Category Archives: Connections

Seeing You Off

The final passage, remembering the woman whom you’d come to know, as your, mother-in-law, from your father-in-law’s second marriage, translated…

Sitting silent, in the back of the church, on the wooden bench, stared at the white coffin, paved with flowers in the shrine, hearing the pastor slowly, told of your, eighty-two years of colorful life; as the pastor described you as being straightforward, generous, it’d, made me cry, and I’d, lifted up my head and smiled, started recalling the thirteen years of friendships we’d, come to share in life.

It was a snowy day in April in Norway, my husband who’d, planned to be single for the res of his life, drove me in his car, and, came to your door, my father-in-law, and his second wife, you, immediately led us in, and, in a panic, started, preparing the snacks, the coffees to serve to me, an unwelcomed guest.  Back then I wasn’t, fluent in Norwegian, I’d spoken in fluent German with my father-in-law, and, it’d, made you, who lived in the U.S. for over a decade object, that you had difficulties understanding us, and, we’d, realized that we had, excluded you, and immediately, we’d, both started switching to talking in English then.

On Christmas Eve that first year of our marriage, you’d, burst the hopes of your three daughters, sons-in-law, and nine grandchildren’s dreams of family union, you’d come to our home, and, baked for us, the traditional Norwegian pork ribs, meat balls, and sausages, and prepared seven types of pastries.  And, as lucky as I in the first time, I’d, scooped up, the only almond, hidden inside the rice pudding, and received, that special award for piggy almond candy.  Underneath the Christmas tree with the Norwegian flag, were the gifts, stacked up, you, my father-in-law, my husband and I, the four of us, sat around the tree, and started, tearing open the presents, the excitement, the joys, it’d, filled up the house.

The summer that my mother, second aunt, and nephew visited Norway, you’d not just, invited them, you’d also, found your youngest who’s my age, along with your young granddaughter, who’s around the same age as my nephew as company, you’d, set up a wooden board in your yard, with the balloons, and started, shooting the darts.  And even though, it’d rained that day, we’d, still, had a ton of fun; to this very day, my mother still talked of the cherries, the raspberries, and currants you grew in your own yard.

On your seventy-fifth, because your body was, ailing, you’d, delayed your birthday celebration in May, but you’d, not told us flat out, only asked, if we’re available to show up in June.  And, as my husband and I arrived, I’d found, that it was, a family birthday celebration your daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had set up for you; we’d, not brought anything, and we were, embarrassed, but you’d laughed and told, that it was because you didn’t want any presents, that was why, you’d, not told us it was to celebrate your birthday.

illustration from UDN.com圖/錢錢

2017 was, especially cruel to you.  First, your best friend who lived in the U.S. died in the spring at the age of over ninety, several months later, it was, my father-in-law, the second love of your life, passed away, in the autumn.  On the evening my father-in-law passed, you, me, and my husband, the three of us, stayed close by his side, until he’d, swallowed his, last breath.  You’d, dragged your, deteriorated health, your, slow steps home; the following day, we took you to the funeral home, to set up my father-in-law’s final affairs, you’d spoken of how you’d, not slept through the night, that you’d, paced around in the living room; even as your kids and grandkids were there, to accompany you, it still, didn’t, take away from your losing your husband.

Within two years after my father-in-law’s funeral, I sat here, in this, same church, heard the same pastor, hosting your funeral.  This pastor was the one who’d, conducted the wedding ceremony of you and my father-in-law thirty years back, he’d retired since, but, two years ago, he’d, made an exception for my father-in-law, spoken on his funeral, and this time, for you too.  You marrying my father-in-law, had once cast a huge shadow for my husband’s not introducing me to his own mother, but, for the eighteen years, the three of you had, died, and all the displeases of the past are now, gone, with the wind.  I’d heard of the news of your death as I’d returned from Egypt, I’d, come, to see you off, I’m so grateful for your kindness toward me, even more grateful, that you were, a “stand-in mother-in-law” to me, giving my families and I, such, wonderful, memories.

And so, this, is on how strong the connections of strangers who became, families are, and this still just showed, how if you’re kind to your daughters or sons-in-law, they will, reciprocate, and love you like you were, their own, parents too.  This is quite rare, to see a stepmother-in-law and a daughter-in-law get along so very well together.

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Filed under Connections, Expectations, Family Dynamics, Family Matters, Friendships, Lessons, Letting Go, Marriages, Memories Shared, Observations, Parenting/Parenthood, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Story-Telling, the Finality of Life, Values

The Sense of Humor that the Bus Driver Has

Through an act of kindness toward a stranger, hoping, that someone else will follow your lead, and show the same kindness needed, to the man too, translated…

I took my six-year-old son out and waved at the bus driver as we were, catching the bus.  Unless nobody’s getting on or off, the driver would, stop at every bus stop.

To a certain stop, we saw the driver run really fast off the bus, then, slowly, helped a visually impaired person on board, right then and there, I saw the man with a sign with the bus route written on it, readied, to put it inside his knapsack, and that was when I’d learned, that as the visually impaired man heard the bus wheeze by his side, he’d, taken out the sign, so the drivers can see it.

like this???查看來源圖片kindness, sighted!  Photo found online

The driver confirmed with him what station he was getting off, returned back to the driver’s seat, I saw the man with his cane, prodding around, headed slowly, toward a certain object on the bus, I’d, reminded him quickly, “sir, there’s a seat next to you!”, he’d, patted the structures of the seats, asked, “right here?  Thanks!”, my husband next to me spoke in synchrony, “Yes, be careful sitting down!”, I watched him smiled, and nodded toward our direction, then, he’d, picked up his cell phone, put on his earphones, and immersed himself in the music happily.

As I was about to get out, the man was, still enjoying his music, I’d, held my son’s hands, as we got off the bus, because I believed, that this, was going to be, a beautiful relay, that as others saw how helpful I’d been to this man, that he was in need of assistance, I’m more than certain, that others onboard the bus will also, lend him, a helping hand.

And so, kindness still, started with one, and this woman hoped, that with her show of kindness toward the visually impaired passenger onboard the bus, someone else will also, follow her example, in lending the man, a helping hand, and this, is exactly, how kindness gets passed down from one person to the next, it all starts, with one!

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Filed under A Cycle of Kindness, Awareness, Cause & Effect, Connections, Helping Behaviors, Inspirational Tales, Lending a Helping Hand, Life, Observations, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Stories of Hope, Story-Telling, Translated Work, Values

Regarding the Extracurricular & the Camps

Getting involved, in non-school related activities here, translated…

My youngest was headed out early in the morn, because the camp from her major was starting, as a freshman, she is very enthusiastic of all the activities hosted by her major.  I remembered, that, we’d, headed out before light for her last thing too, in the nearly zero degree icy cold floor of the CKS Memorial Hall, rolled around on the floorboards, it was her salsa club of her high school, she was responsible for coordinating a “recital of her younger schoolmates.”

My youngest started dancing from her kindergarten years to date, dance had become, her favorite.  It’s just, that her school teachers mentioned how if she’d worked too hard on her “hobby”, it may, cause her grades to slip, but she’d, asked us, not to worry, “the extracurriculars are important rites of passage, just let them give it all they got for this!”  but, I’d, found my daughter, with that lack, of enthusiasm, turned out, she had, dropped her activities, because she’s still, trying to figure out what she’s good at academically, she’d told us, “I’m more than certain about dance, and anything else, is not good enough for me.”  Until her final year in high school, she’d, transferred from the sciences, to the social sciences, and now, she’s, in the major she has great interests in, communications, and, she’d, danced every day, and now, she’d, gone out early in the morn, for her summer camp activities.

查看來源圖片the assortments of activities, not related to the academic…photo from online

My eldest and I, were both into the extracurriculars in our high school years, I’d, gotten involved in two groups, one was for vanity, the band, the other, school paper.  Being in band, I’d, played the trumpet, without much talent, just so I can, put on that marching uniform that made me shine on flag day, and, walking across the podium before the President’s Office.  As for the school paper, it was, where my heart lies, I’d, let my own, writing talents, poured out.  I’d recalled, how hard it’d been that I had, worked, on every topic, how I’d, gone to the shopping marts, to find the old photos, to do the interviews, and published my not-mature-enough writings, wanted to pour all of my doubts of the world, my feeling lost for my future, along with my dissatisfaction toward school, all out in the open.

I can no longer recall how the periodical had, turned out, but, my grades, slipped, and, that became, a F-A-C-T.

I’d found a university that I really don’t hate to study in, but the major I was in, it wasn’t anywhere near my interest profile.  And, by then, editing the periodicals, no longer, satisfied my mind, maybe back then, love was, taken up half of my mind.

And yet, because I’d, lost love, I’d, decided, to go for the president of the club, to let myself, embrace this major I’d, found myself to be in, tired, to learn to be a, leader.  And so, the memories of my college years, were revolved around the freshmen orientations, the camps, the seminars, the book fairs, the competitions.  I recalled all the guest lecturers I’d invited, remembered all the shows we’d put on for the freshmen orientations, recalling that freshman ball we hosted, remembered the singing and skit competition I’d, set up, remembering being in the trainees of the officers of the clubs of the school too, along with how I continued being the team counselor as I went into my senior year.

I’d once not wanted to graduate, because I loved being a student too much.  And, the best memories of being a student, are from, the extracurricular activities, as we’d, entered into the groups on our own, there’s, too many connections there.  Like how I watched my eldest get too excited as she’d, started, editing the footage, like how I imagined my youngest happily, leading the freshmen, because she’s, finally, a sophomore.

查看來源圖片volunteer counts too!  Photo from online

Some had found their significant others in the extracurricular groups, like my eldest brother and sister-in-law.  A lot of people found what they truly loved, like my youngest and I.  Recently, I’d, edited a periodical of a bookstore, and, I’d, found my passions there, and that, was when I’d, recalled, this, was what I loved, doing back then.

And so, these extracurricular activities in college, they’d not, only enriched our schooling careers, but it may also, point us, toward the directions of our, future jobs too, and so, don’t be too worried, when your own young got too involved in their extracurricular activities, besides, the university years aren’t about making the grades, it’s about, discovering, who we are!!!

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Filed under Choices, College Life, Connections, Friendships, Hobbies/Pasttimes, Lessons, Life, Memories Shared, Observations, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Socialization, Story-Telling

When You Tripped & Fell

The help from complete strangers, and, it’d made your life better, as well as the ones you’d helped out too, translated…

As you were growing up, when you’d, fallen carelessly, your parents who wanted you to have that smooth ride in life, in a panic, had always reminded you, to get back up on your own.  The parents of that era would always, pass along the wisdoms of life in every day, because the road to your future, you shall, walk by yourselves.

like this???查看來源圖片photo found online

In reality, before the years had given you that “label” of old, if you’d, tripped and fallen flat on your face in public, other than feeling embarrassed, before you feel the pains from your trip and fall, you can only, get back up in a hurry.  Once, I saw a woman, tripping by the tiles that were, uneven by the sidewalks, I’d rushed toward her to see if she needed any assistance, she’d gotten back up in a hurry, and stated, “I’m sorry”, this was, out of embarrassment, seeing how she was okay, I’d helped her pick up the purse that flew out of her hand, she’d told me thank you repeatedly, and left, I couldn’t help but mumbled to myself, “thank heavens she’s not injured!”

And I also, had more than my share of trips and fall, as I’d, begun to age.  Sometimes, I’d, gotten too distracted by all around me, not paid attention to where I was walking, then, tragedy came towad me, and, the best way I’d, handled the matter, to save myself from embarrassment was, to pick up my belongings, and made my escape from where I’d, tripped and fallen.  But, the years took their tolls, as I entered into the bottomhalf of my life, it seemed, that even if I wanted to, I’d, had a hard time.

At this time, I’m, physically weakened, my bodily functions started, not listening to my commands, and, even AS I’d paid attention to where I was going, there were, still, multiple dangers lurking all around me, and, there would be those moments of unexpected falls I had had.  Once, I was wearing a mask, my eyes were blocked from seeing well, plus, the skies didn’t have enough lifht, I couldn’t tell there were the uneven pavements, I’d, tripped and fallen too hard, my body fell, like I was, trying to slide onto a base in a baseball game, it hurt so bad I couldn’t get back up immediately, the young man who was sliding on his cell phone close by, was alerted my the huge crash I’d made, he’d turned his head, looked at me, I’d originally thought he was, going to come over, and give me a hand so I could, stand back up, but instead, he’d, focused his attention back, to his cell phone; being optimistic, I could, only make fun of myself, must be, that I looked, young, that was why he’d, felt he’d not needed to, lend me a helping hand.  And, as I’d, switched my mindside, the pains seemed to, fade away a bit, and, I got up, in one breath.

圖/Tai Perawith all those eyes watching, and NOBODY lending a helping hand, illustration from UDN.com

After this awful experience, as I met someone who was in a similar predicament, I’d emplored more empathy.  Once as I was rushing to my community college to class, on my way, I saw an elderly man, who was walking along the parking spots for the scooters, not saw the pavements, he’d fallen down hard.  A young woman who was coming towards him from the opposite direction and I were the first “witnesses”, other than exclaiming aoud, we’d rushed over to the elderly, to check if he was, okay.  I squatted down, used my umbrella, to shade the elderly man from the sun,, and picked up the shoe he’d lost to the side, attempted to help him put it back on, but he couldn’t, have enough strengths to, while another man standing to the side just, looked at us, with that cold stare; as the middle aged woman who’d just, parked her bicycle saw, she’d used her experience, and confirmed that the elderly had a fracture on his hips, that he needed to be taken to the hospital immediately; with his pains worsening, the elderly man finally agreed, to allow us to call for help on his behalf.  Back then, I’d, acted as the interim “commander”, had the helpful young lady dial up emergency, then, asked the middle age woman to help notify the elderly man’s families, while I’d tried to calm the man down, and had him recite the phone numbers of his loved ones, and, as he’d become, a bit confused by the numbers, he’d spoken to himself, “that sounded right…”, and thankfully, the number he’d given, was the correct one, and, as I’d used the phones to call up the elderly’s son, I handed the phone to him, so he could tell his son what had happened, so his families won’t mistake the call as a scam, at this time, the ambulace finally rushed over, and, the accident ended well, then, I’d, gotten back up, toward my community college, and, my steps became lighter, because I’d, helped someone in needx.

In the trips and falls we may all have in our lives, if there are someone who was willing to, help us out, give up a helping hand, helping us get back up, it will, give us all a boost, to keep on, moving forward in our lives; and, I’d much rather become the help that someone else needed, because the way of life is twisting and winding, and none of us would know when we will, need a helping hand ourselves, and, if we can all be a part of this cycle of kindness, we might be able to, reduce something tragic from happening all around us.

And so, this, is what you’d gained, from helping someone in need out, you’d, felt that you’d lent the elderly man a helping hand, and in helping out, your empathy was, activated, because you’d hoped that someone would be willing, to help you out when you get into a jam, besides, you’d had a previous bad experience when you’d needed the help, and the person around you, didn’t give a SHIT, and you don’t want anybody to tell helpless like you had that time.

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Filed under A Cycle of Kindness, Awareness, Cause & Effect, Connections, Cost of Living, Helping Behaviors, Lending a Helping Hand, Life, Observations, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Values

The Sensible & Rational Sides of a Marathon

A more “scientific approach” to running a marathon here, translated…

I can’t really run, but due to chance, I’d had a ton of friends who are, marathoners.

In order to experience this, I’d, entered into my very first, smaller scale, but beautiful marathon around the Sun Moon Lagoon, and I’d, signed up for the shortest distance, the “Fun Run”.  The group of us used brisk walking to replace the jogging; but I’d, still needed to train for it.查看來源圖片like this???  Photo from online

On that day, I’d gone to train with a group of visually impaired runners to the riverside.  They’d used a rope, with knots tied on both ends, one end on the visually impaired runner, the other on the seeing volunteers, like the three-legged race, they’d moved forward together.  I’d, followed them closely behind, not long thereafter, there’s, this huge distance between me and them, and, before I knew it, they’d, vanished, into the distances.

I’d continued holding my own tempo, with the cold wind blowing across my forehead, sweating down, it’d felt, really, awkward.  There’s, almost no one else by the riverside pass, most of the times, it was, just me, and every now and then, a cyclist would, speed by me, and then, I was left, all alone.  Most of the time, what accompanied me was, this strong sense of, solitude.

And yet, for the visually impaired to run the marathons, wouldn’t it be……I’d, blurted out, “BORING to even think on it!”

“how can you be bored, by ‘thinking’ about it?” in a gathering, the topic of marathon, it’d, sparked up this debate for the two individuals on each end, they’d told me, a ton of imaginations they had of, marathons.

One of the accompanying runners started as an “intern”.  He’d followed a more experienced guide runner to run with the visually impaired.  On the way there, he was, led by the experienced guide, and on the way back, he’d, led.  He’d spoken, with that disbelief in his voice, “The experienced guide told me twenty kilometers’ worth of stories, and the whole path was only, twenty-one kilometers long, oh mine!”  Whatever she’d thought up of, she’d, told me, to her grandmother, to her childhood, to the flowers by the road, the weather, her job………and a turn, before us, there was, this pass, paved with the shades of the trees, and, she’d started, talking about, Mother Nature, what’s meant by “blue skies”, what’s a “green pasture”, what’s a “never-ending ocean”……she was able to, pull out that horizontal pass, and, through it, led the visually impaired runners onto a journey, like the runners aren’t there to run, but instead, to listen to a tale.

I was curious, why did she talk, incessantly?  Turns out, as the visually impaired runner started running, he’d started cramping, and the volunteer chose to tell the tales, to distract him from his own physical discomfort.  If he’d only told of what they’d encountered on the way, it would be, too boring, after all, ordinary people don’t run too fast, and the scenes, are almost, at a standstill; and this experienced accompanying runner, thought of how to get the visually impaired runner, to enjoy the run as he ran blind………so, this, is how fun running a marathon can be!

And yet, not all the visually impaired runners are, blessed enough, to have a companion runner who’s so full of facts to tell.  I’d recalled that many years ago, I’d, gone to chat with a visually impaired runner of an international marathon on this subject, he was very rational, so was his companion runner, he’d, described the marathons he ran as a “battery cell”.

He’d told me, that running a marathon, it’s, a test of how long the battery on you will last, and, you’d needed to, assigned the energies spent on the way effectively.  He’d made the examples, “If your battery is fully charged, the best case scenario is, you’re able to use it, to finish an entire marathon.  Like how it takes a hundred minutes to run a marathon, then, it would be best, if you’d, used one-percent energy per minute that you run!”  You can estimate conservatively, that you’d only needed fifty percent energy to get to the finishing lines; nor can you, overspent, like as you’re half way through, you’d, used up all your energies.  If you’d run faster, how much energy will be spent, if you run slower, how much energy it will, cost you, you’d needed to, recalculate the time needed constantly, add in your physical strengths, and combine it with the speed to which you’re, running with, and use the exact amount of time, to drain up all the energies you may have in you, to just make it, past the finishing lines………

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!  How much, this, represented life itself!

And so, from this, you can see, that running, is no longer just about exercising the body, you need to make the precise calculations, of how much energy it takes you, and, calculate, and factor in all the possible things that can happen on the roads, which is why running a marathon, is sort of an art, and a science!

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Filed under A Cycle of Kindness, Connections, Helping Behaviors, Inspirational Tales, Kindness Shown, Lending a Helping Hand, Lessons, Life, Observations, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Values

The Succulents

Lessons of life, these small plants have to, offer to us, and, it’s, an important one too!  Translated…

Don’t know when, raising the succulent plants became, a trend.

One afternoon, I was strolling down the underground shopping strip, and, stopped in front of a small plant, and, I’d, suddenly understood, where that sense of healing that people talked about came from.  Those chubby leaves, resembled the paws of the bear, with the lighting, the soft and thin fuzz, made me feel, extremely, calm and collected.

On the succulent plants, as I thought, the images of those potted cute things came.  The healing sensation culture, made the succulent potted plants became a total trend, turning it, into a brand new sort of merchandise, they’d gotten, posted on the websites.  These plants are regulars at the cafés all around, an assortments of handicraft designs of them too, the potteries.  Real and fake, the fake looked, so very, real, and, how easily, human were, saved, in this mixture of what’s real and what’s fake, and, doesn’t this symbolize how we’re, squeezed too hard daily, that we needed to, look toward this small plant, to find our renewed energies?

At this moment, I stood, before the glass window, looking at the bear paw, in the temperature and humidity controlled room, hearing the salesperson tell of how to care for the succulent plants.  Thinking, that, they’re, both succulent plants, and, could it be, that the ghost plant?

wonders of nature here…photo from online…succulent plants 的圖片結果

In my childhood memories, the succulent plants weren’t as precious as these.  It’s a sort of a food, instead of a decorating plant.  This began, with my eldest uncle who’d loved his plants as if, they were, his own children.  Way before the trendy gardening came, my eldest uncle and aunt already, decorated their yard and rooftop, into small gardens.  In my impressions, he was always, living in dirt.  From when I was younger, I’d, watched him digging into the dirt, in the front yard, he’d told me that he was, loosening the soil by the seasons, so the flowers and trees can, grow better.  He’s the kind of man that would, pluck a flower as he trekked up the mountains for you, to taste the nectars.  Once, he’d had me select my favorite flower by his racks of plants, that I can take one with me.  I’d only recalled that I got very excited, and ran toward that patch of flowers, but felt panic all of a sudden.  Having the conditions of selective difficulty, I’d felt, anxious, of the sudden influx of the choices presented to me.  In this heat, I’d, pointed toward that patch of gray off to the corners.  As I walked near, the greenish purple color of the plant, made it look mysterious, the leaves were criss-crossed, like a dream catcher.

My eldest uncle laughed, “You sure do know how to pick them, this is for eating!”, he’d quickly plucked a few leaves off, ran into the house to wash them up, not long thereafter, I’d, stared at the fatty leaf, hesitant, as I, took a bite, that crisp sound, with the sour and stale juice that came onto my tongue, and, as I chewed it more, the taste turned, sweeter, perhaps, it’d, tasted like the unsweetened bell fruit, with that taste of herb to it.  This discord of the appearance and taste, was impacting to me, “It’d, tasted like the bell fruit!”, my uncle’s smile became a squint in his eyes, nodded toward me satisfactorily, “This small leaf, will grow into many flowers, you got the pick!”  He’d placed the leaf into the palm of my hand.  Looking at the fatty leaf, I’d thought, “nice to meet your acquaintance!”, and that was when I recalled, that my very first cultivated plant, was also a succulent.

It’s, quite amazing, the parent plant stayed in a huge garden with the enriched soil, and the high humidity, did it ever imagine, that its leaves were going to, move into the lanai of a building in the city?  But, it’d, lived up to the expectations, the leaves multiplied.  In a couple of years, the small finger-sized leaves, became this, bush of leaves, a small garden.

Weird, how as we aged, we’d gone from a leaf from the ghost flower, into a bear claw crassula?  From when I was younger, I’d believed, that life will be like a ghost plant, with the goal, worked hard, under the sun, and, get enough water, I will be able to, bloom, grow, leaf after leaf, after leaf, and successfully, bloom.  But, the reality was like the wind, slapping you across the face.  And after awhile, we’d, slowly, grown, into a viewing plant that’s, fearful, of getting hurt, used to, hiding ourselves, inside that transparent glass container, trading in our protective colorations, for cuteness, sitting in our, isolated, universes, preserved ourselves.

very different in appearances, but, same in “nature”, with the strong will to survive, in the harshest of all conditions!  Photo found online…

Sometimes, life is like a cruel desert, turning us, into, a cactus.

I’d often forgotten, that beneath that healing image, the cacti, with the needles, are a member of the succulent plants.  From succulent, into prickly, that soft fuzz no longer in existence, replacing them, the prickly needles.  The flesh, through the grinds of the days, became calluses, but, the calluses, the thorns, used their stubbornness, wrapped up your heart that’s, softest and most fragile, most, easily hurt.

Hey, did you ever see a flower of a cactus?  Oh yeah, it blooms too.

I’d once, owned a round and stout, cactus with the shorter thorns.  Days into years, its plain looks made people think it’s, nothing more than a décor. Yet, one spring, it’d, started, budding around, with a small light hidden within.  I will, never forget that morn, as the sunlight shone slanted onto the lanai, and, there appeared, a palm-sized flower out of the cactus.  Bright yellow like a fire burning, but, thin as the wings of a butterfly.  The petals soaked up the sun, golden, in full bloom, shown its deepest, gentleness.

At that very moment, all the memories of pain, walking through all those summers, became, light as a grain of sand.

And so, this, is the lesson that people can learn, from these plants, surely, they’re, not easy to care for, but, if you look after them well, they will, show you a side of life that’s, quite inspiring, and teach you, that weathering through the seasons of life, is something as plain as living from day to day.

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Filed under Connections, Expectations, Interactions Shared with the World, Lessons, Observations, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Values

Seeing the Love without Boundaries from a Foreign Spouse

How the kindness cycled around, from the Front Page Sections, translated…

Last week, I’d gone to a free clinic session for the foreign worker fishermen, because most of the fishermen were from Indonesia, so there was a translator alongside me all the way; I’d had the spare time, and struck up a conversation with her.

“I’d seen you every single time in the free clinics, you’re always smiling, very kind and gentle, you’re, a rare gem!”, I’d commended her.  “Doctor, you thought too much of me, they’re my countrymen, floated across to Taiwan to work, I’m glad, that I can, be of some sort of minute assistance.”

I’d asked her where she came from, “I lived in Jakarta originally, my father is a catering chef, with an unstable income, and there are, too many mouths to feed, and so, in my high school years, I’d, married to Kaohsiung, hoping, to make some extra money, to wire it back home, to help with my family, but………”, she’d taken a very long inhale, continued, “not long after we were wed, my husband was diagnosed with oral cancer, after three surgeries, countless electrotherapy sessions, he could no longer work”.  What made her situation worse was, as her kids rode together on a scooter to visit their father at the hospital, they were hit by a car, her daughter was injured severely, in the I.C.U., her son with fractures, and needing surgery.

Back then, she was looking after her elderly in-laws on her own, her sick husband, and her injured children, she felt hopeless.  But thankfully, her parents in Indonesia wired some money for her, and her eldest sister who’d married to Malaysia flew over especially to help her out too for three months; more importantly, the national health insurance coverages, it’d, helped her out with the costs of the treatments; she’d worked as a translator at the agency during the daytime, at night, she’d gone to school, to hone up on her Chinese skills, her son part-timed through school, they were, just, getting by.

“Actually, the Taiwanese people are quite helpful, I’d met a ton of those who were willing to go out of their ways to assist me, by just being there for emotional support, or those who’d, offered to help me with my finances.  I’m grateful, and in order to pay them back, I’d, signed on these sorts of voluntary work, to make what I can do useful and helpful, and this time, I’d, brought along my children who’d healed from their injuries to volunteer also, to make sure they will note, the love that’s, without the borders in Taiwan.”

Her husband may not be well-educated, or made a lot of money, but she’d, loved Taiwan like it was her home country, as the trials came, she’d, taken them all in, no complaints, no regrets, she’d, utilized her spare time, to hone up on her skills, to acculturate herself into the local communities, and knew to give back, she is, the model citizen for all of the foreign spouses that’s for sure!

And, this, is how this woman was, driven by the cycle of kindness, she was shown kindness when she was in need, when her family had problems, she’d received help from all around her, and that was what drove her, to give back now.

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Filed under A Cycle of Kindness, Because of Love, Being Alone, Connections, Cost of Living, Getting Treatment, Helping Behaviors, Kindness Shown, Lessons, News Stories, Observations, Overcoming Obstacles, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Social Issues, Socialization, Values