Songs of Pain and Hope

Once, I went on a missions trip to inner city Nashville.  The neighborhood we worked in was a housing project named after a Confederate general, Joe Johnston.  It was formerly a tent city for freed Southern slaves.

Our team went to a basketball court where some gang members were playing.  The host organization’s leader said one of us had to participate in the pickup game.  Our team was young and I was one of the older ones, so I got volumtold to play.

And as I’ve usually done, I guard like a bat out of hell.  All the dribbling tricks in the world don’t matter a bit if you can keep your balance, eye on the ball, and your feet loose.

I could guard anyone.  Asian, black, white, Latino, alien.  

And so it was anywhere else – courtroom, boardroom, classroom.

Don’t get me wrong, I was scared as hell most of the time.

Until I focused on the man in front of me.

Then it was all game.

I often teach my kids about the Battle of Dien Bien Phu that occurred during the Vietnam War.  I won’t recap all of it but it involved unconventional methods against a fortress that was thought to be unconquerable.  When you look more closely, however, everything the Vietnamese used makes a lot of sense and even seems obvious.  The Vietnamese attack was designed by a strategist I admired and tried to emulate – General Vo Nguyen Giap.  A lawyer by training and a teacher by vocation, he had no formal military training but was a genius.  He understood hearts and minds over technology and force.  He is credited for beating superior nations and their militaries – the French and US directly and the Chinese indirectly.  I do not comment on the rightness of his cause – I know people who fought for both sides.

This one is about looking at the board correctly.

I used to teach my students about the US Revolutionary War.  Once during class, I realized the parallels between that war and the one in Vietnam.  An invading force consisting of many who didn’t want to be there, an increasingly costly and unpopular conflict, fighting in unfamiliar terrain against irregular forces, using the wrong measure for success, etc.  This scenario often repeats itself – Afghanistan and Russia over the ages, now maybe Ukraine.  Malaysia as well – Indonesia tried it once, we blew them out of the sky.  They never tried again.

The girl out of left field/with the short fuse is really good at board games.  But these are actually not the best ways to learn and practice strategy as they only capture a portion of what’s necessary to win.  I’ll write more on that later maybe but maybe I won’t either.  The big factors, though, are the role of emotions and time.  Although there is a role of emotion in games (play the man, not the board), it’s not as prominent as real life.  Time too.  This is often underestimated.  Prolonged conflicts tend to favor the defender.  I saw this on a professional and personal level.  But also on offense, sometimes you grind them down.

A death by a thousand cuts is still a death.

Someone asked me where my interest in strategy came from.  I’m just mediocre to ok in games like chess.  Others like Risk, it depends on how I woke up that morning.  I didn’t really formally study it until Boston in my 30s but the roots originate from everything else.

And there is God.

I started to read and think about the Bible more critically from a strategic lens.  You can see many examples on a grand and individual level.  God is smart.  His ways are not our ways.  So many counterintuitive moves that make perfect sense when implemented.

I also emphasize to my kids the importance of hearts and minds.  But make sure to bring along the gun with the cannoli.

Love and fear.  Those are some of the biggest motivators, if not the most, in life.  In my field, it is a huge weapon in the arsenal (at times warranted, at others not so much).  I’m not immune to it – I sometimes half-jokingly tell former colleagues and students “We are the ones who knock in the night.”

But fear is so real.  I saw and still see people do all sorts of crazy, insane things because of it – Vince Lombardi once said that fatigue makes cowards of people.  So does fear.  My God, does it ever.  And those who wield it, know it.

It’s also no coincidence or error that the most repeated idea in the Bible is some variation of do not fear (I didn’t count. read it somewhere).  What we fear reveals who we are, who we are not, what we treasure, what we worship.

Thankfully love.  That supposedly casts fear out.  Haven’t figured this one out completely.  It feels right.

Love and fear.  Those are some of the biggest motivators, if not the most, in life.  In my field, it is a huge weapon in the arsenal (at times warranted, at others not so much).  I’m not immune to it – I sometimes half-jokingly tell former colleagues and students “We are the ones who knock in the night.”

But fear is so real.  I saw and still see people do all sorts of crazy, insane things because of it – Vince Lombardi once said that fatigue makes cowards of people.  So does fear.  My God, does it ever.  And those who wield it, know it.

It’s also no coincidence or error that the most repeated idea in the Bible is some variation of do not fear (I didn’t count. read it somewhere).  What we fear reveals who we are, who we are not, what we treasure, what we worship.

Thankfully love.  That supposedly casts fear out.  Haven’t figured this one out completely.  It feels right.

Dear S——

I understand it has been a while since we last communicated but I wanted to share some thoughts with you.

Life can take so much but not hope; nothing kills hope.  I have just experienced the darkest years of my life.  Standing up for what was right, mostly alone, took its toll on my job, my family (both which I loved so much) and ended my marriage – heavy losses.  Yet I still want to believe the light is still winning.

Eighteen years ago, I wrote you a letter that I did not send.  In it, I wrote how I felt about you and that I would pray for you over the thousands of miles I drove all over the country, on many occasions almost dying.  I prayed that God would take care of you and provide a good man for you (and no, not me).  I forget the rest.  I would have walked the thousands of miles for you.

During my time in Minnesota, I would light a prayer candle every morning before work for you at the Cathedral of St. Paul.  And while working in Philadelphia as a prosecutor where I stared into the darkness of humanity, yet at home I still slept on a mattress on the floor in a not-so-great apartment and neighborhood, thinking of you brought me much needed light.  These days, I still wonder how and where you are, and I slip in a prayer.  A prayer of hope.

From the first day I met you, I knew you would play a special role in my life, even if I did not know what it would be.

In the many dark nights I’ve experienced, I often thought back to the one time we got to dance together.  You smiled when I asked whether you wanted to dance and my heart changed that night.  Though I was faithful in marriage, I always kept a soft spot for you as someone dear to my heart.  Living in Boston, every time the Red Sox played “Sweet Caroline” at Fenway Park, when the lines, “And when I hurt, hurting runs off my shoulder, How can I hurt while holding you?” came on, I would allow myself a brief moment to think of you.

I have always loved your beautiful soft heart most of all, along with all the other amazing things about you, your intellect, resilience, empathy, and outward beauty.  Your love for family and others, as well as your dedication to service, were always evident to me.  I actually still have the very first note you wrote me 27 years ago.  I loved getting those thoughtful and compassionate notes (and emails) from you.  Most of all, I have always loved your smile and making you laugh.  You often heard me in my tune when I just heard confusion.  Through your kindness for me, you’ve always helped make more bearable the crushing loneliness I experienced for so much of my life.

I am imperfect but I really tried to be a good honorable one who served, taught, guided, and protected others in my own small way.

I have had a difficult life, but it has been, so far, an amazing, beautiful, and great journey. I rose above an unstable (and worse) family, the challenges of immigration, bullying, racism, the many difficult challenges in my jobs, and also my own shortcomings.  But still alive.  Still alive.

I would love to tell you more of my story and listen to all of yours as well.  I am currently living in the DMV area.  I will always care about you.

PS – Sense of humor still intact.  I also was a super shy quiet sensitive kid who cried a lot.  Had to build and wear so much armor.  Spent a lot of my life fighting, mainly because I had to.  Living up to the often ridiculous unrealistic expectations of family and others.  Ready to be done with all that.  Learning to sing a new song, to see with a hundred eyes.  I am more (and less) of what I appear to be.

——————————

Grace

Three perfect memories – the 

dance, teaching you guitar, walking at night at Princeton

The hospital bear (the beginning of my own journey)

The chess piece (the reason we couldn’t play at home for years)

The poem (wrote driving to Boston in the magical fall)

The song (not the greatest songwriter, couldn’t get past the first verse)

The mouse story (a joy to illustrate and write)

And the fair (where God and life were abundantly present)

That letter (a year to complete)

And this one (a gift, a story, a song of hope)

Strove to be strong brave kind

Forced to be quicker tougher smarter

Learned to observe orient decide act

At many times, unyielding, unbending, unbreakable (almost)

I refused to dance on the strings of others

Better to die on your feet than to live on your knees

But often afraid, tired, unsure of myself, alone

And so much pain – did what I did because of, despite, and with

And so much joy – so much laughter, so much joy

Är jag stark eller svag?

Det spelar ingen roll

This time I won’t hold back anything and I’ll walk away a fool or a king

Unconquerable will, soft heart, can’t lose

Like water, like running water

Harimau Malaya

Kancil Melaka

Dinged up bear

Child of God

I wait patiently for Him

Though much is taken, much abides

I have wished for so long, how I wish for you today

Too many words have I wasted
On love poems and empty emotions
While You sit there silently
With blood pierced hands
Waiting for me to see You
To wait for You to return
But I keep turning away
And the hatred shifts
From You to my soul.

They tell me you ran around his grave at the funeral
Laughing and playing with your little sisters without a care
I’d like to think you were to young to understand
But I know better, for you already could see then
Beyond your five years into a fatherless future
You hid it so well then and still do now
Behind a crumbling fortress of adolescent innocence
Though the evidence of uncelebrated Father’s Days
And added responsibility sometimes breaks through

Your sweet freshman smile and gentle spirit
I think it is then that I am proud to know you
A young woman of strength.