"Yes, that's the hardest part," Janet agreed.
Nan was amazed. Then to the Wus' astonishment, Dave broke into sobs, wiping his lumpy face with a tissue. "I'm sorry. It's too painful to choose."
Both Nan and Pingping were touched. Nan knew the Mitchells often went to church on Sunday mornings. Probably it was their Christian faith that had instilled in them the sense of guilt and enabled them to commiserate with the babies more than they-the Wus-could. Nan had never thought about the fate of the child the Mitchells would have to give up. He surmised that the Mitchells' minds must have another dimension that was absent from his.
Pingping said, "Think this way, Janet. When you saw the photos, which one of them you suddenly feel grab your heart?"
"This one." Janet lifted the one with a wider face from the coffee table. "I felt a jolt at the sight of her."
"How about you, Dave?" Pingping asked. "To me, it was the other one."
"Heavens, no way we can help you!" Pingping raised her hand in defeat.
Nan stepped in, "I feel you two have to do some soul-searching and figure out a solution by yourselves. When will you let zee agent know your decision?"
"Tomorrow afternoon," replied Janet.
"Sorry," Nan said. "We reelly can't help you, not because we don't want to share zer guilt. If only there were more information. On zee other hand, even if we had enough information, you would still feel guilty if you adawpt just one of zem, right?"
"I guess so," said Dave.
Despite the impasse, the Mitchells stayed late into the night, talking about their plan to travel to China and bring back their daughter. Not until twelve-thirty did they take their leave.
21
TWO DAYS LATER, Janet told the Wus that Dave had gone with her choice of the baby with the wider face, since it was she who had first thought of adoption. They had gotten more information on the child and were going to contact the INS to apply for a green card for her. From now on they must wait patiently for the time they could go to Nanjing and pick up their baby. They were sort of surprised that the process wasn't as intimidating and tedious as they had thought.
For days, Nan, moved by Dave's sobbing of the other night, had been pondering the Mitchells' sense of guilt, which made him change his mind about going to church. He began to think that any religion might improve humanity, at least be able to make people more compassionate and more humble. So he decided to visit the Chinese Christian Church in Duluth, a nearby town to the north, just to see if he liked it. Pingping planned to go with him, but on Sunday morning she felt under the weather, having sore shoulders, and stayed home. Before Nan set out, he gave her a back massage, which eased her pain considerably.
The church was in a modern stuccoed building sitting atop a gentle rise planted with cypress saplings. It was a hot day, and the heat was rising from the newly paved parking lot, flickering like purple smoke. As Nan entered the church, some people were standing around exchanging pleasantries in the foyer, which resembled the lobby of a hotel or theater. He saw a few familiar faces, but didn't know anyone except the woman who had once come to the Gold Wok to solicit donations for flood victims. He remembered her name, Mei Hong, and was sure she recognized him; yet for some reason she turned away after giving him a once-over. Nan went into the nave, sat down in a back pew, and picked up a hymnal. Hundreds of people were already sitting in there, and on the wide chancel platform were seated two men wearing dark blue suits and crimson neckties, both bespectacled. A potbellied vase holding a large mixed bouquet stood on the floor, in front of the lectern.
The service started, and the younger clergyman on the chancel went to the microphone and called for the people to rise. Together they started singing a hymn, "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God," accompanied by a huge piano played by a mousy woman in a corner. Next, they bowed and meditated for a moment. The hall turned quiet while Nan glanced right and left and noticed an old woman in front of him thumbing through a Bible rested atop the back of the pew before her. A baby let out a cry but was stopped immediately by its parent. Then a choir, eight women and six men in scarlet-collared gowns, went onto the chancel steps and sang "Sweet Hours of Prayer." Their singing was passionate but serene, swelling and ebbing as if they were leading the piano. After that, the pastor wearing tinted glasses, surnamed Bian, took the lectern and began preaching the sermon, entitled " New Hope." His voice was soft most of the time, but now and then it grew strong, fervent and exultant. He spoke about Paul, the apostle, as a model follower of the Lord and an ideal man. He quoted from the New Testament to illustrate that Paul was originally a sinner and a persecutor of Christians, but then changed into a man with a big heart. Paul never lost hope and always remained modest, not taking pride in his own accomplishments and praising only the Lord. He loved his siblings despite their tricks against him, despite their transgressions and sins, because he could forget the past and look ahead only. "Think about the sprinters at the Olympic Games," the preacher announced in Mandarin softened by his Fujian accent. "How can they run that fast? Do they look back when they're dashing toward the finish line? Of course not. Brothers and sisters, we have to lay aside our old disputes and animosity and look forward and think about the future, where our hopes are. Otherwise, how could we see any light?… "
Nan 's eyes were glued to the pastor's long, heavy-chinned face. He believed he had seen him before. But where? He couldn't remember. He was positive this man had come from mainland China.
Pastor Bian now was speaking about how to get rid of one's sins. He said, "If you have a glass of water mixed with soy sauce, how can you get the water clean again? Very simple. You keep pouring pure water into the glass until the soy sauce is washed away. Brothers and sisters, our Lord is the most abundant fountain of pure water. Tap into that divine source and you will be cleansed, clean like a newborn baby and bountiful with love."
Then he went on to talk about the necessity of accumulating one's rewards in heaven by doing good deeds on earth. He even claimed that he couldn't wait to meet God and collect the rewards he had deposited in God's bank up there.
Nan was fascinated by the analogies the pastor hurled, though he wasn't fully convinced by his eloquence. He remembered that his friend Danning Meng had told him that he couldn't stop weeping once at a Sunday service. In Massachusetts, Danning had gone to a Catholic church in Watertown at least once a month. In contrast, Nan now felt calm and detached. When the sermon was over, the choir again went to the front and belted out "Take My Life and Let It Be." After the singing, the pastor announced the birth of a baby to a couple in the congregation; it weighed seven pounds and five ounces, and mother and child were both safe and well. He also spoke about the amount of donations the church had received lately and urged people to give more so that they could reach the annual goal of collecting $50,000. After the announcements, the younger clergyman called everybody to rise again, and together they sang the final hymn, "I Praise My Lord Only," following the lines projected on the wall beside the chancel.
The moment they finished singing, the young clergyman said, "Please receive Brother Shiming Bian's benediction." People sat down and bowed their heads while the pastor raised both hands to deliver his final words: "Precious God, we thank you for making this church flourish and prosper. We ask for your blessing on every member of our community. Please make us strong and humble, brave and meek, righteous and compassionate. Please grant us the eyes that can see far and deep. Please grant us the ears that can hear your voice and the unpronounced truth. May your light and love guide our everyday existence so that we can forever remain yours-"