05/28/11: 14:13, Location: Danshui, Taipei, Taiwan (3)

I've met up with my grandparents once a year for the past four years. Every year, Grandpa looks a little more haggard while Grandma is missing a few more teeth. That may sound callous, but allow me to explain. My Grandpa was a very proud, active young man. While he still is, in many ways, proud, a shattered hip and a worsening case of diabetes has literally crippled him. My childhood memories of walking as fast as I could to catch up with Grandpa while avoiding the piles of dog poo he’d cleverly step over contrast sharply with the present, where I have to stay close enough to support my hobbling grandfather while not so close so as to wound his pride. My grandmother, who my childish imagination once associated with Ursula from Little Mermaid, is stretched like butter over too much bread (Wooh, first LotR reference!), stressed out from caring for a temperamental old man who really doesn’t want to help himself. She is slowly losing her teeth because she’s afraid of the dentist, choosing instead to gently poke the loose teeth out with her tongue. At each meal, she picks out the softest things she can, grimacing whenever something is too tough for her teeth to handle. Every morning, my Grandma administers the insulin shot while my Grandpa swallows two handfuls of pills with the air of a martyr. He always jokes that he’d be the champion of any pill-swallowing contest. Just this morning, my Grandfather tells me that the pills make him depressed. I don’t want to be racist/cliché, but he reminds me of a caged tiger. His depression is contagious. Whenever he recounts tales of all the places he’s been and all the things he’s done, he ends the story with, “But now look at me.”

Every year, I see my grandparents and am moved to pray for them. They are hardcore Buddhists; they stop to “bai-bai” at every temple we pass and keep several idols in the house. They no longer own the large Buddhist shrine, something that probably had to go along with the three-story house when my Grandpa no longer could make his way up the stairs. I’m thankful that they are respectful about my religion, but I still detect the note of wariness in their voice when they tell their friends that I’m visiting for “Christian purposes”. I’m still working up the courage to ask my Grandpa if I can pray for his hip and his leg. To be perfectly honest, I’m afraid that nothing will happen and he and I will stare awkwardly at each other when it’s over. My faith is limited, but God’s power is boundless. I’m weak but He is strong. I tell myself these things every year, but in the end, I’m still human. I’ve never really prayed for nonbelievers in their hearing and this is something that’s completely outside my comfort zone. I hope that when I come back from missions, God will have tempered me with experience and given me the confidence to do all things through Him.

It’s raining on and off right now and my Grandpa keeps on apologizing that he can’t take me out. I keep on reassuring him that it’s all right, I’m not here to sightsee. It’s been a year. What I really want to do is catch up. I’ve made it a point to ask my Grandpa and Grandma separately how they’ve been doing, both physically and emotionally. Even though the answers I get typically depress me (Something I’ve learned the hard way from my parents), I feel that the act of letting it all out and giving voice to the frustrations they feel is therapeutic in a way. Still, our conversations help me to know what they need prayer for, even if I’m not yet confident enough to pray with them directly.

As you can see, I’ve discovered that there is free wi-fi in the lobby of my grandparent’s apartment building. Both retired, my grandparent’s days typically consist of sleep, meals, and social time. My Grandpa’s favorite activity is to chill in the lobby, smoke a cigarette, and make small talk with the people that pass by. My Grandma occasionally joins, but sometimes she takes this opportunity to go out and relax without the pressure and burden of my Grandpa. I believe that bad things always bring about something good, however small. My Grandpa’s injury has given him a greater sense of compassion, especially when it comes to kids. While before he never really took the time to humor children, nowadays, we always bring him a Costco bag of candies so he can distribute them (Much to the horror of these children’s parents). All the kids call him “Ah-Gong” (Grandpa in Chinese), and flock to him like locusts. It’s adorable.

Anyways, my grandparent’s live on the 13^th floor and the view from up there is amazing. I can see the Ocean and Dan Shui River from the window while simultaneously creeping on passersby below.

You can see some famous Taiwanese mountain too. (The name eludes me right now.)

What I’ve Eaten So Far:

Zhua Bing (onion pancake with soy sauce)

Watermelon, sprinkled with salt (I’m still unsure how I felt about this.)

Chicken soup with Chinese herbs (There was this thing that my Grandparents claim is “San Yao” (mountain…medicine?) but I SWEAR was just a potato.)

Starting tomorrow, I’ll try to post pictures of everything I eat. :) My train for Hualien leaves at 1:20 PM and I'll arrive there around 4 PM. I’m super excited! I have no idea what’s happening in the next month, but I just pray that it will be fruitful!

Will update soon!