I believe in signs...

“I believe in signs....what we need to learn is always there before us, we just have to look around us with respect & attention to discover where God is leading us and which step we should take. When we are on the right path, we follow the signs, and if we occasionally stumble, the Divine comes to our aid, preventing us from making mistakes.”― Paulo Coelho

I went nearly my whole life without ever seeing an eagle up close.  Oddly enough, in the recent weeks, I have seen two Eagles.  I'm getting ahead of myself.  Let's rewind back to a few years earlier.

The day we laid my maternal grandfather, Colonel Jonah Xu/ Nhia Xou Yang, to rest, it was a wet and gloomy day.  I remember an eagle was circling overhead and someone made a comment in passing that the eagle was grandpa.  No one thought about it again.  Then, on the day we laid to rest my great grandfather, my grandfather Yang's step father, it was noted that an eagle also circled overhead.

Once, maybe it's coincidence.  Twice? I have always been a big believer that people's energy/spirit lives on and is always with and around us.  That they will manifest themselves in physical ways to let us know they are with us and watching over us.  I believe the eagle was my grandfather's spirit.  Since those times, I haven't seen or thought about eagles again until these past two weeks.

On Thursday, October 10, I was dreading driving all the way up to Duluth for an event.  I was suppose to speak about my bill to eliminate child marriages but I didn't really understand the context I was speaking about it in.  I had a hard time finding the location because of construction and I was super tired from getting very little sleep.  All of which did not make for a pleasant day.

When I arrived, I learned that I would be speaking on a panel.  One of the panelist was Mike Peeblera, Director of the short Evie.  A story about forced child marriage.  This was Evie's debut screening.  Director Peeblera and the other panelists were amazing and the audience was engaged throughout the session.  They had genuine interest in my bill and the political will for this type of change.  I spent a bit of time afterwards speaking with the Director and completed a short interview for PBS.

I left that space feeling like this work matters.  I had to drive long distance and I was tired but the trip was worth it. On my home, driving down I35E, an enormous eagle flew down right in front of my car and carried away prey.  I couldn't help but feel like it was my grandfather validating that my work matters and that no time or energy is wasted on important work.

Then on Friday, October 25, I traveled down to Rochester to present with Lisa Archer, Director of the the birth center at United Hospital, on advocacy at the Minnesota Breastfeeding Coalition conference. Again, being a new legislator and having a new Legislative Aide, we did not know to ask all the questions needed in order to decide if I even have the right credentials to speak.  I mean I breastfeed two kiddos but I wasn't sure I was the right person to be sharing with professionals of this topic on how to do advocate for issues they deal with everyday.  I was dreading attending because I didn't want to let anyone down.

On my drive to Rochester, as I was traveling on Highway 52, another giant eagle swooped down right in front of my vehicle to scoop up prey off the side of the road.

I made my way to the conference and like Duluth, this event surprised me.  The feedback from conference goers was that the presentation was the perfect mix of stories that really resonated with them and factual knowledge that they could use to advocate for others.  One person stated that in all the years she had been coming, this was the first time she had ever heard women of color present and share their stories.  The presentation was so touching she had to fight back tears.  I gave her a big hug.

With both incidents, I was traveling at 70 miles per hour and yet the eagles came right across my path.  I saw them with great clarity.  I can't help but believe that it was my grandfather validating for me that I need to keep doing this work.  That it's hard but I gain as much doing it as I make an impact on others.

Because I believe in signs, I believe my grandfather is still with me and guiding me in my work and on my journey.

Our Roots

This post is dated January 3, 2016 however, I'm just posting it today, November 5, 2017 (It's been sitting in draft status all this time).  I have written so little in such a long time.  Moment after moment, lesson after lesson just fly by.  Though this is from a year and a half ago, I don't want to lose the lesson.  A lesson that seems timely considering Hmong New Year is just around the corner.

January 3, 2016
Today was a first for TeamHer.  We dressed up in Hmong clothing (well, we each wore an article that had Hmong embroidery on it) for New Year at church.  After the festivities, I taught Ayden how to re-pleat her Hmong skirt for safe storage until the next New Year.  Although I have done this very rarely in my youth, going through this process brought back a flood of memories and emotions.

I have fond and vivid memories of the time I spent with my grandma Vang.  My recollection is that we shared many moments gardening and doing needle work, but I am sure we probably only did it a few times.  Despite my distorted memory, what remains is that I learned how to ua paaj ntaub (Hmong embroidery) from her.  It was this process of learning that connected me to not only my grandmother but also my Hmong identity.

Needle work was not a "craft" back in Laos.  It was a necessity.  You had to know how to make thread from plants, weave the thread into cloth, dye the materials, and embroider using cross stitching.  This skill was vital for two reasons.  First and foremost, this was the only way to get clothes (if you had money you could buy clothing but most Hmong were farmers and could not afford this luxury). Second, it was a way to be industrious and make money.  When women were not cooking, tending to the children, or in the fields, they were making clothing.  Women often had one set of clothes which they wore to the New Year celebration and another which they wore everyday (less fancy version of their New Year’s outfit but similar in look).

Kong and I often talk about how quickly a family's history gets lost.  In just two generations, the struggles of our parents are just stories.  Our girls hear the words however, the intense emotions connected to those words are gone.  I have so little to show my girls about where they come from, their history, and who they are.  As we continue to achieve economic success, they identify more with being middle class Americans and grow further and further away from their cultural roots.

I understand that cultures evolve, change, and adapt so I am not surprised at what I am seeing however, there is a little part of me that is sad.  In just another generation, my grandfather Yang's legacy as a Colonel in the Secret War, my mother-in-law's story as a 14-year-old nurse caring for injured soldiers, my father-in-law’s role in US Aid, my parent's role in World Vision, and all those who lost their lives in the evacuation will only be stories.  Stories missing bits and pieces which could never paint the truth about loss, pain, suffering, love, and hope.

As Ayden and I sat quietly working on our skirts, I could not help but miss my grandma Vang.  I thought about how we take the moments we have with those we love for granted and our inability to recognize the impact of those moments on our identity.  I hope one day, when Ayden sees a perfectly bundled and re-pleated Hmong skirt, that she thinks about the day we shared and the hours spent quietly working.  I don't know what this moment impressed upon her, but my wish is that she finds a little piece of herself and her identity.

Threading the needle

Stitching each pleat back together using just a needle and thread

Pulling the thread through the pleat

A Wonderful Surprise

The Girls:  Jacklyn, Poungcha, Taylor, Lauryn, Ayden and Julia

Sometimes, when I think about how much I love children, I am overwhelmed with sadness.  Late at night, when the house is quiet, my heart fills with an indescribable feeling of longing for a household of kids.  I know that I have two biological children and that some people have none.  And it's not that I do not see how blessed I am, I really do.  Yet, that doesn't lessen the sorrow that I feel.  However, today, I had an 'a ha' moment.  Not the kind of moment where your consciousness finally aligns with what you have been told about something powerful.  This 'a ha' moment filled my soul in a way I have never felt before.

This past week, Kong and I accumulated a troop of teenage and preteen girls.  We had been staying up too late, eating too much, and playing way too hard.  After a long day of running other family members to doctors appointments, taking kids to activities, and fulfilling community obligations, we finally came home to the most beautiful and heartwarming surprise.  A birthday party our girls threw for Kong.

The girls started their day with a trip to the Mall of America (MOA).  After being kicked out of the mall for not being chaperoned by an adult (Jackie is 18 but apparently that was not sufficient for mall security), the girls decided to take the lightrail train home instead of calling to bother us for a ride (even though neither of us would have been able to accommodate).  Once home, they hatched a plan for a surprise birthday party for their dad/uncle.  By themselves, they got to the store, bought a cake, ice cream, a card, sparklers, and decorations for the house and then took public transportation home.  They then decorated the house and waited patiently for us to come home from our last event, of which we were late.  When their dad/uncle walked into the house, they jumped up from behind the center island, turned on the lights, and yelled surprise, Happy Birthday!

Indeed he was surprised.  The girls had paid for everything out of their own pockets, they carried a cake on the bus and they did all of this without anyone asking them to.  What touched me most was the beautiful cake and card which read, "From your 6 kids".  The cake also had an image representing us and each one of them.  My heart nearly burst.

 

 

Today, I learned two important lessons.  One, I need to worry less.  I eventually came to understand that my big girl paid for much of the transportation for her cousins and most of the party expenses by herself.  I often question if I have taught my kids the "right" things and whether I have modeled generosity, compassion, thoughtfulness, or understanding for my kids especially because I too am still working on these traits and sometimes model the opposite.  As I have stumbled through motherhood, I might have done better than I give myself credit for.

Two, I realize that while I may have only birthed two kids, I have so many more children than that.  I am a mother to all of these amazing young cousins, nieces, and nephews.  Hearing the girls retell their adventures of the day (which included their struggle with the lightrail ticket machine, the confectionery lady's look when they asked to have 6 kids drawn on the cake, the crusty check out lady at Target, and the strange looks from passengers on the train and bus coming home) and listening to each person's story as we reminisced about the past (Julia and Lauryn's separation anxiety when they were babies, Poungcha and Kongmongs extreme dislike of each other when they were young and how this has transformed into them being really "tight" in the words of Poungcha; how Jackie, because of proximity, was my first baby which I often stole from her parents to babysit), my heart was filled with contentment.

I am continually reminded of how God works and how his plan is often different than the plans I have for myself.  I am truly blessed and lucky beyond belief to have these beautiful souls in my life. Thank you girls.

Complete with streamers and all.

Truly a surprise.  Great job girls.

How they ended the evening.  Kong asleep and the girls being themselves.

Anna May Wong Who?

Rocking it Anna May Wong style

I'm not sure how many people feel the same way I do but I dreaded spirit week when I was growing up.  Every daily theme (except miss match day) was a struggle.  I'm sure this had something to do with the fact that I was poor.  I barely had enough clothes to rotate for the week let alone have extra stuff lying around to put together for spirit week.

Anyway, now that my kids no longer attend Montessori, we are presented with all of the "normal" school stuff that kids experience.  This week, the dreaded (for me, not my kiddo) spirit week.  Monday was pajama day (something I never understood because when you are poor, your regular clothes are your pajamas), Tuesday was Hollywood day, and today is miss match day.

Hollywood day posed a unique challenge for us.  Many kids had plans to come to school dressed as characters from movies.  As we prepared on Monday night, Ayden said to me, "Mom, what am I supposed to dress like?  No one in Hollywood or no characters that kids know look like me.  If I dress up, no one will make the connection.  That is unless I go as Mulan.  I don’t have a lot of options.”  (End sentence with a heavy sigh because she has first world problems).  Digging back into my archive of cool Asian things, I remembered a post by 18Million on Anna May Wong.  I showed Ayden some pictures and we read Anna May's bio.  She was sold.  We put together an ensemble that we hoped looked 1920ish. 

After school on Tuesday, I asked Ayden about her day.  She said no one knew who Anna May Wong was but it didn't matter to her.  She had a great day being someone who did something unheard of in a time when people who looked like her were not included or accepted and when the idea of beauty did not include Asian women.  Ayden had a wonderful day being a woman who was ahead of the times.  She wore Anna May Wong loudly and proudly.

Fresh Off the Boat True to Life

When I watched the CLC episode of Fresh Off the Boat, I laughed so hard I cried.  It's a funny episode but funny enough for tears?  I eventually came to understand that I was half laughing and half crying.  Laughing because it was funny but crying at the realization that I am that mom. And in real life, it's not so funny.  Think I am being too hard on myself?  Think again.

Ayden made Principal's Honor Roll (3.9 - 4.0).  Out of the whole six grade, only 23 kids received this honor.  She was also named student of the month in January. Her gym teacher had a great write up as to why he choose her as his student of the month.  It read:

"Ayden Her earned my Student of the Month honor for being her tremendous self, every single day!  Ayden is a very mature, responsible, personable, fun, polite and proud student-athlete.  Ayden is also a very good advocate for herself and does a great job of communicating her needs, limitations and goals with me for class.  Ayden puts in a lot of effort outside of school as an elite gymnast.  She could very easily sit out or not put energy into physical education, but she plays harder than anyone when she is far from 100%.  Ayden really values and appreciates the opportunity to be active and I am thankful I have her in class to help set a great tone and example for her peers and myself.  Thank you for being such an excellent student and participant, Ayden!"

Though I was very happy for Ayden and told her how proud I was of her, all I could think of was why she wasn't nominated for student of the month in an academic class.  I mean she got straight A's, right?  Any one of her other teachers could have nominated her as well.  Oh yeah, maybe this is why.

When Kong and I showed up to Ayden's parent teacher conference, it didn't go so well.  The first reason was because her homeroom teacher was ill prepared.   She didn't have any print outs on Ayden's grades or academic progress nor did she have any of Ayden's work to present to us.  There was no feedback from any of her other teachers and there was no opportunity at the conference to meet with them.  The teacher didn't even have a writing instrument and paper to take down notes from our conference. I was not shy about my displeasure with all of this.

The second reason was that the teacher said the worse thing you could possibly say to an Asian mom, "Ayden is getting straight A's and has no behavioral problems so everything is fine."  Why is this so bad?  Well, if no one can provide me with any progress information, examples of her work, or feedback on areas of development, how do I know how she is really doing?  If a kid gets straight A's, are they really being challenged?  Is she working up to her full potential?  And when is "fine" ever the standard to shoot for?  Yeah, the teacher had no answers.  Just pure confusion about what the problem was.



It pretty much played out like that scene from Fresh Off the Boat but with WAY more intensity.  I had become that Asian parent with super high expectations of my kid.  She goes to school all day, leaves immediately for gymnastics, comes home to do homework, and is often up until 11pm or midnight to stay on top of her grades.  Once or twice a year, I allow her to be in some type of production (theater or film).  I don't know how we squeeze it in but we do.  

Am I terrible or just trying to give my kid every opportunity possible?  Are my expectations unrealistic?  I don't know.  I mean, Eddie Huang turned out fine, right?  Maybe my kid will too.  Only time will tell. I am crossing my fingers.