talented personality who had made quite a
mark in his church. one afternoon, i took an older,
much-trusted Christian man with me, and after
several hours of prayer in that tiny room, we saw a
wasted body and spirit touched by God.
and for awhile, literally changed.
it was awesome and beautiful.
i was caught up with a sense of mission and a
miracle
God.
i so wanted this man to make it, to see God
develop “something beautiful” for his
tomorrows. he began
telling me that this would only be possible if i
became his wife and helped him. i was totally
caught up in the cause of his survival.
well, time revealed that i was off-course. my
marrying him would certainly not have been the
secret to his survival. only God was. i had some
moments of poor judgment, i acted without good
sense, but God knew that never was i more genuine
in wanting a person to be His than i was then, and
never was i any more sincere in seeking God’s
direction.
i’m grateful that God cared for both of us.
we went our separate ways.
some people in my church will always tag me “a
poor risk” because of that incident where i almost
did the wrong thing. and i must confess i’ve been
just as guilty in tagging others.
i hope i’m learning not to.
as a child, my parents talked often about the secret
to life: letting Jesus be Lord. today i have little
assurance about MY ability to cope successfully
with all that shall face me in life. i am more
convinced than ever that if Jesus Christ controls
me totally, and i faithfully seek Him, He will move
quietly and constantly and protectively through
the valleys
agonies
decisions
incredibly stifling places.
as we experience life, truth will grow
in us if God is in us.
i will always, i guess, “see through a glass darkly”
on some things… but i can’t wait to ask God for
just ten minutes of His time so He can sit down
with me and answer some questions i have,
and clear the confusions.
someday i can.
today, He expects me to be a
woman—to fill the unknown, the uncertainties,
and the empty places with Himself.
to find the poise a living Lord can give.
i grew up in hawaii.
i was caucasian.
but there was something
about the oriental-island culture
that absorbed under my skin.
i found myself feeling japanese-hawaiian.
or maybe i was wanting to feel that, because i
wasn’t.
i was the minority.
i went through school being one in a handful of
“haoles”… or foreigners.
a minority isn’t fun. you stick out.
everything good and bad that you do
shows.
some natural instinct makes us want to be at home
in and a part of our setting. an acceptable part.
my twin sister and i hung close.
we cried a lot.
we wanted dark skin.
that was beautiful.
we were blue-eyed and very fair.
orientals are generally short and petite.
we were tall and long-legged. most students
were buddhists and hindus. we were Christian.
on our friends’ coffee tables were shrines. on ours,
the Bible. it seemed in every way,
we were oddities
in our setting.
the sun brought us as close to dark skin as we could
get. we spent hours on saturdays baking on waikiki
shore lines, hoping to blend in with the others.
today, jan and i are still sun lovers. we still feel
more secure with a tan. feelings one learns in
childhood are so hard to unlearn.
i find myself still working at keeping my back very
straight. as a child, i almost wished to be stooped
rather than peer over everyone.
anything to keep me from being too
noticed in what i thought was a negative way.
one kid who attended high school with my sister
and me was also caucasian, and Christian.
he was struggling for acceptance, too. he
struggled so hard that he ignored us. i think i
understand.
if he could remove himself from the minority
he was a part of, then maybe the majority would
naturally scoop him in as one of them. it left us
more alone, more insecure about our personhood,
more rejecting of it.
my sister recalls my mother or father coming to
pick us up after school.
she’d always go stand close to a group of kids so
my parents wouldn’t know she had no friends. we
knew that the prejudice existed.
our minority position stared hard at us. but we
hoped others weren’t so aware. there’s some
comfort in not being pitied or openly rejected.
we feel prejudice about a lot of things,
but it’s subtle.
that’s the way most prejudice is.
we