We get one story, you and I, and one story alone.
God has established the elements, the setting, the climax and the resolution.
It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?



Sunday, November 7, 2010

The Leaves Still Fall...

I was sitting on a stool a stone’s throw away from school taking a bite of a scrumptious chicken wrap. I was so infatuated with the tastes from this lunch staple that I was floating. As I was floating in taste-bud euphoria, I noticed something else floating. A green leaf lazily wove its way through the air and landed on my table like it was sliding into second base.

A world away, the leaves still fall…

I picked it up, turned it, tilted it, sniffed it, studied its green veins and its crisp curves. It was sort of a Forrest Gump moment – but this was no feather, there was no moving music playing in the background. Just a tired woman with a stained apron to my right making another pot of jaodzi; just some students in red and white uniforms walking by, arguing over something they will soon forget; just a man in a suitcoat to my left hawking a loogie; just an English teacher who loves food and misses his family analyzing a lonely leaf.

A world away, the leaves still fall…

The other day, Matt and I are walking through the hallway and we are cornered by a posse of our brightest and most outgoing students and they excitedly hand us a gift – a dozen golden leaves from the Gingko tree decorated with Chinese characters in black marker. The leaves read, chuan (a lamb kabob that I adore) and Mi Jia (my Chinese name, literally translated: Excellent Rice). To my left smiles Matt, my brother and friend who can’t help but smile; in front of me are dark-haired students who unblinkingly worship us; to my right I see the golden Gingko tree, shimmering with a pride that rivals the sun.

A world away, the leaves still fall…

I walk by that tree every day. Its a little more naked than it was – a little less gold. A selfish gust of wind steals a few more precious leaves as the days graduate into November. I press pause in my whirlwind life and stop for once and just look at it – inhaling the moment. In front of my stands the majestic Gingko, standing tall although its golden glory is stolen and the leaves that once clothed it crunch as the tall teacher trots by in a rush to a class that starts in four minutes.

A world away, the leaves still fall…

Thursday, November 4, 2010

The Crew


When you live a world away, and your family is an ocean away - you adapt.

This new world becomes your new home. Your group of friends becomes your new family.

Let me introduce my Beijing family to you: here are some factoids about FOC Beijing – a crew with sass, class, linguistic talent, and an undying love for sharing the Water parched people. Let it be known that some facts listed below are mere figments of the author’s imagination – but that only magnifies his love for them. Here they are:

JON BARE

Alias: Bare Bare, JB, J-Business, Man of the Cloth

4.7 year veteran

Jon is our fearless leader. A man who loves Jesus, experimenting with facial hair, the Chinese language, Kashmir sweaters, castles, and his bride-to-be: Kim. Bare Bare recently moved to Gotham City (just down the street from the Cloister – where Micah, Ted, and Matt live) and is getting the place ready for his mate – sort of like a papa grizzly bear getting the den ready for the female, rearranging the brambles and rocks in a cozy yet manly décor. I couldn’t ask for a better shepherd, mentor, and friend.

P.S. – Hearing Bare speak Zhong wen is like listening to a babbling brook in the Rockies, or like the London Philharmonic Orchestra, or like Barry Manilow belting out “All the Small Things.”


KIM LEMPKE

Alias: The Kim, Kimothy, Jasmine

4 year veteran

Kimothy is Bare’s bride-to-be and is busy planning a wedding a world away. Kim is a very talented camel jockey and has aspirations of pursuing her love of racing camels by bringing the sport to America. We don’t understand this dream of hers, but we applaud it nonetheless. Kim is going to be a great Mom, I know this because she is sort of like my Beijing Mom – she takes care of me.


TERRI RUST

Alias: Rust Mama, Mama Rust, Mama Rust Mama

5 year veteran

Terri is practically Chinese (her 6th year I believe). She is a phenomenal cook (her applesauce provoked a lunar eclipse it was so good) and does a hilarious impression of an elderly Chinese Grandma slapping her back in the park. She is witty and genuine – a pretty sweet combination.


HANNAH BOUGHTON

Alias: Bonan (said with a French accent, because its French for “banana”), Hannah Baudzi

6 year veteran

Hannah speaks French, she speaks Mandarin, she runs her own school, she has run a marathon, she leads seven studies a week, she is freakily talented and super busy. I think this is her 6th year in China so she’s practically Chinese too. Hannah is a true missionary, a true leader, and a true friend.


JOSH(UA) VICK

Alias: JV, J-Visness, J-Vizzle, The Rabbit Whisperer, The Old Testament

6 year veteran

Oh, JV – how I could type pages and pages, but alas a few scant paragraphs will have to do. JV is practically Chinese also who is never seen without his blue booties. He’s trying to set a new trend, we think it looks a bit weird but are loving and supportive of his dream to change the world. JV is the proud owner of a rabbit. His reputation as a rabbit whisperer is growing by the second. JV is also our Old Testament scholar. He is a humble, talented, and addicted to Orange drink.


THEADORE RATTEI

Alias: the Ted, Tedison, Tedisphere, Tedwick, the Skipper, Ar bei leo, The Milkman, T-time, T-magic, T-bone, T-money, T-thunder, T-tot, T-biscuit, T-jemima, T-harry, T-potter, T-fodder, T-lightning, T-lemonade, T-marmelaid, T-pro, T-major, T-general, T-colonel, T-frigid, T-waters, T-mama, T-papa, T-foo, T-helen, T-keller, T-hottie, T-button, T-mutton, T-cheddar, T-cash, T-skip, T-butter, T-plum, T-orange, T-kilowatt, T-bear, T-mobile, T-estosterone, T-pot, T-party, T-pod, etc…

2 year veteran

Ted is the man that get things done. Need something fixed, T-hammer is your man. Need some milk, T-udder is your man. Ted has transformed the Cloister into a livable and loveable abode thanks to Ikea and his Apple connections. Ted has a unique gift for rapping and defiling classic Lutheran songs – he does not hide this gift under a bushel basket. Theadore’s Mandarin skills are budding, but not as quickly as his rapping career. Ted is comic relief, technology guru, passport papa, a cooking fiend, a rapping Norwegian, a facial hair entrepreneur, and a man who knows no fear and no stranger. Without T-biscuit the Cloister, Beijing, and China would have less Apple products and less joy.


AMBER SCHLOMER

Alias: Schlom-dog-millionare

2 year veteran

Amber is probably the only FOC Beijinger who is always on time. She recently celebrated a birthday that coincided with Reformation Day (coincidence…I think not). Amber and I recently came up with the idea of a Bible Bomb – a passage that blows apart the wall that satan tries to construct in our lives. She’s currently filing for a patent.


TIM MALCHOW

Alias: The Professor, the Soviet Cucumber

8 week rookie

The Professor came to Beijing a week later than everyone else – it was like calling Babe Ruth to pinch hit, or getting MJ off the bench. The Professor can speak Russian and has an uncanny gift for accuracy with a laser (maybe that is because of his time in the “Fuscia Daggers” – Russia’s version of the Navy Seals). The Professor’s new life mantra is, “Why not?” and it is this attitude of classy recklessness that we adore.


WONG HO YI

Alias: Ruby, the Rube, Mei Mei, Rubster, Rapunzel 1, the Gem of Beijing

9 week rookie

Ruby’s Cantonese name is literally translated, “cute and brittle.” She can twist an ankle better than anyone in the Beijing family but no one is more selfless, dripping with joy, or fashionable (although JV with the blue booties comes pretty darn close). Ruby’s favorite saying is, “Yo Ma Ma” or “Ma Ma Yo.” We are still befuddled as to what this means but we just smile and giggle. Ruby is the gem of Beijing who is impossible not to love.


DANIELLE WEBER

Alias: Cruella DeVille, Rapunzel 2, Deutchland, Dani, Dirty D

9 week rookie

Dani is our video aficionado; she is the Steven Spielberg of blue collar, touristy, low-budget, homemade movies. Dani introduced our FOC Family to Antoine Dodson – a Reformation to remember “homeboy.” Dani adds class, sophistication, blondeness, boldness, and honesty to our clan.


BECCA BALGE

Alias: Beccs, Rapunzel 3, Connie Winters

9 week rookie

Becca is the Aryan representative from our group. Some might say that this would detract from her effectiveness as a witness – on the contrary people flock to her like the salmon of Capistrano. Becca is the colonel of the party planning committee, thus giving unfettered authority and security access into the unknown and secret files. Becca is the human definition of Christmas, wit, and frosting making.


MATTHEW JAMISON WERNER

Alias: Donnie Darko, Wernike, Matt,

9 week rookie

Matt is in the process of reforming his formerly polychromic ways into more of a time-fearing, watch-glancing citizen. However, this young idealistic pursuit is being thwarted by a society where 15 minutes late is considered early. Also his current bike, affectionately named, “the Piece” is even worse and more decrepit than his first bike known by all as, “Hot Sauce.” Matt’s athleticism and chiseled body combine to make him the ideal basketball evangelist. To teach and live with this man is a constant adventure because he has the uncanny gift for making something monotonous unforgettable. He is a friend worth imitating.


MICAH RICKE

Alias: the Mistress, Excellent Rice, Yo Yo Ma, Colt McCoy

9 week rookie

Micah’s dream of bringing Kramer to China is hitting a rough spot. It seems that his humor, which is hardly understood by his American compatriots is even more confusing to his Chinese friends. Micah’s Spanish skills do him no good in Beijing and his knowledge of Mandarin characters is south of pathetic – he can only read, “chuan” and “entrance.” But he hopes that with a smile and a “giddiup…” he can leave a wake in this far off land.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Chinese Reformation




On Sunday, our FOC family celebrated Reformation like true American Lutherans with German roots living in China.

We made a fortress of our favorite passages and sang Luther's ballads with gusto.

We had a potluck that boasted home made apple sauce, a frappuccino frosting (I made it way too sweet), French wine, a cornicopia of fruit, and the gem - beer boiled brats, courtesy of the Ted. It was a feast, a glorious feast that reminded me of home. Then we went outside and played catch in the yard (the courtyard). This one guy came and joined our circle, and whenever he threw the pigskin he would either throw in like a grenade or like Charleton Heston smashing the stone tablets. But the best part was that he would let out a menacing bellow every time he threw it. Whenever he threw it to me I would scream in terror and laughter.

Afterward we watched that ridiculous YouTube video of Antoine Whats-his-name saying, "Hide your kids, hide your wives, and hide your husbands too, cause they rapin everybody out here." I guess its a sensation in the US. Then we sang a little Taylor Swift, played cards, and just relaxed as a family.

Then Ruby gave me a haircut behind in the Abbey of the Cloister. I look like a blend between Lloyd Christmas and Yo Yo Ma - but at least its out of my eyes. And so ends my Nazarite vow with a Beijing twist: no scissors will touch my head until Reformation, to razor will touch my cheeks unless its the stache region, no acohol will touch my lips but the occasional beer is not frowned upon. It really wasn't much of a vow anyway.

It twas a glorious day.

- m -

Monday, October 25, 2010

My Friend Gino

I fell in love with Gino.

We went to an orphanage in the outskirts of Beijing yesterday. I can’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday than singing for, listening to, playing with, and befriending these little ones. They each had a smile tinged with hurt, each was so in love with Jesus, each had their own story, each was so strong.

But Gino was my favorite.

The orphanage is run by an American and Christian couple with hearts bigger than I can fathom. What selfless love! They run a bakery called, “Bread of Life” which is a way for the kids to do real work, take ownership, and see the rolls of their labor. I can’t wait to go back.

We sang some songs for them and they sang for us. How refreshing to see God’s people praising Him without bashfulness, no strings attached, not trying to hit every note – just the flock giving their all to Him. It’s a beautiful reminder of a few things:

1. God isn’t Anglo-German and He doesn’t only speak English.

2. The faith of a child is truly awesome.

3. Don’t ever complain.

I moseyed on up to Gino and showed him how to say his name with an Italian / Godfather-esc voice and an arched right hand. To say the least, that broke the ice. He plopped by me on the couch and while we were discussing our mutual loathing of Lady Gaga (in Mandarin of course) when he noticed my camera and off he went. Gino started snapping pictures like it was his job – the kid has got the eye. The best part was that I forgot to change the timer setting (you can set the camera, click then 10 seconds later it will snap the photo), and Gino loved the beeping as it got quicker and quicker. He would point it at one person for a few seconds, then at the last instant shoot some unsuspecting bystander. And when I switched it back to regular mode, he made it clear that we was shooting in timer mode or not at all.

No beeps, no Gino. This was his unflinchingly rigid philosophy.

I can’t wait to go back and see Gino’s face light up when I whip out the camera and away he’ll beep in pure bliss.

- m -

P.S. - If you want to see some more pictures of Gino and our orphanage , click on the orange link on the right that says, Micah's Online Albums.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Coincidence = Not

There is no such thing as a coincidence.

God's blueprint for our lives is not whimsical. The Ancient of Days is is above mere chance, He is the Author of life. And we are His ink, pulsing, breathing, moving to the stroke of His pen - so much wiser and more magnificent than we can fathom. This fact that's been true since before time began is just now becoming clear to me. Here is just one example of countless...

I was at Peking University yesterday. I was having dinner with a friend and walked back to my bike at 8ish and noticed that my back tire was lifeless and limp. So I walked my bike to the gate - tire and spirits deflated. I noticed the lights on in this one building. I walked in out of curiosity. I walked down a hallway and to my right and left were the brightest and most brilliant brains in China bundled up, sipping jasmine tea and jotting down notes with haste - one grand competition to be the best, to make your family proud; because you are their only hope. I stopped at a horseshoe-shaped lecture hall with maybe 250 students and an animated professor. I was just observing what I couldn't comprehend when I noticed a man to my right wearing a Boston Red Sox jacket. I asked him what this class was, he said it was seismology - an elective about earth quakes that everyone takes for an easy A. We started chatting and he said his name was Jason and was waiting for the break so he wouldn't walk in late - social suicide. So we exchanged stories and numbers.

I called Jason up today and we had lunch together. He's a Christian and interested in studying more about Him. It wasn't mere coincidence that my back tire was limp and lifeless, it wasn't mere coincidence that I walked my bike past the lecture hall at that exact moment in time, it wasn't mere coincidence that I had the curious thirst to enter and linger, it wasn't mere coincidence that Jason was running late and didn't want to commit social suicide. Our orbits collided - that is not chance or an accident, it is the stroke of His all-knowing pen.

- m -

Zoom Zoom

Here are some random minutes from October 21st, 2010 anno domini - the only one I've ever or ever will live.

9:02 am
Blink awake to a cloudy, cold, yet grace-saturated day (seems lazy, I know, well it is, but class didn't start till 10:40).

9:04 am
Make and consume my morning staple: yogurt and oats (it's kind of like a blue-collar parfait).

10:29 am
Pedal to school, weaving in and out of cars, mopeds, and sweet old Grannies laden with groceries (Nonna and Grandma - I love you!). Biking here isn't really real, its as if the worst thing that can happen already has. When I'm aboard the DeLorean I'm no longer a mortal but a character in the extremely unpopular video game titled, Big B Biking 12.0.

10:40 am
Started teaching 44 students the glorious story of A Boy Named Sue, sung by the man who makes Charleton Heston look like Tinkie Winkie: Jonathan Cash. It was a great way to expand vocabulary, learn a bit about American music / culture, hear an amazing story, and tap your size 3 foot while learning.

11:30 am
Realized that the Junior 1s (7th graders) were taking a field trip to Peking University so we were free for the rest of the day!

11:33 am
Ate two glorious chicken wraps for lunch from this little place a stone's throw from school. I love the lady who makes them and love her work. A little ranch dressing would put this place on the map.

1:32 pm
Rode our bikes to Peking University (the Harvard of China) and walked around campus and chilled with some of our kids. Its hard to not feel like a looser while walking around Peking U because anyone of these students, if they would take the ACT would score 39 out of 36 - they're geniuses.

4:58 pm
Played basketball in jeans and sambas with my friend Peter - a graduate student and great guy.

4:49 pm
Realized I was playing basketball in jeans.

6:24 pm
Ate delicious jaudzi (steamed bread with a surprise within) and pumpkin porridge with Peter as we chatted about girls, Jesus, and Michael Jackson.

9:12 pm

Hopped aboard the Cloister's newest weapon: Zoom Zoom. Zoom Zoom is an old moped that has got attitude, sass, and style but no acceleration. Werner's arms were wrapped around me as we sped off to compline. Imagine the scene from Dumb and Dumber when Harry and Lloyd are frozen to each other and holding up traffic as they roll into Aspen. Well, this hog of ours is one find dame. I have visions of an unforgettable Christmas card...

1:17 am
Click on "Publish Post" and sink into bed and as my eyelids flutter I'll fall into this swimming pool of whipped cream we call sleep.

- m -

Monday, October 18, 2010

Kids


Well, here in the Big B fall has surrendered to the forces of winter. There's a cold drizzle outside with a chance of shizzle. I think its about time to dust off the 'ol long johns...

I love kids. There's something so honest about a child's face - they have yet to morph into posers and imposters, they are as genuine as genuine can be. A smile needs no translation.

I've snapped quite a few shots of kids during my six weeks here in the Far East (six weeks behind and 32 ahead ... craziness). I've uploaded an album of on Picasa of my favorite pictures of Chinese children. To take a gander, simply click on the link to your right entitled, Micah's Online Albums.

Signed with love, longing, and a shiver,
- m -

Friday, October 15, 2010

Ming McFeeley

So, we are truly living the life of luxury. We now have yogurt delivery.

Every morning at 8:03 our friendly neighborhood yogurt delivery man places this creamy treasure into a little house outside our door. I picture this man to look something like Mr. McFeeley from my childhood's favorite show: Mr. Rodgers. Anyway, I crack open the door around 8:58 and shuffle my slippered feet to our little yogurt house and find the three treasures that Ming McFeeley left for us to enjoy. It makes every morning a bit like St. Nick's - finding candy and pomegranates in socks over the fire ... finding delicious yogurt in a mini tin house.

Thank you Ming McFeeley. You are a good man.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Dribble Ripple








It’s amazing how a dribble can have such a ripple.

When we were on our camel riding adventure, we spent one day in the western city of Yinchuan. As we were walking back from a dinner of chuar, we saw three boys dribbling and passing an old worn basketball in an alley. I walked up to them and asked for the ball. I started to spin the ball on my finger and handed it off to a little boy with dimples and dark eyes.

I was accepted. We were in.

We started passing the ball around. Then more FOC friends joined in and pretty soon kids started coming out of the nearby stores and doorways. Within maybe 15 minutes our little Chinese friends multiplied by five, and after 25 minutes of playing there were 30 people gathered in this little garbage-strewn alley. A band of boys and American icons were playing ball while I was leading a rather intense game of rock, paper, scissors. Little boy warriors throwing the ball, little girl princesses giggling and hiding from the camera, mom’s holding their babies, Grandma’s clutching their grandson’s hand, stag males smoking cigarettes and pretending like they don’t want to join in the fun.

It is truly amazing how a few dribbles can create such a ripple.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Camel Cowboy - Episode II


To see some pictures of this journey, scoot the mouse to the right just a bit and click on the link that says, Micah's Online Albums. If you're not into the whole visual stimulation thing, here are some highlights from the journal of the Camel Cowboy.

Bus Stop Magic

Eight friends piled into a van on October 2, 2010 at 6:02 am in Beijing, China. We were headed off on a grand adventure – a 15 hour, 750 mile road trip west to Ningxia Province (the Arizona of China) to ride camels and camp in the Gobi Desert for 2.3 days. My friend Becca exclaimed, “I love road trips. The only thing we’re missing is a Mc Donald’s breakfast.” There is something exhilarating about a road trip; the anticipation of a journey that only you can make. But before we headed west we picked up one more friend: JunNing. She was waiting for us at a bus stop with a cardboard box in both hands and a burse (backpack and purse mix) slung over her shoulder. She opens the van door and hands us the big box and says, “Careful, there’s coffee inside.” I check under one flap and recognize the unmistakable McDonald’s colors of 10 coffees and 10 Asian McGriddles and ask Becca, “What did were you just missing?” then hand her a McDonald’s coffee courtesy of JunNing. This is the stuff of bus stop magic.

Hump of Wonders

During this 15 hour road trip westward we couldn’t help but imagine what lurked within the camel’s hump, what powers it possessed. And so we dreamt of humps that had electrical outlets and iPod jacks. We dreamt of humps with zippers and lids that revealed a chocolate fondue or a chilled 24 pack of Red Bull within. We dreamt of shifting humps like the stick of a Porsche – sending our camel into gears of blinding speed. But when we arrived in the desert and introduced ourselves to our camels, we weren’t disappointed, but just left wanting. Some camel’s had a bad case of Humpius Droopius – like an orca whale in captivitity – a hump that has lost all pride. I propped one up and it fell back to its bored and sorrily droopy state. It seems as though the glory was replaced by gristle and the fondue was replaced functionality. Good thing God is the Creator, not me.

Humped Alarm Clock

After living in a city where smog is a constant grey blanket – stifling sun and stars – seeing the incandescent glory of a starry night is a truly awesome sight. Seeing the hazy tentacle of the Milky Way Galaxy dangle in the cosmos reminds me of just how small I am. The One who showed the stars their places and tells the squall to be still knows the number of hairs on my head. Talk about goosebumps of comfort. I slept outside with my friend Phil both nights in the desert. How could I stuff myself in a synthetic tent when I can inhale the glory above as I lie in my cocoon of a sleeping bag? Sleeping in a tent in such fantastic weather and starry splendor would be an act of terrorism (well, that’s a bit strong I guess). So Phil and I perched ourselves on the spine of a dune with the cluster of tents in the sandy valley to our right. I had to remind myself to blink that night. The stars were rather addicting. As we surrendered to sleep, my heart was full and refreshed by the desert air, the blue skies, the radiance above, and the gristly glory that is a camel hump. My eyelids popped open when I heard a camel master’s herding call, “Hipp. Hipp. Heep.” I blinked a few times as I remembered where I was – on a sand dune in the Gobi Desert with the rising sun turning the world a purplish orange hue. I sat up and saw something that I’ve never seen in my 22 years, 6 months, 13 days, 11 hours, 12 minutes and 48 seconds of life (that was an exact calculation folks): a large camel pacing back and forth not seven feet away. I jabbed Phil with my elbow. He popped up and exclaimed in a surprised whisper, “Holy ****.” The humped beast couldn’t decide what to do: a) trample the sleeping bodies that lay in his path; b) leap over the sleeping bodies that lay in his path; c) trot down the slope of the dune thus avoiding the sleeping bodies that lay in his path The camel chose choice C, and we lay back down unsure of whether to sleep or rejoice.

Barefoot for a Day

Who wears shows when you’re in a sandbox? After we stopped and made camp on day #1 most camel cowboys decided to forgo the footwear and let the sand ooze between our toes. This was a choice I do not regret.

Saddle Up

The camel masters couldn’t believe how I mounted my camel. Usually you mount a camel by getting astride its back while the animal is kneeling, you buckle yourself into the humps and then it rises – booty first then the front. Well, I tried something a little more John Wayne-esc. I swung up like a cowboy does with his horse – grabbing the horn with his left hand and vaulting himself into the saddle. Well one day I hopped off of our camel train to take a wizzle and trotted back to my mount and vaulted myself between the humps. The camel masters loved it. Pretty soon I joined the “Adopt a Desert Program” and was hopping on and off to go pick up lost water bottles. I have a picture of the Gobi in my wallet, I’m so proud (just like Kramer).

Ignorant Bliss

So we really didn’t voyage into a desert wilderness without any trace of civilization. The camel masters sort of led us in circles in the desert. We could see power lines for most of the time in the distance and the occasional smoke stack from your friendly neighborhood nuclear power plant. Our closeness to civilization came to a crescendo when one camel master would hop on his humped steed and trot off to town and come back 1.8 hours later with hot food in Tupperware bins … camel take out. But we didn’t let our aimless wandering hamper our excitement or fun. We sang songs around the campfire (probably the first time that Amazing Grace has been sung amidst the laughs and yells of camel masters playing Mongolian drinking games a few feet away) and took dance lessons from the ladies, they taught us some 21st century dance by Shakira or Miley Cyrus or some singer that thinks her looks compensate for her lack of talent (my theory was, when in doubt of the next move, simply thrust). We looked like a bunch of natives dancing around the fire, with a few rhythmically challenged lepers lurking in the shadows with not a shred of rhythm.

These are the musings of the Camel Cowboy.

- m -