Monday, July 30
night market / night sky
Tonight I went with two friends to the night market just a short walk from my apartment. I have been there many times during the day to do market shopping, but at night it's a totally different experience. We ate ma la tang and chao mian. The "ma" of ma la tang actually means to numb or paralyze. It's that kind of spicy. We ate next to a table of shirtless guys eating stinky tofu, barbecued meat, and drinking beer. We tried to order the stinky tofu (that's the literal translation of the Chinese name) but they didn't serve it at that booth, so the guys next to us gave us two skewers of it. We tried to refuse, but were actually touched at their little gift. They tried to order some beer for us too, but we didn't let it go that far.
The place we ate at had this guy making the noodles fresh for the chao mian. He tosses them up, twists them, tosses them again. He asked us if he could go to America in exchange for me taking his picture.
I am on my way to Shanghai the day after tomorrow to try to catch an earlier flight than the one I have booked so I can be with my sister before her baby is born because the little guy seems to be ready to come anytime now. I'm excited, but I need your thoughts as I need open doors with the people of American Airlines to let me get on an earlier flight!
I'll leave with a quote doesn't exactly fit tonight, but I wanted to put it here anyhow. We can't see much of the night sky from here in the city where there are lights and buildings, but the night sky is there all the same, above the night market, above us as we sleep tonight.
At midnight it feels there is more light in the sky than darkness, as though God took a fistful of stardust and threw it upward where it shimmers at the apex of its ascent, as though what we know as creation exists only for this brief second before it all comes crashing down again. Brilliant blue clusters spread thick and dense and they sparkle and fade, sparkle and fade. It is silent music, the night sky. God does well to live atop them. And I wonder, as I lie in the meadow with a piece of grass between my teeth, if angels look down updon the sky to which we look up?
The night sky is his greatest work.
- Through Painted Deserts, Donald Miller