In between Shanghai and Provo
"Happy birthday!!!" we sang into the phone, shrieking out our last off key note for maximum thematic flair.
My brother Casey squinted at the camera through his half sleepy eyes.
Then I spotted the all familiar Y banners floating in the background. "Wait. Are you on campus already at 8 am . . . on your birthday?"
"Yeah."
"So what fancy plans do you have for your big day?"
"Umm. Well I'm building houses today. It'll probably take the whole day, but maybe if I'm done early then I'll go hang out with some friends."
"Build houses? You know these people?"
"Nah. I just signed up to volunteer."
"But . . . it's your birthday! Why choose this day out of all days to volunteer?" I wailed while fiddling with the phone to make sure I heard him correctly.
"Well, I can't think of anything better else to do than helping other people on my birthday."
The reception faded in and out and his voice crackled. "Ok. Love you! I've got to go."
Palawan, Philippines
They flashed their thousand watt smiles at us, volleying question after question about where we're from, what we loved about Philippines, and what our boyfriends looked like.
The three girls giggled non stop, covering their mouths in moments of barely contained teenage excitement and self-consciousness. Their eyes widened when I mentioned that I happened to be the president of our church Young Women group back in China. They wanted to know what church activities we did and whether we made dumplings all day long.
A church leader got up on the pulpit and cleared his throat. I signaled that we should stop chatting and concentrate on the speaker.
After ten minutes, the girls on my row started fiddling. The three of them unzipped their mini purses and emptied them out on the bench, sifting through lip balms, hand mirrors, and forgotten mints. Kids will be kids. I thought, smiling inside, sitting more upright to show how real adults stay reverent during the Sacrament.
The girl with the long silky hair tugged at my elbow. She cupped her hands, as if protecting an injured little bird, and hovered over my open palms.
"Sorry, this is the only thing we have." She dipped her head apologetically and deposited her hidden gift in my hands. It was a mangy candy land pink teddy bear keychain. The fur was slightly caked with suspicious stains and the rust on the keychain indicated its love worn status.
I knitted my eyebrows in obvious confusion. "For me?"
She nodded enthusiastically and leaned in and whispered, "We want you to remember us. Tell the girls in China that we said hi. And let them know that there are other girls in Philippines who also like going to church as much as they do."
I swallowed. The other two girls peeked behind in the first and nodded their joint excitement at the gift. I turned back to the speaker, simply overwhelmed.
----
Vatican City
The crowds spilled out of the Vatican City, running mindlessly towards the first shelter in sight. The storm clouds that had hung threateningly all morning finally made good on their promise and poured down vengeance on those unprepared with sturdy umbrellas.
So we started running too. We ran past the guards dressed in anachronistic courtly uniforms, tripped on centuries old cobblestones, and jetted across the large square where the Pope makes his official addresses. The crowds streamed past the crooked old gypsy woman who tried to lift her head to make eye contact while feebly holding her hand out for a spare coin.
I had checked my purse before I reached her and was disappointed that I had only Chinese money. My mom always reminded us to bring a few extra coins for the needy but I was simply out of Euros. Apologetically, I avoided her gaze and rushed past. After reaching a dry spot, I looked around for my little brother, Cody. I anxiously scanned the crowds and saw him standing out there in the rain, hesitating. He had seen her too. He stuck his hand into one pocket. Nothing. Another pocket. Spare gum. Some burly guy ran past Cody, knocking into his left shoulder, and shot the gypsy a disgusted look. Cody walked over to the old woman, bent down slightly, and held out his umbrella. He nodded briefly at her to let her know it was ok, threw on his hood, and sprinted for the columns where I stood watching.
All around, hundreds of Christians who had just glimpsed in awe God and Adam's near touch at the Sistine Chapel ran past, barely noticing the huddled figure and her new umbrella near the fire hydrant.
"Happy birthday!!!" we sang into the phone, shrieking out our last off key note for maximum thematic flair.
My brother Casey squinted at the camera through his half sleepy eyes.
Then I spotted the all familiar Y banners floating in the background. "Wait. Are you on campus already at 8 am . . . on your birthday?"
"Yeah."
"So what fancy plans do you have for your big day?"
"Umm. Well I'm building houses today. It'll probably take the whole day, but maybe if I'm done early then I'll go hang out with some friends."
"Build houses? You know these people?"
"Nah. I just signed up to volunteer."
"But . . . it's your birthday! Why choose this day out of all days to volunteer?" I wailed while fiddling with the phone to make sure I heard him correctly.
"Well, I can't think of anything better else to do than helping other people on my birthday."
The reception faded in and out and his voice crackled. "Ok. Love you! I've got to go."
Girls, those dramatically coursing veins aren't photoshopped.
-----Palawan, Philippines
They flashed their thousand watt smiles at us, volleying question after question about where we're from, what we loved about Philippines, and what our boyfriends looked like.
The three girls giggled non stop, covering their mouths in moments of barely contained teenage excitement and self-consciousness. Their eyes widened when I mentioned that I happened to be the president of our church Young Women group back in China. They wanted to know what church activities we did and whether we made dumplings all day long.
A church leader got up on the pulpit and cleared his throat. I signaled that we should stop chatting and concentrate on the speaker.
After ten minutes, the girls on my row started fiddling. The three of them unzipped their mini purses and emptied them out on the bench, sifting through lip balms, hand mirrors, and forgotten mints. Kids will be kids. I thought, smiling inside, sitting more upright to show how real adults stay reverent during the Sacrament.
The girl with the long silky hair tugged at my elbow. She cupped her hands, as if protecting an injured little bird, and hovered over my open palms.
"Sorry, this is the only thing we have." She dipped her head apologetically and deposited her hidden gift in my hands. It was a mangy candy land pink teddy bear keychain. The fur was slightly caked with suspicious stains and the rust on the keychain indicated its love worn status.
I knitted my eyebrows in obvious confusion. "For me?"
She nodded enthusiastically and leaned in and whispered, "We want you to remember us. Tell the girls in China that we said hi. And let them know that there are other girls in Philippines who also like going to church as much as they do."
I swallowed. The other two girls peeked behind in the first and nodded their joint excitement at the gift. I turned back to the speaker, simply overwhelmed.
----
Vatican City
The crowds spilled out of the Vatican City, running mindlessly towards the first shelter in sight. The storm clouds that had hung threateningly all morning finally made good on their promise and poured down vengeance on those unprepared with sturdy umbrellas.
So we started running too. We ran past the guards dressed in anachronistic courtly uniforms, tripped on centuries old cobblestones, and jetted across the large square where the Pope makes his official addresses. The crowds streamed past the crooked old gypsy woman who tried to lift her head to make eye contact while feebly holding her hand out for a spare coin.
I had checked my purse before I reached her and was disappointed that I had only Chinese money. My mom always reminded us to bring a few extra coins for the needy but I was simply out of Euros. Apologetically, I avoided her gaze and rushed past. After reaching a dry spot, I looked around for my little brother, Cody. I anxiously scanned the crowds and saw him standing out there in the rain, hesitating. He had seen her too. He stuck his hand into one pocket. Nothing. Another pocket. Spare gum. Some burly guy ran past Cody, knocking into his left shoulder, and shot the gypsy a disgusted look. Cody walked over to the old woman, bent down slightly, and held out his umbrella. He nodded briefly at her to let her know it was ok, threw on his hood, and sprinted for the columns where I stood watching.
All around, hundreds of Christians who had just glimpsed in awe God and Adam's near touch at the Sistine Chapel ran past, barely noticing the huddled figure and her new umbrella near the fire hydrant.
Lining up for the Vatican City
1 comment:
Yep. I love the Messicks.
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