The Dark Corner [Part 2]

She found herself back there again. The cold darkness reeked of a familiarity that made her sick to her gut.

It was barely over two years ago since the last episode in there and it almost felt like it was too soon to be back there again. But the chills, and the glimmer of the moonlight reflecting on the snow that had since covered the yard... Ah, yes of course. The Dark Corner.

"Hey kiddo..."

Him again. Except, this time the familiarity of that voice brought a sense of peace that almost surprised her.

"Hi Papa," she greeted him as he took the spot beside her and lightly ruffled her hair. He pulled his blanket over her shoulders and finally let the one hand rest on her back. She leaned in and rested her head on his chest, letting out a deep sigh.

"It's kinda dark in here, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

A few moments passed in silence as she inhaled deep breaths and felt the first tears start to form. She shut her eyes, willing the tears to go away just as the first one landed on her cheek.

"I'm not ready for light yet," she finally responded. "It's just... The light seems to bright right now, and my eyes need time to adjust to this brightness. And it just seems like the distance from my point of darkness to your point of light is too far of a journey to walk when I'm already exhausted from my wrestling in this darkness."

He said nothing; and as she continued to struggle to find the right words to describe her frustration, she was surprised to find that her eyes had adjusted so quickly to the darkness that as he entered the room, she could tell right away who he was.

And that was when it hit her. His light wasn't the distant far-away candle that she had spent all this time looking for. It was the gentle glowing of his presence right beside her in that darkness.

As if reading her mind, he started singing the words she was familiar with from a long time ago...

After the fire is over
After the ashes cool
After the smoke has blown away
I will be here for you


After the stillness finds you
After the winds of change
All that is good and true between us
This will remain the same


After your time of wand'ring
Along this lonely road
There will be many voices calling
Mine will say, "Welcome home"

Slowly...slowly

We turn the page of life

Growing...knowing

It comes at quite a price

"Child, just let me love you."

Seasons of Grief; Seasons of Love

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?


In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.


In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life?


How about love?
How about love?
How about love? Measure in love

I'm becoming increasingly convinced that it isn't until you have cried with someone that you can truly say you know them. And it isn't until you've cried because of them, whether it's because you're hurting so much with them or because of them, that you can truly say you love them.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not trying to convince you that you need to be crying because of someone everyday, or that Days of Our Lives is an accurate depiction of love. I'm just saying that until we've really learnt what it means to hurt rationally with or for someone, we don't actually know them or love them.

Which, on hindsight, is probably what made 2010 such a difficult year. It wasn't simply a matter of how many times I moved or how many places I did life in in that year. It wasn't simply the transitioning in and out of cultures. It wasn't simply having to say goodbye.

Sure, the Anderson-Berlin-Anderson-Singapore-Anderson transitions were a bit crazy. Sure, there was some amount of stability in that Anderson was still the place to "land" in between all the moving. But no, in 2010 I finally learnt what it means to really love and do life with people. And each time I was starting to be able to hurt with the people I was living amongst, it was time to move on.

Friends who graduated in May, I never really had time to celebrate and grieve them moving on from Anderson and it was time to go to Berlin.
I was just starting to get to know some of the stories of the friends in Berlin and it was time to do the traveling part of the internship.
I had just enough time to spend with friends in Pforzheim to know about the things that mattered to them and it was time to go. Same with the friends in Fritzlar.
I barely had enough time to hear the hearts of some of the friends and hurt with the kids at Teenfreizeit and it was time to go back to Anderson.
My understanding of the theories of doing life together were just getting put to test by difficult relationships and times spent in the hospital; and I barely even had time to hurt over these things and it was time to go back to Singapore.
Old friends in Singapore were just starting to open up with their stories all over again and it was time to head back to Anderson.

So much time to learn to love; so little time to actually love.
So much time to laugh together about the shallow things; so little time to cry together.


But yet...

There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven--

A time to give birth and a time to die;

A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.

A time to kill and a time to heal;

A time to tear down and a time to build up.

A time to weep and a time to laugh;

A time to mourn and a time to dance.

A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones;

A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.

A time to search and a time to give up as lost;

A time to keep and a time to throw away.

A time to tear apart and a time to sew together;

A time to be silent and a time to speak.

A time to love and a time to hate;

A time for war and a time for peace.

What profit is there to the worker from that in which he toils?

I have seen the task which God has given the sons of men with which to occupy themselves.

- Ecclesiastes 3:1-10

In the grander scheme of Life and Time according to the Creator, it all makes sense.

Sure, 2010 was brutal. But if I could go back and redo 2010, I wouldn't want to have done it any other way.

Because my God is a God of Love.
And all the Truth that I have in this Life is Love.
And Love is the only thing my God wants from me.
And Love is the only thing I have to give.
And for this Love, I will willingly take the grief, the heartaches and the pain that come with it.

Because my God is a God of Love.

And all the Truth that I have in this Life is Love.

50 States

Ok, so a few years back, I made it my goal to at least past through as many of the 50 states of the US before I leave. Well, I have about 7 months left. So now in planning my last 7 months, I've decided to see how I did and figure out how many more I can cover before the 7 months are up. Here goes...

Alabama - drove through on the way to Florida, spring break 2005
Alaska
Arizona - graduation trip, May 2007
Arkansas - drove through on the way to Mexico, summer 2006
California - flew in and out of LAX too many times to remember; graduation trip, May 2007
Colorado - spring break 2011
Connecticut - graduation trip, May 2011?
Delaware - graduation trip, May 2011?
District of Columbia - flew through airport, I think it was Christmas break 2006-2007?
Florida - spring break 2005
Georgia - spring break 2006
Hawaii
Idaho
Illinois - first trip would be with either Women's Chorus or AUCME 2004
Indiana - August 2004
Iowa - drove through on the way to South Dakota, spring break 2007
Kansas - driving through on the way to Colorado, spring break 2011
Kentucky - first trip would probably on the way to Florida, spring break 2005
Louisiana
Maine
Maryland - graduation trip, May 2011
Massachusetts - graduation trip, May 2011
Michigan - first trip would be either AUCME or Thanksgiving 2004
Minnesota - flew through Minneapolis/St Paul, August 2004
Mississippi
Missouri - drove through on the way to Mexico, summer 2006
Montana
Nebraska - drove through on the way to South Dakota, spring break 2007
Nevada - first time would be flying through on the way back from Oregon, fall break 2006; graduation trip, May 2007
New Hampshire - graduation trip, May 2011?
New Jersey - drove through on the way to New York, spring break 2010
New Mexico
New York - spring break 2010
North Carolina - flew through on the way back, Christmas break 2010-2011
North Dakota
Ohio - first trip would be AUCME 2004
Oklahoma
Oregon - fall break 2006
Pennsylvania - drove through on the way to New York, spring break 2010
Rhode Island
South Carolina - graduation trip, May 2011?
South Dakota - spring break 2007
Tennessee - first trip would be driving through to Florida, spring break 2005
Texas - drove through on the way to Mexico, summer 2006; IYC, summer 2008
Utah
Vermont
Virginia - graduation trip, May 2011
Washington - Steph's wedding, "spring break" 2009
West Virginia - drove through on the way to New York, spring break 2010
Wisconsin - I think so, but I cannot remember when and why?
Wyoming

Not too bad. Excluding the "maybe"s, that would be 33 out of 50 states (and DC) in the span of 7 years. Hey if you'd like to be a sponsor to make the last 18 happen, I really wouldn't mind it :)

Guests in the Childhood Home

My mother has an impeccable gift of hospitality. Or as my BFF put it, "the gift of taking care of people." She's never been extravagant with anything, and it's the same with her hospitality. But her gift comes through being able to laugh at herself and make any person that walked through our front doors feel completely at home because she's "crazy". She engaged every person with a level of ridiculousness that you just had to laugh -- if not with her, then at her.

We always had strict rules in our household, and her home-cooked meals would be considered "too healthy" by most of our friends. But that never stopped our youth-group from making our home the most frequented hang-out after church because they didn't want to go home. And even though Auntie Florence would always make them eat a lot of veggies and Uncle Steven would make this horrible-tasting but very nutritious fruit juice, our friends, and eventually also the kids my mum tutored would still enjoy hanging out in our home.

Six-and-a-half years ago, my brother and I moved out of this home. But the guests still kept coming through those doors. Recently, when it became clear that we were moving out for good, our bedrooms became the living space for two Malaysian kids who were in Singapore for education. They were kids that my mum had been tutoring before they moved in. It was good for my parents because not only did it bring a slight addition to the household income, it also gave my mum more "kids" to "take care of".

And so now, we have become the guests in the childhood home. Except each year when we return, we get our own sets of keys, an EZ-link card (transport pass in Singapore), a cell-phone and spending money. We're still family, so we still get special treatment :) And each year when we leave, we return the keys, the EZ-link card, the cell-phone and whatever's left of the spending money. The doors are still open, as they've always been, even after we've developed "strange Western styles of living."

Home will always be home where the parentals are
Where the once-upon-a-time baby sister is
Where Grandma calls everyday to ask if we're hungry and if we want her to bring food over
Where the cousins gather for our Christmas party
Where the girl-friends from high school get together for our reunions

Even when we're only guests there once a year
Even if we find more distant lands to call home the rest of our lifetime

Because this is the home that gave me a legacy to live
This is the home that taught me about the craziness of hospitality
This is the home that taught me to always make sure no one is hungry
This is the home that taught me the importance of gathering together every once in a while

In a recent conversation with the BFF, she made me dream about where we might find ourselves in ten months time--the next time I'll be back in the country that owns my passport. And then she said this: "No matter where you go, no matter what you find yourself doing, whether it's in church or outside of the church, you will always be taking care of people. Because that's just what you do."

And it's only because of the legacy that this home taught me to live.

Because this is home.
Even if it's one of many homes.

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.