Small-Circle People

Every now and then, a neutral word picks up a negative connotation. 

'Housewife' was one of those. A term once used to simply describe a woman not employed outside of the home, it now conjures up an image of a woman in a June Cleaver dress and pearls, slaving away in a prison of a home, with no ambition to do more than make the best meatloaf in the world to her husband's satisfaction. And so, nowadays people prefer 'homemaker' or 'stay-at-home mom'.

I feel that the term 'introvert' has also become one of those words. Say 'introvert', and people think 'wallflower', 'shy', 'anti-social', 'hermit', or 'nerd'. An introvert is the unattractive boy or girl in the corner by the punch bowl. Or the bookworm with the nerdy glasses and mismatched clothes hiding behind War and Peace. Or the single, middle-aged man or woman who goes home to a table set for one and a conversation with his/her cat. They are not wanted at social gatherings, because they are awkward and just plain boring.

Which is not necessarily true! Sure there are times when I can't think of anything to say while squished into a corner of the couch with the music blaring behind me, and though everyone else is joining the congo line around the room, I choose to sip my punch and force a smile. But introversion isn't about preferring solitude over people; it's about how many people one can be around at any given time, and the level of interaction one has with those people.

And that is why I've decided to give introverts a new name: small-circle people.

I will proudly say that I am a small-circle person. I like going where there are no crowds, because I can enjoy my surroundings better. I like conversations with one or two people around a small table, because I can focus on their words and emotions and talk about meaningful things, and not feel like someone is being left out. I like trying new things, and I actually prefer to do with them someone else-- it's just more fun that way. I space out parties, large social obligations, and outings on my calendar so I don't overwhelm myself. I like quiet, because I can't think when there is noise. And-- this is most important-- I choose a small circle of people and pour my love into them, because I know that though I am not equipped to help a multitude of people, I can certainly help some.

I have been learning over the years not to allow labels to shape me; my identity in God is not based on what I think I can't do ("I can't help all the orphans in Africa." "I can't lead a Bible study." "I can't talk to teenagers.") but on what God can do through me. By reminding myself that I am a small-circle person, I can more easily dispel the label of 'introvert' and focus on the plans God has for me. I may not be the 'life of the party', but I can find the one person in the crowd who needs a friend. I can befriend one neighbor who is lonely. I can mentor one young woman and help her find her identity in Christ.

God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in a God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us... There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. ~I John 4:16b-18a (ESV)

Colorblindness

My children are colorblind.

I remember a conversation we had when they were much younger. At the time, I wanted to somehow teach my children to see past a person's racial background, and my friend Melita (who is African-American) was coming to visit our home. The children couldn't remember who she was, so I started describing her.

"She's very tall. She has short, black, curly hair. And she helps with the babies sometimes at church." 

Blink blink. The kids still couldn't remember.

I added the one detail I had wanted to avoid… the color of her skin.

"She has dark brown skin. We went out for dim sum with her."

Suddenly, the light bulb went on when I mentioned dim sum.

"Oh yeah! I remember… She has dark skin?!"

I realized then that I didn't have to teach my children NOT to be prejudiced. They were born with eyes that saw the world honestly, and skin color was just another detail, like Mom has black hair and brown eyes and Dad has brown hair and green eyes. They have one grandma who is blond, one cousin who is red-headed, and friends who are Indian, Hispanic, Asian, and African, speaking English with various accents. Whether we eat Chinese food, American food, Mexican food, or French food (you should hear the kids try to say 'beouf bourguignon'!), we love to share our food with others. Because we live in an area with enough diversity, and because my husband and I show appreciation and respect for all cultures, my children are not afraid of differences. For them, it is very simple. People are people, and what is most important is kindness and friendship.

As the children have grown older, I have learned more and more that race is not a subject to be avoided. God made people of all appearances, and the world is better because of the wonderful cultural diversity in it! As part of our history lessons, we have studied foods, language, and dress from around the world, as well as racial discrimination. I do wonder if my children will ever face discrimination as I have, but, as hard as it is to say, I would rather they be on the receiving end than the giving end.

Yesterday at the store, a young man enthusiastically pointed to my children and shouted, "Hey, your children are 'hapa' like me!"

As we walked through the parking lot, I tried to explain to my older children what 'hapa' meant. Blink blink. They looked as confused as when they were younger. In their minds, they "know" that I'm Chinese-- we eat Chinese food, we learn the Chinese language, we celebrate Chinese holidays and sometimes wear traditional Chinese clothes. But they never think of me as being Chinese. In fact, sometimes they say, "But Mom, you don't LOOK Chinese!"

So I tried a different tactic. I started listing their friends who are also 'hapa', but they just got more confused.

"Mary is part Asian?! Really?! Is her dad Asian?!"

I laughed to myself. Their friend Mary has a Filipino mom and a Caucasian dad, but my children never noticed. And maybe it's better that way.

With time, my children will grow more aware of cultural differences. The world will make sure of that, and the world will try to teach them to see through the lenses of prejudice and stereotypes. 

For now, though, my children see people as God sees them, with an appreciation for their differences, but without allowing those differences to get in the way. I hope that never changes.

It is Enough for Me

We just finished eating our lunch on the front lawn. When we picnic, we have to do it in the front yard, because our backyard is almost all cemented over. Cars are driving by, I see the 'for sale' sign in our neighbor's house across the street, and garbage cans stand in rows, waiting for the pick-up today. The trimmings from our yard work yesterday still lie strewn upon our half-brown grass.

Some would say that they wish the yard was better landscaped. Some would wish they had more income so they could buy the house across the way. Some would wish that the neighbors were not quite so close, or that the house was not quite so orange, or that the nearby traffic from the airport and highways was not quite so loud.

I say, it is enough for me.

I am able to picnic with my children on a whim. I am typing on an iPad in front of a spacious and sturdy home. We ate leftover barbecued chicken given to us by friends. And I can feel the soft breeze caress my skin, hear the chorus of birds in the trees, see the shades of green in the trees, and taste the goodness of the food that will nourish me and the child growing inside me.

God

is

good.

Caring for your P.W.W.Y.C.

Okay, I'm not so good with acronyms.

P.W.W.Y.C. stands for Pastor's Wives With Young Children. I couldn't think of any other way to say it. If you have an idea, feel free to share it with me!

But first, let me tell you how I got the idea for this post.

A few years back, when my family first started attending our church, I was looking for moms with whom to connect. It wasn't difficult, since our church has a MOPS group and plenty of homeschooling families, but there were two moms in particular that I wanted to get to know because I thought we would have much in common. One was the wife of the music pastor, and the other was the wife of the junior high pastor.

But all my attempts seemed to fail. I would see them in the hall, and say 'hi' but they wouldn't stop to talk. I tried to invite them over for dinner, but somehow our schedules wouldn't work. I thought maybe they just weren't interested, or had too much to do, or whatever, but I NEVER thought that it was because they were P.W.W.Y.C.

Now that I'm a pastor's wife myself I know what it is like to be in their shoes. On Sundays, my husband leaves around 7am or 8am, depending on what he has going on that morning. I make breakfast (or put cereal in bowls) and herd all my children into their clothes and out the door in time (or not) for the 9am service. Once at church, we park and walk like a line of ducks across the busy parking lot to the church building, where then I have to drop each of the younger children off at his/her classroom. Sometimes my 4-year-old clings to me and screams because he doesn't want to go. So either I spend a few minutes convincing him, or just allow him to join me in the service. Finally, I make it into the sanctuary and look around for a seat. After the service, I round up my children again, and do the duck walk back to the car. I might have caught a glimpse of my husband somewhere in there.

When I first became a pastor's wife, I hated Sunday mornings. I missed my husband. I missed having a calm and peaceful Sunday morning. If one child was sick, I stayed home with all the kids. I asked my sister-in-law (also a pastor's wife) if that was what Sundays were like for her, and she said, "Yep. You're lucky if you make it to service twice in a month." Sundays, what had been a day of rest, had become a work day for our family.

The other P.W.W.Y.C. are in the same boat as me, but at least I have older children to help me out and 10+ years of experience as a mom to fall back on. When I tried to talk to these other moms, they seemed distracted, because they were-- trying to keep track of their children in a busy hall. I'm sure I'm the same way! They sometimes seemed frazzle, probably because they had a rough morning, or a late night doing some ministry project, but still somehow made it to church. P.W.W.Y.C. have mornings when they would rather stay home from church, but feel the need to go anyway (at least I do). They love supporting their husbands' work (and many of them would  never trade ministry for another line of work), but they are up at nights with their children, or work part-time to help make ends meet, AND still strive to make time to do their own ministry.

So if you have a P.W.W.Y.C. in your church, see what you can do to help her out. It can be as simple as supporting her as she is learning about herself as a new mom, or trying one of these:

1) Get to know them outside of church.
It is easy to assume certain things about a pastor's wife. But do you know what her hobbies are? Do you know if she is part of a Bible study? Does she have family in the area? How is she adjusting to her role as a P.W.? Invite the family over for dinner or lunch.

2) Offer them help in the parking lot.
Many P.W.s are "single moms" on Sunday mornings. Who knows what it took for them to make it even to the church parking lot! So if you see a P.W. trying to carry an infant carseat and walk a toddler from the car to the church front door, don't hesitate to help them on the last leg of their journey!

3) Offer them a seat next to you on Sundays.
Again, with their husbands either teaching, or leading music, or serving somewhere else in the church building, P.W.s don't often sit with their husbands in service. If there is an empty seat next to you, let them know.

4) Offer to babysit.
This is especially important if the pastor and P.W. have no relatives in the area to help them out. Once you've establish a good relationship with your P.W. and her family, I doubt she'll turn down a babysitting offer. Some P.W.s would love a chance to have some quiet time alone, or an hour to join a Bible study. And of course, date night is never a bad idea! Support their marriage by giving the couple a break from their young children to reconnect over dinner at a nice restaurant. 

5) Pray for them.
Ministry is never 9-5. Any set church ministry hours are usually on weekends or in the evenings. Then there is all the ministry that is not set: counseling people, preparing for teaching and training, studying the Word. Pastors NEVER leave their work at the office; they carry it in their hearts. And for pastors with young children, this means learning to balance work with family time. Pastors are not immune to overworking, divorce, or neglecting their children. They desperately need prayer to keep their families strong.

Last Weeks of School

Oh, the drudgery.

Everyone hits a time of drudgery at some point. Mine usually comes between Christmas and Easter, when the weather is the coldest and rainiest, and homeschooling becomes a day in/day out routine.

Without even knowing it at first, I start to slowly change into a robot. Make breakfast. Clean up breakfast. Do school. Make lunch. And on and on and on. As long as there is relative peace in the house, I don't have to think much about anything. 

But then I start getting testy. And more impatient. And discontent. I'll spare you the details, though I'm sure you're familiar with the feeling yourself. And this year, for some reason, the drudgery I felt didn't go away. 

How ironic then that the words I needed to hear came from our science text book. Well, not exactly from the text book, because the words are really from the Bible, but the Bible verse was a part of our last lesson in our anatomy and physiology book.

Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks of God the Father through Him. ~Colossians 3:17

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them. ~Ephesians 2:10

What beautiful words to share with my children as they are learning to serve God, and what a wonderful reminder for myself as I am teaching them! There are times when I like to feel 'freed up' to do ministry, but I have to remember that my children are also my ministry. Not that I should idolize them and give them ALL my attention, but that I remember that even the most seemingly insignificant service has meaning in God's eyes. A meal served is love on a plate, a moment of discipline is to polish and refine, and every word that leaves my mouth can be a word straight from God's heart, if I am mindful of Him.

We have only a few weeks of school left. This will be my oldest's last weeks before entering "junior high". And it will be our last summer together before the arrival of the newest Baird member. With these realizations, I'm going to make the most of every day!

An Ode to My Mother

The girl looks in the mirror

Brushes her hair

Puts on some lipstick

And fakes a smile

But nothing she does

Can change her face

Or the fact that she is

Her mother's daughter

Last year, I wrote an ode to my mother-in-law for Mother's Day. At the time, I felt compelled to write it because of our culture's negative view of mothers-in-law. But I do know that many people (particularly women) have difficult (and more painful) relationships with their mothers as well. And so this year, I chose to write about my own mom.

First, I wouldn't say that my relationship with my mom is gut-wrenchingly difficult. In many ways, my mother and I are very similar. My generous heart and love for animals and singing comes from her. And my looks. Growing up, I always heard, "You look just like your mother!" Of course, I hated it. But maybe that's because I also inherited my stubbornness and quick temper from her.

And of course, two stubborn and quick-tempered people in the same house will have their share of disagreements. Also, we differed in our outlooks on life. I'm impulsive, a bit daring, and crave small adventures (though I've mellowed out since having five kids). My mom is fearful and doesn't like to try new things. Also, I desire openness and honesty. I like to ask questions and get answers. But my mother is very quiet, private, and reserved. She would say it's because she was raised Chinese and I was raised more American, but I think this is also very much a part of my personality. And so, throughout my childhood, when I needed someone to talk to, I couldn't always go to my mother. While I would want to discuss a situation, she would avoid the confrontation.

When I was young, I didn't understand this. It seemed to me that her unwillingness to talk was a sign that she didn't love me. Her busy schedule (she was a full-time mother-of-three and pastor's wife and worked part-time) and our tight budget meant we didn't go out often, plan big vacations, or have elaborate holiday or birthday celebrations.  In my desire for a deeper relationship with my mom, I became envious of other girls who had big parties and a mom who did things with them. Our relationship grew distant, to the point that we wouldn't talk unless we had to. When I started college, it became even easier to go for days without talking to her, though I was living at home at the time.

Now, as I've aged (and become a mother myself), I see more and more with open eyes. I see a woman who left her family and moved to a completely different country to serve God and the man she loved. I see a woman who received masters degrees in library science and Chinese history, but worked as a nanny, a maid, and a preschool teacher to help make ends meet. I see a woman who was timid, but did what she could to overcome that. She never would tell me about it, but I would see the books she was reading lying on the counter. She wasn't one who craved adventure, but adventure found her nonetheless, and she didn't choose to run away.

And lastly (and this is where I admire my mom the most), I see a woman who felt like a fish out of water because of her Chinese mannerisms and imperfect English, but chose to make the most of it in a foreign country for the sake of her family. In February, when I spoke at the women's tea at my church, my mother came. She doesn't drink tea (which sounds very non-Chinese, but tea now keeps her up at night), she doesn't eat sweets, she hates frou-frou parties, and she especially hates sitting at a table with a bunch of English-speaking strangers, but she came anyway. She is growing in courage and faith, and though I didn't want to be a copy of my mother when I was young, I want to mimic her now in this way.

I still long for a closer relationship with my mother, but I can't put on all the blame on my mom; it will take more effort on my part. The easy route is to tell myself, "Well, if she doesn't make the effort, why should I?" I've slipped into the habit of being superficial with her, but I know that it doesn't have to be that way. Just as we are both growing in courage and faith, our relationship can grow, even if it is in tiny increments. With God's help, our relationship can blossom into something new.

As before, I will not attempt to offer advice on how to "fix" your relationship with your mother, because, though there are similarities, mother/daughter relationships are as different as shells on a beach. I will offer these words from the Bible, the same words I offered in my post about my mother-in-law:

Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. ~Ephesians 4:2-3 (NIV)

And also, remember that the Bible commands us to honor our parents. It may be difficult for you to respect your mother, or obey your mother, or to even be in the same room as your mother, but God did put her in your life in a maternal role. Why He did so may be a mystery to you, but it is no mystery to Him. Pray that God will open your eyes and reveal that mystery to you. And this year's Mother's Day can be the beginning of something new between you and your mom.

The Immeasurableness of God

Do you ever wonder why God would create such a gigantic universe, then put such tiny people in it? Why did He make stars that are hundred of millions of miles in radius, then place them hundred of millions miles away from us, just so we could see a tiny dot of light in the night sky? Seems like a waste.

But as I stood at the base of Yosemite Falls yesterday, looking up at the hundreds of millions of water droplets sky-diving in slow motion, 'wasteful' wasn't the word that came to my mind. Neither was 'insignificant'. I was in the presence of something greater than myself, and it filled me with a sense of awe for the Creator and the beauty of His creation. Maybe that's why He created waterfalls, mountains, oceans, forests, deserts, and a universe of immense proportions-- for our enjoyment, and for us never to forget to be in awe. 

Though mankind's dream is to someday "know" all the mysteries of the universe, I hope we never discover all that the ocean is hiding. That way, I can always gaze upon the endless waves and gain from them an understanding of the depth of God's love and mercy. And though we try to harness the power of falling water, and try to capture it's wonder in images and words, there will never be anything like standing in a waterfall's cloud of mist and listening to the deafening roar of water hitting rock, and thinking about God's strength, power, and beauty. And I know that we will never chart all the stars and planets in the universe, and that is fine with me, because I also know that I will never be able to fully comprehend the sheer size and magnitude of God. I will always and forever be in awe of the God who created this amazing world, the One who is holding it all together.