I'm Not a Spy (Or Am I?)

So I think I'd make a pretty decent spy. I'm not the best at remembering things and I'm not very sneaky, but there may be other aspects of spy-dom that would highlight my strengths. I learned at the Spy Museum today that spies must live in isolation (I definitely have that down right now), and they must be able to keep secrets (I can also do that very well). In the event of an interrogation, however, I may be more willing to offer up secrets. 

Watching "The Imitation Game" last month introduced me to the WWII story of Alan Turing and the German enigma. Because I watched the film, I was able to appreciate the Spy Museum's WWII spy exhibit. There was an actual enigma machine on display! They also had a room set up to resemble the cabins at Bletchley Park, which is where the movie takes place (and where all the enigma decoding happened during WWII.)  

Enigma Machine

Bletchley Park room

lipstick pistol

cyber war exhibit

The most interesting artifacts displayed, in my opinion, were the spy weapons. You could follow the development of spy weapons over the decades, but they were so advanced even in the early 1900s. Many of the weapons seemed fictional, and I couldn't believe that they were actually used. For example, a lipstick pistol was on display. A pistol. Lipstick. A pistol that looked like a tube of lipstick. I mean, how clever is that? Many of the weapons seemed small and harmless. But I guess any poisonous bullet would kill you, no matter its size. You could get shot/stabbed/poked/shocked by any of those hidden spy weapons, and you'd have no idea what hit you. That stuff in the movies… yeah, that's inspired by real life-- not the other way around. The museum highlighted how writers in American history have been used as spies. Edgar Allan Poe was apparently very talented at deciphering codes, and Ian Flemming used his experiences as a naval intelligence officer for a series of spy novels. You may have heard of them-- They're about an agent named James Bond.

hidden spy weapons

There was one spy story that captivated me (maybe because it involved an immigrant). A German man immigrated to the the US and obtained citizenship in the 1940s. Germany found out about his citizenship and threatened him into becoming a German spy. The German man told the US government about his situation, and he became a double agent. The information he leaked allowed the US to find and remove multiple German agents who were spying behind our lines. How cool is that? Just a regular Joe, or Josef (He was German), working as a double agent by chance.

Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle

St. Matthew's

Whelp, this week was the start of the Lenten season! I decided to attend an Ash Wednesday mass (since cathedrals are everywhere in DC). Mass services were happening all day long so I wandered into the Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle. Actually, I didn't wander. I followed the directions on my horrible google maps until I spotted the cathedral. At that point, I rushed in to find a seat, which was not easy. The cathedral was obviously beautiful. I couldn't see any of the speakers or singers, but I tried to experience grace in a new way. I'm excited about this new journey with Jesus through Lent! I didn't know any of the rituals during the service, but I never felt out of place. I tried to contemplate and reflect, but I need more discipline in that area.

This week also marked the start of the Chinese New Year! I was really really craving some steamed rolls (baozi) and some milk tea (very Chinese). Noor also loves boba tea so she and I headed to China Town Thursday night in search of these treats. I got THE LAST red bean baozi in some obscure sandwich place. It was so good! And the boba milk tea really made me miss my friends in China. I may have a regular "Baozi and Boba Thursday" or something-- like my own "Margarita Tuesday." Wow, that makes me sound really lame. 

Chinese baozi and boba tea

I also kind of learned how to shovel snow this week! That's what everyone does up here when work gets cancelled-- they shovel snow. And it was a splendid time. My landlady asked if I wanted to shovel on Friday morning, and I said, "Sure! I do take payments in coffee." She brewed me some Jamaican Me Crazy in the Keurig, and I was a happy girl. And thanks to the melting and the re-freezing, I'll be slipping around everywhere outside until it warms up. Yay!

Whatever You Do, Do it Well

       It's Sunday. This morning I woke up (praise the Lord), did some tabata, dressed for church, ate a bowl of cereal, and braved the cold and windy19 degree weather to go to church. When I got on the blue line to Largo, I discovered that there were no trains running between Van Dorn St. and King St. There were free shuttles taking people from Van Dorn to Eisenhower Ave, where we could get back on the metro. I was already running behind for church, but hey I've never been on time anyway. 

       The shuttle dropped us off, and we waited. And waited. And waited. After 10 minutes, I was in so much pain from the cold. I was sure that my ears were frost-bitten and falling off my head. 20 minutes went by. I couldn't feel my feet or my hands. It was time for me to quit. I walked off the platform, took the free shuttle back to to Van Dorn, the metro back to Springfield, and the car back to the house.  

       You know those times when you get super creative or inspired to do something but you're not sure what to do with yourself? That was me when I got back home. I listened to "Coffee with Chris," which is Christine Caine's weekly podcast, played guitar, reviewed memory verses, and brainstormed for potential tattoo designs while listening to to Bethel worship. 

       One memory verse struck me in a new way. It was Ecclesiastes 9:10, and it said, "Whatever you do, do well. For when you go to the grave, there will be no work or planning or knowledge or wisdom." I wanted to read more. I wanted to know just how I could do whatever I'm doing "well." As some of you may know, Ecclesiastes is not the most encouraging book of the Bible. A wise man, the teacher, goes on and on about the injustices, the ironies, the uncertainties, and the futilities of life. Ecclesiastes 9:11 hit me hard:

"I have observed something else under the sun. The fastest runner doesn’t always win the race, and the strongest warrior doesn’t always win the battle. The wise sometimes go hungry, and the skillful are not necessarily wealthy. And those who are educated don’t always lead successful lives. It is all decided by chance, by being in the right place at the right time."

       Chance. Really? That's comforting. Am I not an exception to this? I know that the Lord has told me to go to law school. My law school career… my LIFE, for goodness sake... surely can't just be left up to chance. Why do I want a law degree? Is it even my passion? Wait, does passion matter? What if I can't do it? I've never really had to fight for anything in my life. Failure has usually been a sign for me  to pursue something else. But this calling to go to law school is different. If I fail, I can't just walk off the platform and go back home. If I fail, I'll actually have to keep trying. 

       I'll admit it. At this point, I'm crying. I'm just so afraid. I'm afraid that I won't succeed the first time. I'm afraid that I'll have to keep trying. I'm afraid that I'll have to fight. A person can't just give up on something that the Creator, the Master, the King has asked them to do. I can't just quit. 

       God graciously and patiently answered some of my questions this afternoon. You want a law degree because you want to serve me. The passion that matters is your passion to use your gifts and abilities for my glorify. If you can't do it, I'm still faithful. I won't lead you to destruction.  

       Leaving life up to "chance" means knowing that God will put you in the right place at the right time. He knows our decisions before we make them and the paths of our lives before we take them. He works all things together for the good of those who love him. In rain or shine, death or life, scarcity or abundance, a life abandoned to the Lord is no waste. Whatever I do, I'll do it well-- not just out of obedience but out of love. Love for the God who sees me. Love for the God who knows me better than I know myself. Love for the God who gave his son so that all the world could know him. 

       When law school (or life) gets tough, I'm deciding to do exactly what I did last summer after a long and frustrating day of studying for the LSAT. I'm going to crawl into the driver seat of my car, turn my key in the ignition, lift up my hands, close my eyes, and say to the King, "I don't know what you're doing, but I'm choosing to obey. I know you've called me to this so I'm giving it all I've got. The rest is all You."

At the Mercy of the Yellow Line

Museum of Natural History

       Life has really started to pick up! Thanks to the wonderful Zack and Autumn Randles, I've been working childcare for Waterfront Church. I think I have found my church home for the spring at Waterfront. I remember deciding that I wanted to be a part a church plant while I was in DC, and it just so happens that Waterfront is a church plant. The generous members have taken me under their wing, and I've been able to meet and connect with cool peeps who are just like me! I joined them in visiting the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History last week and in eating some killer Chinese food.

Hope Diamond, Smithsonian

       This has been the most exciting week at the ABA so far. I came in to the office on Tuesday and had gotten an email about joining a conference call to take notes. This was my first conference call ever, and I had no idea what I was doing. But just like everything else, I jumped in and figured it out. The call was a working group meeting about fighting notario fraud. There were influential people from Maryland, DC, and Virginia working together to educate consumers and stop the fraud. I was especially interested in the investigative part of their work. How cool would it be to visit a fraudulent business undercover?

Wok and Roll

       I encourage you to do some research on notario fraud when you get a chance. Scammers are basically posing at attorneys (called "notarios" in Mexico and other Latin American countries) and charging immigrants for legal services that they can't even give. For all those in Texas-- HRBlock of Texas has actually been engaging in something similar to this. Organizations in the working group identify these types of businesses, seek out victims of fraud, prosecute the offenders to compensate victims, educate consumers, and push legislation to protect immigrants. Hopefully, I'll be able to attend the next meeting in person and match faces to the voices.

China Town

       I took a call in Spanish last week! Well, kind of. There was not a Spanish-speaker available to take the call for me and I didn't want to ask the detainee to call us back. So I bucked up and did my best to understand. Someone started talking to me in English half-way through the call. He finished the call for the first man and requested some information for himself. I've started asking the Spanish-speaking detainees if they have a friend who could interpret for them over the phone, and they usually do. Is that cheating? Maybe.

       My supervisor likes to gather the ABA interns for lunch on Wednesdays so that we can engage with each other and branch out of our own sections. This week, he told us to bring a poem that means something to us. My friend, Noor, did some of her spoken word, Joey recited a poem in Chinese, Ashleigh read a poem in Spanish, one girl talked about her favorite operetta, another shared a quote, and I read Psalm 51. This group of ABA interns is so diverse. I've already learned so much about society and about myself from spending time with them.

       I mentioned Noor's spoken word. Tuesday night she invited me to join her for open mic night at Busboys and Poets. I came home after work, got my ticket online, squeezed in a nap, and headed out for a night on the town. I loved the atmosphere of Busboys and Poets, and Noor's poem, called "Barcodes" was a challenging poem that addressed the expectations of young women in our society. When we left Busboys, we hit up the famous Ben's Chili Bowl, where a nice man paid for our meal!

 

       The next morning I overslept, of course, and the funniest thing happened at the metro station in Springfield. The blue line pulled into the station, and I boarded with a group of people. We waited about 5 minutes for the train to pull out. Right before the doors started to close, we heard the driver say, "This is the yellow line train to Greenbelt. Doors closing." There was a big collective gasp of "Oh no!" The train had switched from blue line to yellow line without any warning. People rushed to get off the train before the doors sealed, but most of us were trapped at the mercy of the yellow line. There was a mixture of amusement and frustration felt throughout the car as it pulled out of the station. "I swear they do that on purpose," one woman said. 

       On days when I don't oversleep, I hit up the gym in the ABA building before my internship. Tuesday morning I braved the cold for a run outside, and I can't even articulate how cool it was. I went down by the Lincoln Memorial, the WWII Memorial, the Washington Monument and back to the office (only because I ran out of time). I could have kept running just to see the whole of DC. When I was down by the Lincoln Memorial, I kept getting passed by these men with NAVY on their backs. Turns out I was running in the path of some Navy group's morning workout! I didn't mind that at all.