A little different this year

Thanksgiving looked a little different this year...
It looked like trips to the meat market down the street in the cold, taking a bong bong (3 wheeled transportation) with team mates) to pick up produce and very fresh meat.
At the meat market, the silk warms wiggle around in trays, the blood pools on the ground from the freshly slaughtered animals being cut to order, and fish swim in tanks ready to be bought.
It is a whole new experience. A great place to practice Chinese, observe culture and generally be gawked at by Chinese men.
This Thanksgiving looked like divvying up recipes between the teams, making sure everyone brought something different to the FEAST at the language school in the city on Friday. It looked like helping boys know how many potatoes to buy for mash potatoes and trying to buy ham hocks by gesturing to my heal and saying to word pork in Chinese... Didn't work but it was worth a try.
Thanksgiving this year sounded like my dad telling me how much he ate and the negative impact it was having on his body. It was all of my siblings crowded around Skype for a good long conversation. It was a video they made at the table before they ate telling me how much they missed me and talking with my grandma's that evening to tell them I loved them.
It looked like spending a whole day in the Kitchen on Friday, classes canceled for me. I made green beans and potatoes, amazing pumpkin pie with REAL whip cream (from the foreign store), and mushroom and veggie stuffed chicken with homemade Cream of chicken soup. It looked like being adventurous and failing and trying again. It looked like listening to Heidi Baker and eating Ramen in Tannah's Kitchen for Lunch.
3 o'clock rolled around and I felt like I was back home trying to get to Grandmas on tim. Panic and stress- the taxi is waiting outside.. hurry hurry to get the food packed and downstairs. I hold the pie in my hands while the taxi carreens through the streets of Changchun, speeding quickly, weaving through traffic. I pray for the dishes in the trunk.
We arrive and there is a real turkey someone ordered and Thanksgiving seems more real for some reason because there are 15-20 kids of all ages running and screaming all around and families mingling and my spiritual family all around. Though I haven't met them yet, I feel a kindred spirit and a sense of peace.
We eat too too too much and go back for seconds. We talk of food babies, eat pumpkin cheese cake and i find new friends in two precious little girls about 3 and 4. I chase them around with a play blow fish while they scream and laugh. I don't know who is more amused-me or them. Eventually one of the little girls comes to me and annouces she is tired and the game is over. Later we pretend to take a taxi ride together. She annouces "Buckle your seatbelts, it;s gonna be a roller coster ride!" I think about a little girl who has grown up in China and who more naturally imagines taxi rides than car rides and crazy Chinese drivers who really do give you a roller coaster ride. She announces that the ride is over and when I ask how much I owe her, she tells me, "22." My little 3 year old friend says, "Oh, I have 22." and pulls the imaginary money from her purse.
I want babies ever MORE. My teammates hold Jacinda, a 3 month old precious baby with gorgeous blue eyes and we coo and work our best to make her laugh and smile.
We come back and clean and watch.. Babies the documentary (it wasn't my choice by I didn't disagree). After the movie, we look out to find a white glistening, snow covered world. It had snowed at least 2-3 inches during the movie.

unexpected circumstances

Tonight, my student Loula and I went to a cafe to chat and hang out. Cornerstone is like-minded, run by Chinese, and had a phenomenal atmosphere.
She poured out her heart for 2 hours while we sipped Apple and lemon tea and nibbled ginger cookies. Loula had been dealing with the break down of a friendship and had skirted the problem and passively allowed 'time to heal all wounds' in what seems to be the Chinese way. Eventually, problems mounted until they imploded upon both girls.
Can I just say it is difficult to give relationship advice to people of a different culture! I know enough to know i don't know much about this culture :). However, I do believe dealing with issues in a loving manner is basic and necessary no matter where you are. Unfortunately, the way we deal looks different in different places...
So I listened and asked some questions and gave advice sparingly. It was a good time.
In the middle of our conversation, another student, Bob, from a nearby University appeared and said hello. I had met Bob on a previous trip to the cafe and recognized him. We chatted and he asked to join our conversation. Bob is a member of the Musl. Minority in Ch.
We chatted for a bit before Bob went to join another conversation. About 30 min. later, Bob returned and asked if we would like to join him for dinner at a restaurant that served food from his region. We agreed and headed out into the cold to Musl. restaurant.
We arrived in 3 min. and Bob made himself at home. We ordered huge, steaming plates of noodles that smelled slightly of horse though the meat was beef. The food was delicious and we talked about bob's culture and background as we ate. Loula was full of questions.
The minority Bob is a part of are almost Middle Eastern. The speak a language that comes from Arabic and most of the people are Musl. To be part of the minority is to be Musl as he explained. Bob has been studying the Word for 3 years because he enjoys the messages in it and the good example set by the Son.
In the middle of our conversation, Bob looked at me with his intent brown eyes as asked, "What is the most important thing about chrstanity?"
Papa is so incredible isn't he. I looked at Loula, who had been reading the word for luck and peace the weeks before, and I looked at Bob. I told him the main thing is believing in the true Identity of the Son and what he has done for us. Then loving him and others as he told us to do.
Bob knodded his head as he slirped up some noodles and i asked him what the main point of being a Musl. was. He talked about the 1st pillar and the 5 daily times of kneeling.
Our conversation continued and I marveled at the incredible way Papa is working here. Surely his plans are far superior to mine.

Winter wonderland

The snows fell heavy overnight and I woke up to find the world white, pure and gorgeous. The snow was falling thick and peaceful as I walked to Kung Fu at 8. We learned round house punches (?)and blocks and I was thankful once more for this class that forces me to exercise at least once a week.
The Son and I met after Kung Fu and it was a delightful date on a relaxed Saturday. The Shepherd knows his sheep. John 11. Do I know my Shepherd's voice? Do seek his face as I would my beloved?
They say Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Well, I could punch them sometimes.
Absence sucks.
Absence between two people very much in love makes them thankful for the times they are together because keeping a relationship going with physical absence is a LOT OF WORK! Hank, my boyfriend, and I work hard at our relationship now that I am in China. We worked hard at it while I was in America too, but it is harder still when Absence is a factor.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder because you can't take things for granted. You remember details about the one you love while you are missing them- the way their eyes look when they laugh and the way their hands feel in yours...
But true absence, the kind I am guilty of between my Perfect Lover and myself, kills the Holy Romance. It doesn't kindle it. And I was reminded of that this morning.
He romances me in the snow and the wind. In the gentle feel of a Chinese baby falling asleep in my arms at Fellowship. He woos my heart over dinner with the silly and beautiful girls I get to hang out with and teach. He takes my breath away with apple cider and good news shared at a coffee shop with new friends...

Sandiago and the Correo de Torro

On Sunday, I skipped fellowship (muahaha). I woke up early and started the day off right with some coffee, the word and nowhere to be all day.
Its amazing what one can find joy in when you have the freedom to take time and do it! Its amazing how FUN cleaning can be when you make a game out of it. I bleached my bathtub and sink and cleaned my kitchen and felt like I have climbed a mountain. (When you hate cleaning as much as I do, you must rejoice in the small triumphs).
Around 12, I asked a student to lunch and then headed to the dining hall to eat when I didn’t hear from her. As I was walking the line of food vendors in the cafeteria, trying to make up my mind between dishes and dumplings, a student introduced himself to me.

“Hello,” he said. “I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Sandiago and I met you in the beginning of the year. Monica introduced us.” I nodded slowly, trying to clear the fog that had formed over the two months since we met and then nodded faster as I finally remembered having met him. “You speak some Spanish.” He said. ‘Oh boy,how much is some?’ I thought to myself as I explained that my Spanish was a little rusty.

Sandiago invited me to eat with him and I agreed. This is one of my favorite parts of the culture so far- the emphasis on relationships and hospitality. The idea of ‘why do it alone if you can do it together?’
I soon learned that Sandiago had a girlfriend studying in Spain and I immediately felt a connection with him. We were both suffering from Long Distance Relationships… 

We talked about Chinese culture and Sandiago put into words so many ideas and truths that I had found it difficult to grasp. I told him he needed to teach foreigners someday. He humbly replied, “I read a lot of books.”
We talked about Spain and the Run of the Bulls. He told me all about protests, the money that goes into the event and the lives that are lost due to the greed. Whenever he couldn’t think of a word in English, he said it in Spanish and I generally understood him.

We talked of Western culture and the influence it has on China. Is it good, bad, neutral? What of tolerance? Well, if you want to determine the usefulness or validity of something- look at its products. What has tolerance given us thus far?
As we prepared to zou ba (let’s go), Sandiago reached into his bag and pulled out a banana and a tomato. He said, “See, it is well I have bought two of each. One for you and one for me.” What can I say or do in the face of such generosity? I smile and take it and thank him. He has blessed me more than he can know and taught me many things over a simple lunch.

And I shop with a skip in my step and a song in my ear

      It was a gorgeous day, sun shining and a rare 60 degrees outside. I couldn’t resist taking a walk down to the corner market to pick up some veggies and eggs for brownies this week. I also needed to walk to the big (20,000 student) university down the street to pick up some pictures I had developed there.

     So, contrary to the advice given during training, I popped my earbuds in my ear and started one of the playlists Hank gave me. There is nothing quite like walking through the streets of China with Katie Herzig singing in your ears, while you wave ‘Ni Haio,’ at the over happy guards on the street in front of the super-ritz western apartments, wearing their long red trench coats. They wave “hello,” back and gawk at your western big nose and big ahem.. curves. (well, its true) In fact, it helps to have love songs playing in your ears when you get gawked at by almost every man you pass, not because you are beautiful, but because you are different.

      I get to the store and meander through the small aisles with a giddy smile on my face- way to happy to pick out cucumber, carrots and cabbage for my pancit. I get to the front and pay only to realize I have forgotten to weigh the apples. Jack Johnson, thank you for making this moment one of delight. As the lady at the check out hands me my bag of apples, I smile and walk back to the man at the scale. I give him a ‘Oh well, I am a dumb westerner’ smile and he weighs my apples. 4 rmb- 70 cents for 3. Not bad.

      I walk back to the front with a skip in my step, praising my father to the sound of ‘Banana Pancakes” and Jack Johnson’s Hawaiian voice.