It was about 5:30AM when I started hearing someone moving around, no, much more than moving actually. I’d say this person was jumping, jogging in place, patting different parts of the body to wake up the muscles, and sounds like breathing exercises too. The tiny two bedroom apartment in the Monster Building was designed for noise to echo it seems. Nonetheless, I get up to see what all the commotion was in the living room. There she was, swinging her arms front and back, to the side, and then opposite directions. There stood a woman who persevered through so much that my memory is nothing but a glimpse of what she endured.
She told me she grew up on a farm and had to help feed the pigs. She mentioned having sold matches on the street after immigrating to Hong Kong. I’ve seen her sell vegetables at a wet market booth. Her daughter watched her clean and cook for a wealthy family as a living. Towards the end of her years, I was able to ask her to share about the harsh days of the war.
It wasn’t only until she passed away last October, did we finally learn about the complete truth.
The strength in her perseverance was further exposed and the beauty in her simplicity overflowed.
At a young age, she married while living in China. Sadly, her husband soon fell ill and left her as a widow in her 20s. With respect to her in-laws and keeping her duties as filial piety deems, she somehow managed to pack her bags and immigrate to Hong Kong. She annually and dutifully sent money to clean the grave of her diseased husband and family members. We had no idea!
After arriving in Hong Kong, she was able to meet a man who was willing to marry her regardless of infertility. They soon became a family of three by adopting a baby suffering from extreme malnutrition. Even though they had little to give, these parents did everything they could to raise up this infant.
She couldn’t read. Yet, she knew the importance of knowledge and education. Every time I visited, she would prepare the following things: dumplings, oranges, and Chinese philosophy books.
For an illiterate woman, she sure learned a lot of words through the Bible during her later years. While showing me her notebooks of handwritten scripture and pointing at random words, “this one is God …. Lord … people … me …. love ….” she said proudly as I smile in awe of her hard work.
She used to say these phrases to me….
“Let your heart be content”
As I prepare my new apartment, I find myself setting it up with group dinners, game nights, and a guest room in mind. Hospitality is at the top of my list and this new home is ready for emergency sleepovers. These are moments I look through my childhood and try to recall how I inherited such a desire. It was befuddling for the longest time because my parents did not cook that often.
Now it’s slowly coming back….
Helping prepare a table for 8 people who are coming over for dinner and excitingly filling all the bowls with soup and rice.
Giving away things joyfully when they leave even when there is nothing left to give.Yelling “HOH! HOH!” at summit during our 5:30AM hikes up the mountain behind Monster Building.
Descaling a fish, then using the meat to make dumplings along with whatever is left in the refrigerator.
Lastly, ending each day, each conversation, with “My heart is full. I am content.”
Thank you for embedding the desires of
frugal living,
generous giving,
and simple joy into my heart:
Leung King Fun, my dearest grandmother,
May the Lord turn His face upon you and smile.
