poops, giggles and huh?

"Man, I could really go for a steak," Matt said as we walked hurriedly down the bustling sidewalk in Beijing. We were trying to find the Hai Dian Book City. It was supposedly a street with hundreds of little books shops. Rumor had it that some of these shops were supposed to sell English books. The thought of finding our favorite novels and maybe adding some new ones to our collections was the only thing keeping us going as we walked and walked and walked. We’d stopped and asked for directions several times already. We got a different answer each time we asked. So, we were now strictly following our map…which didn’t seem to be helping us anymore than all those people’s advice.

"Steak does sound good," I said. "Or how about a big pizza with cheese, pepperoni, and sausages?"

"Oh man," he said. We were torturing ourselves thinking about all of this food. Looking around, the only food choices seemed to be street vendor food or little Chinese restaurants. We were craving American food.

"You had to mention pizza," he said rather reproachfully. "That just happens to be my favorite food."

We walked in silence for a few seconds; each of us thinking of a steaming slice of fresh pizza.

"Hey, we’re getting close to something," I said. The streets had been moderately busy but were packed with cars and people at this intersection. I could see a sign for Starbucks up ahead.
"And hey, there’s a sign for Starbucks!"

"Wow, Starbucks sounds good too. But, I really want some pizza now." Matt was officially on a quest for books and pizza.

We turned a corner after consulting our map and kept walking. There was no sign of this supposed book city. We looked around.

"Mcdonalds!" Matt almost screamed it. In fact, he said it so fast it sounded like "Mconls!"

We hurried toward the golden arches. Burgers weren’t exactly pizza, but they’d do the trick. We reached the doors and were just about to run up to the counter when I turned and saw an amazing sight behind us.

"Matt, turn around," I said. My voice was filled with awe. Matt turned and we both stared.

Directly across the street was a sign which pointed at the entrance to the Hai Dian Book City and next to the entrance stood a good, old, American, Papa John’s Pizza shop.

We almost exploded in excitement.

Grace

It’s a word I forget more than I remember. Today, I was reminded that God does have grace and extends it to me all the time. But, not only does he offer it to me, he offers it to everyone else too.

It’s so easy for me to get complacent here. If I don’t think of him, I really can go days or even weeks without hearing anyone mention God…except when they’re swearing. There aren’t many people here who believe what I do. I have to really make an effort to get to church on Sundays. It’s not an easy thing. It’s much easier to tell myself that I’ll have my own worship time in my room.

Being here is strange in that, I can feel really close to Him, or really far from Him. There’s almost no in between. But today, as I was thinking how stupid and disgusting the other foreigners at my school are, I listened to a focus on the family radio drama. The theme was grace.

I usually exclude the other foreigners from my mind when I think about people who need to be reached. In reality, aren’t all people the same in that area? Grace is given to me. I need to show it to others too.

I remember when it was early Autumn at home in Redding, California. Back then, we lived on a couple of acres. All around us, our neighbors had a few acres or more. There were no "next door neighbors" per se. In late September or early October, the air would turn a little cooler. We’d pull out our our sweaters and jackets put them on for the first time that year. My brothers and I were homeschooled. So, my parents would wake us up early in the morning and we’d get started with our day.

We all kind of liked the colder weather. It made everything seem more cozy. Hot chocolate and hot apple cider would make it’s first appearance of the season. I would open the back door, after I got up, to check whether I could see my breath in the morning air or not.

The cold weather meant that my dad would have to find someone to buy a couple cords of firewood from. This, to me, was rather exciting. A stranger in an old, beat up pick up truck would pull into our driveway and dump his load of wood next to the house. Then, it was time to build a fort before my dad had us help him stack it on the back porch. We built some great forts. They weren’t very stable, but with a little imagination they turned into castles from the middle ages or maybe a bunker during WWII.

One morning, as my brothers and I were about to start our schoolwork, my mom called us over to the back window.

"What is it?" we all wanted to know.

"Shhh. Look," she whispered to us as she pointed toward the back lawn.

It was like a picture. There, right outside our window stood at least twelve deer. There was only one or two fawn. The rest were does. They stood there grazing with their legs tense and ready to leap away at the slightest suspicious noise or movement. Their coats were a light brown with just the lightest speckling of white. They seemed so graceful.

"They’re beautiful, huh?" mom said softly.

Our house was surrounded by tall oak trees and the morning light was filtered through the leaves. It seemed to make the whole scene surreal. The deer slowly browsing their way across the lawn with the gentle light around them made it look like something out of a coffee table picture book.

My brothers, my mom, and I sat there and were caught in spell for a few moments.

Wednesday, I teach four class periods. Not too bad except for the fact that I teach three of those periods back to back in the afternoon. All three of those afternoon classes are 8th grade classes. I don’t know what it is. I loved teaching 8th grade last year. The kids seemed to be younger, happier, and more respectful than the 8th graders I have here at this school.

Today, I really blew my top. It’s embarassing, really. Because, it’s only about 2 weeks into the semester and I’ve lost my cool with a class. Now, there is a difference between calmly kicking a kid out of class for calling me stupid (yes this happened today. She thought I wouldn’t understand if she called me stupid in Chinese) and yelling at a whole class and telling a kid in it that he is retarded. These events happened in two seperate classes. I keep telling myself that I must maintain control at all times. I must control the kids and I must control myself. Today, I wasn’t able to do either. I hit a kid’s desk as hard as I could with my right hand. I scared the Bejesus out of him. He pouted for the rest of class, but at least he didn’t say another word. I got up into another kid’s face for talking and talking and talking and talking and…..well you get what I mean. How is it that these kids have something so important to say to each other that they literally cannot keep quiet for more than 2 seconds at a time.

I told the talking kid to be quiet. He promised he would be. As soon as I turned my back to him, I heard his voice. This happened at least 9 times.

Anyway, the bell finally rang and I hurried out of class. As soon as 5:00 rolled around I was out of the office in a flash and went to work out. Ah, the feeling of working out; the feeling of straining your muscles and releasing and calling upon all of your physical energy. I still was a little pissed off when I got back to my room so opened this bottle (a bacardi breezer, of course). I’m on number three now and starting to feel much better about those 8th graders. I’ll be able to teach again tomorrow.

The wind pushes past the leaves. Impatient to get to wherever it’s going. The trees do their best to block its path. I walk slowly and savor the wind, the clouds, and absence of people. It’s been so muggy lately and the wind is pushing away that oppressive, heavy air. I have a free period and I’ve just been to the campus store to buy some crackers and a little box of chocolate milk. Some of the leaves lose their grip and fly away toward the lawn. It’s starting to drizzle now. The tiny drops of water feel like a garden mister. I like it. I’ve never been to London but the mist always helps me imagine what it must be like. I make it to the building just as the mister turns into a sprinkler.

The voices of teachers and children float down the halls from the classrooms. They remind me of one of those movies where someone returns to a building and hears the voices from his memory. I’m walking back to the office now. My shoes make a soft tapping sound on the floor.

I’ll be teaching in an hour again.

Just when you think you have things figured out, there’s always something to drag you back into reality. To me, reality is that nothing is really figured out. I’m still not completely sure what I’ll be doing for my career. Will I move back to America? Will I stay in China? So many things seem to be pulling me back to America, and yet, it seems so much easier to stay in China. Talk about taking it a day at a time.

For now, there’s a little piece. It seems like the year that I’m in is always the one where a big decision about my future needs to be made. Last year, I made the decision that I should stay in China permanently. The year before, I made the decision that I needed to be in the States for a while to be with the family. This year, it starts again.

Of course, the only one who knows what’s going to happen is the one I should be trusting. But it’s hard to not worry about things. Where’s the balance?

The middle school kids all stood up and sang “Happy Teachers Day” to the tune of the Happy Birthday song. We teachers had been told the afternoon before that we were expected to be at school by 7:20am for this Teacher’s Day ceremony. I tried hard to keep from laughing.

They seemed so sincere in their good wishes to us. Of course, I knew that within a few minutes I would be yelling at Tanger to stop flirting with Flying. Then, I would be giving the kids the evil eye as they desperately tried to cheat on their English Assesment test; yes, the same test which helps me to see their English skill level and determines how to pace my lessons. I wanted more than anything to leap out of my chair and yell, “Liars! You’re all liars! You don’t really hope I’ll have a happy Teacher’s Day! You just want to goof off and end this Friday so you can go home for the weekend!”

Of course my outburst would be met with the adoring cheers of the other teachers in my section. Together we’d chant, “frauds! frauds! frauds!”

Wait a second!!! Hold on just a damn minute!!!!

I’m on the teachers’ side of the room!!!! I’m not a student anymore and now I think like an old man!!!
Life doesn’t get much harder than realizing you’ve become what you used to rebel against.

Happy Friday

There’s no one here.

Only the wind brushes against the leaves.

The branches bend to make way for the breeze.

It reminds me of how you say, “amazing.”

I think you would say that now if you were here.

Wouldn’t you?

It’s quiet outside.

I try hard to remember how you were.

The dancing grass reminds me of how it used to be.

We would walk out into the fields.

The tall grass in those fields bent too.

You told me things.

I’m trying hard to think of what you said.

I wish it was then.

The wind pushes against me now.

If I close my eyes, it feels like it used to be.

Our old photos look like pictures of other people.

I miss the old us.

There’s no one on this street.

I’m all alone.

The trees lining it gently nod; stirred by this air.

The wind is blowing my memories of you far away.

I can’t seem to hold onto them.

I close my eyes and try to keep them for just a moment
longer as they drift away with the wind.