Christmas at Casa Cheng

I haven't written anything for several weeks, but as today comes to a close I can't help but wanting to record the simple fun we had this Christmas.

Tim, James' brother is here from Athens, Georgia and my parents came down from Ponca City.  Both arrived Thursday and we have been cooking, eating and merry making since.  Yesterday I baked and cooked most the day, leading up to an early simple supper of Ham and Bean soup and buttermilk biscuits.  Afterwards, my dad read the Christmas Story.  He always wants to use the "Saint James" version to make sure that it is indeed 'swaddling clothes' that Baby Jesus is wrapped in, but we settled for New American Standard - swaddling clothes were still used by Mary - so all was well.  The kids opened one gift each, as well and Uncle Tim and our dear friend and special guest Wei Wei Wang and each were delighted to find a new set of pajamas as we have done every Christmas since they were born.  I give it 'til next year for them to be able to call what's coming.  So far - the jammies are still a remarkable surprise.

We soon headed to church, the kids sporting their new duds.  Candles were provided for the over five crowd and glow sticks for the under aged.  Kate wasn't carded at the basket so she picked a candle instead.  We enjoyed the congregational singing and simple message that proclaimed the truth that Jesus came first as a lowly peasant baby, but next time he will return as reigning King.  Lastly we lit our candles and cracked our glow sticks and sang Silent  Night.  It is a sweet candle lit memory I will treasure in my mind.  Flanked by my favorite ever 5 and 4 year old, with my favorite two year old crawling about on the floor, not able to contain toddler wiggles in 'big church' with a glow stick in semi-darkness, my heart felt very full and quietly content.  This is surely my best Christmas ever.

We headed home to bed and stashed the cherished glow sticks in the freezer to revisit another time.  Bedtime for the little crew and a short film for the grown ups.  We watched a short documentary called "The Star of Bethlehem".  It presents an attorney's search into the cosmos trying to chart and map the night sky surrounding the birth, and then the death of Jesus Christ.  I found it amazing.  It was a worship experience for me.  I am neither a scientist nor a I skeptic, nor do I need scientific "proof" to gird up my faith so I simply enjoyed it, and entertained this man's hypothesis of the goings on in the night sky over two thousand years ago.  The heavens do indeed declare His glory.

This morning I awoke feeling a little giddy.  I quickly brushed my teeth and hair and scooted into the living room only to find the other four adults sitting around in the soft glow of the mantle decorations with inky darkness still on the other side of the sliding glass doors, and the very loud absence of loundness.  The kids were still sleeping.  And they slept.  And slept.  Even past their normal wake-up time.  The suspense was killing me.

Soon enough, Joshua wandered in sleepy-eyed yet cheery and wished us all a "Merry Twistmas!"  He patiently waited for his sisters to wake up.  We wandered to the table and had pancakes, with still no mention of opening presents.  In fact, Joshua asked for a toy that my mom gave him for his third birthday, a year and a half ago, that I keep on the top of my fridge.  They gathered around the tree and fired off long balloons that zipped squealing around the room (the reason I keep it on the top of my fridge) and seemed quite content.  Finally, I suggested we open the presents and suddenly, they remembered the brightly wrapped packages under the tree just behind them.  It thrilled me, their content hearts, their simple appreciation for something old that still gives them joy.  The fact that they wandered out from their bedrooms and enjoyed Christmas morning just being with each other and eating pancakes - not immediately running to the tree first thing and ripping into gifts.  I really like these kids.  I am glad I get to know them more and more and grow with them as their mom.

We took turns opening presents and thoroughly played with each round before tearing into another.  It took a couple of hours.  Then we settled in and watched the movie Curious George from the library.  We moved to lunchtime - grilled cheese and fruit and played a couple of exciting rounds of Zingo! (a kid version of picture Bingo where you gotta grab the tile to cover your card spaces - trimming your finger nails are a prerequisite to getting a game card.)  Then the house transformed into the Napping House and everyone settled in for a snooze.

Dinner prep lazily began around 3.  I made homemade mac and cheese, boiled and smashed red potatoes with the skins on and a sinful amount of butter and heinous amount of garlic, heated half a ham drizzled with honey and studded with cloves, made rice pilaf out of the box, and roasted some brussels sprouts.  We sat down around five o'clock and I so enjoyed watching my husband enjoy the food.  I like cooking for James Cheng.  He really likes good food and never is stingy about offering compliments.  We all made ourselves several plates and loosened our belts to accommodate the feasting.  And then...the post dinner theater began.

Tonight was the first of what I hope to be a yearly performance of the Christmas Story.  After much debate yesterday and today, Joshua conceded that Ellie, although female, could in fact play Baby Jesus.  Kate, of course was Mary and Joshua was Joseph.   I was the Angel and entire heavenly host, my mother opted for the near silent role of the sheep and my Dad the Narrator.  Tim pinched hit for us as Caesar Augusts ("Ok - let;s tax the whole world"), the InnKeeper ("Sorry, no room here") and the Shepherds ("Lets go see the baby").  A man for all seasons for sure.

After Caesar issued the decree for his census, Mary and Joseph disappeared, we thought to "make the loop" around the house in their trek from Nazareth to Bethlehem, but they stayed gone for quite some time.  After the long time already spent designing costumes and adorning ourselves from the dress up bin, we couldn't fathom the long delay.  After calling for them a few times we heard an odd scooting noise coming down the hallway accompanied by giggles.  Around the corner came the three of them, 'Mary', 'Joseph' and 'Baby Jesus'.  Ellie was in the plastic dress up bin which has been emptied of left over costume options and filled with Joshua's brown blanket.  She had been wrapped in a purple play silk and given a long forgotten pacifier.  She was snuggled down in that plastic manger box, seriously playing her role of the newborn King and the other two were grinning from ear to ear with their clever staging of the drama.  I laughed loudly at the surprise.

We moved through the rest of the story, taking no notice that Jesus entered stage right a little before cued.  I enjoyed every moment.  After that we headed back to the table for Pumpkin Roll, what I hope will be something they always crave at holidays that only mama can make just right.  The kids tore into their slices, they can't remember it from last year and I wondered if they would like it.  I guess they did like it, because there is only about two inches left.  And now, after a wild hour of playing "Lion" and "Hide and Seek" with James in the dark with the recycled glow sticks from last night, they are tucked into bed and the house is now quiet again, with the return of the inky blackness just outside the sliding glass doors.

I thank God for this good day.  This sweet, precious time with my kids and family that we love.  I thank Him for the fridge that is full of good leftover food and ingredients for other good things I will make tomorrow for my family,  I am thankful for the heat that is gently blowing out of the vents and the soft glow of pretty decorations on the mantle.  I am thankful for a loving husband who wildly plays with his kids and tenderly corrects and admonishes them in wisdom and fear of the God whose birthday we honor today.  I am so grateful for two parents who have generously cared for and tenderly loved me.  I am grateful for this home, James' job which he truly enjoys. the joy of homeschooling Kate, the fun challenge of having three kids at home with me all day, a church we greatly love and a weekly bible study group I can learn and grow with.  I have many amazing gifts i thank God for today, and none of it was wrapped under the tree this morning.

I am thankful for this simply sweet day, very soon to be a memory, the kids that made it immensely fun and the good God from whose hand it all comes.  sigh*

Merry Christmas.

A Moon for Mama

My mother-in-law, Angie, checked into the hospital for her first round of chemo a little over a week before we arrived in early September.  When I heard the news, I found myself in a state of despair.  We were going to Taiwan to spend time with her, namely for our kids to spend time with her – to store up time and memories should this battle with cancer end in her death.  James and I so wanted to simply do life with her and Baba.  To cook, eat, and talk together, be quiet together, tell stories and laugh together.  When she went into the hospital before we even arrived to begin treatment, we weren’t even sure she would get out at all during our two-month stay in Taiwan.  And children were not allowed to visit the cancer unit.  It seemed hopeless.

We arrived on Friday, September 10^th.  The very next day James and I went to the hospital to see Angie.  She was at her lowest.  I have never seen her so miserable, not wanting to be touched, or even talked to.  Her eyes were yellowed and streaked with red vessels.  When I held out my arms to her as I leaned over the railing she instead offered to touch my palm with her right index finger, she hurt too badly to even be touched.  I could see that she had gone inward, so great was the pain and despair of the treatment at that moment.  We stayed only a few minutes and when we left I felt my heart shrivel and die within my chest.  And here we were for two months in Taiwan.  Two months to come and be so close – yet still be so far away.  “Ok, God.  This is ridiculous.  Why am I even here?” I thought. “We came all this way…for what?”  I imagined the whole two months to be this way.

Tim, James’ brother arrived on the 15^th, the following Wednesday, and his sister Lois, her husband Frank and their new baby Grace (four and a half months at the time) arrived the following Saturday night.  We began to settle in for a two-week reunion that I have come, over the past ten years of being a Cheng, to call “ChengFest” anytime it occurs.  This time ChengFest was on location in a foreign country and the guest of honor was still a half hour away and not even able to be hugged.

Every day we saw her after that first Saturday, Angie got a little bit better.  Her hair had begun to slowly fall out, but each day she was able to eat a little bit more.  When I went for a second visit a week after my first one, she was able to get out of bed unassisted to sit and talk.  She was more herself – and my spirits lifted a bit.  A few days later she was able to come home to the apartment, welcomed by an anxiously waiting, houseful of Chengs – and ChengFest kicked into high gear – for the Mama of the house had arrived!  It seemed miraculous!  And indeed it was.

She walked in the door Friday afternoon, September 24^th.  My two smaller kids were napping, so we had time to sit on the couch and talk.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.  Here she was, in the apartment I was afraid she would not return to the whole time we were here to see her.  Two weeks after we arrived, she sat next to my daughter on the couch and told us a story with a smile on her soft face.  It is a story I will keep telling my children, long after she is gone, whether it be sooner or later.  It is a love story, a tale of the love of a Father for even the smallest concerns of the heart of His daughter.  The story of how He held the moon for her in her window to show her His love.

The Mid-Autumn festival has been celebrated for generations in Chinese culture.  It takes place on the 15^th day of the eighth moon every year, usually falling sometime between mid September and mid October.  It is a harvest festival, celebrating the bounty of the earth: fruits, vegetables and grains.  I guess it is sort of akin to our Thanksgiving – minus the Turkey.  Two things have become sort of quintessential to the celebration of the full moon: an abundance of pomelos – a soft green, pear shaped, mildly-sweet grapefruity kind of thing, and a sort of little fruit filled cake called moon cakes.

Angie shared that she has always preferred the treat of pomelo to the little cakes.  She would choose a tray for fresh fruit over a box of pastries any day.  But being in the hospital for treatment for leukemia meant that fresh fruit was not an option this New Moon festival.  Moon cakes were in abundance, but the fruit was off limits.

After being in the hospital over a month, she felt more than a little despair as the festival approached and she suffered from a few days of low-grade fever.  To a healthy person, this type of fever would not be anything to fret over, but to a leukemia patient, any fever at all can result in serious complications and more than a little pain and discomfort.  There was even a moment she lifted her hands in surrender to God and hoped for the misery to end, to be taken home, so great was her suffering.  The new moon arrived and her despair deepened.  For years as a girl she enjoyed eating her fill of the sweet citrusy pomelo fruit, but this year, the first she had been back in her homeland for over 35 years, she would not enjoy the festival in the way she fondly remembered.  Nothing was ‘right’ as it should be.  Everything seemed upside down and out of place.  She felt a deep sadness and loss.  Despair.  It was too much.

Early in the afternoon on the 22^nd she fell asleep after a round of antibiotics chased by Benadryl to ease the allergic reaction she’d been experiencing.  She fell into a deep sleep and slept all through the afternoon and deep into the night.  In the darkest part of the night, she awoke suddenly, completly calm and fever free, fully rested and full of peace.  Everything seemed to be set right, and she slowly opened her eyes.

There it was.  The full moon.  She described it as being “like a perfect picture taken for a calendar, even more beautiful than you can imagine.  My Father had hung it right in my window, just for me to enjoy.”  It was there waiting for her, the full moon on the night of the festival.  She might not be able to celebrate with fresh pomelos, but there in the dark of Chang Gung Memorial Hospital in Taipei Taiwan, she felt very special, very much seen and cherished by God, her Father.  He had delivered the moon to her and woken her up in the darkness of night to enjoy it with her.  She felt rested and full – just like the moon.  Her faith renewed, she sat it in the silence of the dark hospital room and watched it rise and descend from one corner of her window to the opposite one.  As the last sliver of the big alabaster moon disappeared from view she settled back into a peaceful sleep and woke up to a new day.  A festival day.  She had been bathed in the bright glow of her Father’s care and she was peaceful and hopeful again.  And there she was, four days later, sitting on the couch, and telling me with a brightly lit face of the moon, hung for her that night, that gave her hope and left no doubt in her mind that she was indeed seen, loved, and cared for by God.

Yesterday, after one full month of living here at home with us, Angie went back into the hospital.  One month of waking up knowing she was upstairs, and spending most days watching her watch my children.  A month of hearing her laugh at the antics of my kids, seeing her snicker into her sleeve in silent admiration of their willful disobedience and marvel at their quirky individuality.  A month of enjoying her cooking – the way she has always shown love – and sitting near her on the couch.  I have been her SheeFu for a decade now, but in this time we have had together here in Taipei, I think we have truly become friends.  We have laughed at the similarities of our husbands, father and son, and enjoyed knowing we share common struggles, a generation apart, yet the same day-to-day issues.  I know her more.  I love her more.  We have had four weeks of simple living: sleeping, cooking, eating, laundry and cleaning.  But all those simple things have been done under the same roof.  It has been a gift.

Each day we woke up wondering if it would be the last she had at home with us.  It turns out that yesterday was the last one from which I would wake up with her upstairs.  When she received the phone call from the hospital, her forehead wrinkled with concern because the bed that had come open was one in a three-person room – the only thing she had hoped would not happen.  We had prayed for a private room or at most a two-person room, but the three-person room seemed too much to bear during the next round of treatment.  As the morning went on I saw her tension mount and a few phone calls were made to see if anything could be re-arranged.  Nothing could change the assignment and it was either go in that day or lose her spot and go to the bottom of the list.  I saw her submit as we did the lunch dishes together.  “Besides,” she said as she rinsed a dish, “If God hung the moon for me in my hospital room window, how can I doubt His care for me?”  Her tension melted as the soap washed down the drain and it was settled.  She was going in.  Submitting herself again into the trust of a Father whose eyes had never left her, she packed up and went in for the next round of treatment.

After all, He had held the moon.  

The Rise of The SheeFu

If I were to pick an alter ego or a closet super hero identity, I would name myself SheeFu.  Or perhaps THE SheeFu.  The “the” at the beginning gives it a little extra oomph.  Before I married James Cheng I was simply Kristin.  No longer.  In addition to being James’ wife ("Tai Tai" - such a weak sounding word) I have been, for the last ten years a daughter-in-law to Asian in-laws, thus also becoming The SheeFu. 

For years I didn’t really embrace my identity as The SheeFu.  I only knew that when I heard it at the dinner table in sing-songy Mandarin, I was being talked about.  I would prickle on the inside, grumbling in my heart, “You know, I am NOT just your daughter-in-law.  I HAVE a name.  I am a PERSON - not just the WIFE of your SON.”  But I suppose being James’ wife was the defining characteristic of me to them.  So, The SheeFu I remained.  This SheeFu wasn’t any match for Dynasties of Chinese tradition that requires very specific generational and positional titles for each gender of each side of the family.  Everybody gotta know exactly WHO you are to them.  Historically, position determines worth. 

Over the past ten years I have been The SheeFu, I have learned to navigate my Chinese side of the family quite well.  I have learned that I am pretty good at “pie ma pee” (stroking the donkey’s butt) read: appeasing or manipulating one in authority over you in order to work things in your general direction, or brown nosing, but with a clever strength or shrewdness on your side.  I finally gave in my five to seven year strike of refusing to call my father-in-law “Dad” (I clearly informed him about a week after we got married that I do in fact already HAVE a very nice father, and do not need another.  It did not go over very well, so I stubbornly dug in and avoided referring to him as anything at all for about half a decade.)  Finally, I settled for “Baba” instead which sounds less like “Dad” to me and more like the title of some tribal witch doctor, or Asian Father Christmas.  Perhaps I could get away with calling him the Big Kahuna instead.  Anyways, I have settled into this idea of being a sheefu, and now envision it instead of a crunchy archaic title given to thousands of generations of Asian daughter-in-laws, to be my personal identity written with a capital “S”, and the name of a super tough, super smart, super daring, super chic, super hero.  And my super suit would be teal and purple.  To my knowledge teal and purple are still up for grabs in the super hero arena.  Thus the evolution and rise of The SheeFu in my mind.

Anyways.  My role as super hero SheeFu has recently resulted in my being temporarily relocated to Taipei Taiwan.  After my mother-in-law’s recent diagnosis of myelodysplastic syndrome that converted quite quickly to full blown Acute Myeloid Leukemia, I realized just how much I love being her sheefu.  My affection for Roland and Angie has in fact grown into something real and deep apart from me trying to work it – or just make it work - for the sake of my husband and the relationship of my kids with their grandparents who are generally on the other side of the world from where I normally reside.  By His grace, God has grown this in my heart slowly over time.  I truly love them and have embraced my role as The SheeFu. 

As a result of the diagnosis in mid-July The SheeFu, in collaboration with her partner GomPaullo (Cantonese for “The Golden Pineapple” – as in precious firstborn son James Jarray Cheng – his super suit would not be NEARLY as cool as mine and DEFINITELY not purple and teal), kicked their super powers into high gear resulting in five new passports, packing up three kids under five, lesson plans and homeschooling gear for two months for the Kindergartner and whatever other things they thought might be useful for entertaining the offspring in an apartment during the rainy season into no less than seven checked bags and five large carry-ons and caught the first available flight to Formosa after the visas came through.  The Cheng Five arrived in Taipei Taiwan on the 10th of September and settled in for two months to be with Roland and Angie, a.k.a Mama and Baba.  And here is where our story begins…

General Information on where on earth are James and Kristin Cheng

Usually I live in Oklahoma with my husband of ten years, James, and our three kids.  For the next two months I am living in Taipei Taiwan.  We arrived here on September 10th and will return home on November 10th.  Two months.  We came to spend time with James' mom, Angie.  She was diagnosed with a pretty aggressive type of leukemia in mid-July.  The only hope of 'cure' is a bone marrow transplant after several rounds of chemo.  The chances of surviving 5 years is 15-30%.  We are praying for a complete recovery, but very aware that unless God miraculously intervenes, the time is very short.  The last two months of our lives have centered around 'the diagnosis'.  The big D, and I don't mean Dallas.

It is amazing to look back and see what all has happened over the last two months.  I didn't even get around to writing a Christmas letter last year because I wasn't sure there was anything 'of interest' to report, and now I am finally hoping to use this blog I set up long ago.  There are so many things I feel I want and need to put in writing and reflect on.  Right now, having 'nothing of interest to report' seems like a nice trade.  For the next two weeks, James' brother, Tim, his sister, Lois and her husband, Frank and baby Grace (4 months) will all be staying in Roland and Angie's apartment in Taipei.  I won't lie to you, it is like summer camp.  I never did well at summer camp.  At least there are not community showers.  We are all in here on top of each other and the first day everyone was here - a Typhoon blew in.  I have never experienced and Typhoon or Hurricane as we call them in the states, let's just say I am pretty sure I would trade a slam-bam evening of tornado activity and hiding for a few moments in a closet any day for the 24 plus hours of gale-force wind and sometimes horizontally blowing rain wildly howling about our 11th floor apartment.  I swear, I think the building was swaying.  It was maddening to say the least.  And in case you are interested, on Taiwanese television there was still the weather person in a bright yellow rain slicker standing in the onslaught hanging on to the microphone and a telephone pole for dear life trying not to be blown away as they reported about just how bad the storm was and how stupid it would be to be out in it.  Made me feel oddly at home.


Our daily routine consists of meals together and a daily entourage of folks to visit Angie in the hospital.  Today, James and I are caring for the kids (as it should be, 3/4 of them belong to us) and the rest are visiting Angie.  When I saw her last, her hair was beginning to sprinkle down all over her shoulders.  I wonder how much will be gone next time I see her.  Perhaps the boys should shave their heads in support.  I wish I were selfless enough to do the same.  I have never been so close to anyone with cancer before.  You hear of it all the time, and your heart is wrenched for friends around you and their loved ones.  But this is just so close, so personal.  And I don't think I could ever understand until it happened to my 'mama' Angie.  She is very dear to me.  My sorrow is often overwhelming and affects me in weird ways.

So - from Camp Cheng - signing off until another day.  And boy, do I have a story to tell you of my day yesterday.  A kitchen cooking disaster.  But it needs to rest a few more days until it is ripe enough to be funny.  Just right now it is too fresh, I might cry all over again.  Yes, the She-Fu (daughter-in-law) is not so at home in an Asian kitchen with an aisle the size of a coffin.  I'll just throw that out there to make you wonder...