Independence

I’m a pretty independent woman.  Let’s face it: I wouldn’t be where I am now if I wasn’t.  There is no way that I could live life in China each day as a single without being independent.  It is a large part of my identity during this season of my life, and it honestly always has been and probably always will be.  After all, my first sentence was, “Papa, it’s my life.” I was doomed from the start!

As soon as I moved the Chengdu, I knew what one reflection of my independence would be: my scooter.  Within 5 days of landing in this fine city I had my very own two-wheeled death trap (at least, that’s what my dad calls it).   It didn’t go very fast and I never drove it very far, but it was mine.  Some people take long walks as an escape, but I drive.  Feeling the wind in my hair and the pollution in my eyes was a taste of freedom in a country where I didn’t understand language or culture.

Now, my scooter is a much smaller part of my life, but I still can’t imagine life without it.  I know some people who have lived in Chengdu for decades and have never ridden one, and they seem ok, but I couldn’t do it.  Just knowing that on a bad day I can get on and go is a comfort to me.   Knowing that independence is within my reach.

What do you have in your life that is a mark of your independence?  What is your release?  (I’m always looking for new ideas…especially when it’s raining!)

Day 1 with my scooter.  It was love at first ride!

The first (and last) time I ran out of battery and had to find a creative way to get home :)

It certainly makes taking boxes home from school easier!

The 2012-2013 CDIS scooter gang.  Those were the days!

Parting is such sad sorrow...

"Parting is such sad sorrow." I'm not sure who said it first, me or my cousin Aimee, but whoever did said it well. Parting is not sweet sorrow. It isn't sweet at all. It is sad. Very sad. Change is hard...good, but hard. And sad. Have I mentioned that already?

Why the somber post? Well, my roommate moved into her new apartment on Monday. She is going to be teaching at a school located at our old school campus next year, and as a result she needs to live back in the part of Chengdu where we used to live. Sadly, I need to stay in the part of Chengdu where we live now. As a result, we can't live together. Logical, but sad.

I've mentioned my roommate a few times on this blog, I'm sure, but I don't know if I've ever told you our story. Sarah and I are complete opposites. She is the yang to my yin. The quiet to my loud. The thinking to my verbal processing. If I am an extreme extrovert, she is the extreme introvert. And no one ever thought that us living together would work. It really shouldn't if you think about it. But it does.

Sarah gets me.  Our first few months were rocky as we adjusted to living together. I learned to think a bit more, she learned to talk a bit more. I love that, now, there is nothing better to end a stressful day than going home and decompressing about it over tea and something on hulu with my roommate. Whether its out and about in the city or a quiet evening in our neighborhood, there really is no one I'd rather spend time with here than her.  Sarah and I have become best friends over the course of our two years as roommates.

And now we're not roommates anymore.

I know, I get overly sentimental.  We will be living in the same city, and will see each other at least a few times a month, so we will still be close. But things will never be the same.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate change?

Sarah and I with our favorite Korean star in our elevator :)

Crazy Hair Day 2014

#thatsmyroommate

Location: Chengdu, China
Local Time (CST -- GMT+8): 5:44 p.m. (6/4/2014)
Auburn Time (PST -- GMT-7): 2:44 a.m. (6/4/2014)

Home

There's no place like home, right?  Well, that depends on what home is.  Is it where my parents live?  Where my brother is?  Where my 'home' church is?  Where I speak the language? Where I feel like I fit?  There doesn't seem to be any place that fits more than two of those criteria, so do I actually have a home?  Doubtful...very doubtful.

My concept of home has always been wobbly, at best.  That said, this is home now...at least for now.  China is home.  What an odd realization that is.  I'm not sure why, but a conversation that I had in the park seemed to seal the deal for me.  What conversation?  Well, I don't know if I can actually call it a conversation, per say...

An old lady walks by, we say hi, she says hi, and then she starts babbling on about something.  I say "Shenme?" (What?) and she tells me to come follow her.  She takes us back to a place on the path where we had just seen her put something in the grass.  Turns out that the something was a piece of candy, which is covered with hundreds of ants within two minutes.  She was so pleased with herself :)  She proceeded to start babbling away about the ants, guess my age (she was only two years off) and tell me all about how she's old (she made me guess...always a bit scary!).

Of course I only understand one in twenty words...but I understood.  I may not speak Chinese...not really, but I'm at the point where I can pick up what I need to and make due with what I know.


For me, that's what an earthly home is.  A place that you can follow the gist of, but not necessarily feel 100% comfortable.

Welcome to my world :)


Location: Chengdu, China 
Local Time (CST -- GMT+8): 9:47 p.m. (4/16/2014) 
Auburn Time (PST -- GMT-7): 6:47 a.m. (4/16/2014)

On Satisfaction and Singleness

I know I haven’t blogged in a while, so this post being my “back to the blog” attempt might not make a lot of sense, and I’m not looking for sympathy or reassurance…I just want to share something that is heavy on my heart today. Let me explain…

I'm single.  This is [hopefully] no surprise to any of you that know me.  I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to live in an amazing corner of the world, pouring my heart into the people around me and the students that enter my classroom each day.  I truly love what I do.  I know that I have been uniquely gifted with an immense passion for the students that I work with, and there isn’t always room for many others in my days as I attempt to become the best teacher and mentor to them that I can be.  There have been seasons in my life where I have been told that I need to stop thinking so much about my job, but I honestly can’t.  I love it so much.  I truly do.  I wouldn’t trade the opportunities that I have to make a difference in their lives for anything.  It is where I’m supposed to be.

That said, there is a part of me that aches for something different; that yearns to be a “normal” twenty-six year old girl.  What is “normal?” In most of my groups of friends, “normal” for now is getting married, having kids, and getting settled into a routine that will last for decades.  “Normal” is going over to mom and dad’s every weekend for Sunday lunch to share stories of running into friends from a few years back in the grocery store and hearing about all the comings and goings of grown-up life.

My “grown-up” life is so far from normal.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Really.

And then someone, I’m sure meaning to be an encouragement or to provide some shred of hope for that “normal” that everyone knows that everyone else must be longing for, goes and ruins it.

I love my students, and part of loving them means anticipating disaster and preventing injury.  Twice today I was told that, as a result of my stellar crowd-control-like skills at school, I’m going to make a marvelous mother.

Thanks.

How do you know that I’m going to be a great mother?  Have you seen some crystal ball into my future?  Did God sit you down for coffee and give you a vision of my life?  Because if He did, I’d love to see it.

Let’s talk reality here.

I might make a wonderful mother someday, but you don’t know that.  Even if I do some day meet the man of my dreams (Gilbert Blythe is still free, isn’t he?), my own children will not know the cool teacher that was commented on today.  Even if I met Mr. Right tomorrow, got married in a year, and immediately became a baby-making machine, by the time my kids are the age of my students I will be almost forty, with aching bones and weary eyes.  How do I know?  I don’t…but my aching joints and exhausted body can barely make it through an 8-hour day of teaching now.  I can’t imagine how I would have energy for that and a family of my own.  Sure, I love my friends’ and cousins’ kids.  I adore them more than anything on the planet, in fact.  Maybe that means I’ll make a great mom.  But you don’t know that.

When I moved to China, I accepted that singleness was going to be a reality for me for at least two years.  Now I'm staying for another contract, and possibly for decades more.  Singleness isn’t something that I fell asleep dreaming about as a child, but it is a reality for me now, and I am so extremely content with it.  Again, I know that I wouldn’t be able to do what I’m doing here and now if I had any other circumstances.

But that doesn't mean that your comments don’t tug at an aching part of my heart.

So friends, as you see the single men and women around you and think that little comment that you mean to be encouraging, please be mindful of their hearts.  Be mindful and consider that what you mean for encouragement might in fact be a painful reminder of a choice that they have made and of the cons to a calling that they are grateful to have followed.

And to my single friends out there, I understand your ache.  I feel your pain.  Know that you are not alone.

Location: Chengdu, China

Local Time (CST -- GMT+8): 9:16 p.m. (4/11/2014)
Auburn Time (PST -- GMT-7): 6:16 a.m. (4/11/2014)