11/20 Scrap Paper Journal

Today I'm tired, icky, and full of longing.  It's the kind of day where I want to cry, but lack a reason, where you feel like the heroine of a movie right before the climax.  And you pretend like it's any other day, even though your heart is full of echoes and your feet are filled with wandering.  And you wonder about things that frighten you more than failure, about emptiness and contentment, and if purpose is elusive or simply intangible, and if understanding it is important at all.  The kind of day where the cool wind is more a part of you than your tired body.

Questions, Answers, and Turning Points

When I was 17, I took a class called Honors American Studies which was a blend of English and History.  Toward the end of the year we were told to write a paper based on the life of a historical figure.  We were told to identify the 'turning point' of the person's life and base the paper on that thesis. It was a bit difficult to use an occurrence as a thesis, but the assignment did serve to launch me on a deeper level of introspection almost immediately.  I wondered "What will my 'turning point' be? What do I want it to be? Do I have any say over this?"  It didn't take me long to realize that you can't choose which events will be significant in your life.  Memorable words are seldom platitudes, phases can be as significant as events, and who you choose to become is as much a part of your identity as your immediate inclinations are.  I realized then that I will never be able to identify my own 'turning point,' if there even is such a thing.  Only in hindsight can a person see the importance of events and patterns that guide a life.

I've always felt a sense of urgency to do well, to do right, to be thorough.  These are good things, but the urgency is noted by people around me.  Those who don't like it say I'm intense, driven, OCD, over-the-top, intimidating, and stubborn.  People who like it say I'm confident, thorough, detailed, passionate, persistent, and strong.  All I know is that God's given me two deep desires: to know, and to protect.

I love Ecclesiastes because it talks about the God-given thirst for understanding and how He keeps it forever beyond our grasp.  I know that this paradox exists to keep me in a listening posture, but some questions circle around like a familiar echo, sometimes intriguing, sometimes reminding me of the empty places where answers should be.

I expect this year to be a turning point.  Maybe I'll be told to stay.  Maybe I'll be told to return.  Maybe I'll be told to go somewhere else.  But maybe this will be just another year.  Maybe there will be no big revelation.  I don't get to decide when and where those happen.  I know that I'm in a position of listening and following, and that toys with my independent, driven spirit.


Before I left America, a good friend gave me a song by Britt Nicole.  I had never heard it before, but I knew it belonged to me from the first time I heard it.  There are so many layers of meaning, but what's striking me at the moment are these lines:

"And I'll stop searching for the answers,

I'll stop praying for an escape,

And I'll trust you, God, with where I am,

And believe that You will have your way."

I honestly don't know if I can do this, actually stop looking for answers.  My curiosity and drive are so strong.  I believe God will have His way with me - I just want to know what it is and if I'm doing well.

This post may sound sad.  I don't feel very sad, there are just things I wish I had clearer answers about.  Until I have them, I just remind myself that life is clearer in hindsight, and that following is sometimes more important than answers.

"Even if my dreams have died,

And even if I don't survive,

I'll still worship You with all my life."

CSL and Coffee

Today I headed to the coffee shop at the end of a quiet weekend to escape final lesson planning in my bedroom.  I bought something baked that tasted amazing (no, I don't know what it was called - I'm illiterate now, remember?), ordered a latte and headed upstairs.  It's interesting; even hot drinks are served with straws.

Anyways.  I worked on my computer, sipped my latte, and watched as the baker piped icing onto cake after cake, smoothing it down, edging it with shredded coconut, and swirling designs on the top.  Then I watched an animated conversation between a man at the counter (the boss maybe?) and one of the bakers.  My ears still struggle to decipher Chinese, but it was pretty obvious this woman was deaf.  I watched as they talked, laughed, and signed back and forth.  I find this process interesting any time I see it, but it was particularly interesting to watch it associated with another language.  It made me wonder: if ASL is American Sign Language, then are they using....CSL, or Chinese Sign Language?  Does China and America use similar hand signs for the deaf?

I have no idea, but when I went over to take a picture of the cake, I did my best to sign to her that it looked beautiful.  Chinese people are usually pleased whenever I attempt to speak some hackneyed Chinese, but she about jumped out of her skin when I tried to sign!  (Thank you, Switched at Birth and Adam Molatore for giving me the most basic handful of signs!  Oh gosh....that pun REALLY wasn't intended, but so appropriate...)  It was such a cool moment.  We swapped pictures and smiles and went back to our duties.

In other news, many of the people who drive mopeds wear full-faced flat visors.  Sometimes the visors have an iridescent sheen that reminds me of a fly.  I've decided they look like Boba Fett. 

Losing My Words

Words have always meant a great deal to me.  I was a voracious reader as a child. I read Gone With the Wind, Roots, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and Mere Christianity before I even entered high school.  An insightful phrase or witticism is delightful to my ears and mind.

Words have meaning and power – when coming from the right person.  A million words from one person may mean little, but a few from the right person can mean so many things.

At the moment I don’t feel like I’m doing justice to a topic I care so much about.  Then again, that IS the point of this post.  In China, I have no words.  Yes, I can say ‘hello’ and ‘thank you.’   (Chinese feels funny in my mouth, even more strange than German.  What I wouldn’t give for a diction coach!)  I’m learning my numbers and how to point at something in a store and say ‘this one.’  But these are not words of eloquence; these are words of function.  It’s a crippling feeling to have so many words, but none of the right ones.  Sometimes people will work with you to communicate, and sometimes they don’t.  It made me feel dumb at first, and then I learned a minimum amount of words necessary to go shopping or buy food.

I got a few surprises as a result of my loss of words.  First of all, I get to be an introvert and an extrovert at the same time. (Would that be a bi-trovert?)  I can walk out in a crowd of people by myself (sorry mom, it happens) and still be completely alone.  I pantomime if I want or need to, but few people actually try to talk to me unless they know a little English.  I will say that about the Chinese people – they are so hospitable that even if they only know 4-5 words of English, they will use them to try to connect with a stranger.  But in general, people leave me alone.

In America I enjoy people-watching, especially during the holidays. (We’re an intriguing bunch during that carefree season.)  When I’m out and about in China, I’ve noticed that I sometimes avoid eye-contact, or looking at people’s faces.  Somehow, the fact that I can’t talk to people leads me to avoid connecting with them too directly.  I realized this just a few days ago, and it’s not my favorite self-development so far.  My goal is to remind myself to truly see people, even if I fear that I can’t connect with them well.  And of course to collect more and more of the right words.