Imagine for a moment that you and I are sitting somewhere in a coffee shop, sounds of espresso machines whirring in the background, groups of people happily chatting back and forth, and laptop keys of studious college attendees click-click-clicking away. Imagine for a moment that we are sipping our drinks and imagine that you ask me how life is in China. If you were to ask me that question, here’s what I would say. I would not tell you, “It’s fine,” or “It’s good,” because to be frank, those phrases limit the indescribable feelings I have for China. Let me instead paint you a picture of a typical day for me in China, and through this story, I wish for you to see and rejoice with me in the beautiful, hard, wonderful, stretching, and challenging. Here goes…
The alarm buzzes at 5:07 am. I blearily stumble to get ready for the morning, make vain attempts at coaxing my hair into place, mix together my instant coffee, and grab something to eat as I walk to school. I take the elevator down to the first floor from the 27th floor that my roommate and I live on. The darkness greets me as I enter the lobby area. Residents of Chengdu don’t see the sun peeking through the clouds until around 7 am each morning. I listen for the sound of rain, another permanent fixture of the city of Chengdu. If I hear the pattering of rain, I take out my umbrella from my backpack and try my hardest to dodge the huge holes of water. If I don’t hear raindrops, I revel in the coolness of the morning.
Mornings are my sacred time. Here, people seem to treasure their sleep greatly. Children run wild until 9 or 10 pm at night because of the cooler temperatures, but are promptly scooted into bed at 10 pm. Most sleep until 7 or 8 am. Because of this, when I leave the house at 6, I see around 3 people out of the millions that live in Chengdu on their early morning walks. I pass the same street vendors selling breakfast items. I walk past the same foul-smelling construction site that is near my apartment’s back gate. I see the same construction workers every morning. I bypass the same street sweepers clothed in orange taking care of the trees and bushes that line the roads. And I cross the same seven-lane highway on my way to work. I’ve gotten quite good and judging distances and rates of acceleration. Physics at work, my friends!
When I cross the highway and arrive at my school, the guards recognize me and wave. I’ve trained them well. The first week of school, it looked as if they were in pain when I waved at them. Now, they freely offer waves and smiles and Mandarin greetings.
I will do work in my classroom until our daily staff devotional. It looks different everyday, but lasts only for about 15 minutes. It’s a grand time to refocus for the upcoming day, take a deep breath, and praise.
My students arrive. They are talkative and excited and totally and completely dependent on the weather. We learn. We grow. We make mistakes. We apologize. We move on. We start fresh.
We exhale after the day is over. We wonder if the students learned anything at all today. We plan. We re-plan. We adjust. We use Plan Z. We laugh at something that happened today. We, despite the irritation, grin until the grin becomes a smile and the smile becomes laughter. We laugh harder when we realize we’re sitting in an empty room, laughing by ourselves, as the guards on their night rounds walk past the room.
I leave school at 8 pm every night, and the sun has long gone to bed. As I shut off lights and close doors, I sigh, realizing that I will have to be to school again in less than 12 hours and do everything all over again. I wave good bye to the guards. I close my eyes and inhale deeply the smell of the flowers that bloom outside the front doors. Heaven. I begin the walk home. I cross the seven-lane highway, sometimes stop and buy fruit from a man with a van, and gawk at the people practicing Tai Chi. I stop and listen to the music and watch for a minute, reveling in the peaceful sounds and graceful movements coming from the scene. The night life here is one of my favorite things. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is out walking around with their babies, children, dogs, husbands, wives, grandparents, and parents. It is not the fast walk of the westerner either. It is a slow, steady walk that allows to wind down from the day. I use the evenings to write to people, do laundry or dishes, and crawl into bed and fall asleep to await my beckoning call at 5:07 the next morning.
There are days when I love being here, and there are days when I wonder why I’m here. I don’t let the bad days overtake the good, and He has been good in letting me catch a glimpse of small, precious moments that help me realize He is here. I do not have an answer for the question of, “How has China been?” but what I do have is stories, and through those stories, I hope you can realize the real-life struggles and blessings I have encountered. And, oh my friends, the stories are merely beginning. J
