Beautiful moments present themselves unexpectedly. If we move on busy, hurried, rushed… we will miss the treasure offered in that time and space.
The first time your newborn baby warms your chest. Nurses may have hands on their hips, boring holes into you with their eyes as they wait until they can weigh and bathe that little one. But this moment is worth lingering.
The walk through the canopy of cottonwood trees, tiny seeds wrapped in silky fuzz floating through the air by the thousands. You may be on the way to a meeting or running an errand. But this moment is worth lingering.
The sacred experience when the Spirit of God fills your soul, so tangibly you can feel it. The sanctuary may empty as others file out or pack up the sound system. But this moment is worth lingering.
Today, may you and I have the grace to push back the pressure of hurry and to embrace the gift of lingering.
We all face times in our lives when we need to step into the unknown, when a rejection of taking this risk would result in self-protection based in fear. Some of these situations happily force themselves upon us, such as marriage or graduation from high school or from the university and the necessity to set the course for the next stage of our lives. Others slam us hard, like a job loss or an unforeseen change in relationship. And still other opportunities are created from a calling, an unrest, a longing.
Whatever the situation, the question all Christians must answer in transition is this: Do I have enough trust – enough confidence – in my God to move forward?
One year ago, Josh and I boarded a plane bound for China. There is something eerie and terrifying about leaving your children on the other side of planet Earth.
That May flight, the first of five 24-hour flights that we would make in the course of three months, began our look-see trip, the one in which we visited the prospective city to make sure we wanted to go ahead with applying for the job opportunity.
But in those three summer months, and in the five months before that, what impacted me most was not the physical flight, but the spiritual and emotional flight that accompanied the transition.
I think that the Lord knows I need recurring themes in my life so that I can finally learn the main point of whatever He is trying to teach me. Those themes don’t usually come in the form of mental pictures, but I am grateful that one did, which I will tell you about now.
Twelve years ago this summer, I stepped into my first season of work and career. I sat at a round table with five other new staff, in a room of 200 more just like us. In the midst of a highly intense 10-day training, and at this table, God placed an image in my mind. I was visibly shaking and sobbing as I emotionally processed what this might mean.
My group leader asked me what was going on, and I explained the picture to him. In this image, I saw myself standing at the edge of a high cliff. Everything beyond the cliff was enshrouded in darkness. I sensed the Spirit of God beckoning me to jump off of the edge, into the abyss.
It was obvious to me that this referenced the new work I was stepping into, since I had little clear idea of what lay before me for the next five plus years. All I knew was that I did not want to fall off of that cliff.
I no longer remember my group leader’s exact response (and I’m pretty sure there’s a meme around now with this same idea), but the essence was this: What if, instead of falling, God gives you wings to fly?
And He did.
A few moments over the next eleven years of work felt like I got banged up on the side of the cliff, but even with that, my trust and confidence in God built as I saw Him come through for me over the long haul. He developed in me strength, endurance, vision, and faith that I didn’t have before responding to His invitation into the unknown.
10 ½ years later, I again sat in a room full of staff, this time 2,000 of them. I had grown restless, feeling trapped and looking for a new passion.
I shared with a colleague that my husband, just that week, began pursuing a potential job in China. I asked my colleague to pray for discernment in the situation, and he wisely asked me how I was feeling and thinking about all of this. He listened intently as I explained my desire for a new adventure and opportunity for myself and for my family.
When I had finished, my colleague described to me the image God placed in his mind as I was speaking. He had envisioned wings on my back, spreading out more and more as I spoke. I was ready to fly.
Of course, taking flight did not come easily. I grieved the loss, albeit temporary, of people and places that I loved. And once again, I found myself launching off into the darkness, this time unsure of my purpose, my passion, and my calling.
I don’t know what risk God is asking you to take. Obviously, assessing God’s call needs to be done with wisdom and with the counsel of wise people. But after discerning clearly, going for it is the best thing you can do for your spiritual life. Maybe your risk of faith looks like serving your spouse, or giving up your summer plans, or giving your life to Christ, or moving overseas. The size of the risk is not important – after all, Jesus tells parables about servants who are faithful in small matters being put in charge of larger matters.
When you take a risk, you might not get the outcome that you expect. This is why the Bible says that those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength, as opposed to those who hope in a certain outcome. When you answer God’s invitation to take a step of faith, you are saying, “Yes”, to the God who knows and loves you.
Taking a risk of faith, even a small one like tangibly loving someone or speaking truth, is… risky. But it’s exhilarating and freeing. It places us in the position where we HAVE to depend on God to come through for us. Trust deepens when we experience that the God who asks us to jump will teach us to fly.
I will leave you with the song that has been my anthem of trust for a year and a half now. To borrow the words of the song, may your faith be made stronger in the presence of the Savior.
People in our part of the world have been talking about the lunar new year for a long time. As a first-time expat to China, I had low expectations. After all, this is not “my” holiday. The new year celebration caught me off guard, and here I present to you a small window into my first Chinese New Year experience as a foreigner.
The Lead-Up
Most of us who grow up in the States know the feeling of anticipation that comes along with the Christmas season. A sense of excitement fills the air, everyone chats about the holiday and their plans, and preparation begins for meals, decorations, and gifts. Spending my first lunar new year in China, I was struck by the oddity that I could feel that same anticipation. Even though I speak very little Mandarin and had no background in this holiday, I could just tell that the excitement was building all around me.
People cleaned their homes thoroughly. Employees received bonuses. In addition to a bonus, we gave our ayi a fancy box of frozen fish, and she reciprocated with a huge box of butter cookies for the kids.
My husband’s company held their annual Chinese New Year party. All of the employee’s families were invited, and the planning team worked for weeks to arrange a location, a catered meal, prizes, and entertainment.
My daughter’s school invited all of the parents to watch a Chinese New Year performance. I was so proud when my girl spoke into the microphone in Mandarin – with good tones! The children did a dragon dance and lots of songs to celebrate the year of the goat.
The Decorations
Of course, decorations also added to the excitement. My daughter even came home with some window flowers and paper lanterns that she had made in school, and we used those to prepare our home.
Local malls set up lunar new year displays.People decorated trees and shrubs near their houses.This guy delivered flowers that already had new year baubles attached.Hotel lobbies welcomed the lunar new year.Folks hung red lanterns near their doorways and place greeting signs and paper cut-out flowers on windows and entryways.Apartment lobbies joined in the festivity.Red lantern decorations hung from street lamps.Owners decked out their businesses to celebrate the new year.And, of course, it wouldn’t be a holiday without decorated Coca-Cola bottles.
The Travel and Meal Prep
For 1-2 weeks before the lunar new year began, people started traveling in droves. Most people left the city to go back to their hometowns and spend the holiday with their extended families. Subways going to railway stations and airports were packed with people carrying luggage and boxes of alcohol, fruits, or nuts to take home with them. Schools let children out for almost one month at this time of the year.
Small family shops closed down early, even a week in advance of New Year’s day, to factor in travel time.
In my husband’s family, the Christmas eve dinner is an event all to itself. The meal spread takes time to cook, but it looks and tastes amazing. Similarly, in China, the New Year’s eve meal maintains a special place in the holiday tradition.
People packed out a supermarket to buy food two days before the lunar new year.
Of course, the Chinese have traditional dishes that they cook and eat for the big meal. Since I know almost nothing about these dishes, I thought it would suffice to ask our ayi to make some jiaozi for us before she began her vacation. These dumplings taste so yummy dipped in a spicy chili paste and vinegar mixture.
Our ayi taught my daughter how to prepare the jiaozi.The jiaozi waits to be boiled.
I would love to someday share in a New Year’s eve meal that is truly Chinese. In the meantime, we ate our own concoction of American and Chinese foods to celebrate. I enjoyed our evening together as a family, but to be honest, I felt like we were missing something… it was like having Christmas alone, without grandpas and grandmas, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Maybe we can convince someone to visit us to celebrate next year.
The Fireworks
The fireworks in China during the new year holiday are fantastic. Personally, I think that since China invented fireworks, they ought to be spectacular. A good friend put it this way: It’s like all of the 4th of July shows you’ve ever seen, and ever will see, rolled into one night.
Although the police were cracking down a bit more this year on people who might go overboard, fireworks here are basically a free-for-all. Many of our friends have told us stories of their balcony windows being shot out by stray fireworks, or of having to cover their children from fireworks that turn on them from the other side of the street.
One of my Chinese friends explained that people shoot off one set of fireworks to say good-bye to the previous year and another set of fireworks to say hello to the new year. Each night of the week also gives a different reason for fireworks, and the most popular is the fourth night, when fireworks are lit to welcome the money god. The amount of fireworks on the fourth night rivaled the amount the we witnessed on New Year’s eve.
Firework stands popped up on every block the week before the new year.Notice the “No Smoking” sign on this one.
On New Year’s eve, our family went out and lit some sparklers, one fountain, and some ground spinners. On our walk outside, I noticed that our security guards had also prepared for the new year fireworks.
There are no firework restrictions in our tree-filled neighborhood, so the guards had to be ready for potential fires.
Around 11:40pm, the booms began to accelerate. We stood out on our bedroom balcony to see more clearly. The sights were beautiful, with bright blasts and golden fizzles. The flashes of light bounced off of city buildings and lit up the sky in every direction.
Almost more incredible were the sounds. With pings and explosions ricocheting through the city, our neighborhood turned into an audio war zone. Our neighbors uncoiled a massive roll of firecrackers, which stretched from the beginning of our “cul-de-sac” to the post near their house that they attached the end of the firecrackers onto. They had this down to a science. A little before midnight they came out, laid everything out, and lit it up. Once the firecrackers started popping, they went into the house to save their eardrums. Josh and I stayed out to watch and hear the spectacle, and my ears rang for minutes afterward.
It seemed that there was an entire fireworks show on every block, which made it challenging to take everything in at once. Our incredible children slept through the entire production.
The next morning, our neighbor went out again to unroll his coil of firecrackers, this time to welcome the new year. I was just loading the kids into the car when I noticed activity next door, so I pulled them all out and we watched from the sidewalk. Our neighbor was kind enough to smile at us as we all gawked at him and as I tried to explain to the kids what was happening.
Our neighbor used a coil of firecrackers similar to the rounds in this photo, except that his was bigger.
As soon as the noise subsided, our neighbor came back out of his house and handed each of our kids a red envelope, which brings me to the next aspect of the lunar new year.
The Gifts
I could be wrong on this because I haven’t seen it in person, but my understanding is that on the morning of the new year, children wake up early with excitement to rouse their parents out of bed. The children bow in respect to their parents and ask for a hongbao, a red packet or envelope, which contains a gift of money.
My eldest daughter had been begging for a hongbao for weeks before the lunar new year. She learned about it from her Mandarin class at school, and she received an envelope from her teacher which contained chocolate coins.
Josh and I thought it would be a fun tradition to observe, so we surprised the kids with one hongbao each. My two-year-old had been crying about something, but when she ripped into the hongbao and pulled out the contents, her face lit up and she exclaimed, “MONey!”
I told one of my American friends about how generous and thoughtful it was for our neighbors to also give a hongbao to each of our children. We observed that in our culture, giving money is a cop-out gift, the kind of thing that you give to someone when you don’t want to take the time to be personal and creative with a gift. But here, at least at this time of year, a gift of money feels like something special. For us, it was also a great opportunity to work on the kids’ math skills and to teach about saving, giving, and spending our resources.
Many children also receive clothes, since wearing new clothes is a tradition on new year’s day. It reminded me of the American tradition of getting a new dress or suit for Christmas and Easter. It’s a big deal. However, the only new thing our kids received was toothbrushes (because they needed them!). They don’t know anything different, so they were actually quite excited about their little prizes.
New Year Hope
Everyone beings a new year with hope, with expectations for what this uncharted year could bring. One of the best questions asked of me in college was, “Why do you get out of bed in the morning?” The answer cannot be as simple as, “Because I have to go to class” or “Because I have to go to work”. You don’t HAVE to do those things. Some motiving factor underlies those decisions. Why do you work? Why do you go to class?
It’s worth asking: What do you live for?
So much of what we live for is merely trinkets, stuff that will rot or go with us to the grave. But I’ve been reminded lately that the hope of the nations, the one that won’t fade, is Jesus Christ. And He gives so much joy – like the blow out your eardrums with firecrackers, dance in the streets, eat huge meals with people you love – kind of celebratory joy.
I don’t know about you, but I spend far too little time celebrating my hope.
That being said, my prayer for the Year of the Goat is this:
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” – Romans 15:13
Twelve months ago, I worked 30 hours a week outside of my home and in my “free time”, I cared for my three children, all under the age of five. Six months ago, I moved overseas and began a new season, in which I worked, and still work, fulltime within my home as a “stay-at-home” mom. I have lived on both sides of the street in the same year. It is out of the beauty of these two experiences that I write to you, my fellow mamas. Happy Valentine’s Day, mamas; you are loved.
TO MY FELLOW MAMAS WORKING OUTSIDE THE HOME
I sat at a tall restaurant table with two local businessmen, both highly respected in the community. I had called them together to request their help in networking with others who would possibly have an interest in partnering with my organization. Being very perceptive and knowledgeable in the business world, they began offering ideas and asking questions. At some point in the conversation, one of the men turned to me and queried, “How are you involved in the community outside of your work? What do you do to connect with people?”
That question hit my weak spot like a sharp arrow. I couldn’t control myself; I started crying as soon as I answered, “I don’t do anything. I have three kids.” The two men stared back at me dumbfounded. The meeting was a disaster.
When I had my first child, I discovered that my work life changed. For the sake of the child that I loved, I put boundaries on the time and energy that I spent working. For the sake of the work that I loved, I left my child in someone else’s care each week and was absent from home often on evenings and weekends. I felt that I could do well in both roles, but because my energy and attention were divided, I felt that I could not be excellent in either.
And so, after five years of pouring my entire self into two different worlds and juggling my time and energy between my children and my work, the businessman’s question brought my inadequacies to the surface. Of course I knew that I should be involved in the community. Of course I wanted to be involved in the community. But I was a mama stretched thin, who felt guilty for neglecting something that I had no capacity for.
Snapshot of Life as a ProfessionalSnapshot of Life as a Mom
At some point, working mamas, we will fall short of expectations. Even with all of our energy and best effort, we will fall short of our employer’s expectations of us, or of our children’s expectations of us… or more likely, of our own expectations for ourselves.
Interestingly, the Bible paints a picture of what some people see as the “ideal” woman. Talk about pressure.
One thing I appreciate about this theoretical woman is that she works. She works hard.
Below are some excerpts from Proverbs 31:10-31.
“She considers and field and buys it;
Out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
She sets about her work vigorously;
Her arms are strong for her tasks.
She sees that her trading is profitable,
And her lamp does not go out at night.
In her hand she holds the distaff
And grasps the spindle with her fingers.
She opens her arms to the poor
And extends her hands to the needy.”
“She speaks wisdom,
And faithful instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of her household
And does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children arise and call her blessed;
Her husband also, and he praises her:
‘Many women do noble things,
But you surpass them all.’”
“Honor her for all that her hands have done,
And let her works bring her praise at the city gate.”
This lady knows business. And investments. And finances. And social justice. And the right thing to say at the right time. And she receives the respect of her children and her husband. I want to be like her.
But seriously, when does she sleep?! Her lamp does not go out?!
Listen, mamas. You and I cannot be perfect women. I know, it’s difficult for those of us who care about meeting goals and reaching desired outcomes to admit that. But falling short opens us up to receive grace and truth.
Mama, you are a person of worth and value apart from your children. You are a person of worth and value apart from your career. Producing many well-behaved children does not make you worth more. Making a name for yourself or earning more money does not make you worth more. You have worth because God loves you.
Before Jesus began his ministry work, he was baptized. As he came up out of the water, God announced, out loud, “This is my Son; with him I am well pleased.”
God the Father was pleased with Jesus before Jesus accomplished anything. God the Father was pleased with Jesus because of their relationship.
Mama, God is pleased with you because you are His loved one, the one that He created and formed. Think about your own newborn baby. Before that baby could even smile back at you, you loved him or her. Because he or she was yours. And God loves you, regardless of your accomplishments, because you are His in Christ Jesus.
Even the Proverbs 31 description hints at this:
“A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
But a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.”
What gives a woman noble character? Even our best efforts toward perfection are not good enough to meet God’s standards. Only trust in Jesus Christ can give you a right heart. This ideal woman has a major thing going in her favor. She lives in honor and awe of God.
When you build your life on a foundation of loving and honoring God, He will give you the strength and wisdom that you need to make a mark in your home and to make a mark in your workplace.
One thing from Proverbs 31 is clear. This woman’s work blessed her family. You also bless your family through your work, in more ways than bringing food to the table.
Your calling as a professional and your calling as a mom are not separate callings; they are linked by you and who God created you to be.
Can you lead a team of people? You can invest in your children with long-term intentionality.
Can you network? You can instill in your child the gift of knowing how to connect with people and show them grace.
Can you responsibly oversee finances? You can teach your children to manage their money for good purposes.
Can you speak with authority? You can direct your children to proclaim truth with gentleness and clarity.
Can you work ethically and faithfully in your field? You can influence your child to live with integrity.
Can you strive toward accomplishing a big vision? You can encourage your child to expect seemingly impossible things to become a reality.
Can you talk about your work with honor and pride? You can give your children hope to have a job for themselves that they can also enjoy.
The skills that your job refines are the skills that your kids need from you at home. God knew what He was doing when He called you into your work and also called you to raise up little ones to be wise men and women. And you, a mama loved and valued by God, are enough for your calling. May your children grow to look up to you and call you blessed.
Twelve months ago, I worked 30 hours a week outside of my home and in my “free time”, I cared for my three children, all under the age of five. Six months ago, I moved overseas and began a new season, in which I worked, and still work, fulltime within my home as a “stay-at-home” mom. I have lived on both sides of the street in the same year. It is out of the beauty of these two experiences that I write to you, my fellow mamas. Happy Valentine’s Day, mamas; you are loved.
A LETTER TO MY FELLOW STAY-AT-HOME MAMAS
On a normal morning at home, I decided to call a friend who lives in the States. While we chatted, I prepared and fed my kids a snack, cleaned up the living room, and took toys up two flights of stairs to put them away in drawers.
After we talked awhile about the conference she was attending, she asked me a sometimes terrifying question, “How are you doing?” As I searched myself for the honest answer, I replied, “Not well. It feels strange to say that because life here is going really well. Nothing is wrong, we have good friends, we have all the things we need; I just know that I’m not doing well.”
My friend spoke gently, “I’m sure you hear this all the time, but I’m going to tell you again anyway. You are a good mom. God sees you. He sees all of the things that you do, all the little things like picking up toys and doing laundry. Every small thing you do for your children has worth and value to God.”
My sudden outpouring of tears caught me by surprise, and I realized that I had just heard words that I needed, but I didn’t know why I needed them.
Three days later, I dragged my exhausted self and my two kids out of the house to attend a moms’ group. A friend and I had arranged to try it together, and although I just wanted to stay home and sleep, I pushed myself to follow through on my commitment. After arriving, the leader first invited us to spend some time praying and worshipping the Lord. During a pause in between songs, a lady behind me, whom I had never met, started praying. Then she began sobbing and said out loud for the whole group, “God sees you. He knows what you are going through, and everything you do is of worth to Him.”
That’s when I decided that I’d better take this message seriously. I asked my husband for 24 hours by myself for my birthday, and during that time away, I started asking God why that truth was so important to me.
As moms who work all day at home with our children, our work never reaches completion, at least not within a year or two, or even a decade. In the middle of putting makeup on in the morning, one child frustrates the other, who proceeds to whip their toy at the instigator, pelting them in the back. In the midst of the screams, we pause everything for a “teaching moment”, aware that we will have the privilege of at least twenty more teaching moments before the sun sets. The laundry still tumbles in the dryer while a child dirties another pair of pants. Every dish is finally placed in the cupboard when a child asks for their third snack in two hours. While we pour the milk, popcorn seeds free-fall from the bag and scatter, bouncing across the floor. When the children lie in bed and the house sits hushed and quiet, we moms still reside in our workspace, with a list of a dozen tasks yet to begin.
We mamas know that it is a gift to work all day with the children we love, for little kisses and chubby-armed hugs; but it is not easy. We pour out our best work when we are alone, with little to show for it in the short-term, for small people who do not even think about giving us accolades for all of our labors.
But mama, God sees you. He knows what you are going through, your love for your children poured out in a hundred ways per day, your energy and ideas given freely for others. Because God sees you, you are not alone. Every little thing you do for your children holds great worth to Him. He values your many roles as master chef, toy repairman, teacher of all subjects, counselor, social coordinator, nurse, athletic coach, entertainer, housekeeper, organizer, cheerleader, moral guider, security guard, etc. He knows that you are a good mom.
There is a famous story about how Jesus reacted to little children. You know, the one displayed in the paintings of Jesus with multitudes of serene children sitting on his lap. I think an artist should create a more realistic version of this scene, in which children race in circles around Jesus’ legs and shove each other over in order to sit in His lap first.
The real version, what we know for sure, is this:
“People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.’ And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.” Mark 10:13-16
Simply put, God loves children and values taking the time to hold them and bless them. He considers children to be of so much worth that He even gets emotionally upset about a disregard for these little ones.
When you love your children, you engage in work that aligns with the heart of God. The long-term effects of your work are unparalleled. You bless ones who have open and tender hearts, who have the capacity to grow into men and women of strength and grace. You have influence.
I found this verse, which I now have posted on my kitchen cupboard.
“For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to Him.” 2 Chronicles 16:9a
As you serve your children, even when you feel weary or alone or of little value, the Lord strengthens you for your work.
God sees you chopping vegetables.
God sees you spraying stains.
God sees you picking up toys.
God sees you bandaging wounds.
God sees you teaching children to forgive each other.
God sees you raising up the next generation of men and women who will love Him and change the world. And that is a work of highest worth.
I grew up in this beauty. I spent so much time in the sun and fields that my hair turned the golden color of ripened wheat. I loved the prairie, the fields, the wooded groves, the creeks, and the freedom of walking for miles without seeing another soul.
This is me in the middle of a wheat field, hoisting my little brother up for a photo
I noticed a few adults who had lived their childhoods on farms but had defected to the city when they were grown. I always judged them silently, viewing them as traitors. I never understood how they could leave the land and lifestyle that had raised them.
After college, I worked at a university campus, so it made sense to live in town. A few years later, I married a man who worked at a company in the same town, and it made sense for us to find a house there. A few years after that, we had kids. And it made sense to raise them… in town. I had always planned on raising farm kids, allowing them to experience hard work, cooperation with their family, caring for animals, and the need to trust in God when you deal with uncontrollable conditions such as weather. Developing town kids did not make my list of 10-year goals.
As if town life weren’t stretching enough, six months ago we landed in a city of roughly 24 million people, with a commitment to do life there through the next three years. Just visiting a city in our home country counted as culture shock for me; living in a cosmopolitan city in another country added even more hurdles. Having traveled to China twice previously, this particular city was the last place in this country that I would have chosen to live.
To clarify, I was not dragged here kicking and screaming. I chose to live here, and although I have a deep appreciation for agriculture, I understand that it would not be the right fit for me. I am happy to be in this city. We have been blessed with so many friends and opportunities here. It’s just that sometimes the place where we find ourselves is such a world away from what we know that it’s a bit of a shock.
Shanghai Cityscape Photo Credit: Brooke Jacobson
After staying here for our first five months, we visited our home country to celebrate Christmas with our families. The spoken phrase “Welcome home!” warmed my heart. When our three-week vacation ended and we returned to our new house, I asked my eldest where her home is. She declared without a minute’s hesitation that her home is in America.
The Land That I Love
I feel the same way.
But one of the thoughts that came to me over and over as we stayed with our families was “How do we make this new place homey?” Problem #1: our house is reminiscent of a hospital (think expansive and completely white). How do I turn this house into a home of refuge and peace? How do I stabilize my children and myself with a life-giving routine? What do I cut out to make time for the people who are important to me?
I suppose that the overarching question is this: How do we settle down and make our home in a place that is foreign, unfamiliar, and so far from the place I envisioned for myself when growing up?
Although we are far from being in exile, I am reminded of God’s words to His exiled people.
“This is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: ‘Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.’” – Jeremiah 29:4-7, emphasis mine
This is the prelude to the often taken out of context verse, Jeremiah 29:11: “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”
I imagine that I feel a little bit like these people may have felt, at least without the forced relocation. I’m in a new city far from home, trying to understand an indiscernible language, and navigating an unfamiliar culture. As I walk around, it’s painfully obvious that I don’t belong here. Transportation and shopping require effort and thoughtfulness, and to be honest, it’s exhausting.
The Bund Shanghai Skyline
As the experience is similar, so God’s word to me is similar. In the midst of all of the change, I am called to bless this city. The settling down, the building a life, the seeking the good of the foreign city, the praying for this place to prosper is what opens our eyes to see the hope and the future that God has for us. We must not spend years, even just a few, biding time until we can leave a place, when we could instead make our home there and bless it.
So this is my new year’s resolution: to build a life here, in my foreign city.
Seven years ago this November, I first stepped foot into this amazing country.
My first trip to the Great Wall of China.
My husband led me on a whirlwind trip around Beijing. Every day for one week, I saw something new, I ate something new, I went somewhere new, and I met someone new. By the end of the week, I was one exhausted introvert.
To cap it all off, I got sick from hotpot on the last day of our trip. I puked in the hallway of a friend’s apartment on our last night in country and slept during the entire flight home. Our friend thought I would never come back to China again.
The number seven in the Bible signifies completion or perfection.
And here we are, seven years later, making our home in the Central Kingdom.
Seven-Year Anniversary of my first visit to the Great Wall.
Life has changed in seven years. We have three kids. My youngest sister has graduated from high school AND college and has come to visit our new place. Much like the Great Wall itself, we have traveled a good, challenging, winding and beautiful road since my first arrival, and now we begin the next leg of our journey.
In the words of my daughter, here’s to “tons of adventures.”
In an instant, my reputation as a mother shattered in the eyes of our ayi.
I’ve finally begun Mandarin lessons. This past week, I learned the word for juice. I sat at the kitchen table with my tutor and made a mental note that it sounded similar to the English word for juice.
Fast-forward one hour. I took the leftover apple cider out of the fridge to give to my kids and thought it might be fun for ayi to try some. I poured a small glass and offered it to her, saying in my slowly deliberate Mandarin, “This is apple juice,” which I hoped would be close enough to “cider” and she could figure it out from there.
And here begins our conversation, in which I became a terrible mother.
Note: This all happened in Mandarin, aside from my thoughts, and ayi’s Mandarin has been paraphrased for the reader’s understanding.
Ayi, pausing: “Jiu?”
My thoughts: “That sounds like what I just said, with better tone, and it’s close to juice. That must be it.”
Me: “Yes.”
Ayi: “I don’t drink that.”
My thoughts: “That’s so strange. Maybe she thinks it will mess up her digestion or something.”
I put her cider down and pour three small cups for my three children. As I warm it in the microwave, ayi turns from doing the dishes to watch me.
Ayi, very strongly: “They (the children) shouldn’t drink that.”
Me, reassuringly: “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
My thoughts, as ayi coldly turns back to the dishes: “What’s the deal? Maybe the Chinese don’t let their kids drink apple juice? There was that one fruit that she said they shouldn’t have too much of. Maybe it’s like that. Too much sugar? Bad for digestion?”
Me: “Just a little bit is okay for them.”
I give the cider to the kids, and then ayi turns to me again.
Ayi: “I can’t drink it because I have to drive my scooter to my other job.”
Me, horrified, as I realized the word she had used: “No, no, no! Not ‘JIU’!”
I quickly grab the bottle of juice out of the fridge: “This one!”
Ayi, after scrutinizing the label on the bottle: “Oh, ZHI!”
And then she smiled, realizing that I give apple juice to my little ones… not apple wine.
Welcome to the world of language, where a simple error can wreak havoc in real life conversations.
My husband and I shared a hearty laugh about this episode, partly because of ayi’s horror at my parenting and partly because of my embarrassment. As a child learning to speak, adults give us so much grace and patience. I think of one of my nephews who recently tried to say the lovely phrase, “Nana’s beach.” It came out sounding like something that I won’t write here. We laughed and enjoyed the moment, but we didn’t reprimand him or became angry because he accidentally blurted out something else. We expect that toddlers won’t get their words or pronunciations correct all the time, especially at first, and we listen carefully to understand what they try to say.
I wish that we adults would have the same grace for other adults and for ourselves when we learn a new language. I’m a big perfectionist. I don’t like to fail. I don’t like to be incorrect. I want to say something the right way the first time and every time after that. But it’s not possible.
While I desperately want Mandarin speakers to display patience toward my attempts to speak, the only person I can control is myself. So I hope to be patient toward students or friends I meet who are learning English, realizing that their trying means they actually care to communicate with me. And I want to give myself grace to know that I will fail linguistically but that I am free to try and to learn and to laugh at myself.
Oh, and ayi drank her cider and said it tasted delicious.
That day in our small city was just like today in our expansive city: sunny, warm, a bit breezy. In a word, perfect.
Fast-forward six years. My husband and I were happy and content, raising three kids in a good town surrounded by amazing people that we love.
Then, over a year ago, Josh and I began talking in earnest about the possibility of moving to China. No concrete opportunity had presented itself, but his company was getting a new CEO and restructuring a bit, so it appeared that something could open up.
I was intrigued at the idea of a change but also extremely hesitant, for several reasons.
One day early in the summer, I got a babysitter for the kids and took my monthly required “retreat of rest”, as my supervisor called it. I walked through a local garden and spent some time talking with God. While there, I was reminded of a concept that I had lost hold of during the ups and downs of six years.
During high school, I attended a church where we watched videos featuring Ray Vander Laan. He had traveled the Middle East and connected Jewish culture with the life and teachings of Jesus. So much more about Jesus made sense when understood in context.
In one of the segments, Vander Laan explained the traditional process of betrothal. Of course, the process was intricate and the fathers of the woman and man were involved, but what struck me was the moment of the “ask”. The man took a cup of wine, drank from it, and offered it to the woman. This gesture was as if to say, “Here is my life and everything that it holds. Will you accept it?” If the woman drank from the cup, she essentially took the man’s life as her own. Whatever the “cup” of life held in store for them, they would take it together.
On that summer day a year and a half ago, I pondered what it meant to take my husband’s life. Not in a “bumping him off” sense (obviously!), but with the idea that the course of our lives would be one. Whatever he would be called to in the future, I would also be called to.
I couldn’t honestly say that Josh’s interest in China blindsided me. After all, he had studied Mandarin in Beijing for two years, we met at a picnic for new Chinese international students the summer that he returned, he talked about China all the time when we were dating, and for our one-year anniversary he took me to visit Beijing. I could not claim ignorance. I knew what I was getting into.
And yet, I had forgotten. I had forgotten that when I said, “I do”, I accepted his life. His course and direction would also be my course and direction.
Let me clarify. Josh is not the kind of man who would dictate that I bow at his feet and yield to his wishes. I knew before I married that I needed a husband who understood my calling and could encourage me in it. In fact, the second time that we visited China together, it was because I realized that even as a mother, I had to continue to grow personally and to keep my love for the nations alive. And so it was that Josh took time off and we brought our toddler and several college students to China for a month.
But the truth is that it’s hard sometimes to bend, to give a little or a lot, to live out the opportunity or dream of your spouse. Sometimes we ask the unvoiced question, “What about me?” I read a great book recently entitled Just How Married Do You Want to Be? by Jim and Sarah Sumner. They rightly noted that marriage is not a competition. Because you are ONE with your spouse, whatever success your spouse gains is your success as well.
A while ago, we saw this bride and groom arrive to an apartment complex, preceded by shots of fireworks. I’m sure, like most of us, they felt full of anticipation, hopeful for their future together. Do any of us really get what it will mean, what it will cost us, to take on someone else’s life? Their successes, their failures, their dull days? Probably not. I think it’s the same for those of us who have given our lives to Jesus Christ. We don’t really get what it will mean, what it will cost us, to exchange our life plans for His plans. And yet, like marriage, this commitment sets us off on an unparalleled adventure. It’s totally worth it.
A friend asked me last week if I’m happy that we moved to Shanghai. I don’t know. However, I do know that I am happy to share this adventure with my husband. And because of that, there’s really no place I’d rather be.
Happy anniversary, Josh. I love you lots! Isn’t it ironic that we married during a Chinese holiday? I guess God has a sense of humor…
spahrknotes 