Bees in My Bonnet

Once upon a time there was a girl and she loved her father very much.  That girl was me, and I'd like to tell you about the man I called, 'Dad.' But, what can I tell you about my Dad?  You know him - have heard so much already.  But you can tell something about a person by what moves him - to tears, to anger, to action and where he finds joy. You know about Dad and his work - the stuff he did 'out there' (and sometimes it was way out there ).  But let me peel back the curtains a bit for you now - a behind-the-scenes peek into what it was like to be his daughter.  To many of you he was 'Sheldon the missionary' or, as I like to say, 'Sheldon, the pillar of Hong Kong' or 'Sheldon, Mr. Beautiful' (as he often introduced himself this way)!  To me, he was simply my Dad.  As a kid, I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to the stuff he did outside our home.  It can be tempting to over-focus on ministry to the neglect of family; thinking the ...

Most grandparents these days seem to have a philosophy of life that goes something like this: "It was hard work raising children.  Whew.  Glad that's over.  Now it's time for me to enjoy my life.  Do all those things I sacrificed because I was running after little ones.  Sure, I love my grandkids.  But I DO love to send them home.  My nerves get frayed after a while.  I need to take it easy.  I'll send them a gift on their birthday - I'll even babysit for a few hours here and there.  That's what it means to be a Grandma." Okay, that may have been a bit harsh.  I'm sure that's not most out there - just that I think those sentiments float around and then I tell my friends what my Mom does for me and my kids and I make everyone jealous. Here's an example - just one of many MANY that I could describe: Two weeks ago my parents flew from Hong Kong (at their own expense!) for a number of reasons which they needed to be Stateside for...

The hospital where Dad was born is now a museum. When we found out about that as teenagers we relentlessly teased him as being a product of another time and an archaic thing that should be a public curiosity. All joking aside, I truly believe he is worthy of public curiosity and praise for the many qualities I admire in him. I don't just say that glibly - it is true. Did you know that even though he performed poorly in school (much like myself, in fact!) he also would read encyclopedia's for FUN?! In this way, he gleaned and grew in knowledge in such broad areas and developed the uncanny ability to interact with almost anyone on their level - from PhD's to little children. I've watched Dad have intelligent, stimulating conversation on almost any topic - from quarks and nutrinos (these are some kind of sub-atomic unit of some sort), to economics and politics, to Russian history, to how to solve a simple math problem with a fourth grader. He had trained as a fourth grade ...

Recently for bedtime stories I’ve been reading my treasury of Paddington bear stories aloud to the kids. This book was given to me in 1988 by Auntie Eleanor (Shulz) who lived at the end of our village in Hong Kong. She was a widow – a missionary like my parents and our nearest Western neighbor. On the long days of summer, when school was out and time was for wasting, I would ride my bike up and down the long driveway in front of all the village houses. After tiring of that I might hike up the mountain behind our house – at the end of the row of houses was a small pathway that led to no-where, but you could take it and blaze your own trail. I would sometimes hike up far enough to get to a little stream where we might catch brine shrimp or tadpoles. On other occasions, if I didn’t feel like hiking up so far, I’d just take a left before starting the mountain path and wander up the steps to Auntie Eleanor’s house. She had a nice courtyard and further steps up her side of...