Yêu thương vô hình – Invisible love

(Other perspectives) Invisible but reflective. 

As I grow older, love, to me, becomes more invisible, even though it has always been. 

I grew up in a Catholic family. My grandparents witnessed the love of God, and since then following God is what every person in my family has to do. I believe in God, so at the age of 5, I claimed to my Dad that there was no such thing as Devil, for God will never let those things present in human’s life. 

But he said there was. 

If there was no Devil, then where did all the temptations in the Bible come from? Why did people try to fool Jesus, although he had never fell once and although they knew He was the Messiah? 

Devils exist. 

Dad’s words impacted me so greatly that I always imagined besides me presenting two different parties – Devil and God, black and white. I feel confident because God protects me, but I can also feel how hard Devil is trying to make me fall. And I do fall, many times. 

Devil in a kid’s mind is simply a bad person. 

I will be 18 in 3 months. Pre-adult, I realize Devil has consumed my mind and others’ worse than I have always thought. Waking up one morning, I was upset about how small I am. 

Broken. 

Hopeless. 

Forgotten. 

That are exactly three words I wrote down in my personal note. My mind told me these are not true, but my heart kept bumping blood into my arms and hands and fingers and leading me to type them. That’s Devil’s force. 

When Love is the fundamental of creation, it also comes in a form that cannot be seen. It is invisible. I can never see my parents’ love for me if they didn’t show it: if my Mom didn’t stay up late to cook the meal I requested, or if my Dad didn’t talk to me in my sleep every early morning before he left the house. The act of caring is not Love, it is the impact of Love, but people ask for it when they see nothing. They misunderstand that Love can be presented in many different ways.  Therefore, they are more capable of thinking that oftentimes there is no Love, and people become more vulnerable. 

But Invisible Love is not the reason to stop someone from caring. Because as a person who doesn’t fully understand the important of relationship, I slowly push many people away from me with solely a reason, “I am busy,” which is not an appropriate excuse. There is no guarantee that there is still Love, because it seems that what I care is just myself. 

At the age of 17 almost 18, my life and many, many other people’s are filled with deadlines. We keep time for ourselves – our commitments, our homework, and our personal interests. Not that because we think friends are less important, but because we believe Love can be felt without actually be witnessed. We stop asking, “How are you?” and assuming that everybody is fine. 

I was fine. 

Until the day when I woke up and felt there was no Love. God loves me. But I allow Devil to be stronger in that moment. 

I jotted down words. 

and understood that Love should be seen through actions. 

How long has it been since the last time I asked someone, “How are you?”

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It has been a long time since I actually write a blog with the content goes with its title. 🙂 

The love that was once faded.

(Other perspectives) Almost gone.

I have been thinking a lot about how people in my home country sacrifice everything just to be able to live in the United States. Many Westerners whom my parents have met, they told me, love Asian cultures because of how people embrace each other, of how being collective is a norm, while in their home countries – the United States – children fly away from their birth places as soon as they are legally considered adults. 

For many generations in my family, people dream American dreams. But I would tell my parents, why would they want to come here when that means they will lose everything – their houses, wealthiness, as well as their connections with relatives and friends. That, I admit, is my selfishness. 

The more I encounter different cultures, the more I understand what are the true values. I’d love to wear my country’s traditional clothes – ao dai – just once more, despite the fact that I hated it for having to put it on every Monday morning back in high school. I’d love to eat all of my mom’s food, even though her cooking is not the best in the world to me. I’d love to speak my own language whenever I can, and to spend my one-hour salary to eat at a Vietnamese restaurant. 

However, the truth is I don’t speak Vietnamese whenever I can. As an foreigner in the United States, many times I try to blend in, to work, to study, as though I am an American, just to close the gap between cultures. 

I feel sad about how much Vietnamese have endure to live a life of someone else. The norms at other countries are adapted into our norms, while ours have be ignored just purely because of our identity. 

My generation exposes to better chances to learn and to grow in-depth. We embrace cultures, and therefore we understand our own values. We will all replace our parents, grand-parents, and many generations before that. We will eventually realize how important it is to live the way we are supposed to. 

But our ancestors will not. They have been and are waiting for what we refuse to offer them. They have been waiting to bury our history. 

This is me – with a really typical Asian looking – wearing ao dai. I am delighted every time friends from other countries say, “Hey that’s traditional clothing!”