When I think of my marriage I can think of very few books that have helped me. There are no lack of marriage books on the market, it's just that there aren't many who speak to a bicultural girl married to a white guy who felt called to China. You don't find tips for my American girlfriend who lives with her Chinese mother in law on their way to adopting Ethiopian child. Who can give advice to my recently married friends (Chinese/American) who are moving to study in the US? Each marriage is unique. My marriage (and those described above) are very unique.
I'm back from vacation with my in laws and spending time with my American family always disorients me as the stark differences between my upbringing and my husband's are magnified. I found myself pondering, "wow, how did we work?" So here I am, inspired to write and share some thoughts on how we've managed to be married, going on almost ten strong years. Hope it is helpful to some of you out there who may be considering an intercultural marriage. You know who you are.
First of all, I'm a firm believer that culture is all encompassing. I remember intense debates in our Anthropology class about whether faith supersedes culture with absolute truth or is even faith in Christ passed down to us within a particular context. I hold the latter position which leads me to believe every fiber of our being is colored by the culture we are raised in. J, in small town America, and me, well, that's complicated, suffice it to say I am bicultural. The longer J and I have been married, the more we discover those cultural differences surfacing, from managing a household to raising the kids (that's a biggie). Tackling these difference in our marriages have been a beast. Try defending the very core value of what you have always believed to be true to the person you consider the most intimate person in your life. There is much pain in the process, but so much to be gained. To understand your husband more deeply and appreciate the culture which made him the way he is; to turn towards the beauty of your own culture seen in a different light and knowing your children have the privilege of encountering both is the precious gift our amazing Creator gives to us intercultural marrieds.
Stay tuned for the next post: how we prepared for our marriage.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Prayer
According to my Kindle, I am 64% in to Philip Yancey's book called "Prayer." But I have to say my satisfaction level is at well over that percentage score - say at 90%. I'm a big fan of Yancey. He opened my eyes to God's grace (What's so Amazing about Grace), he gave me an appreciation for the Old Testament (The Bible Jesus Read), and supplied insight on the problem of pain (Disappointment with God). He is one of the most prolific writers among Evangelical circles, and I admire him because of the honesty in his writings and his deep compassion for marginalized peoples (he speaks often on behalf of his gay friends and his experiences with Dr. Brand who is a surgeon for leprosy patients in Nepal and elsewhere). However, anyone who has read some of my previous blog entries and followed a bit of my faith journey will soon realize I have, for a while now, battled Evangelical subculture and some of her main tenants, and so it is with some hesitation that I picked up Yancey's book on Prayer and began reading.
First, let me give a little background as to why I have been dwelling on the subject of prayer. For a long time, years I would say, I have not been having regular quiet times. There, I said it. If I haven't abandoned Evangelicalism by now, at this proclamation I'm sure Evangelicalism will have abandoned me. Part of the reason is because I started having children, whom, if you're not familiar, are little human beings who demand your attention/resources/energy 24/7, and the Q in QT is a bit of an elusive concept for a new mother. But the bigger part of the reason is most likely the earlier reference to my rebellion against Ev. subculture, a dare, if you will, to see if I dropped QT's if I will still be able to live and thrive with vibrant faith in our Lord Jesus, who is so much bigger than the constructs of Christian subculture. Along with QT's, I also questioned prayer. The buzz word us post-Evangelicals, progressives, Christian hipsters, whatever the heck we're called, love to use is "authenticity." I want to pray what I honestly think and believe. So explain to me how a prayer that goes like this: "God I pray for my beloved friend's cancer to go away, but your will be done" doesn't sound like the most empty, holier-than-thou-by-copying Jesus' words, INauthentic prayer ever?! What I want to say is "God, I want my friend's cancer to go away, I know You desire healing and wholeness, and yet I know as I speak, there's a 95-100% chance my friend will die in three months of this cancer." Now that's the truth.
And so it is with these issues that I decided to crack open Yancey's book, hoping to shed some light on these contentions with prayer. Part one bored me and had me entertaining the thought of writing a book "Disappointment with Yancey". It was all about prayer being central to our relationship with God and it is through coming to God that we realign our perspectives with God's perspectives. Sounds good, except for I've heard it all before many many times, and I have some serious issues with the implications of, quote Yancey at location 477, "Prayer is the act of seeing reality from God's point of view." Horrible things have happened because Christians have gone to prayer and decided reality from God's POV. I get what you're trying to say, I disagree with it, let's move on.
Ah, part two was much more interesting, confronting questions of what difference does prayer make, does prayer change God, etc. I really enjoyed this as it addresses some of the issues I had and I came away encouraged and hopeful. Some of the main points that I resonated with are as follows:
- for some reason we can't fathom (well, love), God chose to work in partnership with us. We see this all over Scripture and history, He chose to choose a people, a nation, through whom to bless the world. In prayer, we acknowledge and engage in the partnership to bring forth His kingdom in this world.
- in prayer, whether it's praise and adoration, weeping and chest thumping in pain or a myriad of other expressions, we both change God and ourselves. And God knows I need to be changed, so much for the better, thus prayer is a worthy enterprise - to be shaped into a person of holy character for use in His Kingdom. See, isn't this getting so much more interesting?
- "we gotta pray with our lips and we gotta pray with our legs", okay that's not a direct quote from Yancey, but my paraphrase (I'm sure I got it from some other famous person.) In this section he speaks of prayers leading to social activism, loving our enemies, and caring for our environment (er, my husband said that last one, not Yancey, but it's a good addition).
- we all know about answered prayers and unanswered prayers. And we also know the pat answers given: sometimes it's not the right time, God knows better than we do, etc. etc. But one thing is for certain, despite the outcome of our prayers, God can redeem even the most horrific circumstances, and much of that redemption comes because we pray. I may have never witnessed a supernatural healing, but I have witnessed account after account of supernatural response from godly men and women. Most poignant example in my own life has been seeing my friends lose their baby and come through that experience continuing to serve in faithfulness on the mission field. Amazing.
The climax of the book undoubtedly came at the chapter called "Prayer and Physical Healing." I recommend this chapter to anyone who doesn't want to read the whole book if you have questions/doubts about this issue as I do. The big shocker to me was that he actually quoted Dr. Paul Brand (mentioned earlier as surgeon for leprosy patients in developing countries) this: "From my own experience as a physician I must truthfully admit that, among the thousands of patients I have treated, I have never observed an unequivocal instance of intervention in the physical realm. Many were prayed for, many found healing, but not in ways that counteracted the laws governing anatomy. No case I have treated personally would meet the rigorous criteria for a supernatural miracle." Jaw drop. An Evangelical Christian writer writing about prayer and healing, openly quoting and admitting they have never seen or experienced a supernatural healing. Yay for me, I'm not the only one!
He goes on to say, instances of supernatural healing occurs much more frequently in the developing world (though note Dr. Brand worked in developing worlds.) Basically, the trouble with God is He doesn't play by our rules. He says He wants us to pray for healing but He heals so haphazardly (from our perspective) and frankly very very rarely. Instead of being discouraged by this, I am so pleased that Yancey dealt with this so honestly and stuck to his journalistic integrity by reporting the facts despite it being not so glamorous for God. I am also thankful that Yancey encourages his readers to not perpetuate a sick person's pain by falsely giving them hope of supernatural healing. We've all heard horror stories (starting with Job's friends) of Christians who counsel their sick friends to simply have more faith...and they will be healed.
So again, why, then, do we pray (for healing)? First, because I still believe in a God of miracles. I believe my God made a miracle when He created my inner ear to maintain a sense of balance, I truly marvel at that act of design and creation. I believe He made a miracle when he gave my body the ability to self-heal. I believe He made a miracle to give humans the ability to think and research and create healing methods and drugs. So I appeal to this God of miracles to utilize all of the above resources to heal my dizziness. Second, Yancey writes of another doctor, Dr. Vernon Grounds, who in his ninety years of life has never observed an undeniable miracle of physical healing, prays daily with fervent hope for a friend with an untreatable kidney condition. Faith, Hope, and Love is why I will choose to continue to pray for myself and friends who are sick. Faith in that God of miracles, Hope that His promises of health and wholeness in the future will be ushered in because of the work of Jesus, and Love for all the people God has placed on my heart will continue to drive me to my knees.
I've got 36% more to go in the book.
First, let me give a little background as to why I have been dwelling on the subject of prayer. For a long time, years I would say, I have not been having regular quiet times. There, I said it. If I haven't abandoned Evangelicalism by now, at this proclamation I'm sure Evangelicalism will have abandoned me. Part of the reason is because I started having children, whom, if you're not familiar, are little human beings who demand your attention/resources/energy 24/7, and the Q in QT is a bit of an elusive concept for a new mother. But the bigger part of the reason is most likely the earlier reference to my rebellion against Ev. subculture, a dare, if you will, to see if I dropped QT's if I will still be able to live and thrive with vibrant faith in our Lord Jesus, who is so much bigger than the constructs of Christian subculture. Along with QT's, I also questioned prayer. The buzz word us post-Evangelicals, progressives, Christian hipsters, whatever the heck we're called, love to use is "authenticity." I want to pray what I honestly think and believe. So explain to me how a prayer that goes like this: "God I pray for my beloved friend's cancer to go away, but your will be done" doesn't sound like the most empty, holier-than-thou-by-copying Jesus' words, INauthentic prayer ever?! What I want to say is "God, I want my friend's cancer to go away, I know You desire healing and wholeness, and yet I know as I speak, there's a 95-100% chance my friend will die in three months of this cancer." Now that's the truth.
And so it is with these issues that I decided to crack open Yancey's book, hoping to shed some light on these contentions with prayer. Part one bored me and had me entertaining the thought of writing a book "Disappointment with Yancey". It was all about prayer being central to our relationship with God and it is through coming to God that we realign our perspectives with God's perspectives. Sounds good, except for I've heard it all before many many times, and I have some serious issues with the implications of, quote Yancey at location 477, "Prayer is the act of seeing reality from God's point of view." Horrible things have happened because Christians have gone to prayer and decided reality from God's POV. I get what you're trying to say, I disagree with it, let's move on.
Ah, part two was much more interesting, confronting questions of what difference does prayer make, does prayer change God, etc. I really enjoyed this as it addresses some of the issues I had and I came away encouraged and hopeful. Some of the main points that I resonated with are as follows:
- for some reason we can't fathom (well, love), God chose to work in partnership with us. We see this all over Scripture and history, He chose to choose a people, a nation, through whom to bless the world. In prayer, we acknowledge and engage in the partnership to bring forth His kingdom in this world.
- in prayer, whether it's praise and adoration, weeping and chest thumping in pain or a myriad of other expressions, we both change God and ourselves. And God knows I need to be changed, so much for the better, thus prayer is a worthy enterprise - to be shaped into a person of holy character for use in His Kingdom. See, isn't this getting so much more interesting?
- "we gotta pray with our lips and we gotta pray with our legs", okay that's not a direct quote from Yancey, but my paraphrase (I'm sure I got it from some other famous person.) In this section he speaks of prayers leading to social activism, loving our enemies, and caring for our environment (er, my husband said that last one, not Yancey, but it's a good addition).
- we all know about answered prayers and unanswered prayers. And we also know the pat answers given: sometimes it's not the right time, God knows better than we do, etc. etc. But one thing is for certain, despite the outcome of our prayers, God can redeem even the most horrific circumstances, and much of that redemption comes because we pray. I may have never witnessed a supernatural healing, but I have witnessed account after account of supernatural response from godly men and women. Most poignant example in my own life has been seeing my friends lose their baby and come through that experience continuing to serve in faithfulness on the mission field. Amazing.
The climax of the book undoubtedly came at the chapter called "Prayer and Physical Healing." I recommend this chapter to anyone who doesn't want to read the whole book if you have questions/doubts about this issue as I do. The big shocker to me was that he actually quoted Dr. Paul Brand (mentioned earlier as surgeon for leprosy patients in developing countries) this: "From my own experience as a physician I must truthfully admit that, among the thousands of patients I have treated, I have never observed an unequivocal instance of intervention in the physical realm. Many were prayed for, many found healing, but not in ways that counteracted the laws governing anatomy. No case I have treated personally would meet the rigorous criteria for a supernatural miracle." Jaw drop. An Evangelical Christian writer writing about prayer and healing, openly quoting and admitting they have never seen or experienced a supernatural healing. Yay for me, I'm not the only one!
He goes on to say, instances of supernatural healing occurs much more frequently in the developing world (though note Dr. Brand worked in developing worlds.) Basically, the trouble with God is He doesn't play by our rules. He says He wants us to pray for healing but He heals so haphazardly (from our perspective) and frankly very very rarely. Instead of being discouraged by this, I am so pleased that Yancey dealt with this so honestly and stuck to his journalistic integrity by reporting the facts despite it being not so glamorous for God. I am also thankful that Yancey encourages his readers to not perpetuate a sick person's pain by falsely giving them hope of supernatural healing. We've all heard horror stories (starting with Job's friends) of Christians who counsel their sick friends to simply have more faith...and they will be healed.
So again, why, then, do we pray (for healing)? First, because I still believe in a God of miracles. I believe my God made a miracle when He created my inner ear to maintain a sense of balance, I truly marvel at that act of design and creation. I believe He made a miracle when he gave my body the ability to self-heal. I believe He made a miracle to give humans the ability to think and research and create healing methods and drugs. So I appeal to this God of miracles to utilize all of the above resources to heal my dizziness. Second, Yancey writes of another doctor, Dr. Vernon Grounds, who in his ninety years of life has never observed an undeniable miracle of physical healing, prays daily with fervent hope for a friend with an untreatable kidney condition. Faith, Hope, and Love is why I will choose to continue to pray for myself and friends who are sick. Faith in that God of miracles, Hope that His promises of health and wholeness in the future will be ushered in because of the work of Jesus, and Love for all the people God has placed on my heart will continue to drive me to my knees.
I've got 36% more to go in the book.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Saying Goodbye
My brother Aidan recently said goodbye to some dear friends inspiring this blog post. I am no stranger to saying goodbyes. I had to say goodbye to my family when I went thousands of miles away for college. Then we said goodbye to family/friends to move to China. Then we said goodbye to friends of 6 years in China and moved to Taiwan. And we live in expat communities where people come and go frequently and they leave a hole in your heart each time they go.
At first, I thought because of the choices we've made to travel and move internationally, we are "experts" on saying goodbye. But I am beginning to realize even people who settle in one place have to say goodbye more frequently now because it is the mark of our generation in this increasingly global world. No longer does one stay near the city they grew up in, find a job, and retire there. Most people move for various opportunities and it is no longer a novelty to move internationally.
When we lived in China, people/families will literally come stay for one or two years and then leave. And in an expat community, your friends are more than your friends, they are like family. They are the people you celebrate holidays with, they are the ones who love your kids when grandparents are far away, they are like family. And when they move away it hurts like hell. As mentioned before, this happens a lot in an expat community and a human heart can only take so much pummeling. Some of us cope by toughening up, tears no longer flow at farewell parties because farewell parties are annual events. Some cope by not getting involved in deep relationships because you know they will leave and you want to keep your heart intact. Some plow through and dive right into every relationship, giving oneself fully, and allow the pain to seep through you completely when the goodbye rolls around.
I think to a certain degree we use a bit of all three coping mechanism in our lives, depending also on the relationship with various people. No one likes goodbyes but it is a reality for most of us in this age. We wade through the stages of grief with each goodbye, and then we sit and watch God surprise us with the fruit of each friendship we parted with. We receive letters (alright emails/facebook messages/skype) from far away friends and share in the joy of what God is doing in their lives in their corner of the world. We remember each memory of shared times and how it changed the very fabric of who we are so we can better bless those who are around us. And sometimes, when we are very lucky, they reenter our lives because our world is so small.
One time, an expat friend was only in our community for a short time before they were leaving. He told us their plans and said, "don't stop hanging out with us because we're leaving..." I will tag you in this blog post and you probably don't even remember saying that to us, but we didn't stop hanging out with you and we had a very short time with your family, but we don't regret it for one bit! (it was Tim Maxson. :) )
At first, I thought because of the choices we've made to travel and move internationally, we are "experts" on saying goodbye. But I am beginning to realize even people who settle in one place have to say goodbye more frequently now because it is the mark of our generation in this increasingly global world. No longer does one stay near the city they grew up in, find a job, and retire there. Most people move for various opportunities and it is no longer a novelty to move internationally.
When we lived in China, people/families will literally come stay for one or two years and then leave. And in an expat community, your friends are more than your friends, they are like family. They are the people you celebrate holidays with, they are the ones who love your kids when grandparents are far away, they are like family. And when they move away it hurts like hell. As mentioned before, this happens a lot in an expat community and a human heart can only take so much pummeling. Some of us cope by toughening up, tears no longer flow at farewell parties because farewell parties are annual events. Some cope by not getting involved in deep relationships because you know they will leave and you want to keep your heart intact. Some plow through and dive right into every relationship, giving oneself fully, and allow the pain to seep through you completely when the goodbye rolls around.
I think to a certain degree we use a bit of all three coping mechanism in our lives, depending also on the relationship with various people. No one likes goodbyes but it is a reality for most of us in this age. We wade through the stages of grief with each goodbye, and then we sit and watch God surprise us with the fruit of each friendship we parted with. We receive letters (alright emails/facebook messages/skype) from far away friends and share in the joy of what God is doing in their lives in their corner of the world. We remember each memory of shared times and how it changed the very fabric of who we are so we can better bless those who are around us. And sometimes, when we are very lucky, they reenter our lives because our world is so small.
One time, an expat friend was only in our community for a short time before they were leaving. He told us their plans and said, "don't stop hanging out with us because we're leaving..." I will tag you in this blog post and you probably don't even remember saying that to us, but we didn't stop hanging out with you and we had a very short time with your family, but we don't regret it for one bit! (it was Tim Maxson. :) )
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Lessons Learned
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.
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.
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."
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