Putting your hand to the plow

Image from http://iowahomestead.wordpress.com/

There is a short dialogue in the Gospel of Luke that goes like this:

Yet another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” 

Jesus said to him, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

It's a short dialogue, one in a series of three in Luke 9. A few weekends ago I heard a pastor link it to the call of Elisha in 1 Kings 19:

So [Elijah] departed from there and found Elisha the son of Shaphat, who was plowing with twelve yoke of oxen in front of him, and he was with the twelfth. Elijah passed by him and cast his cloak upon him. And he left the oxen and ran after Elijah and said, “Let me kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow you.” And he said to him, “Go back again, for what have I done to you?” And he returned from following him and took the yoke of oxen and sacrificed them and boiled their flesh with the yokes of the oxen and gave it to the people, and they ate. Then he arose and went after Elijah and assisted him.

The pastor later likened this to a business owner burning down his business (as opposed to selling it) to be overseas missionaries. (If you want to listen for yourself, go to 29:50 here.)

It got me thinking. One of the reasons that coming back to the US has been so difficult for me was that I took my hand off the plow and didn't turn back. I was in China; I didn't need to maintain all my professional ties (e.g. organizations, departments) in the US. I was in China; I didn't need to save or invest money in the US. I was in China; I didn't really need to keep up on all the ins and outs of US living.

It's not that I couldn't have done those things. It's not that it wouldn't have been useful in some ways. It just seemed superfluous. "I'm not there (US); I'm here (China)." I missed a decade of raises, promotions, and professional development; relationships, family history, and community investment.

Paths diverged. I took my hands off the plow. I burned it. I didn't look back. Then I had to return, without plow and without vision.

Trying to make ends meet

Northwest Arkansas is a good place to be, though not without its struggles.

The disparity is obvious.

There are obvious advantages to living in the US generally, and Fayetteville, Arkansas, specifically. I've written some about these before. Clean air is a wonderful thing, as is safer food. Crossing the street in considerably less dangerous. The internet is open (i.e. no Great Firewall of China). Green space is abundant. Fayetteville bike trails are amazing; I can commute by bike without traffic concerns in 35 minutes. Considerably less time is spent driving in Fayetteville than in Texas, so my gas bills are way lower.

But in the US my family will barely scratch by. With government-backed medical coverage for the kids, we'll scratch by.

I've been running numbers through our budget. If we stop spending money from one account, Liao Sha and the kids may be able to go back to China for a month or so toward the end of the summer, but I'm not sure when another opportunity would arise. I think we can save $100 a month toward our next used car. I think we can afford to save $50 for each child each month. After that? Retirement funds? They don't exist.  Toys for the kids? Maybe I could take it out of their savings...

I never thought about problems like these in China. We lived in a developing country, but my job supported a modest, frugal living standard. I had health insurance through my employer, and medical care was (comparatively) cheap even without it; I don't recall ever using it. But in the US, even with employer-sponsored health insurance, we'll pay a not insignificant amount each month, not to mention the high deductible. Thankfully we're in good shape.

In China, we were able to purchase a home (a loan, at least) and make early payments. Money for a down payment on our own home here in the US? I don't know where it will come from, not without selling our home in China, which would feel akin to saying we don't plan to return, especially since the mortgage is being paid by renters. In China we were able to give and lend money to many people and causes, but we'll be hard-pressed to do much of that here.

Then again, I've heard someone say (paraphrased), "It's not giving unless it interrupts your lifestyle."

A pastor at a church we attended last week gave an example of a household with a $70,000 income, and then rhetorically asked what happens when they get a raise to $80,000? His answer: They think they should no live at their $80,000 level. Hearing this, I thought: "Am I among people who think that $70,000 or $80,000 is a normal salary?

I'll never see that much. Nowhere close to that much. Not without major occupational changes.

I didn't go into teaching for a high salary or high standard of living. I didn't go to China for a high salary or high standard of living. It's never really bothered me, and I don't really care about standard of living now. But I've also never before had to face the reality of being almost poor (lower lower middle class) with a family.

This a learning experience like I've never had before. The learning curve is steep, and the margin for error is small. I'm sure I'll learn a lot along the way. Let the good times roll!

Between two selves

Present life often seems more like a child's scribbles than a well-composed narrative.

How long before I'm whole again? When does the feeling of weightlessness lift? When does life cease to feel like a mirage.

This morning I received an email from one of my closest friends (in China) about his new album, including songs we once performed as a duo and in our short-lived band Tarheel. I quickly downloaded it and ran through the tracks. Memories flooded back as if from a past life. Where am I?

Two months ago I wrote this:

I wake up every morning knowing that I'm in Texas, knowing that I'm at my father's home, knowing that ahead of me is a day of activities mostly revolved around getting a job and getting my family into its own quarters. At the same time, I wake up every day as if in a dream, as if I could wake up and still be in Changsha, in my apartment, in my bed, breathing emphysema-inducing pollution, ready to face a new day.
I'm not really here.

Now two months on, not much has really changed. I have new habits (e.g. making coffee daily as opposed to just on the weekends; checking out library books). I have new craft beers. I have new friends (whom I will soon basically leave behind again). I have a new, much less polluted environment.

But I'm still not fully here.

I suppose I would describe it as being two selves. There was the self I knew, the self of my post-university adulthood. That was the China self, the self that had grown confident, capable, comfortable in its own skin. The China self knew its place in the world, or at least thought it did, which is almost one in the same. The China self is the self of my memories.

Then there's the self I'm still trying to get a feel for: the new US self. This is the self that's somewhat uncomfortable, somewhat ill-fitting, and completely unsure. The US self doesn't know its place. The US self has no cache of memories or anecdotes to draw on. There have been both losses and gains, but the US self still doesn't know how to react.

What happened to China? It seems a world away, and it kind of is. It seems a lifetime ago, if it ever happened at all. Perhaps I'm Rip Van Winkle and I've awoken from a decade-long Chinese nap, bewildered by what has changed and what hasn't.

I'm watching cardinals hop around in my backyard. Cardinals are odd to me. They're completely ill-suited to a green environment, yet they persist, they survive, and they even seem to thrive.

Fatherhood and "danger" in the US

Standing on the edge having just climbed the retaining wall

In China I somewhat prided myself in the fact that we let our son do things that many Chinese parents and grandparents simply would not let their kids do. I liked that my son did "dangerous" things like jumping off ledges twice as tall as himself, climbing ladders a month after he started walking, putting sand on his head, running on the grass. (Yes, I've actually heard Chinese grandparents tell their grandchildren not to run while on grass because it's dangerous.)

Now in the US I find myself nervous. I know CPS employees and hear their stories. I hear other parents comment about what kids can and can't do. I feel like I'm on a fence, trying not to fall off into the "irresponsible parent" side.

Here are some questions I've found myself asking, some to myself and some out loud, some more ridiculous than others:

• If I get a tricycle for my son, will he need a bike helmet?
• Is it okay that I let him run around the backyard shoeless, knowing that there are occasional sand burrs in the grass?
• Can I just let him play in the mud in the mostly dry creek bed?
• People won't think we're neglecting him because his hair is long, will they?
• It's okay to let him climb up the retaining wall, right?
• Should I tell him not to walk on top of the retaining wall?
• Will I get blamed if he gets bit by a snake or a black widow?

I know why I'm nervous. It seems all Chinese have heard the story (it may have been a movie) of a Chinese parent losing custody of their children in the US after giving the child a cupping treatment. Cupping is thought to prevent certain illnesses, and the process leads to large bruises. In the US, this was considered abuse. I've been asked by many Chinese, "Is this true? Would police really take away children for this?"

I don't know if CPS would take children away for cupping or not. If so, it really reveals a lack of cultural knowledge and a hypersensitive idea of what constitutes a danger to a child's wellbeing.

But could they? It has me worried. How crazy is it in the US now?

The scary thing is that I don't know. The funny thing is also that I don't know.

Both homes have their strengths and weaknesses

I naturally gravitate towards thoughts of what I lack rather than what I have. I have to remind myself to look at what I already have and have been given. I would guess most people naturally do the same, but I don't want to presume too much.

Unexpectedly back in the US, I have to remind myself often of the good things I have here. People in China used to ask me whether China or the US was a better place. I used to respond that they both have strengths and weaknesses. Now I remind myself that my life in both places, though different, had and have both good aspects and not as good. Let me alternate through a few, eleven to be exact.

Advantage US: The food is safer here. That is, we worry less that unsafe food is going to hurt us.

Advantage China: Changsha has public transit; it's wonderful. The US built up around car culture, and now we all basically need them and their accompanying expenses. I hate it on a daily basis.

Advantage US: The air is cleaner here. The air pollution in Changsha is is nothing to sneeze at (but coughing is certainly likely).

Advantage China: In Changsha, basically everything you needed for daily life could be obtained just outside your door. In the US, residential and business areas are often quite separate.


Advantage US: In the US, my son can get the medical care he needs. In Changsha, he'd would already undoubtedly be mentally handicapped. (This is obviously a HUGE plus for the US.)

Advantage China: In Changsha my kids had regular playmates. I mean, we walk outside and there are all the kids in the development playing together outside. Here... You all know what it's like in the US: play dates, meeting times, etc. My kids have take a huge social step back.


Advantage US: In the US, I don't have to think about people going crazy about my kids, trying to touch them, prod them, etc. Here we're just a normal family, which I appreciate.

Advantage China: I miss the the renao, the commotion, of China. Social activities and social venues might be loud and busy in the States, but they're nothing line Changsha. On a recent date with my wife, did we pick a quite romantic location? Nope. It was a loud "grill and bar"/ We felt right at home.


Advantage US: The internet in the US is wide open, so I don't need a vpn to access internet content or blog. If I couldn't access Youtube, I'd have no way to take the courses in which I'm currently enrolled.

Advantage China: I had better reading times in Changsha. The 45-60 minutes I spent on buses commuting to and from work were great reading times. Now I'm busy at home (like I was in Changsha). I will be busy at work (like I was in Changsha). But given the lack of public transportation options in most of the US, reading times have become harder to locate.


Advantage US: The US public library system is amazing! Of course it could be better, as could all things, but I certainly won't complain.

Advantage (mostly) China: We're now considered a low-income family. That just adds a stressor I didn't have before. In other ways it's a positive: It will force us to be more creative; we'll rely more on faith; we'll truly be laobaixing. And I can be thankful that China taught me to be low demand with regards to my material environment.

Different communities

Saturday evening my wife an I went on our first date since early October. It was everything I could've hoped for. We had coffee. She drove in an empty parking lot. We had dinner. We shopped a bit. I joked about leaving town and not coming back.

It was a rough 5+ months. Obviously we should not wait so long between dates, so why did we wait so long?

There's a certain cultural adjustment that needed to be made and will continue to be needed: Babysitting.

In China, this was so much easier for us.

On one hand, there were a relatively large number of expats (not all American or even North American) who were willing to watch our kids. Some even asked to do so, inviting us to go out. Here the important factor was not entirely cultural, but mostly relational. We'd been there a long time. We knew people we could trust. People knew us and wanted to help. The only cultural aspect was that expats seem to become more helpful toward and rely on one another a bit more than people do in the US, so asking for help is less awkward.

The bigger cultural difference is family.

In the US I have to recognize that my parents have their own lives. They have their own friends, their own interests, and their own events, all of which need to be considered. Given that living with them is already a major act of generosity on their part, asking even more help to watch kids is a bit sensitive. At least, it feels that way to us.

Things aren't the same in China. It's not that Liao Sha's parents don't have their own lives, their own friends, their own interests, etc. It simply that family trumps all in China. As my wife has said, "Family are the only people you never have to worry about asking for help." We didn't overuse their help, but we didn't feel constrained from asking either.

I'm not blaming my parents or praising Liao Sha's. It's simply that the culture is different, and in lieu of having enough money for a trustworthy babysitter or living near people who can/will take care of your children, adjustments need to be made. We're still in the adjustment process.

From the mouths of babes

I took a walk Thursday afternoon and had a thought: If my son could express his thoughts more fully, what would he be thinking right now? What questions would he be asking? What would he think of his daddy?

My eldest taking a picture of my with his "camera".

Below is what I think he might be thinking:


I like it here in the US. I only have to wear one shirt in the house, not a full wardrobe like in China. I wonder when we'll go back and see grandma and grandpa and uncle and auntie. I miss the playground and the other boys outside our home.

I like playing with kids here, but we always have to sit in the car for so long before we see any of them. My favorite is when my cousin comes over. But mama says we won't see him so much. I don't know why they said that, but it makes me sad. They said I'll make new friends. Again?

What happened to our food? What happened to the food grandma used to make. Why do we basically only have spinach? What happened to all the other green leafy vegetables? And what's with casseroles? Seriously, people here eat that?

I'm not sure why daddy's home all day. I like seeing him. He doesn't seem like he likes seeing me. He spends all day typing on the computer or talking on the phone. He gets angry all me a lot when I'm playing, especially when grandpa's home, or when I hit the dog or my brother. He says I'm too loud. He seems sad. I don't what I should do.

I hate doctors. And dentists! Fie on them!

My little brother sure has to go to the doctor a lot. Mom and dad say he's sick. He doesn't seem sick. Well, he does have a runny nose, I guess, but so do I.

Mostly I just need to keep an eye on mama. I remember she was gone for a long time before we came to the US. I can't let her out of my sight now. If she's gone again, maybe I won't find her again. Amos knows what I mean; that's why he cries for mama all the time. Why can he do it but I can't?

I can't wait until grandma gets home so we can play blocks.


My goal over the next few weeks is to give my kids the relaxed fun daddy; I fear they've become too accustomed to the stress-out, on-edge daddy.

Are relationships supposed to be considered distractions?

Leaving the local public library this morning after the children's story time, I overheard a conversation between two mothers. It dealt with where they chose to do their grocery shopping. It was distinctly American.

The relevant part and point of agreement went something like this:

I don't go to Brookshire's to shop because every time I go I run into someone I know. You stop and chat, and then it takes an hour to finish everything.

It caught my cultural attention because it exemplified a very American value: efficiency. The problem was that running into people one knows requires an investment in time. This time investment disrupts the person's carefully constructed schedule, thus lowering efficiency. Socializing is at odds with productivity. In the end, this mother considered the social aspects of life a distraction from efficient use of time.

I simply can't imagine this being generally true in China. Isn't running into people the very thing that makes shopping enjoyable? Yes, people in China are also busy. In many ways they have less free time than their US counterparts. But that someone would desire efficiency over meeting friends or even acquaintances is virtually unthinkable. Occasionally one might be in a bad mood and prefer to be alone, but it's not a trend. I daresay that meeting people when doing one's shopping is the preferred phenomenon. Efficiency and productivity does not trump social interaction.

There's a lot more that could be said, but it's enough to draw attention to the distinctly different value system. It caught me off guard. Not knowing anyone in this city, I never run into people I know. This encounter reminded me that I'm in a different place.

American isolationism

How do you throw a birthday party in China? Take food out to the playground. The guests will already be there.

The US has anything but an isolationist foreign policy. This seems to be in stark contrast to the way modern life and society seem to work in the US. At least that's my take on it.

I am an extrovert (though not as out-going as I'd like), and I have been almost continually lonely since I've been back to the US. Yes, my wife and children are around me. Yes, I see family everyday, as we still live together. My reprieves are two morning men's groups (Thursday at 6:30 a.m. and Friday at 6:00 a.m.), a Tuesday night gathering of mostly young families, and Sunday late morning and early afternoon at a Chinese church in Fort Worth. This may seem like a lot to some, but it's a struggle for me.

Part of the blame is my own. Despite trying to live as normally as possible in this small town, I admit that I've neglected to pursue a few community involvement ideas simply because I know I could be gone at basically any time. Also, not yet having a job, living off the charity of others, it doesn't seem wise to go out to social events that require spending. And with the cold winter we're having in the US, people aren't outside hanging out much. Options are limited.

Where do people congregate here? Perhaps a better question is whether people do congregate. To hear people talk, once out of college, you've basically got bars and churches. I find the habits I'd built in China are all but useless right now. There aren't dozens of people and children just walking around outside in a central location, playing, talking, laughing. There aren't events like English corners or  discussion just popping up for no reason other than to have one. There aren't hundreds of people who are all next-door neighbors.

Of course there are other factors. Living with my family, for example, means it's not my home. I can't just invite people over, especially not families with young children. Nevertheless, even if we were in our own place, I suspect it would be difficult. Makes me yearn for the days of apartment living.

What non-work, non-church, non-bar things do you do you to meet people and socialize in the US?

What are parents for?

What would you ask your parents to do for you? What wouldn't you ask them to do? Do you worry about burdening them? About asking too much?

The last whole family picture (minus sister-in-law and nephew) taken in China

Being in the US living with my family has shed light on a major area of cultural difference between how my wife and I view our relationships to our parents, and if I be so bold, between Americans and Chinese in general. It is a clear division between collectivist and individualist thinking. It causes me not a little tension.

Since we've been in the US, we've had to ask Liao Sha's mother and father to help us do numerous things back in Changsha. Some of these things have required them to spend money. All of them have required expenditures of time. One day I expressed that I feel bad that we're here but still bothering them so much, that we're still interfering in their lives. Liao Sha looked at me and said, "We don't think like that. Parents are the only people we never have to worry about bothering."

I don't think like that here with my family. I am constantly doing chores so as to "do my fair share." We make sure to buy enough vegetables and whatnot so that everyone can eat, figuring (a) it's the least we can do given that we're not paying rent and are interfering with their daily lives, and (b) it's a way of "pulling our own weight". Whereas if in Changsha, we'd be training Amos to comfort himself to sleep, we don't dare do so here for fear of bothering everyone.

Do you see the contrast? Raised in an individualist, highly independence-minded culture, living with my parents is embarrassing enough without causing extra strain on them. Thus, I worry about being a burden. Raised in a collectivist, community-minded culture, living with parents would be completely normal, and asking parents for help is 理所当然, a matter of course. Thus, Liao Sha lives at complete ease, never worrying about being a burden to her family.

What do I want my sons to know? How do I want my sons to think about Liao Sha and me when they grow up? I imagine the healthiest of views is somewhere in the middle, but how do we get there?