An Apology

This post has been a long time coming. Not knowing how to address this topic has kept me silent quite a bit.

I feel like I need to apologize for not entering the political online war. You know, the place where I tell you how I feel about the current political situation and try to offer wisdom and insight into the current tragedy that is playing out on our screens and perhaps chastise those who seem to be behaving badly or holding ungodly viewpoints on the issue.

Issues I have avoided talking about:

The war in Palestine

Ukraine

Government shutdowns

Epstein Files

Greenland

Venezuela

ICE

Etc…

I have opinions. I have strongly held views. Of course I think my views are godly and correct. And everyone else is wrong or at best, seriously misguided.

I have written a lot of posts in my head on these issues. Scathing posts. Angry posts. Pleading posts. But I haven’t written them down. And that feels cowardly.

I’m not using my platform to stand up for the downtrodden, the mistreated, the abused. I’m not defending the weak and the poor with my online posts. I’m one of the silent ones. One of those people who watched the Jews be taken to the camps and said nothing. I feel that guilt sitting on me. Because really my apology is for not doing anything to bring about change in the world.

I pray about it. Lord, show me what to write. Show me how I can stand up for the persecuted. What can I do to stop these horrible things that are happening around me?

I care. But my caring doesn’t seem to be backed up by any hands-on involvement. I send money. But I don’t send myself.

What do I want? I want Christians to stop chasing after power. I want Love to be the law of the land. I want people to speak gently and compassionately about their fellow contrymen. I want children to not be bombed and starved to death. I want immigrants to be welcomed with open arms and easy paths to citizenship. I want accountability for those who govern us. I want the hungry to be fed.

I don’t know how to make any of that happen. I don’t want to fight and argue on online platforms that feel to me like an imaginary place where people go to be rude and unpleasant to each other. I don’t want to join protests where I agree with only one issue that is being protested and none of the others. I have attempted to contact my representatives but feel very cynical about their willingness to listen to anything that doesn’t line up with their political platform.

I have a deep sense of apathy when it comes to politics, local and otherwise. When I see that the two choices that I’m offered are both evil, just wrapping their greed in different colored cloths, I lose my hope that my vote really amounts to anything. I can vote in someone who wants to throw out all morality and safeguarding, or I can vote in someone who wants to persecute the poor and needy in the name of Jesus. I feel tainted voting for either party.

I don’t think I’m afraid to make my opinions and views known. I am just very hesitant to start wars that are ineffectual and cause division without actually effecting any change. And what I want is change. Not to prove myself right to everyone else. Not to show that I am morally superior. At the very least, I want the poor to be fed and housed. I want people who don’t have white skin to feel safe and secure in my country. I want children to be safe from bombs and be able to have normal childhoods.

I don’t know what actions to take to help towards that.

My prayer is that God would show me something concrete I can do, and that I would have the moral courage to actually do it, even if it’s uncomfortable.

In the meantime, I will continue to take care of my family, try to love anyone who enters my circle of influence and pray. It’s not enough. I just don’t know what else to do yet, and I’m sorry for that.

“Almost Not Afraid at All”

I’ve been reading the “Tuyo” book series by Rachel Neumeier. It’s a fantasy series that takes place in a world where each region is separated dramatically from the next, with each region having its own extremely different weather, sky, peoples, customs, etc. I probably enjoy these books so much because they are very cross-cultural, as the people in these regions rarely interact, but the main characters are forced to leave their home regions and live among and befriend people who are completely different from them.

One of my favorite characters is Tano who is rescued from a very abusive family/tribe situation. He is brought into a new tribe where he is treated well for the first time in his life and he slowly learns the things he needs to know to be a part of this new people. He struggles with a lot of fear and lack of trust, but he’s determined to overcome in these areas so he keeps pushing himself to do things that he logically knows are good for him, even though, physically and emotionally it terrifies him to try it. As he grows in these areas, and his fear lessons, he uses a line quite a lot, “I was almost not afraid at all.”

I like that. I think that sums up how I live a lot of my life. Growing up cross-culturaly, I always struggled with not fitting in and the fear that evoked. I never quite knew all the customs and ways of doing things. I mostly got it, but there was always something that would make me take a misstep, draw attention to my ignorance, which generally drew mockery. I learned to get really good at observing people carefully and taking my cues from them. Every new situation felt fraught with danger. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I remember in 8th grade we had been living in Haiti and due to the major upheaval and violence happening in the country, we had to leave and come back to the States. I came into middle school four months into the school year. At lunch everyone got in line to get their food. My mom offered to give me lunch money, but the idea of having to figure out where to line up, how to pay for my food, how to figure out the whole system, was too overwhelming for me, too many opportunities to mess up and draw negative attention. I just skipped lunch the rest of the school year and then ate a big snack when I got home from school every day.

As I got older I was able to recognize that a lot of these fears were unreasonable. So, I would make myself do things that felt scary, but logically I knew I should/could do them. Fake it till you make it. I got good at walking into situations and being upfront about my ignorance. Hey, I’ve never done this before, could you show me how this works? I have also learned how to over-prepare in order to cancel out some of the fear. I’ll look at maps ahead of time so I know exactly where I will park, and exactly how long it will take me. Maybe I’ll write down notes on questions I need to ask, information I need to remember to get. Possibly I’ll talk through the whole scenario ahead of time with my husband, ok, so I’m going to do this first, and then this, and then this…does that sound right? I’ve learned to just do the things that make me afraid because the fear is unreasonable and things need to get done.

This week I had a job interview. I can’t remember the last time that happened. All the things I’ve done on the side to make some money over the years have been initiated informally, by someone I know or a friend of a friend. So, extremely new experience. It was at a location I’d never been to with people I’d never met. (It’s a part time position, teaching a one-hour children’s music class once a week.)

Ahead of time, I was expecting that I was going to be nervous. I was anticipating being nervous. I was ready to be nervous. But, a couple hours beforehand, I thought about it and realized that I was actually excited. Not nervous. I was curious and actually looking forward to meeting these new people and discussing the class. Yes, my heart was pounding a bit, and I took a couple deep breaths before I got out of my car, but practically nothing!

The interview went fine. I’ll find out next week whether they want me or not. But, getting the position almost feels irrelevant. I feel like it was a big win to do something new where I wasn’t scared and actually enjoyed myself. I did something new, and “I was almost not afraid at all!”

1 John 4:18 says, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.”

My journey to overcoming fear is directly linked to my understanding of how much I am loved by God. The better my understanding, the less fear I have. I look forward to a day when I will not be afraid at all. Until then, I’m pretty excited about “Almost not afraid at all.”

Still Haven’t Arrived

I’m going to be honest. Writing this blog is a little nerve-wracking. I haven’t written in a while and I feel like I’ve forgotten how to do it. I think about communicating with the world and what I want to say. What I want to share is the mystery and comfort and wonder of laying in my bed in the middle of the night, wide awake, talking to the Creator of the Universe. The mix of holy fear and awe, and child’s need for a parent, and longing for grace and mercy that motivate my prayers.

I want to share with you my confusion and anger and bewilderment as I struggle to comprehend and respond to the events going on in our world. I want to tell you about my daily walk with grace as I navigate marriage and parenting. I want to share about God’s faithfulness to not leave me stuck in my sin, in my pain, in my unforgiveness towards others and myself. I want to tell you about all of God’s gifts to me as he has swung open doors and opportunities to be involved in work that I’m passionate about.

This past year I have done a lot of deep thinking about faith and how I practice that faith. I’ve done a lot of deep thinking about politics and what it means to practice my faith as an American. I’ve thought a lot about how to deal with the past, forgiving hurts, but also trying to figure out how to unlearn the lies that came with those hurts.

I turned forty-seven this past year. There is something about that number that made me feel like I should have arrived by now. By now I should have this Adulting thing down pat. By now I should be strong, confident, and perfect. By now I should have my crap together.

And I don’t.

Which is maybe the breaking of that final myth in my mind, that grownups know what they are doing. In this sense, we all remain children. Still learning, sure that the people older than us must know everything, and we just haven’t arrived yet. And apparently, we never arrive. At least not here in this life on earth.

I still have questions about faith and how to live it out. I very much don’t know what to do about the state of the world or my country. I still don’t know how to stand for justice. I still struggle with wrong thinking about myself and others. I still struggle.

Which might be discouraging to young people who are heading out into the world, sure that soon, they’ll have it all figured out. But, maybe it’s encouraging for others my age and older to know they aren’t alone in constantly being surprised at their own lack and shortcomings as they face the daily challenges.

What I have learned in my forty-seven years of living is that Jesus is faithful. He is gentle. He is kind. He is compassionate. And he is always with me. I am not alone. I am not disdained. I am not scorned. And as I run into each problem and crisis and puzzle, I don’t have to feel the desperate fear of wondering if I’ll make it through this. I already know that I will, because Jesus is helping me. Not removing all the struggles from my path, just holding my hand, pulling me forward, teaching me what I need to learn as I go.

That is my great comfort and peace that sustains me and gives me joy. And that is what I want to share with you in my blog.

Blog Refresh

I’ve been writing this blog for quite a while now, but this past year I pulled back a lot on the personal blogs and have mostly just written about our free house. It was a needed break, and felt like something God-lead. Now I am feeling like it might be time to start writing again. A lot of things have changed since I first started this blog in 2018 and now I feel like I need to do a re-introduction. So here goes.

I am a missionary kid. I grew up in Eastern Kentucky, Haiti and bush Alaska. My husband is also a missionary kid who grew up in Nicaragua. When we first got married we spent some time in Alaska and Chile and then settled down in East Tennessee. We have ten kids. (And one daughter-in-law!) Four of our kids are adults and have left home and I am proud of them, and miss them a lot. I’ve got six kids left at home ranging from age nine to eighteen. Though we have homeschooled in the past, my kids are now all in school. I teach piano lessons and help teach choir at my younger children’s school. And then I keep the house running for eight people.

I love reading. I am the quintessential bookworm, have been since I was in second grade. My husband also loves reading and we’ve managed to pass this down to most of our children. A cozy evening at our house often looks like a bunch of people sitting around on couches reading books.

This past year our family was gifted the house next door. Turned out it was a hoarder house, so now we have slowly been cleaning it out. My husband works in the construction industry, so this is right up his alley. We look forward to eventually restoring the house and making it usable again, and posting updates about that project on this blog has been motivating for me.

If you want to know the foundation blocks of who I am, I would say, I was a broken, lost person who has been rescued by Jesus. Every moment of my life has been an example of his grace and mercy. He has saved me from my desperate places, and has slowly but surely been leading me down a path that leads to life and wholeness and joy. There’s been a lot of bumps, holes, rocky places, dangerous cliffs etc, but I can say confidently, that Jesus’ hand has been on my life since I was conceived and he has held me fast and brought me through, and continues to bring me through every challenge, pain and danger that life has thrown at me.

Walking with Jesus does not mean that you live a charmed life with minimal challenges. It rather means you live a victorious life as you have God himself walking with you through each hardship that comes your way. I have my own grocery list of challenges I deal with regularly. Anxiety and depression. Fear. Self-righteousness. Self-centeredness. Fear of rejection. I can look back and see how I have improved greatly in all these areas, but every once in a while one or more of these will make themselves center-stage in my life again and I have to put into practice the things I’ve already learned and also learn more about how to overcome in these areas.

This blog is an invitation for you to come walk with me through everyday life and see up-close and personal what walking with Jesus looks like. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

I look forward to connecting with you all again!

Free House: Moving Upstairs

It’s been a while since I’ve been on here. We had one of the busiest holiday seasons I’ve ever had. It was a lot of fun, lots of good memories, great time with my kids, and we ended with the wedding of my oldest son! Then all the kids that came home for Christmas left, school started back up, and this weekend is the first time that I’m feeling like I can catch my breath a bit. It’s been a great day, I got my grocery shopping done first thing this morning, assigned my kids some chores, and then Andy and I went next door to tackle the next project. We worked three hours, came home, showered, and now I’m looking at the rest of the afternoon and evening with nothing on the schedule. Woohoo!

Today’s clean out was a lot more physically intense than normal. We have finally moved upstairs.

Which means everything has to come down those stairs, then you have to climb back up those stairs again to get back to work. We tossed lighter things down the stairs, but we escorted the big giant trash bags. At the top of the stairs is a rather large landing that had been turned into a bedroom.

We filled our trailer.

And then still had lots of stuff to fill another trailer load.

So, this is how far we got today, both of us working. I feel a little bit like an archeologist as I try to figure out the time line for the house. I found mail on the floor upstairs from 1999, which seems to be a significant year as I really haven’t found much mail or newspapers from before then. The upstairs ceiling is lath and plaster, and that started to fall apart at some point in time, so they put a cheap drop ceiling over the lath and plaster. Then I think enough of the original ceiling collapsed that it weighed down the drop ceiling and made that fall as well. So, we were cleaning up a lot of house debris today. As usual, I am always amazed at how much stuff can be crammed into one small space.

In other news, one of my older daughters went through some of the clothes that have been hanging in closets and tried washing them to see if they’d come clean, and they did! She is an eclectic dresser, so she had fun finding some things. This silk suit didn’t fit. Not sure what I’m going to do with it. But it’s clean!

Free House: Basement Take 2

This past weekend my husband Andy got over to the free house and worked on the basement. He had already cleaned out a lot on a previous occasion, but there was a corner he hadn’t got to yet.

He cleaned it out and filled another trailer load of trash and made a good pile of scrap metal for the people who drive around picking that stuff up.

He strung up some new lights.

And he did some work jacking up old beams that support the floor above.

He hopes to replace those when money allows. We’ve also got another support beam that has termite damage and will need to be replaced.

Fortunately he knows how to do all that stuff. We just need time and money!

The next little bit of time is going to be really busy with holidays and end of semester music events and we have a wedding in the family coming up quickly too. I have no idea how much time I’ll have to get over next door, but whenever I do, I’ll keep you all posted.

Free House: Finally Finished the Bedroom!!

Today has been one of those amazing days. I woke up early and got up for no reason except that I was awake. Nowhere I had to be immediately. And then, I actually felt like taking a walk. This past year I have not been exercising much at all. But three weeks ago I started a new program that started off with 10 minutes of walking a day for 5 days a week, and each week we’ve added on another 25 minutes a week. So, I took off before anyone else was up and took a lovely walk on a mild sunny fall morning. And then I spent the rest of the day being productive. Which means, that this afternoon when I realized I had no pressing thing to finish, I decided to head next door and see how far I could get in the downstairs bedroom.

This room has been kicking my butt. It was densely packed in and while we have found lots of treasures, it also just had a lot of trash, and it appears to be the place that all the animals decided to poop and pee. So, lots of really smelly things, and so much poop. Today was my third session. But, I did it!

Finding dolls in unexpected places is not fun.

That concludes the downstairs. The kitchen is not completely cleaned out, but I made a deal with my husband that he would do that. So the next step is to start heading upstairs. With the holidays coming up I’m not sure how often I’ll get to work on the project, but I’ll post when I do!

Free House: Moving Slow

Hey Everybody! I haven’t been on here in a bit, life got really busy, and then I got a bad cold and all of that kept me from getting over to the free house to clean. But today a friend came over to help and that made it a lot of fun. We continued to work on the bedroom. This room has been really slow going. All the stuff is densely packed in, so even though we only got another quarter of the room cleaned out, the pile of trash is pretty impressive.

Here’s where we started:

And then here’s we ended up:

And here are all the piles of trash we moved out:

We found some interesting things today, which always makes the cleaning out more fun.

I feel like we have hit that point in the project where it seems so big and overwhelming and the progress seems to be inching so slowly, that I feel a little discouraged. Right now I’m trying to not think of all the things that have to be done and just focus on cleaning out one room at a time. Hopefully the next update won’t take as long as last time!

In Memory of Ms Wong

I just received news today that Miss Jennie Kuk-Ying Wong has passed away. She was my piano teacher when I attended Biola University. She was the head of the Piano Department, and Aunt Laurie, who taught me piano in middle school and high school had also been one of her students years before. Ms. Wong, who never married or had children, told me that I was essentially, as her student’s student, her granddaughter.

I was intimidated by Ms. Wong. And that’s putting it mildly. She had the highest standards and was not quick to compliment or praise. When I am nervous I have a tendency to crack jokes and make little comments. I remember sitting in lessons and I would say some joking comment and she would pause and just look at me, blank faced, almost in disbelief, and then shake her head and tap the piano book to get me back on focus. But occasionally she would flash a quick smile and that felt like a big win for me.

During my first semester I developed a bad tendonitis that kept me from being able to practice. Ms Wong said that she knew of a place that did some kind of shock therapy to help people get a quick recovery. She had never been there, but was really interested in finding out if it worked. She asked if I’d be interested in trying it. I said yes and she made the appointment for me and then drove me there. It felt so bizarre to be in Ms Wong’s car with her. She was not the talkative type, and neither was I, and we drove mostly in silence. When we got to the reception area, we walked up the desk to get signed in, me slightly behind Ms Wong, very nervous. The receptionist looked at me and then looked at Ms Wong and asked in a stage-whisper, “Does your student speak English?” Ms Wong assured her that I did and we went on with the appointment. But later, when we left the office, my arms now tingling, Ms Wong laughed so long and so hard. It was a new experience for her, a Chinese woman, to be asked if her student, a white American, spoke English. On the way back from the appointment, Ms Wong took us out for lunch at a Chinese restaurant. She ordered for me and soon a large bowl of egg drop soup arrived at the table for me. I do not like Egg Drop Soup. But, I picked up my spoon and ate my soup, because it would be inconceivable to do anything else.

My second year under Ms Wong I started to relax more. Probably because I started to realize that she actually liked me. The real turning point though happened late in the semester. It was winter time and finals were looming and we were all practicing a ridiculous number of hours a day to get ready for piano juries. It was a Thursday evening and I was standing in the lobby of the music building looking up at the cafeteria which was next door. Ms Wong walked by and saw me standing there, just staring, and she came up to me and asked me what I was doing. I explained that I only had two meals left on my meal plan for the week and I was debating whether I should go up and eat supper at the cafeteria or take the long walk back to my dorm and have a bowl of cereal. She nodded and said goodnight and left. I ended up finishing my evening of practice and homework and then eating some dry cereal before I crashed into bed.

The next day one of Ms Wong’s other students told me there was a note for me on Ms Wong’s studio door. This was a typical way that she communicated with her students so I went to see what it said. The note told me there was something for me in the fridge in her studio. Since the studio was empty at the time, I let myself in and peaked into the little dorm fridge Ms Wong kept there. Inside was a tupperware with my name on it, filled with rice and some kind of Asian meat and vegetable dish. It was delicious. I was a little embarrassed the next time I saw her and thanked her for the food. But I think it broke down some of the formality we usually had. I remember she talked to me more. About music, her own experiences, students she had taught.

Now, when I think of her, I picture her looking up at me (she was very short) and shaking her head and then laughing about some comment I had just made. The other thing I think of are her hands. They were small, square, so wrinkled and so soft. And when she touched the piano she would make sounds come out that were impossibly beautiful. When she played it brought to my mind rich velvet and gold, deep royal blues and reds. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything more beautiful than her playing.

I left Biola after two years and kept in touch with Ms Wong for several years through letters. But eventually we fell out of touch.

She was strong and formidable, stern and intimidating. A genius. And she was also generous and kind and an amazing teacher. I am a richer person for having been her student.