Cooking Down A Storm

The bitter taste rejection is one that I find hard swallow. One would think that I would be used to it by now, having waited four years before <a href="?her/her.htm" target="_blank">she</a> finally reciprocated my feelings. Yet I found myself so full of anger when I was dealt a blow today.
I had invited my sister to a potluck the Asian Bible Fellowship organised tonight. It was nothing "religious" in nature, just a normal dinner, a normal social event in which I thought she could meet some people more her age. People whom she could count on after I graduated and left Tucson for home. She chose instead to hang out with other people, despite my asking her one whole day in advance. My emotions ran amok right after she made the decision to my face, and I left seething, totally agitated by the fact that she cared so little for my feelings.
I was angry when I drove home, thinking of all the things I had done for her and how little I expected in return, only to be disappointed. In my mind I even made resolutions not to speak to her just to show her my disapproval and agitation.
<center><em>It wasn't fair. She wasn't being fair at all.</em></center>
I wanted to blog all of this down the moment I came home still seething. Capture the moment while it's still fresh, I thought. Maybe then she'll read and find out what I really feel. Sure it was totally against what was intended to <a href="?about.htm" target="_blank">be</a>, but at least I'd have let the steam out of my system. I had a right to get angry.
Coming home, I realised that time had passed and that I had to prepare the food for the potluck, so blogging would just have to wait. Heating up the pasta I had prepared the day before took quite a bit of work as the amount of pasta was enough to feed a small army. Through this small workout I found myself slowly induced into a slow, cathartic state. The anger, bitterness and frustration had dissipated (most of it, anyway), and I remembered my own teenage years, and how I took the love of my own parents for granted. My sister's actions were nowhere near as thoughtless and callous as mine had been back then. I had no right to be angry. No right whatsoever.
It would be a lie to say that I'm not disappointed or frustrated. Or that I'm no longer angry, because to a much smaller extent, I still am. But I know that the self-preserving, egocentric me had to decrease, and that Christ had to establish His presence in all my thoughts and feelings – every part of my life and myself. I still hope that she'd see how much I want for her to come with me, but I know that it is a choice she has to make herself.
Only God can move the human heart. My anger may probably coerce the actions I so desire from her, but only His love exhibited in my life can truly bring her to make a choice. I love her a lot. Even to the point of anger, but unless I love her with a selfless love – His love – I would not have loved her nearly enough.
And that is what I fear. That I didn't do all I could to show her how much Jesus Christ loves her.
<strong>Update :</strong>
After talking to my better, more sensible better half, I regained a lot more of my senses and casually asked my sister if she would want to come to church with me tomorrow.
She said yes.
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