habibti katie

My Clothes Drying Rack

2012-02-09T21:57:00.000-08:00

I'm allowing myself one post-Jordan entry... and its about drying clothes.

I went to Target and bought a drying rack. Now, my parents have a great dryer, but I miss my drying rack. Actually, I miss drying my clothes on the line on top of my first roof in Jordan. Its ridiculous though. In the winter our clothes would hang for several days until they grew mildew, and they still wouldn't be dry. I would've given anything to have a dryer. Now, I MUST hang my clothes.

Hanging clothes to dry isn't only about the crispness of the laundry or the saving of energy. To me, it represents a simpler life. One in which I scheduled time in my day to hang clothes, wash dishes, and cook from scratch. I once thought that chores like these took away precious time and the invention of machines made life easier. Yet it almost felt like such chores kept life paced and simple. Routine. They gave time to think and pray and listen to music and talk to whoever may be coming or going.

I hope that I will always have a drying rack instead of a dryer, just as reminder to keep life slower, simpler. And to retain a part of my old and uncomplicated Jordanian life.

My neighbor's laundry hanging to dry. One of my favorite sites.

"Set Yourself on Fire...

2011-12-27T09:56:00.001-08:00

... and men will come from miles to watch you burn." - John Wesley

January 2011. Tired morning after tired morning a 26 year old fruit seller was refused a liscense for his street cart, yet he continually risked the penalty in order to provide for his family. Until a police woman slapped him across the face and confiscated his cart. He attempted to take the issue to court, but was refused.

Hopeless. Jobless. Unseen. Unheard. Shamed and Dis-honored. He poured kerosene over his body and set himself on fire. Badly burned, he was sent to the hospital, where crowds of people gathered to watch his fate.

The day that he died, an entire country rose up in rage against the government that had led them for so long. Within days, the president resigned. Weeks later, protests and revolutions spread to Egypt, Syria, Bahrain, Jordan, and Yemen. His country recently had its first real election and a moderate Islamic party was elected.

Earlier this month, a friend and I were able to visit the country where this young fruit vendor lived and died. We met people searching and hopeful, but still dis-illusioned. When we asked what had happened during the Revolution, one waitress explained to us quietly but continually looked over her shoulder as she talked. We also heard from others that the greatest frustration still has not been alleviated- finding a job. Yet through fears and frustrations, people are also asking questions about their existence and their purpose and hope, questions that they were too afraid to ask a year ago.

This Islamic description of the city wouldn't have been tolerated under the previous regime.

As talkative women in tea salons shared with us their future hopes in Arabic sprinkled with French, I thought about the courage of that young street vendor. I am reminded of the words of John Wesley, "Set yourself on fire and men will come from miles to watch you burn."

The 26 year old fruit seller was willing to sacrifice himself for his family and country. One sacrifice began the Arab Spring.

It can't help but cause questions to arise in my own heart and mind. Am I willing to be so surrendered and ready to give myself to a greater purpose? A purpose even greater than government and national freedom?

Trains, Planes, and Passport Theft

2011-12-07T06:55:00.000-08:00

Every once in a while a person's passport is stolen out of their lap while they are in a foreign country the day before they are scheduled to leave that foreign country.

This is such an account. (We originally told it as a birthday present to our mutual friend, hence the 'happy birthday' remark.)

Here is some Arabic vocabulary for the occasional references we make:

Inshallah- God willing

La- No

Inti Mtjozay- Are you married?

Shebab- Teenage guys

Sheb- a teenage guy

The incredible thing about it was that we were able to see provision every step of the way after the purse was stolen as various people offered assistance in the post-theft process.

Reflections on the Roof :)

2011-11-27T12:29:00.000-08:00

This is a picture I took three years ago on my first night here.

My first night in the city as the call to prayer rang out, I was in awe. The etherial sunset behind the famous blue mosque, its Adhan (call) echoing the others, and the smell of shwarma below enchanted me. I couldn't miss the chance to capture it on camera. Beautiful.

This roof became the place where I would sleep on hot summer nights, hang my laundry, grill Arab barbeque with my neighbors, make penny wishes with visiting college students, sing with my roommate, and listen to the call to prayer.

Over time, listening to these sounds on my roof became an act of faith... trusting that one day His voice will be heard. Not because of me, who neither began the work nor will finish it, but because of His faithfulness to a work that is ancient.

My roommate and I often stood on the roof overlooking the city, imagining our songs and 'thoughts' mingling with those ancients (Moses, Aaron, the 12 tribes, and many whom we have never heard) who lifted hands on this very same sand just a few thousand years earlier. We pictured Him, who exists outside of time, receiving all of our praises as one as they rise up together from the desert.

As I remember those who have gone before us, my 'faith eyes' can almost see the completion of 'Ancient Work' when one day my neighbors and friends will join with us in the great multitude of lifting hands.

Silly Signs Around Town

2011-11-20T06:04:00.000-08:00

If you want a haircut, stop by the 'New Look' barber shop. I LOVE it!

Ready for a night on the town? Check out the Big Big Party!

My favorite: a huge poster displaying a baby smoking hookah! (This tobacco-water pipe is more damaging than regular cigarettes!)

Little Explosion, Morning Prayer

2011-11-18T12:13:00.000-08:00

With chopped hair and a husky voice, her studded earrings are the only sign that she is not a little boy. Her skin is unlike the olive shade of most Arab girls, but is blackest black, meaning she came from a Bedouin tribe in the Jordan Valley. My first day at the orphanage last November she only spoke to yell at the other girls, and during the game of Go Fish she steathly switched the cards in her favor. When I attempted to give her a hug goodbye, she slipped out of my arms and refused to look at me. Her name is not easy to forget. "Fajer." "Explosion."

The change came gradually, perhaps after my friend praised her for not cheating, or as she calmed and warmed to the presence of both Jordanian and American women who came to love her. A gentleness began grow in her spirit.

Fajer doesn't have a mom to brag on her, so I will brag on her. I want people to know that she is the best color-in-the-lines eleven year old in Arabia. She loves approval of her pictures and points out her ability to color Sponge Bob in perfect shades of pink and purple. At the end of the day, she is a superb helper and often scrapes away at the play dough stuck deep in the carpet and gathers paper clippings. When other girls cry, she runs up and whispers in my ear that someone is in need of help.

The statistics of Fajer's future is not in her favor. Fifty percent of all girls who leave the orphanage at 18 become prostitutes, and 10 % commit suicide. In this culture, decisions about who to marry and even who to hire are based on family. Businesses are hesitant to hire a girl 'without a name' even if she has the skills and capabilities. Money is not the solution needed for Fajer right now- its hearts that are open to accepting a girl without a family name, Arab women that encourage their daughters to play with her at school, and local businesses that risk hiring girls without any name or honor.

Last night as Fajer and I finished an Arabic cartoon, I asked again, "Your name means 'explosion?"

In her beautiful, raspy voice she answered, "It can also mean 'morning prayer."

We said goodnight, and I watched her walk down the hall in her over-sized coat and in steps that had the sway of a tired old man, as I thought about the real meaning of her name.

Morning Prayer. Little Explosion is really a morning prayer.

"His mercies are new every morning."

I am brought to my knees in grief for Fajer and for her future, yet I place my hope in the One whose mercies are new every morning and the One who adopts sons and daughters as His own.

"In the morning, You hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation." Ps 5:3

2011-11-06T01:36:00.000-07:00

"Thank you! Thank you, so much... we love all of you Americans! Please, will you take our picture with us?" exclaimed a misty-eyed Libyan girl on the top of Mount Nebo.

Slightly embarressed at the un-deserved thank you, Sabra and I gathered with the family, making peace signs at the camera. They handed us buttons with Libyan flag and an Arabic inscription, "Free Libya Revolution."

It was the day after Gaddafi died. They have the chance to begin anew. While I do not support the cruel death of Gaddafi, my heart celebrates with this sweet family and their countrymen with hopes that better changes await.

The gratitude shown by the Libyan family was the first time being American has had a positive impact with my Arab friends. The typical response from families in this part of the world is to welcome me with hospitality, while assuring me of their distaste for my government. Because of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, foreign policy that supports Israel, the Crusades, and a long history of colonization by the French, British, and Italian, governments in the West are seen as exploiting other cultures and countries for their own interests in oil or water or the Holy Land. No one EVER says, "Katie, thank you for being American and thanks to your government." Until now and until Libya. Do we deserve their thanks?

Well, whether or not the thanks was deserved, it was fun to celebrate Libya's freedom with Libyans. I will never forget their joy and hope for a new beginning. It is an interesting time to be in the Middle East.

College Friends

2011-11-05T09:18:00.000-07:00

"Your friend is your needs answered. He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving." Khalil Gibran

Nine years ago when I made the standard welcome call to a girl visiting our college program, I never imagined that a friendship would form during our college years and continue through countless emails and letters across the country and finally across the oceans! Often I love Sabra's emails so much that I print them off and carry them with me.

Sabra came to visit recently, and it was a reminder of Father's kindness and His ability to bind kindred hearts together. While our lives have taken different paths, it is our faith and the desire to know Him that unites our spirits.

Standing on Mount Nebo where Moses overlooked the land of Canaan (the dark spot in the background is Jericho)

Standing in the Jordan River!

Another Blog about Running!

2011-10-29T13:11:00.000-07:00

My favorite thing about races here... its all about the party! I just ran another 10k through Amman, and more energy is exerted into the pre-race and post-race celebration than into the actual race. I love it! The chaos and confusion, the music, the smoke, the little kids, and Arab running attire....

Top 10 Differences

1. Pre-race cigerrette smoking
2. Running in jeans
3. Stage with choreographed dancing at the start line
4. Additional celebratory pre-race dancing among the runners
4. The Royal Family in attendance
5. Running out of water at the finish line!!! (Marathon runners were arriving parched and the water was gone!)
6. Running out of medals
7. Bagpipes!
8. Everyone under the age of 20
9. Women running in skirts and boots
10. Runners making zig-zags through the streets
11. Random men on roller blades skating against the traffic of runners

I will miss the celebration and randomness of running with friends through the streets of ancient Amman!

Wearing jeans at the Start Line

Running in boots and skirts

Bagpipe Celebration

Thanks for the pics, Julia!

Nuns and Necklaces

2011-10-07T05:52:00.000-07:00

My dear friend Carol sent me a birthday present in FEBRUARY! It never reached me because my company changed our PO box, and I didn't even know she sent it!

She finally revealed to me her disappointment that it never reached me, and I went in search of my long lost mail. Every postal worker insisted that all mailed had been returned months ago. "Please, just check," I pleaded. No one wanted to.

In the end, a woman only revealing her eyes appeared and agreed to go. And... a few minutes later she returned down the stairs with a pink envelope. At the site of it, the post office women gathered around me, congratulating me, clapping and smiling and waiting for me to open it.

This is what was inside! Thank you so much, Carol! I love it!!!!! I love you!!!
(This is the card, the necklace, and a picture of my friend Carol.)

I think the women at the post office were surprised to see me open a card with two 'covered ladies' on the front!

Olive Orchard Retreat

2011-09-24T08:19:00.000-07:00

Njoud and I spent the weekend at her family's holiday home in the countryside this past weekend, reading, napping, walking through the olive orchard, and eating Maqluba. It was a retreat from our busy city life.

Meanwhile the world watched as Mahmoud Abbas petitioned the UN for a Palestinian state. Though we didn't have exposure to the latest news via TV or internet, the subject was on our hearts and we could see Palestine over the tops of the olive trees. Olive trees are everywhere- in orchards waiting to be harvested, city sidewalks, and down into the valley past the border into Palestine. They grow as a symbol of peace and fruitfulness and righteousness, but its a symbol not yet experienced in this region.

Njoud's neighbor, a sweet Palestinian girl came for tea one evening and described the oppression of her family. "My people have no peace," she explained. I was reminded of a Palestinian man I met in Bethlehem last winter who suffers under the oppression but told me something different, "We have no political peace, but we have Peace in our hearts that enables us to love our oppressors."

My desire for Palestine is not only that it might become a sovereign state, but that one day the oil and fruit of eternal Peace and abiding Righteousness will flow into and from the hearts of the people as the pastor in Bethlehem, no matter the political circumstances.

The olive trees are a sign of encouragement to me, that the Creator would choose a place with HARD soil to plant a fruit tree that symbolizes peace and righteousness.

In front of Njoud's home- this girl is a BLESSING and dear friend!!!

An olive tree in her orchard... its almost time for harvesting!

A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit...

Arab Hospitality

2011-09-04T04:42:00.000-07:00

"Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling.." 1 Pe 4:9

The past several months I have been reading about about hospitality and what it means to welcome others and offer them a place to be themselves. In the midst my search, I found myself a recipient of Arab hopsitality this past Eid.

By the third day of Eid (the holiday celebrating the end of Ramadan), I was shaking from countless cups of tea and coffee and sick from the trays of fig cookies that had been served to Judy and me as we went from home to home, but my heart was glad.

During these three days, families and friends visit one another, drinking coffee and tea, eating sweets, and handing out money and gifts to children and single women. While we didn't receive any money, we received sweets and drinks and kisses! Hospitality here extends beyond just gifts and food. Guests are given seats of honor... so we were seated farthest from the door. Throughout the visit, our hosts continually ensured our comfort and urged their guests to remain longer. We loved every minute!

I hope that my appreciation for the hospitality of this culture will also develop in me a hospitable heart.

Here are friends and I enjoying a traditional Eid sweet.

Planking

2011-08-07T06:00:00.001-07:00

Last week I met up with my family for vacation in the Caribbean! It was a week of bliss... the beach was wonderful, but best of all was hanging out with my sisters and parents! I cherish time with my family, knowing that the last few years have been a bit harder for us to see each other. Usually on each vacation or holiday, one or two things stick out and become a 'theme' or 'joke' that will continue for years to come. If I had to think of a word or theme for our Caribbean vacay, I think I'd choose 'planking' and 'owling.' If you don't know what that is, don't worry, neither did I until Laura and Dillon sat me in front of youtube the first night in the hotel. The rest of our time was centered around when and how we could plank!

Besides planking and owling, Laura and I walked and read on the beach for hours. Dillon focused on tipping our float each time we were in the ocean. My dad treated us to amazing meals every night and went with us out on the boat to swim with the string rays, despite his aversion to water sports. My mom convinced us to snorkel, and then she and Mollie were kind enough to go with me to see the final Harry Potter movie. Harry Potter was definitely a highlight since its impossible to see it in Jordan! (Jordan has been boycotting all Hollywood new releases.)

Here are a few fun pics! My sweet family!

Summer Students

2011-08-07T05:46:00.000-07:00

This summer we had over 30 American students come to teach English, learn Arabic, learn culture, and volunteer at an orphanage. Summer is one of my favorite seasons because of these young, energetic, passionate, and encouraging faces that join us for a brief time. Here are a few pics of new friends that came into my life for a moment.

(Click on the pics to make them larger.)
Visiting a friend for a meal:

De-briefing back at their house after a long day:

Call to Prayer

2011-07-12T07:02:00.000-07:00

The Call to Prayer goes off five times a day, along with a 'warning' call 15 minutes before the actual call. In the summer, the first one is at about 4:30am (this is usually when I wake up and close my window) and the last one is about 9:00pm. Here is a glimpse into my life...

Mint Lemonade

2011-06-09T00:35:00.000-07:00

Enjoying Jafra Cafe downtown with my Arabic teacher.

Just add a little bit of lemonade to mint. I could drink this everyday of summer.

A Few of My Favorite Things...

2011-05-10T11:05:00.000-07:00

Teaching Yoga at the Gaza Refugee Camp while wearing a dress. Eating watermelon with gypsies. Fast walking through the city at night. Drawing chalk pictures with 9 and 10 year old girls at the orphanage. Asking God to give me dreams about who my Arab friends should marry (at their request). Belly dancing with Iraqi ladies. Cooking Easter dinner for Arab girlfriends. Having my language teacher clap her hands in delight after I was forced to tell her about my first heart-break in Arabic. Waking up to the sound of the minaret outside my window. Drinking tea with sweet women who invite us in off the street. Walking through herds of sheep. Cleansing my skin with Dead Sea mud.

I love my life here. Its hard, and sometimes I am NOT good at it. Yet for every challenge, He gives me joy by broadening my understanding of Him through His Word, adventures in His creation and meeting people who reflect His love... gypsies, refugees, shepherds, orphans, and neighbors.

This week He encouraged several friends and me with time at the Dead Sea!

Rockin' the Fast Walk

2011-04-18T02:34:00.000-07:00

It is a rare occasion to see athletic Arabs. Yet several evenings ago, one hundred locals set out to walk the streets wearing bright neon reflective vests. Jordanians of all sizes and shapes ventured out into the wind and rain to exercise and lose those shwarma and filafel calories… covered women, uncovered women, young and old men alike. Loners and pairs and groups. Every Sunday and Tuesday evening they set out and stop traffic wherever they may be. I have become one of them and love it!

Sometimes

2011-04-09T12:35:00.000-07:00

We sat around the table mashing play-dough into animals when 9 year old Sheyma asked me in Arabic, “Do you ever cry?” Immediately the ‘house mother’ of the orphanage shushed her for asking a ‘shameful’ question.

Turning to the girl, I answered her, “Sure, I cry sometimes.” Suddenly every little eye in the room was on me, as well as the shocked house mother. (Islam and the culture have little room for expression of authentic emotions, and especially little room for tears.)

“Why do you cry?” Sheyma pressed.

“I might cry if I am sad. It helps.”

“Do you cry when someone dies?”

“Yes, because I am sad when someone dies.”

She paused.

“Do you cry because your parents died too?”

Not a girl breathed as they waited to hear my answer. I knew I didn't have the answer they hoped for.

Sometimes my heart aches so much for the people in darkness here and for these sweet girls, I have to ask Father on a daily basis to give me faith to believe that one day He can restore and redeem broken hearts and make glad His people. That one day they may come to know Him and He will tell them that He never despised their tears, but instead He held their every tear in a bottle as their culture shamed their weeping.

"There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God." Ps 46:4

The Gulf!

2011-04-04T04:05:00.000-07:00

Desert is still desert. Sand stilll sand. Beautiful girls wearing head coverings are still beautiful girls wearing head coverings. Arabia is still Arabia in whatever country you may find yourself.

This past weekend I was able to visit my dear friends from Texas Tech who are living in Sharjah, United Arab Emirates as university professors. Cindy and Jeff poured their lives into mentoring others and building community when I was college student at Tech, and it was a joy to spend time with them! We compared our lives in the Middle East and the similarities between our resident countries.

Despite similarities, I also saw just how different the Gulf of Arabia is from the rocky hills of Jordan. In Dubai I saw girls wearing the flowing black abiyah but trimmed in gold and lace. They carried Gucci and Louis Vuitton handbags and drove Bentleys and Lamborghinis. I wish I had a picture of this!

Young Arab men drove Landcruisers up and down the sand-dunes like four-wheelers.

My friends brought me to their university, where they instruct wealthy college students of 30 plus nationalities on a gorgeous campus. The palm trees were planted by the local sheikh to shade the girls on their walk to the dorm.

We also went to a private fundraising party at a house on the Palm Islands, which was the most posh party I've ever attended! The backyard opened up to a private beach on the shores of the Persian Gulf and waiters serves us hoir deuvres and mint lemonade as we mingled and strolled the beach. Here is our party according to the GPS.

I loved being with old friends and gaining a deeper understanding of Arabia and all the diversity that expands across it!

My Favorite Little Girls in Arabia!

2011-03-18T09:58:00.000-07:00

At the girls' orphanage that some friends and I visit each week, I lost my camera and found it later in an empty room. The girls left this video on it! If you are curious what they are saying, they are 'interviewing' each other. I'll continue to post more pics and videos..

Bellydancing!

2011-03-15T12:51:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I walked straight past my usual treadmill at the women's only gym and instead followed the blaring Arab music, leading me to the jam packed room that was shaking from the speakers. I slid in the back of the exercise class and glanced around.

I was under-dressed. At the gym.

Every girl was wearing a short skirt with jingling bells, tight shirts that stopped above their mid-drift, knee high workout boots, wild hair, and TONS of make-up. (I was wearing baggy sweats, t-shirt, and running shoes. My hair was slicked back in a pony-tail.)

Drums began. My hips did not. (Maybe I just needed a cool skirt?) For the next hour I was caught in the middle of a mass group of Arab women belly dancing. I LOVED IT. Women of all different ages and shapes and sizes seemed to suddenly transform into a newfound confidence once their hips started wiggling. They were all GOOD! I was the tallest and least-curvey woman in the class and felt pretty awkward at first. Until I realized that all the stress of the week (particularly being shamed and yelled at by two policemen in Arabic yesterday) was all forgotten once the music began.

One hour later, exhausted, I went to the locker room to change back into my street clothes with the women in my class. They replaced their jangling skirts and hoop earrings and tight tops with head-scarves and long skirts and wiped off their make-up. Once again they had become modest, respectable, passive, and temperate mothers and sisters and daughters.

On the way home, I passed several covered women walking quietly to the fruit market and wondered... how many of them are secretly belly dancers underneath their conservative hijabs?

We Set Out to Win a Race... and We Won Hearts!

2011-03-08T05:58:00.000-08:00

5 Rules for Foreign Women Living in the Middle East

Rule 1: Don't speak to or engage Arab men. Ignore their hissing and cat calls.
Rule 2: Cover your legs and arms and hips with loose clothing.
Rule 3: Women should exercise in the gym and not run in public in daylight hours.
Rule 4: Single women should be accompanied by an adult male relative or married couple at night
Rule 5: Women should not pee openly in public (okay, so maybe this also applies to the States)

This weekend our 10 person, all girl team broke every cultural rule as we dashed through the desert of Arabia, but we still managed to win a few hearts!

It all began three months ago when an American girl was recruiting team members for a 10 person relay race that began at the Dead Sea (the lowest point in the world) and ends at the Red Sea. Despite the fact that I haven't seriously run since high-school soccer, I secured a spot for myself, and we spent the last couple of months training and strategizing how to divide the 242 km.

Our team name? 'Bad Idea.' I'm pretty sure no explanation is needed. We were the only all girls team in the race.

We split up into two vans of 5 people each and had an okay start with each person running 3 minutes. After one hour of this, the other van drove ahead 35km and our van then split up the 35km between the 5 of us and took turns running sprints of 500 meters each, until our van's 35 km was complete.

As the sun was setting, our sprints carried us out of the Dead Sea terrain and up into Wadi al Arabah, the southern part of the Jordan Rift Valley, through villages where Bedouins had come to sit and watch the scantily clothed foreign women run by. Occasionally Bedouin children would leave their flocks of goats to run beside us! "Are you winning?! Are you winning?!' they cried in Arabic. (The team that placed 2nd was actually a team of all Bedouins that ran barefoot!)

At the 2am hour, we had more visitors. An ambulance full of Jordanian men was on our heels. Unfortunately, this was the ambulance sent to trail the last team. Although no one had passed us in hours, the 4 other teams behind us dropped out. Spirits started sinking. Little did we know this ambulance of Arab men would be our saving! During the next ten hours, they used their loud speaker to shout encouraging words to us in Arabic and cheered our names, held their cell phones up to the mircophone to play Arab music after one of our girls began to cry from knee injuries, and three of them even got out to run beside me. (They couldn't keep up for long though!) We occasionally took them banana bread and water to show our gratitude!

Slight complications occurred during bathroom breaks. We were stopping every 20-30 minutes to go to the bathroom and the desert is FLAT! We had to send our ambulance friends ahead every so often.

We continued our 500 meter sprints through the night and into the sunrise. By this time our muscles were shocked and confused- just as they were warmed up, we'd be sitting in the car again, wait a few minutes, and then hit the pavement again. As the sun rose, we entered more villages as people were waking up for the day and herding their flocks through the wilderness. Our bodies were weary from lack of sleep. We pushed, hollered, sang, danced, high-fived, honked, and laughed at each other in effort to forget the pain.

About an hour and a half from the finish line, three American girls that had driven from Amman pulled up in their car with goodie bags and home-made posters with our names! They kept with us the entire time, getting out to cheer and blare music. If it wasn't for them, we may not have finished!

FInally, as we entered Aqaba, we were met with a police car that escorted us through congested traffic. We finished at 23 hours and 13 minutes as we ran through a toilet paper finish line and were cheered on by friends from several other teams. We even made it onto the local news station!

Our team was officially the last to finish, but we made it before the 24 hour cut-off and owe it to those Bedouin children, ambulance drivers, police escort, cheerleaders, and the newscast, who all spurred us on through our dehydration and muscle pain! Despite our immodest bathroom breaks, bare shoulders and legs, and cultural oddities, we had won the hearts of the people around us, who in turn cheered us along and escorted us to the finish line!

"We set out to win a race, and we won their hearts." So said team member Julia Wallin, halfway through the race.

The sunset at the Dead Sea a few hours past the starting point.(= (Thats my braid!)

Here are typical Arab men. Can't miss an opportunity to be dirty...

Bedouin children keeping up with us!

Running through the night. Ambulance men trying to keep up with us...

Morning comes, and so do the 18 wheelers!

Camels grazing...

Locals are pretty curious!

The last stretch... almost in Aqaba city limits!

28 Years!

2011-03-08T04:58:00.000-08:00

"We turn not older with years, but newer everyday." Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson and I have become re-aquainted with each other the last several months. While I lack the words to express my thoughts, she has captured them perfectly for both of us, including my thoughts on my birthday. As I celebrated 28 years last week, I celebrated the relationships I've made this year, the things I've learned from my family and co-workers, the discoveries I've made about Father and His faithfulness, and the challenges and joys that are developing me into the daughter, sister, friend, and servant that I want to be. In the last year I think I may have cried more than I ever have. Yet, I think I have also laughed harder and drank deeper and ran faster (literally) than I ever have! All because of Father's faithfulness and love.

What exactly does one do on her birthday in the Middle East? Well, on my birthday, my roommate Amanda took me out to breakfast where I ordered a cream cheese and honey pita! Following that, I had an Arab-style dance party. (In this culture, girls don't dance in front of boys, so my party was culturally appropriate and only included girls.) We had belly dancing skirts (colorful skirts with dangling bells), and henna. My American friends and I all wore blue jeans and t-shirts, but my Arab friends showed up in stilleto high-heels and fake eyelashes. The Arab girls taught us belly dancing, and we taught them some hip hop and line dancing in return. That night, my co-workers took me out for Italian food. Dancing, henna, italian food, a package from home (thanks, mom!), and time with friends... I cherished every moment. I didn't deserve a birthday filled with such laughter and dancing! (I grew up dancing- ballet, tap, lyrical, country two-stepping, and the high-school dance team, and its something I've really missed while living here.)

That night I reflected on all the undeserved blessings of the past year- which included the wonderful people in my life in Arabia and in the States, trips across the U.S., time with my sisters and parents, increase of Arabic, a chance to make a home in Arabia, and even times of trial and bruising in which Father was taking me to a deeper, newer place with Him. I look forward to more years of growing older, or as Emily says, turning newer.

Voices of the Arab People

2011-02-12T05:41:00.001-08:00

In a Palestinian refugee camp in the center of the city, sitting around satellite tv with my Iraqi refugee friends in their one room home, we watched the announcement on Al Jeezera in Arabic as Mubarak resigned and the Egyptian people rejoiced that their voice was heard. (I think I was also equally excited that I could understand everything the news correspondent said in Arabic!)

I talked with my Iraqi friends about the next step and all the various ways Egypt could go and the possible people to replace the president. It is an interesting time to be in the Middle East.

In the last month and a half:
Mubarak resigns as president of Egypt
Libyan protestors began putting pressure on Gaddafi
Tunisian president Ben Ali flees as protestors demand change
Lebanon replaced Prime Minister Hariri with Hezbollah backed Mikati
Southern Sudan votes to secede from the Arab north
Iranians have continuously attempted to stand up against Ahmajinedad

The people have been heard and continue to be heard.

How does this affect where I live? There have been protests here, but they are calm and orderly and take place at set locations and times. The protests have largely concerned Parliament and the Cabinet, while King Abdullah is still fully supported. Jordanian life has continued interrupted and our daily lives remain the same. I haven't even seen a live protest yet. That being said, there are underlying issues in this country, particularly between the different types of Arab people, such as the Palestinian and Jordanian, which does play a part in the current the political situation, as most government officials are Jordanian while more than half of the population is Palestinian.
If you are interested in catching up on Jordanian news, see the articles below:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-12507937
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-12482679

I find myself hopeful for the Arab people as they have found the courage to speak and change their circumstances and speak out against oppressive leaders and governments. May this be a chance for the world to remember and support the Arab men and women who are fighting for freedom.

And there were shepherds in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night...

2011-01-02T07:47:00.000-08:00

I see shepherds on a weekly basis- herding their sheep and goats down the street, through the McDonalds parking lot, and in the valleys outside the city. Cars at honk for them to move out of the way, their shabby beards match the dirty wool of the animals, and while they push and beat their sheep through upscale neighborhoods, their education and status is far beneath that of the Arab families that live around me. In the city shepherds are a nuisance, and in the surrounding desert, they are simple people on a continual search for water, traveling from oasis to oasis over dirt and stony paths.

This holiday season when I read Luke 2, I have a new understanding.

Desert Hike

2011-01-02T07:30:00.000-08:00

"As hard as it to believe that the dry desolate desert can yield endless varieties of flowers, it is equally hard to imagine that our loneliness is hiding unknown beauty." - Henri Nouwen (Reaching Out)

A few weeks ago some friends and I ventured out on a hike in the desert. What began as a walk through a dry and rocky valley became an ascent up scattered waterfalls. I was refreshed to find that there could be a place so beautiful, and at the same time so unexpected and hidden! As I read Reaching Out, I am reminded that the same is true in our lives.

Christmas in the Middle East

2010-12-20T04:31:00.000-08:00

One of my dear friends here is Arab-American. Here we are at her house decorating her Christmas tree as we listen to carols. The carols are a bit different in Arabic, but I shared a few of my favorites with her last year and she brought our CD back out this year! Even though she celebrates Christmas, she had never heard 'O Holy Night' or 'Silent Night' or 'The First Noel'.

I plan to decorate another tree tonight with my co-workers!

Holiday of the Sacrifice

2010-11-21T03:11:00.000-08:00

... A gentle reminder to those sacrificing a lamb this holiday...

Each morning that throaty tune from the neighborhood mosque warns me that I have a few more hours of sleep and lulls me back into my dreams. Yet the sounds echoing from the mosque this week are the kind that might accompany war scenes in Braveheart or Gladiator. The first day of the three day holiday was shephered in at 3:30am with a sort of Arab drum and chanting, which continued for several hours. I stood shivering in the twilight looking for the chanters, but they were hidden by the neighboring buildings.

Eid Al-Adha, or Holiday of the Sacrifice, commemorates Abraham’s journey up the mountain to sacrifice his son and Allah’s provision of the ram in his son’s place. Muslim families sacrifice an animal (sheep, goat, cow, or camel) to remember this provision, and meat is then given to poor families.

The highways are spattered with sheep pens so families on-the-go can grab an ample lamb on their way home. Propriety is not forgotten in this sacrifice, and there is an exact method to the killing. The animal’s throat is quickly slit and left on the earth to bleed out. Often, all the neighbors or family members will conduct a ‘mass killing’ and an entire street will waft in the aroma of blood. A few hours later, it is overtaken by the smell of barbeque.

Children run through the streets sporting new dresses and jackets, buying candy with wads of cash. It is a tradition for all males to give money to children and unmarried women in their family. Usually the recipient walks away with 500 dinar, or about 700 USD in one day. It is spent immediately on candy, toys, and clothes.

Arab hospitality was extended to my roommates and me, and meals of lamb ensued. We arrived at one friend’s home, 10 kilos outside of the city. Upon arrival, we were ushered into the house, which was encircled by an olive orchard. Oksana, the Russian woman that had married into the family, was standing on a tree branch, dropping olives onto the blanket spread beneath her, so we waved and continued. Once inside, we were given seats of honor, those farthest from the door, and all of the family members came downstairs to visit. The next several hours we chatted and laughed with our generous hosts in broken Arabic. (There may also have been belly dancing when the men left the room!)

Finally, we were served lunch and told that the lamb was fresh- killed just the day before. It was so fresh in fact, that there were still little bits of animal hair stuck between the flesh and bone. We washed it down with hot yogurt poured on top.

It was a BEAUTIFUL start to the Eid, sure to be followed by more house visits, food, dancing, gifts, and extended chants and calls to prayer from the mosque.

Around Town

2010-11-10T00:34:00.000-08:00

Pigs are 'haram' or 'forbidden' in Islam. There is also no 'p' letter in the alphabet. As you can see, adjustments have been made.

Church's Chicken becomes Texas Chicken in the Middle East

This is the sign on the inside of our apartment building. Thankfully, there have been no 'clefty events' yet.

My roommate posing in our favorite coffee shop. We wear Western clothes in this cafe and drink tea by the pitcher! Doesn't feel that different from the States...

The East Gate

2010-10-27T02:50:00.001-07:00

After spending most of the day speaking Arabic with my instructor, I headed to the university to meet a few friends. Feeling confident in my language skills and ready to relax, I flagged a taxi, jumped in, and let my mind relax...

I casually told the driver, "Sharuq Al Ausit," wanting to be delivered to the "East Gate" of the university. In the rearview mirror I saw the driver's eyebrows raise, so I repeated myself just to clarify. This time he turned around to face me, "Aslan!" meaning "already." Ahah! This was another taxi driver trying to trick the lonely American girl, but I was not going to allow it.

"Sharuq Al Ausit!" I exclaimed a third time loudly and directly. He repeated himself once more in exasperation, and all in one moment I understood what was happening. "Sharuq Al Ausit" does not mean "East Gate." It means "The Middle East."

My confused taxi driver was correct, we were already in the Middle East.

My Visitor

2010-10-18T13:08:00.001-07:00

This week I had a dear friend visit from South Asia. We met in grad-school five years ago and spent the last few days catching up, laughing, and praying while riding donkeys in the desert, sleeping next to a Bedouin campfire, and climbing sand dunes. We also managed to watch a few movies, eat pizza with some Arab friends, and each study our individual languages. We even found that our languages share a few of the same words!

I didn't capture the scream that came right after the photo!

This was our Bedouin tour guide. Can you tell that he really liked Cathy?

Sunset in the desert

We slept outside so we could see the stars.

Cathy enjoying our jeep tour.

Sweet Bedouin children at Petra. I wanted to take them home with me!

2010-10-11T07:29:00.001-07:00

Lunch Break with Instructors and Co-Workers

2010-10-02T07:26:00.000-07:00

The Hashemite Kingdom

2010-09-22T12:49:00.000-07:00

From the moment I step into my dusty street in attempts to hail a taxi in the morning, to the moment I collapse on our Bedouin cushions, I am reminded that I live in a kingdom. When I shop at the supermarket, sit in Arabic class, ride the bus, or visit the dentist, I see signs and posters dedicated to His Majesty, King Abdullah II. Pictures of him and his family are hung in KFC, Mecca Mall, taxi cabs, my Arabic classroom and even in the portable vegetable tent down the street.

This country adores their kings. Abduallah I. Talal. Hussein. Abdullah II. There is little question as to why, as these royal men (Hashemites, or descendants of Mohammed) have made this country 'Switzerland' in a sea of clashing Arab nations. Just to the south, women are forbidden to drive cars and must be escorted by men. To the east, west, and north, violence and oppression are everyday realities. But in this desert, the kings have made an oasis of peace. (There remain issues and things still to be resolved- honor killings, fundamentalists, and poverty.) Yet it is a also a place of hope- home to Palestinian and Iraqi refugees, and central to peace talks concerning the entire region.

The nation is a constitutional monarchy rather than an absolute monarchy, meaning that the people are given power to elect representatives to certain positions, including a parliament. However, the king has ultimate power. (Last year he disbanded the parliament when he saw need.) Living in this sensitive region has allowed me to see the value of monarchism, when a nation is blessed to have a king such as Abdullah and his fathers. Issues particular to this region would be challenging to resolve without the absolute authority of the king.

'Blessed are the peacemakers.' May this country and its king be blessed.

This is one of the many posters displayed throughout the city.

Allah Kareem!

2010-09-04T16:11:00.000-07:00

After cups of coffee, cups of tea & sugar, Arab dessert, and chocolate pudding, sleep is difficult- even at 2:30am. The sleeplessness is worth it since tonight I celebrated Iftar (meal of breaking the fast) with six beautiful Arab sisters and two German girls. We cooked, talked, laughed, and... ate!

Food is the heart of this society, and women's lives are centered around these meals. Friendships are built in kitchens and dining rooms.

Making the traditional Ramadan desert. Basically a fried pancake folded over and filled with nuts and coconut and chocolate.

I am making my very own!

Bashara and her mother! She knows she is adorable!

Mother and sisters. Plus blond German. Plus strawberry-blond American.

Its now 3am, and I am yet not alone in my insomnia. The neighbors are playing hide-and-seek in the street, and I can hear the sound of food frying from their kitchen. I think I even hear a vacuum cleaner. Perhaps it will lull me to sleep!

A Few Pictures for You

2010-08-31T13:23:00.000-07:00

From my bedroom window...

Where I buy vegetables and fruit...

View from our balcony...

“There was a warmth and joy in everyone and everything I saw, and I was entranced by the delightful harmony of past and present, of sheep grazing in fields and empty lots adjacent to sophisticated office buildings and state-of-the-art hospitals.” ~ Queen Noor, wife of the late King Hussein

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year... Ramadan

2010-08-29T02:43:00.000-07:00

The prophet gave particular instructions on how to break the fast with... a date and glass of water. The 'Purpose Driven Mosque" (the largest and most modern mosque in the city, as we refer to it) hands out bags of water and dates in the street so that at exactly sundown, you can break the fast in your car!

"Ramadan lights" dangle on porches and balconies in the shapes of stars and crescent moons. Almost every restaurant and coffee shop is closed during the day, but opens at about 8:30pm in the evening. (It is illegal to eat or drink in public until after the evening prayer.) As you can see in this picture, it's in the middle of the day, and Starbucks is closed and empty.

For those of you who are less familiar with this holiday, Ramadan is 30 days of fasting during the daylight hours. This is a spiritual discipline that is required in Islam, as one of the five pillars. For those that participate in Ramadan, their prayers reach highest to God, and their chances of receiving God's mercy at Judgment Day are significantly greater.

Festive Decorations...

Summer Time

2010-08-11T15:29:00.000-07:00

The best part about being home in America is seeing people I love! Here are just a few pictures...

Little Women. My mom, sisters, and cousin took a 24-hour trip out 'West.'

My other cousins and I waiting in line to get Laura Bush’s signature!

Working with iGO… preparing and training students going overseas. This was one of my teams. (They went to London to work with immigrants.)

My college best-friend Kristen holding her 2nd little baby boy Cole Robert!

Dallas Trip...

Visiting my Iraqi neighbors. These happy girls are their daughters, who spoke enough English to tell me they never brush their teeth!

Some of my absolute favorite kids! We spent the day at Hawaiin Falls waterpark. I prayed for a cheap entrance, and a teenage in the parking lot gave us 4 free tickets! We had a great day splashing and sliding and tubing.

Eid al Adha

2009-11-29T12:04:00.000-08:00

The past few days since Thanksgiving we've been celebrating the Muslim holiday Eid al Adha. This commemorates Abraham's journey up the mountain to sacrifice Ishmael. In Islamic tradition families slaughter a lamb and offer the food to the poor in memory of Abraham.

I spent the Eid weekend with some of my Arab friends from the university in their home. Here are pictures!

Wish her eyes were open...

dancing in the living room...

Eating one of many fantastic meals!

Thanksgiving

2009-11-27T11:11:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday. I missed my family yesterday, but I couldn't have asked for a better Thanksgiving here.

There was some pre-Thanksgiving drama, but it was all over by the actual day.

This is Kat, my roommate and co-worker who punched another co-worker in the face.

This is Austin, my co-worker who was punched in the face by another co-worker.

Here are4 of us making the pies- me, Kat, Aaron, and Luke.

Eating!

The best part is relaxing after-wards! We read, slept, and watched Lord of the Rings.

2009-10-24T07:49:00.000-07:00

On my walk back to the office from Subway (the chain restaurant that made its way to the Middle East), I had to cross 3 busy streets. Crossing streets in in any country outside of the U.S. is sure to be adventure. The cars are speeding down the lanes, not bothering to pay attention to the lane divisions or the street signs, or even pedestrians. I wasn't really scared- I was used to it by this point.

Next to me also waiting to cross the street, I noticed a petite woman covered completely in black. While I see these woman all the time, none of my friends are so conservative as to cover even their eyes and hands. I was intrigued by her small frame, her cover, and the fact that she was following a 50 year old man by about 3 or 4 steps. "Please, how can I talk to her," i thought.

As we crossed the street at the same time, I feigned fear. In broken Arabic, I exclaimed loudly, "Oh no! I'm scared!" as the taxis and buses sped towards us. The covered girl jumped into action and immediately positioned herself between the cars and myself. She grabbed my arm and guided me across the street. We crossed 3 streets together.

When we finally reached the curb, we parted ways much to my disappointment. I thought to myself, "If she turns around and looks at me twice, I'll follow her and introduce myself." I turned around, and then she turned around. "Okay, one more time." I took a few steps and turned around again, and saw her turn around as well. YES! I ran back towards her, and as I did so, she took out her cell phone. We exchanged numbers, waved goodbye, and I skipped back to work.

I don't even know her age- I couldn't see her face or eyes or hands. But her voice was young and cheerful. And kind. I called her yesterday (all in Arabic, by the way) and now we have plans to get together tomorrow, inshallah. I have many Arab friends, so why should this excite me so much? Maybe its because she was so mysterious, or maybe because of our silly meeting, our maybe because we are meant to be friends.

Germans

2009-10-17T07:33:00.000-07:00

My favorite German left today. We celebrated her last night with dancing in the street, as she decided that she could be culturally inappropriate at-least one time before leaving. So Judy sang, "You Said" in the street, arms freely waving and feet skipping. Life here without her will be quiet.

Here we are at her going away party with two of our friends. (Sorry about the bad quality, but I was using a special "underwater" disposable camera.)

Breaking the Fast

2009-09-14T14:30:00.000-07:00

We have just broken the fast for the day. See how happy we are?! This is my Palestinian friend who teaches at the University, my German friend, and my old roomate.

2009-08-28T10:13:00.000-07:00

Ramadan is a month of discipline. Fasting. Letting go of the physical needs in order to cling to the spiritual.

I was able to experience these things the last two nights. I let go of my selfish, physical desire to simply stop eating when I am full, and I continued to scoop food from the piles of rice and chicken on my plate as the cook added heaps.

Luckily, I was not alone with my dear Arab friends because my vegetarian roommate was with me. I got to sneak her meat onto my plate and eat it for her.

I could feel my face begin to heat, and sweat dropped from my forehead and I concentrated on eating more... and more... and more. Whenever I looked at my plate, there was still so much left. I began to push the food off my plate and let it "drop" onto the table and floor around me, hoping no one would notice.

Somehow we finished, but my plate was never less than half-full. Little did I know that next there would be 3 desserts brought out, one after the other.

The eating finally finished around midnight. Since I was spending the night, I told everyone goodnight and went to sleep while the rest of the family stayed up preparing for the next meal.

The next meal took place at 3:30am. I was awoken from my "nap" at 3:00am to the smell of fried food, very aware of the fact that none of the food from dinner had digested yet. We dragged ourselves to the table and then ate fried filafel and french fries until 4am. Once we heard the Call to Prayer, it was officially bedtime. 4:30am.

Everyone slept until 1pm. Then, we got up and the preparations for the next meal began.

Ramadan. Its kind of fun.

2009-08-08T04:38:00.000-07:00

People

2009-08-02T05:20:00.000-07:00

Friends from the University

Mount Nebo... where Moses looked over the Promised Land

Two of my favorite guys! Luke is a co-worker, and soon Austin will be one as well!

Friends from our Conversation Club out for lunch

Meet Cristine, my Arabic instructor and co-worker at CGE.

Visit to Zarqa

2009-06-06T11:59:00.000-07:00

Strolling down the street with my friend...

She is one of my English students and invited me to her home Saturday to eat the national dish called Mansaf. I loved meeting her family and friends and just relaxing.

Evenings of smoking shisha I am being corrupted...

Fun Day

2009-06-02T10:36:00.000-07:00

The last few days have been really great. REALLY great!

Yesterday we had our Conversation Club and we talked about "freedom" for two hours with a group of university girls. We facilitated the questions and they talked and debated with each other about everything- from freedom (or the lack of) within their country, to wearing the veil, to personal freedom. At the end, they gushed about returning next week with more friends. I've gotten to spend time with several of them recently over icecream, shopping, and just hanging out at the office! They are beautiful, sweet, intellectual, modest, and silly girls who I am growing to love! (And as strange as it sounds, its been encouraging to hear them tell me that all I do to try and fit in is worth it- like learning Arabic and wearing long sleeves and pinning my hair up.)

Today I had lunch with my DTS professor Dr. Horrell who was in the country for two weeks. My friend Luke joined us, and we talked about life in the Middle East and theology for several hours. This was one of my favorite professors, so it was an honor he would spend his afternoon with us.

To top it all off, one of the university guys from the conversation club came back to our office the other day to continue a meaningful conversation.

It feels like friendships, language, and life here are at the beginning stages of feeling natural and normal... which makes everything kind of fun!

More Pictures

2009-05-22T13:41:00.000-07:00

My roommate, my Iraqi friends, and me at Jerash!

The sunset over Palestine. (The sun is reflecting off the Dead Sea.)

New friends at the Ummayad Mosque in Damascus.

The amphitheatre in Jerash.

Ancients ruins of the southern most Decapolis cities (Jerash).

Do I look the same? (I would never dress this way inside the city- I am scantily clothed in this picture because we were hiking in a secluded area.)

Hmmm...

2009-05-22T09:18:00.001-07:00

So much time passes, that when I sit down to write, I am flooded with choices. Do I write about how much I miss my family and friends- especially knowing they are enduring hard times?

Or do I share about the exciting vision that my company has for reaching out to students and how we are beginning to be flooded with young people wanting to dialogue, hang out, and learn English?

Or should I tell the story about how I lost 5 American college students AND my boss's little kids in the city for 2 hours when I was put in charge of them and sent them away in a taxi?

Maybe people would want to know that I had mass with the Pope when he came to visit. Or that my German friend and I were followed and circled by creepy Arab men the other night.

I have so man stories to tell, so much I wish those closest to me could see, know, and experience. But because its an overwhelming task, maybe I'll just post a picture...

This is the roof where I slept in Syria four nights, and probably where I picked up the bedbugs that followed me back home.

Where I Shop

2009-05-09T05:28:00.000-07:00

When I need fruit and vegetables...
A close up view...
When I need bread and baked goods...

The Office

2009-04-06T09:11:00.000-07:00

These are the people that make up my life each day here in the Middle East- atleast from 9am-6pm. They are my co-workers and my language instructors. I am actually the only American woman in our office, which creates a unique challenge, but lots of laughter and growth. These are my friends.

2009-03-28T02:32:00.000-07:00

This is Joanna, another American girl living here. We attend fellowship together on Friday morning and usually come back to my apartment to watch LOST on pirated DVDs. (Below is a picture of the King's Highway. Below is the Red Sea with Palestine on the other side.)

This is an Engagement party that I attended. 200 women dancing in a ballroom and one man... the future groom.

Putting My Foot in My Mouth...

2009-03-27T12:58:00.000-07:00

This week I saw an American new girl sitting on the edge of the couch at our language center. It being her first day, I sensed she was a bit nervous. We chatted for a few minutes and she explained that for her first lesson she was going to learn the Arabic Alphabet.

After pondering for a moment, I thought perhaps she needed a bit of light humor about arabic and its awfulness. I chose my words carefully to make her laugh, "Well, get ready. Today you are about to find out what its like to be dyslexic."

There was a three second hesitation and sudden raised eyebrows. "I am dyslexic."

Thankful for Maryana

2009-03-09T08:01:00.000-07:00

I just got back from a 2 day trip to Aqaba with my co-workers and friends from CGE. This is Maryana, a Jordanian girl and one of my closest friends here. Behind us is the Red Sea and Palestine.

My Favorite Arabic Words

2009-03-01T12:19:00.000-08:00

Recently I have discovered that 12 year old boys and I have much in common.

There are a few words that I have learned in class... and I bust into giggles. Its quite embarressing when when you explode into stifled laughter and snorts and no one else does.

Shitta= Rain (and Winter)
Fag= Wake up (masculine)
Fagit= Wake up (feminine)
Fukka do = Lost
Biffokker = I think
Wada fuk = He hired you

I am not trying to be dirty. ;)

Windmills

2009-02-19T11:41:00.000-08:00

Windmills. In early December, I crafted a plan to remind myself that I am God's Beloved. I noticed an abundance of windmills in my hometown, so i decided that everytime I saw a windmill, i would stop to remember God's love towards me. I did this for two months, and it was quite boring and redundant. God loves me. Very nice. Something told me to continue anyway as long as i was in the U.S., since there aren't exactly windmills in the Middle East.

Flashforward to Tuesday and to the Middle East. I awoke hopeful. Yet as the morning stretched, my determined positive attitude was overtaken by the realization that I am nothing more than a one year old child- dependent on everyone. Losing against my willpower, i cried in Arabic class after multiple tries and being unable to read aloud the board in front of everyone. The tears continued when I couldn't order a sandwich at lunch, and then again when i went to work with my 3 American, brilliant, male co-workers who are part of my team for developing a business program for college students. They have degrees in business, and the only thing I have to contribute to our work is perhaps free on-the-side counseling. :) I suppose I could bake brownies for our meetings. Anyway, I decided to try to develop a friendship with the business prodigies in between business discussions (since they also happen to be my Arabic classmates), but they seemed more interested in debating the Red Sox and flirting with our beautiful and mysterious Arabic instructor than be-friending the "therapist who cried in class." On the way home, the mixture of cold and rain did not make the wait for a taxi pleasant. Two years of this language and working in a business?? How did I get here? With frustration and a flare of drama, I asked God for evidence that He wanted me here and that He was involved and had a purpose for me here. Seconds later, I set down my laptop bag to rest and when I looked up... I saw a five-foot fake windmill outside of a restaurant! (See the picture)

I guess that means that I should stay. And that God loves me enough to make a windmill in the Middle East. I wonder how many times does God try to show me His love and faithfulness, but i think i don't need it? The sudden desperation for His love opened me up to tasting it.

Lits Bits of the Levant

2009-02-19T09:59:00.000-08:00

If you make eye contact with cab drivers through the rear-view mirror, you will be given their phone number as you exit.

People will openly reprimand you for not speaking fluent Arabic. Especially if you have been in country for over a week.

If you are asked a favor, such as to give away your laptop, it is shameful and rude to say no. Instead, you should repeatedly say, "I will see..." until the matter is eventually dropped.

You can wear skin tight jeans and blouses if your head is covered.

A good Arab friend will do anything to help you and post-pone other responsibilities to aid a loved one.

Family comes before work. Employees may suddenly leave without notifying their employer if a family matter arises. (Such as the death of a great-great uncle's friend.)

Illegal pet monkeys cost about $500.

There is no such thing as "down-time" or personal space. If you are alone, others might believe you are depressed- in which case they will seek to spend more time you.

It is very Arab to say, "I love you" over and over again with tears and kisses to the same sex.

When my Christian Arab co-worker (a male) was asked the question, "Is it shameful to look a woman in the eye?" he responded with an, "Of course not! Where did you hear that?" Then, when immediately asked, "Is it shameful for a woman to look a man in the eye?" the response was a very matter of fact, "Yes."

Pics of my apartment... the roof, our kitchen, and my room!

2009-02-06T15:09:00.000-08:00

This is our roof that we share with our Palestinian landlady and her Indonesian house-help Elsie. And this is our view at sunset. Below is our kitchen and one half of my bed-room.

Haboob

2009-02-01T07:40:00.000-08:00

"Each day I give myself one task. Today I went to buy butter." My friend Carol, on living in a foreign country

Well today I went to Haboob, the local grocery store. I bought cabbage, papaya juice (by accident because I meant to buy apple), wheat spaghetti noodles, toothpaste, raman noodles, toilet paper, yogurt, and canned peas & carrots.

Janelle and I went to the market downtown to look for a big wardrobe for my bedroom, since they don't have closets here. We didn't quite find what we were looking for... but we did find last week's episode of LOST inside a pirated DVD store!

Tomorrow its off to work and then afterwards to have tea with my new landlady downstairs. I have a slight headache, so perhaps I'll go to bed early.

The Warm Room

2009-01-31T08:58:00.001-08:00

Today marks day 1 in my new apartment with Janelle, another American girl. Day 1 of emailing and blogging from our Warm Room.

Our apartment in the winter here can be chilly, so Janelle blocked off the living room with cushions and furniture. She then moved the soba, which is a space heater, into the living room... and now the room gets toasty as the heat is trapped in the small space. Now, a problem arises if I need to go to the bathroom or to my bedroom or kitchen, but then we can run back to the Warm Room. Ahhh.

So far, I have yet to be cold since I am busy unpacking my 200 pounds that flew with me across the world. (Weather these last two days has been pretty mild too.) I look forward to falling alseep in my home and waking up to the Call to Prayer and bright Middle Eastern sun.

Pictures will be posted soon...

Take Me Home, Country Road

2008-12-12T10:28:00.000-08:00

Well, here I am in the desert plains of West Texas. Cattle, oil, cotton, and football country. Midland.

For those of you who are curious about what exactly happens in Midland, here is a little video to introduce you to my birthplace.

http://www.ci.midland.tx.us/movies/makemidlandhome.htm l

I'd love to see you as I wrap up things in my hometown and spend a few weeks with my family!

Towne Center

2008-10-06T09:56:00.000-07:00

Esther leaves for the Phillipines tomorrow.

After 2 years, 6 girls, 8 guys, 1 dog, 3 graduations, 2 marriages, 5 break-ups (2 reconciled), 4 seasons of The Office, multiple pranks (hidden tuna, dis-lableled cans, duct taped doors connected to buckets of water, foiled rooms), 1 failed internet connection, months of banging on the wall to reconnect it, 2 love letters, 4 car break-ins, 2 towed cars, refugee soccer games, home viewings of the Jesus movie in African languages, nights of laughter, listening to gun-shots, candle-light worship, and tears. Ministry. Friendship. Fellowship.

I am certain that this is, or perhaps I should say was, a time in my life that I will share with children and grand-children. Living with 3 girls and next door to 4 guys in inner-city Dallas among families from all over the world. Sharing our lives with each other and praying for Truth to penetrate that nations in our own apartment complex. We saw lives changed.

Language Learning in Canada

2008-08-29T06:54:00.001-07:00

I returned last night from a two week school in Toronto that teaches how to learn a language. There were 7 other students all going to various countries needing different languages and we spent our days learning techniques for quickly learning and retaining our target language. We were paired with a language helper from the country we are going to- so I and two guys had an Arabic tutor in the afternoons and we applied what we learned in class in the time with our tutor. I am so thankful for this great instruction, and am not as fearful of the language learning process that I will go through in the Middle East!

One of the highlights was that on our time off, Marie (my roommate) and I were able to visit an Iraqi family that is related to my neighbors in Dallas.

This is my small group and our Arabic language helper.

"NG"

2008-08-21T18:54:00.000-07:00

Our instructor told me today that my pronunciation of the "ng" sound was perfect, along with a few other oriental phonetic sounds. But apparently my arabic sounds are unrecognizable. So... if I go to China instead of the Middle East, I am all set!

The Fam

2008-08-06T21:24:00.000-07:00

I thought it was about time to introduce you to my family. After all, why write a blog without spot-lighting them in a cheesy fashion?! They are the ones I love most and will miss most in the Middle East.

In Birth Order:

Meet my dad- Russell Mathis. During a vacation when we all shared one hotel room, it was discovered he is a Rod Stewart fan, particularly "Rythym of My Heart." He also pretended to only like big dogs until he met Laura's dog Polly. Others facts of interest- he met my mom in 9th grade, is my old soccer coach, only let me call him Daddy growing up, and is the person I usually call for wisdom and advice. He has taught me what it is to be a person of integrity.

Then there is Wendy my mom, or mama. She loves people. And musicals- Fiddler on the Roof, Wicked, Sound of Music... and probably wonders why her oldest daughter is as un-musical as one can be. We just got back on a trip to Israel together, one of the greatest memories I'll ever have. I'm thankful for her friendship, faith in the Lord, and sacrificial love for me and my sisters! If I am a mom, I hope to be like her.

Next there is Laura Michele Ferguson. We were referred to as the "Mathis Girls" growing up and in college until she married a "Ferguson." In all of my life, never have I run into a person who did not instantly love my kind, calm, beautiful, and peace-making sister. She is a solid rock and blesses me everytime we talk or see each other!

I pride myself on introducing Dillon to Laura, which is true, but I am confident he would have found her without me. I am thankful for his addition to our family! The only possible problem is his 5 point Calvinism. Otherwise, he is a loving, fun, and weird brother-in-law who treasures the Lord and his wife.

Sweet Mollie Ann. I remember Laura and I begging for another sibling. I am glad my parents obliged! Although they may not see it that way. Mollie always makes us laugh with her silliness and sarcasism (2 years old "Sawaro cactus. Excitment!"). Mollie teaches me what it looks like to share and give freely. What a faithful friend and sister- I can depend on her loyalty through anything! I can't wait for her to visit me wherever I am. Until one day I can visit her at college!

Well, not exactly. But she is the cutest baby I've ever seen and has the same color hair.

2008-07-21T16:17:00.001-07:00

Summe Camp!

2008-07-21T15:40:00.000-07:00

Four Bhutanese, one Iranian, one Congolese, three Somalian, two Liberian, and eight African American girls from the refugee apartments of Dallas are tucked in the mountains of Missouri hearing the message of Jesus for one week.

Several sisters who signed up late came to me one morning a few days ago, "We don't have these things!" Sheets, tennis shoes, socks, swimming suits, and bibles. So we prayed, "Jesus, would You provide these things for us so that we can go to hear about who You are?" When we finished, I told the Hindu families, perhaps foolishly, "Jesus is going to give you these things."

Three hours after we prayed, a friend bought five pairs of polished tennis shoes and socks! Another friend brought a hundred dollars worth of swimsuits for the sisters. A co-worker- a Jewish friend- gave eight sets of sheets. Several people donated new and used bibles- about twenty of them! Twenty bibles for twenty girls. (It must be said that the Bibles were the most popular gift.)

So yesterday Amanda and Stephanie loaded the vans with wide-eyed preteens and chattering teens and drove six hundred miles. Twenty girls- Muslim, Hindu, Bahai, and Christian all being pursued by a God who moves the hearts of strangers to provide for them.

Here are two of the Somali girls that went to camp!

Goodbye

2008-06-23T10:23:00.000-07:00

Our sermon series is on saying goodbye- this includes to people, to sin, and parts of our lives that we hold close to our heart.

The message went something like this, "How can we say hello to God's promises to us if we cannot also say goodbye?" Elisha began to experience the power of God in the same manner of his beloved mentor and friend Elijah- only after Elijah left. Abraham received back his cherished son after saying goodbye. The man received the field and its treasure after he sold all that he had to buy it!

What goodbye is there for me to say?

I thought I knew the answer. I even wrote something down- a struggle of mine and a broken heart I've had for two years. I said goodbye to that struggle and walked away with the victorious high of a conquerer.

Its only been twenty four hours and I realize the message yesterday was not about what I supposed. It has nothing to do with what I surrendered on my paper. The real goodbye that God is wanting to address in my life is just beginning. I have been too wrapped up in the ancient past to prepare myself to say goodbye to the recent past.

Most of the changes and goodbyes I am already experiencing and tasting- with best friends, roommates of two years, my job, and soon- even my country and family.

Some of the goodbyes I think I would be unable to face if I really knew what they were.

I don't know what I should have written goodbye to as I sat in church yesterday- unless I listed all of my life. So perhaps now I should just say goodbye to really everything that I cling to. Every dream, every ambition, every hope, every person, and every blessing that I possess. And ask God for the faith to not only believe that He is the only constant I need, but that there is a new promise waiting for me in place of all that I will leave behind.

ahhh... Middle East

2008-06-17T12:54:00.000-07:00

Why is it that after a summer in India, I was eager to return home? A few weeks in Africa, and I was excited to see American soil. But after a visit to two Middle Eastern countries... the thought of leaving was unwelcomed. And I already miss it.

I want to share with others, but what can I possibly say to bring alive the dusty air mingled with filafel and vegetables frying, the chanting whispers of Jewish men as they bob up and down, the hypnotic call to prayer, and the warm acceptance of the people? No one can quite understand the tension between the proud Israelis and the bitter Arabs without wading through the Old City. Or feel the darkness of the city that killed the Messiah? Being in the dungeon that perhaps held Jesus the night before He was killed? How can I portray what I felt as I stood in there and listened to the words of Psalm 88?

Arab city. How is it that I can feel at home in a place that I only stayed in one week? It became a city of comfort to me- it conjured no stinging memories but only brought undiscovered dreams. Dreams of a possible future here- living in a stone apartment overlooking a desert valley, loving and counseling Iraqi and Palestinian refugees, and worshiping God among the Arab people.

I feel lost now that I am back in Dallas. I need a new job. I need to start raising support. I need to move apartments in two weeks. I need money... I need
to fix parts of my car... I need... I need... I need...

My Iraqi friends

Sweet Iraqi friend on her balcony

Overlooking the city

My mom and me at En Gedi Cathy and I eating fish from the Sea of Galilee