Part 7: "Look for the guys with hats and wooden frogs" -The Return

One might wonder why the return to Lhasa needs its own section. If that is the case then one needs to read on.

A hundredth glance at the return trip details put goosebumps on my skin. Yes, the three day two night trip plans back to Lhasa never failed to make my heart sink even from the moment they were made . An evening flight from Hanoi to Bangkok, a night in Bangkok at some yet to be determined hotel, a morning flight from Bangkok to Chengdu, a lonely taxi ride to a family's house where I could spend the night, a morning flight back to Lhasa to board a bus that would take me an hour ride into the city and then a taxi ride up to the school. All that alone and with a 18 kilo backpack. It puts goosebumps on my skin even now.

So it was with some mild anxiety that I got in the car to head to the Hanoi airport. Thai Air 685, perhaps the best airline in the world, arrived in Bangkok at 10.30pm. After customs and baggage it was well after 11pm when I stepped out of the airport.

Here's where things start to get amazing. Four guys from my company had also made plans to spend that night in Bangkok. Prior to leaving conference (now almost two weeks ago) I had asked them if they would meet me at the airport and help me find a place to stay with them. Their response: "Just look for the guys with hats and wooden frogs." So I was looking.

And one terrifying phone call later (in which they asked where I was and how I was doing and oh you're at the airport?) I took a deep breath and turned to see all four of them, it wasn't a moment later that they had grabbed up all of my bags, argued for a decent price with a taxi that we could all fit into, told me dozens of stories about their time in Krabi, driven up to the hotel, and marched all of my bags up the stairs to what was easily the nicest room I had stayed in the entire trip, told me what time breakfast was, what time they had arranged another taxi to take us back to the airport in the morning, and if I needed anything else they were in the room right next door.

As the door shut behind them I felt the rain drops of grace that had been dripping down on me my entire life from Him who sits in heaven turn into a shower. I had a hard time falling asleep that night, not out of discomfort, but out of sheer overwhelming gratitude.

The next morning we ate the American breakfast together (just like a group of guys to choose the breakfast with 5 different kinds of protein) and piled into a taxi back to the airport. Together we got our boarding passes (although we were on different flights), together we went through customs, together we passed through security at our gates (although their plane was scheduled to leave some time after mine). As I waved goodbye the four of them reminded me "Kelly, don't forget your armor, your helmet, your shield..."

Grace. Grace showering all over me.

One step down only two more to go. A desperate hope that I might still have enough money on my phone to call the family that I had arranged to stay with. Without the security of having those four guys to totally take care of me I felt worry creep in again and repeated like a mantra my armor... helmet of salvation, breastplate of righteousness, belt of truth, feet fitted with readiness that comes from the gospel of peace, sword of the spirit, shield of faith...

And then it got amazing again. As I searched for an empty seat I saw none other than the husband of the very family I was going to spend the night with. Waiting at my gate! Rushing over to him I just wanted to touch him to make sure he was really there. Now it would not matter that I had no money on my phone and I would not have to negotiate the taxi alone. And what is more I could spend the evening with some folks who have lived and worked in Lhasa a long time. Fellowship with them was balm to my weariness. My travel was close to being done and it was all I could do to hold back tears of gratitude as I ate dinner with them and sat that evening with their dog in my lap.

That shower of grace without warning had become a flood.

Don't be fooled into thinking the amazement had run out. There were a few details left. I had given the school too late notice for them to arrange a car to come and pick me up at the airport. I would have to bus it back to Lhasa. I had no money on my phone so I borrowed the house phone to call Soba, my monk friend. Immediately upon hearing my dilemma he offered to put money on my phone and made me promise to call him as soon as I was back in the city. I slept that night drowing in grace.

I arrived in Lhasa the next day, took the easiest bus ride I had ever ridden back into the city. The hour on that bus was enough for me to be reminded why I had come so far, enough for me to feel back in this place of my calling, enough for me to be reintroduced to the ache of this city. As soon as the bus stopped Soba was there. He grabbed up my bag and we went to drink some tea. He helped me get back to the apartment and told me to take a nap. A few hours later he called and took me to go eat some dinner.

Floods of grace that look like cups of tea and bowls of dumplings.

A final amazing thing. After dinner I walked across the street to my grocery stand family to buy some fruit to eat the next morning. The last time I had seen them before I left I had handed them a thank you note which I had another friend write in Chinese and a bag of homemade cookies. As I walked up to the stand all three of them grabbed my hands and began asking me all kinds of things in Chinese (as though my disappearance somehow improved my total lack of language skill). I picked up three bananas and three apples and held them out to be weighed as I waited for the price. The mother beamed, grabbed my hands, and pushed the bag away from the the scale. I would not have to pay for these fruits. "Xie xie," I mumbled my eyes wide in disbelief. "Bu xie" was the smiling reply.

And in my head the words rose like a picture, "He did not even spare His own Son, but offered Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him grant us everything."

Somehow the wind that evening hummed such a familiar tune: amazing amazing grace, how sweet the sound... back at 12,000 ft.