two lows to make a high

It rained for the past two days in Seoul. So I had Regina Spektor's "Raindrops" on constant repeat on my iPod. "Raindrops fallin' on my head, but that doesn't mean that I am dead." One of the best things following a bout of rain is that so.fresh.and.so.clean.clean scent that lingers in the air. My friend gave me a mug when I came here that reads "After a storm comes a calm." So simple. So true. But there's also the time after the calm. It's bound to happen in life; the turbulence that follows peace.

When we're faced with our own hardships, it's most difficult to keep things in perspective. Our difficulties can cloud our judgement and burden us to a point of self-pity. But I guess it's during these painful times that we need most to seek the opportunities to help, serve and assist. It makes you wonder if feeling so broken can actually help you to help another. I recently listened to the testimony of a woman who had lost her twelve-year-old son in a car accident. She somehow gathered the strength to reach out to another woman, a random stranger, who had recently lost her infant son. It was incredibly moving and a testament to just how resilient people are.

People's lives are a medley of andantes and allegros and majors and minors. Maybe it just works best when we attempt to harmonize with others. Fill in the gaps when we can.

Yesterday, a student snuck up on me and scared me. I screamed like a banshee. Now, all the first graders greet me with a "Linda is ahhhhhhhhh!' mocking my scream. Eh well, the "I love you's" had to stop some time.