Life Goes On

Sweet silver angels over the sea
Please come down flying low for me


One of my all-time favourite movies is Elizabethtown. Contrary to popular belief, my liking for this movie has nothing to do with Orlando Bloom even though it is true that he is my eye-candy. And yes, I know it has a horribly slow start, and if not for the fact that Keren had asked for us to watch it for her birthday that one year, I probably wouldn't have.

But it's my favourite movie because it reminds me that while life and death sometimes reside right next door to each other, it's still about choosing life.

Especially because life doesn't stop moving just because a time of grieving or loss is happening at the same time.

A 30-hour flight to see his grandma doesn't automatically become easier for a young child just because she is dying of cancer.
A dateline at work doesn't automatically disappear just because of a heartbreak over a 5-year romance.
Homework assignments don't automatically vanish just because one's heart is in faraway lands with family.

But more importantly, faithful hands that have been holding on before shit hit the fan don't let go just because crap happened.

And so we keep walking. Because life will keep going.
But more importantly, the safety net that we sometimes forget about will still be there to catch us when we fall.

"Tweet Blogs"

So I started having these series of thoughts lately that would be too long for a tweet, but too short for me to want to dedicate an entire blog entry to. Then I figured, you know, what the heck, this is my blog. I can "tweet blog" my too-long-for-Twitter-but-too-short-for-blog thoughts if I want. This is the first one.

You know how they say "live like you'll die tomorrow," or something of that equivalent? Why? Why do we say that? Why do we wait for endings before we try to do what's right, or what's good? Why do we wait till people are about to leave before we say, let's get together soon since it'll be our last time to hang out before (insert event involving some kind of farewell here)...? Why don't we just do the whole, let's get together thing during the in-between time? Wouldn't it be just as fun during the in-between times, without the drama of having to say the final goodbye at the end?

Focus, Focus, Hocus Pocus

"But I remember what Susan said
How love is found in the things we've given up
More than in the things that we have kept
And ain't it funny what people say
And ain't it funny what people write
And ain't it funny how it hits you so hard
In the middle of the night
And if your home is just another place where you're a stranger
And far away is just somewhere you've never been
I hope that you'll remember I was your friend"
- Rich Mullins (Thanks B-row)


I realise I've been writing a lot more than usual over the last week or so, but I've also been thinking a lot the last week or so hence the writing. And since the very point of this blog when I first started it before last summer in Deutschland was for accountability to processing the life of cross-cultural ministry, I figured you'd be ok with reading some of these thoughts.


Over lunch with a couple friends from high school earlier this week, the whole spiel about the way my life is going to unfold from this point on came about. One of them pointed out that I sound like I have given up on life because of the way I was talking about the stuff that lies ahead. Basically I told them that I already know I will be poor for the rest of this life, and that the field I'm in will not lead to much material happiness, not just because of the "poor" part of it, but also because of the number of times I will move around the world and stuff like that. 


Which made me reflect on whether or not I had really come to terms with what it means to continue down this path. On our last full day in Phnom Penh last week, my brother and I were riding on the back of the truck through town and out to the killing fields and genocide museum and all that fun stuff. What I saw on the streets didn't faze me much, mostly because with all the cross-cultural stuff I've been a part of since my undergrad days, I've learnt to stop having pre-conceived notions of what life is supposed to be like anywhere in the world. So everything is new, everything is surprising, but nothing is really unexpected anymore.


It wasn't until the point when my sister decided to join us on the back of the truck that it really hit me how global I've become. I grew up in one of the cleanest and safest island-cities in the world, and here I was in the dusty streets of Phnom Penh with the smells of pollution and manure all around as we rode on the truck and I was unfazed. I honestly can't say this is my own doing or my own choice, but rather, the sense of adventure that had to come from Somewhere Outside of Myself had helped with the adaptability. And you ask me how I know I'm called to cross-cultural work?


But then my sister asked me a question that, for the first time, I actually gave serious thought to. She asked if I could live there in Phnom Penh. And of course, without hesitation, I said yes. I was used to giving that answer. But that was the first time I really thought about it. Could I really live there in Phnom Penh? What would I do there? Clearly I will not have as much material wealth as our hosts for the week did, so I will not be throwing extravagant parties. Cambodia has been historically either Buddhist or Hindu, and I only remembered seeing at most two Seventh-Day Adventist churches there. And church-planting of that nature is not my thing. So that wouldn't fly either. I could try to start a business if I wanted to keep up with my parents' middle-class quality of life, but I wouldn't have the capital or the gifts of business-running to do that. Or would I be able to find work as a servant to one of the wealthy families there? Would it be culturally appropriate and acceptable for them to employ me? And how would I find a place for ministry in the middle of living life in Cambodia? It wasn't so much that I was giving serious thought to moving to Cambodia after seminary, as much as it was the serious thought of wondering if I really understood what I was saying when I keep telling people I can live anywhere in the world, but it's just a matter of where.


Then I remembered something else I learnt in Germany. Answering my call to ministry had never been limited to geographical settings, programs, systems or organizations of any kind. And my theology had always been that above everything else, God is love, and we exist both for and because of love. And yes, there are implications and complications to the word "agape," but agape was one that transcended social structure of any kind--be it the political division of land, or the hierarchy that had been set up by human beings to help navigate and draw boundaries in relationships. Jesus, supposedly the "new Moses," the one whose example we should probably follow if we're going to call ourselves Little Christs, showed that love transcended the traditional understanding of the Mosaic Laws that the Jews had guarded with their lives. Which I guess... that meant that it didn't matter where I physically land in terms of the political division of land, or where I line up in the social structure. Agape is going to transcend.


And it's really not so much that I've given up on life because of the path I've chosen. And no, I'm not envious of my friends who have the material wealth either. That is the path they chose, and I'm happy for them. But no, I've chosen this path, and I'm happy and content even knowing that I will never have very much except for the global companionship that I know I can always depend on.


So maybe that's why it hurts as much as it does when sometimes the global companions don't show up like they promised they would. Because that's the only thing I have (aside from the Higher Being, of course). So maybe I've had too high of expectations from some aspects of my community, thinking that my commitment to community should be reciprocated at the same level. Maybe that's why they say that there are some things in life that we have to fight for, but they also say to hold loosely to the things in our hands.


Still a lot to process, especially with the reminder of Susan Hardman's life this week, and the inspiration she was to me. But some of the random fly-away thoughts from the last couple weeks are finally being plowed through, refined so that I don't just let these thoughts be fleeting moments of life that are wasted away.

Thank You, Susan

I first heard about her around the time I was about to finish undergrad and trying to figure out what the heck I was going to do with my life. She was kind of like the "legendary" single female cross-cultural worker who had spent nearly twenty years (at the time) teaching English in China. When my American grandparents were helping me process my post-undergrad life and heard about my call to cross-cultural work, they immediately told me that Susan was going to be back in the US in the next few months, and that I should see if I could possibly meet her.

Our paths finally crossed when I started working at the agency that helped sponsor her cross-cultural work. She was back in the US raising funds and talking to supporters of her work and I remember the first time I saw her in the office. She introduced herself as Susan Hardman and for me, it was one of those moments that I had to remind myself to breathe. This was THE legendary Susan Hardman; the one whose free-spirit, zeal for life and love for people, culture and travel I had heard about and could only admire from afar.

In the 2.5 years that we continued our interactions both in and out of the office, I found her free-spirited nature rubbing off on me. See, my first call to cross-cultural work was to China, which of course didn't make sense at all to me. Why would God send me halfway across the world and then call me back to the other side of the world? But after our first conversation where she found out about this call, and that my American grandparents had told me to talk to her, she got so excited. Her spirit of adventure scared me a little at the time, but she kept telling me, we need more people like you. I always wanted to tell her, yeah right. But you don't admit your cowardice to your legend.

But then of course, cancer had to creep into her life. In spite of her pain and suffering, she still greeted everyday like sunshine. I remember the day she found out she was going to lose her hair because of chemo and would probably have to wear a wig. Even till then, she was able to laugh and find something to make fun of the situation.

She would have turned 54 today, January 6.
Except cancer took her from us a day after she turned 53 last year.

Even till now, in conversations with my American grandparents, they still bring her up. I guess someone has to remind me from time to time to not be afraid to live life like Susan, seeing as my life is shaping up to go down a similar path as hers.

Susan, thank you for being the inspiration for me to not be afraid of living the free-spirited life the way you did. Thank you for showing me it is still possible for the global nomad to have community even if we lay our heads at a different place every night. Thank you for teaching me to face fear, and death, with courage and a big smile.

Susan, I celebrate you today. Happy Birthday.

Closing Windows

A friend from Germany once told me this: The way we function is very similar to the way the Microsoft Windows system functions. We can have several different Windows open at one time, but we can only work on one thing at a time. The other Windows can be kept in the background and we can ignore it for the time being while we're working on the one thing in front of us. But the more we keep running the background, the slower the entire system becomes. Eventually when we ignore too many of the other Windows, the system crashes. Also true with the way we function.

When I heard that, I immediately thought of some of Jim Hawkins' first words to me when we first began discussing grief counseling for cross-cultural workers. The words "compounding grief" came to mind. Such is the way we deal with grief. We can keep some of these running in the background for a while while we work on what is current. But eventually, the more grief we push behind, the more "programs" we keep pulling up, the more likely it is that the entire system will crash.

Lately, a lot of Windows have been opening up in my system. A lot that I haven't had time to go through, yet a lot more opening up, requiring more immediate attention. I've always prided myself with doing a fairly decent job processing grief, especially after the major episode some 3.5 years ago with Keren's passing. But lately with the way I've moved from one place to another, one culture to another, one support network to another, I haven't had time. And all at the same time, homework, bills, demands of the day that had to be dealt with immediately filled my time. Sure, I've had my moments of outburst, or, as one of my wiser cross-cultural friend put it, "puking all over the place." But most of it is still kept inside.

Maybe my recent decision to start writing that book about all my travels will help close some of those Windows. Who knows. Maybe "puking all over the place" then carefully choosing words to describe that "puking" in that book will help. Who knows.

Either way, this book will probably happen. It has to happen, I think. Ask me again in a while if I've done anything with this book.

Closing Windows. Time to start working on a few of those now, before I have to deal with the real world. Oh, by that, I do mean the world; just a matter of figuring out which corner to stake my claim for a little while.

Closing Windows. It's time.

Of Monkeys, Donkeys and Other Tomfoolery

And so 2011 has arrived.
Welcome.
We greet you with peace and hope that you will do the same for us.

Somehow, my heart is detached from this "new year" stuff this year. Not much of wanting to reflect on the year that has passed, or much of wanting to set goals for the year to come. Maybe that's part of what happens when, for two years in a row, you've spent either Christmas or New Years setting a new tradition of being in a different country.

Or just simply... Being away from the traditions of the Church family that I grew up with made a difference in the way I see life now.

I used to think Christmas and New Year's was the time to gather with loved ones to reflect on things that have passed and dream about the future. But now, the definition of "loved ones" have changed. I guess being in China for Christmas last year and in Cambodia for New Year's this year made me remember again that there is life outside of the Church.

Before you think I've fallen off the deep end and am walking away from my call to ministry, I haven't. The Deutschland adventures this year taught me that ministry doesn't happen exclusively in the Church, whether it be in the confines of the building, or just amongst other Christ followers. It happens in the everyday life with the people I live with and walk with.

And now, Cambodia just reminded me of that again.

All week long, there were Monkeys, Donkey, Shrek and Happy Feet.
All week long, we saw history, played cards, lived Khmer culture, hung out at the beach.
All week long, we lived, we laughed.

Sure it might be shallow, but this is where we start.
And maybe because of this, beginning and ends don't matter as much anymore.

Because beginnings and ends are our definition of time.
Who knows if our paths will cross again, but the tomfoolery of this past week will always be remembered.

As will the grandeur of Angkor Wat and the other temples of Cambodia.
And the haunting memories of the killing fields and S-21.

Pictures are on Facebook. If you want to hear stories, I'd love to catch up with you.

And so 2011 has arrived.

Welcome.

We greet you with peace and hope that you will do the same for us.

Siem Reap, First Thoughts...

Sunday, December 26, 2010 (Siem Reap)

Siem Reap, Cambodia

The only reason why I would be familiar with this name would be because of the history books. Known for its historical marvel, the Angkor Wat.

Being here is almost as surreal as standing in front of the Bonhoefferhaus in Berlin, Germany. The history nerd in me is in awe of the architecture, the historicity of a civilization forgotten by the world while the music nerd in me is distracted by the sounds of the whole-tone music played by a young child on the Khmer variation of a Xylophone that greeted us as we entered the hotel lobby. All at the same time, the cultural anthropological nerd in me is marveled by the cross of Buddhism and Hinduism in the Khmer culture, while the seminary nerd in me is trying to figure out what to do with the fact that the breakfast we had this morning cost each of us only US$2 and was being taken care of by our host who is up in the ranks in the Cambodian government but the average Cambodian will not be able to afford that.

But I digress.

Let me back-trek a little and explain what in the world I’m doing here in Siem Reap.

So for years now, my mum and her younger sister have been tutoring kids who came to Singapore from other Southeast Asian countries for education. My aunt’s sister-in-law was the originator of this enterprise that started oh, some fifteen years ago or something close to that. The kids lived with my aunt’s sister-in-law who would be their legal guardian here and both my mum and aunt would tutor them to teach them English and help catch them up with the school system here in Singapore. They came from Malaysia, Indonesia and mostly Cambodia, and had wealthy parents (which would have been the only way they could have afforded education in Singapore).

Anyhow, two years ago, some of my mum’s students from Cambodia asked if she and her family would go visit them in Cambodia. Their parents would host them and make arrangements for  touring and accommodations, so basically my mum just needed to take care of getting to Cambodia. Well, at this time, my brother and I were still in the US, and when I found out they were going to Angkor Wat, I was a little jealous. So when the students asked her again if she would come visit them this time around, we got to tag along.

And so here we are in a little resort in Siem Reap. Well, not little. They actually got a villa for the six of us, and from where I am sitting out here on the porch, I am well-shaded from the sun with a view overlooking the pool. All around, the architecture is very much Cambodian with the mix of Buddhist and Hindu flavours, but you can tell that they’ve studied well what the Western tourists are looking for in their little Asian getaways (I watched Eat Pray Love on the Frankfurt to Singapore flight. Just think of all the stuff Julia Roberts did in India and Bali to be counter-Western in that film and you’ll know what I mean).

Upon our arrival at the Siem Reap airport this morning, we were greeted by a sign with my mum’s name on it. We cleared immigration and customs without having to stand in line because of who our hosts were. Then we were ushered off in a van that took us to this villa where a young child was making what I would guess to be traditional Khmer music in the corner. At the other corner, there was a Buddhist altar similar to the ones in both of my grandma’s homes, except on a bigger scale. The Asian-ness is familiar, but having lived in the US for the last six years and all the other cultural and religious influences that have been a part of my life in the last six years, this familiarity is so welcoming… and refreshing.

So we check into our villa, a huge suite with two huge rooms, two huge bathrooms, a huge sitting area and kitchen space. I could spend the rest of our week in the country here and be happy. But something about that weirds me out just a little because I still think about my own life on the other side of the world where I know that 1) I will never be able to afford vacations like these by myself because of my vocational call, and 2) I feel a little guilty for this expenditure. I’ve already been processing the part about how the middle-class in Singapore is far better off in terms of quality of life than the middle-class in the US. But I haven’t quite reached the point of reconciliation with myself about if I want to do anything about that, or what that would mean yet.

Then after our luggages were dropped off in our villa, we were carted off again to breakfast Cambodian-style. They had the eggs, toast and coffee selection but they also had the Asian variation of rice and noodles (which reminded me of HT’s, “Thank you for bringing rice” comment when I brought Mum’s chicken porridge to our Biblical Foundation for Mission breakfast final. HT, by the way, is Korean) which was what we opted for.

It was at this point that Mum pointed out that the average Cambodian would not be able to afford the meal we were having, even though it was only US$2 per person. Our van-driver and tour-guide made about US$30 per month. The advocacy for social justice instilled in me by my good old Missions professor MaryAnn made me want to do something about it. But what would that be?

A lot of processing to do. But for now, I’m off to be social.

Merry Christmas!

It is 11:50 am on Christmas Eve here in Singapore where I am sitting in the bedroom I grew up in in my parents' house.

In Anderson, one of my other homes, it is 10:50 pm the day before.

Elsewhere in the world, some are asleep while others are just waking up. I never appreciated this until this summer when I was in Germany. It would be the middle of the day, and one side of my world was going to bed while the other one was just waking up.

I don't like being in a different time zone from my families in Singapore or Anderson - or now, Germany. But someone reminded me this just means no matter where in the world I go, no matter what time it might be, there will always be some kind of family awake for me.

And I think this is something new I am learning about Emmanuel, God with us.

Emmanuel knows each of our stories; the story of where we came from, the story of where we are now, and the story of where we are going.

Emmanuel that created us knew what we needed to help us with our past.

Emmanuel that redeemed us knows what we need to deal with our present.

Emmanuel that sustains us knows what we need to deal with our future.

As Christmas is about a day, or a few hours away (depending on where in the world you are as you read this), we remember Emmanuel that came to walk on this earth. Thank you for helping to make Emmanuel real to me this year through being a part of my big world-wide family.

God has been here since the beginning of time. May Emmanuel be real to you this Christmas.

Hugs,

Jael

My Two Worlds...

Before this past semester of seminary started, I remembered telling someone that I was glad John and Elizabeth were joining us in the seminary. And it wasn't just because it was them, but because I would really appreciate the exchange of insights from Asians whose theology was actually shaped by Asia and not half and half like mine is.

And I was right. Except I was once again surprised that this theology didn't show up in the classroom but instead in the day-to-day living.

Through various interactions with Elizabeth, I was reminded that for them, giving up the quality of life they had in Taiwan is a far bigger sacrifice than people in the Anderson circle can understand. Forgive me if I sound harsh here, but sure, the Kenyans and the Indians make their sacrifices to come over for this higher education. And they have to take out loans and have half their families sell off their possessions to pay for school and all that. But because they're from the "third-world," it's natural for people from the Anderson circle to pull strings for them to find odd-jobs, cheat the system and stuff like them to help them pay off school. It's natural for people from the Anderson circle to think about buying them dinners, paying for their groceries and stuff.

I'm by no means saying that this isn't necessary. But I'm just reminded that for those who have been used to a much higher quality of life like in Taiwan, or even in Singapore, the sacrifices to be in a small suburban town in the middle of nowhere America involve more than just giving up the bright lights of the city for the cornfields. It means birthday gifts for each other are less fancy now. It means giving up the once-a-week sushi and fine-dining for more home-cooked meals. It means watching friends from high school splurge on extravagant shopping sprees and overseas trips while we scrimp and save to pay off the phone-bill and look for cheap weekend getaways once in a while so that we don't have to take unpaid vacation days off from our minimum wage job. It means finding ways to stay content in the cornfields even though we know we could easily come back to this side of the Pacific and easily return to this quality of life that we gave up.

And I'm not writing this to brag because God only knows the only way I made it this far is because of the people in the cornfields who remind me it's easy to be content with the small things. And God only knows I made it this far because I have people on this side of the Pacific who have made their sacrifices to keep me on the other side. And I had time to ease full-fledge into what it means to live with the quality of life that I do in the cornfields.

But I guess the yearly trips back to this side of the Pacific mess with my identity crisis even more because, for 3-4 weeks in a year, I live the life of the daughter of an average middle-class person in Singapore with a quality of life that I never dare to dream of, knowing what lies ahead in my vocational future. And then I go back to being the seminary student trying to make ends meet, learning that communal living and making cheap meals in bulk to feed a big group might be the cheapest way to go about surviving those cornfields.

You know how they say, "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God"? I've always only sort of understood that. I've never gone from being a wealthy individual into that poor college student; I've just reaped the benefits of my parents' occupations. So I understand it some, but it's never been quite so personal. But as I watch John and Elizabeth make these sacrifices to answer their call, it hits home again.

I know I've never been more content in the simplicity of the life I now lead, and I would never trade this for anything else in the world, even in the thick of the semester and the frustrations with God. But that's because of the community I've had on both sides of the Pacific who have helped to make it easier. And while I only have one semester left, John and Elizabeth are only at the beginning of their journey. And I already have a feeling their people on both sides of the Pacific will show up for them, as mine did for me.

Processing TCKness

Forgive the thought spillage here, but the last few weeks have been spent running from one thing to another, with a few minutes in between to stop and think. So tonight there might be a bit of verbal diarrhea, but we'll try to keep it contained.

It's that time of the year when the identity crisis of the third-culture kid in me hits its lowest point trying to figure out these transitions not just between one culture to another, but one home to another. You know how they say, you can be in a big crowd of friends but still feel lonely? Well, you can also blend in with a culture but still not feel like you belong anywhere.

Blending in is not belonging.

And maybe it's wishful thinking for someone with my vocational call to want a sense of belonging in some culture of the world considering the rest of my life probably entails continual transition from one culture to another.

Just thinking about sitting in the room tonight with a bunch of seminary friends that I know I've done a fairly good job of being intentional about being relational with. God only knows how much easier it would be for me to hide behind tasks so I don't have to deal with the risks of getting hurt by love. God only knows how much easier it would be to keep doing life in isolation as I have for so long.

And God only knows how hard it has been trying to focus in the here and now.
Sitting at a party with acquaintances, checking my phone every once in a while for updates on a friend's health.
Sitting in a room amongst friends watching a movie and trying to chill after an exhausting week, heart hurting for friends on one side of the world and trying to figure out how the heck I am doing with my own emotional health.
And getting antsy about that dreaded 30 hours on the plane, finally getting some down time, yet being afraid of having to deal with myself again this year.

And trying to figure out how the heck I've gotten so culturally messed up that others can relate to pieces of my story but not the whole deal.

I've always known my cultural adaptability and chameleon-like personality would come in handy with my vocational call. But at the same time, I really just long for community that would know the ins and outs of the story and still stick with me through the rest of the developing story, rather than hear the stories because they are fresh and fascinating and they've never met a more culturally messed-up person than me.

But I know community is hard. And my level of commitment to being community to others is my own, and I cannot hold others to my same standard.

And while I'm frustrated with life at the moment, I would never trade any of this mess for anything else in the world. Because it is out of my messed up cultural identity that I can do well with the post-modern, post-Christian world, and without the story that backs up this mess of cultures, I have no understanding or credibility in that world.

I'm frustrated. And I'm getting tired so I should end this one before more ridiculousness ensues. For whatever reason, I'm REALLY looking forward to my decompression time at that favourite place in the world this year.