All posts by Kathy Khang

New place. Same voice. But different.

My Dear Readers,
I think I’m back to blogging, but because it’s 2026 many bloggers have moved to Substack. Honestly, I’m unclear as to why this has happened. So for now, I will publish the same posts here and in Substack. In the meantime, if you have already made the switch to Substack, please find me there and subscribe.



I haven’t had the urge to write publicly for quite sometime. There is so much noise out there, so much that I have crawled into a hole with enough exposure to the outside world that I remain angry.



I just came back from a leadership symposium at my alma mater. I came away with tons of questions and information and ideas, AND I had a few moments of feeling small and utterly discombobulated. Yes, imposter phenomenon reared its familiar head. (Does it ever go away?) I felt it in my body as someone asked me, “What do you do?” with the expectation I would respond with more than, “I teach yoga.” My cortisol levels went up and I felt flushed (though that also could just be menopause). Yes, I could’ve answered, “I’m an author/writer/podcaster” but most of my time honestly is spent in a yoga studio or planning the music I will use and the movement I will teach in said studio.



The reappearance of imposter phenomenon (I’ll call it “imphē” for shorthand) brought to mind an IG post about a woman who tells her 16-year-old daughter, “Never give up your future for a man the way I did for your father?” in front of her husband who can’t let it go. It also reminded me of a scene out of “Silo” season 3 when wife and husband Camille and Robert Sims navigate a power shift in their marriage and leadership roles in their community. I don’t want to be Camille, if you have read the book or watched the show, but it lead to a brief conversation with my own husband about shifting professional roles impacting family/marriage dynamics.



“I teach yoga” is not where I thought I would be. This is not where my immigrant parents imagined I would be. I imagined a role in corporate or editorial management. At one point I imagined senior leadership in a religious non-profit. And then I stopped imagining. I guided my three children through college to workplace transitions. I planned awesome, and I mean AWESOME, family vacations. I did manage to co-author an award-winning book somewhere in there, but it also hasn’t sold well. That brings up all sorts of feelings I may come back to later. Every now and then I applied for comms jobs but was never the hire. I still look up job listings and self-select out of even applying. My boldness and audacity comes and goes, but mostly goes.



Leaving my mid-level management role in a religious non-profit at the tail end of decolonizing my evangelically-influenced faith left me with skills that I had a difficult time translating into the “secular” world. Next month I step off the board of Christians for Social Action with two terms as chair. That is my last formal connection to the faith space I spent decades as a “thought leader” and influencer. It was one thing to wrestling with a career path, but the combination of leaving institutional leadership roles, the kind that go on LinkedIn, and the spaces I have occupied because of those roles is making me stop. The rush of cortisol this morning left me wondering “who am I without those titles and roles? Who am I becoming?” Or in the words of my late spiritual director, “What is God’s invitation” to me in this season? I have the honor of guiding people who trust me to cue breath and movement but is there an “AND”?



Any women out there considering another act in their professional lives and wondering if it’s possible? Any guidance or best-practices? Any words of encouragement or virtual nods of understanding?

During the symposium I noticed that the wallpaper in the women’s restroom remains the same. I have not.

32 THINGS I LEARNED DURING 32 YEARS OF MARRIAGE

My Dear Readers, you know the drill. Yes, it’s been another year of marriage so this is my annual post. If you are new here, I’ve been doing this stream of consciousness for several years because I’m still learning about life, Peter, our marriage, and myself.

  1. Marriage isn’t for everyone. There were many times we weren’t sure it was for us.
  2. Marriage didn’t make us adults but it did force us to make very grown up decisions neither of us might have made or

    Donuts are a love language.

    had to make had we not been married.
  3. Peter’s parents have both passed, but the saying “you marry each other’s family” still rings true. It’s not the actual family members, though that’s part of it. It’s the dynamics, the norms, etc.
  4. I am now in the season of life where I could become part of “the other family” someone marries into. That is exciting and terrifying. It was tough enough to be married. I can’t image being an in-law.
  5. I am still a strong believer that preparing for my marriage was more important that planning my wedding.
  6. That said, looking back at our wedding, there are still things that I wish had been different and I had fought for. (PAY FOR A GREAT PHOTOGRAPHER. No, My Dear Reader, we did not have a great photographer.) 
  7. #6 is actually about marriage and how I entered into it. Thirty three years ago, I was not sure of myself and didn’t know how to pick and choose battles. 
  8. Speaking of battles, we still need our sleep and rest to argue well. 
  9. Therefore, “don’t let the sun fall on your anger” didn’t work for us. Maybe it works for others, but we need our sleep.
  10. Speaking of sleep, Peter’s CPAP is great, but he bought me these comfy earbuds that play soothing noises and wakes me up with an alarm while cancelling out his CPAP. Sometimes the best gifts aren’t diamonds.
  11. Love is not the same as romance. Our marriage has require more love than romance, but romance never hurt.
  12. The key to our marriage has been allowing each other to change. For example, I used to make the bed every morning, swallowing my bitterness. And then I made just my half of the bed. And then he started making the bed around the time I suggested we use separate blankets (Scandinavian sleep method). 
  13. Most changes have not been linear or predictable. MENOPAUSE. I’m done with that, but no matter how much you read about it or talk about it, your body will do whatever she pleases.
  14. The Scandinavian sleep method would’ve been great during perimenopause, but I’m loving it now.
  15. Clear communication AND understanding continues to be important and challenging as we get older. I mentioned being open to adopting a senior cat after the boys move out with their cats. Peter surprised me with a kitten.
  16. Continuing with the theme of clear communication and understanding: when I got over the shock of being surprised with a kitten for Christmas, I was able to communicate my confusion and frustration. 
  17. Speaking about change, I have learned I am a great kitten/cat mom. I got over the shock and frustration of being forced into kitten ownership. My kitten is sitting on my lap right now. People change.
  18. Marriage continues to surprise me. I don’t know why, but I really thought that by now nothing would surprise me. Again, who knew a kitten would be one of my favorite surprise gifts from Peter?
  19. Also some things never change. One of my favorite things about my house is separate sinks in our bathroom. I like my personal space.
  20. I don’t know if I have ever mentioned this, but I also wish we had gotten a king bed earlier in our marriage. Again, if you and yours like to be close and snuggle, more power to you. It’s never too late to realize you like to snuggle, have sex, and then retreat to your own space on the bed.
  21. I didn’t know how disruptive menopause could be to my sex drive. I’ve been talking with my PCP about that.
  22. I also don’t know how disruptive a kitten could be to our sex life. Munjii, my kitten, is allowed to sleep on our bed. Sometimes Munji sleeps, sometimes he plays. My recommendation is for couples to do more research about potential pets and where they should sleep BEFORE you surprise your spouse with a pet.
  23. Moving on from the surprise kitten, romance doesn’t have to be surprise grand gestures. When Peter comes home from work, he comes straight to me and gives me a kiss. 
  24. There are more than five love languages. (And the author of that book wasn’t a therapist, psychologist, or psychiatrist. He has a Ph.D. in adult education from a SBC-affiliated seminary.)
  25. We gave and give each other time and space to change – change careers, goals, spiritual beliefs, etc., to change our minds and preferences.
  26. Time to change has also meant making some mistakes along the way. I try not to remind him too often about the times I was right. 
  27. Being right doesn’t make me a better person, but I do like being right. And so does he. We are both firstborns.
  28. Keep life fun, even when the world is burning. We like to see movies during opening weekend and go to concerts (with earplugs ).
  29. We don’t have to do everything together. He goes to Pilates. I do not. I go out for coffee. He does not drink coffee.
  30. Sometimes we do things together because we enjoy the other person’s joy. He doesn’t mind going thrifting with me, and I don’t mind going to certain movies with him. And we have found the things we love to do together – the library book sale and Costco.
  31. My female friendships have been critical. They let me vent with no judgment, take my side with no questions asked, and then remind me that I actually love Peter.
  32. It takes both of us to be committed not only to the survival of our marriage but the flourishing of our marriage. When we have half-a$$ed marriage we could tell, and I know we didn’t get to 32 years by half-a$$ing it for too long. Full a$$ effort, folks.

My Dear Readers who are married, what are you learning? For those who aren’t, what have you learned from your singleness that we marrieds could learn from?

 

31 Things I Learned During 31 Years of Marriage

If you’re newish here, this is my annual post about my marriage. I am not a licensed therapist. I am not a marriage counselor. I am a woman getting ready to mark 31 years of marriage by sharing some reflections, stream of consciousness-style.

My Dear Readers, you know the drill. Yes, it’s been another year, and this year is our palindrome anniversary (4-24-24)! What is time??

  1. Over communicate everything. Oh, if we had only started our marriage by oversharing, reiterating, and asking clarifying questions, but we were in luuuuuuuuv and luuuuuuuv conquers all.
  2. Luuuv doesn’t conquer all, but love sustains this marriage of mine – being in love, being loving, loving.
  3. Romance is not the same as love. It can be a way to communicate love, but it’s not the only way to communicate love.
  4. I really enjoy gifts of fresh flowers, but I didn’t when we were first married because they made me anxious because $$$. Now we have a Trader Joe’s and more room in our budget.
  5. I am not always in love with Peter (I’m sure it’s mutual, but this is my blog), and if I only focused on the lack of warm fuzzies and romance our marriage would not have made it. I love Peter. 
  6. Sometimes I don’t like my husband’s choices or actions (again, I am positive this is mutual but he doesn’t blog), which is when I remind myself I love him. 
  7. Old habits die hard. One person in the marriage rarely made the bed. The other person more often than not made the entire bed. And then she got tired and just made her side of the bed. And then she stopped caring just when the other person started making his side of the bed. Go figure. Both old dogs learned new tricks. It’s possible.
  8. Marriage is amazing, even without curated images posted on social media. 
  9. Marriage is challenging, especially with the curated images posted on social media.
  10. What anyone posts on social media isn’t the whole of what’s going on in life, let alone a marriage. My husband and I continue to learn how to manage our consumption of social media while I manage my own social media presence.
  11. CPAPs can save marriages. I can still hear the CPAP, but it’s so much better than listening to snoring.
  12. We/I set a gift rule early in our marriage – no appliances. Sometimes rules are meant to be broken. Peter years ago bought me an Italian espresso maker and burr grinder. He does not drink coffee. 
  13. Sometimes our different attitudes and values around money and spending are challenging, and so we go back to #1. Know your own issues around money and how those issues present themselves. I grew up pinching every penny, saving every condiment packet, and searching clearance racks first. I had to learn that behavior doesn’t make me a better person or even a person who saves “more” money. (But it kinda does, doesn’t it? JK. I only keep the ketchup and soy sauce packets. No mustard or mayo. He grabs so many napkins, though, that sometimes even I am embarrassed.)
  14. Back to sleep: we grew up in church and were told, “Do not let the sun go down on your anger.” That was BAD advice for us. We both do much better with sleep. We do angry and arguing better with sleep. We do not do reconciliation and forgiveness at 1am. We go to bed and pick up where we left off after work because we also have to sleep to go to work to pay the bills.
  15. Marriages go through seasons and phases of development. The hardest was hitting the sandwich generation stage just after a decade of marriage with three young children. 
  16. You can marry someone of your same culture and ethnicity and still be in a cross-cultural marriage. Peter was born in the US. I came to the US at 8 months so same thing, right? WRONG. My younger sister never calls me by my first name. IYKYK. 
  17. I’ve heard as you get older people need less sleep and eat less. We have not hit that stage of life or marriage.
  18. It’s good and healthy to have common friends and separate friends. He had bowling buddies he talked about for years. I have writer friends he probably will never meet. Our marriage is better because he could talk bowling with his bowling friends, and I can talk writing with writing friends. 
  19. It’s also good and healthy to have common interests and hobbies and separate interests and hobbies. Sometimes they rub off on you; I watch more movies in different genres because Peter LOVES movies. Sometimes you try bowling, but it doesn’t get beyond buying my own bowling shoes because I do not prefer renting shoes.
  20. Peter still can’t read my mind. He asked me what we were going to do for our anniversary, and I responded, “Hm. What are we going to do, Peter?” (Thanks, Tina, for the coaching.) I blinked my eyes and stared at him, and once again learned he cannot mind meld. I told him I would like to go out to dinner. 
  21. I love buying myself flowers, too. It doesn’t mean Peter doesn’t love me. Sometimes you don’t need your spouse to get you that gift or take you to the thing or surprise you with whatever. Sometimes you can do that for yourself. Don’t expect others to be the sole source of joy and care. 
  22. This one is for the churchy people: I still don’t know what it means to be “spiritually compatible.”
  23. Another one for the churchy people: I stayed at two churches until Peter was ready to leave. I will not go back, even if Peter is ready, until I am ready to go back.
  24. I really don’t think there is such a thing as a 50/50 marriage. You can’t divide life in half every moment. It’s just when one person is carrying the heavier load for longer with no acknowledgement or help when things crumble. 
  25. When things crumble, before things crumble, you need to ask for help, for new and clear expectations. That’s probably what got us through the toughest part of our sandwich generation season. 
  26. Speaking of crumbling, women in perimenopause you are about to find out how brittle and dry your entire being can become. Hair, nails, skin, eyeballs, vagina – ALL OF IT. Dry as bread crumbs. Drying up like a walking desert coupled with mood changes, hot flashes and/or night sweats, sleep issues, anxiety, etc. will make any relationship a challenge. I’m done, which means no more eggs, but I swear my post-menopausal life is just less hot flashy/night sweaty but everything else remains. Let’s talk!
  27. I’m still unpacking all the unhealthy and unhelpful messages about sex (it’s bad and dangerous if you’re not married to another Christian, and then sex is automatically good and easy after you marry a Christian) and aging and menopause aren’t helping.
  28. Lubricants are helping. (Again, no one told me about that when I got married. HELLO?!?!?!)
  29. At this season of our marriage, it’s not the quantity of sex but the quality, which actually should always be important – mutual pleasure was not brought up in our pre-marital counseling. 
  30. As I’m typing this I guess I should really ask Peter what he thinks about the quantity part. See, 31 years and I’m still learning, too, to over-communicate. Also, none of this was taught nor do I see it discussed much in the world out there. 
  31. I think Peter and I work not because we are opposites but because we make the other person want to become a better version of ourselves. And by better I don’t mean thinner or more fit or younger looking. (But I’m not gonna lie. I’m so glad he is my Botox injector.) We make each other want to be kinder, more patient, more loving and generally better humans –  more Christlike rather than just Christians.

Any married folks want to add your lessons learned, My Dear Readers? And single folks what wisdom do you have to share about friendships (or marriages you have observed or been a part of) because if marriage isn’t a friendship, it’s doomed.

A bonus thing I’ve learned in marriage? We both like sitting in aisle seats when we fly.

 

Cold Plunging Into New Spaces

I didn’t quite manage to stay standing. I took the idea of a cold plunge quite literally, my body plunging into the Atlantic daring my feet, knees, or hands to find solid ground. My Dear Readers, they did not. Somehow my contact lenses stayed in while I almost lost my dignity. The cold waters tossed me and my bikini as the laughter and screams of a group of women I had just met 48 hours prior competed with the crashing waves.

The entire weekend was a cold plunge of sorts, and all seven of us said yes.

I Don’t Know You

From l to r: Jeni, Cha, me, Nancy, Soyoung, Kadee, and Deidre

The invitation came from someone I had never met through someone I had met once. I know. It sounds ridiculous, but such is the nature of friendship and connections in these times. Connections that could’ve remained parasocial snapped into the world of flesh because Jeni asked friends, acquaintances, and strangers to take a risk and head to the beach.

When my longtime friends asked me why and with whom I was headed to the coast, I sounded absurd. I was headed to a beach house with six other women – four women I didn’t know at all – for a weekend with no agenda and no expectations. If this were a movie, I might be yelling at the screen, “DON’T DO IT!”

Old Friends Were Once Unknown

It took years to establish a group of “mom friends” in my current neighborhood. I was the mom of three, my oldest starting 3rd grade. The girl moms had already established themselves into groups. My own insecurities coupled with limited energy  to insert myself into the circles of conversation meant loneliness. My middle child was starting kindergarten. I hoped to find other women eager to connect over the start of a 13-year journey for our children. It felt like speed dating – catching quick conversations, hoping I would click with someone, ANYONE. Most of the women were kind and polite, some were even warm and open, but the search continued.

It wasn’t until my youngest started kindergarten (two years after the move) I started to meet other

women who were mostly launching the first or second child off to school. We exchanged numbers not just to arrange play dates for our boys but also to coordinate our schedules so we could get to know each other while the kids played. Those gatherings evolved over years into what would be the start of “supper club” where playdates spilled into dinner time. We would gather from our respective homes the makings of a potluck or an order for pizza, talking until it was time to get the kids to bed.

 

When the Kids Grow Up

Peter roughly cut and pasted two of the couples into this photo because he could.

Some of my friendships did not make it out of the ebb and flow of my children’s friendships. We change and sometimes friendships do not make it beyond kids’ friendships, activities or schedules. The real miracle for me has been a group of mom friends who outlasted our kids’ childhoods. We have mourned and buried parents, celebrated each other’s children, laughed and cried over aging and disease. And if all that wasn’t enough, our husbands are friends geeking out over tech, movies, music, craft beer, and audiobooks.

 

We have taken a few trips together, collectively deciding future trips should include fewer than 20,000 daily steps and warmer weather. But this trip by the ocean was not with them. This trip wasn’t to replace the supper club but to see if the woman shaped by old friendships could still learn new things in new spaces.

Cold Plunges to Make New Friends

I hesitated. 

One does not simply walk into a house with six strangers. We all had our own reasons. My reasons? Well, let’s just say after almost 20 years in the Christian Industrial Complex, I needed to believe I could still hope and dream. I didn’t want to become jaded. I didn’t want to stop taking risks. It was scary to jump on that plane, hop in the car, walk into the house. It’s humbling to walk into a room of women who didn’t know me the way I might be known if I was a conference speaker. 

I wasn’t coached into this gathering, but I was coached into my first ocean cold plunge. Cha was our coach. She told all of us to push through the initial shock of the cold, to keep walking in, and breathe. Who knew you could walk into a room of strangers or jump into the ocean, push through the shock, and breathe?

 

Easter for Those of Us Who Left Church

We left. We left death and pain. We left behind our Sunday best. We left behind childish beliefs for adult-sized questions. We left. But now it’s Easter Sunday. What is Easter for those of us who left church?

The prayers and Bible verses we had memorized without context and question were the secret handshakes and slogans of belonging. The passing of the peace meant peace only there, in that moment, in that space because war continues to wage outside.

We were told to take the seat of the hero, the savior, the all-knowing, the judge and jury, and for a while we took the seat until we started asking questions about the limits of God’s love, about pronouns for God who was not human, about passing the peace inside and why we couldn’t cry for it outside.

Some of us left for good, but some of us, myself included, stayed near. We didn’t leave and hide like the male disciples did after Jesus was crucified; we stayed near like the women at the cross, bearing witness to the abuse, the cover-ups, the lies, the deception, the limited love. Some of us grieved out loud and shook our fists at the pews and doors that were supposed to be an invitation but turned out to be the boundaries. Some of us grieved quietly holding close what was left and wondering what was to come of our loss. We all grieved. Some of us are still grieving. But what do we do with that grief on Easter, we who left church?

It’s years into my grief, and I’m still reluctant to go back inside the buildings I left. But I still think about Jesus. This Easter I thought about Jesus. I thought about Jesus with his scars leaving the tomb, a place and symbol of death and rot.

Easter for those of us who left the church is a reminder that we have done the same. We left the death and rot. Our grief will not have a hold on us forever, and we will find life and hope again. All because we left.

Birthing a Book

Indian-fusion dinner to celebrate Book Launch Day!

My Dear Readers,

I gave birth to a book this week. Loving Disagreement: Fighting For Community Through the Fruit of the Spirit “hit the shelves” Tuesday. (And if you see the book in the wild, as in on an actual shelf in a physical store, please snap a photo and send it to me!!)

It was weird because my friend and podcast co-host Matt Mikalatos birthed the book with me, and we just met IRL in August when we recorded the audiobook baby.

It was weird because the last time I birthed a book it was 2018, and so many people said Raise Your Voice: Why We Stay Silent and How to Speak Up was timely. Apparently things have only gotten worse or didn’t get significantly better because the same is being said about Loving Disagreement: Fighting For Community Through the Fruit of the Spirit.

It was weird because this week has been one of deep divisions, pain, suffering, disagreement, and war – Ukraine and Gaza. I want the celebrate the book, but it’s been a quiet path to hold joy and grief in tension and publicly. Matt and I don’t like that there is an immediate pressing need for our book, but that is not a reason to celebrate.

I’m sure I’ve shared this before, but the work of writing a book finishes long before the physical book arrives. The final edits were turned in months ago, followed by a few quiet weeks before the marketing and publicity push.

The social media landscape has been completely different with each book I’ve authored. More Than Serving Tea was published in 2006 during the time of blogs and when older folks had not yet pushed young people off of Facebook. Twitter had just launched at that point so when Raise Your Voice came out in 2018 publishers were looking at a potential author’s “platform” – the number of followers and maybe the size of the mailing list of your blog. It’s 2023 and Twitter is history but platform is still a thing, even if blogs have now given way to Substack, Medium, and other ways writers can connect with readers. That too has been weird. I am on social media more than the other four members of my family combined, despite the fact that three of those four are in their 20s. 

Launch day was really just another day with the privilege of teaching yoga and an inbox that will never hit zero. I took a walk because the sun was out. I’m pretty sure I did some laundry, and I didn’t post anything on my socials. I liked and maybe shared some posts, but for the most part I was organizing my feelings and thoughts around some words about me and my writing (and about my co-author and his writing, but mostly about me), the impact of those words, and discerning what God’s invitation is to me as I enter into a loving disagreement with all of the power dynamics and emotions and assumptions you can imagine.

That has been the weirdest part, My Dear Readers – to sit with my own words and those of my co-author and the Biblical text as we try to model what we just wrote about. The writing is never the hardest part.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Galatians 5:22-23.

 

 

 

Jury Dury and National Parks

I got my first county jury summons a few weeks ago, and my reaction was one of excitement and dread. Since becoming a naturalized citizen, pledging my allegiance and paying literal dues, I’ve tried to take the privilege of citizenship seriously and not take it for granted. I vote, work as an election judge, trained to register new voters, and try to stay informed on local, national, and global policies as best I can without sending me spiraling. The jury summons, believe it or not, is icing on the cake, another chance for me to see how part of the sausage, so to speak, is made. 

I’ve seen over the years many of My Dear Readers and others on the interwebs post about their dread and disdain for receiving similar summons. The possibility of losing time and income doesn’t motivate anyone, and it’s also not a privilege just anyone can take on. A jury case could last days or weeks, and I know very few people who could afford that kind of time off. I can’t afford that kind of time off. The system reminds us that it is a literal DUTY for all citizens to prepare to fulfill and while no one wants my opinion, my opinion is that system SHOULD make it financially viable for ANYONE to fulfill that obligation. YES, the system is broken, imperfect, and biased but also we can work to change the system while the system chugs on. Easy? No. Change is not easy. Systemic change is not easy, not linear, not this or that.

My request for a change of date of service due to prior commitments (non-refundable tickets to our annual family vacation) was approved quickly via the county website. I thought it was interesting that part of our vacation, as it has been for the past few years, included a visit to one of our country’s national parks. This year we had the privilege of hiking and visiting Yosemite National Park. Yes, we chased waterfalls and were rewarded with stunning views and cold mist. 

The first national park was Yellowstone, established by Congress in 1872, putting land in Montana and Wyoming under federal control for  use “as a public park or pleasuring-ground for the benefit and enjoyment of the people”. The US currently has 63 areas with “national park” as part of their official name, but technically there are more than 400 national park sites that fall under the broader national park system. And let us not forget that this entire nation is established on stolen land. There are 27 Indigenous Tribes associated with Yellowstone. Depending on where you live, getting to a national park isn’t easy or affordable. Land set aside for public use (and preservation) in theory is wonderful because it’s for everyone, citizens or not – an OPPORTUNITY.  However, everyone can’t get to a national park. Again, the system is broken, imperfect, and biased. It also is a beautiful concept adopted globally as a way to protect and preserve land for public use.

I grew up roadtripping to several national parks, mostly in the back of a station wagon or sedan and before seatbelts were legally required. My dad drove us through Acadia (I think my sister and I did some of the driving to this trip), Badlands, Glacier, Grand Teton, Great Smoky Mountains, Rocky Mountain, and Yellowstone. We never camped. My parents didn’t immigrate here from a war-torn and then-developing country to sleep in tents. We stayed in motels, not unlike the one in Schitt’s Creek – in rooms in need of attention and “quaint and charming small towns” just as white and not nearly as entertaining.

Since then I have visited eight more, seven of them with my children. My parents and I are from South Korea, and the Korean peninsula is about 1.4 times smaller than Illinois; they often talked about wanting to see as much of America as they could so most of those parks were part of a road trip involving both of my grandmothers, a station wagon, and a drive to Vancouver, Canada, and back. I remember driving into small towns feeling very uncomfortable and obviously being watched. My sister tells the story of me turning to someone who was obviously staring at the Asians girls in aisle two and telling them, “Take a picture. It will last longer.” I can neither confirm nor deny this memory, but my feelings as a child visiting the national parks were of adolescent indifference, fear of all the white people staring at us and our food (I know now our food – rice, jangjorim, Spam or Dinty Moore beef stew heated up in a hot pot, kimchi, and ssamjang was superior to the cold cut or peanut butter sandwiches), and wonder. There was a lot of wonder. America as a nation is imperfect and exhausting. America as a land is diverse and beautiful. 

My parents and I are also all naturalized citizens, while my husband and children are all birthright citizens. Our relationships to the obligations and duties of citizenship are different. I didn’t grow up going to the polls with my parents to watch them vote, and I didn’t see Peter go to the polls to vote very often before I became a citizen. As far as I know, my parents have never been to any kind of protest or demonstration, while I have participated in actions in both Seoul and Chicago, and I drove out with my daughter and a friend to DC to march with others. 

So when the jury summons arrived, I approached it as I have approached other duties and privileges of citizenship. I was grateful for quick approval to a date change, which required a few things. I had to call the Friday before my report date to see if I needed to be there first thing Monday morning. It turned out I did not, but by then I had already gotten a sub for my yoga class so I was out the pay. And then I had to call before noon that Monday to see if I needed to report that afternoon. I don’t have an afternoon class but that also meant keeping that afternoon open, and it turned out I did not have to report. And then I had to call again at the end of the business day only to find out that I would not have to report at all the rest of the week. 

That is why people hate jury duty. A day “on call” where only certain people can wait for instructions, make phone calls maybe while back at work, and wait to make another call just in case they are called for the next morning. While not as extreme as the process of naturalization, jury duty is actually a heavy burden on most people. I lost of day of work having given away my class to another teacher. My family will be ok but there are individuals and families who cannot afford that. Yes, people can get exemptions but you can only ask for so many exemptions.

Citizenship is such a fascinating idea, especially as a follower of Jesus who has been told by white evangelicals that my citizenship is in heaven therefore I should stop it with the race stuff. I will not stop with the race stuff because my focus isn’t on the afterlife but on God’s will being done on earth as it is in heaven. So that’s why I’m still rambling and mulling over jury duty and national parks. One is a duty by design and the other an opportunity by design, both require a level of privilege for participation. As a Korean American, fulfilling duty and taking advantage of opportunities is baked into my cultural story. I am here because my parents saw opportunity. My existence as an adult child of Korean immigrants is one of duty, and out of both has come a life of privilege connected to community. Maybe that is why this tension feels normal and right. But when I add the layer of faith and religion, it feels normal but so wrong. Why is it that so many aspects of citizenship in the U.S. and the kind of religious life some espouse require so much effort to deny others privilege and opportunities? Why does U.S. citizenship come with so few duties but the duties and opportunities cost so much more for those with less privilege? 

But one thing I’ve learned over the years in learning and unlearning is that giving up privilege isn’t the answer. You can use it to open doors, invite others in, burn down the doors to build new views. You can, with enough privilege, share the power and multiply it like fish and loaves of bread. So after I listened to the recording officially thanking me for my time and releasing me from appearing in person, I printed out a list of national parks not unlike when I print or read up on local candidates. Voting is a privilege, and I’m not just going to give it up. I’ll keep trying to learn how to use that little power and privilege to burn the right things down. Visiting the national parks is a privilege, and I’m going to see as much of this country as I can because God’s beauty is everywhere. Even here.

 

Tree pose in a tree.

30 Things I Learned During 30 Years of Marriage

My Dear Readers,

Peter and I are about to celebrate 30 years of marriage. We are headed off for a week in Paris and London without the kids and without my computer. This is serious.

Here’s my list of 30 things I’ve learned during 30 years of marriage. 

  1. Marriage isn’t good or bad or even the ideal because people aren’t good or bad and we are never the ideal. We are complicated and nuanced and so is marriage. 
  2. Sometimes you go to bed angry because sleep is important. Staying awake angry won’t solve things, especially if it’s the same thing that’s been festering over and over. Go to sleep, and find a therapist.
  3. If you’re so angry you can’t stand the sound of your spouse’s breath, you or your spouse should sleep in another room.
  4. Because of #3, invest in a comfortable couch or guest bed. Better yet, buy that king size bed so there is space for the days you’re not angry but just need space.
  5. Love isn’t a feeling. It’s a verb. It’s action. Action takes work. 
  6. I am not lovable when I’m hungry. My dad gave Peter this advice when we left for our honeymoon: Feed Kathy and she will be happier.
  7. Do your own inner work. Your life partner isn’t your therapist, even if that person happens to be a therapist. Mine is my dentist and can actually fix my teeth but isn’t responsible for brushing and flossing my teeth. 
  8. Which means you can’t fix your partner. You can’t love them to mental health. You can make a way for them.
  9. For all the US reality shows, this society is not built for healthy marriages. It is built for whitewashed fairytales. 
  10. It’s ok to want and create fairytale moments. Look, as you are reading this post, Peter and I are flying off to Paris. FAIRYTALE. But the moment is fleeting because the reality is that I have a sinus infection with lots of congestion. We are flying economy, and I am super proud that we bought roundtrip tickets under $500 each. Make sure the moment is grounded in reality.
  11. My friend Tricia asked me what I like about traveling with Peter, and that was a great question. The lesson? Friends who ask you about your marriage keep you honest and real. (I like traveling with Peter because he is up for just about anything and we enjoy trying things the other person is really excited about.)
  12. You don’t have to like the same things, but you should be respectful of each other’s interests. Peter used to run and train for races. At some point I asked him to reconsider the hours he put into training or pay to take care of some of things he was in charge of around the house. I spent a lot of money on scrapbooking supplies, and then when Peter saw the end products he didn’t question the investment. 😉 
  13. You can teach a dog new tricks. I am the dog. (I was actually born in the year of the dog.) Because of Peter I have learned to drink beer, watch a variety of genres of film, and tolerate some classic rock. 
  14. You don’t have to do everything together all of the time, but find things you do enjoy doing together – not things you have to do like the dishes or laundry but things like going to the library and browsing aspirational reading and viewing or occasional trips to a thrift shop. Yes, those are things we like to do together.
  15. Money doesn’t buy happiness, but it does provide access to healthcare, housing, food, etc. and those early years of marriage were full of stress as we were paying of student loans, credit card debt, and failing at saving. This is related to #9. 
  16. Growing up in church and an immigrant home did not set me up well for a healthy understanding of sexuality and the role of sex in a healthy marriage. Sex is more important than is preached about and less important than it is preached about. It’s not a dial you turn on at marriage.
  17. Menopause really messed up my sex drive. Perimenopause messed up my sex drive. Having children messed up my sex drive. 
  18. Good sex in a marriage is important, and “good” has to be agreed upon between partners. That said, the “in sickness and in health” part really comes into play with sex so it helps to shed purity culture notions of sex and get creative and playful and, if you have young children, quick. Good sex is mutual and sometimes you take turns. You can also take matters in your own hands, or each other’s. 
  19. My spouse doing the dishes is not foreplay. Folding laundry isn’t a turn on. Peter vacuuming the one carpet we haven’t isn’t sexy. If that’s your thing, awesome, but it’s not mine anymore.  
  20. All that talk about sex is really about communication. Over communicate. Conversations in my head do not count. 
  21. The big and little things matter, but you can only hold them against your spouse if you’ve communicated them and agreed to action. I can’t be angry at Peter for not doing “x” for my birthday if I have not told him that is what I would like. I learned this by being angry at Peter for not reading my mind. This is expanding on #19. 
  22. Learn to apologize AND repair. You can say you’re sorry but words don’t matter if the behaviors and actions never change. Sometimes the apology comes years later, but even then we have to decide if we will work together to repair the harm. 
  23. Learn to let go. I got tired of making the bed so I started making my side of the bed. Now we each have our own blankets, and it’s what it is. 
  24. Stand your ground. I thought I was being helpful when I would reorganize Peter’s closet or tidy up his office. It was not, and he told me so. I tried for a few years to convince both of us he was wrong. I was wrong. He just makes sure his closet door is always closed. 
  25. Small gestures count. Peter put the kimchi in a small dish and made Shin ramen for me the other night. 
  26. Big gestures count. A few years ago we made it to Mount Rushmore because Peter REALLY wanted to see it. Many of you can guess how I feel about that place but it was super fun to watch him take it all in. (If you’ve never been in person, it really is something. 
  27. MUTUAL respect in public and in private is important. 
  28. I still close the door to the bathroom even though I know he can hear everything. It’s just a me thing.
  29. I am glad I kept my “maiden” name, and I still love getting junk mail addressed to Peter Khang because the patriarchy is still hard at work. 
  30. Time is very weird. I can remember so much of our wedding day – the cake topper went awol and we didn’t know the guy who caught the garter, and I can’t believe it’s been 30 years. It feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago. I’m so grateful we made it to 30 because if I’m honest I wasn’t always sure we would make it. But here we are, Peter. Here we are. I love you. 
Feeling cute. Might delete later.

Boys, What Do You Want To Eat?

That was the refrain last week as I vacationed with my sons. They are both in their 20s. Their voices dropped into manhood years ago. They packed shaving cream and razors instead of their blankies and stuffies. They needed the extra leg room the free upgrade into exit rows afforded us. And they needed to eat, and I needed, well, really wanted, to feed them well.

My Dear Readers, there is nothing quite like watching your loved ones enjoy food. Wait, am I the only one? Do you love watching your loved ones eat? I don’t know what it is. I have always loved watching my kids eat – the delight of new tastes they enjoy, the looks of “I don’t enjoy this”, and the look of satisfaction at the end. I love it all. The pickiest eater of the three will try just about anything so the possibilities are endless. (So parents of young ones tired of chicken nuggets, don’t worry. They get new tastebuds, and be prepared. Those new tastebuds like it when the parents pay for a good steak or hazy IPA.)

In my mind this was a trip about feeding their stomachs, and it was. We were in LA so the minute we were in the rental car it was off to eat. We ate cheesy kalbi jjim, marinated pork belly + beef, kkal gooksu, Japanese curry, handmade mochi, taiyaki aisu, okonomiyaki, and a good old-fashioned brunch with pancakes and hash browns.

But food is also about comfort and provision, about love and time, about honoring and learning preferences, about sitting and listening. 

It was time to get to know my sons and the men they are becoming.

They take up space and make space

When the kids are little, their stuff takes up space. I remember the days/weeks/eons of trying to corral their toys and books and stuff into cubbies and shelves to be safely accessible and slightly esthetically pleasing. 

But one child moved out more than five years ago. One lives and works remote from home; he took the dining room for his office. We coordinate schedules because we share a car and make each other coffee. The last one is in his third year of college so most days are spent he spends 3/4 of the year on campus. Gone is the clutter of toys, replaced by adult bodies moving about in the same space toddlers once occupied.

So spending 24/7 for a few days with just my boys meant being in each other’s way (one budget hotel room with two “queen” beds and one bathroom) and having a chance to just watch how they made space for each other and me, waiting to walk to the elevator and the car, waiting to enter a restaurant or to get to the door. 

The older son took a work call, and it was fun driving with E riding shotgun, whispering and using facial expressions and hand gestures that finally gave way to playlists and commentary.

Different eyes

I think I was watching them more closely because I know that time like this is rare. I love and like my grown children, and so far they like spending time with me. The kids have cleared social and work schedules to spend a week together for a family vacation on top of being together for Christmas. I don’t know how long we can keep that up and how in the future significant others and partners will join in on the Christmas Day movie or invite our kids to join their family traditions. But for now, I’ll take it all in.

Both sons needed time in the morning to ease into the day. They both needed time to exercise and unwind. In another season of parenting, I would’ve pushed to get us out the door to get to one more place and see one more thing, but in this season that started during the college years I let them sleep, workout, fix their hair, and walk slowly. This world can be a cruel, grueling place. I saw them with compassion knowing Capitalism doesn’t all us to enjoy each other’s joy and rest.

They wanted to spend a good chunk of a day watching professional teams play League of Legends and asked if I wanted to join them at the tournament, a little worried about how I would spend my time and a little worried I would rush them. No rush. I said go ahead, had coffee with a friend, and then sat on a bench at the beach to watch the sunset. I know. A mother’s sacrifice. And when C saw two players in standing on the corner in Sawtelle, I asked, “Are you going to say hi and ask for a photo?” A mother’s gentle nudge to shoot your shot, even if it’s a moment of fandom. I’m smiling while typing this, remembering how my boys and their friends took in the random moment and played it over and over in the car with the photos to prove it happened…and I got to see it all, too.

I also watched them eat, trying to gauge if they had enough protein, offering up half of my egg or a chunk of tofu. “Did you have enough? Do you need more? Do you want this piece?” I asked at every meal, not with the eyes of a mom of little ones who cannot efficiently feed themselves but of a mom who will not have many more opportunities to be the one to take care of their needs and wants. Corban said I was doing it more than usual, and maybe I was. There is a bit of a juggling act as a Korean American mom of Korean American sons; my loving and caring should not be enabling man-baby behavior. I’m still learning how to mother young men to be grown men. IYKYK.

And so I listen to Corban and try to eat and listen to what my needs might be as well.

The years really are short

I tell parents of younger children time sped up when the oldest started high school. Before I knew it the last one was a high school senior and we were in a global pandemic. He was so moody and grumpy but weren’t we all? I’ve heard so many friends say that first year of the pandemic was so long and so recent, time bending in ways we don’t understand. That’s parenting. I swear I just gave birth but that’s impossible because I’m also post-menopausal. My joints remind me that my body did some crazy stuff but my mind says it was just yesterday.

But it actually was just last week my boys and I woke up in the same room, and I asked, “What do you want to eat today?” 

 

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