Delta Flight Wisdom

What is “success”?

I’ve been pondering this question for about 6 months now, and I still don’t know how to answer it. I still don’t know what it means for me and what it looks like in my life.

Last August I sat in the middle seat on a Delta flight from Los Angeles to Tokyo en route to moving back to BJ for another year. I sat next to a gentleman from Thailand who looked to be in his late thirties. To be honest, I usually try to avoid talking to the people sitting next to me on long flights because then I feel obliged to keep up the conversation for the next 12 hours when really I would just rather like to sleep or watch 4 movies in a row. But the second I sat down in my seat, before the plane had even pulled away from the gate, this man struck up a conversation with me. This conversation did not radically change my life, but it has stayed with me ever since and has come to mind often over the last few months. He told me about how he used to be a popular musician back in Thailand, how he came to know God, and how he now works in the hotel business and has a family. I don’t remember the details of his story but I remember very clearly a question he asked me. I remember it well because he answered the question himself, but his answer was unlike anything I had ever heard before. If you read my blog regularly you might have read my post back in September about this very question (click here). He dropped his question and answer right in the middle of our conversation. It almost seemed out of context. He said it, then moved on. I was puzzled by his statement. But little did I know that it could not have been in a more perfect context – the context of what was happening and what was to happen in my life.

He said, “How do you define ‘success’? For me, I would answer that with another question: How many times a week do you have tears of joy?”

For the past few months I have struggled with trying so desperately to feel satisfied with myself and my life. I’ve tried so hard to understand why I do not feel like I have achieved some sort of level of success or attained even a slight sense of accomplishment. Again and again I have struggled with self-esteem, with contentment, with having peace, and with knowing that I am valuable and have contributed value. I should feel successful. I am twenty years old and while I may not have created a popular internet company or raised a million dollars for a charity, I am still pretty accomplished. By looking at my resume, I should feel at least somewhat successful. If not that than at least I should feel somewhat satisfied with my work. At eighteen I became the personal assistant to a consultant to the UN. At nineteen I helped develop from scratch the Communications department at an international social enterprise. I aced the final exam at a graduate level workshop on strategic nonprofit development and management taught by professors from Harvard and Boston University. At twenty I got promoted to executive assistant to the CEO of a developing socially conscious company that creates sustainable employment for formerly exploited women. Last week I sat with a group of MBA students from Northwestern University and helped them develop their business idea. “Thank you for your time. You really were a great help. We appreciate you being willing to meet with us” were the words from one of their professors. I live independently in a world capital city. I know people doing great things and get to be a part of their work. I do not say these things to brag about myself, but to simply make a point. Because even with all these “cool things” I have done and meaningful experiences I've had, somehow I am still unaccomplished. I still do not feel successful. Sometimes I feel like I haven't achieved anything of value, done anything of lasting worth, or amounted to anything important. And I am often left to wonder, “What’s the point of it all? What am I even trying to achieve? What on earth is this idea of ‘success’? Will I ever succeed?” Because I know that even if I became a UN consultant myself or if I got a full ride to Harvard without even applying or if I helped a thousand people, I still would not feel satisfied with my achieved endeavors.

But tears of joy…they were present at times I felt like success – the attainment of something good – had been achieved…that time I caught my reflection in a passing bus and smiled at the revelation that a young woman living her childhood dream stared back at me…that time I looked up and saw how comfortable Xiao Zhang's smile was and the light that now shone in her eyes…that time I waited for an eternity at the bus stop giving me enough time think about how funny and crazy my life is…that time when I watched my boss and dear friend declare with confidence who she was and walk in the truth of who the Father made her to be…that time when I looked around the room at my community here and felt like I had come home for the first time…that time when I sat around a table of nonprofit leaders and I felt like I belonged there not because of my intelligence or my skill but because it simply made me feel alive…that time when the light turn back on in my friend’s eyes as she soaked up the love of the Father…that time…that time… that time… It wasn't about my impressive resume or how many people I had empowered or helped. It’s about remembering that my identity isn't found in what I do. It was about crying tears of joy – realizing that life is ridiculously hard, painful, and most of the time full of failure but that good things still do happen, that my heart though getting tougher each day is still soft enough to recognize love in a world of roughness, to remember that being able to laugh at yourself is sometimes the best solution to life’s problems, and that when my best isn't good enough the world will keep on spinning, babies will keep on being born, and my God will keep on being good and having His way in my life. 

What is ‘success’? I still don’t really know. But what I do know is that when indefinable wonder wets my eyes, I’ll try to take in the moment for all it’s worth.

Sitting At the Table

Yesterday I was reminded why I love my job.

We all sat around beautifully decorated tables with red table clothes, candles, name cards and flowers sharing a delicious lunch together. It was International Women’s Day – a day to remember that we are all fearfully and wonderfully made and to celebrate the value and good things He put in us. We also gathered together to celebrate 3 birthdays and 2 weddings that took place among our staff in the last month. And on top of that, we celebrated the expansion that is taking place with the launch of our second branch this coming Monday! It is so exciting to now be able to reach and work with even more women in more cities!

I sat at my place at the table and listened as people went around the room sharing blessings and encouraging words to the birthday girls and newlyweds. Laughter filled the air and eyes shone around the room with the light of joy. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the love being shared and tears filled my eyes. I looked up at one woman who didn't smile at all for the first few months she was with us. Her face now held a giant widespread beam. With her cute dimples showing and her eyes lit up, she spoke with confidence and a sense of belonging. I choked back and blinked away my tears. This is why we are here. This is why I do what I do.

You may wonder why I need to be reminded of the significance of our work. Let me tell you, as much as it is rewarding, it is extremely hard work. Day in and day out working with broken people when I myself am a broken person takes its toll. There is always so much to do and never enough time. You invest and do your best to love them, and sometimes you still have to watch the people you love make poor choices out of their brokenness. The stress of the ever-growing To-Do Lists, the relational tensions that come about when people are in a growth curve, and, for me, the pressure of trying to do my best when I’m not even sure how to do the job I’m supposed to do is a lot to handle. And on top of that, no matter how many things get crossed off the To-Do list or women become transformed, there are always more things to do and more women still trapped in exploitation. Sometimes it all just feels like too much. Sometimes swimming upstream day after day is just too tiring. Sometimes the headaches and the heartaches are strong enough to keep me from getting out of bed in the morning.

But then, He gives me just barely enough grace to lift up my head and notice the change in her. And the change in me.

He is in the business of making us, all of us, whole. And it is tough going. And most of the time it seems like we are getting nowhere.

But I sat at my place at the table on Friday, and that’s just it. It was my place at the table. It was their place at the table. We belonged there. We have a seat at the table. We belonged in a family together; people of all different ages and backgrounds. We've all got our pasts. But we've come together to love one another; to see women filled with true Hope.

Another work week starts in just a few hours. I know the stress, frustration, miscommunication, and overwhelming-ness that await me. But it doesn't even matter. Because I love my job. I love being in the business of journeying with people as the Father makes us whole.  

I get to celebrate every day the talents, potential, value, and beauty He knit into all of His kids. And that’s pretty cool.

I am not coming back.

So, I have approximately three months remaining until I say “Until next time…” to my life in Asia and pack my bags, get on a plane, and arrive in the U. S. of A.

I almost just said “and arrive back to the U.S…” but then I stopped. I don’t think I am headed back there. I don’t want to go back to the place I was at. I am not returning to where and who I was before. It is true I will be traveling there once again, and be living in America again very soon. But I am not going back there because the place I left, the place I knew it to be, the life I left, and the life I knew is not there to go back to. It does not exist anymore. My life in America was what it was because I saw it a certain way, I was a certain way. But I do not see like that anymore. I am not that person anymore. So, it is impossible for me to return to something that is no longer there – to be someone who no longer exists. I am not moving back to the States. I am moving to the States. But to begin an entirely new season, new adventure in a position in life that I have never been in before.

To the eye, not much has changed. I look the same. I am still loud and obnoxious. I am still a 5 foot 5 inch, hazel eyed female. I still have that red upside down Mickey Mouse shaped birthmark on my arm. My parents’ house will look much like it did when I left almost two years ago. The street will be unchanged and family and friends will still be going about living their lives. But things couldn't be more different. They couldn't feel more strange and foreign. Ask me to pin point what exactly has changed or how it changed and I could not give you an articulate answer. I can merely say that life has gone on – it’s morphed, moved on, and managed to be influenced by the past but be completely dissimilar to it to the point of being unrecognizable. I cannot even compare who I was, what my life was like then to who I am and what it is now, because this is all I know now. I am in the process of becoming distilled and I cannot even remember my former diluted way of living life, of being me.

I don’t want to go back to the way things were - even if they were good. I am grateful for past seasons, but I never want to return there. I can’t return, because there is no place to return to.

I've got three months left of this two year adventure. The impending goodbyes will be the hardest yet. But I've never been so excited for my future. I hate leaving good things, but there are many more adventures that await me – some less fun than others but I don’t want to keep them waiting too long because there is still much distilling to do.

So, these next three months will mean a lot to me. I shall do my best to cherish each and every day, to remember that stress never saved the world, and to laugh and cry every time I get the chance.

What my future holds I do not know. I do not even know all of what my past holds, to be honest. But this I know for sure, I am grateful for yesterday, thankful for today, and welcoming of tomorrow because discovering the adventures of surrender is the kind of life I love living. 

It was cold.

In early January, I decided to take a spontaneous weekend trip with a few friends and a few people who became my friends up north to see Harbin's International Snow & Ice Festival.

It was cold. Like really cold. So cold my eyelashes froze together and the inside of your nose crack whenever you tried to inhale. Even though I was literally in the neighboring area to Siberia, I managed to enjoy myself. Bundled up in several pairs of thermals, leggings, sweats, snowpants, 6 pairs of socks, 2 pairs of gloves, earmuffs, beanie, and a coat, I waddled my way through the most incredible sculptures of ice and snow. It was breathtaking, and not just because of the cold. If you ever get the chance to go, go! The International Snow & Ice Festival runs every year for about 5 weeks starting at the beginning of January. Artists and sculpturers come from all around the world to create a magical white wonderland.

That is Farhenheit. And that was the warmest day.