How I Met Your Father, Part 5

Dear Ming Wai, Siu Jeun & Baby Ying Ying - 

Once upon a time, there was a boy and a girl who fell in love. They got engaged, got married, had babies. This is their story. 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

It was March when I realized that I wanted to marry your father. I had known him for two months. (See Part 4). Shortly after that, he was on a business trip, and called me to say goodnight. He wouldn't make much of a note of it at the time, but when he was saying goodbye, he said he loved me. I think I stuttered something, because I certainly had noticed that it was the first time he'd said those words. 

We continued to date, and play house, and spend all of our free time together. Realizing that we weren't seeing anyone else, and didn't really want to, he asked me one day if he could introduce me as his girlfriend. I told him I thought that would be entirely appropriate. One night, at a volleyball game, he casually mentioned that his sister would be moving to Shanghai with her family. He then, casually, mentioned that it would mess up "plans." Something in the way he said it, or tried to explain it once he realized he'd said it out loud, tipped me off to the fact that he was talking about a wedding. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who had come to the conclusion that the two of us ought to get married! 

Days passed. Weeks. Months. Every weekend was a special kind of torture for me. As much as I adored just spending time with your Dad, I wouldn't rest easy until he had actually asked me, out right, to marry him. I wanted to hear the words, and give my response. So, every weekend I would get my hopes up. Perhaps this would be the weekend he would ask me? And as every weekend came to a completely non-momentous close, I was disappointed. It was kind of exhausting. 

While this was going on, your aunt (my twin sister) was going through her first pregnancy. Ernie was on her way! Aunt Myrnie's due date came. And went. Still no baby. (As it turned out, when your Dad did finally decide to "pop the question", he also decided to wait until after the baby was born, so he would be sure to have my undivided attention. I had already made plans with Aunt Myrnie to attend the birth, so I was kind of on standby for the two weeks we waited for her after the due date. So, looks like your Daddy got some waiting time of his own!) 

Ernie was born on Friday, June 24. I attended the birth, and went home that night. In the morning, I went back to the hospital to visit with Myrnie and the baby again. I came home from the hospital, and went downstairs to my room. On my desk was a huge bouquet of roses, and a binder. It was labeled as a scavenger hunt - the first page was a letter to me, with instructions to only read the first clue, follow the instructions, and then proceed to turn the page. I would continue that way until I made it through all the clues and found my prize. 

With my heart thumping, I went out to find my parents. I teased them, "Dad? You really shouldn't let strange men into my bedroom when I'm not home!" He gave me a blank look, so I turned to my Mom. Another blank stare. Realizing they had no idea what I was talking about, I led them both down the stairs. My mother's reaction was priceless. "Ugh...Mormon boys are so silly!" (She could immediately see, as I suspected, that the scavenger hunt would end with a ring, and couldn't imagine why I had to drive around for hours to earn it. I think I had told her how frustrated I had been the past few weeks, waiting for Daddy to ask me to marry him.) (Your Dad had the code to get into the garage, and had come to the house while I was at the hospital. When nobody answered the door, he let himself in and set up his surprise in my room, and then let himself back out. Come to think of it, it must have been him who encouraged me to head back to the hospital on Saturday morning.)

I turned to the first page, and started reading the clues. At each location, I had to take a picture, and then turn the page. I ended up at Top Gun in Factoria (our first date!), the church building on Mercer Island (where we went to church), the stake center in Eastgate (where we first met), my own home (a picture of my mother playing piano), Lakemont Park (a picture of something living), back at his house (a picture of his favorite movie - Spider Man!) and finally, to the temple in Eastgate. 

I found him on a bench in the back of the temple, under a blooming apple tree, reading his scriptures and waiting for me. He had my "prize" waiting for me - it was a small gift bag. I slowly unpacked the contents, my pulse beating madly and my heart in my throat. There was another bouquet of flowers in his hands, some candy in the bag and...a ring pop. Like, a small plastic ring with a huge sugar "gem" on top. "Wasn't that a fun game, honey?? What do you want to do now?"

The adrenalin drop was too much. I was furious. And so disappointed. I knew I was being silly, but after all the weekends when I thought I might finally hear the question outright that would allow me to lay claim to this amazing man, in a public way...I was met with this. A ring pop. I picked up the bouquet of flowers, and turned around so he wouldn't see my red face. "Well, I guess we'd better get these back to my house and into a vase of water." I walked to my car, with my ears ringing, and slowly opened my trunk to pack the flowers carefully away for the short drive to my parent's house. My hands were shaking and I was trying not to cry. I turned back around to get the bag from him, and he wasn't there. I looked down. There, on one knee, in the damp temple parking lot, was your Daddy. Holding a ring. "Will you marry me?" 

Kids, he got me good. After a resounding YES, he slid a beautiful diamond ring onto my finger. And that was it. The ring was perfect. We had gone together to a jeweler, to look at ring styles, earlier. He knew that I favored the rings with intricate engravings along the sides. He went to a jeweler that he knew and looked through book after book of rings, with his mother to help him. He picked out a white gold ring (another preference of mine) that has a lovely infinity design along the sides. There is room for the stone in the center, flanked by four tiny diamonds on either side. 

I was so happy. We did go straight back to my parents' house, to put the roses in water and to show them my beautiful new ring. I think I got on the phone after that, calling grandparents and siblings. I can still picture all of this, so clearly. I stood just next to Grandma's Yamaha piano, in her beautiful living room, calling people, and repeating my good news, over and over. 

I found out later that his original Proposal Plan had involved a hike down to the base of Snoqualmie Falls, and two rings. One ring would be a cheap imitation ring, and he would "accidentally" drop it into the deep, swift water, where it would be washed away. He would then pull the real ring from his pocket, and that would be that. 

I have since informed him, it's an awfully great thing that he didn't go with Plan A, as I most likely would have punched him. 

To be continued...

(Today also marks my in-laws second day in town, as new residents! I dropped my kids off for camp, but the road outside my neighborhood was being repaved and signs promised "up to 30 minute delays". It made a whole lot more sense to just take MaMa and YehYeh out to lunch instead of waiting in line to get back home, only to turn around and wait in line to get back out! We tried to go to McDonald's, but the entire parking lot was full, so we ended up at Five Guys. One regular burger "all the way" for MaMa and YehYeh to split, one small bacon burger for me, and a regular order of fries to share. Poor Baby Ying Ying wanted a go at those fries so badly. MaMa understood - fries are her personal favorite. I think she gave Ying Ying a few hits. Salt? Not Ying Ying's thing. Heh. She wasn't too impressed, and didn't ask for more.)

How I Met Your Father, Pt. 4

(If you are just joining us, please go read the rest of the story first.)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

We had our first date a few days after that - he was going to dim sum with some former co-workers, and invited me along. I needed some thing at the shopping mall across the street, so he went with me after dim sum to go shopping. (Remember what I prayed for?) He carried my bag of hair spray and nail polish remover...and tried to hold my hand. I felt 12 again...I had no idea what to do. I still didn't know that I was attracted to him - habits gained during a mission take a long time to die! So...I did nothing. My hand happened to be balled into a fist when he reached out to hold it...so that's how I left it. (Yes, really.) I talked to him later about it, and he was surprised...so surprised, he just continued to hold my hand for a while.

That date started a trend...and we went out every weekend after that. There just wasn't a reason not to! We enjoyed each other's company, and we had fun together. We became "exclusive" pretty quickly, before we even thought about it. We continued to attend choir together one night a week. We had another class together the next night. The next night, I would go to the church building to watch him play volleyball and cheer him on. We saw each other on Friday and usually on Saturday, too. We had church together on Sunday...and then started the whole thing over again. Are you counting with me? That's one night out of the week that we didn't see each other.

By March, we had come to know each other very well. We still enjoyed each other's company a lot and never ran out of things to keep us entertained. When we stopped to think about what we had in common, though....we were stumped. As near as we could tell, the only hobby we both shared a passion for was...eating. Luckily, I loved to cook and he could cook Chinese food for me. Soon, we were meeting at his house after work for dinner. Basically, we were playing house.

Sometime around the middle of March, I attended a session in our temple with some other youth from our congregation. Lo Gung wasn't able to attend that evening, so I was there without him. Our temples are a great place for reflection and prayer...and sometimes, answers to prayers we haven't even prayed yet.

As I sat in the room, performing ordinances for people I had never met, people who had passed on a hundred years before I was born, I heard a voice in my head, almost chuckling.

"If he asked you, you'd say yes."

It only took me a second to realize what the voice was talking about...and another three seconds to realize the voice was right!

How I Met Your Father, Pt. 3

(To read Part 1, please go here.)
(To read Part 2, please go here.)

It wasn't three days later that I met your father. January 11 - 1/11. We were in choir, singing a piece I had sung in Hong Kong. (It's called the Holy City. It's about 15 million pages long, and rather difficult to sing.) I made some sort of comment about how nice our little choir sounded, after only one run through, and compared it to the one I had sung with in Hong Kong. (BBJ, if you don't know it yet - your mama's a jerk. Sorry.) Lo Gung heard me and piped up. "What are you saying about Chinese people?"

Well, BBJ...I did a mean thing. Your Daddy was handsome. I had been home from Hong Kong for two months, so I could at last see this! I assumed he couldn't possibly be Chinese. (Remember - missionaries aren't supposed to notice how attractive people are! I remembered most of the men I had met in Hong Kong as rather plain.)

In my arrogance, I answered him...in Chinese, "Jung gwok yahn cheung mh dou gou' yam'!" (Chinese people can't sing high!) I wanted to show off my Chinese, and make him ask me to repeat myself. (Don't try that trick on your future boyfriends. Imagine if he HADN'T been Chinese? I would have looked pretty stupid!) Imagine my surprise when he answered me, in Chinese!! (Serves me right - of course he would be the best tenor in the choir. Are you catching the irony here?)

From Bubba Bubbles

My social skills knew no bounds. We lost ourselves in our own little world for a minute. "Why are you speaking Chinese?" "Why are YOU speaking Chinese??!" "I served a mission in Hong Kong." "I was BORN in Hong Kong!" After a few minutes, we realized there were 8 other people standing with us, around a piano in a large chapel, waiting to continue the rehearsal. We continued the conversation after rehearsal, in the hall. Turns out I had worked with your Daddy's cousin, during the last part of my mission. What a small, small world! He was just another Elder, being trained when I knew him. We all got a kick out of the fact that he was half
Chinese and knew no Chinese before he entered the Missionary Training Center. (You won't get off so easy, young lady, so don't even THINK about it!) We said goodnight and each went our separate ways.

A few days later, I noticed him at church. (I must have missed him my first week attending that congregation - a Singles Ward.) I sat near him in the chapel during sacrament meeting. Trying to be polite, he turned to me afterwards and said, "Oh! I wished, on Saturday, that I'd had your number - I was sitting at home playing video games. We could have hung out!" Remember all my social graces? Yeah - not so much. I pulled out a piece of paper, wrote down my number and handed it to him. "Here you go!" "Umm...thanks?" (Apparently a girl ought to wait for a man to actually ask for her number before she goes handing it out. Who knew?!)

At the end of our meetings that day (there are three hours of them, every Sunday!), I was chatting with some girls in Relief Society when I noticed him out in the hall. "Hmm. That's interesting - I guess guys in this ward wait outside Relief Society for their girls? How sweet!" As more and more girls left, and fewer and fewer of us were left in the room, and I STILL saw him standing out in the hall every time the door swung open, I realized he might be waiting for me! I walked slowly out into the hall, watching him. If he looked at me, I'd talk to him. If he looked past me, I knew I'd misinterpreted and I'd just keep on walking. He was looking at me! Waiting for me!! This was the Sunday after I'd met him, so it must have been January 16. He wanted to let me know that he and some friends were going to dim sum the following Saturday, and would I like to join them? I said yes, we parted ways again. (How clueless can I be? I ought to have been doing a happy dance or something...instead, I was just pleased that I was making friends and had something on my calendar besides endless job interviews and church functions!)

To be continued...

How I met your father, Pt. 2

(For Part I of this thrilling saga, go here.)

*Edited per Lo Gung's helpful hints. Thanks, honey! :-D

Deciding to go on a mission was the start of a beautiful change in my life. I arrived in the Missionary Training Center in May of 2003, in beautiful Provo, Utah. I spent 12 weeks there, learning how to be a missionary, learning to speak Cantonese, and learning how to present The Word to the sweet people that filled that distant city. I arrived in Hong Kong in August of that year. It was hot, sticky, smelly...I was miserable at first. Every day, my trainer would ask me, "How are you doing, tuhngbuhn (companion) ? Every day, I gave her the same answer - Sticky.

I ought to explain a little - my first apartment in Hong Kong was in an area called Cheung Sha Wan. Our biggest claim to fame was the sheer number of elderly residents that lived in the Retirement Communities that dotted the neighborhood. There was a very large elementary school, just below our window, with hundreds of students. Every morning, they had their Exercise Time. All the students stood in neat little rows, wearing their neat little white shirts and teeny tiny shorts, and doing jumping jacks or just jumping, or stretching, while a Teacher would count over the loudspeaker: "Yat, Yih, Saam, Sei, Mh, Luhk, Chat, Baat" I'm pretty sure that I could count to eight in my sleep within two days of moving in.

We were on the 17th story, I think. There were four girls living in the apartment, which consisted of a main room, a bed room, a study, a kitchen and a bathroom. The bedroom had had the doors removed - the door wouldn't shut with two bunk beds in there, anyhow. I had the bottom, right bunk. To get to bed I would crawl onto the bottom left bunk and cross over to mine. The hardest bed to reach was my companion's bed, above mine - she had to crawl onto the bottom left bunk, cross my bunk to the recessed window and then climb up onto her bed. There was literally two inches between the two bunk beds, and about that between the four sides of the beds and the four walls. The kitchen had room for two people to stand, side by side. The "study" had room for two desks and a dresser, with about three feet between the desks (side by side) and the dresser at our backs.

(I don't mean to complain about the apartment! Later apartments were much larger - we were in the process of looking for a new apartment when I lived in Cheung Sha Wan, so the teeny arrangements were temporary.)

Our area of town was dotted with various sellers of foods. There were several shops that sold nothing but dried seafood, roots, bark, fungus and mushrooms, all for the healing of the body and the making of delicious soups. I can tell you - you definitely know when you are approaching a shop that specializes in dried scallops, shrimp and salted whole fish.

By the time my first companion (my trainer) was done with me, my heart was beginning to soften. We had seen miracles, she had raised my Chinese from practically non-existent to the point where I could hold a conversation with a (very patient) Chinese person and understand what they were saying, and I had eaten my way through more yummy meals than I could count.

I have to tell you, BBJ - the Gift of Tongues that they talk about in the Bible? It's REAL. Every morning, I spent an hour studying Chinese. Every day, I used Chinese to talk to complete strangers, everywhere I went. There were so many times when someone would say something to me, and I would have NO idea what they were talking about. I would ask them to repeat it. I kid you not- every time, IF I had been diligent that morning in my studies (regardless of what words I actually studied), I would hear that person in English the second time. It was like a little translator was sitting on my shoulder - I would hear the Chinese word with my ear, and it would be English in my head. God blesses those that do His work, and do as He commands them.

I spent a total of 15 months in Hong Kong. (The three months in the MTC count towards your 18 month total.) By the time I left, I loved the Chinese people so much it hurt. I just wanted them to be happy. As a missionary, I was completely dedicated to them. I slept for 8 hours every night, waking up early to work on music for my choir to sing to the people. I studied the scriptures, and Chinese, every morning and ate breakfast. Then I spent 11 hours a day on the streets, in the homes of members of the church or teaching lessons in the homes of those investigating the church. I showed my respect for the culture, and my hosts, by eating anything (and everything) that was put in front of me. I ate pigs tongue, chicken feet, cows stomach. (This probably explains how I put on nearly 25 lbs during my time in Hong Kong!) We had one day a week to take 8 hours for ourselves, to wash our clothes, clean our apartments, buy our groceries and send e-mails to our parents to tell them how things were going.

I cried when I left Hong Kong. I could still hear my friends' questions, ringing in my ears - What will you do when you go home? Where will you work? Their favorite question, though, was, "Will you go home and marry a Chinese boy?" I always told them, no. I wouldn't be marrying a Chinese boy. I was a very focused missionary, ignoring most of the temptations and distractions Hong Kong had to offer. (Except the bakeries. Those were so, so dangerous!) I had simply never seen a Chinese man that was my definition of handsome! I assured my friends, though, that though my skin may have remained the pinky-white I was born with, my heart was half "yellow." They understood what I meant - it was a common image among missionaries: the "egg". The missionary that was "white" outside and "yellow" inside. I had come to understand, know, and love these sweet, generous people of Hong Kong.

My deepest fear, when I got off that airplane in SeaTac, was that I would have lost all the Chinese I worked so hard to gain. I knew that if I hadn't had God's help, I never would have become as fluent as I had. I kind of assumed that without that direct help, I'd never be able to speak it fluently again. I can't believe, now, that I did this...but, after I got off the plane, I found a Chinese-looking family standing near the baggage carousel. I approached them and, in Chinese, introduced myself...and asked, "Can you understand me?" The father looked confused but he assured me, yes, as long as I was speaking Chinese and he was still Chinese, he could understand me perfectly. I was so relieved! (Remember, it's a long, long flight home from China. I don't think I'd slept in 48 hours at this point.)

I went home to my family...and tried to figure out what came next. I signed up with a temp agency. I reconnected with old friends. I met every person from Hong Kong that I could, trying to keep a connection to the culture. I quickly realized, though, that just about everyone that I could meet were my mother's age. They could teach me a lot about language and food (they taught me to cook some fabulous things!) but they would never have the time to just be my friend.

I began to pray that Heavenly Father could introduce me to someone more my age, someone I could hang out with and go shopping with...

Ha. Ha. Ha. He has such a sense of humor.

To BBJ: How I Met Your Father

From Bubba Bubbles

Dear BBJ -

Yesterday, Daddy and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary. I thought, seeing as having you is a direct result of meeting your father...I ought to tell you the story. Are you ready? It will take some time!

It starts when I was still in college. I was attending the University of Washington and trying to decide what was going to come next. I dated a few boys, through college. They all had their merit. (Keep quiet, Mom. They DID have their good points! Some of them...) My mind kept going back to missions. I prayed about it and turned in my paperwork around my 21st birthday, in November of 2002. I was all set to graduate in March of 2003. I started dreaming of where I might go. I felt certain it would be a predominantly White area, for some reason. I thought it might be the Nauvoo visitor's center...or maybe back to Wales, where our ancestors are from.

Shortly after turning in my paperwork, I met a Boy. I'm not going to go into details...but let's just say that the two of us getting married would have been a pretty funny thing. Oh, and everyone could see it, except me! In fact, by the time my papers arrived from Salt Lake City, I had decided not to go on my mission. (Hehehehe...yes, Mom. I was crazy. Go figure!) On the day my papers arrived, I pulled them out of the mailbox...and decided that I ought to at least open them, to see where I would have been going....had I actually been going.

I went into the house and had Grandma gather up all the siblings that were available. (It's a tradition...) I have to admit - I cheated. While Grandma was gathering everyone up, I slipped a finger under the envelope flap and took a peek at the papers. The first thing I saw was "Hong Kong" in bold letters, halfway down the page. My first thought? "Hmm...I didn't know there was a Hong Kong in Illinois?" I was so certain I was staying in the continental United States, or going to Europe, I was only seeing what I thought I would see. I mean, I'd been to Paris, Idaho...so there could, conceivably, be a Hong Kong in Illinois...right?

After everyone was gathered up, I pulled the letter out and read it for real. "...you are hereby called to serve in the China, Hong Kong mission. It is expected that you will serve for a period of 18 months..."

Everything after that was a blank. Grandma was yelling about how exciting it would be to live in China...but I wasn't hearing her. Aunt Myrnie had to go to a babysitting job, so I drove her and then took myself to the temple to pray. I pulled into the back parking lot, turned the car off, bowed my head to pray...and stayed that way for a good 45 minutes.

I don't think many people at home knew of my indecision. I remember driving home and calling The Boy as I approached the house. I told him that I'd received my papers...and that I was going to Hong Kong.

(To be continued.....)