Who Is Your Neighbor?
My children are adjusting very well. Helping around the house, playing, arguing, eating well, doing their chores and summer work. I think being honest and up-front about my illness was a right decision for our family. Not sugar coating anything but facing it all together. In our family, we try to bring everything to light and work from there. Life can be challenging but we all need to learn to swim through sea of emotions in healthy ways as possible. That means the children as well.
These days, I have been thinking more about how God mandated His children to love God and love one another (Matthew 22:38). I often speak about how He has created a God-shaped void in our hearts which can only be filled by His love. I am so amazed by how much love and support people show me each day. I get random messages and letters from people telling me how I have touched their lives so many years ago, how I have encouraged them to take a step forward to adoption, or what I have said really comforted them. I am thankful that they have the grace to encourage me in such a way. It helps me to realize that I have been doing something good by the grace of God. It gives me hope that God is not done with me yet. The other day, my 17 year old daughter asked if teens, particularly girls, who have "daddy issues" have innate desired to be loved or do they develop desire to be always wanting to be with a man due to their lack of father's love. What an interesting question! A lovely platform she provided for a conversation about God shaped heart.
One night, when I was about 20 years old, I was sitting in a West Village foreign film theater with some friends of mine watching the original film, Cyrano de Bergerac. I noticed that all of my girl friends were crying, passing tissues along to each other, obviously sharing Cyrano's heartache. I did not feel a thing. none-what-so-ever. Nothing at all. All I can think was, "Why are they crying and how come I can't feel anything?" I was shocked at myself that I seriously could not feel any kind of feeling at all. I went home agonized for days. I knew that was not normal. It took me years to figure out that it was my defensive mechanism overload. I would not let myself feel any kind of emotion because my past experiences have been hurtful. Feeling=Hurt formulated in my head. It became my fervent prayer that God would show me how to love. That my heart can feel what He feels, my heart can feel His love, and my heart can understand His broken heart. I believe God has been showing me how to love little by little. I will never be able comprehend all but what little I do understand I try to pass on to others.
When my family and I first moved down to South, it was culture shock for us. People were so much friendlier and kinder than up North. But at the same time, I felt like I had no privacy. One evening a little girl named Rose showed up at our door step. Her mother wanted to know if Rose can come inside and play for an hour. It was already close to bed time for our children, but my kind husband let her in the house. Rose was about 6 -7 years old girl with blond hair and blue eyes. I have seen her playing with neighborhood children before but did not know her mother or where they lived. I complained to my husband for allowing this to happen, so close to bed time and so inconvenient for me, and disrupting our routine. She came in and asked me if I had Chinese food. I was irritated and told her we had pasta for dinner and if she wanted, I can serve her some. She said she really wanted fried rice. What nerve! What am I, a Chinese cook? Who is this kid? Why did she show up at our home so late? I sat at the kitchen table, my arms and legs crossed, feeling more agitated, watched the clock tick for her mom to pick her up. I could smell the stench coming from the little girl, started noticing stains her clothes, uncombed hair, maybe not showered for days. I started feeling bad for Rose, and wondered where she had come from and what her story was. I reached in my purse and took out a $20 bill and put in my pocket to give to her mother so that perhaps they can get some fried rice. But at the same time, all I wanted was for them to leave my home. My private space! When her mother finally came to pick up Rose, I could see that she was very nervous and unstable. I hesitated handing over that $20 bill. I didn't want her to come back for more. I didn't want the mother to make it a habit of dropping her daughter off uninvited every time she needed some money. All kinds of self-justification went through my mind. Why I should not offer money to this very strange and disturbing mother and child. I ended up not giving her the money. I went to bed that night feeling a little bit angry at myself and at them for making me feel guilty. All night long I heard God's voice asking me "Who is your neighbor? Who is your neighbor?"
The next morning, I drove around the whole neighborhood looking for Rose and her mom, $20 bill still in my pocket. I could not find them. I never saw them again. I repented so much that I let my pride, judgement, self-justification, and sinful heart lose a chance to show mercy to my neighbor. They came to my door steps and I pushed them back. Let them leave empty handed and perhaps disappointed and sad. My neighbors, are they the ones that look like me, think like me, behave like me, believe like me? Who is my neighbor? That night, I realized that my definition of "neighbor" had definite boundaries. They were not to be in my private space, they were not to inconvenience me, they will be loved at my own time and at my own availability. So many criteria that had to be redefined and boundaries blurred.
Lessons I have learned so far (I think...)
1. I am on this earth today to show what God's love look like.
2. Be a good listener, even when I speak.
3. Chemo Stinks!
4. Love your husband well (give him that affirmation!)
5. Suffering-endurance-character-hope
6. Fill that God shaped void in someone's heart today
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