Niche-Finding

Etsy, Facebook, Instagram, Kickstarter... with the Internet and smart phones, there are now more groups out there than I can count! And while my artsy friends, crafty friends, savvy friends, and musical friends are announcing their talents to the world, I feel out of the loop. I had a short-lived account on Linked-in (but it was pointless, because I don't need business connections), and then so-and-so asked me to join Twitter (which I still don't understand), and for a while, I did play around with the idea of selling things on Etsy (but really, do I have the time?) I see on Facebook how old friends have gone on to become models, opera singers, pilots, photographers... and me? What am I doing? Where's MY niche?!

Back in my college days, I thought classical music was my niche. I loved singing and playing the piano, but I found that I was not content singing only opera, or playing only Beethoven. I tried to branch out into jazz, I started writing my own songs, I even wanted to write film music.

(side story: One day, I saw a spread in a music magazine showing the top twenty film composers gathered in one room, and there was not one woman in that photo. I told my friend that I wanted to be the first woman to be a part of that group. You know how the story ends.)

My performance friends told me to pursue performance, my musicology friends told me to pursue musicology, but they didn't know me well enough. By graduation day, I found little motivation to chase after these goals and titles. Neither did I want to work at the outdoor school that had offered me a job, or teach piano full-time, or accompany choirs in the city.

I wanted to be a wife, a mother, a homemaker. I worked after graduating, but I no longer pursued like I used to. I still wanted to belong somewhere, but I knew I had to wait and be content with where God had me for the moment.

Soon after, I became a teacher, started leading worship at church, rediscovered the crafts of collaging and crocheting, played at a few weddings, but still, none of those were my niche. Then I met my husband (have I ever shared that story with you?) and became a wife and mother. But still, still, I hadn't found my niche, at least not yet, because diapers and dishes are definitely NOT my niche, and because God made me a multi-faceted woman with creativity to share.

It is only now, after ten years of motherhood, eleven-and-one-fourth years of marriage, and countless trials (in the sense of trying, not suffering) that I can say I have found my niche! (Hal-le-lu-jah! ) For my love of choral music, I have my little church children's choir. We may never get pass one-part singing, but I love it! For teaching, I have of course my five pupils at home. A few select friends receive a hand-made card or crocheted baby hat to celebrate them. And though no one will hear my songs outside of various living rooms, I can play classical, jazzy, folksy, whatever I please. And this year, my husband and I have started counseling engaged couples!

Sometimes I wonder if I would like to start a bakery like Ana in Stranger Than Fiction. Or maybe someday I'll volunteer at the local library and work to develop a program that brings seniors and young people together. Or maybe I'll go back to school and get my masters' degree in choral conducting. Who knows?!

I don't need to part of a group to find my niche, because my niche is truly mine and mine alone. It has no name and it is not publicized or well-known. It will be ever-changing, as God is ever changing me.

Growing Older

So fitting to write about growing older after my last post! My thirty-fifth birthday is less than a month away, and I apologize if my posts become more self-reflective than usual (if that's at all possible). It's just that birthdays are never what I imagine them to be.

When I was ten, I didn't want anything to change. Later that year, my family moved across the country.
When I was fourteen, I thought sixteen would solve all my problems.
When I turned sixteen, I thought eighteen signified that I was ready for the world.
When I turned eighteen, I thought I would have all the answers by the age of twenty.
Then, what a shock when at the age of twenty-one I still didn't have all the answers(!)
I got married before I expected, became a mother before I expected, and spent my thirtieth year pregnant, working twenty-five hours a week while my husband tried to find work, and moving in with my in-laws. 
And now this... 

White hairs! When I look in the mirror, I see locks that are rich and black (though oftentimes frizzy). But when I lift up a small portion of hair from the back of my head, I see not one, not two, but at least ten strands of white hair! (okay, maybe I exaggerate a little, but I definitely see at least four strands of white.) I can't imagine what people must see when they stand behind me.

I do think that one sure sign of a woman's confidence in herself is her ability to grow her hair gray. Those with lighter hair can do so with relative ease, but white hair shine like a neon light in my raven hair. When I had a few white hairs, I left them in, allowing them to sparkle in a 'joie de vivre' sort of way. Now that I'm finding more and more white hairs on my head, I have to resist the urge to dye my hair, or spend an hour in front of the mirror hunting down each and every white strand.

Is this the year to let my gray show? Can I face thirty-five (though it is still very young, according to many) with a renewed outlook, so I can face forty, fifty, and sixty with grace and a sense of adventure?

Not Retired From Life

Imagine a retirement home. 

Now fill it with music. 

In one room, you peek in and see a young girl taking a violin lesson from one of the home's residents. In a larger room, teenagers are listening to a lecture on opera given by another resident. Boys play soccer outside, while a barbershop quartet echo from somewhere in the building and a solo trumpet sends out its jazzy melody through an open window.

This is what the film Quartet is all about-- people who are retired from the limelight and mowing the lawn, but not retired from life. Though they could not play or sing like they used to, their love for music and sharing music was stronger than the criticisms from the public eye or the "up-and-coming". And here's a plus-- all the musicians in the film besides the four leads are real musicians from symphonies, operas, bands, and choruses. I had chosen this film because I love music and "old" people (and Maggie Smith), but I hadn't expected such beauty. Rarely am I so deeply moved by a film. 

It brought to mind another favorite film of mine, a documentary called Young at Heart. This movie follows a choir of octogenarians as they perform, prepare for a concert, and experience a loss. While Quartet is as romantic as Young at Heart is gutsy, both films shine because they portray the older generation in a positive light. These are the people who teach us. They inspire us. They remind us what is most important while we are still young and spry. These are the people like my friend Ed. During World War II, he worked on jet planes. Now eighty-nine years old, his doctor tells him that he has heart failure and needs open heart surgery if he wishes to live another ten years. But Ed told the doctor no, because he's not afraid. He's ready to go Home to be with his wife. And while he's here on earth, he uses his remaining days to make people laugh and write letters to politicians to try to change the world for the better for my generation. I know couples in their seventies and eighties who still go on foreign missions trips. This is true living.

Though movies like Quartet are ideal (after all, the residents were living on an old British estate where money was no object), their vision is not impossible. Maybe there is a home out there like the one in the film. Or maybe someday, what I saw in the film will be the foundation for something I establish. Whichever, as I grow older, I never want to stop making music. As my children grow older, I never want to stop reminding them to look to their elders. And as my parents grow older, I never want to stop being the bridge between them and the younger generation.

*Note for those interested in seeing Quartet- Though the film is beautifully written and visually clean, it is rated PG-13 for swearing and sexual humor.

Charlie and Sarah, Sarah and Charlie

I've mentioned my friend Sarah in two of my last posts, and recently found out that her husband has started a blog to share their story. His writing is deeply moving, and the grace of God in their lives is more than profound. With Sarah and Charlie's permission, I am publishing the link to Charlie's blog here because their story is definitely worth reading.

For those of you who don't know Sarah and Charlie, you would do a double-take if you saw them together. Charlie is tall-- well over 6 feet-- and Sarah is short-- she doesn't even reach the 5-foot mark on the growth chart. Her height is due to her illness (you can read more about it on Charlie's blog) but it hasn't stopped her from anything. My favorite picture of Sarah is of her with her big guitar belting out worship songs on a Sunday morning. Her voice certainly makes up for her lack in size. Charlie is also a musician (he plays everything!) and a true man of integrity. If something is against God's truth, Charlie lets you know, but not because he is a loud and outspoken man, but because he knows it is the right thing to do. He speaks occasionally on Sundays or Thursdays (our evening service) and almost always is playing drums or bass with the worship team.

When I first found out that Sarah and Charlie were courting, I was not surprised. They were, in every sense of the word, 'perfect' for each other. And I'm sure Charlie knew what he was getting into when he asked Sarah to marry him, though he could have never imagined their first few years of married life being as it had been. Apart from serving at our church, Charlie works long hours at Whole Foods and juggles caring for their two beautiful children. Parenthood, work, and pain (both physical and emotional) have tired them out. They are not as spunky and energetic as they once were, but they will both stop to ask you how you are doing and how they can pray for you.

Enough of my writing. Go read Charlie's blog. You will be blessed.

Celebrating Birthdays

Whew! I just finished putting on a birthday party for a group of seven-year-old girls. It is the first of three parties this month, because ALL my daughters were born in October (and if you're about to suggest that I have one party for all three of them, I've already tried that route, and it didn't work).

But birthday parties at our house are pretty low-key. We limit how many children can come, and try to make as much as we can (which sometimes includes a pinata). This keeps parties from breaking our bank, but it does mean I spend the week before shopping, making, and baking, and the day of the party cleaning and preparing. Then, usually by the time the last of the guests leave, it is time to start dinner.

I remember my birthday parties as a child, but I don't remember seeing my mom clean and work to make the party a success. I'm sure that this is due to my lack of observation, not her lack of effort. She did all she could on her limited budget and in our limited space to make me feel special, and I can truly appreciate that now. I guess it's never too late to thank her!

I don't have any deep insight into birthdays, except to say that it should be a day of much celebration. Some people hide on their birthdays, or say that they don't like the attention (that was me some years back), and some people believe birthdays are just another day, but I say, "NO!" To celebrate a birthday is to celebrate the fact that God made you, in all perfection, at just the right time and place. It is giving thanks to God for this person in your life and how he/she has blessed you through their unique presence.

It doesn't take a bouncy castle, a gourmet spread, and a hundred (or even twenty!) people to celebrate a birthday. In our family, the birthday person chooses a favorite breakfast, lunch, and dinner, receives a small gift, and invites his/her closest friends over for a little cake. Sometimes, we even have ice cream. But what is most important is that the day does not go by without the birthday person hearing this: I am so glad you were born, and I thank God for making you just the way you are and putting you in our family!  

The Overlap of Heritage and Faith

I recently met a couple who asked about my wedding. Their son is engaged to a young Chinese women, and in the wedding planning process, the family is uncovering the many differences between American and Chinese wedding expectations.

"Should we have a Chinese banquet?"

"Should the bride wear a white dress or a red dress?"

"Is the groom's family expected to pay for the wedding?!"

I answered their questions as clearly as I could, but this wasn't a topic that I've encountered in conversation before. My wedding was simple and traditional in many ways. I wore a white dress and veil, held a bouquet, had my father escort me down the aisle. I wasn't ignoring my Chinese heritage, but instead, focusing on honoring God and our families. We took Communion. We invited our guests to sing our favorite worship songs with us. We chose to have a dessert reception (with all food made by friends) to save money. And on my cake (also made by a friend) was the little cross that my parents had on their wedding cake. After cutting the cake, my husband and I fed each other with chopsticks.

I don't regret my wedding, but could I have done things differently? How can I answer people the next time this topic comes up? More importantly, how can I find  answers to my questions about the overlap of cultural heritage and faith?

Maybe you, my reader, can help me.

In most countries, to no longer follow a cultural tradition is to make a stand for Christ. Christians in the United States have a unique problem, because the popular view is to take pride in one's culture and to embrace one's past. So exactly how much of one's culture do we embrace, when there are traditions that are rooted in superstition or other religious beliefs?

For example, Chinese New Year is a grand celebration involving fire crackers, lion dancers, and good food. People pray to the Kitchen God and make noise to scare away evil spirits. Much of the sayings are to wish people good fortune and wealth, and much of the food are also symbolic of good fortune and wealth. So can I, in good conscience, celebrate Chinese New Year? Obviously, I should not pray to the Kitchen God, but can I accept red envelopes and take my children to see the lion dances?

Someday, I want to travel to China and interview the Christians there. I want to ask them about the choices they made after becoming Christians, and how it felt to be accused of becoming "Westernized" or rejecting their ancestors. If any of my international readers have insight, I would love to hear it!

He is Trustworthy

I shared in my last post that I had had a friend in the hospital. Beautiful, strong, kind-hearted, joyful Sarah had given birth to her second child via C-section, then found herself back in the hospital with two aggressive infections driving her body to the brink of death. I received the news while out of town, but even if I was home, there was little I could do but keep my hands occupied and try not to constantly check the phone for texts or my e-mail for updates. My mind went between earnest prayer and doubtful questions, as I wrestled with God and the possibility that He could choose to take Sarah home, leaving her husband with a ten-day-old daughter and fifteen-month-old son.

I remember feeling this way as a child.

"You can ask God for anything," my Sunday School teacher had told me, "and He will always listen."

And so I prayed, expecting with my child-like faith that God would say 'yes' to everything I asked Him. But when He didn't, my heart and my trust broke a little, like when one discovers that a friend had not kept a promise. I began to pray with the expectation that God would always say 'no', and in my heart, I believed in me more than I believed in miracles.

I have since learned through many broken hearts and many 'unanswered' prayers that God is sovereign. Despite my perception of what is right and best, God has proven himself to be trustworthy. So many of my prayers, if answered according to my wishes, would have been harmful to me and many others. My heart knows this now. And though I don't always understand God's ways, I can say after my most recent wrestling match with God that my child-like faith has returned, even during the most difficult of times.

My prayer for Sarah is now a prayer of thanksgiving. She is not completely healed yet, but we have already witnessed many miracles in her recovery. Yes, God does answer prayers. He is trustworthy, and He is good.

Because He Lives

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow...

We were singing this hymn at church this morning. It's one I've heard all my life (and especially love) but today, I was singing with my lips and not my heart. Lately, I've felt like a desert in need of a flood. With a friend in the hospital on the verge of death (thank God she's home now!), non-stop school and activities, and children wanting Mom around the clock, I am parched, cracked, and withering. The little rain that does fall collects in shallow puddles on the surface, but dries up before the soil and plants are properly nourished.

because He lives, all fear is gone...

Why do I continue to let fear of failure and judgment rule my actions? Why am I afraid of loving with abandon, of not being good enough, of losing my joy? Sometimes, it would be easier to stop caring, to stop giving, to stop obeying the call I heard so many years ago.

because I know He holds the future...  

I have to trust that the words of the hymn are true. Like I have to trust that the words of 2 Corinthians 12:9 are true:

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 

Paul goes on to say, "Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecution, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

And that is why, I can sing, though ever so softly,

and life is worth the living... just because He lives.

I cannot allow my insufficiency to rule my life. Though there are days when I don't want to get out of bed, or talk to people, or clean, or teach, I hold onto the hope that Christ gives me, because He lives.

Outside Looking In

While listening to the message on Sunday, I was reminded of my high school experience as a Christian. The public school I attended was fairly large, but I only knew of a handful of students who also considered themselves Christians. It never occurred to me to find out if there were any other Christians out there, even when there was an announcement for a 'Bible Study Club' meeting at lunch.

Looking back, I can tell you now why I didn't go to the 'Bible Study Club'. It was because the two girls who led it were richer than I was, prettier than I was, and more popular than I was. And as you well know, high school is defined by a hierarchy of cliques. The lines were clearly drawn, and there was no way I would attend a club led by girls from another group.

I should also mention that I was naive, proud, and spent most of my time focused on choir, boys, and my internal teenage angst rather than on God and His truth. I should have given these girls a chance to prove me wrong, but I didn't. Still, I felt like an outsider looking in, certain that the girls in the Bible Study would not accept me because I did not look or act like them. I did not wear designer brands. I attended a small, all-Chinese church. They were 'in', and I was 'out'.

High school, though highly dramatized, does reflect the adult world on a smaller scale. How many people hesitate to attend church because they feel that their clothes are not good enough? Or that their hobbies, language, or income are not the same? Do people on the outside see Christians as a club, a clique, a group of good-looking people who are not accepting of those who are not similar to them?

I don't want to say it, but the answer to all of the above is 'yes' for the American church. 

Now imagine the early church. Greeks, Romans, and Jews are gathering together for the first time. Groups that are usually divided, like slave owners and slaves, men and women, educated and not, must learn to see past their differences in a culture steeped in segregation.

And I say, if they could do it, we could too.

We can love each other in such a way that outsiders take notice. And what they will see is not our pleasant smiles and well-pressed clothes, but that we gather together, all ethnicities, all social backgrounds, all languages and talents, in one building to worship one God. And they will not see people who are different from them, but the same: broken people in need of God and His love, hope, and joy.