Visitors from Baotou

Today at our school, we had some visitors from a sister school in China, a middle school in Baotou, Inner Mongolia. I saw one of the visitors during a staff meeting; they peaked their heads into our classroom to check it out. I had a strange feeling that I had seen the man before. Is it possible?
Perhaps I have. Afterall, I have been to the city of Baotou before and know about a dozen of their middle school and high school English teachers. I did have a meal with one of my friends' leaders of the school. Hmm, yes it seems like it could be likely that I have met one or more of these people before in China.

This evening, in a quest to know for sure, I went to retrieve photos from my external hard drive. Much to my dismay, I don't have the correct cord to connect to my computer. So, I will have to rely on memory and maybe I will do some investigating of what schools exactly my friends teach at; I'm excited. Let the detective work begin.

Oreos in China

When I lived in China, I ate a lot of oreo cookies. More so than I ever eat when I'm living in the States. Why the difference? Because in China, oreos are quick and easy comfort food. Because it's a little reminder of home. Because you can buy them with peanut butter or ice cream flavored middles. Because you can buy them as wafer sticks or even twists. The last 2 years, you could even buy them in wafer sticks that had a coffee flavored creme in the middle. Because you can buy a package of 8 for about $.50.
Ah yes, the oreo in China.
I had forgotten my appreciation for these little guys until my dad shared this article with me from NPR: Rethinking the Oreo For Chinese Consumers.
Check it out.

Pretty People

Once every 3 weeks, I am a greeter for the first service of the fellowship I attend here in the Twin Cities. I have enjoyed this fellowship for it's worship, community, truth, and encouraging messages. I also feel that I have something to give back to it, though I'm still discovering how do that.

Two weeks ago, I was a greeter with another young gentleman. This guy is getting his undergraduate in screen writing. He was pleasant to talk to and had a hair-cut that was spiky and asymmetrical. As we opened the door for people, I couldn't help but notice, couple after couple of beautiful people. And not just married couples, but groups of friends in tanned boots, coiffured hair, bright scarves, sparkling eyes, clear skin. Guys walking in with their blazer jackets, perfectly faded jeans, gelled hair, and big smiles. And I couldn't help but mention to the screenwriter, "Have you ever noticed how many beautiful people go to our church? It seems disproportionately high"
"Yeah, you're right." he agreed.

After we finished greeting, I went to the restroom to gear up for the service. I splashed water on my face and looked in the mirror. I was horrorified; staring back at me was the face of someone quite different than all the beauties we had welcomed into the church earlier. For I am old already, with dark circles under my eyes, gray hairs starting to bud out all over, and my ever-faithful adult-onset acne hovering on my forehead.

"What am I doing at a fellowship with so many beautiful people? What is it about this place that attracts this type of person? Help me not to notice or help me know what to do with it? Why do I feel like I don't belong here."

But I pulled myself together and sat in the sanctuary in the back by myself, and tried to find God. I looked around and saw some other people who looked very similar to myself. Tired, weathered and maybe also a little confused why they were there too.

And later that week, I read the verse "Man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart." And I was reminded that I need to stop noticing appearances and trust that someone else is looking at that place in ourselves that really counts.

Birthday Bash

This past Monday night, I threw myself a 30th Birthday party. We ate pizza and gourmet chocolate turtle cake and played a couple games of mafia. It was encouraging to look around and see all the friends (and then some) I have here in the Twin Cities.

Outdoor Winter Sporting

Here we are, gearing up for an afternoon of cross-country skiing in the lodge. These two students are visiting their professor who is a visiting scholar at U of M.

This is my colleague; she was a natural. I think she would have skied all day if there hadn't been time constraints.



This Winter, I have been enjoying some outdoor winter sports. Last week-end, I went with the Hospitality Center for Chinese to a Recreational area out in a suburb. This center had tubing, snow-boarding, and cross country skiing. My car load chose cross-country skiing. I remember cross-country skiing a few times in High School with my dad. We went for at least an hour in the empty field behind us. We could often hear the neighbor's dogs (coyotes) howling at us. We didn't care; we felt invincible in our snow pants, padded coats, and mittens. I remember it being easy; last week-end, I was proved oh so wrong.

As you can see a little bit from the photos, some of the course was hilly. The pro's would whip by on their pointed skates and swift arm strokes in perfect sync. The really good ones didn't even use poles. They moved their legs as though they were skating, their arms resting comfortably on their backs. Let's contrast that now to our group of skiers: we fell a lot, we went slow, we sometimes only used our poles especially when going uphills.

At one point while going down the hill, I thought I was going to die. It was at a part of the course that was a little steep. Even as I started going down the hill, I knew I was going too fast, and I wasn't sure how to gain control. My poles were extended like wounded wings; my legs felt as though they were being pulled into the splits. I barely held on to my upright position, swerving from one side to the next. And yet, somehow by the grace of God, I didn't wipe out. But my heart was sure pounding, and there again, my attitude wasn't the best "How is this cross-country skiing? I feel like I'm on a training course for the downhill Olympic try-outs?" And that was before I turned the corner and saw the equivalent hill going upward. "Grrr" I growled.

At the end of an hour, we were exhausted. I found myself not really enjoying cross-country skiing as much as I remembered. In a dark, empty, cornfield when form doesn't really matter and you don't have to worry about hills, you feel kind of awesome and adventurous. At the rec center in Minnesota, being passed left and right by pros in winter tights and goggles, you kind of feel lame. And I started to swear at each one of the pro's as they passed me, "**** show-off" I would huff into my scarf. That's when I thought it might be a good point to call it quits for the day.

And yet, I think we all enjoyed the afternoon and are better for the experience. Some of my friends think I'm really adventurous and like all outdoor sports; I let them live in the delusion because sometimes I live there too.

Just one of those days

It's just one of those days when you kind of don't care anymore (about some things) and other things, you care a lot more than you should. Here are a few things that have me caring a lot...

1. I care a lot that I have been such a poor friend to some of my friends who live further away; I've been a little bit of the "out of sight, out of mind" mentality recently. :(
2. I care a lot that I have messed up on one small (but significant all the same) part of my job and let a student slip through the cracks. Sad, but true.
3. I care a lot that some of my friends are hurting and haven't experienced freedom.
4. I care a lot that sometimes I feel old and other times I feel immature.
5. I care a lot whenever I think about the orphan babes who do not have enough food or attention. Who die silently in their cribs, alone in this world, welcomed with wide arms and bottles full of warm milk into the next.
6. And I care a lot that time goes so fast and yet I waste so much of it.

Show me Oh Father, how to care about what you care about.

Some Joy Sprinkled In

Recently, I have just been feeling so blessed by the arrangement of God's timing and provision in my job. Truth be told, it was not easy at the beginning. In fact, it didn't even really feel manageable until maybe about a month ago. But slowly, as the tasks have increased and varied, as students make progress, as our team works together, and as I find joy in simple things throughout the day, it feels manageable. And at times, maybe even enjoyable.

May I remember to give thanks to the Divine Arranger.

Meet Schroeder

This past Saturday, it was so beautiful outside. The three of us met at the Como Park & Conservatory for a little plant and animal therapy.


This gorilla is named Shroeder. We liked him.

Apartment Photos

Here are a few photos of my new apartment. I feel really blessed in that my apartment looked like this put together when I moved in, and I didn't really have to do anything except unpack my room.

Swing Dancing at the Caves

I have always felt in love with the idea of swing dancing. Recently, my romantic notions have been brought down and put in their proper perspective. at the Wabasha street caves, my romantic notions were brought down and put into their proper perspective.

It all happened last Thursday evening. My room-mate and I were looking all cute and ready to dance it up at the Wabasha Street Caves in the Twin Cities. As soon as we arrived at the caves though, we sensed we were in trouble. It seemed that all the couples present had recently become engaged or something and were standing possessively glued next to each other. “No worries” we thought. “We’ll just start dancing with each other. Someone will surely see how much fun we’re having and want to cut in.” Unfortunately, it didn’t really work that way for a couple of reasons. First, the dance floor was super crowded, and secondly, as mentioned previously, it was a predominantly couples' evening with the only extras being female. So, I sat down in defeat and waited until my room-mate felt equally as dismal about the situation as I did so we could leave. It was at this moment that I noticed there was in fact one single guy in the room. He was an 80 some year old man with humped over shoulders, a striped navy dress shirt, and suspenders. He was digging through his pockets for a Ziploc bag of medicines. Finally, he found what he was looking for: a cough drop. He shakily started to unwrap it. I feel sorry when I feel elderly people struggling to do some simple tasks and was contemplating whether or not I should help him out, when he looked up and winked at me. I decided not to help him.

A few more minutes passed. Someone had approached me. I looked up to see this same elderly man smiling at me: “I see you tapping your foot there. You look like you’re ready to dance. Shall we?” he beckoned to the dance floor.

I hesitated a moment only because I was wondering whether it was a good idea (from a health standpoint) for him to be dancing when but a moment ago, I wasn’t sure if he needed help with his cough drop. But, I agreed and he held my hand and led me to the dance floor.

I’d like to say that he was this amazing dancer and we flitted across the dance floor like something you might imagine in the movies. But in fact, reality and gravity were too much a part of us. So we kind of just awkwardly shifted our weight around in a corner of the dance floor. He tried some new dance moves I wasn’t familiar with, but I did my best. The air around me smelt of musty clothes, old man, and cough drops. I’m sure that at some point, this man was an awesome dancer, winning over hearts right and left with his moves and charm. But with time, things slow down and get lost. Things like rhythm and hearing and balance.

Nonetheless, as the song ended, I felt happy that I had in fact danced with one guy for the evening. Feeling sorry for my friend who hadn't danced with anyone yet, I asked the gentleman if he would like to dance with her. His eyes got a little sensitive as he looked up at me and responded, “Well, . . . you’re alright.” Then he followed up with, “But if that’s what you'd like, . . .sure I will dance with your friend.” And just like that, in my sensitivity to my friend, I realized that I had in fact dealt a small blow to this man’s pride. I tried to repatch the situation quickly by saying, “No, I think my friend’s okay. I’m happy to dance with you.” The music began, and we started yet again to move our bodies awkwardly on the corner of the dance floor.

A simple prayer

Oh Lord,
When we want to quit this weary world, please help us turn our eyes not inwards but upwards and find that you are there, and find that you are enough.
Amen.