Updated on August 2, 2011
Baby it’s cold outside
I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I love feminine and flirty winter clothes. Wool skirts, high heeled boots, colorful scarves, cute hats, wool coats. I love that when I don said attire, my students greet me with applause (seriously) and oohs and ahhs (seriously). However, I’m afraid such attire is now retired for the next few months thanks to the recent plummet in temperatures. There comes a point where the love of such clothes is completely diminished by the simple need to survive the elements. When it’s negative 15 degrees outside, and you walk everywhere, fashion is thrown out the window. In case you’ve never experienced such temperatures, this is the type of cold that instantaneously freezes your nose hairs. It’s a cold where the biting wind causes your eyes to water, and then immediately freezes your tears on your eyelashes. Meaning when you finally reach a building warm enough to thaw your eyelashes, your mascara hopelessly pools beneath your eyes, promptly qualifying you for the position of lead singer in a goth band. This is not the type of weather to look “pretty” in.
I remember back in college severely mocking (in love of course) my roommate Heather as she layered up as early as October. Heather hailed from Florida, weighed about as much as my right leg, and just was in no way accustomed to the sometimes fierce Chicago winters. And so, to the perpetual amusement of her hardy midwestern roommates, she would add layer upon layer upon layer as the temperatures steadily dropped. The Chinese are even more deathly afraid of the cold than Heather. And apparently, six years of being surrounded by this fear has had it’s effect on me. Call me a wuss if you like, but I now layer clothes with the best of them.
For your amusement, I thought I would list off all of the clothing items I put on today prior to my morning commute (my morning commute is walking out in the elements, mind you). On the bottom first we have a warm pair of socks. Next, pair one of fleece lined long underwear. Then, pair two of warm socks. Then, pair two of fleece lined long underwear. Yes, I said pair two. Mock all you want. Then lined wool pants. Then ugg boots, which have about twelve inches of brightly colored striped sweater material sewn to the top of them to provide a third layer of long underwear. Yes, I bought the boots in China, why do you ask? And no, I do not wear the leg sweaters outside of my pants. I haven’t lived in China quite that long.
Alright, let’s move to the top. First, a long sleeved long underwear top. Second, a cami to seal in the warmth. Then a long sleeved blouse. Then a sweater. Next comes the scarf. Then the thick puffy Columbia coat that I’ve had since my freshman year in college. The coat gets zipped all the way up until it covers half my face. Next is pair one of gloves. Then, on goes the hat. Last, pair two of gloves…or more correctly, mittens. My mittens look like pigs–complete with snout and ears. And no, I see nothing wrong with this.
This my friends is how to survive the ridiculously cold temperatures of northeast China. I warmly welcome you to come visit and see how long you make it without the layers.
Updated on August 2, 2011
The good & terrible lion
This semester in the graduate reading and writing course I teach we’ve been studying The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. It has been a great joy to teach one of my all time favorite books, and to watch students engage and fall in love with the story. Recently on a homework assignment students were asked to reflect on what their reaction would be were they to meet Aslan. Their answers revealed not only a deep understanding of the story, but also the mastery of Lewis’ painting of the character.
When I read about Aslan, it seems that Aslan is my leader, my teacher, my best friend, and would help anyone in trouble. I have a comfortable feeling and feel safe. If I were to meet Aslan, I would worship and adore him very much. I wouldn’t communicate too much with him, but learn from him by his behavior.
When I read about Aslan, I feel mysterious and it seems that hope is coming. If I was to meet Aslan, I would feel excited and also frightened.
When I just heard about the name “Aslan” I felt that I was hit by some strong voice. When I knew he is a lion, I felt a little afraid of him. If I have a chance to meet Aslan, maybe I will also stammer. I won’t know what to say. He is a lion, a strong lion. I will be too nervous to say a word, but will only stare at him.
Aslan is a real outstanding king. I feel he is respectable, admirable and outstanding. I look up to him. If I were to meet Aslan, I think I will plead with him to allow me to follow him. I hope he will help me, correct me, and direct me.
Updated on August 2, 2011
Sunday Snapshot: Terrified Twins
As the snow swirled furiously outside my window Friday morning, I began to dread the trip to the big city. All I was thinking about was dirty slushy streets, cold wet feet, and the impossibility of catching a taxi. I began to dream of productivity accomplished from the comfort of my own living room. I began to doubt my decision to leave the comforts of home. Thankfully, with train tickets already purchased, I was determined to brave the elements. While I did trudge through dirty gray slush, while finding a taxi proved to be extraordinarily challenging, and while my feet were cold and wet, such things were definitely worth it.
After a bit of shopping, I met up with my dear friend Amanda. A lot had happened in each of our lives since the last time we had seen each other. A lot. So we talked and talked and talked. For hours and hours. Sharing stories about the roads we had traversed in the past months, and praising a Father who has not only sustained but deeply blessed each of us. We were so busy talking that Angie, I’m afraid there are no pictures of the two of us together. I did manage to snap this one shot of Amanda, though, as we chatted over tea and cinnamon rolls in the morning.
After leaving Amanda, I headed out into the cold to visit Jasmine and the twins. The twins were bowled over in excitement at seeing their American aunt. They could hardly wait to make it into my arms.
Ok, so that wasn’t the case. In fact, both boys were absolutely terrified of the strange lady with a big nose and big eyes. That’s what I get for my absentee status over the past seven months. Read More
Updated on August 2, 2011
Big city & Twins
This semester has been up, down and all over the place. Consequently, I’m ashamed to admit that I haven’t made a single trip to the big city to visit my Chinese nephews. Yep, the last time I saw them was last May. I realize this fact may qualify me for a “worst Aunt of the year” award. However, when I looked at the calendar and discovered that this was the last weekend that was open enough to squeeze in a visit before the end of the semester and before next week’s avalanche of grading hits, I knew I had no choice but to make the trip.
So today I’m off on the train to the big city. An added bonus will be hanging out tonight with one of my teammates from my very first year in China. Another person I have yet to see this semester. I’m expecting hours and hours of catching up!
And then Saturday? I’m going to squeeze these sweet cheeks and hopefully take tons of pictures. However, I have a hunch that these guys will be slightly more mobile and difficult to capture this time. Regardless, I should have at least a few pictures of the two cutest Chinese boys to grace the face of this planet to share by Sunday!
Updated on August 2, 2011
Two favorite morning stops
I wanted to share with you two sites that have become favorite places to visit in the morning with a steaming cup of coffee in my hands. It’s likely that you have already landed on one or both, as they are widely popular sites, but on the off chance you have not, let me introduce you to two people who articulate truth daily in two very different ways.
Jon Acuff blogs at Stuff Christians Like and uses humor, wit and sarcasm to get people thinking about this life we’re called to live. His style is most definitely tongue in cheek, and requires the ability to laugh at oneself. However, after you finish laughing, you will find that his humor leads to much needed conviction and reflection.
Ann Voskamp blogs at A Holy Experience and writes with an entirely different styles than Jon. Her words are words of quietness and grace, evoking thoughtfulness and reflecting truth through stillness and simplicity. Her poetic prose that oozes a love for the Father daily challenges and invites me to come and adore.
Updated on August 2, 2011
Nightmare before Christmas
With this title, I’m not referring to ghosts of Christmas past or life altering experiences. I’m simply referring to the nightmarish headache that is attempting to send a package from the Chinese post office.
I know I’ve said it before, but I will state it again. The post office is one of my least favorite places in China. It ranks right up there with public trough style bathrooms (those of you who have been to China will know exactly what I’m talking about) and the train station. The post office is one place in China that has a ridiculously lengthy set of rules and regulations that seemingly are created solely to make any task ten times more difficult and complicated than it needs to be. And unlike rules of the road, these regulations are for the most part strictly adhered to.
Monday I set off to the post office to send a package of Christmas gifts. I’ve been in China long enough to know trouble likely lay ahead, so I brought along back-up. Armed with the language and cultural skills of Stella, and with a plastic bag full of wrapped gifts, I headed to the post office. A plastic bag because you have to purchase and pack the box in the post office. We arrived at the office just outside our campus, and Stella explained we needed to send a package.
“Come back tomorrow.” My Chinese is good enough to understand that phrase. “Here we go…” I muttered under my breath. The postman had launched into a long spiel, of which I understood words like “no bags” and “maybe tomorrow” and “you have to come back.” With a wince, Stella looked at me. She knows my hatred of the post office.
“Uhhh…all of their mailing bags are full right now. They will probably get more bags tomorrow, so they want us to come back then.” I groaned and asked if we could at least get the things in the box and address the box then. More dialogue with the postman. And then a short translation from Stella, “No.”
Having a great deal of history with the post office, I had budgeted a generous hour and a half for the task, so Stella and I decided to grab a cab to the downtown office in hopes of them not being out of large mailing bags. We arrived at the crowded and smoke filled office and Stella announced our desire to send a package. A very grumpy looking man slowly made his way over to us. I put my plastic bag on the counter. He grumbled, “Unwrap it all.”
A quick sidenote here. The Christmas wrapping paper we can find here in our city is quite thick. The tape we can find in our city is quite weak. These two facts combined means that wrapping a present requires a lot of tape. Consequently, unwrapping all the gifts meant no hope of wrapping them again.
Stella argued with the man for a bit, but realized we were getting nowhere. Since the postman at the other office had seen the bag of presents and had mentioned no problems with them, we decided to press our luck and re-attempt the package sending the next day.
Because Stella is a terrific friend, she made a trip to the campus post office in the morning to check whether there were bags and to ask about the wrapping. Sure enough, the wrapping was going to have to come off. So, during my lunch break, I hurriedly unwrapped all of the gifts, remeasured and cut new pieces of wrapping paper for each gift, and packed a bag of the gifts, scissors, tape, and the paper.
Stella and I showed up once again at the post office. And once again, I heard the dreaded words, “Come back tomorrow.” At this point Stella was perhaps even more exasperated than I was. “But you said you have bags!” “We do have bags.” “Then what’s the problem?” “The van already picked up the bags for the shipment today.” At this point I didn’t know whether I wanted to laugh or cry. This was getting beyond the point of ridiculousness. “Can we pack the box today and you just keep it overnight?” “No.” “Can you look at the items now so she can wrap them tonight and bring them tomorrow?” “No. We must see her wrap them.”
Sometimes one of the best ways to deal with situations like this in China is simply not to budge. So Stella and I stood there. We were not leaving that office without some kind of progress in the situation. Stella started to approach the problem from different angles. “Can we at least weigh everything to see how much it’s going to cost?” This led into an argument about whether or not it was ok to ship candy to America. Eventually we persuaded them this was fine. They weighed the gifts. “Can we see if it will fit in a box?” The postman brought a box out and barely managed to fit everything in. “Do you think everything will still fit if it’s wrapped?” “Let’s try.” “Will we have to unwrap it again?” “No.” And so I proceeded, at the desk to wrap all of the presents in front of the postman. We managed to shove everything in the box. The postman started to tape the box shut and then gave us the shipping form to fill out. At this point, neither Stella nor I knew what the plan is, but we weren’t about to press our luck anymore by asking questions. We filled out the form. They weighed the package again. They told us the price. Stella asked if we needed to come back tomorrow. They said, no, they could keep the package.
And thus ended the 2010 nightmare of sending a Christmas package. And thus my dislike of the post office continued.
Updated on August 2, 2011
A rich man & a blind man
In the middle of Mark lies a beautiful contrast between two men. One who thought he had it all and walked away sad, and the other who had nothing and bounded away with joy.
There’s a rich man who comes to ask Jesus what he needs to do to earn eternal life. The guy is what many would label as a model of religious life. He’s the type that would always win Sword contests in Sunday school class, knew all the books of the Bible in kindergarten, and brought along four buddies to Sunday school on bring a friend day. If it’s a matter of personal effort and discipline, this guy has got it covered. He comes wanting to know what else he should do to guarantee his place in eternal rest. He comes with his hands full of personal achievements and wealth. Jesus looks at the guy and loves him. He sees his desire, his “do whatever it takes” attitude, and he loves him. So he asks him to do the one thing necessary to receive eternal life. He asks him to let go of all of those achievements, all of that wealth he’s holding in his hands. He knows the impossibility of receiving a gift when your hands are already full. But the man wasn’t looking to receive, he was looking to earn. And the thought of letting go of the earthly treasures and accolades he had built up? It was just too much, so head hanging low he walked away.
A few verses later we encounter the foil to the rich man–blind Bartimaeus. The guy is sitting by the roadside begging, when he begins to hear a murmur through the crowd that Jesus is passing by. He’s probably heard the rumors of this man–of the impossible healings, of dead men brought to life, of the promised Messiah. He knows this is his one shot at new life, so he begins to shout at the top of his lungs. The people around him, likely embarrassed by this maniacal beggar, try to shush him, but Bartimaeus just yells all the louder. Instead of doing what any respectable person would do (i.e. ignore the crazy person), Jesus stops and calls the guy over. And this is where the truly amazing action happens. Mark tells us that the guy jumps to his feet, and in the process throws his cloak to the side. It’s easy to skim over this little detail, but it is one of the keys to the contrast between Bartimaeus and the rich man. You see, for a beggar, his cloak was his livelihood. It was likely his one possession. It kept him warm on cold days, it shaded him from the sun on hot days, it provided a cushion to sit on as he begged beside the road. Does Bartimaeus carefully pick up this prized possession as he goes to meet Jesus? Not at all. He tosses it aside like a filthy useless rag. He runs to Jesus with hands empty. He’s chasing something much greater than earthly possessions. He’s coming as a beggar hoping to receive. Sure enough, restored vision is just a few moments away from him. Given this gift, he doesn’t go back and collect his belongings, returning to his way of life. No, Bartimaeus, knowing he’s found the greatest treasure and the greatest gift proceeds to follow Jesus along the road.
How are we approaching the Father? Are we coming clinging tightly to our talents, our efforts, our possessions, those things that give us security? At the orphanage, we often bring fruit with us to give the kids. Oftentimes, kids will grab two fistfuls of food, but then still come back for more. However, they soon realize that they can’t take anymore food unless they first let go of what they’re already holding in their hands. The Father longs to fill our hands with good things, but in order to receive, we must release the things we are holding onto so tightly. Should we find the courage to do so, like Bartimaeus, I believe we will walk away with a bounce in our step, knowing that we have indeed found the greatest gift of all.
Updated on August 2, 2011
Sunday snapshot: Just another Saturday
Just another Saturday at the orphanage. Words elude me; I’ll let the images speak for themselves.
Updated on August 2, 2011
From the news
Seniors at our university don’t attend classes. They pay the same tuition as their first three years of college, and even have a few final exams come the end of the semester, but no one is expected to go to any classes. In fact, many of the seniors are no longer even in our city. Instead, they are frantically searching for a job or preparing for the postgraduate examination. Job prospects for graduating seniors are quite grim, which means many hope to postpone the need to look for a job with further education.
For those unaware of the current college graduate conundrum in China, I highly recommend you check out a recent enlightening discussion done by the NY times. Four authors seek to explain the current state of affairs, including historical reasons behind it and likely future scenarios. Also helpful is another discussion of the issue done this past March. One thing is for sure, worries and concern over the future means that many students are currently looking for some sort of firm ground on which to place their feet.
Updated on August 2, 2011
Naked trees & a repost
Chinese pruning has struck again. This time in a more drastic fashion than ever before. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing small trees, in particular the cherry trees, being yearly cut back to an extent that future growth seems nearly impossible. This year, however, the local landscape architects deemed it necessary to cut back a great majority of the large trees that line the streets of campus, creating a rather stark scenery against grey skies and snow turned grey by coal dust. I must admit, I inwardly groaned when greeted by the sight the first day. However, the sight also drew to mind a lesson learned before. I figured since I certainly could use the reminder, you all might as well. So, without further ado, a repost from the archives.
Thursday morning I headed out of my door with a skip in my step. I was finally headed back to the classroom and I was certain there was nothing that could get me down. Then I walked out of my building. What I saw didn’t ruin my mood, but it did cause a frown to pass across my face. Sometime while I was enjoying my last full day in pajama pants someone had been very busy out front of our apartment buildings. What two days before had been sturdy little trees boasting numerous (albeit bare) branches had now become these glorified sticks.
The Chinese approach to spring cleaning and pruning at times mystifies me. Their measures often appear quite drastic and severe. However, there’s a fairly good chance they know a bit more about tending plants than I do. Three years ago, these very same trees were planted in a similar very stick-like state outside our building.
As foreign teachers, we mocked the sticks mercilessly. What were the planters thinking? It would take years before these sticks could resemble anything close to a tree! Needless to say, we all ate our words when we returned to campus in August to find these:
And the following spring, our little sticks were bursting forth with flowers. Maybe those Chinese gardeners did know what they were doing after all.
This history of our sticks passed through my mind as I headed off to class. There’s something about pruning that we seem to naturally despise. The process, after all, is not in the least bit beautiful. In fact, it is often the very parts that appear to be teeming with life that get cut off in the process of pruning. What’s left behind ends up looking more dead than alive. In fact, the naive passerby may scoff and doubt that life, never mind abundant life, could ever come from that.
How tempting is it to avoid pruning? To the outside world, this avoidance is one way to keep up the appearance of life and fruit. We may continue to flower, but we’ll never grow to our full potential. We were made to bear fruit abundantly, and the simple fact is that such bearing requires much pruning. Pruning that at times may by all appearances seem to be draining the life right from us. But should we have patience, life–abundant life–awaits us.
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