1:12 AM
Muslims call them "laqeet" : "a baby picked up from death", and finding and nurturing such is as high as privilege gets (and what could be sweeter, evoking as it does God picking us up from the trash heap!) Our privilege has been high, but not quite that high, for we have welcomed a number of foundlings since coming to this province; alas, all of them were furry or feathered! Our rewarding work with the "orphelins" always inspired hope of greater things, yet our small-creature opportunites have left a parade of memories.
The morning after we arrived in Taizhou to teach kindergarten in each of the tri-cities, I came upon a tiny tri-colored kitten in a trash heap. I picked her up and carried her home, where, hiding her in my cupped hands, I said, "Surprise!" and presented her to the children. "Surprise" became a bottle baby, barely surviving her bad case of fleas, but growing so lively she was mistaken for a monkey. She led a merry life with us, but outside it was different. A man kicked her into the pond, and when I chided him with the words "Don't you know cats can't swim?" he laconically pointed at Surprise who was swimming for shore! Not long after, she came home with a bleeding head and compound fracture that left her somewhat lame in spite of our best care.
Caromel was a desperate abandoned kitten I found by the roadside, and Licorice, Frank rescued near the same spot a week later. Licorice, who was the scrawniest, most pathetic specimin of kitten we ever saw, pulled through to be our longevity pet, escaping for years the clutches of neighbors fond of "Kentucky fried kitty". Then there was the cat I found run over on the street, and brought home thinking she was ours. Our little daughter's tears dried fast, when our cat showed up to sympathize with her mortally-wounded twin. We nursed another mortally-wounded cat that our son went down into a dry pool to rescue after it had been abused. These last two cats finished their ninth life in "hospice" care, with budding doctors in attendance.
An Asian sparrow hit by a bus, and rescued , (remarkably, by the driver!) joined our family for a slow recovery (slowed more by our spiteful parakeet!)and was released to soar again.
A heart-wrenching scene in the middle of the street met my gaze one morning: two
puppies, one inside-out after being run over, and the other standing desperately-determined guard over its sibling, unaware that to stay meant death from the next car. That traumatized puppy came home only needing comfort, as it was healthy. But another pup I found near that same place used her last dregs of energy to lick my foot and wag her tail once as she looked up pleadingly. She was dying of starvation and a loathsome skin disease. For days she lay motionless in a basket on our balcony, while I honed my nursing skills. To our satisfaction, Dogged made a complete recovery and was an attractive, faithful pet.
Another foundling was a discarded dead chick on the sidewalk. I peered at it, and put it inside my clothes, where it began gasping and then cheeping, and slowly revived for a short and sweet life.
Most dramatic was the saga of Serendipity...... We stopped at the animal market, and shortly heard cries coming from a garbage can. Investigation revealed puppy bodies in various stages of death, but the tiniest and filthiest was dancing desperately on top, screaming for help. Our beholding this shameful tableau brought down wrath upon our heads from the sellers, who ordered us off in no uncertain terms. We moved on. But it didn't take long for me to realize I couldn't live with myself if I, too, abandoned that desperate little life. Scooping a piece of plastic from the ground, I marched swiftly to the can, swept off the lid and in one fell swoop, grabbed the little foundling in the plastic and was out the gate climbing into a taxi with my accomplices before the stunned sellers could lift a finger or find their voices to prevent the heist. After a bath, Serendipity (Pity for short) turned out to be snow-white, and the most devoted little darling until death.
What will we find next....? Your guess is better than mine.
12:36 AM
Clear Light Festival is a holiday for ancestor worship, but we had no trouble finding much better things to do. It turned out to be the nicest outing yet for the group that went to Heron Hill and Bamboo Valley. On the mountain hike we harvested wild "vegetables": mainly budding ferns (very nutritious!). I had been wanting to see the wild blossoms, and there they were in reds, and violets, and pinks, decorating the slopes that are home to forty bird species, (though we mainly saw snakes). Earlier we'd toured the Fangs' new home, all gorgeously done in light wood just full of knots---it was really something to see! Bro. Fang is especially talented in interior decoration. Later, our picnic by the water finished, we were rejuvenated enough to perform all kinds of exercises on the wide variety of unusual play equipment, and I have to say, much of that you would have had to have seen to believe, (though some of us would surely have been embarrassed to be seen swinging like monkeys if you had been there.) In the fresh, fragrant mountain air, amid Nature's splendors, we were invigorated and renewed remarkably. I recommend the nature cure.
Christian went with his student HaoHao's family to Thousand Islands and is not yet back, but was boating when last heard from.
1:36 AM
(Guest blogger Annelisa)
Here are some pictures of my little "nephew" ,or well,the closest thing to a nephew that I have at the present. His Mom,Rachel,has lived with us for extended periods of time off and on for as long as I can remember,so I've always thought of her as kind of a "big sister". For that matter,his Dad Jacob,lived with us for several months while he and Rachel were dating,so all and all we know the family quite well. And don't you think their names are cute? Jacob,Rachel,and Joseph:)
Now,on to bragging on Joseph. I must say that what he lacks in size he's made up for in brains...at 20 months old he can count to 30,identify the basic colors,speak fluent toddler Chinese(which includes getting the tones correctly),point to any body part when asked to in either English or Chinese,and the list goes on. It's amazing how he promptly names anything you point at,or at least what he thinks it resembles! He also understands adult conversations with amazing accuracy. Like the other day we were marching up the stairs to our apt. when his mom mentioned something about how treacherous the steep stairs seemed in the dim light. Joseph immediately pointed to the light bulb dangling over our heads and announced,all in Chinese of course," IT'S BROKEN!" Then after a moment of consideration he concluded,"Fix it,Grandpa Wu will fix it!" Imagine that,he'd only been to our place once before,yet he knew that my dad lived there as soon as we entered the building;and obviously he knew that light bulbs generated light,and if light was lacking, a light bulb somewhere needed to be fixed. Maybe his parents gave him the wrong name after all: he should have been called Edison!
11:31 PM
As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about his people from henceforth even forever. (Psalm 125:2)
11:49 PM
The blossoms of early spring have taken their loveliness from our view, and though I miss them, the nice thing here in Hangzhou is there is always something in bloom the year around. We lose one set of blossoms, to gain another, and some of the most exquisite like the crepe myrtle are still to be anticipated. On our trip yesterday into the mountains west of the city, I noted that they had managed to hold onto their March blossoms longer in the cooler air. We looked at several apartments in the new housing development called Green Field Spring, but didn't feel clear to order one . The Lord may have something closer in for us. The mountain scenery was striking with the closest mountains ringed with tea bushes, and higher ranges rising behind. We felt sorry for the farmers, though--- having their property taken for all those high rises.
The poet exclaimed, "Oh to be in England
Now that April's there....." but I think every place I have ever been has been charming in April, my favorite month. My heart sings praises with the delightful music of the morning bird choir. Actually it strikes me that "The birds make music all the day." We don't quite...but there is more music since the keyboard got moved over to Light House.
Against the pleasant backdrop of spring's joys, seven different courageous voices have been raised in warning of God's swift-falling judgment on our nation, speaking of "A collapse that will set into motion a series of cataclysmic events that will humble a spiritually impoverished people to the deepest depth of their souls.. ..We are at an alarming point in time, a time when combinations of perverse elements have come together to deliver this nation unto total annihilation. " (Jim Schwiesow) And another: "Our nation has already been seized upon, and it is being pillaged by international elitists who care only about their antichrist agenda. ...Our leaders know full well what would happen if the masses of people would ever come fully awake to the reality of what is going on." (David Meyer) He went on to speak of the Lord being gracious to His own, staying with us to the end. Our only safety is to "be hid with Christ in God"!
Every morning for at least a year I sang from the flyleaf of my Bible in my quiet time:
"Within the veil": be this, Beloved, thy portion,
Within the secret of thy Lord to dwell,
Beholding Him, until thy face His glory
Thy life His love, thy lips His praise shall tell.
"Within the veil", for only as thou gazest
Upon the matchless beauty of His face,
Canst thou become a living revelation
Of His great heart of love, His untold grace.
Within the veil", His fragrance poured upon thee,
Without the veil, that fragrance shed abroad.
"Within the veil" His hand shall tune
That sounds on earth the praises of thy Lord.
Within the veil", thy spirit deeply anchored,
Thou walkest calm above a world of strife.
Within the veil, thy soul with Him united,
Shall live on earth His resurrection life.
Freda Allen
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