Gansu Amity Teachers' Spring Meeting: We travelled to Hezuo, the main city of Gannan, where two of us teach at the University. Gannan is part of Gansu, but is also known as East Tibet. It's famous for its rolling hills and sweeping grasslands. The scenery is breathtaking, as is the altitude. At 3000 meters above sea level, climbing the stairs to the fourth floor of our hotel was an expedition.

It was too early in the spring for green grass and wildflowers, but lambing had begun.

Hezuo is also known for its wild pigs ; they amble about the city streets and congregate in the suburbs.

Our meeting was productive and refreshing, as always. (This was my fourth regional meeting since coming to China.) The weekend included Palm Sunday, and Ruth and I planned the private worship service for our group. We modified and incorporated a scriptural version of the Stations of the Cross, interspersed with silent prayer and selections from Irish singer Noirin Ni Riain.

Words of advice:
1. Wear a cheap Timex watch.
2. Never leave unwashed dishes in the sink overnight.
3. Always use a dignified ringtone.

Chapter One
On Tuesday, March 27, I woke before dawn but lingered in bed , waiting for the light and enjoying my rest b/c I didn't have any early classes. I noticed the barking of the guard dog at the Gansu Government Archive, whose massive pink dasha (highrise) is outside my windows. Mr. Dog had been housed elsewhere for a few months, so his return was noteworthy. Finally, I sat up and reached for my sweatpants. When I lie down at night, I lay them in the bottom of the wardrobe, right beside the bed. On March 27, the sweatpants weren't there.

I try to picture myself at that moment. I must have sat there with a crease in my brow, wondering what I'd done with my sweats. Then I got up and walked the few steps, maybe two meters, into the living room. This is a VERY small apartment. With a quick sweeping glance, I could see immediately that my purse was gone from its usual place, my laptop computer gone from the desk. In seconds I registered that my MP3 player was gone from the desk, as well – and remembered that my electronic translating dictionary and my camera had been in my purse, so were also gone. I glanced over at the DVD player, but it was undisturbed ... as was my ugly Timex watch that sat, alone now, on the desk. I found the missing sweatpants near the bedroom door. The burglar had crept to my bedside, apparently, to look for cash in my pockets. Well, if the pockets were a disappointment, the contents of my purse – about 250 yuan plus the electronic items – must have made up for it.

I went into the kitchen and it was immediately clear that the burglar had come in through the window, stepping nimbly over my automatic coffee maker and a large bowl of raw eggs on the kitchen table. He or she had retreated by the same path (the night bolt on my front door was undisturbed) and had politely shut the window on the way out.

I dialed my university contact, but her cell phone was turned off. It was about 7 AM. I felt gloomy, but calm. I saw loss and inconvenience unspooling in my path. I felt its inevitablility. I took a shower, tried the call again and made contact. Poor, sleepy Cao Ling, who might also have slept in that day, told me that she'd call the Foreign Affairs Office and the police.

I hung up and stood in the middle of my living room wondering what to do next. I picked up the Book of Common Prayer, sat down and began to read the Daily Office of Morning Prayer, as I do every day. The Psalms for that day were 120, 121, 122, 123.
I read:
I lift up my eyes unto the hills,From where is my help to come? . . .
The Lord himself watches over you; . . .
The Lord shall preserve you from all evil;It is he who shall keep you safe.
The Lord shall watch over your going out and your coming in,from this time for evermnore. PS 121
I wrote it down, folded it and put it in my pocket. I still carry that scrap of paper.

Yes, the Lord had watched over me. I'm a light sleeper. I could remember getting up twice during the night of March 26/27; I had probably stirred at other times. But I had slept through the time it took the thief to snatch my sweatpants. I had slept through the time it took the thief to get my stuff and make off. It wasn't exactly my “going out and coming in,” or coming in and going out, but the Lord had kept me safe. With thankfulness beyond measure, I answered the insistent doorbell as university staff and police began to arrive.

Chapter Two
After more than two weeks, life has returned, almost, to normal. Being a crime victim turns out to be a full time job. On the first day, waves of people trooped through my apartment. The first detective and patrolman squabbled openly over ... who knows what? It was all in Chinese. The patrolman's ringtone was "Can Can," and it played often, giving the scene a comic aspect. Then the forensics guys arrived with their spotless white gloves – poking around among yesterday's dirty dishes in my kitchen sink. Was my face red! At one time , I counted eleven people in my living room, excluding me.

I had made a list of things I knew were missing, including the contents of my purse. One item on the list was "rosary." I was questioned about the make, model and value of everything on my list. What is this thing called "rosary?" I brought out another one to show the police, and they thought it was costume jewelry. To correct this misconception, I demonstrated the act of prayer. Oh, to have a video of this entire interview! At last, I certified all of my statements with the print of my right index finger in blood red ink. I can't help thinking that last bit was theatrics on the part of the detectives.

Fifteen minutes of fame: I had to be utterly militant to be able to teach my afternoon classes that day. Had I stayed home to feel sorry for myself, I would have had to endure the inconvenience of making up the classes some other time ... out of sync with my weekly lesson plans. No, thanks. Anyway, it was balm to see my students, talk and laugh and act naturally again. They are the reason I live in Lanzhou. I needed to be reminded.

Fifteen minutes of fame: the university has loaned me a computer. Thus I can still communicate with you. Microsoft Windows in Chinese characters is the twenty-first century version of Chinese water torture. (I have ordered a new laptop from Dell in China, with English OS.)

Fifteen minutes of fame: the university has installed security bars on my windows, as they should have done in 2005. ( I'm sure the bars cost far less than the uninsured property I lost, never mind the risk to my safety.) Many neighbors in my building are following the trend. I'll call it the "ladder effect." The burglar climbed the bars on the first and second floors to reach my third-floor window. The neighbor directly above me was the first to get on the bandwagon.

Fifteen minutes of fame: the university repaired the ceiling light in my kitchen that had been broken since shortly after Christmas. They also tried, unsuccessfully, to install a lock on one of my desk drawers so I could secure my valuables. (What valuables?) Now I have a gaping hole in my desk drawer.

Fifteen minutes of fame: Ceremonial visits. The most illustrious was the Vice President for Teaching Affairs, accompanied by the Deputy Director of Foreign Affairs and the Deputy Dean of the Foreign Languages School. On that visit I received two watermelons, a huge hand of bananas (about 4 kilos) and a cash gift of 800 yuan (about $100). The most welcome, and hardly ceremonial, was my best friend Zhang Qiao Ping, who waited in the courtyard for over an hour to see me and comfort me on the day of the robbery. My true friends have been a Godsend. Ruth has bought me a new bus commuter card! Qiao Ping and her mother bought me a gorgeous new wallet, in red, the good-luck color.