Though care and trouble may be mine,
As down life’s path I roam,
I’ll heed them not while still I have
A world of love at home.
~J.J. Reynolds
Have you read My Hiding Place – Part 1?
Mr. I pulled his chair so it was touching mine and sat. I shifted away. If this happened in Canada I would be horrified. Here it was uncomfortable, but not unusual.
I turned to my son. He sat alert, like a guard dog ready to pounce. “You could start your school work.”
“I know you like me around in these situations.” Always intuitive, he was right.
“I’ll start.” My daughter opened her violin case. This will be a good distraction. But he ignored the music and reached for her fair hair. I tensed. “Are you okay?” I asked my daughter, thankful for our own language. “Step back a little.”
His interview continued but my mind filled with memory after memory of helping my kids deal with uncomfortable attention from strangers: people touching the kids’ hair and faces countless times, the kids and me surrounded by a crowd so tight we couldn’t move, a stranger picking up my preschooler and laughing as he ran away from me with my child in his arms, my daughter as a baby being passed from one person to another, then kissed on the cheek by a young guy.
Years ago, when being outsiders in China was new, my young son sat on the tile floor driving toy cars. He looked up at me, blue eyes wide, and said. “I like our house – no one can come in here and touch me.” His need for refuge, spoken so innocently, broke my heart. Since then, I have intentionally made home a place of safety for my family. Today I couldn’t.
“Are you a teacher? Is your husband a teacher?” My rehearsed answers didn’t pull me from my thoughts.
“Is your husband Chinese?” This one got me – it always does. I looked at my blonde children and smiled. “No.”
“Is that your bathroom?”
“Yes.” As he closed the bathroom door Lin opened the front door. Mr. Focus jumped up, took the breaker, and started connecting it. Mr. I came out of the bathroom with one of my cotton swabs in his ear. It was my turn to stare.
He walked past me directly to Lin and, as he cleaned his ears, asked, “Do you understand these people?” He wagged his hand in my direction.
Thanks. I thought.
“Yes, I’ve worked with them a long time. Americans too.”
“Canadians are taller than Americans, right?”
As I formulated my answer I was amused to hear hers. “Yes.” How had she come to that conclusion?
The lights turned off again and my shoulders tensed.
When I’m outside I’m used to being treated as an oddity but not in my own home. “You wen ti ma?” I said, wondering if Mr. I was being granted more time to experience my foreign life.
“No, no problem. He was just checking things over.” As Lin answered, the lights came on again. I stepped toward the door but then remembered to ask for a receipt.
“A receipt?” Mr. Focus looked at me, at the door, at the floor.
“They like receipts for everything,” Lin explained, “even groceries.” I smiled and my heart warmed. I was thankful for a friend who could be a bridge. She understood both the culture and me.
I grabbed a receipt book. “I’ll help you,” I said and showed him how to fill it out. Then I showed them out.
I closed the door. Mr. I’s adventure was over. Our sanctuary was restored.
Again, the door handle scraped against my hand. Maybe they could have fixed it too. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I could have put Mr. I to work. Or, more likely, while Mr. Focus tried to fix it, Mr. I would have explored more. What would he have gotten into?
I didn’t call them back to find out.
Charity, I really enjoyed reading these two posts! You had me cringing right along with you at the invasion of privacy. That has to be hard to deal with. Beautifully written, my friend!
And I cringe again as I read your comment;)
Charity as I read your life stories I see and feel your emotion . You are a talented writer that brings your readers with you as you capture our imaginations of what it would be like. I too enjoy coming home after a day of working closely with people, Thanks for sharing. Blessings on your day.
I’m glad you feel like you are experiencing it along with me. That is my goal. Speaking of home, some of my best childhood memories were the times I spent with your family. Thanks for opening your home to me.
Wow, that sounds hard … can relate to your mama instinct to protect. So brave of you to take care of what I would call my hubby to do. I like the high-rise pic … those are tall buildings! I’m imagining that you live in one of those?
I would have let Brian do it if I could have. It was one of those stretching experiences. Our building isn’t quite as tall as the one in the pictures but we are sandwiched in by hundreds of them. Hulda, when I saw your picture of your daughter playing outside in your last blog post it reminded me of Canada and made me miss “home”.
Hi Charity, Having been out of China for two years now your writing reminded me again of the joy of your amazing children , your courage and the challenging life in a foreign land. I got back from a short two weeks in South Africa last night and although very different it is still very westernized. China is a totally different story and your family commitment for over a decade still inspires me. Your writing style invites the reader to live the moments with you.
OG, so great to hear from you. Your words bring to life memories of you being here in our home with us – there aren’t many people from back home I can say that to. Exciting that you got a chance to go to South Africa. It sounds like a fascinating place. Thank-you for your encouragement. It goes right to the heart.
Well written, Charity! You made me feel as though I experienced it with you. And I most definitely know I would not do well in China. Whoa! Private space is so important to our culture. That would be uncomfortable.
And a guy actually ran away laughing while holding one of your kids once? Oh! I would’ve smacked him or worse. Visions of child abduction ran through my head.
It was actually a common joke in China, to pick up a child and say, “I’m going to take you home with me.” I think it’s changing now as cities are growing and most people are no longer living in tight-knit communities where they know everyone. I don’t mind if a friend says it in a light manner to one of our kids, “I’m going to take you home with me,” but when this guy did it mama bear came out!
LOl! Oh I bet!
🙂
Wow, Charity! What a story! I could seriously get lost catching up on all these posts I’ve missed! Thanks for this captivating glimpse into your lives. Wow.
Rebekah, I’m always so encouraged by your comments. I love it when you drop by;)