Sunday Thoughts

This morning the sermon I heard centered on Isaiah Chapter 43. This passage is to the people of Israel. God is reminding them that He is their Creator and Lord. He tells them first, “Do not be afraid.” I’ve seen so much in the past few months about fear. It seems like that is all that the media and social media are pushing. The state of the environment, political chaos, financial uncertainty–all of the headlines and stories promote and stir up fear. But when we step back and think about who we are and Who God is, there isn’t really anything to fear. When we think about how beloved we are, there is no cause for alarm. We CAN choose not to be afraid and instead let peace rule in our hearts. Fear paralyzes us and that is what the enemy wants.

As the pastor spoke today, I admit my mind got a little stuck in the second verse. It says, “When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you. For I am the Lord, your God…” and later at the end of verse four it says, “You are precious to me. You are honored, and I love you.”

It struck me that in the second verse it does not say “IF” you go through difficult things. It instead says “WHEN”. We ARE going to go through trials and challenging times. There is no way to have a perfect and easy life. But there are some incredible promises for the troubling times.

I also let myself contemplate these situations. Deep waters—when I think of this, I think about struggling to keep my head above water. I think of treading, trying every day to make it. Treading water is hard work. Actually, in my life right now, I am working so hard, trying to make ends meet. It is rough and I feel so tired. In deep waters we feel overwhelmed. We are just fighting and struggling every day. Those deep waters can be really dark. We can’t see the end to our struggle. It can also feel so cold, as if we are alone. As we fight and struggle, we can get so tired and feel tempted to give up. We can feel tempted to just let ourselves sink and give up trying. God’s promise is that in those deep waters we aren’t alone. He is with us. I think of the peace Jesus brought to the storm at sea and the hand He held out to the sinking Peter–in our storms, He is there. He isn’t going to leave us alone. We can depend on Him.

I then considered rivers of difficulty. A river is always moving and is always on the go. The imagery of this made me think of being knocked down over and over again. In a rushing river you can just get pulled along, scraped and battered on the way. Just when it feels like you can reach the shore and get some peace, the current pulls you into the deep again. I think of those I love who are in this spot–where the hard knocks just seem to keep coming. It seems relentless and overpowering. But God says, “You will not drown.” It won’t be easy of course, but it will not conquer us.

Finally, the verse talks about walking through the fire of oppression. Fires are painful and intense. If a fire burns us, we are wounded and we are in peril. Even though fires of oppression will hurt, God promises that we will not get burned up and destroyed. Again, even that firey oppression cannot conquer us.

Obviously, we don’t want to go through painful and difficult trials at all. We would prefer our lives were comfortable, peaceful and without pain. We also want that for the people we love the most. But that is not the reality of life. The reality is that we are going to endure those deep waters, those rivers of difficulty and those fires of oppression. But we don’t have to be fearful because we are not alone, and we are loved.

The Youngins

When I missed the deadline for getting into the AP Biology grading pool, I was asked if I would like to grade for AP Seminar. I had no idea what Seminar was, although I knew it was connected to Capstone. I watched Capstone presentations in Malaysia, so I knew that it had to do with research.

Upon a little research of my own, I found that they take a test, so I thought, “Hey, I’ll be okay grading an essay question on a test as long as I have a rubric.” Well, on day one, I found I was put into the group of IWA readers. The IWA is the individual written argument, which is a 2000-word (around 12 page) research paper about something connected to a given theme.

I felt quite overwhelmed and a little grumpy about it as it all began. It is worth quite a few points and we have to be as objective as possible. We did a lot of training and tried to get really familiar with the rubric. It’s hard to determine sometimes if the student made a solid argument or if they didn’t. But through regular testing and back-reading, we try to stay true to the rubric and not make mistakes.

The process of grading these has been very exhausting on the brain and the eyeballs. But as the week comes to a close, I’m really thankful for the experience. I’ve had a renewed sense of appreciation for what the grading of the AP testing is really all about. People from all over the world are coming together to work hard and to assign equitable scores. It’s quite the endeavor to handle the grading of all those millions of responses across all of these different subjects.

I also realized that through grading this subject, I’ve been given a little glimpse into the minds of a younger generation (probably born around 2006-2007). I’ve basically heard from almost 200 strangers so far this week about different topics that matter to them. That’s a gift. I thought I’d share some surprising revelations I’ve gained.

*They do care a lot about justice and equity for all people. They don’t necessarily know how to find the best solutions for the problems in the world today, but they do want things to be fair.

*Their attitudes about social media really surprised me. The topic has come up a lot and most who wrote about it had a negative perspective. It’s almost like they know it’s probably not going to go anywhere, but they wish they had experienced more life without it. They seem disillusioned with it and with influencers.

*They can see that they don’t like where life is going and the state of the world, but they don’t know how to change it. They don’t know how to make an impact in a meaningful way that could bring true change. Any avenue that you might think could work has not, so there is a sense of helplessness. The systems we have aren’t working for so many and it’s hard to change systems.

*They are tired of dissension and bickering (especially in the United States) and they’d like to see a way forward where we cooperate to make our country and the world a better place.

*While I did find that there were some things that they believed or stated that I didn’t agree with, I appreciated hearing diverse voices. There are so many “talking heads” out there and so much to listen to, and sometimes we get stuck in a rut. I appreciated listening to these kids in this way. I’m grateful for the opportunity.

Maybe if you’re not in education like I am, surrounded by the younger generation all the time, challenge yourself to chat with someone a little older or younger than you are. Ask them about their hopes and dreams and the challenges that they face. Ask them how we could work together to improve things in the world. Encourage them by sharing how you’re proud of them, at whatever stage of life they are in. Try to hear some other voices and determine to build some bridges instead of walls.

Yup, Still Not a Co-inky-dink

Like I have already expressed, I’m not really a believer in coincidence and I have yet another example of that. On our drive to church last Sunday, I had summer travels on my mind. I’m not sure where all we will go, but we have been invited to a wedding and we’re trying to consider the logistics and who we can bump into and hug along the way (yes, this is the piece of me that is so much like Pauline Hawkins Helsel. I embrace it.)

Anyhoo, as we drove, I thought I would send a message to a graduate from Penang (Class of 2019), who I knew was attending grad school at Georgia Tech. If we’re going to be in Georgia, I need to collect information about who we might be able to see while we are there. I texted and asked him if he’d be there in the summer. He said he would be, but right now, he was in Texas. He asked where we were in Texas and he then said, “Want to meet for lunch?” I was super shocked to find out that he would be in our city that day.

Matthew and his family were our neighbors in our apartment complex in Penang for four years. Matthew was a good friend to Ryan and the most patient teen with Chase. Little Chase would go over there regularly after school and talk to Matthew. Matthew would show him and explain the cool projects he was working on. He graduated in 2019 and headed to the States. His family went with him for a year and were supposed to return–but COVID. Their apartment sat empty for the last three years we were there, and we haven’t seen them since.

Apparently, Matthew had to come to Austin to set up some cool technology for our solar eclipse event on Monday the 8th. His team is collecting information about the ionosphere and although that’s not my field of science, it was awesome to learn a little bit about it. So, my nudge to send him a message led to some texting which led to him joining us for dinner!

Matthew blew into the house like a breath of fun fresh air. It was so joyful to be in his presence again after 5 years. There was so much conversation and SO much laughter. It was sweet and it was no co-inky-dink.

Praise, Not Performance

Please note that these are my thoughts and in writing them, I have plenty to reflect on personally. They are not directed to judge anyone but are purely general observations. Maybe you will see yourself here as you pause to consider the words.

Generally, I have found that in our American culture that we can be fairly picky. We like things “our way” and have applied that in many areas of our lives. I think we’ve been conditioned to expect and demand things our way because of the comfort of life, consumerism and advertising. When things don’t go our way, we can complain or get angry. We don’t often pivot or go with the flow. If something doesn’t meet our expectations, we drop it, leave it, or even worse–we cancel it.

One of the things that I have seen Americans “shop” for is a church. I’ve been there myself as I moved to a new city/state. We visited so many different places. Some were small and some were big. It is interesting that when we visit a church, we consider what the preaching is like (Did they speak well? Did it challenge/teach me?). We talk about the music (What was the music like? Only contemporary or a mixture of classic hymns and contemporary music? Was it too loud? Did it sound good?) What ministries did they have and what were the people like? Notice, most of that is about ME. It’s not about praying about a place to see if we should land there. It is about what I like or want. And if there is something we find we don’t like, we head somewhere else.

While church does involve music, it often seems to be very performance driven rather than participatory. Since returning we have visited several churches with a huge stage, lights, and overwhelming volume. While I have appreciated the talent of all the musicians, in my opinion, it isn’t really the best way to engage the worshipper and get them to participate. (By the way, we went to a church in Penang where this was the case too. It’s not just the US. To be honest, we got to the Penang church late to miss the music.) It’s very easy to just be the listener and observer at the church worship concert.

This weekend at the church we attend, something pretty special happened and I don’t think the casual observer would have known about it. In fact, the visitor who might be “shopping” for a church might have found it “off-putting” but man…I think God was really happy about it.

We have a new couple in our church who has been attending a couple months. The husband is suffering from dementia and his wife is caring for him. That already pulls on my heart strings, because I know about the burden of that care. His wife told the pastor that he plays instruments and would love to play in church. He probably can’t commit to a worship team practice, etc. What was so admirable is that our pastor invited him up to join them and play the drums with their last song in the worship set. She did this without full knowledge of his musical capabilities. I thanked her for taking that chance because I know it was risky.

Was it perfect? No way. Was it exactly on tempo? Naw man…but it was so beautiful. He seemed a bit unsure as he began–a little timid, uncertain–and then he joined them, and it was just fine. In fact, I would argue that his imperfection was ABSOLUTE perfection. He can’t give a lot to church. His capabilities are not what they used to be, but he can give this way. He can participate and worship God with his gifts, no matter what they are. Someone who doesn’t know the situation may judge and say that it wasn’t good, but I can’t even express how powerful it felt.

It definitely made me think about how we discourage those who have gifts to give, because we don’t think it will measure up to what we expect in church. How can we do better about being the body and giving grace to those who want to serve in any capacity that they are able? Why do we “shop around”, expecting things that WE like instead of focusing on what pleases Him? It gave me so much to think about and I hope it did for you too.

Screwed Up, Then Saved

This week I did something with our finances that I thought I was okay to do, and it wasn’t. I was trying to help our situation, but I woke up suddenly after being asleep for an hour, aware that I had made a major mistake. I realized I REALLY messed up. I frantically tried to figure out what I could do about it. Discovering that you did something terrible in the middle of the night is not a good thing. I didn’t sleep all night.

Everyone knows that is it like to mess up–to make a mistake–do something you can’t take back. The weight of it was crushing and I felt so awful. When the sun rose, I told Casey about it and wept. Not only was I suffering, but I had to apologize for hurting him and our family. I didn’t know if my mistake could be fixed, although I certainly was going to try. Thankfully an automated email response to my message sent in the middle of the night let me know that the bank was open, and I called right away.

The second person I talked to kindly fixed MY error for me. I don’t think she could grasp through a phone conversation how grateful and thankful I felt. She didn’t know what I went through the night before and how terrified I was that we were going to be stuck in a more difficult situation because of my mistake.

Several things struck me about this experience. First, I’m always going to mess up and be in need of forgiveness. Just when I think experience has surely taught me enough by now about being more careful and patient, I make a poor choice. I’m not going to get it right all the time, even when I think I should. It’s important for me to own it.

Secondly, making mistakes can really hurt. It’s painful and heavy when we hurt ourselves and others. My mistake brought worry–a LOT of it. I couldn’t sleep or eat and felt the strong physical impact of my poor decision. It is an awful burden to carry.

Lastly, it’s incredible when we are forgiven and when things are made right. You feel free! Those burdens that take us to the point of breaking are taken away. How appropriate that on Easter weekend I get that reminder. Someone came to make things right and give His life to set us free. We don’t deserve it, but He gives us a clean slate. I’m so very thankful.

Reading and the Darkest of Nights

For a large portion of my childhood, we didn’t have a television in the house. That is altogether quite rare. I really do appreciate it as I look back on it. Lots of make-believe, hours of play with friends, flying kites, swimming and games, and READING. Books were a big part of my life–either reading on my own or listening to my father read. I have strong memories of visiting the Neilson Hays Library in Bangkok, and loving the special story times and dramatic productions they would host.

We read so many books together as I grew up. One book I loved was Richard Scarry’s Great Steamboat Mystery. I am sure my parents grew to hate it as I begged for that to be read over and over again. As I got older, I collected my own books. I remember that my brother and I worked hard to save our Baht so we could buy Tintin comics. We’d still listen to Dad read to us, even as we got older, but the books got more difficult and more interesting. I did love Dorothy Sayers, and as a young child I was fascinated by the “gore” on the front cover of Have His Carcase (see that little bit of blood on his glove? Gasp!). Another book set we’d listen to Dad read over and over again were The Chronicles of Narnia.

I was thinking as Good Friday dawned about the particular chapter when Aslan is alone in the garden and has made a deal with the White Witch to give his life for Edmund. He is going through the night with great sorrow and Lucy and Susan wake up and sense his distress. He allows them to spend some time with him in the darkness, but when the Witch and her gang arrive, Aslan tells them to go back to camp. He has to endure this alone.

They do leave but instead of returning to camp, they hide and watch the terrible event of his humiliation and execution. Their hearts hurt so much, and they can’t understand why Aslan is doing this. If they had the power to stop it, they most certainly would, for they love him. They are powerless to intervene, and they see evil apparently conquer him.

I am thinking, more intentionally today, of the people who loved Jesus and walked beside Him for His three years of ministry. They loved Him deeply because they gave everything up to learn from Him and share life with Him. They didn’t have the hindsight I have, of knowing what happened on the third day. He told them, but they didn’t understand–they couldn’t understand.

I can feel it a bit–that incomprehension of that dark night. When someone we love unexpectedly loses their life, and we just can’t understand it. When someone fights a terrible and incurable disease, enduring intense suffering and when awful events transpire in the world that make little sense. It’s dark and terrible and there is no answer in these situations. There is not necessarily a “deeper purpose” or a meaning. It just can’t be understood. It is really difficult to live with that. While Jesus rose again on that third day, some people I love deeply are still stuck in that darkness of night where there are no answers. All I can hold on to and know is that it will not last forever. There is a hope and glory that we can’t see at this moment. One day, yes, one day, it will all be made right.

No Mere Coincidence

I never want to forget what the 2021-2022 school year was like and why it was that way. We struggled with the decision facing us—should Casey go back to the States for the year and try to work there while I stayed in Malaysia with the fellas to get #2 graduated? We talked through it and grappled with it a lot. Neither of us could imagine making such a big step. Neither of us could imagine being apart from each other for a whole year (and 1/2 way around the world at that!). Malaysia was still in lockdown so there would be no changing our minds or visiting each other that year.

In some ways it made sense and in some ways it didn’t. I remember the day when I really knew it was the right step to take. I listened and I knew it was right. The reality of doing the year on my own and closing down life in Malaysia by myself was so daunting, but deep inside there was peace. That peace never went away and for me, it felt like God was tangibly present for that whole year.

The day Casey left felt so hard. We walked him down to the van, helped load his bags and I cried many tears in the apartment parking lot. (It felt a little easier though than sending #1 off the year before–because I felt Casey knew America and could navigate it.) As we hugged, a neighbor I didn’t know from the other building jogged by. He was a brief witness to our emotional moment of separation.

After the van pulled away, the boys went back upstairs but I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to go back to the apartment, empty of Casey. I wasn’t ready to go in my room and be in there without him (it is ALWAYS harder to be the one left than the one leaving!). I decided to walk, but even that felt so sad because we had been walking together. I walked one of our usual routes and wore my sunglasses so fewer people could see my puffy leaking eyes. The weather was just fine for a walk, but suddenly, out of nowhere, a rain cloud started dumping rain right where I was walking. Everyone out exercising rain for temporary shelter or an awning.

As I stood there under an awning, waiting out this ridiculous rain shower from NOWHERE, I saw a rainbow. When I saw it, I thought, “Hey, thanks God.” It was bone dry even just a few blocks away, but this shower dumped right where I was, and I saw a reminder of God’s promises. But it wasn’t over yet. Standing right next to me, waiting out this freak rainstorm, was this neighbor. He had jogged way over from our building a mile or so away to this same area (what??) and was stuck by this same storm in the same place (again…what??) He asked, “Didn’t I just see you saying goodbye to your husband?” I said yes…he asked how long we’d be separated. When I said a year, he was surprised but then he said, “Well, you have your kids with you. And don’t worry, it’ll go by really fast.” I was stunned. This complete stranger had this special message for me. I am sure he doesn’t remember this interaction, but I will never forget it. It felt like the God of heaven was reaching out and giving me the biggest hug in my deep moment of pain.

The year stretched our family in so many ways. It was hard and lonely for Casey. It was challenging and difficult for me. I personally learned a lot and experienced many new things (getting a motorcycle battery unhooked, charged, and reattached), selling a motorcycle and a car, snaking out a kitchen drain, to name a few. It hurt, but I will always be thankful. It’s for that reason that I chose the message “Difficult is good” to put on my arm. I may not like it and it may hurt, but it will always be used for my good.

We’re coming up on two years in the States, and that tangible presence of God is escaping me. I ache for that nearness and don’t understand why it’s harder to pin Him down. I need direction and I have questions, concerns, and pain and am begging for that rainbow or that random stranger—and it just eludes me. I wonder if it is me…am I not paying attention? Am I not being still? Am I being distracted by the intensity of life here in the States, trying to survive? Or is there something more to this?

I don’t think I have the answer but recently I have found that I need to pay attention to the small things. Maybe you can tell that I’m not really into coincidence and random events. I believe that there is a reason that certain things happen. For example, just a few weeks ago, Casey told me he wanted to go see a friend who was visiting in San Antonio. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go, but decided I would. The traffic was horrendous, and it wasn’t easy to get down there. By the time we had gotten 1/4 of the way there, I was wondering why I decided to go! But, as we got ready to travel back, Casey got hit by a bout of serious vertigo. Everything was spinning and he was throwing up incessantly. I had to drive home. I also had left two reuseable grocery bags in the truck, meaning to put them back in the car. I just hadn’t done it yet–for no good reason actually. Both of these things saved my husband (and his truck). One could chalk them up to pure coincidence or luck if one wanted, but I’m just not into that. I see that He’s right here, even when I’m not so sure.

Today I took Chase home a bit early from school and stopped at the drug store. We just had to take on a big cost of getting the truck transmission fixed, but wouldn’t you know it, they didn’t get the belt back on correctly for the gear shift! In the drug store parking lot, I put the truck in reverse and then I couldn’t put it into drive, or park, or anything. The gear shift just wouldn’t engage. I was blocking parked cars in (oh brother) and people who were trying to pass in the parking lot (good times). But I was able to scoot it over a bit and Chase called Casey. Chase walked home from there and then Casey was able to drive over, having borrowed a generous co-worker’s car. He crawled under and reattached the belt momentarily and we took it back to the mechanic. That wasn’t necessarily an enjoyable way to end the day, but as we discussed it on our way back to school, I felt cared for. This didn’t happen far away from home. We got help from someone and were easily able to drop it at the garage again. I also didn’t run into anyone in the parking lot or make anyone angry by blocking them in.

The silence is tough. It’s made some people I love turn away from God. They don’t feel that He has answered, and they don’t see His hand at work, even in the small stuff. Maybe they just chalk it up to “luck”. I guess it’s a lot about faith–and believing—when things are really hard and silent. I hope to always keep my eyes and heart open, even in the midst of trouble and pain. Because sometimes the small things just say, “I’m here…I’m with you always.”

Read to Understand

One of the great treasures of American society is the public library. When we arrived and had proof of our address, I quickly convinced my hubby that it was time to sign up for a library card. Then the overwhelming part faced me. How do I choose what book to read? What mood do I find myself in? What do I want to read?
I took a few suggestions from my Mom, read some more books by an author I chanced upon while buying a book for my trans-world airline trip, and then picked a few titles based on some movie titles I saw (never saw the movies, just read the book). I’ve actually “devoured” quite a few books since I have been here although arguably, I don’t have a lot of spare time in my life. I’ve squeezed in some reading on the weekends, and it has been a good thing.

One book that I knew nothing about but just haphazardly grabbed off the shelf was “Homegoing” by Yaa Gyasi. It really helped me see some things that I didn’t fully understand about my brothers and sisters of color. At times of increased racial tension, I have heard white people ask why they have to apologize for slavery since it happened in the past and they had nothing to do with it. “Homegoing” helped me understand this better as I experienced the lives of this fictional family.

The book is fascinating because it begins with the stories of two sisters separated from one another by circumstance. Just when I started feeling really engaged with a character, it would switch to another. While I initially felt jarred by all the cliff-hangers, wanting to know more about their stories, I found the author was skillfully introducing the readers to the successive generations in the family of these two women.

One of the core beliefs of American culture is that you can be different from previous generations. If you work hard and choose differently, you can break the cycles of the past and forge a new path. No matter how far we think we can diverge from the past, we do have an unbreakable relationship with it. There are things we take from our parents, grandparents, great-grandparents because of their relational influence but also because of the very genes we have. Slavery was not only relegated to the 86 years (1776-1862) but it had a resounding impact on their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and beyond. While I did believe this based on the societal systems that developed after Emancipation, what I appreciate about this book was the fact that it helped me look at its impact on a particular family. This took it from a heady “idea” to flesh and bones. While I often found myself putting myself in the shoes of the characters–what would I feel about this? How would I react?, I also found myself gaining a greater understanding of how slavery impacted successive generations and how it resonates still throughout history. While it isn’t part of my experience, I can build greater empathy and understanding. That’s why we should read…to try to see and understand.

Road Trippin’

It was one of our favorite things to do on the weekend. We’d hop in our Kijang and head up the mountain. We would drive through Getasan and before reaching Kopeng we’d turn off and head up the road for Telomoyo. We went all the way to the top, admire the view and breathe crisp air. Then we’d come back another way, squeezing through the vegetable market. The hubby drove and the babe sat snuggled against me in a selendang, bright serious blue eyes and whitish blonde hair. I can almost see the cooler mountain breeze whipping at his tufts of hair through the open window. Through the tiny villages, we slowly puttered, certainly seeing life as it had been for hundreds of years. At the time, almost twenty years ago, life was still unhurried and simple. We passed men and women farmers carrying heavy loads on their heads, grandmas with few teeth hunched over, sweeping the dry dusty courtyards. Children, little children, were running in play on the road which was only wide enough for one car. I remember the day they caught sight of him and shrieked, “Cina! Cina!” (pronounced “Chee-nah”- meaning “Chinese”). When curious eyes caught sight of the pale blonde hair they became transfixed, staring at this sight which they had possibly never seen.

I remember other rides–to Solo, Semarang, Pacitan and Yogya. I remember the short spell (thankfully!) that both big boys experienced bouts of carsickness when traveling. I also remember the few times when we drove the length of the United States. The boys were young and watched lots of movies, often missing out on the scenery along the long roads from Washington, to Iowa, to Indiana, to Maryland and back. We stopped places along the way- Little Bighorn, Yellowstone, Mt. Rushmore, the Badlands, the Corn Palace, and Gettysburg. Lots of hours. Lots of moments—both good and bad. Lots of traffic, lots of lessons, lots of memories, lots of laughter and plenty of tears.

In Malaysia, we’ve driven around less. Work and activities have kept us so much busier and it wasn’t easy to just hop in the car and get off the island. Any traveling we did was with a vacation destination in mind, during a longer break. A short jaunt just for the sake of exploring has been rare. Then COVID came and travel stopped. Stopped still. We had to stay home all the time. We’re going to try this weekend–hopping in the car for one last family excursion. This will be the last one for a while the thought of that makes my heart ache. I wish I could make the day pass by in slow motion, but I can’t. For then—the next road trip, in just a short week, will be to the airport—for “goodbye”.

“Everything Will Be OK”

The black T-shirt with the splashed white writing haunts me. She made a mindful decision to wear that T-shirt on that day, grabbing it rather than others. But, everything is not okay.

She knew things weren’t okay, and for that reason she would be on the streets protesting. It is not okay that the elected leaders of her country are imprisoned. It is not okay that the legitimate decision which voters made is being ignored. It is not okay that turmoil reigns. It is not okay that the military is firing on unarmed protestors with live rounds. She even anticipated that things might not go well for her. According to news reports, she had already made arrangements to be an organ donor and had posted her blood type. She had seen firsthand that things were ugly and not at all okay.

Seeing the picture of her life-less body, peaceful in its stillness, with her blood soaking the black T-shirt, I felt shaken. This screams loudly, “No, it’s not okay.” More than anything, her shirt, chosen intentionally or possibly whimsically, becomes a rallying cry. The fight must continue, wrong must made right, justice must be served—so that once again, “Everything Will Be OK.”

Rest in peace Kyal Sin.

Image: news.yahoo.com