The Phone Call

Little Weed #4 came to me a few days ago with a piece of paper in hand.  He pointed to it and said, "phone number."  I asked him if he wanted me to write our phone number down, and he nodded.  There was already a string of numbers on the page, so I wrote our number beneath the one he had written.  (I was so thrilled that he seemed to want to learn our number.  It makes me very nervous being out and about with a child who doesn't know how to correctly pronounce his last name nor have the ability to supply a parent's phone number, if necessary.)  He counted the digits in our number and compared them to the number he had previously written.  Then he pointed to the original number and said, "This phone number." 

I am sometimes slow to catch on and said, "Oh, you made up your own phone number.  That's cool."

He shook his head and said, "No, that phone China." 

"#4, that can't be a China phone number.  It doesn't have enough numbers."  (Every China phone number I've ever been given contains eight digits.  This one had only seven.)

"No, I sure."  He rattled off the number in Chinese and then confirmed in in English.  He tapped his little finger on it and said, "It right."

I hopped on the Internet and quickly learned that most Chinese landlines are eight digits, but some numbers, especially in more remote areas, are only seven digits long.  So, the six year old might know what he's talking about...

I should also mention at this point that I had asked #4 some time ago if he knew his foster mom's name or phone number.  I was hoping to obtain that information for him so that if he wanted to make contact at some point, we would have a starting point.  He told me that he didn't know either.  He was pretty definitive about that statement.  Well, as I noted in my most recent post, a lot of trust has been gained in recent weeks and information has been spilling out of this kid.  This little tidbit is only one of many, many things that have been on his heart and mind that are only now safe to share.

I spent a few days contacting our guide in China to ask her if it looked like a legitimate local number, learning how to make an international call to that region, and working out how a non-Mandarin speaking mama might make this call possible.  Meanwhile, #4 had asked every day this week to call China.

Well, today all the pieces came together.  Our new friend, a local Mandarin-speaking teen who has been coming to play with #4 twice a week, emailed to say she could come to play early because of the holiday.  She would be here at noon, which is midnight in China, but Urumqi is far enough west that they are up later than the clock might suggest.  We gave it a try.  The first 20 times I dialed, it was busy or got disconnected.  #4 and Terrific Teen went out to play.  I kept redialing.  As the time neared 12:30, I decided this would be my final attempt.  It was just getting way too late there, I thought.  I dialed.  A man answered, "Ni Hao!"  I responded appropriately and then panicked.  I was blabbering on in English as I ran outside, across the deck, down the stairs, and directly to Terrific Teen.  Terrific Teen stepped in and communicated that we were trying to reach #4's caretaker at the orphanage.  The man said he was very busy, but he knew who we meant and to call back in 15 minutes.  (How busy can a guy be at midnight in an orphanage?!?)

Tick tock.  Tick tock. 

My mind was reeling.  First of all, it seemed that #4 DID know the orphanage phone number after all.  Wow.  Second, how would #4 do with this reconnection with his recent past?  Would it send us into another round of nightmares (a several-week long challenge we've only recently overcome) or would he find it comforting?

At 14 and a half minutes, I started dialing again.  This time, Terrific Teen initiated the conversation when the phone was picked up - by foster mama!  She quickly handed the phone off to #4 who, as many six year olds have been known to do, suddenly became partially mute. 

 

Terrific Teen helped him through some of the conversation, occasionally taking the phone back to explain something Little Weed wasn't able to fully express.  Foster mama got to ask some questions, provide some encouragement, and shed some happy tears. (At dinner, Sticks asked #4 how his special phone call went.  He replied, "Good.  China Mama happy.  She cry.  Happy cry.  I don't know that.") 

 

 

After the call was over, #4 immediately decided it was time to finish the bird's nest he had started constructing a few days before.  Terrific Teen was kind enough to oblige, and they worked on it together.  Upon completion, they placed it in the tree where #4 hopes to provide a bird a nice place to sleep so he can capture it!

 

 

 

 

There wasn't much discussion about "the call."  But my little guy was all smiles for the rest of the day and told me all about his two foster siblings at bedtime.  Until today, he has been completely unwilling to discuss them at all.  Today I learned their names, that the younger girl likes to dance and pick her nose, and the little boy likes to ride a skateboard and build things.  We prayed for them, thanked God for our special phone call, and #4 fell asleep faster than he has in months.

 

With Thanksgiving only a few hours away, I can't help but be just a little extra grateful for the opportunity to provide this connection for my son, for the help of an amazing young teen whose ability to speak Mandarin is such a blessing to our family, and the willingness of a caring Chinese woman to reach through a phone line to touch my son's heart.