Packages of Hope - China 2005

The very selfish part of me wanted to be with the children in the orphanage the whole time. However, I know this is short-sighted. As much as I just wanted to hold the children, comfort them, and have them comfort me, I had to remind myself to focus upon the long term. I think it is very easy, as a parent, to get caught up in searching for answers to those difficult questions we have about our children, or else, those questions that we think our children will come to ask one day.

I cringe when I think about my dear daughters grasping for answers I can't provide.

Being in China, I had a burning personal desire to seek out all those "whys", "hows", and "whats".

Each time I get close to the gates of an orphanage, a familiar feeling rises up in my stomach. One of them is anger. I have so many things to be mad at - anger for the orphanage for not holding my daughters the way they like to be held, for a society that would leave abandonment as the only option for a mother, and for a system that keeps wonderful children cooped up in orphanages long after the point where they could be adopted by eager, loving parents. These are very personal thoughts, and I realize the causes and solutions are very complex, and that no sane person in the world has any desire to harm children.

Then there are more philosophical levels of anger. I get angry at the color of my skin and the shape of my eyes, for I wish they matched my children's. I am angry at birthparents I don't even know, because they were responsible for my child's birth, when I wish so passionately that it could have been me who conceived my daughters.

As the gates or doors of the orphanage close behind me, my heart beats faster. This is no ordinary building, no ordinary set of rooms. This is Holy ground. This is a place of intense mystery and intense pain. While I may be casually walking through the hallway, with the window permitting a bright sun to illuminate lazy bits of dust suspended in the air, if I close my eyes I am blinded by a maelstrom of energy. This place is filled with prayers, with pain, with loneliness, and with voices crying for each other in the darkness. When I enter a room with children, in my soul I am a frightened sailor far from land, stumbling upon the deck of a small ship caught a howling hurricane.

I tread steadily to the source of all that I know about my family, and then I find myself looking into the eyes of a child, and find myself asking THEM the question, "why". It is at this point that I am confronted with my own selfishness.

It is wholly unfair to have a child in an orphanage comfort ME. How dare I, in the midst of my searching for answers, impose any more discomfort to a child already afloat in a raging dark stormy sea?

I know now my quest for answers leads elsewhere. Moreover, my daughters, if I am so lucky, must first INVITE me to search for answers, if they so choose to do so.

As hard as it was to battle the distractions brought by my "kid-itis", I was determined to have eyes for the future. Other souls would continue this effort, and I wanted to leave them a clearer path. I strived to make a good impression upon as many people as possible and strengthen the lines of communication.

Joe Huo and I had this in mind on my last day in Lanzhou.

Before I had left for China, I had read that Gansu province had a large concentration of the Chinese Muslim minority, the Hui. In preparation I had visited the Orlando mosque, where I spoke to Mr. Bassem Chabaan, who runs "The Center for Peace". This outreach center serves as an open forum for understanding between Orlando's Muslims and the rest of the community.

Mr. Chaaban loaned me a book on the history of Islam in China, and told me that he would be very interested to hear a report upon my return. I said that I would be happy to do so, and asked if I could have a letter from the Center of Peace that I could present to a member of the Lanzhou Muslim community, should I have the opportunity to meet with them.

As it so happened, Mr. Huo was kind enough to arrange a meeting with the head mosque of Gansu province, which was located in Lanzhou, the province capital.

So on Wednesday morning, Joe Huo and I met with the members of the local Islamic council. I had expected that this would be a wonderful opportunity for the increasing of understanding and peace in our world community.

What an incredible experience I was in for.

Zipping off from the hotel in the morning, Joe told me that our destination was the most famous mosque in town. The Xi Guan mosque dated back to the reign of Hongwu (1368-1398). It has been rebuilt or refurbished many times, first in 1684, and most recently in 1986.

The guilded lettering over the entrance was the first thing I noticed as we parked in front of this huge white structure. They were written first in Chinese, then in Arabic, and finally in English: "XIGUAN MOSQUE OF LANZHOU"

Twin minarets, covered in shiny white porcelain tiles, pierced the sky. The mosque itself was not as high as the skyscrapers around it, but the regal spirituality of the curved onion dome of the mosque outshone the utilitarian rectangular secular buildings beside it. It looked to be a haven for the soul, in a world being swallowed by construction and civilization. I am a suburbanite, and the artistic and religious architecture was a welcome draw from the concrete jungle of neon advertisements and the unimaginative rectangular buildings replicated as far as the eye could see.

The courtyard of the mosque was a further image of serenity: the sounds of traffic were muted, and the centerpiece held a very large oak tree, its base below courtyard level. A circular opening around the tree showed only the trunk, and the roots could only be viewed from the opening's edge, looking down at the ground a few feet below.

We were greeted as dignitaries, as we were greeted by a local party member, who was Muslim, and then led into a room where we were presented to the head Imam.

The head Imam, Mr. Yunus Yang Sen, carried the following title:
The Deputy to the National People's Congress
The Commissioner of Islamic Association of China
The President of Islamic Association of Gansu
The Imam of the Xiguan Mosque of Lanzhou.

He indeed looked to be all these things, and more. The 85 year old Imam looked to be as wise as he looked kind. He greeted us with a broad smile, and invited us to sit. As it was Ramadan, he apologized for not being able to offer us any tea or food, as this would violate the fast of the holy month.

I must admit I felt a bit intimidated by the very formal reception. I felt unworthy of such pomp. But I did my best to represent Packages of Hope, my community, and my country in delivering a message of peace and warm greetings to the Hui people of Lanzhou.

The friendly imam, a short white beard carefully manicured from his chin, returned the greeting of peace.

Although I knew some arabic words from my time working in Saudia Arabia, I told the Imam that I was not Muslim. Without hesitation he told me that people of all faiths were welcome here in peace.