heads, I care for my family; tails, I care for the world / same thing

I finally, finally got to watch Vas, Vis, et Deviens last night after coming home from the belated birthday dinner that J.N. and T.G. hosted for me. One fatigue meltdown later, and being put to bed, our son allowed my husband and me to watch this 2.5 hour long movie into the night, uninterrupted. A luxury I thought I could never enjoy again after our firstborn arrived.

Besides about three scenes, it was a completely new movie to me. I have become, it seems, a completely new person since I saw it in a Parisian movie theater six years ago. Back then, this movie had simply but profoundly--with the help of all the people I met in Paris--changed my fundamental perspective on race and ethnicity. Really, this movie, in conjunction with my time in Paris, made it possible for my now-family to come into being.

Watching Vas, Vis, et Deviens, this second time around, underlined how much becoming a mother is re-shaping me. A fourth scene burned itself into my mind, and became the most haunting sequence that surfaced over and over again in my dreams afterwards: the real footage of refugee children and babies in the Sudan. One particular baby made me scream inside, with his or her swollen head and triangular jawline, two jagged peaks where his/her cheeks should have been. Oh God. Until I had a baby of my own, suffering of this extent didn't really sink in with me. It's horrible, I know, but not until I now have a personal day-to-day contrast between my own double-chinned child, who sometimes reminds me of a fat mafia warlord, did the image and the reality that this happened and is still happening to children everywhere take a figurative sucker punch to my stomach and literally take my breath away. And an urgency like never before to prevent this from happening, business as usual.

Another mother shared a long-envisioned dream of her young family living in peace, which stuck to my mind in the same niggling fashion as what I'd witnessed last night; it's the flip side of the same coin: What do I want to do with my life? This coin I have rolled around in my hands since I left my country at nine-years-old with starry dreams of righting wrongs in the world. In ignorance, I had scorned the vision of a peaceful family. It had seemed selfish, insular, and devoid of any concern for the suffering. I had, since kindergarten (most likely influenced by my male adult relatives who were government-sponsored officials, soldiers, or doctors), envisioned that I would join their ranks in confronting corruption, tyranny, or disease. Patronizing comments about my being female merely made me adjust my aspirations to account for sexism's roadblocks. Around middle school, though, under the tutelage of an excellent social studies teacher, I realized with a shock that the people I resolved to "save" seem to have the uniform desire of one day, after surviving their current conditions, creating a peaceful home and family of their own.

This growing awareness forced my hand to turn over that coin and examine more seriously the side I'd scorned for so long. If the end goal of all this striving is to lead a harmonious life, why should I--someone who could clearly enjoy what all these people long for--shun it, disrespect it? As these two contrasting (contrasting because I had made them so) ideas presented themselves so immediately this week, I discovered with great surprise how differently I understand the matter now.

It is in having a child that I'm coming to understand the suffering of the world in increasing depth. It is in caring for my family that all the problems faced by other mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, seem all the more urgent to care about. My surprise, you see, is in how the coin I've flipped over and over again is no longer disjointed. These two sides make the whole. What I want to do with my life is fully complete with these two surfaces, together. Becoming a wife and mother--two roles I had very much resented and feared would end my freedom--are actually keeping my dreams alive. People like Sandra Steingraber and Elijah Lovejoy especially inspire me; they threw themselves into their missions to call out wrongs and to right them precisely because they were/are called to protect their children. They want to help make the world a kinder, more just, place for their children and their children's children.

That is what legacy means. It would have been impossible, really, impossible, for me to understand were I to have remained childless. My vision for how I want to serve with my life would have remained immature, a quasi-noble but actually self-glorifying goal. The definition of "selfish ambition," which had troubled me when I first read it in the Scriptures because, while not understanding, I had a feeling it had something to do with me. My ante-partum depression really forced me to work on surrendering a lot of junk in my soul.

So I celebrate with other people, now, their visions of God-blessed domesticity. These are as important as the desire for Heaven in our hearts. Not as something to keep us passive in our present lives, but as a finish line that goads us on to attempt greater things because we have something so good to hope for. May God use these things--as He uses all things--for His purposes.

genesis 32

When a struggle bears fruit, it is most gratifying.

I'm glad I verbalized my doubt and frustration to my husband and God, and recorded them in my last post here. Because this is one of those times when I will look back during times of silences and so-called "dark nights of the soul" to know, even if I don't feel, God is with me.

A matter of hours after my direct questioning, I was searching online about midwifery in China and Taiwan since it's very likely that my next child (God willing) would be born in Asia. Did you know that c-section rates in some Chinese hospitals are up to 100%? That. Is. Insane. Fortunately, the specter of all this bleak information was dispelled--at least momentarily--by my discovering an extensive parent network in Taiwan that seems to be more "my people" regarding how children should be born and raised. That got my husband and me talking about precisely why we chose the China position over the other offers he received. The fact of the matter is taking a position in Asia really opens up the best and quickest access to Taiwan later on, and hopefully I won't be as alone as I feel myself to be right now. Surely there are others in a city of six million who are similar to me.

And now, just now, as I was in the kitchen peeling and mincing garlic for the dinner I plan to make tonight, my husband's practicing Chinese in the dining room behind me. Even if nothing else gets accomplished in China, his becoming fluent in Mandarin would be a huge goal achieved--for him, for our kids, for our family, for future places we might go.

So many things in life -- the way we eat, spend our days, spend our money, interact with people and our kids -- are determined by competing forces, and which one(s) win out in the moment. How I would like things to be right now versus in the long run. Right now, it makes sense to stay in the States or go off on a pleasure jaunt to Europe or the Middle East for interesting experiences. If we had chosen these, I'm sure God would use where we would have been for good, too. But since I really would like us to be in Asia and be a part of a sorely needed social movement there, the choice we made is the best versus just the pretty good.

I spent some more time reflecting on why we gave our son the Chinese name that he has. It's the Chinese translation of the Hebrew "yireh" after "Yahweh-yireh". Not to be overly dramatic, but when I focus on all the pollution and lack of food and toy safety China's known for, I feel like Abraham tying up Isaac for the slaughter. In that light, how much more appropriate is our son's name.

i thought i was ready but no.

I'm so fed up with the visa situation, both now and in the future (re-entry fee at US$140 a pop every time? Wtf!) that I really just want to flip China the bird and hop over to Taiwan for good after touching down in Shanghai briefly.

Of course it's not ideal for my son and me to be apart from his father and my husband for 3.5 years except for visits, but then I think about my son learning only simplified Chinese, or the education and environmental dangers he'll most likely be exposed to. Not to mention any future kids of ours.

Why did we pass up on the position in Israel, or Philadelphia, or even Paris possibly if he hadn't withdrawn his application once these other offers came through? I imagine myself and the family in these places, always with a wistful image of how much easier things would be. The fresh produce. Law and order.

God, I need to talk with you. Is this simply your way of making me live out what it means to follow you above all else? Or is this gnawing anxiety a sign to change course? Please remind me again why we're going to this specific place.

vas, vis, et deviens

Maybe it's because I turn 29 tomorrow, and I feel rather insignificant in light of such a formidable age for myself. Julius Caesar, on the eve of his 30th birthday, had wept at the foot of Alexander the Great's statue. He had cried in disappointment at how little he'd accomplished compared to the latter's feats around the same age. I do not long for world conquest. I long for adventures, to be a part of brave social movements. Instead, here I am, almost at the end of my 20s, and all I have done in life is teach a little over a hundred students, write, marry my life partner, raising a child... Ok, there are big things here. But they are also so mundane, not at all the stuff of my dreams as a little girl, reading about the college-aged revolutionaries of the early 1900s who joined Dr. Sun Yat-Sen in overthrowing the last dynasty of China to form the first republic and true democracy in Asia.

For some reason, Paris kept coming to mind. The two weeks I spent there during the summer of 2005, right after my year of working in Taiwan and before arriving in the unknown city of Pittsburgh. How I spent a whole day at Sacred Heart Basilica, wrote pages upon pages of reflection in the Tuilleries Garden, bought a ticket (much to the horror of the billet-dispenser at my broken French) to watch Vas, Vis, et Deviens with my cousin. Revisiting the plot of that movie, the theme of being a minority among minorities rears in my thoughts again. Last Tuesday, someone referred to me as being bi-cultural in the manner of Moses. And--not to seem like I have delusions of grandeur--I do take comfort at times with how Moses was raised Egyptian as he longed to belong with the Jews. Everytime someone asks me who I am, nationality-wise, I could only say, "It's complicated." And I wonder if God will ever use this mass of complicated connections that is my cultural background the way He used Moses'.

Oh, I hope I don't have to go through forty years of living in the backside of the desert too, though. Maybe this period of time, while I focus primarily on raising my son and maybe one or two more kids, will be akin to that. Who knows.

The thoughts I had last night surrounding the above made me want to re-watch that movie again. To comprehend all of it instead of just the parts that my cousin enlightened me through whispered translations in the darkened theater six years ago. Would you believe that the Carnegie library system has this French-Israeli film on file? I love the Carnegie libraries. Oh, I'm going to miss them.

a lot less time than I thought we had

Isn't that always the case? (Refer to this post's title.)

Argh and sigh. The first week of July is quickly slinking away, which leaves only three more weeks to:

(1) Clear luggage space and whittle down our boxes of possessions.

(2) Organize/clean this house we're staying at as an appreciative expression for our hosts' kindness.

(3) Hang out with Pittsburgh friends and family.

(4) Secure an apartment in our new city

(5) Complete visa process, renew my other passport, and update misc.

And take care of my son at the same time.

Tomorrow is P.C.'s wedding, and I want to devote as much time and energy as possible to help prep for it despite the constraints that my son's nap times and mobility put on such a desire. I will return to everything else next Monday.

last month in pittsburgh

Day five of staying at J.L and J.W.'s home. Lots of things I still need to sort through for donation/packing to take to China. A wave of lethargy and/or surrealism that I'm finally really truly leaving Pittsburgh after six years brought packing to a near halt at the apartment in the final days of June. This resulted in frantic throwing of things into any and all open boxes and suitcases after the skirmish with the unreliable moving truck company finally resolved in the span of two days. I was reminded of the night I (1) just finished my finals for graduate school and was about to relax for the night with a movie when (2) my then-boyfriend, now-husband doubled-checked our plane tickets for what I thought was the next day but was actually a few hours in coming. Those midnight flight times were tricky, I tell you. Oh, and (3) I have yet to start the moving-out process of my then-apartment, which I was counting on doing for the whole non-existent day before our flight.

Commence panic, the test of true friendships during a crisis, and the chaos that was moving out against a pressing deadline. My little dog was placed on the bed to avoid being trampled. This time, the panic was accompanied by two neighbors with a one-year-old boy. They're from Taiwan and, even though I just met them on our last day in the apartment complex, helped us move out about six boxes of to-donate-to-others stuff and provided more boxes for our packing purposes because I had stupidly thrown out earlier ones. I am grateful for all the support we got from all directions.

So, apartment living, apartment living, apartment living... and we'll be living in an apartment once we get to China (God willing...location still to be found). For one month only, I am living in a house.

And it is glorious. I now understand, in a way I never could before having a child, why people would desire to own such big mansion-esque houses where the family car(s) even get their own little housing unit. J.L. and J.W.'s house is not ostentatious like those, but rather a two-storied cozy abode with wood floors. One room with foam tiles for the kids to play upon. It is lovely. I am relishing being able to type really loudly right now and heating breakfast in the microwave and flushing the toilet (a little while ago, not simultaneously as I type) and blowing my nose heartily on the *first* *floor* without waking the baby. It makes me wonder if the first few months of my son's life would have been less torturous for me, if I have had more indoor space to walk around while carrying his crying frame besides the three seconds of distance my kitchen had with the living room and the bedroom in my son's first home.

Still, living in a smaller apartment means less financial pressure i.e. professional work, for me, is still a choice rather than a necessity. It's a worthy trade-off, even though I miss professional work so much some days. I am not callous enough to be ungrateful for the extra time I get to spend watching my son grasp developmental milestones every day. Work will come, I have resolved, even if I start again with just a few hours of tutoring/translating/editing a day or adjunct teaching at a local university once we settle in the new city. Unlike work, of which one can always get a new one, this part of my son's life comes and goes once and only once; infancy is scientifically the shortest phase of a person's life.

Regarding infants, while watching my god-daughter aka J.L. and J.W.'s two-year-old girl play beside my son, I feel myself becoming more open to bearing just one more child. Hopefully a girl this time. (If not a girl, we will adopt.) And, seeing the difference between how a six-year-old vs. a two-year-old live alongside a baby, I'm wondering if I should be open to another baby sooner than the spacing I had formerly settled upon in the event I finally forget all the horrid details leading up to life now with my son and say, sure, why not go through it all again.

But, once again, China first. There's still a lot of challenges ahead to face, to trust God with, to learn and grow from, to enjoy, before I open this currently-distant can of worms.

As for now, I shall do my best to find where is where among our boxes. Hopefully I can find the charger for this laptop as well.

thoughts that currently keep me up too late

The apartment is in disarray, as the husband's and my belongings migrate into boxes. The furniture that once contained them are being slowly auctioned off to friends, neighbors, or for storage consideration. I have a faint flashback to the days leading up to my leaving the U.S. after college graduation, when I ended my health insurance coverage and prepared myself for the possibility of never coming back to this country again. Because of a long-time boyfriend who had been open to the idea of going abroad (but eventually wanted to stay in the States), I returned just as I was finally making a life of my own. I wonder how things will play out this time.

So I went to bed too late, even by half an hour. And my son has taken to pooping at six a.m. these past few days, which means I must get up then. I need to do better about this.

I also need to practice at having a more grateful heart, instead of envying another friend who recently moved to Lancaster, PA and its bounty of CSAs and ethically-grown local produce and animals. Wistfully remembering Temple U.'s job offer to the husband for six times the salary he plans to receive in China. I just finished reading Sandra Steingraber's Raising Elijah: Protecting Our Children in an Age of Environmental Crisis, you see. This science writer's Having Faith: An Ecologist's Journey to Motherhood about her pregnancy with her daughter had been a real support and guide during my own pregnancy with my son. It was what clinched the case for me to have a completely natural birth, to avoid exposure to pollution and chemicals as much as possible. that avoidance was worth the trouble. Now, her most recent book opens my eyes to the poorly-regulated chemical practices all around us and how they impact our children--the demographic most vulnerable to toxins of every kind. But I am moving soon to the country that is currently No.1 in the amount of CO2 being dumped into the atmosphere. Just an example of how the land is being misused.

The fact that we're moving specifically to a city known for its environmental beauty doesn't abate my concerns much. It's the best case scenario, certainly, but any beginner in studying ecology and natural resources can tell you that the natural world is interconnected. Pollutants know no boundaries. What are we to do?

I will keep packing for now, and get good rest when I can. (I feel tired all the time...anemia again?) Another friend recently gifted me with a book by Ann Voskamp called One Thousand Gifts in which Voskamp seems to suffer bouts of depression as I do and practices eucharisteo (thanksgiving) by making a list of a thousand things in everyday life that she considers gift from God. Perhaps I will do the same.