Ever since I was a kid, I had big imaginative dreams. At first I wanted to be an actress. But Baba shot that dream down.
Actresses get into bad situations. I don't want you to go into that sort of business.
Then I wanted to be a rock star but he shot that one down too.
Very few people make it big being a rock star. Most likely, you won't succeed.
Then I decided I wanted to be an artist, but he had an excuse for that too.
Artists don't make a lot of money at all. There are those who go into design and make some money and there are those who starve.
When I got into high school, my dreams started maturing a bit and I told my dad that I wanted to study psychology.
Psychologists just plain starve.
Then I started getting into film and writing scripts and I found that I did have a talent for it of sorts. I told my dad that I was thinking about writing movie scripts when I got older and he got excited. It was a good job that could make a decent living at least and make millions at most. He became confident in my talent and ability telling me that I could go really big with this. That I could truly live up to my full potential and make a good living for myself along with a good amount set aside for him and my mom when they retire. It made me happy seeing him get so excited about my future.
But.
Something bothered me on the inside. I loved the thought of writing movies for the rest of my life. It made me feel like I would be able to live out my passion for expressing and creating stories. However, something inside told me that this was not where my life was headed. Something inside me had another passion. A passion for people. The Navajo Native Americans living out in Arizona to be more specific. Something told me that I needed to reach out to the broken youth there. That my place was teaching. That my calling was loving the people that already exist, not create other ones. I knew that was part of my purpose if not the whole thing. I knew that that was where I was supposed to go. Out into the desert, not into the stars. I knew I couldn't deny it. It was a part of me and I was a part of it.
But.
I was terrified. I was terrified of what lay before me, of what was in my future, of what was to come. And most of all, I was terrified of telling Baba. I could not even begin to imagine what sort of objections and obstacles he would put in front of my path. One day, we were out eating dinner, just the two of us, and I blurted out my dream to him. I don't know why but I told him everything from the brokenness in the Native American people to the beautiful dry atmosphere to my fears to the sacrifices I would have to make to the call to teach. He sat quietly for a while. Then he started telling me about how he and my mom, after they just got married, saved up every penny they made to pay off any debts as soon as they could. He told me how my mom worked hard and how they lived very meagerly to save as much money as possible.
You don't need money or things to be happy.
Then he told me that I should probably start looking for a doctor or another teacher with this same vision to marry.
I always knew you were bright and could go really high if you wanted to. But you know, when I was young, I never got the opportunity to do what I wanted. My life was chosen for me. Go do what you want. I support you and this. Maybe one day your mom and I will go out and join you.
It was the first time that I did not have to live up to his expectations anymore. That I know now he loves me because I am his daughter, not the dutiful obedient good daughter that all Chinese parents want. That my dreams are his dreams because he loves me. And lately, I find that I call him Baba a lot less now. At times I'll catch myself calling him...
Daddy.
