Loving God and Loving Others

I love markets in the morning. Breakfast vendors flipping pancakes and frying eggs, the Chinese version of a breakfast burrito. Wooden stools and makeshift tables crowd the sidewalks; people come out of their apartments for their daily breakfast fare. Spread on the ground, a man on his stomach crawls his way through the throngs of people. A radio, strapped to his back, blares Chinese opera. Notice me, he says. He's on the ground. It's easy to miss him. People avert their eyes, dodging him with near misses as they clutch their saran wrap thin plastic bags tight. My daughter and I walk through the market towards violin lessons on the other side. I love early mornings, I tell her. I am reminded why I'm living here in this country. While the rich seem to be getting richer, the poor, well, it's the opposite. A soy milk lady's stand. She pours freshly made soy milk into plastic cups for potential customers. An old man sits on a small stool fixing bikes. A pile of sp...

The white days of summer are here. White clouds cover the sky. They're formless, really. These kinds of days are ones that are hard. I struggle as it is to find beauty here. I truly want to. My eyes scan the horizon. I'm a naturalist, according to Gary Thomas's Sacred Pathways assessment. I feel God's presence most when I'm surrounded by nature. I don't have much of that here. Over the years I've seen the effort to plant more trees, and I've appreciated it. But it's not enough. Or so it seems. See, these days present choices for me. A choice to wake up and smile regardless of the presence of sunlight or not. My second son, the one with great perspective and lots of joy, his words pierce my heart this morning. "What a beautiful day, Mommy!" I rub my eyes, wondering if he sees what I see. Apparently not. The trees outside are growing. When we moved into this complex of 30,000 people, the trees were newly planted, sticking up from the har...