Creating the Virtuous Organization Portfolio

January 13, 2020: Learning about Creating the Virtuous Organization

Ever since I was a little girl, the idea of saving the world by championing a social cause resonated deep within me.  Poverty. Education. Human rights. Racial inequality. Gender discrimination. You name it. If there was a wrong, I wanted to right it.  And throughout college, my education continued to reinforce this idea that nonprofit work and social entrepreneurship was the only noble--and innovative--way to address these massive problems and do some good in the world.

And so I became ardently involved in nonprofit work.  At the same time, I grew suspicious of the abilities for-profit organizations who engaged in the harsh realities of doing business centered on profit-driven commerce to make a positive and lasting social impact.  To further my point, the American entrepreneur Dan Pallota gave a TED Talk in 2013 entitled, “The way we think about charity is dead wrong”. He mentioned that charity giving in the U.S. has been stuck at two percent of GDP since the 1970s.  In fact, “in 40 years, the nonprofit sector has not been able to wrestle any market share away from the for-profit sector”. In addition, from 1970 to 2009, the number of nonprofits that crossed the $50 million annual revenue barrier is 144; in contrast, the number of for-profits that crossed the barrier was 46,136.

Two thoughts occurred in my mind: 1) Did that mean nonprofits, unless they gained more of the market share, could never solve these long-lasting issues and move humanity forward?  And 2) If social businesses continued to occupy only two percent of the market share, then there was a whole other 98 percent dominated by for-profit business!

The first thought discouraged and disheartened my do-gooder spirits; but the second thought sparked a curiosity to learn more about for-profit organizations.  Maybe, just maybe, businesses driven to make money could also help lift developing economies and change the world. Maybe businesses could do good and be good.  They could engage not just in charity or traditional corporate philanthropy but become true and virtuous organizations that do well by doing good.

Since I am learning more about things like engaging in corporate social impact/responsibility and creating a virtuous organization, I have been able to see that social impact is not reserved only for nonprofits or social ventures--private sector businesses and companies can also actively participate and revolutionize the human condition and help each of us realize our full potential.  That’s what a virtuous organization strives to do and become.

One of my favorite sections of the “Creating a Virtuous Organization” booklet is the impact section.  Once a virtuous organization recognizes its deep purpose and identifies its core strengths and values, it “goes beyond just embedding the intention to do good into the fabric of the organization…[It] realizes that it can move the needle on solving social problems, creating value and have a meaningful impact”.  I like this because it distinguishes from the pitfalls many businesses fall into when they want to get involved with charity or philanthropy.  It goes beyond traditional volunteer efforts and engages deeper than time, money, and resource donations. Instead, a virtuous organization takes its unique abilities, strengths, and skills and incorporates corporate responsibility into a necessary part of its structure.

I still have lots to learn about what it takes to create a virtuous organization, but one thing I know from my experience is this: if we accept the fact that for-profit businesses--coupled with nonprofits and social ventures--can move humanity forward, then it is of paramount importance that we help empower businesses to invest in the right kind of social change and to give them the tools to do so.

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February 27, 2020: Engaging with Businesses Interested in CVO Principles

This was one of the first of several introductions to the good that comes when businesses engage in virtuous practices and corporate responsibility.  After being impressed by Yummy's consistent customer interactions and commitment to quality food and eating environment, I conducted an interview with the owner of Yummy's Korean BBQ, located in Orem, UT, to learn more about the social good they are engaged in.  I then used the interview response to build a case for why Yummy's BBQ was a good model for the CVO principle, "Humanizing the Corporation".

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March 2020: Discovering Humanizing Principles

Our cohort decided to host a Creating the Virtuous Organization Conference in late March in which several Utah businesses convene in a space devoted to learning about select CVO principles: driving missions to maximize signature strengths, overcoming barriers to CVO implementation, humanizing interactions, and practicing accountability/leadership.

Eagerly, I chose to craft the "Humanizing the Corporation" session, and, along with with my fellow teammate, busily got to work identifying our conference session structure, potential panelists, and case examples of businesses who incorporate humanizing principles well (and not-so-well).

As a culmination of our brainstorming sessions, we created the top 10 principles of humanizing that were applicable to businesses and potential attendees.  This list represents a summation of the principles we learned about as a class in the CVO librito and highlights key teachings we hope conference attendees would resonate with and soon implement into their business practices.

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March-April 2020: Humanizing the Corporation Priming Tool

As part of the conference experience, we designed a priming report on humanizing for companies who would be attending.  I created priming tools for three companies: Chatbooks, Podium, and Malouf.  This priming report included humanizing insights to help orient companies to the principle; potential questions to get their minds churning for discussion; and an analysis tool, which ranks the attendee on a 5-point Likert scale (1 = No Evidence, 5 = Strong Evidence) according to humanizing principles such as "Employee voice valued" or "Personal language".  Ideally, this tool will help those in attendance see their humanizing strengths and also see some areas for improvement.  Above is an example of Chatbook's priming report.

Our Pregnancy Journey (A Year in the Making)

The Prompting

In March 2019, I was on the brink of college graduation, full of the giddy excitement that builds after months and months of sheer anticipation.  Life was set for the both of us.  I would travel the world that summer, work at an amazing internship up in Salt Lake, and start my Masters of Public Administration program in the fall.  Sam would excel at his advertising internship, focus on his (then) calling of EQ President, and continue to press forward with his own educational pursuits.

We were totally and completely content with just being the two of us.  No need to add a baby into the mix.  We had a plan, and a baby was definitely not in our future anytime soon. (And besides, cheerio-eating babies at church and our cute nieces and nephews made it easy to get just the right amount of baby dosage for our busy lives.)

But one night, as we were sitting in our neighbor's living room, enjoying our weekly Come, Follow Me discussions, I felt this distinct impression that Sam and I should intentionally start preparing ourselves for our future children.  This. Was. Revelatory.  At least for me.  As soon as I thought that, the Spirit pressed so firmly upon my mind that I couldn't shake it.  I left our discussion that night completely consumed by this prompting.  Was God telling us to start trying?

Wrestling with God

For months, I wrestled with this question.  My "wrestling" with the Lord came in several ways.  First, I assumed the juvenile, but so easily employable, tactic of denial.  After the initial shock wore off, I quickly ignored this little episode and frankly pushed it out of my mind anytime it arose.  I had more pressing things to worry about, after all.  But the faster I ran away from my problems, the quicker they caught up to me.  My denial culminated into a mini panic attack one afternoon.  I told Sam I was taking the car and would be back shortly after.  Then, I grabbed the keys and drove to a nearby field and cried and cried.  I poured out my heart to God.  I shared with him my deepest concerns.  Why, oh why, God, was I facing such internal torment?  I could not shake these thoughts, and yet I wanted to keep denying them.

 Though I looked like a wailing lunatic to anyone glancing from the outside, I began feeling some sense of clarity.  Prayer had a profound and cathartic effect on my soul.  I started writing down my thoughts on my phone.  I listed all of my fears and concerns about motherhood.  I listed all my rebuttals to God for why I didn't think it was the right time. (I still have this saved on my phone, and it gives me a good chuckle when I read through some of the more irrational, nonsensical ones.)

And then, I drove home spent and exhausted.  I woke up the next morning determined to work on conquering every single one of those fears I had listed.  If I were to get pregnant one day, I at least needed to try to overcome these fears.

There were many other experiences that are a part of my "wrestle".  They are forever imprinted on my memory, and I consider some too sacred to write on a blog post.  A powerful priesthood blessing.  A tender comment made by a dear friend.  Phone calls with MPA colleagues who became mothers while pursuing their MPA degree and who imparted tremendously helpful advice.  Hours and hours of conversations with Sam as we drifted off to sleep at night...

Birth Control: First My Friend, Now My Nemesis

Later that summer, Sam and I made the decision to finally start trying.  But the tough part for me was yet to come.  And that was mustering the courage to stop taking my birth control pill once and for all.  I knew that once I stopped, I would no longer be protected, and our decision would be finalized. There would be no going back.

At first, I thought, "Okay, tonight is the night!  I will not take birth control.  Sam, don't let me take this pill!"  And then I would gulp it down 30 minutes later too scared to commit.  The next night and the next night went in similar fashion.  Determination and then fear.  Determination and then fear.

Sam tried to help, too, by assuaging all my fears.  He never pushed or pressured me.  For example, one day, I came home from the health clinic with a year's worth of birth control pills because they were on sale for 50% off.  (I know, I caved. Now we just have a year's worth of birth control just sitting in our bathroom cabinet.)  But he just shook his head and chuckled, never judging my indecisiveness, always acting out of love and understanding.  And we continued trying to wean myself off of birth control.

Finally, we made a breakthrough.  Sam and I were flying to Ireland and England in a week, and I was fed up with myself.  I told him that we would just leave all of our pills at home so that there would be no temptation for me since we would be abroad.

And I don't know what it was--the weather, the change of scenery, the sense of freedom travelers get--but once we were in Ireland, I overcame my fears and never looked back at those pills.  Which meant Sam and I officially started trying.

Acting in Faith

We began trying just as I entered the most rigorous, fast-paced semester of my life.  Graduate school was no joke.  It took a few months for my body to expunge all birth control effects.  As prime baby-making time passed each month without any luck of us getting pregnant, we were starting to get a little restless.  Even though we couldn't necessarily control when we got pregnant, we were really hoping to get pregnant in the fall so that I could deliver the following summer and NOT during the semester.

 We were fasting and praying, but the window to have a baby in the summer was quickly growing slimmer and slimmer by the day.  We were getting discouraged after a few negative tests.  A good friend of ours got pregnant shortly before us, and though we were elated for them, we were questioning why it wasn't happening for us.

One night, we felt prompted we should pray differently.  Instead of asking God to bless us with a baby soon, we just asked God to bless us with a baby in His timing and according to His will.  Even if that meant--heaven forbid--I deliver during a school semester.  Once we started praying like this--not seeking to alter or change the will of God, but rather pleading for patience and understanding as we continued to follow our promptings--our whole attitude about this baby-making process changed.  We no longer felt pressure to have a baby within our timetable.  We were content with having one in the Lord's timetable.

The Results!

I continued with my studies thinking little of ovulation cycles and pregnancy dates.  Instead, I sought joy in the present.  Shortly in November, I had missed my period for several weeks, but I brushed it aside thinking it was another weird side effect from stopping birth control.  But then, December rolled around and still no period.  I continued to shrug it off.  I didn't want to get my hopes up again just to read another negative pregnancy test.

After two months of no period, Sam and I decided that we should test.  So one day after Christmas, I peed on a stick.  The result?  Negative.

I was so, so confused!  Why, why, why didn’t I have my period then?  Maybe it was some weird hormonal imbalance I was experiencing after I got off of birth control.  I kept conjuring up possibilities.  But before I threw away the pregnancy stick in despair, I looked more closely at the pregnancy test and realized that my test result was a false negative--there was no line in the control window, which meant that I should retest for a more accurate result.

I decided I would test again once we got to Cincinnati for Christmas break.  So, on December 27th, the day we flew into Cincinnati and the day of my mom’s birthday, we decided to test once more.  We set the stick in the cup of pee and waited eagerly.  After the appropriate amount of time had passed, Sam lifted the stick out of the cup and spotted a bright blue positive sign--we were pregnant.

I shook my head in disbelief.  There was just no way that I could actually be pregnant.  I ripped open another pregnancy test and dipped it in the pee again, just to be sure.  Sam and I waited in anticipation, suspense paramount.  Sure enough, as soon as the stick hit the pee, a positive sign slowly emerged in the window.  Yep.  Definitely pregnant.

Sam rushed downstairs to tell my mom while I stayed in the bathroom in utter disbelief.  My mom rushed upstairs and began hugging us both.  I didn’t fully process the fact that I was pregnant that night.  It took several more days for me to fully internalize that we were pregnant, after all the trying and negative tests we took.  I found out I was eight weeks pregnant already.  Eight weeks of being pregnant and not knowing.  Ha!  And even better, my due date was set for early August, meaning I could deliver in the summer instead of during the school year. A tender mercy indeed.

Pregnancy Journey in Retrospect

Another tender mercy: I had the easiest first trimester.  No morning sickness. Very little nausea.  Same energy levels.  (Now that I'm in the second trimester, I get hungry a lot more frequently, but that’s about it.)  Around week 10, Sam and I went in to our first doctor’s appointment and got to see our baby for the first time.  When they did the ultrasound, I was actually really surprised to see anything in there at all.  But sure enough, a little nub was squirming around in my womb, and I stared at the screen completely transfixed.  It felt so surreal!  A true confirmation that we were indeed actually pregnant and that something that Sam and I made was growing inside of me.  I teared up during the ultrasound--a sacred experience I will never forget.

I look back at my journey grateful for all of the Lord's nudging and prodding this past year.  I feel as if I have grown tremendously in faith, patience, and trust in God's timing.

My trial of faith has been 1) struggling with a desire for motherhood and 2) juggling motherhood with my career pursuits and ambitions.  I recognize that some women struggle with the exact opposite and that their most intense desire is to become a mother.  Many others face a variety of challenges unique in their own way.

But I hope anyone who reads this blog post can be reminded of the wonderful smattering of tender mercies the Lord sends to all of His children as they navigate their individual paths during mortality.  We may not know all the answers now, but once we grow in faith and act on that faith, there's no stopping what the Lord can do for us.  Truly, "all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28).



**(Note: I do not detail Sam's experiences because I can't adequately convey Sam's point of view of everything this past year.  All I know is that he is the most affirming, respectful and empowering man I have ever met.  I can honestly say he never once pushed or pressured me in any way to try for kids or to fit some housewife role.  He always supported me in my endeavors to pursue excellence in both my education and my budding career, in addition to motherhood.)**

Our Baby Bao, 10 weeks

We still can't believe it!

Personal Musings on the "New and Everlasting Covenant of Marriage"

Prompted by a class assignment and by my new Church calling as a temple prep instructor, I have considered more fully the well-known, often-taken-for-granted phrase, "New and Everlasting Covenant".

Taking the time to deconstruct and really ponder its meaning has yielded some invaluable insights regarding my temple marriage with my husband.  (Note: I am not talking about it in reference to the sum total of all the covenants we make with Heavenly Father, but of the new and everlasting covenant of marriage as described in D&C 131:1-2).

Though I consider getting sealed in the House of the Lord to my eternal companion under the new and everlasting covenant as established by the Lord to be the most important day of my life, I would argue that every day thereafter has been equally important.  It is through understanding each part of the phrase, “New and Everlasting Covenant”, and affording each word its own interpretation and analysis, that I have more fully understood my relationship with my husband, my relationship with my Heavenly Father, and most importantly, the way those relationships influence each other.

My hope is that we can better understand the following question: What is the character of marriage that is signified by the New, Everlasting Covenant?

"Covenant"

Examining what kind of character a marriage signified by the New and Everlasting Covenant has illuminates what the Lord expects from me and my spouse.  The word “covenant” is a unique part of the phrase, especially in comparison to the word “contract”.  In a temple prep manual issued by the Church, “A covenant is often defined as a sacred promise between God and His children. While this definition is accurate, it is not complete. A covenant is more than a contract; it is a personal commitment that defines and deepens our relationship with God. Covenants form a sacred bond between God and His children. They renew our spirits, change our hearts, and help us become united with Him.”  Thus, a marriage under a covenant is no ordinary contract between two earthly beings who have agreed to marry each other.

A contract, on the other hand, involves two parties that stand independent from one another who engage in some kind of exchange.  It involves a two-way promise where one party promises the other something in exchange for something else.  The world today is full of marriages under these kind of contracts (even involving prenup forms at times!)  Yet, in contrast, a marriage under a covenant involves two parties who are not independent of one another because a covenant reminds people that they owe everything they have to God.  In fact, the word covenant implies a relationship with God wherein He reminds us of the gift He has already given to us.  By accepting that covenant from God, we do more than promise Him something in exchange for something else; rather, we consent to Him that we choose to be His people and that we choose to enter into a covenant relation.  Moreover, a covenant in marriage implies that not only do we choose to enter and accept the gift He has already given us, but that we choose to enter into the relation not knowing exactly what will be required of us.

I love this way of viewing my covenants with the Lord because it reminds me that my marriage to my husband is a gift that unites me to him, him to me, and us to God and Christ.  It’s not merely an exchange (ex. I am kneeling over this altar because in 50 years from now I know you will take care of me if I should fall ill) but a choice to accept a gift God has already given me and to enter into a relation NOT knowing if my husband may die the next morning or if our children will grow up to be good people or if we find promising and fulfilling careers.  In this way, my marriage under covenant isn’t about sacrifice or compromise so much as it is about selflessness and consecration.

"New"

A deeper understanding of “new” and “everlasting” also helps me understand my marital covenants more fully.  It is a "new" covenant every time it is revealed anew following a period of apostasy; but I think "new" also implies being made into a new person, giving us a new kind of freedom that comes because of God gifting it to us.  He gifts us with a new way of being, and we become more like the sons and daughters of Christ as spoken of in Mosiah.  As I kneel across the altar, I symbolically bury my old self and receive the gift that my spouse and God offer to me.  In so doing, I become something new because of this new relationality.  Under this new covenant, I am no longer “Marieka” with all my wants and needs and desires.  Instead, I am a “new Marieka” who chooses to forego some of my selfish ways and habits in favor of taking on a new relationality with my husband.  In essence, a new covenant implies a new relationality with my husband that didn’t exist there before and which requires me to take upon his suffering and his weaknesses (his suffering=my suffering).  Only in this way am I being gifted with a new way of being.

"Everlasting"

The last word, “everlasting” reinforces this idea of suffering.  While “covenant” and “new” implies a gifting of myself to my husband that earthly marriage contracts don’t encompass, “everlasting” extends this concept by describing the certain quality of the relation.  Everlasting means never-ending or lasting throughout time, but there is still another meaning that renders additional insight.  I think "everlasting" also means that we are bound to one another in such a way that what comes upon them are things we are going to take upon ourselves; consequently, the responsibility and the needs of one become the responsibility and needs of both.  Everlasting implies that there are and will be some things that tear at the relationship AND YET the relationship continues to be ever lasting.  Thus, everlasting implies that the quality of relationship matters.  If, for example, the relationship was only about duration, then the primary quality is about permanence and fixation (ex. I have to stay married no matter what).  But that is not really everlasting.  Everlasting is taking upon ourselves the needs and suffering of one another.  As we take upon ourselves our spouse’s needs, wants, and suffering, those very things become ours.  We create a bond such that what they feel and endure is what we feel and endure; and we do so in an everlasting way so that despite the suffering, we continue to find joy in being married come what may.  Thus, the quality of marriage is what makes it an everlasting covenant.  And by so pursuing such an everlasting faithfulness and quality of marriage do we ensure that our marriage will endure over time.

Personal Experience

This idea rings so true to me right now as a young married student.  For example, when my husband didn’t get accepted into his program the first time, I truly felt his pain, disappointment, and suffering.  He had worked so hard for it and to see him suffer caused me a great deal of suffering.  I can’t count the number of conversations we had in the long hours of the night over this as we discussed the future with all of its unknowns.  I literally took upon his suffering as I worked with him for weeks and months to create a new portfolio which he could use to re-apply.  When my husband found out he got accepted the second time he applied, we were both overjoyed.  However bitter the rejection and suffering was the first time could not compare to the joy and pride we felt once he got accepted!  Even though I didn’t apply myself, I felt as if I had gotten accepted into the program because of the joy I felt that grew out of our covenant to “bear one another’s burdens” during the tough times. This experience, as well as countless of others, have helped me cherish what it truly means to be under the new and everlasting covenant of marriage.


***If you have read this far, I commend you and welcome any thoughts or comments on the new and everlasting covenant of marriage.  This was initially a class assignment, but I have found so much truth in it that I wanted to expound upon my thoughts and not let it collect dust in my Google Drive homework folder.  Anyway...thanks for following along!***

How Race Simultaneously Privileges and Disadvantages Me

Can 8-year-old children have identity crises?

If so, I distinctly remember my first "identity crisis" wherein I seriously questioned and contemplated who I was in relation to others around me. At the time, I was eight years old living in a small community in North Carolina. I was at the top of my second grade class and had only ever encountered praises and good remarks from teachers. 

Yet on this particular day we were just learning about the Civil Rights Movement as part of our history unit. Our teacher taught us about Rosa Parks, a black woman who valiantly stood up for her beliefs and refused to give up her seat to a white passenger on a segregated bus. 

To demonstrate the effects of segregation, our teacher told all the students to stand up. She asked all the white students to walk to one side of the classroom and all the black students to congregate at the other end. Eager to move, all the students squirmed out of their seats; half of the class walked to one end of the classroom while the other half shuffled to the opposite end. 

I hesitated in my seat, confused as to where I should go and to which group I belonged.

Surely I must go where my white friends are because my skin is not dark like my black friends, I reasoned.

But then I remembered a few white classmates teasing me in a previous class about how my eyes looked "different" than theirs did.  

So I guess I don't belong with them either, I surmised.

Just as I was getting red in the face from the curious stares of classmates already segregated, I remembered my mom telling me I was Chinese because I was born in China before she adopted me and brought me to America.

Teacher, where do I go?  I'm Chinese. Which side should I go on?

I will never forget my teacher's response.

Well, um, you can just stay where you are for now, dear.

And so I did just sit there, in the middle of the classroom, with no one by my side.  I sat there feeling as if I had done something wrong, having no idea who I was or where I belonged.  Everyone else in the room was staring at me in an uncomfortable moment of silence before my teacher hesitantly moved on with the next portion of the Civil Rights Movement.  I walked home that day with more questions and doubts than I ever had before.  That simple, yet inconsequential, experience was the origin of my "race identity crisis" which I struggled to deal with for much of my childhood and adolescent years.

Now I'm 22 years old, married to the whitest guy I know (haha, sorry Sam!), and taking a race and ethnicity college course that is helping me confront and understand the workings of race, racism, and its effects on my sense of identity and past experiences.  In the rest of this blog post, I share my personal thoughts and beliefs on how I identify myself today, to what extent I have faced racism in the past, and how my race both privileges and disadvantages me in American society today.

Feel free to comment and add perspective.  I welcome all comments and opinions on my personal collection of long-held thoughts and beliefs.

I identify racially as Asian, more specifically, Chinese, and ethnically as white Chinese American.  Identifying myself ethnically has always been challenging for me because many people presumably think my ethnicity is Asian American, but that didn’t ever seem to fit the culture or social group I grew up in.  Therefore, I have chosen to identify myself as a white Asian American, because I feel as if I have grown up as any other middle class white kid does.  I was adopted as a baby from China by a single white mother who grew up in a typical middle-class family.  Throughout my whole life, I have lived in a predominantly white community, with very few Asian or colored friends.  My family has always celebrated Christmas, Easter, Halloween, the Fourth of July, and other various Christian and American holidays just as ardently as any other American family.  I had very little experience with Chinese culture, and I didn't know anything about Chinese New Year, Chinese food, or the Chinese language.  Because I was content with where I was and felt that I had all the same privileges as everyone else around me, I had no desire to learn more about my Chinese heritage or culture. 

It wasn’t until I received a mission call to Seoul, South Korea for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that I began to develop an interest in and identify with the Asian people.  I began to more critically view the world through the lens of racism.  In Korea, I was exposed to a whole nation of people who looked similar to me; it really opened my eyes to the fact that white culture was not the only culture out there; as I continued to learn more about the Korean people and their culture, my love for Asia grew immensely!


After I returned back home to my white community, I began more fully critically examining how my race both helped and hindered me in context of living in America.   For example, because I am Chinese, many people automatically assume I am an intelligent being, with superior genius capabilities regarding my academic studies.  This has played as both an advantage and a disadvantage at times in daily living.  When I was little, I was often the teacher’s pet.  This had perks of its own because I gained the teacher’s trust and was favored above others.  Teachers would ensure I was put in advanced classes and assumed I would excel in them.  Yet, despite my peers and teachers thinking I was super smart at math because of my race, I thought there must be something wrong with me because I struggled with math.  Their assumptions proved erroneous when I began to falter behind other students who were far better at math and science than I was.  Consequently, I spent much of my elementary education grappling with two jarring ideas—one that I was smart and special as evidenced by so much attention my teachers gave me, and two that I was struggling in these advanced classes while all my white peers seemed to understand the material much quicker than I.

More recently, I have also faced both advantages and disadvantages as a Chinese woman living in America.  I have always been attracted to and dated white men because of the environment in which I grew up, and my husband is no exception.  He is as white as can be (though I sometimes think he is secretly black trapped in a white man’s body), and he loves and appreciates all different cultures and races.  Being an interracial couple has its advantages and disadvantages.  One advantage is that I seem to be more accepted by society as an individual.  If I had married a minority race, for example another Chinese man, I might not be as integrated with the mainstream culture of my community.  If I am to critically examine every implication my race has on my daily living, then I must acknowledge that being married to a white man gives me more acceptance as a whole into society.  However, I have seen several disadvantages well in these past few months since getting married.  While Sam sees me for who I am—and not just my race—many people looking from the outside see only our interracial-ness.  One striking example is a recording of my husband and I kissing on campus.  Unbeknownst to us at the time, someone secretly recorded us kissing and posted it online for all to see.  After the initial embarrassment wore off, I began to look at all the online comments posted under the video, a few of which pointed out that we were interracial.  Though I certainly don’t take offense for people recognizing and acknowledging we are an interracial couple, the comments people posted mirror what I have been going through my whole life which is that I am recognized and judged by my race first before any other humanizing factors; furthermore, these comments reflect and reaffirm the attitude of society at large—whenever there is a mixing of races, it’s worth mentioning and commenting on.  Thus, the biggest irony about being an interracial couple is that people simultaneously accept me for marrying a white man yet judge me for being an Asian woman married to a white man.

As I have tried to articulate how my race uniquely privileges and disadvantages me, I recognize that I am not alone, and I am aware of several friends who have also experienced similar feelings of doubt, shame, loneliness, and confusion while growing up as part of a minority.  I love America with all my heart, and I love being an American citizen, but we as a people could be doing more to fight racial injustice.  I firmly believe that once we understand how harmful racial stereotyping can be, we can not only learn to empathize with those who have faced discrimination based on their race or ethnicity, but we can also refrain from racial profiling, stereotyping, or judging each other based on our hair style, eye shape, or skin color.

Furnished with Love

Each chapter of life brings with it new interests, new opportunities, and especially new people.  Heaven brought me my new person last year in the form of a charismatic, compassionate, and Christlike man whom I now gratefully and wholeheartedly call my husband.  Returning home from my mission closed one chapter of my life and opened up a new one: marriage.

After Sam and I got married, we moved into a small basement apartment in southeast Provo.  Located in a friendly family neighborhood, our small abode is only a few minutes drive from our university campus.  Karma, our 87 year old landlady, so kindly rented her basement under her house to us.  Though the basement is modest in size, furniture gives possibility to space, family pictures dot and liven the walls, and lots of wedding gifts add life, color, and familiarity to what used to be a cold, empty storage unit.

Our living room acts as our room of council where we work together as equal partners to handle the day-to-day living.  It is there where we unite as comrades in our weekly planning and scheduling and enjoy the warm Spirit that enters whenever we hold family home evening.  We've already put the well-worn, plum colored couch Sam received from his old boss to good use.  The couch has played an important part in our newlywed life as we build family memories such as watching movies, snuggling, and hosting a variety of guests; the couch has also endured difficult times as we cry tears of frustration (mostly on my part) or figure out important grown-up things like finances and future plans.

Adjacent to the couch rests a black bookshelf, the tallest piece of furniture in our living room, which towers over our small coffee table.  This bookshelf represents a union of two different, contrasting lives.  The combination of various things neither Sam nor I are willing to depart with find home together on the same shelves as Sam's various art drawings and projects, as well as his prized mission relics and old books and movies are mixed with my Korean textbooks, old journals, and a charming cat figurine.  Such a mixture on our bookshelf of things from our past lives represent the blending of our new lives as husband and wife, partners for eternity.

The bedroom down the hall acts as our own sort of temple sanctuary--sacred, deeply personal, and far removed from the world.  It beckons us every night after a long day of classes, work, and other demands, and the travails of the day dissipate once we start our nightly ritual of getting ready for bed.  Sam despises the word, routine.  A routine, Sam says, is for those who do things mindlessly; a ritual is for those who do things with care and awareness.  And so our nighttime rituals uniquely enhance our marital bliss as we remember and appreciate the whys of routinized living.  We brush our teeth together, we shower together, we read the Book of Mormon together, and we pray together.  We do it all together, for without doing so, we so easily fall prey to routine.  We talk about the stuff that really matters to us--family, Christ, our marriage.  I will lie on our bed, and Sam will oftentimes give me a full-body massage if I've been having a particularly taxing day.  He also believes that husband and wife should always go to bed together at the same time, and so if I have to stay up late to finish homework, he will stay up with me; and yet if I want to go to bed early, Sam drops everything he is doing and hops right into bed with me, eager to cuddle as sleep takes over my body.  Our little sanctuary down the hall has become such an essential part of our home.

Here's one thing I've learned in all of this:

Before I met Sam, I never envisioned I would get married so early after serving a full-time mission, or that I would end up living in a small basement apartment in southeast Provo so happy and so in love with a man who in every sense of the word completes me.  I knew I didn't need to reach optimal financial stability or become more perfect in Christ as an individual before I found an eternal companion, but I didn't really believe it in my heart.  I was so perfectly content with marrying down the road, at which point I would somehow magically feel prepared to meet the man with whom I was to spend eternity.  But the game of life doesn't work like that, and the Lord has a funny way of changing our plans when we least expect it so that we have an opportunity to exercise our faith in the Savior.  Sam literally splashed into my life and changed my mind about everything.  Ultimately, the thought of spending an eternity with the best man I know quelled all my concerns and reduced them to triviality.

In all of newlywed living thus far, I've learned that one of the most exciting things about marriage is the home.  Empty space becomes a place for a life together, a realm where both of our ambitions, rituals, worries, and baggage unite in strength and support in weakness, empathize in awareness and flourish in creation.  Certain rooms, when furnished with love, awaken potential and engender possibility.   The well-worn purple couch, the build-it-yourself IKEA bookcase, the bedroom at the end of the hall--all of these hallmarks of our apartment truly create, reflect, and build more than our home--they embody and empower who we are and who we will be together for the rest of our lives.

Now excuse me while I go kiss my husband like crazy.

Just Call Me 리 자매

Oh, wow!  Tonight I will be set apart as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I am excited; I am scared; I am overjoyed; I am anxious to serve my Lord.

I wonder if I'll feel any different.  Like the time right before I turned eighteen.  On the eve of my eighteenth birthday, I wondered if I would feel more womanly, more grown-up.  As if becoming a legal adult warranted a new spirit within me--a new me.  And once I turned eighteen, nothing of the sort happened.  I felt the same, Marieka through and through, without any magic adult feelings.  What did feel strange was musing to myself, "I am eighteen years old...I am eighteen years old" over and over in my head.  When I spoke it aloud, it was all the more foreign tasting.

Perhaps that is how I will feel tonight.  Perhaps no magic missionary feelings will wash over me.  Instead, the words "I am now a full-time missionary" might play repeatedly inside my head.  And that will be strange to the mind.  Then I will turn to my family, and vocalize my realization.  When I speak it aloud, perhaps it will sound all the more foreign tasting.

I suspect that "I'm a full-time missionary" won't hit me until I arrive at the MTC, meet my companion, and start learning Korean.  I suspect it won't fully sink in until I'm on the plane to Korea, ready to serve the Korean people with all my heart, might, mind and strength, putting my full trust and faith in Him whose name I bear on my name tag.

Whatever I feel tonight, I know I will relish each tender and precious feeling.  This is the beginning of an eighteen month faith-expanding journey in which I am blessed enough to take part.  As Alma so succinctly and perfectly stated, "Behold, I say unto you, I cannot say the smallest part which I feel" (Alma 26:16).