The last week or so

It’s been almost a week since I updated anyone via a blog/journal/post. As many of you know, on Saturday I became sick. I think there are quite a few factors that were working against my body, but I was struggling mentally too. I felt overwhelmed by the thoughts of almost a full week left, I was alone, a child I still barely know or understand was relying on me, and whilst being sick. I was quite weak in the evening so I tried to sleep early Saturday night.

I felt like I had already been asleep for the whole night when I woke up at 10. I needed to use the restroom. As I was walking back to the bed I had that initial feeling of throwing up. The feeling increased and surpassed vomiting to passing out-fainting. I quickly knelt down on the floor, panicking, and prayed aloud for God to help me. It’s been a long time since I was so scared and isolated. (For those who haven’t passed out, it feels a bit like death is happening.) Before losing consciousness, remembered a soda in the hotel fridge so I reached for a Sprite and took a sip.

I woke up a little later feeling wet on my shoulder from soda on the floor and sweat all over. I had passed out. I felt heavy on the floor as though I couldn’t move, but the cool air felt amazing to me. I started to become aware of things and felt better, though still lousy. I finished the Sprite, drank some water too, prayed, and went to bed.

The night was restless, full of hot, cold, and feverish thoughts. I had a dream I was home and Beth-Anne was taking care of me with other family, but when I woke up I was still alone.

The next morning I tried to count my blessings.

I was thankful this came in the middle of my trip and not the beginning or end.

I was thankful Eden had been so good-really, amazing.

I was thankful I wasn’t nauseous.

I was thankful it was less than a week.

I was thankful for God’s promises to help and use everything for good.

I was thankful for my guide.

And then others started to pray.

Thank you!

Since Saturday and Sunday, I am almost fully recovered with a regular appetite, I’m walking, and I can take care of Eden. Not only that, but my spirits have revived. I know God will sustain until we get home. Your prayers have help much! It can’t be overstated.

Here are some funny things since coming to China:

I saw a guy riding his bicycle and texting at the same time. He didn’t notice the truck that had stopped in front of him until it was too late.

Blinkers in Asia, do they not work?

Lines on the roads are general guides if you feel like following them.

The horn is used for every reason and no reason at all.

I saw a commercial for dried shrimp and little kids were dressed up at the beach in shrimp costumes, and so happy!

I tried to order some noodles. When I gave the lady my money she said something. I looked at the amount and knew it was more than enough. I stared blankly at her. She said it again. I could only think of phrases in Spanish or Korean so I still didn’t say anything. She said something else in Chinese, willing me to understand, and pointed at a card. “Please white man, won’t you understand me?!”

I shook my head and held up my hands. Then I tried to take my money back. She kindly resolved the issue for me instead. She actually did a very kind thing so I could eat. (This particular incident to be continued).

I’m trying to find some porcelain as a keepsake for Eden from her country of birth, China. My guide tells me it’s hard to find. Chinese people don’t like to pay for porcelain. They are not very traditional anymore. It’s a little ironic, but sad too.

Eden leaned against the table to help bend her elbow so she could get her mouth to eat the cracker in her hand, but she was in a swiveling chair so the more she pushed the more the rest of her circled around-away from her hand. 🤣

Multiple people have gestured to the sky and said, “tall!” And smiled at me. Yes.

Then I stand tall awkwardly since I can’t say anything else to them. “Wu ai ni!”

Actually, I was walking along imaging myself getting mixed up and saying “Wu ai ni” rather than “xie xie,” and laughing about it, but it never even happened. I think I need to be back home now.

Eden says many things in Chinese I don’t understand. I try to repeat them into google translate to help me interpret. Usually it’s a fail. Here are some of the translation errors we’ve had:

Is my sister infected?

Tropicana

I am not a subway

Haha no more

It is for

Not his mother

Samsung

With fools

Head pressure

Don’t put a lot of

Expired grandma

Weird me

First stock YY

Hello kitty blames me

For the surface of the scorpion

Forget it, you

Your father is stupid (yikes, I hope that was a mistranslation!)

Have you hugged it?

Your dad let me have a look

I’m no longer here

I took pictures of java

I am afraid he opened

Don’t kill white wine

Where is Anyang’s father?

And something happy to end with:

Yesterday, Eden told me twice in Chinese that she loves me!! 

“Wu ai ni,” everyone.

October 8 and 9- Getting Eden and first day

This is from Matthew from the day he got Eden and then through after lunch the next day.

———————

It’s incremental. Life is incremental.

Yesterday was one of those days in life you know you will never forget. I could say of the day, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

“Ten to fifteen minutes away,” said George, my guide and translator. Is she in this silver car? Is she in that rusty old van? The sun shines through the leaves of my shade tree, now above the tall buildings. I take a picture, trying to focus on something other than my beating heart. I can be calm. I’m usually good at that. Then a car pulls into the small parking lot and George looks at me and smiles, but doesn’t say anything. I can’t see much in the backseat. 

The adults get out, and so does a little girl, but she is facing away from me. Could it be her? Finally I ask, “Is that her?”

“Yes!”

It’s her! What should I do? Scoop her into a hug? Shake hands? Smile? Cry? I remember my wife who cannot be here. I hand George my phone and ask, “Will you take a video?” Pictures too, I try to take pictures. 

“Ni hau.” I can’t say much else she would understand.

“Wo ai ni.” Does she even hear me?

She stays close to her caretaker, so I give her time and space. Relax, it takes time. I feel very awkward though. I am usually awkward anyway, but especially today. Everyone speaks Chinese but me. I’m going to be, am, her father, but she’s never seen me before. She’s scared. I’m scared! She talks but I don’t know what it means. I fumble around with hello. I stand to the side. I should act like her father, not a bystander. But to her I am.

Now we drive toward the photo center. We are to have our picture taken. Once inside they tell her I am her “baba,” as I strangely pick her up for the picture with the red background. I am too tall so I must hold her up higher, they say. She does surprisingly well, not fussing much during the pictures with the strange, tall man. She holds a toy truck I have given her. It’s the kind my son Edmund liked when he was her age. She throws down the other one I offer.

We drive back to the welfare center. I try to touch her hand, to show her I am supposed to be her papa. Maybe it’s also to convince the others I really do want to be her father, even though I don’t know what to say or do, for now. 

She doesn’t push away my hand.

This has gone on long enough, time for the secret weapon. I pull out a snack from her new red REI backpack. My wife lovingly packed everything for us. This trip would be a disaster without her.

I hold out my hand and she leans forward. I feed her a piece. Then another. Then many more. I am finally feeding my daughter.

They tell me how smart she is. I can see that right away. A piece falls on the floor and, in a room she has never been before, walks over to a dustpan waiting quietly in a corner, and places it in. We all exclaim about the intelligence of this girl. My daughter.

After signatures, fingerprints, and a final gift, we begin to walk outside to the car. This time she reaches not for someone else, but for me. I hold out my hand to walk her out, but she reaches with both arms. I gladly pick her up. As I carry her she leans against me with that wonderful heaviness of trust, even if it’s just growing.

This is going better than I expected, but the day isn’t over. We are back at the hotel, riding the elevator up to the eleventh floor. As the room door closes behind and I set her down it all becomes clear to her tat she is not going back the orphanage, her home.

She cries.

She yells.

She refuses toys, food, and English conversation.

I don’t panic. This is to be expected. But this is not fun. I wish my family were here.

She cries less when I pick her up, so away we go to walk outside. We walk, and walk. 

I expected this time to be challenging, but this is really intense and hard. I remind myself that it won’t always be like this. I can’t get tunnel vision. God is with us. 

I notice her tired eyes. What a day her poor heart has had already-everything changed in a couple hours. I take her back to the room for her nap, hoping she’ll take one. She doesn’t want down, but she does want me to hold her. I feel good knowing that if nothing else, she wants me to hold her. I may not be to her like her caretaker yet, but she feels better in my arms. I’ll take it.

I pace back and forth in the room like I remember doing with my son. I know how to do this. I am in my element!

Pace. Quiet. Pace. Stillness. Pace. Calm. Sleep.

I lay her in the crib. I am emotionally exhausted but eager to take pictures of her. My brother lured me into black and white photography. He says the images have more feeling in them. I’m glad he convinced me. I take black and white pictures of her sleeping and love the way they turn out. I eagerly wake up my wife with pictures and updates.

The afternoon calm darkens. The day gets worse. She wakes up crying, which quickly turns to screaming. What do the others in the hotel think is happening in here? I can’t help but wonder if someone will call the police. If I heard such screaming, I might consider it too. But she needs time. 

Then, like beams of sunshine in my darkening day, I think of it - bath time! She immediately loves the water, and actually has fun for the first time since coming back to the hotel. We will make it. After she’s dressed I walk her in the room. I can at least hold her and walk. She doesn’t scream when she’s being held.

She looks tired.

I am exhausted too, but she needs me to walk her. I close the curtains, turn out the lights, and pace. Eventually I am too tired to walk anymore. I take my chances and sit on the edge of the bed, and she doesn’t fuss! I get greedy and attempt to lay down. She lets me! I feel grateful that I can lie down and let my body rest. We lie here like  two exhausted soldiers who have fought all day.

Finally she falls asleep.

She’s smashed next to me, actually. All night she doesn’t let me move much. I am all she has left.

This morning she is constantly checking for me. How am I supposed to brush my teeth or use the bathroom?

Breakfast goes alright. I carry a plate at a time in one hand and her in the other. She samples things. I repeat, “Hau ma?” “Do you like it?” for everything. She nods, shakes her head, or turns away in disgust.

Less crying.

A hint of a smile.

More walking.

I set her down in the hotel room. She does not cry. I even walk across to the other side of the room to throw something away. She lets me. To someone else, it may not seem anything to write home about, but it really is. 

 Now I feel adventurous . I want to eat at a local noodle shop with no translation and with my new daughter who doesn’t understand me either. She likes the noodles, and so do I. We can do this!

Now, I will woo her with ice cream. Success, always success with with ice cream! We play games and she smiles. She laughs as she knocks the animals over the side of the bed. We make a game of it. We say the Chinese word for “down,” and push the poor animals to the ground. We both laugh. I laugh because it’s funny that she thinks it’s funny.

Now I sit here in the dark room while she sleeps smashed up against me, wondering at the miracle of adoption. The miracle is in the increments. It’s a little trust here, some fun there, and providing for her needs throughout the day. Sharing life leads us, little by little, closer together.

Oct 7 from Beijing to Shijiazhuang

Day 4 by Matthew 

My feelings intensify as each new day begins. This is of course for a variety of reasons. Above all, tomorrow I will begin to father a child I have never met. She may not want to meet me, hold my hand, leave with me away from her caretaker. She may even hate me at first. But I am eager to know her, provide for her, and love her through the sadness and pain.

Today I traveled with George on a bullet train to Eden’s home city. Shijiazhuang. Yes, I too mispronounce it. I practiced on the train ride though, going 180 miles per hour. I also practiced, “I love you,” “You are safe,” “I am your papa.”

I saw little mittens for girls with bunnies and other indiscernible cute creatures. I thought of her tomorrow. Tomorrow! What a change for her and I will take place tomorrow. Maybe I can go with her to let her pick out her first gift from me. Maybe those bunny mittens. Everything makes me think of her. As I type those words, I can hear Jesus say the same to me in my heart. “Everything makes me think of you, child.”

Little girl, here is a verse for you, and for all our hearts:

“ I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.“ -John 14:18

Oct 6 - Free Day in China by Matthew

Excursion to Beijing Xishan National Forest Park

The hotel receptionist called a taxi for me and told me the fare. Easy enough. I hopped in the car and we were at the park without incidence. I began walking up the trail only to find that there was a kids’ trail running race today. I have never heard so much noise at a national park. Nonetheless, I kept walking up the trails, which were basically paved roads. What I noticed were many people, trash, and artificial things in the natural setting. The ponds near the beginning of the trail were artificially misted. Speakers along the trail would randomly play dramatic music while someone said something. Multiple people carried speakers attached to their belts or in their pockets blasting opera music, rock, and hip-hop. 

All in all it was a good trip, but I still needed a ride back to the hotel. I looked around for a line of taxis but didn’t see any obvious taxis waiting. After a while I felt a little more desperate so I asked somebody who was standing near their car with some terrible Mandarin if they were a taxi - at least that’s what I was trying to say. Anything about a taxi. For the next few minutes we used a combination of my bewildering attempts at speaking Chinese, pointing at Chinese phrases in my travel books, and finally talking into the phone and waiting for the translation. He said 200 Renmin (about $28), so I quickly pointed out the phrase in my book, “That costs too much.” (I still didn’t know if he was actually a taxi driver, but I kind of didn’t care. I’d pay anyone. And there was no place without thousands of witnesses so I doubted he planned to hurt me.) He asked how much I thought the ride should cost so I told him 130, which was about how much I paid to get to the park from the hotel in the first place. He responded saying that there was traffic, he needed more. I said 150, and we finally reached an agreement. He told me to get into the car and away we went. 

At almost every stop along our drive back to the hotel he would talk into his phone which would translate to English for me, then he would press the English button on his phone and I would speak English to the phone which would translate to Chinese for him. Thus, we had a good conversation in which I told him I was there to adopt again from China, etc.

I had to walk partway from the taxi to our hotel because some roads are closed for the national holiday. As I was, I noticed two homeless men. I felt that I should do something for them, especially considering that I have the time. I noticed, too, a good deal on snickers at the local mart - 3 for 9.9 (about $1.45). After getting back to the room and having lunch while thinking more and more about those two men I decided that buying those snickers was a good idea.

With three snickers in my back pocket I approached them. One man was sleeping on a wooden cart, the other was leaning against a concrete wall in a corner. I wasn’t sure how they would respond. Why worry about such things? Before even receiving my gift the man was giving me the biggest, warmest smile any person has given me since arriving here. Well worth the little cost of money and time. I received more from his gift to me than he received from my gift to him.

I feel true to myself as a Christian for noticing them and acting on it, but I also feel strongly that it’s not enough. What will a snickers do, really? Yes, there’s the love behind it, but they need more. They need the Source of that love. Please pray for these two men, the one asleep on a cart and the other leaning on a concrete wall, to know Jesus.