She was a sweet, elderly woman. I've never met anyone from your country before. She smiled at me. Her hair was woven into braids. Gray. Black. Gray. It fell so lightly upon her pillow. She laughed. Smiled. Showed me pictures of her children. And then...
Pain.
"Help me.. Oh Lord, help me!"she cried out.More Here...
He is jealous for me, Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree, Bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy. When all of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory, And I realize just how beautiful You are, And how great Your affections are for me.
And oh, how He loves us so, Oh how He loves us, How He loves us all
Do you remember those cold rainy days after running out of a harsh yellow school bus and being welcomed by the smell of rice porridge on the stove? Or the warmth of chicken noodle soup? Or simply the sight of your mom or dad in the kitchen, ready to serve a fresh bowl of a parent's love?
I smile just reminiscing about it. And I have always known it to be that simple... "food is love." But little did I know- that simple idea really wasn't simple at all.
(press play below to listen as you read! <<my stories often have soundtracks to them, keke >> )
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"Mak, what are you doing?" I stood with eyes wide open. Our family was getting ready to drive to Austin, to take my sister back to school for the start of a new school year.
"Putting some food in the cooler," she answered, as if it were obvious. Which it was. But it wasn't just some food. It was a LOT of food. Ice covered the bottom with 4 glass bottles of Starbucks frappuccinos (our caffeine supply) sitting on top of it. 4 juice drinks followed. Plus 6 bottled waters more. Then, she opened the fridge.
The apples jumped in. And the bananas last, cushioned safely on top since they bruise easily.
I peered into the cooler- now turned orchard. "Mak- Why are you packing so much food? It's not like we're driving to the Grand Canyon."
She stopped and looked at me, setting down a newly opened bag of dried fruit on the counter. "'Why am I packing so much food?'" she repeated. The depth in her eyes and history in her voice revealed the answer before she even started -
"Because I knowwhat it's like, to have nothing to eat. Like during Pol Pot when we were forced from our homes, and we starved because there was no food. Reang haeuy. Do you know what that phrase means, in Khmer?
"'Reang haeuy' = 'I learned my lesson'?" I translated.
"That's right. So I'm always ready." (To spare you children from the suffering of starvation that I have endured in my previous life.) "Just in case."
I sighed. My parents really care for us. I mean, truly, undeniably care for us, in ways I will never grasp. They've been through it before- been so hungry that the body is swollen from undernourishment, when yearning for food tears craters into the soul. And the worst of all- defeated as death took their loved ones through starvation, with no help from any single grain of rice.
I am such a fool. With each passing day, I feel more and more undeserving of my parents' love. How will I ever express it? (Will a xanga post they never see suffice?)
Xie Xie Ai ~ (thanks to love).
yao xie xie ai, rang ni zai wo shen bian shou hu wo de wei lai thanks to love for letting you stay by me and guard my future
you duo shao mei li qi ji ni shou xin li quan dou ji zai, hao qi dai how many beautiful miracles, in the palm of your hand is where they are kept
yao xie xie ai, rang wo xue hui kuan rong, xue hui ti liang guan huai I thank you for letting me learn generosity, respect and care
xiang yang guang pei zhe da hai shi ping jing hai shi peng pai dou shi ai similar to how the sun will accompany the sea, whether it is calm or rough, it is still love
Lifetime
