Evil and darkness win
A lot actually
But only initially
Cry and be angry
Not only justified
But to be celebrated
The light wins out
Slowly but inevitably
Like the mills of God
One day at a time
With each cup of coffee
Honest conversation
Blessings in pain
The daily grace that appears right on time
Unexpected laughter
The possibility of love
And the tears, the tears
That allow you to finally see
This is how I lost several friends whom I thought were close and the church community I grew up in. At a former pastor’s ordination, I stayed over at another pastor friend’s apartment. Another friend, a 36 year old church youth counselor also stayed over with three 18-year old girls. I initially slept in the living room with the youth counselor while the three girls slept in an adjoining bedroom. In the middle of the night, thinking I was asleep, the youth counselor enters the bedroom with the girls. This doesn’t look good. I ask my pastor friend what to do and he tells me to do nothing. I thought about this and decide to pull the youth counselor out.
I report this incident to the church, as well as another incident where another female friend told me how he pushed her to the ground to presumably engage in some type of behavior. When she pushes him off, he claims that he misread the situation.
I try to enlist the support of several friends, many of them respected and highly placed within the church. They turn their back on me, asserting that I overreacted, was on a witch hunt, and was a bull in a China shop. They stonewall and cover up.
Embarrassed, I resign my membership. The church I attended and served in for 17 years.
Only recently, 15 years later, I found out that he pushed another two younger females to the ground. Also throwing parties where he encouraged underage drinking and watching while several teens “experimented” with each other.
In a strange twisted way, this new knowledge was vindication as I was gaslit into believing the church may have been initially correct in their assessment.
He is still attending the church with his wife and family.
This is a true story.
In softball, I’ve generally had good batting averages but not a lot of power, hitting usually for singles. I mostly played in the outfield, with a decent arm and extremely good fielding skills. In fact, I can’t remember a time when I’ve dropped a ball that I could reasonably get to. I’ve even made some catches that I’m not sure how I caught them. I was never a spectacular player, just solid and dependable.
Except in this one game in Indiana.
The Christian Legal Society and Christian Business Society had a charity game. The Business team was led by a tall good-looking guy who prayed eloquently before the game.
The Legal team had me.
I play the game of my life.
No one wanted to play shortstop, so I did, channeling my inner Cal Ripken. I dive for balls, catch liners, organize the defense. I get on base every single time I’m at bat, even hitting for extra bases several times.
In the bottom of the 9th inning, we are down by three runs with the bases loaded. Two outs. It is my turn to bat. All I can think of is don’t screw this up, just get on base and give someone else a chance to keep the rally going.
I hit the only home run ever in my life. Never before, never again.
And as I round the bases, I glance at the face of the Business team leader and he is in shock. Also a little jealous.
I don’t bother staying for the post-game prayer, walking home instead with my glove under my arm. With deep satisfaction.
When interviewing for summer legal jobs in Minneapolis-St. Paul, my interviewers ask me what drew me to Minnesota. I said I just had a feeling it’s where I needed to be. The pay is low, I may as well have been working at Target.
But I meet my prosecutor mentor, a Vietnam veteran and someone with 30+ years on the job. He teaches me how to think and write. To this day, my writing style most resembles his.
The second case I work on involves a 70 year old grandmother who was stabbed to death 21 times by her granddaughter’s boyfriend. I see the crime scene photos. That weekend, I lock myself in my room and don’t come out. On Monday, I am a changed person – something within me had died.
But the summer is beautiful. The sun rises early and sets late. I light a candle at the Cathedral of St. Paul every morning for the girl I loved. I spend a lot of time at the Minnesota Law Enforcement Memorial, dedicated to fallen officers. I am particularly struck by the black marble monument inscribed with the biblical verse “Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the children of God.” I knew at that moment what I would give part of my life to.
(For the girl I lit the candles for)
I generally don’t write much poetry. When I do, it’s sporadic and for very special topics or occasions. I wrote more when I was younger – I
would say that most of them could have benefited from more experience and insight. I did write one about you and you got to read it. In fact, you are the only person who has read all those poems by my younger self. I selectively showed some to others, but never the whole set.
You’re also the only person who’s both intercepted one of my passes and caught a touchdown (diving and in the same game too). This was right before you went off to college and I to law school at some type of leaders retreat. At some prayer session, I was so frustrated with law school applications, so afraid I couldn’t get in anywhere decent and I cried. You also cried then. I asked you whether if it had something to do with your sisters and you said yes. John Legend’s song All of Me – I wish I had the talent to write something like this for you. It expresses much of how I feel. His lines though “How many times do I have to tell you? Even when you’re crying, you’re beautiful too” – I don’t get that one, you were especially beautiful when you were crying. These days, I cry for all the times I could and should have, but didn’t because of the armor. It feels freeing and good.
On the car ride back, we talked a bit about the future. I asked you where you were applying and when you told me, it just felt sad – didn’t and couldn’t even pinpoint why. I just knew it was the appropriate feeling to have. It was the feeling of an impending loss and ending of a chapter. And maybe it was.
Blessed are the…
Bullies for one day they will have to stand up to themselves
Liars for the truth can be awkward
Arrogant for they will always be insecure
Violent for they will never know peace
Greedy for they will never be filled
Power hungry for they will be always fearful and weak
Controlling for they will never know surrender
Lustful for they will never have intimacy
During my first week in Philadelphia, the body of an Asian student, who was raped and murdered, was dumped outside my apartment complex. That same week, the FBI arrests a good portion of the City Council for corruption. In neighboring Fairmount Park, a serial rapist is on the loose. For the next three years, I am the workhorse of my unit, completing more than my share of cases – including homicides, sexual assaults, crimes against children, drugs, and even one involving torture. I have oral arguments in Superior Court, the second highest Pennsylvania court. I will never forget the first time I say, “Good morning, my name is Assistant District Attorney V-Tsien Fan and I represent the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.” I am 26. The cases and overall environment have an effect; I develop a stomach ulcer, I am internally bleeding for years. But I get to be 1 of 300 protecting the city.
(For the girl I lit the candles for)
This is the moment I knew I wanted to protect you. We were practicing songs for worship in the area where Sunday lunch was sold after service. We were at the old barely in-tune piano in the corner of the room. With my guitar and you sitting next to me on the piano bench. As we were playing, I start hearing sobs. I turn my head and you’re crying. I immediately think to myself, goodness what did I do? It turns out someone (Andy) had given you an unwarranted harsh talking to earlier. I spend the rest of practice trying to console you. And thought to myself, I’d like to smack that idiot’s head.
The sacrifice is painful
Costs, hurts, wounds deeply
Any other way, it is cheap, hollow, meaningless
The difference between Cain and Abel
An armchair warrior and a real one who bleeds
A paper tiger and the Malaysian one
The empty promise and the fulfilled vow
The bodyless cross and the crucifix
The birth betrayed
The marriage spent
And the summoning of the thundercloud
The cracked, perfect offering
Neither knowing how to read music nor in possession of a musical ear, I manage to make it on to one of the best jazz ensembles in the county. The worst player of the lot, I manage to scrape by on practice, heart, and lots of U2, Led Zeppelin, and Pearl Jam. At one concert, my teacher stops play and hands me a tuner in front of the whole audience. Nonetheless, it is a memorable time in my life, I learn teamwork, leadership, how to be a better musician and person. Lessons I carried over into other areas of life.
Songs of Pain and Hope 