Fear of the known

I don’t think it really hit me until my plane took off from the Luoyang airport. I have made that trip from Luoyang to Beijing several times, always returning a few days later. As I looked out the window it hit me that I wasn’t coming back in a few days.

I’ve been anticipating and preparing for my trip back for months. But I don’t think the weight of it hit me until just a few days ago. Needless to say, I am excited and I can’t wait to be back…but to be completely honest, I am also very afraid. Parts of me feel like I just left last week, other parts feel like I have been gone for years.

A few months ago, during one of the Show Hope trips, I sat in on the last night’s devotion led by Katie. It was focusing on re-entry. Katie led it and since she lived in China for years before returning to the States, she speaks from great experience. The purpose of the devotion was to encourage the group to be prepared to share all that they had experienced during their time at MBHOH, but also not to be disheartened when people just didn’t understand. It got me thinking, “If they need to be prepared for this after only a week, how much more do I need to be ready to experience these same feelings and emotions upon re-entry?”

I am not quite sure that I can pin-point any one particular fear, but rather snippets of anxiety have been rearing their heads as I prepare to come back. There is the obvious fear of sadness and missing our babies, missing Mikey, missing the Martins, missing the nurses and staff…all people who have become close parts of my life. As crazy as life in China is, I know that I will miss the things that have become my “normal” (spitting, split pants, no concept of lines, horns honking….I could go on). I know that there are many things I will miss by being away.

But then, there is the fear of things I will encounter here. When people ask what is something I miss the most about America, my answer is often “convenience.” I can’t wait to get in my car and drive 5 minutes to the store (and be able to drive myself!), to have everyone around me speaking English and being able to understand every word that people speak to me. To be able to go to the bank, or the post office, or anywhere really without needing help. I miss the convenience. But on that same token, I fear becoming complacent in my comforts.  And I fear it will only take days before I do, if I am not careful.

I fear not being understood. Not because people don’t want to understand, but because they can’t, and I cannot expect them to. I am grateful that I have had so many friends come visit and that so many have kept up through emails, blogs, facebook, etc. I feel as though many have gotten a glimpse. But these babies, their lives, their stories, I just want to make them so real to others. I want the words I share with others to portray the reality of what our children face; their struggles, their pains, the reality that they live in as orphaned children, but in that I also want others to see the amazing grace, love, and care that our Father has lavished on them, on me, on all of us through our experiences with each of our children. And I am afraid that words will not be enough.

As our plane descended into Chicago’s O’Hare airport, the view of the sunrise was amazing. A clear blue sky, clouds that looked as though you could simply glide along them; and I was reminded that this is a good thing. I need this time. I need to be away, to rest, to refresh, to see my family, to get coffee with my friends, to drive to Target (to drive anywhere for that matter), to see the leaves change…I could go on and on. I also need to trust that life will go on in China without me, and that although there’s no way to predict what things will be like when I return, that it will be okay.

 

As I walked into immigration, as silly as it sounds my heart was lightened when I was able to walk to the “resident” line (I’ve gotten so used to being a “visitor”). Then I remembered that I could order a white chocolate mocha at Starbucks, and it made me smile. Little by little, I am reminded that this is good.

Yesterday, I was a bit overwhelmed by a trip to Wal-Mart. Basically anything I needed or wanted (food-wise) was right at my fingertips; all for the buying, all for the consuming. But as I went down a few aisles, I realized that I had survived perfectly well over the past year without all of this. And truth is I want to continue learning to live without it, because I really don’t need it.

Then I treated myself to a peach iced tea from Sonic.

I feel as though my emotions are in a constant state of change and I suppose it’s normal. Please pray as I wade through the emotions, that I would be able to find a balance. That I would realize that these things that I know and love are not bad, but also that I would not fall back into a place where I feel as though I need them or deserve them. God has graciously provided for me beyond anything I could need or want, and I want to remember that. Regardless of how I may feel from one minute to the next, I know that I am not the same person I was before I left. I can't be the same person I was before I left...

I think this blog post is very reflective of my thoughts right now...all over the place. So if we talk, whether in person or on the phone, please don't be surprised if my thoughts and my words don't seem cohesive. There's a lot going on in there right now and I'm trying to know how to best communicate it. Please be patient as I gather my many thoughts together into something that makes sense. And if I just start to cry, it's okay, it's not that I'm not happy to be here, I really am...there is just a life that I feel a bit diconnected from and people on the other side of the world, including many sweet little faces, that I miss terribly.

 

 

Goodbye, for now

(This was written nearly a week ago, I've just slacked a bit on posting!)

This morning the first thought that entered my mind when I woke up was “today is my last day…” and immediately I started to think of the things I wanted to make sure to do. Knowing that I’ll be returning in a month has been one of the main things that has helped me rationally think through how to best spend my last few days. There is still sadness in the goodbyes, but hope that we will once again be together.

But knowing that I am returning does not ensure that things will be the same when I return. In fact, I know they won’t be. Kids will have left, new kids will have come. Because of this, I wanted to be intentional about spending my last day with this specific group of kids well, in case another chance does not come in a month, or rather because I know it will not come with this same group of children.

God was very gracious to give us a beautiful morning. My first class has recently dwindled to one child over the past week (the other two are on a floor that has been on isolation due to chicken pocks…as you can imagine, that can turn into a big problem in a house with 140 children!) I let her choose what we did, and of course she chose to go outside. Despite her red runny nose and chilled hands, she was perfectly content and joyful to swing for the entirety of our class time.

The following class, although no special activity planned, was just a very sweet time. I love to watch this group of kids interact with each other. They are constantly conversing with me and each other, and I love to watch how they graciously care for and help one another.

Our last class was spent outside, blowing bubbles and drawing with sidewalk chalk. It’s amazing what a simple bottle of bubbles can do. I love this age so much; the newness, the excitement, the expressiveness at being able to not only learn and form new words, but learning that they have the ability to use those words as well. Before class was over, we enjoyed a bit of time of the playground.

 

I had some work I needed to get done in the afternoon, which turned out to be a blessing. I was visited by what I've come to dub my "lolipop gang"...a group of sweet kiddos from our 4th floor who make their way to our office each day and know exactly where I keep my Dum-Dums stashed...

Who could resist this face?
Needless to say, not me

 

I needed to get some pictures of a few kids and it gave me a reason to go in and visit with new kids, which as I have mentioned in previous posts, I have been a bit hesitant to do. It really turned out to be such a sweet time and a reminder of something I love so much...

 

 

Sweet reminders of what's to look forward to...

 

New mercies each morning

Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this:

The faithful love of the LORD never ends!

His mercies never cease.

Great is his faithfulness;

his mercies begin afresh each morning.

Lamentations 3:21-23

 

This morning I was reminded of his mercy beginning afresh each day when, after writing last night's post about being fearful to love because of my fear of loss, I read the following:

 

My child, today is a gift of My love. Your very life is a gift of My love for you. I want you to live as a child of love. I want you to reflect that love in your relations with others. Since I am the Source and Giver of life, there is no shortage of supply. Only if you interpose your self-driven life in these relationships will the flow of My life be impeded. Make the day brighter around you by denying your darkness and letting My light shine through you. Today is a gift of My love. Live as a child of My love.         -Echoes of Eternity, October 21st

 

I am not always aware of His mercies; I don't consciously wake up each morning wondering what "new mercies" are in store (as if waking up to another day isn't mercy enough...) but this morning it was blatanly obvious and there was no way to miss what He wanted my heart to hear and know in response to my fear. To love. Regardless of...just love.

 



Friday night laundry returns...on Saturday

So I was gearing myself up for a "Friday night laundry" post and it took me a few hours before I realized it's not Friday! Oh well...

It is hard to believe that a little over a year ago I wrote my first "Friday night laundry"post. I went back and read the first one and it seems like it was just last night that I was writing it. Those feelings and emotions are still so fresh in my mind.

Along with three of my little Jungle Book friends, we have started a little tradition. From time to time (and usually if I am not in a hurry) I will pull them from their nursery to come "help" me do laundry. I sort and fill the machines and they toss all the clothes in. They take their work very seriously :)

I still love to go in and look at the baby clothes hanging on the lines. I am still reminded of the faces that come to mind when I look at them. A year later, different faces come to mind, as some kids have left us and those clothes are now being worn by different children. I grieve for the one that is no longer here, but am thankful for the needed care they've received and that more children are entering our doors to receive the medical care and attention they need.

I was sharing with a medical intern we have that when kids that you've grown close to leave, it is often difficult to start over with new kids, knowing that they too at some point will go. I have been discouraged with myself and my inability emotionally to initiate those new bonds lately. It seemed so easy twelve months ago...

So much of our work here comes with a combination of sorrow and joy; it is often difficult to separate the two. We rejoice when a child is matched to a forever family, but our hearts are heavy when we have to say goodbye. We deeply grieve the loss of a child's life, but God is gracious to give us peace in knowing that they are no longer in pain. We are anxious when a child is going to have life-saving surgery, but are thankful that they are being given a chance for healing.

Yet despite these things, I still want to relish each moment, find joy in these times that I may never get to replicate, with children that I have come to love so dearly. I don't want to miss an opportunity.
I don't want to be afraid to love because I am afraid of loss.

It would be much easier and faster to just do the laundry by myself. But I want to choose the memory, I want to choose to spend those precious moments with them and trust that in some way they matter, both to them, and to me. In that same way, it would be easier to keep my heart to myself at times, but I want to choose relationship, I want to choose to love, and I want to choose to trust that it matters, both to them, and to me.

At a loss for words

Lately, I feel like I keep getting inspired to write, but when I try to put my thoughts to words, the words won't come. Or if they come, they don't quite do justice to what I am trying to express. Not fully, at least.

I feel as though living in a house with 140 precious babies should always afford something to write about. And it often does; whether it's a story about one of them, or something God is teaching me through being with them. But again, sometimes words cannot fully express the feelings that are surging inside. Whether they are feelings of love, adoration, fear, pain, joy, excitement. Or all of them simultaneously.

I read this quote last night, written in a friend's blog:

"Sometimes seeds have to grow a while before you can harvest them. This is also true of thoughts and words. We live in such an instantaneous age. Everyone is slinging content around, trying to be louder, righter, insightfuler...I am trying to think about where my roots are right now and not be so concerned about my branches." -Jamie Laslo

I think I feel a responsiblity to write. I have been shown overwhelming support during my time here, and with that I feel comes a responsibilty to share what is happening. And I want to share.

I have wrestled much lately with the thought that "this is not the way it is supposed to be"...yes, I love that I get to be here, I love that our children are loved, cared for, and receive wonderful medical care. But this is not the way it is supposed to be. They should be with their mommies and daddies. Yes, we are here, and we love them dearly; but we cannot keep them forever, as a family should. At some point we have to let them go and trust that they will continue to be cared for. And sometimes, there are no words to describe those feelings. It's not that they aren't present, they most definitely are, but it's really difficult to find the words to express those feelings, because they run so deep.

A picture I took a few days ago does a good job of illustrating this..

 



 



This is the view from a 6th floor window in our building. On a clear day, we have an amazing view of the city skyline. But on many days, this is all we can see. Even though I cannot see the city, I know it's there, because I've seen it before. The buildings are there, I just can't focus through the fog enough to grasp a glimpse.

And so it is with these feelings and trying to fit them with words. They are undoubtebly there, but often it's difficult to grasp them, to really paint the picture of what you want to see before you in writing, what you want others to see.

But I also know that the fog won't be there forever and that possibly tomorrow, possibly next week, I will see those buildings again. And so it will be with these words. Possibly tomorrow, possibly next week, possibly next month, the words will come once more.

But for now, as Jamie said, I will try to "think about where my roots are right now and not be so concerned about my branches."

In a nutshell

It hit me this morning as the nannies were getting kids ready to go outside and one pulled out a long-sleeved hoodie for one of the kids to wear. Summer is quickly coming to an end.

The weather has started to cool a bit here in Luoyang and although the afternoons are still pretty warm, the mornings and evenings bring a much-welcomed chill. Posts of home on Facebook talk of football season and pumpkin spiced lattes at Starbucks. Autumn cannot be far.

The summer has come and gone in the blink of an eye. Between visitors, teams, trips and activities, our day-to-day has quickly turned into months. It's hard to believe that this time last year I was just beginning to settle in here. Now I wonder where much of the time has gone.

Here are just a few highlights and snapshots from the past few months...




Summer kick-off family dinner. This summer brought us two amazing interns, Abby and Dan. Dan was with us through August and Abby will be with us through October. They have both been a gift in so many ways to all of us.

 

Mikey and I did a weekend trip to Beijing in June to hike and camp at the Great Wall. Pretty amazing experience.

 

 

Preschool field trips to the zoo...

 

...and the aquarium

 

 

Water days have definitely been a highlight this summer, both for the kids and adults!

 

Another Hong Kong Visa run (although I cannot complain...)

 

 

A train trip to ChengDu with Abby... finally getting to see pandas!

You can hold and get your picture taken with a panda at this reserve; unfortunately it's $200 to do so, so my compromise was touching one of the red pandas we saw along the trail...for free :)

Abby and "the Choco family"

We also got to enjoy a really fantastic dinner out one evening

 

 

 

At the end of our time in ChengDu, Abby had to fly out unexpectedly to Hong Kong with a baby from Beijing in need of surgery. As we packed our bags in haste, she made the comment that this was our summer "in a nutshell." And it has been. It has been a crazy summer with unexpected turns. It has been busy to say the least, but it has been full. It has been difficult, but it has been good. The summer has held some sad days, but also some of our sweetest days. I think in a way I expected the summer to bring somewhat of a break (emotionally, at least), with groups in and out, trips here and there, but it has surprisingly been one of my hardest "seasons" since arriving. Saying goodbye to our kids never gets easier, and sickness and death do not take vacations; so in the midst of our summer haste, we have still had to find quiet moments to grieve and reflect, but our Father has been gracious to give us those opportunities and to be able do so in community.

 

This fall will bring many changes for us. In just a few weeks, we'll be saying goodbye to Abby, who will return to the States. It will be odd going back to life without a roomate, and the loss of a sweet friend's presense will definitely be felt. Mikey will be moving to Beijing, which will leave a great gap at Maria's in so many ways; and not just at Maria's, but in each of our individual lives. Thankfully he will only be a few hours away and we will still get to see him frequently; on the other hand, it will be hard having him a few hours away and not just minutes across town.  I will miss having my best friend just moments away. Our medical staff often has many moving parts as babies need to be taken for surgeries and visas need renewing. I will be going back to the States for a month-long visit in November. One day is rarely like the last, and we never know what a week will hold.

 

In a nutshell, I am continually learning that His grace is sufficient for me. It is sufficient in times of peace and in times of unrest. It is sufficient in difficulty and in joy. It is sufficient for the ever-changing circumstances in our lives, because despite what may change around us and even how we may change, He remains the same.



A time to reflect

I am currently in Hong Kong, spending a week away from my home in China to process my visa for the next year. It is hard to believe that my first year is coming to a close and a new one is about to begin.

I am spending this week at a retreat center and looking forward to a time of rest as well as a time of processing and reflection over the past year (which explains the multiple blogs I have written today and will hopefully write throughout the week...I am making up for the lack of writing over the past two months!).

It has been a very full year to say the least. Full of "really high highs and really low lows" as Abby says (Abby is one of our summer interns and has become a very dear friend over the past few months). It has been a year full of laughter and life, intermingled with loss and sadness. Full of hugs, kisses, love, and surprises. Full of support, encouragement, and moments of being simply overwhelmed by God's faithfulness.

It has been a year of discovering parts of me that I didn't know existed, both beautiful and ugly, and parts that I've tried to keep hidden but are crying to come out. I have seen the best of me come out along with the worst of me. I have seen how giving I can be one minute, and how selfish I can be the next. I have seen a confident and strong side of myself along with a very fearful and anxious side of me. Essentially, I have seen my best hand-in-hand with my worst.

In showing me more of myself, God has also shown me more of Himself. He has shown me just how weak I am and how desperate I am for His grace to come through for me daily. He has shown me how much He values life. He has shown Himself to be faithful in abundant ways, not only providing for my basic needs, but giving me so many extra joys along the way.

I hope you will be encouraged as you read. I know that healing comes with reflection as we take a look back and are able to see in hindsight the things that we could not see or understand in the moment. I trust that the journey will continue and there is still much for me to see and learn, and countless ways in which God still desires to shape and mold me into the image of His son.

Thank you for following in the journey with me.

Learning to say goodbye

I am not a huge fan of goodbyes.

Living here, I have had to learn how to say goodbye from time to time. Sometimes given weeks or months to process how to say goodbye; at other times quite suddenly. I am not sure which I dread most.

I have grown quite fond of this group of little people on our 2nd floor. It took months for them to warm up to me, but one day one finally warmed up, and eventually the others followed suit. Since then, rarely a day goes by that I don't stop in to see them. I have watched them go from crawling babies to running toddlers, full of life, laughter, and spunky personalities.

The first to warm up was Jillian, my sweet "Ji Ji"... we bonded over Cinderella. Each night, right around 7:15, her ayis would put in the movie and she out of all the kids seemed the most captivated by it. Cinderella is my favorite Disney movie, so I started sitting with her to watch, and soon sitting by her turned to her warmly snuggling up in my lap each evening. Sometimes we'd sing along (well, it was more like me humming and her laughing) and other times we'd dance. My favorite times though were when she would just snuggle up with me and let me hold her as we watched.

Slowly the others warmed up and night after night they would try to squeeze as many of their little bodies on my lap as possible. Going in to see them each night became a bit of a safe-haven for me. I knew that no matter what kind of day I'd had, I could always go see my little friends and even if just for a few moments forget the troubles of that day. They helped me remember why I was there.

This group of babies all came to MBH last spring with cleft lip and palate. Their lips had been fixed last summer, and they were all able to have their palates closed this summer. I knew eventually their time would come to return to their original orphanage. But in the meantime, I wanted to continue to soak in as much time with them as possible.

Over the past few months, we've enjoyed quite a few evening dance parties...

One day early this summer, Mikey graciously advised that I prepare myself for saying goodbye to them. Eventually, the email came that a couple of them would be leaving us to return to their original units. We had about a week's notice, so I was able to spend very intentional time with them. By this time, they had all grown so active and busy that Ji Ji would rarely stop to sit in my lap; we would play and dance and run, but rarely would we just sit. But something was different on her last night, almost as if she knew this was it. As 7:15 rolled around, her ayis put in a music video. She came and snuggled up in my lap as she had done months ago, and just let me hold her. She didn't seem to care about all the other kids dancing around her, she just sat and moved to the music in my lap. It was such a gift to have that time with her. I could think of no better way to have said goodbye.

I know that many more goodbyes will come during my time here. Each one will be unique and different. Some will be hard and others will be full of grace and peace. Some will come with hope, others will come with pain and unanswered questions. In whatever form they come, whether planned or unexpected, I want to know that I did all I could to love that child during the time that they were with us. I know I cannot do that for all of our children, but can do so for a few.

Thankfully, many of their leaves come with hope. A few months after their surgeries, we found out that many of them have been matched with families and will soon be adopted. It doesn't make saying goodbye easy, but it does give us great hope for their future.