In honor of a little girl who passed away one year ago today

November 30, 2006
From this day forward I had no happiness....

May 18, 2011

These nights I have been watching my daughter. She can’t sleep due to abdominal pain. I’ve been rubbing her abdomen continuously. In the middle of sleep she’ll suddenly cry out, “Mama don’t stop, hurry up, hurry up, rub my tummy, I can’t take it.” I tell her, “Precious baby, sleep. God will protect you.”

My daughter cries, “Mama, I wish an angel would come get me soon. Didn’t you say that heaven has no sickness? My sickness will be all better? I can see Grandpa and Grandma?”

I say, “I’m so sorry, Precious baby. Mama is so sorry…I could not heal your sickness. I’m a lousy mother.”

My daughter closes her eyes and says, “You’re a good Mama. You’re not lousy. You’re so hard working.”

I feel so guilty to hear her say that. I have no peace, just shame. Unbearable shame.

Day by day I struggle, my inner heart in torment. I fight fiercely as others try to persuade me the other way. I juggle everything. My heart is cut into pieces and bleeding. All the hard work of these five years has been shattered into nothing. I really cannot accept it. Life goes on; there is no one to sustain me. The doctor’s advice is hard to listen to but it’s true. The estrangement of friends and relatives has brought bitter disappointment. My own inabilities makes me want to beat and burn myself. I’m the most disgusting person in the world. The worst person. The most cruel. The most incapable, most selfish mother….

May 27, 2011

Around 6:00am the morgue vehicle came to take the child away. We went with the child; she lay upon a gurney. Once she was pushed into the refrigerated box and the door closed, at that moment I finally knew that this was not a dream. It was real; my child was really gone.... 

As I write this portion of the diary, it is May 28, 2011, midnight. Today was my daughter’s cremation day. At 9:15am, my daughter really went to live in heaven. I hope that in heaven she’ll be happy forever, healthy, and that they bring her favorite clothes and toys. I hope her life is good and beautiful – a blessed life just like an angel. I hope my daughter doesn’t blame me for my incapability. There was no way to cure your disease, making the beginning of your life so painful. You had no friends. You couldn’t go to kindergarten. You couldn’t play as you wished or eat whatever you liked. But now you’ve gone to paradise; happiness begins starting now. Precious baby, you will be happy. Mama will continuously ask God to protect you. God will definitely hear, so put your heart at ease as you go. Mama loves you forever. Mama will often go see you and be with you. You took Mommy’s heart with you, Daddy’s heart, Big Sister’s heart, and the hearts of your family members and friends.

(not the actual mother or daughter of this diary)

This winter and spring I translated a mother's diary from Chinese to English, recording the struggle for her young daughter's life as she suffered from congenital kidney failure, November 2006 through her death on May 27, 2011. 

The story deeply moved me as I followed a brave yet conflicted mother battle for medical treatment. I sympathized with her desperate feelings of inadequacy and failure as a mother, her anger and frustration towards uncaring individuals, her sincere gratitude toward merciful individuals, her joy and sadness as she watched her little girl grow and slowly die.

It is a remarkable, beautiful, bitter diary; a true human story that caused me to weep as I worked. It is my honor to 'know' this mom, her baby girl, and many others along the way -- to read and feel her most unguarded personal thoughts, and to render them in English so you can share in their experience as well.

Perhaps in the future there will be an opportunity to share the entire 35 page document with you. Until then, here are three brief excerpts, shared in honor of a woman who I have come to admire, and especially in honor of a darling little girl who I have come to adore.

A Perk

We don't do family devotions or any structured thing like that. Instead, we've made a practice of modeling and encouraging, but not obliging, Titus to talk with the Father whenever, wherever throughout his day, in keeping with the directions to pray without ceasing. This is much more conducive to short attention spans too:
"Hi God, thanks for this sand to play in. I like it!"
"Ugh, help me walk up the stairs."
"Wow! I love this ice cream!"
"Sorry for pushing Mai-Mai."
"That was cool you made this frog. You make cool stuff."
etc.

Once I overheard Titus post-discipline, alone in the bathroom, "God...Mom is angry...please help me God." That quickly softened my demeanor! Anyway, we want to drive home the idea that this is a friend who sticks with you anyplace, anytime, and you can always talk with him. Titus is catching on, and it's such a perk for us to watch the friendship develop.

Last night all three guys were tucked into their beds in the dark. I forget the specific context; Titus said, "But I don't have to pray at school." This led to a conversation about the worldview of Titus's teachers and classmates (who are just fantastic by the way!). Titus was surprised to realize what his friends are missing out on. Then we spent the next few minutes practicing relevant vocabulary that he didn't know how to say in Chinese. Whether or not he wants to share anything with anyone at school is totally up to him, but he is now able to speak about good news, new news. Isn't that super cool? And he's got the buddies to share with...his best friends are Wang Haoming, Peng Peng, Sang Ruiqi, Xiao Bowen, Liu Jinrui... did I tell you yet that he's (happy to be) in school from 8:30-5:30 four days a week now, like all the other kids? So they've got plenty of time to talk.

Titus, you're free to be whoever you want to be, but we gotta to say, we're really pleased to see the direction your heart is going. Plus, we're happy that although you look different than everybody else here, you've fit right in.

p.s. sort of...kind of...loosely related....

I remember shortly after Titus was born, I was panicking about how in the world do Drew and I raise this kid to become an earnest jc-follower? (Drew was not panicking; he is wiser and more mature than me.) Once in Grandma Bonnie's kitchen, I asked her, so, how did you do it? I had no idea! Somehow along the way I figured out that I was searching for a method, a magic trick that would guarantee results, obviously wrong, hello. I now believe that what I need to do, simply put, is to be... be an earnest jc-follower myself, and the rest will follow naturally. 

(right?)

Sexual Slavery in Changsha

one

Nine years ago, her first year in China, she inadvertently moved into a red light district. She was burdened to go in and talk with the women. Three months later she gained the courage. The front hostess barred the door. No, no, ignorant foreign woman, you want the actual hair salon over there -- you want the actual tea house over there -- you don't want to come in here. The hostess allowed her in but ignored her. After waiting half the day, at last the hostess served her tea. What do you want? She wanted to talk with one of the girls and pay for her time. Reluctant, confused and hostile, the hostess let her pick a girl just as a male patron would. They went back to her room and sat together on a mattress that covered the tight space. At first they didn't say anything while the girl voraciously consumed oranges that she'd brought along as a small gift. Then they talked -- awkwardly -- but it was good. They are still friends today, and this was the very beginning of a phenomenal effort to extend compassion to the sex slaves of Changsha. 

Where do I start.

Brothels are everywhere in this city. I counted seven obvious brothels at one busy intersection. 

Every Sunday morning while walking to church, our family passes by three brothels on one small road, about 200 meters from the doors of the church. Drew also walks this road every Saturday afternoon; I walk this road every Friday night. So many questions and such a strong sense of injustice compelled me to meet with an acquaintance, now a friend -- the woman who first dared to enter a brothel nine years ago. This may have been one of the most motivating, informative and important coffee dates of my life.

I can't write the half of what we talked about.

What little I knew:

Prostitution is illegal in China.

Yet sex is sold openly in literally every neighborhood. 

There are several graduations of prostitutes, ranging from a wealthy man's second wife to starving girls exchanging sex with migrant workers for a bowl of noodles. 

In this post I'm writing concerning a middle tier, women who work in small, common shops under the see-though guise of massage, hair salon, rest & leisure, health center, tea house, etc. Two characters indicate a brothel: 休闲 'at leisure', plus bright pink lighting and sexy-dressed women sitting inside.

Once when I walked by, I ventured to smile and wave at the girl inside. She gave me no response.

I thought these women were prostitutes; destitute or pressured to the point that they felt the best option was to sell sex.

Fraction of what I learned:

They're not prostitutes.

They are sex slaves.

Most women are originally from remote impoverished areas, sold by their families even before puberty. 

Many girls involved themselves in a dangerous situation such as a sketchy club, got drugged and kidnapped into sexual slavery.

A smaller percentage of women resolve to work as a prostitute, perhaps just for a short time to earn extra money for a specific hardship (i.e. medical treatment for her child). Yet in the end she becomes physically sick, emotionally and psychologically ruined, not the mom she was before.

I have often wondered what becomes of prostitutes when they grow old. The answer is that they do not grow old; they die young from disease, depression, malnutrition and abuse.

Freed for a new life:

I can't write it, it's too sensitive. I really wish I could tell you. All I can say is that there is light in darkness. Many have been involved, many have been affected. In Changsha it started with one compassionate woman and one sex slave nine years ago.

I have been ruined for blindness and passivity. When I started helping out at the city orphanage I was compelled to act, this led to bringing Jonathon into our family. I don't think my heart will ever be at peace to disengage from orphan care ever again, having witnessed several hundred orphans waiting in institutions for families to act. Now I am pressed by knowledge of another unjust reality, confronted with sexual slavery happening all around the city, specifically these three brothels that we pass by three days each week.

Now I'm ruined to ignoring the women in these places.

two

three

I took these pictures on Friday night, from a side angle, not wanting the girls inside to see me with a camera and already feeling terribly conspicuous as neighbors watched me.

Links:

Prostitution in China -- an objective overview, including legal, economic, socio-cultural and public health considerations

DEFINITELY read this one: Prostitutes are worth it -- written from a perspective of compassion and hope, a parallel story to what is happening in our city; be sure to click on the photo to view a short slideshow of photos from a brothel

Email me if you would like to dialogue more.

Oh Happy May

Postal Service Wonders

International postal mail, wow, what an inscrutable, enigmatic little business. Why do some pieces of mail arrive in impeccable condition, in record-breaking time? Why are other accurately labeled items lost forever, or arrive half a year later? 

There was the year we welcomed your Christmas cards in April.

Once this winter we received a package 10 (TEN!) days after it was posted.

Another package came all the way to Changsha, failed to deliver, and was returned to St. Paul, MN.

Then I was completely baffled when this little letter showed up, with no street address or anything, it found its way to our door. How? That's like writing Andrew Addington, Chicago, IL, USA, and it made it folks. See? Mysterious.

True, the above examples are certainly outliers. Generally speaking, it takes about four weeks for letters and packages to arrive. To our knowledge, 99% of all mail has made it.

If you would like to write us, we would love to hear from you. Tell us all about you, your work, your mood, your summer plans, your family, the weather, what you're learning, etc. As you can imagine, it takes great effort to stay in touch with you in the US while also being entirely focused on our immediate community. Help us remain connected by saying hello. Email is fantastic too: drew.addington@gmail.com.

Here is our address. Inclusion of the Chinese characters is essential, so please print and paste.

Just for fun, here's a bird's eye map of our area that I snagged off the university website. Man, our apartment is in such a prime location, right at the center of campus and near to all the places we frequent. It's a miracle we found this place, did you read the unbelievable story?

It's Gonna Be Worth It

I don't understand your ways

but I will give you my song

give you all of my praise

you hold on to my pain

with it you are pulling me closer

pulling me into your ways

now around every corner 

and up every mountain 

I'm not looking for crowns 

or the water from fountains 

I'm desperately seeking, frantic believing 

that the sight of your face 

is all that I'm needing 

I will say to you.... 

it's gonna be worth it all 

I believe this

(Rita Springer, Worth It All, 2002)

There is a long list of things that I find unpleasant about making my home in an urban, overpopulated, polluted, developing country with comparatively marginal human rights on the opposite side of the world from where I grew up. But I can deal with the things on that list, most of the time. They're trivial, really.

I find just one challenge in our current position that trumps all others, and it is this: missing our family.

We long to visit our parents every now and then, drop off the grandkids at their house for a weekend, and see our brothers (got 7) and sisters (got 4). It aches to miss joyful times, but even this is bearable, because we are comforted knowing that they're together, well, and happy. It's much harder to be absent during painful times -- to be unable to share in the grief and struggle of the people you love the most. 

I think I can endure the separation, however. 

"Mark my words, no one who sacrifices house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, land—whatever—because of me and the good news will lose out. They'll get it all back, but multiplied many times in homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and land—but also in troubles. And then the bonus of eternal life." (Mk 10, The Message, see also Mt 19)

See what he's saying here? He promised that it's gonna be worth it. He sees us, he knows it hurts and troubles us, and he knows what we gave up, give up, continuously. Yet we've already seen the beginnings of the multiplication he mentioned. I don't know exactly what kind of rewards he's got in mind, but if the reward is him, I'm in, and I can endure.

Now You're 3

This weekend we celebrated the 3rd birthday of a great lad...

Jonathon!

Jonathon's birthday was on Sunday, May 6th, but we partied on Saturday. In the morning two of Drew's fellow MBA candidates, their husbands and children galavanted around in the woods with us. Jon likes going outside, evidenced by frequent pointing to the door and efforts to collect his shoes from the cabinet.

I instructed the children in the delicate art of cake decorating: Do you know what this is? A construction site! We need trucks, diggers, dumpers, rocks, hills, logs, sand...GO! They did a wonderful job creating a unique cake for Jonathon, and judging by his reaction, "Whooooaaahh!" I believe Jonathon thought it was fantastic!

In addition to Drew's classmates' families that I already mentioned, we invited four other neighbor families; altogether we were twelve adults and eight children -- all present to honor Jonathon.

Jonathon's special red birthday outfit was a wedding gift from my friend Michelle, "In case something happens."  Something happened Michelle. Three times and counting.

Michelle's gift was also worn by both of his brothers on their 1st birthdays. Although this was Jonathon's 3rd, it was his first with us. It was the first time in his life for Jonathon to celebrate his birthday with his family. 

I removed the special clothes prior to letting him loose on the cake.

Once every month we join a fellowship of other foreign workers in Changsha. That day happened to fall on Sunday, Jonathon's birthday. We brought root beer floats to celebrate. Everyone gathered around Jonathon and prayed for him -- an invaluable birthday gift. Drew and I were immensely encouraged. I hope that Jonathon senses how many people care for him. I hope that Jonathon feels the love of the Father.

Jonathon... ah, we treasure that little boy. He has the warmest, most jovial personality. Everybody falls for his charm. I always tell people that he's the handsomest and most well-behaved child in our household (this phrase rhymes in Chinese, it's catchy). He is a living testimony of God's mercy. I feel so thankful that we get to share life with Jonathon each day.

Jonathon... an intense challenge for me. So many unknowns. So little support, comparatively speaking, in terms of coping with his development and attachment difficulties. It's been hard.

Jonathon... we're going to stick with you little guy. We accept your struggles along with your many, many delights. You're priceless. Happy 3rd birthday.