Heart Eyes and Feet

I don't post about my faith for the most part. If you know me, you know how imperfect I am and how many things I do that don't match up to what people might expect from a Christian. Just bear with me, though, I have something that I need to share that is punching me very hard right now. Today's sermon given by guest speaker Tae Shin, really convicted me that I needed to post. He spoke about Psalm 131:1. This is the verse from the New International Version of the Bible:
¹ My heart is not proud, Lord,
    my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
    or things too wonderful for me.

Pastor Shin's point was that while on the way to Jerusalem, on the way up the hill, King David sang this song of "pre-worship" stating that his heart was not proud, his eyes were not looking down on others, and his feet were focused on getting to worship and not concerned about other things. Pastor Shin's point was that King David was praising and worshiping God on the way to worship. It reminded me of the verse our MOPS president had shared at last week's steering meeting, 1 Chronicles 16:10:
¹⁰ Glory in his holy name;
    let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice.
  
What struck me, what I felt God was telling me, was that I need to look at my life and thank him. THANK him for my body. If you have seen me at any point this past week, you will know why this has been difficult for me. I could barely walk because of a personal training session last Saturday that was more akin to an hour of boot camp. Given that the personal trainer was an Army Ranger for 15 years, I think that was his intention. My legs wouldn't work properly and it was not until Wednesday that I could walk in a somewhat straight line. I felt pain all over my body. Of course, most of this pain was my own fault since I wanted to prove to him that this overweight, out-of-shape body could handle it. My pride as a past NCAA college athlete and marathon runner made it impossible for me to tell him that I couldn't handle the weights with which he had me work.

The verse from my MOPS president and watching CNN yesterday at the gym while I tortured myself even more came together with Pastor Shin's message today to strike me like a blow to the face. I need to be thankful for my body, as broken as it is, because this body is ALIVE. Trayvon Martin is dead. A young man who had been talking with his friend a few minutes before his death is no longer in this world to feel whether his body is in pain or not. So I need to be grateful. For this chance to make my body stronger, for the fact that I get to wake up in the morning, for God who gives me everything that I need when I need it.

I'm sure you didn't think that was where this post was going. But I have been screaming on the inside ever since I heard about the verdict because it just doesn't make any sense to me. How can GZ (I don't even want to give power to that man by writing his name) be NOT GUILTY? Trayvon Martin was not perfect, but GZ had no right to take his life. If you think your life is in danger and you happen to have a gun, why not shoot someone in the leg or the arm? Why do you shoot to kill? 

I'm going to follow up this post with another one addressing why I think the legal issues have been screwed up in this case. Can we continue to do nothing and let the kind of fear that killed Trayvon Martin run rampant? My Heart Eyes and Feet need to do something about it. I thank God for my body and my brain and my ability to take action. I praise God for the pain I feel because it helped me realize how great it is that I can feel pain. I wish Trayvon Martin could feel this pain.

In Memoriam for my cousin Shin Dong-gi

These past two weeks have been especially tough emotionally. I found out the Saturday before last that my younger male cousin Dong-gi had been killed in a car accident in Korea. When someone you love is gone without any warning, it is very difficult to process the information. For many days I alternated between denial and grief. If I just pretended it wasn't real, then I wouldn't have to be an emotional wreck. Like I did when my grandmother died, I acted as if I were the Dread Pirate Roberts and I would throw my mind during the torture sessions. Since I didn't actually see my cousin die or go to his funeral, I could pretend that he was alive and well in Korea.

Of course, I had to tell people to explain why I was being especially flaky or crying suddenly in the middle of an activity. (One friend even asked if my eyes were so bloodshot and swollen because I had fought with Stewart) A close friend who also had experienced the death of a cousin said that one of the things that her aunt and uncle appreciated were heartfelt letters about her cousin. I had been thinking about it since my uncle and aunt were not ready to speak to anyone on the phone. Her telling me this gave me the nudge I needed to go through with it. Why was it so hard? First because my Korean is bad. I left Korea when I was five, and so my reading and writing is basically what a kindergartener can do. But mostly because, if I wrote the letter, I knew I would have to admit that Dong-gi being gone is a reality. As I wrote the letter I had many different thoughts running through my head. I couldn't express them all in Korean, so here I am throwing it out to the world through my tiny footprint in the blogosphere.

If you know anything about Korean dramas, then you know that the way they broadcast episodes is very different from the way American TV works. Most of the time, an episode can literally be finished being shot a couple of hours before it is broadcast and is edited up to the minute of broadcasting. That is why, when a drama is under production, life can be hell for everyone involved, from the actors to the professionals working behind the cameras. My cousin was a PD (a producing director if you aren't into Kdrama) for the drama War of Flowers. He was so busy, he couldn't visit my uncle when it was Parents' Day in Korea. He finally got the chance to go down to Masan (where my cousins and I were born) the weekend of May 18th. Because he had to be on set to film early on May 20th, he left Masan (six hours drive from Seoul) late in the evening on May 19th. He had driven because that was the only way he could get down there and back in the shortest time possible, while maximizing time at home. At 2 AM on May 20th, a couple of hours away from Seoul, he was killed instantly when he hit a truck.

Part of me was angry because the way the drama industry is set up in Korea is so ruthless and crazy. Why can't they do it like they do it in the US where they shoot an episode weeks in advance? Why does the timing have to come down to the final minutes before broadcast? Working under pressure can produce great work, but it also encourages the people working in that industry to make bad choices in order to have an iota of personal time. Over the past ten days, I've come to realize I can't blame the industry. To do that would be disrespecting my cousin, who had made the commitment to work as a PD. It had been his dream from childhood to work in broadcasting. If you can imagine how fiercely competitive the L.A. TV scene can be, multiply that a hundredfold and you might get a sense of what it meant that my cousin had "made it" as a PD in Korea. The U.S. has the network stations and cable--potentially hundreds of channels for which to produce work. Korea has three major stations and a couple of cable stations. Our entire family had been proud of him for building his reputation within that community and finding better and better work since he started on God of Study.

So we mourn the potential of his life. At 30, Dong-gi had so much more to do, so much more to live. He still had to get married and have kids and share all of that with his brother Dong-yeob. The Korean tradition is that all males in the same line, in the same generation share one character in their name. My uncle is Sang-sik and his brother (my other uncle) is Myung-sik. Their cousins are Bum-sik, Hyun-sik, and Woo-sik. My uncle Myung-sik has a son named Dong-hoon. The plethora of Korean names just to emphasize how much a man shares with his male relatives (the sexism of this being ignored for this post), that they are entwined with his very identity. I don't think I can even explain this well, but the fact that there were two Shin-dongs in that family line and now there are one, it tears my heart apart. When I think about how much Dong-yeob has lost, I am so worried that this will push him into ruination. How can there be one Shin-dong?

Maybe it seems strange that I am feeling this death so intensely. After all, I did leave Korea before Dong-gi was born and I didn't keep in contact with him regularly. But because I didn't have any brothers I always felt a special connection with Dong-gi and Dong-yeob, especially since they were the sons of my mom's twin brother. Whenever I went to Korea to visit my grandparents, it would be for several weeks and even months that I would spend 24/7 with them because my uncle and his family lived with my grandparents. We went all over Masan and Korea together, with our grandparents and our uncle when we were younger, and then when we were older, just the three of us or with our older cousins. Here in the US, we had no relatives growing up, so when I would go back to Korea, I would just revel in the closeness and love. Not having to explain myself or be self conscious or worried about acceptance--I cherished every minute of that family life whenever I went back to Korea. So of course, Dong-gi was a part of those memories that I held most dearly in my heart.

Dong-gi and Dong-yeob called me "noona," the Korean term for older sister. Unlike in the US, in Korea being an older person means something. The younger person has to respect you and listen to you. My own younger sisters had ceased to call me "unni" (older sister) decades ago but Dong-gi and Dong-yeob called me noona. I can still hear Dong-gi's voice in my head saying noona-yah. 눈물이 쏟아 나오고 있어.

So I cry for Dong-gi, for Dong-yeob, for myself, for my uncle and sookmo. I look at my second son (Dong-gi was the younger brother) and I think how I would be completely destroyed if anything happened to him and I cry again. I cry because there is one less person in this world that has had a commonality of experience, of family, of history with me. I watched a movie in the theater with my grandmother once in my life and Dong-gi had been there. There is no one left to remember that with me. My love of Korean pop music started when Dong-gi and Dong-yub sang to me when I visited Korea for the first time since immigrating. Dong-gi, Bum-sik and I went to have tong-dak when I went to Korea for my bar trip. Now there is no one to whom I can say, remember that time we had tong-dak before Bum-sik had to flee the country and go live in Manila because his stepmother took out loans in his name with loan sharks? Dong-gi was the only cousin who was there with Stewart, H and I when we went to visit my grandparents when H was 14 months old. Dong-gi saw H singing and dancing and bringing joy to my grandmother who was in immense pain from the cancer that would end her life three months later.  

As cathartic as writing the letter to my uncle and this post have been, I know that there is no end to the grieving process until I can go to Korea and sit with Dong-yeob and remember Dong-gi for all the goodness that was him. Dong-gi, to say you are sorely missed can't even describe what you meant to so many people. Anyone who knew you, knew your quiet strength. You were kind and sweet and funny and all kinds of awesome.

I wrote this post for myself mostly, to try and make some of my thoughts into coherent sentences. But of course, that is hampered by the fact that I knew Dong-gi in Korean, so much of what and how I think about him is in Korean, which doesn't always translate. I must live better, to make my life worth more, to appreciate the time that I have. God, please help me live better.
  

Bay to Breakers Participant Missing

I received this email today. If you were there on Sunday and saw something, please call the police:

To all participants of Bay to Breakers 2013:
As you may have seen on the local news, Beau Rasmussen disappeared on Sunday, May 19.  He broke away from his group of friends around 12 noon at 30^th and JFK at Golden Gate Park.  Beau was headed to Ocean Beach with intentions to meet back up with his friends.  Beau never returned to the meeting point and a passerby on the beach found his clothing, cell phone, passport later Sunday evening. 
The family is asking for your help with any information of seeing Beau or if you might have any photos or videos with Beau in the background. 

If you have any information, please call the Emeryville Police:  510-596-3700
 A community search will take place on Saturday, May 25 at 9am. 
Information below:
Please arrive between 7:30-8:30 for registration & assignments

Bedford Hall at St. Gabriel School2550 41st Ave  (Corner of Ulloa St and 41st ave)
Questions about the search: 415-926-1304Find.BeauR@gmail.comhttps://www.facebook.com/FindBeauRasmussen

More Random Thoughts from Bay to Breakers

When I was making my way down Hayes Street Hill, I noticed a house that had a large screen TV on display. It was broadcasting the feed from that house party's Facebook page. I guess the runners wouldn't be able to read it but the people who were walking could catch the messages. I wonder what the people in that house wanted, for participants to check in at the party and post to their wall? What exactly was the point? To show how socially savvy they were? At the pace I was going, I knew I couldn't post anything to FB, too many buttons involved! I had a hard enough time taking photos. I tried to get one of the ladies doing Taiko on the course in the park but all I could get was a blurry mess.

Because it was so hard to take photos, I found myself thinking, I wish I had something like Google Glass. I bet that's not why billions went into designing that device. But the fact that I honestly had that thought and the FB feed I saw made me think about how much technology has become integrated with our consciousness. I bet no one thought twice about the FB TV on the street. Which made me think, with all this technology, it's amazing that people are still willing to use their feet to run for miles. Running 7 1/2 miles isn't about exercise, it's about being part of an amazing experience with other people. People still crave social interaction, it's not enough just to be engaged in social media! Thank God for that, otherwise, I think we would become like the people in pods in the Matrix, not because AI puts us in there, but doing it to ourselves.

There was a man there that had been a tree in Bay to Breakers for 40 years. He's become an institution now, a landmark for other runners to judge where they are in the race. There were a bunch of runners with "Run Forest Run" on the back of their shirts, and I imagined them to be his disciples (Yes, I know the reference to Forest Gump). It was great seeing him at the finish. I was worried he might have a heart attack. I could tell he was struggling up the hill. But something pushed him to go forward. The tree couldn't fall in the middle of the forest because everyone was watching!

The only thing disappointing was the afterparty. I guess race organizers thought it was pretty much unnecessary since most of the participants party along the way. But for people who actually ran the entire way, it was disappointing that there wasn't more support. Every race I've run (and I've run probably close to a hundred), they always give you something at the end to help you recover. A banana, a bagel, something other than a bottle of water. I guess they've heard the complaints before because I overheard someone say that the handful of food trucks at the end of the street was something new this year. Why did they think anyone would want to eat curry bread at 8:30 in the morning? I love curry bread, but it's not my go-to food at the end of running a race. It was a good thing I had a pack of Honey Stinger chews in my Gu pouch to mollify the growling in my stomach. I'm a huge fan, by the way. I think they taste a lot better than the Cliff Bar Shot Bloks, and no hidden caffeine!

I did get hit in the head with a tortilla at the start of the race. I just don't get what that's about. It is such a waste of food. Some traditions shouldn't continue just for the sake of being tradition. What race should I run next? I've offered free media admission into a Spartan race, but the photos of the contestants on the website are really scary. They make me think of concentration camp victims. I guess I'll have to think about that another day--time to get R ready for T-ball! That ends the non sequitur thoughts for the day.

Bay to Breakers 2013

Salmon swimming downstream

 It's a very strange phenomenon when your husband places you in a herd of naked men running for their lives. Let me back up. Stewart grew up in the Bay Area. He left to go to West Point, was stationed all over the world, and went to Harvard Business School after being honorably discharged as a Captain. After having been everywhere, he decided the Bay Area was the best place to raise a family. So his goal from the very beginning of our marriage was to get back to CA and then to the San Francisco Bay. This might make one believe that he knew all about the Bay Area--the history, the traditions, etc etc.

A Nun, a Priest and a Rabbi walk into a bar-OUCH

When we moved here from LA a couple of years ago, Stewart told me about this great race where you get to run over the Golden Gate Bridge. He said people wear costumes like they do in the NYC Marathon and it is a really great time. So early this year, I signed up for this race that Stewart claimed began in SF and ended up in Marin County. What was the name of this race? The Bay to Breakers. I didn't really think about it much but as the race date got closer and I told people I would be running this race, it became apparent from people's reactions that there was something that just wasn't quite right. Some people would say, "really, that's very brave of you." And after the Boston Marathon, when I told people I was worried about the race because the bridge was such an obvious target, they just looked at me like they thought I was missing a few marbles. So I went to the internets and the veil was lifted from my eyes. Instead of a race with incredible views from the Golden Gate Bridge, I had signed up for drunken debauchery, complete with a view of naked men running through the streets!

TREE! In case you don't see the sign, he's run in the Boston Marathon

After I told Stewart what the race was really about, he said I couldn't put the blame squarely on him since I didn't do the research. This wasn't the first time he was wrong about something in the Bay Area, so I shouldn't have blindly believed what he told me. As a lawyer, I should have done my diligence. Yes, it was my fault for trusting the man to whom I had pledged eternal love and devotion. Nice one. To be fair, he did offer to run it for me.

This was a week ago. I started to panic. I didn't want to run by myself in a sea of drunken, potentially naked people. I asked a few friends but then it came to me like a bullet between the eyes. I needed Carol there. Carol was my roommate during my investment banking years. Any female banker, past or present, knows how to hold her own with a crowd of drunken men. Carol is also active enough that I knew I could ask her to run a 12K with no training and she would be able to handle it. And she lives in SF! I emailed her early in the week and, the awesome friend that she is, she changed her weekend camping plans to sign up for the race with me! Thank you Carol!!!!

Had to get Darth Vader

Carol had run B2B before so she knew about the costume aspect of it and wanted to participate. Since she was nice enough to run with me, I thought it would be great if I got into the spirit of things to wear a costume as well. I sent out an SOS to my MOPS group and they came through for me. I picked up the costume on Thursday. It was labeled adult, but I should have known that didn't really mean one size fits all. Sunday morning, I stuffed myself into the purple witch's costume over two other layers and went to the start line. Carol was dressed like a blue character from X-Men, I thought. A witch and a supervillian--we were ready for drama.

Thanks to having a friend there, I was able to run the race with more confidence. We did walk up the upper half of the hill, but the rest of the way we ran. Considering the longest I had run in the past couple of years was 3.5 miles, this was great. The run went really quickly and if I needed a boost I would play Eye of the Tiger again from my playlist. If you've been looking for a running app, by the way, Runkeeper is a great one! I clocked in at the finish three minutes under my goal of 1:30 (I just checked and my actual time was 1:24:53). We saw the Breakers! And Stewart, they are not in Marin County.

Breakers behind us at the end

I was going to take the muni back but I couldn't find it so made the call to the second number written in sharpie on my arm. I walked back to the south side of the park so it would be easier for my friend EY to pick me up. We had a fabulous Manhattan-type brunch at Mission Beach Cafe (I was so hungry I forgot to take a photo of my food!) and then picked up some pastries for Stewart and the kids at Thorough Bread and Bakery (restaurant links included because they are so good and I want you to go there!). Did I mention that Stewart and the kids were waiting for me back at the hotel? There was no way that I was going to get up at 4 AM to take the Bart to SF, so we had spent the night close to the start of the course. I made it back, cleaned up the disaster of a hotel room, and walked to the minivan to drive back to our life in suburbia. Originally we had planned to take the kids to Fisherman's Wharf this afternoon, but I just couldn't muster up the energy. The kids were happy with a banana split from the Ghirardelli on Market Street instead of in Ghirardelli Square, and we were on our way. I told Stewart he should run the race next year--the view from the Golden Gate Bridge is magnificent!

May Fourth Free Comic Book Day

 H and R love comic books. In any given room of our house you'll find classics like Calvin and Hobbes, Garfield, and Sonic and more recent ones like G-Man. This morning I gave H the copy of Superman: Last Son of Krypton #1 that will be given out free tomorrow in comic book shops across the nation as part of Free Comic Book Day 2013. This book is part of the June 14th launch of Superman Unchained, the new monthly series created by comic legends Scott Snyder and Jim Lee.

H was really excited to get the Superman comic. Of course, he was Superman for Halloween two years ago so that is definitely one of his favorite super heroes. The other is Batman, which is what he was for Halloween when he was 4 years old and then again at 6. So he was over the moon when I gave him the other comic book I received from DC Comics-DC Nation Super Sampler #1, which contains a sneak peak at two sensational series from the DC Kids line--Beware the Batman and Teen Titans Go! This second one was more appropriate for his reading level and includes two all-new stories for readers of all ages, based on new animated series coming to Cartoon Network's Saturday morning programming.

I will spare you the details of R and H fighting over the comics, but I will tell you that H immediately went downstairs and put on his Batman cape. I was worried he was going to school with it since he left that way with Stewart who was dropping him off at school. Luckily, I found it on the driveway when I went outside later today. I know there are a lot of books out there other than comic books, but if it gets kids reading, then I think it's a good thing. R wanted to read the comics so he sounded out the words starting at age 4.  They run to the Sunday paper to grab the comic section. I like the fact that they are registering that things like print newspapers still exist. 

I received these comics for free from DC Comics and so can you! For more on Free Comic Book Day, including a list of other titles and participating locations, please visit www.freecomicbookday.com. There is a video of Wolverine explaining what the day is all about, need I say more? Have fun!

From Left to Write: Afterwards

I return to the Blogosphere with an account of Princess E's trip to the ER last week. She has been unlucky the past few months with one cold after another. She had a lingering cough that would act up at night time. Last Tuesday she started coughing during the day. She was wheezing audibly by 6 PM, at which point I called Kaiser. To give you some background, this wasn't my first trip to the rodeo. H had cold-induced asthma as a toddler. R had croup which was so severe he needed to be hospitalized. That is why we own a nebulizer and have facemasks and cords bulging out of our medicine cabinet. Because of our previous experiences with the kids, I, in all my medical wisdom, decided I would ask Kaiser for a prescription for albuterol so Princess E could have a breathing treatment. The nurse listened but ultimately denied my request and told me I should take my daughter to the ER if she got worse.

Two hours later, Princess E was wheezing even more and then threw up violently after I tried to brush her teeth. I figured that meant she was "worse." I drove her to the Santa Clara Kaiser ER even though there was another Kaiser ER 10 min from my house. Stewart and I each had had bad experiences with the closer Kaiser ER and I thought driving to the one in Santa Clara would assure us of a better experience. Ummm, not! The same intake doctor who had been at the closer hospital ER was now at the Santa Clara Kaiser, whaaaat! He didn't seem to think that Princess E was in serious condition so stuck us in the exam room/supply closet. It was very strange. Doctors and nurses would walk in to get supplies while we were waiting for the exam doctor. Maybe they felt bad about this, but all of them felt like they had to pat Princess E's head or squeeze her foot. Hey doctor, why are you touching my kid without sanitizing your hands??????

Finally the exam doctor comes to examine Princess E and says what she needs is a breathing treatment (yeah,
really?). They also order a chest X-ray to rule out pneumonia since she has been sick for so long. Almost immediately after the breathing treatment, Princess E is breathing better. I really don't see why they needed to make us go to the ER when they could have ordered a prescription for her for the exact same thing. Since albuterol is not a harsh drug by any means, letting her have the treatment at home and then having us follow up with her pediatrician the next day would've made more sense to me. All clear on the X-ray, by the way.

Being in the hospital with Princess E made me think of Grace, the main character in the novel Afterwards that I had just read for the From Left to Write book club. Grace thought she knew what was the best for her daughter and (I don't want to spoil it for you so I'll be vague) engineered it medically so that what she wanted for her daughter would be done by the doctors. Grace knew what her daughter needed and made sure she got it. In hindsight I feel like I should have been more insistent with the Kaiser nurse on the phone to get the albuterol, and if she had said no, I should have gotten the script from another doctor. Instead I let myself be cowed by the medical "professional" who didn't know my child or her history. I took Princess E to the ER where she was exposed to a needless X-ray and a plethora of germs, especially from the doctors and nurses who couldn't keep their hands off my beautiful daughter!

Next time, I won't be making the half an hour drive to the "better" ER. If I recognize the symptoms of something she has had before, then I will insist on home care. There is a saying in Korean 엄마손 약손, which translates into "mom's hands medicine hands." I think I know where that is coming from--no one knows a child better than her mother, no one loves her child better than her mother. And love can be a powerful medicine indeed.

This post was inspired by the novel Afterwards by Rosamund Lupton. After witnessing her children's school set ablaze, Grace attempts to find the arson as her teenage daughter lies in a coma in Lupton's suspense thriller. Grace fights for her daughter and believes she knows what her daughter needs. Join From Left to Write on April 11 as we discuss Afterwards. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.