c ha pt er o n e

hedged in

A bubble. A huge, impenetrable, pure, protected

that way.
space. That was my childhood. At least, it felt

Life was the brightness of sunshine on a cloudless day

everything light and glorious, unstained and unblem-
ished. I was a barefoot girl, climbing trees, surrounded
by my many pets, playing games of make-believe with
my four siblings Peter, Paul, Candy, and Carolyn.
My parents built our home on a hill, on a street called
Santana Drive in Valley Golf, Antipolo. It was a brick
house with windows everywhere. Cross-ventilation. My
dads ingenious design for a home that cooled itself with
natural air.
I still remember waking up to the smell of dewy
grass and the sound of birds singing. Every day it was
10 when a good God allows rape

the same beautiful tune a chorus of birdsong I never

quite heard again when we moved to the city. And of
course, there was the sun, rising from behind the moun-
tains to announce the beginning of each new day. I loved
those mornings.
Mornings meant walks on the wonderfully lonely
roads that curled around the hills of Valley Golf. We
didnt have many neighbors. There were a few big houses
scattered here and there, and there was Faith Academy
(an American school for the children of missionaries)
that my siblings and I would eventually attend.
This was the breadth of the world I knew Valley
Golf and a few places beyond it, like the grocery, the wet
market, my dads office, and our church. For the most
part, I was content with home and our family routines.
After all, the home that my parents built us was a self-
contained wonderland.
We had an expansive backyard that followed the
slope of the hill. It was great for biking, rolling down in
boxes, and sliding down on linoleum (our home-made
version of Slip n Slide). My dad had a mini playground
constructed for us between two gigantic fire trees, one of
which had a swinging rope attached to it. He also built
a basketball half-court. My siblings and I made forts and
we climbed in the trees it was all such fun. Most of
our days were spent outdoors.
 hedged in 11

We were allowed to explore, build, and create

anything we wanted to (well, almost). We had secret
hiding places. We climbed the walls of our house and
frequented the roof and the water-tank tower. Boredom
was not in our vocabulary. There was too much to do
and enjoy.
By late afternoon, the sun would split itself into
brilliant orange, red, and yellow across the horizon. We
marveled as we watched sunsets from the balcony of our
home. Nighttime had its own kind of beauty. Quietly,
it would occupy the last spaces of light and one by one
the stars would present themselves. Far removed from
the city, we saw the sky from end to end. With hardly
a neighbor living near us, we had the most spectacular
view of Metro Manila below us, with its lights dazzling
in varying degrees of intensity.
We almost always ended our days the same way
dinner as a family, lengthy relaxed conversations,
followed by walks up and down Santana Drive.
The best thing about my childhood was growing
up in a Christian home. My dad, a Chinese business-
man and Bible teacher, married my American mom,
who came to the Philippines with a singing group called
The Crossroads. Back in the 1970s, it was not very
common to see mixed marriages in the Philippines. But
my siblings and I never thought we were unusual except
12 when a good God allows rape

for the occasional times when curious stares told us that

people were trying to figure out our ethnicity. We didnt
look Filipino, Chinese or American, but we did look like
one another.
From the beginning my parents wanted us to grow
up with a Christian heritage. This was the most impor-
tant thing they passed on to us. It was also the reason
we had such a happy home. Jesus Christ was at the heart
of it.
I really seemed to have everything a girl could dream
of. I felt safe, securely hedged in on all sides. I didnt grow
up with unfulfilled longings for love, security, or material
provision. Both my mom and dad were demonstrative in
their affection for each one of us, and they were purpose-
ful in their parenting. For several years, my siblings and I
were homeschooled too, which brought our family even
closer together. Eventually, I went to the school for the
children of missionaries called Faith Academy.