Friday is typically my busiest day of the week. I have a nearly full set of classes that day, which means lecturing to about 240 students over the course of six hours, and I just recently resumed my Mandarin lessons with my (amazing!) tutors. This past Friday I was also invited out to a nearby-ish campus by some other foreign teachers with the purpose of remembering why this particular Friday is so Good.
After finishing my classes (and the lunch I'd intended to eat four hours earlier), I ran home to grab an overnight bag before setting off to find the bus to their elusive campus. I wandered around downtown with no luck and finally began asking where to find the stop. Naturally, each person I asked pointed in a different direction and none of them had ever heard of the other school. Finally, I approached a group of young women hoping they'd be a little more knowledgeable. Two of the three were ready to dismiss me then and there, but one immediately responded that she'd ask around and take care of it for me. Y'all, this girl was legit. She asked nearly everyone in sight and wouldn't settle for just pointing me on my way. She had such an unusual calm about her and insisted on seeing me safely to the bus. Of course, this meant a good 30 minute walk around the city center with multiple stops to ask further directions.
We finally arrived at the (unmarked, of course) stop and confirmed with others standing in line that it was indeed correct. Homegirl still hung tight, until I tried to give her some cab money to get back to her waiting friends a little quicker. She sternly scolded me, "I want to be sure you get on this bus safely, but I'll leave if you try to give me money!" The bus arrived and a mad rush of waiting passengers ensued. As I joined in the throngs, I looked back through the crowd of people to thank her one last time and she placed her hands together and said something like "I wish you peace." I was blown away. I still am. Although I'd be remiss not to say that people here have indeed gone out of their way to be hospitable or helpful at times, no one has ever come close to that and no one, perhaps with the exception of the trendy Christmas apples, has ever uttered words even remotely close to that to me here.
As I contorted myself into the only empty space left on the overcrowded bus, I tried not to think about how uncomfortable I was balancing my bags and holding onto the bar above me while the seated young men tried to nap. I tried to ignore the two old men who both seemed to have so much to say to each other all at the same time. I tried not to hear the blaring music of the two passengers that were convinced their (conflicting styles of) music needed to be appreciated by all present over the din of the bus's own speakers full of white noise. I tried not to smell the foul waves of rubbish being burnt by the farmers drifting in through the windows, interrupted only by the occasional waft of body odor. I tried not to think about how the lady next to me was vying for a free massage by intermittently pressing various pressure points along her back into my unfortunate elbow, or how just one wrong swerve could careen us all over the mountainside.
In the face of so much discomfort, I was again struck with the words of my unanticipated guide, "I wish you peace." Peace. Isn't that, after all, the entire reason I was going to see my friends in the first place - to celebrate the One who offers the hope of everlasting peace? Peace that is freely given to all who accept it - not just for me, but also for the napping students, the chatty old men, and everyone else enduring a discomfort far, far less that what was endured on our behalf. Peace that brought me a little much-needed perspective, and peace that continues to give me purpose.
After finishing my classes (and the lunch I'd intended to eat four hours earlier), I ran home to grab an overnight bag before setting off to find the bus to their elusive campus. I wandered around downtown with no luck and finally began asking where to find the stop. Naturally, each person I asked pointed in a different direction and none of them had ever heard of the other school. Finally, I approached a group of young women hoping they'd be a little more knowledgeable. Two of the three were ready to dismiss me then and there, but one immediately responded that she'd ask around and take care of it for me. Y'all, this girl was legit. She asked nearly everyone in sight and wouldn't settle for just pointing me on my way. She had such an unusual calm about her and insisted on seeing me safely to the bus. Of course, this meant a good 30 minute walk around the city center with multiple stops to ask further directions.
We finally arrived at the (unmarked, of course) stop and confirmed with others standing in line that it was indeed correct. Homegirl still hung tight, until I tried to give her some cab money to get back to her waiting friends a little quicker. She sternly scolded me, "I want to be sure you get on this bus safely, but I'll leave if you try to give me money!" The bus arrived and a mad rush of waiting passengers ensued. As I joined in the throngs, I looked back through the crowd of people to thank her one last time and she placed her hands together and said something like "I wish you peace." I was blown away. I still am. Although I'd be remiss not to say that people here have indeed gone out of their way to be hospitable or helpful at times, no one has ever come close to that and no one, perhaps with the exception of the trendy Christmas apples, has ever uttered words even remotely close to that to me here.
As I contorted myself into the only empty space left on the overcrowded bus, I tried not to think about how uncomfortable I was balancing my bags and holding onto the bar above me while the seated young men tried to nap. I tried to ignore the two old men who both seemed to have so much to say to each other all at the same time. I tried not to hear the blaring music of the two passengers that were convinced their (conflicting styles of) music needed to be appreciated by all present over the din of the bus's own speakers full of white noise. I tried not to smell the foul waves of rubbish being burnt by the farmers drifting in through the windows, interrupted only by the occasional waft of body odor. I tried not to think about how the lady next to me was vying for a free massage by intermittently pressing various pressure points along her back into my unfortunate elbow, or how just one wrong swerve could careen us all over the mountainside.
In the face of so much discomfort, I was again struck with the words of my unanticipated guide, "I wish you peace." Peace. Isn't that, after all, the entire reason I was going to see my friends in the first place - to celebrate the One who offers the hope of everlasting peace? Peace that is freely given to all who accept it - not just for me, but also for the napping students, the chatty old men, and everyone else enduring a discomfort far, far less that what was endured on our behalf. Peace that brought me a little much-needed perspective, and peace that continues to give me purpose.
