A Survivor’s Story. Part One

We met at the University where we had some mutual friends.  He was in a band.  He played the keyboard.  Later he learned the bass.

I was a musician too.  I was  in the rotation schedule for leading the Worship Team at the Friday night fellowship that I attended.

He let me borrow his car for errands, because he didn’t use it, since he walked everywhere, or took the bus.

I usually walked, rode my bike, or took the bus, and the car was helpful for trips out of town.

He argued that homeless people should not be turned away at the meals after Sunday morning church service.

I argued the same.

I believed everyone should be able to make a joyful noise into the Lord.

He disagreed.  But it was minor.

He was an East Asian Studies major, and I was an Asian-American Studies major.

We ended up taking the Summer Intensive Japanese course…. all day long, five days a week.  On the first day of class, the teachers cautioned us: “Be careful.  You will be spending a lot of time with each other.  You might end up getting married.” I laughed out loud.

In retelling the story, he would say that he turned around that day to see who it was that had been so offensive.  It was me.

I was a challenge.

I had grown up with the Fairy Tales… the Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Rapunzel tales that told of how the white knight in shining armor would appear to rescue the damsel in distress.

I grew up with tales of how in China, my family ancestors were emperors, and had I been born long ago, I would have been a real life princess.

He was a martial artist.

My father studied martial arts.

He was confident.  He was strong.  He was handsome. He was my prince, and I was his princess.

We became pregnant.  We got married.  We had the baby.  We moved in with my mother-in-law and lived in the caretaker’s cottage on the property.

It was difficult for me, so we moved back to our University town.

I remember, it was idyllic when we moved back into our own apartment.

I remember when the neighbors called law enforcement because of an argument we had.  We told the officers it was just an argument.

He had pushed me and hurt my arm.

Then, our second son was born.

And that was when the real trouble began.  He hit the baby so hard that the baby turned purple.  I was unable to make a trip to see my parents and my childhood dance teacher.

I thought something was wrong.

But, we moved.  To another apartment.  Partially it was because we were now a family of four in a one-bedroom apartment, and according to Codes, that was too many people for a 1-bedroom apartment.

We were both college graduates, and we had two children.  He was 27 and I was 24.  Our parents were married to one another, we had siblings.  None of our siblings were married.  He was the oldest in his family, and I was the youngest.  I went back to school, earned my teaching credential, and started teaching.

He stayed home with the babies, and we joked that he was the “housedad”, and why wasn’t it okay for us to have reversed roles?

We were movers and shakers, bringing outdated traditions into the 21st Century.

–End Part One–

 

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