The skies were overcast. I peeled my eyelids open that morning and
dreamed of five more minutes. Getting myself out of my incubated cocoon
is always a chore, because the moment my toes make contact with our
tiled ice-block floor is enough to make me cry. Tip-toeing around the
house to get myself dressed and ready for class, no matter how early I
wake up, I'm still somehow always the last one out the door.
We have so many ordinary days that make up our lives, but -- every once in a while -- you have that one extraordinary day. Among all the mundane hours spent pinteresting, browsing Wikipedia, looking up that one word you used that you weren't sure was actually a word, there are the first kisses, the altar calls, the time of deaths, and the time of births.
February 16th seemed like an ordinary day. Apart from the fact that my "ordinary" had turned into living in a house in the south of Spain. . . .it was still routinely ordinary. As the morning progressed, a headache threatened to spoil my mood. I felt myself getting ornery and a bit short-tempered to those around me. I heard myself sighing more than usual and waiting for an opportune moment for me to just shove some headphones into my ears and drown out the world.
At lunch, I sat at the table, sullen, trying to coax myself out of my own mood. Checking my e-mail on my phone, I browsed through subject lines to read,
"TIFFANY CHEN, YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED INTO THE INTERNATIONAL PASTRY PROGRAM AT L'ECOLE FERRANDI!"
I'm fairly certain that my heart stopped beating and I let out a jubilant roar. The rain had started to pour outside, and as I slid open the glass doors, I ran outside and bellowed over the mountaintop, "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The next half hour was spent shouting, laughing, hugging my housemates, and (yes, literally) crying. I really don't remember the last time I wanted anything as bad as I wanted to read that e-mail in my inbox. I don't remember the last time joy was that tangible, but I can still remember it now.
I can't believe that Dad is beginning to put flesh on my dreams. Yet what started out as a small thought almost six years ago as an 18 year old walking along the streets of Paris for the first time, turned into small decisions -- deciding to take French classes, turned into big decisions -- deciding to study abroad, and big risks -- apprenticing for a summer at La Tradition on my own. Though it has been such a challenging walk of faith, I've learned that it really is in those small, tiny, moments that dreams are birthed. Within a single thought within a single millisecond. . .
I'm at a loss for words for His goodness and His faithfulness.
But I did make a cake:
We have so many ordinary days that make up our lives, but -- every once in a while -- you have that one extraordinary day. Among all the mundane hours spent pinteresting, browsing Wikipedia, looking up that one word you used that you weren't sure was actually a word, there are the first kisses, the altar calls, the time of deaths, and the time of births.
February 16th seemed like an ordinary day. Apart from the fact that my "ordinary" had turned into living in a house in the south of Spain. . . .it was still routinely ordinary. As the morning progressed, a headache threatened to spoil my mood. I felt myself getting ornery and a bit short-tempered to those around me. I heard myself sighing more than usual and waiting for an opportune moment for me to just shove some headphones into my ears and drown out the world.
At lunch, I sat at the table, sullen, trying to coax myself out of my own mood. Checking my e-mail on my phone, I browsed through subject lines to read,
"TIFFANY CHEN, YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED INTO THE INTERNATIONAL PASTRY PROGRAM AT L'ECOLE FERRANDI!"
I'm fairly certain that my heart stopped beating and I let out a jubilant roar. The rain had started to pour outside, and as I slid open the glass doors, I ran outside and bellowed over the mountaintop, "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The next half hour was spent shouting, laughing, hugging my housemates, and (yes, literally) crying. I really don't remember the last time I wanted anything as bad as I wanted to read that e-mail in my inbox. I don't remember the last time joy was that tangible, but I can still remember it now.
I can't believe that Dad is beginning to put flesh on my dreams. Yet what started out as a small thought almost six years ago as an 18 year old walking along the streets of Paris for the first time, turned into small decisions -- deciding to take French classes, turned into big decisions -- deciding to study abroad, and big risks -- apprenticing for a summer at La Tradition on my own. Though it has been such a challenging walk of faith, I've learned that it really is in those small, tiny, moments that dreams are birthed. Within a single thought within a single millisecond. . .
I'm at a loss for words for His goodness and His faithfulness.
But I did make a cake:
Congratulations :D Hope to see you there as I'll also be back in France at that time! God bless you
ReplyDeletehhahhahaha your cake!
ReplyDelete