The bright yellow moon hung in the black night sky as 41 of us men, women, and children filed into the little fishing boat. It wasn’t the ideal night to be escaping from communism but this was our last attempt to flee a war torn country in hopes of something better. As our little boat putted along the river bed, trying to stay in the shadows of the trees, the Buddhists were praying to the water gods and the Catholics were praying to God. The adults feared for their lives and their children's lives. The children remained as quiet as possible.
I don’t recall the rest of that night or the few days afterward. What I do remember is our sixth day somewhere in the Indian Ocean. It was mid day, bright, and sunny and we have now run out of fuel and food. My mom is so sea sick she can’t even sit up but she laid there praying. All of a sudden our boat started to move as if miraculously we had a working engine. The boat started to come alive with excitement as we stirred about to see what was happening. Opening up my little window to look outside all I could see was the fin of the dolphin swimming next to our boat. It turned out to be a school of them swimming along our boat and propelling it forward as if they were our engine! Our prayers were answered!
The excitement didn’t last long because the school of dolphins left us just as quickly as they had come upon us. We’re now floating out in the middle of nowhere again.
By night fall, we were surrounded by darkness and our hopes were just as black and bleak. I don’t remember realizing I could easily die out there but I do remember a city out in the middle of this darkness! After much excitement and trying to revive my mother from her stupor due to anti nausea medications, we were rescued! What I remember of the rescue was somehow ending up on this amazingly large ship, being able to shower, and having had my very first taste of a red delicious apple. Because my mom spoke a little English, we got first class treatment and got a cabin to sleep in, new clothes to wear, and food being brought to us by everyone! This was all new to me and I was loving life! We were rescued by an American oil tanker and taken to Indonesia. We were finally free!
The memories that I have of my journey is very different than that of my mother’s. As a child, I didn’t really understand the severity of a situation. I just knew I had to keep quiet and do what I was told. What I remember from this experience is the full moon, the small boat, the dolphins, the red apple, and buried somewhere deep is the faded memory, standing on the upper deck of the ship and looking down at our little boat sinking as the oil tanker maneuvered away from it.
The boat that brought me to freedom is torn to shreds by one big wave as the oil tanker turned away from it.
I’ve been told, “God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.” How very true! I’m sure I would remember it differently if I had been older. But the memories I have are my roses in December. It is where my journey begins. God had plans for me and saw me to safety. Though I may have not known him then or for years to come, he was knocking at my door and revealing his love nonetheless. He never gave up on me. And each day is the result of this journey that started 28 years ago.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Diverse Without Growing Up Together Family
I recently shared my blog with a dear family friend who has known me for most of my life; since I was 7 years old and new to this country.
After reading through my blog, Jon stated that “the notion and term of a ‘Blended Family’ tends to be an idealistic and misdirected concept that creates problems.” He prefers “Diverse and without growing up together family.”
I like that.
Curt and I have been together for almost 3 years, which also means that our children have only known each other for 3 years. To expect that they mesh and meld as one big happy family is unrealistic and can be difficult to attain.
My three children are used to just having me around. They know me to discipline, to cuddle with, to take them on outings, etc. Now they have to learn to adjust to some one else disciplining them, less alone time with me, and family trips that include 9 people. Curt’s kids have only know their mom and dad all of their lives. Family trips involved planning for 6 people rather than 9. They all grew up together; been through the good, bad, and ugly together. But all that changed for them when one person made a decision.
One person’s decision can change the course of the lives of many people.
That decision, or perhaps a series of decisions, threw all 9 of us together, under one roof, having to learn to adjust and readjust to life together as a “diverse and without growing up together family.”
Our diversity isn’t merely physical, it’s skin deep, roots deep, beliefs deep, culture deep, and experiences deep to just name a few.
I was born and raised in Vietnam until I was 7. Then I spent most of my life in Duluth, Minnesota. Already I grew up in two areas very different than Curt. I was raised a Buddhist who attended Catholic school and participated in Mass every Thursday as part of our curriculum, and I worshipped idols. I grew up in weather that could reach 60 below zero. Curt grew up in an area where people travel to the snow for the weekend. He’s known God all of his life, was born again when he was 27. I’ve only turned my life over to God 3 years ago. Curt can recite Bible passages while I try to wrap my brain around a few verses. These are only a few of our differences. The list would be too long if I were to list the children’s differences as well.
Because we all didn’t grow up together, there are many things I had to learn in order to function as a new family unit of 9. For example, I am very direct and say it like it is, it’s the choleric and the flaw in my character. Two weeks ago, I picked up the four kids from their mom’s house and they all stunk! Whatever had been percolating in their mom’s house decided to attach itself onto the kids’ clothes. I rolled down the window and told them all to keep it down because they stink! By no means did I mean to say they were no good, but regardless of what I meant, I had hurt some very fragile egos. I later apologized. I have to learn to not be so quick with my words and to consider the ramifications first. This is new and foreign to me and only one of the many adjustments that I need to make.
Growing up together means knowing the little nuances of family members. It means learning how to clean at a very young age; Vinh, my oldest, asked for a toy vacuum and cleaning supplies for Christmas one year. It means knowing what is expected and not tolerated when it comes to self hygiene. It means appreciating Vietnamese food. It also means knowing what buttons to push.
Jon told me that a counselor told him that you need to “double a child’s age before being able to hope they fully accept their mom or dad marrying again and before being able to fully feel comfortable in their ‘blended family’ (e.g., a 10 year old needs about 10 years to adapt/accept/work through/become comfortable).”
Ten years is a long time!
God give me patience…
He’s definitely putting me a situation that will teach me patience. He does know what He’s doing after all…and I need to let go and let God.
Jon, thank you for your kind words, wisdom, and continued prayers as I walk my walk.
After reading through my blog, Jon stated that “the notion and term of a ‘Blended Family’ tends to be an idealistic and misdirected concept that creates problems.” He prefers “Diverse and without growing up together family.”
I like that.
Curt and I have been together for almost 3 years, which also means that our children have only known each other for 3 years. To expect that they mesh and meld as one big happy family is unrealistic and can be difficult to attain.
My three children are used to just having me around. They know me to discipline, to cuddle with, to take them on outings, etc. Now they have to learn to adjust to some one else disciplining them, less alone time with me, and family trips that include 9 people. Curt’s kids have only know their mom and dad all of their lives. Family trips involved planning for 6 people rather than 9. They all grew up together; been through the good, bad, and ugly together. But all that changed for them when one person made a decision.
One person’s decision can change the course of the lives of many people.
That decision, or perhaps a series of decisions, threw all 9 of us together, under one roof, having to learn to adjust and readjust to life together as a “diverse and without growing up together family.”
Our diversity isn’t merely physical, it’s skin deep, roots deep, beliefs deep, culture deep, and experiences deep to just name a few.
I was born and raised in Vietnam until I was 7. Then I spent most of my life in Duluth, Minnesota. Already I grew up in two areas very different than Curt. I was raised a Buddhist who attended Catholic school and participated in Mass every Thursday as part of our curriculum, and I worshipped idols. I grew up in weather that could reach 60 below zero. Curt grew up in an area where people travel to the snow for the weekend. He’s known God all of his life, was born again when he was 27. I’ve only turned my life over to God 3 years ago. Curt can recite Bible passages while I try to wrap my brain around a few verses. These are only a few of our differences. The list would be too long if I were to list the children’s differences as well.
Because we all didn’t grow up together, there are many things I had to learn in order to function as a new family unit of 9. For example, I am very direct and say it like it is, it’s the choleric and the flaw in my character. Two weeks ago, I picked up the four kids from their mom’s house and they all stunk! Whatever had been percolating in their mom’s house decided to attach itself onto the kids’ clothes. I rolled down the window and told them all to keep it down because they stink! By no means did I mean to say they were no good, but regardless of what I meant, I had hurt some very fragile egos. I later apologized. I have to learn to not be so quick with my words and to consider the ramifications first. This is new and foreign to me and only one of the many adjustments that I need to make.
Growing up together means knowing the little nuances of family members. It means learning how to clean at a very young age; Vinh, my oldest, asked for a toy vacuum and cleaning supplies for Christmas one year. It means knowing what is expected and not tolerated when it comes to self hygiene. It means appreciating Vietnamese food. It also means knowing what buttons to push.
Jon told me that a counselor told him that you need to “double a child’s age before being able to hope they fully accept their mom or dad marrying again and before being able to fully feel comfortable in their ‘blended family’ (e.g., a 10 year old needs about 10 years to adapt/accept/work through/become comfortable).”
Ten years is a long time!
God give me patience…
He’s definitely putting me a situation that will teach me patience. He does know what He’s doing after all…and I need to let go and let God.
Jon, thank you for your kind words, wisdom, and continued prayers as I walk my walk.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)