Distance

Distance has been something I’ve observed more while living here. The distance from our home to the subway. The distance (or lack of distance) between me and the smelly passenger next to me. The distance from our bedroom to the bathroom; a trek that’s seemingly insignificant to most people, but very familiar to pregnant women.

Distance has also been felt. Awkward distance when I can’t quite understand what someone is saying or asking. Uncomfortable distance when I’m traveling to a new place and am expected to give directions, which is doubly uncomfortable because I’m bad with directions in any language. Forced distance when something you need just can’t be found. Sinful distance when, instead of drawing near to him, I attempt to live life my way and on my own terms.

Both physical and emotional distance describe a lot of my experience here. I’m physically distant from family and friends, but their prayers and support make them feel closer. I can’t deny that I experience bouts of loneliness, though. More than being away from the comforts of “home”, being a min wife can sometimes be very lonely. Who do you confide in? What is safe/prudent/necessary to say or talk about? How do you make and keep solid friendships with people you can trust? I’m fortunate to have a small network of fellow min wives and sisters who I know I can turn to when I desperately need a listening ear, but emails and v-chats will never replace the warmth of face-to-face interaction.

My Grandpa recently passed away, but my Dad insisted that it wasn’t necessary to come back. This doesn’t come as a surprise because the Grandpa I knew has always been no-nonsense. He expressly asked that there be no memorial service. He wanted to be cremated and placed next to my Grandma in the crypts. No fuss, no fanfare.

Having spent part of his life in a concentration camp, then moving to a farm (I’m not sure if this was by choice), then eventually settling in Gardena, he worked hard and endured. If that wasn’t challenge enough, his first wife (my biological Grandma), died from leukemia when my Dad was only a child. He remarried and stayed married until Grandma Peggy passed away. Even in their old age, they would hold hands and he was at her aide when she went partially blind. It was so cute and weird all at the same time. He never struck me as the affectionate type, so I know he really loved her.

I wasn’t especially close with him because I didn’t see him that often. For as long as I can remember, he would mix up my sister and me. His greeting to me would usually be something along the lines of “Which one are you? Oh! Jennifer? I can’t tell you guys apart anymore.” I remember telling him once when I was eight or so that I wanted to go to Harvard. He laughed (maybe he thought it was cute or something), to which I remember precocious, and slightly arrogant, eight-year-old me thought “What’s funny about that? I’m going to go to Harvard! You’ll see, and you’ll help me pay for it!” When, as an adult, I told him that I was a web designer, he responded with a puzzled look. “You know, Grandpa, I design web pages … for the internet … ?” To which he said “What’s that?” To this day, I’m not sure if he was just joshing me or if he really didn’t know what the internet was.

In typical Grandpa fashion, he would send us birthday cards with money every year. Only, instead of cash, my Grandpa would send bonds. I didn’t end up cashing them in until after I was married. I remember when he had sent me a wedding card – with actual cash! He had very carefully and neatly taped the bills together. I think I took a picture of it because it was so funny, yet so characteristic of him. At eighty-something, he was still driving his bronze-ish colored van. I remember our family borrowing that van for vacations … when I was in elementary school! How was that thing still running? But the last time I saw it, it was souped up with gigantic sideview mirrors. We were concerned about him driving at his age, but he insisted that he only drove short distances to his regular hangouts, like the nearby Walgreens.

When I heard that he was in the hospital, I was conflicted. I’ve never lived so far from home that I couldn’t drive back in an emergency. With aging parents and relatives, it makes me nervous to be so far away. My parents aren’t the best at keeping me in the loop (maybe the no-nonsense gene is a Japanese thing), so I feel like I hear news too little too late. I know that I’ll be able to pay my respects when we next visit, but I definitely feel the distance. After I learned that he passed away, the ordeal ended with a quick FaceTime with my Dad, a few texts with my Aunt, a texting session with my sister, and a solemn prayer.

When I’m struggling or feeling disheartened, it’s easy to feel distance from reality. I often become lost in my thoughts and have long “chats” with G. It’s true that trouble comes in threes, or in my case, fours or fives. Lately I’ve been preoccupied with trying to sort things out in my mind. When there are too many things that require focused attention, it helps me to mentally organize, lift them up, and just get to work. But until I get to the point of actually giving attention to those matters, they sit in a heap of stress. Parenting struggles, add to the pile. Future schooling for our children, add to the pile. Debilitating bouts of pregnancy sickness, barfy pile. Checking my own heart and running my regular self-evaluation, pile it on. Future of min work, pile! I don’t like to let on that I’m suffering and my typical course of action is to deal with it privately. Because of that, I think people sometimes take my wrestling-in-thought episodes as me being cold. This has caused problems for me, even recently. I know it’s something I need to work on. I need to be better at reigning in my thoughts and not letting them get to me. I need to truly lay my burdens down at his feet and walk away with peace. But this has also helped me not to take an occasional cold response personally. You never know what someone is going through, and the example set for me in JC is not to be served, but to serve and give myself to others. That’s the model I hope to follow.

I can’t say it or believe it enough – His grace is sufficient for me. My old teacher used to say, “Did JC complain when he was hanging on the cross?” I still think of this when I’m tempted to wallow or be discontent. If he didn’t spare his own son, how will he not graciously give us all things (Rom. 8:31-32)? He’s the perfect mediator who took away the distance between G and me. I never again have to worry about that damning distance; for who shall separate us from his love (v.35)? Another golden truth from my study in contentment: Today I’m choosing to be grateful.

We’re thankful for…

• Friends who comfort us in our time of need
• His truth which teaches, reproofs, rebukes, and trains in righteousness
• Playgroup and friends (Haddon)

Some things we miss…

• Non-seafood 순두부 (soon dubu)
• Friends and BCC
• Good ice cream (Why is Haagen-Dazs so expensive here!?)