Chinerr, Year 2: Wild
Life is wild, man.
I'm only a few weeks into Chinnerr, Year 2, and I'm fresh out of adjectives. So, sorry. But wild is just gonna have to do. Summer break in the good ole US of A was a logistics marathon, but also refreshing and encouraging and so, so needed. But there's just something Chinerr does to me, y'all. My little Asians OWN ME. That, and I also own and regularly use a selfie stick, so there's no turning back now. I have found my people.
For starters, Emma Heyen's presence is a direct answer to prayer. For more than a year, I had been praying on a daily basis that the Lord would bring another BBBF (Bible Believing Best Friend) to my school. A YEAR, YOU GUYS. And here she is: one floor away, loving all things red bean (aka gross) and speaking correct (aka snobbish) 普通话 (Mandarin) in the land of Chewbacca talk (aka Henan dialect). Shout out to Bruce and Janell! Thanks for your daughter, y'all!
The other day Emma asked me, "What's different about the second year compared to the first?"
OH LET ME COUNT THE WAYS.
Year one is all things learning curve. Like outside the wake, one leg dragging in the water, holding on to the tube with one hand but might have a dislocated shoulder and your most merciless guy friend is driving the boat kind of learning curve. All you can do is hold on and hope you don't lose your bottoms.
There are inevitably a lot lessons (and grace) bundled up in year one, as with the year one of anything: new spouse, new offspring, new job, new city, new school. New whatever.
But year two?
I command thee to GET IN THY ASIAN ARMS.
I see you, year two! YOU GO, GLEN COCO! I see you and your tiny buds of fruit after a seemingly invisible year one of sowing. I can feel your magical spring breeze wisp across my face. I can smell what you've been cooking overnight in your kitchen.
Mustard seed friendships have grown into spectacular things: an evening with my four junior girls around a table of eclectic (aka last minute) food choices - macaroni and cheese & scrambled eggs & sushi & Zara's birthday cake. Year two has HAGM posting a boyfriend ad on your behalf (WUT IS LYFE? HILARIOUSNESS, THAT'S WHAT). And when Qian and Xiao Long and their curly little brown dog named Ball Ball come over for hot pot but knock on two wrong apartment doors first? I DIE, YEAR TWO. I DIE.
Year two has exceptionally bad bike karma (and all the people said unto 冰冰's bike karma: BBYEEEEEE), but it's whatever, man, because who needs a second brake anyway? If you need me, I'll be pedaling like a mad woman through red lights because when in China, thou shalt drive like thou art Chinese (it happened once, I lived, and vow to only do it again if I'm desperate for a story to thrown down at family gatherings).
Year two has Old Naked Guy from the gym kissing my hand without even so much as a 你好 and year two has a few rare, insanely clear days IN A ROW OHMYGOSH. Year two has the Chinese language making a little more sense and year two has the front gate tofu lady remembering just how much spice your stomach can handle.
I don't know if you're in the year one of something, but if you are, believe that your year two is coming. It is on its way. I hope you believe in what you're sowing at this very moment - in the shadows, in the twilight, in the ordinary hum of an afternoon. Plant mustard seeds with your presence and with your words. Plant them in your kitchen and in your neighborhood. Then say a prayer and watch God make them grow.
So life is wild, man. And wild is one heck of a way to roll.
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