This is a painting of my childhood home in Hawaii. It was unique in that it was a large “community house,” where my parents had a small studio apartment on the property. They were one of a few tenants who also had studios. The owners of the house, our landlords, were a couple with 2 kids who lived on the top floor. The little studio apartment is where my parents brought me home when I was born, and I lived til I was about 5 years old. The house was surrounded by banana trees.
If that structure wasn’t unique enough, this house had a reputation for being a “party house” (in the best way!). House parties are a big part of Filipino culture. My mom, our landlords, and most of the other tenants are Filipino, so my early childhood memories include people always being around, constantly meeting new people, my parents and their friends always making and eating way too much food, dancing, karaoke, and basketball. I was a kid riding around on my little tricycle, greeting people, and then sometimes hiding at home (because I was and have always been an introvert).
All this to say, that place is what joy, celebration, and home feel like to me. We’ve never truly found our way back to a time and place like that after moving from Hawaii, but my mom, sister, and I always try to create it wherever we are. In the difficult years after my parents divorced and we moved to Pennsylvania, we found open doors to friendships wherever we could find them. And what we’ve always shared–as modeled by my mom–was hospitality, food, music, dancing, hugs, and laughter. What I didn’t know at the time was how jarring it was for the culture we were in (conservative, rural Pennsylvania), to be as open, expressive, and invitational as we were (and still are).
In some ways, I wish I was still that naive, because my adult self is now a little jaded, a little too aware of social dynamics, and I hold myself back until I feel safe enough. But I still find myself in that position A LOT, where I’m in a new social environment with its own established culture, and my directive from God is to disrupt it with balloons and confetti.
Something I learned in my YWAM days was the idea of “moving in the opposite spirit.” That is, when entering a social atmosphere that’s stuffy, religious, or dark, the act of bringing joy, laughter, and whimsy is how to counteract it even on a spiritual level. More recently, my sister (who owns a coffee shop) had an incident where her entire staff quit. It was all under the influence of a disgruntled employee who resented all the extra work (that she agreed to take on) while my sister was pregnant. The former employee tried to launch a “cancel” campaign against my sister on social media… only to have it backfire and fuel more support for my sister and the cafe. And to move in the opposite spirit, I rallied people to flood the Google page with positive reviews. To reframe the situation, I said, “Zanetta, look at it this way: sometimes your problems get rid of themselves. And that makes room for what’s exactly right for you.”
Cheers… to the old being gone, and celebrating what is, and what’s to come.
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