CHINA ARCHIVE

December 28, 2017 By HallieZ 1 Comment

Christmas in China

Christmas in China is one of the most precious things in the world to me.

Christmas in China is a longing for home, a longing to be with my family, a longing for belonging. Christmas in China is choosing joy, and beauty in the way I never imagined before.

Christmas in China is tiny felt tree my first year, because someone gave it to me in a box of chocolate! It’s two tiny ornaments I bought in Thailand for my tiny daughters, when I was there to give birth to Esther.

Christmas in China this sounds, sensations, taste that make me feel safe. Christmas in China is a feeling of being outside looking in. It’s wondering why all my local friends keep giving us apples, until someone finally explains to me the deal.

Christmas in China is the few thousand foreigners who live in that city coming together under one roof for an international Christmas fair. It’s the Nigerians, the Samoans, hill tribe people, the Argentinians, the Colombians, the New Zealanders, all pressed into a small hall.

Christmas in China is finding some of my most precious household items for sale at the Christmas market. A Chinese nativity set, made by some people in a remote village. A tree skirt, made out of felt, handsewn by a group of women. Essential oil’s hand carried from New Zealand by a family who is so excited to share. Real German cookies, made by a real German lady.

It’s my beautiful children, dancing to Christmas ballet, to the song that still makes me cry every time. Their little ballerina friends so many shapes and colors, representing a love that moved their families from the many corners of the earth to be in this place.

Christmas in China is getting on my scooter, and driving downtown, an hour away to the post office, only to be told that the package I had hoped for is not there. But I know it’s there because the tracking said it was delivered. Christmas in China has me screaming at the workers, crying at the workers, begging them to let me in the back to find the package myself.

Christmas in China is sometimes they let me, and sometimes they don’t. Then I have to return to days later to try the process over again. Christmas in China is thinking a package from “home” will make everything OK, so I obsess about it until I almost can’t think about anything else. Christmas in China is the package helping, the package making us happy, but it actually didn’t make it OK. It just helped ease the pain.

Christmas in China is waking up with my kids, my husband, and knowing the day is perfect. It’s my favorite friends coming over for lunch and drinking wine from the import store. It’s us holding each other while we look at the crackling fire on the TV screen, and say to each other and this was the most perfect Christmas ever. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Christmas in China is so painful in one moment I want to scream, and so full of love and acceptance and joy the next, I would choose to be here forever.

Christmas in China makes me feel different from my friends, who have never been away from their family on the holidays.

Christmas in China is bringing pecans all the way from my vacation in Thailand last year, and saving them so I can make Russian tea cakes. It’s a box I keep in the back of my cupboard, full of sprinkles, and candy canes I brought from America. It’s holding onto some of my favorite old traditions, and getting excited about making new ones. It’s a tree covered with ornaments from all over the world.

I hold the China Christmas years forever, with love and hope in my heart.

August 14, 2017 By HallieZ 1 Comment

The Homeless Man

We don’t see many homeless folk sleeping on the street around here.

I saw one in Beijing once, 2 years into living here. It was the first homeless person I had seen in China.

Don’t get me wrong, I am sure they exist here. I assume they are corralled into very poor areas of the city, and live in abandoned buildings, but they are most certainly not allowed to clutter up the streets with their unlucky selves.

My kids are compassionate creatures. Every single beggar on the street gets money from my kids. Their own money, my money, the would rather skip an ice cream cone than not give money to someone who is poor. I like that about them, and I have encouraged it, as has their Dad. When they are old, they will begin to understand the complexities of the power of cause and effect (not working, not getting to eat) and of governments that make it seemingly impossible for the unloved, the imperfect, and the uneducated to earn a living.

So for now, I am happy that they want to give.

A couple weeks ago, Miss Z found a legit homeless guy.

She is crazy about him.

He does not smell good.

His hair is, well, crazy.

He doesn’t talk. (at least not to me, but that isn’t saying much, because maybe he speaks a local dialect, and thinks I am the crazy one, hollering at him in Mandrin)

He has been wandering around our Walmart since fall, making himself useful by helping the cart-gatherers, and cleaning up trash with the trash ladies. He is resourceful, gathering recycling and trading it in for cash to buy some smokes. I have NO idea why the guards and police let him stay there, but there he is, every day.

Miss Z followed him to his “home” the other day, before I had the chance to let her know that is considered in poor taste for homeless folk. He lives under some stairs, in a weird corner of the basement stores under Walmart.

He has a toothbrush.

And a piece of carpet.

And a very old blanket.

Miss Z find this all at once romantic, and tragic.

She thinks about him every day, and plans how to serve him.

She gets angry at me when I tell her we don’t have time today to go seek him out, and take him a snack.

She thinks it is ridiculous when I suggest that he might prefer a bowl of noodles (the local dietary staple) to a hamburger from McDonalds.

Miss Z remembers that, when we are in America, Mommy and Daddy carry around $1 gift certificates to McDonalds to give homeless people. So to her, McDonalds seem like the obvious cure for the hunger of the poor.

So she takes money from her own savings. (she is saving for jewels, or maybe a horse)

And she buys him hamburgers. She drags her sister along with her. (“I want to teach her to show love” she says)

He stares at her with frantic eyes, snatches his hamburger, and darts off.

She yells “yesu ai ni” and tears well up in her eyes.

My mama heart tugs, and I love her so dearly.

Mangy hair.

Mismatched socks.

Nails bitten to the quick.

Strange looking coat. (but it’s her favorite, and I’m the one that bought it for her at the thrift store)

This is 6.

And this is my Father’s heart.

originally posted 1-31-13

August 14, 2017 By HallieZ Leave a Comment

Filling Out “medical checklist” for adoption

Originally published 3-18-2013

We signed on with a new adoption agency today. With that transition came a “medical check list”. This is the list where we mark what special needs we would be able to consider accepting, which ones are maybes, and which needs are, well, just a flat out no.

Agony.

The conditions are listed:

Cleft lip AND palate (May be unilateral or bilateral, first to third degree) Facial malformation (Including hemifacial microsomia) Uh… yeah, I think that’s something we could deal with here in China…

Thalassemia? What the HECK is that? WebMD search… Uh, requires blood transfusions? Um, that is a BIG OL no for where we live…

Ok, lets keep going, Matt and Hallie…

Missing/malformed fingers/toes…. Albinism AND low vision… Yes, that’s ok…

And on, and on, and on. A whole page of conditions. A whole bunch of googling to figure out what these conditions even ARE.

And more agony.

I mean, if this child were just born to us, we would take whatever, right? Our hearts might shudder, and fear might fill us. We might think we were going to break, but we wouldn’t. No, we’d deal with it, and life would be ok.

So we check the box that says a missing limb is ok. And we check, and we uncheck other boxes.

How are we supposed to decide these things, but on our knees?

Later, I am scooting home from Zumba, and I see a man with white, white skin.

Could that be my son? If he didn’t make it into my arms, I mean.

And this afternoon, there is a guy sweeping the streets, and he is hobbling along on a club foot. And uses a cane.

Could he be my son?

Suddenly, I see my JZ in all the people around me with a visible “problems”. With a missing this, or that.

I want to cry all the time.

I read blogs, of other people who are adopting from China.

How can I not become bitter, unless I stay on my knees?

Humility before my Creator, and total dependence.

I live every day in the reality of a society that just doesn’t have a lot of option for people with needs that are different from the average Joe.

And I hate what I see.

I hate it.

So Matt and I fill out the form, and we send it in. Somewhere out there, our son (sons) are waiting for us to bring them home. We’ll rise to the challenges as they come. We’ll probably cry some more. We’ll probably feel helpless sometimes. Certainly, there will be questions to answer, and people to educate, especially living where we do.

This is just one of the first steps of many…

August 13, 2017 By HallieZ Leave a Comment

Toilets of My China Life

I’ve been sorting through years of photos and collecting a file of toilet shots. These are hands down some of my kid’s most favorite photos of our China life!!! Truth be told, I do miss some aspects of squatty potties. It really did line things up anatomically for a healthy cleaning out!

A “modern” gas station toilet along a new highway we frequently traveled.

Our favorite toilet at our favorite eatery in Dali

A trough style toilet. The trough is built on an incline, so our neighbor’s waste slides underneath your booty and on to the next person… also, I am a HUGE fan of no doors. Love pooping with my gigantic white rear on display for a dozen curious locals to discuss.

One of the open air Markets I visited a lot with my kids had this one. This is the beginning of the day, so its actually pretty clean!

This is the squatty in our house where Es liked to play. GAHHHHHHHH!!!!

At the mall!

One of our favorite restaurants in Kunming

August 13, 2017 By HallieZ Leave a Comment

A Story Part III

Read Part I and Part II

They visited their daughter many times.

The foster family loved completely, with no strings attached.

Hearts changed.

They now understand that she is a treasure and a gift.

They took her home with them today.

For good.

There are tears in my eyes and laughter in my heart and a lump in my throat and courage slowly seeping into the places of my heart that haven’t had it for a while…

With a full heart of gratitude for all the lovers of Father who acted out their beliefs with hearts full of grace

who made phone calls in the middle of the night

donated money

opened their home without pause

woke in the middle of the night for feedings and oxygen checks

and the dozens who’s stories I cannot tell here…

It is by your love that the world will know to Whom you belong

What I’m Writing