Is It Worth It?

Everyday we have opportunities to make choices; some big, some small but every choice has the potential for gain or loss. We weigh the risks, calculate the possible benefits and then come to a conclusion about whether or not to take the leap. Some people are natural risk takers. Their personalities scream for excitement and adventure, while others avoid taking even the smallest risk unless they have factored in all the variable. As for me, I usually fall somewhere between “I’ll try anything once” and “What’s the worst that could happen?” As for a biblical comparison, I can certainly be as impulsive as Peter and as stubborn as Paul; but my heart is usually in the right place and my motives are generally toward toward doing the right thing~in spite of my impetuousness. As an ex-pat living in China, I ask myself this question many times a day. Today was one of those days when “Is it worth it?” became very real. While crossing the road on my 40 minute rush hour bike ride to work, my reading glasses popped out of my purse and landed in the middle of a busy intersection.

I heard the thud as they landed and realized that I was going to have to make a quick decision. Do I get off my bike when I reach the other side of the road, turn around and make my way into oncoming traffic to get my glasses or do I leave them and wait 2-4 weeks to get new ones sent from the States? If you know anything about China’s traffic, you know that to go after them would mean literally risking life, limb and the possibility of being a foreign fatality. The alternative didn’t look much more palatable since I have lots of papers to grade at the end of the semester. Decisions, decisions! I looked at the yet unsquished glass case on the pavement, considered how long it would take for me to snag the glasses, and weighed out whether or not I could be nimble enough to maneuver my way between the oncoming cars. “Is it worth it?” I asked myself again, but In a matter of seconds I decided it was~ so I hopped off my bike, pulled out my game face and

used my car dodging ninja skills to narrowly avoid the oversized buses, bazillion bicycles and steady stream of honking cars all racing my way.  As I snatched up the glass case, I felt both a sense of relief and horror over what I had done. I had cheated death and avoided becoming the ever dreaded “flat foreign”. Success was mine but at what cost? As I reflect back on those few minutes, I am keenly aware that every decision has a price. The Bible says in Luke 14:25-31 that we are to “count the cost” of discipleship and know what you’re signing up for. I have counted the little costs and inconveniences of being here and I’ve also calculated the bigger costs of being without my family, living in a polluted environment, and making myself known as a Christian in country where foreign believers are not always welcomed.

I have counted the physical, financial, mental, emotional, and spiritual and every other kind of cost it takes to be in China long-term and in a not so impulsive way, have decided to be more of a Paul than a Peter on this one. I count it all but loss (Phil. 3:7-14) Is it worth it? Definitely! Sometimes a little sadness creeps in, but all in all~no regrets!

  

Humble Pie Anyone?

It never fails. Just when I start to turn a corner and feel successful about something I am trying to accomplish, BOOM! I self-sabotage! What the heck is that all about? I know the things I should do and the things I shouldn’t do, yet for reasons unbeknownst to my conscious self I always end up doing the wrong thing and sidetrack or completely derail the things I want the most. Case in point~ Today I invited my small group over for a brunch so that we could have fun eating, hanging out and reconnecting after a long period of not seeing each other because of the Chinese New Year holiday break. I made a delicious breakfast casserole from scratch and had assorted juices as well. One couple brought french toast, another friend brought crepes with fruit, and there was banana bread, too. It was like a never ending table of awesomeness. As my eyes beheld such scrumptiousness, my appetite grew larger than life. I gave into the temptation to have a hearty helping of everything, fully aware but not caring that my very healthy diet of 6 weeks would be annihilated in 25 minutes.
Then to add to the devastation, I had already made the dough of mass destruction for Valentine's Day sugar cookie that I promised to bake and decorate with my “other” granddaughter Sami who came with her dad. She was super excited to try this new thing. Half an hour after we finished eating, we pressed out, baked, frosted and decorated 2 dozen of those little gems, most of which we ate~save for the plate I sent home with her for her sick mommy. So with a belly full of delicious remorse, I laid on the couch all afternoon watching movies and wallowing through the regret of my impulsivity. Good thing I’m not a closet bulimic because it would’ve taken a whole day of purging both body and soul to remove my guilt.Why is it so hard to say no to the wafting scent of bacon that seems to wave me toward the plate? How come no one else around me seems to have the same compulsive desire to keep shoving food into their face long after they are satisfactorily full? I honestly don’t know. I suspect that despite my 14 pound weight loss since the first of the year, my old nature is still very much in play. I can only keep it in check so long and then it rears its ugly head again. Isn’t that the way sin always is? Gluttony is a sin. One of the 7 deadly sins in fact, and sin alway has consequences...like regret and fall out that I’m sure I will see in the next few days on the scale. But even more that this, I think it comes back to human nature. We are all sinful. We all have a nature that wants our own desires, our own way, and we often impulsively or in a premeditated way do whatever it takes to get what we think we want, even when we know full well it’s not what we should do. It’s about dying everyday to my self will and there’s no way I can do that alone! That’s why grace and Spirit empowerment are so very important. It’s hard to be gracious with myself when I know I'm responsible for my own mess. It’s hard to be gracious with others when they too are being selfish, greedy, prideful or just plain dumb. Thank God, He freely gives the grace my heart really needs and hungers for and the Spirit to help me in my struggle to be under his control...not mine. I don’t deserve it, but he offers it anyway. Sometimes I think He uses my character defects to give me a taste of humble pie and grace in the same serving. Today, I’m glad that neither of these items on the menu has any additional calories!

Shoulder Shennanigans

You'd think a rapidly developing country like China would have a somewhat comparable health care system to that of the US~ at least in a big city of 12 million like Tianjin. Unfortunately, I have often been sorely mistaken by my wishful thinking. About 10 months ago I started having pain in my left shoulder. I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, so I figured I just slept on it wrong or it was some sort of pulled muscle and I ignored it. After 3 months of increasing pain, my PT friend from the States checked it and gave me some exercises to do but she didn't seem too concerned.

The pain persisted for another 3 months until I'd finally had enough. I sought help from a Chinese doctor friend who was also a PT. He started doing therapy for me twice a week, but nothing changed. Then I got an MRI which indicated that something was not exactly right, but showed nothing specific. Two more months of therapy and still no big improvement. I was getting frustrated and so was my doctor. He suggested that I see a friend of his to use simulation machines and another kind of therapy so I agreed. As of today I have been seeing this doctor for 2 weeks. He's really nice, but he speaks no English, so I am trying to teach him phrases as we go. You never really think about the little things that are important for a doctor to know how to say like, "Does it hurt? More painful, less painful or about the same? Move over, turn over, lie down and sit up." Just as important for him to understand are the English phrases, "It's better, it's worse, not too bad, holy *@%!, and for the love of God, STOP!"

Today the therapist said he was going to use a machine to "loosen my meat," a phrase directly translated from the Chinese-English dictionary on his IPhone. OK, I thought. I had seen a couple of other Chinese patients there with the vacuum modulator hooked up to their shoulders and backs, so I figured it had to be relatively safe. I decided to give it a try. He proceeded to put 8 round suction cups around my shoulder and in my armpit. They felt strange going on but I figured it was just part of the deal. I was then unpleasantly surprised when he turned on the stimulator and my skin was sucked up into the cups while my muscles were repeatedly given electrically pulsating shocks...for 20 straight minutes.

It wasn't a 10 on the pain scale but it felt like someone was digging their thumbs into my pit and vibrating. Not fun. After 20 minutes, he came back to unhook me and discovered that my body is apparently not as tough as Chinese bodies. I had serious red marks and suction marks where the equipment had been. He seemed a bit shocked, but because he had no English, he had no words to say. He looked like he wanted to crawl in a hole and disappear. I wish my Chinese was better, but when it comes to medical Chinese, I'm as clueless as he is in English. I didn't have a mirror to look at the damage at that time, but I knew it was bad by the look on his face and the pain in my pit.

10 hours later after arriving home from a full day of work, I finally took a look. I was more than a little shocked. Even after that long, the red was still there and the bruising was very visible. If this happened in the States, there would be a malpractice law suit or at the very least there would've been some warning beforehand about the possibility of this happening. Not here! There are just looks of horror and people pretending that they don't see it or it doesn't look that bad. Unbelievable! So now I have two problems. My shoulder is still frozen and still hurts, plus now I have bruises in places that I didn't have before and they are also painful. What's a girl to do? Not sure, but one thing I do know. The octopus armpit stimulation/sucker is going to be the one getting a shocking punch in the pulsator if it ever tries to come near my pit again!

Complete Hair-acy

They say that a woman's hair is her glory. Well, I don't know about all that, but it is one of the most important parts of being a woman. How you care for and deal with your hair says a lot about you and your style or personality. My hair is unusually thick, naturally wavy and unruly most of the time, so I don't often just let it dry naturally. It explodes into a big hair afro which looks like a nest ready for some mother bird to lay her eggs in. I usually give it a quick blow dry and resort to straightening it every time I wash my hair. Thankfully, this is only twice a week because the air is so dry here that doing it more often would lead to breakage. I grew up as a toe-headed blonde and although I have changed my hair color many times over the years, I have returned to my roots (so to speak) and have decided that dying my hair blonde is so much more natural than allowing the gray to take over my head. The style I am most comfortable with is an easy to care for, one length, long bob. I can pull it back into a pony-tail and not have to mess with it too much. I say all this to set the stage for my story.

When I first came to China in 2003, I had no fear of getting my haircut. Ignorance was bliss until my first experience at a countryside salon where I was sheered like a sheep in spring, much to the shock of my Chinese students who couldn't cover up the fact that they were both horrified and embarrassed about the haircut I received. I dubbed it the "Chemo-Barbie" look. Five years later when I returned to live long-term in China, I vowed never to get my lovely locks cut in China again. I was determined to wait 3 years and only cut it again when I returned home to America for a visit. After 2 years of growing my very thick hair and looking like a complete hippy, my American friend, Natalie convinced me to go to the place where she had her hair done. I resisted at first, terrified that I would have another scalping experience, but after a few more months of coaxing, I decided to take the plunge. Natalie went with me and held my hand as 2 young hairstylist work on my in synchronized fashion, each taking one side of my head. I could only close my eyes and pray that when I opened them again, I wouldn't have my former "chemo-barbie" look.

Thankfully, I was pleasantly surprised at what a nice job they did. I was all too happy to pay the $6.00 and be on my way. Since that time I have only had my hair cut twice, each time at that same place and each time holding my breath recalling my first unpleasant experience. Both times have been fine...until today. Last week I colored my layer free, long pony-tail styled hair and felt confident that when I went to the salon today, the stylists would do as well as they had done on the two previous occasions. I walked into the salon, told them exactly what I wanted, they shook shook their heads, smiled and assured me that they understood...and proceeded to do exactly what they thought would look better on me! Not at all what I wanted! Apparently when I said, "I want you to give me a tiny trim, thin it out, and I don't want layers," it meant "Make me look like an 80's Malibu Barbie!" For the love of God! How is it that those two things are the same? I know I said it very clearly, but after he took the first big chuck out of my hair and I realize that this first cut would be the measuring stick by which all the other cuts would be gauged, there was nothing I could really do about it, except resign myself to the inevitable dissatisfaction of paying for a haircut that I despised!

Walking to the place where I parked my bike was (for me) like the walk of shame. As if I'm not obvious enough as a foreigner, my hair looked like the second story of my tall body that had taken on a life of it's own. You know it's bad when the puff that is your hair is flipped up at the ends and sprayed so heavily that even the wind from the bike ride home won't mess it up. In my head I was screaming, "Hair-acy! Hair-acy" It was ridiculous! So here I am, kicking myself for letting my need for manageable hair override my better judgement about getting my hair cut in China. I know it's just hair and the layers will grow back. At least he didn't cut it all off, so I think I can still get most of it into a ponytail~and I still have a straightener. Good thing it's only another 7 months 'til I get home!

A Close Call With Reality

There’s no way around it. As a foreigner living in China, I will always have attention drawn to me~simply because...well for one, you can see my white skin and blonde hair glowing from 100 yards away. Secondly, I am almost always taller than the average male here, not to mention that my blue eyes are like the blinking lights of the old K-Mart blue light specials. It’s twice as bad in the countryside. You might as well bring a blue smurf into the center of town because the locals’ jaws literally drop as you walk by. You can feel their stares continue to blaze into your back long after you’ve walked away. No matter how hard I want to live my life inconspicuously here, it will never happen. For the most part, I have grown accustomed to these things and they usually don’t bother me. Sometimes I even forget how different I am and I get careless. That was the case today. It’s been really hot here, so when I’m home alone in my own apartment I strip down to the least possible amount of clothing I can wear and still have time to throw on a presentable cover up just in case someone unexpectedly knocks at my door. This afternoon I was really hot and tired and wanted to try and get in a quick nap before heading off to my part time job at the pre-school. Unfortunately, I ran out of bottled water today, so I called the water delivery people to come and exchange my empty bottles for full ones. I knew it would take them a few minutes to up to a few hours to get here, so I grabbed the jugs out of my kitchen, stuck the coupons in the top of the bottle and prepared to put them outside my door for an easy, impersonal exchange. I opened the door and snuck out to the stairway half naked quickly attempting to put the bottles in their usual spot of exchange. I guess I must’ve been in too big of a hurry because I dropped one of the jugs and it went thumping down the stairs to the landing of the apartment below me. After being in and out of China for the last 8 years I should’ve know better, but I just wanted to get that doggone jug, put it on the steps and get my nap started. I scampered down the stairs, scooped up the jug and just as I was turning around a big gust of wind blew through the open window in the stairwell. I was horrified as I watched the door to my apartment slowly start to swing closed. I’m sure you’ve seen similar scenes in the movies, where a disaster unfolds right before the eyes of the only person who can stop it and they are just inches away from prevent the inevitable. The panic was intense! In my mind I was doing the slow motion scream, “NOOOOOO!” realizing that if that door did indeed close, I would be locked out of my apartment with nothing on but a T-shirt and skivvies! A foreigner in China dressed (or not dressed) like this would certainly cause an uproar...not to mention a probable spot on the nightly news highlighting the promiscuity of foreigners in China! In my desperation to save myself from such a fate I made a dive for the door, willing to sacrifice my fingers and my body to the cement stairs, rather losing all my dignity and taking the walk of shame to my neighbor’s apartment to ask for help. Thankfully, I was able to grab the door just before it slammed shut. Now as I sit here recalling the event and writing it all down, I really do have to laugh. Seriously! Can you imagine the stories in my neighborhood about the crazy, foreign lady with the pink bikini underwear? Good Lord, that would’ve been embarrassing! Thank you God for your grace...especially, when it’s hot, I’m tired, and a little impulsive!

Happy Father's Day!

Maybe it’s just that I’m getting older, but lately I’ve been really appreciating my dad more and more. When I look back on my childhood, I can honestly say it was pretty darn good. Back then, most dads were the primary bread winners and moms either stayed home and took care of the kids, or had part time jobs. A dad’s role was to bring home the paycheck and take care of things around the house. By the standards of the day, my dad was awesome! He worked really hard to provide for a wife and 5 kids and I never, ever remember going without things that we needed. The cars were always taken care of, the lawn always got mowed, and never once did Dad come home late after work because he was drinking at the bar with his buddies! Every Sunday (twice on Sunday) and every Wednesday without fail we were in church. Although there were many times I complained about not being able to do the things other kids did on Sundays, it was good for us kids, and taught us to value God, family, and taking a day of rest. Dad went above and beyond what a lot of fathers did for their kids. He attended our sporting events, took the boys hunting, saved like a mad man so we could all have a college education, and took us on a family vacation each year. After 50 plus years, we still go to Minnesota every summer to spend a week together fishing and having fun as an extended family with our own kids...and their kids! So many traditional family values have gone by the wayside in today’s world. Some dads don’t take any responsibility for their kids, while other dads are single parents through no fault of their own. Dads are pulled in all directions to be more and give for while being marginalized by society as a whole. As a result, many have forgotten what it’s like to be men, to be leaders in their families without being tyrants in doing so. Was my family perfect? Heavens no! I probably complained more about my dad and his ways of doing things than any of my siblings; but at some point, I grew up and realized that my dad was my dad. He had his ways of doing things and that was not going to change. He had his way of loving, even if it wasn’t what I could understand at the time. He had his way of disciplining and as much as I hated having the fear of God (and my dad) put in me, it was probably what kept me out of a lot more trouble than what I got into. The Bible says, “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, and I reasoned like a child, but when I became a man (or grew up) I put away childish things. (I Corinthians 13:11) It took me a lot of years to realize I was a pretty lucky kid, and I had a pretty great dad. We often express our emotions toward our moms, because~well, they’re moms, and we can do that. Dads usually only get appreciated this one day a year. I know my dad won’t always be here with us, so there’s no time like the present to say the obvious. Here’s to you, Dad. You’re an exceptional man and I’m thankful that I’m your daughter!

Life is Fragile~Handle With Prayer

I was pretty shook up yesterday when I came up on an bike v. electric scooter accident while walking home from school. The woman was lying on the ground, unconscious, and bleeding with dozens of people standing around her watching and only one guy holding her head against her backpack. The first miracle was that she was wearing a helmet, which was trashed and at the side of the road next to her. I ran as fast as I could toward them and told someone in Chinese to call the police and the hospital. Fortunately, in this day and age everyone has a cell phone. I tried talking to her as she came in and out of consciousness, but every time I got eye contact her eyes would suddenly roll back into her head and she would be gone again. I didn't even know if she could speak English, but I knew that no one else standing around could. I went into crisis mode. The police and ambulance arrived quickly and several passersby helped paramedics put the 28 year old foreigner into the ambulance. I hopped in the ambulance and frantically dug through her backpack hoping to find some ID so I could at least know her name, where she was from and maybe even who to contact. I was so relieved to find her UK passport with her name on it. She obviously had a serious head injury and since we were near the SOS clinic for foreigners, the ambulance took her there first. Another miracle~she had once been a patient there and they had all her emergency info on file! The doctor jumped into the ambulance and I got out. They took her to the Number 1 Hospital immediately, and that's all I knew. All I could do was pray and hope that she would be OK.
This morning the principle of the school where Ashley was teaching called me, thanked me for helping and said she was she was stable but had a broken cheek bone, and a head injury with some bleeding in her brain but they thought it would eventually absorb. She was still in and out of consciousness and didn't remember anything. They were planning to move her to Beijing, but needed to get a statement from me for the police report. As I walked into the 16th floor ICU I was met by her boyfriend, 2 other friends, a translator, and a police officer, all who looked concerned and wanted to know what happened, so I filled in the blanks. As is typical in Chinese hospitals, Ashley was in a big room with 6 other critical care guys and had all their family member in there, too. The guy next to her had just died an hour earlier. In spite of her condition, I was thankful to see Ashley looking more coherent than the day before. At least she was able to open her eyes and talk a little. After giving the police officer my statement, I went back into the room and asked her boyfriend if I could pray for her, and I did.
As far as I'm concerned, Ashley is lucky to be alive. The helmet saved her life, the SOS clinic records made treatment and notification of her significant others possible, and the guy that accidentally hit her didn't just run off like most would have after injuring a foreigner... All miracles! I am sure this will be quite a recovery process for this young woman, but I keep praying that she will recover and that she will see the hand of God in this incident, protecting her from what could've been sooo much worse. I normally don't wear a helmet when I ride, and hardly ever think about walking everywhere in crazy traffic. This has been a wake up call for me, too! We never know what today will bring. We focus on our daily happenings, our petty troubles, or our dreams for the future when the truth is, we aren't guaranteed a tomorrow. We only have today, and that's all; so let's make sure we live it well, and have our eternity settled. It's the only thing we can guarantee ahead of time.

The Art of Coming Home

It probably seems weird to most of you that an overseas worker like me would find it anything but thrilling to be back in America during the holiday season. What could be better, right? Christmas trees, presents, family gatherings, time with friends and all the other trappings that the season brings. In some respects this is what I have been dreaming about for the past 2 years of living in China...wanting to be home with my family for this blessed season. But in another respect, just being home has been a big adjustment. It's very overwhelming! Some call it re-entry shock. In October when I first arrived back in the States, I was keenly aware of how different everything was. It was similar to what I experienced when I first went to China and was barraged by the sights, sounds, and smells that were so different than I was accustomed to in the States. Since this is the first time I've been home in more than 2 years, I experienced that feeling of being a foreigner all over again...except in my own culture of origin. I was taken back by the vast amount of space in America and the lack of people to fill that space. Many times I felt as though I were walking through a virtual ghost town compared to the crazy overcrowded-ness of living in a city of 12 million. It was so quiet that I felt like I was in a library and had to whisper. American food is still amazing, the ease of which I can do things and get around is fabulous and I never have to struggle to find the words to express myself. People in America are generally super nice and polite. They open doors for you, say please and thank-you and would never think of telling you how fat you are or giving you unsolicited advise about how you should lose weight and be more healthy. On the other hand, being in America has reminded me of the things I haven't missed very much. Americans seem to be oblivious to almost everything except what's in their own little world. As opposed to the Chinese way of communal thinking, Americans are driven by individual desires and opinions...and the amount of waste and self indulgence I see is staggering. Maybe because I'm here during Christmas this is more pronounced, but I am still having a hard time wrapping my mind around what it means to be "Home." Being in China has changed me forever. I'm different and I know it. Sometimes I feel like a human yoyo, up and down in my emotions, my thoughts about being here, my questions about when to return and what it will look like for me to be back home in China. I love being here, but I also miss my friends, my work, and the feeling that I am where I belong... at least for this season of my life. In spite of the fact that I also love my kids, family, my friends, the special people in my life, my freedom, and my country. It's like being caught between two worlds- and I love them both for different reasons. I know I'm not alone in these feelings. I'm sure a lot of military people, global workers, and foreign students have experienced this as well. Hopefully, I will continue to enjoy this time and fully appreciate this gift I've been given. Please remember me and all the others who aren't here and wish they were.

As a kid, I used to love a game called, "Follow the Leader." It was fun because everyone got to have a turn taking the group whichever way they wanted to and all I had to do was follow. In some areas of my life I am a leader and in some areas I am a follower. Both take discipline and skill. One of my dearest mentors, Susan, said something to me once that has always stuck with me. She said, "Until you learn how to follow, you will never be a great leader. The skills you will learn while following, will be the same skills you will learn to lead with." At the time I'm not sure I totally understood what she meant, but looking back I know she was absolutely right. As a follower, I had to learn to observe the leader and listen well to what they were saying. I had to be able to understand the task that was given to me and be willing to submit myself to the leader's requirements and direction. I had to learn humility, flexibility, and trust even when I thought I had a better way. Learning to submit to authority was one of the hardest lessons that I had to learn~and I had to learn it over and over again to drill it into my thick head. Leading also requires listening, observing, understanding the task at hand, being flexible, and willing to humbly submit myself to the authority, the requirements and direction of the One who is over me! As a Christian leader I cannot possibly expect anyone to follow me if I don't lead with integrity, and that only comes from following the One who is the definition of Truth. Paul said best in I Corinthians 11:1 when he said, "Follow my example as I follow the example of Christ." I mean, who could be a better example of servant leadership than Jesus? He was not only a great teacher, he was the epitome of leading by example...(Philippians 2:1-11)

I have been very blessed to have had some of the most amazing mentors throughout my life~beginning with my mom. She was, and still is the godliest woman I know. She taught me what it meant to follow hard after Christ on a daily basis...not by preaching it to me, but by living it day in and day out in the midst of life being life. My best friend, Becky, also showed me what it meant to be consistent, faithful and persevering in turbulent situations. Over the years I have watched many, many pastors, like my brother Corky, Jefferey D, Jeff P, Dar VW, Brothers Travis, Windel, and Al. They have inspired and encouraged me to become the woman of God He created me to be. Those who know me best have said that I never do anything half way. My motto is "Go Big or Go Home!" When I have a true passion for a cause, vision or idea...watch out! I am unstoppable. For me a life without passion and purpose just isn't worth living. Let's face it. I'm a big hyper kid with big ideas, big dreams and a limitless God who inspires me to be better. Whether it's being an overseas worker, or a good friend to someone in need, spearheading a development project for the less fortunate, or quietly leading those around you to a deeper understanding of faith, it's important to keep your eyes, ears and heart in tune with the One who will leads you into all truth. I am determined to leave that kind of leadership legacy for the next generation. Nothing less will do.

A New Season

Wow! It's been a long time since I've updated this blog. The summer has already past and now we are in the middle of fall. Even the farmers know there's something to be said about taking a break and letting the ground lie fallow for a season. It helps the ground replenish it's nutrients and become rich again. This quiet season hasn't actually been fallow, but during all the summer busyness of traveling, studying and making connections for further projects, I have also taken a good deal of time to internally reflect about what I have learned in the past two years of living here.

In my attempt to more succinctly define my understandings of the Chinese culture, people and belief systems, (and my role here) I've had to undergo many paradigm shifts. For those of you new to that phrase, let me make this easy. When you look at the picture on the right, what do you see? A duck or a rabbit? Whatever you see, it's right! Both can be seen depending on how you look at it. A paradigm is like the model or structure that all your previous ideas have been filtered through. It comes through the paradigm of culture, education, experiences, and personal core beliefs. When I came to China my paradigms of how to live life here and interact with the Chinese were pretty much already determined. I had my ideas and a course of action. Now after two years of real life in China, my single vision "paradigm" lenses seem to have been replaced by bifocals, enabling me to see much more clearly from close up and far away. My paradigms have shifted. Perhaps the reason my thoughts and ideas are changing is because China is changing so fast. The name of the game here is flexibility. It is important to be both grounded in non-negotiable truths and flexible enough in your thinking to allow for those truths to be expressed in a culturally relevant way while still maintain their integrity. Sound complicated? It is...but it's no different in the West! I'm serious! Things are not traditional there anymore either. It takes a lot of creativity and flexibility to relate to people who don't have any frame of reference for dialoguing with you on the deeper issues of life. This much I do know. Truth doesn't change but expressions and forms expressing those truths will always be changing. We have so many traditions and sacred cows; ways we are convinced are "right" when the truth is, they are probably greatly influenced by our culture and history. I think our friend Paul said it best in (I Cor. 9:19-23) when he said, "I have become all things to all people.... Living truth with integrity is not an easy task and I am humbled by the challenge to do it in China. I also know this. China is changing me as I have a role in changing China. Maybe this is what's actually mean in the Lord's Prayer when it says, Thy Kingdom Come. When that day arrives there will be no "them or us" no "Western way or Chinese way" there will only be one way-His Way! And I think we all might be surprised at what that might look like. :)

Land of The Free~Home of the Brave

Four years ago today, 5:55am, Sgt. Matthew Webber (right) left this world and went to meet his Maker. It wasn’t without agony and torture that he woke up every day for 5 month in the critical care burn unit of a Texas military hospital, enduring the excruciating pain of wound care, amputations, surgeries and physical therapy. With no means to control his situation, and no way to change it, he fought for life, honor, and dignity. Flanked by his vigilant mother Jayne, who stayed by his side for endless hours everyday advocating and speaking for him when he couldn’t, and kept company by his younger brother Andy, who left Michigan to be there with him, Matt knew he was never alone. He was coached on by his ‘real dad’ Vince, who had been there for him since he was a tot, and had the endless love and admiration of his youngest brother, Josh, who never stopped believing that Matt would come home someday and ride the pontoon boat with him and Matt’s dog, Sarge. The cards, letters, prayers, visits by family and close friends did wonders for Matt’s spirits. He wanted with all that was in him to recover and be himself again. He refused to give up or give in to what others said was the inevitable. President Bush came to the hospital on New Year’s Day to see the 3 men left in Matt’s company, all who were all critical condition. He wanted to personally speak with them, give them their medals and meet with their families, Matt adamantly refused....not because he was angry about his condition or his sacrifice, but because doctors had removed his right arm and Matt knew he wouldn’t be able to salute his Commander-in-Chief. I was there at the time and remember thinking, "No, Matt! It's you that needs to be saluted!" It blew my mind. Just the night before, Jayne and I had smuggled New Year’s Eve party hats and blowers into his room, watching with him as ‘The Ball’ dropped in Times Square on the television, telling Matt that this was a new year and it would be a new beginning. As the ball began to drop, we counted down the seconds ‘til midnight, and tears poured down my face watching him mouth the words,... four, three, two, one...and in my heart I cried out with everything in me for God to do a miracle and raise him up from this horrible situation. He fought for another 4 months before he died, but just the same he died. So now when I see what is happening in America today, the political wrangling, the finger pointing, the erosion of our constitutional rights, the corruption, I often shake my head. It breaks my heart. Young men and women fighting with all their hearts to defend a country and freedom we all say we cherish, and yet we take so for granted. I love my country now more than I ever have, because my nephew, Sgt. Matthew Webber’s blood was spilled on behalf of the freedom I hold dear. I will never forget his bravery, his sacrifice, his agony, or the dignity with which he dealt with his suffering. I will never forget his courage, his never-die attitude, or the sparkling blue eyes that twinkled every time I walked into his room. He couldn’t speak to me then, but he didn’t have to...his life spoke volumes and everything I needed to know about him I understood.This day, and every anniversary of Matt’s death will be recognized as the day we lost a great man, a patriot, and the best kind of human being possible. I know I speak for many when I say that my comfort in all this is knowing I will see him again. After first seeing Jesus, that will be the highlight of heaven. Matt is gone, but will never be forgotten!

...And Today's Transportation Is?

For overseas workers like me, traveling is such a natural part of the lifestyle that we don’t really think much about it. I am used to finding the cheapest way to get from Point A to Point B, often times using the ‘shoe leather express’. In America the standard mode of transportation is a car. It’s a right of passage for every 16-18 year old to obtain their license. In fact we think it’s a little weird if they don’t have one. In more populated cities public buses or subways are options, but I think that it’s much more common to own at least one vehicle...and we pride ourselves on what kind of v ehicle that is. When I left for China I sold my car and haven’t driven since. By the time I come home for a visit, my license will be expired and I will not have been behind the wheel for more than 2 years. I am used to riding my bike everywhere, using the basket to carry my daily necessitiesand calculating the time it will take to get from one spot to another. I only take a bus or a taxi when it’s too stinking cold to pedal, even with 2-3 layers of clothes on or when the destination is too far to bike and I have too much junk to carry. Planes on the other hand are the preferred choice when the time is short and the destination is long. I have taken overnight trains (18-24 hours) and have lived to regret it. I mean seriously! How do big, tall Americas sleep on short, narrow, hard sleepers designed for Chinese travelers? Not very well! I have ridden in rickshaws, motorized trolleys, on ferries, in the back of cattle trucks, and on bullet trains. The goal is the same no matter what you take...try to get to where you’re going safely, cheaply and quickly~if possible. I have been doing a lot of long distance traveling lately and to be honest I'm exhausted! Today in fact, I left a small island outside of Hong Kong, walked 25 minutes to a ferry, took the ferry to Hong Kong Central where I grabbed a taxi to a long distance bus going to the airport. I had a 4 hour flight to Beijing but still had to boarded yet another airport shuttle back to Tianjin where I could taxi back home. The whole ordeal took me 16 hours! Can you imagine? Am I incredibly thankful for ways to get to where I need to go? Of course! Think about how difficult travel used to be for overseas workers. Many left home and never made it back alive. Yes, I sometimes complain that life isn’t the easiest having to monkey around all the time with the logistics of travel, but the truth is I’m still lucky. In an emergency I can get home on an 18 -24hr. flight and that’s way better than coming home on the slow boat from China.

Training, Traveling, Tears

It’s been a year and a half since I left the US and up ‘til now I have not experienced culture shock as experts have described it. Of course, I have had some adjustments to make, but have adaptable fairly quickly to nearly everything that has come down the pike. I really thought I was the exception; the one to escape the cycle that I was warned about when transitioning to another culture. Culture Shock...the sense of euphoria and wonderment in a new culture followed by a slow descent into disappointment, discouragement, loneliness, grief, and disillusion with the culture, and finally the upward ascent again into embracing the reality (both good and bad) of your new situation. Secretly, I had believed that none of this would apply to me because I was 100% sure that I had already accepted and embraced China for the good bad and the ugly. I had already grieved the loss of family and friends when I left, so what more could there be to experience? That illusion was shattered this month after Ryan and Holly came to China to be part of a film/photography project promoting JianHua. I was the unofficial translator for the group, so I spent 3 weeks preparing travel language, familiarizing myself with specific areas of the country and planning some events following the project. Meeting the kids at the airport, I felt a rush of emotion seeing them for the first time in many months. All I could do was hug Ryan and cry...a mixture of joy and sorrow for the time I have missed with him and Holly, with Dave and Lacey all wrapped up in his embrace. Our traveling time was a combination of ups and downs, laughter and frustration, health and sickness. It was a refreshing rain to my thirsty soul that longed for some family time. It wasn’t until they left that I really understood the meaning of grieving in a way that I have not experienced before. In the aftermath of their departure, I suddenly realized that my role in my kids life was completely different. I was no longer ‘Mom’ in the sense of being the actively nurturing, protecting, guidance giving parent of former years, but I was now a detached outsider from the daily routines of their married life. Although they miss me and I missed them, they have in a very healthy way moved on, to to invest in their marriage and I to invest in my calling to China. It has been hard for me to wrap my mind around this fact, especially after spending most of their lives as a single parent. Fortunately, I had planned a short 3 day respite at Bethany House in Hong Kong before returning to Tianjin which turned out to be a godsend. There were pastoral staff there to talk with, there were quiet times for personal reflection and no one there to bother me or judge me for the things I was feeling. I know that I have not been the exception to the rule when it comes to culture shock...it has just taken me a little longer than others to feel it. When will I ascend from my grieving into true acceptance and serenity with this new 'Mom' role? I’m not sure, but if the experts are right, it will eventually happen. Until then I have no choice but to rest and trust that in due season I will again adjust and know that it is as it should be...and it will be well with my soul.

Happy Birthday-Chinese Style!

I love celebrating birthdays in China. They are usually fun and festive, plus when we celebrate with Chinese friends we get to mix cultural traditions and you never know what you're going to get. Last Friday night, some friends and I celebrated with my friend "Vera" as she turned the big 30! Generally, Vera is pretty career driven and intense in her interactions with people. She has to think, think, think all the time....but this was her birthdays so we decided to take her out to play. Her best friend bought a beautiful looking bakery cake decorated with fruit fish and other delicious looking dainties. Actually, Chinese cakes look amazing, but they are nothing like western cakes in taste. They are rather bland because most Chinese do not like a lot of sweet tasting foods. The first time I had baked goods in China I was sorely disappointed with the lack of sweetness. I really expected it to taste as good as it looked. The Chinese characters written say 'Shengri Kuai le!' meaning 'Happy Birthday!' and a lot of the add on things are made out of dark and white chocolate so you can eat them. Sometimes there is an unusual Chinese-style candle that is placed on the top of the cake and when you light a single wick, it unfolds into a big, pink plastic flower and plays the happy birthday song over and over until you want to grab it off the top of the cake and stomp on it...OK, not really, but it is pretty annoying! We got to sing the Happy Birthday song to her in both English and Chinese, but there were no candles to blow out. In this case, Vera really wanted to blow out a candle because she had heard that you get to make a wish and apparently she had a big wish she wanted to ask for. We weren't sure if it was cute, funny, or sort of sad when she asked my friend and I how she should fold her hand and close her eyes to get her wish. So much of Chinese culture is tied up in rituals of 'praying to the right god/goddess' in a specific way to get your wish, that it seemed a pretty typical question to ask. We told her it was just for fun and not like a prayer, so she relaxed and pretended to blow out her imaginary candle anyway. In Chinese tradition the person having the birthday must eat long noodles boiled or rolled in sugar to signify long life. Great care must be taken to slurp them down whole without biting them to make sure that your life is not cut short. People eat peach shaped buns filled with lotus pate or red beans, which tradition says will bring long life. Jiaozi (dumplings) are also eaten which will make ones womb futile for child bearing. Like most people in the US turning 30, Vera lamented this milestone as a sign that she was growing old. In Chinese culture, turning 30 marks the age of being a 'true adult'... and that's when the real seriousness begins. The pressure to marry and have a child starts between the ages of 24-28 when young people have finished their university or graduate studies. Parents begin complaining, badgering, and hounding their children to find a suitable mate and give them a grandchild. It intensifies from there-so by age 30, it can be unbearable. Vera was especially concerned because she didn't have a boyfriend or any possibilities in sight. We assured her that she wasn't old and said this was something we could pray with her about. Even though prayer a new concept for her, she is learning more and more about these ideas and is closer and closer to taking them as her own. After we ate dinner, we made a spontaneous decision to go to Karaoke! You have never seen anything like Chinese Karaoke and the crazy videos that go with it! Everyone has to sing and everyone has to clap for the singer no matter how ear piercing the sound is! That's part of being in community and everyone knows it's all in the name of fun. We had a blast that night and I got to see a side of Vera I hadn't seen before. She actually seemed to be a happy person, instead of the 'ever-serious thinker.' Maybe she needs to celebrate more often...Maybe we all do!