Another story about my mother

As some of you might know, I'm pretty busy this summer. I take IB141 Human Genetics in the mornings, work in a research lab in the afternoons, volunteer at The Hospital for a full day once a week, and am co-coordinating Summer IV. Seems like a hefty load, right? Right. I've been frustrated, emotionally spent, mentally exhausted, low on BART fare more than once. But it's also been humbling, exciting, groundbreaking, relationally rewarding, affirming, interesting, and fun.

All of the things I've listed have just been trumped by a story my mother told me as I hugged and kissed her on the way in the door. (I'm told this isn't an Asian family thing to do, the hugging and kissing.)

First, my mother gave me these two cute strawberry grocery bags almost exactly like the one below:

They're from a former student of hers, who got them in Hong Kong. Cute, right? AND functional! Perfect.

But getting back to my story about the story she told:

The student's father had abandoned their family in China when she was young, and her mother sent her to America to live with a relative as a teenager. The relative treated her badly, didn't give her food to eat, and kicked her out of the house after a week. What's a young girl to do in a foreign country? She found work as a dish washer in a hotel, and supported herself through high school on $30 a month after rent.

I said, "Your student was so ke lian." Unfortunate, ill-fated, afflicted with suffering.

"No! Girls are very nung gan," my mother said. Able-bodied, enduring. Tears had been welling up in my eyes until she said, "Not so with boys. Just look at you and your brothers." (Male readers, please don't resent that statement.)

The story doesn't end there, though. The former student put herself through school, and is now enrolling in a graduate program. She and my mother still get together once a month to eat lunch, chat, and go shopping. My mother is like a surrogate mother to her.

Sometimes, I think about my mother leaving Cupertino High School, with its manicured lawns and safe suburban community, to teach at low-income high-risk schools like Thurgood Marshall High, with its barbed wire fences and security guard patrols. I've always admired my mother for sacrificing prestige and salary for giving herself to students who are in need of more than just a teacher. It might sound sappy, but I want to be like her.

This story isn't unique. My mother is a surrogate mother to a lot of her students. I always joke with friends that my mom is more popular than I am, but it is true. She always thinks of her students who don't have stable families, who don't have dinners to eat, who can't afford calculators. In turn, her students give her copies of their prom photos, signed with sweet messages in the back (addressed to "陳媽媽"--"Mama Chen"), CDs burned with their favorite Asian pop songs (which my mother actually listen to), and little gifts like the strawberry bags. Every time I clean out my closet, my mother sifts through my pile of clothes and picks out items for her students. I'm humbled and embarrassed even, to have so much while others have so little. It's a reminder to me to live out Christ's love for others, and not coveting new things for the sake of accumulating worldly possessions. If there's one thing I want to convey to Life Discipleship next year, it's the sacrificial love that my mother has given everyone who calls her mother.