Throughout 2019, many dear friends from back home asked me, “Janet, how are you?” In my first year adulting on my own in a foreign country, at times I found myself at a loss when asked how I was really doing. From the outside, I was fine and shouldn’t even be complaining. I was blessed with a job, a spacious apartment by Taipei standards, the best roommate and sweetest landlady, and an amazing small group. But deep down, I was still wrestling with my pride & love for comfort and familiarity and battling waves of homesickness, an identity crisis, uncertainty about my long-term plan, my sinful idolatry of success and career, and more. I put off posting regularly on my blog last year because I was feeling all the feelings and didn’t even know where to begin. My heart was constantly so heavy in the rough transitions. I weathered many storms and felt the most alone in my struggles – wrongly so because looking back, God was so good to me.
Not long after arriving to Taiwan, my parents who were initially somewhat supportive of my big move abroad started asking me to move back almost every week for a list of reasons I won’t share online. For some background on my wonderful, kindhearted, loving, and sometimes overbearing parents, they were born and raised in Shanghai, and moved to America, where they still reside, five years before I was born with little money and tons of grit and courage to start over in a foreign place. While their crazy work ethic and fearlessness have always inspired me, 2019 was the year I finally tasted even a fraction of what they endured to give my brother and me a better life. For more deets on that, refer to my “Taiwan Story” post down below.
What made 2019 especially hard stemmed from my desire to please my parents and love of being comfortable & understood, as well as the cultural and lifestyle habits I had developed in my formative years. Nothing could prepare me for the reality of doing life on the opposite side of the world. Moving to Taipei straight out of college forced me to grow up really quickly. I was accustomed to doing life a certain way in Seattle and having my dear family and friends within walking or driving distance. Not only was I enduring waves of homesickness/culture shock, but suddenly simple, daily tasks became much more difficult, especially when everything is in a language I could barely read and all my loved ones are an ocean away.
Tasks like buying and ordering food, interviewing for jobs, negotiating with my cell phone provider who unintentionally overcharged me, getting a haircut, getting a physical at the hospital, going to the bank, etc. – very mundane things I had done without second thought in Seattle became much more taxing and confusing. I could sense God testing my patience, breaking off my pride, and reminding me to breathe and slow down. He knows us better than we know ourselves, and most certainly knows I’m not the most patient person. I’ve gotten slow walker rage too many times while living here, and am guilty of almost knocking someone over when rushing from point A to B.
Throughout the year, I was constantly conflicted. On the outside, I looked Asian and blended in with the locals – that is, until I opened my mouth. Back in the US, I had the privilege of being born, raised, and educated there, so I fit in seamlessly and felt like I belonged. I had many social circles and groups of friends who I got along with. At home, I was never asked where I was “really” from. But suddenly in Taiwan, almost every time I went out alone and spoke more than a few sentences to a service provider, I got questioned where I was from, why my Mandarin sounded funny/broken, what type of accent I had, whether I was some “other” type of Asian (people have guessed Japanese, Korean, Thai, Tibetan, and occasionally American), why I left Seattle for Taiwan, and my personal favorite: “You can’t be American. You have black hair.”
Needless to say, there were days when I was just exhausted and wished I wasn’t so different. I wished my Mandarin was more fluent. I wished I understood Asian/Taiwanese culture better. I wished people didn’t expect so much from me because of how I looked. I wished every day life wasn’t such a challenge. Some days were definitely moodier than others. Whenever I felt down, I was reminded of how Jesus was the most misunderstood human to grace this planet. In my moments of adjusting to a new lifestyle/job/norms/language, being frustrated/misunderstood, and having immigrant parents with high expectations for my life, it often felt like God made a mistake of leading me here. But the heaviness actually forced me to draw closer to Him and in every storm, there’s always a break of sunshine.
After all, “Who is a God like [Him], pardoning iniquity and passing over transgression for the remnant of his inheritance? He does not retain His anger forever because He delights in steadfast love” (Micah 7v18). A perfect Savior, who walked with such intention and unconditional love, Jesus was so quick to extend grace and mercy to the least deserving. What a comfort it is that our eternal hope is in the Messiah – fully man and fully God – who has borne all our sins, pain, and death in our place on the cross for sins He didn’t commit. For all the times I was misunderstood, I could only trust in God’s perfect plans for my season in Taipei. Even if I couldn’t and still can’t see all the fruits of my labor yet and to this day, don’t fully comprehend why He has brought me here, He’s truly testing and refining my faith.
Looking back, God has been beyond kind, gracious, loving, and faithful to me and everyone else on our team. Last January, I went to my first ever Taiwan job interview in the 101 area. For those of you unfamiliar with Xinyi district, you’ll likely find better dressed people there than anywhere else in Taipei. On that day, I wore a polished outfit and prepared well for my interview, but was still judged by one of the recruiting team’s managers. When meeting me, she scanned my outfit from head to toe, noticed my purple galaxy laptop case which was decorated with an assortment of stickers I’d collected over the years – stickers like Canal Street New York to Boba Guys to Amazon, where I worked at for a year – and gave me a look of contempt. She said, “Wow, you give off such an American vibe. At this office, we have a very strict suit and tie culture, so you can’t wear that outfit or your slip-ons. Also, do you even speak any Mandarin?”
I tried my best to not be triggered by her harsh statements. First of all, of course I give off “an American vibe” because I’m an American. But the way I dress, as long as it’s professional and not distracting shouldn’t be a big concern. Wearing a suit and tie to work everyday wasn’t a deal breaker for me, so I was fine with that. Secondly, companies should place more value on people’s willingness to learn and how their unique skills and experiences can add value, instead of being so quick to judge someone’s story from their physical appearance. Obviously, I never heard back from that first company, but it wouldn’t have been a good fit for either of us.
The following month, I interviewed for a local cram school for an English teaching position, quickly got an offer, and began training shortly after. During my first few days of training, I was getting to know the other foreign teachers, and noticed they all looked burnt out. The school required teachers to work on Saturdays, which is pretty normal for cram schools here. During training, our manager would bark at us to not yawn and to try to look happy and fully present, or we’d make a bad impression on the kids’ parents. My coworker pulled me aside one day and told me to try and find another job when I still could before I signed my contract.
Looking back, that was a clear sign to switch jobs. I had already been having second thoughts about the school’s treatment of its teachers, when I noticed yet another red flag that ended up being my deal breaker. My manager said every employees’ 10 days off per year were set by her, no questions asked. I said since that was never stated anywhere in our contract, I didn’t think her policy was fair. Even after pointing that out to her, she wouldn’t budge and said she’d find another teacher if I didn’t want to stay. I had never experienced such a dishonest manager and stifling work culture before, and by God’s grace, I left the cram school after realizing it wasn’t worth staying at the cost of my own sanity. After all, I had moved to Taiwan to spend time with locals, make disciples, and build up the church. I wasn’t looking to burn out right away from a demanding job that I wouldn’t have any time to accomplish what I had set out to do.
March and April were a blur. I was prepping for interviews like mad, still struggling to adjust to daily life, feeling lost and confused, and questioning why God would give me a job I thought He had intended for me and then take it away so quickly. I was upset because I had to start from square one again and nervous to tell my parents about what had happened with my teaching position because I knew they’d use it against me to return back to Seattle. April came and one day, I received an email from Ovalware, the current company I work at. They showed interest in interviewing me, and thought I could be a good fit for their company.
I was pretty jaded after having gone to countless interviews already, and didn’t think I’d find a job that was a good fit for a long time. I prepared for the interview, but went into it with no expectations. Boy was I wrong to not put my hope and expectations in my Heavenly Father who knows me better than I know myself. God, despite my little faith, was still faithful in providing for me in His timing. I went in to the office in mid-April, and got a job offer not long after, and started working full-time in May… sweet victories where God comes through for me time after time force me to see Him and His almighty power rightly and to stop being deceived by my wicked, doubtful heart.
To sum up my first year in a nutshell, I want to reiterate God is always good, even when life doesn’t feel sweet. After I started working in May, the rest of 2019 just flew by. Having a job that takes up most of your time tends to do that to you. The second half of my year was still filled with ups and downs, but I made it by His grace, and now here we are in 2020: a fresh decade, a fresh start. 24. My Kobe year!!
Speaking of Kobe, his sudden loss as well as his daughter Gianna’s and the 7 other souls on the helicopter whose lives ended in a flash shook me to the core and made me realize tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. I was incredibly devastated and speechless the day tragedy struck. I couldn’t go back to sleep after I found out about Kobe’s death after my friend texted me at 4:30 AM (China time). Granted I didn’t think it was real at first because TMZ first released the article, and TMZ isn’t a trustworthy source. But after I knew it was very real, I couldn’t even begin to fathom Vanessa Bryant and his 3 surviving daughters’ deep heartbreak and loss, and how they were supposed to just go on without their husband/dad and daughter/sister. One of Kobe’s daughters was still a newborn, too.
I would always watch interviews of Kobe post-retirement of how much he loved being a dad and how his daughter Gigi would one day carry his legacy. He didn’t need a son because she got it. He was so proud of being a #girldad. Beyond being a basketball legend, Kobe was simply a loving father, dad, and son. Growing up, I watched the NBA and the Lakers were my second favorite team after the Sonics. I remember looking forward to coming home from school to watch his games at dinner with my brother. I remember watching the game where Kobe score 81 points (his all-time career high) in 2006 against the Toronto Raptors. I remember meeting him in the flesh right before his last away game in Phoenix. Yeah, that actually happened.
Ok tangent – story time! My family and I had traveled to Arizona for my spring break in 2016, and my brother bought tickets to a Lakers vs. Suns NBA game. On the day of the game, I was so excited, but never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d actually meet Kobe in the flesh. A few hours before the game started, we noticed a horde of photographers and reporters wearing Lakers gear outside a hotel, and gut instinct told me Kobe was in there.
I knew that would possibly be our only chance to ever meet him. I told my brother we should check out the commotion, but after putting myself in Kobe’s shoes for a moment, I was positive a big-time star like him wouldn’t take the main exit. I started looking for a side door to the hotel, and found a parking lot with an exit door. My brother quickly followed, and as we entered the parking garage, we noticed a towering figure coming out of the side door. IT WAS KOBE. IN THE FLESH. My heart stopped. I couldn’t breathe and I pinched myself. I was dreaming, right? He smiled warmly, waved at us, and off he went in his black limo.
I knew that moment was special, but didn’t think it’d be the last possible time I’d meet him. His loss felt like a piece of my childhood had died, too. Last week when I was in self-quarantine on my birthday week (I went to Chengdu, China for what was supposed to be a Lunar New Year vacation with my mom, cousin, and aunt, but that was cut very short from the coronavirus scare; unfortunately, our tour got cancelled and all tourist attractions shut down to mitigate risks of getting sick.)
Anyway, since I was in quarantine and trapped at home all week, I spent a lot of time reflecting and feeling so human and fragile. I struggled to grapple the losses of a legend, his precious daughter, and everyone else on that fateful, horrendous day. I was asking God why Kobe, and He reminded me everyone’s days are limited, no matter how many fans they have, how much money they make, what their status in life is, so I need to stop sweating the small things in life and chasing things that will never satisfy me. In light of Kobe’s passing, it’s a timely reminder to trust God more, despite not having all the answers. It’s God’s kindness and favor that He doesn’t always reveal the answers when we want Him to. We may never know why Kobe’s time here was abruptly cut short, when my loved ones will inevitably pass away, or when the next epidemic will hit.
Luckily, we can learn to put our assurance in our Heavenly Father who fully empathizes with all our weaknesses, giving us the courage to continue walking with Him and trusting in His faithful promises. Our days in the world are numbered – we’re here one day and gone the next, and yet we spend so many waking moments worrying about too many things outside our control. In my Kobe year, I want to change my destructive, self-loathing, and doubtful thought patterns. Instead of worrying about the future and things outside of my control, I choose to trust God’s sovereignty and goodness in the midst of my confusion, homesickness, identity struggles, and heaviness, and look ahead with much peace, hope, and joy because everything will be ok.