"'Honor your father and mother,' which is the first commandment with promise: 'that it may go well with you and you may live long on the earth.'" (Ephesians 6:2-3)
Today I heard myself say, "Dad, I'm Twenty-EIGHT!"
I was half asking, half mentioning that I'd like to visit friends next weekend. I've been thinking about it for the past two weeks and finally finished schedule swapping at church to clear my weekend for the trip. Dad's response?
"You know we need to get ready for Character First-- promotion, English materials, CD, DVD..." He didn't need to remind me. I was painfully aware of all these deadlines-- comes with too much work, too little time, and too little help. As the conversation stepped up in intensity, I reacted to the fact that he felt he still needed to remind me... after nine years of working long hours to meet my deadlines. I wondered if he was using deadlines as an easy way to say no to his adult daughter. Did he realize that most 28-year olds don't even bother to ask their parents for permission to do things? I bit my tongue more than once. But the more I stewed, the faster the tears fell.
Then through the crossfire in my heart, a quiet voice asked, Could the Lord be trying to say something through my dad? Have I missed something despite all my thinking things out and praying? Is this God's will or is Karen just trying to get her way?
You see, it's not about what my parents say, it's about what the Lord is trying to say through my parents. It's not about what my parents do, it's about what the Lord is trying to do in my life through my parents. The more certain I become of God's will, the fewer conflicts I have with them.
And that is how I face life on the home front as an adult child.
______________________________
Soul Lemonade, No. 14
Taipei, Taiwan
Sunday, September 26, 2004
Thursday, September 16, 2004
My Umbrella Escort
"Then He said to them, 'The harvest truly is great, but the laborers are few; therefore pray the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into His harvest.'" (Luke 10:2)
China, Part 2 (April 2004)
I stumbled out of the van, disoriented and bleary-eyed from my nap. Justin leaned over and muttered, "Shoot like crazy. We'll need all the photos we can get of this place."
I forced myself to follow, assembling the Nikon D100 and shaking the cobwebs of sleep from my mind. I wasn't sure where "this place" was or what I was supposed to shoot. All I saw were empty buildings and wooded property. How was I supposed to capture the essence of a place I neither knew nor understood?
A gentle spring rain began to fall, forcing me to juggle the camera, a camera bag, and a bright red square umbrella. It was awkward to say the least. Mr. Li, seeing my trouble, asked a young man in military fatigues to escort me.
My quiet escort followed me all over the property, ever careful to shield me as I shot buildings, doorways, fountains, walkways, and ponds. This was once a military compound. Chiang Kai Shek himself had lived and walked and taught here. It was once filled with soldiers who lived and died for China. Now the property was empty, save for a handful of students like my escort.
When I wasn't shooting, I asked him questions. He told me a little about his life-- here at the compound and also back at home in the mountains. His tribe had selected him and four other students, ages of 18-23, for a special education program headed up by Mr. Li to equip them with skills which they could use to help their tribes. This was his first time away from home.
His answers were polite, respectful, punctuated regularly by a shy smile. His face was soft, unhardened. There was a purity about him that moved me. I was talking to a boy, who had not (yet) been tainted or hardened by the world.
When preparing for this second trip to China, I was all too aware of my decision not to go to Pinghu. Still I wanted to see everything through the eyes of my Father. I wanted to gain more of His heart.
And so, even months later, I cannot shake the memory of a young man in military fatigues, tucked away in a forgotten corner of China-- on the brink of opportunity and eternity.
I hope we meet again.
______________________________
Soul Lemonade, No. 13
Taipei, Taiwan
China, Part 2 (April 2004)
I stumbled out of the van, disoriented and bleary-eyed from my nap. Justin leaned over and muttered, "Shoot like crazy. We'll need all the photos we can get of this place."
I forced myself to follow, assembling the Nikon D100 and shaking the cobwebs of sleep from my mind. I wasn't sure where "this place" was or what I was supposed to shoot. All I saw were empty buildings and wooded property. How was I supposed to capture the essence of a place I neither knew nor understood?
A gentle spring rain began to fall, forcing me to juggle the camera, a camera bag, and a bright red square umbrella. It was awkward to say the least. Mr. Li, seeing my trouble, asked a young man in military fatigues to escort me.
My quiet escort followed me all over the property, ever careful to shield me as I shot buildings, doorways, fountains, walkways, and ponds. This was once a military compound. Chiang Kai Shek himself had lived and walked and taught here. It was once filled with soldiers who lived and died for China. Now the property was empty, save for a handful of students like my escort.
When I wasn't shooting, I asked him questions. He told me a little about his life-- here at the compound and also back at home in the mountains. His tribe had selected him and four other students, ages of 18-23, for a special education program headed up by Mr. Li to equip them with skills which they could use to help their tribes. This was his first time away from home.
His answers were polite, respectful, punctuated regularly by a shy smile. His face was soft, unhardened. There was a purity about him that moved me. I was talking to a boy, who had not (yet) been tainted or hardened by the world.
When preparing for this second trip to China, I was all too aware of my decision not to go to Pinghu. Still I wanted to see everything through the eyes of my Father. I wanted to gain more of His heart.
And so, even months later, I cannot shake the memory of a young man in military fatigues, tucked away in a forgotten corner of China-- on the brink of opportunity and eternity.
I hope we meet again.
______________________________
Soul Lemonade, No. 13
Taipei, Taiwan
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
