Made in China

What made this Chinese dinner particularly delicious was Yuan's own words when we asked him how it tasted: "Ummm, just like home."

After 7,000 miles of travel by jet, four days of living in an unfamiliar country, in an unfamiliar culture, with an unfamiliar host-family, eating unfamiliar food, on a 13-hour time-difference schedule, breathing unfamiliar cooler air, walking among unfamiliar Anglo people, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed... it was time for something familiar. It was time for a little bit of "home."

Yuan and Youkang asked if they could cook FOR US, since we had been cooking for them these last four days after arriving from China. “Sure!” (A night off, we naively thought.)

MJ took them to Cub—first grocery store they had seen in the U.S. It was HUGE. But they loved the “Asian Aisle.” It was filled with just what they needed. MJ thought she should buy more pork—10 oz. would not nearly be enough! But Yuan was insistent. So, she bought only what they needed… some mushrooms, cabbage, pork slices, tomatoes, and "Chinese soy sauce"--none of that U.S.--type stuff.

“The secret to Chinese cooking” Youkang told us “is high heat and plenty of oil.” MJ and I watched. “Hovered” I suppose you could say. But they did just fine, electric heat and all (electric burners are hard to control). We laughed and learned in the kitchen that night (sounds like Alpha!) as they prepared and cooked the food. Fried eggs and stewed tomatoes mixed together, fried cabbage (uummm!), fried pork in a special flour batter (uummm!), and, of course, rice.

It was delicious. No matter how hard we had tried to cook food that would be familiar to them with our best “Chinese” touches and knowledge, it just wasn’t quite the genuine thing. THIS meal was definitely MADE IN CHINA.

I asked if I could pray for them… “bless them,” as we sat down to eat. This was our gift to them each evening over dinner. We are growing fond of our new friends. And we want them to experience the fullness of God’s love.

Lawn-Mowing 101

The things you take for granted. Like lawn-mowing, for example.

As our two Chinese students were getting in my truck to go get cell phones Merlajean was rolling the lawnmower out of the garage. As exciting as “finally getting connected” would be, AND making their first purchase in the USA… the little four-wheel machine with “HONDA” stamped on its side caught their eye and wouldn’t let go.

There they stood, frozen mid-step in the driveway, insatiably curious as my wife pulled on the starter rope. (Yup, it started on the first pull. Always does.) As the roar of the machine drowned out any further conversation, they inched closer to watch as my wife flipped the transmission to “drive” and took off across the lawn, shaving a nice clean path down the middle of the shaggy lawn!

Forget the cell phones. They wanted in on the action! So my wife proceeded to teach them how to run the lawnmower across the lawn… which levers to push and which ones to pull. Yuan went first. Away it went! A little faster than he expected. He ended up doing a wheelie up the hillside! Youkang was next. He too bordered on doing wheelies and running level. Up and down they went.

I snuck inside to get my camera and snapped a few pics. (For their mama’s, of course.)

Then they stood and watched Merlajean for a while. Funny. The things you take for granted. It never occurred to me that neither one had never cut the grass before. But then, why would they have? There’s very little private lawn to mow where they live.

As we hopped in the truck and headed for the cell phone store, I realized the joke was really on me: I just passed up the opportunity to give them a “free gift” of operating our mower as they mowed our lawn!

Hosting x2

“Could we take another Chinese student?” Phyllis asked? “Let me talk with my wife about it,” I responded as my mind quickly scanned a mental check-list of reasons “for” and “against” it.

Let's see... we just moved into our new home 3 weeks ago. Our living room is scattered with ladders, paint cans and tarps and furniture stacked up in the middle of the room. Both guest bedrooms look the same way. The basement is filled with tons of unopened boxes. The garage is a disaster. My mother is just emerging from brain cancer surgery and needs care. I've just returned from 6 days with my son at Olympic National Park. Oh, and by the way... I have a job. Remember?

I put my cell phone down as I continued driving up to St. Cloud to visit my recuperating mother. "Hmmm. Can we take another student?" The prospects don't look good.

The “we-can-do-everything” side of me was already making plans to host this other student while my weaker “wait-a-second-let’s-think-this-through” side of me was stepping on the brakes with both feet!

As I prayed about it the next morning just after I had come up with six solid reasons that it would probably not work out at this time, I heard a clear voice say:

“Daaahhh! Who cares if the bedroom is not painted yet? Who cares if the living room has ladders and paint tarps scattered about? Who cares if there’s no room in the garage to walk? Who cares if there are no pictures up yet? Let’s look at the facts: 1. You have two empty bedrooms in your home. 2. Two new graduate students from China need a place to land for several days after they fly in from China, begin to get settled, get registered, open bank accounts, get cell phones, find an apartment, prepare for classes at the U., etc.”

“Well….?” I heard the voice say. “OK, we’ll do it,” I said. “When you put it like that, it’s a no-brainer.” And it is. My wife agreed.

If I was the visiting student, for example, I would ask myself, “would I rather sleep on the street, or in an unpainted bedroom?” It’s a no-brainer. Right?

I’m glad God speaks to me so clearly sometimes. I’m even more glad when my brain is sufficiently unclogged to actually “hear” God’s voice, and my heart is sufficiently motivated to be agreeable. Because whenever you hear and follow God’s voice, you get blessed. And we have been. Tons.

Direct from China

I wasn’t sure what I would say when I saw Yuan for the first time. Maybe, “Welcome to the USA.” No, maybe “Welcome to America.” Or maybe just “Welcome” would be sufficient—said with a genuine, warm smile, of course.

At least, that’s what I thought I would appreciate if I had just packed up my life into three huge suitcases and left for China without knowing exactly who I would be staying with, where I would end up living, or if I was somehow being taken advantage of. Or even “set up?” (When you take such a big step into the unknown your mind plays all kinds of games with you.)

To my surprise there were lots of other Anglos in the Waiting Area of MSP, where all the international flights empty out, each ready with their warm smiles and rehearsed lines to say when “their” student appeared. Then, as if on cue, as each “Chinese-looking-student” appeared from out of the Customs area, we each held up our hand-made cards with the name of our student printed in large black letters. And each of the students would carefully scan each card—without appearing to scan each card, of course, since they still had that “teen-age edge” to them. As each student spotted “their” name and Host Family they suddenly broke into a huge smile, and you could watch a sense of relief and calm unfold across their face.

I caught Yuan’s eye as he appeared from out of Customs. He had emailed a picture of himself, as I had to him, so I had a sense of what he looked like. Our eyes met and locked. Somehow… we just knew. I held up my card anyway and he came straight-away toward me, with—you guessed it—a huge smile. We shook hands and after saying “hello” I uttered my line, “Welcome to America.”

It’s amazing, really, that two strangers who live 7,000 miles from each other, can, upon meeting each other, break out in genuine warm smiles and greet each other. Which says that… when you get right down to it, we’re all pretty much the same, aren’t we?