The Privilege of Preference

I can still see Kevin standing in the middle of the street filled with swerving bicycles and honking cars. Over the straw hats and brightly colored umbrellas his small frame seemed to stand tall. His arm waved recklessly as he called out “Goodbye Ms. Mindy!” with a heavy accent. No longer able to see him through tears, I turned and walked away leaving a piece of my heart spilled out on that crowded China road. I would never be the same.

Those last weeks in China, Kevin had been my constant companion. Through tired eyes, I would spot him coming toward me the moment I stepped into the cafeteria for breakfast at 7 am. He would walk me to class and sit in the front row as I taught English to 12 very eager students. When I would give a break, some students would immediately switch to their native tongue and head out. Others would sometimes lag behind and speak with me for awhile. Kevin always remained, rarely leaving my side.

While all my students were dear to me and all thrilled to learn, Kevin was unique. He had joined the class midway through the summer after one of the four girls in my class had to leave for military reasons. This school was one of the best in China and available only to the wealthy. My students came from the homes of government officials, military generals or such, except for Kevin. His grandmother cleaned the school and after hearing of the opening in my class, persuaded the school officials to allow her academically advanced grandson to attend for the remainder of the program. Kevin had a passion for English, wanting to learn everything he could, valuing every single minute with me. Idioms, grammar, American culture and even the gospel – the more I shared, the more he wanted to know.

One day as we walked to get coffee flavored ice cream; (the only flavor offered at a local ice cream stand) Kevin shared his dreams to study in America, a dream that seemed unreachable. He had so many hurdles to overcome, one major one being a national test given to all students that determines whether one can attend college, and if so where. He said, “Many students are not allowed into college and are instead assigned to a job. In fact, the day the test results come out is referred to as “Suicide Day” because many teenagers take their life rather than face the disappointment of their parents or a life time spent in a factory.” My naïve American mind struggled to comprehend. After searching through hundreds of possible colleges and universities, I then set out to visit several before finally making my own decision of where I wanted to attend. I turned down a job and accepted another one. I changed my major half-way through school. I changed schools half-way though my major. Kevin’s whole life would be determined for him. Was it any wonder he was so desperate to learn?

I returned home, welcoming the break of my rice and watermelon diet, yet struggled to adjust back to life in America. Questions plagued my prayer time; decisions – from the big to the small – frustrated me. Ordering ice cream off a menu of 36 flavors, picking between three different Christian radio stations, or choosing a new book to read were all decisions that suddenly overwhelmed me. People sitting in one of the ten churches on the street unmoved, students sitting in classrooms oblivious to the privilege compelled me to plead, “Do you understand what you have been given?” Suddenly the country I grew up loving, took great effort to tolerate. My heart longed for the country where freedom was but a dream.

Now ten years later, I have settled back into the American life. Married to a wonderful man that provides for more than I need, have three lovely children who leave me worn out but loving life at the end of each day. We have a nice house, the kids attend a great school and I fill my spare time with church and community activities. Yet, I cannot read “made in China” and my heart not go there. And I still struggle over decisions knowing so many are unable to make any.

Kevin kept in contact long enough for me to know he achieved permission to go to a college in China, but he had not given up on his dream to study in America. I received a letter requesting help to come visit me when all communication unexpectedly stopped. Even after our correspondence ended, Kevin has remained in my prayers. Did the knowledge of the gospel ever drop from his mind and into his heart? Even with a government deciding the results of his physical life, they cannot determine his eternity. Will one day when I walk on a golden street, through the multitude will I see his waving hand? Over the “Hallelujah” of the angels will I hear, “Hello, Ms. Mindy”? I pray it is so while trusting that decision to the wisdom of the Father.