A Thousand Deaths — Going Off Script
45 minutes.
That’s how long the drive was going to take from the burbs to San Francisco.
The weather man said it was going to be hot that day. So, I wore a summer halter dress. I wanted to wear something bright and happy, figuring I was going to be in some of the pictures.
But, I also knew better. San Francisco is Fog City, baby. If you ever get a chance to go there, here’s a tip: always, always bring a light jacket. No matter what the weather channel tells you.
The weather can change on a dime, even if you look out the window and squint because the sun shining. Because far in the distance, behind those green mountains, the fog is quietly collecting. Before you know it, you’re going to go hunting and end up walking out of a tourist trap, wearing a chunky sweatshirt stamped with S-a-n F-r-a-n-c-i-s-c-o in large letters across your chest.
Running
I loaded up my 35mm digital camera the night before with fresh batteries. I reached into my bag to make sure that extra memory card was still safely tucked in the side pocket. I wore my Jackie O shades, ready to step it out in my walking sandals.
I punched in xxx Jackson Street into the GPS and hit “OK”.
Please proceed to the highlighted route, the car directed.
Everything was set.
Not really. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to return to Chinatown.
Ah-Ma had me running from that place my whole life.
“Remember where you came from,” Ah-Ma would often tell me. “Because that’s where you’d still be. Speaking Chinese and no English. You would have been a Nobody. If it hadn’t been for me.”
Ah-Ma made the decision to move us out of the city.
It didn’t occur to me growing up, but what Ah-Ma said was pretty ironic. After we moved inland, penned into a small town with orchard fields all around, we’d still make a bi-weekly trek back. We’d drive 45 minutes to pay for parking, walk up and down the hills of Chinatown, to buy and lug our Chinese groceries in plastic bags, see our Chinese doctor, and buy our Chinese medicine. All, while speaking only Chinese.
The new neighborhood we moved into was just as “ethnically diverse”. Ah-Ma was right. I didn’t hear Chinese at the laundromat, drug store, or playground. Instead, I grew up hearing people speak Spanish and Filipino, while speaking only Chinese at home.
There was one other kid who was Korean, but I was the only Chinese in my grade level from kindergarten on up until sixth grade. My friends were Eduardo, Jerome, Jocelyn, and Delia. Of course, there was Jimmy. But, he and a few others were the minority.
Random Pieces
It’s funny the things your brain chooses to keep in the memory banks from childhood.
It’s kinda like working on your first 1000 piece puzzle. The first pieces to dig out are the edges, the border of picture. Then, you go for the recognizable stuff in the middle, the reason why you bought a picture cut up into a thousand odd shapes in the first place. You’d find some cartoon charater’s eyeball or a wing to a rocket ship. Life was good.
Then, there were the random pieces left over.
As the minutes counted down on the GPS monitor, I was one exit closer to my turn off the freeway at Fourth Street, downtown San Francisco.
I hope I find whatever it is I’m looking for. Because right now, the memories I’ve carried up until now seem random.
Randomly happy and randomly sad.
I remember a long set of stairs, wood steps, dark and steep in the first doorway I was carried through and later walked up.
I can still feel the smooth, cool porcelin bottom of the bathtub that stood on four legs, with a rubber plug I’d yank off with the chain.
I can never forget standing in that dark, musty closet in the hallway, dusty in my throat.
I remember…
Momma. The one I call Ah-Ma.
A Thousand Deaths
Dead.
That’s what Ah-Ma said I was to her. I was good as dead to her the day I stopped being the daughter she wanted me to be.
I chose to die, so that the part of me that was dead could start living.
I stopped coming to Chinatown after that. It was the beginning of a thousand deaths, each in exchange for a step into my new life.
As the car rolled into the parking garage at Kearny and Clay, the eastern border of Chinatown, I prayed I wasn’t making a mistake.
Please God. Whatever it is I need to find, help me find it…
~~~~~
Running.
It’s an expedient method to get away.
Only trouble is, a person can run so hard, he can forget what he’s running towards.
I’ve stopped running.
But, I’m not coming back to look for Ah-Ma.
I’m hoping to recover someone else.
Me.
To Be Continued…
~~~~~
How do the missing pieces to your story affect you?
Are you running?
~~~~~
What did I find, as I made my way into Chinatown?…
Stay tuned for the next post in the ongoing series — Going Off Script.
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I hope the stories will inspire you to experience God’s encouragement, to embrace His story for you.
Thank you for being one of the catalysts God uses to inspire me, by sharing your stories, comments, and readership. May we taste greater freedom, as we find less to fear and more of Christ to trust in.
Faith. It takes us off script.
Going Off Script are a collection of scenes from my story, interspersed along with my regular brews. I'm telling it fresh, for the first time, as I take the journey to remember. Be sure to stay tuned in for my next Going Off Script post, as I continue my story. SUBSCRIBE NOW to get the next post in these series and more from FaithBarista hot and fresh directly in your mailbox via email (click here) or RSS (click here) news reader.
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Bonnie, I am captivated by your story as well as your storytelling.
.-= emily´s last blog ..beauty rising :: a guest post =-.
Thanks for being here, Emily.
I’m breathlessly awaiting the next part! Your story is so intriguing and the fact that you’re taking us along on your journey is courageous and exciting! Looking forward to seeing the things God reveals about yourself and Him as you travel this path, Bonnie. Praying for you because I know this must be difficult & painful.
It’s a good pain. I’m intrigued myself!
Bonnie, thanks for sharing your story with us. Let it help others find the courage to go to those places that they’ve been avoiding.
Thanks for sharing a part of my story today, Carol.
Bonnie, I have run as well in different area’s. Keep telling your story and I will keep reading!!
Love ya,
Cherie
.-= Cherie´s last blog ..Thought For Today! =-.
Thanks, Cherie!
I’ve been chasing down my own story for quite some time and am so happy to encounter someone in the same process (different details)! I am definitely CHAMPIONING you on your journey.
Me, too! Thank you, Marilyn.
Tears are gathering as I finish reading this chapter. The suspense is building, and I want to know more. I cannot for the life of me understand how a mother can tell a child that ‘if you don’t follow the script of your life as it has been set by others before you were born, you are as much as dead to me.’ How young you are. How brave. I’m weeping quietly now—for you and for your Ah-Ma. I’m sure if I understood the culture you came from better, I might make a little more sense of this. I’ve heard the words describing it, but the understanding is surface. At the heart is loss of so much. It’s been said to me that I love too much. I still don’t know what that really means although I’ve heard these words before. They are really still just words to me.
How do the missing pieces of my story affect me? They leave me hollow in some places of my heart. I try and fill it with God and family and friends, but this hollowness haunts me at times…in the dark. There’s still a yearning to fill it with what I want…close family relationships. But…it seems there is never enough closeness to fill that hollowness. Every time I think it is coming…fear and loss color my view of what is happening. Oh and I am trying to sew healthy seeds of faith and new ways of seeing things. Have I died in order to start living? Oh yeah…the sweet, compliant child died and a tough woman grew from her seed. But this tough woman has to lean heavily on the Father to face the fears of abandonment and put on the jubilant smile and reach out for hope. Am I running? Yes…still…from what I am not quite sure…it’s a murky fear. And as I run, I try, try, try to believe the way He wants me to go will be clear and joy will follow with a knowing rebirth.
Thank you for your courage. Thank you for sharing your story. God is blessing us all with its strength!
Everyone has a dream, no matter what culture. No matter how broken, we all want to reach joy. Thank you for sharing your journey.
Oh Bonnie. You’re often so light-hearted. Even this story you tell with a hope and a bright perspective, and I am moved to tears as I read your memories, picturing you, seeing how you have lived, how you have chosen. Thank you for sharing your journey here. You didn’t have to.
It’s a different side of me. That I hope resonates something deep, that God has placed.
Stories matter and yours is one I looking forward to read more about…
thanks for sharing!
Jay
I can only imagine the feelings going through you as memories flooded upon this return…as well as pain from resurrected hurts. I’ll be interested to discover what you find and what you learn about yourself on this journey.
.-= Kristine McGuire´s last blog ..Whom Do You Love? =-.
Bonnie,
I don’t know if there are missing pieces in my puzzle but it would be hmmm…. nice?….. to explore them…
And YES…. the OLD me has had to DIE…. and now I am living…and every day I RUN….away from who I used to be and towards God!
Thank You for sharing your story with us….you are filled with Grace, Courage and Faith in my eyes…Thank You!
.-= Connie Gomez´s last blog ..Half way done…. =-.
I am on the edge of my seat!
Thank you for giving us a peek into these intimate beginnings, Bonnie. I am feeling your anticipation…
.-= Laura´s last blog ..Celebration =-.
Thank you for sharing this piece of your story, Bonnie. I want to read more!
.-= Becky Ramsey´s last blog ..O Brother =-.
Your story is so intriguing. I find that I get butterflies when I read it.
.-= 50centlove´s last blog ..Room Redo – {episode 2} =-.
This is a book. Seriously. You’re fantastic!
Amy Carmichael says:
He who begins, finishes. He who leads us on, follows behind to deal in love with our poor attempts….He gathers up the things that we have dropped–our fallen resolutions, our mistakes…He makes His blessed pardon to flow over our sins till they are utterly washed away. And He turns to fight the Enemy, who would pursue after us, to destroy us from behind.
He is first, and He is last!
And we are gathered up in between, as in great arms of eternal lovingkindness.
…As we travel on to another day, another month, another year, we need never fear!
Edge of His Wings, pp 138-139
May you sense Him gathering you up in between in great arms of eternal lovingkindness!
Blessings,
Stacey
.-= Stacey´s last blog ..Home School Village =-.
You have such a great story and you’re telling it so. freaking. well. Bonnie, I’m impressed and intrigued right now. Very good job!
.-= Jake´s last blog ..Life of the Believer 2: Sweat =-.
Wow. Love reading your story Bonnie. Inspiring. Looking forward to continue reading.
You’ve got me hooked, at the edge of my seat reading.
My missing pieces? I’d have lost sanity by now without faith that my God has made my life all He intends it to be for my blessing. However frustrating to being a 1,000 piece puzzle, it’s far worse to be halfway through and discover some pieces are simply gone. You’ve searched a hundred times and the eye or the hand or the other piece of the blue sky simply isn’t there. You can find the place for the remaining pieces, but the puzzle cannot be completed.
Yet once begun, how can one not keep going as far as possible, hoping that by some miracle the mysteriously missing piece might yet materialize?
.-= Anne Lang Bundy´s last blog ..Question of the Week: Why No Healing? =-.
You are so brave. It takes bravery to put it all out there like that. You will bless others and help them tell their stories by your example. It fascinates me how diverse all our stories are. So many people, so many paths. It’s clear God is directing yours.
.-= Southern Gal´s last blog ..D Day has come and gone… =-.
Breathtaking…
xoxo
Arianne
Ok – found post 2 – I love this ! Oh my gosh. You are a beautiful writer… and your story is so intriguing… I can’t wait until part 3
.-= Jenny´s last blog ..Trafficking: The Not-So-Subtle Violation of a Person’s Soul =-.