High Five

Because these beauties should be shared and because I like to boss people around here are a few that made my summer favs list.

Mom and I went and saw this a few months ago.  Part celebration of eccentric choices and part sappy love story.  Wholly wonderful.

God bless food bloggers. This cracked me up.

My new favorite author Mary Karr is the only one who's come close to matching Marilynn Robinson's commitment to poetic novels.  Just be forewarned that it might ruin all future reading for you.  In this novel alone she thew out 1000 pages before sending it to her editor and was FOUR YEARS behind on her deadline.  She writes with such raw honesty and every word is beautifully crafted.  Apparently I started at the end of the trilogy but I like to live on the edge.

I'm on day three of the fodmaps elimination diet to try and see if certain foods are contributing to the pain I've had.  SK's granola bars have been my go to breakfast/snack/dessert.  I start with this recipe but I currently can't have dried fruit so I add extra peanut or almond butter, almonds, coconut, pecans, and peanuts to my mix.  I cut them into squares and they keep forever (and less crumbly) in the fridge.

If you haven't yet you need to get on the Trampled By Turtles train.  B and I spent our anniversary date at their concert and had almost as much fun people watching as we did dancing to the music.  A special shout out to the guy in dreadlocks with a backwards Packers hat, a PBR in each hand and a baby strapped to his chest.  You are living the dream.  Their stars and satellites album is our favorite and makes for the best beach road trip soundtrack.

Honorable Mentions
If your still shopping at Target this is my new favorite find.  Every month they put out a box of fun samples to try.  They sell out FAST but if you get there on the first day of the month you can usually score one.  My last one included OPI nail polish, a full size lipstick, nail polish remover pads, dry shampoo, and Olay wrinkle cream for 6$.  It comes in the cutest black box and if you have a red card it's 5% off and ships free.  Because sometimes its the little things in life.

And a couple for the kiddos

Happy inspiration hunting!

Eulogy

Matt and Ben couldn't have spoken more beautifully about their dad. They somehow managed to upstage both a well known pastor and two college presidents with the weight of their words. Maybe there's just something about a man's own sons giving testimony to a faithful life that can't compare to anyone else's words, no matter how well crafted. I managed to hold back a well of tears right up until the moment Ben had a sanctuary full of people crying their way through Home On The Range. I can't imagine the courage it took but I should be used to this man of mine surprising me by now.

Yes, my Dad was Chinese.  He looked Chinese.  He spoke Chinese.  He ate Chinese.  But his story is an American story.  His family fled from Communist China in the 1940’s. He immigrated to America to get an education.  Once here, he even found himself a headstrong, American-style wife.  He even likened himself to some of America’s most famous icons:  Elvis Presley, John Wayne, and Frank Sinatra.  Frank Sinatra popularized the song “I did it my way”.  Ted Hsieh certainly did things his way.

As I got older, I began to realize how unique (and sometimes strange) that way was.  For example, the Hsieh family used to always have family dogs:  Camelot, Susan B. Anthony, Mei-mei.  As is natural with dogs, there were regular messes to clean up in the backyard.  My dad called these messes dog “goods” and the entire neighborhood could see him picking them up using a pair of chopsticks and a folded newspaper.  My friends rightfully teased me about this, and I asked “Well how do you guys pick it up?”  And they said “We use a shovel!”  And I thought you know … a shovel really makes more sense.  But that was his way.

I remember while playing soccer in high school, I would sometimes peek over at the sidelines to see what my parents were up to.  Only to find my father in the grass doing stretches or push-ups as if he were preparing to enter the game himself.  Or the way he treated every McDonalds like it was his own personal Costco.  He would collect all the napkins and condiments he could, and stockpile them at home for a rainy day.  He was unique.  He did things his way.

What amazes me was that “his way” was so effortlessly selfless and fully of joy.  My wife is fond of mentioning that Dad’s mantra seemed to be “I’ll go to wherever I’m needed.”  And he seemed to take so much pleasure in that.  Whether it meant waiting on a bench for his grandchildren to finish the Dumbo ride.  Or packing up a U-haul and driving my stuff to California.  Or faithfully caring for his long-lived mother at the Strawberry Creek Lodge.  

This was the Ted Hsieh way, and in honor of that I’d like us to sing a song that speaks to both his uniqueness and his joyful optimism:  “Home on the Range”.

This song is likely not meant to be spiritualized.  But, dangit, I’m going to do it anyway.  Dad, it feels like we did not have enough time with you here.  But you went to where you needed to go.  And  I take comfort in knowing that boldly you approached the eternal throne.  And now savor your home in the presence of the Savior.  A home without clouds.  A home that surpasses the unbridled joy you showed here.   

I will start the first verse then please join me in chorus.  The words are in the memory book if any of you need it. 

Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam,

Where the deer and the antelope play.

Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,

And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Home, home on the range,

Where the deer and the antelope play,

Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,

And the skies are not cloudy all day. 

Thank you Dad. Welcome home.

This Dad's life

Of all the events that fall on a family surrounding the death of a loved one, the funeral ranks high up on the bizarre cultural expectations list.  Exhausted from the emotional and physical strain of day and night care followed by the intensity of saying goodbye our family was suddenly thrust into party planning mode.  This being my first hands on funeral I was completely caught off guard by the amount of decisions that have to be made immediately.  All the burial preparations, the flowers, the mementos, the extended family communication, the food, the tributes both written and spoken, and the obituary are just a few of the items on our pages long checklist.  Any one of these decisions taken out of the context of a funeral would be given weeks or months of consideration.  The weight of the choices feel heavy with each one being meant to honor a man who was so deeply loved.  But time is not a luxury provided under these circumstances and you just pray that each gut instinct made that day was the right one.
 Thankfully our family loves each other and know how to (for the most part) communicate respectfully and forgive abundantly.  There were moments when I wondered how other families navigate these strange intersections of intense grief and sound judgements.  We really had the best of circumstances from financial stability to time off work, with everyone getting along and carrying the load.  I can't imagine how others get through these stressful times.  I watched mom in awe at how she handled it all with the organization of a five star general and the grace of a nun.
I kept thinking how if Ben died I would just lock myself in the bathroom and tell everyone to go away.
I'm pretty sure I told him at one point that I would just like to be cremated and have the family take the money and go on the trip of a lifetime to throw my ashes over some tropical ocean.  However this was not an option with a man who affected so many people all over the world.  Over 500 people came to the visitation alone and shared how he had deeply changed their life and impacted their faith.

People waited in lines that went around the funeral home just to come and say goodbye.  There were so many funny stories such as when he taught Sunday school and put verses in fortune cookies followed by group after group who said he helped their little Chinese church grow from tiny home groups to large neighborhood churches.  For over 50 years he devoted his life to sharing the gospel in his native language.
All of this seemed impossible to me given the fact that he was so preoccupied with devoting his life to his family.  He traveled the country speaking at Chinese churches and retreats both with youth, singles, and married groups.  I met a woman who cried at being given the opportunity to sew a memory quilt of Dad's many t-shirts that was displayed at the wake and funeral.  A project normally taking six weeks that she did in five days.  She shared how Dad's encouragement 30 years before had changed the course of her life.
As I pulled together pictures for his memorial I realized that dad was a six headed coin.  He managed to do the extraordinary and never made it seem hard or complicated.  He made everyone feel that they were his first priority.
 More than that though was what he taught me about finding joy in the wild simplicity of the ordinary.  I love the story of a day years ago when the family was busily getting ready and everyone was advocating for their plan of the perfect family day.  Some of us wanted to go to Sea World and some wanted to go to the beach.  Others wanted to stay home and prepare for some of the extended family that was visiting.  I noticed Dad sitting on a kitchen chair bouncing a baby in his lap and smiling as wide as usual.  I asked him what he wanted to do and he said, I'll just go where I'm needed.  If I remember correctly, we all went our different ways and later met up at a Mexican restaurant where he was entertaining many elderly aunts and uncles.
You see he didn't just do the right thing.
He did it like he had won the lottery.
He was always there when I needed him.  He might as well have worn a cape for all the times he swept in to save the day.  He listened to stories about the kids as if it was there was a ten year drought and I was giving him directions to the only water source.
But what I'll remember most is how he taught me that my life is an actual gift.  It isn't something to be survived but something worth savoring.  I'm not the quickest convert but if I could do anything well it would be to see that this life has been chosen for me, and every day I can choose it back.

Oh, this one gets me every dang time....

Nobody did it better than Dad. 

Long time gone

Somehow since June 18th I've logged less than a dozen nights in my own bed.  Over those many nights looking at a moon through foreign windows, I lay still.  Awake either because of physical or emotional pain and praying to disappear.  This summer, light years from the one I had planned, was clearly a mistake.  This was supposed to be my time to heal and rest, with daily walks going no farther than the porch swing.  And Dad is supposed to be healthy and strong and cheering the kids on at their soccer games.
When I wander in the dessert my last instinct is to say, hey this place is beautiful, definitely one for the record books.
Picking up the camera is an act of obedience.  Some days it lay there in the corner and I actually said no.  Out loud.  Most days though, I knew God was being faithful, even on the worst days.  For weeks I forced myself to look.  The beauty of a child's hand on their dying grandfather, the pain of letting go, watching Ben tend to his father as he would a child, letting a five year olds bravery carry me through all four verses of It Is Well With My Soul, the heartbreak of hearing Dad's love of nearly 50 years say, it's ok.  When you see Jesus run into his arms.  We are going to be ok.  We are going to miss you but we are going to be ok.
The sacrifices, the tears, the laughter at the weirdest times, the quiet family prayers between sunset and sunrise, the footsteps on holy ground.  Hard realities are generally camera shy but the one holding the baton whispered perfect peace to all of us and refused to be kept in the dark.  So in fitting fashion, with a gust of wind, a wide swung door, a flood of rain and a crashing vase, Dad was whisked to his eternal home.

And we are left behind.
And I have to choose every day whether I want to pick up the camera or tell myself that nothing is worthy.  The deep guts of this reality is that life is hard right now.  In a lot of different ways.  Things don't really feel the way they should be and I've had to learn that my Jesus Calling mornings are no longer enough to get me through a day without being the mom who guilt trips her kids or that bitchy lady who cuts you off in traffic.  I have to get on my knees with my face to the ground (like literally) and say I can't do this alone.  Me in pain, without You, is someone no one wants to be around, especially me.  In that wide span of quiet, I soak it in.  Feel the brave and the gutsy and the LOVED.  And I see the camera on the dirty hook by the door and ask myself if I want to be surprised today.