It’s still dark outside. Unbelievably, it’s quiet too. All the honking drivers must still be sleeping. It won’t be long and the streets will be busy with women in heels and cell phones, little old women in Mao jackets with straw brooms sweeping the sidewalks futilely, men chatting and smoking, and children in matching activewear on the back of bikes heading to school. We’ll be in that busyness too in a couple hours—the group of 15 Americans in matching khakis and t-shirts looking a bit confused and following a little Chinese guide without question.

Today we will be picked up by the orphanage-owned van from our hotel and go for the first day to where we will serve for the week. The foot-cover lady will likely run to meet us at the door and rush to pour us cups of hot water with leaves in it. We will watch a promotional video not unlike one a school would make to show incoming families. We’ll take a tour and see all the places they are proud to share. And, then the team will go into the rooms where they will be for the duration of the week filled with the kiddos who will become “their” babies and the ayis who will become their friends.

The team doesn’t know it yet, but it will become one of their favorite places in the world. It will be where they see Him like they never have before, a place where He will show them their own hearts in new ways.

I just heard the first honk of the morning. 5:53am and the day is beginning.

There was an American couple sitting next to me on the plane ride here. They were retired. He wore a button down shirt; she wore dark lipstick. It took a while to get her carryon into the overhead bin as it was overflowing with clothing for their 10 day tour of China.

Near arrival, I noticed them fussing with completing their arrival card, so I offered a little bit of help. Since that seemed to fluster them a bit, I thought I’d do some preparing because that always helps at home, you know, one of those just-so-you-know-what-to-expect little conversations.

When you get off the plane, you’re going to go up an escalator and then follow the signs to immigration. There will be a bunch of different line options. Just go to the far left where it says “FOREIGNERS.”

Foreigners? But, we’re not foreigners.

Um, you’re about to be.

Pause.

Does it really say “foreigners”? Wow, they have a sense of humor, huh?

Me. dumbfounded.

 

The team started early today and hit the ground running.

Breakfast -> Great Wall -> Lunch -> Tiananmen Square -> Pearl Market -> Dinner.

There was a dense fog today which made climbing the Great Wall a different experience. What I’ve seen as a clear view on previous trips there where we could see the winding path ahead of us for a great distance was completely obstructed. At one point, I looked upwards and could not see an enclosed lookout type of structure that was literally 30 feet ahead of me. I could have yelled out and had a conversation with someone standing there yet could not see it at all.

We are foreigners here. As much as I love this place, we are foreigners here. My heart for it does not make me a member of it. It is a privilege to be here, to be welcomed into this place where we do not belong. We have the privilege of being ambassadors, and we cannot take that lightly. The way before us isn’t totally clear. In fact, we can barely see the door right before us until we’re right there needing to walk through it. But, we know the path is there even though we can’t see it. It’s there, and we’re going to keep walking. We don’t need to see it all now to be obedient. We just need to take the next step.

Leaving in less than 12 hours to fly to the province where we will serve.

You know how you forget pain? You know…you know that it hurt really bad but you can’t actually remember what it felt like? It’s what makes you willing to have a second child.

That’s what the flight to China is like. I remember that it’s long. I know that I get antsy and uncomfortable. I know that about 1/3 of the way in, I will look at the flight tracker and think, “Good gracious, that can’t be right.” I know all that in my head but don’t really remember how long it is.

Man, that flight is painfully long.

But, we’re here. We’re in China. Even at night as we drove to our hotel, the familiar sights of crowded buses, bike riders with face masks, small trucks filled with some sort of goods, flashing lights, and princess looking restaurant hostesses welcoming patrons welcomed us home.

But, as of this exact moment at 10:25pm China time which is who knows what time according to my body clock, there is a very nice white fluffed bed that is calling my name.