Just Cyrine

"If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better." — Anne Lamott

[justcyrinne]

“And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 18:3 KJV

I used to hate kids. Being around them felt like torture. They annoyed me on so many levels, and even just the thought of spending an hour with them made my head spin. But everything changed when God placed me in a mission field where I had to deal with children every day. In that place, I learned lessons that only little ones could teach.

One of the most important lessons I learned was forgiveness. I thought I was the one who would teach a lesson to a student who couldn’t sit still and often disturbed the class. One day, my patience was about to snap. I told him to stand outside as punishment, but he refused. So I dragged him out of the room despite his crying and begging to stay. After class, the Korean teacher called him in to give instructions before dismissal. But what happened next made my knees weak: instead of joining his classmates, he ran toward me, hugged me around the waist, and said, “Teacher, I love you.” My face flushed with surprise. At that moment, I realized I had just been schooled by a kindergartener.

Our memory verse for the day was Jesus’ words: “Unless you are converted and become as little children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” God doesn’t literally want us to be children, but He wants us to possess their character. Little children don’t hold grudges the way adults do, and they are humble at heart. These qualities are part of the greater Christlike character. To be like Christ—living out His character daily—is the key to His eternal kingdom. That’s why we must become like little children. We must become like Christ.

[justcyrinne]

My Irrational Fear for Tsuki ga kirei desu ne

I can’t remember how or when my fascination with the moon began, but from the farthest end of my memory that I can still reach, I’ve always gasped each time I beheld her splendid beauty. My heart just suddenly fills with overwhelming joy when the night sky is clear and dear Luna is up there — calm, gentle, and majestic.

My obsession with the moon became intense when I finally owned a smartphone that could capture a decent shot of her glory, decent enough that the moon actually had a shape in the photos, not just a blurry bulb of light. The gallery on that phone probably has around 500 photos of the moon in all her phases, and roughly — just my guesstimation — 300 of those shots are of her in her full, magnificent phase.

A couple of years ago, I used to share this fascination to someone. Each time I went out at night and the sky was clear, I’d take photos of the moon and send some of the best shots, sometimes just one, to this person, saying something like, “The moon is so beautiful tonight,” with multiple crying or heart emojis at the end of the sentence, trying to show how I felt at that moment.

I guess I did that for more than a year — until I read about a Japanese literary trope involving the moon. It’s said that in Japan, when you tell someone “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” it’s actually an indirect way of saying “I love you.”

The gasp I gasped when I read that! My heart skipped a couple of beats. I probably even stopped breathing for a minute. Horror tingled down my spine. I panicked.

From that moment on, I stopped sending that person photos of the moon. I suddenly became afraid that perhaps he knew about this Japanese cultural reference — and all this time, he might have thought I’d been indirectly confessing my love to him. I was terrified by the thought that I’d been embarrassing myself without even realizing it.

What scared me the most was the idea that maybe, just maybe, if he knew I still loved him, he would stop talking to me — that I might make him feel uncomfortable. (And was I making him feel uncomfortable all this time? Oh, good Lord!) I had this irrational fear that I might not be able to keep our friendship if he figured out that I still had feelings for him after we’d agreed to stay platonic to preserve the friendship.

I never asked him if he knew about this Japanese way of indirectly expressing romantic feelings — because what if he did, and by asking, I accidentally made him think I was actually confessing my love when, in reality, I just wanted to share the beauty of the moon?

Looking back, I feel so stupid for having that irrational fear — for panicking over something that might not even have been true. And what if he didn’t know about it, right? He probably just wondered why I suddenly stopped sending him photos of the moon. (Or maybe he didn’t even notice.) And even if he did think I was indirectly telling him I loved him, so what? Did he do anything about it? He didn’t though 🤭. And even if he had asked me about it, I could have just denied everything and acted all innocent to keep my dignity. LOL.

I still carry that irrational fear with me. Maybe I’ll carry it for the rest of my life. That fear has kept me from casually sending anyone photos of the moon even to this day because I don’t want to make them feel uncomfortable in case they know about the Tsuki ga kirei desu ne thing.

[justcyrinne]

Grief of Obedience

I honestly thought we only grieve and mourn for people we lose in our lives. But the past few months have taught me that we can also grieve for the future we wanted so badly for ourselves — the one we had to give up in order to follow God’s leading.

I used to think grieving wasn’t necessary to close that chapter of my life — that it was silly to bargain (and be angry) with the One who holds the blueprint of my life, and that after saying “yes” to His leading, I could just skip straight to acceptance and move forward. But it took me almost a year to realize that letting go of life plans — abandoning the future you’ve worked on for so long — is also like the death of one’s old self. And you can’t fully carry on to the next phase until you process that loss.

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. My denial phase lasted for almost a year. I denied the fact that I was holding so much anger in my heart, and I gaslit myself into believing I had already accepted my fate because I was afraid of getting angry at God.

My anger came in three phases: my anger toward God lasted only a few weeks, followed by anger at myself for about a month, and then an odd stage where my anger morphed into some strange, heavy ball of emotion that hovered over me. When that ball finally lifted, I entered a bargaining-and-depression loop that went on for months.

As I assess myself now, I think I’m in that uncomfortable space between the depression phase and the acceptance phase — there is already acceptance, yet I’m still engulfed by immense sadness over something I cannot control. I’m not sure how long I’ll be in this place.

The way DABDA was explained to us in psychiatric nursing class made me believe it was a point-D-to-point-A process — that once you reached acceptance, you wouldn’t go back to bargaining, or that you couldn’t experience depression and anger at the same time. But this experience, caused by years of disobedience, has taught me otherwise: grieving, like healing, is not linear. I might be stuck in a depression-and-acceptance limbo for years before I finally lock in on full acceptance. Or I might briefly revisit anger before jumping straight to acceptance. Or I might bargain again with God. We’ll never know.

But one thing is certain: He is with me through it all — through limbos and valleys, through level paths and steep climbs, through songs of praise and grateful sighs, and even through the fits I throw when I want things done my way. In every phase I must go through, my Heavenly Father is holding my hand. His love, grace, and mercy will sustain me on this journey.

[justcyrinne]

Because, Perchance

I will never apologize for choosing to leave, for choosing myself, and for choosing to heal. Others may see it as selfish, and I don’t blame them if that’s what they want to believe. Because yes, sometimes it is the selfish ones who walk away. So I don’t blame them.

But I also won’t explain to each of them why I left—because they will never listen, and they will never understand. They will never understand that it was for them, too. That I had to heal so I could love them the right way. My cup was empty, and I needed to fill it before I could pour love into theirs.

I know they loved the broken version of me, but I believed they deserved a better version. They deserved someone who didn’t trauma-dump on them every single day. They deserved someone who knew how to self-regulate her emotions. They deserved someone emotionally mature, someone who could bring peace into their life.

I left with the plan of coming back when I knew better. I left because I loved them. These things may never make sense to them, so why bother justifying my choices, right?

But I’m writing this now because, perchance, they might stumble upon this writing someday. And if they do, at least they’ll have this explanation. I hope, somehow, it will make sense to them.

[justcyrinne]

To Whom It May Concern

Damn. You were never just a distraction.

In the midst of chaos, you were my solace. In a multitude of doubts and uncertainties, you were the only thing I was sure of.

In an ocean of 'perchance,' what I found in you was certainty. In the dark labyrinth I was lost in, you were my torch.

I’ve second-guessed a lot of major decisions I had to make in this lifetime — but with you, I didn’t even have to decide whether to plummet earthward or stay cozy inside my safe bubble.

For you, I would have nosedived to the earth’s core.

No, you were never just a pastime. You were never just something to do — you were someone to cherish.

[justcyrinne]

A Thought From Days Ago

No one can love us with the kind of love that ‘many waters cannot quench… neither can the floods drown’ (Song of Solomon 8:7) except Christ. Yet why do we keep longing to be filled with the kind of love this world offers—self-seeking, disappointing, impatient, and dependent on reciprocity to feel satisfying?

We exhaust ourselves, skin our knees, and chase after things that will always leave us empty. But the love of Christ—everlasting, overflowing, genuine, and comforting—is the only kind of love we should covet. Until we fully understand that Christ Jesus is the true Lover of our soul, we will keep trying to fill our jars with water that can never satisfy.

[justcyrinne]

Failed Escape Routes

For years I was running away from so many things—consequences from the poor choices I had made in the past, old memories, challenges that could’ve made me someone better, and sadly, from God and the life He wanted me to live. If there’s one thing I was good at, it was running away.

I’d run away, and then I’d come back.

I would slip out the back door, leaving all the mess I had made behind, and cross my fingers that by the time I returned, everything would be fine—as if the mess would just magically disappear.

Somehow, I always found my way back into His loving arms. Because of His abundant grace, He would always lead me back into His fold. I would stay for a while, basking in the warmth of His love and mercy. I’d let Him heal my wounds with His balm.

Then, lovingly, He would remind me of the mess I still needed to face—of my secret sins I had yet to confess.

He would also show me the path He wanted me to take while He cared for my wounds:

My child, this is what I want you to do. Walk this path, for in it you will glorify My name. I will use you to plant seeds in every heart you meet. Your journey here will not be easy, but I will be with you. Don’t worry.

Yet, the renegade child that I was refused to settle those things. I hardened my already stubborn heart and would not listen to His pleadings. My selfishness pushed me to follow my own desires, to walk the path I wanted instead of His. My lips said, “Your will be done,” but my heart longed for something else.

So again, I wandered away from Him—once my wounds had closed and the bruises had faded.

The world never gave me peace. All it offered was fleeting happiness and empty joys. And though I knew where that road would lead, I still returned to the wilderness, away from His presence. Its glittering lights were inviting, but they never gave me what I was looking for. I never learned.

For years, my life was a never-ending loop of running away and coming home to Him.

I’d run away, and then I’d come back. I’d run away, and then I’d come back. I’d run away, and then I’d come back.

Until one day, I ran too far. I got lost. Or maybe I wasn’t lost at all—maybe I was just too ashamed to return. It came to a point where I didn’t even want to bother Him anymore.

The enemy whispered lies in my own voice: What’s the point of going back? You’ll just leave again. Forget it. Just stay here.

So when challenges came, or when I had to face the aftermath of my bad choices, I refused to deal with them. I ran as fast and as far as I could, though I had no idea where to go. I just knew I needed to hide. One by one, heaps of unsettled matters and troubles piled up around me.

Trouble after trouble, storm after storm, I poured every ounce of strength into escaping my failures. But no matter how hard I tried, I had no real place to turn to, no home to rest my weary, aching heart. And so I told myself—perhaps another one of the enemy’s lies—I got this. From then on, I never looked back.

I thought I had it all together. I thought my escape routes were perfectly planned. I had blueprints upon blueprints of alternatives, just in case failure found me.

But every so-called emergency exit only opened into another trap. My plans were never for renewal, only for escape. Deep down, I craved a fresh start, but I didn’t know where to begin—because all I ever knew was how to run away.

Every path I took led to a dead end. Doors locked. Gates sealed. Walls too strong to break. Mountains too high to climb. Not one of my escape routes led to the fresh start I so desperately hungered for.

By the dawn of 2018, my tired legs could carry me no farther. I had no strength left. No maps in my hands. My knees were skinned raw from stumbling over and over. For the first time in years, I yearned for His presence. I thirsted for the Living Water.

I turned around—and there He was. My Savior, waiting at the end of the road the whole time, patient and faithful. He called me by name and invited me home.

You look weary, My child. Come, let Me heal your wounds once more.

And I answered, Lord, I cannot take another step. My legs have no strength left. I cannot reach You on my own. Help me, Lord. Save me.

And He did. He lifted me into His mighty yet loving arms and carried me home. Since then, I have never wished to run away again. My youth had been wasted on constant fleeing, and now even the thought of leaving His will makes my heart ache.

Looking back, I see His hand in every peril I faced. He was there, even when I thought He had abandoned me. He lifted my head above crashing waves when my ship capsized. He caught me when I fell into ravines, placing me gently in safer places. He never let me suffer more than I could bear, though He allowed me enough pain to learn.

One morning, in quiet reflection, I asked Him: Lord, why did You let me flee? Why did You allow me to leave Your side?

And He answered in a still, small voice: Because I love you, My wild child. I wanted you to see what life apart from Me truly is. I wanted you to know the difference between the world’s light and My Light. I let you follow your foolish escape routes so you could learn that you never have to run away from Me—because in Me, there is peace and comfort. Just follow My lead, My precious child, and you’ll be fine.

All those failed escape routes, all those dead ends, led me back to Him. And for that, I cannot praise my Savior enough.

I have seen the world. I have tasted what it has to offer. And I know now—it never gave me true joy.

I will never wish to wander again.

In Him, I found comfort. In Him, I found assurance. He never promised me a life free of struggle, but He promised something better: that He would never leave my side.