A Daddy Story

WE'RE PREGNANT!

For those of you who are wondering, no, this is not a lie.  This is the truth.  If you are offended that I haven't told you in person, I am truly sorry.  Please don't take it personally.  Know that I am extremely happy and thrilled that this is happening to us.  I believe it is a blessing from God. As many of you already know, most of my life has been marred by tragedy and loss.  This justifies every feeling of loss and sadness I have felt to this point. Knowing that we are adding something so great and precious to the world brings more joy than we can explain.

I know somewhere out there my mother feels satisfied, feels complete, feels eternal joy.  The happiest day of her life will be the day that her grandchild is born.  

I would like to extend many thanks to those who have supported me along the way and   to those who will join all of us on the journeys yet to come.  

The expected due date is June 14, 2006 at the City of Angels Hospital in Hollywood.  

Opportunity Lost:

This Sunday at church solidified my fears that as far as Evergreen has come in its openness and desire to grow: it still has a very long way to go.  The tragedy that has afflicted Southeast Asia is not to be taken lightly, esp. at a Church that is predominately Asian-American.  What better statement to make then to rally around the disaster and come together as a community.  Instead, the first 15 minutes of church are devoted to performance-based worship ministry and a rushed prayer time.  To add insult to injury, there wasn't even a separate offering time from regular tithes and offerings.  Wow!  Had this occurred in China or even Africa (I'd argue) there would have been a rush to do much, much more.  There would have been DVD's urging other Baptist congregations to give to the relief effort.  There would be teams being assembled by the pastoral staff to send medical and engineering missionaries to offer support and help in Baptist locales.  There would have been more than a one-time oferring.  Heck, they may have even mentioned it the day it actually happened.  Now, this isn't necessarily a knock on the church, more of a statement that if we want to grow as a missional church and in areas of reconciliation, this would have to be a barometer of how we are doing in that endeavor.

Currently Playing Truly: The Love Songs By Lionel Richie see related

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still awake...shouldn't have taken that nap this evening.  I guess it's not so bad, I mean I'll be in a car for 6 hours tomorrow to San Jose.  Lionel is great, so soothing, so cheesy.  That's me, one big ball of cheese.

My mind has wandered onto the actual name of God: Yaweh.  Throughout the Bible, God takes on other names: Adonai, El Shaddai, Elohim, El.  But these are all characteristics or adjectives.  It would be like calling me "Nice" or "Hairy".  My name is Marty, not Hairy.  What this also means though, is that God is all of those things all of the time.  He is more than the essence of the words that are used to describe and name Him, he is the word itself.  That's pretty profound if you think about it.  It means that God is even bigger than we can imagine.  It doesn't mean all that much to us to call someone beautiful, or ugly, or talented, but it is a descritption, whether accurate or not.  To us, it is purely subjective, it is our perspective.  I imagine the early believers seeing these characteristics without question.  I question whether we see God in this way: without question.  More often than not, God's "other names" are our crutch, they are the things we pary for in times of needs and wants.  But his true name is Yaweh, not only that, He refers to himself as I AM.  That's incredible.  I AM is in the present, but it also connotes a sense of history and future.  If you are, then you were and you will be.  God revealed himself TO BE.  Therefore, when we use the different names of God, it means that God was, is, and will be all of those things.  I guess my point is that it's really easy to forget these things, esp at 2:30 in the AM.

No duela No más

As the last breath of life filled her lungs, only the thoughts of the hosts of heaven filled her mind.  Her heart pounded with the anticipation of the Maker finally resting his hand on her face.  Her eyes, closing for the last time, inching shut, soaking in each ray of light that filled her pain-filled sxistence.  Her mind fought the voice crying to her in the darkness.  She wanted her love, she wanted her son.  She fought the impending fate, whispering in her mind for her God to give her just one more day, even one more hour.  The value of that place she was next to journey avoided her concious.  The pull of this world was to great.  Finally the soothing, all-powerful voice spoke in a time and language she could not understand nor comprehend.  All she heard were the words "It is finished". Her body let out one last breath of life before succombing to the hand of the one who created life itself.  No longer did she feel the pain of years of sufferring.  Never before ahd she seen so clearly or felt so free.  Her mind was vast in the darkness, her eyes able to see to the farthest end of the universe.  She was not constricted anymore by the pain, or the medication, or the weight of the word.  There were no more tears, no more pain, no more sleepless nights, no more pleading, no more wailing, no more worrying, no more sadness, no more shame, no more anger, no more fear, no more despair, no more desperation, no more embarrasement, no more eyes judgin her, no more men objectifying her, no more sympathy, no more toil, no more work, no more lying, no more scars, no more disabilities, no more swelling, no more body.  Finally, there was peace, there was rest, there was Jesus.

Currently Reading I, Isaac, Take Thee, Rebekah : Moving from Romance to Lasting Love By Ravi Zacharias see related

It always seems as though I leave this place with the idea of coming back, but never seem to until its too late.  This place, of course, is this site, but I guess it could refernce my whole entire life.  Consistency...there's a novel idea.

My life is so mixed with signs that it is/isn't what I thought it would be.  Who sits up at 10 PM on a Sunday watching Hook for the billionth time while reading Ravi Zacharias (Rza)?  It just makes sense doesn't it?

I always wanted my Xanga to be the place where all my great ideas for future endeavors came from.  Until now, it has mostly been a place of wild, immature rants and stories of my mom.  I like the latter, so we'll continue, but in my season of openess, I guess I should also be like the rest of you bloggers and keep you posted.

Christmas was the best since my mom died.  I spent the Eve with my best friend Albert.  The guy is amazing, and not in that flashy sorta way.  He's just extremely solid.  Really the best kind of friend one can have.  He can make a stranger feel welcome in situations where even family wouldn't feel comfortable.  I think I ate more on Friday night than I have all year long.  It was nice to be with all Mexicans, but I realized I'm not all that Mexican, which is always a good reminder for me (what does that mean?  we shall see).

Saturday I took another of my great friends, Rajeev, with me and Albert up to Valencia to spend dinner with my Uncle Ron's.  Talk about a change of venue.  We went from tamales to prime rib.  From pinto beans to green bean casserole.  From champurrado to merlot.  I'm used to it...it's me, in a nutshell.

While in Valencia I finally got my hands on some old family albums with pictures of my mom.  It's good to see her again because sometimes I forget.  I know that may sound strange to some of you, but it's true.  If you don't see someone for 4 years, you sorta forget how they looked or how they smiled.  Today, before church, I looked through some of the albums.  All I could do was cry as I saw all the pictues of us together.  It all came back to one thought: smile when you see me.

As I was making the long walk from the Don Bosco parking lot to the sanctuary two thoughts came to mind: First, the recurring "why do I persist at this Asian church?".  We can discuss that later.  The second is another mom thought: "am I honoring her in the man I am becoming?".

My mother raised me to be a certain type of person, God has definitely refined that, but I still want to live the truth I uttered at her funeral: "when you see me, you see the living person that is my mother".  I guess that is what God in us sorta means right?  We are the outward expression of the inner Spirit that dwells in us.  When you see a follower, you should see Christ.  When you see me, I wonder if you see my mother.  Am I still her little man?  Yeah, sometimes...just like God.  I hate mediocrity, I long for wholeness.

Back to thought one.  Predominantly Chinese/Japanese-America congregation.  Chinese-American Pastor.  All Asian, All woman small group.  Me.  Makes sense huh?  Persistence.  It's not necessarily trying or taxing to be at church, it's jsut hard to be different.  Today, for example, Sharon the intern, while explicating the phrase "give us this day, our daily bread" pasted a large picture of rice and chopsticks on a gian screen above her head.  Immediately, I noticed the chopsticks were jammed into the bowl, a very rude thing to do.  She proceeded to explain that rice is the context for her when put in this postrure of prayer.  As a tangent: the daily bread reference probably comes from the tradition of the wilderness where God provided mana to the Jews.  Jesus is the symbolic representation of the new mana whereby while we are in exile from the Father, the Son is still provided as a reminder of the Father's provision.  Therefore, Sharon, as much as I think you are fantastic at the pulpit and the next great thing at Evergreen, rice simply does not contextualize the meaning of our daily bread.  Nor, for that matter, do tortillas, naan, sourdough bread, or french fries.  Don't always make everything about culture, ethnicity, and identity.  Salvage the true meaning of things without setting yourself apart ethnically.  I digress...this picture of rice, though, brought about two points.  First, I don't eat rice, in a bowl with chopsticks, so I can relate if I TRY, but only if I TRY.  Second, Sharon didn't know the jammed chopsticks in the bowl was rude until she was told later.  I knew this...well, I learned from watching Mr. Baseball, but I still knew before she did age wise.  That's America, no that's American Christianity, celebrate it for all its multi-culturalism and relative acceptance.  Back to the top...why do I go again?  I can't wait until the racial rec. small group starts and someone who is Chinese says, "How can we figure out our differences with other races when we can't as Asian-Americans figure out our differences amongst ourselves?".  Shoot me. Seriously, shoot me.  I'm not there for that, nor am I the latino experience, or the bi-racial perspective, nor the non-Asian voice.  Shoot me.  Why do I go again?  (The message, the vision, the direction)

Pray for Sri Lanka, India, Indonesia, Malaysia, and Thailand...