Home sweet home was never in reference to a place...

Maybe it was the baking powder I found in some tiny, extremely cluttered little shop and in my joy bought for a mere six kuai.

Because something, imperceptible at times, has changed around here for me.

No longer do my shoulders sag from a glance around my sparsely decorated and usually acutely smelly apartment: I found a stationary store and made a day of decorating the walls with a few pictures and verses I find encouraging, and a timely box of scented candles sent by a saint in America has given those horrifying smells a massive setback. My apartment has become a place that is warm, well lit, with plants... a place I can make biscuits.

No longer is my breathless request before entering the classroom one for courage to make it through the period: instead it is one marked by specific mentions of students whom I have spent time with and gotten to know and come to see and love in a way that can only come from Him who sees and loves first, one filled with affirmation and praise to the One who is Holy.

No longer do I cringe and need to force myself to put on my brave face before stepping into a store or market: I know how to get what I need, I am not daunted by the fact that the stares never cease, or that the whole street will be talking about my purchases within moments, or that I am sure to look like an idiot no matter what I do or don't do. What is more, I find that in my most frequented stores I always get a friendly smile, some Chinese chatter, and usually a hug and a discount to go along with that.

No longer am I dismayed by being the circus freak of campus, to be stared at and possibly shouted at but otherwise gingerly avoided: I have been invited into various teachers' homes whom I would have been delighted to have a mere second glance from, I have seen their pictures, I receive their text messages and phone calls to come and visit or go out to eat or play a game of badminton, I greet them (in one of three languages) cheerfully in the office, on the street, in the halls, on campus, and find myself filled with an increasing sense of community.

Maybe it was the baking powder, or maybe it was the fact that for the first time since arrival in Asia I am finally taking Him seriously... isn't it true that you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with the saints and members of His household... why did I ever let myself believe that this was contingent upon being in a place where you can know and be known with ease?

I may very well be a stranger here, and a strange one at that, but one thing is certain... I am a citizen also.

And the overwhelming relief, comfort, and gratitude that wells up inside my soul at that thought cannot possibly be the result of warm biscuits in the toaster oven, however edifying those may be.