The Worry of a Parent

Is there a magic cut-off period when
offspring become accountable for their own
actions? Is there a wonderful moment when
parents can become detached spectators in
the lives of their children and shrug, "It's
their life," and feel nothing?

When I was in my twenties , I stood in a hospital
corridor waiting for doctors to put a few
stitches in my daughter's head. I asked, "When do
you stop worrying?" The nurse said:
"When they get out of the accident stage." My
dad just smiled faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little
chair in a classroom and heard how one of my
children talked incessantly, disrupted the class,
and was headed for a career making
license plates. As if to read my mind, a teacher
said, "Don't worry, they all go through
this stage and then you can sit back, relax and
enjoy them." My dad just smiled
faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime
waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come
home, the front door to open. A friend said:
"They're trying to find themselves. Don't worry,
in a few years, you can stop worrying. They'll be
adults." My dad just smiled faintly
and said nothing.

By the time I was 50 , I was sick and tired of being
vulnerable. I was still worrying over my
children, but there was a new wrinkle. There
was nothing I could do about it. My
dad just smiled faintly and said nothing. I
continued to anguish over their failures, be
tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in
their disappointments.

My friends said that when my kids got married I
could stop worrying and lead my own
life. I wanted to believe that, but I was
haunted by my dad's warm smile and his
occasional, "You look pale. Are you all right?
Call me the minute you get home. Are
you depressed about something?"

Can it be that parents are sentenced to a
lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another
handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of
human frailties and the fears of the
unknown? Is concern a curse or is it a virtue
that elevates us to the highest form of life?

One of my children became quite irritable
recently, saying to me, "Where were you? I've been
calling for 3 days, and no one answered. I was worried."
I smiled a warm smile.
The torch has been passed.

PASS IT ON TO OTHER WONDERFUL PARENTS
(And also to your children. That's the fun part)

Movie Review: Little Miss Sunshine

I haven't done movie reviews for quite a while now. Usually, I only do when a movie strikes me deep that I couldn't NOT write about it somehow.

Little Miss Sunshine is about a dysfunctional and bankrupted family whose members suffer insanely bizarre issues of their own. Their lives intertwine in various unexpected ways, regardless of denying each other's existence, and finally doing things as a team. Well, they might seem just like any other family... But not quite.

It all starts when a family takes a road trip together to send a little girl to a beauty pageant. The family consists of 6: a mother/wife who tries so hard to bring the family together, practically leading a life of fast food deliveries and chain-smoking; a father/husband who dreams of gaining fame and fortune by bringing his theories on self-help and self-improvement technique to the public using 9 steps to reach success; a suicidal gay brother who is an expert on Proust; a heroin-addict grandfather who always speaks his mind, no matter how unwholesome he may seem; a goth of a teenage son who has voluntarily deprived himself of speech; and a 7-year old daughter who dreams of winning the Little Miss Sunshine title.

What struck me the most was that on winners and losers. The father insists that losing is simply not winning, not getting the top prize, so one needs to do everything he/she can to get it. The grandfather later negates this idea by stating that losing only happens when one doesn't try at all. The 7-year old child somehow gets this and walks proudly into the pageant, not thinking about winning or losing anymore, but simply doing her best and enjoying herself as she witnesses the support of her whole family (i loooooooooved the talent portion! i was laughing the whole time!).

This movie reminds us of the importance of family. That no matter how weird each member is, we are bound to accept, support and love one another in the end. That home is where we first discover and develop our own individualities, and at the same time, where we experience our first actual relationship with another human being that covers all aspects of life.

Go see the movie. You won't regret it ;-)

Ten Things I Learned From My Dad

In the memories that come with a parent’s passing, I’ve been reminded of what my dad taught those of us who lived and worked with him.

In many ways, Dad didn’t have an easy life. Long before his problems with a detached retina, heart surgery, and Parkinson’s disease, he lived in the shadow of his own father’s colorful and commanding personality. While most people knew Dad as a strong-voiced, caring, and faithful teacher of the Bible, those of us who were close to him knew that along the way Dad also wrestled with serious and deep questions about his own abilities and self-worth.

Looking back, I’m beginning to realize how much he taught us not only by his strengths but also by the way he responded to his weaknesses. I know my three brothers would agree that Dad showed us how to:

Admit when we are wrong. We all remember Dad’s willingness to admit his faults. I’m not sure why that seems important enough to mention first. It could be that I’ve heard my wife Di talk about how that quality impressed her. When visiting in our home before we were married, she saw Dad come to the dinner table and, before sitting down, apologize to the family for his irritability toward Mom. Or, maybe I just can’t think of anything that continues to be more necessary for me than to admit my own wrongs.

Don’t try to be someone else. Dad knew what it was like to be compared to his gifted and much-loved father. Some told him he didn’t have what it would take to lead the ministry his father founded. The comparisons were hard on him. But over time he used the experience to show us how to be the person God made us to be. And as a result of what he found in the trenches of his own battle for self-respect, he gave the rest of us the freedom we needed to be ourselves as well.

Think small while dreaming big. Dad showed us the importance of being honest in little things. He’d go back to a restaurant to return change if he found he’d been given too much at the cash register. What others called “white lies” were big issues to him. He didn’t even like to exaggerate to make a point. For him, issues of urgency or cost were no excuse to forget the principle that “he who is faithful in what is least is faithful also in much” (Luke 16:10). Attention to detail, however, didn’t keep him from dreaming. His vision for outreach through television and multiple teachers resulted in years of growth of RBC Ministries.

Be careful what we say about others. Dad wasn’t part of “the grapevine” that circulates news of other people’s failures. I don’t remember hearing him talk about other leaders’ mistakes. Maybe it was because he himself had felt the sting of unkind rumors and remarks. He simply took to heart the Scriptures that call us to love one another. The 13th chapter of 1 Corinthians was one of Dad’s favorite Scripture passages, and he read it often to his staff.

Read biographies with a grain of salt. Dad’s reluctance to be unnecessarily critical of others came with an interesting footnote. He didn’t put a lot of stock in biographies. Although he saw the value of “stories of great people,” he took them with a grain of salt. He knew that the real story of a person’s life is seldom published.

Relax with those who are important to you. Dad worked hard. While taking his leadership responsibilities seriously, he wrote, edited, and rewrote his messages and devotionals until they had the simplicity and clarity he was looking for. But he also knew how to put his work aside and relax. He loved walks on the beach or going for a drive in the country with Mom. He looked forward to spending time on the golf course with friends. I remember how much he enjoyed showing my brothers and me how to use a fly rod to work an orange spider into the lily pads of a quiet lake as we hunted for bluegill or largemouth bass. We also have plenty of memories of him at home with a bowl of popcorn and a board game like Monopoly or Scrabble.

Cultivate balance. Dad learned by experience to listen to both sides of an argument. In his later years he told us how, as a young manager, he’d listen to one side of an employee conflict and think he understood the problem. Then he’d talk to the other side and hear a completely different perspective. The balance and fairness he cultivated in employee relationships showed up in other ways too. In so many ways he taught us to avoid one-sided extremes in thinking or behavior.

Avoid irreverent jokes. Over the years we saw in Dad a healthy fear of the Lord. Jokes about the Scripture were out of bounds as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a sense of humor. He loved a good laugh. But he drew the line when it came to talking lightly about God or the Bible.

Question our own use of Scripture. Because of Dad’s reverence for the Word of God, he also taught us to second-guess the way we quote the Bible. When critiquing manuscripts written by his staff, he would repeatedly write in the margin, “Does the Bible really say that? Really?” He showed us that if we really want to trust or teach what God has said, we need to be willing to doubt our own interpretations and motives.

Trust in God and do the right. Since Dad’s passing, many of his friends, co-workers, and family members have agreed on one central focus that seems to best represent his life. Much of the legacy he left us can be summed up in the words, “Trust in God and do the right.” We remember those words as they are repeated in a poem written by Norman Macleod that Dad often read to his staff. —Mart De Haan

Trust In God by Norman Macleod

Courage, Brother, do not stumble,

Though your path be dark as night;

There’s a star to guide the humble,

Trust in God and do the right.

Let the road be rough and dreary,

And its end far out of sight,

Foot it bravely, strong or weary;

Trust in God and do the right.

Perish policy and cunning,

Perish all that fears the light;

Whether losing, whether winning,

Trust in God and do the right.

Trust no party, sect or faction,

Trust no leaders in the fight;

But in every word and action

Trust in God and do the right.

Simple rule and safest guiding,

Inward peace and inward might,

Star upon our path abiding;

Trust in God and do the right.

Some will hate you, some will love you,

Some will flatter, some will slight;

Cease from man, and look above you,

Trust in God and do the right.

Sisters

More pictures at Flickr Mojojho!

The Power of Words

In the Old Testament, a lot of examples were given about parents giving blessings to their children. At first, it did not make much sense to me since parents always have good intensions anyway. But having read about these actions, it made me realize that parents' words are powerful indeed. That the blessings that they hand over to you are actually gifts from God... and in the same way a curse, when given out of rage, or even unintentionally.

Two years ago, my father jokingly said, out of nowhere, that i would turn out to be a spinster. I just laughed that time, thinking how ridiculous it was since it came from my father, who I am very close with. I even forgot about it, until recently. I never thought how much it truly affected me until I had a series of conversations with friends about parents' blessings. And the moment I started uttering the word "spinster", tears came rushing down my face. Deep down, I couldn't accept that I would have that fate. I've always known that I would be a good wife, a good mother, a good home-maker. But somehow, that word shook me. Am I losing faith? Are my desires the same as His? I asked myself.

Then just an hour ago, I had a talk with my mom. I asked her how her birthday celebration went. The mood was very light, then it occured to me that I had to let my mom know. So I told her what I learned about parents' blessings and how significant they truly are. I also mentioned about Papa's *joke* and how I wanted him to take it back. I was very confident that my mom, knowing how faithful and prayerful she is, would understand what I was trying to tell her, even after she panickly asked if I was getting married already, thinking that was the reason why I asked. And so she promised that the blessing would be given to me when I come home in December.

I don't know what's in store for me in the future, but somehow, that conversation has given me more hope and courage... that no matter what happens, I will be alright. I feel much better now.

A Wonderful Christmas

An eve of fullness, a morning of profoundness....





So, how was YOUR celebration?

Check out the rest of my pictures here :D

Diane and Tristan

My niece and nephew are in town! It's all so sudden, my sister called me the day before their flight, asking if the they could crash at my place, which made me go "wooooohooooo" right away :D Dang, I love surprises.

Here are some of the shots I took of the kids during their 1st day.

KFC at Tata Joanne's apartment; look at the little one with the dumbell


Kids at play (Jamboree Gym, Emporium)


Asleep, at last (Imperial Queen's Park)

Diane, the princess; and Tristan, the monster (I quote their father's words). I was fortunate enough to see Diane grow up from 2 to 4 years. She's witty, sweet, and truly a big sister. Tristan, on the other hand, is a whirlwind on the loose. He's only 1.5 years old, but man, he can change the state of his environment in one snap. But with just one smile, he sure can melt anybody's heart. And his mom's gonna make sure she's the only woman he'll ever love. Haha!

By the way, today's Diane's birthday. Happy 7th Birthday, Diane Ysabelle! (sorry, had to, she loves pink) Mwah :D

Turning 26

There's nothing greater than spending your birthday with special people in your life. Being away from home during such occasions could cause tremendous home-sickness, but yesterday, it felt like my family was here.

Mama and Papa, thank you for the 12-midnight call. I know it was really an effort for you to stay awake late at night. And knowing that you rarely call overseas, I am deeply touched. To Ate Jenny and Francois (plus Diane and Tristan, who were already asleep), who called me at 1.30am, and to Jon and Jia, who, even miles away from each other, managed to send their greetings together, thank you. And to Inchi, who coordinated a very memorable evening, threw me an exquisite dinner party (for 3, hehe) at the Les Nympheas Restaurant (Imperial Queen’s Park Hotel) while serenading us with her music, and also granted special requests on the piano from 1 to 2am. You’re the best, thank you!

To Sally, who’s been there through thick, and thick, and thin, thank you for the gift of friendship… oh yes, plus the comfy cushion. Weeeeeeee!

And to all my friends who didn’t fail to express their greetings, thank you! I miss you all.

Looking forward to a great year ahead…. :D

Sundays with Joie

I just spent the weekend at my sister's hotel room. She works as a pianist at the Imperial Queens Park Hotel -- just a 5-minute walk from Emporim Plaza and BTS Skytrain.

Hanging out with my sister is fun. We just laughed ourselves to sleep last night, as always. She's my foodtrip buddy. Well, not as much as before but we did eat some today. When we both feel like going out, we usually go to Brown Sugar, a jazz bar near Lumphini Park and Night Bazaar, but we tried the Saxophone Pub at Victory Monument last night, for a change. I still prefer Brown Sugar though. We also love watching horror movies together. We even rent Thai horror movies and make up crazy translations to make them less scary. By the way, I'm going back there on Wednesday night -- Sixth Sense on Star Movies at 9pm. Bwahaha!

Aside from spending time with sis, I always look forward to staying there because I get to watch Star Movies, National Geographic, MTV and BBC (unfortunately, my apartment only has HBO and ESPN, the rest are thai/thai-dubbed channels. pathetic). I also get to read the Bangkok Post and solve the crossword puzzle for free hehe. Jazz and acoustic music mesh well with lying on the bed and reading a good book (uh, Harry Potter 6 for today). Some CD's I played earlier: EBTG - The Best of EBTG, Stacey Kent - In Love Again, Kotaro Oshio - Be Happy, and Renee Olstead.

Oh well, back to work tomorrow.

Mano Po, Lolo

I've been having creepy dreams about my dead grandfathers lately.

The one with Lolo A, my sister and I were pitching at each other like mad dogs at my apartment, and he was trying to play the referee. He talked to us calmly that we had to stop fighting, and that the older one should be more understanding and patient, etc etc, just like how he spoke to us when he was still alive. He was dressed in his barong, the same one he wore at his funeral. Yayks.

Then just last night, I had a dream about Lolo C. My whole family was at our old house in the province. He was lurking outside, heavily drunk, and we didn't let him in. My older sister was sitting at the dining area, beside the window. It used to have screens, but in the dream, there were just the grills. Then grandpa suddendly popped out of nowhere, outside the window, carrying a huge syringe with 2 long needles and bloody-red fluid, and stabbed it right on my sister's neck! We thought my sis was dead, but she seemed calm. Then I checked her eyes, as if looking for dust or dirt, and saw that her eyeballs were severely burned... No idea how and why it got so gruesome. (maybe because I overate the night before...had Japanese buffet... so blame it on the sushi? hehe)

Sad to say, but I was only close to Lolo A. He was youthful and so full of wisdom, that's why all the grandkids and great-grandkids loved him. I remember coming home from the university, with a pint of avocado ice cream for us to share. He really loved small gestures. And he would start teasing my grandma, making all the nasty oh-my-god-this-ice-cream-is-so-
delicious looks (grandma was diabetic). He was my late-night-tv buddy. He was an insomniac. Other times, he would try to get me to go with them to their church -- he was a devout Protestant. So many wonderful memories of Lolo A.

I really didn't know Lolo C that much, but I remember the kind moments when he stayed at our place for a few months. He would really try to look after us when my parents were away. I recall asking for his help while writing an essay for my English class in high school, and he did so gladly. He was a master of words -- he was the one who wrote my sister's and cousin's praise-worthy valedictory speech; and a brilliant artist -- they used to have realistic paintings all over the house, all done by him. But he was usually by himself, reading the bible or listening to a Catholic station on AM radio. He was a traditional Catholic. A generous tipper. I really wish i had known him better before. Maybe I'll get mama to talk more about Lolo C the next time I come home.

Remembering Summer

Just thought this was worth posting.

Homecoming is always something to look forward to. And each time, your family and friends just seem to pick up where you left off. Which, in turn, makes it much harder when it's time to leave again. There really is no place like home....

*senti music*