Qianjiang - return to the orphanage

We returned to the orphange where we saw the donation made from Packages of hope for Milk powder. We estimate that this donation will feed the current children for approximately 4 months. They were extremely appreciative. It was there that I met the new director a young woman named Yang Ai Huan.
(me and Yang Ai Huan, the orphanage's new director)

Sitting in the orphanage director's office, we had a look at several of the letters that the families had sent for me to present to the orphanage director. It was touching to go over these photos and to discuss the familiy's questions. The staff in the room recognized the children readliy and were all smiles to see how happy the children were now.

Of particular interest was a little boy named Jonathan. His story was particularly touching because of Jin YongMing's effort to help the child. The orphanage director had wondered why Jin Yongming had not keept in usual touch with yearly cards of well wishes. We informed the founder of Yongmings untimely passing. and he was affected by great sadness with the news.

We had all worked together so hard as a charity, including the great efforts of Cherrie Turner, as well as the orphanage staff to get help for this child.

It was at this time that we also made a donation for children's undergarments and I was able to see the unfortunately unused water purification system installed by Leane Welsh and A Child's Right. The orphanage director told us that they boil the water for sterilization for the children these days. I have since been informed that A Child's Right is on their way to fix this purification system at the orphanage.

(the current therapy room for the children with Special needs)

(the current play toys for the children. they were inside due to the rain)

(a view of the orphanage staff - from left to right, A nanny at the orphanage He Zhao Qing, former orphanage director Mrs. Cai, a government SWI official, me, the orphanage founder Mr. Yu, former orphanage director Mrs. Lu, and current orphanage director Mrs. Yang)

The orphanage director had a message for the families of Qianjiang: Mrs. Lu spoke first, and she said "Thank you for adopting the babies. I wish angel(babies) and the families much happiness."

It was difficult for me to translate this passage, because the literal word she used was "angels" to refer to the babies, but we are left to interpret the intention of her words in this colloquial expression. It was explained to me that the word was meant as endearing, such as the phrase "precious little angels".

Director Cai said: "I wish the babies from Qianjiang will grow up healthy with the adoptive families with the parents care. It is my wish that all the babies when they grow up, can return and visit Qianjiang." It is my interpretation that this is a formal and heartfelt invitation for the families and children to return back to this place for a visit.

It is my humble opinion that this invitation can be taken by the families as a token of peace and tranquility to the families and their considerations for the hometown and clouded sacred beginnings.

Qianjiang - new orphanage location

(a museum in the center of town)

We sped off from the hotel, and I was happy to take in the sights and sound of town. I had a few requests from families to take some photos of finding spot locations. As an adoptive parent of 2 children born in China, I must say my pulse quickened at the prospect of this task. Buildings whizzed by and my host was busy chatting with Kay in the back seat as I contemplated the nexus of time and space of such an incredibly momentous event. I can only imagine pain and fear, sadness and despair. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to identify each smell that came to me. Damp moist air, a bit of must from inside the car mixed with air freshener. I rolled the window down, and smelled the green of leaves and trees. The mechanical sound of cars passing by, the faint and acrid smell of car exhaust, and the smell of wet asphalt after the morning rain.

The car came to a halt, and the chatting stopped. Kay words threw me into my senses as she said,

"we are here".

I didn't want to leave the car, as I saw the gate and address mentioned in the email. "She was found at the gate....." the email read.

Tears welled in my eyes, and a confused passerby carrying a blue umbrella watched me approach this sacred place.

I stood for a moment wanting to scream. Wanting to pierce the darkness and haze of unknown pain. I could hear my own scream in my ears, my throat becoming raw with massive exhale and yell.

But there was only silence, and a small prayer.

I stayed there a moment, and looked all around, and took as many pictures as I could for the family. Their daughter was with their forever family now, and I knew that this was ultimately the Reason.

It was time to leave this place. Without a moment of reflection, I startled my hosts. "Let's go. There is nothing here now."

We continued on in our journey, and our next stop was the new orphanage.

(Three beautiful women of China - from left to right - former Qianjiang director Cai Sheng Hua, former director Lu Jun Lan, and Packages of Hope volunteer Mrs. Zhang Yuan - Kay)

In October 2005, I visited the orphanage in Bengbu SWI in Anhui province, and saw it under construction. (see my blog post from 2005 here and 2007 here ).

This site was very similar, and visiting this place and seeing what was to come in the next few years filled me with a sense of joy as to what was to come for the orphan children and the people of Qianjiang.

To see the video of the new Qiangjiang orphanage, please click here.

The the buildings were covered with scaffolding. The site was a hodge podge of construction workers, raw building materials, and power lines going everywhere.

The building who's frame was erected before us was for the foster care family children. I was shown some blueprints where they showed me the different buildings of the SWI, which would include buildings for the children as well as the elderly population for the SWI.

The surrounding area looked so beautiful. The hilly terrain, and the deep orange clay soil reminded me a lot of my new home in North carolina and the nearby smoky mountains.

It was there that I was introduced to the orphanage founder, Mr. Yu. He presented me with a small gift, and his bright eyes and smille conveyed a desire to be connected to us and the families of Qianjiang. It was my impression that the man was a visionary with a real heart for the children.

Mr. Yu had started the orphanage with his own funding and had operated the facility privately for many years. However, now it has been taken over by the government and become a full SWI. However, it is clear that Mr. Yu still has a heart for the children, and still is involved with the orphanage's future.

(from Left to Right - Kay, me, and orphanage founder Mr. Yu)

(What the main building will look like following construction. The highlights of the translation reads "Qianjiang social welfare institute Zheng Yan street beside of the office of community government. 1849.76 square meters land area. building height is 15.75m, 4 floors, height of first floor 4.5 m, 3.6 meter height for 2nd floor and 3rd floor.")

Qianjiang morning market

The next morning, I awoke early and had some breakfast. Afterwards I took a walk outside the hotel, and found myself in an alley way with a few vendors selling some vegetables. I was so intrigued, that I follewed it further, and soon found myself in a large abandoned warehouse that was filled with people selling all manner of fresh food. There were large sections devoted to fish, others to various tubers (potatoes, ginger and others). I also saw tables for cooking and selling of tofu, and a big block of what appeared to by soy bread. There was a section of the market devoted to roast beef and raw beef. Still others were selling spices and noodles I found a few Chinese cuties, and very respectfully took their photos, remembering to ask the subject, or their parents, if I could be honored to capture their faces

(a boy eating at his family's shop, studying before school while eating breakfast)

(a very happy baby with an equally proud grandmother. It was so cute how the grandmother would continually stuff bits of fresh vegetables in the the girl's hands to eat as the grandmother went on with her business)

(a young girl with a typical basket on her back loaded with fresh vegetables for the day's meals)

(Spicy dried chile peppers! The smell was absolutely amazing! It was making my mouth water!)

(a girl and her spice shop. Such amazing mouthwatering smells!)

(I was proud to pose with the shop owner)

(noodles!!)

(fresh Tofu!)

(soy bread! Steam was coming from it, it was still warm from being freshly cooked!)

(shallow ponds of fresh fish for sale)

(fresh potatoes for sale from smiling women! so beautiful!)

I couldn't take my eyes off the children and the mothers, with ther cute backpack baskets loading and carrying food from shop to shop.

I received an expected phone call from Kay that the orphaange director had arrived to the hotel and was present and ready to start the day.

With great reluctance I left the market and found my way back to the hotel. the rain had stopped, and it was now just a threatening gray outside.

For a video of me looking through the market, please click on this link

A late night visit to the orphanage

Our final approach to the hallowed ground of the QianJiang orphanage started with an unlikely turn off of a main street, punching through the long line of shops and 3-4 story buildings which hugged each other in the pouring rain. The cones of light from the car headlights illuminated the houses lining the road, and reflected large droplets of water like falling diamonds. The car nosed upwards quickly, as the car fell into low gear, the driver winding the wheel as we followed the road snaking up into darkness. With each switchback, the rough road had more and more water flowing downards at us, until I became a bit alarmed that we were actually traveling against a flowing river, rather than a road. Water began to approach us in waves, and waterfalls began appearing at the edges of the switchbacks. I was putting my trust in the driver that the concentrated streams of water formed by the curving road had not eroded any of it into treacherous potholes.

With each jolting dip and splash of the wheels, I was preparing for a log flume ride back down the mountain. Old style Chinese dwellings lined the road, and saw that if the water flow would increase just a bit more, that soon a river flow would be at their doorstep.

I had seen several photographs of the orphanage in daylight (and without rain), and had thought that it would be discernable once I approached it.
But without notice, the car jerked to a halt, and with a lightning strike, I recognized the building facade as we stopped in front of it. The orphanage (formerly a restaurant) was here!

In the moment the car stopped, I had a shudder that washed over me, as I contemplated this sacred place. My mind was transported to another world, one I could only imagine.

I am looking up towards the ceiling, my arms and legs wrapped snugly in well worn clothes. Late at night the light turns on, and I am jolted awake. Sometimes I cry out, sometimes not, because only sometimes my cries are answered. Unfamiliar voices come out of the darkness, and I can hear a commotion of unrest. My friends around me cry out in alarm and discontent.

A very strange face hovers over me and smiles. Is this my parent? No. It couldn't be. It never is, it seems. He looks so strange as he smiles and has such a comforting voice. Does he hold me? No. He just brings out a strange metal thing, and brings it over me, and then a bright flash of light appears. A cry from another bed distracts him, and he moves away from me. I wonder what that was? When will someone come to hold me?

A thunderclap jolts me to open my eyes, and I struggle to steady myself for going inside. I can't help the tear that forms on my cheek. It trickles down to my chin, and I open the car door. The ground is alive with water jumping up with each raindrop. My tear falls, and is lost in a dispassionate sea. I must steel myself to go inside.

I grabbed my backpack and dashed inside.

Once in, along with Kay, Ms. Lu and Ms. Cai, I recognized the surroundings as had been described by the others who had been here before me.

I was greeted in the hallway by a large bulletin board which showed all the photos and letters of families who had adopted children from QianJiang, We were able to take photos, and also see a board which listed the donations from charities. Please click the link to the video of donations and entrance to the orphanage HERE

A small woman came out of the darkness and the din of the rain, and she was carrying what was the reason for all of our journey... a precious baby!

We were led into one of the rooms where we were introduced to about 10 children, most of whom were asleep, but many who had been awakened by the rain.

I looked at a few of the children, and finally held a few. I wished I could have taken them all with me home.

The director asked if we wanted to see some of the other children, and we went out to a courtyard where I've seen so many phtotos taken before, where the rain was coming down hard enough to make a shallow pond out of a large courtyard. The next room was filled with children in cribs.

We talked a bit about the what we could do to help the kids further in addition to our milk powder donation. We had calculated that our donation was enough for approximately four months of milk powder supply. The donation enabled the orphanage to free up funds for other needed items. We offered an additional donation for the children to buy them underclothes, as the clothes we had bought them for Spring Festival were currently being worn only and no undergarments were close to their skin. The director also asked if we could find mattreses that acan be better washed, in stead of the cloth ones thay have which are more stinky and difficult to clean. I told them that we would work on it.

It was getting late, and we were all exhausted. We said our goodbyes for the night, and went back to the hotel to end our rather long day.

I offer this below photo at the end of this post, as I write this many days after the event, and tell you that the image of this child whom I did not hold, is burned forever in my mind.

Dinner with the Director

Mrs. Lu was accompanied by Ms. Cai. Ms. Lu had been an orphanage director in years past, and I had seen her once in Beijing when we at Packages of Hope had coordinated a trip for her and a disabled child from her orphanage to a facility in Beijing. At that time, she had met with Cherrie Turner, and together they were able to have the child seen by a doctor there. Since that time, that child in question has been adopted.

Ms. Cai was also an orphanage director, two years earlier. Both women looked very young, although I must admit a jealousy in that the Chinese face hides age very well to me. They apologized that the current orphanage director, Ms. Yang Ai Huan, could not be here but that we would meet her tomorrow.

Even though our volunteer Kay had spoken several times over the years to these two women, these three had never met. However, there were smiles and joyful chatter all the way to our hotel. The rain began to come down in earnest as night began to fall as we checked into our hotel. After hastily putting down our things, we rushed off together for meal. We settled on local restaurant, and dashed from the car to the smells of the delicious food in the dry restaurant, dodging large cold raindrops.

(the view of my hotel room)

(the "minibar" in my room - cigarettes and playing cards included)

The tile floor was slippery, and we all watched our step as we went up back stairs to a modest private dining room. I was carefully watching my step and clutching the papers I had prepared from the families who had sent me emails curious about their child's origins. My large Wolfskin boots were sliding a bit, and I wondered how the women with their high heeled smooth leather soled shoes could nimble so quickly up the stairs. I occoasionally caught the stares of shocked restaurant workers as they eyed the foreigner in their midst. I was mostly concerned with watching my step and making sure I didn't fall and break my neck.

(the cook of our restaurant, and two large kettles filled with hot soup!)

At last I sat down at the table, noticing that the three women were all silent staring at me. I feel like I hadn't exhaled in several days. The whirlwind of planes, (not) trains, cabs, and perserverance had been screaming in my head like an opaque white tornado of events. In a blink they were gone now, as my shoulders slowly sank in relaxation, and the silence of the stare of the bewitching orphanage director faded into the steady sound of rain attacking the ceramic roof above us.

I sat savoring the moment for what seemed like a very long time. Finally, I was shaken out of my stare by a lound and bone shattering thunderclap, as if some Upper Hand boomed out, "ok, son, you made it... Now get on with it!"

I began to speak.

I remember when I first came to China on business, and when I spoke via an interpreter, I was nervous, and fumbled. I remember when I first was introduced to an orphanage director, and the reverence I felt and the tightening I had in the pit of my stomach.

My stomach was still in knots this time. The woman sitting opposite of me was sacred to many families and to many children. I was in the presence of greatness, and many families had entrusted me with their donation money in order to do my best. However, this time, I had some experience under my belt, and I knew what I needed to do, and what I needed to say.

This was my moment, and it filled me with a profound sense of purpose and meaning.

I thanked the director for meeting with us, and introduced myself and Kay and provided some background to our organization and who we are. I stopped and paused for Kay to translate. The orphanage director then spoke and returned the greeting and the thanks for our coming from so far, and thanked us for our past donations for the children of QianJiang orphanage.

I told her about what our intentions were during this trip, and how I had some letters and questions from the families. All of these discussions were laced with the awareness and trust that had been built up over 5 years of working with this orphanage and doing our best to help the children there with the donations that we had.

As we shared dinner of delicious local foods, and as the lightning and thunder harangued us and occasionally caused us to jump and pause our conversation, we talked. It was so amazing that so much information was able to be exchanged in those few short minutes of face to face conversation, that took months and sometimes even years to accomplish by emails and phone conversation. The ability to see each other's faces, to enjoy the other aspects of non-verbal communication, further deepened our relationship, and was doing some real good.

We talked about some questions that the adopted families had for the orphanage, which I carefully documented in order to provide to them. We talked about how there are now 37 children at the orphanage, most of whom have special needs. Some are currently with foster families. The orphanage director said that there is a vision to provide disabled children physical therapy and education in order to integrate successfully into society, but that is a far off dream that could use our help. We talked about the new orphanage that is being built, and how we would be meeting the orphanage founder the next day.

The Qianjiang orphanage has undergone a number of political changes, recently converting from a privately run institution to being part of the government (as an official SWI). This orphanage is the only one in the city (countering a query I had made asking if there were any other countryside orphanages in the area that the director knew of). The current orphanage was started in 2002, after the founder converted a restaurant into an orphanage building. The new orphanage's completion is dependent on funding, but it is hoped that it will be completed in the next two years. The orphanage management has recently changed and is bound to change again in the future. They also mentioned that the water purification system that had so painstakingly been installed a few years earlier by A Child's Right, had not been working for a long time, and they could not read the instructions on the equipment to repair it. They had it set aside in a storage room that I would be able to see.

They told us that there are only a few other charities helping out in the area as well.
At the conclusion of the meal, with the rain still pounding down, the orphanage director asked,

"it's getting late now, would you like to go to the hotel and get some sleep, or would you like to visit the orphanage and the children now?"

.....and in a New York second, what do you think my answer was??

Getting There - Arriving in Qianjiang!

At this point, with all I had been through, it seemed that someone really didn't want me to end up in Qianjiang. But I wasn't about to give up now, and besides, I didn't have much of a choice. I wouldn't have been about to turn around and go back if I wanted to. There is a Chinese saying that goes "po Fu Chen zho", which translates as "smash the cauldrons and sink the boats" . It basically means the same thing as caesar's famous words Alia Iactus Est! - "the die is cast".
I was committed, and there was no way else to go but forward. I was just wondering when I was going to start making headway.

Qianjiang finally appeared to us like shangrila through the mountain mist. But this wasn't a romance movie, because as each moment passed, nerves frayed more and more between cab driver and passengers. Luckily the woman in the front had calmed down, and became our warm friends when Kay explained to her our mission. She was offering to help us and show us around town if needed.

As we approached our destination, Kay called ahead and coordinated a dropoff point. Within a few minutes driving in town we stopped and I saw the familiar face of a previous orphanage director, Mrs. Lu. She was also accompanied by another former orphanage director, Mrs. Cai.

Our Fellowship of Weary Traveler bond was broken gladly by both sides when we paid our share to the taxi driver, and he was only too happy to speed on his way with the 2 other women waving goodbye.

The mist turned to rain as we sped off in a large nice new Honda Odyssey minivan. The director told us that they had borrowed it from the local government office especially for our occasion.

Getting there - the Taxi

The flight was bumpy owing to the rainy weather in the area of ChongQing. On the flight, Kay and I busied ourselves looking over the letters that the families had sent to the orphanage.

The plane finally touched down in Chongqing in the middle of dense fog and rain.

We had train tickets reserved, but we discovered at the airport that there was a plane flight available directly to Qianjiang. The flight departed 1 hour before the train departure, and took 45 minutes, while the train took nearly 4 hours. Kay and I decided to gamble and take the flight. We checked in our bags, and tried to surf the Internet using the airport wifi. The Great Firewall still stopped me from blogging, but I was able to check email.

The foul weather continued, and we received an announcement that the plane was delayed an hour. We had to make a critical decision as to whether or not we should stick with our flight plans, which meant giving up on the train. Our train departure time passed, and our pulse picked up a bit. We had a quick airport lunch, and waited for the flight.

I was tryin to get on the Internet on my laptop, when Kay rushed up to me with a very worried face -"the flight has been cancelled!"

Although this was a setback, I was not in despair. I had come so far, and knew that perseverance was the only option. We WERE going to get to Qianjiang somehow, and that was that!

There were several other people in our situation as we lined up to gt back our checked baggage. Kay was busy gathering the opinions of other travellers. The popular sentiment was to go now to the airport bus station to look into bus transport. It appeared with the building of a new highway, a direct bus would take about the same time as the train.

I only had a small carryon bag with me, but others had carts of luggage as we all lumbered to the bus ticket counter. Our moods grew heavy as we found out that there no buses going to Qiangjiang today.

With this new obstacle placed in front of us, I started to think of other options. I asked Kay about a rental car. After asking around, a one way rental was not possible (and probably required a mountain of paperwork). How about hiring a car? No, the taxis would not go there, and we couldn't find anyone who knew of any car hire agencies.

It looked like our only option was to get a taxi and go to the train station to look when the next train to Qiangjiang was leaving. Kay and I, along wih 2 other women who were bound for Qianjiang on our cancelled flight, crammed ourselves into a tiny taxi, three of us in the back, 1 in the front. The young lady in the front was in an obvious state of restlessness, having wanted badly to reach Qianjiang today.

Kay's head perked up a bit after chatting with the driver. She said to me, " this driver is willing to go to Qianjiang!". Hey, things were looking up!

Then the 3 passengers exhaled in disgust as the taxi driver offered his price - 1900 rmb(300 usd) which was over 4 times the price of an airline ticket. After very animated and heated bartering, the price came down to 1600 rmb, which was still expensive, and thus the passengers looked resigned to press on towards the train station in the steady rain and heavy slow moving traffic. The train might be slower, but was cheaper by a factor of 10 (even when the fare was divided by the 4 of us).

I asked Kay,"can you call ahead and see if the train is even an option for today?". Kay asked around and nobody seemed to be able to accomplish this query.

The taxi driver was in firey debate as I told Kay"let's take a bigger share of the price"(as everyone in the cab would surely assume I had the money)"and see if the other passengers will go for it!"

Apparently the driver was hungry for the fare, and after a very fierce verbal battle amongst all participants, we agreed on a price of 1400 rmb, at which time the driver jerked the wheel, and we headed for the highway.

Kay had told me that the driver seemed shady and was probably making a healthy profit, but I couldn't tell by looking at him. Not knowing anything that was said, I could only sit back and smile a bit at our newly formed troupe of travelers. I felt very happy to be deep in true Chinese culture. Everyone in the car was in a passionate state of unhappiness. I just love passion.
Yet, despite the unhappiness, despite the fact that we all felt to be in a losing situation, the fact was that we were all winners. Total strangers, hell bent on having their own way, while not achieving it, were able to get the job done. Civilization at it's finest.

Everyone was sulking, but I couldn't help but feeling good. We were on our way!

The tiny yellow cab groaned through gears while heavily loaded with passengers. Still in uncomfortable silence, we sat rigid, trying to maintain civil personal distance, even though everyone in the back seat was pressed together like sardines in a can.

(The Sardines)

The woman in the front maintained her disgruntled state, while we in the back slowly started to relax, having come to an unstated agreement of personal space whereby our body contact was not regarded with disgust, but rather as a respectful resignation of our condition. Tensed muscles could no longer hold their position, and my shoulder became a "respected pillow", and the other woman's feet were now being overlapped by Kay's feet.

The car's engine sounded about as angry as the woman in the front seat looked, as we went as fast as we dared in moderated traffic in the opaque mist of this spring rain.

I forgot who broke the ice, but before long, short bursts of speech came out from the women. I was happy for this, for as heated as the debate was during our price negotiation, I saw plain goodness in the faces around me, and knew that beneath it all must have been people who were all too ready for a friendly chat.

The woman in the front, however, remained in a state of tension, even as she opened up and told us about her business in Qianjiang, and her trip to Guangzhou. Nobody seemed interested in engaging the taxi driver with conversation, however, since it was still regarded that he was heavily overcharging us.

Just as things seemed to be getting along well, the driver announced that he needed to refuel. Grousing amongst the girls began when it was announced that we needed to find a special gas station because the car ran on a combination of propane gas and gasoline.

We finally found a station, but once we saw that there was nearly a kilometer long line of cars (mostly local taxis) waiting to refuel, the anger could no longer be contained.

(us parked in line for refueling. other taxis are in front of us, and the gas station is far out of view in the distance ahead)

Veins in the neck protruded as both the driver and the front passenger yelled at each other, hands waving angrily closer and closer to each other. Kay later explained to me that the woman, already upset over our high cab fare, was now enraged that we would be delayed further by this refuel stop. The woman demanded that the driver refuel with the more expensive fuel - gasoline - and continue the journey. The driver responded that the only way he was going to make any money on his trip was to refuel with the less expensive propane.

The woman in the front declared that a member o her family was a local police official and was threatening to report him for his exorbitant fee once we arrived to our destination.
The girls in the back valiantly tried to diffuse the argument, but as the driver stopped in the propane fuel queue line, both the driver and the woman in the front got out of the car to further their argument.

We in the back unpeeled ourselves from each other and stretched our legs.

It was an uncomfortable realization that I was in the middle of nowhere, on the verge of being left on the side o the road by a driver who was being pushed to the edge of his patience.

"well," I said out loud, to nobody, considering carefully my next step, " I guess I'd better have a potty break!"

(our tiny cab, finally being refueled with propane - note the orange fuel hose in the front)

Getting to QianJiang - the Flight

Jet lag can sometimes work in your favor.. Especially when I had to wake up at 4:30am in order to check out of the hotel to get to the hongqiao airport. My volunteer, Zhang Yuan (Kay) had had dinner with me the previous evening and taken me to my favorite Hot Pot restaurant in Shanghai, a chain called The Dolar Shop.

She was ready for me with a taxi in the morning and we zipped off through light traffic to the airport.

Honqiao had been renovated since I last flew from there, and although it had been a primarily "regional" airport for domestic air travel, it was clearly apparent that the rising middle class of China were showing their economic prowess. Gone was the old concrete floors and outdated grainy flight information screens. Rivaling just about any airport anywhere in terms of high tech, the modern architecture showcased high polished stone floors, and the latest in video flat screen displays. It was awe inspiring, to say the least.

Kay was leading the way, and in no time, we were on board waiting for our chance to take off. Our destination now seemed closer than ever before, fulfilling not only the hard work and generous donations, but I could almost feel the spirit of jin Yong Ming with us, his smile and kind heart, and his wisdom guiding us to persevere.

We had all come so far, and everything seemed to be falling now into place, but this all seemed to evaporate in a flash when the engines of a large plane whine to a fevered scream, and one is pressed back into the seat with an unfamiliar force.

Although I've been on more planes than many people I know, I am still shaken into a sense of fragility and uncertainty during every takeoff. As an engineer I am able to fathom the incredible power of thrust coming from the engines, but I know I share the sentiment of most travelers that the ability to harness and control such force by a mere human pilot (albeit thoroughly capable, I'm sure) seems unsettling.

Experienced travelers pretend to feign coolness as silence pervades the cabin. Well, human silence anyway. The air is filled with the muffled vibration of menacing turbines. One can almost feel the bolts and metal strain, like leather straps digging into a thick muscled horse's back as it strains to pull a load from standstill into motion. Odd chaotic groans, creaks and thuds are heard, as the plane bumps down the runway. This massive object is now moving faster than reasonable. It's as if you are in a very large and heavy truck, traveling towards a brick wall, and you suddenly hit the gas. It goes against the grain of logical thinking.

As the effects of racing air take effect, there are small jolts up and down, left and right. Some knuckles go white, praying half-heartedly for the nose to pick up and for us to ascend. The other half of the heart says "oh God what was I thinking stepping foot on this plane?! Just wake me up when it's over!"

The engines continue to agonize in their efforts to accelerate us forward. A smile comes to my face as I look around to the others in the plane. The unmistakable look of fear pervades all of us. Chinese, American, young, old, rich, poor, experienced, or first timers. Will this be our last flight? Will we arrive safely?

We just don't know. We're not in control. Through the minds of each of the passengers on board, in those heart pounding moments as the plane accelerates down the runway, we each come to terms and reach a place of peace to reconcile the determination to reach our destination versus the risk we have subjected ourselves to. Whether it be to seal that deal for a contract, or to see a beloved family member, or to go on that vacation, or to deliver needed supplies to orphans, we all close our eyes, hope that our family and friends will forgive us our folly, and

Let go....

The nose of the plane rises, and the plane jerks upwards. More screaming of the engines, more jerks and creaking as the plane arcs skyward. Finally, after an eternity, the engines throttle down, and there is smoothness, and the fasten seatbelt sign goes off, and everyone finally takes a breath.

History of QinJiang SWI and Packages of Hope

My journey to the Qianjiang orphanage began five years ago, with a plea for us to help out at an orphanage. We were able to contact the orphanage via one our volunteers with Packages of Hope, Jin Yong Ming.

I must write a bit about him because this journey would not be the same without him.

Jin YongMing became a volunteer with our organization (Packages of Hope) in 2005. He worked with me as an engineer at Shanghai Turbine company as one of the most brilliant thermodynamic design engineers I have ever met. When we first met, over a decade ago now, my relationship with him was purely business, but I was lucky to find out that there was so much more to him. He was married and had a son. He graduated at the top of his class, painted calligraphy, and had a command of Chinese poetry.

But to my great fortune, he told me of his great passion for helping others, and how he wanted to help me to help children in China . Through the years, with his exceptional intelligence, his skill in logistics, and his tireless passion to help children, he had helped hundreds of children throughout China . But YongMing had additional struggles in his life.

In 2006 he contacted the orphanage and worked to facilitate donations for the orphanage. However, in 2007, he was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. I begged him to forget about the charity work, and focus on his family. He refused.

Jin YongMing was getting more and more ill, and I told him to stop. But he didn't. As his health declined, he carefully chose a colleague whose heart and passion nearly equalled his - a young woman named Zhang Yuan. She promised to carry on the torch to help the children of QianJiang Even as Jin YongMing left this world in December 2007, at the age of 39, with his wife, son, and family at his bedside, he was issuing instructions to make sure we would continue to help the orphanage, and some very special children at the orphanage (which I will talk about later!).

Over the years we did what we could with the small donation money we had, every little bit helping and providing a bit more for the children. A copy machine, blankets, spring festival clothes and sweets, and medical checks. Then we were able to provide even more, like milk powder, and air-conditioners. We were also parts of some incredible success stories in helping out children to find their forever families.

Dealing with the orphanage was mostly difficult for us. We wrestled with lack of funding, difficult communication, miscommunication, and long wait times for things to get done. In the end, however, it all paid off. We had some amazing stories to tell, having miraculous and faith affirming happy endings.

Our mission now was to continue these stories and fight for the children still in the orphanage, who are waiting for the time when they will be in the arms of their forever families.

The five questions

Helping children at the orphanage is our primary concern at Packages of Hope. This is followed very closely by fulfilling the desire for the donor families to be connected with the orphanage. This is because the orphanage is a Nexus of such supreme importance for so many families. It is an origin point. It is definite, yet clouded in mystery. It is a place of infinite sadness and infinite happiness. It's as far back as many families can see and define in terms of their family's boundless happiness. Yet there are so many unanswered questions. Although the question of "where" and "when", and "what" is known, there is the question of "how". This is a question I can help out with. I hope that the answer to this question helps out to come closer to the most unanswerable question of all -"why". Did I leave out any questions? Sure. But I can answer only part of that one, for now. In the following posts you hear about the nannies, the director, and the foster parents. There is another critical "who". However, but this is not the blog for that question. One of the reasons I like doing this work is that this is not a trip, but rather a journey. I've come to like those much better than trips. A trip is where you know what you're going to get. You have the hotel booked, the tickets to the theme park purchased, and you know just exactly how you're going to feel - happy to be away from the daily grind and the home/office, perhaps reconnected with the spouse and kids, bring back photos that will sit on the shelf and will invoke the standard (and requistely envious) "wow looks like a blast" from all your friends, and usually ending up with a big empty hole in your wallet. Don't get me wrong, this experience is not a bad thing, and I confess that I sorely need one of those at least once or twice a year. But when one goes on a journey, discovery of the unknown takes place. And I have come to know that I not only discover more about unanswerable questions, but also more about myself. In short, I highly recommend it. For, as I was about to find out, it was going to be a trip I was not soon to forget.

In China!

After a grueling 16 hour flight, I have arrived in Shanghai! Tomorrow I will meet and have dinner with our volunteers in China, particularly Zhang Yuan. Then off to ChongQing and to QianJiang SWI, and then later in the next week, Bengbu SWI in Anhui!

Inspiration

It’s wonderful to remember when you first fell in love. I close my eyes and smile with great delight when remembering it was as all great love stories start: with a chance encounter. A moment that, as it approaches, seems unremarkable, if not a bit tedious. Then it hits. As if you are engrossed in the monotonous rowing of a boat through dark and murky waters. Stroke after stroke, plodding forward in the same direction, the wake behind you a symmetry of neverending waves extending in a constant direction outwards, providing stability in knowing where you have been, and where you are going, however empty it feels at the time. And then, a single heart stopping jolt strikes the keel. Your balance is thrown as the boat rocks, and every one of the senses comes alive. Was it a submerged rock that will rip apart the boat like the Titanic? Was it a wayward creature of the deep? As the fear rises, it could be something else which has targeted this frail craft? At once you feel exposed and helpless, a victim, paralyzed like a mindless insect caught in the web of a much smarter predator. The jolt comes again, and the boat heaves to one side, the bow moving to the starboard and the port. The waters churn, and the wake disappears, and you realize that the rowing has stopped. The jolt ceases, and for a long moment you wait for another, but it doesn’t come. In stunned silence, the boat has no direction. Then, you pick up the oars and start rowing again, not knowing which new direction the bow is headed. That’s how love begins. For me, when I picked up the oars and started rowing again, I found myself, for the first time, seeing the sun rise in beautiful splendor on the horizon where I was now pointed. My muscles found new strength, my face bore a new smile. And when you’re headed in the Right direction, there’s nothing tedious about it. People look at you in curious, and often jealous, admiration. The oppressive waves of obstacles can’t deter you. Storms, the occasional leak, or even the jeers from those bigger and larger and faster boats, can’t weaken your resolve. But even now, as I am steadfastly on my way, I can remember that frightening jolt, which now makes my heart soar with happiness, but at the time, was so terrifying. I so much enjoy to hear everyone’s story about this moment, as much as I like retelling mine. I would like to think I share this trait in common with others who have adopted children from China, and have decided as a result to engage in charity work, but I realize that this story is shared by others of different background and beginnings. I am humbled to be a part of such a group of charity workers, and I beg for forgiveness in the indulgence of the hubris of my joy and inspiration, my two daughters. As time goes on, and my love for my daughters deepens, I begin to notice everything in my world that reminds me of them, and my journey to them. The Golden Rain trees in my yard, whose bloom signals the beginning of autumn, and the times I first left for China, long before I was united with my children. I used to mourn the arrival of these blossoms, as I would often be gone during their colorful and short-lived deep yellow bloom, followed by their falling and carpeting of the ground in natural splendor. Now I realize they were rejoicing at the jolt that was to come, when I would fall in love with China, and finally be united with our daughters. How could I possibly know that this journey to them would take me even more places of wonder that I had ever hoped for, and has brought me to faraway places that I never thought I would visit, and discover truer purpose of my life? I am thankful for them, as I am thankful for the children and other kind people I have met in China in the course of my charity work. Although I am looking forward to helping the children during this journey, I realize that I am such a small part of the story. The children of course are the reason why we are all here. And more about them later. The orphanage staff, the directors and the administration who work their skills in politics and wisdom in order to help the children. The nannies deserve praise, for their tireless work everyday with the children. They are the emotional caregivers, who not only sweat and toil for very little pay, but are also devoted to their very core for the children they care for. Local volunteers must also be praised. They are kind and thoughtful enough to dedicate their time and money to entertain and guide foreigners to navigate not only language barriers, but also serve as cultural translators. They are the link between East and West, between people who wish to do good, and those who need help. Then there are the donors, who with faith and with desire to make the world a better place, provide money, services and gifts, in order to help the children. There are doctors, storekeepers, couriers, and just local people who see our mission and go out of their way to help and make our way easier. And why do we do all of this? Have a look below, and you will see why each of us takes an oar, and journeys with great resolve across an ocean..