13 Hours of Rain

Yesterday, I started to type out my family's genealogy, starting at my great-grandparents.  Within two minutes, I was frustrated -- frustrated over the lack of details including the absence of key names, dates and locations. Part of me wanted to give up and exclaim to you two children that, "Sorry, our genealogy begins with just your Nana and Nani. We'll build it from there!" Yet, my desire to continue prevailed, to somehow piece together the scanty details and display some sort of hodgepodge lineage. It seems like a frustratingly daunting task. I will try to complete it somehow. I once asked my parents why they have pathetic records in terms of their own family (I phrased it much more respectful than that). They explained that East-Indians usually don't keep such details, as it is considered intrusive and rude to ask your elders where you came from. Maybe I've become too "Western" but that seems like a ridiculous reason not to disclose your mother...

You become a product of where you live and whom (or what) you love. Yes, nature takes a part in your character development and value placement. But, how you are nurtured, along with the object of your affections, hones who you are. We recently concluded an action packed week with your Mausi*  and her family. The time was sweet and precious. You cousins concocted imaginative adventures. Tummies were fed mostly "Canadian" fare with dollops of ice cream now and then. And us adults played many, many board games while laughing and sharing over chai and chocolate. Your Mausi and her family live in another region of our world, where the climate and food is hot and the culture is more patriarchal than ours. And as I listened to the differences between here and there, and pondered how your Mausi and her family live a life that is quite different than mine, I couldn't help but ask myself, "What 'Western' values are worth holding on to? And what 'Eastern' v...

There are times you may be asked to do something out of your comfort zone. Like attending a baby shower of a friend from another religion. Yesterday, we found ourselves invited to a family celebration. We were the minority on several levels. We were the Christian family with the white husband, the brown wife and the beige children. I try my best to prepare for such events. I have some experience as the daughter of Indian parents, who are now long term citizens of this land. I have attended Indian gatherings in the past, attired in my salwar kameez . I've dusted off my rusty Hindi/Urdu and attempted a few conversations. I've smiled and nodded and indulged in tandoori chicken and gulab jamuns . Yet, in spite of all the ways I had the appearance of belonging, I was giggling inside. While slightly trembling with fright... I so did not fit in. Last night was no exception. (Though as I've aged, I don't tremble as much anymore.) At the whole family baby shower (...

I realize I struggle with silliness. I think it was the way I was raised. Your Nana & Nani's generation and culture followed the norm, "Children should be seen and not heard." This was especially true in the presence of an elder or older guests. As a kid, you didn't talk. You only spoke when spoken to. Otherwise you just listened. Over time, and after being in Canada for a while, our family's dinner table conversations were more interactive and lively. But I don't think I was ever encouraged to be silly. So I catch myself curbing the silliness levels of you, my daughter, which at times is necessary to do. But my shortcoming is that I often want you to be like what I was expected to be, as the eldest daughter of our family: serious, obedient, responsible, proper, demure. I forget that you may very well have a different personality than I did when I was younger. I often -- too often -- forget that you are only six and that you love to live life with ent...

Today I write to promote a National program called Shared Thanksgiving where Canadian citizens open up their homes to share their Thanksgiving Dinner with immigrants or newcomers to Canada. Before I share the details, I would like to share a short story about my family. My parents emigrated from India to Canada in the early 1970’s. Both of them are third generation Christians. I was born in large metropolitan city in central Canada. Six months after my birth, our family moved to the prairies. I spend my elementary years in a small hamlet in the northwest region of our province where the hills roamed, the evergreens soared and crystal lakes pooled. There, my Dad taught Grade 6 at a nearby Indian Reservation. Evangelical churches were hard to come by in this region of the province. It wasn’t until four years later that my parents settled into a warm, hospitable Pentecostal church located in a nearby town. My parents were not Pentecostal by denomination, but it was either that or the C...

I engage in a bit of freelancing. Nothing Pulitzer Prize worthy. I just volunteer my writing services for a local amateur magazine that features the journeys of newcomers to Canada. And I believe I am the lucky one. About 3 – 4 times a year I interview a newcomer. I hear and pen my speaker’s story, full of sacrifice. The goal of relocation to Canada? To achieve a better life, a safer life, a life as a complete family instead of being separated over many miles to make ends meet. One thing I admire about these men and women is that they speak and write and read in multiple languages. Some ignorant Canadians find themselves complaining that they can’t fully understand the often accent laden words of the dark-skinned employee serving them on the other side of the counter. Yes, we should expect a certain level of English proficiency in our country’s employees. However, many immigrants know two, often three, languages. That is to be commended. While here, in prairie suburbia, the majori...

It was a powerful moment. Your cousin shared excerpts of typical teenage drama in front of extended family. People listened with rapt attention. Laughter burst forth at poignant moments. Hushed silence captured the room as wise conclusions were reached about high school romances. Some advice was offered by adults. But mainly, we just wanted to listen. I couldn’t help but step back and return to my childhood. Beginning at Grade 1, I had a crush on a new boy practically every other year until I graduated from high school. Almost all of the boys had blond hair and blue eyes. I never dated any of them publicly or in secret. Dating was frowned upon by your Nana and Nani. While the act of dating was not attributed as wrong, it was deemed unwise, especially as a teenager. Most teenagers are pretty immature when it comes to matters of the heart, so we were strongly advised to avoid infatuations and focus on more pressing priorities. After all, your Nana and Nani believed in appropriate stage...

Yesterday, our family invited newcomers to our home for a traditional Indian meal. I am developing a friendship with the Mrs. through a community parenting group I attend with you. This beautiful, intelligent woman is the coordinator of the program. And she speaks the language of your Nana & Nani. Admittedly, I was anxious as we prepared our home for our guests. Is everything clean? Will the food taste good (I’m still learning the art and science of Indian cuisine)? Will we have enough topics to discuss? Will our tradition of grace before a meal offend them? In spite of the questions and misgivings, I prayed throughout the day that God’s peace would fill our home. Even though I consider myself a hospitable person, I do find cross-cultural hospitality a challenge. That may come as a surprise to you, as I am an ethnic minority in this city. Truth be known, I actually feel more comfortable entertaining Caucasians in our home. After all, I have mostly interacted within the dominant...

In our care group, the conversation went off on a tangent to explore the implications of evangelism. What if that undesirable person walked into our church? What if? Would we be okay with it? Would we accept that person or family with the same grace and love God offers through His son Jesus? Or would we immediately judge them, reform them, and – dare I say – undermine the convicting work of the Holy Spirit by condemning them to an unsavory finality? In addition to these questions, I was also encouraged and affirmed for taking the step of obedience and sharing my words of exhortation with the church the Sunday previous (see On Being a Missionary (Here?) ). What I had to say was challenging and the questions I asked revealed the flawed nature of how the North American church, in general, shares the Gospel of Christ. We equate evangelism with somehow leading a person to attend our church programs instead of leading them to Christ. Deep down inside, we want someone else more qualified to...

Last week, I was in Seoul, South Korea to celebrate the marriage of your Mamu (Uncle on Mother's side) to your new Korean Emo (Aunty). One morning, I found myself typing these words at a local hotel's keyboard as I listened to the distant sounds of a city of over 10 million people outside the window: It is relatively quiet here, as your Mamu lives in a residential area where people mostly come home to sleep. Plus, it is Winter Holidays, so many people have escaped the pace of the city to a more quieter location. This city is typical of the big Asian cities of this region. Modern skyscrapers and ancient architecture. Shiny foreign cars and noisy scooters. Local authentic cuisine and McDonalds. And of course, a language filled with phonemes and inflections and characters unknown to me. I've learned three phrases here: Hello, excuse me, and thank you. If in doubt (or if I just don't know what to say) the Korean thank you stumbles out of my mouth as I bow. Yes, they b...

Okay kids, my last post might have given you (and my readers) the impression that I absolutely, positively hate pets. Not true. Instead, my personal position on pets has changed, for now. And yes, I do understand the numerous reasons why people own fish, cats, dogs or horses. As a little girl, our family had a black mutt-of-a-dog named Pepper. We lived on an acreage in the northern part of our province. It was so not prairie there. We were surrounded by towering pines, pristine lakes, and lush rolling hills. There my parents decided it was wise to own a dog to protect the premises. So Pepper faithfully guarded our home by yipping and barking at almost anything that came by. When we moved to a town approximately 200 km south, we gifted Pepper to trusted neighbors. Your Nana & Nani didn’t think it was appropriate to relocate a freedom-loving, exploring dog to a small fenced yard. I remember the day we packed up the last of our stuff in our red station wagon and drove away from ...

 Major J.D. My dear daughter, you stood bravely in front of your entire school during the Remembrance Day Assembly and spoke these words into the microphone: "This is my Great-Grandfather." Then the Principal of your school proceeded to read about your Great-Grandfather's contributions to both World Wars. War. I have been blessed to live almost four decades without experiencing the loss and agony of war. True, I was born when the Vietnam War was ending. I was a teenager during the Gulf War . And I was an academic when America declared the War on Terror after September 11, 2001. Yet, I've lived in peace in this corner of the prairies. No one in my immediate family has been deployed to fight. Your Daddy's Mennonite heritage includes the right to be a conscientious objector to war. War was not considered an option to global conflicts. Non-violent solutions were preferred. Your Daddy's ancestors have fled countries to avoid being conscripted. ...

It is Halloween. You two kids have been talking about it waaaayyyyy too much, I have to say. Though, I don't blame you. After all, isn't dressing up and eating candy and chips and chocolate and running around in a sugar induced frenzy every kid's fantasy? Your Nana & Nani mildly engaged in Halloween. I think they thought it was kind of bizarre and incredulous that people in this country choose to give away free treats to anyone for just showing up at their door with an open pillow case. Regardless, I have memories of my siblings and I bundling up in our big fat snow suits (because there was usually snow on the ground) and donning on a mask of some animal creature. We'd start trucking through drifts, door to door, with our Daddy's protective presence. We eagerly gathered the chips from the local convenience store owners (they always gave the best stuff). And we said our thank-yous to the neighbor lady five doors down who gave us each an apple, much to our chag...

The month of August has been filled with many family gatherings to celebrate significant events in people’s lives. While my side has fourteen members, your Daddy’s side has more than double the amount. At our most recent gathering, twenty-six individuals (plus three dogs) ranging from age 3 to 85 partook in a meal together at the many tables in and outside the house. It was a good time. I grew up in a more formal household. The formality was partially due to my East-Indian ethnicity as well as the educational background of your Nana and Nani, who were both teachers. As a result, there were big expectations attached to yearly events such as Christmas and birthdays. And there was even bigger expectations placed on those one-in-a-lifetime occasions like a wedding or a significant anniversary. These events tended to be professional, extravagant, and over-the-top (and if you scored a deal while securing gifts, decorations, or food, it was even better). It seemed like it was a matter...

This is your family on your Mother’s side: Thirteen + 1 (soon-to-be*) members gathered together, f-i-n-a-l-l-y , after more than five years. I believe five languages are spoken fluently amongst us. Plus tidbits of others. English is common to us all. Languages fascinate me. English is my preference, of course. I know key phrases in French and I can read a wee bit (your Daddy is much better than me). I can give a taxi driver instructions in Cantonese. I understand Hindi/Urdu (or better described as Hindustani) and, for the most part, can carry on a decent conversation. In the end, I would say I am fluent in 1.5 languages since I cannot read and write the language of your Nana and Nani as I do with the current Roman script (maybe one day, in the next decade?). For the time being, I converse with you two mostly in English and sparodically in Hindi, hoping you will comprehend my inadequate attempt at teaching some aspect of your Indian heritage. And, for the most part, you do. Sometim...

I am encouraged on how God equips us for ministry, even in subtle, somewhat insignificant ways. This last weekend was just that. It all started with God placing me in the right mental space. Kids, you will probably figure out soon enough that I struggle with pure spontaneity. At times I appear spontaneous to others, especially when I burst into a room and suddenly inform your Daddy, "Let's go for ice cream now and then we'll do this and that!" While the idea seems fresh with excitement, it has been thought over for at least a few minutes to assess the feasibility of the adventure. Hardly ever do I act before I think. Anyway, your Nana and Nani had planned to visit last weekend. But due to circumstances beyond their control, the encounter was postponed to a more opportune time. Regardless, I was still in hospitality mode. Sunday morning arrived and I mused to myself, "Wouldn't it be nice to extend a lunch invite to some of my friends? Oh, I have nothing p...

Dear Children, Yesterday, I attended an International Women's event in our city. The Mistress of Ceremonies kindly placed me at a reserved table with several prominent East-Indian women who were either doctors or married to doctors. Here I found myself surrounded by a Gynaecologist, a Pediatrician and a Psychiatric. I, the teacher turned housewife, the woman married to a teacher, the daughter of teachers, felt a little bit out of place. (Teachers are not considered elite in East-Indian society. Doctors, on the other hand, are highly valued.) But I chose to embrace the moment and sit tall. I utilized my sub-standard Hindi/Urdu the best I could (and I was told my words had an accent - oh well). I laughed at the jokes offered, especially since the phrases were so typically Indian. I expressed my joy when I discovered one of the women was from the same city as your Nani. And I was warmed with the general affirmation I received. After all, I have East-Indian ethnicity. In a m...

Inevitably, I get ask, "So, have you returned to work?" My answer, "No, I stay at home with my kids." My response is received with general affirmation and the words, "Good for you." Then, that's it. (Usually.) My current position of homemaker is a basic conversation stopper. Especially among other women. In a few moments, people ascertain my job description: I am the care giver, the cleaner, the cook. Kind of boring, eh? Some days it is difficult to stand in the shadow of my husband. He gets the glory at this stage of life. People want to hear about his stories and adventures as he interacts and educates teenage minds. In comparison, my anecdotes about what my kids said or the exciting new recipe I attempted isn't that noteworthy except to a few close family and friends. At times I struggle with coveting his role as breadwinner. I wish I could engage with other humans on a professional level instead of at the level of goldfish crackers and play...

While the Autumnal Equinox is still days away, the Fall season has begun where I live. The nights are cool and crisp, leaves are embracing colors other than green, and children (along with teachers, of course) are loading backpacks with back-to-school treasures. And I am thankful. There is something comforting about routine. While I enjoy the leisurely pace of long summer days combined with all the natural blessings of being outside, I equally appreciate Autumn when I divert my attention to formally and intentionally educating my children during their stage of preschool. In our household, we have seasonal menus. It isn't anything official, but rather the way I tend to cook. As soon as it is warm enough to sit outside (usually mid-May), our summer menu begins. Our family BBQs (or grills) as much as possible. I rarely use my oven unless I am baking muffins or cookies. For instance, yesterday we prepared Tandoori Chicken Skewers for visiting family and tonight we a...

Last Sunday, I stood in front of our congregation, adorned in a light blue salwar kameez with shimmery silver embroidery, and spoke of my ethnic land, India. I shared the challenges of a couple who are called to minister amongst the North Indian people. I desired to be their voice. I longed to share their passion to see a land come to Christ. Deep down, I prayed, that someone, or maybe two or more, dare I hope, would be INSPIRED to travel across ocean and land to spread the Good News to the land of my forefathers. There are days I wish I could go. There are moments I ache to just sell it all, save a few meager belongings, and travel with my family to serve my people in a land DESPERATE for hope. Yet, I linger, here, in a place of prosperity and wealth that so many of us take for granted. Years past, I seriously explored the possibility of living in a culture different from my own for the sole purpose of making disciples of all nations. I did several short term missio...