You know how Christians like to find something good in really bad situations? It's the whole beauty for ashes, redemption dealio that our Bible happens to talk about. Example: if a loved one dies, well PTL because his/her life beautifully displayed at the memorial service will lead many to Christ. Yes, there are moments when I'd like to throttle people when life becomes sucky for them and they keep PTLing and say: "It's okay to say life SUCKS right now!!!!" Thankfully, those are just brief fleeting moments, and for the most part I believe Jesus is about redemption and with Him, even the worst situations somehow find hope and goodness because of who He is and what His community of believers stand for.
Well, my life is a bit sucky right now. For the past 2-3 weeks I've contracted a to-be-determined condition that leaves me dealing with crazy dizzy spells. I've been walking around without a sense of balance, sort of like floating in zero-gravity space. Or other times when the spells hit, I feel like I've been slammed to the ground even though reality says I am perfectly upright. It has debilitated me and it takes me extra effort to do everything I normally do, leaving me exhausted at the end of every day.
Having been a Christian and been around other Christians most of my life, I've been programmed so the Life-Sucks-Learn-Lesson mechanism kicks in at the first sign of trouble. So here are my lessons learned (or in the process of being learned):
1. Thankful. For an amazing God who has created our inner ear so delicately and beautifully so that we can walk around with a sense of balance. Hoping for restoration to said beautiful creation soon so I can feel like I'm walking upright again.
2. Thankful. For where we are at in Taiwan where we can get fairly decent healthcare and tests done at very low cost.
3. Compassion. Because of my condition I've searched all over the web for others who may suffer the same fate as I, and have discovered a whole host of people who live with this chronically. Hoping I do not join that crowd, but at the same time, I have such deep compassion for them as I actually know a taste of how it feels.
4. Grace. For myself as I seem to believe it is somehow my fault that this happened. Sounds so silly when I say it out loud but when one can no longer do some of the everyday tasks that hold up one's family (cook, chores, shuttling children places, etc.), it is tempting to place blame on myself.
5. Trust. Modern medicine is still limited, and I don't know if the doctors can actually help me. I know God has the power to heal me but He might not. Or He might not heal me as quickly as I'd like Him to. But I gotta learn to trust that whatever happens, I still need to live my life faithfully (i.e. stop moaning about how miserable I feel and develop a more joyful attitude).
6. Justice. I am sick. But not as sick as many many others, whether with dizziness or other life debilitating disorders. I feel helpless. But not as helpless as billions of people mired in poverty who has no access to healthcare. I pray for wholeness so I can continue to do whatever small part to fighting for these injustices in our world.
If you happen to read this note, I'd appreciate some prayers. Thanks.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
Mommy Brain
A while back someone read my blog and made the comment "you have some very thoughtful posts considering you are a Mommy of two!" A very nice compliment I smiled weakly and received but tried hard to find offense.
As if the act of birthing automatically destines us to brain shrinkage down to minimal capacity in which to retain essential survival mind numbing routine childcare tasks.
As if my ability to think critically, reason logically, reflect passionately, went out the window the moment the the umbilical cord was severed.
As if it is simply untenable that a woman could take on the responsibility of raising children as well as explore and engage in issues confronting our world.
As if.
Well friends, summer vacation is in full session, both the kids are home all day, and it may have come down to this: I've again contracted Mommy-brain-itis, the condition that surfaces from conception, comes and goes (more often the former) and tends to be especially crippling when the time exposure of your children are high. Example: NOW.
In my defense, and I always have one, I have very good intentions. I've got a wish list a mile long on my Amazon Kindle cart. I've been struggling to finish my current books. It's just that by the end of the work-cook-swimming class-errands-husband time-dinner-bath-story-prayer-catch up on emails day, a stimulating read sounds as desirable as a steaming cup of hot tea offered on a high temperature high humidity day. At noon. (Incidentally, this happens quite often as Chinese people believe sweating helps you stay cool.) The point is, I just wanna vegge (how do you spell this word?) and refuse to read anything longer than facebook status updates (What? Some people post Scriptures!)
I know this is normal. I have parenting heroes in my life, like those missionaries whose prayer letters I read who travel to remote parts of our world with newborn twins and literally rescue villagers and unreached peoples from life and death situations. Or the high power CEO's with three kids who are like, three years younger than me. Or my old professor at Fuller who have a beautiful family at the same time so damn smart and whose teachings still impact me to this day. But you know, those people belong in a different category - the ultra parenting set. I'm just a regular economy class Mom and I know most of my Mom friends are there with me (yeah, you know who you are, the ones who have nodded along this post so far).
I miss my brain. It wasn't that big to begin with, but now it is abysmally shrunken. And I envy my friends who have time to read and think and engage critically on facebook, in their blogs, and oh yeah, real life. I desperately want my children to have a Mom who teaches them how to live faithfully in this world, and not one who, in all honesty, "sometimes" shortens bedtime prayers so I can go shower.
But alas it looks as if Mommy Brain-itis may leave permanent damage, and kids can be raised by carefully screened, family friendly, wholesome facebook status updates nuggets of wisdom, right?
As if the act of birthing automatically destines us to brain shrinkage down to minimal capacity in which to retain essential survival mind numbing routine childcare tasks.
As if my ability to think critically, reason logically, reflect passionately, went out the window the moment the the umbilical cord was severed.
As if it is simply untenable that a woman could take on the responsibility of raising children as well as explore and engage in issues confronting our world.
As if.
Well friends, summer vacation is in full session, both the kids are home all day, and it may have come down to this: I've again contracted Mommy-brain-itis, the condition that surfaces from conception, comes and goes (more often the former) and tends to be especially crippling when the time exposure of your children are high. Example: NOW.
In my defense, and I always have one, I have very good intentions. I've got a wish list a mile long on my Amazon Kindle cart. I've been struggling to finish my current books. It's just that by the end of the work-cook-swimming class-errands-husband time-dinner-bath-story-prayer-catch up on emails day, a stimulating read sounds as desirable as a steaming cup of hot tea offered on a high temperature high humidity day. At noon. (Incidentally, this happens quite often as Chinese people believe sweating helps you stay cool.) The point is, I just wanna vegge (how do you spell this word?) and refuse to read anything longer than facebook status updates (What? Some people post Scriptures!)
I know this is normal. I have parenting heroes in my life, like those missionaries whose prayer letters I read who travel to remote parts of our world with newborn twins and literally rescue villagers and unreached peoples from life and death situations. Or the high power CEO's with three kids who are like, three years younger than me. Or my old professor at Fuller who have a beautiful family at the same time so damn smart and whose teachings still impact me to this day. But you know, those people belong in a different category - the ultra parenting set. I'm just a regular economy class Mom and I know most of my Mom friends are there with me (yeah, you know who you are, the ones who have nodded along this post so far).
I miss my brain. It wasn't that big to begin with, but now it is abysmally shrunken. And I envy my friends who have time to read and think and engage critically on facebook, in their blogs, and oh yeah, real life. I desperately want my children to have a Mom who teaches them how to live faithfully in this world, and not one who, in all honesty, "sometimes" shortens bedtime prayers so I can go shower.
But alas it looks as if Mommy Brain-itis may leave permanent damage, and kids can be raised by carefully screened, family friendly, wholesome facebook status updates nuggets of wisdom, right?
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Kingdom Language
Do you ever wonder what language we'll be speaking on that Day when we are resurrected with the rest of God's people?
In my last blog post I wrote about the tensions and joys of being a Bilingual. Some multilinguals describe their most dominant language as their "heart language". It's an apt description as it expresses the form taken by what most naturally gushes out of one's heart. It's the language you gravitate to when you are angry, or frustrated, or tired, or the language you use to share the most vulnerable part of who you are.
My heart language was Chinese, as it was the only language I knew until the age of 10. At the age of 12, God, in His grace and mercy, took a hold of my heart and has held it ever since. I was a missionary convert. Missionaries came to Taiwan and shared the gospel with me in Taiwan. My first Bible Study and my first Christian community were all based in English, my second language. I was also schooled in English and my worldview began to form in this Christian, English environment. The soil upon which my faith took root was English soil and the water that nourished that young believer was the western context. I could no longer integrate my "heart language" and my Chinese-ness into my new faith and the only way to cope with that was to split my life into two: the old Chinese, unsaved me, and the new, born-again, English-speaking me.
But I understand things now that I could not have understood as a teenager and a new believer. And what I know, is how God had called me to be His child in His Family that stretches across ethnicities, gender, cultures, and language. And that He shaped me in my Chinese mother's womb and gave me a Chinese family to be steward over my formative years. When I became a part of this big Family, I was not to lose my Chinese-ness, but that He had come to make my Chinese-ness even more fully Chinese. Surely this is why when I sing Chinese praise songs my heart feels so full. Because God, in His grace and mercy, took a hold of my heart-language and culture, and affirms it by saying listen. Listen to your Chinese brother, or sister, create these beautiful lyrics so you can worship Me with all of who I've created you to be.
It rocks to be part of God's Big Family.
In my last blog post I wrote about the tensions and joys of being a Bilingual. Some multilinguals describe their most dominant language as their "heart language". It's an apt description as it expresses the form taken by what most naturally gushes out of one's heart. It's the language you gravitate to when you are angry, or frustrated, or tired, or the language you use to share the most vulnerable part of who you are.
My heart language was Chinese, as it was the only language I knew until the age of 10. At the age of 12, God, in His grace and mercy, took a hold of my heart and has held it ever since. I was a missionary convert. Missionaries came to Taiwan and shared the gospel with me in Taiwan. My first Bible Study and my first Christian community were all based in English, my second language. I was also schooled in English and my worldview began to form in this Christian, English environment. The soil upon which my faith took root was English soil and the water that nourished that young believer was the western context. I could no longer integrate my "heart language" and my Chinese-ness into my new faith and the only way to cope with that was to split my life into two: the old Chinese, unsaved me, and the new, born-again, English-speaking me.
But I understand things now that I could not have understood as a teenager and a new believer. And what I know, is how God had called me to be His child in His Family that stretches across ethnicities, gender, cultures, and language. And that He shaped me in my Chinese mother's womb and gave me a Chinese family to be steward over my formative years. When I became a part of this big Family, I was not to lose my Chinese-ness, but that He had come to make my Chinese-ness even more fully Chinese. Surely this is why when I sing Chinese praise songs my heart feels so full. Because God, in His grace and mercy, took a hold of my heart-language and culture, and affirms it by saying listen. Listen to your Chinese brother, or sister, create these beautiful lyrics so you can worship Me with all of who I've created you to be.
It rocks to be part of God's Big Family.
Monday, May 3, 2010
On Being Bilingual
I am bilingual.
Technically I am bi-and-a-half-lingual, because I also comprehend Taiwanese and speak minimally. I'm not really that smart and I'm not especially gifted with languages (trust me, two years of high school French and I can barely count to 10 proves the point). However, various factors and circumstances during my growing up years combined to produce the perfect breeding ground for the bilingual me. Born and raised into a Taiwanese family where Mandarin/Taiwanese were both spoken, I had a solid base of those two languages and learned to read Chinese characters before I started school. Learned English at 10 in total immersion environment in Australia, I made the cutoff age for children's amazing capacity to learn a second language with a native accent. Then I finished the rest of my school years in an English based International school in a Chinese community.
I am blessed, I know this. Being bilingual has given me opportunities and insight into culture and worldview that I would otherwise not have access to. But existing in this privileged exclusive state can sometimes be lonely. Well meaning Chinese acquaintances and friends compliment my Chinese language ability when what I hear them saying is: "your Chinese is really good...for a foreigner." Americans assume, due to my near Native accent, that I am Asian American, which of course neglects my entire growing up years in Taiwan. While most people applaud my chameleon like ability to blend into the culture/language of the group I am with, what they don't see is a pathetic, desperate longing to be "one of them".
Along with the privilege of being bilingual comes choices in all areas of life. What do I do for entertainment? I could turn on the TV and watch Taiwanese variety shows or news, or I could put in an episode of Lost. What do I do as a Mom? I could demand strict authority and Chinese expectations of manners, or I could emphasize having fun as Western Moms would choose. So many of these choices are conscious but I realize much much more are subconscious. At the beginning of my marriage I would sleep-talk in Chinese because that part of who I was stowed away in my subconscious while I dated and married my American husband.
The further along I go in my life journey as a third culture person, the more I am able to integrate these different parts of myself into a whole person. It's sort of like two melodies working to sync into a harmony. When I am in harmony, I thrive in my bilingual/bicultural-ness. I serve in translation, I help others shed light into a culture which is foreign to them, I help bring diversity into my community. And then there are moments of discord, when the harmony sounds more like my actual ability to harmonize: terribly off-key. Those are the moments when I feel the pangs of loneliness, the spiral of confusion that I feel sucked into, and the irrational and immature desire to just be a normal monocultural person.
Okay, now I'm going to switch into my Chinese pragmatic mode and say: "stop thinking so much and go do the dishes."
Technically I am bi-and-a-half-lingual, because I also comprehend Taiwanese and speak minimally. I'm not really that smart and I'm not especially gifted with languages (trust me, two years of high school French and I can barely count to 10 proves the point). However, various factors and circumstances during my growing up years combined to produce the perfect breeding ground for the bilingual me. Born and raised into a Taiwanese family where Mandarin/Taiwanese were both spoken, I had a solid base of those two languages and learned to read Chinese characters before I started school. Learned English at 10 in total immersion environment in Australia, I made the cutoff age for children's amazing capacity to learn a second language with a native accent. Then I finished the rest of my school years in an English based International school in a Chinese community.
I am blessed, I know this. Being bilingual has given me opportunities and insight into culture and worldview that I would otherwise not have access to. But existing in this privileged exclusive state can sometimes be lonely. Well meaning Chinese acquaintances and friends compliment my Chinese language ability when what I hear them saying is: "your Chinese is really good...for a foreigner." Americans assume, due to my near Native accent, that I am Asian American, which of course neglects my entire growing up years in Taiwan. While most people applaud my chameleon like ability to blend into the culture/language of the group I am with, what they don't see is a pathetic, desperate longing to be "one of them".
Along with the privilege of being bilingual comes choices in all areas of life. What do I do for entertainment? I could turn on the TV and watch Taiwanese variety shows or news, or I could put in an episode of Lost. What do I do as a Mom? I could demand strict authority and Chinese expectations of manners, or I could emphasize having fun as Western Moms would choose. So many of these choices are conscious but I realize much much more are subconscious. At the beginning of my marriage I would sleep-talk in Chinese because that part of who I was stowed away in my subconscious while I dated and married my American husband.
The further along I go in my life journey as a third culture person, the more I am able to integrate these different parts of myself into a whole person. It's sort of like two melodies working to sync into a harmony. When I am in harmony, I thrive in my bilingual/bicultural-ness. I serve in translation, I help others shed light into a culture which is foreign to them, I help bring diversity into my community. And then there are moments of discord, when the harmony sounds more like my actual ability to harmonize: terribly off-key. Those are the moments when I feel the pangs of loneliness, the spiral of confusion that I feel sucked into, and the irrational and immature desire to just be a normal monocultural person.
Okay, now I'm going to switch into my Chinese pragmatic mode and say: "stop thinking so much and go do the dishes."
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Reflections on Easter '10
This morning, I read my post from Easter last year , and feel Easter is SUCH an important event for the world, for myself, and for my family, that I should make it an annual event to record my thoughts each year. So here are reflections for Easter '10.
This year I have been thinking even more deeply about the Resurrection, and how our view of our life after death shapes our lives and our mission today. Most of all my thoughts have stemmed from NT Wright's teachings in Surprised by Hope. So throughout the year I have been thinking of how as a family we can make Easter a central part of our Christian celebrations. Christmas easily steals the highlight with the kids for obvious reasons (presents!) and we've decided to not radically change that tradition because we want the kids to enjoy memories of anticipation and "magic" of Christmas. However, we cannot let Easter pass without stressing enough to the kids the importance of the Resurrection of Christ.
Unfortunately, this year because our lives have changed so dramatically with moving from China and being in a new environment (again) we haven't been able to do justice to the Lenten period. But what has been a dominant theme in my head as I've thought about Easter is that Jesus' resurrection gives us hope for change. If God could raise Jesus from the dead, it means He has given POWER to all the teachings of Jesus. Which means we can HOPE to love, to do justice, to love mercy, to forgive our enemies, to care for neighbors AND strangers. So this morning, this is what we told the children over breakfast. We are obviously not a perfect family, but today on Easter day, we are reminded of the hope that we can be different tomorrow, we can change for the better, we can make this world a better place. So we decided that we would go online and sponsor a child from World Vision, in the hope of helping another child have a chance at health, education, and opportunities just as our children get to have. Our hope is every year at Easter we can "celebrate" by making a decision to bring about change so that the Resurrection is lived out through our practical lives.
This year for my birthday I helped raise funds for women who have suffered gender violence in Congo. And today, I thought about how Easter gives some parts of the world a reason to celebrate, to have Egg hunts, to eat a big meal, none of which is bad, but it is mind-blowing to imagine what Easter must mean to the women who have no reason to hope, who have trouble even urinating because they've been raped violently, whose lives are shattered in every way, that Christ came for them and when He was raised God promised JUSTICE and COMPASSION and DELIVERANCE for them. It is good news indeed for the most poor and destitute. I am thankful I serve such a Risen Lord.
This year I have been thinking even more deeply about the Resurrection, and how our view of our life after death shapes our lives and our mission today. Most of all my thoughts have stemmed from NT Wright's teachings in Surprised by Hope. So throughout the year I have been thinking of how as a family we can make Easter a central part of our Christian celebrations. Christmas easily steals the highlight with the kids for obvious reasons (presents!) and we've decided to not radically change that tradition because we want the kids to enjoy memories of anticipation and "magic" of Christmas. However, we cannot let Easter pass without stressing enough to the kids the importance of the Resurrection of Christ.
Unfortunately, this year because our lives have changed so dramatically with moving from China and being in a new environment (again) we haven't been able to do justice to the Lenten period. But what has been a dominant theme in my head as I've thought about Easter is that Jesus' resurrection gives us hope for change. If God could raise Jesus from the dead, it means He has given POWER to all the teachings of Jesus. Which means we can HOPE to love, to do justice, to love mercy, to forgive our enemies, to care for neighbors AND strangers. So this morning, this is what we told the children over breakfast. We are obviously not a perfect family, but today on Easter day, we are reminded of the hope that we can be different tomorrow, we can change for the better, we can make this world a better place. So we decided that we would go online and sponsor a child from World Vision, in the hope of helping another child have a chance at health, education, and opportunities just as our children get to have. Our hope is every year at Easter we can "celebrate" by making a decision to bring about change so that the Resurrection is lived out through our practical lives.
This year for my birthday I helped raise funds for women who have suffered gender violence in Congo. And today, I thought about how Easter gives some parts of the world a reason to celebrate, to have Egg hunts, to eat a big meal, none of which is bad, but it is mind-blowing to imagine what Easter must mean to the women who have no reason to hope, who have trouble even urinating because they've been raped violently, whose lives are shattered in every way, that Christ came for them and when He was raised God promised JUSTICE and COMPASSION and DELIVERANCE for them. It is good news indeed for the most poor and destitute. I am thankful I serve such a Risen Lord.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Um...I want the Presents
If you don't know already, I'm partnering with One Days Wages to raise funds for women who have been raped because of the longstanding civil war in Congo. The idea behind the campaign is to celebrate my birthday by asking friends and family to donate to the cause.
One night before bed, I talked to Lizzy (7) about it and explained that Mommy was asking people to give to these needy women instead of presents for my birthday, and I suggested maybe someday she could do that as well. At this point, she clarified that if she did that she would NOT be receiving any presents, is that right? I said yes, that's right. It didn't take her long to quickly exclaim "I want the presents!" which made me LOL.
Yes, I do hope for both my children they would grow up to be compassionate, generous givers, and let's face it: obviously Lizzy is not quite there yet. And this whole birthday-for-a-cause thing is not to guilt trip anybody. Although if giving up the new tenth pair of jeans to give to a women who have been gang raped and abandoned by community makes anyone feel guilty then I'm not gonna fuss about it. The point is that giving makes a DIFFERENCE in this world in the lives of these women. Giving is cool, hip, fun, feels-good, obedient to God, cares tangibly for the poor/marginalized, it's a FANTASTIC way to celebrate a birthday. And if anyone doubts it, you should've seen my face when I saw that someone donated $200 to my birthday cause today. THAT gave me a HAPPY birthday. :) :) :)
One night before bed, I talked to Lizzy (7) about it and explained that Mommy was asking people to give to these needy women instead of presents for my birthday, and I suggested maybe someday she could do that as well. At this point, she clarified that if she did that she would NOT be receiving any presents, is that right? I said yes, that's right. It didn't take her long to quickly exclaim "I want the presents!" which made me LOL.
Yes, I do hope for both my children they would grow up to be compassionate, generous givers, and let's face it: obviously Lizzy is not quite there yet. And this whole birthday-for-a-cause thing is not to guilt trip anybody. Although if giving up the new tenth pair of jeans to give to a women who have been gang raped and abandoned by community makes anyone feel guilty then I'm not gonna fuss about it. The point is that giving makes a DIFFERENCE in this world in the lives of these women. Giving is cool, hip, fun, feels-good, obedient to God, cares tangibly for the poor/marginalized, it's a FANTASTIC way to celebrate a birthday. And if anyone doubts it, you should've seen my face when I saw that someone donated $200 to my birthday cause today. THAT gave me a HAPPY birthday. :) :) :)
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Crap Happens
What kind of crap? Well, when a 9 year old girl named Chance risks everything to tell the story of how her parents were killed in front of her, her aunt gang raped by soldiers, and how one raped her. You can see her in the video here:
I've already ranted on the problem of pain in my last post so that's not what this post is about. This one is about finding hope. When I see the face of that little nine year old, I see the horrific violence done to her but I also see how beautiful and strong she and her aunt are to share their story with all of us. In the most recent tragedy in Haiti, accounts of Haitians risking their lives to help each other and international aid pouring in are the beauty found among the ashes. In a world where one sixth of our population live in extreme poverty, we see grass organizations like One Day's Wages working hard to bring change.
So it seems no matter how much theologizing, evangelizing, and politicizing we do, crap happens. But there is also much hope and light to be found in the midst of darkness. And though we cannot control terrible things happening in our world, we can make choices in our response. For my birthday this year, I'd like to respond by trying to make a small difference in the lives of women and children like Chance who experience war and gender violence. Please consider joining me in praying, donating, and sharing this cause so their voices can be heard.
I've already ranted on the problem of pain in my last post so that's not what this post is about. This one is about finding hope. When I see the face of that little nine year old, I see the horrific violence done to her but I also see how beautiful and strong she and her aunt are to share their story with all of us. In the most recent tragedy in Haiti, accounts of Haitians risking their lives to help each other and international aid pouring in are the beauty found among the ashes. In a world where one sixth of our population live in extreme poverty, we see grass organizations like One Day's Wages working hard to bring change.
So it seems no matter how much theologizing, evangelizing, and politicizing we do, crap happens. But there is also much hope and light to be found in the midst of darkness. And though we cannot control terrible things happening in our world, we can make choices in our response. For my birthday this year, I'd like to respond by trying to make a small difference in the lives of women and children like Chance who experience war and gender violence. Please consider joining me in praying, donating, and sharing this cause so their voices can be heard.
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