31 Things I Learned During 31 Years of Marriage

If you’re newish here, this is my annual post about my marriage. I am not a licensed therapist. I am not a marriage counselor. I am a woman getting ready to mark 31 years of marriage by sharing some reflections, stream of consciousness-style.

My Dear Readers, you know the drill. Yes, it’s been another year, and this year is our palindrome anniversary (4-24-24)! What is time??

  1. Over communicate everything. Oh, if we had only started our marriage by oversharing, reiterating, and asking clarifying questions, but we were in luuuuuuuuv and luuuuuuuv conquers all.
  2. Luuuv doesn’t conquer all, but love sustains this marriage of mine – being in love, being loving, loving.
  3. Romance is not the same as love. It can be a way to communicate love, but it’s not the only way to communicate love.
  4. I really enjoy gifts of fresh flowers, but I didn’t when we were first married because they made me anxious because $$$. Now we have a Trader Joe’s and more room in our budget.
  5. I am not always in love with Peter (I’m sure it’s mutual, but this is my blog), and if I only focused on the lack of warm fuzzies and romance our marriage would not have made it. I love Peter. 
  6. Sometimes I don’t like my husband’s choices or actions (again, I am positive this is mutual but he doesn’t blog), which is when I remind myself I love him. 
  7. Old habits die hard. One person in the marriage rarely made the bed. The other person more often than not made the entire bed. And then she got tired and just made her side of the bed. And then she stopped caring just when the other person started making his side of the bed. Go figure. Both old dogs learned new tricks. It’s possible.
  8. Marriage is amazing, even without curated images posted on social media. 
  9. Marriage is challenging, especially with the curated images posted on social media.
  10. What anyone posts on social media isn’t the whole of what’s going on in life, let alone a marriage. My husband and I continue to learn how to manage our consumption of social media while I manage my own social media presence.
  11. CPAPs can save marriages. I can still hear the CPAP, but it’s so much better than listening to snoring.
  12. We/I set a gift rule early in our marriage – no appliances. Sometimes rules are meant to be broken. Peter years ago bought me an Italian espresso maker and burr grinder. He does not drink coffee. 
  13. Sometimes our different attitudes and values around money and spending are challenging, and so we go back to #1. Know your own issues around money and how those issues present themselves. I grew up pinching every penny, saving every condiment packet, and searching clearance racks first. I had to learn that behavior doesn’t make me a better person or even a person who saves “more” money. (But it kinda does, doesn’t it? JK. I only keep the ketchup and soy sauce packets. No mustard or mayo. He grabs so many napkins, though, that sometimes even I am embarrassed.)
  14. Back to sleep: we grew up in church and were told, “Do not let the sun go down on your anger.” That was BAD advice for us. We both do much better with sleep. We do angry and arguing better with sleep. We do not do reconciliation and forgiveness at 1am. We go to bed and pick up where we left off after work because we also have to sleep to go to work to pay the bills.
  15. Marriages go through seasons and phases of development. The hardest was hitting the sandwich generation stage just after a decade of marriage with three young children. 
  16. You can marry someone of your same culture and ethnicity and still be in a cross-cultural marriage. Peter was born in the US. I came to the US at 8 months so same thing, right? WRONG. My younger sister never calls me by my first name. IYKYK. 
  17. I’ve heard as you get older people need less sleep and eat less. We have not hit that stage of life or marriage.
  18. It’s good and healthy to have common friends and separate friends. He had bowling buddies he talked about for years. I have writer friends he probably will never meet. Our marriage is better because he could talk bowling with his bowling friends, and I can talk writing with writing friends. 
  19. It’s also good and healthy to have common interests and hobbies and separate interests and hobbies. Sometimes they rub off on you; I watch more movies in different genres because Peter LOVES movies. Sometimes you try bowling, but it doesn’t get beyond buying my own bowling shoes because I do not prefer renting shoes.
  20. Peter still can’t read my mind. He asked me what we were going to do for our anniversary, and I responded, “Hm. What are we going to do, Peter?” (Thanks, Tina, for the coaching.) I blinked my eyes and stared at him, and once again learned he cannot mind meld. I told him I would like to go out to dinner. 
  21. I love buying myself flowers, too. It doesn’t mean Peter doesn’t love me. Sometimes you don’t need your spouse to get you that gift or take you to the thing or surprise you with whatever. Sometimes you can do that for yourself. Don’t expect others to be the sole source of joy and care. 
  22. This one is for the churchy people: I still don’t know what it means to be “spiritually compatible.”
  23. Another one for the churchy people: I stayed at two churches until Peter was ready to leave. I will not go back, even if Peter is ready, until I am ready to go back.
  24. I really don’t think there is such a thing as a 50/50 marriage. You can’t divide life in half every moment. It’s just when one person is carrying the heavier load for longer with no acknowledgement or help when things crumble. 
  25. When things crumble, before things crumble, you need to ask for help, for new and clear expectations. That’s probably what got us through the toughest part of our sandwich generation season. 
  26. Speaking of crumbling, women in perimenopause you are about to find out how brittle and dry your entire being can become. Hair, nails, skin, eyeballs, vagina – ALL OF IT. Dry as bread crumbs. Drying up like a walking desert coupled with mood changes, hot flashes and/or night sweats, sleep issues, anxiety, etc. will make any relationship a challenge. I’m done, which means no more eggs, but I swear my post-menopausal life is just less hot flashy/night sweaty but everything else remains. Let’s talk!
  27. I’m still unpacking all the unhealthy and unhelpful messages about sex (it’s bad and dangerous if you’re not married to another Christian, and then sex is automatically good and easy after you marry a Christian) and aging and menopause aren’t helping.
  28. Lubricants are helping. (Again, no one told me about that when I got married. HELLO?!?!?!)
  29. At this season of our marriage, it’s not the quantity of sex but the quality, which actually should always be important – mutual pleasure was not brought up in our pre-marital counseling. 
  30. As I’m typing this I guess I should really ask Peter what he thinks about the quantity part. See, 31 years and I’m still learning, too, to over-communicate. Also, none of this was taught nor do I see it discussed much in the world out there. 
  31. I think Peter and I work not because we are opposites but because we make the other person want to become a better version of ourselves. And by better I don’t mean thinner or more fit or younger looking. (But I’m not gonna lie. I’m so glad he is my Botox injector.) We make each other want to be kinder, more patient, more loving and generally better humans –  more Christlike rather than just Christians.

Any married folks want to add your lessons learned, My Dear Readers? And single folks what wisdom do you have to share about friendships (or marriages you have observed or been a part of) because if marriage isn’t a friendship, it’s doomed.

A bonus thing I’ve learned in marriage? We both like sitting in aisle seats when we fly.

 

Jury Dury and National Parks

I got my first county jury summons a few weeks ago, and my reaction was one of excitement and dread. Since becoming a naturalized citizen, pledging my allegiance and paying literal dues, I’ve tried to take the privilege of citizenship seriously and not take it for granted. I vote, work as an election judge, trained to register new voters, and try to stay informed on local, national, and global policies as best I can without sending me spiraling. The jury summons, believe it or not, is icing on the cake, another chance for me to see how part of the sausage, so to speak, is made. 

I’ve seen over the years many of My Dear Readers and others on the interwebs post about their dread and disdain for receiving similar summons. The possibility of losing time and income doesn’t motivate anyone, and it’s also not a privilege just anyone can take on. A jury case could last days or weeks, and I know very few people who could afford that kind of time off. I can’t afford that kind of time off. The system reminds us that it is a literal DUTY for all citizens to prepare to fulfill and while no one wants my opinion, my opinion is that system SHOULD make it financially viable for ANYONE to fulfill that obligation. YES, the system is broken, imperfect, and biased but also we can work to change the system while the system chugs on. Easy? No. Change is not easy. Systemic change is not easy, not linear, not this or that.

My request for a change of date of service due to prior commitments (non-refundable tickets to our annual family vacation) was approved quickly via the county website. I thought it was interesting that part of our vacation, as it has been for the past few years, included a visit to one of our country’s national parks. This year we had the privilege of hiking and visiting Yosemite National Park. Yes, we chased waterfalls and were rewarded with stunning views and cold mist. 

The first national park was Yellowstone, established by Congress in 1872, putting land in Montana and Wyoming under federal control for  use “as a public park or pleasuring-ground for the benefit and enjoyment of the people”. The US currently has 63 areas with “national park” as part of their official name, but technically there are more than 400 national park sites that fall under the broader national park system. And let us not forget that this entire nation is established on stolen land. There are 27 Indigenous Tribes associated with Yellowstone. Depending on where you live, getting to a national park isn’t easy or affordable. Land set aside for public use (and preservation) in theory is wonderful because it’s for everyone, citizens or not – an OPPORTUNITY.  However, everyone can’t get to a national park. Again, the system is broken, imperfect, and biased. It also is a beautiful concept adopted globally as a way to protect and preserve land for public use.

I grew up roadtripping to several national parks, mostly in the back of a station wagon or sedan and before seatbelts were legally required. My dad drove us through Acadia (I think my sister and I did some of the driving to this trip), Badlands, Glacier, Grand Teton, Great Smoky Mountains, Rocky Mountain, and Yellowstone. We never camped. My parents didn’t immigrate here from a war-torn and then-developing country to sleep in tents. We stayed in motels, not unlike the one in Schitt’s Creek – in rooms in need of attention and “quaint and charming small towns” just as white and not nearly as entertaining.

Since then I have visited eight more, seven of them with my children. My parents and I are from South Korea, and the Korean peninsula is about 1.4 times smaller than Illinois; they often talked about wanting to see as much of America as they could so most of those parks were part of a road trip involving both of my grandmothers, a station wagon, and a drive to Vancouver, Canada, and back. I remember driving into small towns feeling very uncomfortable and obviously being watched. My sister tells the story of me turning to someone who was obviously staring at the Asians girls in aisle two and telling them, “Take a picture. It will last longer.” I can neither confirm nor deny this memory, but my feelings as a child visiting the national parks were of adolescent indifference, fear of all the white people staring at us and our food (I know now our food – rice, jangjorim, Spam or Dinty Moore beef stew heated up in a hot pot, kimchi, and ssamjang was superior to the cold cut or peanut butter sandwiches), and wonder. There was a lot of wonder. America as a nation is imperfect and exhausting. America as a land is diverse and beautiful. 

My parents and I are also all naturalized citizens, while my husband and children are all birthright citizens. Our relationships to the obligations and duties of citizenship are different. I didn’t grow up going to the polls with my parents to watch them vote, and I didn’t see Peter go to the polls to vote very often before I became a citizen. As far as I know, my parents have never been to any kind of protest or demonstration, while I have participated in actions in both Seoul and Chicago, and I drove out with my daughter and a friend to DC to march with others. 

So when the jury summons arrived, I approached it as I have approached other duties and privileges of citizenship. I was grateful for quick approval to a date change, which required a few things. I had to call the Friday before my report date to see if I needed to be there first thing Monday morning. It turned out I did not, but by then I had already gotten a sub for my yoga class so I was out the pay. And then I had to call before noon that Monday to see if I needed to report that afternoon. I don’t have an afternoon class but that also meant keeping that afternoon open, and it turned out I did not have to report. And then I had to call again at the end of the business day only to find out that I would not have to report at all the rest of the week. 

That is why people hate jury duty. A day “on call” where only certain people can wait for instructions, make phone calls maybe while back at work, and wait to make another call just in case they are called for the next morning. While not as extreme as the process of naturalization, jury duty is actually a heavy burden on most people. I lost of day of work having given away my class to another teacher. My family will be ok but there are individuals and families who cannot afford that. Yes, people can get exemptions but you can only ask for so many exemptions.

Citizenship is such a fascinating idea, especially as a follower of Jesus who has been told by white evangelicals that my citizenship is in heaven therefore I should stop it with the race stuff. I will not stop with the race stuff because my focus isn’t on the afterlife but on God’s will being done on earth as it is in heaven. So that’s why I’m still rambling and mulling over jury duty and national parks. One is a duty by design and the other an opportunity by design, both require a level of privilege for participation. As a Korean American, fulfilling duty and taking advantage of opportunities is baked into my cultural story. I am here because my parents saw opportunity. My existence as an adult child of Korean immigrants is one of duty, and out of both has come a life of privilege connected to community. Maybe that is why this tension feels normal and right. But when I add the layer of faith and religion, it feels normal but so wrong. Why is it that so many aspects of citizenship in the U.S. and the kind of religious life some espouse require so much effort to deny others privilege and opportunities? Why does U.S. citizenship come with so few duties but the duties and opportunities cost so much more for those with less privilege? 

But one thing I’ve learned over the years in learning and unlearning is that giving up privilege isn’t the answer. You can use it to open doors, invite others in, burn down the doors to build new views. You can, with enough privilege, share the power and multiply it like fish and loaves of bread. So after I listened to the recording officially thanking me for my time and releasing me from appearing in person, I printed out a list of national parks not unlike when I print or read up on local candidates. Voting is a privilege, and I’m not just going to give it up. I’ll keep trying to learn how to use that little power and privilege to burn the right things down. Visiting the national parks is a privilege, and I’m going to see as much of this country as I can because God’s beauty is everywhere. Even here.

 

Tree pose in a tree.

Boys, What Do You Want To Eat?

That was the refrain last week as I vacationed with my sons. They are both in their 20s. Their voices dropped into manhood years ago. They packed shaving cream and razors instead of their blankies and stuffies. They needed the extra leg room the free upgrade into exit rows afforded us. And they needed to eat, and I needed, well, really wanted, to feed them well.

My Dear Readers, there is nothing quite like watching your loved ones enjoy food. Wait, am I the only one? Do you love watching your loved ones eat? I don’t know what it is. I have always loved watching my kids eat – the delight of new tastes they enjoy, the looks of “I don’t enjoy this”, and the look of satisfaction at the end. I love it all. The pickiest eater of the three will try just about anything so the possibilities are endless. (So parents of young ones tired of chicken nuggets, don’t worry. They get new tastebuds, and be prepared. Those new tastebuds like it when the parents pay for a good steak or hazy IPA.)

In my mind this was a trip about feeding their stomachs, and it was. We were in LA so the minute we were in the rental car it was off to eat. We ate cheesy kalbi jjim, marinated pork belly + beef, kkal gooksu, Japanese curry, handmade mochi, taiyaki aisu, okonomiyaki, and a good old-fashioned brunch with pancakes and hash browns.

But food is also about comfort and provision, about love and time, about honoring and learning preferences, about sitting and listening. 

It was time to get to know my sons and the men they are becoming.

They take up space and make space

When the kids are little, their stuff takes up space. I remember the days/weeks/eons of trying to corral their toys and books and stuff into cubbies and shelves to be safely accessible and slightly esthetically pleasing. 

But one child moved out more than five years ago. One lives and works remote from home; he took the dining room for his office. We coordinate schedules because we share a car and make each other coffee. The last one is in his third year of college so most days are spent he spends 3/4 of the year on campus. Gone is the clutter of toys, replaced by adult bodies moving about in the same space toddlers once occupied.

So spending 24/7 for a few days with just my boys meant being in each other’s way (one budget hotel room with two “queen” beds and one bathroom) and having a chance to just watch how they made space for each other and me, waiting to walk to the elevator and the car, waiting to enter a restaurant or to get to the door. 

The older son took a work call, and it was fun driving with E riding shotgun, whispering and using facial expressions and hand gestures that finally gave way to playlists and commentary.

Different eyes

I think I was watching them more closely because I know that time like this is rare. I love and like my grown children, and so far they like spending time with me. The kids have cleared social and work schedules to spend a week together for a family vacation on top of being together for Christmas. I don’t know how long we can keep that up and how in the future significant others and partners will join in on the Christmas Day movie or invite our kids to join their family traditions. But for now, I’ll take it all in.

Both sons needed time in the morning to ease into the day. They both needed time to exercise and unwind. In another season of parenting, I would’ve pushed to get us out the door to get to one more place and see one more thing, but in this season that started during the college years I let them sleep, workout, fix their hair, and walk slowly. This world can be a cruel, grueling place. I saw them with compassion knowing Capitalism doesn’t all us to enjoy each other’s joy and rest.

They wanted to spend a good chunk of a day watching professional teams play League of Legends and asked if I wanted to join them at the tournament, a little worried about how I would spend my time and a little worried I would rush them. No rush. I said go ahead, had coffee with a friend, and then sat on a bench at the beach to watch the sunset. I know. A mother’s sacrifice. And when C saw two players in standing on the corner in Sawtelle, I asked, “Are you going to say hi and ask for a photo?” A mother’s gentle nudge to shoot your shot, even if it’s a moment of fandom. I’m smiling while typing this, remembering how my boys and their friends took in the random moment and played it over and over in the car with the photos to prove it happened…and I got to see it all, too.

I also watched them eat, trying to gauge if they had enough protein, offering up half of my egg or a chunk of tofu. “Did you have enough? Do you need more? Do you want this piece?” I asked at every meal, not with the eyes of a mom of little ones who cannot efficiently feed themselves but of a mom who will not have many more opportunities to be the one to take care of their needs and wants. Corban said I was doing it more than usual, and maybe I was. There is a bit of a juggling act as a Korean American mom of Korean American sons; my loving and caring should not be enabling man-baby behavior. I’m still learning how to mother young men to be grown men. IYKYK.

And so I listen to Corban and try to eat and listen to what my needs might be as well.

The years really are short

I tell parents of younger children time sped up when the oldest started high school. Before I knew it the last one was a high school senior and we were in a global pandemic. He was so moody and grumpy but weren’t we all? I’ve heard so many friends say that first year of the pandemic was so long and so recent, time bending in ways we don’t understand. That’s parenting. I swear I just gave birth but that’s impossible because I’m also post-menopausal. My joints remind me that my body did some crazy stuff but my mind says it was just yesterday.

But it actually was just last week my boys and I woke up in the same room, and I asked, “What do you want to eat today?” 

 

28 Things I Learned During 28 Years of Marriage

My Dear Readers,

The annual list is here. For newbies, I’ve been writing a list like this for the past few years, and it’s the one thing I remember to blog about. I don’t look at the lists from prior years because that’s cheating. Not really. I don’t look because it really is an “off the top of my head” list.

Backstory: Peter and I were living in the same area and introduced by mutual friends Scott and Irene. They are Peter’s youth group friends and my college friends. They thought he would make a good “Oppa” or older brother because he is seven years older than I am. We met, fell in love, and got engaged… in six weeks. As in met and then had an official engagement party/ceremony with almost 100 people present for our engagement. And then we were married four months later with about 1,000 guests for a buffet of Korean food in the basement of Peter’s church.

  1. Marriage is hard work. There is a lot of joy and heartache, and it is A LOT OF WORK. It’s good work, but it’s work. That’s why we celebrate even if it’s dinner in a restaurant, which still feels weird because of COVID and feels small because it’s 28 years. Thanks, COVID. You can also put in all the work, and your marriage may still not work out with a fairytale ending. Do you know why? Because fairytales are lies. 
  2. The marriages in your family of origin are not a predictor of how your marriage will look or be. You are not by default your parents’ best and worst patterns of relating. You can choose to emulate the best and break the worst patterns. Again, it takes work.
  3. There are some things that will make you cry in the moment that over time will make you laugh…and maybe still cry. (Remember, I was 22-year-old Kathy up against my future mother-in-law during wedding planning. If you’re lucky enough to have seen our wedding video #3 makes perfect sense.)
  4. Spend money on amazing photographs of you and your spouse on your wedding day because video formats will change. VCR anyone? 
  5. “Married a long time” sex is better than honeymoon sex.
  6. Sometimes sitting in silence doesn’t mean you are comfortable with silence. Sometimes it means I’m really pissed off.
  7. Marriage and/or your spouse will not complete you. You are a full human.
  8. If you think marriage will complete you, go to therapy first. 
  9. Marriage therapy doesn’t have to be a crisis thing. It can be a normal thing. It should be a normal thing.
  10. Individual therapy doesn’t have to be a crisis thing. It should be a normal thing.
  11. You really do marry each other’s families whether or not you or your spouse is close to said family. Those family issues and ties show up EVERY DAY in big and small ways.
  12. The way you “fill-in-the-blank, i.e. did household chores” growing up doesn’t have to be the way you and your spouse do it in your marriage. 
  13. Having children doesn’t complete a marriage. It makes your family bigger.
  14. Having sex when your kids are babies, toddlers, etc. can be challenging because one or both of you are always tired.
  15. Having sex when your kids are teenagers or college-aged can be challenging because they keep weird hours. This does not apply if you don’t care if your kids know or hear you are having sex. I am still a bit prudish. Leave me alone.
  16. Buy a king bed as soon as you can afford it. It doesn’t mean you want to be far apart. It just means that you are prepared for when you want to be far apart because you’re mad, you have kids or fur babies who crawl into bed with you, or you need the space because of peri-menopausal night sweats.
  17. Talk honestly about money. I don’t know if money is the root of all evil but remember #9 and #10. There’s a lot to learn about each other when you talk about debt, spending, time, etc. Peter knows I have fun money stashed away because I have a really, really, really hard time spending money on myself. He doesn’t have to have a stash because he doesn’t have the same problem.
  18. It’s important to have common friends and your own separate friends.
  19. Same with hobbies and interests. He had bowling and I had book club.
  20. You do start picking up each other’s best and worse habits. Case in point? For me: flossing. For him: moisturizer.
  21. When he tells me I am beautiful he means it. He may want sex, but he still means it.
  22. When I tell him he is handsome, I mean it AND I want him to finish some project around the house.
  23. After 28 years he still can’t read my mind so I’ve told him that I really love it when he occasionally buys me flowers for no reason at Trader Joe’s. I have also circled things in catalogs.
  24. This is particularly important for women because it’s 2021 and the patriarchy: establish your own credit history.
  25. It’s never too late to apologize or to forgive one another, but you also can go to bed angry. Staying up late past your bedtime to argue doesn’t make for better arguments. It makes for cranky adults who have to go to work in the morning with unresolved feelings.
  26. You don’t have to make every decision together – big or small – but you have to know you’re on the same page about which decisions fall into that category. For example, I really don’t care about the exact make and model of our next car, which actually will be my car. He enjoys this much more than I do. 
  27. Over communicate because back to #23 none of us are perfect at mind reading.  
  28. Say “I love you” every day even when you don’t feel it. Love isn’t just an emotion. It’s a decision. An action. A choice of movement towards each other. Every damn day.

Happy anniversary, Peter! Here’s to another year of learning and loving!

And Then There Was One

Motherhood has been a journey often marked by numbers, which has been challenging for someone who took “math for bushes and trees” in college.

How many weeks pregnant?

How many weeks old is the baby?

How many feedings? Hours of sleep in between feeding?

How many children? How many years in between said children?

The days seemed longer than 24 hours, and even though I love my children sometimes more than myself there were so many days, weeks, months, and years when I felt like I was drowning ever so slowly in feedings, diapers, wipes, bottles, sippy cups, apple slices with not a hint of the peel, gummy fruit snacks, playdates, reading logs, worksheets, permission slips, practices, auditions, performances, races, teacher-parent meetings, juggling, juggling, juggling….

And then I woke up this morning and wanted to stay in bed scratching my mosquito bites until they bled and oozed because it was a release. I woke up knowing next Monday is the start of a week that seemed light years away and now it’s here.

We will have one child at home. Granted, he will probably hit 6-feet soon, but he still gives the best hugs and has a laugh that fills the house with joy and warmth. It’s just that his older siblings will be moving on because we are headed for that light at the end of the tunnel.

Damn that tunnel.

I’m not complaining. Our son, Corban, is headed to college to explore his options, and he is excited, nervous, honest, naive, wise, and ready. Our daughter Bethany is headed back to NYC to pursue a career in dance and do the starving artist thing with all of our blessings. #runmyson and #flymysweet are doing and becoming what parents dream and hope and pray for. Oh, and #eliasneedsahashtag

I’m being honest. I am full of joy, worry, regret, hope, fear, and dreams. I am looking back at 21+ years and a bit freaked out at how slowly and quickly it all went. HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT IT HAS BEEN 21 1/2 YEARS OF MOMMING??? HOW???

No, I don’t want to go back. No, my uterus doesn’t want another baby. I just want things to slow down a bit. Bethany and Corban are in a hurry to grow up, and as a grown up I know a thing or two about adulthood being overrated. I want another week or two or three of summer. I want a few extra late nights around the table with all three of my children eating me out of house and home laughing about something I didn’t quite catch. I want more time with all three of them. Together.

I’ve already asked my neighborhood girlfriends to look out for me. I can feel the tears on the edge of my heart. They are good tears. I am sad and joyful. I want to feel all of this deeply without drowning. I want to celebrate and mourn and not forget Elias is still home with us. It is bittersweet in the best possible way. God has been so gracious and good. I just can’t believe it’s almost here.

You can’t force your children to like each other, but you can give them space to learn.

 

 

 

The Last First. #flymysweet

I am grateful for the folks who are genuinely surprised to find out that I have a child headed to college next fall. I married young, and got pregnant a few years later. And, I have some awesome genes on my side. But I try to keep up with the kids, and when we started on the college search journey I started documenting things on Instagram with the hashtag #flymysweet. I can’t believe we are already here.

My firstborn child and favorite daughter started her senior year in high school last week. (She’s my only daughter, by the way, but I heard somewhere a secret to parenting is to make each child think she/he is your favorite. Our 2nd born is my favorite older son, and my youngest is my favorite last child.)

We have begun the road of “this is the last…” Last week was the last first day of high school, and tonight is the last first home football game of the season. She is the co-captain of the varsity dance team. She looks cool driving my minivan to and from school. She is on track to finish all of her college applications before the November 1 Common App deadline. She decided she wanted to take 8 dance classes, work a part-time job, be a student, be part of the youth group, and sleep & eat. Not necessarily in that order. I’m proud. Proud of her choices. Proud of her ability to explain her choices and advocate for herself when her parents don’t want her to drop that AP Gov class. Proud that she is starting to come in to her own.

It’s breathtaking, really.

But lest you think I’m a helicopter parent who has hovered around her since she forcefully made her way out into the world or a lawnmower parent who has cleared the path clearly and tidily for her, you are wrong.

This isn’t about her.

It’s about me.

Learning to let go. To trust the work I’ve done as a parent. To trust she has not only heard but really listened to the things we have told her, whispered to her, yelled at her, prayed for her. To trust God in a way I’ve understood intellectually, but find much more difficult in the flesh and blood sort of way. I’ve told myself over and over that this isn’t about me, that her dancing, performing, laughing, succeeding, failing, loving, losing isn’t about me.

But I have been so very wrong, and arrogant, and naive. 

Most days I still feel as incapable and confused as I did when they handed all 6 lbs., 11 oz. of her to me like I was so supposed to know what to do. As if the football hold would be instinctive despite the fact that I had never actually held a football in my life. As if a few hours with her would kick start that instinct to know the difference between a hungry cry and a sleepy cry and a “I pooped all the way up my back” cry.

It’s about our entire family learning to launch our first one out into the world as part of “us” but on her own. 

It’s breathtaking. Thank you God. Thank you for granting me the privilege for watching the last firsts.

#flymysweet

 

Speaking From and In the Gap

I agreed to lead a seminar on parent-child relationships because for a moment I thought I knew enough about being a parent or a child to have 90-minutes of material. As the parent of a teenager and two tweens and as the child of two living parents I find myself more in the middle than ever before trying to speak to one “audience” and then another. I spend hours talking to students about how Jesus transforms our lives while I long to see that transformation happen faster and clearer in my own life as well as in the lives of my own children. And I’m certain my parents have moments when they are still waiting for some sign of change on my part, too. Forever the stubborn, strong-willed child even when I am now also parent.

Just last week I was teaching out of the book of Esther at the Asian American InterVarsity chapter at Northwestern University (hold your snickering, folks), and a student was asking me about my days as a Wildcat since we were in the building that was home to my area of study. He ended the conversation with a great line: “I was born the year you graduated.”

Thanks, kid.

So I’ve been sitting on this parent-child relationships seminar for about two weeks now and the one thing that keeps coming to my mind and heart is to give words of blessing and love because what keeps coming to me during my prep and prayer time is this overwhelming sense of displacement and missed messages. It’s hard enough as a parent who speaks literally the same language as a child. The biggest gap I often have to bridge with my daughter is a generational one. I don’t particularly like low-rise skinny jeans but I don’t have to wear them to understand them. In my day it was sweatshirts hanging off of one shoulder or really BIG HAIR. For my parents and for the parents of the students I often encounter, the gaps are language, generation, culture and values. I know God’s love always wins, but human love often misses with the best of intentions.

I’m not really sure where, if anywhere, I am going with all of this, but it’s been ringing in my heart for days now. In a culture that nurtures a sense of entitlement in a generation wrestling with delayed adulthood, these young adults aren’t as adult as another generation might have been and unable to find the help in the areas where they really are still young.

What do you wish you knew about your parents that would help inform you about where they are coming from? What do you wish your parents knew about you that you think would help them understand you? I spend a lot of emotional energy trying to figure out ways to connect with each of my kids, to tell them they are loved by me and their dad and by God in ways they can hear and understand it. But as the parent I am deeply moved when my kids figure out ways to connect with me and speak those same words of love into my life.

Children, you are deeply loved by flawed parents and by a perfect God. That’s what I hear when I’m quietly sitting in the middle of the gap.

 

 

A Little Star By Your Name

We have been at our church for almost three years, and we still do not have a star beside our names. Granted, it took us several months before we felt like we should have a church directory and then another few months to notice the stars. Technically, they aren’t stars. They are asterisks, but a star evokes sweet memories of attendance charts and shiny gold star stickers. Stars meant you were special. You counted. You’re in. You’re a member.

Church membership is still a fairly “new” concept for me. I grew up in church, but from a child’s perspective membership meant being in long meetings where elders argued with other elders. I’m sure there were other things involved in membership, but no one at church never emphasized or brought up the idea of membership. We were always the “kids” for whom the Korean-speaking “adults” were building the foundations of the church so that one day the kids would take over. The problem often is that the adults never see the kids as adults and the transfer or sharing of power and responsibility never really happens, IMHO.

Peter and I actually can’t remember exactly how we became members at our last church. It was a church that I had attended throughout college, and we returned to it after we had moved closer to home and had our first child. Maybe I had been grandfathered in and then Peter was voted in after the church set up a more formal structure with by-laws, vision statement and website. What I remember were the meetings and many conversations about plans, budgets, and proposals. I do remember throughout a series of meeting involving our pastoral staff, positions and salaries, I grew increasingly aware that I had finally become an adult in a church. The budget, how people’s offerings and tithes – some sacrificial, others afterthoughts and all God’s – were being used, saved and stewarded mattered and members were being asked to prayerfully consider the matters at hand. When a family asked for their child to be dedicated we, the members, pledged to participate in the spiritual development and nurture of that child.

After leaving that church almost five years ago, our goal was not church membership. Our goal was to find a place where we could rest, heal, and hopefully fall in love with Jesus’ bride – the Church – again.

Since then we have slowly gotten gotten the hang of things here at what/where/whom we now call “our church” – the recitation of the Lord’s Prayer (“debts” and “debtors” not “trespasses” and “trespass”), stand to sing the “Doxology” after the offering is taken, the awkward “Passing of the Peace”, etc. We’ve gotten to know a few folks and even completed the pre-membership class. But we never took what I suppose is the next step.

We initially waited because we didn’t “feel” like we were really part of the church. Our kids were finding friends much faster than we were, but isn’t that usually the case? The barriers, excuses and awkwardness in the transition between complete strangers becoming acquaintances becoming friends have grown for me over time and age. We tried to “feel” our way through serving and putting ourselves out there in the front, the narthex, the behind-the-scenes – music, drama, dance, magic tricks and coffee, and we have come to this place where we are willing to sit in the tension of knowing what we hope for – deep friendships and rich community that overflows – is not quite where we are at…yet.

So are we ready to make the plunge and become members? Do we want to become, should we become, is it time to become members and gain more, risk more, invest more and be responsible for more than a star by our names?

“The Talk” – Part 2

Several years ago it was time to have part 1 of “The Talk” with my daughter. Since then she and I have regrouped to talk a little more about sex and sexuality, as well as God’s gift of sexuality and intention for sex, love and marriage and Hollywood’s version. It’s an open conversation that we started in 5th grade, before the school health presentation, because I have control issues and wanted her to hear the information from me first.

This year was Peter’s turn to start the conversation with Corban. I was hoping the conversation would take place first thing this year, but I was reminded that before we began to talk honestly and openly about sex we would have to undo some of our harmless lies.

Kathy: Honey, when are you going to have “The Talk” with Corban?

Peter: Well, I was thinking we should start out with the Tooth Fairy.

Kathy: Oh. Shoot.

…at least a month later…

Kathy: Honey, how about “The Talk”?

Peter: Well, what about Santa?

Kathy: You couldn’t just take care of Santa when you took care of the Tooth Fairy?

Peter: Honey, that’s a lot in one talk. Too traumatic.

…another month or so…

Kathy: Well, how did it go?

Peter: Well, Corban’s response was, “Dad, why do we have to talk about grown-up stuff?”

The “grown-up stuff” he hears today at school will be no surprise. Corban mentioned last night that today’s half-day schedule involved a talk on puberty – imagine a 10-year-old boy speaking with a touch of disdain and rolling his eyes. Honestly, there is tiny, tiny part of my Mommy heart that is relieved that Corban isn’t in a rush to grow up. I saw (and continue to see) more of that in Bethany and her female friends, especially as it relates to their bodies – how they dress and look.

But it’s time. It’s time to start talking openly and honestly as best as we can, as appropriately as we can. Peter and Corban, just like Bethany and I did years ago, have begun what we hope and pray will be a lifelong conversation that starts with “grown-up stuff” and never ends.

Keep It Simple, Stupid: Going Green

Over the years my understanding of the creation account has changed. I would picture Barbie and Ken doubling as Eve and Adam, and, maybe it had something to do with a series of Bible stories on tape that my parents bought for us, I always heard God’s voice as Burl Ives. (Imagine my shock when I watched “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” for the first time. God was also Sam the Snowman.)

Some Sunday School teachers would emphasize the number of days while others would focus on things like Adam being created first. My mind would wander off and imagine dressing my Barbie and Ken dolls in fig leaves or animal skin.

Once in a blue moon a teacher would remind us that having babies is God-ordained by quoting Genesis 1:28:

God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”

Fruitful? Increase? Fill? (Insert very optional abstinence lesson here, which didn’t matter since none of our parents were ever going to talk about sex. I don’t even know the Korean word for sex, now that I think about it.) Check.

Subdue? Rule? Doesn’t that mean we can do whatever we want ‘cuz God left us in charge?

No. Subdue and rule doesn’t give humankind carte blanche over the earth. Left to our own devices we have some issues to work out. I’ve grown to understand that God’s mandate to us is not to rape and pillage the earth but instead to care and create.

Nancy Pearcey in her book Total Truth writes:

In Genesis, God gives what we might call the first job description: “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it.” The first phrase, “be fruitful and multiply” means to develop the social world: build families, churches, schools, cities, governments, laws. The second phrase, “subdue the earth,” means to harness the natural world: plant crops, build bridges, design computers, compose music. This passage is sometimes called the Cultural Mandate because it tells us that our original purpose was to create cultures, build civilizations-nothing less.

I continue wrestle with this interpretation as much as I am grateful for it. It reminds me that I can stop having babies (thank you, Jesus!) and still participate in being fruitful and multiplying by helping develop the social world. It also makes me think about the natural world. As a Christian I can often be guilty of living in the not-yet – looking heavenward so much so that I lose sight of the life here on this earth God has given me.

So over the years my family and I have talked about what it means to participate in harnessing the natural world, so to speak. What does it mean for our family and the impact it has on the world/community/neighborhood around us? How can we make what can become so complex and beyond us (like building bridges) into something simple?

Well, we’ve tried a few simple things can slowly change the way we interact with the natural world to see how that changes us and our relationship with God and others.

We garden. It started out with some potted plants and then a raised bed with patio plants and then a smaller and then larger chunk of the grass that we hate to fertilize, water, mow and rake.

We recycle like crazy. Our village makes it easy with curbside collection in a separate rolling cart. We usually fill the recycling bin and our garbage bin feels left out.

We compost. Again, it’s easy for us. We have a very nice yard and some bushes that hide the ugly compost bin. The kids quickly caught on, and it’s fun throwing in dryer lint with the banana peels. No critter problems or strange smell. It’s a little bit of a pain in the dead of winter since that means sub-zero temps and snow/ice to trek through. A couple of times the lid was frozen shut.

We bought rain barrels. Again, this has been easy for us. We could afford to buy the barrels through the university extension office, and we have a gutters we can cut (well, Peter cut them) because we own our home. We have two barrels, not homes. I would get another one if I could figure out how to replace the chain link fence with a nice hedge of bushes for free.

We use a random unscientific combination of Craigslist, Freecycle, Goodwill and garage sales with the usual stores. You cannot believe how thrilled I was last summer when Elias came along with me to a garage sale and snagged a box full of legos and a box of Bionicles for a mere $10. Never mind that I need more legos like I need a hole in my head. He understood the art and skill of second-hand shopping!

Nothing new, complex or completely odd in that short but simple list. But isn’t that what makes it become easier? One step at a time? What are some of things that you have tried/are trying to harness the natural world and why are you doing those things?


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