Growing up in the South, I thought I knew all about prejudice. The town I grew up in was actually quite well known for its inhospitable spirit towards people of color, though we did have quite a population of Cherokee in our county. I think I was about five years old before I ever even saw my first black person, and I thought he was the darkest Indian I had ever seen.
My dad's brother was at Pearl Harbor when it was bombed, and because of it my dad spent the rest of his life hating the Japanese. And because it was hard for him to distinguish the Japanese from the rest of the Asian peoples, he had a wariness of them as well. He did come to love my cousin John's Korean wife and their two daughters, so I guess I have to give him credit for that.
And probably one of the worst things was that my mom's sister was married to one of the meanest, most hate-full, proud, white-hood-wearing members of the KKK that I have ever had the displeasure to meet (okay, to my knowledge, he's the ONLY one I ever met). He died when I was young, and I was not sad. But he did leave a legacy of hatred and anger to his sons that I am very sad about.
Unfortunately, growing up with prejudice as a part of your life, you don't really know just how wrong it is until somehow you learn otherwise. My lessons started when I was in college and worked as a recruiting hostess with our football program. There were, as you can imagine, a lot of black football players. My education was even more solidified when I became roommates with a Jamaican girl named Karen. She was one of the most amazing people I had ever met, and I count myself blessed to have shared a part of my life with her. I didn't see her skin color; I saw a wonderfully funny, brilliant, dedicated Christian girl that I loved to be around.
One Thanksgiving, I took Karen home with me. She was welcomed at my house and I'm thankful to both my mom and dad for that. And then I took her to meet my brother and his wife and their new little baby girl. My sister-in-law has hated me ever since. I was so naive about it that for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what I had done to make her hate me so. Years later, my dad finally told me what I had done. I couldn't believe it; I still have a hard time believing it.
That was just a bit of my background to show how much I thought I knew about the subject of prejudice. But the thing is, I really didn't have a clue about racism until I came to Israel. I guess with the Civil Rights Movement and Affirmative Action in America, at least now it's pretty much recognized as wrong (even though it's still pretty rampant there) and there are consequences when racism is displayed and acted upon.
Not here. Here, there are so many groups that simply hate each other, and you can actually see it in their faces as you walk down the street. Not only is it allowed; it's somewhat expected. And it's not just Jews and Arabs...
• The secular Jews hate the religious Jews, especially the Ultra Orthodox (hasidim).
• The religious Jews don't like the secular Jews, and sometimes they don't like the Ultra Orthodox.
• The Sephardic (Spanish descent) Jews have issues with the Ashkenazi (European descent) Jews and vise-versa.
• Most all of the Jews hate the Russian immigrants (they tend to eat a lot of pork) and the Ethiopian immigrants.
• A whole lot of Jews hate Arabs.
• And the Ultra Orthodox hate pretty much everybody that isn't Ultra Orthodox--the worst of which are secular Jews, Messianic Jews (who are no longer Jews in their eyes), and of course, Gentile Christians are the absolute worst enemy.
Then there are the Arabs...
• Palestinian Arabs are pretty much not wanted anywhere, in Israel or other Arab countries like Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, etc.
• There's Hamas and Fatah all hating each other.
• There's the Palestinian Arabs hating the Christian Arabs, Christian Arabs hating the Jewish people, and Arabs in general hating Christians and Jews.
And much to my dismay, there are the "Christians" that hate the Arabs as well. I have to confess that I have definitely had a hard time loving them; a problem that I am daily praying that God will rectify in my heart. Thankfully, it is happening, bit by bit.
All this to say that you can seriously see and feel the hatred here. I could probably list out some of the reasons, but that would be pointless dribble adding fuel to the flames. And the amazing part is that it seems that everybody outside of Israel has some kind of scheme for "peace in the Middle East". Most people vilify one group or the other and think that peace can be bought with land or other concessions.
And it's all crap. Don't they know that you can't have peace where every group has some other group(s) that they hate? Giving land away will not facilitate peace; the ones who receive it will not then open their arms to the ones who gave it to them; but the ones who gave it up will be bitter because they had to give it up. As King Solomon once said, "Meaningless, meaningless, all is meaningless."
The only, and I mean ONLY way there will ever be peace here is when people start loving their neighbors as themselves. And the only way that they can do that is to have the Holy Spirit of God to dwell fully in them. I think that Jesus will come back before that happens, and I for one, say, "Come, Lord Jesus. We are desperate for your loving kindness..."
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
huh?
This morning's bus ride. A little bit on the surreal side -- after about the third stop, I looked out the window to see a man riding a donkey down the sidewalk. You know you just don't see things like that in America.
Then as we were driving down the Hevron Road, Jolene by Dolly Parton came on the radio. The radio stations never play country music over here, let alone a classic by Dolly. All I could think was, "Where in the heck am I???"
As we traveled on, I thought, "I hope I don't see Will at Aroma (fave coffee shop) this morning, because then I will have to walk up the hill with him and he's about 6'6" and I just can't keep up with him, especially when my knee is hurting." I walked into the shop -- whew! No Will. I ordered my coffee, turned around and... "Hi Will... How's it going?" Sigh. Not that he's not a great guy, it's just that HaHavatzelet Street is a monster hill.
And then when we got to devotions, Marnus asked if anyone had a song on their heart? American Pie by Don Mclean. That's all I could come up with. Definitely NOT a worshipful song. "Melissa, do you have a song?" "Who, me? NOOOOO."
I had settled at my desk for the day and had just hit the "send" button on an email to my brother when I turned around and saw that we had a little tour group come in from Holland. As my boss described all the wonderful work we do, I noticed several of them kept looking past me to my computer. I turned back around and there by my email "sent" notice was a really big advertisement with a chick in the teeniest bikini imaginable. Of course. Well at least they were from Holland and if they've ever been to Amsterdam, they've seen a lot worse.
Some days are just like that; a bit of a surreality check I suppose.
Then as we were driving down the Hevron Road, Jolene by Dolly Parton came on the radio. The radio stations never play country music over here, let alone a classic by Dolly. All I could think was, "Where in the heck am I???"
As we traveled on, I thought, "I hope I don't see Will at Aroma (fave coffee shop) this morning, because then I will have to walk up the hill with him and he's about 6'6" and I just can't keep up with him, especially when my knee is hurting." I walked into the shop -- whew! No Will. I ordered my coffee, turned around and... "Hi Will... How's it going?" Sigh. Not that he's not a great guy, it's just that HaHavatzelet Street is a monster hill.
And then when we got to devotions, Marnus asked if anyone had a song on their heart? American Pie by Don Mclean. That's all I could come up with. Definitely NOT a worshipful song. "Melissa, do you have a song?" "Who, me? NOOOOO."
I had settled at my desk for the day and had just hit the "send" button on an email to my brother when I turned around and saw that we had a little tour group come in from Holland. As my boss described all the wonderful work we do, I noticed several of them kept looking past me to my computer. I turned back around and there by my email "sent" notice was a really big advertisement with a chick in the teeniest bikini imaginable. Of course. Well at least they were from Holland and if they've ever been to Amsterdam, they've seen a lot worse.
Some days are just like that; a bit of a surreality check I suppose.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
the biggest barrier
Since I got back from my six week visit to the States, I've had a lot to process, and basically no time to process it.
Things seem very different here, yet they are very much the same. I wonder how that can be except that the one constant here is change. People coming and going, governments changing, holidays happening. I'm surrounded by people celebrating Biblical feasts and other customs that, although I am learning about them, still feel so foreign to me. It's not really a feeling that I can label as "good" or "bad," just "different." I feel as if I just walk through it all as this constant outsider, watching life happen all around, but not actually being a part of it.
I think it's the language barrier. I know a little Hebrew; just enough to get myself into trouble, and more than enough to miss out on a lot. The other day, I went to catch the bus after work. One Number 8 passed before I could get to the stop, so I knew it would be another 30 minutes at least. It turned out to be 40 minutes and when it finally came, it was a single, not double, bus and it was so full that the driver wouldn't let any of us on. So after another 30 minutes, it finally came and I even got a seat... next to a lady that had just bought fresh bread. I hadn't eaten in quite a while and as hungry as I was, I contemplated asking her if she would take ten shekels for a piece of that heavenly smelling stuff. I didn't ask.
We were stuck in traffic and hardly moving because of the holiday, and I just felt like crying. Poor, poor, pitiful, hungry me. Wah. Then about half way home, six mentally handicapped boys got on the bus. They were loud and I could tell that some of the passengers were annoyed, but my heart started to swell with joy. I recognized two of them as my neighbors--brothers that I have been praying for. A couple of days earlier I was in the check out line at the grocery store and they were behind me. They only had two things of sour cream and a small bag of coconut (no clue, so don't ask), so I let them go in front of me. One handed the lady a little plastic bag with some change in it, and though I couldn't understand the Hebrew, I figured it wasn't quite enough when she set aside one sour cream and the coconut... I managed to gesture to her and somehow communicate that I would pay for it. And giggling shyly, they left with their groceries. I prayed for them all the way home and then at various times throughout the day. How God must love those special boys--I could just feel His heart for them.
So there they were again, on the bus. They were having a blast, and I think I must have been grinning from ear to ear, and part of the time laughing out loud. The lady across the aisle from me was laughing with me, and then she said something in Hebrew. I told her that I didn't understand that much Hebrew, and in English, she said that was too bad, that I was really missing out. The comment didn't rob me of my joy, but it definitely brought home the fact that I am missing out on a whole lot. I simply have to learn more.
Today is Simchat Torah, the day that the Jewish people celebrate the giving of God's word to Moses. They dance with it and party and sing and carry the scrolls around... How beautiful! I love how they love God's word. When they come into a home, or leave it, they kiss their fingers and then touch the mezzuzah that holds His word on the door frame. I truly love God's word, but have never really displayed my affection in a physical way like they do. I think I've been missing out. So, to celebrate Simchat Torah this year, I went and bought a new Hebrew/English Bible. This morning I started in Genesis. I could read and even comprehend the first verse in Hebrew. It made my day. I didn't get much farther, but it gives me hope. Maybe this old dog can learn a new thing, at least with the help of a very patient and loving Heavenly Father.
Things seem very different here, yet they are very much the same. I wonder how that can be except that the one constant here is change. People coming and going, governments changing, holidays happening. I'm surrounded by people celebrating Biblical feasts and other customs that, although I am learning about them, still feel so foreign to me. It's not really a feeling that I can label as "good" or "bad," just "different." I feel as if I just walk through it all as this constant outsider, watching life happen all around, but not actually being a part of it.
I think it's the language barrier. I know a little Hebrew; just enough to get myself into trouble, and more than enough to miss out on a lot. The other day, I went to catch the bus after work. One Number 8 passed before I could get to the stop, so I knew it would be another 30 minutes at least. It turned out to be 40 minutes and when it finally came, it was a single, not double, bus and it was so full that the driver wouldn't let any of us on. So after another 30 minutes, it finally came and I even got a seat... next to a lady that had just bought fresh bread. I hadn't eaten in quite a while and as hungry as I was, I contemplated asking her if she would take ten shekels for a piece of that heavenly smelling stuff. I didn't ask.
We were stuck in traffic and hardly moving because of the holiday, and I just felt like crying. Poor, poor, pitiful, hungry me. Wah. Then about half way home, six mentally handicapped boys got on the bus. They were loud and I could tell that some of the passengers were annoyed, but my heart started to swell with joy. I recognized two of them as my neighbors--brothers that I have been praying for. A couple of days earlier I was in the check out line at the grocery store and they were behind me. They only had two things of sour cream and a small bag of coconut (no clue, so don't ask), so I let them go in front of me. One handed the lady a little plastic bag with some change in it, and though I couldn't understand the Hebrew, I figured it wasn't quite enough when she set aside one sour cream and the coconut... I managed to gesture to her and somehow communicate that I would pay for it. And giggling shyly, they left with their groceries. I prayed for them all the way home and then at various times throughout the day. How God must love those special boys--I could just feel His heart for them.
So there they were again, on the bus. They were having a blast, and I think I must have been grinning from ear to ear, and part of the time laughing out loud. The lady across the aisle from me was laughing with me, and then she said something in Hebrew. I told her that I didn't understand that much Hebrew, and in English, she said that was too bad, that I was really missing out. The comment didn't rob me of my joy, but it definitely brought home the fact that I am missing out on a whole lot. I simply have to learn more.
Today is Simchat Torah, the day that the Jewish people celebrate the giving of God's word to Moses. They dance with it and party and sing and carry the scrolls around... How beautiful! I love how they love God's word. When they come into a home, or leave it, they kiss their fingers and then touch the mezzuzah that holds His word on the door frame. I truly love God's word, but have never really displayed my affection in a physical way like they do. I think I've been missing out. So, to celebrate Simchat Torah this year, I went and bought a new Hebrew/English Bible. This morning I started in Genesis. I could read and even comprehend the first verse in Hebrew. It made my day. I didn't get much farther, but it gives me hope. Maybe this old dog can learn a new thing, at least with the help of a very patient and loving Heavenly Father.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Yom Kippur and Forgiveness
Yesterday was Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, and a very big deal here in Jerusalem. Not being Jewish, I really didn't have a clue about the holiday until I moved here three years ago. Now I know perhaps a little more.
It's a very solemn day, the streets are virtually free of cars and children ride their bikes, skateboards and scooters in the streets. People wear white and no leather and they fast from food and drink. They also do not bathe on this day. Everything is closed and basically the only sounds are children playing.
It's the one day of the year that atonement is made for the sins of the people. Well, I should say the Jewish people to be exact. As a Christian, it is an interesting concept for me to think of only having one day of the year for atonement. So by this standard, if (when) I sin on the day after Yom Kippur, then I have to wait a full year for forgiveness? I'm sorry, but I can't make it that long. Once my conscience kicks in, I have to deal with it right away, or it pretty much torments me to be separated from relationship with my Lord. So I'm very thankful that I can live knowing that I am daily atoned for, and forgiveness is right there waiting when I stumble and repent.
This brings me to the subject of forgiveness between us humans. On the day before Yom Kippur, a friend wanted to talk to me. It appears that quite a few months ago, he had made a judgment against me over a health issue I was having (trouble with my knees). To my knowledge, he had not talked about it to anyone, he only thought to himself that it was a "lame excuse." That is, until he started having knee problems. Then he started to feel convicted about judging me and he wanted forgiveness because now he could empathize with my pain.
I forgave him for that. But the trouble is that before he told me about this, everything was okay on my part. Now it's okay for him since he's gotten it off his chest, but it opened up a whole can of worms in me. Now, I find it hard to trust him and when I talk to him, I'm constantly thinking he's judging me. I also find myself replaying old conversations with him and wondering what he was really thinking.
I know that I am just as guilty of making snap judgments and having bad thoughts toward folks as he is, but I also know that it can be even more hurtful to someone to actually tell them the bad thoughts you've been having about them. Doing something physical that needs forgiving is a different story, but when the sin is only in your head/heart, then I think that maybe that should be dealt with between you and God only.
Now I have to deal with having my feelings hurt and losing trust in someone I consider a friend. Not to mention my tendency toward paranoia and projecting issues onto other people... like "Hmm, if HE feels that way about me, what does this other person really think..." My friend had good intentions, I'm sure, but there's an old song that says the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Maybe it's not that we're paving our own road, but our intentions can make the road a lot more difficult for others.
I think I'll have a chat with my friend so we can work this out and continue to walk together and build trust. But please, if you're my friend and you think ill of me, please keep it to yourself unless I'm actually harming you in some way. Then by all means, talk to me about it so I can make it right. Just don't add any unnecessary pain to my life. I will be eternally grateful that you had the selflessness to spare my feelings!
It's a very solemn day, the streets are virtually free of cars and children ride their bikes, skateboards and scooters in the streets. People wear white and no leather and they fast from food and drink. They also do not bathe on this day. Everything is closed and basically the only sounds are children playing.
It's the one day of the year that atonement is made for the sins of the people. Well, I should say the Jewish people to be exact. As a Christian, it is an interesting concept for me to think of only having one day of the year for atonement. So by this standard, if (when) I sin on the day after Yom Kippur, then I have to wait a full year for forgiveness? I'm sorry, but I can't make it that long. Once my conscience kicks in, I have to deal with it right away, or it pretty much torments me to be separated from relationship with my Lord. So I'm very thankful that I can live knowing that I am daily atoned for, and forgiveness is right there waiting when I stumble and repent.
This brings me to the subject of forgiveness between us humans. On the day before Yom Kippur, a friend wanted to talk to me. It appears that quite a few months ago, he had made a judgment against me over a health issue I was having (trouble with my knees). To my knowledge, he had not talked about it to anyone, he only thought to himself that it was a "lame excuse." That is, until he started having knee problems. Then he started to feel convicted about judging me and he wanted forgiveness because now he could empathize with my pain.
I forgave him for that. But the trouble is that before he told me about this, everything was okay on my part. Now it's okay for him since he's gotten it off his chest, but it opened up a whole can of worms in me. Now, I find it hard to trust him and when I talk to him, I'm constantly thinking he's judging me. I also find myself replaying old conversations with him and wondering what he was really thinking.
I know that I am just as guilty of making snap judgments and having bad thoughts toward folks as he is, but I also know that it can be even more hurtful to someone to actually tell them the bad thoughts you've been having about them. Doing something physical that needs forgiving is a different story, but when the sin is only in your head/heart, then I think that maybe that should be dealt with between you and God only.
Now I have to deal with having my feelings hurt and losing trust in someone I consider a friend. Not to mention my tendency toward paranoia and projecting issues onto other people... like "Hmm, if HE feels that way about me, what does this other person really think..." My friend had good intentions, I'm sure, but there's an old song that says the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Maybe it's not that we're paving our own road, but our intentions can make the road a lot more difficult for others.
I think I'll have a chat with my friend so we can work this out and continue to walk together and build trust. But please, if you're my friend and you think ill of me, please keep it to yourself unless I'm actually harming you in some way. Then by all means, talk to me about it so I can make it right. Just don't add any unnecessary pain to my life. I will be eternally grateful that you had the selflessness to spare my feelings!
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Remember me?
I can't believe how long it's been since I've entered anything here. So much has happened, yet it feels like nothing's changed at all. God is doing interesting things in me, but I feel sometimes like I'm just driving through life without a map. the good thing is that #1 I know I'm not lost, and #2 the scenery and people along the way are beautiful.
I am still loving Israel, still loving Bridges for Peace, and feeling no leading towards leaving. It can be hard though. Life in ministry is constantly changing and you have to be flexible enough to go with the flow or you'll drown. And while my body is getting older and a little less flexible, my spirit on the other hand, is getting older and a lot more flexible. So I guess as long as my body can keep up, I'll be okay.
One sad change is that two of my closest friends are moving to the states on the 22nd. I'm not ready to say goodbye, but I will do my best. It would be so much easier to guard my heart so that when people leave it wouldn't hurt as much. But then the rest of the time wouldn't be nearly as much fun. I think that in God's economy, the more pieces of your heart that you give away, the more you have to give away later. It's more like subtraction equals multiplication, which scientifically doesn't make much sense, but it is nevertheless true.
Hopefully this will be the beginning of me getting back to my little pink chair, but right now I'm just a little tired from painting my office all day (and last night). Brown and blue. It feels so much better. So at about 7:00 tonight I decided I was hungry and I didn't feel like cooking, so I called my favorite little sandwich shop for delivery. When the guy came, he told me that his friend used to live in this apartment about two years ago. Then he looked around and said, "You've painted. It looks amazing." Well, the tiny little apartment is finally starting to look more homey. And I'm starting to feel much more homey. My Hebrew is coming along slowly but surely. I've even found a dentist here (broke a crown -- bad!!!) and he and his staff are the nicest I've ever experienced. I'm not looking forward to the bill, but at least I'm not terrified and this guy speaks perfect English.
It's funny, but this month in particular I've really started to see the truth in Mark 10:29-30: "I tell you the truth," Jesus replied, "no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—and with them, persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life." My friend that is moving has been giving me all this cool stuff that they had in their apartment, even a Christmas tree with red and white ornaments! And I just won a breadmaker at our Christmas Party. (It's almost as big as my kitchen, but I'm sure I'll find a spot for it!)I always wanted a breadmaker, so that was really, really cool. Anyway, God is providing. And if you're wondering about the persecutions, well, there's a little bit, but not much!
I think I'll sign off for now. But hopefully I'll be back really soon.
I am still loving Israel, still loving Bridges for Peace, and feeling no leading towards leaving. It can be hard though. Life in ministry is constantly changing and you have to be flexible enough to go with the flow or you'll drown. And while my body is getting older and a little less flexible, my spirit on the other hand, is getting older and a lot more flexible. So I guess as long as my body can keep up, I'll be okay.
One sad change is that two of my closest friends are moving to the states on the 22nd. I'm not ready to say goodbye, but I will do my best. It would be so much easier to guard my heart so that when people leave it wouldn't hurt as much. But then the rest of the time wouldn't be nearly as much fun. I think that in God's economy, the more pieces of your heart that you give away, the more you have to give away later. It's more like subtraction equals multiplication, which scientifically doesn't make much sense, but it is nevertheless true.
Hopefully this will be the beginning of me getting back to my little pink chair, but right now I'm just a little tired from painting my office all day (and last night). Brown and blue. It feels so much better. So at about 7:00 tonight I decided I was hungry and I didn't feel like cooking, so I called my favorite little sandwich shop for delivery. When the guy came, he told me that his friend used to live in this apartment about two years ago. Then he looked around and said, "You've painted. It looks amazing." Well, the tiny little apartment is finally starting to look more homey. And I'm starting to feel much more homey. My Hebrew is coming along slowly but surely. I've even found a dentist here (broke a crown -- bad!!!) and he and his staff are the nicest I've ever experienced. I'm not looking forward to the bill, but at least I'm not terrified and this guy speaks perfect English.
It's funny, but this month in particular I've really started to see the truth in Mark 10:29-30: "I tell you the truth," Jesus replied, "no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—and with them, persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life." My friend that is moving has been giving me all this cool stuff that they had in their apartment, even a Christmas tree with red and white ornaments! And I just won a breadmaker at our Christmas Party. (It's almost as big as my kitchen, but I'm sure I'll find a spot for it!)I always wanted a breadmaker, so that was really, really cool. Anyway, God is providing. And if you're wondering about the persecutions, well, there's a little bit, but not much!
I think I'll sign off for now. But hopefully I'll be back really soon.
Friday, August 25, 2006
broken, not crushed
The last two weeks have felt like a year. I had been working a lot of extra hours on a freelance project, so by last Friday I was really tired. I still worked from 4:00 pm to 1:30 am that day. I went to bed exhausted but feeling pretty good because I was able to do some pretty tricky jobs that night.
Then Saturday happened. I got up a bit later than normal, had a good quiet time with the Lord and then walked into my office. I don't think anything could have prepared me for seeing my entire desk, along with everything on it, covered in water. There sat my computer, back-up hard drive, printer, modem, a friend's jump drive and Jon Mark's study books all looking like swimming was their favorite sport. I quickly threw on some clothes and ran upstairs to the apartment above me to see if we could find where the leak was coming from. (I wish the guy had bothered to throw on clothes before he opened the door.) Anyway, we couldn't find the leak, but they said they would call their landlord as soon as Shabat was over (most traditional Jews do not talk on the phone on Shabat). I left their apartment and burst into tears. I left Racheli a sobbing message, called some friends to pray and started cleaning up.
All that work. My livelihood. I couldn't think; all I could do was cry. But the Lord was very gracious and had made provision for me. For some reason that I can't explain, I had burned a disk earlier in the week that had everything except Friday's work on it. And as for Friday's work, I had been obsessed with getting it e-mailed on Friday night, even though I knew that the folks at DaySpring had probably already gone home. So I was able to retrieve everything I sent from my e-mail's "Sent" folder. That means that I lost only one file that was pretty easy to recreate. Yay. I won't think about all the personal stuff that could be gone forever, like about 1000 of my favorite songs. Funny thing about that is that I had just noticed that I didn't have all my music on my computer at work and that's why I had my friend's jump drive in the first place. I had loaded the missing songs onto it before the leak and it wasn't damaged at all (Thank God!)
Well, I haven't had the nerve to get the computer to the MacDoctor again. I'm afraid of what it will cost. Ori, the landlord upstairs, is already saying it's not his responsibility to cover that cost. Racheli is saying that it is his responsibility. And I'm stuck in the middle, feeling broke and paralyzed. Ori had a plumber friend of his look at the problem and he said that it was because it wasn't sealed good between the tiles. Umm-hmm. I wasn't born yesterday. No way that much water came from leaking through the tiles in the floor. So I'm supposed to watch it and see if it happens again. Which means that I can't put anything back in there, I can't hook up my modem and actually do work. What if I wait a week and nothing happens, then I put everything back in there and then it breaks again? It gives me a headache to think about it.
So I've been spending a lot of hours at my BFP office trying to finish projects and stuff, and going home to an apartment that smells musty and damp, has computer stuff and books and papers drying out everywhere and is generally driving me crazy. Yesterday I was pretty grateful that the week was almost over and I had completed my last freelance assignment and turned it in and could finally get some rest. Then I got home to find that my cat had decided that it would be better to throw up on my bed rather than on the easily cleanable tile floor throughout my apartment. On my favorite quilt. The one that makes me happy when I wake up snuggled under it. The one that went into my suitcase rather than muc needed extra clothes. Sigh. I stuffed it in the washer and threw the cat outside and cried some more.
Then I noticed the funky smell. Not the musty smell. No, this was a new smell. Like a dead animal. Coming from my bedroom. I couldn't find anything, but that didn't make the smell go away and it kept me up half the night. That and the image I had just seen on TV about dust mites in pillows.
This morning I woke up and decided it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself and being overwhelmed because of my circumstances. It was time to start being thankful. So I started thanking God for whatever I could think of, and what a difference it has made in my day. I hate it when I forget to be thankful. I think it is the most powerful weapon we can weild against an enemy that seeks to steal, kill and destroy.
So, does my computer story have a silver lining? Well today I saw that MacIntosh is recalling the battery in my computer because it overheats and sometimes catches fire. Maybe God was doing some preventative medicine on it. With only water damage, there's a good chance that my hard drive and files can be retrieved; with fire damage, well, that's pretty much not fixable. At least I'm going to choose to look at it that way.
I don't need to go into any more of the stuff that has happened. Why waste energy on what is not good? Worrying will not add one minute to my life. I'm "broken, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." 2 Corinthians 4:8-9
And I'm thankful once again. God is in control and my livelihood is in His hands. That's a fact.
Then Saturday happened. I got up a bit later than normal, had a good quiet time with the Lord and then walked into my office. I don't think anything could have prepared me for seeing my entire desk, along with everything on it, covered in water. There sat my computer, back-up hard drive, printer, modem, a friend's jump drive and Jon Mark's study books all looking like swimming was their favorite sport. I quickly threw on some clothes and ran upstairs to the apartment above me to see if we could find where the leak was coming from. (I wish the guy had bothered to throw on clothes before he opened the door.) Anyway, we couldn't find the leak, but they said they would call their landlord as soon as Shabat was over (most traditional Jews do not talk on the phone on Shabat). I left their apartment and burst into tears. I left Racheli a sobbing message, called some friends to pray and started cleaning up.
All that work. My livelihood. I couldn't think; all I could do was cry. But the Lord was very gracious and had made provision for me. For some reason that I can't explain, I had burned a disk earlier in the week that had everything except Friday's work on it. And as for Friday's work, I had been obsessed with getting it e-mailed on Friday night, even though I knew that the folks at DaySpring had probably already gone home. So I was able to retrieve everything I sent from my e-mail's "Sent" folder. That means that I lost only one file that was pretty easy to recreate. Yay. I won't think about all the personal stuff that could be gone forever, like about 1000 of my favorite songs. Funny thing about that is that I had just noticed that I didn't have all my music on my computer at work and that's why I had my friend's jump drive in the first place. I had loaded the missing songs onto it before the leak and it wasn't damaged at all (Thank God!)
Well, I haven't had the nerve to get the computer to the MacDoctor again. I'm afraid of what it will cost. Ori, the landlord upstairs, is already saying it's not his responsibility to cover that cost. Racheli is saying that it is his responsibility. And I'm stuck in the middle, feeling broke and paralyzed. Ori had a plumber friend of his look at the problem and he said that it was because it wasn't sealed good between the tiles. Umm-hmm. I wasn't born yesterday. No way that much water came from leaking through the tiles in the floor. So I'm supposed to watch it and see if it happens again. Which means that I can't put anything back in there, I can't hook up my modem and actually do work. What if I wait a week and nothing happens, then I put everything back in there and then it breaks again? It gives me a headache to think about it.
So I've been spending a lot of hours at my BFP office trying to finish projects and stuff, and going home to an apartment that smells musty and damp, has computer stuff and books and papers drying out everywhere and is generally driving me crazy. Yesterday I was pretty grateful that the week was almost over and I had completed my last freelance assignment and turned it in and could finally get some rest. Then I got home to find that my cat had decided that it would be better to throw up on my bed rather than on the easily cleanable tile floor throughout my apartment. On my favorite quilt. The one that makes me happy when I wake up snuggled under it. The one that went into my suitcase rather than muc needed extra clothes. Sigh. I stuffed it in the washer and threw the cat outside and cried some more.
Then I noticed the funky smell. Not the musty smell. No, this was a new smell. Like a dead animal. Coming from my bedroom. I couldn't find anything, but that didn't make the smell go away and it kept me up half the night. That and the image I had just seen on TV about dust mites in pillows.
This morning I woke up and decided it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself and being overwhelmed because of my circumstances. It was time to start being thankful. So I started thanking God for whatever I could think of, and what a difference it has made in my day. I hate it when I forget to be thankful. I think it is the most powerful weapon we can weild against an enemy that seeks to steal, kill and destroy.
So, does my computer story have a silver lining? Well today I saw that MacIntosh is recalling the battery in my computer because it overheats and sometimes catches fire. Maybe God was doing some preventative medicine on it. With only water damage, there's a good chance that my hard drive and files can be retrieved; with fire damage, well, that's pretty much not fixable. At least I'm going to choose to look at it that way.
I don't need to go into any more of the stuff that has happened. Why waste energy on what is not good? Worrying will not add one minute to my life. I'm "broken, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." 2 Corinthians 4:8-9
And I'm thankful once again. God is in control and my livelihood is in His hands. That's a fact.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
the most unpleasant noise in the world
I actually had a kicking fit last night somewhere around 3:00 am. For the past two nights they have been doing road construction on King George right outside my apartment building and it's mostly that horrible jack-hammer noise. Two nights ago it was going on well past 3:00 am and last night until well past 4:00. I can't tell you how obnoxious it is, and though I can sleep through the fiercest thunder storm, I cannot sleep through this. And the worst thing is that they just started up again about two hours ago. I don't think I can handle another night of it. Running on very little sleep and getting mighty grouchy....
I'm longing for those Southern summer nights right now with catydids and crickets and lightning bugs, but I can't get past the banging and clanging of concrete being ripped up and three inches of dust and sand covering everything in my apartment.
Too tired to keep writing. Even James Taylor isn't soothing me right now. Please God! I need peace in Jerusalem!!!!
Tonight, preferrably.
I'm longing for those Southern summer nights right now with catydids and crickets and lightning bugs, but I can't get past the banging and clanging of concrete being ripped up and three inches of dust and sand covering everything in my apartment.
Too tired to keep writing. Even James Taylor isn't soothing me right now. Please God! I need peace in Jerusalem!!!!
Tonight, preferrably.
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