ANITA AND I DECIDED to try for our second child at the beginning of 2015. We always had more than one child in mind when we imagined our family, and we thought it would be nice for our daughter, Maddie, then 2 years old, to have a sibling.
AT THE CORNER of Harvard and Marquette, I jammed the crosswalk button a couple of more times. Why did I agree to 9 p.m. Bible study? My morning shifts at Starbucks were not forgiving.
THIS WORLD IS A COLORFUL PLACE. Not merely because of dusty pink dawns that greet us every morning, or the rolls of golden hills that frame this city, but because every person is like a color.
I'M NARCISSISTIC. I tend to center my life on being attractive to others, because I want them to like me or at least see me in a positive light.
OUR ORCHESTRA WAS SLOTTED to play at a concert hall in New York City when I was a high school freshman. At the time, I knew nothing about the world of pornography and masturbation.
I'LL NEVER FORGET the first time I kissed a white girl. It was a dream come true. Every movie I had ever watched and every image I had ever seen from pop culture idolized white women while negatively stereotyping Asian women.
I'VE BEEN THINKING about why processing my faith has been so difficult for me. Belief is so wrapped up in my identity; I feared anything that would threaten that part of my life.
AS I STEPPED out of the van, my breath seized in my chest. Pained eyes slowly adjusted to blinding light, taking in sweeping, scorched landscape that lit out in every direction.
My name is a Sanskrit name given to me by my father's Buddhist monk teacher. The meaning of my name, "eternal and everlasting blessings", has shaped both my upbringing and my life today.
I KNOW OF ONE surefire way to feel better whenever I feel sad. In a divine and delightful fashion, my church teems with the most delicious babies on Sundays.
DEAR MOTHER, When I think of you, I remember how caring you were and how you treated being a mother as a privileged duty. And when I think of myself as a mother, I am so awkward!
IT’S HARD TO TALK about Justin, my little second cousin, without feeling conflicting emotions. Justin was born out of wedlock to my cousin when she was 19. He was the mistake, the thing that she was trying to hide for several months before her parents found out. He was the accidental life born from two teenagers who had no reason to be together, much less stay together.
MY FAMILY MOVED to the Lao People's Democratic Republic in 1990, just as the country emerged from Cold War isolationism into an era of international development and commerce. No paved roads or traffic lights; hammers and sickles hung in every storefront window. At night, our Soviet air conditioner rumbled through the sticky heat; at dawn, we woke to Party broadcasts, blared across municipal grounds.
God knew what He was doing when He made creation; children get to make some mistakes. The five-second rule for fallen food, for example. There are more items that won't kill them than those that will if they put it in their mouths.
Some of our younger friends share their hopes and fears with us, as a reminder of how we used to think.
HER PINK FLORAL HEADPIECE fell on the ground as she wriggled toward her father's arms. She showed little concern for the way she looked on stage in front of the entire congregation; her poofy tulle skirt flipped upside down like a cupcake wrapper to expose her frilly diaper bottoms. She simply wanted to draw closer to her dad.
My little 3-year-old, John-Parker — we call him JP for short — loves to dance. And his jubilance is on its greatest display in his now traditional, post-bath, naked dance.
"Memory is not simply about bringing the past into the present. Memory has an intrinsic relationship to hope in the future ... Through memory we can become aware of who we are before God and who we are before God creates the expectation that God will continue to sustain us in the future as in the past." — Sister Elizabeth Liebert.
The day they crowned you King of the Jews was a day of mockery
ON THE MORNING OF HALLOWEEN, two days after my dad's birthday, I was pulled out of my third period math class to find my mother waiting 20 feet away from the school front office.
THE SUMMER AIR WAS COLD and windy in Ocean Shores, Washington, on the last Saturday of July 2014.
WE HAD BEEN MESSAGING back and forth for a week before Daniel repurposes a popular and cheesy song lyric to ask if I would be interested in grabbing coffee.
IN THE WAITING ROOM of Children's Hospital of Orange County, it's 5:41 a.m. and quiet. The hospital staff take deep breaths in this calm before the daily storm, treasuring the small sounds of shuffling feet and subdued conversation.
MY SON DIED of cancer. Sorry to ambush you, but there's no sugarcoating a child's death.
"FROM MY TRADITION," the priest began, "We believe in the resurrection of the dead, that there is life in heaven, and that we will one day be reunited with our loved ones."
