Striving for Grace

Within our host culture lie several complicated cultural minefields.  We do try, as often as possible, to avoid them.  When we stumble upon them, we freeze and try to determine the most delicate and grace-inducing manner to back out of the mess.

For instance, when dealing with a problem, a mediator should always be enlisted.  Within the employment realm, contracts mean nothing.  They are suggestions of how the relationship MIGHT work out, but there is nothing to hold either party to a signed contract.  In fact, there are boiler-plate contracts we have signed at various levels of  official approvals and we're told plainly that it is simply a form.  Usually it is fully in Chinese, many pages long, and goes into some file system somewhere to show that a "step" in the multi-step system was completed.

So when you have an issue at work, generally speaking, there is no guarantee of how it will resolve (no contract to fall back on really.)  You enlist someone to help you with the problem, for foreigners, sometimes it is someone entirely outside of the specific employment environment, to contact your boss and to have a chat about you and your problem, indirectly.

This is also true with relationship issues.  Often if there is a problem you go to a third party to help mediate the situation, immediately.  For the Western mind that seems complicated and so indirect!  Surely you could just sit down an TALK about it, right?  If you have a good relationship with your boss, or with your friend, my first instinct would always be to talk about it with them directly to see if we can "work it out."  Time and time again we've seen this work out to a poor end.  There simply are more ways to skin a cat, and to live Here, means that we must adapt our communication and relational skills to the cultural norm.

All this is well and good, UNLESS you are the foreigner and your boss or friend needs to tell YOU something.

So as a Westerner, I know that items that are "not-personal" in the West are dealt with head-on, directly.  But items of a more personal manner, things relating to your health, your marriage, your family...anything personal...and certainly anything that could be considered offensive/hurtful to the other party...we Westerners just DON'T GO THERE!  Am I right?

We are taught, culturally speaking, to tell little "white lies" when something personal that could offend of hurt the other party comes up...ie. it is not the most darling baby you've ever seen, but you say it is...she really has gained weight, but you comment that she looks well...you see him drink too much at the office parties, and think he might have a problem, but you keep it to yourself...you think that they are doing something inadequate in the raising of their kids, but never in a million years would you tell them so....(I'm not advocating this practice, just relating the example for communication purposes.)

But it would seem that when living Here, and being the foreigner, there are no limits on the "direct help/comments" you might receive from your acquaintances...even a stranger you cross on the road!  This has taken some getting used to!

Lots of people in the adoption community talk about visiting Here to pick up their children and having old ladies on the streets wag their fingers at them, shaming them, for not having the child bundled up to the local standard.  But, when you live here awhile...that is a walk in the park!

We've been told outright that:

1)  We're too fat (several times, in front of various crowds)...true, but painful...recently Daddy had his stomach patted when he left our regular lunch-time restaurant...
2)  Americans are terrible in Math and they hope our kids can measure up (at dinner parties, at school assemblies)
3)  That we don't have enough money to have so many children. (we've been questioned about our earnings in groups, we've been asked if we live on government assistance from the US,  we've been asked how much money we have in the bank, etc.)
4)  We've been told that we cannot possibly take good enough care of our children, given the number of them. (at a dinner party, several times one on one by a "concerned" friend!...mind you they think everything is going well with the children now...but just wait...doom must be around the corner!)
5)  We've been told that we're just "lucky" that our kids are well-behaved, that parenting has nothing to do with it (at a school meeting with other teachers & parents)
6)  That we (I) drink too much Coke (I'm sure it is true, it is my vice, but I'm talking about one friend who connects everything in my life to drinking Coke...if my neck hurts, if I have a cold, if I'm having a hard day...then she tried to get her children to counsel me against drinking Coke...just got another email last night apologizing that she had to correct this flaw in my lifestyle again!...she also told me last week that we were getting sick because we had a few struggling/dying plants in our home)
7)  That we, under no circumstances, should adopt anymore children...because it makes no fiscal sense.
8)  That we should not consider adopting (adding to the family) without the express permission of our chancellor of schools...we've been told this a few times.  (Consider this in your US school settings....you must go to the Superintendent and see if he/she is in agreement with your family expansion plans.)
9)  We've been told that we are endangering our kids when we don't take them immediately to the hospital when they have a fever, cough or sniffle...(we have done this to avoid potentially other more serious exposures at the hospital, and the perfunctory 3-5 days worth of regular IV infusions...even for a common cold!)
10)  That if we allow our children to wear sandals in May, no matter the weather (80-90 degrees), they will soon be really sick.  (This may be true as most of our kids are not fighting some sort of a stomach thing...perhaps transmitted through the toenails?)

Each time we have one of these direct/personal comments...we have to handle it in a way that shows grace...

I have nearly bit my tongue in half so many times!  But we have to remain calm, and remember why we came...

Just last night, after reading another (by Western standards) very pushy health warning in an email...I took a breather and composed a "thank you for loving me" email response.  

 My normal nature, when I face these comments, would like to point out the dozens of things I see that I think are crazy about this person/culture that are far more health-threatening, medically incorrect, philosophically incorrect...but then, what would I accomplish?

Remember us in this area as we strive for Grace in all our responses.

And, don't be surprised this summer when we're on furlough,  if we let you know of some areas that you should make some improvements...

Hope you have a nice start to your week!

Meeting Confucius

I had an unexpected meeting with Confucius on Tuesday.

Well, truth be told, with several of the devout followers of his teachings.

I hustled out of the school at 2:30 on Tuesday, hopped into the yellow van which serves as the school bus (and often our private car that we hire when we need to get somewhere with our big family.)  I fought a horrible case of nausea all the way into the twisting, narrow roads of the inner city.  It would seem that the longer I live the pedestrian lifestyle I am terribly susceptible to car-sickness.  (I remember this being the case, especially for Potato when she came home so many years ago...she HATED to ride in the car...felt car sick and very anxious about how fast we drove in the West.  Now I have a much deeper understanding of this matter.)

Anyway, off I was jostling side to side through the twists and turns in the van with no shocks...bouncing and shifting all over.  Finally we pulled up to an impressive building, 30 stories tall, and Uncle (our local family friend) met me to be the translator.  Up to the 26th floor we were ushered into an interesting scene.  An office, several gentleman wearing traditional mandarin-collared jackets smiling warmly, welcomed us into the honcho's office.  The door said, "Confucius Academic Studies Association."

I was drawn to the windows that offered an easterly and westerly view of our city.  Two lakes in view, one East and West, were proof that the mega-city I looked over at one time was a natural landscape.  I am certain that no one remembers that time Here now.  No matter how long I live Here, I don't think I will ever get used to the head-scratching, sheer magnitude of the population and its effect.

We sat down on wooden couches, that sling you back into a semi-reclining position.  I always feel unsettled in those chairs, a bit like a turtle on my back.  They eagerly brought in other chairs for the meeting attendees to swarm upon.  The tea kettle was switched on (thanks to electricity this standard element of culture takes so little time to produce.)  Tea leaves were sprinkled into 6 plastic cups...and soon the red light told us that the water was boiling.

Then the dance began.

First introductions.  Second a display of important, we're- worthy- of- your- respect-type items to show that I was not meeting with unimportant people.  Third, exchanges of warm, yet a bit forced in their flowery-ness, pleasantries to establish good will.  (I am so thankful that I'm learning tiny elements of how to do this ritual, though I'm not very good at it, I'm at least not so "foreign" to it anymore.)

Finally, after about 40 minutes of preliminary chat, the heart of the matter.

These dear souls are eager to address kids who do not get families, to open a center where they could live, go to school outside, but return for intense education in traditional, Confucian teachings.

Furthermore, they wanted me to come an speak at one of their seminars.  To speak about adoption, why we have done it, what our experience has been, and why we would agree to adopt children with special needs.

They desired a mutual exchange of thinking...East and West...to address this worrisome matter of children without families.

I have no idea what will come of this meeting.  Perhaps we will establish some relationship in which I can learn more about key philosophies that have shaped this mighty nation...and even our city...so impressively seen outside the two windows at 26 stories high.

As I left, I used some Mandarin to dazzle them...and rode off into the hazy sunset, through the warren of streets, the smell of ripe fruit in my nostrils, the challenging presence of people undeniable, and the persistent nausea in my blue, tin-can, taxi.  The view from the street is a very different sight to behold.

These high-minded men, who devote their lives to the teachings of filial piety, honor, respect, duty see the answer for the questions of the populace at street-level...in returning to traditional culture.  They were so ambitious, so engaging in conveying their purpose.  I respect them greatly and am so honored they considered talking with me something to be desired.

As I rode around at street level, I kept looking for Him, in the eyes of the people.  Amidst the daily struggle to survive...where would I find Him?

Then I remembered the man I'd seen the day before.  Face down, missing his leg, filthy and lying on torn papers...

We gave him some money, and he looked up and caught my eye...and in just that instant, I saw Him again, staring back at me...inviting me to love Him more.

It is true that the view up above is amazing.   And the thoughts I think up there are involved, my mind stretching to contain new concepts...it is a lofty place to visit.

 But the sights to be seen in the eyes of those around me down here on the ground...divine.

Cultural Strides

After my heinous cultural faux pas written about a few posts ago, I'm so happy to detail a bit of a victory that we experienced recently.

As we are doing the necessary paperwork for our newest addition, we don't have too much to do...but were surprised recently when we needed to go back to redo our Medical Checks and obtain a "You're not a bad guy/gal" form from the local authorities.  Both of these issues have significant challenges within them (the first being that we needed to do a blood draw/test and each time we do so, due to current practices, we EXPOSE ourselves to many serious health risks.)  The second I won't detail here, but suffice it to say that IF we were not a "good guy or gal" in the sight of those overseeing us officially...we would NO LONGER BE HERE...as we live here based on the discretion of the big guys...if we were in any trouble with them...we would be sent packing!  The cultural issues involved in obtaining such a "Good guy/not a criminal" form are too many to detail as such a request completely defies any reason to those who are asked to provide it.  I am ever so hopeful, as we've been notified of an interview date this afternoon, that this key form will soon be in our hands.

Back to the first issue...

Last Saturday we needed to go out and start on the Medical checks...NEVER a really welcome sort of thing...in any place.

A major problem is that I have a "medical form" provided by a US agency, that requires the Doctor to "interpret" the results of all the "check-up" items, then sign, date, provide a medical license number, etc.  This is simply NOT done here.  That sort of form is completely foreign (and not just because it is entirely in English!)  Of course the Doctor here will provide us with documentation of our blood work, and all the other checks required by the form...but to ask them to fill out the form...is outside of the realm of imagination.  For them, the form is totally sub-standard, when they can provide us with all of the formal medical records.

I'm grasping at this early hour to describe how crazy this idea is to ANY person here...

Maybe it is the same confusion that foreigners feel when they come here and they sign boiler plate contracts that really have nothing specific in them, no job descriptions, and nothing that the company will be held to.  For the Western mind, this is ridiculous!  Facts are everything, facts supersede everything!  But Here, it is the relationship that is important.  If you have a good relationship with your employer, they will treat you right.  But, no paper will guarantee that...whereas in the West...you can sue that employer based on the "letter of the law" in your contract.  Foreigners struggle with the "WHY?" question incessantly...but it simply cannot be answered...that is the way it is Here, and if you can't hang...you have to face going back to your home culture.

So, it was sort of like that when we showed up at the hospital all smiley, asking a Chinese Doctor to "fill out" this (to us) CRUCIAL form, based on her medical exam.  For our minds, we would be tempted to say..."It is so easy, so clear!"  But, it not a matter of presenting/re-presenting/persuading to Doctor to see the logic behind the form. Just the same as a Chinese employer could never present/re-present/persuade the foreigner to understand WHY they have to sign this contract that seems so official (to the foreigner) but has no meaning, to the Chinese.  It simply is apples to oranges.  There is no way to communicate clearly enough to make it make "sense."

In year one, I would have still be operating heavily on the idea that I could reason my way through the situation with the Doctor...and that it should be accomplished in some sort of "reasonable" (by Western time standards) time frame.  I would have felt anxious about it, frustrated when it wasn't as "simple" as it should be, and exhausted by process of it.

In year two, perhaps a bit like the above...but I would have surrendered to the idea that time, and thereby "reasonable time frames" are different Here.

This year, before we left for the hospital I thought of two things.

The facts of WHY I need this form, and the doctor to fill it out just so...don't matter...they are NOT helpful in ANY WAY to getting my need fulfilled.

The Doctor needs to establish a relationship with me, quickly, so that she can provide me with something, that to her is completely ridiculous and not understandable.

So, I got two things and stuffed them in my bag:  a photo of our whole family, and the last medical form we had done (at another hospital) for The Singer and The Bruiser's adoptions.

When we arrived at the hospital we began the dance of communication.  Our dear Uncle was there with us, so our first job was to explain to him WHAT we needed, specifically.  Once he understood, he helped us tell the 'story' the first time, to the intake nurse.

The next three hours were spent talking about the situation, in a series of brief conversations,  with the Head Nurse.  Of course, she assured us, they would provide everything needed for the medical check on their official, stamped/chopped documents...WHY did we need the silly American form?  Several times we used the last medical form, and the Doctors' all important signatures, to show exactly what we were asking of them once the Medical exam was performed.

Finally, with the help of Uncle, she brought us a Doctor to speak with.  We started the apologies again for the silly form and did our best to explain what we were requesting.  About 10 minutes into the very verbose exchange I thought..."this is it! it is time to get out the photo."

So, I stepped over into the fray and thrust the photo in front of the doctor.  Her eyes, immediately wide, took in the sight.  She looked up at me and asked a few times, "these are ALL your children?"  Then the perfunctory, "wow, what a big family!" and then I said again, but now with the help of the visual aide, "there is another local boy, just like these two (pointing to the two newest guys) who is waiting for a family.  We are trying to complete this silly paper so that we can be allowed to bring him home."

Immediately the situation changed.

The photo had changed everything...we had begun a relationship...and within 5 minutes, she wholeheartedly agreed to fill out the form based on our exams, to sign and date and stamp it just as it needed to be...because obviously we too understood how "ridiculous" the form and the specific rules around it are...and we needed her help to bring a dear boy home.

It was so cool.

Daddy and I marveled at how far we'd come, how we not only had learned HOW to negotiate such a cultural difference...but that even a greater thing had happened within us...

We weren't at ONE MOMENT frustrated, angry, irritated, anxious, judgmental, or exasperated!  We KNEW it would take a big chunk of our day, and that no matter how much it makes sense to us...it is simply seen completely differently by our neighbors (and doctors!)

I wish I could clearly express what a break-through this was!  It was fantastic!  It was monumental!

And, it really encouraged us to see how He has molded us, changed us, and helped us to step outside of our black and white judgments to  be able to not only get by...but to be successful in this foreign land!

He has so much to do with us still...but, we can see that we're on the road to becoming more of who He wants us to be...in the ever great hope of transcending culture...so that hearts can be touched!

Cultural Faux Pas...what was I thinking?

For those who know me very well, they have heard, too many times, about my propensity to totally embarrass myself.  I have a ton of stories that often my friends will say..."Oh, tell THAT ONE over again!"  My Teammate says, "you could write a book just with all your embarrassing moment stories!"  The fact that I have so many of them always helped during the days I hosted a talk radio program...if there was nothing much in the news to center the topic upon...then I could always drag out a good personal "embarrassing moment" story and the call lines would lite up with people who wanted to comment.

But, I think, Saturday was possibly my top 1 or 2 most embarrassing moment of my lifetime!

We have some friends from India.  Their son has been in the school since we arrived and has been classmates with Brownie and Potato.  They were fast friends from the start, especially because they could all speak English together immediately, before they had learned to speak Chinese with their classmates.

The family has decided to take their son back to India to enroll him in school there, as the schools in their area might be very difficult to enter if he goes further in our system.

Anyway, there was a "Farewell to Fawaz" gathering on Saturday at a clubhouse at the family's apartment complex.  I offered to bring some food as I would always do.  Friday night we had a slumber party for The Bug's birthday, so after making pancakes and bacon for 14 on Saturday morning, and having some other friends over for lunch, I was under pressure to come up with something to take for the party.

I decided on making quiche for lunch, so quickly assembled and extra to take to the party, as well.

We jammed onto an overcrowded bus to travel to the party.  Everyone being careful not to jostle the bag with the quiche in it.  When we arrived several, including the party hosts, gathered around to inquire about my culinary contribution.

I was explaining that this was a "quiche."  I went on to detail the ingredients...eggs, flour, swiss cheese, vegetables, bacon...... BACON....

Just as I said the words...I was horrified!

I had totally forgotten/overlooked/spaced the fact that our dear friends, whose "going away" were were trying to honor, are MUSLIMS and therefore consider PORK, HEINOUS!

Standing there in my shock and embarrassment, my mind flooded with the stories I'd heard about the families extreme stance on pork.  Like the time that the 1st grade teacher gave a hungry Fawaz some of the vegetable dish the other children were eating for school lunch...but it had PORK in it...and the parents were very, very unhappy!  Even the dish that HAD pork in it is considered unclean...

and here I came, smiling, with my family of 9...and offered as my dish to HONOR our friends...a quiche with UNCLEAN meat in it!

I felt dizzy.  I could NOT believe that I had done such a thing!

I apologized profusely..."I'm so sorry, so sorry!  I never meant ANY disrespect. I don't know what I was thinking!"  Tears stung in my eyes.

They were cool.  They kept saying, "really it is okay, don't worry, there are other things for us to eat!"

Yeah, good thing they had other friends who had their heads screwed on...I guess my actions said..."good bye there friends...let me serve you some unclean food to show how important you were to us..."

Maybe some day I will be able to laugh about this one, just like I have about the time my dress was stuck in the backside of my pantyhose and I sauntered to the front of the church when I was 14...

Or the time, when I was in college, while speaking from the pulpit in a church in New Zealand, in expressing our Team's thankfulness for all the wonderful food the home-stay families had fed us I said 3-4 times how "stuffed" we were...in fact I "couldn't remember a time when I've been more stuffed."...only slightly aware of the horror on the faces of the congregation...I was immediately given a humiliating cultural language lesson by the Pastor on the spot that "stuffed" in NZ is akin to using the "F" word in American English!

I nearly died on that day, too.

Everyone's on the move...

Officially next Thursday begins the "Spring Festival Travel Period"...at least according to the national Railway system here....that will carry a staggering number of people to the far reaches of our massive host nation. 

As a Westerner, truly, I have nothing in my experience to compare to the magnitude of this holiday period of time.  I chose the words "period of time" intentionally because many people will spend 2 -4 weeks away from their jobs, with their families, celebrating the New Year.  (I can remember when one time I took 5 days off work around Christmas and New Years and I felt like I'd won the lottery...living as a person of leisure!)

While our host nation punches the clock and goes on holiday, this is the time that our family also goes on retreat.  It has now become our only down-time in the year, and as we continue living cross-culturally, our spirits and bodies ache for some refreshing. 

We will head out on a "sleeper train" next Friday (with thousands of other happy home-goers) as we head to the South on the first leg of our trip to SE Asia.  Our train tickets, that were purchased after a 2 hour wait in line, offer us the first of many challenges on our trip.  We are holding the only tickets in the "hard sleepers" that we could get...unfortunately, our 6 sleeper berths are on three different cars of the train!  So, we will go to the train, heavy-laden with gifts and perhaps some small money, to try to "swap" berths with others so that our family of 9 can get on the same car (at least) an in the same compartment (at best.)  As no one buys 6 berths at the same time, our purchase was greeted with speculation after an initial refusal.  Ticket scalping during this frantic time is at an all time high...so the ticket office usually sells a MAXIMUM of 3 tickets together (One family-One child...as is still the policy in most of the country.)

Once we'd purchased berths on the getaway train...we realized that we needed to replace a few of our carry-on sized bags, that are simply beat to thunder after all the traveling they've done.  So, I headed into town with Magpie, Potato & Brownie (as The Bug is still in the US for Grampa's funeral.)  As we traveled the main road from our apartment I realized that the exodus from the city had begun.  Each bus stop along our path was overstuffed with anxious-faced and eager souls spilling out into the road, arms burgeoning with burlap bags or the occasional spiffy suitcase at their sides, eyes intent on seeing the next bus that might allow 1-2 people to squeeze on (leaving the hundred others to wait, and wait, and wait for their turn.)

When we made it to the major shopping mall we went to the big K-mart/Walmart-type store in hopes of finding suitcases.  As we rounded the corner in the store, our eyes took in an amazing sight...literally 100 other people in the suitcase section, shopping for the bag that would take home their possessions as well as the precious gifts for their family members living in the the distant countryside villages of their birth.  Suitcases, all with wheels, starting at just 87 RMB, about $15, all the way to slick-sided, four-wheeled bags labeled "Tokyo Chic", selling for 800 RMB.  We were lost in a sea of people...college students...young families with their new babies ready for their first introduction to relatives...young professionals, shopping for that bag that would show that they are on their way to achieving the dreams of their parents...wealthy men shopping for the best bag to accessorize their BMW, Lexus, or Mercedes that will prove to everyone in their hometown that they are as rich as God.

Every eye I could catch revealed the mood of these days...joyful anticipation. 

I thought of our colleagues at the school.

Teacher Linda who was married in October, took 10 days off work to help pack her husband's belongings and send him off to a "new/better" job in the South that will keep their time together to twice a year.  Spring Festival is one of those times...they will have three weeks to live as husband and wife...and then 6 weeks in the summer.  This scenario is so common. 

Teacher Li who was married yesterday, will spend them time taking his new wife to meet his relatives, receiving "hong bao" or red envelopes stuffed with cash to wish them "double happiness" in their new life together. 

The Principal who will host many (15-20) out of town relatives in her 2 bedroom, 1000 Sq ft. apartment (the family is originally FROM our city, increasingly a rare situation.)  All this entertaining around helping her daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law get settled into the new flat she purchased for them.  

Teacher Maggie who will travel with her new husband to her hometown.  The last trip they took, one year ago, they could only get "standing" tickets on the train for the 20 hour train ride.  She will finally get to see the new nephew born this year to her sister.  She has been preparing for her trip to see her mother, who she missed dearly, for months.

The excitement is palpable. 

When I reached the check-out of the store, our two new modest suitcases in tow...I had a monumental experience....

In our first two years Here, I had suffered several embarrassing moments at the check-out of this store...mis-translating the amount of money required, forgetting that I had to BUY the sack to take my purchases home, my bank card being refused for some unknown reason, and two or three times...trying to use a store-issued coupon to save money on my purchase, but always being told that I had it wrong, that it wasn't valid, etc.

As we were nearly done with the suitcase transaction, I remembered that I'd been given one of those coupons on my last visit.  Since I am illiterate, I can't read the rules/regulations on the coupon, but I sheepishly pushed the crumpled paper across the steely, cold check-out counter...avoiding eye-contact for the inevitable barrage of rudely-delivered "you are an idiot, this coupon does not work in this situation" Chinese monologue...

but something magical happened...

she TOOK the coupon, and reduced my bill 60 RMB!  That's $10!

While it was simply luck...I was ecstatic!  I had successfully used my FIRST coupon Here!  In year 3! 

The high carried me home...though the buses had stopped for the night and we had to wait one hour in the freezing, windy night for a taxi...

We're just a few folks enveloped in the masses, headed out of town on holiday...

"There will not be any blood to see"

Last week the school held the annual "Chinese Competition."  I have written extensively before about the drive for competition here...EVERYTHING is made into a competition...even things that are not remotely connected in my western-mind with competition.  Weekly our students compete for the best "behavior" award, our teachers compete for the best teacher award, our classrooms compete against each other to be the winner in a category that includes tidiness, punctuality, and lunchroom behavior.

In our third year we've been a few rounds through the Math Competition, English Competition, Chinese Competition, Sports Day Competition (with enough pageantry to rival the Olympics), Handwriting Competition, Music Competition, Art Competition, Talent Show Competition, Crazy Hat Day Competition, Christmas Decorating Competition, Best Behavior on the Field Trip Competition, Reading Competition...the list goes on an on.  Of course, we support and participate in the competitions as we are needed.

We were tremendously surprised however this past week by the apparent, "reinvention" or perhaps "enhanced version" of the Chinese department's competition for the students.

The first rumblings about it came from Potato and Brownie...they needed costumes...they were a part of a mass reciting of some Chinese poetry about the seasons.  Potato was the "group leader" for the Spring reciters, and Brownie was to wear white as she was part of the winter cadre.

Then, one afternoon, The Bug came to my desk at school weeping.  She wanted to sit on my lap and be hugged..."it was so terrible, so sad"...she blubbered.  "WHAT?"  I demanded.  "The video of the earthquake. All those people crying and moaning.  Parents searching for their children.  Children crying out for their Mommas!"

My first thoughts...why would ANYONE show actual earthquake, graphic footage from the major earthquake in Sichuan in 2008,  to primary school kids?

The Bug said that the 5th and 6th Grade students were using it in their "Chinese piece" for the upcoming competition.

Mrs. Wu on 4 and I talked about it...from our western-biased thinking...we were shocked that such graphic material was shown to our 5th graders...we discussed the cultural differences, and resolved to talk with our kids about the things they saw, to help them with any residual fear.

I thought about the fact that newspapers here are things that would never make it anywhere near the "family friendly checkout" at the US's "sensitive to parent complaint" grocery stores.  In fact, as an adult, I have recoiled several times at the brutality of images published in the newspaper, or those used on the fleeting news clips I see at the local restaurant.  Vivid, bloody, with no redaction whatsoever...the details of a terrible accident or crime scene are published for all, young and old, to see.

My mind flashed on photos and images I'd seen in the past three years...the woman just before she jumped from the building downtown,  then in the process of falling, her arms and legs apparently flailing, then the bloody heap of her on the pavement afterward.  The gunshot victim, from some distant place or country, half naked, the mortal wounding vividly captured in the still shot.  The toddler smoking the cigarette, the report telling that the parent was in trouble...but the child's image offered for all who yearn to stare.  The accident victim, nearly decapitated, the car mangled around him...disturbing beyond measure.  My foreign mind astounded at what is permissible for publication.  But, after all, we're not in Kansas anymore...so this way is just different from what I was exposed to as a child...and so now, my children have to deal with the reality of graphic images, and I must help them through it.

So then at the teachers' meeting, some 3 days before the "Chinese Competition" when I heard that the final presentation, by the 5th and 6th graders was poetry and images from the massive earthquake...I inquired if all the students (from 1st grade-4th) would be in the room to see it as well.  I offered that the images had been disturbing for my 5th graders (who were not involved with the piece directly)...so I was concerned that it might really be too much for the younger students (including our two first graders who to my knowledge have NEVER seen anything like that.)

At first, as the translation of my concerns was offered, I watched the faces of my Chinese colleagues around the conference table.  Questioning looks...no, looks of disbelief...and a ripple of nervous laughter rolled around the room.  An answer was given by our dean of students, that yes, all the students would be there to see the pinnacle presentation of the event, but that "there will not be any blood to see."  That the aim was to "be touching on their hearts," but not to frighten them.  Then some of the younger teachers began to whisper among themselves.  I saw two definite eye-rolls and clear looks of at the very least, confusion and perhaps even mockery, passing between them.

I reminded myself that it must seem silly to them, recalling the commonplace images I'd seen in news publications...and that I'm not in Kansas anymore...and that it is our job to adapt, not to change or criticize.

The day of the big event brought costumes, make-up, and of course the perfunctory glitter on many faces.  "Safety Boy," aka Daddy, was horrified when for the finale (the earthquake piece) some teachers lit some 50 tea light candles and moved them to the stage on pieces of flimsy copy paper!  Can you say, "fire hazard?"

The gala was amazing.  We were astounded by the 15 minute long, memorized poem that our 1st graders recited in Chinese!  Our 5th graders did a special presentation of poetry they've learned in their CSL (Chinese second language) class.

As the lights were dimmed and the LCD projector began to show the images of the after effect of the earthquakes, we were all riveted.  It was so disturbing...I felt fear rising in my throat as I saw the images of parents who sent their children to school that day, who never came home, holding photos of their ONLY children in frames, wailing.  Or the backpacks that had been pulled from the rubble of decimated school buildings, left now in a long, pathetic row.  I wept as I took the photos required of me by the Principal.

We've had numerous discussions about what we saw on that day now.  Potato and Brownie commenting at random times about how sad they felt watching the presentation...asking questions about earthquakes...about injuries.

It was an experience in cultural differences for sure...but it was more than that.  It was a vivid reminder that the childhood I had in middle-class America is not the childhood of my children.  In fact we are very far, not just geographically, from it.  Our children are living with the daily awareness not only of epic tragedy, as they were introduced to on the video screen, but they see "reality" all around us.  Upon further reflection I realized that our children see with their own eyes, often, the truth of life. When we see those who beg, when we're on our way out to try and buy some bread flour...they have to process poverty, suffering, discrimination against special needs, social inequality...it is part of their daily lives.

When these harsh realities surround us...how truly foolish I was to try to shield them from the video of the earthquake...no wonder my colleagues thought me a silly, privileged foreigner who must have grown up in a fairy tale land.  In truth, I was...I am.

To debate whether shielding them from these sufferings would be "nice"...and allow them to delay the inevitability of reality...to give them a sweeter childhood...is not the life He's called us too.  In fact, there exists only a tiny portion of children on the earth today who can abide in this innocence and ignorance of suffering.  I was one.  My children, by His grace, now only SEE the suffering...but even still...they do not have to bear the suffering.  Their awareness and sensitivity to it is a part of them now though.  They grapple at their tender ages with social injustice, poverty, and suffering...it is this path He's set them upon.  Our work is to help them understand these realities within a worldview that we hold...while encouraging them to seek out, all the days of their lives, what He is calling them to do to answer these needs.

Life is bloody...and we can see it all around...

Shifting Sands

Growing up in the West, I have come to rely on the calendar, and the emphasis placed on "planning" nearly to a fault.

For instance, in the West, we cherish our calendars, and clocks for that matter.  We get beautifully designed calendars (often giving them as gifts we prize them so highly), hang them in prominent places in our living/working spaces...and follow them closely.  This is not just to answer the occasional (if you're not a true calendar addict) "what day is it today?"  Many people, upon receiving the new calendar will carefully write down pertinent dates on it, birthdays and anniversaries...and as the year moves on, and one is connected to some societal system such as employment or school, other key dates are hastily marked out.  In the realm of employment, not many tarry to mark out the "Holidays" granted by the employer.  Most employers either issue you the list of recognized holidays (days with pay/without work), or give you the number of days for holiday each year.

When you are attached to a school, the school calendar for an entire semester is published months BEFORE school starts in August/September, and again for the Spring Semester...so that families can PLAN.  (Some schools in the West are ambitious enough to publish the entire calendar, for the school year, before school begins.)   The only thing that changes, typically, is if there are closures due to inclement weather.  Otherwise families would not know how to structure their lives around the calendar.

As we were homeschoolers for several years, we certainly enjoyed the exceptions to that in that we structured our calendar to fit our needs...but we still had a PLAN!

Time is another matter that in quite rigid in the West.  When I invite you to dinner at 6PM, when should you arrive?  Perhaps a few minutes before 6, right?  Or certainly no later than 15 minutes past 6.  How else can I prepare a dinner for you and maintain some quality control?! 

If I have a doctors appointment at 9AM...I am to arrive a few minutes EARLY...or risk losing my opportunity to see the doctor at all.

Probably one of the most significant cultural issues that we bump up against...that causes real stress and struggle...is this matter of calendars and time.

Here, a calendar does help you mark time.  Obviously, December 9th is December 9th (unless you are following the lunar calendar, which many of my colleagues and students also follow thus giving them TWO birthdays each year that we recognize...but this is another post entirely), but today is December 9th and tomorrow December 10th on the solar calendar, these matters don't change.

But PLANNING on your calendar...impossible.  The entire nation functions with an entirely fluid calendar.  Usually big events, particularly the Chinese Traditional Holidays, equivalent to the dates issued for Federal Holidays observed in the US, is issued sometime in the year and from that the businesses and schools form their calendars.   But as these dates were originally observed on the Lunar calendar, each year they are translated onto the solar calendar and so the "dates" change each year.  Chinese New Year's date swing on a pendulum that is very broad, 2-3 weeks difference from one year to the next for instance.  We do observe the "Tomb Sweeping Holiday" on the date issued by the government for instance, but many businesses and especially schools usually try to attach a few more days to the national holiday so that their employees/students can visit family that is often far away.   This results in the strange assortments of working days/days off like for our October holiday (see September posts where I detail that last holiday) working Sundays, then 6 days in a row, and other such gymnastics that turn my Western brain inside-out.

Then "published" calendars by schools ( as in our case) are given out before the semester begins...but are not fixed.  Three years in a row now, the calendar we've been given has changed, mid-semester, multiple times.  The only item that remains unchanged is that school starts on September 1, each year.  Otherwise, the dates marked on the calendar for holidays...not to be counted on.  The dates given for the end date of school, the dates of final exams, etc...totally changeable.  This is not in the case of inclement weather (as is often the case in the US)...but in general...these dates are subject to change, sometimes multiple times, in the school year.

Three years in a row now we've been "bitten" by the changeable calendar.

We see the dates for our major holiday Chinese Spring Festival, for instance, change each year.  The calendar may say we are out from January 25-February 16...when we start school in September.  But, as we get closer (and I mean really close...within 6-8 weeks of the date...the dates will change.)  The first year, the starting date was earlier, and so we sat around for 4 days with nothing to do for our break, before we left for the retreat center...where we could have been for those "waiting" days if I'd only known the true date that break began.  As I have to make travel arrangements LONG in advance (given the size of our family),  6-8 weeks for a big change, has three times gotten me in a bad spot.

This year, the date for the beginning of break, and the resumption of classes has changed THREE times!  We're again in a spot as I had booked our tickets a month ago (when I could get dirt cheap fares), but on Monday this week, we found out that we'll once again be waiting around for 5 days before our departure date as school will end 12 days earlier than the calendar states (with 5 days of teacher in-service)...and will begin 7 days EARLIER than was published on the calendar.  The result?  We will be at the retreat center, for the firsts 3 days of the second semester. 

The request was made..."Can you please come back earlier?"  Trying to appear nonchalant about the request I said I'd check, and such inquires revealed that it would cost more than the original tickets PLUS the accommodation at the retreat center to do such a thing!  It would mean no trip at all as we could never come near affording it!

So the headmaster has said she will make arrangements for it and we're clear to travel as planned.  But I fear that the overall appearance to our colleagues, who don't understand why we must book our travel so far in advance and why we are so gullible in "trusting" the dates on a published calendar, is that we're cavalier about our work and commitments.  It is so frustrating!

Time is another matter, too.  In the work world, time is very important.  Tardiness is another mortal sin. 

In one's private time, say when coming to another's home for dinner or meeting at a restaurant, it is perfectly acceptable to arrive 1 hour PAST the invitation time.  For this Western-bred girl...trying to keep dinner warm for one extra hour...is tough!

When living cross-culturally, fatigue sets in a times when nothing can be predicted. A simple shopping trip out can yield a variety of variables that completely sets you off your game.  Certainly these things can also happen in my home culture (although I have command of language and culture to negotiate unexpected challenges on a shopping trip.)  But somehow my previous confidence in the calendar...and the clock...gives a sense of "order" to life, for me at least.

It is like constantly living in shifting sands.  Nothing is fixed.  While I try to establish some order, carry out some sort of plan for something as simple as my daily life to something as major as our annual retreat center visit...changes are the norm...no plans can be settled upon.

This remains one of the hardest things about living Here for me.

Oh...yes, I've just recalled the most difficult aspect of living here...it is a seasonal thing...

The freezing cold toilet seats in the school, with open windows at one's back, to facilitate the frigid breeze from blowing over one's exposed skin...that is the WORST!

Driving the porcelain bus...

That crazy expression was popular in the late 80's and referred to hugging a toilet bowl when being ill.

Twice in one week now (after a few years of nary such a nasty experience)...I was driving the bus again!

Last night, in preparation for this weekend's massive sleepover and dinner/breakfast, I had to travel the 1 hour to the "Western Food Market."  I had already taught the full day of school, but time was not on my side, and so I simply had to face the traffic.

Shopping at the market is like a combo Costco/Wong's Lucky market sort of experience.  It is true that we can find certain items for Western cooking that cannot be found at any of our local markets there.  Yet there are also the Chinese favorites with awesome-ly strange labels and their offerings.  Some day I will do an entire post about some of the product labels here...

(I must post this one because I keep forgetting to tell anyone about it.  I was at the "shopping mall" the other day and there was a perfume vendor set up in a kiosk sort of selling station.  They were offering 8-10 glamorous looking bottled scents, I scanned them to see if I recognized any of them. Just as I nearly was past their location my eye glimpsed the sign overhead.  The perfume manufacturing company's name...."Fartier.")

At any rate, last night by the time I got to the check-out (where no one helps you even put your groceries on the belt, let alone to bag them up though there are seemingly HUNDREDS of blue-coated employees involved in conversations all over the store)...my head started to ache.  It was one of those headaches that started behind my left eye, gave me some flashy vision, and grew more intense by the moment.  I started to get really overheated in my multiple layer dressing as I fought to bag my "monthly" shopping up.  To my aggravation, I realized that I had forgotten to replace the headache powder in the little bottle of my purse that recently gave up its last pill.

Once arriving in the parking lot the tiny, tiny, tiny "mini-bus" I'd rented we quickly packed  it up, the driver and I...and we were on our way for the 1.5 (it was now definitely rush, or more appropriately, sitting in traffic-breathing fumes hour) trip home.

I had the driver stop so I could get a drink and something quick to eat.  But as soon as I ate a few bites I knew I'd decided on the wrong course.  The next hour and a half was spent trying to keep my eyes closed, head down, and stomach contents in my stomach.  I was horrified at the thought of throwing-up in the driver's car...and the sicker I got...I could remember NO CHINESE to explain my predicament.

Finally, after what seemed like the worst 10 hour drive home, I got up to our apartment and reached the bathroom in time to take the bus for a spin.

I'm much better this morning and must get everyone off to school here soon...but I was thinking about culture stress.  When we're ill, really ill like I was last night...all of the "charms" of living Here are totally gone.  The lack of control, the ability to care for myself, is totally removed as it usually is...but on nights like last night, it produces fear.  The smells, the traffic, the hardship of simply getting groceries to feed the family, riding in mini-mini buses with no suspension that jolts my neck and a driver who lights up now and again...people who stare at me because I'm a foreigner, or who want to practice their English at the sight of me...being very cold, then very hot...other shoppers who stop and gawk, or who come to my cart to pick through what I'm purchasing while shaking their heads in either disapproval or befuddlement...employees at a shopping market that will not help you get your massive purchase out the door (or even simply move out of your way while shopping...or expect you to be on high alert while they are racing their forklifts around the store nearly whacking a dozen customers)...I just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry on the way home last night.

But, today...the supply tank of positive outlook has been restored.  Today Qian Qian will go to have his pre-op exam and we'll know (be praying that there are no other major health concerns beyond the cleft lip/palette) when he can have surgery!  All my kids are awaking from a sound night of sleep and they are well.  Daddy is a marvelous partner who takes care of us when I'm laid low...we have food, shelter, work...and a purpose for our lives.  I realize again how soft I am when it comes to real hardship and suffering...and I feel ashamed. 

Living outside of our comfort zone is a continual stretch...and I am impatient for the day when I can say it no longer makes me uncomfortable...but I wonder if that will even come as I spent so much of my life in another culture, with a different way of life?

Sorry for the rambling this morning.  This is what is pressing on my mind today...and so perhaps I bore you with the reading of it.

It is a new day to deepen relationships, to be listen for key topics to emerge in discussions...to love on the kids of our school...to follow the journey of helping Qian Qian another step further...and to simply "take up space" on this side of the world...oh, that we might fulfill the hope of our calling.

Coldest Winter in 1000 Years?

You  know you're not in Kansas anymore when someone can utter such a comment...and back it up.

This nation's written history spans back over 5000 years.

It is pretty hard to imagine dates like that...since I can remember the massive bi-centennial celebration in 1976 of my home country!  Wow, I thought THAT was OLD!  ;)

As we live here, we bump into that weighty history often.

The traditions that guide the "common sense" go so far back, that 'new thinking" is measured by half centuries...to dates that pre-date occurrences that in my history seemed ancient...like the first Thanksgiving!  Now I have to chuckle about what ancient REALLY is.

There are so many cultural practices and firmly held beliefs about health, pregnancy, daily living that confront us daily.  To try to counter those practices with a "Western opinion" on such matters probably seems so foolish...like a 2 year old giving advice on the best practices of warding off the common cold...to an 90 year old! 

In our history class, we're studying the same time lines that I'm sure we did when I was a student a long, long time ago ;)!  But now I see those dates with new appreciation.  When we study ancient Egypt as we're making the mummy...we can jump over to this country and compare what was happening at the SAME TIME!

So yesterday, a colleague told us that "they" are predicting the "coldest winter in 1000 years."  Horrified at that thought...we again marvel at a history that can claim something like that for a weather pattern...and in light of the fact that the wind began to blow yesterday and it is now 20 degrees cooler...start bundling up!

Humanity, Pt.1

This is likely going to be a multi-entry post.

There is simply too much to comment on over these past few days for me to write it all tonight.  It is 10 past 10 on Friday night.  Our full school week has come to a close...and I really just want to go to sleep...but, I need to get started on writing this all down, if only for my sake.

After school, the kids clamored home.  The girls (Magpie 10, The Bug 8, Potato 6 & Brownie 6) and I decided to hike to the bus stop for a trip to our major shopping center area some 30 minutes away.  As it was Friday, we were prepared for the conditions on the bus to be jammed and uncomfortable.  The reality did not refute our expectations. 

The girls found their way to little spots just big enough for them on the standing room only transportation.  I stood in the middle of the aisle...my arms repeatedly going numb from having to grasp the bars high above my head for balance.  Reminding the girls to keep their knees slightly bent and their feet a bit apart for balance we rode along.  I marveled at in year 3 here, that the children were totally unfazed by the situation.  Magpie was cracking jokes, Brownie was busy chatting up some gawkers, Potato was singing a song, and The Bug eagerly dramatized the daily school events.  This sort of scene in year one would have had 2 or 3 of them in tears, one struggling with car sickness...and me feeling totally overwhelmed.

The lady next to me in the bus, in her black polyester work pants and pumps, was loudly voicing her opinion of the overcrowded bus and directing the driver NOT to stop at anymore stops as she contended that no one else could get on anyway.

I felt it before I processed what it was...her hand...placed on the upper right side of my back.    She used me a bit for balance, but was quite comfortable, though never having even made eye contact with me...resting her hand on my back.  Instantly we were connected through that touch and I began to ponder our different cultures.

Here it is not uncommon to see male students from primary school through college to literally be hanging on each other...in a way that back There would make come "uncomfortable" with what might be interpreted as a public display of affection between a same-sex pairing.  In my English class, just this week, while I was conducting a Spelling Bee, I saw two of my fifth grade boys pleasantly holding hands...united in friendship and camaraderie.

A trip outside of our home virtually guarantees that someone, or multiple someones, will reach out and touch us.  Our kids are constantly poked, pinched, and stroked by absolutely anyone in proximity. 

I am a "touchy" sort of person, so it doesn't really make me that uncomfortable...but after awhile...you realize that here, in this mass of humanity and within this culture there simply is no concept of "personal space."

Even so, this evening I was struck at how unusual it was for me to be touched intentionally with an open hand on my back for a prolonged period of time.  I didn't find it unpleasant, I found it inclusive...that while on every occasion people notice us as "foreigners"...this women treated me like anyone else on the bus, and she touched me with no regard of my foreign status.  I felt warmed.

After pressing through the hordes at the ATM machine, submerging ourselves into the 90 degree-year-round-no-ventilation shopping mall...we made our way through a Walmart-type store to buy milk.  Real cows milk is very hard to find...and so we go to great effort every two weeks or so to travel to where they sell it.  When we buy six or more bottles of it, they look at us like we're from Mars.

We packed our little rolling shopping cart (I never go anywhere without it now) and decided we'd head out for the 2 block or so walk to the special pizza place in our area.  To make the trek we have to climb several flights of stairs to cross the massive intersections involved, but the evening was lovely, and we've developed  a great appreciation for the pedestrian lifestyle so we cheerfully walked on.

I've written in the past about seeing beggars in this area where we shop.  Often on these pedestrian overpasses the poor will hunker down, usually with a sign that tells of their dire situation...and a cup in front of them to receive any change a passerby might throw their way.  All to often for us we see adults who would have been the children of the "special needs adoption" lists of today.  Missing a limb, blind or partially blind, club feet, and other visible special needs set them apart as "unlucky"... and ashamed...

Every time we see someone begging, especially those with special needs, we pray for them and give to them.  This reality for those with special needs is a driving force for us, hoping for the day when we can alleviate some suffering...to meet the needs of those who are the "least of these."

We were carrying on our merry way over the pedestrian overpass when out of the corner of my eye I saw them...

A woman in a dirty red sweater, with a baby on her lap.  He was about 8 months old.   As I looked back I realized that he had a unrepaired cleft in his lip.  On the left side.

At first we walked past, then stopped to prepare a monetary gift to give to her.  Something to slip into her calloused hands to show her that we were compassionate to her plight.  Magpie did so...and as we turned to walk away...my spirit was so quickened... stirred that I couldn't take another step.  I was sure that that HS wanted me not to only feel compassion, to give monetarily...but to take it further...to be a conduit of His love right there, in that midst of humanity.

I turned around, walked back to her, squatted down and with throngs of ever increasing numbers of curious souls straining to see what the commotion was about...began one of the most powerful exchanges with a fellow human I've ever had...

Back on the horse...

Time to break the silence.  "Vacation" is over...and we're back in our home in the Middle Kingdom. 

The six weeks of time we spent in the US traveling was the most hectic of anytime in our lives...and THAT is saying something.  The "blog blackout" was necessary, hopefully my creative writing juices will begin to flow again!

In the days to come I will be posting some summer photos...but at least the new H Family photo is in place with all our 9 kids (and one beloved daughter-in-law)...to update the page...definitely must start saving for a WIDE-ANGLE lens!

We began in Hawaii for the processing of our new guys' citizenship papers.  Our time was monopolized with government appointments here and there...but we did get a few beautiful days at the beach.  (Definitely not the place for a family of 10 living on a tight budget!)  We had envisioned, knowing what lay ahead over our furlough, that Hawaii would give us some rest from the massive adoption/end of school year dramas Here...but alas...no rest.

Then we arrived in our beloved home state to the warm arms of Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles.  Traveled up to our old hometown and enjoyed a day visiting and seeing our loved ones...showing photos...telling stories.  How marvelous it was to speak to a room full of people and everyone understood what we were saying!  How we used to take such communication matters for granted! 

We rushed around seeing our beloved Doctor (TUD) and our dear friend/ The Dentist and Compassionate Heart for our annual "herd health" events! After a quick stop at Children's Hospital for an evaluation of one of our new guys...we began a drive to see family in Southern California!  My baby brother was tying the knot and we were going to be there!  The drive according to MapQuest was to take 24 hours...but it took us 32...and we drove it straight through.  (This was an indication of the rest of our summer!)

After flower-girling, and savoring sweet moments with most of our extended family...we hit the road again to drive to the Midwest.  Stopping through to see an old friend and his wife...skipping the Grand Canyon...as our children prevailed upon us that "what really matters are the people we need to see!"  So, mostly driving straight through...we made it to our destination in 30 more hours of driving!

We relished our time with our other set of grandparents and our precious older kids.  Our 9 days there flew by!  We enjoyed an "annual birthday party" put on by our dear Grandma D...spent a day at an amusement park that our little ones think is the "greatest place on earth"...and enjoyed buying a few clothing items to fit just off the rack in a STORE! 

A quick sidetrip (16 hour round-trip drive) took Momma and Magpie to Nashville to do some recording for a major orphan-outreach group.  It was a wild 36 hour trip...but sooooo encouraging!

Finally we hit the road to travel back to our home state.  We stopped by our dear sister and brother-in-laws' Sunday group to share stories and pictures...it was such a beautiful morning meeting sweet souls there!  We relished a few hours with all our kids playing outside, BAREFOOT, (something our kids NEVER can do Here)...and then we hit the road again!

Four days later we arrived exhausted and road weary and Gramma's house...like a cloud of locusts, descended on their food stores...and began to contemplate the return trip.  In all we drove OVER 6200 miles, for a total of 112 hours in the car...in just 3 weeks time! 

Things we learned:

1)  A spray bottle can not be effectively used from the front seat to quiet dissension/loud noises when you're traveling though the desert Southwest...the children are BEGGING to be shot with ANYTHING that can cool them.

2)  Car seats are our friends.  Now that we live Here, we never have any such devices in our taxis, etc...however...there was a pure joy that all 7 children's bodies were STRAPPED DOWN into their seats for some of the mind-numbing hours on the road.

3)  When there are 9 bladders on a road trip, you must find a LARGE truck-stop to accommodate the bathroom stop.  A simple, two potty Shell station can slow you down and extra 30 minutes to get everyone processed!

4)  Adventures in Odyssey can eventually become a sleep-aid...to the driver!

5)  Finding a "Kids Eat Free" billboard along the Interstate is like hitting the jackpot in Vegas.

6)  Our kids are marvelous, hearty, and fun road-warriors...thanks to them...we survived!

After returning to our home state...we shopped for food items to take back with us (CHEESE and CHOCOLATE CHIPS)...traipsed around countless second-hand book stores to bring home dozens of English books...and eventually packed up 16 suitcases at exactly 50 lbs each.

We now have unpacked the books...salvaged the cheese and chocolate...and after one day of rest from our 28 hour return trip...have started back to work at the school.

It's the final countdown to the start of our third school year.  The kids are excited...the new guys really thrilled to go to the school with their siblings.

We will all begin the walk next Wednesday morning, at 7:45 am to the school building where we will rejoin our community here.  We will force ourselves back into the daily routine that propels us at light-speed through our life in this place. Our focus this year will be discerning our next step.  We had several key meetings while back in the US that open doors to future work Here...with different "steps" and "commitments" involved. 

The new guys' adjustments are coming along so well.  What we thought was a rough start at our "family bonding" to travel non-stop the first 8 weeks of family life...turned out to be (surprise, surprise) a BLESSING from Him...especially as Silas has some definite institutionalized attachment issues...or at least he DID have some major ones when he arrived.  The constant change of faces, beds, locations sort of forced the boys to see that the ONLY thing that didn't change, was this group of people who hang together through thick and thin.  There has been a good deal of healing for his little heart...in fact yesterday...as he was "visiting" his new classroom at our school...when I left, HE CRIED FOR ME!  Totally awesome development as just 8 weeks ago, never having anyone "special" in his life...he would go to ANY stranger who smiled at him...and would walk away from us without a thought...no concern for our arrivals/departures.  This year I will be working on language each afternoon and I will bring Silas home with me to put him down for nap...and special play time when he wakes...so that he will have more chance to BOND with HIS family.

On a closing note...

You know you've lived Here a while when you send your son to school without any pants on! 

It's true.  Here, diapers are rarely used...most families put their kids in split pants (literally crotchless pants that expose all their, to the Westerners'-mind, "private parts.")  Anyway, the children here are toilet trained by 15 months of age...except for our precious son from the orphanage.   He has to get it together before he can go to school each morning with us.  "No DIAPERS" was the mandate from his teacher...so, I sent him yesterday in his tennis shoes...and a LONG T-shirt to cover his parts...

Something that would have been unthinkable to me just two years ago...now seemed, almost..."the way to do it."  Some of you are experiencing full-blown culture shock from this revelation ...but I'm just amused...

To live Here, we simply must exchange some of rigid "unthinkable" matters...for those things that are "the way to do it" ....

Hope he learns quickly...as winter is on the way...and it could get pretty cold with your "privates" in the wind!

"It will only hurt a little bit...not much pain"

Our dear daughter, herein referred to as "The Bug," age 8, has suffered for the past two months with a wart on the instep of her left foot.

I first became aware of it while we were away on retreat. It was her eighth birthday and I'd taken her out for some special "Mom/Daughter" time and we'd found a place to get a cheap foot massage. (For those of you readers in the West, when I say cheap, I mean about $5 for one hour of foot massage!) Anyway, it was during her birthday foot massage that she told me she had pain in this certain spot of her foot and something that was "growing" on her foot.

When you live cross-culturally, especially with kids I think, I must often suppress the trigger reflex to "freak out" every time the kids are sick. Because you see, I've been to the hospital here...and once you've seen it...you don't want to go back, for anything other than a band-aid. Now, forgive me here and allow me to say that our local hospital is the best in our city and has some very fine doctors and nurses and a generally a nice facility. However, it does not compare to the warm and inviting Doctor's office of our dear Dr. D in WC. There are no hand-stitched quilts on the walls, no private, sparkling exam rooms and certainly no cookies from the local Dutch bakery in the waiting room!

Anyway, I digress.

We always cover any health concern immediately with prayer. We have seen several miracles happen with health and injury occurances in the nearly two years that we've been here. Yet there remain a few times when, for whatever reason, we must face our fears and go to the hospital to see a Doctor.

Six weeks ago we made the first trip to the hospital to see a Doctor (no doctors in a local office, if you want to see a doctor, you go to the hospital) for the Bug's foot ailment. No longer taken aback by strangers walking into our exam room to "just see" what the problem is or walking up three flights of stairs to the blood draw room where you queue up to a large countertop that resembles a tellers' counter at a bank and has 7 phelbotomists waiting, needles in their un-gloved hands. (See earlier medical/exam posts for further description.) We received the dreaded diagnosis of wart, caused by virus and a "freezing" was required after an IV round of antibiotics! (I politely declined the IV drip which would have required us to make the 1 hour car trip back to the hospital three days in a row, and instead took home some oral antibiotics as there was some suspicion that she had a secondary infection.)

The first experience of freezing was unusual. After standing in the Dermatology Doctor's area, pressed into her office with about 20 other people who were angling for position to push their sores/moles/warts before her while 19 others spectated...we were, after nearly two hours, taken into the "Laser Room." There was no laser in sight (only an aged desk, two chairs and an wooden stool that looked just like the ones that my neighbors perch upon out in front of their shops eating noodles with wooden chopsticks.)

The Doctor brought in the liquid nitrogen in a thermos that appeared to be circa 1974. The opening at the top was stopped up with a dingy, yellowed gauze plug. She also brought in two "tool kits" that looked like they perhaps were used with the Last Emperor. They had various metal implements in them, lying in disarray like a half-hearted mechanic had just used them. The Doctor, while counseling another 2-3 patients who walked into "our" room, dipped the first implement into the "smoking" opening of the thermos. She withdrew the implement and pressed it to The Bug's foot. She repeated this three times, the Bug's eyes spilling over with tears, until she finally told us to go home and to return in two weeks.

Yesterday was the two week mark. We dutifully returned.

After elbowing our way in front of the other dermatologically challenged, a diagnosis was made that we must go to the "Procedure Room"...for a "knife poking." The Bug was immediately assured that "It will only hurt a little bit...not much pain."

Local anesthetics are not used here. They're seen as wasteful and unnecessary. The Bug was placed on a plastic sheet (the exact same material as is used to cover the billions of restaurant tables Here that, when you place your arms upon it, sticks/melts to your arms.) Underneath the plastic I could see the evidences of other "knife pokings" on a stained sheet. I prayed again for protection and strength.

It did hurt more than a little bit as the Doctor, with four assistants and a few other patients pressed in to view, used some scissors to cut away at the wart on The Bug's foot. She was so, so brave. She was so tough. She remained still while she cried out it pain as I stood by feeling sick to my stomach. Afterward, The Bug quickly composed herself and limped out of the room.

I was once again helpless and totally out of control. I was away from the "best practices" of medicine that I've grown up with in the West, cultural expectations that I'm accustomed to, and it bothered me! Yet I had to face once again the truth that "control " is an illusion, no matter where I live. Though these experiences are painful for me, as a Momma to go through, I should learn from my daughter's example. To resist my urge to panic and run. To instead be like The Bug who remained still trusting me while enduring the pain, waiting for the necessary process to end. After all, my best response is to be still, knowing that my Father is standing by my side.

I think I can make it...

This will make absolutely no sense to those of you who read this blog who do not know me personally...sorry about that...

But, I had an "WOW!" moment on Saturday. I'd escaped the sick ward here at our home on the 8th floor, hooked up with Mrs. Wu from 4th floor and we had made the 45 minute trip to the "Western Food" market. The good news is that most of the things we're eating I can now find at our local market...but every two weeks or so, we have to make the trek to the Western Food mecca.

And so it was there, on this past Saturday that a key piece to the "longevity in my new culture" puzzle was discovered:

RASPBERRIES.

I found frozen raspberries!

Now, being that I come from There and There is the berry capital of the universe...nothing is ever going to match up to the memories of berries fresh at the roadside stands...

BUT...this is AMAZING! I can make the kids favorite scone recipe...and a favorite dessert recipe...and even RASPBERRY JAM! (Not often at these prices, of course!)

I bought all I thought I could fit in my apartment sized freezer...and rode the wave of raspberry euphoria all the way home.

This coupled with the fact that in the last two months we now have access to fresh milk...real milk...that tastes like milk and is not UHT (Ultra Heat Treated-shelf stable) milk...

These, dear friends...are breakthroughs!

Yeah, maybe we can stay... ;)

No School For YOU!

We've experienced a bit of "government oversight" these past three days.

On Tuesday afternoon, a meeting was held at the school where we teach and the kids attend. In our "littles" Kindergarten classroom there were 6 kids out with cough or fever. Two of those six were our Brownie and Potato. We were told that there is a government regulation enforced this winter (due to H1N1) that if 5 children or 30% of a classroom's students are out sick (be it from fever, cough, runny nose, etc) that the classroom must observe a mandatory closure for 7 days! (When all the H kids are out...it could truly look like a pandemic!)

Though there are no confirmed cases of H1N1...Brownie and Potato's classroom met the "mandatory closure" clause...so, I've been home with them for the past three days. Bub, sadly is also sick with a fever and a nasty cough.

The older girls have had a touch of illness, but were well enough to go back to school on Friday to compete in the school's reciting competition.

(A note about competitions Here...to live is to compete...we are CONSTANTLY preparing for another competition!)

The girls each did a reciting competition yesterday. Next weekend I am taking nine of our students (we had 12 originally compete in a national English competition and 9 scored high enough in Round 1 to continue on to Round 2) to compete against all the other Round 2 participants (probably several hundred). I had to write a drama for our 9 students to act out and perform for the judges this next weekend.

The weekend after we have our huge Christmas extravaganza performance where I've choreographed dances for Grades 1-5 to perform in front a 1,000 or so people at our company. The kids will be singing and dancing...just like Broadway ;)...only Here in a cold building! I have been asked to perform with a troupe of 8 dancers (no I am not dancing) adorned in elaborate gowns while I sing a huge Chinese Aria called "I Love You China"...of course, in Chinese. Daddy is also not exempt from the efforts as he is a shepherd in the Nativity that will be performed that same night...he is PETRIFIED about remembering his lines in Chinese!

There are many other exciting items to tell that I'm limited to share...some really cool new partnerships underway as well as deepening of relationships and new doors opening to serve. Each day I am reminded that I am only the clay in the Potter's hands...and that I mold much more easily if I only acquiesce to His design for each moment.

Off to fix breakfast...Happy weekend everyone!

Share the Road...Shut your Mouth!

Oh My...

A painful awareness is settling upon me...that icky, thick feeling of unease...a soggy, smothering blanket of regret...

I have erred.

Of course the author has erred many, many times today, this week, this year, etc. No...this is worse. I have violated the code of cross-cultural worker...my dear husband suggests a tattoo on my forehead of UA (Ugly American) to proclaim my guilt.

It all goes back to this new found love of bicycling.

Since the H Family scored some sweet new wheels in February we have relished the wind in our hair, the sun on our faces and the astonished looks of the throngs we fly past as we ride to school each morning and home each evening. It is not a long trip. It's actually quite silly that we bike it...but it is really, really fun. Being "car-less" for nine months has given us a new appreciation for the wheel and a rolicking passion for of our new "biker" lifestyle. When you see the little H family members, pink and purple backpacks mounted on their backs as they roar off like a herd of turtles in the morning...it's deeply moving. To see the "bigs" Magpie and The Bug cheering on their slower siblings as they circle around the swarm of slow moving objects like Shriners in training...it fills your heart with happiness. This is how we roll, people.

So imagine our amazement when new signs were posted this week at both the school and the LQ (Living Quarters) gates..."For safety reasons, please walk your bike through the gate." These signs directing our tribe to dismount our bikes now 2 more times for our short ride to school.

(Keep in mind that mounting and dismounting the bikes with the littlest H family members is an INVOLVED process...such additional requirements would utterly sabotage our ability to make it to school in a timely fashion...lest we depart the night before!)

In the previous months the guards who man the two entrances have opened the large, electronic gates wide for us to ride through. These are the same gates that are routinely opened for the various cars, trucks and scooters that motor their way into and out of the school's area and the LQ.

A few weeks ago...they stopped opening the gates...directing our group instead to squeeze through the small walking gate. Initially I was frustrated, but thought perhaps they had deemed this a good choice for energy conservation. (Somehow I reasoned that by saving that pesky opening of each gate once a day for our group would definitely impact the bottom line.)

Then a week ago, we began to receive messages, through hand gestures and charades that we were to WALK our bikes through the narrow walking gate at the LQ.

We continued to ride our bikes through the gate at the school, however.

Yesterday, I was commanded by one of the guards at the school gate to WALK our bikes through the school gate, too. When I looked puzzled, the guard pointed to a new sign posted at the gate school. "For safety reasons, please WALK your bike through the gate."

The distance from our home to the school is perhaps about the same as 1 1/2 city blocks. We already dismount our bikes to cross the street midway through the "ride" and struggle like turtles on our backs to get underway again. With this new "safety" regulation...we would have to dismount another two times....or simply walk our bikes for 1/3 of the distance!

Then the western-minded me began to stew on this (I know you're all reading and thinking 'is she really upset about such a stupid thing?'...but in fact I am...chalk it up to culture stress, I think). I begin to rhumenate...

1) "'For SAFETY reasons?'...if we wanted to be safe we should not allow the cars and scooters to come flying through the gates when people are walking there too!" ... but alas, pedestrians have NO RIGHTS here...none...you WILL BE RUN OVER if you are in the way.

2) "We're the only ones who ride bikes to school...why are they punishing us, taking away the precious daily joy we share as a family? Don't they see that we're hanging on by a thread, that we need this little sweet reprieve to dull the sharp edges of our days? Have they conspired against us? Why was there no vote on this? There ought to be a community meeting!"... (Dramatic thinking...it is a genetic trait in my family.)

So this morning...we walked to school.

I spoke to a mother on the way who works at the company and "let her in on" my frustration at the new anti-bicycling rules. She said she'd ask why the new rule had been posted.

After arriving at school, I "shared" my dismay with the school secretary at the new "we hate foreign bicyclists" rule. She said she'd check into it.

After 2nd period today, through no fault of MY OWN, the parent of Daddy's student, the 6th grader, came into the Teacher's office to drop off his son's forgotten Tae Kwon Do outfit. He said, "Teacher, how do you like teaching here?"...With Daddy literally convulsing a warning to me NOT TO SAY A WORD ABOUT IT...I officially "complained" about the grievous insult to bicycling aficionados worldwide and that we "green-living" souls were fed up with the way all those who burned fossil-fuels on their way to school were given preferential GATE TREATMENT over we...formerly, happy, carefree Tour De France contenders!!! I mean really dudes, SHARE THE ROAD!

The look my husband gave me upon the departure of the parent...who HAPPENS to be the Manager over ALL FACILITIES here, both LQ and the School...well, it was murderous!

At lunch I asked my dear husband to go over to the little grocery, outside the LQ gate, to get a drink for my parched (due to tooooo much talking) throat.

Being the absolute dear that he is...he hurried...and rode his bike.

Upon his return he reported to me that when he approached the School gate he was waved on through, vigorously by a guard...wild arm motions, pronounced enough to direct a 747 across the gate's threshold.

Then, when turning back to return to the school...my husband noted...

It was GONE!

The new "safety notice" had been removed!

It is now one hour before we must go out there and face those guards....

Having been an idiot...the shame for my entire family rests upon me.

I am the stereotype...I own the title...Ugly American...and how I wish I could retract it all.

While I have tried to humorously convey the passion of what I see was a STUPID mountain to die on with our hosts here...the fact remains...I blew it.

When living in another culture, daily processing things that "aren't like I expect them to be"...I so often feel like we're doing a good job assimilating...

and then today happens...and I'm ashamed of my cruddy witness...

Most of the time, due to language, I can't convey my frustrations and opinions...a providential irony given my former "identity" of being a radio talk show host...

Got to go find my phrase book and brush up on how to say..."so sorry that I made a big deal over something that should have been addressed quietly...if at all"...

Maybe they'll teach me how to say..."Shut your mouth"

... guessing my dear husband will be eager to learn that one...

Kindness and Outrage

I want to preface this post with the disclaimer that we are blssd beyond measure.

We cannot believe the joy we have living day by day way outside of normal. We are thankful, deeply moved, by the love and support shown to us by the dear people with whom we live. Everyday we go to school, we spend time learning a new language, we learn about a new culture and we love the ones in front of us.

Our hearts ache for those we love back home, especially our eldest, his lovely wife (The Rockstar & Princess) and our precious daughter (Butterfly.) Even still, we see this opportunity as the greatest adventure of faith in our lives and we pray that it is a suitable offering. It is here, each day, that we are reminded to "Taste and see that the Lrd is good."

Each day is difficult. Often life here is uncomfortable, not physically, although the weather can be brutal...but the greatest struggle we face is with our identities. At the Old Place we were relatively capable, able to successfully manage our lives within the bounds of acceptable and everywhere we went we could negotiate our own way.

The culture of these beautiful people at The New Place is steeped in responsibility. When you are a foreigner here, everyone with whom you are in relationship takes personal responsibility to care for you and specifically to give you advice.

We know to expect this and always try to receive it in the love and honor with which the message is intended.

However, the message intended, the message sent and the message received are not always the same message. This is true when both parties communicating speak the same language. This is quadruply true when both parties are relying on limited phrases or an generally exhausted interpreter to always be the "middle man" in the flow of communication.

Magpie is on the mend. Today she returned to school and felt better after day 2 of her anti-biotic. We're thrilled to have "run into" a family who has lived here with their 4 children for the past 8 years. The mother of the brood is a family practice doc. They live about 15 minutes from us! After consulting with her the verdict is, walking pneumonia. We are so thankful for antibiotics.

The illnesses in the family have created a firestorm of compassion on the parts of our friends and colleagues here. Just yesterday when I returned to the school to teach my English class for 3rd period, two of my colleagues raced over to the Living Quarters to visit Magpie. Along the way they evidently stopped for 3 huge bags of fruit. Fresh apples and bananas spilling out of their bags adorned my coffee table when I returned just one hour later. Since this is the 3rd such "fruit gift" that we've received in the past 3 days Magpie noted: "Wow, the longer I'm sick, the more fresh fruit for the family!"

While at my home they tidied up the living room. (Oh the horrors!)

They straitened up the shoe area. (With loud exclamations in awe of the number of shoes in our home!)

In 30 minutes they made quite a dent.

Sadly I was unable to alert Magpie to the coming "Hurricane of Compassion." This meant she was ill prepared to receive them. Specifically, she was not wearing socks and she was in her nightgown instead of thermal underwear.

They were horrified to find her in such a state and admonished her to immediately get on socks, slippers and more clothes and to GET TO BED! They advised her to drink warm coke with ginger, to wrap herself in a few comforters and to sweat out the sickness.

Magpie, ever amiable, immediately went to bed, thankful that they were not able to stay and enforce the prescribed perspiration remedy.

It took several minutes when I arrived one hour later to get her to open the door. She feared their return and stayed in her bed to assure that they were gone! :)

As now I can see my mother's satisfied appearance reading this blog saying "How many times have I told you to keep socks on those children?"...I must add another fact to the story...

It was 82 degrees yesterday.

Today I was subjected to outrage.

I went to the school, it was rainy, but it was quite warm...surely upper sixties. Back at The Old Place, that's a regular heat wave!

I wore sandals to school. I believe that feet should be free to the very last moment they possibly can be...that they need air and sandals should be worn on every conceivable opportunity.

My co-workers do not share this opinion.

Seeing my bare feet wearing only sandal leather strapped over them sent them into an absolute tizzy.

"I'm afraid we must tell you that you will be sick here if you do not wear socks and shoes. It is dangerous as you will catch a cold because of your cold feet."

"This is probably why Magpie is so ill, she wore no socks with her shoes last week." (It was in the low 80's on the occasion referenced.)

I tried to explain that where we have lived for the past 12 years, today was very comfortable and that I was not cold in any way, especially not my feet. And that prior to my getting sick last week, I had worn shoes and socks for the 10 days prior...

...my explanation was not adequate...

...frowns with heads wagging in disapproval of my personal and parenting policies made me feel so foolish...

I wanted to say..."Hey, I've been a mom for quite awhile! None of my children have suffered ill health because of bad practices on my part! Back at The Old Place, no one would agree with the bare feet superstition just because it's "autumn," disregarding the warm temperature! I'm okay! Just because I can't negotiate my way out of any problem and most of the time I have no idea what is going on around me and just because I fell in a hole last week because I wasn't watching for an open manhole in the middle of the pedestrian walkway...I'm capable...I'm reasonably smart...and back home I'm considered a good communicator..."

Ah...culture stress...read about it...heard about it...was trained to have techniques to handle it...still getting the best of me...

Got to remember who I really am...

I'm His.

So whether or not I'm ever seen as a capable person or a good mother or possessing any wisdom whatsoever...He chose to place me here...and as I've been bought with a price...I'm here. He thinks I'm valuable, He calls me His own...

Oh that I might decrease and that He might increase...