Me, "Megan, when you're done being the best soccer player in the world, will you be a coach?"
Megan, "No."
Me, "What will you do then?"
Megan, "I'll keep playing soccer."
Me, "You mean even when you're an old lady."
Megan, "Yep."
Me, "But how will you make money?"
Megan, "I'll just kick the ball around."
Me, "And people will pay to watch an old lady kick a ball around?"
Megan, "Yep."
Let's hope she's a REALLY interesting soccer ball kicker into her old age.
I have to share these thoughts from the book The Gift of Being Yourself by David Benner. He's written some excellent books about identity in Christ and living out of our relationship with Him (although I'm still partial to Brennan Manning's writings because they feel more raw and real to me). Here's what he has to say about the true/false self:
We do not find our true self by seeking it. Rather, we find it by seeking God. For as I have said, in finding God we find our truest and deepest self. The anthropological question (Who am I?) and the theological question (Who is God?) are fundamentally inseparable. It is by losing our self in God that we discover our true identity.
There is no true life apart from relationship to God. Therefore there can be no true self apart from this relationship. The foundation of our identity resides in our life-giving relationship with the Source of life. Any identity that exists apart from this relationship is an illusion.
I confess that earlier in the week I was thinking about this on-going list and thought, "I don't think I could think of 25 things right now!" It's been a tough week emotionally with Erik being gone. I think often we consider the ramifications on our kids for Erik's travel, and assume that the two of us will be able to manage ok, but I think this last month of business for us has been taking its toll on me personally! Add to that the fact that our best friends here leave in less than a month, and I've got a recipe for a very busy heart.
But we are to give thanks IN all circumstances right? So here goes:
226. The weather has been blessedly cooler than usual, which is glorious
227. Rain!
228. The flowers I liked the best of those I bought on Mother's Day are still alive and beautiful
229. My jasmine plant is finally blossoming!
230. Our car is powerful and I love it
231. While our apartment is still waiting to be renovated, we have a great local guy helping us who gives us confidence that it will get done eventually and well
232. We have friends who are having their apartment renovated by the same guy, and he's ahead of schedule and under budget. In China????
233. Free mornings
234. My treadmill
235. All the stuff Erik's bringing back from the States for us - it will be like Christmas!
236. I have completed 3 (almost 4) sections of a writing project I'm doing
237. The kids have been reading like gangbusters lately
238. Our friends who live next door - love how easy it is for us to stop by and for them to come over!
239. My family comes in just over a month!
240. The book Bold Love, by Dan Allender. His stuff is always challenging.
241. Reading with the kids - we're actually reading a book they both love!
242. Tao Bao
243. Lohao city - an organic store outside our building that has really good stuff, including flax seeds and Sunmaid raisins
244. Chinese class two times this week and seeing my kids be able to read lots of characters
245. Seeing the lights go on in their heads when they understand what's being said to them in Chinese
246. The dirt market - heading there tomorrow. It's one of my favorite places in town!
247. Heading to the dirt market with good friends=even better
248. New fun places near our building in which to eat and play
249. A great time out with girlfriends on Wednesday afternoon
250. Finding out that it's cheaper than I thought it was to change my middle name (from Marie to Brenna) even though I have to wait til next summer to do it
Wow, that was easier than I thought it would be. :)
Just this morning I was lamenting the loss of aspects of this culture due to development. For example, When we came in 1999, the bike lanes were as wide as the streets. At a stoplight, there were often 50 people stopped on bicycles. Now, there might be a handful. Times, they are a changin'.
Sure, you still see people walking backwards for exercise, but you see far more running forward in a more sensical manner. Most of them are actually wearing sneakers now and not dress shoes. Most would say this is for the better, but I'm nostalgic for the old backward ways (both literal and figurative).
Then this afternoon I went to pay for my kid's Chinese classes. I was given a three layered receipt in one office and instructed to go pay in the next room over. The girl in there looked startled, as though she is rarely called upon to perform this duty. When it came time for her to give me my 60Y change, she pulled out a large Butter Cookie tin and rummaged around for it. She came up 10Y short, so she reached into her own wallet and gave me the extra. Then she stamped my receipt, took one copy, and told me to go give one of the other two to the girl next door.
I was so ridiculously happy at this exchange, I can't tell you. I hope some things never change.
Today was my red letter day for tromping back to the dentist where she planned to work on the "easy teeth." This required drilling out the old silver filling in one tooth (not a problem), then drilling in to the recently refurbished tooth next to it to find out why it was turning gray.
Wow. So it turns out that when you drill into a tooth and it's healthy, it should be yellowish, which the first one was. Now, I'm no dentist, but I didn't need her to tell me that when she drilled two holes in the second one and I was looking at two black caverns, it wasn't good.
The dentist was very proud and pleased when I told her initially that I could skip anesthesia for the first tooth. It got a little sensitive toward the end, but I reminded myself that I have pushed babies out of me and that I could handle it. She told me the second tooth was deeper and more likely to hurt. I told her I'd give it a try. Again, proud and pleased.
To our surprise, it didn't hurt at all. I thought this was good. She informed me it wasn't. She was potentially going to have to drill a lot deeper to get all the black out. Then she launched into a long explanation of the various possibilities (dead nerve with cavity, dead nerve without, not dead nerve suddenly being touched by drill equaling pain, most of these options involving more money) which would follow. My main concern was, "So WHEN are you giving me anesthesia? Because all of this sounds really painful." Showing me what would happen on her little three dimensional tooth model did nothing to assuage my fears.
Finally she called in a colleague who spoke English. I have never, in all my 11 years in Asia, been so happy to find an English speaker. He went over all she'd said again. I realized I had mostly understood her (though she didn't think I did) but it felt so reassuring to hear it in my own language. I could have hugged him, but that might have been awkward.
In the end, I did get anesthesia (thankfully not up to my eyeball like the last time). She was able to get out all the black stuff without hitting the nerve, throw some disinfectant in there, and fill it with a temporary filling. She told me I can't eat off that side for the next two weeks or the filling will come out, which feels a bit like saying, "So only sneeze out of the right side of your nose for the next two weeks, ok?" but I'll try. Then I'll go back for her to replace it.
I am so not looking forward to the "hard teeth."
Getting a good haircut is an art. Getting a good haircut in Asia is a miracle. You have two choices - go to a ridiculously expensive foreign place (where your chances of getting a good haircut are better, but your chances of regretting dropping that much for a bad haircut are significantly higher too). Or you can brave going to someone local and trying to explain what you want. Me, I go local.
I try to go armed with some pictures to give them an idea of what I want. I have picked up some vocabulary that includes "length, cut, trim, color" but should really expand to include, "layers, bangs, blunt, thinning shears (as in, "Don't use them")." I have a hard time explaining what I want in my own language. Add to that the fact that I have the hairline of Dracula (seriously, I'll show you sometime) which messes up any normal haircut, and you've got a recipe for tears and months of ponytails.
And yet, I still try.
I went the other day and explained with pictures that I wanted her to cut bangs, and leave the length but give me more layers. Essentially she did that, though in retrospect I realize I should have been more specific. This is when I am glad I am not a Barbie doll - my hair will grow back. It always takes a few days for my hair to process, "What on earth did you let her do to me? Now how am I supposed to look? What was wrong with me before?" and then it reluctantly settles into something new.
The interesting thing this time is that it finally cut off all previously dyed hair. I now, for the first time in about 2 decades, have all my own hair color (including my first few gray hairs - what??). When I came home, Megan said, "I don't like how dark they made it." I had to inform her that was the part which actually went right. I was hoping it would finally be my own again. Who knew I was this much of a brunette?
Haircuts in Asia. Not for the faint of heart.
I love times when I am out and about here, something happens, and I think, "I am SO going to blog about this." Last night I had one of those moments.
Erik and I had found, on our way back from the dentist, a new restaurant called Happy Pizza. It had outdoor seating and was adjacent to a complex with a courtyard where the kids could play. That's our kind of restaurant. So we decided to try it and it didn't disappoint.
Well, it maybe disappointed a little in the food and beverage arena, but not in the interest level. For one thing, they had sweet dark brown velvet chairs that we coveted. They were unfortunately made in a province outside of ours. The menu had everything from pizza to salads to burgers to Chinese food. We ordered a tomato and corn salad, wings, a half Hawaiian, half vegetarian pizza, and drinks which included a strawberry milk tea for Erik. What do you think of when you imagine a strawberry milk tea? Do you imagine a cup of hot pink liquid that tastes like Slim Fast? No, we don't either. Especially since I thought Erik had ordered a strawberry milkshake. But that's what it was. By my account they'd really missed the boat. We laughed heartily.
Our pizza had some extra, surprising toppings. Our vegetables included broccoli and corn, both good, both not usually found on a pizza (unless in a non-franchised pizza chain in Asia). The kids did not appreciate the addition of black olives on their Hawaiian side. The only mark against this place was that they could not produce a Coke Zero or a Coke Light, and tried to offer me a regular Coke instead. In this part of town, that's pretty surprising.
After dinner we wandered into the complex next door and found the largest expanse of green grass I think we've seen in the city. You and 100 of your closest friends could easily have a picnic there, if the locals didn't boot you out (they probably wouldn't - they'd just gawk).
These are the kind of experiences I love here - finding a new little spot to enjoy, and having it remind you that you're not in Kansas (or Minnesota) anymore. I say keep 'em coming cause I love writing about them!
I posted previously about how I've been using my imagination to help me extend grace to frustrating people on the roads here. It's been helpful, but I find that I am lacking creativity to deal with one of the most prevalent problems:
People just don't look.
It's hard to believe that's true. It's like everyone's playing a game of Frogger blindfolded. This goes for drivers and pedestrians alike. The theory seems to be "If I don't acknowledge you, you must avoid me." The problem is, what if I don't see you? So it falls on me to be constantly vigilant for old people wandering across the road, women riding bicycles like they can't turn their heads if they tried, and cars that are pulling into my lane. It's made me quite a defensive driver. I also have to swerve a lot.
So, any creative ideas on how I can justify their actions and not want to just run them over while calling, "Serves you right!" out my window?*
*For the record, I would never actually do that.
You would think that a family trip to the dentist would not be categorized under "adventure." But when a simple teeth cleaning must be navigated in a second language, let the adventures begin.
We wandered around our neighborhood, looking for a dentist some friends had visited. I don't think we found that one, but we did find A dentist. I was really hoping that there would be nothing wrong with any of our teeth beyond cleaning, because that's all I know how to say, "Please clean our teeth." Also, I understand the word "problem." (as you can imagine, that word will become quite relevant later in my story).
First, we experienced the new and exciting opportunity to view our teeth on a computer screen in front of us. Wow - my teeth look really nice from the front thanks to years of braces and a commitment to personal hygiene, but my top back teeth have been running feral back there, like it's some 1980's back alley. I say 1980's because there are still a few teeth with lingering silver fillings. She pointed out that these must be more than 20 years old. Yes, thank you.
And then she said, "Let me show you a few problems with your teeth" after which the conversation took a tricky turn. She kept using a few phrases like "bu ya" (which I believe must mean "filling") and "qian ti" which I'm a little afraid means, "root canal" but more likely means "cap." Often she'd say a word several times and then tell me, "You can check what that means later."
The gist of what she told me was, "You've got some nasty old fillings back here that are making your teeth gray. I suspect that means inside there's all kinds of wrong stuff going on. I'm going to have to go in and see what it is. Also, that tooth you had redone in Singapore is pure crap. I'm going to have to redo that too. Then I'll recover them with white, you will praise me as an amazing dentist, and you will hand over large stacks of renminbi to our office."
Erik's got one of those ancient fillings too. Is it normal to want to eradicate these? Are they really so toxic? This is the problem with dentistry in another language - I'm trying so hard to understand, I can't begin to question whether or not it's legit.
Next Monday I go in for phase 1 of "bring Gina's back teeth into the 21st century." Should be another great adventure.
The level of lawlessness which prevails on the streets here is really mind-boggling, not to mention life-threatening at times. I've mentioned in a previous post my gradual, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em" stance which I've adopted in response to some of this lawlessness. This certainly helps me extend grace to those who drive like there are no rules, although it's probably developing habits in me which I should not replicate when I return to the States. (let me extend a preemptive apology if I pull bonehead moves on my next visit and you happen to be driving with me - just kick me and remind me where I am).
There are a few things which I will not do, however, and for these circumstances I have decided that instead of imitation, my coping strategy will be imagination. For example, when a car goes weaving in and out on the highway at breakneck speeds (this rarely happens, by the way. Most people never hit the speed limit) I pretend that it is someone rushing to the hospital. This makes perfect sense, as every ambulance I have ever seen here has been stuck in traffic. Odds seem better if you do it yourself.
Another example, much more common - someone is driving 40km/hr on the highway, with no apparent obstruction. Furthermore, they are doing this is in the fast lane. When this happens, I have started asking myself, "What if that were my daughter at age 16, learning to drive, nervous, still figuring things out?" I would want someone to give her grace, so I simply pass them in another lane. Granted, most 16 years old probably need to be told to slow down rather than speed up, but again I think this makes sense. I don't know the stats, but I would guess that the majority of people on the roads here have been driving for fewer than 5 years. It's like a whole country of teenage drivers who are not quite sure what they're doing.
I have yet to imagine a plausible excuse for the person who misses his exit and drives backward down the highway to catch it, or the guy who turns left from the right turn lane, but I'm working on it. As always, life here is about perspective.
Here are a few paragraphs I read this morning from Bold Love which continue in the same vein as my previous post:
"If our sin is a mere failure to conform - simply a mistake to do what is right - forgiveness is really the granting of an opportunity to try again. In that light, it is like forgetting to finish one's homework. We deserve a low grade, and grace becomes merely the privilege of doing it over to get a higher mark. Such a view of grace might generate appreciation, but it would never drive us to worship."
"A sight of God's holiness without a hint of His mercy will lead to either hopeless despair or to something even more awful, pharisaical presumption of ability to "do His will." On the other hand, a mouthful of mercy without a somber taste of holiness seems to move us to a brazen familiarity with deity that twists Him into everyone's favorite uncle."
"Mercy is persistently meaningful only to the degree I am silenced by the enormity of my refusal to love God and others with my whole heart, soul, strength and mind. To the degree to which I comprehend what I deserve, I will be wholly overwhelmed by the direction God's wrath proceeds (toward His Son on the cross on my behalf)."
In other words, God's love is all the more amazing when I fully own how much it cost to rescue me, a sinner who falls helplessly short of His holiness. Good reading!
Last Saturday Erik and I had the privilege of hearing thoughts on growth and transformation from a man we both highly esteem and love. Here's my favorite thing he said,
"I am sobered by the depth of my depravity, and I am encouraged by the depth of my redemption."
I love this, because it reminds me something that God has shown me in the last few years - we have to look hard and honestly at our sin and lostness, but we have to look just as hard at and acknowledge God's love, grace and forgiveness that measures and surpasses the depth of our fallenness. Only them do we really see who we are and how much it really cost God to save us. And at the same time, we see how unspeakably amazing and vast is His love for us. Our friend took it a step further for me and reminded me that God doesn't just save us, He sanctifies. There is growth that happens, and instead of only looking at how we fall short, we need to look at and rejoice in how far He has brought us.
Just as it's good to test drive cars other than the one you think you want, it's good to look at apartments besides the one you think you're going to take, just to make sure it's the one. Or, as is the case here in China, to prove that it's the only one out there that isn't going to make you raise your eyebrows and say, "What were they thinking with this decor?" It's not wrong, it's just very, very different.
So while we wait for the negotiations to settle with our potential landlord, I thought it would benefit me to look at a few others. I called a real estate agent on Sunday and told him that I could see apartments on Monday from 3-5 pm or Wednesday from 1-3. I explained that I live in a different district of the city than the district to which we're moving, so it's not convenient for me to come at random times. I also told him my husband was out of town so I had to watch my kids more often. I thought I made this all perfectly clear.
It seems something got lost in translation.
Here's the conversation I had with him on Monday night at 7 pm:
"Hello, Hong Jia Hui (my Chinese name). Are you busy?"
"Yes. I'm at home with my kids, by myself."
"So you can't come see anything right now?"
"No."
"When can you come?"
"Wednesday, between 1 and 3 pm."
"Ok."
I had the next conversation with him on Wednesday morning:
"Hello, Hong Jia Hui. Can you come see an apartment today at 3 pm?"
"No, I have something from 3-5."
"When can you come?"
"I could come at 2, or I could come at 5."
So we arranged to meet at 5.
At five minutes to 2, I got this call:
"Hello, Hong Jia Hui. The landlord can't meet at 5. Can you meet earlier, at 3 pm?"
"No, I have something from 3-5."
"Can you meet at 2 pm?"
"I'm in Hai Dian. If I get in my car now, I will not be there until 2:45."
"Can you meet at 2:50?"
"I have something at 3."
By the end of this third conversation I thought, "There's got to be something I'm missing about how Chinese people look at viewing apartments, and about how they view time commitments." For the life of me though, I'm not sure how to interpret this situation.
If you haven't eaten Chinese food in China, you haven't eaten Chinese food. And if you haven't eaten Chinese food cooked by our helper, you're missing out on some of the finest. That's why it's with great sadness that I have gone without it for the last four months.
Why, you ask? Why would I deny myself some of the best Chinese food in the world? Simple deductive reason. Beginning last summer when we moved here, I began developing certain symptoms which, let's just say, are of a feminine nature. They grew progressively worse each month until we went back to Minnesota in December. Over the course of the two months we were there, they gradually faded. The first month back in China, boom - symptoms resurface. Thinking back on the increasing amount of Chinese food I was eating in the fall, the absence of it in MN, the 9 times we ate Chinese food the first week back in China - well, it certainly seemed like a factor.
So my great and sacrificial experiment began - deny myself Chinese food for several months to see what happens. This was difficult to explain to my helper, as I don't have the vocabulary to describe my symptoms. I could only say, "I think I'm allergic to Chinese food" which she thought was insane.
I suspected one of two culprits - the soy or the MSG. Little known wacky fact - soy can mimic hormones in a woman's body. Fairly well known fact here - MSG is nasty stuff you should probably avoid (my helper never adds this, but it is an ingredient in the chicken stock she uses in everything).
Four months later, my symptoms are gone. Now I realize I could ask my helper to make us food without soy or chicken stock, but what's the point of that? I don't want my family to miss out on all that goodness (and really, I don't think the MSG is the problem - it's in everything from granola bars to cereal, just under another name). Easier solution - just cut back on the Chinese food. Sigh.
It is a great tragedy.
Megan, "Ethan, do you say dude, yo, or bro?"
Ethan, "No."
Megan, "Mom does. I hear her. When she drives she says, 'DUDE!'"
Ethan, "I haven't heard her say that."
Megan, "I hear her say it EVERY DAY."
I could be saying worse things.
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