A Short Respite From Stress

I’ve been stressed out today.  I follow a blog called the NieNie Dialogues.  Nie is such a good mom and she has perfect children.  Of course, she was horribly burned in a plane crash, but other than that, her life is perfect.  I want Nie’s life–without the burns.

So like I said, I’m stressed out.  My sister and her two beautiful daughters were here for most of the week, and we had a grand old time tooling around Taipei.  I fancy myself and expert tour guide.  I was sad to see them leave this morning.  But, as a result of all the fun, I have neglected my house, my children, my husband, my church calling.  So today was the day to pay the piper and get back to reality.  And reality is stressful.

My least favorite part of the day was when my 7 year-old told me she hates me because I insisted she have lettuce on her Subway sandwich.  Nie’s children would never say that to her.

My second least favorite part of the day was looking at my dirty, neglected house and knowing that I had other priorities and that the dirt would have to wait.  But even with all of my valiant attempts to ignore it, the dirt just seemed to taunt me.  Nie’s house is always perfect.

My third least favorite part of the day was the stress that my church calling causes me.  Most active Mormons have some sort of church assignment.  My calling is as the Relief Society President of my ward.  As Mormon women, we’re taught not to complain about our callings, but to do them to the best of our abilities and then bask in the blessings that flow from the service that we render.  That’s all well and good, but sometimes my calling is such a STRESS!  And today was one of those days.  I love my calling.  I really do.  I love the women in my ward and I love the relationships that I’m able to foster with them.  But some days, the weight of the calling can be crushing.  Nie (who also happens to be Mormon) is never crushed by her calling.

But today, in the midst of my failed parenting, my dirty house and my crushing calling, I did something that helped relieve the stress for just a couple of minutes.  I got down on the floor and painted my daughter’s toenails.  (Yes, it was the same daughter from the above lettuce incident.)

In the New Testament, Christ got down on the floor and washed His disciples feet at a time when I’m sure He was under a great deal of stress. More stress than I can imagine in my pathetic little life.  Maybe it brought Him a few minutes of stress relief during that difficult time, like painting my daughter’s toenails brought me today.  I suppose I should do more of that sort of thing.  Then maybe my daughter wouldn’t be so quick to say that she hates me when I do something cruel like make her eat vegetables.

I’m sure Nie’s daughters’ toenails are always painted and, as a result, they eat their veggies without complaining.

What a Teenage Boy Will and Will Not Do for Money

Up until this afternoon, I thought my soon-to-be 14 year-old son Ben would do pretty much anything for money.

Once, during a combined youth/adult sunday school class at church, I whispered in Ben’s ear that I would pay him $1000NT (about $30 U.S.) if he would raise his hand and make an intelligent comment.  It took a total of one nano-second for Ben to raise his hand.  Our bishop called on him immediately, and soon after I handed Ben a $1000NT bill.

Last month, when we were in the Taipei airport waiting for our flight to Bangkok, Ben’s older sister Cecily was mortified to realize that her chemistry teacher and her boyfriend were on our flight (the teacher’s boyfriend, not Cecily’s boyfriend;  Cecily will undoubtedly want me to make that fact very clear).  Cecily could see that her teacher was correcting the exams that the class had taken earlier that week.  I told Ben that I would pay him $500NT (about $15) if he would walk up to the chemistry teacher, introduce himself as Cecily’s brother and ask what grade she got on her test.  To Cecily’s horror, Ben was on his feet before I had a chance to exhale after making the offer.  Ninety seconds later, he was taking a $500NT bill from my hand.

So given Ben’s willingness to do just about anything for money, today I thought I had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.  It was easy money!  So, so easy! This is how it went down: I was in the lobby of the school waiting for Cecily when Ben happened by.  It was just as both the middle and upper schools were letting out and kids were pouring into the lobby.  Ben told me he was STARVING and asked if I would give him some money to go to the snack bar.  I told him that I would give him $100NT (about $3 U.S) if he would kiss me on the cheek — right there, right then.  (So, so easy!)

The look on his face said it all.  He had met his match.  I had found the one thing that he would not do for money.  Kiss his mom in public.

(Cue the evil mom laugh).

Sweet Sixteen

Cecily at the Taipei American School Charity Fashion Show. April 21st, 2012

Spring Break Thailand 2012

Happy Birthday Cecily

A Lesson in Compassion

Two days ago, while making a left hand turn onto a busy boulevard, a scooter basically T-boned my van.  As you can imagine, it was horrible.  When I jumped out of my car, the first thing I saw was a smashed scooter and a young man lying on the road, covered in blood and convulsing.

I felt completely helpless.  Luckily, a number of college students on scooters stopped and I could see that they were calling the Taiwan equivalent of 911.  As the young man came in and out of consciousness, I was unable to ask him if he could hear me, or if he was okay.  All I could do was hold his hand while cars, buses and scooters whizzed past us on the busy street.  Eventually, local police arrived, followed by an ambulance and the foreign affairs police and finally my husband.

After the ambulance left to take the young man to the hospital, and the local police and foreign affairs police wrapped up their investigation at the scene, my husband and I asked the foreign affairs police what we needed to do.  We wanted to be very sensitive to cultural expectations at a time like this, because we understood that they were very different from what would be expected in the U.S.  We were then given a quick lesson in what was expected of us.

The cultural expectations turned out to be a great lesson in compassion for both my husband and me.

First, we followed the foreign affairs police to the hospital.  Once there, we were expected to make sure the injured was stable and express remorse to the family.  When we entered the emergency room, we were immediately introduced to the young man’s parents.  Sobbing through my broken Mandarin, I told the parents that I was very sorry and that I had two sons of my own.  Then, with the foreign affairs police translating, I told the parents how concerned I was for their son.  I told them that, as a mother, all I could think of was my own sons as I held their son’s hand and waited for the ambulance.  Over and over, I expressed my deepest apologies.  I then embraced the mother and sobbed into her ear, “Dui bu qi.”  I’m sorry.

We then waited in the ER for a few hours, until we could see the young man.  It turns out that he is a 19 year-old math major and basketball player at the Chinese Culture University.  As soon as we were able, we went in to see him.  His injuries include a badly broken nose, slight concussion, three broken teeth and a stitched laceration on his forehead.  It is a miracle that these were his only injuries.  I thought he was much worse when we were on the street.

I then expressed to him how sorry I was and that I hoped he had a speedy recovery.  He seemed embarrassed and said that he was okay. (Based on the swelling of his face, he obviously wasn’t, but in typical fashion of a 19 year-old boy , was trying to seem tough.)  The parents then told us that he was stable and that we should go home and get some sleep.  We again expressed our deepest apologies and then left.

We were told that the young man would stay in the hospital for observation for five to seven days.  On the day after the accident, the cultural expectation is that we would bring fruit to the hospital; particularly apples, which represent long life.  Then we were to visit the injured every day until he left the hospital.  Luckily, and again I’ll use the word miraculously, the young man left the hospital the next day.  The family told the U.S. embassy representative who is handling the case that we no longer need to visit them.  They believe that their son will be fine.  I’m relieved that he is doing so well, but I regret not being able to take fruit to him.  I really did want to wish him a “long life” with the representational apples.

When a person is injured in a similar fashion in the U.S., the two parties have basically no contact once the ambulance pulls away.  It is very different here in Taiwan, and as I experienced, much more compassionate.  There is no discussion of who is at fault, who is going to pay or how much insurance the parties have.  The uninjured party shows remorse to both the injured and his family, regardless of who is at fault.  The primary concern is for the welfare of the injured.  After seven days, the police will issue their report and at that point the first discussions of payments and insurance will begin.

It might sound strange, but if I had to go through this horrible experience, I’m glad it occurred in Taiwan and not in the U.S.  I think that America could learn a great lesson in compassion from the Taiwanese.

 

Spring Break 2012 Trailer

This is a quick video from our trip to Thailand.