The New Normal

It’s October 23^rd, and the weather is still beautiful. 

I just need a long sleeve, sometimes a jacket, and I can still wear flip-flops.  I realized today that I love to take the bus into town on Sunday mornings.  Ben and I always get a seat—it’s never a busy bus on Sunday mornings.  We sit, we talk, we stare out onto the ocean. It’s only a 20 minute ride on a somewhat-dirty Chinese bus, but I really enjoy it. 

Life in China is officially normal. 

I’m illiterate here, and I’m doing just fine.  I can have a 2-minute conversation in Chinese with a 5 year old, but that’s all.  I’m okay with that for now.  Cheese is our food of choice for excitement.  Cheese and crackers, cheese and apples, cheese on top of anything.   Cheese is expensive here, but we still love it, and now that is normal.

I’m learning how to connect with high school students. 

Some want help, some don’t.  Some want help but want you to work really hard for their trust.  One girl recently sat in my office, obviously hurting, but looked at her watch and said, “I’m going to sit here for 17 more minutes, but you can’t make me tell you anything.”  Another girl runs to my office and says, “I can’t wait to tell you what happened this week.”  I’m learning how to express ideas, how to listen, how to adapt counseling ideas to fit this culture.   I wouldn’t trade this job for anything.

I’m learning the basics of my faith. 

I am now working with the High School youth group on Friday nights. Most of the students that come are from our school.  Jason, another teacher at the school, gave the talk for last week’s youth group.  He talked about what our personal relationship with Him should look like, and how to define it. He said that we should not define our relationship with God by what we do to upkeep the relationship… we should define it by what He has already done for us on the Cross.  I was convicted by his message, realizing that I rely on routines and charts, and pretend points with God.

I’m learning to embrace distractions.

Saturday, my good friend Jen invited some of us over for a game night.  When we arrived at her apartment, I was surprised to see a foreigner I didn’t recognize. She was not from our school or our fellowship. We introduced ourselves, and quickly found out that Jen had met Nydia that day in the store. Nydia is from Dominican Republic, but had been living in NYC, and has lived in Qingdao for 4 months.  Nydia had not made a single friend.  We talked, played games, and left.  This morning (Sunday), we saw Nydia at fellowship. After talking with Jen, we found out Nydia had talked with Jen after we left and became a C.  Jen described it as: “She was just so ready!” 

If I had seen Nydia at the store, I probably would have passed right on by… 

He is teaching me everyday, and I am so thankful I am here to see it, experience it, and hopefully live it.

Sarah, The Six-Year-Old with Six-Hundred Questions

Writer's Club tonight.  We had to write a complete story in 26 sentences, each using the next letter of the alphabet.  It's a fun challenge, but I knew right away that I wanted to use a child for my story... mostly because of the excuse to make run-on sentences.  :)   Enjoy the story of Sarah, and her 600 questions. :)

A couple years ago, when I was only 6, I went through a phase of asking my mother question after question.

But I was not trying to be annoying and I really did want to know the answer to my question of why stars twinkle.

“‘Cause they just do,” mom would say.

“Do space ships run into starts?

Evan at school told me space ships blow up because of stars.”

Facts were very important to me at that age, and mom never gave it to me straight.

“Go ask your dad,” she said, almost every time! 

“How about swallowing gum?

I feel sick because Justine gave me a piece of gum yesterday and I swallowed it and she said it would be in my stomach for 7 years.”

“Justine was only kidding.”

“Kidding!” I yelled.

“Lying is more like it.

Mom, I need answers!”

Never before have I been so desperate.

“Or maybe, mom, I just need to know why stars twinkle!”

“Probably, because you are blinking.”

Question after question, the answers never seemed to fit and I was getting frustrated.

Resting for a moment, mom caught her breath like she was getting ready to say something important, and then she said it. 

“Stop… asking… questions!”

That’s when I knew my mom meant business.

Underneath all that yelling, I knew my mom wanted me to ask questions because she wanted to answer me, although she never really did.

Victory struck, though, when I asked one question that made mom leave the room.

“Where do baby’s come from?”

“Xenon; the planet Xenon,” she said quickly and walked away embarrassed.

“Yes, so there is a planet called Xenon,” I yelled to mom from the other room. 

Zealous for answers about this new planet, I kept on pressing everyday, but even though I’m 8 now, I still don’t know why the stars twinkle.

Thursday Thoughts: Writer's Club

Tonight at writer’s club, it was my turn to pick a prompt.  I simply googled “Writing Prompts” and found a great picture.  I couldn’t think through any story lines before I actually sat down at the coffee shop.  I’m currently reading a book where the main characters are cops, so this might be where I thought of my plot line. It’s not too original, but it was fun to write.  The “book” is called “Faithful Secrets,” and it’s about a con-woman who falls in love with a police officer.  He is unaware of her life until she reveals her secrets moments before their wedding. Once he knows the truth, she flees the scene, where the story picks up.  This writing is the actual ending (or ending-ish) of the “book” that is yet to be written.  But like I said, it’s not too original, so no such book will probably be written.   

However, enjoy the end of “Faithful Secrets.”

The lake had become sacred to her over the years. Nothing had been more constant, more promising, more real. Here, she felt alive.  Here, she could reveal her true self, even if it was only to the sparrows and the weeds.

Her eyes caught Jack from a distance. Her heart pounded in her ears to make a decision. She withdrew her pistol behind her back.  Looking away, she felt as vulnerable as she appeared.

He approached her slowly, noticing the glaze of her gown, the highlights in her hair, the tears tarrying on her cheek.

“Nicole. I need to know the truth.”

She did not waver. Her voice as consistent as the waves.

“My name if Faith. I like pancakes, and the color yellow.  I stole from Jonas Harrington but I didn’t mean to kill him.” She slowly lowers the gun as emotion overcomes her.

The silence between them was only cut by the chilling wind in their ears. Jack’s eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy. He stepped forward, almost able to remove the gun from her shivering hands. Almost able to touch her.

“We can do this, together… Faith.” he whispers, more to himself than to her.

Her strong eyes meet his, and she raises the gun yet again. “No…  we can’t.” 

His face is overcome with hurt and surprise. He cautiously takes a step back, hands raised high.

She holds the gun tighter than before, her finger ready to pull the trigger.

The gentle waves bob the nearby boat up and down. Suddenly, she realizes her fate. Standing at the very place she felt most alive, in the most beautiful wedding gown she’d ever seen, she’s holding a gun to a man that loved the worst parts of her without knowing it. She lets her guard down for a moment, blinking long enough to see what could have been. She must make a decision. A regretful tear falls from her eyes, maybe from her choices in the past, or maybe because she knew the choice that was to come.

A gunshot sounds the same to any ear. It’s the sound of terror, of heartache, of desperation. It’s the sound of a choice that was made. A split second decision. A gunshot is the sound of a secret released, an outpouring of the soul, directed at one thing. 

She did not realize what had happened.  Not until the white of her dress began to stain with crimson. The slightest gasp left her speechless.  Jack’s hands did not quiver or shake while he lowered his gun, but he stood as empty as the wind. She collapsed onto her knees, and although they both knew she would live, neither felt relieved. She had faithfully kept her life a secret.  But in time, just as the blood filled her dress, so his love for her would fill her new life again.  

a push and a pull: Using His Power When I Have None

“HIM we proclaim… teaching everyone with all WISDOM, that we may present everyone MATURE in CHRIST.  For THIS I toil, struggling with all HIS energy that he POWERFULLY works WITHIN ME.”  -Colossians 1:28-29

The verse keeps popping up in my study, in my life, in my mind.   I met with another student today.  A staff member had concerns about her and asked me to check up on this student.  I hadn’t even met her yet, so creating a relationship out of thin air seemed daunting.  I found her in the hallway and introduced myself and asked her if we could talk later today.  She seemed nearly relieved, maybe because she wanted to talk… or maybe she wanted to get out of class. ;)  Either way, several hours later, she sat in my office, begging to receive help, yet pushing me away just as much. 

These are the moments when I love what I do.

The trust was definitely not built on anything. The walls in my office seemed unsafe.

Constant questions flooded my ears, “What do you know?” “Who are you going to tell?” “How did you know to come talk to me?”

The push and pull game only lasted so long before I said, “I’m not guessing anymore.  If you want help, you need to ask for it.  If you want to tell me what’s going on, you are going to have to say the words.” 

I prayed that my pushing wasn’t too much, and I prayed that where I was taking the conversation was the right path. 

Now that the first meeting is over, many more are to come, and I pray for the wisdom on when to push, when to stop, when to teach, when to listen… and forever it goes.  This is a challenge; it is something to be toiled over, something to be bathed in prayer.  Please pray alongside me, that I can use HIS strength to present this young woman as mature in Christ.

Another Time, Another Place

This week, I joined the writers club.  We meet at the coffee shop right outside my apartment complex.  What is writers club?  Well, one of us looks for a writing prompt throughout the week and presents it to others.  We sit, ...thinking and writing for about 45 minutes, and then we share what we wrote.  I LOVE THIS!  Creative writing is one of my favorite things to do, but who does that if you are just sitting at home?!
Here was the writing prompt this week: The picture below with a caption, "Another Time, Another Place," and you had to fit in a line in your story, "If there were an answer, he'd find it there."

Here is what I came up with.  It's more of a "book jacket" summary rather than the whole story.  The boy I refer to is the boy on the far right, a little removed from the others.  :)  ENJOY.

The sky holds ominous clouds full with rain taunting the sea below.  The wind strengthens with each moment, catching the tattered sail. The noise of the railroad tracks, ocean waves, and wind together is almost too much to bear. The makeshift cart on the tracks follows an unknown path through the darkest adventure a boy could imagine.

The boy has escaped a lifetime of pain, in search of a reason, an answer, a hope. His tears never seemed to fall too far from others like him, so the adventure grew each time another boy escaped a life of pain.

A flash of lightning catches the boy’s mind back to the adventure before him. Although the storm grew quickly, the squealing of the cart’s front wheel is the only thing that carries to his ears. “You can make it,” he whispers into the wind. “I have to make it.” 

He stares into the distance, the end in sight. Images flood his memory and he shakes his head to wish them away.  With each wave that passes by, so also his fears pass, and another hope is gained. The peaks of the castle reach just beyond the horizon, screaming out a chance to be free—the last chance to be free. 

As the clouds finally released the water it held, the others who have joined him for the journey stare in a solemn silence.  The boy stands proud, knowing that he rescued others like him.  Those peaks are as much a mystery to him as the wind and the waves, but something inside pushes him to hope for more.  He doesn’t know what kind of answer he’s looking for, but if there were an answer, he’d find it there.