In China, women who come from Southern China are known for their intelligence and beauty, and my mother is typical of this kind of woman. From pictures of her, I can see that she was beautiful, competent, and full of youthful spirit. One time she told me that when she was young, she could give presentations on revolutionary policy without any preparation or drafts. Mother was gifted in carving, Chinese calligraphy, printing, and accounting. Her schoolmates at higher primary school had even given her the nickname of “Little Yiman Zhao” (a famous female Chinese communist). Though my mother was beautiful and bright, she was born at a time when she had little opportunity to develop her talent.

Mother’s father had died when she was little, so she—along with two older brothers and two older sisters—were raised by my grandmother alone. As she grew older, her only request was to go to school. But my grandmother thought the most important things for a girl were to be able to do needlework well and be married off to a decent family. When mother was 12, my grandmother consented and sent her to a higher primary school, where she developed her handwriting and Chinese calligraphy skills.

After gaining a higher primary school education, my mother was able to join the Chinese Communist Party. Following the belief of “for the happiness of the next generation,” she accepted the marriage arrangement of the Chinese Communist Party to my father, a cadre of the Party. Shortly after getting married, they moved to a mountainous region in southern Zhejiang Province to contribute to the building of a new China. Mother worked as a clerk in a government office.

Memories from my childhood are that my parents’ marriage was full of sadness and bitterness. There was a difference in their educational level and social status, and they lived on a tight family budget which created worry over the future of their children. Both were also strong-willed.

As a child, I never understood why my father lost his title, job, and income during the Chinese Cultural Revolution. Mother left her job and stayed with my father, and they went back to my mother’s hometown with nothing—living under the eyes of people who discriminated against them. But mother kept the integrity of our family for the sake of her children and never considered divorcing my father. After the Cultural Revolution, Father’s name was cleared, and he started to work as a national cadre again.

My father was born into a poor family in Shandong Province. He joined the army of resistance against the Japanese when he was 14 years old. Later, he left his hometown for Southern China and was appointed director of the Agrarian Reform Team in Zhejiang Province. He experienced every facet of the Revolution and dedicated his life to the struggle for Communism. In my memory, he was most faithful to his belief, being loyal and devoted to his country and people. He always said that their bloodshed and sacrifice was for the happiness of the Chinese people and for a rich, strong, and prosperous country. He endured much humiliation for his beliefs, but the bullet scar on his body clearly gave evidence that he had a glorious history of fighting for China. When I was in middle school, Dad was reinstated to his former position, and after 10 years he was honorably retired.

Soon after father retired, I started to believe in Jesus. Through radio broadcasts, I heard about Jesus, that He loved people enough to die for their sin—and the seed of belief was planted in my heart, which later developed into full faith.

After Dad retired, we returned to our hometown where I got a job working in the post office. My father, mother, a nephew of mine, and I lived together in an old room of 30 square meters, without a toilet. We had to cook outside in the public passageway. Other retired cadres were furnished an apartment, but my father didn’t get one. He was told that his working unit couldn’t afford one since the city where we lived was so poor. Father had devoted all his life to the cause of the Revolution and ended up with not even a room of his own. There was no space for him to grow flowers, which was his beautiful dream.

Over time, Dad’s beliefs began to change. After I bought a new apartment and invited my parents to live with me, his dream of having a room to grow his flowers came true. I told Dad that many sisters in my church had been praying with me about the apartment. When Dad saw the decorated new apartment, with a spacious living room and balcony that looked out into the bright outdoors, he exclaimed, “I never expected this! Thank God!”

In the past, when I talked about Jesus and shared testimonies from brothers and sisters in my church, Dad would become angry. He always insisted that the Communist theory was right, and we should trust the Communist Party and authorities. Then, during a serious illness when he was near death, seven sisters from the church came to our home to pray for him. He was deeply moved, and to everyone’s surprise, the next morning he got up and said that Jesus had healed him! He did get better, and from that time on, he began to introduce Jesus to his friends.

Being the only daughter of my parents, getting a husband for me was always a great concern. I was determined to only marry a Christian—and Christian Chinese men were few. When I met a Christian man from America, my dad’s heart was full of happiness. On our wedding day, he said it was the most joyful day of his life. My mother had always hoped that I would have a happy marriage. At my wedding, Mother—nearly 80 years old, in good health, and optimistic about life—told people that her daughter’s marriage was arranged by God. She never worried about me moving to America with my husband. Chinese parents have hopes and dreams for their children which they have not realized for themselves. My happy life in America has fully realized my parents’ expectation for their daughter.

As Dad’s health began to wane, Mom took care of him as best she could, day and night without complaining, even though she was in her 70s. My father left this world with gratitude in his heart for my mother, for all the care she had given him. In the past, I thought that there was no love between my parents. But I came to realize that I could not really understand the feelings two people have for each other. In later life, after both my parents became Christians, they showed a definite love and gentleness toward each other. My mother’s joy was like the joy of mothers who are surrounded by love.

For the hundreds of millions of families in China, my prayer is that they will come to know Jesus and let His indwelling presence bring peace and happiness instead of hatred and suffering. My desire is to honor my parents and give respect to my homeland—China.

Born the first year of the Cultural Revolution, Wendy Click grew up in a Communist family. Through blood and tears, she became a Christian in her youth, serving the underground church, and facing persecution for her faith. Now, as a missionary sent by God, she is dedicated to giving back her love to America.