from China

From Jason:
Hello. Thanks for checking in with us. This will be a long post, so go make some coffee, then come back and start reading.

It’s a Monday afternoon, exactly one week before classes begin. It’s raining off-and-on, it’s hot and muggy—as it has been since we arrived. I’m inside, though, quite cool and comfortable. I’m writing you from our apartment in Hangzhou, China [although, I should qualify this by saying that this note will not be posted until some time hence, whenever we take a notion to carry the laptop a mile or so to the nearest coffee house that has free wi-fi].
I should also qualify my original statement, re: “our apartment,” by saying that—perhaps even before I am able to post this message—we could be more-or-less kicked out of “our” new home and forced to relocate, probably to a smaller apartment, on-campus, miles further out from town.
Let me explain: One of the things we most prayed about before coming over was our housing. We all hoped to be placed according to the Plan of Providence—and presumably we have been, are being, and/or will be (?)—but as is so often the case with life (in general, and certainly in China) it’s not at all clear, just this minute, exactly what that Plan is or how it will be achieved.

For example: The Hardins are stuck (at least for now) in what I will euphemistically refer to as a “less-than-ideal” situation, i.e., they have no apartment, only one, small hotel room, with scant (that’s to say, no) hot water, no kitchen, no fridge… and only a vague mention of what might be their new home, maybe 10 or so days from now, probably on-campus, with perhaps one or more bedrooms, in either one or two separate apartments, presumably indoors somewhere.
The Davises and we, the Clarks, have it much better.
The Davis place was filthy and crawling with roaches when they arrived, but hey… it’s a home. And as for us, we are in a nice, comfortable, well-equipped two-bedroom apartment with semi-modern fixtures and furnishings, ample appliances, walk-in closet, family-size shower, etc.
The only thing we lack is security.
Not that we have burglars or anything. It’s just that, last night, around 9 p.m., as we were watching the closing ceremonies of the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics, we had an unannounced visitor appear. Actually three visitors: our landlady, whom we hadn’t met until then, and two total strangers—a young, married couple who were, as it turned out, apartment shopping… for “our” apartment.
Yes, the landlady—she’s very nice, by the way, and speaks nearly flawless English—had brought over some new, prospective renters to have a look at the place.
What a lovely surprise.
And good thing we had just spent the last 72+ hours cleaning, decorating, and getting everything just-so. You always want your home to look its best when a potential buyer sees it—especially when you aren’t even aware that your house is on the market.
So, as the couple toured our bedroom, we chatted with our landlady (her name is Wei, by the way) and kindly shared with her our feelings of surprise and disbelief at this unexpected turn of events. We said to her, for instance, that we surely couldn’t be asked to all-of-a-sudden pick up and move on such short notice.
She agreed: “Of course not, I will give you one month’s notice.”
“But after moving everything in and cleaning up, we think we should at least hold the lease for one year,” Cec pointed out. “We’ve lived in China for six years, and we plan to stay here—in this apartment, we had hoped—for the next five years,” I added.
This was news to her. Good news, apparently. She had no idea that we might want to stay long-term and seemed to be consoled by the thought. “Maybe we can reconsider this,” she allowed. “I will talk to my husband about it.”
“Yes, please do.” And in the meantime, we will just stay here and try to get our heart rates back down below 150 and maybe start a round of ulcer pills.
Like I said, she’s a really nice lady. She even made a point of calling us later that evening—just before midnight, I think it was—to say that she and her husband had, as promised, discussed this issue, and that she would let us know something sometime tomorrow. “And have a sweet dream.”

And now, it’s mid-afternoon—“the day after,” as they say when reporting other similar disasters—and here I sit typing the story yet still not knowing its end.
As I pointed out earlier, we don’t have an internet connection in the house yet, but [I forgot to mention this before] the landlady said she’d try to get it hooked up for us, maybe sometime today. So, the next phone call we receive—or the next surprise knock at the door—could be either, A.) her coming to set up the internet, B.) her coming to bring us good tidings of comfort and joy, C.) her coming to evict us, or D.) some combination of the above.

Obviously, we are praying for the best result. You might consider petitioning on our behalf, also.
But really, we can live with whatever happens. And this may even turn out to be a round-about blessing. For instance, I’m wondering, from her reaction and some of what she said—and all joking aside, she truly is a very sweet person—if she might be someone “prepared for good works” [ask Jake what’s a P.O.P.]. And as Cec has had to remind me throughout the day, even if we have to move, we can still do what we came to do. And, after all, that’s the one thing that really matters.