After all, it was nearly 11pm on a long and very full commuter train running back to my neighborhood in the suburbs. It was the first train ride I'd taken since returning to Singapore on August 17th.
I'd been in the states for 2 1/2 months this summer. It was a full summer of conferences, and doctors appointments, and meeting with leaders in our supporting churches, soaking up time with my sons who are both now studying in USA, and time with our parents (who now in their 70's and 80's are not getting any younger).
But here I am, back in the Lion City of 6 million riding a train late at night. I'm getting my feet back under myself with relationships and figuring out My new life as an "empty nester" missionary.
At the very next train stop they board through the door where I'm standing:
Who? The parents of the neighbor girl I'd written about before. Yi Hui, the little stray child of our government housing apartment blocks. For the past 3 years she and I have had quite a journey together in navigating a vastly cross cultural relationship that has redefined my definition of significance and meaning. Knowing her has helped me learn better to hear God's voice of guidance (desperation helps us learn many important lessons), as well as grow charity in the hearts of my teenaged sons because of their personal sacrifice and the inconvenience having had her around much of the time. She's been a regular fixture by my side, in our home, and in our church these past few years. Once, two years ago, when he saw her sillouette in his doorway too early on a Saturday morning, my older son Tyler asked, "Where are the hidden cameras? I feel like my life is a reality TV show."
She has been our own little version of "The Blind Side," only she'll never turn out a professional football player. She's not likely to turn out to be a professional anything. But there had been no getting around that she was a direct answer to prayer for how we might tangibly and sacrificially love our neighbors and be a light for Christ in our neighborhood full of deep, but hidden, needs.
And here on my train, in my car, the only time I've taken public transportation all week, are her parents. Right there in front of me in the doorway of the crowded train proclaiming, "Wah! Aunty Kimberly!!" They are loud enough for everyone in the car to hear. Though the chance of bumping into them like this are incredibly slim, it's hardly a surprise to me. How many times these past 3 years, have I just bumped into the members of this family when running errands in our densely populated neighborhood? It's unreal really. But it has become my normal.
They enter the train lit up to see me. These, the mystery missing parents of Yi Hui. These absentee parents who, mostly out of ignorance and long working hours, have done a criminal's job of not raising their child. These same parents started out so hostile toward me. I was a strange foreigner whom their daughter was spending time with (and causing neighbor's tongues to wag). Now they've become Joshua and Chen Ping who were so happy to see me that they placed a call to Yi Hui while on the train to say, "Guess who is on the train right now?" Joshua handed me his phone to me to talk to her
We chatter in Chinese as best as I can manage, and I'm glad for the foundation I had investing 2 solid years in language study back in 1997 (even though the national language of Singapore is English, it sure comes in handy with immigrants and those who were Chinese educated or are not well educated).
"Yes," they agree. "Yi Hui has really sprouted up this summer." And she is still attending a special school. She is going to school, which is a huge improvement from the days I'd first seen her in school uniform hanging out on the downstairs playground. She'll turn 13 at the end of the month. She'd shown restraint not to call my phone much while I was in USA these weeks. She's been eager for my return, calling my husband instead, and checking with her parents daily, "Is it August 17th yet?"
I had seen her once this first week since my return. She'd been over to my house only yesterday afternoon. She'd been a little awkward to be with me after this long time apart. She's certainly not the feral wild child she used to be. You can tell she's slow, but she smiles most of the time now and answers when people speak to her. She is not wandering around all hours of the day and night. Though she hasn't yet learned to read in any language, she can play a few computer games. I have some preschool games loaded on my iPhone.
A few train stops later we exit the train together, like old friends. As we part ways when we get closer to our apartment blocks, they ask me in Chinese to feel free to come over more often, to zuo zuo, sit awhile. Afterall, with my kids both in USA now, I must be lonely. We could have some tea.
I don't know what's next in God's plan for my investment in their lives, but I'm sure he'll show us. It seems that he has every step of the way. All I know for now is that today Yi Hui came downstairs to see me while I was doing some Saturday marketing. At noon she came by the house while I threw together a tuna sandwich for my husband Jim. She said a shy hello to him, and then I sent her home. Sometimes she calls when she gets back to her house to let me know she did return safely (She'd not had any kind of accountability like this before, and we'd set up our little system a couple years ago).
She knows that we leave for church tomorrow at 10:15, and since she still can't tell time and has probably lost the digital watch we bought her, I encouraged her to ask her dad to wake her up on time.
It's still left to be seen whether she'll make it for church, or even if she will call our cell phones again, before we go to sleep tonight!
