BECAUSE 9 years ago God answered a prayer...

those stupid babies turned 9 today....Feels like yesterday when papa brought them home...

I'm so blessed to have been able to be your 姐姐 in these last 9 years. I can't remember what it was like to be an only child because it feels like it's always been the three of us. I will never forget your very first summer home and how you kept me up every night with you. How you both knew to wake up/poop/cry back to back to back astounds me to this day. You've got the whole high-maintenance baby thing down to a science(perhaps it runs in the family) and I loved every minute of it and I love you both so much. If I can spoil you rotten until our children have children I'd be a happy sister.

I feel so much Joy(you guys won't get this joke but whatever) whenever I think back to holding you both in my arms at night, crying-all three of us, as our doting parents slept soundly in the next room during your first month in this world. After I left for college, I looked forward to coming home to finding you both taller, smarter, looking more and more like a real person and less like two pug puppies. (see pictures above) And starting school, going to camp, cheering you on at your first softball game. You were both so good at playing in the dirt as that ball rolled past you two. And still I cheered and cheered because my babies are superstars.

I wish you both a happy and healthy 9th year filled with enough laughter to make you cry and enough tears to bring you closer to God. I pray that you stay innocent and worry-free. If you must worry, I pray that you start learning to take them to Jesus. I pray that you keep a curious mind and to never stop asking questions. I pray that you are obedient because when you both misbehave, it's a lot on Mom and Dad. I pray that you grow up close to each other, never forgetting that blood runs thicker than water and that family always comes first. I pray that you help, edify, and encourage each other to be amazing children of God. I pray that you stand out and shine the way you're design to and never apologize for it. I pray for a year of growth and delightful new adventures for you both. I pray that we continue to deepen our relationship despite our age gap and the physical distance between us. I pray that you will both etch this onto your hearts: I love you both so sincerely and deeply, and I am so incredibly proud and grateful to be called your sister!

HAPPY 9TH BIRTHDAY TWINS
With all my love and more,
老大。

BECAUSE Romans 5:4-5

Linda put her foot down: no puppy....

But Jesus is Lord and perseverance leads to character and hope and hope DOES NOT DISAPPOINT!

In the meantime, here's what I've been googling....

C'mon.....just look at them...

In other news...there is a fly in the APT. He's been here since Monday night. Someone please come over and kill it....you will be richly rewarded with hugs and kisses.

~from us to you with all our love,
two best friends and Lady liberty

BECAUSE it's time to fall in love again...

I think I'm ready to have a puppy....

need to talk it over with Joy/move Linda onto the balcony.

stay tuned as I attempt to negotiate my way through this....

~from us to you with all our love,
Two friends and lady Liberty

BECAUSE it was a good year afterall...

About a year ago something awful happened. I was upset for a long time. Joy was there. I wanted the world to just stop moving forward and cry with me. Unfortunately it didn't but God was there and so were my friends. Looking back, it's been a year of growth filled with delightful memories...

I'm so excited to close this chapter of my life. I feel so blessed sometimes I feel like I'm literally levitating walking down the street. And then I can't help but smile and those New Yorkers smile right back. Happy new year ya'll!

 

From us to you with all our love,

two best friends and Lady Liberty

BECAUSE 我想家了。。。

 

I grew up in that kitchen, his kitchen, the smallest room in the house, darkened by smoke and grease. In that confined space, miscellaneous items piled high to the ceiling. A single bulb on the ceiling illuminates the world below. Mixtures of hot pepper, cilantro, and soy sauce soaked deep into its walls.  It was my favorite room to visit as a child. I, not quite as tall as the marble counter, could only see the edge of the clutter of knives, bowls, and freshly chopped garlic and ginger. It was his clutter; this was Grandpa’s place.

            To us outsiders, it was a room of a hundred secrets. A heavy curtain disconnected the kitchen from the dining room. On a breezy day, only the smallest sliver of the stove was visible to me. When he cooked, the magic of the room would leak outside: pungent fresh water eel, salted pork, pickled cabbage, and steamed ginger prawns… I, completely under his spell, would pace outside the curtain, lapping up drool as I went. I’ve longed to become the next carrier of family recipes, longed to learn the secret of his culinary abilities, dating back to generations ago.

            To know the depth of his knowledge is to know the wisdom in his eyes, dexterity of his hands, and the meticulousness of each drop of oil and sprinkle of salt. Everyone cooks in the family; none cook quite like Grandpa. The New Years I turned 5, Grandpa started the sacred and long awaited ritual of secret passing. I was to make meatballs that night. Molding chopped meat into balls and dropping them into a deep wok of boiling oil was to be my induction. After giving me instructions, Grandpa left. Heavy snow was falling outside the window against the thickest darkness, condensing a layer of opaque pearls across the glossy surface of the window. Inside the kitchen, however, was uncomfortably warm. I sat, motionless, on the chair against the marble counter, staring hopelessly into the bowl of raw meat. Hot steam filled my shirt pockets, squeezing between my naked toes. I knew that it wouldn’t be easy. This was a test of my allegiance, courage, and perseverance. I was five and about to fail.

            I’ll never forget that night, the first night I was allowed to cook in that kitchen, to touch the instruments he used countless times in preparing family feast during festive occasions. That night, I was let in on the secret, the hundred secrets of our family. In a traditional Chinese home, the kitchen is located in the center of front of the house. By giving this position to the kitchen, the family hopes that food, above all else, has the ability to unite family members no matter how long the separation or how far the distance. That night, I was given the torch; I became the next recipient of the family hope. It was the same hope, of our ancestors, which brought the family together during times of celebration and disaster. It was a hope that transcended time, people, and kitchens. The secret was passed that day, along with it, the family traditions, history, and stories. It was not to die with Grandpa but live through me and past me onto the link in the family line. It was a great responsibility of course, carrying the family secret, and I was ready and eager to accept it.

            I dream for myself. I dream often of that kitchen, generations of Qian’s blood, their love for food, their memories, desires, ambitions, worries, flowing through me. I really miss home...a tiny bit hungry, but a whole lot of longing.