Washing Rice

I grew up the eldest of four. I quickly learned that it mattered if you were the eldest daughter or the eldest son in an Asian family. My mom called me to do everything. I trailed after her with towels to wipe the floors she mopped. She'd call home in the mornings and afternoons from work to make sure I had vacuumed. She called me to cut the vegetables, plate the rice for everyone in the family, pour the coffee for her mah jeong friends, and get the milk bottle for my baby brother. I don't think I minded until I realized my brothers and sister got to watch tv and play while I was doing all this. It was almost a relief to go away for college because she was forced to ask someone else. And of course the task fell to my younger sister rather than the brothers. (I sometimes wonder what it's like for men who grew up in traditional Asian families with no sisters. Did they learn to do all these things?)

Today I'm married with a little boy on the way. I find that in making our home, things are not a chore anymore. I enjoy cleaning the bathroom and seeing it shine. I want to clean the stoves and microwave. I'm still learning to cook good food, but it makes me happy if my family enjoys the food.

As I washed the rice today, I found myself thinking. Rinse and drain. Rinse and drain. Rinse and drain. Until the rice water pours out clear. I found myself thinking about how life speeds by you the older you get, but there are little things that will stay the same. Like how to wash rice. The same thing I did as a little girl, I do now. Washing rice, doing dishes, and folding laundry can be quite cathartic. I'm thankful my mom made me do all those things because it's easier to to learn then than in college or post-college.

I'm sure not everyone shares that opinion and many probably see chores as a chore. But there's really something really sweet about being domestic.

And I look forward to teaching my little boy how to wash rice.

Peaches

I went fruit picking this weekend for the first time in my life. There weren't too many peaches or nectarines left since it was towards the end of the season, but it was still fun. It was also hard work. Being short, I had to crane my neck and I could only reach the fruit that was within arms length. This made finding a beautiful peach all the more worthwhile. This also increased my disappointment when I'd twist a seemingly peachy peach off and find out it was a bad fruit. What defines bad fruit? Anything with weird spots, bugs/holes, or bruises. Still, I left the farm pretty happy with my blue bucket full of good peaches.

Today, I was looking more carefully through my peaches when I found one with a small dark ring of mold on it. A wave of disappointment washed over me. But, thanks to my grandmother's example of saving anything possible, I washed it, took a knife, cut the dark part out and ate the rest of the peach. It was the sweetest peach I've ever had.

When I was picking through the fruit off the trees, I felt a bit of remorse for the peaches with blemishes. It was like that blemish defined that peach as one that was no longer worthy. Most people, including me, threw it to the ground to rot and decompose-- or be food for the flies. But I felt sad for these peaches. It was like all the effort and time they took to grow were for naught and they could not fulfill their true purpose of being eaten (and bring satisfaction to the eater--me). "They don't have feelings!", said the Boy. I know, but I still felt a bit sad.

Digging deeper, I realize why I related so much to these bad peaches. It's because we were all bad peaches to begin with. These bruises, worms, holes were our sins of lying, hating, desiring to do harm upon others. And God could have justly left us to rot, decompose, and be food for the flies. We could have easily been defined as "bad peaches". I guess this is where the rest of my analogy goes awry since Jesus did cut our sin out but didn't eat us...

But you get the picture. The peach I ate today touched me because it reminded me of how we were redeemed, not accidentally but purposefully, and how we can be the sweetest fruit to bring joy to others and to God.

For while we were still weak, 

at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. 

For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—

though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—

but God shows his love for us 

in that while we were still sinners, 

Christ died for us.
(Romans 5:6-8 ESV)

Secure.

I sat there in my concert seat, observing others in the audience as my brother played Ravel's "Mother Goose". My eye landed on a brunette little boy. He was doing his best to sit still, trying to appreciate the music just like his father beside him. I was impressed by his maturity, being 5 or 6 years old, because it's hard to sit through a 2-hour concert.

His father, seeing his son's efforts, understood. He signaled for his son to crawl onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him. Safe in his father's arms, the little boy fell asleep. Safe in our Father's arms, we are secure. The father kissed his son's head. He is loved. Do you know there is such security in being loved so perfectly?

Quote of the day: "Delighting yourself in the Lord is an all-consuming, day-by-day quest to bring all of our desires into that one great desire, so that he does satisfy."-- John Piper

Life and Death.

Three years ago, I worked with a 2-year old who was struck suddenly with seizures. I saw him each week until he turned 3, because that's when the State mandates the switch to the public school system.

The daily seizures never stopped and I saw how tired his parents grew. I think about what it must be like to be those parents. To stay by the child's side throughout the night because you never knew when it would happen. To have tried to look for a cure or any possible relief and to find none. How it feels to see the child, once full of so much life, regress in his abilities and be muted because of constant medications and restrictive diets.

The memory of him and the patient, sacrificial love of his parents has never left me. When I found out how he was doing today, I got light-headed and had to lay down. As a 2.5-year old, he could label animals and colors. Today, he cannot talk at all. He was a child who loved running and sliding. Now he cannot move without a walker. He cannot dress, bathe, or feed himself.

When I worked with him, I'd be exhausted after an hour because he was one of those kids that would not sit. But if I knew that he wouldn't be able to run much longer, I would have run all the more with him. Life is short and we get blindsided by false comforts.

It is not natural for your child to pass before the parent, which is why I think I am mourning for the family knowing this possibility. Before one is a parent, one has hopes and dreams for what their child will become. With all this happening, I realize a parent really just wants the fullest life possible for their child.

I thank God they have a younger child and I pray he lives a natural life. I pray he brings them joy and love and hope. I wait for that day when God will come again and wipe away all tears. "He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:4) Come soon.

We need thee,
we need thee,
we need thee every hour.

Small Things.

Last Tuesday was a day where everything that could go wrong did. This Tuesday was a complete 180!

• One of my autistic kids drew me a "Get Well Soon" card. He can't write too well so his para helped him write, but he drew a picture of me and him together. :)
• One of the moms walked over to Starbucks and got me hot chocolate. So considerate!
• The kid who could not stop complaining the week before... stopped! Horray!
• Spoke with a mom who was relieved we could communicate in Chinese about her son's progress. She told me he really liked me and was so happy when I let him pick a prize for his birthday. :)
• Crazy progress with a kid who could not say his "v" at all 2 weeks ago. He couldn't even tell the difference between the "b" and "v" sound. Now he's at 90%. What?! Connecting the dots fo reals!
• Finally helping the kid who stutters with the concept of pausing and chillin' on a lily pad. Yeee.
  
• Teachers are actually asking me to check their students out. They trust my professional opinion??????????????
  

It's the small things that matter, but whether I have the worst Tuesday or the best Tuesday, God is still good and sovereign. Thank you Jesus!

Random: My school pictures going downhill every year made me happy when I graduated senior year because I was DONE with them forever! Boy was I wrong. I got my school photos back but as a "teacher" this time. Who wants a 2x3 photo of yours truly on a bad hair day?!?