tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26829581805535793642024-03-15T19:32:33.209+08:00By the WayRuth and Kevin's
adventures in ChinaRuvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09660297954880796178noreply@blogger.comBlogger419125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-35982700758417784022023-04-25T21:29:00.004+08:002023-04-25T21:29:35.392+08:00Should We Be Worried? - My Funny and Disturbing Kids<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_drvfGzJATckCqTZAF6_q1qXVJYCYZvR9qz-Iu7Kp5BkWKBprEDlxwwBkALCP2RoV1LBlh4-QhPb0Tk6GT6zQTegzEm7GJr6PfvgRzOjXeCVeyLaJIvtS3-dO6g8AsTfjEpfuS_qR4G8P6sfu4SEi3IUj87QBRTsb89saZ9DD4xtnKnOE0ed77Dz/s960/Nadia%203%20yrs%20old.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_drvfGzJATckCqTZAF6_q1qXVJYCYZvR9qz-Iu7Kp5BkWKBprEDlxwwBkALCP2RoV1LBlh4-QhPb0Tk6GT6zQTegzEm7GJr6PfvgRzOjXeCVeyLaJIvtS3-dO6g8AsTfjEpfuS_qR4G8P6sfu4SEi3IUj87QBRTsb89saZ9DD4xtnKnOE0ed77Dz/s320/Nadia%203%20yrs%20old.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, AGE 3<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me, holding Adalyn: "Look, baby sister is
looking out the window.'<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: "She is thinking about tigers
that might eat her."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">JULIANA, 4 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Conversation with Anna (who had gotten a new car):<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Juliana: Did you drive it out of the store?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Me: No, it wasn't at a store. I went to somebody's house to get it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Juliana: Ooooh, they weren't home? </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 4 yrs<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I just found Juliana's kid dinner knife hidden
inside her pillow case.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 3 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana wanted to play "fight," but
Anna suggested she play peacemaking instead. Kitty and Elephant were fighting,
and Anna asked how they could make peace. Juliana had them hug each other and
be friends, then they said, "Let's be bad guys!" And then she beat
them with a pool noodle. I think it's safe to say she missed the point.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 4 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana was playing restaurant with Yaya when
they got locked inside. Yaya said, "It's okay, I have a key."
Juliana: "Well, why don't we use this big sledgehammer instead?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 4 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn: Mama get waterbottle!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: She thinks mama is the waterbottle
and she wants to drink her blood.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ADALYN, 4 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Playing with strawberries at dinner...<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: Do you like it? I made a flower.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn: Do you like it? I made a jail.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 3 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I'm throwing a princess party for Juliana and
a few friends because I know they'll enjoy it, even though I'm a bit skeptical
about all this princess stuff. While we were making a castle cake Juliana said,
"Can we make a knife cake instead? With a little kid holding a
knife?" So I'm not concerned about princesses anymore...<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">NADIA, AGE 4<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hear Adalyn crying from the other room. Nadia
comes out looking a bit guilty. "Adalyn wasn't cleaning up so I cut off
her head."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 4 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana just got a new purple balloon...<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yaya: Remember that you can't let Adalyn have
the balloon, because if she got it in her mouth she could choke on it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: That would be sad. Because I really
like purple.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-53638720750781703692023-01-06T00:55:00.002+08:002023-01-06T01:00:17.942+08:00Childhood Theology<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJoXDd5YvaR2BNDGKeO41eXVNutgCvO7IZlIVBHdAsu_7djZqIl-IHrme4LqrhoAusYC8qYHTBgSscXeUY9vu2SW6cPjXO24uY19JhFVxXmMtcUGw2kZ0ZVSzspDx6amacStqg86b364ufscbR4AjqLrBtB3cjiWXehxzvq4UADeBnC0uOgkuGQ-fB/s3264/20160327_163053.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="1836" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJoXDd5YvaR2BNDGKeO41eXVNutgCvO7IZlIVBHdAsu_7djZqIl-IHrme4LqrhoAusYC8qYHTBgSscXeUY9vu2SW6cPjXO24uY19JhFVxXmMtcUGw2kZ0ZVSzspDx6amacStqg86b364ufscbR4AjqLrBtB3cjiWXehxzvq4UADeBnC0uOgkuGQ-fB/s320/20160327_163053.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easter Sunday</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA - 3 YEARS</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana appeared at
the top of the stairs by herself. When reminded she wasn't allowed to climb the
stairs on her own she replied, </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I wasn't alone. Jesus was with me. I
wasn't scared." </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Clever, clever three year old.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA AND ADALYN - 8
AND 5 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When children bless
the food they don’t like:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn: Dear Jesus,
thank you for the food last night.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: Dear Jesus,
thank you for the food and help it not to taste bad…</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA - 4.5
YEARS </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: But I WANT
juice. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: No, you don't need
juice. Wanting something doesn't mean you need it. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">J: But I said PLEASE.
That means I should have it. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: Please isn't going
to change it. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">J: Then what will?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: Nothing. I already
said no. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">J: JESUS could. If he
wanted to. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ADALYN - 4 YEARS </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn: God is a
clown.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: Um, why?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn: Because he is
everything.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ADALYN - 2 YEARS </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn: When I'm a
little baby...</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: You will
never be a little baby again. You will just get older and older and then you
will die.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn: And then you
go to jail.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: No, then you
go to heaven.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn: Heaven is
jail.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA - 3 YEARS</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana and I were
talking about how God loves us.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">J: But if we don't
love God then he runs away?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: No, God still
loves us even if we don't love him.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">J: Like when I am mad
at you, I still love you?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: That's good.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">J: Well, actually I
don't.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA - 2
YEARS </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yesterday Juliana was
trying to avoid cleaning up like I asked her to, so she decided to start
praying instead. Good one, Juliana.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA - 6 YEARS</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana (singing): Up
from the grave she arose!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: Actually it's up
from the grave "He" arose.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: No, Jesus can
be either a boy or girl.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: God is not a boy
or a girl, but when Jesus lived on earth he was a boy.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: No, he could
be either. He had long hair.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">NADIA - 3 YEARS</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia picks up a
thumb-drive.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: What's this?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: It's a
thumb-drive.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: Is that God?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: What? I don't
understand. How is it God?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: I can see God
in it.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: Umm, okay. How can
you see God in it?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: Because it came
from God.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: Well, no. It's a
thumb-drive.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: Can you drive
with it?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA - 2 YEARS</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: Jesus is here, we
just can't see him.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana, looking
around the room: "Oh, he's hiding??"</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA - 3 YEARS</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: Let's kill
the bad guys!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Kevin: We don't have
to kill the bad guys. Maybe we can help them not be bad guys. That's why we
need Jesus.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: Jesus can
help us kill the bad guys!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Kevin: No, Jesus can
help them not be bad guys.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana consults with
Jesus: Jesus said he will help kill the bad guys!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> JULIANA - 3
YEARS</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">At dinner Juliana
said, "You can't eat God! Then he would be all gone in your tummy. And I
would get throw ups."</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">JULIANA - 4 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">(Singing) You should
pray to Jesus, not to sticks and stones.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">You should be nice to
Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">MONSTERS!!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">There's monsters in our
home.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">MONSTERS!!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">If you pray to sticks
and stones Jesus will send MONSTERS.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">So how 'bout if you love
Jesus<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Instead. of. sticks.
and. stooooones!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">THE GIRLS - 10, 7, 5
YEARS </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The girls swimming at
our hotel pool:</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They started playing
"Baptism," which involved shoving someone backwards under the water
in a violent form of dunking and then quickly swimming away. Nadia was yelling,
"Help! I don't want to be baptized!" </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Later Adalyn said,
"I want to be baptized in our church because they don't put you in the
water. But if I get baptized somewhere else, I will bring my goggles."</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">And my personal
favorite...</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">JULIANA, ADALYN - 6 AND
3 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">From the bedroom...<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Adalyn: I need my
blanket on!!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Juliana: Ask God
to help you.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn: I need my
blanket on!!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: God, I pray
that you would put Adalyn's blanket back on.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn: GOD'S NOT
HERE!!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-76373799078983018682022-10-29T01:15:00.005+08:002022-10-29T01:26:47.075+08:00The World According to Children, Part 1<p><span style="font-family: times;">I really don't think I'm biased in saying my kids are extraordinarily funny. I have so many good quotes, I had to divide them into a blog series.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNNOmteyGnXyNZKOA1J6iC5Xu7v6hCPZgjKMpf9W6ySa8p3o_vpLz0zAGtJKp9UJ1gmXe3AhscEKmz1dnaqwKezYI-hVRCvNpywPZ9gNXLU9_fp629R3yv-51Y1bTIPD3Ui-CHxnom1GvDveKPnukfNErdylK4V9p9OZGCuAU5kPHUOBpRSZmQqIE/s1080/312798924_1093684758008935_403466665061685884_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="1080" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNNOmteyGnXyNZKOA1J6iC5Xu7v6hCPZgjKMpf9W6ySa8p3o_vpLz0zAGtJKp9UJ1gmXe3AhscEKmz1dnaqwKezYI-hVRCvNpywPZ9gNXLU9_fp629R3yv-51Y1bTIPD3Ui-CHxnom1GvDveKPnukfNErdylK4V9p9OZGCuAU5kPHUOBpRSZmQqIE/s320/312798924_1093684758008935_403466665061685884_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 5 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">While pregnant with Nadia.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: Right now, baby is the size of a carrot.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: A carrot?? I've never seen a carrot
come out of someone's belly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: No, that's just how big it is.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">J: The carrot's brother or sister?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: No, the baby.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">J: The baby carrot?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: No! carrots grow in the ground. I'm just
talking about the size of the baby.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">J: So it's a person baby?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: Yes!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">J: Oh...I knew it was a person baby. I just
thought its name was carrot.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 4 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: I will marry God and then I will be a
princess.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: You mean a nun?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: I will marry daddy and then I will be
a princess.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Kevin: I'm already married to mama.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: It's okay. You can stop being married
to her and then you can marry me. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(a few minutes later) How will I know if
someone loves me? I think you and mama can find someone for me to marry.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Kevin: You might change your mind about an
arranged marriage, but we can help you to know if someone really loves you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: EVERYONE loves me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 3 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: Moo, moo, moo.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mama: Are you a cow?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: No, I'm a girl who says 'moo.' <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 4 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana, struggling with her clothes:
"I'm trying to get my shirt tucked into my pants, but it just won't LISTEN
to me! "'<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 3 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: Yaya! I'm making your stairs
beautiful!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(as she puts Mickey Mouse stickers on the
stairs) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: The stairs might not be the best place for
stickers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana with shocked expression: You don't
want beautiful stairs? Yes you do!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 5 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Did you know you can eat ice that's clean? Did
you know that? I ate ice once. But it was a long time ago. #thirdculturekid<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">NADIA, 5 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia to Adalyn: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">How do you spell mama? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">How do you spell dada?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">How do you spell stop? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">How do you spell George Washington?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">NADIA, 2 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Desert book: "What do you think of when
you think of the desert?" <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: "Um...Pandas!!" <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Desert book: "desert, desert,
desert..." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: "Where's the pandas?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">NADIA, 3 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Finishing Nadia's birthday cake.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: My arm is so sore from mixing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: My arm is so sore from tasting.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNu6IEi5wRsGIDVCBkVYk9UMLKu8Iaj54GDO5grAkGIbrSmkbMOm9RvJtptB0c2mDYqGLNBXpHABjKO2rNyjbs1TZkeTYJmINzFFNputgeZ6yFw-WfX_k90Ga1UWdCODzq8sNp_0r1WZVmFH7SazYQqnJpLncxgU6ATpNgC3B1S3Ax2Q4ws7h433-/s1080/312530468_896263721339932_6682785562068955132_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="1080" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNu6IEi5wRsGIDVCBkVYk9UMLKu8Iaj54GDO5grAkGIbrSmkbMOm9RvJtptB0c2mDYqGLNBXpHABjKO2rNyjbs1TZkeTYJmINzFFNputgeZ6yFw-WfX_k90Ga1UWdCODzq8sNp_0r1WZVmFH7SazYQqnJpLncxgU6ATpNgC3B1S3Ax2Q4ws7h433-/s320/312530468_896263721339932_6682785562068955132_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ADALYN, 8 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn, whispering to mama: The secret message
is "Valentine’s card break."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: I heard you! You said valentines. And
you said break. "<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn: No, I was talking about something
else. I said Barack. I said I wonder what Barack Obama is doing for Valentines
Day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 8 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Driving to the store with just Juliana.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: It's pretty nice to have only one kid
in the car. It's much calmer, isn't it? I can hear the songs on the radio. I
like that. It's nice to have some peace and quiet." ... [talks
continuously the rest of the way]</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">NADIA, 3 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When our plane was taking off to fly back to
China, I suggested Nadia say goodbye to America. She said, "Bye bye
America! Bye bye America! [perturbed] It's not saying goodbye back to
me!!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">NADIA, 5 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: "There's no place like home."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: That's not true. There are SOME places
like home.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: It means that home is the best place to
be.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: Well, I think Chuck-E-Cheese is the
best place to be.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 3 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana outside on the swing: "Hi shadow,
how are you today? I'm fine. Shadow, what did you do beautiful today?"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ADALYN, 7 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There is a pop song the girls like that says,
"I like me better when I'm with you."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Today Adalyn was singing, "I like
everyone better when I'm alone." <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She has a point.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ADALYN, 1.5 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn standing next to me as I was cutting up
a banana for her oatmeal: "I'm sorry 'nana!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ADALYN, 8 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I just found the best thing in my life - this
wrapping paper roll!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 3 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana at lunch: I was glabroabua...<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: We can't understand you when your mouth is
full.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(A few minutes later)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: Juliana, I need you to sit back down and
finish eating.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: I can't understand you because my
mouth is full.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIVK6AkLPYVjG2IZIVrmJEu6fZfbyOnALGh7qoeCKQjnefztnYNIqLNyZz_Qu18QATRqoxrwSkkKjvDADfDEdJHYv9LQkxNX8jpauKk0PnF0Bss0qIracdhTLxUSrXp-gaLRs90XpyRGilRqkCNKQes1MDJGC8xZjkt8KxGiPeEr4Iwd4fW26Q1Jfo/s309/313022724_699440638466223_6878399214848015014_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="309" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIVK6AkLPYVjG2IZIVrmJEu6fZfbyOnALGh7qoeCKQjnefztnYNIqLNyZz_Qu18QATRqoxrwSkkKjvDADfDEdJHYv9LQkxNX8jpauKk0PnF0Bss0qIracdhTLxUSrXp-gaLRs90XpyRGilRqkCNKQes1MDJGC8xZjkt8KxGiPeEr4Iwd4fW26Q1Jfo/s1600/313022724_699440638466223_6878399214848015014_n.jpg" width="309" /></a></span></div><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">NADIA, 5 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: What's this?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: It's a card from a friend, saying they are
sorry that Anna died.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: Why are they sorry? They didn't kill
her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 7 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Packing to move, the girls discovered a
bag of throw</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">aways.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: You can’t get rid of this! I’ve been
looking for it! It’s my favorite!!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: It’s a hanger.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 4 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana, looking at her Barbie backpack: Who is that?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: Maybe Cinderella?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: NO! it's Barb...eque.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ADALYN, AGE 6<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Adalyn: Barbies are different from people.
Because Barbies can turn their heads all the way around.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 2.5 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana's expert travel advice: "You ride
on an airplane. You ride on a train. You drive on a bus. If you touch trash you
get sick. If you don't sit in your seat you go CRASH fall down. And then you go
waa-waa!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ADALYN, 8 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You know the best time to kiss someone (on the
lips)? When your lips are dry. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">NADIA, 4 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: Do we have a xylophone here?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: I think so. It's a little different from
the one in China though.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nadia: WE DIDN'T BRING OUR XYLOPHONE??<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ADALYN, 8 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Today we didn't wear masks to church for the
first time in a long time, so I put on some lipstick in the car. As I was
blotting it with a tissue, Adalyn said, "Oh no, do you have a bloody
nose?" I guess it's been a while. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 2.5 YEARS<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Me: Do you want banana in your Chex (cereal)?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: I want...I want a CAKE in my Chex.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">NADIA, 3 YEARS; ADALYN, 5 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(jetlagged) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">4:30am trying to get Nadia to go back to
sleep:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">N, screaming at the top of her lungs,
"IT'S BORING TO SLEEP!!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">9:30am trying to get Adalyn to put clothes on:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A, lying on the stairs wailing dramatically,
"I hate paaaaaants!!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 2 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana has taken to asking and answering the
questions she thinks we should be asking her. In her imaginary world we give
her everything she wants.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: "Do you want another cracker?
Okay! Another cracker!!"<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">JULIANA, 5 YEARS <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Kevin: I have ancestors from Sweden, and
Norway, and Netherlands.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Juliana: NEVERLAND??<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: times; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-15414081518395077152021-12-14T09:22:00.003+08:002021-12-14T09:37:22.009+08:00The Year Nothing Feels Right<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjpOHlRgav4oP9hJAEvUYh4Iznq8GSxlb_u-BQ3lH-B_u-pC2T-rnjq9jweEbTlmwfHNK0qstiFCOpAEDGmHy86aMxkWw-wgv3kvSJ6kr5jnrvPQdvzNiqVV7jKg_twgk5m9SQ9wjD534fjwjtRi3gaW_0d6-WseidJYl_w3DRAqPc84vBCbvOAkSDS=s2022" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2022" data-original-width="1702" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjpOHlRgav4oP9hJAEvUYh4Iznq8GSxlb_u-BQ3lH-B_u-pC2T-rnjq9jweEbTlmwfHNK0qstiFCOpAEDGmHy86aMxkWw-wgv3kvSJ6kr5jnrvPQdvzNiqVV7jKg_twgk5m9SQ9wjD534fjwjtRi3gaW_0d6-WseidJYl_w3DRAqPc84vBCbvOAkSDS=s320" width="269" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>Much as I theoretically love the Christmas season, past Decembers have often been hard - sickness and depression and polluted skies and exhaustion. This year we haven't been sick too much, the air is clear, and thanks to modern medicine, my depression is improving.</span></span></span></span></p><p class="western" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>But </span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>still.</span></span></span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">T</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">his
year </span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">nothing
</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">feels</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
right.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Grief</span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
pierc</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">es
unexpected</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
moments in the midst of ordinary life. </span></span></span></span></span></span>
</span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Decorating
trees and</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">viewing
lights and </span></span></span></span></span></span>
</span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: inherit;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;">–
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">loss
–</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">and
singing songs and </span></span></span></span></span></span>
</span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">baking
cookies and</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: inherit;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;">–
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">loss
-</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">joy
and grief</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">and
confusion</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">and
heaviness and</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124; font-family: inherit;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;">–
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">loss
–</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">---</span></span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">We
went to my parents’ house to help them decorate because there is
nothing like the excitement of children to make </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">these</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">
things feel worthwhile. We </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">hung</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">
all of Anna’s personal ornaments collected </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">since
childhood</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">.
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">They
blended in amid all the others, just like always.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">Then
mom pulled out the stockings. We each have </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">personalized</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">
stockings </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">my
mom made</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">
over the years </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">for
c</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">hildren,
sons-in-laws, grandchildren, cousins and grand-cousins. This year we
finally have ours shipped from China. All of the stockings are
together at last!</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">She
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">looked
at</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">
Anna’s stocking and stopped. “What do we do with this? We can’t
</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US"><i>not</i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">
put it up.” For 32 years, that stocking hung on the mantle </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">with
the rest of the family’s</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">.
So many years ago mom carefully stitched the </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">name</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">
“Anna” in sequins.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">In
that moment, the wrongness of it all broke </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">through</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">
again. How do we have this stocking that Anna will never again open?
She can’t just be </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US"><i>gone</i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">.
How does someone just cease to exist on earth? It shouldn’t be this
way.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">---</span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>As
</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>I
</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">strung</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>
the tree with lights, the girls exclaim</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>ed</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>
over the ornaments. Juliana sa</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>id</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>,
“Hey look at this funny ornament!” She </span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>was</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>
holding up the ridiculous brocolli-as-a-Christmas-tree </span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>picture
</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>that
Anna once found in a magazine when we were kids. We both thought it
was so funny </span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>that</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>
she made it into an ornament for me.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>Every
year for many years I asked for a harp for Christmas even though I
knew I wouldn’t get it. One year Anna worked with my grandfather in
his workshop to make me a “harp” from wood and guitar strings.
</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>She
knew what I really wanted and her six year old self tried to make it
come true.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>As
children w</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>e
would say, “Christmas is two months away!” and then, “Christmas
is two weeks away!! Remember </span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">when
it</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>
was still two months away?” and </span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">we
laid in bed at night talking about how slowly time moved.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">We
paged through the giant Sears catalog and decided which toys we
wanted most. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">We
search</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">ed</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">
for the hidden stash of presents (usually in mom’s closet) and
argue over who was getting which toy.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
remember standing at the top of the stairs, waiting for the “okay”
to come down and see the Christmas tree. Anna had kept her secret for
so long she just couldn’t handle it any more and told me what my
present was.</span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>We
missed a lot of adult Christmases during our years in China, but </span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>when
we were there, she worked to make it special for the girls. She put
up a tree in their room and bought – o</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">r</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>
made!</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>
- </span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>matching
Christmas jammies.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>I</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>
celebrated 21 Christmases with Anna. All of my memories of Christmas
with my family are wrapped up with her.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">-----</span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>W</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>hen
w</span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>e
visited Santa at Bass Pro Shop the day after Thanksgiving (I did not
think that through), I </span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US"><i>really</i></span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>
wanted to text </span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">Anna</span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span>.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202124;">“</span><span style="color: #202124;"><span><i>We
are stuck in line behind this very talkative lady who doesn’t
believe in the vaccine and thinks the hospitals are getting paid to
fake virus cases and it’s all a conspiracy by the Chinese
government and oh my gosh it’s been 30 minutes of this!!”</i></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202124;">“</span><span style="color: #202124;"><span><i>Juliana
is totally (nicely) giving it back and challenging everything this
lady says with, “but actually…” and I am so proud of my child
right now.”</i></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #202124;">“</span><span style="color: #202124;"><span><i>Now
she is saying something about paying on your phone as a sign of the
end of times??”</i></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">And
Anna would have texted back about how people are stupid and Juliana
is awesome and also </span></span></span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span><span lang="en-US">WTF??
I can predict almost exactly how she would have responded.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">---</span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;"><span><span lang="en-US">This
year I decided to make Christmas cookies for ALL the people. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span><span lang="en-US">Somehow</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span><span lang="en-US">
the list morphed into 34 people/families/groups.</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span><span lang="en-US"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span lang="en-US">It’s
one of those decisions I made when I wasn’t thinking so clearly,
</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span lang="en-US">and
</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span lang="en-US">I wonder</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span lang="en-US">, “WHY did I chose this year of all years</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span lang="en-US">?” </span></span></p><p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;"><span><span lang="en-US">Some
days I enjoy mixing up cookie dough and doing all the Christmas
things. </span></span></span>I
am actually happy, plugging in the Christmas tree lights every day and sitting by the fire. I feel energized watching the girls' Christmas performance.</span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;"><span><span lang="en-US">Other
days, I feel like I am dying. I am so emotionally exhausted that my
body hurts. I wonder how I will be able to press through all the way
through Christmas. </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span><span lang="en-US">I
wonder why I am putting all my energy into making cookies while the laundry piles up, the dining table has been practically
inaccessible, and </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span><span lang="en-US">I’ve
resorted to</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span><span lang="en-US">
“I don’t know, just find something” dinner.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
</span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">guess
I need to expect the unpredictable ups and downs. I try to save
some energy for those days I feel like death. I try to give
myself grace in this year instead of guilt over not doing all the things. Sometimes I am successful.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="left" class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I just wish I had Anna to say, <i>"Yeah, I don't know what you were thinking. Did you make some that are allergy friendly? Gluten free? Vegan? Nut free? That's important. And did you make some for me? 😀"</i></span></span></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-60437632622950956532021-11-17T01:01:00.004+08:002021-11-17T01:11:48.260+08:00I Used to Have That in China<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UyH1JooiCls/YZPlAqy-VeI/AAAAAAAAUj8/zCCIZBbfyiIPCzoirRxumdthd8RrLea8ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20211115_191158.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UyH1JooiCls/YZPlAqy-VeI/AAAAAAAAUj8/zCCIZBbfyiIPCzoirRxumdthd8RrLea8ACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/20211115_191158.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Five months and nine days after we entrusted our most
important belongings to the postal service, our final package arrived!</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When we unwittingly left China in January 2020, planning to
be back in a few weeks, we brought beach clothes. We left an entire house set
up and waiting, perfectly preserved as a moment in time: Beds made, clothes
folded in drawers, shoes by the doors.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Once we realized we were settling in America and would not
be able to return to China anytime in the near future, we started looking into
options for shipping a few of our most important possessions back from China.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was a long and arduous process including months of
planning and frustration, and incredibly helpful friends who spent hours and
hours gathering and packing and repacking on the China side. On June 6<sup>th</sup>,
five boxes and one bass guitar finally left Yinchuan. Due to the nightmarish
shipping delays, they sat in Shanghai for three months.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Finally in mid-October, the first boxes started arriving! A
month later we were still waiting for the final package. The last tracking
update was June, and I was starting to lose hope. But yesterday, our shipping saga
concluded; all our belongings have safely made their way across the ocean!!</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We were all so excited to be reunited with our things again.
The girls exulted over Barbies, stuffed animals, and seemingly random “treasure
collections.” I was thrilled to see the handmade afghans and stockings and
embroidered pictures, the little books I had filled with baby memories, and old
journals that told the inner story of years in China. Practical things like favorite winter clothes
arrived just in time for cool weather, with a big jumble of jewelry and
electronics.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was very happy to see all these things after nearly two
years. But emotions are rarely pure and uncomplicated. In the midst of the
happiness, I felt letdown. I found myself picturing where each of these things
were in our apartment. The recipe cards in the pantry, my jewelry on a hook in
my wardrobe, the Little People overflowing their milk-box-turned-toy-storage.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For a whole year, I pictured my China home set up and
waiting. I thought about all the special and useful things I wished I had with
me. Now, I am faced with the reality that the home we never said goodbye to is
gone forever. I already knew that.
Knowing that brought a bit of closure, a sense that I could start to move
on. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But now it is real in a new way. My hair-tie inexplicably
smells like our apartment, a familiar scent of chalky walls. The physical
evidence of our presence in China is gone, as if we never lived there. The last
tangible connection to our past life is severed.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The dismantling of our apartment symbolizes the unraveling
of our whole lives in China. Even if we did go back to China, everything would
be different. Our dear friends and the sweet community we formed would be gone.
Our students would have graduated and moved on.
Who knows which of our favorite shops and restaurants actually survived
the pandemic. The China we miss no longer exists.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">These five boxes encompass 15 years of life. Most of our
things are more recent, post-children possessions, but they also hold reminders
of years past, the early days when China was such a different world. A handmade
“wish jar” from my very first class in Yangzhou now sits on my dresser. I loved
them so dearly, and they were enamored with me, their 22 year old teacher, the
first foreigner many of them had ever seen.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We shipped another wish jar, full of intricate hand-folded
paper hearts, from two shy students in Weinan, ones who said they were so
touched by Kevin’s teaching because they had never before been complimented.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">An angel figurine that was once on our bookshelf now rests
on the mantel, a memorial of our first pregnancy that ended in miscarriage in a
Chinese hospital. The paper IKEA gift tags that Kevin and I used to decorate
our first Christmas tree wait with the handmade stockings my mom sewed for each
new addition to the family.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I look at my painting, now torn, and remember the painting
class I took with friends. The mug from my favorite coffee shop reminds me of
quiet moments alone, deep connections with friends, and the best ever hugs from
the owner. The terra cotta warrior figurines remind us of bargaining down the
ridiculous price quoted at a stall outside this historical landmark. I remember
where we got every single one of these items and why they are important.</p>
<span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Sans"; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: NSimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN; mso-font-kerning: 1.0pt;">And now we have them back. These tangible reminders of our lives in China
are scattered around the house, slipped between newer items of this newer
life. Our past and present lives blend
together a little more. While it sometimes seems like a dream, like another
world entirely, China will always always be inextricably woven into the rest of
our lives. We look at these treasures and remember who we are.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-52471220916692951182021-05-11T05:23:00.004+08:002021-05-11T10:38:00.132+08:00The Days after Death<p><span style="font-family: times;">I have been thinking a lot about what my cousin told me a number of years ago. She had just lost her mom, my aunt, and I had just suffered a miscarriage. She told me that everyone grieves differently and no matter what other people expect of you, there is not a right way to grieve.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">We have an idea of what grief should look like. Crying. Lots of crying. But grief is much more complicated. Dull sadness and sharp pain, fog and feeling lost, irritation and rage-<i> it shouldn’t be this way!</i>, numbness, memories, tears, exhaustion.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I don’t cry much in general, and I sometimes wonder if I look sad enough. I cried when we gathered around Anna’s hospital bed, when she was both dying and already gone at the same time. But I didn’t cry at the memorial. I sat dry-eyed thinking, “This isn’t real.” It seemed so much like Anna that surely she was there.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">The grief pendulum swings back and forth between surreal and all-too-real. Sometimes life seems normal and I think about other things. Laugh and work on my to-do list and forget. Other moments I bow under the weight of this finality, all of the life I lived with Anna and all that Anna was, suddenly gone. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I think when a person is close enough, their loss is so big it can’t be grasped at once. If we tried to take in the enormity all at once, we might shatter into a thousand pieces. I feel the need to wrap my arms around myself so nothing falls out.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">If you have ever lost someone close, you know the days after death are a crazy mess of details and logistics. Death certificate, obituary, talking to the funeral home, choosing a coffin or urn (or in this case, a biodegradable earth ball), preparing for the memorial. The people with the most grief have the least amount of time to feel it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">When it is all over, when everyone else is understandably moved on, when life moves on and you are expected to do all the things you did before, that’s when the reality sets in. Walking around the grocery store with a broken heart, folding laundry with heavy arms, trying to cook with a muddled mind. We no longer even wear black as a sign we are mourning. We all walk around looking just the same, as if death never happened, as if we aren’t broken inside. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">It has been such a long, slow loss. I started saying goodbye to Anna a few years ago, when she started talking to me about her death. I think everyone close to Anna knew it was coming, we just didn’t know exactly when. The idea of her inevitable death - and even the grief - have been a part of life for long enough that in some strange way, I can grieve her death without fully grasping that she is not alive anymore.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Of course, even when you know it is coming, you can never really be prepared. Two days before she died, I sat in the hospital with Anna talking about all kinds of random things, as we typically did. The quality of various hospital rooms she had stayed in. My new neighbors’ tree massacre. Orthodontics. Nobody thinks your last conversation will be about braces, but I don’t regret it. I don’t regret the normalcy. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I helped her organize her things, in hopes they would release her the next day.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Even as we prepared for her memorial, I thought, “Anna would know who the person in this picture is; I should ask her.” I wanted her to know that I wore her hat and dress and scarf and earrings to the memorial. She wouldn’t have been surprised, because I wore all her clothes at Easter too. But she would have been surprised that over 1000 people watched her memorial – that is the impact one short, limited life can make.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Anna would have been happy to see how the girls are taking care of her tubie bunny and draining its feeding tube. She would have laughed about Nadia’s gleeful face when she said, “Maybe now we will get her candy!!” I would have told her about when Nadia woke up one morning and asked, “Does Anna remember us in heaven?”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I knew these things were all happening because of her death, but it still seemed that I ought to be able to tell her.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I constantly think of things I want to tell Anna. I momentarily forget I can’t message her like I used to do all the time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: times;">“For superhero night at church, the girls dressed up as Malala and Susan B. Anthony! I’m so proud.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">“My phone has finally started predicting swearing!”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">“Are you offended that Nadia’s memorial plant died, or is that an appropriate symbol?”</span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I feel a knife jab as I remember I can’t send these messages. Apparently we talked a lot, because every day I think of things Anna said. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I hear her voice in my kitchen: “Actually people’s sinks are the dirtiest places because they don’t clean them often.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">In my closet, now full of her clothes: “Almost all my clothes are black because stains don’t show.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">At the coffee shop: “They have this handicap space, but there wouldn’t be enough room to get a wheelchair up this sidewalk.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">My life is filled with reminders of her. Lately, this is how her being dead seems most different from her being alive.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I cannot wish her back to these last months, when her life got harder and harder, when staying alive became all-consuming. In that sense, I’m glad she didn’t have to make the choice about when to stop fighting. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I think back to before TPN, before a feeding tube, when she could eat all kinds of food and shower whenever she wanted and was not connected to any lines. I think back to when she could sit on the floor with the girls, could climb the stairs, didn’t even own a wheelchair or IV pole. There was a time when she could watch TV, when she could drive, when she could even live on her own. I grieve not just for her death but for all the life that she slowly lost.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">***</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">It has been one month since we stood at her bedside, holding her hands as her life slipped away. Only a month, and already a month. How have we been living normal life for a month, a normal life that looks different from all the months before it? How can she really be gone?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">One month ago the reality unfolded. The following days may seem hazy, but I remember the details of that day. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">The messages: She is not responding. The MRI shows a major stroke. Your sister is driving down from North Carolina. Come now. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Sitting on our bed, the girls crying, “But maybe she will wake up. Maybe she will be okay.” Holding Juliana and telling her, “No. This is it.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Telling the woman at registration I was going to the ICU. When she said, “I hope it will be okay!” I didn’t tell her that, no, it won’t be.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Taking off my mask – the RBG mask Anna bought me – to blow my nose with tiny tissues, then quickly putting it back on again, over and over.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Asking the nurse to remove all the IVs and lines and tubes because Anna finally no longer needed them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">One month ago, Anna died. The days keep coming and keep coming. The distance from that day will become greater and greater, as Anna stays frozen in time, ever 33. But also not. She is all the ages she was before and all that she never got to be. She is free from tubes and wires and medications and thank God, from insurance. She is everything she was meant to be. And while no-one really knows how it all works, yes Nadia, I think she remembers us.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-29493874170244645202021-02-07T01:46:00.000+08:002021-02-07T01:46:05.780+08:00Our American Dream Home<p></p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-An4M0uewuBo/XwkLXo7iPuI/AAAAAAAAOXQ/kO1LIVeoxYYSSEZrOBAB5ZJ3IcJuoH7IACPcBGAYYCw/s1500/New%2BHouse.webp"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-An4M0uewuBo/XwkLXo7iPuI/AAAAAAAAOXQ/kO1LIVeoxYYSSEZrOBAB5ZJ3IcJuoH7IACPcBGAYYCw/w400-h266/New%2BHouse.webp" /></a><br /><br />We have now lived in our America house for 6 months! There are still moments when I think, “How is this our house? How do we actually live here, in America, in this house that we own?” But overall we do feel settled. Amazingly settled, actually, for starting out with no furniture and a few boxes of our own things.<br /><br /> We really liked this house and it “checked the boxes.” The biggest deciding factor (for me) was all the old trees. I am in love with big, old trees. Six months in, I still feel like we absolutely made a good choice. There are very few things I don’t like about the house and very many things I do. <br /><br /><b> Location </b><br /><br /> - We live in a 50 year old neighborhood with lots of old trees (I’m not into new subdivisions, especially when they raze the trees. It’s an abomination), a quiet road for walks and bike-rides.<br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FHueuI7NA1s/YB68D0iYG_I/AAAAAAAAQBE/NPcAIt1v7dwxVdp-sWnVrxA00iSJ6oqwQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20200620_140844.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FHueuI7NA1s/YB68D0iYG_I/AAAAAAAAQBE/NPcAIt1v7dwxVdp-sWnVrxA00iSJ6oqwQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h225/20200620_140844.jpg" /></a><br />- Our house is 4 minutes from the girl’s school and 10 minutes from Kevin’s. We are 5 minutes from all the stores – Kroger, Publix, Target, Walmart, Home Depot, Sam’s Club, The Dollar Tree, Starbucks...Aldi is the furthest at about 7 minutes away. There are also a ton of restaurants, which we of course have not yet been to. <br /><br /> - We are 25 minutes away from my parents, 8 minutes from church, 10 minutes from friends, 15 minutes from 5+ good parks, and 10 minutes from 2 good libraries. I really miss being able to walk/bike places, but just like China we rarely have to venture out of our little radius. <br /><br /><b>Outside </b><br /><br /> - Our house is situated on ½ acre of grass and trees with a fenced in backyard. Did I mention the trees?<br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nuIw6_EpDCA/YB7RGuApkqI/AAAAAAAAQDQ/2wYe1NQ4KUo-JoePkBTn87AVzjPKY0HvACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/147416793_3758713560909693_5967456436389199676_n.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nuIw6_EpDCA/YB7RGuApkqI/AAAAAAAAQDQ/2wYe1NQ4KUo-JoePkBTn87AVzjPKY0HvACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/147416793_3758713560909693_5967456436389199676_n.jpg" /></a><br />- We have a front porch and back screened-porch. My warm-weather dilemma is which one to choose for morning coffee.<br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jynuA4W_tpk/YB7PP-iOUJI/AAAAAAAAQCs/ZiUR5w43o2Ieg3J8MaXY1CBCJi007DEHACLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/145464197_332248381428574_1173778312102156466_n.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jynuA4W_tpk/YB7PP-iOUJI/AAAAAAAAQCs/ZiUR5w43o2Ieg3J8MaXY1CBCJi007DEHACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/145464197_332248381428574_1173778312102156466_n.jpg" /></a><div>- On cold or rainy days, we drive our cars into the garage, literally a few feet from the door, completely protected from the elements. No more lugging groceries up 5 flights of stairs.<br /><br />- Unlike an apartment, we have no downstairs neighbors to quietly hate us when the girls run, jump, scream, cry, fight, bounce, and play the floor is lava.</div><div><br /><b> Inside </b><br /><br />- We have TWO BATHROOMS. </div><div><br /> - Our kitchen has a full-size refrigerator, a large oven, and a dishwasher. Enough said.<br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MjtjSeDtca0/YB68ibOREjI/AAAAAAAAQBY/jARUD2aQtXMHjJE5yGrJ9mtcnrluPDHLgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/143259886_164245361924146_2075215044157437023_n.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MjtjSeDtca0/YB68ibOREjI/AAAAAAAAQBY/jARUD2aQtXMHjJE5yGrJ9mtcnrluPDHLgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/143259886_164245361924146_2075215044157437023_n.jpg" /></a><br />- We can sit on the couch by the gas fireplace, which is much cozier than a fireplace recording on the TV.<br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DY2YAs6Jfbk/YB7Rbk5tUtI/AAAAAAAAQDc/2MkcOyZuhV0F5a-o0-wlhHvHIezppHvdQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/145979386_2681253982184695_2161265524717542035_n.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DY2YAs6Jfbk/YB7Rbk5tUtI/AAAAAAAAQDc/2MkcOyZuhV0F5a-o0-wlhHvHIezppHvdQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/145979386_2681253982184695_2161265524717542035_n.jpg" /></a><br />- The girls are now split between two rooms. Adalyn enjoys having her own room and the other girls are happy to still have company.<br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1BMw0pO_GCM/YB68W7l2OLI/AAAAAAAAQBM/L1DU9Z-g2ocN8W75PIAA3vb1M-7il3dKACLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/143512759_458466432136525_3312596996752417565_n.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1BMw0pO_GCM/YB68W7l2OLI/AAAAAAAAQBM/L1DU9Z-g2ocN8W75PIAA3vb1M-7il3dKACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/143512759_458466432136525_3312596996752417565_n.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JDNUzZ65FPI/YB68Yphb6_I/AAAAAAAAQBQ/rYbduEzG7pAKTuhdLFkq2gOO84g2H5ORQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/145787245_248418906752485_7967061269813803032_n.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JDNUzZ65FPI/YB68Yphb6_I/AAAAAAAAQBQ/rYbduEzG7pAKTuhdLFkq2gOO84g2H5ORQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/145787245_248418906752485_7967061269813803032_n.jpg" /></a><br />- Our bedroom is large enough to walk all the way around the bed. No more crawling in from the bottom.<br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7pjbCgatdFg/YB68aMgzMsI/AAAAAAAAQBU/m_jQNzUtrbIHFo_tDPET5Ojrpu_HnV9BwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/144019976_411383450158800_2448118859770004881_n.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7pjbCgatdFg/YB68aMgzMsI/AAAAAAAAQBU/m_jQNzUtrbIHFo_tDPET5Ojrpu_HnV9BwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/144019976_411383450158800_2448118859770004881_n.jpg" /></a><br />- We not only have a giant washer AND dryer, we have this fantastic laundry room. It is big enough to double as a mud room and food-storage room.<br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aoE_-KNxQZg/YB68yTz4uaI/AAAAAAAAQBs/my87j35az_AvynWrgEaqz8UuDybCddOkACLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/143521281_4296198903741990_8412687560917593401_n.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aoE_-KNxQZg/YB68yTz4uaI/AAAAAAAAQBs/my87j35az_AvynWrgEaqz8UuDybCddOkACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/143521281_4296198903741990_8412687560917593401_n.jpg" /></a><br /><br />- An attic and a basement – and closets! No more suitcase storage on top of cabinets.<br /><br />- We have a finished basement room for an office/school area/play area. There was also a perfect nook by the basement stairs for Kevin to build a two-story playhouse with a slide.<br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NJ6ds7PEQ1s/YB7QQmorybI/AAAAAAAAQC8/SmFoczCSLSgD7fA19mtJb-9ea6M8MfHdACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/124553815_369380821060677_602477944971221030_n.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NJ6ds7PEQ1s/YB7QQmorybI/AAAAAAAAQC8/SmFoczCSLSgD7fA19mtJb-9ea6M8MfHdACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/124553815_369380821060677_602477944971221030_n.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rLWRzmGtkXc/YB7Qrdk6LFI/AAAAAAAAQDE/DxpZ91FkhtUTBxV1iasN0eCqWtubtLjKwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/146510447_243242447435709_4057615897801123647_n.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rLWRzmGtkXc/YB7Qrdk6LFI/AAAAAAAAQDE/DxpZ91FkhtUTBxV1iasN0eCqWtubtLjKwCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/146510447_243242447435709_4057615897801123647_n.jpg" /></a></div><div>- We initially told our agent no split-levels and then of course we bought one, and I actually really like it. There is a feeling of separation between the downstairs and the bedrooms, but only 4 steps between them. I appreciate this when running up and down (4) stairs all day.<br /><br /> It has many features I only dreamed about in China. A dishwasher!! A dryer and an entire room to put it in. A washer, fridge, and oven that are twice the size of our China ones. Hot water in all the sinks. Even the bathrooms have closets. Central A/C!! Adjustable heat. The ability to step outside the door and – bam – you’re outside. Enough space that the kids sometimes can’t find me for at least 1 minute. </div><div><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v_88mZYwfwA/YB7Q3Hul_CI/AAAAAAAAQDI/DP3Zy69dlz0O27Yxphsl7MxCQb8yMGQBwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/146229068_414945716231287_3586868393304002480_n.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v_88mZYwfwA/YB7Q3Hul_CI/AAAAAAAAQDI/DP3Zy69dlz0O27Yxphsl7MxCQb8yMGQBwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/146229068_414945716231287_3586868393304002480_n.jpg" /></a><br />This is not the time or the way I imagined buying a house in America, but I’m so glad we found this house, during just the right 30hr window it was on the market. We will always think fondly on our various China homes, even the roach infested one (see below). But I have to admit, this one is a pretty good upgrade. I’m glad we have found a permanent (?) America dream home.<br /><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#">Our last China apartment that was our home for five years</a><br /><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/#">Our apartment full of roaches, mold, and fond memories</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-22776774120578604862021-01-23T07:14:00.004+08:002021-01-23T10:36:33.403+08:00Chinaversary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PkCJEq6IEbc/YAtYW0sz6xI/AAAAAAAAP3Y/j4LfQucdu-Uf6g-UcNHmNaeZjAN-GdbhACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/China%2Bapartment%2Bview.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PkCJEq6IEbc/YAtYW0sz6xI/AAAAAAAAP3Y/j4LfQucdu-Uf6g-UcNHmNaeZjAN-GdbhACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/China%2Bapartment%2Bview.jpg" /></a></div><p>One year ago I rushed around uplugging appliances and zipping
suitcases, making sure everything was ready for our vacation. We bundled up in down coats against the frigid January
morning. I took one last look around, and we left our apartment. We
left Yinchuan. We left China. And it was no big deal.</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">Never in a
million years would we have imagined that a year later we would still
not be back, we might never be back. We kept thinking we could return
later in February, in March, in April, later in the spring, at the
end of summer, the beginning of 2021, maybe briefly next
summer...never.</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">I miss so many
things about China.</p><p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">We had such a
close community, a small group of friends we saw multiple times a
week for shared meals, play-dates, meetings, walks, and home school
co-op. We had the kind of friends that shared their left-overs and
library cards and watched your kids at the last minute.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5mcEcByAKig/YAtZFB_Qa1I/AAAAAAAAP4U/xfd6kGvGmjsV9-NDq0ZQUfVrKhrNqx_3ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1152/Juliana%2Band%2BRebekka.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="864" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5mcEcByAKig/YAtZFB_Qa1I/AAAAAAAAP4U/xfd6kGvGmjsV9-NDq0ZQUfVrKhrNqx_3ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Juliana%2Band%2BRebekka.jpg" /></a></div><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">We had a sweet
ayi (house helper/babysitter) who had been with us since Adalyn was a
baby. She was used to our weird foreign ways: our kids who wouldn’t
wear socks on cold tile floors and the amount of peanut butter we
consumed. She knew far too much about us and loved us anyway.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QmpHUOE0zso/YAtYbV9u4SI/AAAAAAAAP4I/iSxH6U2zB8MN0rCOYkLjS02ucJI06qyEQCPcBGAYYCw/s1152/Baozi%2Bwith%2Bayi.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1152" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QmpHUOE0zso/YAtYbV9u4SI/AAAAAAAAP4I/iSxH6U2zB8MN0rCOYkLjS02ucJI06qyEQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/Baozi%2Bwith%2Bayi.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">I miss bumping
down the road in our san lun che, bundled against the cold (in a
mask, because we were doing that long before the virus). I miss
driving past the steaming baozi (breaded dumplings), old women
dancing in the park, and the local mosque. I miss driving the “wrong
way” down the bike lane, because is there really a wrong way? (No.)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HeTYQDpdkmk/YAtYeeMqnKI/AAAAAAAAP4M/HFEtuX2zeNgW3VJHjptYvdK0noXZmU8CwCPcBGAYYCw/s1728/San%2Blun%2Bche.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1296" data-original-width="1728" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HeTYQDpdkmk/YAtYeeMqnKI/AAAAAAAAP4M/HFEtuX2zeNgW3VJHjptYvdK0noXZmU8CwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/San%2Blun%2Bche.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9yeH_xLMbQ8/WUVByTy58bI/AAAAAAAAL_g/fa6XUnvlhUMkw-Tv5DVsFL7-T3hTqwTsACPcBGAYYCw/s2048/15157009_10154715903306613_5415351332513191431_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9yeH_xLMbQ8/WUVByTy58bI/AAAAAAAAL_g/fa6XUnvlhUMkw-Tv5DVsFL7-T3hTqwTsACPcBGAYYCw/s320/15157009_10154715903306613_5415351332513191431_o.jpg" /></a></div><p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">Obviously I’m
not fully accustomed to living in a detached house, because I still
hear phantom chopping noises. In a Chinese apartment, it seems you
hear someone whacking away with a cleaver at any given time of day.
I imagine the scratch of straw brooms on pavement, the calls of
students walking by outside our window, and the loudspeakers at the
fruit stalls croaking out, “San jin shi kuai! San jin shi kuai!
(3lb for $1.50). My past self would find it strange, but I actually
miss knowing there are people all around.</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">I miss the
feeling of safety. I could walk down a dark street at night, take the
bus across the city, or leave my kids in an open vehicle on the side
of the road while I ran into a store. I have to continually remind
myself I’m not allowed to do that here. Schools had earthquake
drills, yes, but never ever mass shooter drills.</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">I could send my
kids down to the nearby shop to pick up some vinegar. It was on our
campus, only about 3 minutes away, but I literally sent an 8, 5, and
3 year old off to run an errand alone. And that was fine. Everyone
around knew who they were, and anyone around would help them if they
needed it.</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">I miss Chinese
food. The hand-pulled Hui noodles, preferably eaten at a rickety
metal table in a crowded restaurant. Our ayi’s jiaozi (Chinese
dumplings) which everyone agreed were the best ever. Anything our ayi
cooked. Our favorite restaurants, like the one by the mosque with the
good eggplant, the one with the excellent tofu that we’ve gone to
for 6 years, and the one with my favorite onion dish that is truly
90% cooked onion. Oh, and north-eastern food! And Xingjiang food! So
many good things you just can’t find here.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Hu0Ox_AKqw/XHxymZMhAxI/AAAAAAAANn0/3x-usb5ihQUJyVlmZecTCCV708ItR1MHQCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/IMG_20190303_181116.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Hu0Ox_AKqw/XHxymZMhAxI/AAAAAAAANn0/3x-usb5ihQUJyVlmZecTCCV708ItR1MHQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_20190303_181116.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">Every time I go
shopping, I think wistfully of China prices. Vegetables were the
least expensive food you could buy – 30c/lb, maybe 70c/lb for the
pricier things. Apples, oranges, and seasonal fruits were
traditionally 3lbs for $1.50. I miss Taobao, a sort of Chinese Amazon
that has everything, including $15 winter coats, $6 knock-off Lego
sets, and the weirdest things you’ve ever seen.
</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">I mostly avoided
the supermarkets, but I still miss the vats of oil and giant bags of
rice and the whole aisle of instant noodles. A walk through the
market would show half a dozen types of tofu, slabs of hanging meat,
buckets of live fish, and beautiful assortments of vegetables.</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">I miss the
seasons in China – the flowering trees of spring, the giant trucks
full of watermelon in summer, the baked sweet potato sellers on the
side of the road in fall, the frozen lake in winter.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vAdT1zqfBws/YAtYeXeadCI/AAAAAAAAP4E/0CpVzSu87OMxwi7ZThp9GxtPGB8R2kPzwCPcBGAYYCw/s1728/Springtime%2Bon%2Bcampus.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1296" data-original-width="1728" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vAdT1zqfBws/YAtYeXeadCI/AAAAAAAAP4E/0CpVzSu87OMxwi7ZThp9GxtPGB8R2kPzwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/Springtime%2Bon%2Bcampus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">I miss students and friends coming to our house, bringing giant bags of fruit as gifts. We would talk or play games and the girls would go crazy. The students took lots of pictures with the girls, admired all their toys, and inevitably got roped into a game of hide-and-seek. You had to make sure every single part of the house was clean before someone came over!</p><p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">One of my friends used to come to my office hours, then to my book club. She was my Chinese tutor for a while. Last year we started going on walk around campus once a week, arm in arm. She was smart and deep and we had many good talks.</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">I can picture
every room in our apartment: my faded IKEA chair on the laundry
porch, where I would sit under wet laundry catching the sun; the
living room rug and bedspread and kitchen curtains I carefully picked
out; the view from the large kitchen window where each morning I
craned my neck to get a glimpse of the mountains. I know how the
light fell at different times of the day. I rarely turned on overhead
lights, as our 5<sup>th</sup> floor apartment was bright enough
without them.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d8CvduIRbpA/YAtYWxZ_kAI/AAAAAAAAP4Q/qVfjTBklKYcuncFw0uxi5fmxog2FCmktwCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/China%2Blaundry%2Bporch.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d8CvduIRbpA/YAtYWxZ_kAI/AAAAAAAAP4Q/qVfjTBklKYcuncFw0uxi5fmxog2FCmktwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/China%2Blaundry%2Bporch.jpg" /></a></div>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">Some things were
so familiar – carried through half a dozen moves or passed on from
other foreigners who had moved on. Others were new – the curtains
we gave Adalyn for when we moved her into the office, still folded
and waiting; the electric train set Nadia got for her birthday two
days before we left.</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">It hurts to think
about all the things we will never see and hear and taste again. It
also stings a little to realize how hard it would be to go back to
that, after settling here.
</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">I enjoy pulling
into the garage (in my enclosed, temperature controlled van) instead
of carting loads of groceries up all those stairs. It would be hard
to go back to Saturday morning Skype calls with my family in place of
in-person visits. I love sitting on my quiet porch in the summer and
by the cozy fire in the winter. We have adjusted to living in a house
twice the size of our apartment – with two bathrooms – and
closets – and a dishwasher.</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">There are so many
things I miss about our lives in China, but I know it was far from
rosy. It was a much harder place to live. Harder practically - making
every meal from scratch, enduring the many smoggy days, and oh my word, the medical stress!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RzGhgL76hmQ/Wje_VyYrSQI/AAAAAAAAMFw/3jQrANJcZkch5anXStnJA_bm2ZcudF7qwCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/IMG_20171214_110455.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1156" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RzGhgL76hmQ/Wje_VyYrSQI/AAAAAAAAMFw/3jQrANJcZkch5anXStnJA_bm2ZcudF7qwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_20171214_110455.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">Harder culturally
- all the attention we drew, all the interactions we decoded, all the
language we learned and forgot, all of the tiny things that wore you
out even after 15 years.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XOskMjRJRag/YAtYaGHys-I/AAAAAAAAP4M/_Mt4s9WBGNcS_UbxiJVRHeeyvphMgU1IQCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/Getting%2Bmobbed%2Bby%2Bbystanders.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XOskMjRJRag/YAtYaGHys-I/AAAAAAAAP4M/_Mt4s9WBGNcS_UbxiJVRHeeyvphMgU1IQCPcBGAYYCw/s320/Getting%2Bmobbed%2Bby%2Bbystanders.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">Harder in more
nebulous ways - the unseen weightiness, the self-expectations,
feeling so visible yet so unseen, a constant feeling of instability.
Really we could have seen this coming. Not a pandemic, of course, but
something that unexpectedly ripped us away.</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">I had considered
what were the most important things I would pack if we had to leave
suddenly. I had a three day plan and a few hour plan (as did most of
the foreign families). I just didn’t have a plan for unknowingly
leaving everything behind forever without a chance to look back.</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">I have no
resolution or closure for this post, just like there was none for our
leaving. I have just been thinking, especially today, about all the
things I miss.</p>
<p style="line-height: 108%; margin-bottom: 0.11in;">One year ago we
left that whole life behind. Just. Like. That.
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lt6BU643Fbk/XHxyjN-7dPI/AAAAAAAANn0/WXr1KIMz3PIBnFqipRgAEJpMDPFfbyyRwCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/IMG_20190302_110221.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lt6BU643Fbk/XHxyjN-7dPI/AAAAAAAANn0/WXr1KIMz3PIBnFqipRgAEJpMDPFfbyyRwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/IMG_20190302_110221.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_mxT4AK3Tds/YAtYeRiManI/AAAAAAAAP4I/lLCJRPyD6dsMId0ylpeg6_OdNiB_8DVygCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/Road%2Boutside%2Bcampus.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_mxT4AK3Tds/YAtYeRiManI/AAAAAAAAP4I/lLCJRPyD6dsMId0ylpeg6_OdNiB_8DVygCPcBGAYYCw/s320/Road%2Boutside%2Bcampus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7g1h3fwjY1Y/YAtYW9H7b4I/AAAAAAAAP34/5jHpOXmlwC8PFr0dhtjoP5A07-fwCUNkgCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/China%2Bbikes.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7g1h3fwjY1Y/YAtYW9H7b4I/AAAAAAAAP34/5jHpOXmlwC8PFr0dhtjoP5A07-fwCUNkgCPcBGAYYCw/s320/China%2Bbikes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w0AnnbzGeAg/XTcIy1ItGGI/AAAAAAAANyM/jyqpvauRuCkw8d2dJM9wZBCl9xjZiG-7wCPcBGAYYCw/s1152/1563885240484.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1152" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w0AnnbzGeAg/XTcIy1ItGGI/AAAAAAAANyM/jyqpvauRuCkw8d2dJM9wZBCl9xjZiG-7wCPcBGAYYCw/s320/1563885240484.JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-66819286966143301272020-08-06T10:22:00.000+08:002020-08-06T10:22:24.006+08:00I Have That in China<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found my keys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
rifled through a not-quite-unpacked suitcase in preparation for moving, and
there they were: the round apartment key, the red bike lock key, and the curved
key for our san lun che (cart).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These
were my keys that I had used every day, and now they are useless. I cannot jump
on my bike for a quick trip to the store or pile everyone in the back of the
san lun che to bounce down the road and play with friends. I cannot go into my
apartment to sit on my couch or cook in my kitchen or sleep in my bed. Maybe
ever.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now we have new keys, fancier keys, to a van with remote
control locks. We have a new house key and a garage door opener. I can hop in
my air-conditioned car with seatbelts and actual seats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can unlock my door to sit on my back porch,
turn on my dishwasher, or sleep in my bed. These are all things I wanted and
appreciate. Why would I miss 20*F wind blowing in my face or a kitchen with no
hot water? But I do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
**<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We washed the dishes, but I left laundry on the drying rack.
We cleared the fridge of any food that would go bad in a few weeks, but the
freezer still held leftover soup in the freezer. We packed our bags sparingly
for vacation: “I’ll just be wearing my flip-flops all the time anyway...sorry,
the American Girl dolls are too big...how many shirts do you really need?” We
turned off the gas, unplugged the appliances, locked the windows, gathered our
bags– then the lock clicked three times deadbolting the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we left.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We innocently left a house, a job, a vehicle, books and
blankets and toys, a whole life. With the turn of a key, that world was over.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
**<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think the strangest thing about buying a new house was the
lingering thought, “But we already have a home!” As we have worked to furnish a
new house from scratch, I don’t know how many times I have said, “But I have
that in China.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had a mop, a fly swatter, AND an electric mosquito zapper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had knives – my Yangzhou cleaver.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yangzhou is famous for its knives, and I can picture the
little stone lane where I bought it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just
bought spices and a stapler, a toilet brush and dish drainer. We are in the stage
of buying all those insignificant things you forget you even need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had all those in China, plus rugs, a bunkbed,
bicycles, blankets, and new Christmas toys barely enjoyed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
**<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We pulled out the dishes from our wedding, supplemented by other
hand me downs from family and friends. They are very nice dishes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But you see, I had favorite plates – purple
for a warm, comfortable feel or green for a fresher, cheery feel. I would seriously
choose my plate based on how I was feeling. There was this one spoon that was
just the right shape and size for cereal (very round, and just the right size).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is all ridiculous, right? Mourning my favorite spoon.
Complaining about a temperature controlled vehicle. All that other stuff…it’s
only stuff. “You can’t take it with you” just came a little sooner than I
expected. I should just let it go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And yet, each one of those things represents a piece of that
life we no longer have. The cereal I was eating with that perfect spoon was
probably a birthday present. Life was simpler then, when unwrapping a box of
cereal was cause for excitement. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My favorite mug was not only just the right shape and
texture, it came from the coffee shop my friends owned. How many times did I
sit in the cozy upstairs room, working on the computer, sitting quietly,
talking and laughing and crying with friends?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Kevin performed music, we celebrated birthdays, we knew the owners and
everyone who worked there. Even if we could go back, the coffee shop is gone,
and all that is left is my green mug that I don’t actually have.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
**<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I miss my things because I just spent $30 at the dollar store
rebuying a bunch of random stuff that I still own on the other side of the world.
I miss already having approximately everything we needed. I miss having
everything I need to cook a meal, right down to the pastry brush.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I miss our things because I miss our lives. I could almost
be there, eating toast off my purple plate while peering out the window seeing
how bad the pollution was today - rejoicing when I could see the mountains, despairing
when the rest of campus disappeared in a haze. I could be sitting in the living
room with my green mug of re-heated coffee, starting home-school. We rarely
even turned on the light, with so much light coming through our large fifth
floor window.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>** </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is a sickeningly tidy metaphor about one door closing
and another one opening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But not only do
I hate pithy sayings, there is no tidy close to our lives that suddenly ended
with the slamming of a door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We rebuy all the things. I let myself grieve over all that
we lost, significant and ridiculous, and I remind myself that I will find a new
favorite spoon. All of this will become familiar, and I will make new memories.
I will look at my coffee mug, and I won’t think of Target but instead of times
spent over coffee with friends.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will turn the key to open the door of the house I love, of
the oh-so-surreal life I learn to love. I will hang my key ring by the door:
the van keys, the house key, and just maybe the red bike key, to remember that
other life behind the closed door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-79264437136922482922020-07-11T08:28:00.003+08:002020-07-11T08:44:23.699+08:00We Bought a House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-An4M0uewuBo/XwkLXo7iPuI/AAAAAAAAOXM/2bNhNnq20KE3qAjIlNwaSUg4IK8KNayQgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/New%2BHouse.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-An4M0uewuBo/XwkLXo7iPuI/AAAAAAAAOXM/2bNhNnq20KE3qAjIlNwaSUg4IK8KNayQgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/New%2BHouse.webp" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
We bought a house. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In America. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, we are in the process of buying a house. One Saturday
in June, on our third morning of house-hunting, our realtor got a call that one
of our prospects - 24 hours on the market - already had <i>five </i>offers. If we
thought it was a strong contender, we’d need to rush over and make a quick decision.
We rushed over to take a look, and we liked it enough to make ours offer number
six. Three hours after we saw the house, our offer was accepted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the months of waiting and wondering and knowing nothing
about the future, it’s hard to believe that we are suddenly moving forward so
quickly. No time for indecision. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You could say it all started on January 21<sup>st</sup>,
when we left China planning to return a few weeks later. As Covid spread,
February 12<sup>th</sup> became March 10<sup>th,</sup> became April 15<sup>th,</sup>
became “surely this summer,” and finally “Maybe Spring of 2021?” Now we think,“Maybe at least at some point we can get back to pack a few things? Maybe?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I keep thinking, “We left for vacation and we can’t go back.
How does that happen?” I can’t imagine that happening in the US, but actually a
number of our friends have been in similar situations, even pre-Covid.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can't say it was Covid or even our temporary homelessness that
caused us to buy a home in America.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After 15 years, we have decided to move back to the US. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That decision brings a cosmic shift in our lives. Our lives
will now be sliced into three pieces: before China, during China, post-China.
Because really, no matter where we are, China is now forever a part of our
lives. It has been our girls’ entire childhood, plus my entire adult life and
most of Kevin’s. It has been our jobs, our home, our way of life, and our
identity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a hard decision, and it’s hard to describe the
process that led us there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It slowly
became clear to us that China was no longer the healthy place for our family. I
am naturally skeptical about the idea that “America will fix our problems.” In
case you’ve noticed, a <i>few </i>people in America deal with depression,
anxiety, or burnout, and shockingly some even yell at their kids. But we realized that
some of these struggles were specifically linked to China. Schooling, language,
uncertainty, a slight (entirely reasonable) paranoia, pollution, unrelenting
heaviness in the atmosphere, and just feeling out of place all the time, even
after all these years – it was all taking its toll.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kevin and I each started to wonder, “Are we just staying in China because we
have lived there so long?” One day we voiced it aloud. We realized the answer might be yes. At this point in
our lives, staying in China really would have been the easier decision.
Uprooting ourselves from everything familiar is nearly as hard as deciding to move to China 15 years ago. We <i>know</i> how to live in China. Coming back to the US
means starting all over again with jobs, housing, cars, schools, friends,
furniture, dishes… It is like the
20-something figuring out adulthood – except we are 40ish with three kids! We are nearly two decades “behind".</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We feel confident it is a good decision for us. I am
happy to be close to my family. We will be in the next town over from where I
grew up. My friend and I talked about how we went from the extreme of the other
side of the world to living 5 minutes from each other. It’s hard to believe
that I will be one of those people who lives where I grew up, with family
around. I have <i>never</i> been that person before.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We will have our own house with everything I dreamed of in
China: a backyard, a dishwasher, a front porch and a back screened porch, a
bedroom big enough to walk all the way around the bed, TWO bathrooms, hot
water in all the sinks, closets, and a whole <i>room</i> for laundry, a huge yard with tall trees - and did I mention A/C!! Some of those are pretty standard in typical American
homes, but it is all so exciting for us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is ironic to say "we are moving back to America" when
actually we are already here. Technically we still live in China, except we
can’t go back there. Most of our belongings are still there. Our clothes, my
computer, even Kevin’s wedding ring! (he misplaced it the day before we flew to
Thailand and didn’t have time to find it). The girls left their new Christmas
presents and Nadia’s birthday presents from just the week before. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Many of our closest friendships were made in China. We are
still committed to return temporarily if the doors reopen, even though we are
now 11 days from owning a home. I guess what has changed is we are moving from
unplanned, “what the heck is going on in life,” to purposefully moving forward
with American lives and all the American things. House, furniture, car, jobs,
schools, all the insurances we never needed in China. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This was <i>not</i> the way we were supposed to leave. We
left on vacation and can’t go back. We haven’t said goodbye to any of
our<i> </i>Chinese friends yet, because we can’t really. There’s still that
chance we could return for a few months or weeks next spring, maybe even to
teach a final semester, but more likely next summer, just to pack and say
goodbyes. Our hope of return diminishes with each Covid case and accusation
lobbed China’s way. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now we have a beautiful American home to come back to if that chance
materializes. And a home to <i>stay</i> in if it doesn’t. I still can’t get
over that. Some days it feels like whiplash, some days like grief, and
sometimes I want to laugh at the sheer absurdity. It is the beginning and end of a dream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We bought a house. In two weeks we will move in, unpack the
random belongings we do have, arrange the new (used) furniture, and buy a mop.
We will be all in, “buy a mop” kind of settled. I’m still not sure how I feel about that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you need me, I’ll be sitting on my back porch in my
rocking chair, drinking coffee and trying to figure it all out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-89074376130502989202020-02-25T22:31:00.001+08:002020-02-25T22:39:52.990+08:00Plans, perspective, and a bunch of dead plants<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">Our plants are slowly dying. Our ayi (house helper) planned to come and water them while we were away, but two days after we left, China shut down. Even if she could have gotten across town on the infrequent buses, she would not have been allowed access to our home. People are only allowed </span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">to enter </span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">the complex where they live. So our plants are dying. We can only hope they aren’t smelly, rotten plants by the time we return.</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">We planned to be back in China </span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">two weeks</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"> ago. Kevin would have been preparing his classes. The girls would have started back to school. We were planning to reorganize the office into an office/bedroom with the loft bed we planned to put together for Adalyn. Plans, plans, plans.</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">During our first week away, we began to feel the uncertainty of the future. As the days passed we became </span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">increasingly </span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">convinced that we would have to delay our return. The airlines</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"> confirmed this suspicion by canceling</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"> our return tickets without an option of rescheduling. When a friend asked about my plans for the following weekend, I said, “I don’t know!! I don’t even know where we’ll be a week from now! How can I possibly plan so far ahead?”</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">A</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"> friend who was on her way back to China after a time in the States said, “I had all kinds of worst-case scenarios of why we wouldn’t get back into China. You know me – I thought of lots of possibilities. But I never considered this one!”</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">We certainly didn’t either. </span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">When we left only </span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">two days before the Wuhan quarantine began, we still had no inkling of the impact it would have. Kevin had mentioned, “</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">Did y</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">ou know there is a new pneumonia-like virus they discovered</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">?</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">” and I didn’t think anything more about it. Then we watched as China was quickly turned upside down.</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">Mixed with my deep concern for China I felt a lot of selfish anxiety. What will happen? When will we be able to go back? What will we do? An epidemic and future uncertainty does wonders for pre-existing anxiety. I just wanted to know what would happen.</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">Catching the coronavirus was not at the top of my worry list, but I nearly had a panic attack when we walked into the Bangkok airport. We didn’t have any masks! After we hunted around and found some at an airport pharmacy, I felt a little calmer. Even though there were mixed opinions on how helpful masks actually are, it was one thing I could control. Along with, “Don’t touch that! Don’t touch your mouth! Here is some more hand sanitizer!”</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">I even found my own prejudice coming out. </span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">I instinctively tensed up w</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">hen I heard people speaking Chinese. Then I remembered how incredibly prejudiced and hypocritical it was; I JUST CAME FROM CHINA!! As Juliana loudly announced to some fellow passengers who backed up a little further in line. I was embarrassed to see how quickly my mind turned to racism. </span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">In two more weeks we plan to return to China with just enough time to renew our residence permits before they expire. (fingers crossed!) We don’t know what things will be like at that point, but we will almost certainly be quarantined for two weeks. Fortunately, as long as we don’t travel through one of the “riskier” provinces, we can be quarantined in our apartment instead of a hotel! Unfortunately that quarantine could look like anything from a paper seal to a bar across our door ensuring we do not go out. </span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Apparently someone will bring us food during this time. Should we rig up a pulley system up to our 5</span><sup><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt; vertical-align: super;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> floor window? We are allowed to open windows. I think. Maybe I should check on that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">Meanwhile I am mentally taking stock of my pantry. I’m pretty sure I bought a big bag of flour so I can make bread, and I know we have several jars of peanut butter. I wish I could remember if I have any frozen butter left. Kevin’s birthday will fall within the quarantine. In the days of Taobao, I no longer need buy western baking and cooking supplies in Thailand. This year I will be stocking up. I plan to bring an entire bag of things we might need, anything non-perishable and maybe some frozen butter and cheese.</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">By the time our full quarantine is lifted a month from now, we are hoping some of the safety protocols will have relaxed a little bit. Maybe? In our city currently, one family member is allowed to go out every other day for two hours to buy food. They must sign in and out of their neighborhood, go through temperature checks at their neighborhood gate and at the supermarket, and bring a “pass” to be allowed in. I’ve never enjoyed shopping, but this could change my attitude. “Yay, it’s shopping day! Aka. leave the house day!”</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">We will be able to go outside our apartment in whatever area of campus is deemed our “neighborhood.” But if it is too often I’m sure we will be scolded. At this point we are not allowed into anyone else’s neighborhood. So even though we may be the first expat family to join our lone expat family friends, we won’t be able to see them.</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">At some point, slowly, all this will change. The virus will be contained, at least enough. We will rejoice at each hint of openness. Just this week our friends saw EIGHT cars on the road at one time! While this would happen every minute in ordinary times, this past month the roads have been deserted. Another friend walked out her gate and instead of turning right to the nearest supermarket, she turned left to walk to the further-away one - and nobody stopped her! </span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">I definitely feel some nervousness about the quarantine, but the thought of all our friends in China gives some perspective. While we have been enjoying lots of time outside, they have been mostly stuck inside their apartments for months now. Small apartments. Whole families on top of each other or singles on their own with no one to talk to each day. It has been a hard time for all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">The other day our ayi messaged to say she was concerned about us and we should stay in as much as possible. I told her not to be concerned. I didn’t tell her we were going out as much as possible while we can.</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;">One day we’ll all look back and say, “Yeah, we were in China during the coronavirus. That was crazy.” It will join the ranks of hospital adventures, language embarrassments, and really awkward encounters; painful moments that make good stories. Our grandchildren will look at us with big eyes and say, “Wow, you are soooooo old. And what’s the coronavirus?”</span><span style="font-family: "liberation serif"; font-size: 12.0000pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-961876780695162722020-01-16T20:10:00.000+08:002020-01-16T20:10:19.032+08:00This Familiar HazeWhen I look out the window, I see a gloomy haze of smog. The sun has barely attempted to rise; the nearby mountains may as well not exist. For several weeks, the pollution level has stayed unreasonably high. We stay inside with our air purifiers, spending as little time outside as possible.<br /><br />In these cold, polluted days, the hazy darkness seems to have seeped inside me. When I look back, the hard times seem to rise up threateningly in memory. When I look ahead, I feel weary at all the life still to come. I am reluctant to call it by name, wishing to deny it a little longer. But I already know: it is <a href="https://ruvin2007.blogspot.com/2017/02/so-weak-and-strong.html">the heaviness of depression</a> stealing in again.<br /><br />It is not a surprise; I know this illness will likely follow me through life in ebbs and flows. Right now I can manage. The dark lays heavy on me, but my mood lifts in the sunshine. I may dread going out, but I can still enjoy being around people when I do. My mind feels muddled by complex tasks like cooking, but cleaning still brings me peace and a sense of control.<br /><br />With the darkness comes fear. Winter is always hard, but what if it just gets worse? What if I go down to the depths I have been in the past? My memories are of darkness and heaviness, the demons that chase me, my “thorn in the flesh.” The good times are hidden like our mountains; do they even exist? <br /><br />It is hard to keep perspective when you cannot even trust your mind. I know the past included many good times, and the future will include many more. I cannot see the sun and the mountains through my window, but they are still there. The light and happiness are still there too, just temporarily hidden by the mental haze. This illness of the mind says the light does not exist, but I remember this: depression lies.<br /><br />Of course I am ready for both the smog and the depression to lift, and it will. But while I am in this place, I realized that I don’t have to fear. I can face the memories of darkness. The burdens of the past did not crush me. I may have felt hopeless, but I kept on until I could find the hope again. In the moments (months, years) of my greatest weakness and weariness, <a href="https://ruvin2007.blogspot.com/2017/05/good-gifts-in-strange-packaging.html">God’s great strength carried me</a>. Surely he bore my griefs and carried my sorrow. <br /><br />I remember a time, just a couple of years ago, when <a href="https://ruvin2007.blogspot.com/2019/01/one-word-for-2018-restore.html">restoration seemed impossible</a>. What could ever pull me out of this hole? How could I ever be okay again? And yet, with time and intention, restoration happened. I entered a period of greater health and stability than I had known in years. I am still powerless to restore myself, but God is still powerful to work in me.<br /><br />So I will not fear. I have walked this path before and come out the other side. I will keep walking through the haze until I reach the clear morning light.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-14879411729333309552019-12-23T21:53:00.001+08:002019-12-24T09:47:58.682+08:00Not Quite The Christmas I RememberedIt’s hard to get through the Christmas story without talking about sex. We’ve already talked about these things, so the ideas aren’t a surprise. I don’t believe the words conception and virgin came up in the explanation though.<br />
<br />
“What’s a version?” Adalyn asked.<br />
“Mary was a virgin because she had never slept with a man,” I said. Juliana looked blankly at me. “She’d never had sex.” “Oooh,” Juliana said, understanding dawning. “Gross.”<br />
<br />
I don’t ever remember sex ever entering into the Christmas story when I was a child. I guess I never questioned weird words like conception and virginity or the fact that Joseph wanted to divorce Mary because she was ostensibly pregnant with someone else’s baby. I can’t imagine my mom really wanted to go into that. <br />
<br />
Sex in the Christmas story is not the only thing I remember playing out a little differently in the Christmases of my childhood. I remember the fun of pulling out all the favorite ornaments and fitting as many as possible onto each branch. I always thought our Christmas tree was spectacularly beautiful, including the broken plastic Santa with the paint half worn off. I was quite proud of the broccoli Christmas tree magazine-cut-out turned ornament I made for my sister. I never struggled with the lights or wished our tree could be just a little bit more classy and some of the ornaments would mysteriously disappear.<br />
<br />
I loved making Christmas cookies. We got to cover ourselves in flour mixture, arm ourselves with rolling pins, and cut fun shapes from all the dough that didn’t make it into our mouths. We even made molded candy and all kinds of fancy cookies. Cookies were our thing – a dozen different kinds, plates for all the neighbors, the mail-woman, and the grocery store cashier.<br />
<br />
My mom always liked cooking and baking, so she probably enjoyed this Christmas tradition. But perfect children as we were, we likely fought over who got the most dough and who was hogging all the cookie cutters and ratted each other out for using too many sprinkles. Cute pictures of little kids in little kid size aprons aside, there were surely times my mom got tired of all the “help" and the clean-up.<br />
<br />
I always had sweet images of cookie making with my children. And we do make cookies together during Christmas, at least once. But my sweet images involved a lot more peace and enjoyment and a lot less bickering and mess.<br />
<br />
I pull out the cookie recipe thinking, “Crap, I always forget to set out
the butter to soften. Do I have any eggs? Come on, don’t fight over
the stool. This mixer has been smelling burnt for a while; I wonder if
it will still work this time? Why do they always fight? I bet other kids
don’t fight as much. It’s probably because I’m not parenting them
well enough.”<br />
<br />
I’m pretty sure the girls are thinking, “We get to
make cookies!!” And also, “She’s going to try to steal my stool! What
if I miss my turn? I can’t believe how unfair it is that I didn’t get to
pour in the sugar. How many pinches of brown sugar can I sneak before
mama notices?” I'm pretty sure there were arguments and tears when I was
6 years old too, but I don't remember them. So maybe their cookie
making memories will happily erase that as well.<br />
<br />
My friend took several of her kids Christmas shopping last weekend. “I had it all planned out,” she said. “I remembered special days of Christmas shopping with my mom, so I’ve tried to make it a tradition with my kids too. But as soon as we got to the mall, the oldest decided she didn’t like anything in the store and huffed, ‘I wish I hadn’t even come!’” By the end of the trip the gifts were purchased, but my friend was feeling tired and a little disillusioned. “I don’t remember my shopping trips as a kid being like this!”<br />
<br />
“You don’t remember that part,” I told her, “But maybe your mom does!” While her mom likely looked back on the annual shopping trips with fondness, perhaps at the time she also felt tired and frustrated. In a moment of clarity, my friend and I realized that our rosy childhood memories were coming from our childish perspectives. Our kids come to these experiences with the same perspective. Their Christmas shopping trips may be remembered with the same rosy glow.<br />
<br />
As the responsible adults, we might not get to have quite as much fun, but that doesn’t mean we should be parenting martyrs. We're allowed to stop and decorate our own cookie and sneak dough while the kids aren't looking. We can also find enjoyment in ways we wouldn’t have appreciated as a child – the quiet of Christmas tree lights and candles after the kids are asleep, coffee to drink with Christmas treats, or adults-only Christmas parties (if you are lucky). <br />
<br />
After all the shopping and wrapping, the cleaning and baking, the mediating arguments and struggling with Christmas lights, we get to enjoy our kids’ excitement, which is about as good as reliving childhood. I don’t believe in that whole “enjoy every moment” sentiment, but I do believe in “enjoy the moments that you can.” So this Christmas, maybe we can make peace with the imperfect, dig our way through the unpleasant, and grasp onto all the moments we can enjoy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-36784639515064332832019-07-23T21:21:00.001+08:002019-07-23T22:50:10.879+08:00When I Don't Feel the Right Things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tP185Jzv3bc/XTcIg8AQoSI/AAAAAAAANx8/WMLW24_izfopKvZmgdLuBqhQVG0X9suDACLcBGAs/s1600/1563885241078.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1152" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tP185Jzv3bc/XTcIg8AQoSI/AAAAAAAANx8/WMLW24_izfopKvZmgdLuBqhQVG0X9suDACLcBGAs/s400/1563885241078.JPEG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Contrary to all previous experiences, I am strangely optimistic about health concerns. I said, “You should get it checked out, but surely it is nothing.” It wasn’t nothing, and Kevin was admitted to the hospital. As I sat in the ER with him, I was worried. But should I be more worried? What if he dies – then I will feel bad about not worrying enough. Should I be crying right now or wringing my hands? At the moment I am just thinking about how strange the ER looks and how strange we look in it.<br />
<br />
I was worried about Kevin, but I was also stressed about our first Chinese hospitalization. You know what attracts more attention than a foreigner? A foreigner in the hospital. Once admitted, we actually had a private room; everyone else was three to a room. I felt immensely relieved and also a little bad about special foreigner privilege. <br />
<br />
I was worried, but what really troubled me were the little metal boxes that traveled slowly down the hallway ceilings on jerky tracks. Why were they moving so slowly? Why do metal boxes feel so <i>creepy</i>? I asked a friend if she ever feels anxious about things that don’t make sense. She laughed at me heartily. “Do I ever worry about things that don’t make sense? I think that is the definition of anxiety.”<br />
<br />
The hospital was new and pretty clean; the doctors seemed to be doing a good job. The Chinese hospital provides medical care, but you are on your own for everything else – food, TP, soap. It’s hard to complain when the “bed fee” is $5 a night. Kevin was not supposed to move, so he really couldn’t do anything. Our friends graciously added our three kids to their three kids for a “double sleepover” so I could stay at the hospital. (The kids decided a double sleepover was too much; the parents decided six kids was definitely too much).<br />
<br />
Even in a private room, we got a number of people peering in through the door. Whenever I left the room, people stared at me in astonishment.. I’m glad we could liven up their hospital stay. I stood in line in the very noisy, crowded cafeteria pretending like I was totally normal. It was a hard sell, with a hundred faces swiveling in my direction. <br />
<br />
A lady tried to weasel in front of me in the noodle line, and I blocked her with my elbow while closing in the remaining two inches between me and the person in front of me. There, now I felt more like I fit in.<br />
<br />
The nurses are busy enough that they hand over responsibility for anything they can. “See this tourniquet on his leg? You need to leave it on for 30 minutes, then take it off for 10. Don’t leave it on for longer or his foot might die. Have a good night!” That was the general gist anyway.<br />
<br />
So I re-set my timer every 30 minutes all night long. I got very good tourniqueting and did not kill Kevin’s foot. I also got very good at 30 minute naps. I could even have a full dream during the 10 minutes before I had to put the tourniquet back on. Adrenaline was running high, carrying me through the two days – and two nights of tourniquets – in the Chinese hospital.<br />
<br />
Our medical assistance/evacuation service decided to fly Kevin to Korea for further treatment, just to be safe. Medical evacuation to another country is kind of a big deal, right? But Kevin looked okay. He really wasn’t even feeling bad. Should I feel worried or reassured?<br />
<br />
We were faced with the question of where I should be – in Korea with my husband or in China with my children. Neither of us felt great about leaving the kids in another country for in undetermined amount of time. I didn’t feel great about him being hospitalized in a different country without anyone he knew either. Who has to decide these things?? Other friends we know, apparently, who live the same kind of ridiculous lives. We were both glad when his parents said they could fly to meet him in Korea.<br />
<br />
I did worry about Kevin flying, even if he was accompanied by medical staff. After he texted pictures of the air ambulance learjet, I didn’t hear from him for hours after he should have arrived. I was increasingly worried. “What if he died on the way and they are trying to figure out how to tell me?” Logically I knew that he probably didn’t die and probably didn’t have internet access. Eventually I contacted our medical service to confirmed he had arrived at the hospital, alive.<br />
<br />
Now I was less worried and more tired. I was back at home with the girls and the adrenaline was wearing off. The first night instead of falling asleep, they cried because daddy wasn’t here. “When will he come home?” they wailed. “That is yet to be determined,” I said comfortingly. “Now go to sleep!!” I said less comfortingly.<br />
<br />
As the days wore on, Kevin got increasingly better and was released from the hospital. I got increasingly more tired. Nadia was waking up at 1-2am trying to come into bed with me. She was already doing this pretty much every night, but not always so early on, and it was not always so hot. I did not need a little body smushed against me, radiating a surprising amount of heat. Speaking of heat, the temperatures were creeping up to the mid-90’s and our one A/C unit wasn’t working.<br />
<br />
The kids felt stressed, though of course they didn’t say, “I feel stressed.” Instead they just screamed about random things, and cried because someone looked at them the wrong way. There were many shoves given, tongues stuck out, names called, and toys commandeered; mysteriously <i>nobody</i> was responsible for any of it.<br />
<br />
In some ways, it is easier when only one person is responsible for everything. There are no unmet expectations that someone else would do this or that; if something didn’t happen it is all on you. The house has stayed unusually clean and bedtime has gone unusually quickly, because order helps me feel like life is under control. There is less laundry and nobody really cares what we eat. In fact, they would rather not eat real meals, pizza excluded.<br />
<br />
The disadvantage is that one person is responsible for everything and has to make everything happen, and that person is me. It really wears down your resolve. The girls wake me up before I want to be awake and I say, “Go look at books.” When they come back two minutes later, I say, “Go watch TV.” The girls beg for ice cream and I say, “No. I’ll think about it. Okay fine.” When Juliana asked to have a sleepover and Adalyn asked for another baby, I said, “No. No, no, no. Not happening.”<br />
<br />
Daily life may feel under control but my mind is much less ordered. I think, “This whole thing is ridiculous and stressful.” I think, “But really things are going okay. I feel a little bad that everyone is so worried about us.” I think, “I should feel more worried. Why don’t I feel more worried? I am not very empathetic.” I think, “But Kevin is staying at a hotel by himself, and exploring Seoul, and eating at Taco Bell!! I want to be hospitalized.”<br />
<br />
I am good in crisis, and I have lots of experience with survival mode. I am not so good at making space for the long-term effects of stress and taking the opportunity to process and feel things once the crisis is past. I’m ready to move on and pretend it didn’t happen. That has worked <i>so</i> well for us in the past. <br />
<br />
I feel like I am doing okay. I feel like I will fall apart. I feel angry at belligerent children, at the doctors who tell us nothing, at the A/C repair guy who never comes. I feel gratitude toward our friends who feed us and take the kids and let us hang out in their A/C. I feel more disturbed by the things that don't make sense (little metal boxes, the craziness inside) than by the serious things (hospitalization in another country). I feel everything and nothing, and I am waiting for someone to tell me how to feel the right things.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w0AnnbzGeAg/XTcIy1ItGGI/AAAAAAAANyE/IdsEPJS7C14C61t8TCXdtB2Aund4s3UfgCLcBGAs/s1600/1563885240484.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="1152" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w0AnnbzGeAg/XTcIy1ItGGI/AAAAAAAANyE/IdsEPJS7C14C61t8TCXdtB2Aund4s3UfgCLcBGAs/s400/1563885240484.JPEG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-71567210645493270952019-07-09T21:59:00.000+08:002019-07-09T21:59:16.531+08:00Signs You've Got a TCK<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1xUn5ue-MPI/XSSbtTcxvAI/AAAAAAAANwk/hXFdApYxOjI8bsjEvmSA-JrbBEg0v42kQCLcBGAs/s1600/17621783_10155138829436613_141312437203520076_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1xUn5ue-MPI/XSSbtTcxvAI/AAAAAAAANwk/hXFdApYxOjI8bsjEvmSA-JrbBEg0v42kQCLcBGAs/s400/17621783_10155138829436613_141312437203520076_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The paparazzi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The other day Juliana’s 7 year old friend was over. As I was trying to get the internet to work so I could play a video for them, she asked, “What VPN do you use?” I thought, “What kid in America would ever ask that?” Our kids are very familiar with VPNs because they are necessary to watch people cut up squishies on YouTube (Because that's a thing??).<br />
<br />
A third culture kid (TCK) is a kid who has spent a significant portion of their formative years in a country or countries other than the one on their passport. Their experience with life is different from friends in their passport country and friends in their country of residence – they are just...different. (But mostly different good!) For example…<br />
<br />
You know you have a TCK if they…<br />
<br />
1. gather with their friends to play “look at time zones” on the phone.<br />
<br />
2. have ever confused the Chinese flag with the American flag.<br />
<br />
3. obsessively play traveling, airplanes, or stamping passports.<br />
<br />
4. have ever done homeschool at the entry-exit bureau.<br />
<br />
5. Have stopped moving for a moment and been mobbed by onlookers.<br />
<br />
6. have been called “foreign doll” or compared to a Barbie doll.<br />
<br />
7. talk about our “China home” and “America home,” or tried to figure out where home really is.<br />
<br />
8. has ever horrified a Chinese person by combining Chinese and western food, like cheese + rice.<br />
<br />
9. has eaten something really unusual like fish brains.<br />
<br />
10. burst into a Chinese rhyme or song you have never heard before.<br />
<br />
11. have gotten scolded for playing in puddles or wearing shorts before July.<br />
<br />
12. are scandalized when people wear shoes in the house, and have in fact worried that Santa might leave his shoes on when he comes.<br />
<br />
13. can point out out several countries on the map where they have lived or regularly visit.<br />
<br />
14. can point out multiple countries around the world where their friends live.<br />
<br />
15. ask for cereal for Christmas<br />
<br />
16. have the tell-tale arm scar from the TB vaccination.<br />
<br />
17. love 12 hour flights.<br />
<br />
18. went on 12+ flights in their first 12 months.<br />
<br />
19. ever traveled across the country for immunizations.<br />
<br />
20. primarily travel by bus, bike, motorbike, or some form of cart.<br />
<br />
21. were born in a country other than their passport country.<br />
<br />
22. had a passport before one month old.<br />
<br />
23. had the doctor or nurse take pictures with them during a check-up.<br />
<br />
24. have been passed around a restaurant as a baby.<br />
<br />
25. have seen pictures of themselves on the internet, put up by strangers.<br />
<br />
26. are photographed by strangers pretty much everyday.<br />
<br />
27. love dried seaweed snacks.<br />
<br />
28. learned to walk in a different country than they learned to crawl.<br />
<br />
29. primarily see extended family is over Skype.<br />
<br />
30. make collages of old passport photos<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jBiwdpY4fns/XSSbwU0A7DI/AAAAAAAANxA/-LYFOq3fio8WCQrDnkwZwet2Exl86J2_wCEwYBhgL/s1600/15994927_10154901426806613_1625083079168896284_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jBiwdpY4fns/XSSbwU0A7DI/AAAAAAAANxA/-LYFOq3fio8WCQrDnkwZwet2Exl86J2_wCEwYBhgL/s400/15994927_10154901426806613_1625083079168896284_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Little Ponies meet Angkor Wat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_AuTLTNdUUk/XSSb0PQPRAI/AAAAAAAANxA/wm6gp5Zs_CohoSPEoqNsV76d7vyL_RxCgCEwYBhgL/s1600/18527479_10155295146101613_4544393740724957042_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_AuTLTNdUUk/XSSb0PQPRAI/AAAAAAAANxA/wm6gp5Zs_CohoSPEoqNsV76d7vyL_RxCgCEwYBhgL/s400/18527479_10155295146101613_4544393740724957042_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 4 year old's interpretation of travel. The circles are all our bags... 😂😮</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4W_6b3l_Ws8/XSSbyHHGyBI/AAAAAAAANxA/kM_S_y-gaJ4raUDwcULRWkLDI58dBWjSACEwYBhgL/s1600/15157009_10154715903306613_5415351332513191431_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4W_6b3l_Ws8/XSSbyHHGyBI/AAAAAAAANxA/kM_S_y-gaJ4raUDwcULRWkLDI58dBWjSACEwYBhgL/s400/15157009_10154715903306613_5415351332513191431_o.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter travel in an unsealed vehicle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-26051529928982247672019-06-17T20:53:00.000+08:002019-06-17T20:53:01.540+08:00The Month of Goodbyes<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ElnXHETeI-Q/XQeMYmPxRcI/AAAAAAAANvs/IXi2dwRpj-YLiSXGuof0EE-9ejmmZXT6ACLcBGAs/s1600/Purple%2Bcabbage.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="864" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ElnXHETeI-Q/XQeMYmPxRcI/AAAAAAAANvs/IXi2dwRpj-YLiSXGuof0EE-9ejmmZXT6ACLcBGAs/s320/Purple%2Bcabbage.JPEG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The purple cabbage I used to demonstrate layers of grief</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This month’s calendar is filled with notes of all the people who are leaving. June 12, 17, 18, 25, and 27th. July 3rd, and 5th. Five families and five single will move away for good. One family has lived in China for 25+ years. Another family for 10+ years. Considering the size of our foreign friend group in this city, it is a significant portion. Many others are returning to the US for the summer. This is the month of goodbyes.<br />
<br />
This month in our homeschool co-op, I have been teaching emotional intelligence. Last week’s lesson was about loss and saying goodbyes. We talked about what grief can look like, about layers of grief, and about how to deal with grief. I think it is timely for our kids who have had so many goodbyes this year and are getting ready for more.<br />
<br />
While we were back in America this past year, our friends still here in our city walked a road of continual goodbyes. The expat community is always fluid (or you could say unstable), but last year was like a mass exodus, triggered by changes in our area. Sometimes our friends had months to prepare for these goodbyes, sometimes weeks or days. <br />
<br />
We experienced the grief from afar, through messages and emails and secondhand news. Each new loss seemed like another stab at our hearts. Those friends are leaving too? Will there be anyone left when we return? Our friends were from all over the country and world. We didn’t have the chance to say goodbye, and realistically, we will not see most of them again.<br />
<br />
I see the effects of these losses on my children, especially on Juliana. She has had a lot of questions. “Why do they have to leave? Will we see them again? Will my best friend come back to China? Will we have to leave?” During the middle of the “mass exodus,” her 7 year old friend wrote letters to all her friends saying, “I will miss you if I have to leave.” Imagine the grief and uncertainty our kids experience. We can only offer so much reassurance because the future is unsure.<br />
<br />
Adalyn doesn't show a lot of sadness at the surface. She is quiet and doesn't cry. She doesn't cry, that is, until her all out meltdowns. These have become more common during these last weeks.<br />
<br />
Juliana responds with anger. I have tried to help her understand this – grief doesn’t always look like sadness. She felt so much anger when we returned to China. After goodbyes to all our friends and family in America, and she came back to China to face the reality of all the friends and classmates who were no longer here. Just in the past week, as she prepares for more goodbyes, we have seen this anger reappear. I remind myself be patient when she huffs or yells about the smallest things. <br />
<br />
I try to guide her into healthier emotional expression. It usually looks less like, “Dearest daughter, let’s sit down and talk about your feelings” and more like, “JULIANA, stop yelling! Go sit on your bed and write in your journal!” I also need to work on healthy emotional expression. Juliana’s journal is probably full of diatribes against me and her sisters and the unfairness of life...and the friends that she misses.<br />
<br />
Goodbyes are a part of everyone’s life. Three of our friends in the US are making major moves this summer to different regions of the US. They are saying goodbyes to family, longtime friends, all the familiar places. They will be experiencing their own “cultural” changes – West Coast to East Coast, South to North, Non-Texas to Texas, which as we all know is a culture unto itself. Our world is so transient. <br />
<br />
For our kids, their goodbyes are two-fold. Sometimes they are the ones leaving. They say goodbyes to all their friends and family when they leave the US, both in Georgia and California. They leave friends from church and school and friends they have known since birth. We return to China and the goodbyes continue. Their classmates and playmates, the ones they played with as toddlers, the ones they biked with in the neighborhood courtyard – our kids are now the ones left behind.<br />
<br />
They are becoming experts at saying goodbyes, although that doesn’t make it easy. The girls exchange friendship bracelets, cards, and secret handshakes. We say we will Skype, and sometimes it happens.<br />
<br />
Later, when we look at the globe, we talk about their friends in this state, in that country, on that continent. The world map above our dining table is not just for geography. Nadia can recognize China and America, our own countries. Adalyn points out California and Georgia. Juliana first finds Norway, home of her best friend in the whole world. <br />
<br />
We move on to different parts of America and the world. “See, your friends are moving to Florida. This is Oregon, Kentucky, Alabama...where we visited friends last year. This is Australia, where your past classmates live." Wherever we look, we find friends all over the world. <br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-59271144631597431152019-06-04T21:27:00.001+08:002019-06-04T23:01:54.910+08:00The Truth about HomeschoolI have a picture in my head of what homeschool should look like. You know, that picture on the front of textbooks or homeschool websites. I sit on the couch with my children crowded peacefully yet eagerly around me. We all look in rapt attention at a book. Later the girls sit at different tables, diligently working on math or writing, while Nadia plays contentedly with puzzles on the floor.<br />
<br />
I know this will come as a shock, but homeschooling doesn’t actually look like that. Not around here, anyway. Several years ago I wrote a post about <a href="https://ruvin2007.blogspot.com/2016/09/how-we-do-school.html">what school looks like for us</a>, but I didn’t get into the nitty-gritty of every day. This post is a peek at a “typical” homeschool morning in our house.<br />
<br />
8:50am – Things are looking good for our 9am start goal. The girls are dressed and breakfasted – oh wait, Juliana still has on her pjs. I remember to give the girls their allergy medicine, and take my own medicine. I remind Adalyn and Nadia to clear off their breakfast dishes.<br />
<br />
8:59am – I throw in a load of laundry while calling, “We are going to start school in one minute!” Juliana complains, “What? We have to do school AGAIN today?” It is a daily shock and disappointment. After remembering to make the girls brush their teeth and finding a book I left in the other room, I call again, “Come into the living room! We are about to start school!” <br />
<br />
9:04am - The girls do all their last minute, “But I just need to organize my toys so they can start school too. I just need to put my doll to bed. I can’t find my waterbottle! Can I please pack my books in a backpack? Where is the other chair? I’m hungry!”<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8K_LXUzFwK0/XPZtx8lxMCI/AAAAAAAANuY/_DfTuSsf2xI6gX7Uio4vr8DksROoxvWRQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_20190531_091230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8K_LXUzFwK0/XPZtx8lxMCI/AAAAAAAANuY/_DfTuSsf2xI6gX7Uio4vr8DksROoxvWRQCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_20190531_091230.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nadia boycotts Adalyn's morning show and does her own show in her tent</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
9:09am - The morning show is something we added after the girls’ stint in public school this year. They take turns standing at the front of the living room to lead the pledge. Today it is Adalyn’s turn.<br />
“Stand up Juliana. Look Mama, Juliana’s not standing up all the way! ‘I pledge allegiance’ – Juliana, look at the flag!! (Juliana: I AM!!) - ‘to the flag’...”<br />
<br />
“We will now reserve a moment of silence.” I honestly have no idea what this is about, something they picked up at school. It sounds like a good idea to me, but sadly that it is 10 seconds, and it is not silent.<br />
<br />
Next Adalyn looks outside to determine the weather. “It is partly sunny, partly cloudy,” she pronounces, finding the appropriate picture. (“There are no clouds - it’s sunny!” Juliana protests.) I help Adalyn through today’s month, day, and year. Nadia points to the spring picture on the “seasons” paper. “It is flower. Are there flowers blooming, mama?”<br />
“Okay,” I prod, “let’s move on. You choose a song Adalyn.” Everyone gives their input on what Adalyn should choose. She settles on O Holy Night, a year-round classic. <br />
<br />
The girls stand together to practice reciting part of Psalm 139 for a homeschool performance. Juliana adds enthusiastic motions, which I taper down from a full-on dance performance.<br />
In unison: “O Lord you have searched me and know me -” <br />
Juliana: “Mooo-mmm! Adalyn isn’t doing the motion right. It is supposed to be like this.” <br />
Me: “It doesn’t matter, it’s close enough. Just keep going!”<br />
In unison: “You know when I sit and when I rise”<br />
Nadia: “I don’t want to do it anymore!” (“...you perceive my thoughts from afar”)<br />
Me: “Okay, that’s fine.” (“you know my going out...”)<br />
We finally make it through.<br />
Juliana: What if we forget the end?<br />
Adalyn, self righteously: “I will remember it. I will remind you.”<br />
<br />
9:22am – The morning show is finally over. I get ready to read from the Bible while the girls color. Juliana listens and intersperses comments when she feels appropriate. She feels the appropriate time is every other minute. Nadia and Adalyn abandon their coloring books to run back and forth on the couch.<br />
<br />
9:30am – I look at the clock and consider what we should do next. Since everyone is gathered, I decide to start on history. We read a chapter in A Child’s History of the World about the explorers, and then look at some illustrated information from the Usborne Book of History. Adalyn runs over to look at the pictures, and everyone fights about who can see the best. Juliana takes after me educationally. She is interested in history, loves to read, and finds math and spelling unreasonably boring.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9UsrPsep_Do/XPZsgQWhm0I/AAAAAAAANuQ/zU-g8NkNmC89ovTtMKhGy5u1QH2hY4ULACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_20190531_113634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9UsrPsep_Do/XPZsgQWhm0I/AAAAAAAANuQ/zU-g8NkNmC89ovTtMKhGy5u1QH2hY4ULACEwYBhgL/s400/IMG_20190531_113634.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls paint watercolors on the tile bathroom wall while I read aloud. It has no real educational purpose except to keep Nadia entertained. Warning: it is harder to clean off than you would think.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
9:45am – We move on to our latest read-aloud, Strawberry Girl by Lois Lensky. I am enjoying it as well as the girls, which is always nice. Adalyn especially likes the periodic illustrations. She actually settles down to draw, and Nadia has wandered away for some authentic imaginative play (aka playing dollies). Juliana curls up on the couch, and I enjoy the moment of reading aloud in relative quiet.<br />
Nadia reappears with her dollies in a squeaky stroller: “I don’t want to do school! I don’t like school.”<br />
Me: “You aren’t doing school. You are playing.”<br />
Nadia starts to wail, “I’m bored! I’m hungry! I didn’t have juice!” <br />
Adalyn pipes up, “I’m hungry too! Can I have a snack??” <br />
Juliana yells, “I can’t hear!! They keep talking!!”<br />
<br />
10:05am - After some more shushing and reading over everyone, we reach the end of the chapter. <br />
Juliana: Read some more!<br />
Adalyn: But I’m so huuuuuungry!<br />
Me: It’s not snack time yet. Why don’t you play?<br />
Nadia: I don’t want to play!! I want to do something else!<br />
Me: You could do puzzles! (NO!) You could play with your dollies? (NO!) Why don’t you do playdough? (Nooooo!) Okay those are all my ideas. You can choose between one of them. (Nooooooo!!).<br />
<br />
10:10am - We have snack time. “But we haven’t HAD a candy snack today!” “You don’t need a candy snack every day! You could have...an apple, peanut butter cracker?” “But I WANT a candy snack!”<br />
I cut up an apple for Adalyn, spread peanut butter for Nadia while Juliana looks disconsolately at the pantry, hoping something more interesting will appear. I reheat my coffee and look disconsolately at the pantry, hoping an inspiration for dinner will appear. We are both disappointed.<br />
<br />
10:15am – I set my coffee down somewhere to be rediscovered 3 hours later. It’s like a fun game. While the girls snack, I hang up a load of laundry to dry and am rewarded by a bed heaped with dried clothes to be sorted and put away. Laundry is a vicious cycle. I contemplate whether I should make the girls put their clothes away now or later/tomorrow.<br />
<br />
10:20am – I go back to the living room to make them put away clothes and see that Juliana is reading a book to her sisters on the couch. This is a wonderful stage of development. She has the ability to entertain and educate her sisters without any help from me! Everyone is sitting together quietly. Nobody is fighting. Quick, take a picture! <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MKt3yq9jqmU/XPZtzPy94pI/AAAAAAAANuc/RKdqGZ_bRccQjpT3OLst6_15CsLaPbL9gCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_20190519_133458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MKt3yq9jqmU/XPZtzPy94pI/AAAAAAAANuc/RKdqGZ_bRccQjpT3OLst6_15CsLaPbL9gCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_20190519_133458.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A moment of peace and harmony - I didn't even stage this picture. I'm saving it as proof that this is possible.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
10:35am – Much as I enjoy the spontaneous reading time, I know Juliana could read all morning if it means avoiding math. I send an unwilling Juliana to the other room with her math book. Adalyn sits down to work on her computer math games. She has just finished the kindergarten level and is starting the first grade level! She certainly does not get her math skills from me. Juliana pauses to “help” Adalyn every other minute, so 35 minutes later she finally finishes her one section of math problems.<br />
<br />
11:10am – Juliana works on writing about a trip she has taken. She talks about it for 5 minutes, then writes down one sentence. <br />
Me: “See all these lines on the page? They are there because you are supposed to write on them.”<br />
<br />
11:25am – While Juliana works on writing and spelling words, Adalyn climbs on my bed to read aloud to me. She is so proud of being able to read her own little books. I haven’t actually taught her to read. Somehow she has just picked it up. <br />
Nadia climbs up beside us and peers at the page. “Those two words are the same,” she says, pointing at two words that are in fact the same. I am super surprised and impressed. “They are! Which word is the same as this one? What about this one?” She easily identifies them. It’s possible she is a child genius.<br />
Adalyn gets annoyed at Nadia interrupting her. Juliana comes in to remind me how boring spelling is and does she really have to do it?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<u><span style="color: #000120;"></span></u><br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TTMNNF_0uHI/XPZwbjRm9FI/AAAAAAAANus/RZ3JP_RVEvwHfHEdhZm-9c7ma6n4YSMKACLcBGAs/s1600/Doing%2Bhomeschool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TTMNNF_0uHI/XPZwbjRm9FI/AAAAAAAANus/RZ3JP_RVEvwHfHEdhZm-9c7ma6n4YSMKACLcBGAs/s400/Doing%2Bhomeschool.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We have since bought a portable desk for Juliana, and the little girls use a small table. Or the floor, the couch, my bed, the kitchen table...We don't really have a designated homeschool space.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
11:45am – Nadia has started her pre-lunch meltdown but I am determined to squeeze in science. Today we are learning about hearing. The girls are all interested in science because the book has lots of colorful pictures. I didn’t feel like doing the proposed experiment using a balloon, so I quickly throw together my own activity. For some reason I don’t understand, that seems easier than getting out a balloon.<br />
I give the girls each a little “hearing test” by tapping a xylophone. Despite their claims about not hearing whenever I call them for clean-up or bedtime, they all appear to have good hearing. The girls close their eyes and guess the noises I am making with different objects. They all think this is a fun game.<br />
<br />
12:10pm – Nadia starts crying again, and the girls decide on which version of bread and peanut butter to eat for lunch. I look over my plan for the day to check how far we have gotten. Never quite as much as I hoped but not too bad either.<br />
<br />
I think the girls actually learned something this morning. I definitely wonder at times. My brain feels fried after all the chaos and divided attention. But then Juliana spends an hour reading on the couch, or Adalyn starts solving multiplication problems (who is this child??), or Nadia does an uncanny imitation of my teacher voice. <br />
<br />
Being solely responsible for my children’s education can be daunting at times, but apparently my efforts plus their brains equals learning. Some days, we all even enjoy it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-7459847281361318062019-05-03T10:56:00.000+08:002019-05-03T11:00:38.512+08:00God is a Thumbdrive (and other childhood theology)<div class="western" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><i>Whenever I doubt that I am teaching my kids good theology, we have conversations that completely confirm my doubts:</i></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><i></i><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Nadia (3) picks up a thumb-drive...<br />Nadia: What's this?<br />Me: It's a thumb-drive.<br />Nadia: Is that God?<br />Me: What? I don't understand. How is it God?<br />Nadia: I can see God in it.<br />Me: Umm, okay. How can you see God in it?<br />Nadia: Because it came from God.Me: Well, no. It's a thumb-drive.<br />Nadia: Can you drive with it?</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Adalyn (3) from the bedroom…<br />Adalyn: I need my blanket on!!<br />Juliana: Ask God to help you.<br />Adalyn: I need my blanket on!!<br />Juliana: God, I pray that you would put Adalyn’s blanket back on.<br />Adalyn: GOD NOT’S HERE!!</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Juliana (2)…<br />Me: Jesus is here, we just can’t see him.<br />Juliana, looking around the room: Oh, he’s hiding??</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Juliana (3)...<br />Me: Jesus loves us even when we don’t love Him.<br />Juliana: Like I love you even when I’m mad at you?<br />Me: That’s good.<br />Juliana: Well, actually I don’t.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Juliana (3) appears at the top of the stairs by herself…<br />Me: Juliana, you know you aren’t supposed to climb the stairs on your own!<br />Juliana: I wasn’t alone. Jesus was with me. I wasn’t scared.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><i><br />But my favorite, which makes me think my kids are doing okay:</i></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><i></i><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Adalyn (3.5): God is the strongest ever and has a big heart</span></div>
<div class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"><i></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-variant: normal;"><span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0__GFhi1bOU/XMusf4lyUMI/AAAAAAAANso/WglKV0BU-B4YNdHag64mxSYj2aL1B87NQCLcBGAs/s1600/Adalyn%2Bpicture%2Bof%2BGod.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0__GFhi1bOU/XMusf4lyUMI/AAAAAAAANso/WglKV0BU-B4YNdHag64mxSYj2aL1B87NQCLcBGAs/s320/Adalyn%2Bpicture%2Bof%2BGod.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br /></span></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="western" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-13365635355119010472019-03-04T08:43:00.002+08:002019-03-04T08:43:33.410+08:00The Other Normal Place<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lt6BU643Fbk/XHxyjN-7dPI/AAAAAAAANnk/SMBiHf_fO0g-PJA7eg0wvWF3rH94RZIAgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_20190302_110221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lt6BU643Fbk/XHxyjN-7dPI/AAAAAAAANnk/SMBiHf_fO0g-PJA7eg0wvWF3rH94RZIAgCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_20190302_110221.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view washing dishes at our friends' house. We go down this road almost every day. On clear days we can see the nearby mountains in the background.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The first thing I noticed was the attention we attracted. We had no sooner exited the international terminal than the sidelong glances and outright outright stares. People shoved their children in our direction saying, “Look! Foreigners! Speak English – say hello.” As we walked past we heard all the usual, “How cute! Pretty girls! They are like foreign dolls!” People peered into the girls’ faces and took cell-phone photos.<br />
<br />
As we boarded our last flight, Nadia was having a breakdown, understandable at hour 20 of travel. “Mooom, people are staring because she is crying,” Juliana hissed. “I think they are probably staring because we are the only foreigners around,” I replied.<br />
<br />What surprised me in the first days back was how normal everything seems. I noticed the differences more, as I remembered how different everything is from America, but it is still familiar.<br />
<br />
Bouncing along in our 三轮车 (three wheeled electric cart), we passed the water truck watering the roads while blasting out a cheery chorus of “It’s a small world after all.” A dozen vehicles almost ran into each other or pedestrians without a single actual accident. Passersby watched us and exclaimed all the usual, “Foreigners! How cute! They look like foreign dolls!” The streets teemed with people – walking down sidewalks and on the road, weaving through on bicycles and motorbikes, bouncing along in their own three wheelers, and driving their new, meticulously clean cars.<br />
<br />
Everywhere we go, people ask, “Are these three all yours? Three girls? Girls are good.” Then, “Do you want another one? A boy is good!”<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_hRsbtxF9cQ/XHx0Q__dXeI/AAAAAAAANn8/wn2-iukP-1gmtF-at4rdXsDASxl83EnCACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_20190301_102721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_hRsbtxF9cQ/XHx0Q__dXeI/AAAAAAAANn8/wn2-iukP-1gmtF-at4rdXsDASxl83EnCACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_20190301_102721.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We are grateful to stay at our friends' apartment while ours looks like this</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We parked our 三轮车 at the bottom of our apartment building and climbed up to the 5th floor. Climbing stair felt more familiar to our minds than our bodies – we were out of breath by the top. The apartment looked very familiar but also very messy. The entire living room was piled with boxes, furniture, and pieces of wood that will once again become beds. The girls played some game involving jumping up and down from the kitchen counter, while Kevin and I moved some furniture and discussed which areas needed intensive bleaching. This will begin our 5th year in the same apartment – a record by far!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eQrnEViGCis/XHxyllrXcmI/AAAAAAAANnw/I5i17ijZhakTi7Pt5q4sSSMFp5okWpeYACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_20190301_102817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eQrnEViGCis/XHxyllrXcmI/AAAAAAAANnw/I5i17ijZhakTi7Pt5q4sSSMFp5okWpeYACEwYBhgL/s400/IMG_20190301_102817.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls played some kind of game that involved jumping on and off our kitchen counter</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We stopped for noodles at our favorite noodle shop, and the owner remembered our “usual” order from a year ago! The noodles tasted just as good as we remembered. It feels good to be remembered, not just as one of those foreigners, but recognized for ourselves and for our noodle preferences.<br />
<br />
With less fondness we were re-aquanted with the pollution that dims the sun and conceals the nearby mountains. Our first two days included the one water and two power outages. I remembered the need for frequent laundry – tricky without power or water. But at the end you are rewarded with a washing machine rendition of "Jingle Bells."<br />
<br />
Has it really been a year since I hung wet clothes on a laundry porch and took down the stiff, dry clothes? I remembered the dust and dirt that cover the girls’ clothes if they so much as step outside. Of course, they rarely step outside without sitting/climbing/crawling/rolling on something.<br />
<br />
Daily we remind our kids, “No shoes in the house! Don’t flush the toilet paper. Don’t rinse your mouth with the sink water. Don’t lean out of the 三轮车. It is supposed to be nighttime, you need to try to sleep.”<br />
<br />
We remember the generosity of friends here. They have let us stay in their apartment while we prepare our own. They made us bread and stocked us up with the basics like yogurt, bananas, and peanut butter. They have invited us for meals. We have had conversations about things many outside our circle wouldn’t understand but that effect us all deeply.<br />
<br />
I feel a deep sense of community and also a sense of isolation. We are surrounded by millions of people who are all the same (not really of course, but more than you may think) and all different from us. However much we may try to fit in we will always and forever be obviously different, as we are reminded by every stare we receive and every piece of bread that we eat. It is tiring, sometimes, being so foreign.<br />
<br />
I sense an intangible heaviness, much more apparent after being away for a while. It is a hard place to live, harder in some ways that we realize. The heaviness becomes a part of us, a weight we forget influences our everyday lives. But in that heaviness, more than ever we cling to the rock that is higher. We know we need strength greater than our own.<br />
<br />
Sometimes (okay, a lot of times) I find it easy to focus on the hard stuff. “These 24 hour trips are ridiculous. Other people don’t have to do that. Poor us without our dishwashers or pre-washed vegetables. Why are we constantly saying goodbyes to friends around the world?” <br />
<br />
But I also feel a lot of gratitude. How great is it to think about all the wonderful people we know in Georgia and California and China and many other places around the US and the world! Everywhere we go we meet new awesome people. It is enough to give you faith in humanity. We live this crazy life of hoping from one side of the globe to another with a mere 24hr trip. We leave one normal world and another familiar world is waiting for us on the other side.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Hu0Ox_AKqw/XHxymZMhAxI/AAAAAAAANn0/R67OpoTfs9U4mM9mACHjU-lXz4l9h2SrgCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_20190303_181116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9Hu0Ox_AKqw/XHxymZMhAxI/AAAAAAAANn0/R67OpoTfs9U4mM9mACHjU-lXz4l9h2SrgCEwYBhgL/s400/IMG_20190303_181116.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Re-aqcuanting ourselves with some favorite dishes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-81700891065964985332019-02-24T09:40:00.000+08:002019-02-24T09:40:08.857+08:00Transition is complicated. Kind of like spinach.“So how do you feel about going back?”<br />
<br />
It’s a reasonable question, and I appreciate people asking. It’s also one of those stupidly difficult ones, like, “Where do you live? Do you love China? Do you love America?”<br />
<br />
Almost exactly a year ago I sat in a hotel room in limbo between our life in China and our year in America, and I wrote about the equally hard question, <a href="https://ruvin2007.blogspot.com/2018/02/unsettled.html">“Are you excited about going back to America?”</a> I didn’t know how to answer that one either.<br />
<br />
How do I feel about going back? I’d say I feel all the things. If I were an emoji I would have at least three heads: wailing head, smiling head, stress head. Stress over packing and trying to get all of our prescriptions in time. Grief over saying goodbyes and leaving this place where we have settled for a year. Grief for the goodbyes and transitions my kids have to go through again and the difficulties they will face. Anticipation of getting settled back into our own familiar space where we lived for four years. Anxiety over how much our community and the environment of our city has changed in the last year. Eagerness to see friends we have missed.<br />
<br />
I am a pre-griever. I feel all the sadness before something happens, dreading the coming change. I have been known to feel sad about Juliana going away to kindergarten and to college at the same time. My pre-grieving knows no bounds. But once the dreaded event occurs, it is easier. Once I get on the plane, I can focus on what is ahead.<br />
<br />
I also know that adaptability is not one of my strengths. When I face going anywhere, I always think, <a href="https://ruvin2007.blogspot.com/2017/08/an-unbalanced-force.html">“Or we could just stay here...”</a> It doesn't help when the first step is 30 hours of travel. I like the familiar and have very low desire for adventure. Maybe in spite of or because of living in China, I love stability and routine and everything staying the same. Fortunately I have been through enough transition to have gained a self-awareness. I never want to leave, but when I get there it will be okay. Right now everything seems up in the air and the room is cluttered with suitcases, but one day soon we will be settled again.<br />
<br />
When I think about going back, what I look forward to most is the familiarity. I think of our apartment and how it will look once we have everything unpacked and organized. I think of our friends who are still there, ones that we know and understand, and who will understand all the feelings that come with transition. I think about the familiar roads we drive down every day, and about the familiar faces – the fruit seller, the restaurant owners, the neighbors. <br />
<br />
When we have been in China for a while, I will think, “I cannot imagine living in America. What would that even be like? What would it be like not to live here? This is our life. This is normal.” But in those first days back, I know I will look around at the dull gray skies and the dull gray buildings and wonder, “Why are we here? Why is everything ugly? Why would we choose this?” It takes a while to notice the glimpses of beauty.<br />
<br />
Similarly, when I first get back to America I always think, “This place is crazy. I cannot imagine living here. Look at the size of these houses! How much everyone thinks they need to own! Why are there so many choices??” But after so long in America – a full year – I think, “It’s pretty nice here. I could get used to this. We could settle in and our kids could go to school, we could keep going to our church, we could drive around in a van and fill up a closet.”<br />
<br />
So there is always an inner conflict. America is so in-your-face prettier and easier and bigger and has ten options of anything you could ever want. China has to grow on you. Everything is harder but also simpler. In China, I would love to buy one of those pre-washed bags of spinach and skip the whole process of “wash with soap, rinse really well until the water is no longer dirty, rinse with drinking water, dry completely and use in the next day before it wilts.” <br />
<br />
But there is also something wholesome about stepping into the tiny vegetable shop or bending down over the blanket of vegetables along the side of the road. In the middle of the city, there is something grounding about spinach covered with dirt, a reminder it came out of the ground not a factory. It was probably carted into the city on one of those incredibly loud banging tractors and sold by the farmers, directly to us or to the vegetable shop. And I probably bought it for 40 cents.<br />
<br />
So my feelings about China are kind of like spinach. I miss the ease and convenience of sanitized spinach in a fancy container inside a ridiculously clean supermarket, but I also enjoy the connection I feel through my dirt-covered spinach sold in a cold, cramped vegetable hut by the same person I see every time, who tells me if my kids are wearing enough clothes or not.<br />
<br />
In fact, maybe this will be my new analogy. “How do I feel about going back to China? Well it's complicated; kind of like spinach."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-60447903753639985662019-01-01T03:04:00.000+08:002019-01-01T03:07:04.531+08:00One Word for 2018: Restore<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span>I have never been into New Years Resolutions. In lieu of resolutions, a few years ago I jumped on the One Word bandwagon, where you choose one word you want to define the year. Some of my words have worked out great and ended up being a very meaningful theme of the year, like the Year of Grace. Other years did not turn out at all like I hoped.<br />
<br />
I had a word in mind at the beginning of the year, but I didn’t ever fully commit. For one thing, we were in the middle of moving and transitioning back to the US for a year, and I had a few other things to think about. I also felt reluctant to commit myself to something that I wasn’t sure would happen. The word I flirted with was “restore,” but it was more of a hope than a resolution.<br />
<br />
We spent this year in the US with the specific purpose of seeking healing and restoration, and we were committed to actively work toward this end. We attended a debriefing and renewal retreat that got us started in digging deeper into how we got to this place of depression, sickness, and burnout.<br />
<br />
We saw dozens of doctors about various medical complaints, some we had put off for many years. I found a psychiatrist and began regular counseling, both a first in my years of depression and anxiety. Kevin had a break from the stresses of teaching and dealing with challenging school situations. In the fall I had a break from home schooling, and family provided a lot of help with the girls.<br />
<br />
We were not passive in our quest for health. But at the beginning of the year, I had trouble believing that any of these things would actually make a difference. In the midst of depression, it is so hard to believe you CAN get better. When something is wrong inside of your mind, what can you do outside that would possibly heal you? We were so worn down after surviving for so long, we couldn’t see what doing well would look like.<br />
<br />
It has been a slow process. I came back to the US this year thinking I was over depression, only to discover that wasn’t true at all. I reluctantly began to understand that depression will very likely always be a part of my life - hopefully something I will be able to manage well, but never something I can ignore.<br />
<br />
I asked my psychiatrist if I would always need to be on antidepressants and she said, “Well, it depends. Do you want to go back to feeling like you did before?” Hmm. I really wanted to be a person who could stop taking medicine and be all better. It takes a mindset change to accept that for me, this is a chronic illness. But I also feel more hopeful. In understanding my depression I can give myself permission to get the help I need. I can open myself to the possibility – through medication and prioritizing mental health – that I really can do well.<br />
<br />
This year we have enjoyed amazing physical health. Well, Kevin had a couple of hospitalizations. That was not amazing. He avoided the majority of the last couple of years of sickness, so this year was probably worse for him health-wise. And we had the usual sicknesses, but compared to the last few years it was pretty amazing. We had long stretches of time when everyone was healthy. Our bodies finally had the chance to recover enough to rebuild our immune systems. And nobody got pneumonia!!<br />
<br />
We are not completely healthy and mentally stable and perfect, unfortunately. We have spent the last couple of weeks of the year with sickness and asthma flare-ups. Sickness is always discouraging, but it is part of life, not necessarily the start of another season of continual sickness. We are still striving to function better as a family.<br />
<br />
However, looking back to where we were at the beginning of 2018, we have come a long way. Slowly, over time, we have built up the inner resources that were so depleted. We can look on the challenges and stresses that will face us in China and still want to return.<br />
<br />
When I look toward 2019, I have no idea what it will be like. I’ve stopped trying to predict the future. We are setting plans in place for how to operate better in China. We are prepared to do what is in our power to stay healthy. We also know how much is outside of our control. It’s hard to live very long in China without adopting a somewhat fatalistic mindset.<br />
<br />
I can’t see what the future holds, but I can look back and see where we have come. I picture Samuel, setting up an Ebeneezer stone and declaring, “Thus far the Lord has helped us.” We did as much as we could, but in the end the restoration was not in our hands. We can look back and see God was faithful to bring it about. We can walk into the new year with confidence, whatever it holds, knowing the Lord goes ahead of us and will continue his work of restorations.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-61892361375614047812018-12-30T02:20:00.000+08:002018-12-30T02:31:44.738+08:00Oddly Missing Christmas in China“Christmas this year didn’t feel quite like Christmas,” Juliana said last night before bedtime.<br />
“What do you mean?” I asked<br />
“We didn’t get to see any friends.”<br />
“Well, Christmas is usually a holiday you spend with family, not so much with friends.”<br />
Juliana responded, “We do. In China. I miss Christmas in China.”<br />
<br />
I was struck by her response. I had an idea in my head of what “normal” Christmas is like. Christmas is family time. Except in China, we aren’t with family. We do spend our Christmas with friends. And if 5 of your 8 Christmases have been spent in China, naturally your version of normal is a little different.<br />
<br />
This exchange also struck me because I was feeling the same way. I have only spent 9 out of 35 Christmases in China, so my view of “normal” is still pretty American. But those 9 China Christmases have taken place over the last 13 years, and we have developed our own new normal.<br />
<br />
Still, who wouldn’t love extra Christmas celebrations with many more presents than normal? Christmas programs and Christmas lights and Christmas music on the radio. The month of December becomes Everything Christmas.<br />
<br />
In China, we miss Christmas in America. We miss the resources to make all kinds of Christmas cookies. We miss stores decorated for Christmas and selling at least some classy Christmas decorations. We miss candlelight Christmas Eve services. We miss Christmas morning with family and stockings over the fireplace.<br />
<br />
This year in America, I found myself oddly missing Christmas in China. For starters, the whole month of November becomes Everything Christmas and that is just morally wrong. By the time you should even be starting to think about Christmas, you feel kind of over it.<br />
<br />
There are so many Christmas activities – performances, parades, services, visiting Santa (which we didn’t actually get around to), Christmas craft days, Christmas parties – it’s fun to experience and also a bit overkill. It bombards you at every turn. It is not something you make happen – it happens to you. It sweeps by you in a flurry of busyness.<br />
<br />
Christmas in China is whatever you make it to be. There is no pressure to do all the Christmas things because they don’t exist. We do lights and make cookies because that feels like Christmas. We light our advent wreath. Every year I try unsuccessfully to make our tree not look tacky. We Skype with family. We gather with teammates for a potluck and gift exchange.<br />
<br />
We don’t drive past houses strung with lights (we also don’t pass any houses, so there’s that). We string our own lights inside our apartment windows and enjoy knowing that our neighbors will see them, the only lights around. We don’t listen to Christmas music on the radio, partly because our little three-wheeled electric cart is conspicuously missing a sound system. But at home we do listen to our favorite Christmas albums on the computer.<br />
<br />
We make wrapping paper out of decorative book-covering paper. Last year when I bought an interesting variety of paper from the stationary shop, the owner excitedly pointed out to another customer - “She is buying paper for Christmas presents!” I have even wrapped presents in pillowcases and scarves or out of pretty, recycled shopping bags, which is very eco-friendly and also convenient when that’s what you have.<br />
<br />
We celebrate St. Lucia Day, in honor of our own Lucia and of our Norwegian friends. We dance around the Christmas tree, remembering this special tradition shared by our Norwegian and Scottish friends years ago when our children were very small.<br />
<br />
Some years, we have our own candlelight service. It much simpler and smaller than the polished mega-church variety we attended this year. We sit around a living room with a small group of other people who become our overseas family, children crawling around, maybe some fireworks going off in the background, singing to music from YouTube. It is anything but polished, but in spite of or because of that, somehow it is wonderfully meaningful. So yes, I guess normally we do celebrate Christmas with friends.<br />
<br />
I don't want to idealize Christmas in China, because it is often very hard. December is a dark, cold month. It always seems to be a difficult time of year, often filled with sickness and discouragement. We wish we could be near family and attend Christmas activities. We feel jealous of everyone celebrating what appears to be picture-perfect Christmases.<br />
<br />
We had lots of Christmas this year, more than usual in every way. We got to be with family and do Everything Christmas. We enjoyed it, it was just...different. This is just the way it is - nothing will be quite normal again, as we split our life and affections between two different worlds.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-33293019519729387282018-12-13T10:22:00.000+08:002018-12-13T10:27:37.116+08:00You Might Have Been in America Too Long When...<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">We
have now been back in the America for over 10 months. 10 months! That
is by far the longest we have been here since we got married 11 years
ago. When you spend that much time in your own country, you start
adjusting your behaviors and expectations, until America starts to
seem pretty normal.</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">You
know you have been in America too long when…</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<ol>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
say, “I don’t really feel like Mexican food today.”</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
find yourself drinking ice water – IN THE WINTER.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
start to take closets for granted.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Burger
King is not the best burger you’ve had all year.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
send your child to school in one layer when there is frost on the
ground, and nobody even scolds you.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
don’t even stop in the cereal aisle.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
complain that the door locks aren’t working...in your temperature
controlled, shock-absorbing, faster than 30mph, fully enclosed and
locking CAR.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
don’t go into fast food and gas station bathrooms thinking, “This
is so much nicer than my bathroom.”</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
think that drive thru and grocery pickup and prepaid mailing labels
are quite normal.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
stop wondering what the neighbors will think, because you don’t
have a couple hundred of them seeing and hearing all the screaming
through windows, walls, and floors.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There
is only one Chinese person at the park who is eyeing you...because
there is only one Chinese person at the park.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nobody
comes up and awkwardly asks you in English, “Hello! Are you
American?” but you go up to the Chinese person at the park and
awkwardly ask in Chinese, “Hello! Are you Chinese?”</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It
seems normal to have so much stuff you need an attic, a basement,
and/or a storage shed in the backyard.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
start to take for granted that you can send your kids off to school
where someone keeps them all day and is responsible for making sure
they learn everything – for FREE!</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Your
kids get super excited about rice and even more excited about jiaozi
(potstickers).</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
start thinking of all these ways you will HGTV and Container Store
your apartment when you get back.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Your
kids have twice as many toys and yet somehow still have less than
most of their friends.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
feel annoyed when it takes a minute for the water to heat up in the
sink, even though you have hot water in the sink.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
take for granted the DISHWASHER.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
stop noticing when other parents take their babies out shockingly
under-dressed.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
start getting all paranoid about safety, even though your kids have
probably never been safer in their lives (school shootings
not-withstanding).</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
don’t eat avocado every day.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Your
family hasn’t flown, even domestically, in NINE months.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
think it’s a pain to drive 45 minutes to get immunizations, even
though in the past you have taken 24-48 hour round-trips to get
immunizations.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You
start thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be too weird to live in
America.</span></span></div>
</li>
</ol>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But
then you go back to China and everything rights (or possibly wrongs)
itself. It all depends on your perspective.</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">See also <a href="http://ruvin2007.blogspot.com/2017/09/you-might-be-china-foreigner-if.html">You Might Be a Chinese Foreigner If...</a></span></span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-18523733630156842372018-10-27T09:01:00.003+08:002018-10-27T09:07:49.808+08:00Sometimes We Get the Chance to Say GoodbyeWhen we left to come back to the US this year, our friends kept asking, “Are you coming back? How sure our you that you will be back?” They weren’t asking because they found us to be naturally untrustworthy people but because they recognize the reality of our transient community.
I would usually answer, “Yes, we are definitely coming back as far as we can foresee. As far as it depends on us. As long as nothing big happens. We are leaving all our possessions here and saying, “See you next year,” not “I may not see you again ever.”<br />
<br />
We feel a fear whenever someone leaves, or even talks about leaving, because we know none of this is forever. Not in a “the earth is temporal and not our home” kind of philosophic way but in a very practical sense, we are continually reminded of the tentative nature of our lives.<br />
<br />
When we left China, another family from our city left at the same time, knowing that they probably would not be back. They were our friends, former classmates, our playgroup buddies. Our two oldest were international school classmates. Our two middles were best friends. Our two youngest were preschool classmates. But we were able to say goodbye and send them off to their home country, even though we would probably never see them again.<br />
<br />
After we were back in the US, we heard that another family unexpectedly left our city to return to their home country where we will probably never see them again. Juliana’s teacher that she loved left our city and will not be back. Another family, in a nearby city, told us this summer they would not be back. Just now we learned from another family in our city, our good friends, that they will be leaving in a few months, before we get back. These times, we do not get to say goodbye.<br />
<br />
Sometimes we, and they, can plan ahead. We knew that several friends would be leaving before we returned (in addition to the aforementioned ones). Some other friends, who have lived in China for over 25 years, have already been making plans to return to the US next summer.
Sometimes, for a variety of reasons, the move is sudden. We don’t have the chance for goodbyes. And so we hold a certain fear. Will they return? Will they stay? Will I see them again?<br />
<br />
In the US we like to believe we control our own destinies, if we believe it we can achieve it, we can set goals and make them come true, we can do anything, nothing can stop us. We choose our jobs and our homes and our cars, maybe our children’s schools and our city or neighborhood. We have so many options that we can believe we are in control of everything – until a terrible diagnosis, or a tragic loss, or a sudden layoff.<br />
<br />
In our lives overseas, most of those illusions are stripped away and we wonder what in the world we are left to control. We may lose our friends and our children’s friends. We may lose our most of what we own. We may have to leave because of our health or parent’s health or children’s well-being or because we are no longer welcome. We may lose our jobs and our schools and our homes and our way of life all in one blow. We carry this possibility with us each day, not because we are doomsday thinkers or extreme pessimists but because know these are realistic possibilities.<br />
<br />
Lately I have been feeling this grief. Loss of friends. Loss of control. Loss of security. The uncertainty of the future. And the continual goodbyes. How many goodbyes, most likely permanent goodbyes, have I said in these years? Another year, another dozen goodbyes. I am tired of saying goodbyes, but I am grateful for each time I get to say them. I know that sometimes we won’t have that chance.<br />
<br />
We tend to run in one of two directions. Sometimes we close ourselves off to friendships because who knows how long they will be here anyway. We don’t fix up the apartment because what if we have to move again next year? Sometimes we cling to things tightly in the hopes they won’t slip through our fingers. But we can never cling tightly enough to keep change at bay, and the loss tears us apart.<br />
<br />
The only way I see through it is by holding our hearts out, and holding them loosely. We have to keep investing in people and a country, loving others, settling in however temporarily. We have to accept that change and loss are inevitable, that however hard we try we are not in control. Then when change and loss happens, we grieve in whatever ways we do it best. We allow our hearts to break and then be remade.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2682958180553579364.post-30910785993488406022018-10-11T09:03:00.002+08:002018-10-11T09:06:19.241+08:00What does a depressed person look like?<div class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“Everyone has a story or a struggle that will break your heart. And, if you’re really paying attention, most people have a story that will bring you to your knees.”</i> - <a href="https://brenebrown.com/blog/2018/06/07/everyone-has-a-story/">Brene Brown</a><br />
<br />
You may look around and think, “I don’t know anyone who is depressed.” Probably most people you know look normal. Functional. Together.<br />
<br />
We all want to look like we have it together. It might be okay to struggle because of some obvious and outward and universally understood circumstance, but not too deeply or too long. We should be able to get over it and move on. If everything is going okay in our lives, we should be okay.<br />
<br />
Except that the outside doesn't always mirror the inside. Even when we are barely functioning, we seem to cling to this social code. We smile and keep it together because that is the appropriate way to behave around others. And when we can't manage to keep it together, we hide away so nobody knows we are falling apart.<br />
<br />
So what does a depressed person look like?</div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U3Y7m0YPfxQ/W74VnU9w7HI/AAAAAAAANbs/Y4LapkPaVz4wTEiVaR4cfJT12zw1A5VugCLcBGAs/s1600/Ruth%2B-%2Bhigh%2Bschool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="531" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U3Y7m0YPfxQ/W74VnU9w7HI/AAAAAAAANbs/Y4LapkPaVz4wTEiVaR4cfJT12zw1A5VugCLcBGAs/s320/Ruth%2B-%2Bhigh%2Bschool.jpg" width="274" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
They may look successful. Maybe they have awards and scholarships and smiles. They may wonder what is wrong with them, what is this fatal flaw that makes them so desperately miserable.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--UTg0bDSLdQ/W74Ti-_OtmI/AAAAAAAANbM/UBPVabNL_4w0O3Jg9-cSOpxypN-gXezwQCLcBGAs/s1600/Ruth%2B-%2Bcollege%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="575" data-original-width="933" height="197" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--UTg0bDSLdQ/W74Ti-_OtmI/AAAAAAAANbM/UBPVabNL_4w0O3Jg9-cSOpxypN-gXezwQCLcBGAs/s320/Ruth%2B-%2Bcollege%2B2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
They may be surrounded by friends, such good friends they even wear matching clothes! They may socialize in the dorm and go out with friends on Friday nights. In between they may lie on the floor crying alone, wanting to live but not sure if they can survive.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GdFCrMKxCFc/W74UDlR-8WI/AAAAAAAANbY/7MtqCJUQcIIVmvQxu5ZrBuu0Uf_Ctvf0QCLcBGAs/s1600/DSC01993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GdFCrMKxCFc/W74UDlR-8WI/AAAAAAAANbY/7MtqCJUQcIIVmvQxu5ZrBuu0Uf_Ctvf0QCLcBGAs/s320/DSC01993.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
They may look adventurous and daring, striking out on their own in the world. They may love their job, feeling a sense of calling and purpose. They may wonder if they are worthy of taking up space in the world.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-trO8pClePkA/W74UfrlMlvI/AAAAAAAANbg/ds4dGVfPFjov704LaBC53Yg_Io0FP_vrACLcBGAs/s1600/20170420_085115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-trO8pClePkA/W74UfrlMlvI/AAAAAAAANbg/ds4dGVfPFjov704LaBC53Yg_Io0FP_vrACLcBGAs/s320/20170420_085115.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
They may have the life and the family they wanted. They may feed and clothe and bathe their children, and even smile at their antics. They may be crushed by the weight of trying to get through another day.<br />
<br />
Each one of these pictures represents a time when I was severely depressed. In only one of these times did someone else know that I was depressed. How is that, when I had friends and family - close friends even, and family who cared about me? It is because you can't always see depression from the outside.<br />
<br />
When I look back on these pictures I feel the disconnect. I do have good memories. I did smile and laugh and do things with friends. I got good grades, taught well, was a pretty decent mom. And yet I also remember what I felt like inside. I remember the palatable darkness that threatened to swallow me, the gaping emptiness, the deep exhaustion from acting like I was okay. I remember questioning the will - or desire, or ability - to live.<br />
<br />
How can this paradox exist? And how can we ever see what someone is feeling on the inside when we are so good at hiding it?<br />
<br />
Maybe we can't see it. Maybe we have to hear it. We hear it because we are listening. We enable them to be open and honest because we have been open and honest. We fight down the urge to give advice or judge or swoop in and rescue; instead we just listen. We don't even encourage or offer solution or try to drag them out of the pit - not yet. First we step into their pain and sit with them. We say, "I'm here," and then we stay.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>"In the deepest, night-blind fathoms you're certain that you're alone. You aren't. I'm there with you. And I'm not alone. Some of the best people are here too...feeling blindly. Waiting. Crying. Surviving. Painfully stretching their souls so that they can learn to breathe underwater...So that they can live."</i><br />
- <a href="http://thebloggess.com/furiously-happy/">Jenny Lawson</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0