No, Really, I Am an American

Sunday the 22nd of January 2006 - back in Illinois

I ended up going over to my cousin’s house for dinner. My mom didn’t pressure me to do so, I seriously wanted to go.

On the drive into Elgin, I told my mom all about my trip. Part of me wondered if she was even listening, but she said she was glad that I had a good time. I even told her about going to church that morning.

It was nice to see my Ates when it wasn’t obligatory, like Thanksgiving and Christmas. I’m actually trying really hard to stay in touch with my family. My younger cousin Bree told my Ate Ruby that she was going to miss me when I was gone. I laughed at that. I see Bree maybe twice a year, I doubt she’ll even realize my absence.

After dinner, my Ate Miriam and Ate Ruby told my mother and I about the visionary they went to see in Aurora. This man is one of six visionaries from Croatia and has seen Our Lady, has spoken to Her, and brings Her message to one and all. I wasn’t skeptical of this tale because in spite of everything, I believe that it’s possible.

I was feeling uneasy about the discussion, however. My glass was filling again and I wasn’t able to absorb it all in a manner I would have liked. When Ate Ruby gave me a blessed prayer book to take with me to Japan and keep with me, my glass overflowed.

I fought back tears. I wanted Ate Ruby to take back the book. I was not worthy of such a thing. I was not worthy of God’s love. This is…not going…well…

I managed to make an exit shortly after receiving the book. I whispered to my cousin that I would try to be worthy of her gift and bid my family goodbye.

The second I got behind the wheel, tears were streaming down my face. I was definitely overwhelmed with God. First, in Boston with my sister, and now with my cousins in Elgin.

My cup runneth over…

It was probably not the wisest decision to drive home, but I did anyway. I wanted to go straight to Church, knowing that Teen Mass was in progress. I wanted to go and confess my sins. I wanted to call Allison but persuaded myself out of it. I wanted to go to Grant’s house, or the Halfway House…but kept driving past the Summit.

I was not worthy.

That thought kept playing over and over again in my head. I was not worthy. I am not worthy.

How could God love such an abomination?

Later, when I put these thoughts to sleep for a while, I ended up telling Grant and Mark about my God freakout. I was grateful to tell them about it. I knew that in them I would find the comfort I was desperately seeking. I just wish I hadn’t gotten so upset.

I am told over and over again that there’s nothing wrong with me. Somewhere deep inside, I know this. It’s just…buried under a hell of a lot of doubt. Thomas and I have a lot in common in that respect.

I am not trying to make things difficult. I am trying to understand what’s going on in my head.

I am trying to accept and believe…to have faith in myself and in what I once held dear.

To know that I am worthy.

Sunday the 22nd of January 2006

We went to church this morning at Park Street Church. My sister said it was a Prebyterian service. I had never been to one before. Regardless of the service, I felt a little awkward sitting in the church.

My sister is very pious and devoted to the service of the Lord. She does not impress her views and beliefs unto me, and I respect her for that. There was a time that I was just as devoted, but there is no doubt in my mind that I have lost my way.

It was interesting sitting through the service. After the awkwardness and discomfort, it was…like the glass was filling again, regardless of the same amount of water…it was better than an empty glass.

We went made our way to Chinatown after the service. I was amused — of course we would end up in Chinatown. At least we were going to Dim Sum.

Stephie got us a little turned about, though…so we stopped at a Dunkin’ Donuts first. Considering all the things that have been happening on this trip, I’m not surprised that we are getting breakfast shortly before lunch. It seems to make sense to my sister. And hell, I certainly wanted the coffee.

One of Joanne’s friends was meeting us at Chau Chow City. No, you’re not reading it wrong. Best. Name. Ever.

Colleen was actually Chinese and Filipino like me. We swapped stories about the Philippines. She guesses that our families probably know each other and not in the joking “all Asian families know each other” kind of way. Her family was one of the first to immigrate to the Philippines and they helped many other Chinese find jobs and lives for themselves on the Islands. I told her about our families real last name: “Our real family name is O Young, but when my grandfather moved to the Philippines it becamse Lim.”

“Oh then we must have some kind of connection,” she decided. “Our family name was once Lim and I guess it was given to a lot of the immigrants when they came over.”

Pretty funny.

I was scheduled to leave shortly after lunch. I was reluctant if anything because I would miss my sister.

“You’ll come see me in Indonesia, right?”

“Unless you’re living in a hut. Then I might have to persuade you to stop in Japan on your way back to the States instead.”

Of all my friends, Stephie is probably the most likely to be able to see me while I’m living in Osaka.

I hope she gets the chance to come see me.

If all else fails, I’ve never been to Jakarta.