pity

I have a nephew.
My cousin gave birth to Obi in the winter last year, and I was able to visit him and his mother in the postpartum ward, peering at his little pink face, all wrapped in a towel, through the glass that partitioned the sleeping babies from visitors.


I've had the pleasure of visiting Obi a few times since his birth. He has completely stolen my heart with his giggles, snuggles, and smiles. And I know I'm not the only one. Obi has grown to a handsome, fun-loving, joy-filled, dashing little boy. All things loveable and loving, he is quick to give out smiles and hugs, charming all who meet him with his symmetric dimples and perfect little teeth. He lives a flourishing life with loving parents, a skilled nanny, doting grandparents, and adoring aunts and uncles. In Chinese we call his name 亮亮, which expresses the shining, bright light which has pierced all of our hearts when he came into the world.

Obi has albinism.


When the quavers of the initial shock rippled its way throughout our extended family, we all reached out as best we could to hold up our loved ones through the process when things in your family don't go as you've planned. Then the storm passed and gave way to the clear, sunny skies of Obi's smiles and giggles, and I thought all was well, as could be well. Everyone loved Obi, and his dedicated parents were committed to do whatever would be best for him.

But it doesn't stop there. This past weekend I went to visit my grandma and on more than one occasion the mention of Obi would bring about this reaction: "好可惜" -- what a pity, with a sigh or a slight shake of the head. The first time I heard it, I could only give a sympathetic smile while I inwardly rebelled. Then I heard it again and again, and the more I heard it, the more unhappy I became.

In our world, the hold of each culture's ideals is strong. We wish for health, security, success. But things happen outside our control because we are finite beings, and those who do not measure up to those ideals are either marginalized, pitied, or a blend of both. And yes, when we see such an energetic, happy, handsome baby as Obi and think about the struggles he may face in the future, of course we have feelings of pity for him. But Obi cannot be defined by his difficulties, just as we are not.

The words "可惜" are used when milk is spilled, or when a bunch of green vegetables is left to wither away for more than a week in the chiller compartment of the fridge, or when a useful piece of dishware is broken. They are used when a good coupon expires, or when a congenial couple breaks up. It's a pity. What a pity.

To me, in these words, there is a sense of waste. The milk, the veggies, the dish, the savings, the chemistry -- something good is gone. There is something shameful in it; the full potential that was left unreached. But if we use these words on a yet ungrown child, the words cast a barrier in front of him -- they assume he can never reach his full effectiveness. That he will never experience life fully. In a sense, he will never be fully human.

I want to refute these words and the ideas behind them. Obi is not one to be pitied. There is nothing shameful about his condition. He is a precious, precious being, and God willing, he will grow and mature and reach his full potential -- not the predetermined ideals set by society, but develop into the person that he alone can be and do the things that he alone can do as an individual. Who is to say he will not or cannot be a great person?

 To me, he already is.



I write this as much for myself as for all out there who encounter special needs in their lives. As much as I am for advocacy, intervention, and integration, there can only be so much that parents, educators, and specialists can do. Without love and acceptance from family, friends, and community, it will only be so much harder, in spite of the technology, the therapy, the research. We cannot turn a blind eye just because they are different from us. This is why I am so glad that our school has chosen to partner with ministries such as Taiwan Sunshine and the special needs school in Ren Wu district, connecting our students with other students who may not look, act, or communicate the same way that they do, but reaching out to discover the same joys and graces that God bestows upon us in this world.

So let it not be a pity. Let them be empowered.

taking back JOY

The day I walked into our first home together I knew there would be a lot of work to do. Exhausted from two days of traveling, my shoulders slumped even more when I saw the piles of dust, the splintering wood, the cracking tiles. But we were newly married, and with that newly married glow in my mind I pictured the pioneer girl who, with her grit and pluck, managed to make a home out of a wilderness. So I rolled up my metaphorical sleeves and set to work.

But the days went by and we settled, as the dust that settles, no matter how it was wiped away. The buckets under the leaky sinks amassed dirty water. The old pipes smelled--we covered the drains and turned our heads away, just as we squinted away the bad paint job on the walls, blinked at the eroding grout, blind-eyed the splintering doors. Just two years, at most. And then we could move on.

But try as I might, no amount of wiping, bucket-emptying, head-turning, or eye-squinting made all those things go away. Slowly, imperceptibly, a corrosiveness seeped into my being. An attitude of the temporary. To endure, stick through, put up with this present existence until Happy Ever After. A subconscious resignation to a gnawing discontent.

Oh discontent. How you have been the downfall of humanity! In the silent void, the restlessness takes on a cancerous unhappiness.

I read a blog post of another lady who discovered, from the mouth of her little son, a perceptible loss of joy in her heart after a monumental relocation of her family -- the transition had been hard on her; what she didn't realize is that it wasn't just an internal struggle. Her quiet, inward distress was affecting her children. What got to me was that aside from the message coming from the voice of a 9 year old son, I felt it was exactly what I was going through as well. Someone alongside me asking me with tears in their wide-open, wondering eyes where my joy went.

I asked myself. I am tired, discouraged, worn down by mundane toil; a solitary, isolated path on an endless mountain-pile of to-dos. My present is a schedule book and an eternal list. In this world, friends are far and heartfelt communication rare.
And this is how a heart is worn, tattered to thanklessness.

So now I challenge myself.
Remember who I am: loved and cherished by an Almighty God.

Be present -- not in the book or the list, but in the grains of sweetness that give life its special meaning.

Be open -- not to critical thoughts or internal judgments, but to receive the daily graces of a Good Father.

Be near -- not to the world and its mindless bustle, but to my God: my Savior, Redeemer, Healer, Provider, Friend.

Be thankful -- not just for work to earn daily bread, but for every little thing He sends to remind me of His goodness, His grace, His favor.


Today, it is...
...the spring rain. God knows to send refreshing to cool a parched and thirsty soul.
...the graciousness of others, who yield themselves in order to smooth the way for me.
...the ability to, at a moment's notice, send a heartfelt message to someone oceans away.



Will you, also, be challenged with me? What are you thankful for today?

cry wolf

One morning on an unsuspecting early March day we got a phone call from our parents about our church. The news just blazing the Chinese Christian community was that a widespread cult from China (dubbed 東方閃電派, Eastern Lightning) had infiltrated into the neighboring island, and churches around the country were quietly going down, one by one. Anyone who had ever heard or been somewhat exposed to anything about the cult warned us: Stay far away. Far, far away.What we heard was alarming, unsettling, and hit relatively close to home for us.

As most of you may know, the church we have been attending and even committed some time to serving here is called New Songs church. What we didn't know was that the Eastern Lightning cult was re-branding and calling themselves by the same name in Taiwan. The big question for us became whether or not we had unwittingly inducted ourselves into a cult.

We took a little break for a while. We (mostly B) did the research -- we asked questions, we asked non-affiliated pastors in the area, we stepped back and evaluated. What jarred me the most during that time was that we had begun to feel just a little bit settled at New Songs; begun to establish some relationships and throw out some tiny roots. A familiar feeling of betrayal would creep around the thought that the friendly faces we had encountered were hiding something false and dangerous; it was simply inconceivable to me.

One thing we discussed was the theology of New Songs -- what we had witnessed and heard in our short time of attendance. Although the pastor had been on leave for a several weeks due to heart problems, what we had heard was nothing short of the Gospel: Christ the Son of God and Savior, the Bible as the infallible, inspired Word of God, the Holy Spirit's convicting work to bring about repentance and change. It would have been such an irony if the leadership actually had devious, underhanded motives to use the Truth to draw people in, then turn the tables and trap them when they least expected it. But how paradoxical would that be?

On Easter Sunday we went back. That morning no sermon was preached, but one by one, testimony after testimony was shared of the power of the Resurrection of Jesus -- in the nitty gritty, daily moments of life, in the broad picture of God's perfect plan, in the very personal and spiritual part of our beings. That Sunday also marked a new beginning for the pastor after his two-month hiatus. He was back with renewed energy and redoubled vision: falling in love with the Word of God all over again. Bible study. Discipleship.

In the Olivet Discourse Jesus Himself told us that there will be false teachers coming as ravening wolves in sheep's clothing. But He gave us the gauge with which to measure them by: "You will know them by their fruits." 

I looked around and saw in each person present the fruit of God's Truth being sown on a personal, consistent, authentic level.

I thought to myself, "There is no wolf in sheep's clothing. Because the True, Good Shepherd is here."

Finally, I understood what He meant.

against the grain

One thing about living here that I seem to never get used to is the noise that comes with living in close proximity with other human beings. Although our apartment is over 30 years old and quite structurally sound so as to insulate the racket of neighbors coming through the walls and floors, we still hear goings-on around us through open windows and doors. What I never like to hear is our neighbors shouting or screaming at each other. It grates the ears and rubs nerves until they are raw, especially when it happens on a daily basis (one particular family we've dubbed the Screamers, as it seems to run in the family). It amazes me at times when a shouting match has gone on for a particularly lengthy period that I have to fight the urge to shout back at them (my other solution would be to just play these sounds out the window, loud and clear!). But I never do, only because I know it would only exacerbate the problem.

One evening when the whole family was going at it with the little ones screaming themselves hoarse and the adults not doing much better, B suggested that we pray for them. In my head I knew he was right -- so many deeper issues are going on and Satan has been wreaking havoc within this family. But in that moment, it seemed so unnatural; I didn't know them. I didn't know what they were fighting about. They were the ones who were bothering me; I just wanted them to stop.

It wasn't until later (when I could hear myself think again) that I realized what B proposed was so counter-intuitive that I didn't even want to do it. And in fact, most of the things God tells us to do are not inherent to us. Without the power of the Holy Spirit, we have no capacity in ourselves to love our neighbors, to submit to our parents, to cherish our wives, to respect our husbands. But the beauty of the gospel is that because of Christ, we are empowered to do what does not come naturally to us.

A couple weeks ago B and I attended a marriage seminar entitled "Love and Respect" with three other couple friends. Although there was never anything earth-shattering to me about the truths I heard, I knew that given the wisdom I found I now had the responsibility to carry it out in my life. It's easy to think or say "I will do this" but when one gets to the thick of the moment, when the ingrained self-preserving instincts and emotions kick in, the question to me becomes "WILL you?"

Will I be humble? Will I obey the commands of my Savior? Will I stop from barreling down my own path of inborn justice, and turn the other way to the good and the right of my other half, or my neighbor, or even my enemy?

Jesus saves. He heals and He renews. Only because of Him do I know the right thing to do is to pray for my screaming neighbors, to be compassionate to the unlovely of the world, to be respectful to my husband. And only by Him will I be able to push against the grain, to drive diametrically opposite the culture, and live it out in my life.

the un-lovely

I have been waiting and watching for what to blog about -- lately I have been going through a sort of life-inventory and self-evaluation that at times can be a bit trying -- anyone know what I mean?

Both B and I have taken the first steps and "inaugurated" ourselves into service at church. B has already translated for two sermons and I walked out of my shell and played for service. Being teamed with the pastor's son was a blessing, and for a moment there after the singing had ended I could feel the slight tingle of knowing God's presence with me -- not so much in playing well, but in playing with my heart -- a moment of a kind of Shekinah glory, almost.

But what I want to tell here is not that we have been good and praiseworthy, but perhaps to share a struggle and give challenge to myself.

On Saturday we were practicing for worship; inside the church were just the three of us -- B, Pastor's son, and me. We left the church doors open, as we are wont to do, because it leads right into the street for passersby to know we are there and feel free to stop by if they feel so inclined. Well, one lady did stop by, to our surprise and my consternation. She is the lady I have seen on spotty appearances Sunday mornings, the sight of her frightening me because her looks are not like others. Diminutive, hump-backed, toothless, and hobbling, it seemed in her movements unpredictable what she might do next. She came speaking of something but none of us could quite make out her slurred speech, which came out along with not a small amount of spit. She shuffled to each one of us in each point of the room -- even I could not hide behind the piano -- and came so insistently as she shared something that none of us could fully understand. As she stood there next to me I could tell something had disturbed her and I felt ashamed of my own insensitive fears. Swallowing pride and prejudice, I took the example of Pastor's son with his kindly, sympathetic face and listening ear, even though neither of us are very good at comprehending Taiwanese. In the end, she made her last round to each of us and starting with me, began to pray. I do not know what she prayed for, but when I finally realized she was praying as she put her wrinkled hand in mine, I was rebuked. Who knows the faith of this little woman, who claps so loudly and out of rhythm during praise and comes to church although her movements do not come with ease? Surely the world shrinks back or laughs and scorns her each day, and should she not find comfort and solace in the open sanctuary of saints?

Sometimes I wonder what I am doing here. But each week at service I see the world's unlovely and come to realize that the unloveable is what's inside my own heart. I only think that the role-reversal of this woman praying for me was in fact as it should have been. I am the one who desperately needs more of Jesus and more of His love. !

Langkawi picture post

B and I took the opportunity of overlapping breaks during CNY and flew to our belated honeymoon! Here are some highlights from our trip!

This was walkway up to the first chalet we stayed at. It was so peaceful!

Sitting area

 

Huge windows and a huge bed! They recently remodeled so everything was new and shiny. Except the floorboards felt a bit thin and creaky.

I wanted to take this bathroom home ^^

I got sick as we were heading out so the first few days we had to take it easy. We got to order room service and this was a delicious chicken soup that B ordered for me. We definitely felt spoiled!

This is the view from the place we breakfasted.

Our rainforest chalet from the outside

The beach! Envious yet? ;)

After our maids found out we were on honeymoon, we returned to our room with this on the bed =)

B's Nasi Lemak

We had to scope out the local nightmarket. I was excited to see durian even though I had no intention of buying one.

But I did buy durian sticky rice! It was pretty good, but a little overwhelming to eat just by myself since B refused to touch it. :P

B got this to eat. I think this is Nasi Lemak with a lot of chili sauce.

Nightmarket scene.

The next day we took a cable car ride, which they claimed to be the world's steepest.

The pictures don't show clearly how high we went, but I believed it after taking the ride!

A view from the top. We were high up!

The resort had a lion dance in honor of CNY. I tried to duck away into the doorway to the restaurant on the left, but it turned out to be a bad idea because that is right where they were headed!

We decided to try some local food from a food truck.

They set up tables and stools right by the beach!

This is what they were selling. Veggies and noodles in a sauce, accented with some fried crullers. It was pretty good but the sauce got to be a little inundating after a while.

We took a boat ride tour of a mangrove! I didn't really know what a mangrove was before. It's like a thick forest of thin trees that grow where salt water is present.

The scenery was beautiful. We saw a bunch of eagles and the boat captain threw some chicken into the water and got them to swoop down for us to watch.

Horseriding in the jungle and by the beach! So much fun. My horse kept wanting to be in front while B's horse kept wanting to stop and eat things.

Halfway through our trip we moved to a chalet on the water. It was so pretty!

They gave us cake and fruit! (we actually had two sets of this because we stayed in two rooms) :)

A view from our balcony

 

Monkey family! These monkeys are white-spectacled, since they have white rings around their eyes like glasses.

This is my favorite monkey picture from the week. Look at the baby holding onto the mommy's tummy!

Can you spot the sand crab?

At low tide we found the beach littered with these curious designs of tiny sand balls leading to tiny holes. We discovered the sand crabs poking out of the holes and later learned that the balls are a product of their feeding as they sift through the sand.

 

Breakfast with freshly squeezed pineapple juice

B learned how to drive on the other side of the car/road.

Public beach Pasir Tengkorak

Black Sands beach, where the sand is not so black anymore

But the black sand we did find looked a lot like 黑芝麻沙 so I wanted to eat it.

Bridge to a Waterfall

Waterfall!

Lattes at breakfast

Our last night we had dinner at one of the resort restaurants, Pahn Thai. It was built right on the water

The view was as gorgeous as the food was delicious

A stunning sunset for Valentine's Day

I got a pretty rose which I tried to bring it so carefully back with me, but the customs official said it wasn't allowed back in Taiwan. I was very sad.

B took this amazing picture with his little point-and-shoot. I think it sums up our time at Langkawi pretty well. <3