peeing my pants and making friends
Hi, y’all. It’s been forever and a half, because the end of the school year’s got me like:
Like every teacher
at the end of the school year, I’m a hot mess and a half: both literally and
figuratively. Literally because OHMYLANTA. IT IS HOT UP IN HURR. My little
Asians are befuddled by my ability to sweat like a 300 lb. man because apparently
their body temperature has a boiling point of like, 900, so they don’t perspire
at all, ohmygosh.
I’m a
USB-forgetting figurative hot mess who leaves aforementioned final-grade
containing USB in a random classroom for two days before realizing it’s gone. (PRAISE
DE LORT: USB was found! My mind, however, is still wandering alone somewhere).
This semester felt like an all-out sprint: long days, short weeks, and lots of pit-sweat. This week I’ll finish final exams and then it is officially summer break, PRAISE DE LORT!
This semester felt like an all-out sprint: long days, short weeks, and lots of pit-sweat. This week I’ll finish final exams and then it is officially summer break, PRAISE DE LORT!
*throws up hands with a boisterous hallelujerrr*
The days of my
months have been strung together by an ebb-and-flow of surprises – some
wonderful, like traveling with Chinese gym friends to Luoyang to eat my weight down an eternal night market of street food. Other surprises have not been so
fortunate: my #HAGM going from possibly single to married in less than a week
(different post for a different day) and eating the lining of a cow’s stomach
because somehow “I want don’t eat that” accidentally/culturally
translates as “Ok, sure, I would like to try that”, ohmygosh.
This spring I
danced to 小苹果 (xiaopingguo) with 30+ primary school students on a
Friday, put “Chinese kung-fu man” down on my list of eligible bachelors, and
peed my pants down a mountain to come in second to a deceptively speedy,
middle-aged Chinese woman in a climbing competition.
Chinerr life is
weird and kaleidoscopic and unpredictable and important and awesome.
But making genuine
friends as a foreigner is not for the faint of heart. Sometimes the language and cultural
barrier makes you want to punch a llama and quit at life, but this Chinerr year, the Lord’s generosity came via Yue Dong
Fitness Club and it sounds
incredibly weird because IT TOTALLY IS.
At the prompting
of a fellow teacher/friend,
I joined the gym last November. At first I was skeptical and only interested in
being as inconspicuous as possible, but I’m a
ferociously pale, six-foot foreigner and God is a giver of good and surprising
gifts, so inconspicuous obviously didn’t happen.
I’m unsure as to
exactly how or when our friendship with the gym peeps actually began, but what I do know is where it has led us.
It has led us to Qian’s family in Luoyang, to a Chinese wedding with Bon Jovi music
and strobe lights and a bubble machine and impromptu speech giving. Most recently, it has led us up and
down a mountain on a gray and
windy Saturday afternoon.
Not long ago, Dan and I signed up for a mountain
climbing competition hosted by the gym. Forget what you know about mountain climbing, y’all,
because mountain climbing Chinerr style means running stairs. It also means not
knowing exactly which trail you are supposed to follow because directions are explained
in Chinese (obviously).
But on that day, it also meant that the top three to finish would get a
discount on next year’s membership fee, so you better believe my honorary
Mennonite self was all about running 2
steps at a time until about a quarter of the way up and I couldn’t feel my legs.
On the way down, however, I was like a flying squirrel – jumping down a few steps at one time, trying my best to keep up with momentum and gravity to avoid face-planting. Eventually, I passed a few people and came in second to a lady who is probably one of those do-it-all freaks of nature - like, the kind of Chinese woman who cooks dinner with only kung-fu moves.
On the way down, however, I was like a flying squirrel – jumping down a few steps at one time, trying my best to keep up with momentum and gravity to avoid face-planting. Eventually, I passed a few people and came in second to a lady who is probably one of those do-it-all freaks of nature - like, the kind of Chinese woman who cooks dinner with only kung-fu moves.
It wasn’t until after finishing the race that I realized I had ran so
hard down the mountain that I accidentally peed my pants a little past
noticeably a lot – and to the normal person this would be horrifically
embarrassing, but to me, it is hilarious. I may not have bladder control, but I
do have a discount and a thumbs-up from my HAGM. So it was, in a word, a pretty good
Saturday.
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| A few of the trainers and other staff members. |
Currently, I’m
trying to become many meaningful things: a Chinese speaker, Tim Tebow’s wife, a
girl who can whip and naenae. But what I want to become most is a person who
pays attention, a person who sews the art of reflection into the fabric of an ordinary
afternoon.
I’m learning
that it is one thing to believe in God’s provision and an entirely different
thing to experience it. What I mean by that is God promises to provide for our
every need but He doesn’t promise to tell us how or who or when.
I would have never guessed that God would take care of my soul through
people I’ve met at a gym in China, but He did. And it was on an ordinary
Saturday that I saw, for a brief moment, a mysterious richness that was deep
and sovereign. I saw people who were both friends and answers to prayer.
I believe paying
attention is important because I think we all have some Naaman in us. We stomp
away from Elisha’s front door, grumbling with each step because mister prophet
dude doesn’t even bother to come outside, much less wave his hand and give us
the cleansing we came for.
“But Naaman went away angry and said, “I
thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call on the name of
the Lord his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy. Are
not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than any of the waters of
Israel? Couldn’t I wash in them and be cleansed?” So he turned and went off in
rage.” || 2 Kings 5: 11 – 13
Naaman
eventually turned back toward the Jordan River and was healed – but not until
after his friends urged him to do so. He
almost missed God’s generosity just because it was in a dirty river instead of
a magical wave of a prophetic hand.
God’s graces undoubtedly
go before and beyond us – and I’m learning how the meaningful work lies in
paying attention, in disciplining my eyes to look beyond my short-sighted expectations,
in searching for God’s generosity in mangers instead of mansions.
The how
and the who and the when is the good stuff – surprising and sincere and eternally sovereign.
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| A few of the people who did the competition. The deceptively speedy middle-aged Chinese woman is on the front-right in the blue jacket. |
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