20 Things I Learned Through 20 Years of Marriage

Trust me. The math actually works out. Peter and I have been married for 20 years. Some lessons were easier than others. Some are still in process. Some require a lifetime. I’m grateful beyond words, but this is a blog so words are required.

Here are some lessons about myself and about life through marriage learned in no particular order.

  1. I can be a selfish, whiny brat. Ask Peter.
  2. Planning a wedding is easier than loving and honoring your spouse in sickness and till death. (And I had one heck of a wedding.)
  3. Seek out marriage counseling early and often.
  4. Make new friends as a couple.
  5. Make new friends as individuals.
  6. Fall bowling leagues actually last through spring.
  7. I am far too practical to enjoy romance but apparently not so practical that I can’t enjoy sparkly things.
  8. Subwoofer/laser disc/DVD/Blu Ray is a love language for some people.
  9. I thought I married a mind reader. He did, too.
  10. Love is a verb. It is a choice. Everyday.
  11. I do not like “traditional” gender roles when it comes to cooking, cleaning and child rearing.
  12. I like “traditional” gender roles when it comes to shoveling, mowing or cutting down large trees.
  13. I do not like my husband associating with men who refer to parenting their own children as “babysitting”.
  14. I do not like associating with women who call what the fathers of their children do as “babysitting” .
  15. Sometimes you have to go to bed angry with each other because it’s better to go to bed with the understanding you will talk later than to argue when tired.
  16. Men aren’t the only ones who enjoy sex, think about sex or initiate sex.
  17. You really are marrying into a family, not marrying the individual.
  18. Children should not be the center of your marriage.
  19. The Church needs to talk more about healthy friendships and marriages because the world around me is still shouting louder and more effectively.
  20. It never hurts to say, “Thank you” and “I love you” for no other reason than you mean it.

Happy 20th anniversary to me and Peter. I am so glad I laughed through “Wayne’s World.” I am sorry it took me so long to stay awake (and then thoroughly enjoy “The Holy Grail”). I don’t think I will ever stay awake through “The Purple Rose of Cairo.”

 

On Easter Many Women Were There

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.” So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them. “Greetings,” he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.” (Matthew 28:5-10 NIV)

I am still 300 miles from home. It’s strange not being in church, at church, in the building on Easter Sunday. Spring break collided with Holy Week and desires to create gilded family road trip memories. Oh, and figuring out how to motivate our high school junior in her college search by combining campus visits with a trip to the beach means I am typing this in the car. Somewhere in Indiana.

But this morning the story of Jesus’ resurrection won’t let me go. Many women had been there at the cross, even when many of the 12 men with names had fled. The women came to care for Jesus’ needs. Even in the ugliest death, under dangerous circumstances they chose to be at Christ’s feet to serve.

Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were compelled to do what needed to be done. They went to the tomb to look, and instead they were greeted by a violent earthquake. The guards became like dead men, but despite their fear the women stayed.

They went looking for Jesus. Jesus in the tomb? Jesus the risen Lord? Fear and hope.

And then twice the two women, Mary and Mary, are told by the angel and then Jesus: Do not be afraid. Go and tell the disciples, the men with names who will write scripture down, tell the the Good News! Share. Testify. Tell. With Christ’s blessing. Preach the incredible news the Jesus is not dead in the tomb but risen!

And then what do these newly appointed and annointed women/missionaries/preachers/evangelists/disciples do?
When they see Jesus they approach him, clasp his feet and worship.

And then they go.

Few of my sisters will be the ones ‘officially’ preaching this Easter Sunday. Bound by rules, culture, expectations, and fear. I am reminded this Easter Sunday to not be afraid. There is a holy and blessed place for me and my sisters, unnamed and often invisible. Jesus, risen from the dead, chose to first reveal the absolute reality of his resurrection to my sisters.

Do not be afraid.

Career Day: What do you do? Who are you? And other questions of identity

Today I am presenting at my youngest child’s elementary school for career day.

My husband has been presenting at Career Days since our oldest child hit kindergarten. He is a dentist. His career, what he does, and how he might identify himself lends itself to career day. Pictures of nasty teeth made pretty. Impressions of teeth. Scrubs. Loupes (those cool and yet goofy looking magnifying glasses). Non-latex gloves. Dental lasers. Who doesn’t think using a laser would be a cool career?!

But I am not a dentist. I am….

A mother of three. A wife. A daughter. A sister. A sister-in-law. An aunt. A friend. A neighbor.

A part-time cosmetics salesperson.

A full-time multicultural trainer and diversity officer for a religious non-profit organization.

A volunteer. 

Year after year I would watch Peter fill out the Career Day volunteer application, and I would wonder what I would do as a presenter. Is a career something you get paid to do? Is it something you have achieved a level of expertise? Is it a job? Is it a passion?

Well, I finally decided I am a writer. I have had and continue to work in a variety of jobs, but at the heart of it all, I continue to write. Sometimes I get paid. Sometimes I don’t get paid, but what I write leads to an opportunity to speak in front of groups of people, for which I get paid.

I blog. I edit and write comments. I read other authors’ books, and I write reviews. I tweet. I journal.

I am a writer. 

What are you?

The Adventures of Shopgirl & Life’s Small Detours

I am not supposed to be working a part-time job in retail selling miracles in a jar or a tube. I am supposed to be a campus minister/blogger developing world changers, renewing the campus, writing and editing blog posts that draw people into a deeper relationship with God, and storming the castle for Jesus.

But I am. Both. And. All.

My “real” job overseeing multiethnic ministry development and training (the corporate world might translate this into “diversity director”) with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship invites me to raise my entire salary, benefits package and overhead. I know. It sounds crazy, right? It is crazy for all right reason. Ministers of the gospel are not meant to go at it alone, which is why Jesus sent his disciples out in pairs. I go out with more than just one partner in ministry. I go out with a host of others praying for me and giving generously because they don’t want to do what I’ve been called, trained and gifted to do – train staff in cross-cultural mission, mentor leaders across the country, teach & preach at conferences, and other incredibly fun, spiritually challenging and exciting stuff.

It’s just that sometimes the math doesn’t work, and salaries are reduced. And time doing some of the things I love doing gets spent doing other things I love less but should love just as much – like raising more support, networking, inviting people to join me on this adventure.

But part of that adventure means taking the occasional detour, in part because the math isn’t working out. To help balance the books at home, I have become “Shopgirl” – selling cosmetics part-time at a nearby department store. And aside from having to stand for 4-8 hours a day with a little more makeup than I usually wear to pick-up my kids from school or when I teach about God creating culture, I’m finding that being Shopgirl and castle-stormer for Jesus has required me to be the same me in new and sometimes uncomfortable ways. And it’s really, really difficult.

I’ve learned more than I want and need to know about office politics and climbing the corporate ladder in the few short weeks I’ve been back in a “secular” workplace. I gotta tell you that being Christ-like is a lot more difficult when the gossip is juicy or when I’m just plain bored out of my mind.

It’s difficult to sell with integrity when I know that the miracle cure-all for your breakouts will cost you half as much if you buy a drugstore product with the same active ingredient, especially if you really want to believe that you get what you pay for. Telling people about Jesus is actually easier because I believe in Jesus and His miracles; I’m not so sure that my wrinkles are disappearing because of a cream I am trying out, but it sure smells nice.

It’s humbling, sometimes humiliating, when you are interviewing for a job that you know you are overqualified for (no, I don’t have any retail experience in cosmetics, but I have been wearing makeup for more than 20 years), or you are in a job that you are overqualified for but need to have and a customer treats you like you are a stupid housewife trying to keep herself busy. (I have yet to meet a housewife who doesn’t already have enough to do, have you?) I don’t really want to know “How can I help you?” I just want to go back to my “real” job where I tell people about Jesus. 

See how this is hard?

It’s all part of my “real” job. It doesn’t matter if the check come from InterVarsity or that department store. It doesn’t matter if I don’t get a check at all, since my family doesn’t pay me except in hugs, kisses, and their eternal gratitude. My job is to be who God has called and created me to be in all circumstances and situations, in all the roles and responsibilities I have the privilege of having.

And this all started gelling for me this morning as I put on some of that wonder cream I get to try for free because I am Shopgirl after a great morning video conference call in preparation for some cross-cultural leadership and ministry training I will get to do later this month because I am a diversity director with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship.

It’s a small detour, but I think I am still on the right track.

 

 

The Power & Politics of Breasts, Motherhood & Media

So, I went on a quick run, eventually read the cover article, and I needed more time…get it? 

The actual article focused on Dr. Sears, the father of attachment parenting. Oh the irony. The cover shows a White, blonde, attractive woman with her 3-year-old son teetering on a stool to nurse, but the actual story is about a now much older White male and his changing theories and advice on parenting.

Parenting. But somehow parenting gets captured in that image of all images the magazine editors could have come up with? 

Thanks for the reminder that I am in America where breastfeeding becomes some sort of visual gauge of being enough of a mother because there are plenty of places in the rest of the world where infants are dying because women aren’t “mom enough” because there isn’t food enough, prenatal care enough, postnatal care enough. Enough.

I’ll just put it out there. Breastfeeding my children until they were of preschool age never, ever, ever crossed my mind. I never read Dr. Sears or any attachment parenting books. I actually don’t believe I or my husband could ever do enough to ensure our kids feel safe or comforted.

We could never change our parenting enough because for all of the physical presence we gave and could have given them, we would never be enough for the reality of this broken and beautiful world.

I am not mom enough, but I am grateful God is more than enough. So to my Christ-following sisters, let’s stop comparing ourselves to one another and to that imaginary “Enough Mom” and turn our eyes back on the One who chose an unwed teenager who would never be enough to be the mother of our Lord Jesus. We cannot be enough for our kids, but we can nurture their souls and spirits to be open to know that God is always enough.

This is a dangerous post because it’s really on the fly…I knew this magazine cover was hitting the stands, but now it’s sitting on my desk, and there are too many thoughts running through my Asian American Christian woman working mommy brain of mine to keep up with my typing….

Have you seen it? 

I don’t know of any non-White extended breastfeeding moms in the U.S. because here in America we have all sorts of options, including being able to work hard at being able to breastfeed our own children. (Wet nurses are a necessity in other places of the world, btw.)

But the “Are You Mom Enough” language, and the woman’s body language, and the fact that the actual article is about how Dr. Bill Sears is the man who lead the charge in attachment parenting (the article is titled “The man who remade motherhood”) just reminds me that even motherhood can come under the umbrella of men – White men, dominant culture.

And then we are set up to compete against each other – do you breastfeed as long as she does? are you a good enough mother? are you mom enough? can you handle it?

Gahhhhhh!

And then all the internal dissonance – I breastfed all three of my children, and there were many times I freaked out both men and women when I whipped out my blanket to cover my offensive breast to feed my non-offensive child. It’s crazy to see Jamie Lynn stand there with such strength showing less breast than what I saw walking down the red carpet on Oscar night, and to know that there is going to be a lot of crazy talk about this cover.

Wow. Just wow.

I’m going to read the article after I take a short run with my husband, who knew as soon as he got the mail that we would be in for a great conversation. So many thoughts…

What are your initial thoughts? Rants? Raves?

Don’t worry. I’ll be back.

Thoughts on Leadership While the Nail Polish Dries

I love nail polish. It’s a low-commitment, low-cost vanity/beauty splurge that when used properly forces me to slow down and not do a whole lot. Which is why I am typing slowly and not moving my feet right now – pink on the toes and a french mani.

And when life slows I can breathe, pray, think and reflect.

Tonight I’m thinking a lot about leadership – the privilege, the joys and the costs. In a matter of a week’s time I saw how God was using me to develop a new generation of leaders (Pacific Northwest Asian American InterVarsity students, YOU ARE AMAZING!) and how God was still buffing and shining the rough edges of my leadership. There were moments of fear and confidence, of joy and anger, of front-door leadership like “fill in the blank with a Biblical patriarch) and back-door influence (Ruth, Esther, Mary, the Samaritan woman, the bleeding woman, the servant girl, etc.).

All while rocking lavender nail polish (last week’s color), telling funny family stories about rice cookers and kimchee refrigerator, and wearing a bra, which apparently is still enough of a novelty that as I head into the final week before I speak on leadership fails at the Asian Pacific Islander Women’s Leadership Conference next week, I reminding myself of how important it is to remember God created me and knew me before I was even born as 1.75-gen Korean American Christian woman, let alone a wife, mother of three, writer, speaker, yoga junkie and nail polish addict.

Gender or ethnicity doesn’t trump my identity as a Christian, but they are integrated, enmeshed in blessed and God-ordained ways and in broken and needing Jesus’ redemption ways, because Christians are not meant to be eunuchs. Embodied. Gendered. Which for me means wearing a bra and the great option of many nail polish colors. My seasons or micro-seasons of leadership are acutely tied to my physical state – pregnant, post-partum, nursing, PMS, exhausted from the gift and plain old work of raising children, peri-menopausal, and all of that is tied to my gender. And my embodied, gendered life is also wrapped and engrained with the values and mores of my Korean ancestors with a clashing or enhancing palette from my American host. How can that not affect, change, impact, enhance, and challenge my ability to lead?

It does. It’s not all negative, and I’m not surprised…unless I meet and talk with someone who has never considered her/his leadership through their cultural/racial/gendered lens.

What lessons have you learned about leadership, your own and that of others as well as how you are perceived and how you perceive others? Need some time to think? Do your nails.

 

 

Asian American Women: Your Experiences Matter

Asian American women, ages 18 and older, your experiences matter. Your stories matter.

I came across this in my reader and wanted to spread the word. I don’t know Pauline Chan but the topic of her study (the connection between social experiences and well-being) interests me, and it may interest you.

My name is Pauline Chan, a graduate student in the Counseling Psychology doctoral program at Boston College. I am a second generation Chinese American and am working on my dissertation under the direction of Dr. Belle Liang. The study focuses on the social experiences of Asian American women. The study has been approved by the Boston College Office for Research Protections Institutional Review Board (Protocol #12.172.01A).

I am writing to ask Asian American women to participate in my online dissertation research survey and to offer an opportunity to be entered in a random drawing for an Amazon.com gift certificate for participation in the survey (5 $20 gift certificates and 2 $50 gift certificates available).

To participate in the study, participants must:

  • Be 18 years or older, and
  • Self-identify as a woman who is Asian American or a member of an Asian American subgroup

In this survey participants will be asked questions about social experiences in different contexts, social attitudes, culture and well-being. Click here for the survey. The survey will take approximately 35-45 minutes to complete.

In exchange for their time, participants will be given an opportunity to enter a random drawing for an Amazon.com gift certificate when they have completed the survey. Participants who complete the survey will also be offered access to the results of the study once it is completed.

The survey responses are completely anonymous. Any name or email information given will not be linked in any way to the responses and will only be used for the purposes of distributing the gift certificates. Any individual demographic information will also remain confidential and will not be linked to any names or email addresses. Participation is completely voluntary and participants may withdraw from the study at any time.

As there are limited studies about the Asian American experience, all participant responses will be helpful in contributing to our knowledge about Asian Americans. It is my hope that the results of the study will provide insights that will help to improve the life experiences of Asian American women.

If you have any questions, please contact me at chanpa@bc.edu or 617-966-4001. You can also reach my dissertation advisor, Belle Liang, at liangbe@bc.edu or 617-552-4079. Thank you in advance for your help and your time.

Identity Formation & Barbie

I grew up with Barbie and her knock-off cousins. My sister and I had the townhouse with the elevator. The pool. The dream house. With all of the furniture. The remote-controlled Corvette.

The collection finally made complete after a family trip to the Motherland where, in the Itaewon shopping district, we found the perfect outfit for our blonde, blue-eyed and busty dolls – a Barbie-sized hanbok (traditional Korean dress). All Barbie needed was some major surgery, hair dye and contact lenses and she would look just like me and my sister on New Year’s Day.

So when my firstborn came of age I vowed to never buy her a Barbie. She received them as gifts and we did let her keep a few, including Mulan Barbie, and I even broke out my vintage Barbie Dream house and furniture.

I still have the dream house and furniture in the basement, as well as the Barbie hanbok. But hen again, there is a lot of other garbage in my basement.

Admittedly it is a love-hate relationship with Barbie because for all of objectification and stereotyping, she was a part of my childhood which included more friends who looked more and lived more like Barbie. And I wanted friends. I wanted to belong.

I still want to belong. Somewhere.

So when friends posted this link about an ‘adoption Barbie’ I needed a few days to digest it all. The doll has been around for a few years, but the conversations around adoption, identity, desire, broken cultural systems, cultural appropriation, family, assimilation, gender preferences, and citizenship are ancient. Take a look at the Bible and read about Ruth, Esther, the Samaritan Woman, the Bleeding Woman, and a host of other Sunday School classics with grown-up eyes. In many ways, as we
Americans open our eyes to human trafficking, we can see how the world has not changed in how it sees women and girls. We are a commodity that can be dispensed of or used for the benefit of others.

But our genuine desire to find ways to connect our personal stories and experiences can make the adoption Barbie seem rather innocuous of even helpful as a way to commemorate an adoptive child’s “gotcha day”.

My husband and I have been a part of three adoptions, vouching for our friends and writing letters for their case files. We have celebrated with many more friends who have journeyed years through adoption, some with unconditional support of their families and some with reserved support.

And as a mother of American-born Korean children I notice the abundance of blonde dolls and Caucasian role models.

Seriously. Why do you think I went out and bought a copy of Sports Illustrated?! Sports Illustrated?

JEREMY LIN!!!

Years ago I cried with a friend as I told the story of how my daughter wanted a doll with ‘pretty hair’, which I learned was code for blonde hair. I’m still waiting for an Asian American American Girl historical doll. I just don’t know how they would market Jade – the Japanese internment doll. (In my mind, Ivy doesn’t cut it. She’s just Julie’s best friend.)

So the adoption Barbie doll makes me a bit uneasy and leaves me confused. What do you think? Great idea? Weird idea? Savvy marketing? Opportunistic?

And how many of you still have a Barbie or one of her accessories from childhood?

No judging.

Business cards, name tags & other ways to label one another

Next week at my son’s middle school I am going to be a writer.

It’s career day, and for years I’ve signed up my husband, a dentist, for career day presentation duties. I help out lost children in the halls.

But this year I’m trying on the “writer” label out for size. It’s not completely new. I fell in love with writing after getting my first attempt at a high school sports story returned to me decorated with red marker. My favorite color is red, and I must confess there is a competitive streak in me. I am my own biggest competition.

For years I was a bonafide newspaper reporter. My business card proved it. The bylines are saved on yellowing newsprint. A few digital copies still remain out in the inter webs. I was a newspaper reporter.

And then there was this “writing project” that I had the honor of participating in. At one point I had to come to grips with the fact that even if our ideas could become a manuscript it had “a snowball’s chance in hell” of making it to print. And then hell froze over, and someone started calling me and four other amazing women “authors”.

Even then it felt a little phony to call myself a “writer”, but it was the start of a journey back and forward to discover, identify, clarify, and claim that elusive thing many of us refer to as our “voice”. It’s the way we sound when we speak, write, laugh, argue, persuade, listen, dance and simply “are” – and it’s all the same. It’s a hint of the woman I know deep down inside God has created me and “my inmost being” and for those of you who know what I’m talking about know that it is simultaneously exhilarating and frightening. It can point you to God’s faithfulness and goodness just as your false-self with all our insecurities and just plain ickiness.

It’s figuring out the gifts, talents, strengths and weaknesses that you have to share, do and express because that is what God meant for you to share, do and express. And then you have to own that.

I’m not sure if I’m ready to “own” it, as silly as it seems since I am writing all of this down.

As a woman, wife, mother, writer/blogger, speaker, aspiring crafter, amateur baker/gardener, laundress, chauffeur, seamstress, cleaning lady, personal shopper, diversity officer at a non-profit, middle manager and an evangelical Christian, I have several ways of answering the question, “What do you do?”

How do you answer the question?

 

 

 

Would You Vote for Michele Bachmann

Personally she and some of her supporters scare the bejesus out of me. Revisionist history should scare everyone. However, the strength of the Tea Party is evident in this ridiculous budget stand-off/show-down, and this morning our friend, Margaret Feinberg, contributed to The Washington Post in a roundtable that discusses the issue of Biblical submission, servant leadership, women leaders, and the changes taking place in conservative Christianity. The article looks at questions including:

How do modern evangelicals understand biblical teachings on women’s roles? (I am a sucker for this question every time.)

How would a President Bachmann balance biblical submission and political leadership?

Check out the article here: http://wapo.st/oJoR8K

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | … 10 |