The Impossible - A Beautiful Mystery

Last night some of my friends and I were at AMC Kips Bay and decided to watch The Impossible last minute. I'm really glad that we did because it was one of the most emotionally powerful movies I had the privilege of seeing in a long time. I love watching films that don't require ridiculous action scenes to be entertaining but rather utilizes human emotions in a way that leaves you amazed at how powerful the human spirit and soul can be. When I first stumbled upon a trailer of The Impossible, I was immediately captivated by the scene in which the tsunami comes in, destroying everything in its path, sweeping away the family we are about to follow on this amazing journey.

Based upon the true story of a Spanish family on a Christmas vacation in Khao Lak, Thailand, The Impossible relives the most devastating tsunami on record that struck Southeast Asia on December 26, 2004. In the opening scene, we see Lucas, the oldest son, annoyed by his younger brother, who is afraid of flying. There seems to be a disconnect between the brothers, something that I can personally relate to as my brother and I for a while grew apart growing up. The family arrives at a beautiful resort in Khao Lak right by the beach. And for the first 20 or so minutes of the film, we see the family enjoying the beautiful weather and beach, seemingly escaping to paradise.

While playing in the pool, Lucas and his mother, Maria, are separated from Henry, the father, and the two younger sons, Thomas and Simon. The tsunami then rushes in and the scene is abruptly blacked out, perhaps trying to convey the sense of losing consciousness. We soon find Maria clinging on to a palm tree for dear life, obviously distraught and still in shock from what just transpired. She sees her son Lucas taken by the current and desperately tries to catch up to him, only to be stabbed in her chest by a tree branch. By the time the water subsides, Maria is badly injured, her leg with a large, open wound, and her chest still bleeding profusely. On their way to climb a large tree in case another wave rushes in, they both hear the cries of a young boy. Lucas wants to go for the tree and leave the boy, screaming at his mother that she is injured and there may not be time before another wave comes. His mother asks him, "Listen, what if that boy was Simon or Thomas? What if they needed help? You'd want someone to help them, wouldn't you?" Lucas replies, "Simon and Thomas are dead!" As the audience, we are not sure if Lucas said this as a last resort to persuade his mother to climb the tree or because he actually meant it. His mother answers, "Even if it's the last thing we do..." I was glad to see that Maria chose to help the boy despite knowing the dangers lurking. I feel like too often people today compromise their morals for selfish and petty reasons. In the end, they find the little boy, Daniel, and they all climb the tree. After what seems like an eternity, some natives walk by looking for survivors and they help carry Maria to a local village. From there, the natives take Maria and Lucas to a hospital where Maria can receive proper treatment.

Watching this scene, I was deeply moved at the fact that the natives, complete strangers, went out of there way to help Maria and Lucas, safely transporting them to a hospital for further treatment. In times of need, I find it compelling that humans are able to come together, transcending all racial and cultural barriers, to assist one another, showing empathy and compassion (i.e. Hurricane Katrina, 9/11, etc). But I ask myself: "If humans are capable of such actions, why is it that we hear about it most often when some natural disaster or horrific incident occurs? Why can't we see this same empathy and compassion daily?" I think the reason why is because God is absent from our daily lives. We don't look to Christ first but more often as the last option.

Maria's condition worsens and after her first surgery she is left too weak to go receive the second. She asks Lucas to help others in any way he can. A Swedish traveler arrives at the hospital, asking Lucas if he has seen the traveler's son. Lucas searches around the entire hospital and eventually reunites the father with his son. When Lucas returns to his where his mother was, she is no longer there. We learn later that due to a mix -up of the records, she was listed under a different name. Although a very minor detail, I thought it depicted the confusion and chaos that must have taken place at the time.

The movie shifts to Henry regaining consciousness on the beach, desperately crying out for Maria and Lucas. The younger two sons miraculously are safe with very little injuries. Henry chooses to send his two sons off with another group to the mountains where they can receive food and shelter as he embarks on a journey throughout Thailand to search for Maria and Lucas. I couldn't help but get emotional when his two younger sons beg Henry to stay with them but Henry makes the tough decision to send them off. Thomas, the older of the two, graciously accepts the responsibility of looking after Simon. I loved how the movie also showed the resilience and perseverance of these minor characters.

Henry ends up injuring himself when he falls and is brought to a local shelter in which he meets a French traveler who happened to be at the same resort in Khao Lak. The French traveler tells Henry of how he injured his leg before his family was set to travel to Khao Lak and how his wife tried to convince him that they should all just stay home. But the traveler insisted that they go because they had been planning the trip for a long time. He recalls how he woke up to the noise of the tsunami rushing in and finding a note his wife left him on the table - "At the beach." Henry begins to share his story of how he was separated from Maria and Lucas and how he's searching for them. The traveler lets him borrow his phone, which is low on battery, so Henry can call Brian, Maria's father. As Henry begins to tell Brian of how he doesn't know where Maria and Lucas are, he begins hysterically crying, his words barely decipherable. He abruptly hangs up the phone because he knows other people need to make calls as well. The traveler insists that he call again, telling Henry, "You can't leave it like that." So Henry calls Brian again, promising him that he will find Maria and Lucas. This scene in my opinion was one of the best in the movie - a father and husband's determination and will to find his wife and son, the empathy and compassion of complete strangers, and the mutual understanding between humans.

After searching almost every shelter and hospital throughout the region, Henry ends up at the same hospital where Maria and Lucas are. Thomas and Simon coincidentally end up there as well. Lucas, while looking for water for his mother to drink, sees his father and desperately chases after him, only to lose him in the crowd. Screaming "Dad!" at the top of his lungs, Henry as well as Thomas and Simon, hear Lucas' plea and the four embrace each other. I could not help but tear up as I watched the father hug his three sons. The raw emotion that the actors conveyed on screen really hit home. In light of all the events in the past couple of months, I think that the film really reminds us of how important family and love truly is - cherish and appreciate it while you can because tomorrow it may be gone.

The family greets Maria as she is about to head to surgery. Lucas regrets not telling his mother of how he saw Daniel at the hospital with his father and prays that he will get the chance to. The family's travel insurance allows them to take an ambulance jet to Singapore the next day and Lucas shares his joy with his mother of how he saw Daniel with his father. I personally know the fear of not knowing whether or not the next day the woman who I call mom will be there or not. Remind your loved ones how much you love and share your joy because the world can definitely use more.

-

"How do you know which stars are dead and which aren't?"
"You don't know. It's impossible - a beautiful mystery"

Sunday Sermons

I've attended City Grace Church enough times by now to know the worship team and to recognize specific faces. I thought that by attending a church where I knew a lot of people would be beneficial for me to try to build a sense of community. For a while I looked forward to going to church on Sunday. But with each passing week I began to feel more isolated as everyone at church already seemed to have their own friends and cliques. Even the people I knew seemed to enjoy each other's company while I stood by silently, often wanting to leave as soon as the sermon was over.

I guess I only have myself to blame in that I never really made an effort to get to know people but I've always been pretty reserved when it comes to introducing myself. I feel like I should attend church but I've always hated how the feeling of isolation and loneliness seems to follow me. As for the sermons themselves, I feel like I'm not getting much out of them either. I do pay attention and listen attentively but nothing ever really resonates with me. Is there a bigger problem I'm not seeing?

How Much Can Words Truly Convey?

Sitting on the family room couch, I stare blankly at the flickering cursor, waiting for my fingers to begin typing words to appear on the white word document. Such a simple question: "Why do you want to be a doctor?" I type up an answer roughly a page long, single-spaced. I step away, grab a Dr. Pepper, and come back to read my answer again. I shake my head in disapproval. I highlight the page, click the delete button, and write up another answer. My answer looks okay but another word that my friend has been throwing around a lot seems to be a better adjective - inadequate.

One of my friends talked to me yesterday about how she doesn't know how to approach writing her personal statement for medical school applications. She listed all of her concerns - what if her words aren't enough to convey to the admissions committee how much she truly wants to be a doctor or what if her words make her seem "inadequate" as an applicant. And it's a valid question - how much can a one-page answer convey to an admissions committee about an individual's desire and qualifications in becoming a doctor? And I know there's many factors that the committee takes into account, such as GPA, MCAT score, volunteer work, research experience, etc. But the personal statement is thought to be the one chance we have as an applicant to show who we are as an individual, as a human being before the interview, if granted one.

How much can words truly convey? Can the committee see the difference between an applicant who genuinely wants to help others and an applicant who just wants money and fame? What specific words or phrases reveal that difference? What do we as applicants have to write to leave a memorable impression?

I truly believe that God wants me to be a doctor and I'm praying that whatever I write will work to convey the same love and grace that God has shown me but I can't help but be skeptical and have the same doubts and concerns as my friend. Can mere words be enough?

They Say the Third Time is a Charm...

"If only time flew like a dove / Well God, make it fly faster than I'm falling in love"

I've never considered Paramore to be a band that wrote great lyrics but for some reason recently, I wish God could actually make this line come true. Pathetic loser, hopeless romantic - I'm not quite sure what to call myself these days but I just want these feelings to stop.

My friends tell me to be careful; I tell them I won't fall for her again. And yet here I am, typing away on this post despite knowing she'll probably read this at some point. How is it that every single time I feel like I can get through a day without thinking about her, she somehow knows to contact me so that I can't? Does she just intuitively know that she should text me so I'll continue to think about her each day forward?

I guess as humans we will always have a soft spot in our hearts for the people we care about. And it's one of the most comforting, reassuring feelings we can experience to know that the ones we hold dear, care about us in return. The moment we hear it from them is when we know we mean something to them, when we're actually worth it.

But what if their actions say otherwise? If you care about someone, would you hurt them? At what point do you realize you should stop, putting your selfish desires aside to protect the person you said you care about? I guess it would be a lie to say that I didn't feel like she owed me an apology and explanation. "An honest mistake" - a simple phrase, shot straight to the heart. She told me she can't trust God to bring her the right guy at the right time. Do you really ever know? I guess I was the only one who felt that way...

There's so many things I still want to say:

You say we can be friends, but how can you play with my emotions like that and act like everything is okay? I don't understand how you can tell yourself it's okay because it's not. I'm not okay.
What was really the point of getting me to fall for you again? Was I just an ego-boost, a way for you to prove to yourself that you could get a guy to fall for you? Did you pick me because I was convenient and easy? For some reason, it feels like you knew the whole time you had me in the palm of your hand.
How far were you going to go find out if I liked you? And once you knew, how did you feel? Satisfied, happy, content?
And lastly, the one thing I want to ask but don't because I'm afraid to hear your answer - was there ever one moment you truly felt like you wanted to be with me?

Now it's come to the point where we're starting to talk again. I fear I may be falling for you a third time. They say the third time is a charm but...I don't think it will be.

My rendition of Go-Go Curry

I'm slightly upset that the katsu is not really visible but a success nonetheless!

How I See God in My Friends

Roughly fifteen weeks remain until I take the Medical College Admission Test, better known as the MCAT. Pre-med students talk about the MCAT with their fellow classmates even before they begin their undergraduate careers, exemplifying how much of an emphasis the medical field places on this one standardized test. I have heard many horror stories since I was a freshman in high school about the MCAT and I still don't know what to expect.

When I first began my undergraduate career in the fall of 2010, I felt confident that I would be accepted into a top-tier medical school, whether that be NYU, Columbia, UCSF, etc. I quickly became friends with other pre-med students who all shared the same dream as me - to one day be able to help others as a doctor. Through this one common dream, my friends and I learned to study together and to support each other through many highs and lows.

I wish I could say that our friendships remained so strong that we never had any arguments or problems but unfortunately that is not the case. I personally felt that I was always good at dealing with the stress of academics but this was far from the truth. In my sophomore year, my friends and I all took the infamous organic chemistry. It is infamous for many reasons, the first being that it is considered to be one of the most difficult undergraduate science courses offered in any college curriculum. Second, specifically at NYU, our professor was known to give exams that had horribly low averages, often in the 40s or 50s. I took the advice of a friend who had just finished the course and studied in advance over the summer prior to the start of the course. By the time the first exam came around, I felt like I knew everything there was to know about organic chemistry - resonance, synthesis, mechanisms, etc.

But one by one, my friends succumbed under the stress and pressure of the course as the year progressed. I still feel terrible that at the time I failed to realize how stressed out each one of them were; I continued to be the same arrogant, cocky student I was from freshman year, joking out loud about how easy the exams were in front of the entire class. And slowly, all of my friends, one by one, began to avoid me throughout the school year. At first I figured they were all just busy with their own schedules and studying so I didn't think much of it. And for the entire school year, my friends and I slowly drifted apart.

Finished with organic chemistry forever, my friends and I began to hang out again in junior year like we had freshman year. I made a half-joking comment over dinner one day to one of them about how I found it funny we all never spent much time together sophomore year. "Do you want to know why we didn't hang out with you? It's because you stressed us the fuck out. I've cried on multiple occasions just because of you alone." My friend's words were one of the biggest wake-up calls of my life. The thought never occurred to me that my friends avoided me because my attitude towards my academics directly affected them as well. How could I call myself their friend when I was one of the reasons that brought them to the point of falling apart completely? To this day, I'm still grateful that they chose to remain my friends because I don't know what I would do without them - all throughout college they have always been there to listen to me when I needed someone to talk to, when I wanted a partner to grab lunch or dinner with, or when I just wanted to hang out with someone and talk about the most pointless things in the world. I truly believe that my group of friends have made me become a better person from the apathetic, arrogant, cocky, self-centered boy I was when I first entered college. It is in their unconditional love that I see God.

And it has been upsetting that many of the pre-med students who I became friends with have dropped the program for various reasons, the number one reason being mediocre grades. I can only imagine what it must feel like to give up on your dream of becoming a doctor only because you did not receive a high grade in a course that probably has nothing to do with medicine anyways. But God has a different plan for all of us as much as it still upsets me that many of my friends will not be joining me as a doctor. But I'm still happy that many of them will join me as nurses, physician assistants, etc. I believe that God is calling each one of them to be involved in healthcare in some way and I'm excited for the opportunity to be working with them in the future.

And although I have many doubts and worries with regards to the quickly approaching MCAT and applications I must fill out over the summer, I believe that if I submit my career and my life to God, He will ultimately lead me down the road meant for me, whether that be as a doctor or something completely different. But for now, I am going to return to reading up on neuromuscular junctions!

Second dinner of 2013!

Butternut squash risotto, cheddar broccoli soup, and porterhouse steak!

First dinner of 2013!

Limited by the number of ingredients available in my home I decided to make lobster tail coated in lemon butter, shrimp fried rice, and hash browns - it was an interesting combination to say the least but that's all I had to work with!

(for photographers I apologize for overdoing the bokeh)

2012 - The Year I Found God Again

I can still vividly remember what everyone in my family was doing a few minutes prior to January 1, 2012 - my brother was over at his computer skyping one of his friends talking about graphics cards, my mother was calling my grandmother to wish her a happy new year, and my father was dozing off while watching TV, waiting to see the ball in Times Square drop when the clock struck midnight. As for me, I was sitting on the family room couch with Maitland Jones' organic chemistry textbook opened across my lap, reading up on the Diels-Alder reaction.

I wasn't one of those children that stated at an early age that I want to be a doctor when I grow up. It's really funny, in my honest opinion, that adults always ask young children, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" They can't seriously expect a child to know what he or she wants to do for the rest of their life, right? That's blasphemous! You often hear a variety of answers too - astronaut, singer, fashion designer, doctor, lawyer, football player, teacher, etc. But why is it that children repeat these answers specifically? I think it's because parents reinforce the idea that these occupations are what defines "success" in our modern society. Children don't really know what they want to do for the rest of their life, they merely say answers that are acceptable to parents. The way I came to realize that what I truly wanted to do was practice medicine also just happened to be the greatest challenge God presented to me in my life.

As a young Korean immigrant, I was not born into a Christian family. Both my parents considered themselves to be agnostic. Maybe there was some higher power, maybe not. So how did I end up finding God in my childhood? My parents quickly realized that my brother and I needed some form of a community in the States because my family did not know anybody in New Jersey. They figured joining a Korean church would be the easiest way to introduce my brother and me to kids around our age. Making friends did not come easily because I still could not speak English very well despite attending ESL classes at school. Other kids didn't bother to talk to me. And for my first year in America  I felt truly alone. Now I know what you're thinking, what does a five year-old kid know about loneliness, right? But let me tell you that kid did know loneliness, very well in fact. Loneliness was a kinder friend to him than other kids.

One summer day, my pastor at church came over to talk to me. He was quite young himself, 27 if I remember correctly. And he asked me, "Do you know about Jesus Christ?" I had been attending church for over a year and still did not know the gospel so I answered, "No." After the sermon, he asked me to grab lunch with him and he shared the gospel with me of how a man named Jesus Christ, the son of God, was sent to Earth to die for our sins and was resurrected to return to Heaven. I guess as a child I found the story fascinating, believing every minute detail, believing that this man, Jesus Christ, was my savior. And so for the next seven years I went to church, strengthening my faith in God.

But one phone call in my final year of middle school sparked my fall away from God. My grandfather in South Korea had been diagnosed with lung cancer for over a year. I remember, every night before I went to bed, praying to God to look over my grandfather. Just two summers prior, my grandfather and I had gotten closer - almost every morning he would take me to go hiking to see the sunrise. I always complained and asked him to let me sleep those extra five minutes that we all know don't really make us feel any better. "Every day is a new day and you want to start it off right, don't you?" I guess that's why to this day I still like to wake up early.

The look on my father's face as he answered the phone said it all...my grandfather had passed away.

Being only thirteen at the time, I didn't handle the news very well. As each day passed, all I could ask God was one thing: "Why?" Why did you not protect my grandfather? Why did you not answer my prayers? These were the questions that I still do not have answers to. No matter how hard I tried to make sense of the situation, I just grew more bitter and angrier. And as Christians we hold the believe that if we accept Jesus Christ as our savior we will join him in Heaven after we die. But what about my grandfather who I knew never accepted Jesus as his savior? Where was he? I grew up believing that God could perform wondrous miracles. I needed it more than ever at that moment.

I made a promise to myself. I would give God a second chance because I'm a firm believer in second chances. If he disappointed me again, I would give up on him completely. For some reason, my mother became diagnosed with breast cancer roughly a year after my grandfather's death. The news shattered all hope I had in God instantaneously. That was it. I'm done with God forever, I told myself.

All throughout high school, I lived with the constant fear of not knowing whether or not my mother would be alive the next day. My family at the time did not have the money to pay for chemotherapy in the States so my mother flew back to South Korea to receive chemotherapy there. I was so angry that my family didn't have the finances to pay for chemotherapy here. And it certainly didn't help that everyone at church repeated things like: "God has a plan for everything" or "God is testing you." What kind of sick, perverted test was this? I felt like nobody could understand what I was going through. And it didn't help that my relationship with my brother completely broke down. He began to resent me for trying to act like my mother around him.

"Hey, go finish your homework and play your games later."
"Stop fucking act like your mom because you're not!"
"What did you just say?"
"I said stop acting like your mom because you're not. Got it?!"

My father wasn't around much because he was busy with work. At the time I didn't really think about how it affected him but looking back on the whole situation, he always tried so hard to look strong for our sake. I can only imagine how hard it was for him, to think that the only woman he has ever loved in his life was riding on the fence between life and death.

By some miracle my mother is still with us today. But I didn't give credit to God. I was convinced that it was due to the hard work of the doctors who cared for my mother that she is still with us today. And for the rest of high school I stopped going to church and rejected God from my life entirely. The way I saw it, God didn't deserve to be in my life.

Like most high school graduates, the next big chapter of my life was college. Stuck choosing between Columbia's Fu Found School of Engineering and NYU's College of Arts and Sciences, I ultimately chose to attend NYU. Why would I give up going to an Ivy League school? 1) I really didn't want to do engineering. I only applied because my parents told me to. 2) I wanted to become a doctor. Why do I want to be a doctor? You might think it's because I want the recognition of being a doctor or perhaps for the money or whatever. But I truly want to become a doctor because I personally know what it's like to be in a family where disease is a real thing, not just some words in a textbook or actors on a movie screen. And with that mindset, I promised that I would become a doctor whatever it took because I wanted to be the doctor that could change people's and families' lives.

My freshman year at NYU was one for the ages. Thanks to one of my high school friends who was in NYU's 7-year dental program, I quickly made many friends. I also managed to make friends with some of my floormates who actually still remain some of my closest friends at NYU. But all in all, my freshman year consisted of doing a lot of stupid things like most college freshman - drinking, staying up all night for no reason, etc. And the bitterness that I built up in high school followed me to college. I found myself lashing out at my friends as I stressed over my academics. I considered my grades to be the most important thing in the world and I was willing to make any sacrifices to keep my GPA as close as possible to the elusive 4.0

Freshman year flew by and although I didn't do as well academically as I had hoped, I was feeling good about myself in general - I just found a research position in a behavioral neuroscience lab for the summer and my science GPA was still a 4.0.

Sophomore year came and it was supposed to be the hardest academically - I had both the infamous organic chemistry and molecular and cellular biology. I told myself that I just needed to get A's in these courses and I should be a shoe-in for medical school. I almost did, just one A- and three A's. Pretty good all in all. But sophomore year was more than just grades.

I was introduced to another Korean who attended a Christian fellowship at NYU - Intervarsity Asian-American Christian Fellowship - through a mutual friend. He invited me to come to one of their large groups so I figured why not. Actually I only went because I thought it was rude to say no so I ended up going. I didn't get much out of the speaker. For me it was just one of those talks about God and how Christians should strive to live our lives with God's love and grace in mind blah-blah-blah. But for some reason, I found the fellowship members to be really comfortable to talk to about, well, anything actually. For the first time in my life, I felt like I wasn't judged by a Christian for not being "Christian." It was really strange. I was so sure that these people would stop talking to me once I told them I wasn't Christian but they talked to me even more, asking me why I didn't believe in God. And for the longest time I used my scientific knowledge to present counterarguments to anything they had to say to me. I guess it was just a way for me to try and find the answer I wanted deep down. It was crazy how involved in the fellowship I was getting - I even attended a weekly small group and I never missed one of them the whole year. My small group leader asked me at the end of the year, "Why did you come out to every small group?" I didn't really have an answer. Looking back, I was seeking out God but just didn't know at the time.

Sophomore year came to a close and I was back working at the same research lab over the summer. But the summer brought me much unexpected drama. And it all begins with a girl from the fellowship. We were in the same grade but I didn't really get to know her during the school year. She was working in the city over the summer as well so naturally we began to hang out - a lot. We were texting every single day, skyping at night, and met up on weekends. My friend who worked with me at the research lab asked me if there was anything between her and me. I told him no but I didn't even know. She asked me why I gave up on Christianity and in God. I told her everything. She was the first person at NYU to ask me and the first person I told why. I found it surprising how much I found myself opening up to this girl who I only got to know for roughly one month.

Later I finally mustered up the courage and asked her, "What do you consider us to be?" She didn't know either. A week later we admitted we had feelings for each other but her next sentence cut me like a dagger: "I can't date you because you're not Christian." I always knew there were Christians who wouldn't date non-Christians; I never figured I'd be on the losing end of one of those situations though. I felt completely shut down but I knew she had the right to say no for whatever reason so I dropped the whole thing altogether. She however didn't. Although she rejected me already, she kept on complaining about why she felt like she was the only one putting any effort into the relationship (excuse me but what relationship?) and she constantly compared me to her ex-boyfriend. I let it go most of the time because I knew she was just being emotional but little by little I felt my self-esteem as a man being crushed piece by piece. I found myself pathetic that I could let one girl who already rejected me feel so small and worthless. And by the end of the summer we stopped talking to each other. How could someone who I felt so comfortable talking to become a total stranger?

I didn't know what to do. I talked to other fellowship members about the situation and they didn't know either. But all of them gave me one common advice - pray. I scoffed at them secretly. Prayer had never done anything for me but I figured I'd give it a try because nothing I was doing was making me feel better. So before I went to bed I prayed, just like how I prayed for my grandfather seven years ago. At first it was strange and uncomfortable. It's sort of like the feeling you get when you just feel so out of place in a room with strangers you have no idea what to do. My words seemed to vanish into thin air the first night. But I kept on praying every night for a month. I don't even know why.

And then slowly but surely I felt all the bitterness and resentment I had toward this girl disappear. I don't know how it happened at first. Then I asked myself what I wanted to do and I knew. I realized God put her in my life for a reason - it was to bring me back to Him. As corny as it may sound, she is the one who brought me back to God. How can I shun somebody so precious like that out of my life? I knew I wanted her to be a part of my life, whether that be just as a friend or maybe something more further down the road. We've had problems again recently defining our relationship, letting our emotions get the better of us, but we still remain friends somehow. I thought for sure after she rejected me twice after leading me on I would never want to talk to her again but with God's grace I found the grace and mercy in myself to forgive her and forgive myself as well. I was so mad at myself for letting myself fall for her twice but we are all sinners who give into temptations. I must constantly remind myself that if it's not happening now then God has a reason for that too. Maybe it never will or maybe one day we can be more than friends - either way I'm leaving it in God's hands now.

As crazy as it was, I shared this testimony at large group in front of the fellowship. I never imagined myself sharing a story like this with anyone. But I think through everything that 2012 has put me through I've learned to trust in others and most importantly in God again, that it is okay to open up and share ourselves because no matter how much others disappoint us God will never disappoint us.

So now I close the pages on 2012 eagerly waiting to see what God has in store for me in 2013. Whatever it may be, I know that in the end it is all God's will and that He knows what is best for me.