Summer is beautiful, water, trees, birds, and life. Ahhh. I realize now that the beauty of summer in that context only exists in places where when the news alerts you to a day of 85 with 30% humidity, you say, “what’s that?” Wuhan summer is definitely a wet one…and the first humid environment that I have ever lived in. You step outside and sweat forms along your forehead, clothes take hours to dry on a line, the air holds thick and saturated with the 8.5 million person expenditure of pollution… but still the lazy days of summer pass and in spite of the weather something makes those few months forever memorable.
This weekend I was privileged to travel out of my province to Yichang and tour some land along the Three Gorges.



The country minority life appeared quaint, simple, and pleasant with a majestic mountain backdrop. I saw women who were past old, wrinkled, ancient, spinning yarn, cooking vegetables, and sitting in peaceful reverie on who knows what…certainly not to their youth when they were young, beautiful, fancy-free and in love, not to the child rearing days of new appliances and an improved standard of living…they had always been sitting there, playing there, thinking there. They belonged as a part of the savage isolation that was beheld in such majesty. I felt no more connection than just a shadow passing through her land.
It was strange for me, a little nature girl at heart. I love wandering almond groves in full springtime bloom, sitting amongst a forest of trees swept up in the branches and the clapping leaves. I love stars, clouds, the ocean, and awe. Nature is my communion with God, the way that His glory unfolds blatantly before my eyes. For a reason though the wild beauty that I beheld was almost empty, eerie in a lonely sense and passing with a few photos I was contented to leave it behind.
Scanning some photos today I came across this one and stopped.


It jarred me in a way that was most uncomfortable because it is a place that my heart longs to be…just in this setting…a shaded backyard, fresh lemonade, birds, green, and a house that was probably not empty. People were probably there who wanted your attention, a clock was probably on the wall inside to signal that a church youth event began in about an hour, dinner probably needed to be made, children fed, music and champagne may have been chilling for a special date night. The picture speaks of nature as a part of community rather than a sole entity. My heart longs for communion, purpose, friendship, communication, and life! Stars are best shared on the roof of a house over lattes, wind is best enjoyed from a homemade wooden swing hanging on the old oak in the 2 acre front yard, mountains are enjoyed after a race to the lookout point or over a toasted marshmallow kiss by the campfire light.
I had so many dreams, longings, desires, and qualifications for my life but maybe I just need a potted plant, my Patrick, and a best friend.

Teaching

I've never thought about what it must be like for a teacher to grade but after today I think it is horrible. I have 3 classes of 35 and they each had one paper. It took me hours to finish partially because there were so many but I have another theory...Our University professors expected no spelling, grammar, syntax, or punctuation errors. The few that were present were easily marked. A teacher could breeze through a paper, grade on ideas, creativity and insight, make a quick comment and move on. My papers are composed with sentences that even a 3rd grader could not get away with. Once I pick up the paper I have to decipher what the mess of information means and somehow grade it as if it were a newspaper article. To make all of the corrections and re-word, punctuate, and compose English from their paper takes so much time and then I have to think of their ability compared with effort and topic idea to give them a grade. Something that is not even English can get a B or a C. It's too bad, but I'm expecting a lot from them.
I had one student write "Do you know Jesus Christmas?"** Another student wrote about how making out is "good for health" and went on to explain how it helps you burn calories when it is really passionate. Another student got a book of Chinese Proverbs and just wrote one after another to form paragraphs, and my favorite was the giant F on the bottom of a student's paper that just copied and pasted a Wikipedia article after several discussions on pledgerism. (eye-ahh) sound that we make in China that reflects exasperation.

---

**Selection from the article on Judaism: "Do you know Jesus Christmas? He is now believed to be a god by many people all over the world. He created Christianity. The book for this religion is called New Testament. The book for Judaism is called Old Testament. It is believed that the rout of the great religion Christianity is Judaism.
In ancient times, Jews lived in Palestine and founded the kingdom of Israel and Judah. Later, they were wiped out by Rome. Jews suffered great oppress in Egypt, and Moses led them out. Jews want to learn from Moses, he crested Christianity"-student
Apparently this student did do research and cited internet articles...so that's what my professors meant when they warned about internet article reliability.

As many close readers can testify, I hate to go shopping. I don’t like malls, clothes, fashion magazines, or “cute” outfits. Of course I appreciate the clothes that I have when I send my mom to the store with my debit card, but to actually step one foot into a department store or a mall makes me cringe.
A few weeks ago I went to a Chinese mall with a girl named Emily. Emily was going to buy a tennis racquet and some socks. She knew exactly where to go for sporting equipment, the brand that he wanted to buy, and when we stood in front of the display of racquets my eyes wandered left while her eyes wandered right. To the left were the cheaper racquets for beginners. Automatically I began to read price tags, weights, and features to determine which would best serve her beginner needs, be most durable, and the most effective for the least amount of money. I chose one very light, simple frame that has the features my brother taught me to look for in a racquet. She moved her eyes from the right and said, "That’s ugly, I want this one." THIS ONE happened to be one of the most expensive top of the line racquets with special features for very advanced players, but it pleased her and with her parents credit card she purchased it. A realization hit me, I hate to make decisions. As a person conservative with money I don’t just go into a mall or a store to buy clothes, I go in and I am bombarded with questions: If I can only get a few things which best meet my needs, do I have things to go with this in my closet already, which colors do I prefer, is it durable, can I wear it past this season, is the expenditure of money worth the item I will receive in exchange…? Once I have answered most of the questions I come to the realization that my clothes look just like everyone else’s and ones that I already have, so why even buy new ones, and I walk out empty handed.
In China it is much different. I am still concerned about price (even though my American dollar has more weight here) but one thing is different, a certain type of clothes are a part of the marketable style. For example, in America the styles for women are as follows:

Little girls in America: mini skirts and sparkly halter-tops. They’re only 6 years old you reply, but their parents take them to Libby Lou to get dressed like a pop princess complete with make-up and died pink hair pieces.
China: Almost every little Chinese girl that I see is wearing a beautiful “Easter dress,” the kind with velvety tops and poofy tulle skirts with a shiny satin sash.
Teen through young adult: The Abercrombie grunge look also offered by Hollister and American Eagle is the only fashionable style. Sizes and cuts are way to small and low to fit the average American girl
China: Women appreciate beauty, high heels, and femininity. Sun dresses and pastel summer skirts are very popular as well as chic European fashion.
Women in America: Express, Banana Republic, Gap, and Anthropologie offer women’s clothing that is either marketed for the business professional woman or for classic quality. The unfortunate thing is that these clothes come with quite a price tag…if a woman wishes to look like a woman, it requires her to stop hoping that Target and Old Navy will start to offer women’s clothes that are not a larger rendition of youth grunge clothing, and instead they will have to accept price tags over $100.00 for some quality feminine articles.

Now I’m reminded why I hate to shop in America, clothes are too expensive when they are unique and pretty, and settling for mediocre is a waste of my money.
I have, since leaving America developed an interest in fashion and wanting to add to my wardrobe because the clothes are quality, inexpensive, and pretty. I found a sale the other day and for $58 US dollars I was able to buy 1 shirt, 1 dress, one sweater, one purse, and one wallet from a store almost identical to Anthropologie. When I compared the sweater with one from an American store, mine was about $15 and the one at Anthropologie was $140.00.
I will probably hate to shop again when I come back to America.

The Chinese Vincents are hopefully “on the mend” (I’m not sure why that phrase is used. It seems to be pretty clunky English). I’ve been sick for about 2 months with pneumonia and also a digestive disease that I was born with. From time to time it will act up and I will be unable to eat or drink anything and I went over a week without eating and a few days without drinking, which is why I had to visit the hospital two posts ago. I have prescription medication for my esophageal spasms, an antibiotic for the pneumonia, bronchitis syrup, cold medicine, and Ibuprofen for fevers. The good news is that I am not dead and the medicine makes me quite fun to live with. I’m never sure when I’ll make up a random song and belt it out or what spacey mishap I may find myself in.
I need to dedicate this post to my recent heroes.

1. Derek and Megan. Megan is bursting with energy and creativity, she makes the coolest scrapbook pages and I think everyone who knows her loves her! Derek is constant as far as I’ve known him, even tempered, lighthearted, yet with a random defiant streak (like against the home owners association and geekiness. He makes geeks cool because they outsmart the cool people.) Anyway the reason they have achieved hero status is because of Megan’s recent post. Read Here. It’s great that I have ideals but I love the action that I have seen in their lives…Megan runs, Derek takes Connor to NASA, they let their children be children, they encourage imagination, they enforce discipline lovingly, and they never pass up a moment to indulge in little things…for example they made us a package and Megan made a Jack Bauer CTU shirt. Was it a random impulse? Go to the craft store to make t-shirts? Sounds fun to me! They are just worth admiring on several levels.
Oh, and we get to live at their house in the master bedroom which I believe they are painting for us, right? ;)

2. Paul (my youngest brother). Many people would overlook him either because he doesn’t talk (mostly because he figures it isn’t worth his time), or he is very sarcastic and either countenance would not earn the attention of unimaginative people. Most people would probably comment on Michael (my older younger brother). Michael is great. He stands out, loves people, he’s encouraging, positive, smart, involved, and extroverted. But this is for Paul, because I get him. He offers the world something that too many people overlook. On the outside what may appear to be a die-hard football player with a sarcastic bite and a competitive drive is a person just trying to give people a little more of something to live for. He comments on my blog consistently. No one in my family comments or even reads my blogs except him. The comments are usually satire, which he uses for two purposes…1. To let me know that he has been here and that he has read. He cares about my life. 2. To give me hope that even difficult things can be made light of in a little brother way. He achieves laughter in the midst of difficulties. He is totally not a football punk because there are times that I am irreversibly sad and I’ll get a comment or an email from him and I just crack up with tears running down my face. I don’t need sympathy, I need the ‘ol football knock on the head with a little reality to get up and keep going. I love my brother and I think he’s hilarious. (Hey, do you remember your stinky sandals? Our friend Craig has some; too bad he isn’t five so we can threaten to throw them away like we did for you.)

3. To be continued because I have to go out for a bit…

Look what I have :)

Hee hee

This morning I was in a Chinese hospital

This afternoon I was sitting on the grass eating M&Ms

Tonight I'm listening to my new Jack Johnson Curious George soundtrack (great CD)

It's been a full day. Thank you God for being with me

(I'm fine...maybe I'll include more details later)

My HUSBAND wondered…
If I don’t wash my hair for 6 days, will it stand up?

Unknowingly I wondered for 6 days…
Should I mention the smell coming from his head?

Answers:
Patrick’s: no
Mine: I should have known :)

Say Cheese!

Only in dreams could you buy a piece of cheese THIS big :)
....or maybe just in China would this be cheaper than two tiny blocks of mozzarella



To the non-believers, I most certainly can bake a beautiful apple crisp complete with flowers in the foreground and conveniently cooling by the window on a cutting board

The shadows

Oh wow. Finally blogger works again in China. What an incredible day and it is only 11:47am.
This morning I was able to talk to my longest best friend in the whole wide world Megan. She has been living in Brazil for a year and I’m in China; we’re so far from home together. I loved comparing stories and adventures to find that we are still as close at heart as ever.
I’m kind of glad that blogger hasn’t been working because I’ve been really sick and really sad lately…sad because I am sick, and sick because I am sad, but I think I can say that I have rejoiced through tears because I have become a woman. That is a lose term, I realize, but for as long as I can remember there have been women in my life that have clearly defined for me a godly woman. Some examples are my mom (at the top of the chart) :) Silvia, my godmother, Kathy Vincent, Joyce Meyer, etc. There are several, but some characteristics include a grounded purpose. These women wake each day and seek God in their lives, in the plans that they make, the attitudes they carry, the words that they speak, and the thoughts that they think. A godly woman has a foundation in God’s word that is informed, unshaken, and that is actively changing them. A life requires faith, recognition of a spiritual realm, intentional living, etc.
Ok, ok…so many words. I often need pictures and examples to support my words so launch into my past few weeks…

Three weeks ago
1:00am. Nausea flanked my body in the form of shivers from my stomach to my mouth as I shifted to squeeze more tightly into my pink blanket. Ouch. I buried my face in the fuzzy softness hoping it would be the anecdote for such lonely discomfort. Whimper. I didn’t feel any better. Father, help me. My side was asleep and when reaching to inspect and rub feeling back into the numb area of my leg, I discovered skin without sensation, well, it had sensation, but it was deeper beneath…could it be?! I was becoming a woman… hip deposits and I’m only 20! I’m too young for cellulite on my 115lb. frame! Be calm. (I really can worry about the most inane things at the worst times. I think it’s a talent.) I rolled back over and whispered “Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.” My dad taught me that verse when I was very young so that I could fall asleep and calm my creative (overactive) young mind. He would repeat that verse aloud until I fell asleep. I could hear his voice and I began to cry, but just a little.

1:30am. I’m sitting awake in bed and now pouring the contents from my stomach into a bedside container. It’s just great, low lamplight, puking cup, shivering, and divine inspiration to write. Want to join me? I was just thinking to myself that I would never have chosen this…ever.
Why does it take the shocking realities to turn our heads?

That night was one of many consecutive and random nights over the past month and a half. I was unable to eat, became very weak, and to walk to my class or take an hour bus ride to the grocery store was not possible. I remained close to “home” and I had only my thoughts and memories to entertain me. Memories that mostly consisted of spring afternoons by the swimming pool with family or friends, bike rides, laughter, strawberries, and sunshine. It remained cold, lonely, and ever so far from home.

During this time I had books and thoughts, and I needed faith. It gives perspective to God as a healer when your doctor is not present, or even one who speaks English. A doctor requires a trip to the hospital, a crowded Chinese hospital. How can I explain the weakness, my cough, inability to breathe, throwing up, etc. to a traditional Chinese medicine doctor? So we prayed, and prayed, and read, and began to recognize that in spite of the pain and the longevity of our down period God was sovereign and His healing hand was upon me because nothing can occur that He does not know about and we will not bear a burden that will not refine us.
My point in sharing this is that daily I went to God’s word. I started to pray prayers that claimed His authority, that took Him at His word throughout the gospels to call on Him and expect His love, to devote ourselves to prayer and meditation, and during this time Patrick and I grew so much closer, my understanding of God increased to a degree I have never known, and my life became a reason for rejoicing. That’s what I mean by becoming a woman of God :) I’m in progress to become a woman that devotes my life to God wholly.
If I can, please allow me to share just one more thing. Of course I can, it’s my blog, but really this is just the coolest most amazing transformation and I just want to tell you….
First the words, then the story:
When we accept God our spirit comes alive, we are “born again,” but the reality is that our mind is not made new because it is not something spiritual, it is a physical entity and the bible says that we should “renew” our minds meaning that it will not be replaced with automatic spiritual truth and reality, but that the renewing of our minds requires meditation and reflection, study of scripture etc. so that we can know the truth that sets us free…

My mind is naturally superactive. I can keep myself awake just by thinking, not worrying but thinking, getting excited, being anxious, wondering, asking questions, etc. I’m not usually bored because I have my thoughts to ponder, and sometimes I just want to cry because I wish I could stop thinking but I just get so excited and my mind won’t shut off.
Since I’ve been in China I’ve been obsessed with weight. Unhealthy obsessed. Chinese girls talk about it all of the time and it is a sensitive issue for me because I like to be active and healthy and have been sitting for a month. I was convinced that I was fat.
When we drive through the city in taxis and busses I literally make myself sick to my stomach by imaging worse case scenarios usually about being abandoned, dying, or having something happen to Patrick and I would not be able to communicate. I start to sweat and make myself throw up with those thoughts.
One of my favorite thought pastimes of late has been to think of the way that things were in the past. That one really trips me up because I get depressed about being so far from home. It doesn’t make me cry, but I get introspective and moody.
I am adamant about not spending money. I don’t care that we don’t have any bills and make a very generous salary for China. I won’t spend money because I feel like spending money is bad and indulgent.
Ok, do you get the point? I am bound by so many things; I have defined a few specific issues of fear, negativity, and devotion of thought to things that are insignificant. It’s a reality that these are areas that I struggle in. My thoughts come from human logic, past experience, what others say and reinforce, what I read and watch, and finally a spiritual force that has been trapping my mind with strongholds that are very powerful and bind me from being effective and a free woman of God.
I have learned that my mind will always be in progress but that I need God’s word, I need power and authority, and a relationship with my God because I am against forces that I cannot fight on my own…reason and logic support my fears and add to my worry or doubt, they flank negativity and hold me in an anxious state. What I have been doing is flushing my mind of the sources that I give authority, to replace them with biblical, foundational truth, the living word of God in others, in the bible, and through books.
I have been renewing my mind and life for three weeks has been like I have never experienced it. Yes, I went shopping yesterday and I thought I was too big, but I am learning 1 Peter 3, Psalm 38, I am reading Christian books, I am listening to Patrick when he says that I am beautiful, and I hear God’s voice speaking new truth to my heart that will be established in my mind.
It has been a serious, glorious, joy filled, beautiful month and a half and I could not just write the stories, the fun, the adventures without sharing the true transformation and power of God that has been in our home and lives. He needs to receive glory for that.

Now for the update on Chinese culture from the perspective of Mrs. Vincent.

Our University is very pretty and somewhat settled at the outskirts of town. The lake in the center apparently farms pearls in green soda bottles, but no one really knows for sure. There is lush landscape and the funny bit is that all of the landscapers are very old men and women that either like to garden or need to support themselves. Flowers, trees, grass, and walkways are always being put in and the workers will pause just for a second to stare wide-eyed at the foreigner, take a second glance, and resume their work. It’s really quite easy to hand out smiles as I walk past.








If you are looking for the most unsuccessful business venture, might I suggest a tanning salon in China? Women love white skin and they will tell me because I am white that I look like a doll, beautiful and white with eye lashes that are “too long.” Because they aspire to look pale like dolls they carry colored and embroidered umbrellas everywhere that they go. It’s quite funny because they tell me I will become ugly and brown if I don’t get one soon. I like my sunscreen but for now, the wind-whipped, sun-kissed feeling is not worth sacrificing to look like a China doll.



















Food is either rice or noodles, or some hybrid of the two. It is fried, or cooked with a lot of oil… so to rebuild my immune system, to find an outlet for creativity, and for the pleasure of pleasing Patrick, I have become a cook and a connoisseur of Western food in China. I bake bread and make tortillas, I’ve made barbeque pork sandwiches and pilaf, apple pie, beef stew, and my recent favorite is fresh vegetable lasagna with homemade ricotta cheese. Mmmm. It was so yummy. I just made tuna sandwiches for lunch with homemade pickle relish but I’m not sure what that will taste like.



















The absolute best thing about China besides everything else that I like is the pineapple on a stick. Little street vendors and shop owners will carry fruit carts loaded with pineapples and they cut them for you to preserve most of the fruit. It is not the American form of cutting fresh pineapple that leaves so little of the fruit, but they use special instruments to cut a spiral and it leaves almost all of the flesh on the fruit. The vendors will cut them lengthwise into four pieces, skewer them, and sell them for less than a penny. My friend Megan said they do the same thing in Brazil and she suggested that I freeze it. It’s in the freezer now and I’m predicting that it will be, amazing!






Hmmm. The students are great, well, people. They are the product of a specific education system as I am and our systems are just very different. I’ve enjoyed the challenge of teaching effectively and my efforts yielded two knocks on my door last week. One student came and asked if I would walk her through the entire writing process, so we sat for over an hour as I was able to instill confidence in her about her ability and teach her technique for effective writing. I loved it. The second knock was 13 classmates that just showed up to hang out with Patrick and I. We played cards, guitar, talked, and looked at pictures. I am so thankful for the opportunity to be in their lives.





Finally, I went shopping the other day. I decided it was time to exchange my American Eagle t-shirts for Italian sophisticate. Here is my new sweater and vest. Eh?


And finally I must write about my most recent craving…a cup of coffee and an hour in Starbucks. A student told me recently that she had been to visit a Starbucks in Shanghai and she had prepared for her visit. She was very excited she told me, about “her answers”. I stopped her and asked, answers? “Yes!” she said excitedly, “I learned from Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail how to order a cup of coffee. He said that there are 6 questions…caf, decaf, fat, soy, non-fat, etc.” She had learned about the options and was prepared to request what she would like. The glitch however was when she entered and ordered coffee expecting that they would ask the 6 questions and they didn’t. “I just had plain coffee. They didn’t ask me anything at all and I didn’t like it!”

I now leave you with…a representation of joy! (my mom sent me some essential items. Namely peanut butter Easter m&ms)

Isn't he cute?

MORE TO FOLLOW...

A round table discussion

I have been so inconsistent with my blog because of depth. Actually I’ve noticed a recent trend…
Bad day
Bad day
Bad day
My blog everyday would be “Today I had a bad day, this is what happened to me, because I have grace and God I must be strong.” It would be exactly the same minus all of the details. Ick!
Then I realized that I am not writing for anyone’s entertainment so they could just deal with it…but then I understood that I am also not writing for my own sake, and I contemplated why I even have a blog. I’m still not quite sure, but until I decide I’m just going to write without an intended focus, audience, or purpose.

My favorite Barbie set came with a flower garden complete with tulips, a watering can, and a “wooden” bench. The little setting was so quaint and I would place Barbie on the bench with Ken and Kelly, a watering can at their feet, and the tulip garden in the background.
My favorite book (that I’ve read about 10 times) is about Meredith, a young, smart, fun 24 year old with an editing career. She lives on a small island in Seattle in a cottage that is white with a flower garden and it sits across from a youth camp on a lake.
Emma is my favorite movie because she wanders in the English countryside among wildflowers and quaint cottages. Are you beginning to see a pattern? My repeatedly painted “ideal,” the quaint cottage house with a flower garden and romantic evenings on a porch swing.

Let’s talk somewhat about dreamed realities. Girls plan and mold realities to resemble dreams and fantasy ideas. It’s true. Are you the Brady Bunch family, how about the Focus on the Family, the soccer mom you always wanted to be, or the active 30 year old living the independent career life? Who are you compared with who you’ve always dreamed of being? Do you have your dream home and if not, when do you plan to? 5 years, 20? After the kids get through college? Dreams reside on the horizons of life as the accomplishment and fulfillment of success, hard work, a life mark, or a reward. They are so beautiful, so appealing and happy. I resort to my dreams on bad days. I curl up to think about my dream home or ideal job, the place that I want my family to be in 5-30 years. I’m learning a lesson about dreams though that Disney never bothered to mention when they worked the slogan “Dreams really do come true,” into their princess films. They do not come true. I may have my home, my retirement, my resort vacation, or even the simple life that I so often claim to desire, but that will be completely unable to fulfill who I am, what I am, or where I am. The achievement of my dreams will still result in bad days, lack of purpose, desire for relationship, emptiness, and questions.
I’ve been exploring the idea of purpose in an ever so Good Book. There is so much about a planned purpose for my life, a will, a direction, and a desire. Really, my purpose for being here has nothing to do with me settling down and being happy in my dream world or I would be in the Garden of Eden. I am here to fulfill a purpose and He will be faithful to fulfill His purpose for me through passions, goals, ideals, desires, and a prayer that I will always be open and a bit uncomfortable.
Patrick has often been chided for changing his mind. I’ve heard so many people call him a political waffle or flip-flopper without an intended focus or direction. I understand him now more than I ever have. If he or I were to set our minds on an intended focus and goal to pattern our lives around then we would not be as attentive to or listening for the voice of the spirit prompting and leading and guiding because we would already know what we were going to do. This is not a reason to be stupid, of course not. Certainly if I am thinking this deeply I know that we need to have some planned purpose. I wrote it this way in my journal, “It’s best to pursue passions and dreams that drive and challenge us because the settled ones will always be lacking.” It’s the action, the forward motion of God’s purpose and will that compose the journey of faith. I realize now that I want to write a book. It is not going to happen when I settle into the life of a writer, my dream life. It will happen when I chose to listen to inspiration and actively pursue it. I will not someday complete my thoughts about approaching God and do away with all cynicism; I need to read the bible and fast and pray regularly…because in the pursuit of Him in those ways I will come to understand Him more.
I had to compare three preschools from different cultures in my class. One was Chinese, one Japanese, and one American. The commentaries from classmates made me cringe. They stated that Chinese preschools, structured like boarding schools with week-long terms and weekend trips home were like mini-boot camps and unfit for children. The American preschools on the other hand they stated encouraged independence and play, parental involvement etc. My classmates were condemning the Chinese preschool VERY harshly when it is the only way that children can get nourishment, social interaction and awareness, and have some hope at survival for themselves and their family. The Chinese culture does not provide children with the leisure to play, imagine, and express themselves in supportive family environments because the parents have a one room flat as big as some walk-in closets. I understand the phenomenon and audacious moves of the American government that upsets most of the world because we have NO IDEA of some realities.

My dreams are still pleasant and beautiful but they involve active pursuit, change, calm listening, and a lot of the unknown.

I spent tonight with the best friends that I have ever had. Oh, I just met them tonight too. Inez and Marianne smoked about 10 cigarettes through the duration of the evening. We had a bottle of fine Italian wine between 5 of us, wonderful pizza, tiramisu, and espresso shots all around at a quaint Italian restaurant on French street. We shared wedding pictures, lives, stories, and teaching experiences. Marianne and Inez rattled off in French during our conversation, Craig, our ADD Australian was his usual self, animated and charming, and Patrick and I savored our 4 country compilation, smiling, laughing, and dreaming, realizing that sometimes the best and most genuine friends are different than you could have ever imagined. Dreams should also be so diverse as an Aussie, French, Canadian, and two Americans on a savory Sunday evening in March.

Enter In

I want to live in a library. Maybe not a currently in-use library, but the kind that breath history in their cool, musty interiors. A twisted ivy vine will partially cover my front doors, wide wooden doors with metal knockers and 5 inches of thick, knotted pine.
Can you picture the inside? Creaky wooden floors would accompany a crackling fire in the stone hearth and walls 15 ft. high would be filled with books in the entry and a ladder would hang for access to the very top philosophy section.
It makes me shiver and smile to think about the indoor courtyard. I can imagine my small flower and vegetable garden, trickling fountain, and aviary.
Yesterday I visited my library home and watched from the thick paned windows as they distorted the pine-tree view with old, aged glass and large rain drops. I realized that I am not home yet and once again I was sitting in the blue plastic chair like 50 others lined up as in the DMV office for the Visa officer to approve my passport. A tear leaked from my eye but I think it froze. There wasn’t heat in the 30 degree building.
Five final courses from overseas are coming to an end. I will be free from that burden but not without the last minute bucket of stress-frenzy splashed over my entire life and seeping into my health and relationships. It hit me like a blow, yesterday.
I break here because further details are unnecessary. The point of my post is not me and how I handled my “bad day” but the fact that I could not and did not.
Consider the phrases: “Always find the good in every moment.” “Live life to the fullest” “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” “Seize the day and the moment.”
I was thinking of Job. He cursed the day that he was born.
I made a decision after yesterday…I did not handle yesterday. I fell, I was dragged, I slipped and fell, I cried, got bruised, and was totally beaten by life and all of its circumstances. Perhaps anger and fear and pain and trembling were not the joy that is
“required” by optimists that seize the day, but they were my battle cries and emotions, they were my reaction to the fall of man.
My heart was crying as I curled on my bed following the excursion. I dreamed again of my library house. I decided that I wanted to go and be there. Now. A place that catered to my need for peace, my longing for paradise, my idea of the “perfect place.” I considered the long walks that I would have in my countryside back-yard and the animals and wild flowers that I would find joy in. The clouds in my blue sky turned black and I shivered in my library house all alone. I wanted association, I needed comfort. My “perfect” place was not perfect because I was alone. Alone and cold. My library house was on earth and again I was in a place living with the fallen realities.
Lord, may I live in a library in heaven? Will you be everything to me even when I do not deserve you? You are slow to anger. Remind me that you are slow to become angry with me. Hold me.

Pancakes and writing

I love Patrick. I never understood the extent that the word BACHELOR applied to him and how 2 years at the Sig Shack influenced his idea of an acceptably "clean" living space :) ... I'll get back to that in a moment.
I'm sitting up at 1:27 in the morning. I don't usually do that, but I do now. It shouldn't be much longer for my routines to be established, but maybe I'll always have the blessing of 1 am pancakes and writing time.
I'm wondering how to include you in my adventure, to place you within the scope of my day so that you can be here with me to share what I see and hear, and how I feel.
Do this. Put on your blurry eyes, the kind that peel open and kind of burn from allergies and too much bleach in the kitchen sink the night before. Peeled open, sleeping eyes, that have to find the bathroom and coax your feet from the covers. Next... try to feel an ache in your shoulder, down through your arms to your hands and fingers, through your back, down your legs, and in the caps of your knees. Finally, take a deep breath, hunch over a little, and experience this, if you will.
You’ve heard the stories, you’ve received “friendly warnings,” you’ve sat in government classes and now the wind pulls at your jacket through the terminal and you get to see whether Big Brother really does exist, in what form? Who will be checking passports and entry visas? What will they be wearing, smiles or plastered frowns? Will there be dogs… ammunition… and I checked my over-active imagination as a friendly, granted, bored, uniformed female entered the necessary information and sent me on my way. Oh, hehe…that wasn’t too bad.
These luggage carts are nice, but it’s a shame to have so much because now I can’t see, and where are we going exactly? I’m just following the grey sweatshirt and slight swagger of my semi-confident leader as he maneuvers us through crowds so different than I have ever experienced.
Not an English syllable, not a passing gaze, but that STARE…the stare that tells you something is in your teeth, that means you’re dragging your pantyhose behind you or your skirt is tucked in…you know, the stare. They have a reason to stop and stare at you always, no matter how you try to avoid it, ignore it, or overlook it. You walk down the isle at the local grocery store as people peer over your basket and watch your back. You exit a taxi and the man smiles like a giddy little girl because most likely he just ripped you off, why? Because you are foreign. You are an object that is the attention of those around you. Try to conceptualize that as you live the following experiences.
The Radisson hotel Los Angeles gets the job done. Bed, shower, cable tv, internet, continental breakfast, close to Disneyland, clean. The Radisson hotel Shanghai China, 5star. Period. Bell hops, many desk attendants, indoor plants, elegant lobby, an elevator that requests a room key for your destination and an ultra-modern, down outfitted, sunken tub hotel dream. Here’s the catch. I absolutely do not like fancy hotels whatsoever, wherever they might be. I still heard the warnings and stories in my head and wondered to myself where the cameras were strategically placed. My imagination tends to be hyper-overactive when I am tired. I lay my little head down to sleep and *BAM* Pop*Pop*Crack! A stream of rolled fire crackers umm, right outside of my window, were lit off in addition to some other huge cannon-like explosions into the beginning of my sleepless, restless, yet peaceful night. (Oh, they pretty much went off every 5 minutes) My Patrick was sound asleep. I got to watch that.















Rumbling tummies woke us at 3am. Patrick watched Battlestar Galactica and apparently had fun pushing all of the little buttons on our walls because when I woke up again at 6:30, the screen over the glass panel in our room was down and when I inquired, he had a little boy grin and said, “I was just pushing buttons and it made a really loud noise so I decided not to put it back up.” I ate breakfast at Kentucky Fried Chicken. Apparently the colonel serves noodles in broth with onions and mushrooms, and shrimp/egg breakfast sandwiches. Yummy?
Starbucks. One word. The website link does not list any in Asia, but sitting in a glorious, heavenly cloud beneath our hotel window was the green Starbucks and of course our noodle breakfast was washed down over a savored and shared hot cappuccino. I felt safe inside, like I could look out at the Asian world from what I knew of the familiar setting in Starbucks. I saw people riding past, bicycles loaded with many, many things… at one point it was chickens. I saw the basket and I saw fluff hanging out, a feathery lining across the backseat and in the back basket. Dead chickens, dozens of them were riding across my view from inside of a Starbucks. Excuse me sir, dispose of your unsanitary pile of dead animals and please go find your SUV, and then come back across my line of vision. No, not here. I could not have told that to Mr. Balloon guy either. An old man, grey and wrinkled pedaled softly on his clattering bicycle and he was barely visible. A lush bouquet of multicolored metallic balloons covered his image on the bicycle as if he were holding enough to lift him from the ground, but he stayed, and just rode past to some nearby destination, not the designated balloon counter at a grocery or party store.
The ticket counter representative literally had the taken back expression where the eyebrows slope and a frowning questioning mouth position gives the stimuli (Patrick and I) an indication that you are taken back. Yes, what’s wrong with checking in for a flight 7 hours early? Apparently we would not pass the security checkpoint for 5 more hours at least. I got lost in the airport. So many people, so tired of stares, I hoped myself invisible, and maybe I was. That night I went to bed in Wuhan and all I ate were noodles and chocolate for the entire day.

I cuddled close to Patrick all night. It was our first night in our apartment and we had some thoughtfully provided silky, princess-Jasmine-blue sheets, in addition to about 200 scattered mini heart-shaped balloons, heart cutouts, Chinese love streamers, and a rose comforter around our little house.
So, how many people knew that Patrick had birds? Maybe you asked him if he kept them in a cage. The answer, yep. He no longer has them, but as I surveyed my surroundings the next morning I was wondering about the white and brown clumps on the furniture and floors. Patrick, did you let your birds out to fly around? “Yes, maybe a little.” Did they sometimes like to go behind the heater (which I can’t move) and spread tons of birdseed and droppings of good cheer? “(smiling) yes.” And, was their cage perhaps propped on your only piece of nice wood furniture that is now splattered and covered with birdseed? “(laughing) Oh, is that bad?” Hmmm. I noticed the issue when I was offered a drink from a cup that was rinsed after sitting dirty on the counter for two months. I know, I know, you rinsed it out. Thank you for the offer, but it smells like moldy coffee. My preceding shower was in our all-tile bathroom that is corroded and smelly, and has bugs and mold around the walls. I am not a sissy so I used it, but afterward I saw Patrick gliding the standing water from around the toilet, by the moldy walls, and from the slimy tiles into the drain carrying bugs, mold, and tile chips with it. Then the same mop was wrung out. (He got the mop when he moved in). Ok, I don’t need anything fancy, more updated, or bigger, but please, may I clean and disinfect it?
Our morning walk to the “Wal-Mart” was enjoyable (remember the stares, always the stares). We gathered our necessary cleaning supplies, some pink rubber gloves, and toothpaste, then meandered down to the food portion. Bustling Asians in a fresh market everywhere and I could not read any of the signs. We walked from the fresh fruit to the meat section where I saw their special: heart and tongue. Eeeew! Rounding the corner I was met with a fishy/sewer scent and a tank. I did a double take as I saw huge bullfrogs and turtles piled high. The next tank was fresh fish with one that was belly up and still trying to move his gills. Another live fish in a plastic bag was just left in another frozen section obviously rejected and still flopping for life. That still gives me goosebumps. We left with juice, Oreos, and some apples. I made sure that there wasn’t any frog in our products.






I cleaned for the rest of the day and I have never cleaned and scrubbed so hard or thoroughly. At one point I told Patrick I would need a few hours to clean and he said, “Hours?!” I didn’t respond but when he came in and said that he didn’t know the sink or the tile in his kitchen could shine, he took back his exclamation :)
We took a walk tonight for some fresh food and then went to sleep. He’s been a little allergic to things and sleep was necessary for both of us.
Life is really enjoyable. I know I wrote about things that are shocking, but ultimately, I have made this my home. Wherever I am I put myself in it and I make it a part of me. I love my Patrick, my adventurous life, and the ways that I am provided for by the Spirit. In a taxi cab a song came to my head and without thinking of the words I just hummed it, but then I realized that I was singing this chorus: In every victory let it be said of me, my source of strength, my source of hope is Him alone. I love that.
So here I am. I made a pancake in the microwave because we don’t have pans. It’s easy…pour a little batter in with water, mix it up and microwave it for about a minute. It makes a short/fat little pancake. Perfect for a midnight snack with writing. I wanted to share my life. I want you to be here and in some ways everyone is. I love that my life requires devotion and hope in someone high.

Patrick is currently upside down (check his blog) and I am just barely standing up. I have loved the past few weeks and month and four months, being married is amazing and I love Patrick so very much! I would write all about that except that I am beyond disheartened right now. I'm not sure why I feel compelled or even allowed to lament on my blog, but I am just having one of THOSE days ;)
School is gnawing at me, every single piece of my emotion and patience etc. Sleep does not exist because of it, and let's just say my grades will be significantly lowered because at one point I was reduced to a hippie in a coffee shop. (We were internet scavengers while in Fredericksburg and I had a 2hr. online test so we scouted the location at a local coffee house and while I was taking a quiz all I heard lightheartedly was town business and that Patrick and I were the hippies he was currently housing in his coffee house) Anyway, needless to say a week went by with very little accomplished because even hippies can't scrounge free Internet for long. Gee whiz. God please give me patience to love the thick-brained legalists. I must be one sometimes.
I miss Megan and Connor and Nick and Sarah. I love my new family and my old family and everything about my compartmentalized life. It never seems to change that an airport always means goodbye in some form or other. I wanted to cry when I left Texas yesterday. Boohoo, I left my heart in Texas. However, before we left everyone was doing the verbal checklist procedure thing and I was able to say with a smile on my face, "Yep. I've got my husband. We're good to go" :) I love Patrick.
I can't really think about China or my adrenaline/fight-or-flight senses kick in. I'm excited to go but fighting the reality.
My favorite part about being married so far is that nothing has changed. I mean that respectively, not literally (I understand God's divine unity within us). I guess what I mean is that Patrick is still absolutely my best friend! We haven't ever really been the infatuated, lovesick and oogling couple but I guess I thought that marriage changed everything into a harsh reality check that FOREVER really is forever…I would have to say seriously that every day gets so much better!!! For example, mornings when we’re left alone either he cooks breakfast or I do, and the other person reads something inspiring either from God’s word, Jim Elliot’s journals, or Dietrich Bonhoeffer. How fun to wake up with your spiritual companion, your best friend, your love, and quite an adorable sleepy man.
I have needed consistency and fortitude for my heart to seek God and ground my hope in Him so much recently. Life really isn’t an uphill battle with His peace and hope, just a process and He is right there providing wildflowers outside of your window, a rendition of the ”happy song” from a spouse, inspiring words from a book, and whispers of His love for us when we quietly stop to listen. Lord, speak to my heart, quietly, softly, and peacefully.

Welcome Home

I think it's 9 days. I'm supposed to be really excited, I think, or nervous. I'm actually neither, which is hardly surprising considering that I have an excitement level that spikes just above sedate. It takes a lot to make me really upset or super excited. I'd say that I am pleased, content, and ready for the wedding hype to be over. I want to be married, alive, and fulfilling God's purpose with the most amazing man for me! (That is for those with questions about my anticipation and excitement).
Moving on, I would like to take you on a picture adventure of the past month...
The adventure begins on New Year's Day at Sequoia National Forrest. Patrick and I went sledding for the day with my aunt, uncle, and two cousins. It was funny because the paths around the forrest and to see the giant Sequoias were iced over and so slippery that we had to slide down the walkways sitting in our snow pants.





























Patrick decided at my grandparent’s house that he needed to climb their windmill to the very top rung.


















One benefit of being a Southern California resident is something called a 2fer. The 2fer means that you can get admittance into both Disneyland and California Adventure Park for the price of one, so we had two days of fun! I have never seen the park as empty as it was and we just walked up and got on every single ride.
Here is a picture of the roller coaster that I tamed. I even included the loop in the picture. Normally I hate roller coasters. I am a bench girl at Magic Mountain and when Patrick wanted to go I had already had an emotional morning and I knew that nothing good would come from my bravery. The ride started and I squirmed. It is the kind that shoots you from 0 to 70mph in seconds and as soon as we shot off I was bawling! The entire ride I just cried silently and by the end I couldn't really say anything. We just got off and I could tell Patrick was stepping on egg shells because he liked it, felt horrible for pushing me, and didn't know what to say. I walked a few feet, turned, looked up at it and then without emotion said, "Patrick, let's do that again." 6 times later we both had headaches and windblown hair, but huge smiles.




























Finally, I would like to share a historic event. Patrick bought 4 pairs of shoes in one day! I have never bought four pairs of shoes, or even two. It's practical of course, but still, note the dress shoes for the wedding, two pairs of Nikes and then his trademark Chacos. God bless America and my fiancé with his four pairs of shoes.