We arrived at the Vancouver airport late on Monday night with 19 pieces of luggage in tow.
It was cold, yet we were wearing cropped pants and flip flops which would enable us to be comfortably dressed at our final destination. (I figured we’d only be inside airports for our connecting flights, so it didn’t really matter the temperature outside in those cities.)
The most stressful part was checking in all our luggage. The weight limitation policy is stringent, and I was worried we’d end up paying through the teeth in extra fees. When you’re trying to pack for four people to live at least three years in a third world country, you need all the luggage space you can get! But “somehow” every piece was under 50lbs. and we only had to pay for three extra suitcases. We were very relieved to move past check-in and go through security.
We all breezed through security except for little Miá. We had put about 30 packages of deodorant in her carry-on, and the security people couldn’t understand why anyone would need that much sweat protection. Especially a little girl her size. Once we explained that you can’t buy deodorant in Southeast Asia, they let us go. Although they were snickering as we walked away…
We were so thankful to finally be on our flight heading west to Beijing. The flight was 10 hours and 45 minutes. We had four seats together in the middle of the plane, so Mia stretched out over all of us and slept solidly the whole flight. The rest of us, not so much. But we did enjoy watching the movies on the plane. That was pretty cool.
We arrived in Beijing around 5am their time. The first thing we noticed was – IT’S COLD! I mean it was freezing cold. Colder than Canada. I never imagined it got this cold anywhere in the world except maybe Antarctica. But we were staying inside, so no big deal, right?
Wrong!
Because it was so early, there weren’t many people around to tell us where to go or what to do. We went first to “International Transfers” since we were connecting to a flight going to another country, but the officer said to follow him – which we did – to another office for a daypass visa in China.
“Um, babe, why do we need a visa for China? We’re flying out of here in 2 hours,” was the question I posed to CJ. He was just as confused as I was.
But the nice Chinese police man who speaks no English surely is telling us the right thing to do, right?
So we filled out paperwork and went through immigration.
OK. Now what?
Anyone who looked like they worked at the airport, I asked them, “Do you speak English? Can you tell us where to go?” They would shake their heads up and down, but they continued to smile and say, “No. No.”
Then I finally got one officer to look at our boarding passes and he pointed to a train. He said, “You go that way.”
Anyway, to make a long story short, we ended up riding the train to a different building. Inside there, we went through a maze of hallways, up several elevators and when the door finally opened in the domestic terminal for China’s capital city airport, we found all the people. It was a madhouse of people everywhere!
We kept asking people along the way where to go. “Are you sure? Is this right? We go here?”
Eventually we found the place where our plane was supposed to board. We did notice that not only was the city that we were moving to listed, but it also said “Kunming.”
Huh. Wonder where that is? Little did I know we would be seeing another Chinese city first hand within a couple of hours.
The other thing we noticed was outside the door next to our gate, we had to board a tram to take us to our airplane. That tram drove us out to the tarmac and let us out about 50 yards from our plane.
Did I mention we were wearing flip flops, short pants and short sleeves? I think it’s the coldest I’ve ever felt in my entire life. The funny thing was all the Asian people kept looking at us and laughing.
They would elbow their cohorts and point at us, surely thinking, “those crazy Americans.”
We did meet one elderly lady who grew up in the city we were moving to. She spoke a little broken English. She was traveling back to her hometown with her son and grandchildren. Because of our obvious ineptitude, she took us under her wings and guided us the rest of the way to our final destination.
Oh yeah, we flew to Kunming first and landed there, taking with us all our carry-on luggage. Once again we went through immigration and customs. More pointing. More giggling at our cluelessness.
But finally we were on a plane that would land in the city that has been stirring in our hearts for nearly two years.
We left a chilly Vancouver and an even colder China and finally arrived in our warm and sunny city. As we walked through the airport and down an escalator towards immigration, we saw our new teammates through the glass windows below. They were waving signs that read, “Welcome Johnson Family!”
It felt as if I had been holding my breath for a very long time, but at that moment, I finally exhaled. I was smiling through tears of joy.
We’re here. But not only that… we’re home.
It’s been a long time coming. It’s been months and years filled with questions, concerns and pryers. But ultimately this is where we were called to be, and we are anxious to begin the work we came here to do.
Can I just take a moment to thank all our partners who have been with us through every step of this journey? You have been lifting us up, supporting us, loving us and our families at home, you’ve remembered us in your daily petitions and you have completely filled our hearts. I don’t have the words to fully explain how crucial your role is in all this. Thank you just doesn’t feel adequate for the love and appreciation we feel for your participation in this process.
It is my goal to enable our partners to be a part of the work we do here. I’m not sure how that’s going to work because internet and technology are so limited here. (If you only knew what we had to go through just to post this blog…) But I want you to see what we see and hear what we hear. I want you to feel the burden of such immense darkness and then experience the crash of light that comes from seeing lost sheep found. I really want our partners to be able to walk this path with us side by side, even from a continent on the other side of the world. It’s something I feel strongly convicted about, so it is both a pryer and my goal.
This journey is just beginning.
Let’s do this together.
Here we go…
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Friday, January 6, 2012
The cure for what ails you
All along this journey we meet people. People of all shapes, sizes, colors, nationalities, backgrounds, beliefs... you get the picture. Everyone we meet is different and no conversation is ever the same. Except what we expect to get out of that conversation.
Every conversation we hope to, in some way, share Him. Share His love. Share His truth.
Some conversations naturally transition. Others we have to work hard to do that.
Likewise, some conversations end with positive responses and we rejoice and follow up.
Others end without any sign of understanding or desire to go deeper. We deal with that and lift them up to Dad for His intervention.
Tonight we were having dinner with a bunch of colleagues - all of whom share the same convictions, calling and training. We had concluded a small work project and decided to patronize a local restaurant.
It was a delightful dinner even with a table of 13 including kids. Our waiter was great. He served our table with ease despite the many calls for refills and split checks and the like.
When I told him he was doing a great job he replied with a smile, "This is not my first rodeo."
At the end of the night, it was our waiter who initiated the conversation.
Maybe he was hoping for a bigger tip. Maybe he was just interested in who we were (we're all obviously not from Canada.) Whatever the reason, he started it.
As he spoke of his life, my heart just broke for him.
No. He didn't have any sad story. He was just lost. Completely lost.
I think all of us at that table tried in someway to turn that conversation.
We tried to get him to realize his "lostness" hoping that we could point to the right direction.
CJ even tried to simply tell him that we'd talk to Father for him if that was ok.
But he didn't want it. He was completely closed to the concept.
And that's ok. Except, it just wasn't ok.
I honestly wanted to cry. And that doesn't happen to me often.
We've experienced multitudes of this kind of closed response throughout our time in Vancouver, so I'm not sure why this particular conversation hit me so hard.
Even our trainer who is in town from Southeast Asia and having dinner with us shrugged his shoulders and said, "It's in His hands." And he is right.
I sat there as everyone else at our table got up and started putting on coats and scarves, preparing to leave. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.
This very nice waiter who seems to know how to do everything right is dying. You know what I mean, right?
He's dying, lost.
Let me ask you a question. If you knew someone was dying of a disease, but you had the perfect cure that would save their life, wouldn't you give it to them?
The more and more time we spend in this city, the more my heart breaks for those who are dying. And even though we hold out to them in our hands the cure to save their life, they reject it.
"No thanks" they say.
I wonder how He must feel when they reject Him.
So we put on our happy faces and walk on. All the while we're lifting the lost up to Dad for His intervention.
I would have a page full of names if I listed every person in Vancouver who has said "no thanks" to the cure we offer them, but for some reason tonight, I feel convicted to share his name - the waiter who is lost.
His name is Shane.
Would you please talk to Dad on Shane's behalf? Ask that Shane would continue to be offered the cure for lostness and that when it's His will, Shane would accept.
It is my hope that you, also, will share the cure your carry in your heart with those who need it.
"He is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance." The ninth verse of the third chapter of the second book of Peter.
Every conversation we hope to, in some way, share Him. Share His love. Share His truth.
Some conversations naturally transition. Others we have to work hard to do that.
Likewise, some conversations end with positive responses and we rejoice and follow up.
Others end without any sign of understanding or desire to go deeper. We deal with that and lift them up to Dad for His intervention.
Tonight we were having dinner with a bunch of colleagues - all of whom share the same convictions, calling and training. We had concluded a small work project and decided to patronize a local restaurant.
It was a delightful dinner even with a table of 13 including kids. Our waiter was great. He served our table with ease despite the many calls for refills and split checks and the like.
When I told him he was doing a great job he replied with a smile, "This is not my first rodeo."
At the end of the night, it was our waiter who initiated the conversation.
Maybe he was hoping for a bigger tip. Maybe he was just interested in who we were (we're all obviously not from Canada.) Whatever the reason, he started it.
As he spoke of his life, my heart just broke for him.
No. He didn't have any sad story. He was just lost. Completely lost.
I think all of us at that table tried in someway to turn that conversation.
We tried to get him to realize his "lostness" hoping that we could point to the right direction.
CJ even tried to simply tell him that we'd talk to Father for him if that was ok.
But he didn't want it. He was completely closed to the concept.
And that's ok. Except, it just wasn't ok.
I honestly wanted to cry. And that doesn't happen to me often.
We've experienced multitudes of this kind of closed response throughout our time in Vancouver, so I'm not sure why this particular conversation hit me so hard.
Even our trainer who is in town from Southeast Asia and having dinner with us shrugged his shoulders and said, "It's in His hands." And he is right.
I sat there as everyone else at our table got up and started putting on coats and scarves, preparing to leave. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.
This very nice waiter who seems to know how to do everything right is dying. You know what I mean, right?
He's dying, lost.
Let me ask you a question. If you knew someone was dying of a disease, but you had the perfect cure that would save their life, wouldn't you give it to them?
The more and more time we spend in this city, the more my heart breaks for those who are dying. And even though we hold out to them in our hands the cure to save their life, they reject it.
"No thanks" they say.
I wonder how He must feel when they reject Him.
So we put on our happy faces and walk on. All the while we're lifting the lost up to Dad for His intervention.
I would have a page full of names if I listed every person in Vancouver who has said "no thanks" to the cure we offer them, but for some reason tonight, I feel convicted to share his name - the waiter who is lost.
His name is Shane.
Would you please talk to Dad on Shane's behalf? Ask that Shane would continue to be offered the cure for lostness and that when it's His will, Shane would accept.
It is my hope that you, also, will share the cure your carry in your heart with those who need it.
"He is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance." The ninth verse of the third chapter of the second book of Peter.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Attention Partners!
We officially have confirmed flights to our new city! Yippee! Departing here at 2am (PST) - Yes, A.M. - Tuesday, Jan. 24 arriving around 1:30pm Jan. 25 in that time zone (they're 14.5 hours ahead of us here, I think?)
As I was preparing to post this as a Facebook comment, I realized this time zone, date line, flight schedule thing can be kinda complicated. And because we need you to be lifting us up, I'm going to try to explain this in a little more detail.
So here it is broken down:
We will begin our journey late on Monday night, January 23. We'll probably try to get to the airport around 11pm our time - that's like 1am (early Tuesday) for our friends in Mississippi or 2am for (EST) Tennessee & Florida folk.
Our flight is supposed to be 10 hours and 43 minutes, give or take a few.
We'll have a two and a half layover in Beijing.
From Beijing we fly directly to our final destination, arriving in our beloved city around 1:30pm on Wednesday, Jan. 25. That will be around 1am in Mississippi or 2am in the Eastern U.S. on the same day. (Central Time friends will be behind us 12 1/2 hours. EST partners will be behind us 11 1/2 hours. - Remember this for future reference as well.)
I know by the general appearance of the schedule, it looks like we're in the air for 36 hours. Actually between two flights, our airtime is really only about 14 hours. We cross over the international dateline as we fly west from Vancouver towards China.
So I know you're asking, what does this mean to me?
This means that from the time you wake up on Tuesday morning (Jan. 24) until the wee hours of the next day (Jan. 25) we'll be flying, and we desperately covet your petitions to Father on our behalf during this time.
If you've read any of my blog posts in the past, you know I'm not crazy about flying. Never have been. Also little Mia has a tendency to throw up on air planes - even short flights. I'm sorry to be so plain about that, but there's just no other way to say it. (Can you say, dramamine?)
In addition to those challenges, there's our 18 pieces of luggage, connections, jet lag, immigration/customs on the other side and so much more for you to be lifting up.
So right now, go to your calendar and circle Jan. 24 in red. Highlight the date on your iCalendar. Set an alarm on your mobile phone. Whatever! Just please be talking to Dad throughout the day for us on that special day.
We are so excited to finally be going where we feel called to be. Our training has been rigorous and challenging, yet fitting for our task.
Like a basketball player just waiting on the starting whistle to blow so that he can grab the ball and start the game, we are ready and waiting...
LET'S GO!
As I was preparing to post this as a Facebook comment, I realized this time zone, date line, flight schedule thing can be kinda complicated. And because we need you to be lifting us up, I'm going to try to explain this in a little more detail.
So here it is broken down:
We will begin our journey late on Monday night, January 23. We'll probably try to get to the airport around 11pm our time - that's like 1am (early Tuesday) for our friends in Mississippi or 2am for (EST) Tennessee & Florida folk.
Our flight is supposed to be 10 hours and 43 minutes, give or take a few.
We'll have a two and a half layover in Beijing.
From Beijing we fly directly to our final destination, arriving in our beloved city around 1:30pm on Wednesday, Jan. 25. That will be around 1am in Mississippi or 2am in the Eastern U.S. on the same day. (Central Time friends will be behind us 12 1/2 hours. EST partners will be behind us 11 1/2 hours. - Remember this for future reference as well.)
I know by the general appearance of the schedule, it looks like we're in the air for 36 hours. Actually between two flights, our airtime is really only about 14 hours. We cross over the international dateline as we fly west from Vancouver towards China.
So I know you're asking, what does this mean to me?
This means that from the time you wake up on Tuesday morning (Jan. 24) until the wee hours of the next day (Jan. 25) we'll be flying, and we desperately covet your petitions to Father on our behalf during this time.
If you've read any of my blog posts in the past, you know I'm not crazy about flying. Never have been. Also little Mia has a tendency to throw up on air planes - even short flights. I'm sorry to be so plain about that, but there's just no other way to say it. (Can you say, dramamine?)
In addition to those challenges, there's our 18 pieces of luggage, connections, jet lag, immigration/customs on the other side and so much more for you to be lifting up.
So right now, go to your calendar and circle Jan. 24 in red. Highlight the date on your iCalendar. Set an alarm on your mobile phone. Whatever! Just please be talking to Dad throughout the day for us on that special day.
We are so excited to finally be going where we feel called to be. Our training has been rigorous and challenging, yet fitting for our task.
Like a basketball player just waiting on the starting whistle to blow so that he can grab the ball and start the game, we are ready and waiting...
LET'S GO!
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