A DOG, A CAT, A TURTLE AND MORE

 Remember this from Cecil Frances Alexander?


Kit, the Turtle

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

We’ve had our share of “critters”, as we raised children alongside them. There was Mr. T, the Conure who poked holes in our curtains and made a lot of noise. We had hamsters that got out of their cage one night and chewed on our electric cables. No, they were not electrocuted, but we had to get rid of them. We also had Luther, the cockatiel. He got sick and went on to bird paradise within a month of living with us. Then there was the arrogant Mr.
Pugs, a purebred Himalayan who was pedigreed and had “papers.” He got very sick one day and was rushed at midnight to the all-night veterinary clinic. He was dehydrated and also needed blood transfusion. The following day he was transferred to the SPCA hospital
and given the transfusion. I didn’t know they had a cat blood bank. Shadow was mostly German Shepherd. We adopted him from the SPCA. He was Mat’s dog of choice. I wanted the corgi. But Mat took one look at Shadow looking back at him with those beady eyes and, it must have been love at first sight.

If you ever come to see us in our little home in San Francisco, I will show you into Don’s library where we have a 30-gallon aquarium. There reside Kit, the turtle, and his co-tenant, a nameless goldfish that is about 8 years old. Kit is named after the talking car in the 1982 TV series The Knight Rider. We gave her to Mat for his fourth birthday. Mat is now 32. Originally, there were two goldfish with her which Mat named Princess Leah and Luke Skywalker. But alas the fish did not last very long. We’ve thought Kit was a male until a young friend of Mat’s found out the “he” was a “she.” One day, I brought home a little plastic baggie of baby goldfish. They were supposed to supplement Kit’s diet. Kit found them to be more fun to play with than to eat, so for many years, they shared the aquarium with her until they grew so big that we had to give most of them away. Only one was left with Kit. I’ve often wondered why this goldfish was never given a name. Probably, because it was just one of the 13 I brought home that day. You’d think turtles are not much fun and can’t really be part of a family’s life, but Kit has become that. As to the unnamed goldfish, it is a friend to old Kit. They have bonded through the years. And there is no question as to who has the upper hand. We’ve seen Kit swim over the fish. Sometimes they would be in a little corner of the aquarium together. Kit rests on the brick while the fish is in the water right next to her. One year we took Kit to the veterinarian because she was turning pink.  The vet examined her and pronounced that she was just molting.  The following year, we received a card from the vet reminding us that it was time for Kit's annual physical.  Don takes care of these “critters.” In the mornings, you’ll hear him in the library as he feeds them. “Good morning, girls, did you have a good night?” I wonder what he’d do if they answered him!

 Shadow wasn’t quite your ideal pet. He failed obedience school and had to have extended training. He was domineering, controlling and manipulative, but he worshipped the ground that Mat walked on. They shared Mat’s room. He and Mat went through the teenaged years together and they seemed to understand each other quite well. When Mat left home, Shadow claimed his room for himself and all the other things his friend left behind. After three years, I decided to get the room back from him. It took me that long to accept that Mat was now on his own. As I started to move things, Shadow sat in one corner, eyeing my every move. When I headed for Mat’s closet, he wouldn’t let me open it, putting his 65-pound body between me and the door. When I finally succeeded in opening it, I started to take things out of the closet – some old clothes, posters, shoes, and set them down on the floor. I left for a few minutes to get some plastic bags and when I returned, Shadow was laying on top of Mat’s things, threatening me harm if I decided to take them (baring his teeth, sounding off in a low growl while giving me menacing looks).  Like me, he was waiting for Mat to change his mind and come back home. He understood that we felt the same loss. We had Shadow for 16 years. During his last few months he was so disabled, he could hardly get up. One day, Mat came home and told me it was time for his faithful friend to rest.

Hank is currently our foster cat, about 20 pounds and very affectionate. We’ve had him for a little over two years now. He belongs to Mat and Helen but we’re taking care of him for them. Hank behaves more like a dog than a cat. He will not let us out of his sight. We think he has separation anxiety as we have been gone once for a week and another time for a month. We’ve had someone housesit for us but he missed us terribly. He is very assertive and I think he thinks our special mission is to keep him entertained. He doesn’t like it when we read or do computer work. When I’m working in the kitchen, he watches my every move.  He would make a good homeland security guard working with Director Janet Napolitano! Sometimes he gets upset with us, but he doesn’t have a long memory for offenses. Something we humans can learn from.

Cecil Frances Alexander concludes:

He gave us eyes to see them, And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty, Who has made all things well.

Not only have we seen them, they have lived with us and allowed us in their world, as much as we have allowed them in ours.  Indeed they were made well, and we have stories to tell.  And He who created them in great detail created you and me, too.  Should I take a superior attitude as Homo sapiens and say, in much greater detail?

MY FATHER'S COUNTRY

My father fell in love with America, her people and with just about everything that he had experienced in this beautiful country. America had been so good to this Filipino who had nothing but third grade education, broken English and a great sense of adventure. He spent 33 years in the US Navy, rising to the position of Chief Petty Officer. Upon retirement, he went back to his country of birth but came back to the US years later with his family.

My father joined the US Navy as a 13-year old kid during the American occupation of the Philippines. He added three years to his age and ate a lot of bananas to gain weight. It was easy then to falsify his age.  Off he went to the United States and countries he only knew about from the geography books.

Growing up in the Philippines, I heard a lot of stories about America.  "God’s country," my father used to call her. He told us how generous and compassionate Americans were. They were honest, hardworking and always ready to help those who were less fortunate. They were Godly.  As a young man my father was mugged in one American city. A Christian man came to his aid and helped him find faith in Jesus Christ. He was so in love with this country that in our extended family, he earned the nickname “The Americano.”

When I first came to the US, I found most of my father’s stories to be true. We made friendships quite quickly. We found kind Americans helping us adjust to our new culture. Within two weeks of my arrival, a woman at an employment agency, coached me, gave me tests and found a job for me. When I was hired I could hear the pride in her voice as she talked to the man who hired me. “Didn’t I tell you, didn’t I tell you. She does not even have an accent!” (But I did!  She just didn't hear it.)

Three months later, through a new friend, I found a better job with a manufacturing company. The hiring manager told me, “I will make you the best purchasing personnel we’ve ever had!”

I can tell countless stories of all the wonderful experiences we’ve had as a family newly arrived from a third world country. The church family that welcomed us provided us with a loving community. One of the biggest thrills I had was listening to my father pray in Tagalog in a completely Anglo congregation. Only our family understood what my father said, but the congregation always added their “amen” to it. They respected him and loved to hear him pray. I married an American, born and raised in California. His family accepted me with open arms. 

Though, yes, we’ve had our share of difficult adjustments to our new culture, America has been very kind to us. We found the people to be just as my father used to tell us, with a few exceptions. We felt safe, very safe. We, in fact, felt that America was the safest place in the world.

But things have changed, I don’t know when, why, how. 9/11 changed American life forever. Three thousand people were killed on a morning that was supposed to be just like any other, as they went to work and about their business. Then there was the Columbine shooting, the Newtown killings, and others. And just a few days ago, the Boston Marathon, the oldest sports event of its kind and the most iconic became victim to another vicious attack. What has happened to this beautiful country?  Why?  My heart aches. 

A lot of people dream of coming to America.  From across the American borders come many who risk life and limb to come here to find a better life.  But lately, there are also those bound and determined to destroy this country.  And each day, we find more and more of them. I am saddened, angry and confused.  I keep asking why, when and how did things change in this country?   Please forgive me if I am trying to find simplistic solutions to very complicated issues. 

.

SHAKING MY FIST AT GOD

The carton of eggs was on the sidewalk, and so were the loaf of bread, the frozen chicken, the apples and the quart of milk.  A Pepsi can was pierced by a piece of sharp wire hanging in my grocery cart.  It was leaking onto the sidewalk.  I was on my way back from Kroger’s. It was 20 degrees below with the wind chill factor. Kroger’s was ten city blocks from our home.  The return ten blocks home was miserable. I trudged through puddles, occasional snow pile and icy sidewalk while pushing my cart.  Then it happened.  I slipped. I came down with a great thud, upturning my grocery cart.  I remember how angry I was.  I was thrown into a self-pity I’ve never felt before.   Could things get worse?

While we were serving as  missionaries in Indonesia, Don felt a strong desire to pursue further education.  He was grappling with some important doctrinal issues.  Searching for answers, he wrote to a professor whose books he had read, and who was teaching in a midwest seminary.  They corresponded and upon our return, Don decided he wanted to learn more from this professor.  So, when we came home, we moved from sunny California to New York and on to this midwest city.

Things did not seem to turn out well for us.  Finding housing for a couple with children was difficult because we did not have much money.  We borrowed from our life insurance policies to get us started and planned to take out student loans.  The bank turned down our loan application.  One of Don’s professors found out about his housing problem and offered to rent out the finished attic of his parents’ former home to us.  Two other young families rented the first and second floors.  The attic had no kitchen, though it had an old refrigerator that I had to defrost about every three days. I cooked our meals in an electric skillet given us.  We did not have a ceiling so, there was only the tile roof over us.  Thankfully, Don was able to work nights at a bank’s mailroom.  In the mornings he would go to school. 

Adding to the problems our dire financial situation caused us was our encounter with a culture so different from what we knew. We were California folks.  People come to this state from all over the world, settle in, get integrated into American life while bringing in the flavors of their own nationalities.  This midwest city though not completely homogenous clung to old traditions and what it was used to.  The sight of interracial couples was not one of them.  Sometimes when Don and I would get on a bus, people stared.  Other times, they would get downright mean by completely ignoring me.  I have never experienced racism such as this in all the years I have lived in California.  I remember going to a three-day spiritual retreat with Don and except for two of Don’s professors, no one would talk to me.  One Sunday, as we sat in the third row pew in church, the Pastor concluded his sermon on Samson and Delilah by saying “I don’t know about men who marry foreign women.”  Don and I were the only interracially married couple in the church.

It was all very new to me.  There were the freezing winters, and the even more freezing attitude of the people towards those who were not like them.  Then, we were always counting pennies.  One of the classic stories Don and I tell from this period in our lives was how I would stretch one chicken to feed our family of four for a week.  Yes, it can be done.  For a once-a-month special treat, the kids would get ice cream cones from MacDonald’s; Don and I would buy a six-pack of Pepsi, which we would make to last as long as we could.  Without a kitchen I couldn’t do any baking.  For a period of time, Kroger’s would give kids a cookie card. While I shopped, Don would take the children to claim one freshly baked cookie each with their card.

As I sat on the icy sidewalk, all my complaints against God came rushing to the fore.  I got angry with this “supposedly” loving and kind God.  I remember telling Him, “Is this the way you treat your children after they have so faithfully left everything to serve you in a foreign land?  Is this how you reward us?”

Have you ever been angry with God?  Have you ever thought you deserved to be treated better than He was treating you?  Well, I definitely did at that moment.  I was cold, wet and ANGRY.  I picked up what I could of my grocery and slowly headed for home.

But I could not stay angry for very long, simply because love won out over the anger.  I loved God, and with that love I had to trust that He knew what He was doing.  Many times God gives me blessings that I don’t deserve, that I cannot understand, but I accept them.  Why won’t I accept hard times in the same manner?  I may think I don’t deserve them, but He always has a reason for what He does.  And you know what, those hard times have been among my richest experiences of walking in faith.  Faith in the one we love involves trust even when we don’t understand.  And oh, yes, you can get angry, even with God.  He is big enough to understand you, but don’t stay angry with Him too long, for eventually, you will only hurt yourself.  Anger and bitterness are toxic to the soul.

“ ‘. . .  Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?’  In all this, Job did not sin in what he said.”

 (Job 2:10 NIV)

LISTENING TO LAO TZU

Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them - that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like. Lao Tzu [1]

The traffic in our little home has vastly changed over the years. This little piece of San Francisco real estate has seen grammar school kids grow up to be “cool” college students and beyond. It has evolved from the scene of many sleepovers, church Bible studies, Sunday school teachers meetings, Christmas and thanksgiving family parties.  The Grand Central Station-like atmosphere with children and teenagers coming and going while devouring homebaked cookies or cinnamon rolls is gone. Kristy and Mat have grown and flown the nest a long time ago. Life has changed. Don and I have changed. We’re no longer in pastoral ministry. All of these are inevitable, we philosophize. We meet these changes with as much grace as God provides (and He provides plenty).

We are surrounded in our home by memories and ghosts of days past. They sometimes torture a parent’s heart. Some remind us of happy times which we wish were back. Other times we are made to

Photos, souvernirs, lace doily and a rocking chair. Reminders.

think of sad moments which we wish we never had. For the past several years now, I have been trying to unclutter our home of these reminders. I’m getting better at it, but not much better. Oh, yes, I have tossed out the handprints on school paper that preschool teachers make the kids take home for parents to put on refrigerator doors. I have kept them till Kristy had her second child and Mat got married. But coming across a box full of little shoes of two-year old Mat and five-year old Kristy sent me into a crying spell. That day both of them got calls from this mother. “What should I do with your old shoes from preschool and kindergarten days?” I asked in between sobs. (Can you imagine Kristy’s face as she answered me in the middle of homeschooling her children, Roc and Shekinah? Or Mat’s as he paused from his managing chores at Starbuck’s?)


These things trigger memories of our children’s youth and our parenting years. My clothes closet still

has Kristy’s Brownie uniform with the sash full of Girl Scout badges, her graduation dresses and the various gowns and costumes she has worn in the plays and dramas she had taken part in. Mat left us his German Shepherd when he decided to have his own place and was not allowed to have a dog in his apartment. Shadow, the German Shepherd, in turn, inherited Mat’s room and bed and in his own mind, everything else our son left in his room. Mat also passed on to us the care of his turtle, Kit (our gift to him when he was 4, which makes Kit 29 years old now) and a nine-year old goldfish. Mat named his turtle after the talking car in a tv program.

The changes continue. Before they got married, Mat gifted Helen a kitten named Hank, who is now a 20+ pound cat. We have now been Hank’s foster parents for two years. Hank gets awful jealous of Mat’s and Helen’s twin girls, so for their safety, we have Hank.  Shadow is no longer with us. After 16 years of life, he went to dog heaven, wherever that is. It would be great to see him again sometime. I’ve had issues with him, but all in all, he was really a loyal dog. Billy Graham says ”God will prepare everything for our perfect happiness in heaven, and if it takes my dog being there, I believe he'll be there.” Mat was his main man, Don was a far second, while Kristy and me were just tolerated because we came with Mat and Don. Such a chauvinist of a dog! But he was a faithful protector and gatekeeper. More importantly, he unconditionally loved our son at a time when he so needed it. Many times we, his parents could not understand Mat's fascination with the Gothic ensemble he used to wear, the single earring on his eyebrow and the shaven head. But Shadow loved him just as much as he always did. We learned an important lesson from him. Indeed, the Shadow knew!

Now the grandchildren come and park themselves on our tired old couch as they play with their Ipads or is it Ipod?  I can never remember which is which. They play-type on the Royal typewriter I have on top of the 2-drawer oak filing cabinet. They can’t believe Grandma learned to type on that kind of machine. We keep ice-cream bars, fish sticks in the freezer and make French fries for them, and on a beautiful day, we can even take them to Golden Gate Park, so they can play where their parents used to play.

Ah, Lao Tzu, we hear you. We are listening. We are allowing things to flow naturally forward in whatever way they like. Such is the only way to save us the pain of leaving a part of us in the past.






[1] Retrieved from http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/l/laotzu151126.html#wOu7SzuEPrVDRKq4.99 March 28, 2013