Cathy and I do not have children. I do affectionately refer to my cats and dog as our "furkids", but there is no denying that I will never understand the joys or heartaches of having offspring of our own.
To say that I have made my peace with it would be to imply a loss I do not experience. Some feel that childlessness is a state to be pitied; however, as I have no existential reference point, I simply do not feel any sense of deprivation or loss.
As is normal, we have plenty of friends with children. I can think of several such friends that would, should I envy the prospect of parenthood, cause me to be both immeasurably happy for them and deeply disturbed by my own lack of parity. Some friends make parenthood look (almost) easy, but I believe that is simply a lack of perspective on my part.
The cries of neither the tribulations nor the triumphs of our offspring will be heard in our home. Instead, Cathy and I experience slivers of parental joy by offering to watch the kids while our friends actually have a date night, or perhaps attend a function or work late or some other important reason.
Some joy can be derived vicariously from being a parental stand-in. We even have friends who are trusting enough, or perhaps possessing the required senses of humor, to allow me participation in the changing of diapers, getting kids bathed and teeth brushed before bed, and other less-than-glamorous activities. Bedtime stories were a joyful discovery; I actually enjoy reading bedtime stories to children. As I have the luxury of being the non-parent, I suspect I receive a little bit of leniency and good behavior from the children, and I reciprocate by being slightly less stern as their parents would in the course of an average day.
From time to time, the apparent lack of children in our lives comes up in conversation. This is a natural phenomena, and all of our acquaintances go through this process. Once biological children are ruled out, the option of adoption is usually suggested, along with observations about our obvious fitness to be extraordinary parents.
Generous, optimistic projections of how our potentially adopted children would change the world aside, I do not believe I would make a great father. Sure, no father is perfect, but make many sacrifices to have children and to guide them to adulthood. I do not think I could be half the dad my own father was, and at 40, I simply have never faced the need to deprive myself in the ways I think a child would deserve.
Rushing to my defense, our friend point out how we provided for Cathy's mom for over a decade, or how we have sent (a not-insignificant amount of) money to my mother to support her since my father's death. Duty, love and obligation are entwined in my mind regarding patently. Children require sacrifice. Sacrifice is not something I am accustomed to making, and though I would learn, parenthood is not a state of affairs I find myself in nor desiring to enter into.
Biological imperatives, often couched in the creation mandate, do not sway me to have children. If the command to be fruitful and multiply has not yet been met, then I am a monkey's uncle. That said, I do think that it is normal and desirable for a society to have a steady state of population. Nonetheless, I so not think every couple needs to have children, nor do I think that it is a requirement of a marriage. Children need parents, but married people do not have to be parents.
Children are a gift, and when would-be parents spurn that gift, adoption is a beautiful solution to an intractable state of affairs. Parenthood should, from my limited and experience-free perspective, reflect the way God treats all His children. That is a task too high for me, and as we cannot have biological children of our own as a couple, I assume that God has something else in mind for us. Adoption may not be it, either.
We have friends who have adopted, and acquaintances who have done so as well. Some adopt to fill a need of the world, for they have more room in their hearts to welcome children without a home of their own. Others have adopted to fill a need of their own, and just as eating and sleeping are needs, some rightfully need to be parents, and there may be some beauty when children need parents who need them as well.
Adoption, as a notion, gives me the tingles. To understand why I get that tingly feeling, you'd have to hear my thoughts on human depravity and redemption, and perhaps be a little surprised of how little I think of myself. But I'll try briefly...
The very thought of God adopting us, to make the untouchable cherished, to truly redeem something not merely useless but repulsive, is (in a word) just AWESOME. God's love fills me with wonder and it terrifies me. That is what adoption means to me.
Adoption is (should be?) deliberated parenthood. I doubt most natural parents have any idea what they are really getting into with their first child, but good parents are deliberate in undertaking the task. I like to think we know some good parents, who perhaps upon reading this would not think of themselves but should, for they demonstrate God to their children regularly. God's example should inform everything from discipline to recreation, but I remain the opinionated man without children.
Cathy and I neither need children nor feel "called" to parenthood. What I had believed I felt was a calling to be pastor, a cash-poor one at that, and being childless made sense back then. Now I do not know why, but I am comfortable with it. Should we ever have children, it would be a task requiring much grace from a loving God who is willing to give it, so while I would find the prospect awesome, it would be a great privilege and adventure.
Showing posts with label Parents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parents. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 04, 2014
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Thoughts on the prospect of living with my mom
Cathy has long known that I hope to one day move my mother stateside to live next to me. I have some dreams and some concerns on how this may work out.
We have lived in a triplex before and that worked well for us. I can envision purchasing a triplex or a quad, with Cathy and I in one unit, my mother in another, and Rhona and Dave (Cathy's mom and her husband) in the other. One big happy family, but each with their own space. I would convert a space for Cathy's studio, and life would be perfect.
I don't think we could pull this off financially, except that my mom has two sources of retirement income and would be willing to help, like praying rent. Rhonda and Dave would do the same, so our payments on the property should be quite manageable.
California is just too expensive. I would love to enjoy all that the Golden State has to offer, except the taxes and the deficit. Perhaps the Joneses would have to move to somewhere like Georgia. My employer has an office and they were quite positive about the prospect of a transfer. Dave already wants to move there and Cathy has family out there. I would simply acclimate.
Culturally, Cathy and I would learn to fit in, and we would have help from family. I am mostly concerned with climate and finances. I think we are spoiled by California's temperate seasons, and real weather and seasons would take some getting used to. However, I think we are up to the task.
Very little of concern has crossed my mind in regards to living with Rhonda and Dave. After all, we lived with Cathy's mom in our house for 10 of the first 12 years of our marriage. We got along. Dave takes good care of her, and he is a good man.
Most of my concerns stem from my mother's expectations of living with me, as I do not believe she realizes that I, her son, am American. That may sound strange, but though I grew up in Taiwan in a Chinese culture and environment, my mother had far less influence on me than my late (and great) father. My father took great care in preparing me to go home to America; I do not think he intended for me to stay in Taiwan, as he always spoke of my presence there as visits. I wish he had moved back here with my mother, but dad loved her too much to take her away from a familiar and stable life.
Common practice among American families is for the patents to prepare for their own retirement. My dad did so to some extent, and my mother has always relied upon my father's plans. He did not intent to die so soon, as his plans assumed my mother's eligibility for social security. We did get that all sorted out, but it was not an easy couple of years, particularly for my mother.
Common practice among the Chinese people of Taiwan is for the parents to move in with the children. Further back, it was multi-generation families, where the son builds an addition to the shared structure of the growing house for his new family. Now, with land at a premium, parents move in with a child. I joke about how the Chinese 401(k) plan is to have four or more children. Unfortunately, my mother's portfolio is not very diverse, so we find ourselves with a single long-term investment.
Although I consider myself a Chinese American, the "Chinese" part is the modifier, and "American" is the primary aspect of my national, cultural identity. Sure, the Chinese part is important, but it isn't as important as I believe my mother likely thinks.
If she is to move here and live with us, my mother will need to understand that she'll be living with her American son and his American wife. We will need our own space, and while I would see her almost daily, my life will not revolve around her. And, as an American male, the thought of having two women trying to share a kitchen (again) is simply off the table; it didn't work with Cathy and her mom, so it certainly isn't going to work with her foreign mother-in-law.
Within the landscape of my mother's imagination, I believe she envisions living in the same house, walking the same halls, and sharing every meal with me. When she speaks of the future, she does not picture Cathy, merely how mom and I will relate to each other, with Cathy in the backdrop of the scene. Those who know me know that Cathy and I are rarely separated. It is of growing concern that my mother has had no way to learn of this or experience this, and she does not seem to grasp it when I tell her in letters and photos.
A language barrier has grown quietly but steadily over the years between my mother and myself. My Mandarin is not what it used to be as those language and vocabulary muscles have atrophied. My mother's somewhat limited English has begun to deteriorate in my father's absence. Particularly challenging is the fact that I have only lately come to this realization. Without my father to mediate and bridge the gaps of our communication, my mother and I say less and less that the other actually understands.
We have perhaps two years (three tops) of time to prepare for my mother's intersection with our life. I must find a way to make clear what our new arrangement may entail, the commitments I am willing to make and what I am unwilling to sacrifice. How shall I get an accurate picture of what mom expects, and how do I best honor her in her old age? I do not know, but I believe I shall pray for inspiration. And I suppose I should begin brushing up on Chinese.
We have lived in a triplex before and that worked well for us. I can envision purchasing a triplex or a quad, with Cathy and I in one unit, my mother in another, and Rhona and Dave (Cathy's mom and her husband) in the other. One big happy family, but each with their own space. I would convert a space for Cathy's studio, and life would be perfect.
I don't think we could pull this off financially, except that my mom has two sources of retirement income and would be willing to help, like praying rent. Rhonda and Dave would do the same, so our payments on the property should be quite manageable.
California is just too expensive. I would love to enjoy all that the Golden State has to offer, except the taxes and the deficit. Perhaps the Joneses would have to move to somewhere like Georgia. My employer has an office and they were quite positive about the prospect of a transfer. Dave already wants to move there and Cathy has family out there. I would simply acclimate.
Culturally, Cathy and I would learn to fit in, and we would have help from family. I am mostly concerned with climate and finances. I think we are spoiled by California's temperate seasons, and real weather and seasons would take some getting used to. However, I think we are up to the task.
Very little of concern has crossed my mind in regards to living with Rhonda and Dave. After all, we lived with Cathy's mom in our house for 10 of the first 12 years of our marriage. We got along. Dave takes good care of her, and he is a good man.
Most of my concerns stem from my mother's expectations of living with me, as I do not believe she realizes that I, her son, am American. That may sound strange, but though I grew up in Taiwan in a Chinese culture and environment, my mother had far less influence on me than my late (and great) father. My father took great care in preparing me to go home to America; I do not think he intended for me to stay in Taiwan, as he always spoke of my presence there as visits. I wish he had moved back here with my mother, but dad loved her too much to take her away from a familiar and stable life.
Common practice among American families is for the patents to prepare for their own retirement. My dad did so to some extent, and my mother has always relied upon my father's plans. He did not intent to die so soon, as his plans assumed my mother's eligibility for social security. We did get that all sorted out, but it was not an easy couple of years, particularly for my mother.
Common practice among the Chinese people of Taiwan is for the parents to move in with the children. Further back, it was multi-generation families, where the son builds an addition to the shared structure of the growing house for his new family. Now, with land at a premium, parents move in with a child. I joke about how the Chinese 401(k) plan is to have four or more children. Unfortunately, my mother's portfolio is not very diverse, so we find ourselves with a single long-term investment.
Although I consider myself a Chinese American, the "Chinese" part is the modifier, and "American" is the primary aspect of my national, cultural identity. Sure, the Chinese part is important, but it isn't as important as I believe my mother likely thinks.
If she is to move here and live with us, my mother will need to understand that she'll be living with her American son and his American wife. We will need our own space, and while I would see her almost daily, my life will not revolve around her. And, as an American male, the thought of having two women trying to share a kitchen (again) is simply off the table; it didn't work with Cathy and her mom, so it certainly isn't going to work with her foreign mother-in-law.
Within the landscape of my mother's imagination, I believe she envisions living in the same house, walking the same halls, and sharing every meal with me. When she speaks of the future, she does not picture Cathy, merely how mom and I will relate to each other, with Cathy in the backdrop of the scene. Those who know me know that Cathy and I are rarely separated. It is of growing concern that my mother has had no way to learn of this or experience this, and she does not seem to grasp it when I tell her in letters and photos.
A language barrier has grown quietly but steadily over the years between my mother and myself. My Mandarin is not what it used to be as those language and vocabulary muscles have atrophied. My mother's somewhat limited English has begun to deteriorate in my father's absence. Particularly challenging is the fact that I have only lately come to this realization. Without my father to mediate and bridge the gaps of our communication, my mother and I say less and less that the other actually understands.
We have perhaps two years (three tops) of time to prepare for my mother's intersection with our life. I must find a way to make clear what our new arrangement may entail, the commitments I am willing to make and what I am unwilling to sacrifice. How shall I get an accurate picture of what mom expects, and how do I best honor her in her old age? I do not know, but I believe I shall pray for inspiration. And I suppose I should begin brushing up on Chinese.
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