Asks and Wants

We were taught to never ask. When asked if you wanted something to drink, you kindly rejected. You said there wasn't anything you wanted when dad asked you at the mall, even when you had your eye on something on the clearance rack. At the most, you threw out a few suggestions for lunch restaurants, but made sure no one knew which one you were craving. Wants were often pushed into imagination. You did the most you could with what was given, and you waited till it was your turn, till mom and dad offered more. If you didn't get the chance to tell them what you wanted for your birthday, you received what was given to you and let go of your wishlist.

There were a few times I remembered asking and receiving. The stuffed dog that could "walk"--a prize for some success at Chinese School. Or walking through Sanrio to choose my birthday gift, though there was always an invisible price limit (never explicitly stated) that kept me away from the big gifts. Asking for Finding Nemo or other specific birthday gifts on certain years. But there was also a lot of holding back. Immigrant families are the masters of DIY, one of my friends say. You make do without the hot glue gun for craft projects, or you try to mimic the hairstyle the cool girls do in seventh grade even though you don't have the right headband or clips. And even when it was offered and I took it, I remember doing so sheepishly: shyly pointing out a journal when I was out for a father-daughter night with dad, or quietly putting a shirt or two and a pair of cargo pants in the cart for our Back-to-School shopping trip, hoping mom wouldn't say I was getting too much.

It carries over. How you were raised and the culture of don't ask, say no if it's offered, and, if you do receive it, do so with low nods and the attitude that it's undeserved.

But now I'm twenty four, doing life mostly people who weren't raised the same way, wanting to grow in personal and professional development, and most importantly, following a God is the giver of good gifts.   Telling people what I want for lunch or self-inviting myself to groups happens more often now. But on a deeper note, this weekend I found myself torn: like God is standing in front of me, wanting to give me a louder voice to speak and more to speak about, but maybe I shouldn't quite take it, maybe I should be happy now. I see potential opportunities and don't know if they are for me. Is it okay to want them, or do I wait for someone to invite me to participate? Am I supposed to look for what I want? Is it okay to want more: more experience, more development, more growth as a leader, more voice?

I reflect on the past few years, and how I've learned that it's okay to want things from God. Desiring freedom is a good thing. Expecting him to show up is a good thing. The muddled gray area of ministry is a strange spot, where I haven't quite figured out where to step out and say what I need and want. Maybe in writing this, I'll let myself let go of the hesitation in being bold. And I'm telling myself that wanting, asking, and getting does not make me any less Chinese.