Ephesians 5:22-33

22 Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. 24 Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

25 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her

I’ve started to attend a church that meets every Sunday in a highschool.  It’s pretty cool.  I wouldn’t quite say I’m a member, nor do I go consistently, but I started to make my mom happy.  My boyfriend attends with me, because it makes me happy to be able to tell my mother that he supports me fully, despite our conflict in religion.

But that’s not the point of this post.

The Bible verse above is the one that was read at my own wedding over 6 years ago.  I remember asking my very modern and progressive aunt to read it, in English and Korean, and she initially suggested I look for a new passage since this one is so outdated.  I stayed firm, and kept it.  And looking back, while my soon to be husband and I liked the verse, I don’t think either really thought about it.

To be perfectly honest, there is an aspect of being the “submissive” wife that really appealed to me.  I grew up in a traditional patriarchal home.  My parents were married due to an arrangement.  Same with my grandparents.  I grew up witnessing my mother and my grandmother being the ever submissive wives, doting on their husbands, even when they were ungrateful.  It angered me, but I did feel a joy when I took care of my man.  I always did.  I was always that way with my other past boyfriends.  And when they started to take advantage of my good will, I dumped them.

I especially liked this Bible verse because it also gave the husbands a responsibility.  They were commanded to LOVE their wives.  My thought was, if my husband really loved me, he’d value me, if I submitted or not.  He’d see that bending my will to meet his was done in love, and in return, he’d really love me and take care of me.  It was read at our beautiful wedding ceremony.  Vows were made.  I thought this would be true forever.

I don’t know why I thought he’d be any different than he was before we were married.  He had an abrupt way of saying things.  Hurtful and mean, but sometimes I felt like he didn’t even know.  I felt unappreciated, and sometimes when he did thank me for something (“Thank you for doing the laundry.”) felt more like condescension, in the manner of “Well, of course you should’ve done the laundry.”)  Maybe it’s an unfair generalization to make about his behavior, but I did point it out a number of times, and he never changed.

The last few years, as I realized I deserved better, that I needed to be loved, I bent over backwards more, hoping he’d change.  I became the quiet, submission, mousy wife.  Instead of him changing to be a better husband, I changed and became a worse person.  When I look back on who I was the last few years, I get disgusted.  Everyday, I’m thankful that it was not a permanent change and it was easily reversible.  I just needed the courage to stand up for myself.  And I did, and it was hard; it was painful, it was loud, it was pathetic, it was sad, it was incredibly freeing and it was empowering and wonderful.

Last Sunday, I find myself sitting next to my new partner, listening to the pastor say, “Your husband should be dying every day for your love, just like Christ did for us.” While religiously we don’t believe the same thing, I looked at him and I said, I know you die for me everyday.  And I do too.  We struggle together, we celebrate together, and for the first time in my life, it doesn’t feel like I am a slave to a relationship but a true partner in which we both wholly love and submit to one another.


Dear Grandfather,

It’s been about 2 years since the last time I saw you.  Even then, I barely said much to you.  I was scared.  I never really got to know you, because by the time I was old enough to understand, you were already very old.  Sadly, I don’t even have too many memories of you.  Living so far away, prevented us from getting to know each other.  Sometimes, I was a bit jealous that my other cousins got to have so much time with you.

You were so soft spoken and so gentle with all of us and your own sons.  I think that is where my father got his kindness and gentleness, which he surprises my family with when we least expect it.  Maybe when my father was  younger, you were strong and tough and the disciplinarian of the family.  But as I grew up, I only knew you as the quiet and gentle grandfather who loved to pray and sleep.

Many years ago, we started to lose you to Alzheimers.  I don’t know how bad it was, but grandmother took good care of  you.  Two years ago when I saw you at grandmother’s funeral, there seems to be moments of recognition and understanding and I recall feeling sadness for you.  Maybe had you completely lost all memory, it would not have been so painful to remember that your wife of many many years had passed away.

We all speculated that you’d go shortly to God now that grandmother was gone. But you persisted for 2 more years.  And for those years, I’m sure my family members were grateful for.  I’m sorry I didn’t see you again, and I’m sorry that I won’t be present at your funeral service.  I’m sorry that I never got to really know you.  But I know your sons loved you, especially my father, and now you’re in Heaven with your beloved wife and with God.  And the entire family takes comfort in that.

I hope you are happy and exploring Heaven with grandmother, hand in hand.  And I hope you will watch over our family, especially my father.  I hope you continue to watch all your great children grow, and maybe one day soon, you’ll see my children too.  And eventually we will all be reunited as a family and we can catch up then.  I’d love to finally learn more about you and have a conversation with you… finally.


Your grand-daughter

Philly Half Marathon

It’s officially marathon week here in Philly. 

I got my bib number and corral assignment.  And I am scared.  Shitless.


It’s been over 6 years since my last half marathon (and my only) and I had a miserable race experience.  So I am scared.  But I heard the crowds really push you along… so I’m hoping Philly will do that for me.

Guts and Glory 5K

It’s been a while… My apologies.

Life has been interesting and full of excitement, sadness, laughter, disappointment, and changes all around. I’ll get into that more later.

But wanted to give a quick update on our August CCFA Guts and Glory 5k race!

We did it!! We raised SO much money and everybody ran/walked and it was great fun. The team was really like a team and we all stopped and cheered on other runners and walkers.

Look! I ran!

My official time:

Pace 10:31

I was really happy about it.

Now, sadly, I’ve taken a 2 week hiatus due to a staph infection from a bug bite.

Yup, I kinda look like this now. Minus all that blood. It’s healing but it’s been a week since the bug bite. It’s drained now… But it’s still an open wound and while it hurts less it’s right behind my knee so I don’t want to aggravate it by running and sweating into my wound.

But I must say, tea tree oil is amazing and have expedited the healing! Also the cultures came back so the docs are changing my antibiotics so that they can attack this “alien” more aggressively.

I’m really hoping that by Saturday I’ll be able to take a short run painfree. Fingers crossed!

Vacation Running

After the Fourth, hubs and I trekked north to Saratoga Springs to catch 3 shoes of phish. Yes… Phish heads here!

When we weren’t at the SPAC, we spent time in Congress Park. Saturday, I took my new running shoes out for a run- about 4 or 5 times around this tiny park. But after the run, I lounged by the small lake and took in the sights. I love people watching and I especially enjoyed just sitting and living.

Getting in and out of SPAC was always an adventure, plus standing on your feet for hours and dancing… That has to count as cross training right?

I haven’t run since Saturday… And I am starting to feel unbalanced. Hopefully tomorrow, the one I have nothing planned and no concert to attend. I think the trails are calling my name.

Are we doing this?!

So it’s official. I registered for the Philly Half in November.

Here’s the story…

Thursday I went into for my Remicade infusion. It completely wiped me out afterwards. Granted, I ate some amazing gluten covered chicken wings the night before (see pic below) but I’d like to think the Remicade is working which is why it made me so doggone tired.

I haven’t run since…. I forget. But I’ve been itching to run. By Friday, I was feeling pretty good… So I decided to register for my first half marathon in 6 years. Like, no big deal. Just $95 bucks. Plenty of time to train. All my friends are doing it. Then it sunk in. I’m so very scared.

So what did I do? I didn’t run this weekend either!

But… I felt amazing this weekend.
Yesterday, hubs and I went to the firefly festival and I stood for hours! And danced in the rain! And only peed once and didn’t have any pain or cramping or anything. I felt normal!

So I will kick off my training today. Let’s do this!