I promise to write more very soon...but we've been hit with a wave of something dastardly...
Starting at 11 PM the night before last Magpie, The Bug and then me began to vomit, repeatedly...finally enjoying that state of "dry heaves."
Daddy served, most honorably, as the vomit janitor. He made rounds all night cleaning up after us in our sorry states...changing the trash can liners repeatedly after we had "used" the cans...
He deserves a medal of honor as he went without sleep, never complained, and then worked a full day the next day. He's my hero!
We kept the kids home, I still went over to teach my first period class as we really don't have any substitutes...
Then joining the band of pukers...Bub and Brownie...Daddy only experiencing the lower intestinal plague that was Stage 2 for the those who threw up all night the night before...
Today we'll keep most home from school again...and hope it passes soon...
9 people ill in one apartment can turn you OFF forever of a career in medicine!
I have a quick update on Qian Qian, too....
He goes next week for a full pre-op physical to a local hospital here. We must determine if he has any other issues with his heart/lungs/general health...if he is well...we should see him get his first surgery.
The financial needs are not fully fleshed-out at this point...however, a major international charity, that funds these specific types of surgeries will likely provide SOME of his care for FREE. (This is dependent upon him not having any other issues that have to be dealt with.) We are praising Him for this!
The family will require some additional funds for the hospital stay, as well as for food and shelter during the times around surgery. As I've told you before, Mei Mei is the only one in their little group who speaks the national language. Momma only speaks her obscure local dialect. So Qian Qian's care is dependent upon Mei Mei's translation. Mei Mei is a street peddler. (She sells some wares off a cart she pushes around.) She is their main source of support to feed the threesome. (Momma was begging to help provide food for money, but primarily to beg for money to get Qian Qian medical care.)
During the time surrounding surgery (there will be multiple surgeries), Mei Mei will not be able to sell her wares as a peddler. So the family will be without support to feed and house them. Their basic needs must be met, and with the help of those of you who have pledged to help us financially, this is part of what our funds will go toward.
I can say with great joy that Momma and Baby are NO LONGER BEGGING on the roadside! They are inspired with hope for Qian Qian's future, and they are focused on keeping him well and strong for his surgery. Begging is such a dangerous situation for them both. I am resting much easier at night knowing that they are out of harms way!
More about Qian Qian after the medical exam!
Off to recuperate!
28 October 2010
26 October 2010
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!
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!
23 October 2010
Qian Qian's Photo
At last we have some photos of Qian Qian for you.
These were taken with a cell phone camera...so the quality is not too good...but, you'll get to see the dear boy we're working to help!
The latest on his situation is that we're in negotiations with two local hospitals to help us either get very inexpensive or possibly even subsidized surgery. Two organizations can help us, but Qian Qian and his mother would have to travel several hours away for the first surgery alone (and he will need several over time.)
His mother is registered as a countryside resident in rural Guizhou province. It is widely accepted that this is the poorest province in the country. This complicates matters as to obtain subsidized help for Qian Qian he should be a resident of this city and province. So, prayers are needed for this negotiation to be favorable!
The final photo is of his mother and ayi (mother's younger sister) who is helping in the process to house them here in the city. She will also be key when it comes to the surgery time as the mother speaks only the rural dialect of her home province...essentially a foreign language to everyone here in this city. However her mei mei (the baby's ayi...or auntie) speaks the common language of the country and the mother's local dialect.
Continue to hold this little group in your prayers!
These were taken with a cell phone camera...so the quality is not too good...but, you'll get to see the dear boy we're working to help!
The latest on his situation is that we're in negotiations with two local hospitals to help us either get very inexpensive or possibly even subsidized surgery. Two organizations can help us, but Qian Qian and his mother would have to travel several hours away for the first surgery alone (and he will need several over time.)
His mother is registered as a countryside resident in rural Guizhou province. It is widely accepted that this is the poorest province in the country. This complicates matters as to obtain subsidized help for Qian Qian he should be a resident of this city and province. So, prayers are needed for this negotiation to be favorable!
Continue to hold this little group in your prayers!
22 October 2010
The Mummy - "Osiris"
As we await some more clarity on how to get Qian Qian's surgery... life continues to bustle on here.
On Monday, we began a hands-on learning project of mummifying a chicken.
Below: Meet the chicken my students named "Osiris" the Egyptian god of the dead. A great thing about buying a chicken Here...is that you get the HEAD and the FEET...with the mortal wound obvious ... it was sort of CSI meets Egypt.
After his water bath...resting peacefully...a bird destined for the afterlife...
Below: My students (the Wu girls and our girls) are suspicious that the Egyptian priests, responsible for mummifying...were gleeful with each task...as they obviously were...
Above: this photo cracks me up...one of the steps was to give the chicken another "bath" in rubbing alcohol (the Egyptians used wine for this step)...when the Bug was working on the chicken's beak...this shot looks like she's giving him a stiff drink before the next step
Above: This step took a LONG time, packing and repacking the body cavity to dry up as much fluid as possible before beginning the preservation process
Above: The girls mix the "salt" mixture (baking soda, baking powder, and TONS of salt!)
Above: One of the Wu girls and Magpie start to fill the body cavity with salt.
Above: Then they put Osiris into his crypt, or better said, the treatment chamber, where he will spend the next six weeks.
Above: Then before his bag was sealed off...all the remaining salt mixture was added so as to fully cover the bird.
Above: The Happy Mummifyers
Above: after Day 1...his flesh getting dry...the sparkle in his eyes...gone.
On Monday, we began a hands-on learning project of mummifying a chicken.
Below: Meet the chicken my students named "Osiris" the Egyptian god of the dead. A great thing about buying a chicken Here...is that you get the HEAD and the FEET...with the mortal wound obvious ... it was sort of CSI meets Egypt.
I'm guessing these girls will never forget this chapter on Ancient Egypt...what do you think?
21 October 2010
Looking Ahead
Please forgive another brief post this morning.
I've been making some key contacts for Qian Qian and enjoying a few emails from those of you who read this blog. When I write this blog so often, sometimes I wonder who is out there reading it...how it is received. It has been fun to read a few "feedback" emails from a few folks out there!
It will be a few more days, maybe the beginning of next week, before I will know some more concrete details for Qian Qian's surgery. I have made contact with a few groups who have negotiated "charity rates" for such surgeries, but they are in cities a great distance from here. The mother would have to travel and stay in an unknown city for some time while Qian Qian gets his care. We may go this route, but I'm still eager to see if I can connect with a special contact here in our city.
However, since encountering Qian Qian, the HS has been really stirring our hearts in the area of "prevention" for the orphan situation.
When an adoptive parent, even though I "knew" one of the reasons causing the high numbers of special needs kids in orphanages was the "cost of care"... I didn't process this as fully as I am now. For a family who is living with the median income here in our city according to a recent government survey of 1200 RMB per month the costs of correcting a minor special need in their newborn baby is astronomical. Even if the cost was a mere 10,000 RMB...that would be 9 months of income...if they didn't feed or house themselves! If it is a greater cost given to them....it is like Daddy and I being told that our newborn baby must have a MILLION dollar surgery that MUST BE PAID IN CASH IN ADVANCE...to help our child. Take a moment to let that sink in!
When I lived in the West, and even sometimes now when I read comment boards on "international adoption" news stories...I often heard comments like..."they just abandon their babies if they are not perfect"..."since they only get one child, that child must be perfect."...and other far more incendiary and judgemental comments. I too passed these ideas on.
But I see now more clearly...it is an IMPOSSIBLE circumstance. How could a "median income" family keep their newborn? A newborn who in many cases was desired, hoped for, loved in the womb, wanted greatly...just like their peers in the West...the difference is...they do not have the funds to give their baby a necessary surgery.
Qian Qian's mom really took a gamble. She is a hold-out. So wanted to change her reality, she was willing to withstand abandonment and beg on the city street...in the hope that somehow she could find help for her son.
In my observation of children already paper-ready for adoption, there continue to be a steady stream of kids with special needs who are finally "found" (or come into the orphanage's care) at 8 months-2 years of age. Perhaps their mothers were also hold-outs? Perhaps they came to the city to beg and found no "help" to repair their child's need?
And what of the countryside family?
If the city dweller's median income is 1200 RMB per month ($180 USD), for some who even have a COLLEGE education, what about the countryside family who farms to eat? Who has no regular income? Who may live on 120 RMB per month? What about their child who is born at home with the midwife who is discovered to have a special need?
It is an impossible circumstance.
Is there not a great need to identify these families in crisis either through the local hospital maternity nurses, or through the countryside midwives, or deliberately seeking them out begging on the streets?
What if we could say to them, "We have a project to help your baby get the surgery he/she needs...so that you may keep your child?!"
Much waiting and prayer is required before acting on such an idea (in fact we don't want to be initiators, but RESPONDERS to His leading)...but it is apparent to me, that this is a gap, a desperate need, that perhaps we could help fill in a tiny way?
Please, those of you who are like-minded, lift this need up. That if it is His leading, that doors will open as we begin to knock on them...
When I close my eyes I can see Qian Qian's eyes...and in my core I know there are many more like him...
There are tons of "good ideas"...we want no part of those...only "His ideas"...
I've been making some key contacts for Qian Qian and enjoying a few emails from those of you who read this blog. When I write this blog so often, sometimes I wonder who is out there reading it...how it is received. It has been fun to read a few "feedback" emails from a few folks out there!
It will be a few more days, maybe the beginning of next week, before I will know some more concrete details for Qian Qian's surgery. I have made contact with a few groups who have negotiated "charity rates" for such surgeries, but they are in cities a great distance from here. The mother would have to travel and stay in an unknown city for some time while Qian Qian gets his care. We may go this route, but I'm still eager to see if I can connect with a special contact here in our city.
However, since encountering Qian Qian, the HS has been really stirring our hearts in the area of "prevention" for the orphan situation.
When an adoptive parent, even though I "knew" one of the reasons causing the high numbers of special needs kids in orphanages was the "cost of care"... I didn't process this as fully as I am now. For a family who is living with the median income here in our city according to a recent government survey of 1200 RMB per month the costs of correcting a minor special need in their newborn baby is astronomical. Even if the cost was a mere 10,000 RMB...that would be 9 months of income...if they didn't feed or house themselves! If it is a greater cost given to them....it is like Daddy and I being told that our newborn baby must have a MILLION dollar surgery that MUST BE PAID IN CASH IN ADVANCE...to help our child. Take a moment to let that sink in!
When I lived in the West, and even sometimes now when I read comment boards on "international adoption" news stories...I often heard comments like..."they just abandon their babies if they are not perfect"..."since they only get one child, that child must be perfect."...and other far more incendiary and judgemental comments. I too passed these ideas on.
But I see now more clearly...it is an IMPOSSIBLE circumstance. How could a "median income" family keep their newborn? A newborn who in many cases was desired, hoped for, loved in the womb, wanted greatly...just like their peers in the West...the difference is...they do not have the funds to give their baby a necessary surgery.
Qian Qian's mom really took a gamble. She is a hold-out. So wanted to change her reality, she was willing to withstand abandonment and beg on the city street...in the hope that somehow she could find help for her son.
In my observation of children already paper-ready for adoption, there continue to be a steady stream of kids with special needs who are finally "found" (or come into the orphanage's care) at 8 months-2 years of age. Perhaps their mothers were also hold-outs? Perhaps they came to the city to beg and found no "help" to repair their child's need?
And what of the countryside family?
If the city dweller's median income is 1200 RMB per month ($180 USD), for some who even have a COLLEGE education, what about the countryside family who farms to eat? Who has no regular income? Who may live on 120 RMB per month? What about their child who is born at home with the midwife who is discovered to have a special need?
It is an impossible circumstance.
Is there not a great need to identify these families in crisis either through the local hospital maternity nurses, or through the countryside midwives, or deliberately seeking them out begging on the streets?
What if we could say to them, "We have a project to help your baby get the surgery he/she needs...so that you may keep your child?!"
Much waiting and prayer is required before acting on such an idea (in fact we don't want to be initiators, but RESPONDERS to His leading)...but it is apparent to me, that this is a gap, a desperate need, that perhaps we could help fill in a tiny way?
Please, those of you who are like-minded, lift this need up. That if it is His leading, that doors will open as we begin to knock on them...
When I close my eyes I can see Qian Qian's eyes...and in my core I know there are many more like him...
There are tons of "good ideas"...we want no part of those...only "His ideas"...
19 October 2010
Quick update
This will not be a long update as I am consumed with details surrounding getting Qian Qian care.
Today our local friend went to meet Qian Qian and his mother at another hospital. The doctors it seems have been very dismissive of this mother, assuming that she is a poor countryside woman who cannot possibly pay for surgery.
Today the estimate she was given was 70,000 RMB to complete all the surgeries Qian Qian will need. That is 7 times the cost estimate of yesterday...but translation is a tricky thing...maybe it was 10,000 for only the first surgery...or maybe the doctor today didn't want to bother with a poor woman who couldn't possibly pay?
We are definitely going to have to fund raise to achieve his surgery. But we feel confident that the HS will lead others to partner with us to help this baby!
I've sent out a few emails and am contacting other people I know who are involved in this type of surgery. Our doctor friend here in the city... a rumored new Brother who is a doctor here practicing...and still another American doctor friend who is well connected. I'm ever so hopeful that we will be able to find the right connection of a reputable doctor and perhaps a hospital that will work with us on the cost.
I've heard from a few people today via email (what an enormous encouragement this has been) who are moved by Qian Qian's story and want to help get him the surgery he needs.
I am also working intently to determine the best avenue for people to contribute so that we can get the money Here and to the hospital as quickly as possible. I hope to have some clearer guidance on that later today!
The other good news is that our local friend saw Qian Qian and took his photo today! I hope to have a picture posted of him very soon!
(The past two days have also been full of the "mummy-making" activity at school! I have some awesome pictures and will try to post them tomorrow morning! What a crazy experience!)
Pressing on!
Today our local friend went to meet Qian Qian and his mother at another hospital. The doctors it seems have been very dismissive of this mother, assuming that she is a poor countryside woman who cannot possibly pay for surgery.
Today the estimate she was given was 70,000 RMB to complete all the surgeries Qian Qian will need. That is 7 times the cost estimate of yesterday...but translation is a tricky thing...maybe it was 10,000 for only the first surgery...or maybe the doctor today didn't want to bother with a poor woman who couldn't possibly pay?
We are definitely going to have to fund raise to achieve his surgery. But we feel confident that the HS will lead others to partner with us to help this baby!
I've sent out a few emails and am contacting other people I know who are involved in this type of surgery. Our doctor friend here in the city... a rumored new Brother who is a doctor here practicing...and still another American doctor friend who is well connected. I'm ever so hopeful that we will be able to find the right connection of a reputable doctor and perhaps a hospital that will work with us on the cost.
I've heard from a few people today via email (what an enormous encouragement this has been) who are moved by Qian Qian's story and want to help get him the surgery he needs.
I am also working intently to determine the best avenue for people to contribute so that we can get the money Here and to the hospital as quickly as possible. I hope to have some clearer guidance on that later today!
The other good news is that our local friend saw Qian Qian and took his photo today! I hope to have a picture posted of him very soon!
(The past two days have also been full of the "mummy-making" activity at school! I have some awesome pictures and will try to post them tomorrow morning! What a crazy experience!)
Pressing on!
18 October 2010
Humanity, Pt. 3
I observed a day of rest yesterday, so neglected to bring the latest on the story of the Momma and baby who were begging. It is a good thing, as I have more to share now.
In the days since we saw them on the pedestrian overpass I've had a few local friends try to counsel me that what we did was unrealistic. In their care for us, they have warned us that the situation was very possibly a scam. One dear friend said that he was aware of stories of people who took children, perhaps those whose parents could not care for them and who would have potentially ended up in an orphanage, to use the visible need of the child as an appeal to beg. He said, "I give it a 50/50 chance that you'll ever hear from her again."
I was really saddened by this thought, but I knew, it is a very real possibility. When one is desperately poor and is in need of money...what would we not do to feed ourselves? And, while I knew there was a chance that it was not as it should be, I felt so strongly that this mother and baby were what they appeared. The way she sobbed...it makes a pit in my stomach as I think of it. What an actress she would have had to have been! Even more, the experience was so powerful, so deeply spiritual while being so grounded in the natural, I knew I could trust the HS's leading...that He was calling on us to be present and do whatever needed to be done for the good of that baby.
Thanks be to Him who does amazing things...we are in contact with the Momma and baby!
In the past twenty-four hours, contact was made, through a few intermediaries...but it was achieved! I consider this nothing short of a miracle!
The little boy, his name, Qian Qian (pronounced chen-chen), was seen today by a doctor! The first visit of his life to a hospital!
We determined from our exchange that night on the overpass that the woman was staying with a "mei-mei" (little sister) here in our city. Apparently it was mei-mei's boyfriend who contacted our dear local friend (who is assisting on our behalf.) The first phone call exchanged some basic information and our friend asked mei-mei's boyfriend to accompany the Momma to the hospital so that the baby could be seen and an estimate given regarding the cost to repair the cleft lip. (I am unsure at this point if the cleft also includes the palate.)
The second phone call came a few hours later (apparently they went immediately to the hospital) with the details from the Doctor. A treatment plan, with various steps for the Qian Qian's lip repair was briefly covered with our friend and arrangements were made for both men (the boyfriend and our friend) to meet and speak further. An estimate was given by the hospital as well...10,000 RMB or approximately $1,505 USD...the cost given to change Qian Qian (and his mother's) life by giving him surgery.
When I heard the estimate, though I do not yet know where the money will come from, I asked our friend to immediately tell Qian Qian's mother that we will pledge to provide the surgery her son needs. I know the He is in this, that it was his prompting that caused us to go back and to sit down instead of giving money and passing on by...and I know that He will provide what Qian Qian needs financially! How exciting this will be to see Him moving powerfully in the life of this courageous mother...who suffered reproach and ultimately her husband's abandoning...because she wanted to keep her child. How can we not do everything possible for her?
I hope to soon have a picture of Qian Qian to post here so that you can see the precious child I've been writing about!
If your heart is touched by this story or you feel the HS's prompting and want to be a part of this miracle for Qian Qian, please email me! We hope to have the funds together very soon as everything must be paid to the hospital in advance for the surgery to take place.
One final thought on this post...
I contributed to a book recently published about living and teaching Here. In one of the chapters I wrote, I discussed the effect of a picture of a mother and child that my husband had brought back from a short term trip to India....here are excerpts from that writing :
A few years ago my husband traveled to India with a Christian, humanitarian organization. Among the more than one thousand pictures he brought back was one that proved to be a seminal moment for me.
This excerpt is from my journal in January 2007:
“There’s just one picture that I cannot get out of my mind; the lady in the street. She’s sitting in the street, begging, her son curled up and sleeping with his head on her lap.
Of course, I don't know if he was sleeping, I assumed so, because I'm an American who thinks that living in suburbia without a husband who was traveling for 12 days was a real hardship. Maybe the boy wasn't sleeping at all? Perhaps he was just too weak or too hungry to sit up next to her and beg? It’s hard for my mind to conceive of anything like that. My healthy, well-fed children are so loud playing in the next room I am unable to construct such a reality even in my imagination.
My husband apologized for the resolution of the photograph. He said it didn't fully tell the story. He was riding in a bus and shot the picture through the glass.
You see, the picture didn't capture the tears that he saw streaming down her cheeks while she was sitting in the middle of the busy, over-crowded road, her son's head in her lap.
Should I be angry at myself for not understanding her reality? Should I chastise myself for not being able to relate to what that life would be like sitting IN THE STREET...weeping...begging...with a child huddled next to me?...
...How could I relate? The abundance in which I live is like the novocaine my dentist uses before he drills on my teeth. The greater the abundance, the less I feel anything, especially compassion and connection with an unfortunate woman weeping in the street on the other side of the world.
If I had been there, If I had seen her, maybe I would have gotten down in the dirt with her and told her about how difficult my life has been lately…
Would I ever have anything to say to her? Could I even open my mouth in her presence?
Maybe I'll just delete the picture...and go back to worrying about that car repair that needs to be done...now that's a real pain...
How foolish I’ve been…”
Now it is nearly 4 years later.
Just three nights ago, I sat down on the pavement with a mother, so desperate for help for her special needs son that she endured the shame of begging to get him help.
It is true that I really didn't have much to say to her, as I'd imagined would be the case when I'd looked at the picture of the woman and child in India. But I saw the reality of the seed that photo planted...a chance to reach out...to put my faith in action to meet the need of the one right in front of me.
She is not a stranger to me. She is my sister in this common experience of humanity.
While I do not know the pain and shame of what she's endured to provide for her special needs son...I have the ability and responsibility to bridge that gap to meet her in her point of need.
I know that there are many more who need help. But for now, the opportunity to minister to Him exists in little Qian Qian's need...to be His hands and feet...and for His glory alone.
In the days since we saw them on the pedestrian overpass I've had a few local friends try to counsel me that what we did was unrealistic. In their care for us, they have warned us that the situation was very possibly a scam. One dear friend said that he was aware of stories of people who took children, perhaps those whose parents could not care for them and who would have potentially ended up in an orphanage, to use the visible need of the child as an appeal to beg. He said, "I give it a 50/50 chance that you'll ever hear from her again."
I was really saddened by this thought, but I knew, it is a very real possibility. When one is desperately poor and is in need of money...what would we not do to feed ourselves? And, while I knew there was a chance that it was not as it should be, I felt so strongly that this mother and baby were what they appeared. The way she sobbed...it makes a pit in my stomach as I think of it. What an actress she would have had to have been! Even more, the experience was so powerful, so deeply spiritual while being so grounded in the natural, I knew I could trust the HS's leading...that He was calling on us to be present and do whatever needed to be done for the good of that baby.
Thanks be to Him who does amazing things...we are in contact with the Momma and baby!
In the past twenty-four hours, contact was made, through a few intermediaries...but it was achieved! I consider this nothing short of a miracle!
The little boy, his name, Qian Qian (pronounced chen-chen), was seen today by a doctor! The first visit of his life to a hospital!
We determined from our exchange that night on the overpass that the woman was staying with a "mei-mei" (little sister) here in our city. Apparently it was mei-mei's boyfriend who contacted our dear local friend (who is assisting on our behalf.) The first phone call exchanged some basic information and our friend asked mei-mei's boyfriend to accompany the Momma to the hospital so that the baby could be seen and an estimate given regarding the cost to repair the cleft lip. (I am unsure at this point if the cleft also includes the palate.)
The second phone call came a few hours later (apparently they went immediately to the hospital) with the details from the Doctor. A treatment plan, with various steps for the Qian Qian's lip repair was briefly covered with our friend and arrangements were made for both men (the boyfriend and our friend) to meet and speak further. An estimate was given by the hospital as well...10,000 RMB or approximately $1,505 USD...the cost given to change Qian Qian (and his mother's) life by giving him surgery.
When I heard the estimate, though I do not yet know where the money will come from, I asked our friend to immediately tell Qian Qian's mother that we will pledge to provide the surgery her son needs. I know the He is in this, that it was his prompting that caused us to go back and to sit down instead of giving money and passing on by...and I know that He will provide what Qian Qian needs financially! How exciting this will be to see Him moving powerfully in the life of this courageous mother...who suffered reproach and ultimately her husband's abandoning...because she wanted to keep her child. How can we not do everything possible for her?
I hope to soon have a picture of Qian Qian to post here so that you can see the precious child I've been writing about!
If your heart is touched by this story or you feel the HS's prompting and want to be a part of this miracle for Qian Qian, please email me! We hope to have the funds together very soon as everything must be paid to the hospital in advance for the surgery to take place.
One final thought on this post...
I contributed to a book recently published about living and teaching Here. In one of the chapters I wrote, I discussed the effect of a picture of a mother and child that my husband had brought back from a short term trip to India....here are excerpts from that writing :
A few years ago my husband traveled to India with a Christian, humanitarian organization. Among the more than one thousand pictures he brought back was one that proved to be a seminal moment for me.
This excerpt is from my journal in January 2007:
“There’s just one picture that I cannot get out of my mind; the lady in the street. She’s sitting in the street, begging, her son curled up and sleeping with his head on her lap.
Of course, I don't know if he was sleeping, I assumed so, because I'm an American who thinks that living in suburbia without a husband who was traveling for 12 days was a real hardship. Maybe the boy wasn't sleeping at all? Perhaps he was just too weak or too hungry to sit up next to her and beg? It’s hard for my mind to conceive of anything like that. My healthy, well-fed children are so loud playing in the next room I am unable to construct such a reality even in my imagination.
My husband apologized for the resolution of the photograph. He said it didn't fully tell the story. He was riding in a bus and shot the picture through the glass.
You see, the picture didn't capture the tears that he saw streaming down her cheeks while she was sitting in the middle of the busy, over-crowded road, her son's head in her lap.
Should I be angry at myself for not understanding her reality? Should I chastise myself for not being able to relate to what that life would be like sitting IN THE STREET...weeping...begging...with a child huddled next to me?...
...How could I relate? The abundance in which I live is like the novocaine my dentist uses before he drills on my teeth. The greater the abundance, the less I feel anything, especially compassion and connection with an unfortunate woman weeping in the street on the other side of the world.
If I had been there, If I had seen her, maybe I would have gotten down in the dirt with her and told her about how difficult my life has been lately…
Would I ever have anything to say to her? Could I even open my mouth in her presence?
Maybe I'll just delete the picture...and go back to worrying about that car repair that needs to be done...now that's a real pain...
How foolish I’ve been…”
Now it is nearly 4 years later.
Just three nights ago, I sat down on the pavement with a mother, so desperate for help for her special needs son that she endured the shame of begging to get him help.
It is true that I really didn't have much to say to her, as I'd imagined would be the case when I'd looked at the picture of the woman and child in India. But I saw the reality of the seed that photo planted...a chance to reach out...to put my faith in action to meet the need of the one right in front of me.
She is not a stranger to me. She is my sister in this common experience of humanity.
While I do not know the pain and shame of what she's endured to provide for her special needs son...I have the ability and responsibility to bridge that gap to meet her in her point of need.
I know that there are many more who need help. But for now, the opportunity to minister to Him exists in little Qian Qian's need...to be His hands and feet...and for His glory alone.
16 October 2010
Humanity, Pt. 2
As I drew closer to her, my eyes became fixated on the baby sitting upright on her lap.
The cleft in the baby's lip was wide, and the nipple of the bottle the mother was using to feed him milk disappeared high within it.
The mother sat on a brown burlap sack. Her legs gathered up underneath her, her face downcast as she stared at the large handwritten sign spread out before her that detailed her need. Random coins had been thrown down on the sign and lay scattered about. My mind fixated on the thought for just a moment of what it would be like to have coins literally thrown at me. Her dirty hand, rough and weathered, held some small bills. Beside her lay a plastic sack with a "recycled" bottle containing milk for the baby. A blanket, a wet diaper, and a McDonald's sack lay close by.
The baby, bundled with layers and layers of clothing, had green socks on. The socks looked as though they had been worn for a million years and had walked on coarse footing for miles upon miles, even though the baby was not yet of walking age. His raven hair looked dusty and had bits of straw stuck in it.
As I squatted down, the girls alongside me, the baby caught my gaze.
In all my life, I don't think I will ever forget that moment.
There are those times when events cut deep into our realization, branding themselves into our memories...this was one of those.
He stared right through me.
His eyes penetrated to my core and he held my stare for what seemed an endless time.
As I reached out to touch his head, absolutely compelled to touch him...I knew that I was seeing the face of Jesus in this little child's eyes.
I cannot explain this with any more clarity than to say it was a deeply spiritual moment in which I heard the voice of the HS saying to me, "I am here. In the need of this child, you see me."
Hastily, in broken Chinese we began to tell this mother that we knew other babies, lots of babies who had cleft lips and palates. That we had friends who could help him...that we wanted to help him...
I asked, "what does the Doctor say about him? what needs to be done to repair his lip?"
She answered, "he has never been to the Doctor."
There it was again...
No money...no treatment...the white coats with their backs turned until a FaPiao was produced.
(See The Hospital posts, early October)
I told her, "I have friends, we can help him...the surgery he needs...we can help him"
She began to sob.
She wiped bitter tears away forcefully.
All the while, the baby continued to stare at me.
Now the crowd around us, literally PRESSING/LYING upon our backs to view what was going on, were questioning, muttering, and sometimes loudly interjecting comments at us. The commotion and the now dozens of faces did nothing to divert the baby's attention. Every time my eyes came back to him, he looked at no one, but me. My heart burned within me.
I know that the Book teaches that when we give so much as a cold drink of water to the least of these...we give it to Him. We have the opportunity, the privilege to minister to our Lrd directly when we reach out to touch one in need.
Devotion ablaze within me I realized a young man had come to join our intimate circle. He introduced himself as a post-graduate college student, and English major, and I immediately conscripted him into service.
Though the mother, her dialect as thick as I've ever encountered, labored to be understood by my new interpreter...they kept on...he translating my questions, then her answers.
She said the baby had been born some eight months before, and her husband had ultimately left her because of the baby and his special need. That she'd come to the city to beg, as she had no food to feed them...and no hope for them in their village. When I asked where she would sleep that night, she told me of a Mei Mei (little sister) in the city who was allowing her to stay there. She had no phone, but gave a number for her husband.
As I watched the young man, who we came to know as "Alex," scribbling the notes of her tale in my little notebook, I turned to The Bug and said..."see (pointing at Alex), He has sent us an angel to help us in this moment of need." The Bug, eyes wide said, "this is why we are Here...He wanted us to see her tonight!"
We crossed a different pedestrian bridge last night, one we have never traversed these past few years...the "chance" of that was not lost on The Bug.
Questions in the crowd persisted.
They began to ask my girls about us...who we were...where we were from...and of course, finally as they registered that Potato (our adopted daughter) was mine...that we had Chinese children.
An older woman, her eyebrows deeply drawn as perfect black lines above her eyes...began to question the mother directly...alternately questioning us as well.
Then I heard Potato gasp.
She was on the other side of the mother from me, so I looked immediately to see what had caused her such alarm...
She said, in whispered horror, "that lady just told the Momma to give you the baby!..."
"...She said that you have Chinese kids. That you can take care of that baby better than she can...that if she was smart, she would give you the baby right now!"
"No!" I exhaled in alarm..."No!" "Tell her that I want to help her and her baby. I do not want to take her baby! I see that she loves her baby! I want to help her baby be healthy so that she can take him home again."
The mother sobbed. I stroked her thin shoulders...and began to pray there...out loud...laying hands on them both and interceding for His mercy to touch them, to guide us...and to allow us the opportunity to repair the boy's lip...to protect us from making any mistakes...to grant us a connection that we could meet his need...to bring peace and comfort to the hopeless mother.
The frenzy around us dissolved as my eyes were locked again on the baby's eyes...
Then I heard Magpie begin to speak...
"I have brothers...one who was born without and eye...one without fingers on his hand...one whose feet are turned in...and they are okay, they are fine, they are loved...your baby will be okay too."
I watched Potato caressing the baby's head and marveled at her tenderness and compassion...she gently picked the straw out of his hair...cooing at him.
Brownie, sitting flat on the pavement, was massaging the baby's feet. Straightening his pants, tickling his toes, and smiling warmly.
The Bug, fighting to stay upright with all the pressure applied to her back by the crowd, huddled closer to the pair...trying to shield them from the excited onlookers...
Our little ministry team...recognizing our limitations, but agreeing in willingness that whatever He could use us to do...we would do...
After thirty minutes or so, we'd exchanged contact info...sort of...it will be a miracle if we can find each other again...
But, luckily...I've seen an abundance of miracles...
As we stood up, I asked "Alex" to translate one more thing...that "God knows her, loves her and the baby, and that He sent us to help..."
My young translator, mouth agape, said..."Yes, yes...I will tell her..." then flustered, he added, "God bless you!"
"He has blessed me Alex, by sending you...my translating angel to help me in this crucial time...He has used you in a powerful way..."
The tears now welled in his eyes.
A young post-grad student, out on a Friday night...just trying to pass over the pedestrian overpass...when He was thrust into service to show mercy to this mother and baby...
I know that he will never forget this encounter. I pray that the seeds planted through it will bear much fruit in his life...
There is more...but I must write later...I am so tired and overwhelmed now...please forgive me for carrying this on to another post...but I don't want to miss anything...and there's just only no more energy left at 10:30 tonight...
The cleft in the baby's lip was wide, and the nipple of the bottle the mother was using to feed him milk disappeared high within it.
The mother sat on a brown burlap sack. Her legs gathered up underneath her, her face downcast as she stared at the large handwritten sign spread out before her that detailed her need. Random coins had been thrown down on the sign and lay scattered about. My mind fixated on the thought for just a moment of what it would be like to have coins literally thrown at me. Her dirty hand, rough and weathered, held some small bills. Beside her lay a plastic sack with a "recycled" bottle containing milk for the baby. A blanket, a wet diaper, and a McDonald's sack lay close by.
The baby, bundled with layers and layers of clothing, had green socks on. The socks looked as though they had been worn for a million years and had walked on coarse footing for miles upon miles, even though the baby was not yet of walking age. His raven hair looked dusty and had bits of straw stuck in it.
As I squatted down, the girls alongside me, the baby caught my gaze.
In all my life, I don't think I will ever forget that moment.
There are those times when events cut deep into our realization, branding themselves into our memories...this was one of those.
He stared right through me.
His eyes penetrated to my core and he held my stare for what seemed an endless time.
As I reached out to touch his head, absolutely compelled to touch him...I knew that I was seeing the face of Jesus in this little child's eyes.
I cannot explain this with any more clarity than to say it was a deeply spiritual moment in which I heard the voice of the HS saying to me, "I am here. In the need of this child, you see me."
Hastily, in broken Chinese we began to tell this mother that we knew other babies, lots of babies who had cleft lips and palates. That we had friends who could help him...that we wanted to help him...
I asked, "what does the Doctor say about him? what needs to be done to repair his lip?"
She answered, "he has never been to the Doctor."
There it was again...
No money...no treatment...the white coats with their backs turned until a FaPiao was produced.
(See The Hospital posts, early October)
I told her, "I have friends, we can help him...the surgery he needs...we can help him"
She began to sob.
She wiped bitter tears away forcefully.
All the while, the baby continued to stare at me.
Now the crowd around us, literally PRESSING/LYING upon our backs to view what was going on, were questioning, muttering, and sometimes loudly interjecting comments at us. The commotion and the now dozens of faces did nothing to divert the baby's attention. Every time my eyes came back to him, he looked at no one, but me. My heart burned within me.
I know that the Book teaches that when we give so much as a cold drink of water to the least of these...we give it to Him. We have the opportunity, the privilege to minister to our Lrd directly when we reach out to touch one in need.
Devotion ablaze within me I realized a young man had come to join our intimate circle. He introduced himself as a post-graduate college student, and English major, and I immediately conscripted him into service.
Though the mother, her dialect as thick as I've ever encountered, labored to be understood by my new interpreter...they kept on...he translating my questions, then her answers.
She said the baby had been born some eight months before, and her husband had ultimately left her because of the baby and his special need. That she'd come to the city to beg, as she had no food to feed them...and no hope for them in their village. When I asked where she would sleep that night, she told me of a Mei Mei (little sister) in the city who was allowing her to stay there. She had no phone, but gave a number for her husband.
As I watched the young man, who we came to know as "Alex," scribbling the notes of her tale in my little notebook, I turned to The Bug and said..."see (pointing at Alex), He has sent us an angel to help us in this moment of need." The Bug, eyes wide said, "this is why we are Here...He wanted us to see her tonight!"
We crossed a different pedestrian bridge last night, one we have never traversed these past few years...the "chance" of that was not lost on The Bug.
Questions in the crowd persisted.
They began to ask my girls about us...who we were...where we were from...and of course, finally as they registered that Potato (our adopted daughter) was mine...that we had Chinese children.
An older woman, her eyebrows deeply drawn as perfect black lines above her eyes...began to question the mother directly...alternately questioning us as well.
Then I heard Potato gasp.
She was on the other side of the mother from me, so I looked immediately to see what had caused her such alarm...
She said, in whispered horror, "that lady just told the Momma to give you the baby!..."
"...She said that you have Chinese kids. That you can take care of that baby better than she can...that if she was smart, she would give you the baby right now!"
"No!" I exhaled in alarm..."No!" "Tell her that I want to help her and her baby. I do not want to take her baby! I see that she loves her baby! I want to help her baby be healthy so that she can take him home again."
The mother sobbed. I stroked her thin shoulders...and began to pray there...out loud...laying hands on them both and interceding for His mercy to touch them, to guide us...and to allow us the opportunity to repair the boy's lip...to protect us from making any mistakes...to grant us a connection that we could meet his need...to bring peace and comfort to the hopeless mother.
The frenzy around us dissolved as my eyes were locked again on the baby's eyes...
Then I heard Magpie begin to speak...
"I have brothers...one who was born without and eye...one without fingers on his hand...one whose feet are turned in...and they are okay, they are fine, they are loved...your baby will be okay too."
I watched Potato caressing the baby's head and marveled at her tenderness and compassion...she gently picked the straw out of his hair...cooing at him.
Brownie, sitting flat on the pavement, was massaging the baby's feet. Straightening his pants, tickling his toes, and smiling warmly.
The Bug, fighting to stay upright with all the pressure applied to her back by the crowd, huddled closer to the pair...trying to shield them from the excited onlookers...
Our little ministry team...recognizing our limitations, but agreeing in willingness that whatever He could use us to do...we would do...
After thirty minutes or so, we'd exchanged contact info...sort of...it will be a miracle if we can find each other again...
But, luckily...I've seen an abundance of miracles...
As we stood up, I asked "Alex" to translate one more thing...that "God knows her, loves her and the baby, and that He sent us to help..."
My young translator, mouth agape, said..."Yes, yes...I will tell her..." then flustered, he added, "God bless you!"
"He has blessed me Alex, by sending you...my translating angel to help me in this crucial time...He has used you in a powerful way..."
The tears now welled in his eyes.
A young post-grad student, out on a Friday night...just trying to pass over the pedestrian overpass...when He was thrust into service to show mercy to this mother and baby...
I know that he will never forget this encounter. I pray that the seeds planted through it will bear much fruit in his life...
There is more...but I must write later...I am so tired and overwhelmed now...please forgive me for carrying this on to another post...but I don't want to miss anything...and there's just only no more energy left at 10:30 tonight...
15 October 2010
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...
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...
13 October 2010
Making a Mummy
Just a quick note this morning...we're late to get ready for school...
I'm teaching a World History class at school. I LOVE it. We've begun at the earliest nomads, and we've just concluded ancient Egypt. The kids are really engaged and we're having a great time!
Some years back, one of my homeschooling buddies back There told me she was studying Egypt with her daughter and they were going to mummify a chicken. I laughed, thought it was some sort of "uber-mom" activity, and said to myself that I could "NEVER" imagine doing something so cool as that.
Well I've been on a hunt for these past two weeks. Gathering all the supplies necessary to begin our very own mummy. Volumes of salt (very inexpensive here), baking soda (harder to find), and baking powder (quite expensive), wine, spices, linen, and RUBBER GLOVES!
On Monday, it begins.
Using a "How To" guide for mummification...we will preserve a chicken...for the afterlife.
Today, the selection of the lucky bird will take place. One that is not too big (I've only got so much salt!)...one that looks eager for the afterlife...but is not too bashful about being turned inside out for the sake of my students' learning.
We have a dear friend back there who is an undertaker. One time he was performing in a little play I was directing. On the day of the show, I was doing his make-up for the performance. He, being of great humor, chuckled and said "I'm not really used to people doing MY make-up, I'm always doing theirs." The reality of the state "they" were in while he was making them up settled upon me....a shiver moved along my spine.
I'm thinking, strictly no make-up for the chicken. The eyes are simply too small for me to do a good job of applying the eye-liner.
I'm teaching a World History class at school. I LOVE it. We've begun at the earliest nomads, and we've just concluded ancient Egypt. The kids are really engaged and we're having a great time!
Some years back, one of my homeschooling buddies back There told me she was studying Egypt with her daughter and they were going to mummify a chicken. I laughed, thought it was some sort of "uber-mom" activity, and said to myself that I could "NEVER" imagine doing something so cool as that.
Well I've been on a hunt for these past two weeks. Gathering all the supplies necessary to begin our very own mummy. Volumes of salt (very inexpensive here), baking soda (harder to find), and baking powder (quite expensive), wine, spices, linen, and RUBBER GLOVES!
On Monday, it begins.
Using a "How To" guide for mummification...we will preserve a chicken...for the afterlife.
Today, the selection of the lucky bird will take place. One that is not too big (I've only got so much salt!)...one that looks eager for the afterlife...but is not too bashful about being turned inside out for the sake of my students' learning.
We have a dear friend back there who is an undertaker. One time he was performing in a little play I was directing. On the day of the show, I was doing his make-up for the performance. He, being of great humor, chuckled and said "I'm not really used to people doing MY make-up, I'm always doing theirs." The reality of the state "they" were in while he was making them up settled upon me....a shiver moved along my spine.
I'm thinking, strictly no make-up for the chicken. The eyes are simply too small for me to do a good job of applying the eye-liner.
11 October 2010
Regression and Leaping Forward
Last week, as I blogged about, we had the marvelous experience of the first meeting with The Singer's foster parents in our home. I shared in earlier blogs about his responses. For the most part, as soon as they left, he seemed reassured and at peace. Life has gone on in the subsequent days, as normal.
However, I didn't blog about The Bruiser's responses.
For those of you who are unaware. The Singer and The Bruiser were adopted on the same day. They are only 1 week apart in age. The Singer having been given the blessing of spending his early years in a foster home...The Bruiser however, spent his everyday in our local orphanage...institutionalized. We are making it a point to connect with his main Nanny, as she too lives here in our city, as we hope to provide a link to his history as we have been able to with our other 3 adopted ones.
When we received the boys in June, we were shocked to see the developmental differences between the two boys. Please don't misunderstand me, we have been around adoption now for several years, I have been trained/well read/seen evidence of institutional delays in children. We expected that The Bruiser would suffer from those delays. Perhaps it was so striking due to the fact that we had these two sons, of identical age, and to see that The Singer was beyond expectation in regards to developmental milestones...whereas The Bruiser was at least 12-18months behind. The difference was so stark. At 2 years 8 months old, the Bruiser could walk only short distances (due to weak muscles), could be planted on the floor with limited stimuli for long periods of time, could not feed himself, was not potty trained, etc. Also anytime he would come up to any bar like object at his mouth level (especially something metal, porcelain, or COLD)...he would put it into his mouth...no matter the location we were in or how DISGUSTING the object.There are various other developmental milestones that were lagging as well...but these demonstrate some of the bigger issues.
Of course, we adapted to his needs and settled into having a 1 year old child, instead of a 2.5 year old.
We celebrated his hasty potty training, as we couldn't continue to send him to school with no pants on (see earlier posts.) And, he can now run around quite well with his brothers. We never take the stroller out for him anymore, whereas we simply had to for the first 2.5 months as he was too uncoordinated to walk very far. We attributed this to the institutionalized situation of lots of "crib time." However now, he can go shopping with us all day, walking quite rapidly and confidently. Only struggling sometimes from the effects of his right foot's inward turn.
Returning to the day of the The Singer's foster parent visit...
During their visit, The Bruiser seemed really teary and irritable. In fact, Daddy had to take him out of the room and to our bedroom for a bit of quiet-calming time. It did strike us as odd, but, the events going on were so animated...we dismissed it.
Then I asked The Singer's foster mom if she had ever seen/knew The Bruiser while he lived in the orphanage. She said, "of course." She apparently went to the orphanage often as she is a key person in the local fostering community, so not only was she familiar with him...but he was familiar with her.
She said that even though he was the oldest boy in his "grouping" living at the orphanage, every time she saw him out of his crib, he was in the nanny's arms, being treated like a baby.
The night went on and we discussed little else about The Bruiser, but he did seem a big clingy to his Daddy throughout the rest of the event.
However, the next day, he began to wet his pants. Standing next to me, emptying his bladder in a massive puddle on the floor, without even the reaction of "uh oh!" It was like he was totally checked-out. Four times in that day it happened. Keep in mind that in the 3 weeks prior, absolutely NO daytime accidents, and eagerly telling anyone near that he had to go to the potty...
It lasted only one day...and then the next day it was as if he returned to his right self again.
I'm certainly aware of regressions that most kids exhibit from time to time. We've experienced them with each of our kids. But this was so dramatic, and accompanied by his complete lack of reaction...that it was clear to us that something had triggered it. As it began the very next morning after The Singer's foster mother's visit...it must have been connected to it.
Now I'm ever so eager to dive into exploring more detail about his life at the orphanage. As we live only a short distance away, and we have some key relationships to facilitate it...I have to get some more understanding. Seeing The Singer's foster mom must have been the trigger...it must have made him feel insecure at the very least...and at the worst, triggered some really difficult emotional memories.
The day after he was brought to meet us at the Civil Affairs office, we returned to sign the final papers that we indeed DID want to adopt these boys. A representative of the orphanage, there to witness and sign the documents for both boys, asked The Bruiser did he want to go back to the orphanage to see his special Nanny? His response, a firm, "Bu Yuo"..."Don't want." They seemed a bit surprised by his response, but smiled and commented on the "good match" he was with his family.
I've heard that such a response is not all together uncommon, that only a few days after children from orphanages come to their parents that during arranged "visits" to their orphanages that the children show no signs of "homesickness," if you will.
Still, I've got to do more reading, more delving into this issue of institutionalized living...and try to uncover more of the mysteries of The Bruiser's early life. Psychologically something was triggered that set him off balance for the next day after seeing someone he associated with the orphanage... I brought the book The Connected Child by Purvis Here with me this year...and now have a dear Sister back There who will be reading it with me...maybe more insights will come there.
Yesterday however, as I saw him sitting at the table...eating his breakfast...feeding himself with little mess, I was reminded how far he's come in 3.5 months. When he told me later in the morning, "Momma, look at me," in clear English, and them promptly did a dance that had us all in stitches...I thought of his progress again. And as I watched him run down the street, still with a bit of a "baby's gait," but unassisted, and SO JOYFUL...I was reassured that he is flourishing, leaping forward in every area developmentally.
When enrolling the boys in school Here, we had to give them Chinese names. With all our children, we have kept a portion of their first names...usually the third character...which is typically doubled and used to call a baby or small child his/her name. For instance, if the child's third character is Ping, generally he/she is called "Ping Ping."
With all of the kids, we have released the surname or first character portion of the child's name (usually named after the city in which their supervising orphanage is located.) Also, the second character, which in the case of our kids has been a second indicator that they were orphans, we have left behind. So, their "new" Chinese names have our Chinese family surname, a 2nd character we choose to capture something special about the child...and then the third character...their "baby name"...as well.
We chose the 2nd character for The Singer, pronounced "Ge"(guh), because that character means "musical." For The Bruiser, we chose a 2nd character "Chao," because it means to "surpass" or to "overcome." This is of course our prayer for him, that he surpass and overcome any obstacles from his special needs...both physical and emotional.
He just came in to greet me this morning. He wanted me to put him up in my arms, to hug him, and to rub his back while he woke up. As I held him and whispered a prayer for his healing and wholeness...I called him by his Chinese name...three characters that mean he belongs to this family, that he will surpass and overcome, and that he is strong (the meaning of his baby name)...I believe that this is true...
Above: The first time we saw him...at Civil Affairs...lots of vacant stares..
Above: The Bruiser, last week...coming alive...
Thanks be to Him for the chance to watch this miracle of His love unfold!
However, I didn't blog about The Bruiser's responses.
For those of you who are unaware. The Singer and The Bruiser were adopted on the same day. They are only 1 week apart in age. The Singer having been given the blessing of spending his early years in a foster home...The Bruiser however, spent his everyday in our local orphanage...institutionalized. We are making it a point to connect with his main Nanny, as she too lives here in our city, as we hope to provide a link to his history as we have been able to with our other 3 adopted ones.
When we received the boys in June, we were shocked to see the developmental differences between the two boys. Please don't misunderstand me, we have been around adoption now for several years, I have been trained/well read/seen evidence of institutional delays in children. We expected that The Bruiser would suffer from those delays. Perhaps it was so striking due to the fact that we had these two sons, of identical age, and to see that The Singer was beyond expectation in regards to developmental milestones...whereas The Bruiser was at least 12-18months behind. The difference was so stark. At 2 years 8 months old, the Bruiser could walk only short distances (due to weak muscles), could be planted on the floor with limited stimuli for long periods of time, could not feed himself, was not potty trained, etc. Also anytime he would come up to any bar like object at his mouth level (especially something metal, porcelain, or COLD)...he would put it into his mouth...no matter the location we were in or how DISGUSTING the object.There are various other developmental milestones that were lagging as well...but these demonstrate some of the bigger issues.
Of course, we adapted to his needs and settled into having a 1 year old child, instead of a 2.5 year old.
We celebrated his hasty potty training, as we couldn't continue to send him to school with no pants on (see earlier posts.) And, he can now run around quite well with his brothers. We never take the stroller out for him anymore, whereas we simply had to for the first 2.5 months as he was too uncoordinated to walk very far. We attributed this to the institutionalized situation of lots of "crib time." However now, he can go shopping with us all day, walking quite rapidly and confidently. Only struggling sometimes from the effects of his right foot's inward turn.
Returning to the day of the The Singer's foster parent visit...
During their visit, The Bruiser seemed really teary and irritable. In fact, Daddy had to take him out of the room and to our bedroom for a bit of quiet-calming time. It did strike us as odd, but, the events going on were so animated...we dismissed it.
Then I asked The Singer's foster mom if she had ever seen/knew The Bruiser while he lived in the orphanage. She said, "of course." She apparently went to the orphanage often as she is a key person in the local fostering community, so not only was she familiar with him...but he was familiar with her.
She said that even though he was the oldest boy in his "grouping" living at the orphanage, every time she saw him out of his crib, he was in the nanny's arms, being treated like a baby.
The night went on and we discussed little else about The Bruiser, but he did seem a big clingy to his Daddy throughout the rest of the event.
However, the next day, he began to wet his pants. Standing next to me, emptying his bladder in a massive puddle on the floor, without even the reaction of "uh oh!" It was like he was totally checked-out. Four times in that day it happened. Keep in mind that in the 3 weeks prior, absolutely NO daytime accidents, and eagerly telling anyone near that he had to go to the potty...
It lasted only one day...and then the next day it was as if he returned to his right self again.
I'm certainly aware of regressions that most kids exhibit from time to time. We've experienced them with each of our kids. But this was so dramatic, and accompanied by his complete lack of reaction...that it was clear to us that something had triggered it. As it began the very next morning after The Singer's foster mother's visit...it must have been connected to it.
Now I'm ever so eager to dive into exploring more detail about his life at the orphanage. As we live only a short distance away, and we have some key relationships to facilitate it...I have to get some more understanding. Seeing The Singer's foster mom must have been the trigger...it must have made him feel insecure at the very least...and at the worst, triggered some really difficult emotional memories.
The day after he was brought to meet us at the Civil Affairs office, we returned to sign the final papers that we indeed DID want to adopt these boys. A representative of the orphanage, there to witness and sign the documents for both boys, asked The Bruiser did he want to go back to the orphanage to see his special Nanny? His response, a firm, "Bu Yuo"..."Don't want." They seemed a bit surprised by his response, but smiled and commented on the "good match" he was with his family.
I've heard that such a response is not all together uncommon, that only a few days after children from orphanages come to their parents that during arranged "visits" to their orphanages that the children show no signs of "homesickness," if you will.
Still, I've got to do more reading, more delving into this issue of institutionalized living...and try to uncover more of the mysteries of The Bruiser's early life. Psychologically something was triggered that set him off balance for the next day after seeing someone he associated with the orphanage... I brought the book The Connected Child by Purvis Here with me this year...and now have a dear Sister back There who will be reading it with me...maybe more insights will come there.
Yesterday however, as I saw him sitting at the table...eating his breakfast...feeding himself with little mess, I was reminded how far he's come in 3.5 months. When he told me later in the morning, "Momma, look at me," in clear English, and them promptly did a dance that had us all in stitches...I thought of his progress again. And as I watched him run down the street, still with a bit of a "baby's gait," but unassisted, and SO JOYFUL...I was reassured that he is flourishing, leaping forward in every area developmentally.
When enrolling the boys in school Here, we had to give them Chinese names. With all our children, we have kept a portion of their first names...usually the third character...which is typically doubled and used to call a baby or small child his/her name. For instance, if the child's third character is Ping, generally he/she is called "Ping Ping."
With all of the kids, we have released the surname or first character portion of the child's name (usually named after the city in which their supervising orphanage is located.) Also, the second character, which in the case of our kids has been a second indicator that they were orphans, we have left behind. So, their "new" Chinese names have our Chinese family surname, a 2nd character we choose to capture something special about the child...and then the third character...their "baby name"...as well.
We chose the 2nd character for The Singer, pronounced "Ge"(guh), because that character means "musical." For The Bruiser, we chose a 2nd character "Chao," because it means to "surpass" or to "overcome." This is of course our prayer for him, that he surpass and overcome any obstacles from his special needs...both physical and emotional.
He just came in to greet me this morning. He wanted me to put him up in my arms, to hug him, and to rub his back while he woke up. As I held him and whispered a prayer for his healing and wholeness...I called him by his Chinese name...three characters that mean he belongs to this family, that he will surpass and overcome, and that he is strong (the meaning of his baby name)...I believe that this is true...
Above: The first time we saw him...at Civil Affairs...lots of vacant stares..
Above: The Bruiser, last week...coming alive...
Thanks be to Him for the chance to watch this miracle of His love unfold!
09 October 2010
Dancing...Cheering...and Selling Food
This shot of the neighborhood/massive apartment complex, gives you an idea of the number of people who came out to enjoy the event.
Today we sold all but about 20 sandwiches (of the 200)...and made a profit double of ours last year...
Below: Some of our neighbors...he is a transplant surgeon (not the neighbor I ever want to see at his place of work)...and she works for the company that funds the school...and their lovely daughter who we've known since the day she was born.
Below: A view of our wares...AND a very handsome Bub stops by the booth with his Kindergarten Classmates.
Below: Some event attendees.
Below: Daddy poses with one of our colleagues, and three of his daughters by our menu board at the booth.
Below: Look closely at the offering one vendor brought today...
Yes, you see cigarettes, certainly NOT uncommon Here...but look a bit closer...
The Brand Name? "LONG LIFE "
Also, check out the warning label carefully worded in English so that none of the non-English speaking smokers will have any idea that, contrary to their name, Long Life Cigarettes are guaranteed NOT to prolong your life.
Being Greeted
Last night, we worked at the school's kitchen (think stripped down, ill-equipped for "western food" purposes, "heavily" used, massive kitchen of the 50's) for more than 5 hours preparing the sandwiches, cookies, and tea for the big event today. I have to get everyone out the door in the next 2 hours...and Daddy has to pop in his massive pot on the stove some 3 KG of popcorn for the girls' booth before we can leave...so my time is short here!
We'd had some crazy experiences while working with our volunteers at the kitchen. But we carried on with various students and Chinese teachers coming in to help the many stages of the operation while we sang rounds of "Row Row Row Your Boat," "The Wheels on the Bus" and other vocal stylings and remakes of hits from the 70's and 80's. Most of my colleagues, I think it is fair to say, think that I am a lunatic...but they were smiling and laughing while they were working!
The entire Wu family (our teammates from back There) were engaged in the effort with Ms. Wu using her 18+ years of commercial food prep to help us negotiate the challenges of the planning and prep. (I simply have no mind for how many tea bags to use to make a massive batch of tea, for instance!)
Magpie and The Bug stood strong while spreading slice after slice of tuna fish on bread. Ham juice was flying around when some of my 1st grade students (with vigorously washed hands) helped assemble some other sandwiches.
There was a constant barrage of onlookers who came in thinking that they would "sample" the cookies as they came out of the oven. I, ninja-like, was the interceptor who demanded they pay for any cookie they sampled. (This was terribly inappropriate for the culture...but as all the proceeds of our booth have now been dedicated to Little Kevin, instead of the school, I felt justified in holding up any thief for questioning and prosecution if needed!) By the end of the night, we'd already sold more than a dozen cookies (some albeit to unwilling/extorted "samplers") and the rest to those who couldn't wait until today to enjoy the oatmeal raisin delights!
My legs and feet were so sore from standing on the concrete floor, and my back aching from bending over the too-low counters...that I stumbled home in a fog. But when I reached our apartment the smells of Daddy's latest experimental cooking (Chinese-style) welcomed me...but best of all...peeking around the door was The Bruiser...his face lit up at seeing me (we usually come home together at 2:30, but it was 7:30 PM and the first time he'd seen me) and he said in this low, gravelly voice "Hello Momma!"
It was a REAL welcome. A genuine greeting from a little heart that is making those key connections of not just identity (that I am his Momma, something he's never known before) but the highly-prized emotional connections that we wait for in hope during this first months/years of adoption. He was thrilled to see me! He rushed over, hugged my legs and with a huge grin, buried his face.
It is the little miracles, too. Adoption is full of massive, mind-blowing miracles like we've experienced...but the little ones...like last night...leave me awestruck.
Off to peddle some "Western Food" wares...
We'd had some crazy experiences while working with our volunteers at the kitchen. But we carried on with various students and Chinese teachers coming in to help the many stages of the operation while we sang rounds of "Row Row Row Your Boat," "The Wheels on the Bus" and other vocal stylings and remakes of hits from the 70's and 80's. Most of my colleagues, I think it is fair to say, think that I am a lunatic...but they were smiling and laughing while they were working!
The entire Wu family (our teammates from back There) were engaged in the effort with Ms. Wu using her 18+ years of commercial food prep to help us negotiate the challenges of the planning and prep. (I simply have no mind for how many tea bags to use to make a massive batch of tea, for instance!)
Magpie and The Bug stood strong while spreading slice after slice of tuna fish on bread. Ham juice was flying around when some of my 1st grade students (with vigorously washed hands) helped assemble some other sandwiches.
There was a constant barrage of onlookers who came in thinking that they would "sample" the cookies as they came out of the oven. I, ninja-like, was the interceptor who demanded they pay for any cookie they sampled. (This was terribly inappropriate for the culture...but as all the proceeds of our booth have now been dedicated to Little Kevin, instead of the school, I felt justified in holding up any thief for questioning and prosecution if needed!) By the end of the night, we'd already sold more than a dozen cookies (some albeit to unwilling/extorted "samplers") and the rest to those who couldn't wait until today to enjoy the oatmeal raisin delights!
My legs and feet were so sore from standing on the concrete floor, and my back aching from bending over the too-low counters...that I stumbled home in a fog. But when I reached our apartment the smells of Daddy's latest experimental cooking (Chinese-style) welcomed me...but best of all...peeking around the door was The Bruiser...his face lit up at seeing me (we usually come home together at 2:30, but it was 7:30 PM and the first time he'd seen me) and he said in this low, gravelly voice "Hello Momma!"
It was a REAL welcome. A genuine greeting from a little heart that is making those key connections of not just identity (that I am his Momma, something he's never known before) but the highly-prized emotional connections that we wait for in hope during this first months/years of adoption. He was thrilled to see me! He rushed over, hugged my legs and with a huge grin, buried his face.
It is the little miracles, too. Adoption is full of massive, mind-blowing miracles like we've experienced...but the little ones...like last night...leave me awestruck.
Off to peddle some "Western Food" wares...
08 October 2010
Insomnia and The "Western Food" Booth
It is 2 am here. I got up because I drank too much water before going to bed, to try and quell the sandpaper-like quality of my throat (possibly due to the round-the-clock trash burning going on these days that makes the air quality so terrible.) We went to bed at 8 pm, because we could see nothing much by candlelight, as the power grid had failed again for our development. The entire complex plunged into darkness on an otherwise lovely evening.
We're back to school tomorrow. Starting back on Friday, of course...because that makes sense. We will also have school on Saturday...because we had a 7 day holiday that had to come from somewhere.
We have a second try at a "big event" here on Saturday, however. The "Sport's Day/Garden Party" event, now in its second year will be taking place at our Living Quarters. Just like last year, the "foreigners" (mainly Mrs. Wu and myself), will be running a "Western Food Booth," for the purpose of fundraising for the school.
Last year we sold out every single item we'd prepared...so the anticipation is high for our performance again this year. (Even though the said "fundraising" component was not all that much to write home about.) It is a great opportunity to interface with our community and to work for hours and hours on food preparation. ;)
We'll be offering for sale once again this year: 100 tuna salad sandwiches, 100 ham and cucumber sandwiches, 450 oatmeal raisin cookies, and iced tea. We make "big attraction" with our foreign faces, so much so that this year the school is putting all their hopes in our booth alone...they've abandoned the hot soy milk stand they ran last year. (Still can't get into that beverage...especially the batch they accidentally scalded leaving that delicious blackened soybean flavor in every drop.)
The big girls, Magpie and The Bug are organizing a fundraising booth for Little Kevin (our still hospitalized friend.) They have made dozens of crafts with the Wu kids and Daddy will be making "Western-style" popcorn to sell...which generally means salty, not sugared, as is the usual popcorn seasoning. My money is on them to sell-out their wares in the first two hours or so...as their little foreign face make for an even bigger "big attraction."
Anyway, I've got a cold, feeling lousy...and we have 200 sandwiches and hundreds of cookies to prepare...after I teach a full day tomorrow. But the truth remains that this is a key day in our year to be a part of the community around us. Most often we are just taking up space around these parts. Focusing on key relationship development, language study, and keeping this family of 9 moving forward is a big job. But, on this day, we show up and have the opportunity to contribute something to our neighborhood. In year 3, we recognize more than ever that it is an chance NOT to be missed, regardless of my sore throat.
So much of living WITH people is like this, isn't it? It is inconvenient, it is exhausting, and often we could find things to do that please us far more than deliberately connecting with others in our communities. Yet, it is in community where we find out more about ourselves, identify things in us that need to be refined, and make connections with people that can ultimately have eternal significance.
With that firmly in mind, I say..."bring on the tuna!"
We're back to school tomorrow. Starting back on Friday, of course...because that makes sense. We will also have school on Saturday...because we had a 7 day holiday that had to come from somewhere.
We have a second try at a "big event" here on Saturday, however. The "Sport's Day/Garden Party" event, now in its second year will be taking place at our Living Quarters. Just like last year, the "foreigners" (mainly Mrs. Wu and myself), will be running a "Western Food Booth," for the purpose of fundraising for the school.
Last year we sold out every single item we'd prepared...so the anticipation is high for our performance again this year. (Even though the said "fundraising" component was not all that much to write home about.) It is a great opportunity to interface with our community and to work for hours and hours on food preparation. ;)
We'll be offering for sale once again this year: 100 tuna salad sandwiches, 100 ham and cucumber sandwiches, 450 oatmeal raisin cookies, and iced tea. We make "big attraction" with our foreign faces, so much so that this year the school is putting all their hopes in our booth alone...they've abandoned the hot soy milk stand they ran last year. (Still can't get into that beverage...especially the batch they accidentally scalded leaving that delicious blackened soybean flavor in every drop.)
The big girls, Magpie and The Bug are organizing a fundraising booth for Little Kevin (our still hospitalized friend.) They have made dozens of crafts with the Wu kids and Daddy will be making "Western-style" popcorn to sell...which generally means salty, not sugared, as is the usual popcorn seasoning. My money is on them to sell-out their wares in the first two hours or so...as their little foreign face make for an even bigger "big attraction."
Anyway, I've got a cold, feeling lousy...and we have 200 sandwiches and hundreds of cookies to prepare...after I teach a full day tomorrow. But the truth remains that this is a key day in our year to be a part of the community around us. Most often we are just taking up space around these parts. Focusing on key relationship development, language study, and keeping this family of 9 moving forward is a big job. But, on this day, we show up and have the opportunity to contribute something to our neighborhood. In year 3, we recognize more than ever that it is an chance NOT to be missed, regardless of my sore throat.
So much of living WITH people is like this, isn't it? It is inconvenient, it is exhausting, and often we could find things to do that please us far more than deliberately connecting with others in our communities. Yet, it is in community where we find out more about ourselves, identify things in us that need to be refined, and make connections with people that can ultimately have eternal significance.
With that firmly in mind, I say..."bring on the tuna!"
06 October 2010
Special Guests
It was another big night at our pad last evening.
The Singer's foster family came over for a first visit. We entertained them, and some other local friends, for a dinner party.
These wonderful people raised our precious son for the first 2 years 8 months of his life. They cared for him as their own. They gave him every blessing imaginable. They adore him.
This is the third time we've been so fortunate to spend time with the most crucial people from our children's histories. Each family, totally unique, who cared for three of our adopted four, from different backgrounds...but each one filled with love for children. They have selflessly given so much just so that our kids would have the best possible start...while they waited for us to bring them home.
To hear The Singer's foster mom tell it...he is the most handsome, gifted, and clever boy who has ever lived. I cannot imagine how enriched his life has been because of the care he received in their home.
I don't know if I could do what they have done. To love a child so fully, KNOWING, that I would have to let go someday. If the child is fortunate, I would release them to an eager adoptive family. If the child is not, back to the orphanage.
We were all nervous about how it would go. Would they approve of us, our home and family? Would The Singer feel torn, sad, or suffer some lasting pain because of it?
All night he was sort of aloof with them. I know that was difficult for them to experience. This is not unlike the "first visits" with our other children's early guardians. Often he would come to me to hug, or sit on my lap, just to gain reassurance. In the photo below, he wanted to sit on my lap, not hers. It hurt me to know how much she must have wanted him to fully embrace her.
At the end of the night, she said to him, "I'll come back to see you soon!"
The Singer replied, "No, you don't need to come back. My Momma loves me too much."
I hugged her and said that I was sorry and she said, "No, I know that this is good."
I know that it will be different the next time she comes, he'll be ready to embrace the past and the present without fear of change...of having to grieve again. We have such fulfilling relationships with our other children's foster families.
At the end of the night, I went to sleep with the magnificent realization that he KNOWS I love him...
Adoption is a miracle...it is about loss...it is about gain...but as we saw last night, once again, that in the best circumstances, it is about people united in love for a common child.
The Singer's foster family came over for a first visit. We entertained them, and some other local friends, for a dinner party.
These wonderful people raised our precious son for the first 2 years 8 months of his life. They cared for him as their own. They gave him every blessing imaginable. They adore him.
This is the third time we've been so fortunate to spend time with the most crucial people from our children's histories. Each family, totally unique, who cared for three of our adopted four, from different backgrounds...but each one filled with love for children. They have selflessly given so much just so that our kids would have the best possible start...while they waited for us to bring them home.
To hear The Singer's foster mom tell it...he is the most handsome, gifted, and clever boy who has ever lived. I cannot imagine how enriched his life has been because of the care he received in their home.
I don't know if I could do what they have done. To love a child so fully, KNOWING, that I would have to let go someday. If the child is fortunate, I would release them to an eager adoptive family. If the child is not, back to the orphanage.
We were all nervous about how it would go. Would they approve of us, our home and family? Would The Singer feel torn, sad, or suffer some lasting pain because of it?
All night he was sort of aloof with them. I know that was difficult for them to experience. This is not unlike the "first visits" with our other children's early guardians. Often he would come to me to hug, or sit on my lap, just to gain reassurance. In the photo below, he wanted to sit on my lap, not hers. It hurt me to know how much she must have wanted him to fully embrace her.
At the end of the night, she said to him, "I'll come back to see you soon!"
The Singer replied, "No, you don't need to come back. My Momma loves me too much."
I hugged her and said that I was sorry and she said, "No, I know that this is good."
I know that it will be different the next time she comes, he'll be ready to embrace the past and the present without fear of change...of having to grieve again. We have such fulfilling relationships with our other children's foster families.
At the end of the night, I went to sleep with the magnificent realization that he KNOWS I love him...
Adoption is a miracle...it is about loss...it is about gain...but as we saw last night, once again, that in the best circumstances, it is about people united in love for a common child.
05 October 2010
Around Town for the Holiday
Above: We met up with our "Chinese Family" at a special Breakfast Street market. We ate and ate various local delicacies...and enjoyed being pressed in by all the humanity who came to do the same!
Below: Some of the other citizens who came out to the little market that day with us! (There appears to be a foreigner in the lower right of the photo...this is a spectacle for all other breakfast diners!)
Below: This pot was steaming and we peeked inside to see the contents...sure enough...two birds hanging from their necks...nearly ready to be served up for some one's breakfast!
Below: Then, we were off to the newly discovered (thanks to our Chinese Family's research) Plant, Fish and Pet market (not fully replacing the bulldozed one I wrote about several days back)...a few shots of the inside for you..
Above: The Bug holds a turtle (or tortoise)...
Above: This is clearly the award winner for best picture of the other New Guy! We'll now call him "The Bruiser"...he is a really wild and crazy cat and runs headlong into EVERYTHING in life...he is rough and tough like no other and constantly is getting banged up or roughing others up...unbelievable the hits this guy takes and he keeps on going...and usually, smiling!
Below: Another funny thing happened...
While Daddy was picking up some fish food and plants for his fish tank, the shop owner told the girls, "I have three kittens, please take one." Try as we might to refuse...the shop owner AND the pleading girls...we took away a little boy kitty, no bigger than a mouse.
I should interject at this point a special comment to my good friend back There, MB,...who I have previously mercilessly teased as a "crazy cat women"...clearly, we in danger of the hidden switch that resides in the brains of 'cat people'...that suddenly gets tripped, and you cannot stop collecting cats...I think we are in very real danger of being rightfully named, "Crazy cat people"
Below, in the towel after his vigorous flea bath...the little boy who hopped a ride home with us on our TWO FREE CAT day at the market...EVERYTHING seems to be coming in TWOS this year for us...!
Above: And the two little babies in the cage...
Above and Below: Our Chinese Family came over last night...is staying through a big dinner party we're hosting tonight for some of the Foster Parents of our kids...but he spent hours last night with each of our girls working on their Chinese pronunciation and intonation...it was amazing...
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