The Grove: Taste

                                  
Writing for The Grove: Taste

I've been thinking about this post all day as I scurried around the kitchen. Which dish would I write about? Oh, the pictures I could post!

I guess the Father had other ideas in mind. Like shattering my pride. Again.

For our Thanksgiving meal with 60+ others, I was in charge of rolls (boring and old hat to me b/c I make them so often), cornbread casserole (also kind of old hat..), and my challenge: banana cream pie with meringue.

I was going to write about the cornbread casserole. Our first year, I tried to make it and it wasn't like home. After 3 years of trials and mostly errors, I had finally gotten down a recipe. I now make it often for our family because it reminds us of home. Yum.

Then I stared making the pie. It took most of the day with all the steps and refrigeration periods. But when it was finished, it was beautiful. It reminded me of a local cafe at home that had mile-high meringue. The pride started to swell. Oh, the pics I would show to people! Oh, the comments I would get from people when they tasted it!

 

I wasn't quite sure how to transport it. Foil? No, the meringue would stick. So I opted for covering it with a bowl and focusing on walking carefully. Have I mentioned that our streets are now covered in thick, bumpy ice?

We made it to the gate of our complex and started the process of hailing a taxi. Near rush hour on a Friday. Great. My bowl looked a little uneven beneath the bag, so I decided to re-adjust. I started to fix it, then the whole pie plate slipped halfway out of my cold hands. And that was it. The meringue that was already sticking to the bowl and bag completely slid off and the rest of the pie was now a big mess.

Before I even knew what was happening, I burst into tears. My husband tried to help and comfort, and my sweet little boys just stood there watching, not sure why Mommy was so upset. A few locals walked by, wondering why the foreigner was crying so hard. (Later my oldest asked what was wrong. I told him I was upset that the pie fell apart. He sweetly told me, "We can fix it, Momma." :))

I finally gathered myself, we finally got a taxi, and made it to the dinner location. The failure was still fresh, so I tried to avoid talking to people. Especially anyone that had anything to be thankful for. I wasn't in the mood.

Then the Father started pricking my heart. I was so prideful about this silly pie. Sure, there's a balance between satisfaction in completing something and outright pride. Pretty sure He wanted me to know I was teetering on the wrong side of it.

I told a few people what happened. To soften the blow, they said they'd eat it anyway. After everyone had their fill of dessert, I finally unveiled the mess. Oh, it was a mess.

A few kind souls (including my hubby..way to go, babe) ate some. Not sure if it was to make me feel better or if they just really wanted pie. It really didn't taste bad, that is if you were able to find a way to get all the layers in one bite.

And so there it is. My hot mess of a pie. And another lesson in humility. Maybe this one will stick.

You know another lesson that needs to be learned, though? How to deal with failure. Wow, this has been a rough spot my whole life. Ask my mom. Going back to piano recitals--the first wrong note, I was in tears; slamming my tennis racquet when I kept losing points..on and on. How I wish I could be one of those people that just brushed or laughed off mistakes. 

Always "the Foreigner"

Last week, the boys and I went to school to serve lunch to hungry classmates. Always a joy.

It was cold and the ground is already frozen with a thick layer of bumpy ice, so I decided to take a taxi home. I usually stay on the same side of the 8-lane street to catch a taxi even though it takes longer to get home. That day, I decided to cross the giant street and try taking the shorter way home.

The wind was whipping and cold. The kids were tired because, once again, I had stayed too long at school, soaking up the conversations with other adults (highly valued these days), and it was almost their nap time. We stood, waving down taxis, for about 10 minutes. Several stopped, but always with another passenger. Do they do that in America? In other Chinese cities? Here, if you tell the driver where you're going and it's in the same direction as the passenger(s) they already have, they'll let you in. Bonus money for them, I suppose. No one was going near our home. Bummer.

So I crossed the street, hopeful for an empty taxi. An empty one means they'll take us straight to our door. One with a passenger means they'll take us to a certain point, then we have to walk 10 minutes.

We waited. And waited. Several stopped, again, no one going in our direction. Then an empty one approached. Malachi and I waved our arms vigorously, letting the driver know we wanted in his car! He zoomed by. A few minutes later, another slew of cars came by. Another empty one passed our waving arms. What in the world?! I may have yelled something like, "Why won't you stop?!" Of course, the boys picked up on it and started yelling random words. Not my greatest Mommy moment. But the frustration was really kicking in.

After a total of 3 empty taxis passed us, finally a dear soul stopped and picked us up. I told him where we wanted to go, then started questioning him. Is it change-over time? Why did several empty taxis pass us? Didn't they see I had 2 young kids and it's freezing outside? He simply replied, "They saw that you're a foreigner and assumed you don't know how to speak Chinese."

And there it was. Another reminder that we'll never fit in this place. Our face prevents that, even if they don't take the time to stop and talk with us.

A great reminder that we're all aliens in this world. Someday we'll all fit in...

The Grove: Together

When I saw the prompt "Together" for VelvetAshes, a picture popped in my head.

Living here in this land of loud everything, no lines, and plans that change in an instant hasn't been easy for me to adjust to. For the first 2.5 years, I only thought of all the negatives of living here. Even when kind people would tell me all the positives, in my head, the negatives ruled.

A major negative: alllllll the things my kids are missing out on. I would make a list, but that would take a long time.

This year, God is slowly changing my heart. I see that the positives outweigh the negatives. Concerning my boys, that's still up for debate. There's just so much I'd rather them see and do in the comforts of America. May God continue to show me how he's molding them into little men after His heart and being here is exactly part of that plan.

I often shed tears over how few friends they have. Since our lives and the lives of those around us are so transient, they barely have time to make a friend. And when they do, we're tearing them apart a year later.

But lately I've been rejoicing in the fact that they have each other. They'll always (Lord-willing!) be together while we're here. They'll become great buds because, well, let's face the facts...no one else will be a constant in their lives. This makes my heart swell with joy and prayer, that they truly will learn to lean on each other through the ups and so-far-downs of living here.

Potty Pants

Lately, Josiah has been holding off going to the bathroom a little too long. One day, I realized he didn't go when he got up in the morning. I realized this at noon. Wow, kid. (Wow, Momma.)

So I've been trying to remind him to go..ya know, to keep his bladder healthy. (He's big on staying healthy. This works great in my explanations of not eating a lot of sugar!) Today, I asked him again. He replied, "No. I'm not doing the potty pants."

Enter hysterical laughter.

Slight misunderstanding. He meant "the potty dance."

And another one that deserves an entry in the I'll-make-it-someday quote book.

Who knew giant blobs of plastic could make a Momma's heart so happy?

Since moving to China, grieving over what the kids are missing out on in the States has been a constant struggle of mine. I know they are gaining so much. Believe me. I know. I try to focus on those daily. But some days I dwell on the things they're missing. The library (although this year, we've been so blessed with a local that opened one up that actually has English books!!), parks...REAL parks, not ones with just exercise equipment, and right now, since it's in my face, pumpkin patches.

They don't even know what so many things are. I'm pretty sure Malachi has never been to a real playground. One with slides, swings, something besides concrete on the ground, and things he can climb on and fall off of, knowing that daredevil.

But yesterday, my heart swelled with joy. A former tutor and friend with her own son about Josiah's age (I've mentioned him before--they're great buds!) took Josiah and I to a playground!! We squealed with joy when we saw it! It's literally the first one of this magnitude we've seen since being here. It was inside an apartment complex that houses lots of foreigners. Rich foreigners..go figure.

It was great to see Josiah running around with his buddy, playing games, and acting out characters from a Chinese cartoon. I even enjoyed sitting on the bench with my friend, chatting about life, just like mommas do in America. I told her this and she said, "Good, this is your little piece of America right now." 

It was so fun, I told some friends about it last night, and we made another trip this morning and 3 more little ones squealed with joy at a familiar sight. It was awesome!

My only regret is that we knew about this earlier. I mean, we were here all summer and this glorious playground was sitting across town, a mere $2 taxi ride from us.

Alas, we'll enjoy it until we can't play outside anymore, then watch the weather like a hawk come springtime for when we can return.

Guess That Flavor

The other day, I was desperate for a salty, flavored chip. Really desperate. I went to the little store in our complex and found my choices were plain (boring), cucumber (refreshing, but not feelin' 'em this time), and several meat flavors. I took a chance on a bag of spicy chicken ones. 

I brought them home and the boys were ecstatic. Josiah popped one in his mouth and said, "Mom, these taste like spicy chicken!" He hadn't even seen the bag. 

Either I should be proud of his amazing palette or scared that he could imagine such a combo for a chip flavor.

Maybe someday I'll have him try the fish soup and blueberry flavors to see if he can guess those, too.

 

Precious Prayers

After praying for dinner tonight, Josiah broke into his own prayer. Not unusual. Except tonight he did it in Chinese. I didn't understand a word of it, but to him, it was a prayer nonetheless. Lately he's been breaking out into full dialogues (sometimes with me, sometimes to himself) in unrecognizable Chinese. I love it!

I then asked him who he heard pray in Chinese that he learned from. His answer: "God, Jesus, Ayi (our helper, who is a believer and does pray in Chinese), and Jodi (a Chinese-American, although I'm not sure he really made that connection or of it was just coincidence)."

I love that precious boy.

After seeing all the attention big bro was getting, Malachi chimed in with a prayer in his own language.