In local lore, China is shaped like a chicken, its head formed by the northeastern provinces and its tail the westernmost. To an American, the word “chicken” conjures ideas like “cowardly” or perhaps a favorite fried chicken joint, but in Chinese culture a rooster is an animal worth admiring. In fact, China’s annual film awards are called the Golden Rooster Awards. They were first held in 1981 which happened to fall in a year of the rooster.

The Chinese Zodiac is a twelve-year cycle in which each year is represented by one of twelve animals. On the cycle, the chicken is sandwiched between two equally admirable animals, the monkey and the dog. The monkey is reminiscent of the Monkey King, a clever hero from Chinese legend, and the dog is, of course, a loyal companion. My sister wishes she had been born a few weeks earlier in the year of the monkey, but I teasingly tell her to embrace her inner chicken since roosters are endowed with the power to call up the sun.

For many years, though not always a willing recipient, I have been nestled safely under the chicken’s wing in the heart of China. When I first arrived in the 1990s and made my way to my heartland home, I was a young and inexperienced know-it-all who held my way of life in high esteem. I thought I could take care of myself. My university employers who hired me to teach English were undaunted by my independent spirit and went out of their way to fulfill their responsibilities—according to Chinese culture—to nurture and protect me. They supplied basic essentials for my expat colleagues and me, providing a place to live, arranging a cook, and sometimes preparing the food themselves. They also often took us out for bountiful meals (a culturally appropriate way to host a guest) and then sent us home with the leftovers (in those days a humorous violation of their customs). They seemed overly concerned with our safety. The words, “安全第一,”^ℹ️ “Safety first,” frequently rang in our ears and became one of many Chinese adages I’ve learned since.

Over my years in the heartland, I have come to appreciate the willing protectors and kind caregivers I have found inside and outside the university community. They have also been my teachers, and advocates. From top leaders to students in my classrooms, the education community has looked after me by becoming my cultural informants. University and school heads have patiently helped me process mistakes in my interactions with them. Although sometimes painful to hear, my students’ honest assessments of my behavior have been valuable as has their help making change. The Foreign Affairs Office and Foreign Language School have protected me from unwanted attention (ALL the requests for a foreigner to…tutor my child, teach at our school, judge our speaking competition, perform in our television commercial, sing at our celebration, etc.). Once when a news interview went sour, the university saw how uncomfortable I was, advocated for me, and though the media organization had influence, the interview was canceled.

From oldest to youngest, the education and also local communities have watched over me. On a walk by our campus lake, I failed to follow the “安全第一,”^ℹ️ “safety first,” adage. I tripped, landed on my face, and ended up with stitches in my brow. Someone from the university Foreign Affairs Office accompanied me to the emergency room helping with communication and navigating the system. A few days later, my friend’s 5th grade son volunteered to escort me to my follow up visit. His leg bounced nervously as the nurse snipped and pulled. But he stayed. His sweet presence reminded me that in spite of cultural mistakes, unwanted attention, uncomfortable situations, and injury, I have for many years been safe under the chicken’s wing in the heart of China.

Various education projects have taken me all over the heartland and into some of the most remote and economically depressed regions of the country. There, in those hinterlands, I have been enfolded in warmth. I’ve passed many comfy moments in village schools chatting with teachers round their coal burning stove where both our toes and tea (and sometimes cans of soda) are warmed. In village homes, other snug moments have come while slurping homemade noodles atop a 炕^ℹ️, an enclosed brick platform with a fire inside used for sleeping, eating, and family gatherings. Some of my most precious moments began with one special middle school student. As I left her home after a cozy visit, she whispered, “Could I hug you?” Since that first welcome embrace, in schools and homes around the region, I’ve been enfolded in wings quite literally as child after child and sometimes a whole flock at one time has surrounded me with hugs.

When I first moved to China in the 1990s, my intention was to be like Jesus offering shelter to the “least of these.” Looking back over the many years, however, my memories shimmer not with gifts given but blessings received. Stretching back to my earliest days, I’ve been sheltered under the chicken’s wing in the heart of China. Though not because I deserved to be. My youthful pride is only one example of the many times I’ve been undeserving. Still, even though most do not know Him, neighbors and friends, students, colleagues and university leaders have been like Jesus to me. Their ready embrace of an unworthy fledgling is a glimpse of how Jesus gathers the undeserving under His wings and enfolds them in secure comfort. Their temporary shelter gives me a deeper appreciation for the eternal haven I have in Him. He puts my safety first. Before His own.

China map by Joowwww.