Prayer & the American Dream.

This was a journal article / post written 1-2 weeks ago. Our internet has been really bad so uanble to post until now.

I ate something wrong a couple of days ago and spent the next day vomiting everything up, save my stomach itself. Miserable. My dad and Lily think it’s from a bad moon cake that I “had” to buy because I was craving a salty egg yoked moon cake (don’t ask). I then spent the next day or two after that in bed, weak, tired, drained…and bored out of my mind. During my time being forced to “rest” (and down what seemed like gallons of water when in reality it was probably more like a few sips here and there) by my amazingly caring wife, I started to think…and thinking got me homesick for the first time since arriving 5 months ago.

I’m not writing this post to complain or have people back at “home” feel sorry for me/us. It is the furthest from my intent. I just need prayer. We need prayer.

For a while, I felt like time away from the luxuries of the States would make it easier to leave certain things behind. Just like when I used to return home from a retreat to a rural, off-the-beaten-path place, for a couple of days and feel so refreshed…getting a break from my TV, cell phone, email, etc. I’ve realized though, it hasn’t been easier. It’s always this nagging, annoying, pesky thorn at my side…reminding me of all the “things” I miss, or that I am missing out on.

#1 on my list (only because of my current situation), our tempurpedic bed. These dang asian beds are so darn hard. They are tolerable, until you’re sick and every position on these wood planks seem to make the stomach pains and nausea worse.

I have to admit I finally understand what the “American dream” is. Not saying life isn’t difficult at times in the States. But man…there are things we just don’t have to worry about back at home. We don't have to worry about our children getting a truly crappy education…even through (most of) our public school systems. We don’t have to worry about getting completely shady medical treatment when we walk into a major hospital (it happens more often than not here). We don’t need to worry about potentially buying fake everything, like medicines, personal products…even salt (a local friend here told us to beware of this)! We don’t need to worry about Kingston and Fiona’s food allergies because we can actually trust the food labels…whereas here, it’s a crap-shoot. The American dream isn’t just the life a person can make for themselves…it’s also the basic things in life we don’t have to worry about…that we take for granted so frequently, if not completely.

In the States, I feel like I’m in control. I feel like I can absolutely control our finances, where my children go to school, the life we can have now and the life we can have in the future as a family. Sometimes, I feel like I can even “help” control the lives of others as well (I always hear from my parents, “You can’t help others until you are are well off and able to help yourself”). Here, I feel completely out of control. I feel like I don’t know anything…let alone be able to help others. It’s scary as hell (well, maybe not completely like HELL). It’s definitely not what the world has taught me what life is supposed to be about. It’s definitely not what I’ve been trained by my parents, by my education, by my career to do or think.

Yet…through it all, through all the distractions, through all the craziness, through all the times I want to give up…I still feel a small presence and hear a small voice. Not sure what “it’s” saying just yet. I don’t know. But, maybe this is exactly where we need to be. Maybe…?

Friends and family…continue to uphold us in your thoughts and prayers. Let us…let me…not crave the American dream. Let us crave Him and Him alone.