well, here goes...

Ever since I can remember, there was barely ever a shopping trip that went by without me dragging my parents into a pet store. The only pets I've ever had are the occasional spiders or ladybugs that wandered into our house every now and then, but absence really has made the heart grow fonder. I'm not obsessed by animals to the point that I value them as much as humans, but I just love the way they can bring people joy without even trying. Here are a few pet-related memories that still make me smile:

The last time I entered a pet store, there were these two funny little lizards that absolutely stole my heart. As I walked up to them, they seemed to be completely "out of it," staring off into space. However, as soon as I put my hand up to the glass, they sprang up and scrambled to catch up with my fingers. I moved my hand around for a while, the lizards following my every move, until I stopped in the middle of their aquarium. With absolute precision, they paused right in front of my hand; one lizard stepped up on top of the other to form a neat little stack, and they pressed up their noses to the glass where my fingers were. I thought that was the sweetest thing ever, and spent two minutes just laughing to myself. I think we could learn a thing or two from these lizards -- how to willingly step out of our everyday lives to meet and commune with God, how to follow him with trust and loyalty, how to use teamwork to make sure we hit the mark he wants us to live up to as precisely as we can.

That was one of two big lessons I learned at the pet store. The other one happened a while ago. I went to a mall where there was a huge cage, divided in two, with an open top. In the first section of the cage were guinea pigs; in the second, bunnies. This was the first time I had ever seen such a pet store display where I could actually reach in and pet the animals, so I jumped at this once-in-a-long-time opportunity and put my hand in to pet one of the guinea pigs. It completely freaked out and ran away from me. I don't know who was more scared -- it or I! I hadn't expected the guinea pig to be so untrusting towards someone who meant no harm. To soothe my hurt feelings, I cautiously reached into the bunnies' half of the cage, hoping for better luck. Almost immediately, several warm, soft, furry little creatures scurried towards me.

It was one of those great moments in life.

:P Really, though, I couldn't stop talking about that for weeks. It was one of my first real encounters with animals, after hundreds of slightly-disheartening visits to pet stores in which the furry lodgers had ignored my pleas for their attention. And my five minutes petting those little rabbits meant so much to me at that moment. It felt nice to just be wanted. That they finally gave back some of the love I'd been giving to animals all my life. That experience showed me a lot about loving God and other people. When I remember how bad it felt to be "snubbed" by the guinea pigs, I remind myself to be "bunny-like" in my trust towards others.

Not all per-store visits came with a moral. Some were just plain funny, like a golden retriever puppy who was sleeping so soundly, he didn't even feel his brother energetically devouring his right ear. It gave everyone a good laugh. :) Other visits were heartbreaking, like a baby chihuahua whose eyes looked so tragically sad that my mind whispered a little prayer before I could stop myself: Lord, please let him find a good home. Either way, pet store visits always give me something to look forward to, and later think/laugh about.

So, dad, there you go -- that's my little spiel on pet stores. Hope you enjoyed it!

And, to all other blog readers who have grown up around animals and wouldn't even blink if a lizard or bunny came running up to you, I know I probably sound like some deprived child; but one of my parents is allergic to animals, so that's why I've never had a pet and get so excited over little things like these!

Love, Oksana

PS. Here's a portrait of one of my past pets, a dancing ladybug! :)

commonplace

2008-08-04T09:24:00.000-07:00

Went for a lovely nature photoshoot with my dad yesterday. We had meant to go to another spot -- a beautiful field that has remained unexplored territory for me and my camera -- but missed the bus by a minute, so we ended up going to the same place I'd been to many times before. I was upset at first, but after a little while, I found all kinds of new and interesting things to shoot. It was nice and peaceful, just me and my dad; nobody else. I guess that means that, if I hadn't gone outside, all of these things would have gone unnoticed.

There were tons of these beetles on the pine trees ... this one in particular wasn't too fond of my camera, and ran off whenever I got close to him. At this point, the sun was gorgeous. It has just rained, and everything was glistening gold. As usually tends to happen, however, it turned cloudy after I took these two shots, and stayed that way for most of the photoshoot.

I found a funny little fly sitting on top of a blown-away dandelion, doing something that looked like tai-chi. She was lifting up one "arm" and then the other, over and over and over again. Since it was very windy, most of my shots weren't super-clear, and I didn't get to photograph all of her "moves," but here's one of the shots I managed to get:

I don't really like the next shot. I had intended to get the fence into the picture, but, now that I look at it again, I really wish it weren't there. It spoils the beautiful greenery and light on the other side. I feel compelled to post it, though, because I think it speaks of looking past the bad, and trying to see the beauty in life. Cliched, I know. :)

At the same spot, I found this little guy... he would not stop weaving in and out of the fence, but stopped long enough for me to get this shot:

And I took a few contemplative, reflective pictures that I love, because they sort of describe my life these past few months. I'll let you decipher them yourselves, but I'd be interested in knowing how they make you feel. Perhaps I'll tell you in a later post what they mean to me.

Love, Oksana

Surprised

2008-07-31T12:10:00.000-07:00

I took this shot several days ago from my window. It's funny. I've lived here for 9 years, and somehow, in all that time, I managed to miss this view. Was it that I'd never stopped to look for long enough? Was it that I was always trying to capture something more "interesting" or "exciting"? Was I so jaded with the mundane that I never noticed the light, the branches, the sheer poetry of it all?

Sad, how we travel all around the world to see "better" nature and "better" architecture and "better" beauty, when we don't even notice the beauty in our own backyards.

Love, Oksana

A little overwhelmed; Part 2

2008-07-30T19:18:00.000-07:00

Now that I have the complaining part done (see my last post), I'll explain the other part of this crazy thing called preparing for university.

Let's go back to June. It was a hot and muggy (I honestly don't remember if it was either, but let's pretend just for the dramatic effect!) summer's day when I was called out class to my guidance councelor. To my dismay, it turned out that both of the art classes I had signed up for had conflicted with my schedule. I was really discouraged and disappointed -- I didn't know if I absolutely needed these classes for university, but I knew they'd be a big asset. When it comes to art, I rarely find the initiative in myself to actually sit down and draw or paint. Just taking out that box of paints or that tin of pencils takes more effort than the art itself. Having a teacher kick me into creative mode saves me a the biggest step: starting.

A few days later, through a Flickr group which I visited incessantly while I was supposed to be studying for exams, I discovered a website called TheRebelution.com. Two teenagers, Alex and Brett Harris, had put together this site for other teens, whom they believed the world was robbing of their potential. What struck me about this website was that its message was incredibly simple, and applicable to every area of our lives.

The simplicity of the message was encapsulated in just three words: "do hard things." As the Harris twins say, everybody around us seems to expect the very least from us, teenagers: they expect us to slack off in school, to be messy, to procrastinate, to abuse substances, to idolize celebrities, to get hung up on our body image, to get into trouble... you get the point. The phrase "dealing with teenagers" brings up over 24,000 hits on Google -- apparently, teenagers are an inconvenience that has to be "dealt with." Alex and Brett Harris say that part of the reason that teenagers begin to lead these kinds of problematic lives is because they're expected to. To illustrate, imagine meeting the president -- when you're with him, you're expected to be polite, and you live up to those expectations. When you're living a normal life as a teenager, you're expected to make a wreck of it, and, well...

Boy, did that message ring out clear to me.

There are two ways out of the fix society has made for us. One is to go on strike, picketing Hollywood and mass media headquarters, trying to get them to raise their expectations for us. The other way is to change how we respond to them. It's clear which way is more difficult... and more rewarding. The Rebelution challenges us to rebel against the easy, responsibility-free lives that people expact us to live, by "doing hard things." Things that will stretch our abilities, teach us to handle tough situations, build up our character, bless the people around us. Things that will change the world and our lives in ways that no one expects us to change it.

Up till the summer began, "do hard things" seemed easy -- I hadn't yet found a way to apply it to my life. The answer came as I wondered what I would to with my missing art classes. I decided to take action and spend the summer teaching myself to draw and paint. I planned to work as diligently as if I were in art class, and let God show me my hidden potential. I went out and bought two Moleskine notebooks; the somewhat-over-hyped, legendary sketchbooks used by Picasso and Van Gogh. They turned out to be very convenient and good-quality, so I began to fill them up.

Several days later, still in my artistic mode, I found out about the whole university application process, and I knew I'd have my work cut out for me -- but I decided to go for it. If I hadn't read about the Rebelution, I'd probably have never tried... I mean, who expects you to be one of the 120 people who get in? It's been the toughest summer of my life, but I don't regret my choice. Even if I don't get into the program, I'll have learned a lot about art, how to work without being asked, and how to keep my eyes focused on God in the midst of so much work -- more than art class could have ever taught me.

Funny how God sends messages like "Do Hard Things" just when you need them!

Love, Oksana

A little overwhelmed; Part 1

2008-07-30T17:17:00.000-07:00

Ever since I found out about it last year, I'd always wanted to apply to a certain university's graphic design program. I thought it would be easy; an application, maybe a few samples of work. I was looking forward to a lazy, relaxing summer. However, just as the relaxing, lazy days of summer began, I decided to look at the university's website -- an uncharacteristically responsible decision, knowing me! ;)

Well, long story short, I found out that only about 1/9 of the applicants get into the program, and that a very good portfolio needed to be submitted in order to be accepted. Panic set in. As I skimmed through the galleries of student work, panic grew. I began to look through my previous graphic design work to see what I could find, but it all seemed way too simplistic compared to what I saw on the website. So I decided to start from scratch and see what I could do with what I had -- Paintshop Pro, a sketchbook, and a summer.

I've learned to do things that I thought only the pros could do.

I've also come very close to giving up many times.

I don't mean the first thing in a bragging way. I've just never challenged myself to stretch my abilities this far. I still can't believe just how much easier everything becomes if you just try.

This has been my craziest, busiest summer yet. Out of the 10 items I need for my portfolio, one (which I consider my best) is half-done, 4 are complete, and 5 more are floating around in my brain. Some days, I fill up pages and pages with ideas. Some days I just pray and cry in misery. One day, I managed to destroy one acrilyc painting, one pencil drawing, and two watercolor pieces, before coming up with something passable.

This summer, I need to finish my portfolio, start designing a site for it, and get to work on my sketchbook (one of the required components).

I also need to make the autumn issue of Multi Media Ministry, my e-zine.

I'm designing two logos; one for a website, one for a club.

Plus, I've got to make my mom birthday presents (handmade gifts are a long-standing family tradition).

I'm feeling a little overwhelmed with it all.

Part 2 of this post coming later.

Love, Oksy

Genesis

2008-07-28T19:53:00.001-07:00

I was reading Genesis today, about Noah and his ark, and the flood. Old stories that God is telling my to dig deeper into. As I read chapter 9, verse 16 -- "the rainbow shall be in the cloud, and I will look on it to remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth" -- something hit me for the very first time. The rainbow, that little wonder of nature that has slipped into the commonplace and flits by, unnoticed, is God thinking of us. Not that God is ever not thinking of us, but isn't that a comforting think to know? At that very moment the rainbow appears, God is thinking of us. Just something to remember. :)

Speaking of storms, I'm going to share something I wrote for Writer's Craft this year; a descriptive piece. I cut out the beginning and most of the middle; hope you enjoy.

At midday, the parched lips of the forest canopy part a little, inhaling the afternoon. The echo of a distant storm escapes from the sky and makes its way down to the roots of the cold earth; the trees shiver. Far away, thunder begins to roll towards the forest. Little rustlings from the ground show that animals have picked up the signal. A squeak here, a chirp there, and message of the brewing tempest has spread across the earth. Like a resurrected soul, the forest comes alive with movement. Tiny ears perk up and little eyes gleam as creatures rise from their stupor and begin to scurry. Filled with the rhythmic beat of their footsteps and the drum of the impending storm, the forest becomes a wild and pulsating entity beneath the sky.

Rapidly, and with great force, the storm approaches. Rain soon begins to fall upon the treetops; winds start to whistle through the branches and send them shuddering and waving against the sky. The sun falls, unheeded, into the horizon.

Suddenly, a crash of thunder tears through the forest, bending boughs with deafening force. Cold rain breaks from the sky in a violent torrent. The forest stumbles dazedly for a moment, then comes alive with electric energy. Glittering rain runs over the ground, filling every little footprint with water, until the earth is covered with tiny, quivering reflections of the moon overhead. Rain spills into the cupped birds’ nests, rain flows through the grooves of tree trunks, rain invades the narrow creek, rain trickles between pebbles and splashes onto the bitter ground.

Hours of thunder and lighting pass before the dark clouds gradually begin to draw apart. Slowly, slowly, the drops cease to fall; peace comes with the midnight, and every branch is silver-gilded beneath the stars. Somewhere, an owl calls, hoarse and hollow; the cricket with its rusty voice pours out a mournful serenade. Birds return to their nests and find themselves sitting in a pool of cold rainwater. They chatter angrily for a minute, then settle in with a resigned sigh. Hidden in the darkness, little mice scamper back into their holes, splashing through the puddles in the cold, wet earth. Then, the movement begins to slacken. The mist slowly rises back to its habitual position, the trees resume their silent storytelling. Flowers close drowsily, pressing their petals together for the night. As the sleep-holes of the forest creatures slowly fill, a dim and melancholy hum begins to emanate from the earth; the sound of their breathing rises up from under the frigid exterior of the soil. Other than this, all is silent once more.

Night steals down from the sky, silently coiling about the trees and gliding, snake-like, through the tall, wet grass. Deep within the whirling galaxies, stars dance in flickering constellations. Remote and distant on the eastern horizon, Mars begins to rise as a speck of smouldering crimson. And so the forest stands, beneath the hypnotic moonlight.

Love,
Oksy

The Father of the Bride

2008-07-28T11:18:00.000-07:00

I watched the movie "Father of the Bride," the "old" version with Elizabeth Taylor, on Saturday. It was sweet and funny, but I felt a lot of things about it were misplaced. Weddings aren't supposed to tear families apart; they're supposed to bring two families together into one. As cheesy as the movie was, it filled me with a lot of questions. Isn't it selfish to get married when you know it's going to cause your parents pain? I can't even begin to count all the times that my parents sacrificed their happiness so that I could be happy. When I look back those incidents, I'm so ashamed.

Like this one time at IKEA. I saw a green piggy bank that I really wanted. No, said my dad, firmly and kindly. I didn't take no for an answer. I threw a fit. I yelled and cried, telling my dad he didn't love me, accusing him of not caring about me, telling him I hated him. (I didn't 'get' the weight of the word "hate" until much later, and I regularly flung it at the people who cherished and loved me when I lost my temper). It went on for a while. I got my green piggy bank.

And I'm so ashamed to look at that stupid piggy-bank now. I don't even use it. It's an innocent toy that has been tainted with hatred and anger, and I regret having it. Can you imagine having an entire marriage tainted with those same kind of feelings?

Most people probably wouldn't be too hard on me over the IKEA thing -- I was just a small kid, after all. I'm much older now, and this is far behind me. Yeah, that's true. So why do people revert back to kicking, screaming, crying kids when they're about to do the most 'adult' thing of their lives -- get married? Years later, when they look back at what should have been the most beautiful day of their lives, they'll feel nothing but disgust and shame.

Anyways, there's my two cents. I see marriage as a journey of growth... a reaching of the potential God intended you to have, with the help of someone else. Not by using your spouse to become better, but rather, sharing your journey with them to help them grow as well. Marriage is supposed to make you better with your partner, not at their expense. So why should this journey come at the expense of your family; those who raised you? Isn't it natural that your loyalty should be, first and foremost, to them?

I like movies that make me think. With the cheesy, happy endings, and all. :)

Love,
Oksy

Still alive

2008-07-26T15:22:00.000-07:00

No, I haven't fallen off the face of the earth -- I'm still alive and kicking! :) Just not blogging; but that's about to change. I've always been very much intrigued by the idea of blogging, but every blog I've started has failed, and in every new blog introduction I put together, I wrote exactly that same sentence: "Every blog I've started has failed." So far, my blogging record has two deleted general-interest blogs, one abandoned general-interest blog, and two abandoned thematic blogs. And then there's this one.

I won't try to fill you in on everything that's happened while I've been away. I just want to set up a firm resolution to blog as often as I can throughout the summer and beyond. I started up a journal (that, too, has been abandoned for a little under a week, but I'll open it up again sometime soon, I'm sure) and I saw just how therapeutic this could be. I didn't tie myself down to spelling, grammar, or any specific style of writing; I just allowed my words run straight from my brain to my computer screen without filtering them much. I didn't mull over them in my mind until I had nothing left to say. I just wrote. And it was nice.

So this blog isn't going to be some lovely, organized, poetic masterpiece; more likely, it's going to be a mess. But I still hope you enjoy it.

I'm not going to go on to anything of real substance in this post... I just want to re-introduce myself to the blogging world, and, hopefully, this will be the first of many "letters to the world" by which you'll get to know me. :)

I will, however, leave you with a picture I took recently.

I don't know what it is about this one, but I like it. There's a spontenaiety about it; like a glimpse you catch when you're turning your head to look at something else. Although it's a technical, compositional, and Photoshop failure (I've used the word failure a lot in this post, haven't I?), it still gives me hope that, someday, I'll learn to take portrait shots.

Last year, I took Yearbook at my high school. With ever-so-slight smugness, I thought, This will be a breeze for me; I know photography in and out. Big mistake. taking photographs of people was more different than anything I'd ever done before. Being able to catch that special moment -- the turn of a head, the twinkle in an eye, the crooked beginnings of a smile -- turned out to be close-to-impossible for me. My action photos were badly-timed; my posed shots were flat and lifeless. When I hadn't mastered the art by the end of the semester, I decided to crawl back into my flower-and-landscape shell and give up on portraiture altogether. And I've always longed to go back.

What does this have to do with the above photograph? Well, that's what I think all my portraits have been missing. That "in-the-moment" freedom; those little details like the shadow and lighting that naturally fall into place, instead of me painstakingly composing them into their respective corners. I hope I can find some willing models so I can translate that feeling to portrait shots. 'Till then...

Oksy

Yeah!!

2008-04-02T15:21:00.001-07:00

Too busy to post much, but please visit Nate and Tricia at their blog "Confessions of a CF Husband," and lift Tricia up in prayer. She's getting a double-lung transplant tonight -- praise God! For her, it's a window into a new and better life. Please go over there and share this experience with them.

http://cfhusband.blogspot.com/

Oksana

release

2008-03-10T10:23:00.000-07:00

If the eyes are the windows to the soul, awaken. Open your eyes, lift them to the truth, let the truth set you free.

I'm clinging to the Lord's love today... tough times, but I know they'll pass.

Love, Oksana

Slowing Down

2008-02-29T17:57:00.000-08:00

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I am so grateful for my God, who tells us to be still.

Once

2008-02-27T12:33:00.000-08:00

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"I wish I didn't have to make
all those mistakes and be wise

Please try to be patient
and know that I'm still learning

I'm sorry that you have to see
the strength inside me burning..."

- from "The Hill" by Marketa Irglova

I was so thrilled when Glen and Marketa won Best Song at the Oscars... their performance and speeches were the two most genuine and beautiful moments of the show. The whole soundtrack to "Once" is brilliant, actually. The raw emotion and soul, as rough and imperfect as it is, leaves no room for pretense at all. That's why so many people have loved this CD and movie. It captures the essence of a human experience shared by almost everyone, and when you see or hear it, it cuts straight to your heart and you relate deeply to it. I actually haven't seen the movie yet, but I plan to someday. At this point, I don't feel the need to... I want to take in the story that the music tells, before putting visuals to it. And there's still so much of it to take in! Deep stuff. :)

By the way, speaking of deep, I just got through an awful cold, thank God. One night, it was pretty bad, and my throat was so irritated that every breath I took scratched like sandpaper at it. Obviously, I couldn't exactly sleep, or do much else for that matter. Which got me thinking (this is where it gets "deep") ... when my breathing, which keeps me alive, is damaged in even the slightest way, I can't function to my capacity, even to half of my capacity. I can barely function at all!

God spoke to me in that still small voice. And, being sick, I let my guard down and didn't shut it out. Here's what I learned and want to share.

If my relationship with God -- the thing that keeps my spirit alive -- is damaged, I can't reach my potential. I can't live the abundant life Jesus wanted me to live. And, considering that my relationship with God is damaged (on my part) about 99.9% of the time, I'm not living the abundant life, am I? On the average day, I'm living the semi-abundant life, and I've gotten used to that. I've become accustomed to not reaching the capacity God gave me. God paid with his own life to give me that abundant life -- and I don't even bother to try living it?

That night, I really, really, really wanted to breathe. I also wanted to get right with God.

Oh, and he healed me the next day.

Love, Oksana

BEFORE I SEE PEACE AGAIN

2008-02-24T09:22:00.000-08:00

… tear your curtains down
for sunlight is like gold.
and you better be you
and do what you can do
when you're walking on moon beams
staring out to sea…

- "Gold" by Interference

"I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset now."

"But we must wait," I said.

"Wait? For what?"

"For the sunset. We must wait until it is time."

At first you seemed to be very much surprised. And then you laughed to yourself. You said to me: "I am always thinking that I am at home!"

Just so. Everybody knows that when it is noon in the United States the sun is setting over France.

If you could fly to France in one minute, you could go straight into the sunset, right from noon. Unfortunately, France is too far away for that. But on your tiny planet, my little prince, all you need do is move your chair a few steps. You can see the day end and the twilight falling whenever you like . . .

"One day," you said to me, "I saw the sunset forty-four times!"

And a little later you added: "You know--one loves the sunset, when one is so sad . . ."

- from The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupery

Yeah, sometimes I feel like the Little Prince, and I think I have to wait a long time before I see peace again ... then God reminds me that I only need to move forward a little - just a step at a time - to see the light once more. So I'll keep walking, keep walking, and God will keep the peace of twilight on this horizon...

Love, Oksana

WRITERLY ADVENTURES

2008-02-08T15:14:00.000-08:00

Slowly, I'm learning to love writing again. I had given up on writing stories years ago - poetry, I dabbled in sporadically because it was shorter, quicker, and required no long-term commitment. But after a few amazingly fun Writer's Craft classes and after reading an incredible novel by my friend Natasha Poholka, I caught the writing bug at last. It's so much fun to put down thoughts and feelings on paper as you explore somebody else's life. It shapes you as a person, I think... when you ask yourself, how would you act in this situation, you get a good grip on what your values are. And you learn about how other people feel when they act in ways you wouldn't -- it really develops your sense of empathy. It's incredibly soothing to sit down and forget everything for a little while, and immerse myself in painting a picture with my pen.

I'm writing two short stories at the moment. One is set in the early 1800s, about a little girl named Analise who works as a servant for a cruel and abusive master. She does manage to find someone to love her in the end (I don't think I'm spoiling anything by saying that), but there are big twists in it which hopefully make it more than the generic Cinderella story. I will add it to FictionPress once I'm done.

The other story was actually inspired by a brainstorming activity we did in Writer's Craft. We had to create plots based around inanimate objects, and I got a lock, so I began to make up a story about a poor Mexican woman who lost everything in a house fire. (This was a day or two after that incredible story about the baby thrown out of a burning building in Germany, so fire was fresh on my mind). I actually managed to get a really good plot, which, upon revision, didn't involve a lock ... or a woman for that matter. It's about a young girl who emigrated from Mexico with her family to go to University in Toronto. I won't say much, since I like this one more than my Analise story, but after losing everything, she met Jason, a man who would change her life completely (and it's not a romantic relationship at all -- that should keep you guessing! :). Again, off it goes to FictionPress when I finish.

Love, Oksana

AMEN

2008-01-31T17:50:00.000-08:00

beneath the parting moonlight visions dances
the gentle sadness of a fading dream
that pencils in between each falling moment
a poem softly calling to be seen

from out the sea of drowning hearts despairing
her outstretched fingers reach to touch the dawn
a blessing falls like mist and whispers 'stillness'
an amen lingers in the calm

CARRIED

2008-01-20T12:54:00.000-08:00

Finals are finally over, and I've got a few days off before Semester 2 begins. Life has been really strange for me since exam time started. I've had incredible blessings, I've had some pretty bad times as well. Many times, sadly, I traded God in for superficial things, only to com running back to him like the prodigal son who saw how empty his life had become. At the end of the day, I feel so blessed. I've experienced God's saving power, healing power, and "carrying power" -- he carried me unceasingly over the last few weeks.

I feel an incredible stillness and peace in the midst of this storm, a confidence that comes from knowing that God is stronger than this.

Eureka!

2008-01-05T10:25:00.001-08:00

One of the things that struck me as I was finding a photo for my last post was how the photos I take illustrate my life. What would be nothing but a pretty sky to someone else wasn't just a pretty sky to me - it represented my relationship with my mom.

When I was first starting out with this photography thing, I felt as if I was cheating when people praised my work. It wasn't really mine - if it was a photo of a toy, it belonged to the manufacturer, if it was a photo of a flower, it belonged to the florist, and so on. I still can't and don't take complete credit for any of my photos; and moreso, will never take credit for my gift of photography: that belongs to God alone. But I've finally figured out what it means to be a photographer.

Your experience makes a photo yours. You are related in a way to whatever your subject is. Even if your subject is a blank wall -- you are related to that blank wall. Maybe it's a wall in your house that has seen countless family moments. Maybe it's the wall that closes you off from your brother's room where he sits secluded all day so you don't have a chance to talk to him. Maybe you've never seen the wall before but it reminds you of your blank mind during math class. It doesn't matter. You are related to that wall, and you're not photographing the wall itself -- you're photographing that relationship. That's why two peoples' photographic renderings of the same subject never look alike.

Eyes are windows to the soul -- so often, people comment on portraits, saying, "I can read their whole life in their eyes." Photos are almost like eyes - you can look straight into the heart through them.

Love, Oksana

Bridging the Divide (A New Year's Resolution Story)

2008-01-03T13:38:00.000-08:00

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Most mornings, I wake up, say a quick prayer, eat a bit of breakfast, then take my seat at the computer... usually, I end up staring at it for the rest of the day. My addiction to the internet has stolen a lot from my life ... it hasn't only been tearing me away from my homework - it's created a big rift between me and those who love me: my family, and my God. I freely admit to being a 'Web addict,' and somehow I manage to make almost no effort to change it - after all, it's so much more convenient to think of it as something outside of my control.

Today, I did something different - I went to talk to my mom first. We spend 3 hours of just plain enjoying each other's company for once. We managed to laugh a bit, debate a bit, even cry a bit, and I think we were both surprised at how much we had in common. We talked about subjects over which we had had huge arguments in the past, and were - well, at least, I was - astonished to see that we agreed after all - we only needed to give each other a little bit more space without judging or jumping to conclusions.

Since practically all my time I have at home is spent with my mom, people often assume that we must have the best relatioship in the world ... we have a great one, but I simply cannot count how many times I pull away, spending my time at this computer or elsewhere away from her, unwilling to give her a chance to love me, unwilling to show her how much she means to me.

My mom is the most amazing, strongest person. She has been through a lot of tough times, but they're no match for her. She's a wonderful, caring, loving mother and I can't tell you how great it was to be 'back' with her. It had been a long time since I last felt like she was my best friend.

I didn't make any resolutions this year, and I still don't feel the need to. I know what I'm going to do, and I don't have to write it down on paper on the first of January. I figured out my 'resolution' three days late, and I couldn't have had more fun learning it.

This year, I want to bridge the divide and be mommy's little girl again, just the way I was meant to be!

Happy 2008 ~

Love, Oksana

An Angel for the New Year

2008-01-02T10:24:00.000-08:00

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"He makes his angels spirits,
his ministers, a flame of fire..."

- Ps. 104:4

Was taking the obligatory New Years sparkler photos yesterday night... not really knowing what I was doing - I'm still a total newbie with my 40D - I turned my shutter speed up and took tons of photos with which I was, for the most part, disappointed because the quick shutter speed had captured little dots instead of the streaming paths of sparks that I had wanted. However, a good rule of thumb for me is to always take a look at my photos in large size before deleting them, so that's what I did. And when I opened up this one, I was totally shocked: I could see a little angel within the flame, and it looked like it was sitting comforably and contemplating the universe with a shining face. I've showed it to about a dozen other people, and they can see it as well, so I know I'm not crazy! :)

This is such a percious glimpse into heaven for me. It reminds me of just how many angels there are sitting at the corners of the deep, dark universe; watching watching the whirling galaxies and forever reminding us that someday in heaven, we will see things far more beautiful than these so long as we believe.

Love, Oksana

To All my Flickr Friends

2008-01-01T18:14:00.000-08:00

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Thank you for inspiring me!

I joined Flickr about 3 years ago to look at and favourite photos... I sure didn't think I'd ever be uploading any! Then my parents got us our first digital camera -- it was actually a camcorder that took stills, an actual camera came a few months later. I immediately became a shutterbug, and started taking hundreds of photos. I shared them with my mom and dad, but there was still something missing -- I felt like I absolutely needed to share them with the world.

What is a photo unless you have shared it with someone? It's like getting a gift and not saying thank you. My way of saying thank you to God for giving me the gift of photography (and the moment I photographed) is by sharing the photo. Why should I be covering up the beauty he has created by keeping it somewhere deep in the mess of folders on my hard drive, when I could be showing it to the rest of the world?

Slowly and tentatively, I uploaded my first photo - then my second - my third quickly followed - and then my fourth. Still, my confidence was really low -- and I can only thank each and every person on Flickr and beyond who commented on, favourited, and viewed my photos. I first considered myself a "real Flickerite" when I finally uploaded a photo on the same day as taking it -- versus a few months later, after painstaking deliberations on whether it was 'good enough.' Again, I thank you guys for helping me grow into that!

And here's one more thing to thank you for: inspiring me! I can't say I'm self-taught -- I've got hundreds of teachers who don't even know it! So, today, in order to give them the acknowledgement they were due, I sat down and went through my favourites, all 45 pages of them -- twice -- to compile a list of 36 pictures that have inspired me most so far. These are the ones that have really shaped my own way of seeing things through the viewfinder, and touched me with their sheer beauty -- or, in the case #2 and #30 -- made me laugh harder than any other photos in the world!

Here they are... my all-time favourites:

1. watching the world go by, 2. Dandelion, 3. Eyeing... ♫ little egret from bali ♪ ♫, 4. burning skies, 5. me, 6. II, 7. Hattie, 8. Untitled, 9. the eye and the sky, 10. Waiting For Buddha, 11. this american life, 12. Girl near Ga Sai Gon, 13. Colours dancing with light, 14. a family, 15. Untitled, 16. Flower girls, 17. she's back, 18. freckle face, 19. unexpected.., 20. Untitled, 21. two, 22. caught in the net, 23. Sifting Sand, 24. Hmmm ? ..., 25. are you gentle too ? ..., 26. life goes on ..., 27. first taste of rain..............., 28. Swan who felt in love ♥, 29. remembering why, 30. bad breath?, 31. A Flower For Nanny, 32. Atendendo a um pedido especial de uma amiga especial !, 33. smiling at, 34. skeeter hawk, 35. animated speedy, 36. Sunday afternoon

Love, Oksana

Untitled

2007-12-31T10:29:00.000-08:00

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i am the snow
shining crystalline, free --
i watch people walk by
leave their footprints in me...

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I'm always a bit surprised when people tell me they don't like winter. For me, winter has always been a time of wonder. The symmetry, clarity, brightness; the perfect black against the perfect white - I can't help but marvel at God's sense of style! It sure rivals any painting or poem I've ever seen or read.

I wrote a little article on the subject of 'Snow in the Bible' for my ezine, which you can view here. I'll quote an excerpt of it:

The Bible says, in Psalm 25, "Like the cold of snow in the time of harvest is a faithful messenger to those who send him; he refreshes the soul of his masters." It is true that snow can be severe, cold -- but then, the word of God is not always easy medicine to swallow. It challenges people to get out of their comfort zone, to throw off those blankets and winter coats, and to feel with fearless, open hearts the true refreshment of God.

If there's any season that reminds me of how good God is, it's winter... and it's not just because of Christmas, though that's a big part. It's mostly because the warmth of love stands out so strongly against the cold, cold wind.

Katie Melua sings 'Wonderful World' with the late Eva Cassidy.

With thanks to Eric from YouTube

Love, Oksana

Here's to the Mysteries

2007-11-20T10:14:00.000-08:00

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Two times so far, I've taken photos that I thought were nothing special, but when I reviewed them, I saw that I had photographed something I hadn't intened - a mysterious figure emerging in the photo. Those instances, for me, are rare but they're possibly the most rewarding part of photography: they remind me that I captured in one split second a special moment that would have otherwise been missed forever - without even realising it! And the funny thing is, in both of these photos the subject wasn't really that interesting to photograph - I had picked up the camera on a complete whim.

Makes me think of how intricate God's work is, that everything - a beam of light or a tiny branch, has a special purpose to serve for someone in the world... sometimes, a purpose as simple and small as making them smile. :)

If you click on the picture above, you can see the full-size, uncropped and barely edited image. I was taking a photo of the column of light (known as a "sun pillar"), but when I uploaded it to my computer, I literally screamed (not in a bad way), because I saw that if you looked at the sun as being a head, the light on the underside of the cloud formed two "wings," and that sun pillar became the body of the figure! I was completely amazed... it was like a little glimpse into heaven with with its angels of light, holding out their wings in a blessing to the earth. I don't really find any "prophetic" meaning in this photo; for me, it isn't a signal of an event about to happen. It's a reminder, rather, of something that has always existed, even before time began, and will keep existing forever: the love of God.

By the way, when I showed the photo to someone else, he told me he could see a swan with its head underwater on the bottom right of the photo. And now that he mentioned it - so can I! It makes me smile every time. :)

I was taking a boring picture of what seemed to be a boring branch on my way home from school, then when I reviewed it, I realised that there was a little number 3 growing out of the main branch. If you follow along the big branch with your eye, you should be able to see it - there's a little leaf sprouting from the '3.' I thought it was a sweet little detail, and I can't wait to uncover more such 'mysteries' as I take more pictures!

Love, Oksana

Shine Right Through It

2007-11-09T10:14:00.000-08:00

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And if the Son has set us free
then we shall be
free indeed.

-Jn. 8:36

Took this on my way to school - a happy accident. I didn't take any time to set up the compositon or do anything with it, since I'm actually really self-conscious about taking pictures when other people are around (at least, people I don't know very well). So it was a really fast, spur-of-the-moment shot, but I really like the way this turned out. it says to me that there's nothing that can block you from shining - and if anything tries, shine right through it!

Love, Oksana