I have been back from China for a month. Seems like longer, much longer, than that.
As much as I hate the song, Michael W. Smith’s My Place in This World has been running through my head a lot lately. One of my teammates from my trip said it well: “I feel like a five-year-old trying to explain Beethoven” when I try to explain the impact of what we saw and experienced there. But I will try.
I really thought I knew China well from my previous experience there. I had read quite bit before going, and I think I was relatively aware for a Westerner. But I really didn’t have a clue.
Ever been somewhere and just felt you were “home?” That’s how it felt.
Ever been somewhere and felt totally out of place? Yeh, it felt like that too.
I saw some of the worst of inhumanity there – and I saw incredible kindness. I met a woman who was standing on a bridge a couple of years ago, about to jump with her two little boys, when she met God. I met a young man who has seen things no 9-year-old should ever see, but whose smile could melt a heart of stone. I saw a small group of people who are considered useless by their society, but who are proving their value one anguished step at a time.
I was also reminded that we aren’t really all that different over here. We don’t “mind” people in wheelchairs, but we are uncomfortable watching someone with cerebral palsy take a few excruciating steps. We would rather “those people” would be in a home or a program somewhere…but not in our faces.
We also seek to fill empty places with the wrong stuff. Parents there treat their one child as little Napoleons, granting their every wish to try to make them happy. Been out to eat in a “kid-friendly” restaurant here lately? We do the same thing, only often with more kids.
The city we were in is not visited as frequently by Westerners, but they are aware of us. In most of the town, the signs we saw were strictly in Mandarin; but there were signs here and there for “Sex Toys Shop”s, with the English part of the sign larger and more prominently displayed than the Chinese text. I don’t recall seeing many other signs in English. Wonder what that says about their impression of us.
I walked the streets of a town of two-millionish by myself at four in the morning, and didn’t feel any fear. I was propositioned by a couple of prostitutes, who very quickly ran from the local guys towards me. I guess most of the Westerners who are visiting don’t walk around at that time of the morning unless they’re looking for some “company.” I was just dealing with jet lag and insomnia.
I saw a lot of friendly faces, more than I see when I’m on the streets of Atlanta.
I was also aware that there probably wasn’t much I did that someone wasn’t watching.
I had a lot more trouble with my cohorts on the trip than I had with any of the locals. But then, the locals knew I was there for the short haul and none of them were rooming with me.
More later – just needed to break the ice and get some stuff on the page.
