My parents’ refugee journey began at the end of the Vietnam War, when the communists took over Laos. My mom tells me stories about how incredibly restricted their lives were during this time, and how my dad and grandfather’s lives were in jeopardy for having worked with the U.S. The communists controlled what seemed like every part of their lives, from how they spent their money to how much food they could have. My father paved the way for freedom not only for our family, but also for as many Laotians as he could. 

In Laos, my parents were both teachers: my mom taught home economics and my dad taught English. Early on in his career, my dad discovered he could have a more lucrative career working for the international development agency, USAID, teaching English and translating. In 1975 he moved to Bangkok and worked for the U.S. Embassy for 5 months, laying the groundwork for the U.S. Refugee program. In 1976, my parents were the first out of all our family members to flee to the U.S. My dad left Thailand with letters of recommendation in hand and was promised a stipend from his sponsor, Catholic Charities, to help him and my mom get on their feet. There were sponsorships in Fort Wayne, Indiana, and Washington, D.C., and my dad chose Fort Wayne because he liked the idea of a small town surrounded by farmland. 

This is the part of the story that brings me to tears every time. When they arrived, they were received by Catholic Charities, but they did not get the stipend or very many options for work. After arriving on June 11th, my dad started his first day of work on the 13th, making $2.50/hr as a garbage man. He made just enough money to pay rent but they didn’t have much left over for food. When winter came, he couldn't bear the cold, so he found a new job at a car dealership washing cars indoors and writing prices on the windshield for $3 an hour. My mom describes their experience of coming to America  “like being dropped in the middle of the ocean.”

Meanwhile my mom was dealing with being homesick and alone most of the time. Everything was different. The old smelly clothes that were donated to her brought tears to her eyes; never in her life did she have to wear old clothes. Fortunately, she is an incredible seamstress and was able to sew and patch up some of the old clothes. And for the first time in her life, she was given canned food. She didn’t know what to do with them, especially since the smell of American food was nauseating to her. My mom also found out my dad was sending money to the refugee camps to help the family they left behind in Laos. She was heartbroken because she felt like they needed to get on their feet before they could be in the position to help. She fell into a deep depression and overdosed on painkillers. She had to be taken to the hospital, and it was then that she found out she was pregnant with my older sister, which caused her mindset to shift immediately. She was overwhelmed with joy and now felt like she had something to live for. 

Having found out they were soon going to be parents, my dad once again looked for a new job. He answered a newspaper job listing and landed himself a truck driving gig, a job he would have for the rest of his life. Now that they were pregnant, hospital bills started accumulating on top of the other expenses they were barely able to pay for -- my dad made $200 a month and rent was $174. Mom says he wrote a letter to someone in the U.S. Embassy telling them about his situation and asking for John Martin, the contact person who was supposed to give them their $1000 stipend ($500 per person) upon arrival, but no one seemed to know where he was. Shortly after sending the letter however, Mr. John Martin finally appeared, and apologized profusely. He took care of all of the existing and remaining hospital bills. From then on, life slowly but surely started getting better.

Mom started working as a seamstress in 1980 and gave birth to me in 1981. I frequently hear the story of how shortly after giving birth, she planned to have me stay with my grandma so she could go back to work. My grandma lived 5 hours away so this meant my mom would only see me on the weekends. She said it lasted only one week; every night she would come home, smell my blanket and cry because she missed me so much. My dad took the initiative to tell her working wasn’t worth the heartache, so she quit her job, picked me up, and stayed home until I was old enough for school. When she went back to work, she moved herself from seamstress to supervisor in a very short window of time. She worked hard in her career and home life. She lived a life fulfilling the old school gender role of wife and homemaker, responsible for most of the cooking and all of the cleaning. I remember her having a short fuse a lot of my childhood, but now having children of my own, I have a deeper appreciation for all she did and I can empathize with her and the ton of responsibility she had. 

We grew up with very little, but I never felt poor. I didn’t actually realize how little we had until I started applying for college. The struggles they endured have given me such a deep appreciation for where I am today. My parents rarely had time for themselves; I can’t even recall them having a date night. I am eternally grateful to be a product of such a beautiful journey. 

My dad passed away from cancer when I was 20 years old, and one of my biggest regrets was not being wise enough to learn as much as I could about him and from him while he was alive. I wish I was a more mindful younger person. My dad was a humanitarian. He was a man of service. He was a teacher, a translator, a leader. He was the most selfless, humble person I knew. He once found a literal duffel bag full of cash and turned it into the police. Once he even accidently picked up a prostitute because he was being kind and thought she needed a ride! He truly gave without expecting anything in return. He was also one of the founders of the Laotian Congregation in our hometown of Fort Wayne. He pioneered the development of the first Lao Buddhist Temple in Fort Wayne. He was responsible for bringing the rest of his family and my mom’s family to the U.S. I remember quite well having all these people temporarily live with us. As a kid, it was fun to have new guests, and now as an adult, I feel a great appreciation for the generosity, compassion and love that my parents have always shown. 

Throughout my life Buddhism has been a huge part of my existence, to the point now where the foundations are organically part of my mindset. Both of my parents actively practiced Theravada Buddhism and we were frequently involved in rites and rituals of the practice and of Lao culture. I’ve always had a sense of wonder of the meaning and purpose of our lives. I remember being 6 or 7 years old, lying in bed and falling asleep wondering if our existence was real or if we were just living one big dream. I also often wondered what happened to our spirit when we passed. My parents answered some of the things I asked, but I always felt like there were things that didn’t make much sense or perhaps got lost in translation. As I grew older, I ended up checking out a lot of books on Buddhism from the library and choosing Buddhism for topics to write about for school assignments. My grandfather was also a huge influence in my practice/cultivation. He taught all his grandchildren Pali Chants. For a few years he lived 3 houses down from us. We would sit for over an hour once a week to chant with him. Though I had a number of them memorized, I never really wrapped my head around what they meant. He was also the first person to introduce me to meditation. When my grandfather retired, he became a very highly respected monk in the Lao community, which limited the time I was able to spend with him. I didn’t realize then what any of this would mean to me one day.   

In January 2010, at 29 years old, I attended my first 10-day silent Vipassana meditation retreat. I was going through a difficult time in my life where I felt lost and disconnected to my inner self. This retreat was one of the most enlightening experiences I’ve ever had. This is when I felt like everything I had learned from being raised Buddhist made sense, and that giving myself the time to learn how to meditate fulfilled what I always felt was missing from my practice. Upon leaving the retreat, I felt the most peace that I had ever felt and was determined to keep it going, but things slowly trickled off until I completely stopped about a year later. Meditation had brought me back to my true self, and even without the practice in my daily life, I thrived through the next several years. This changed when I became a full time mom in 2019, and I realized I needed to start practicing again..

At the time, I was a mother of 3 children under 7 years old, had been home full-time for 3 years, and had a husband who traveled 70% of the time. Like a lot of people, I lost myself in my responsibilities, I had quarterly meltdowns, and my day-to-day was filled with feelings of frustration and annoyance. I turned to various outlets to help relieve my daily stresses: I painted, I dabbled in some calligraphy and lettering, I regularly exercised, and I started making a conscious effort to schedule time for myself and friends. Still, I felt like I wasn’t feeling balanced. The beginning of this year I got a Passion Planner and was trying to figure out what my “passion” or goal would be for this year to focus on. The problem is, I have a lot of interests and things I enjoy doing. After a lot of thought, with the help of my husband, I realized that the one thing on my list I could focus on that would transcend into every aspect of my life was meditation. I had been talking about getting back into mediation for the past couple years but hadn’t committed to making it a routine. 

I have rediscovered meditation and my life was again transformed. This time there wasn’t a retreat, but having had that previous experience, it helped me feel confident in devoting the time to it again. Now I’m 3 months into a daily meditation practice and I’ve never felt better. A huge plus about meditation is that you literally don’t need anything to start doing it. The most beautiful part of it is the more you practice, the deeper you get into the different levels of consciousness. I’ve been motivated to share what I’ve learned and continue to learn every day about mindfulness, meditation, and Buddhism. 

This was why I started my platform @cindymeidinger. I wanted to document my experiences and share them with other people, not only to inspire others, but also to have a record of my journey. I love that mindfulness and meditation have gained more attention in recent years, and I hope to do my part in making it accessible to all, especially to youth and underserved communities. I would also love to share what I’ve learned to other children of the Lao Diaspora who are trying to connect the dots between Lao culture, Theravada Buddhist practices, and life in the U.S. I hope to translate old teachings in a way that makes sense to Lao Americans in modern day society.