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I woke up this morning and surprised myself by finding the strength to thank my Father for His silence in the face of all my questions. That's how I know His Spirit is present with me.And I lethargically went outside to inspect our annual sport's day finale happenings greeting teachers who had shared a massive meal with me the day before, nodding at others who had been on my championship tug of war team, and ducking under the umbrellas of others I hadn't seen much of recently. I was compelled out of sheer love and silliness to write an announcement dedicated to a group of second year English majors that was read over the loudspeaker to their delight. I managed to squeeze a grin out of Mr. Wu. I made plans I knew I wouldn't keep and it would be okay with a colleague who has an astonishing zeal for bread and seems to be the only one genuinely mourning my impending departure. And I left to meet a long time very dear student for lunch.
Three random "I love you's" later and she told me this story:
I went to the tea house with the other foreign teacher and we ordered noodles. They don't look too spicy but really were spicy. The waitress then brings us more spice, we said oh no we don't need it, already too spicy and the waitress was so surprised and said oh this foreigner is not Ms. Kelly.
Satisfied that my love of spice fame had spread far and wide, we ate rice and drank tea and walked through the bustling streets and bought pens and Tibetan children's books and heard "I love you" twice more and ended up in a different tea house with a different tea and sat and talked and dreamed and she told me she would send me any Tibetan thing I needed while I was in America.
As I walked her to the bus stop where we parted two more people declared their love to me.
I ended up surprising perhaps my best friend when I missed a message she had sent asking to meet several hours later and she didn't seem to mind and changed her plans yet again and we met her sister's younger daughter and another friend and went to a tea house I may never be able to find again because it was actually upstairs in somebody's home. A grandmother made room for us on her bench and we ordered enough sweet tea to make my teeth hurt on sight.
A breeze drifted through the barred windows and made the shadows on the teal wall shimmer and she lectured her niece:
When you ride the bike you don't need to go this way this way, looks dangerous like you will fall, you can make your feet flat and your arms not moving so much, that's a better way, you listen to me and don't make your face black.
We laughed until our cheeks were tight with fatigue and I had my picture taken not very discreetly by the tea house owner's cell phone and we parted amidst a flurry of hugs and promises to meet again. I decided a walk back to the school, as a time to contemplate my own lingering despondency, was in order. A few text messages and phone calls later and my entire weekend had been rearranged by a group of students who took my suggestion to plan a trip seriously. I have almost no recollection of the nearly forty-five minute walk aside from the face of a man pressed to a bus window.
When I arrived back at school I was greeted with a bear hug around my knees by a neighbor's daughter.
Then as I sat down to again search my soul for its pinpricks of sadness that are as unexplainable as they are slippery, I got a phone call from a Chinese friend in another city whose sole ambition in life seems to be amusing me.
As we chatted about nonsense my laughter became uncontrollable as he shared:
Sometimes when I wait in line for the bread I am ashamed and do you know why? Because I look around me, in front only old people and behind only old people. I know they all are thinking why a young man is wasting his time waiting for bread.
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All I have wanted to be all this day is sad though it is hard for me to explain exactly why. Nonetheless, every time I get to thinking about being such someone has taken my hand or come running up to me or amused me with a story or distracted me with a travel plan or greeted me with excitement or beckoned me to their side or poured me another cup of tea. Seven times random people told me they loved me on this day when I was feeling as unlovely as ever.So maybe my Father isn't answering my questions, but He is far from silent.
