what a fun day!

When Racheli asked me to go do pottery today, I jumped at the chance. I pictured one of those little shops where you pick out a nice mug or a bowl, paint it and then they fire it for you and you pick it up in a few days. She said that you could actually make your own pottery at this place and I got really excited. I haven't thrown on a wheel since college and back then it was one of my very favorite things to do. At this point I'm still picturing a little shop. Boy, was I wrong!!!

It was so much better than a little shop, I could hardly believe it! The place was called Ein Yael and was once an ancient village that they have excavated and turned up things such as a public bath and an olive press. They've made it into this really fun place that you can go and do all kinds of crafty things like they did in the old days—of course back then it was everyday stuff and a little more practical than fun. The environment is great and we did everything outside in beautiful weather.

Racheli's sister and three of her nieces went with us and the younger girls there added a lot of fun to the day. We started the day off by making mosaics. We picked out different colored tiles and broke them with little wedge hammers, arranging our designs on these small wooden tables before sticking them in the plaster stuff. I was a little disappointed because I thought I had misunderstood and that we were only doing mosaics instead of pottery; but it was still fun nonetheless. And I was wrong again anyway.



After that we explored a little and found this wonderful road with mediaeval looking carts and these really cool looking wooden doors in some sort of building.



Then it was on to make pita or flat bread the old-fashioned way—over an open fire. It was yummy with olive oil and rosemary on it.




And then on our way to the pottery section, I saw this beautiful plant growing in the rocks and had to take a picture of course.



THEN we got to do pottery! They had ancient looking kickwheels and you could also just make something by moulding it by hand. It was so great, but I had forgotten how hard kickwheels could be. This one wasn't quite as nice as the one I used in college—when I stopped kicking, it stopped turning. Nevertheless, I was still able to make a little bowl and an oil lamp like they used in Jesus' day.



We ended the day with the younger girls doing some weaving. It was great fun and I couldn't believe we spent about 6 hours there. The time just flew by and I would love to do it all again some day. It's been so sweet to get to know Racheli—she's so creative and fun and her friendship has been such a huge blessing for me. God is good. All the time.

heart smiles

Some things just make my heart smile. A few nights ago, I wasn't smiling. In fact I was crying. I had been working for about 9 hours and was getting pretty tired. I was also listening to some of my music and it was making me very homesick. I'm often amazed at how we associate songs with people and places—REM's "Night Swimming" has me driving through Blue Ridge, Georgia, going home to see Daddy on a perfect fall day. Jack Johnson takes me back to February when, again, I was home with Daddy before he died. But the other night, it was Bob Seger and me and my brother, Mark driving along back roads in my little red Acura that sent me over the edge.

So I decided that I needed new music. The problem is that I don't have a radio; I only have what I can play on my little computer. But then I remembered that I can access radio over the internet, so I started looking for a staion. I landed on "Folk Alley" and the guy was talking about Doc Watson, who is from Deep Gap, NC—very close to my hometown. Then he played Doc's version of "Tennessee Stud" and I could totally picture Daddy's face the last time he sang that to me. You would think that that would have made me sink even lower; but in my memory, there was such a smile on Daddy's face as he sang it that I couldn't help but smile the whole time. So God gives us joy in the midst—Psalm 126:5 says, "Those who sow in tears will reap in joy." It's so true.

And God in His faithfulness gave me more heart smiles last night. Racheli had invited me to her home to experience Hanukkah with her family, and I spent a while earlier in the day painting a card for them (which is always fun). She and Dikla picked me up around 6:30 and instead of going straight there, they drove me down the Hebron road (which is the way to Bethlehem) to show me Christmas lights! It was beautiful—the street lights had a big star over a tiny outline of Bethlehem and white lights were strung from pole to pole. Even more beautiful was the view off to the west over the valleys of Jerusalem where a million lights twinkled over the hills as if God had decorated His own tree just for me. It was so thoughtful of them to take me without me even asking.

When we got to their home we were greeted by two huge, furry, very friendly dogs, a white Samoyed and her "pup" who's father was a Siberian Husky. She had one blue eye and one brown eye and seemed to be winking at me throughout the evening. I was also greeted with big hugs and kisses from Racheli's mom which was so sweet (everybody needs a "mom" hug now and then). They welcomed me to the "zoo"... in addition to the two dogs, there were two cats and a LOT of birds. There must have been 8 or 9 bird cages with varying breeds, some big, some tiny, one who kept throwing bits of apple at me, some with the most vivid colors of green and orange that I have ever seen; one that would dance and say "thank you"....

Then her dad read the story of the miracle of the oil (in Hebrew of course) and lit the Hanukkah candles and we all sat down at the big table to have dinner—cous cous with soup and salad, then the traditional doughnuts (a store-bought version and a home-made version, which was better by far!), oh, and fresh strawberries! Yum! Then we sat in the "salon" (living room) and looked at pictures of trips to Canada and America and had coffee and laughed a lot, all the while, the big Samoyed stayed by my side—well, until she decided to lay down on my feet and started snoring until my legs went fairly numb.... I really wanted to take her home with me.

I wish I would have had my video camera; it felt so good to be at the table with such an animated family. I couldn't understand most of what they were saying, but it didn't matter. I was lost in the warmth; warmth of family love and a big, white furry dog. It was also fun when I realized that I knew the Hebrew words for all the animals present as well—dog is kelev, cat is hatule and bird is tsepor (all are my phonetic spellings, which are probably way off). They all get so excited when I manage to get out one tiny word in Hebrew—they don't make fun of my accent at all and it's so encouraging!

So I guess that the lesson of the day (or week) is that you just have to open your eyes and choose to see the blessings God puts all around you. They're always there—waiting to give our hearts a big smile.

merry, merry, merry...

So I started painting these Christmas cards to send out, since I couldn't find any here. I got four of them done before deciding that it was just taking way too long. So I decided just to scan it in (the color was much better on the original!) and post it here so you can pretend that I sent you a hand-painted one this year!

I have to confess that today I really felt bummed about Christmas. Decorating has always been one of my favorite things and I really, really miss all my red and white ornaments, my candles, tons of greenery and white lights and the big snowflakes that I used to hang by swirling wire in the dining room window. I miss hearing the Salvation Army bell ringers, the myriad Christmas programs around town, Christmas candy everywhere (well, that's probably a good thing) and seeing lights everywhere. I miss putting a red velvet bow on Cat's collar and lighting luminaries on my sidewalk.

But in the midst of missing stuff and being sad, once again God came through! I was having trouble figuring out what to get the boys for Christmas—it seemed like everything I thought of had already been taken care of and nothing was working. But Sandra met me a a local toy store and after a lot of looking we managed to find some fun things. The store was even having a "buy one, get the second at half price" sale, so that helped so much. I won't talk about the horrid wrapping paper that they used or the sloppy way in which the lady wrapped them. Oops. I guess I just did!

Anyway, what at first looked like pretty bleak prospects for gift buying actually turned out so well. It's definitely not like America—if you're picturing a nice big toy store like Toys-r-us or FAO Schwartz, or even just Wal-mart or Target, forget that notion! No, this toy store was probably not even as big as two toy aisles in Wal-mart! After looking and sorting and getting a little discouraged, all of a sudden, we started uncovering little treasures; it was like God had hidden them just for us. After leaving there, we had one more thing to pick up (a certain DVD) and were headed to a different store when we went past a place that I knew had pretty good wrapping paper (no Christmas designs, of course) so we stopped, and they had the DVD we were looking for as well! It may not seem like a big deal, but when it's 1:45 on a Friday afternoon and stores are starting to close for Shabat, not having to walk that extra way carrying all our stuff was a pretty sweet gift!

If you're thinking that I procrastinated with my shopping this year, you're right. It just hasn't felt like Christmas at all to me and I couldn't muster any excitement about it. But today turned out really good. We dropped the gifts off at my apartment and then headed to the souk for some last minute groceries. While we were there, it started raining and I walked all the way home in the freezing rain. But the amazing part is how much I enjoyed it—I just felt so thankful that God had provided for us today. Sandra's been feeling so homesick and waiting for a package from home with presents for the boys and it hasn't come yet, so she's worried that it won't get here on time (I'm asking God that it will be there on Christmas day— I think that God is a splendid gift-giver and He delights in giving His children good gifts at the perfect time!)

I had a lot of fun re-wrapping the gifts tonight and trying to see if I could invent new ways of making bows (some were successful, others... oh well). It felt a little bit like home again. I'm looking forward to Sunday now. I hope you are too.

Merry, merry, merry Christmas, Y'all.

Good News!

It's been a few days since I entered anything here. There's two reasons for that: 1) I was sick with a really bad cold and 2) I've been working a lot of hours trying to finish up a freelance project.

In the midst of being literally sick and then tired of working so many hours, God has given me a really wonderful gift and I thought I would share it here. Now I've been a Christian for about 32 years now, having accepted Jesus as my Savior when I was a little girl. And most of that time, I've enjoyed a close and personal relationship with my God and my King. But I have to confess something: all those verses in the New Testament telling us to go and share the "good news" (like Mark 16:15)... well, I've never really been good at that. And I finally figured out why—I don't think I really knew what the good news actually was.

Don't get me wrong—knowing that Jesus died for my sins IS really good news to ME. But to people who don't even know that they are dying in sin, or think that they're doing just fine on their own, is that really GOOD NEWS to them? I mean, first you have to point out some things that people may not want to hear about themselves or that they might not appreciate, in order to tell them there's help for them. So being the little peacemaker that I am, I have often not wanted to stir the pot and appear judgemental and accusing. And thus "friendship evangelism" has been more my style—get to know people, set a good example, let them see Christ in me and maybe cause them to want what I have.

The truth is that the words "good news" are often followed by "of the Kingdom of God". So does that make a difference? It does when you start realizing what the Kindgom of God is all about.... Like many Christians in America, I have often fallen into the trap of thinking that Heaven will be one long harp playing song and that it might actually be a bit, well.... boring. I sometimes think of the things that I love so much on earth like mountain lakes, crystal clear blue skies, laughing with my friends, really good books, cool designs, baseball, autumn leaves, etc., and sometimes it's a bit of a bummer to think about not having those things in Heaven.

One of the projects that I'm working on is a journal to go along with a book called "Heaven" by Randy Alcorn. So I'm reading the book in order to take parts of it for the journal. Mr. Alcorn has studied the subject quite a bit and his insight, totally backed up by Scripture, has knocked my "boring" view of Heaven straight out of the water. What a gift that I've HAD to hear some good news in the midst of working long hours!

So if you want to read all 476 pages of the book, I say a whole hearted "Go for it!" You deserve some good news in your life! In the meantime, here's a little excerpt to whet your appetite:

“Nearly every Christian I have spoken with has some idea that eternity is an unending church service. . . . We have settled on an image of the never-ending sing-along in the sky, one great hymn after another, forever and ever, amen. And our heart sinks. Forever and ever? That’s it? That’s the good news? And then we sigh and feel guilty that we are not more ‘spiritual.’ We lose heart, and we turn once more to the present to find what life we can.” (John Eldridge, Journey of Desire)

What a contrast to the perspective that Charles Spurgeon had on death: “To come to Thee is to come home from exile, to come to land out of the raging storm, to come to rest after long labour, to come to the goal of my desires and the summit of my wishes.”

What God made us to desire, and therefore what we do desire if we admit it, is exactly what he promises to those who follow Jesus: a resurrected life in a resurrected body, with the resurrected Christ on a resurrected Earth. Our desires correspond precisely to God’s plans. It’s not that we want something and engage in wishful thinking that what we want exists. It’s the opposite—the reason we want it is precisely because God has planned for it to exist. As we’ll see, resurrected people living in a resurrected universe isn’t our idea—it’s God’s.

Satan hates the New Heaven and the New Earth as much as a deposed dictator hates the new nation and new government that replaces his. Satan cannot stop Christ’s redemptive work, but he can keep us from seeing the breadth and depth of redemption that extends to the earth and beyond. He cannot keep Christ from defeating him, but he can persuade us that Christ’s victory is only partial, that God will abandon his original plan for mankind and the earth.

Because Satan hates us, he’s determined to rob us of the joy we’d have if we believed what God tells us about the magnificent world to come.

*by Randy Alcorn, Eternal Perspective Ministries, 2229 E. Burnside #23, Gresham, OR 97030, 503-663-6481, www.epm.org

p.s. You can order the book at a 30% discount on his website.

my first design show in israel

Last night my friend Racheli and her sister, Dikla, took me to Tel Aviv to Design '06, a trade show for interior design. It was very much like the trade shows that I have been to in America, England and Hong Kong, except that the people seemed so much friendlier! It was probably the fact that this show was geared more toward the general public than to retail buyers, so it wasn't as cut-throat and people weren't as paranoid about having their designs ripped off!

I felt very much in my element there, collecting a lot of magazines and catalogs and taking pictures. Here is Dikla and Racheli with one of the representatives there.



I also fell in love with the work of Efrat Ilan, an Israeli artist whose work is fused with energy and color. Although it doesn't do the work justice, here are some of her images:





Her work is just so much larger than life. If you want to know more, check out her website at http://www.efratilan.co.il/
I really wanted to buy a bunch of her paintings for my apartment!

And check out this coffee table with the funky glass wheels—I love it!



So despite battling a little motion sickness on my way there AND back, I really had a great time. I'm not sure why I got sick; the drive to Tel Aviv usually doesn't bother me at all. Maybe I'm just not used to riding in automobiles any more! My stomach finally calmed down a little while after I got home, but then I woke up this morning with a bit of a cold. I guess it's just that time of year.

I think I'll go take a nap now.

a tribute to ellen

Okay, I gotta brag on my friend, Ellen. I worked with her for two years and during that time she did so many things to make my life so much better. She introduced me to the world of blogging, which has been a wonderful outlet for me. She encouraged me to follow my dream to Jerusalem. She made me laugh so much, and she gave me one of the biggest honors I could dream of by asking if I would be her back-up to take her to the hospital when she went into labor (in case her husband was at work).

One of the best things that Ellen ever did for me was to help me deal with depression after Daddy died. She has written and illustrated a book on depression that has been published on Mental Help Net at http://www.mentalhelp.net/poc/center_index.php?id=329&cn=329. It is one of the best, most practical and understandible resources that I have ever seen.

So Ellen's blog is a finalist for the Weblog Awards 2005, which is really incredible because there are like 5000 blogs out there! Anyway, It's well worth a visit, just click on the title above to check her out and cast your vote for her! It has become one of my favorite forms of entertainment, and a great link to home.

So here's to you, Ellen—may your voice always be heard, your friends always love you and your family always think that you hung the moon!

sub-woofer-schmoofer

I fell victim to the spirit of yelling again today. I couldn't help it.

On Sunday, I stopped in a little electronics shop to see if they had speakers for my computer that were electric instead of battery powered. They did. The guy was all proud of the fact that these had a sub-woofer. (woofer-schmoofer; I'm just tired of buying batteries every time I turn around!). Anyway, I asked him about the sound quality and he assured me that it was great. I asked him specifically if I didn't like the sound quality, could I bring it back. Yeah, yeah, sure. No problem.

So I got my little speakers home and plugged them in. And when I turned the power on, I thought a small plane was landing on my desk! I couldn't even hear the music over the drone of the sub-woofer. Sigh. I boxed them back up and merrily took them back to the shop today. He meticulously took them out of the box, plugged them into an outlet, turned the power on and the engine started droning. There was a lot of noise in the shop so it didn't sound as bad as in my home, but it was still droning. He plugged it into a nice stereo and said, see, there's nothing wrong with this—refusing to admit that there was an issue.

I reminded him that he told me I could bring them back if I didn't like the sound. No, what he meant was I could bring them back if they were not working, and these were working just fine. Evidently in his world, music sounds better with a super loud, sub-woofing hum to go along with it. He would not give me my money back. I yelled. It didn't work. He insisted that there was nothing wrong with them. I ended up leaving the store in a huff telling the customers in there not to buy anything from this man. (I could tell they couldn't understand me, so maybe it really doesn't count as bad against me?)

I will do my best to never complain about Wal-mart again. I once returned a sewing machine there after two months, WITHOUT a receipt. Now that's customer service. It seems that the locals here know nothing about even being friendly to patrons.

I should have given up after the electronics store, but dummy me had to go looking for a lamp. There's a lighting store near Sandra's and I decided to check it out. It had a couple of lamps that I was actually seriously considering buying. After about 10 minutes of waiting for the sales guy to stop yelling into his cell phone and help me with my purchase, I saw another lamp I wanted to check out a bit closer. I bent over some boxes and stuff heaped up in the floor to look at it, and evidently when I did, my empty backpack touched a floor lamp, cause the guy who had previously been ignoring me started yelling and pointing at me. Okay, okay! I moved about a half a foot away from the floor lamp, but was still interested in the other one, so I leaned over again. This time he started yelling, "Your bag, your bag..." and then a long stream of Hebrew I didn't understand. I yelled back that my bag was nowhere near the lamp and turned around and walked out the door as he continued to yell at me.

Maybe it's just me, but I don't care how much I want something—if the salesperson is rude, I won't buy it. I guess I'm just funny that way. I would think that common sense would say that being nice might drum up a little more business. But I guess not in Jerusalem. I have a small plane engine disguised as a sub-woofer to prove it.

Oh well, let's look at the bright side: I've now found a use for a couple of Hebrew phrases that I've learned lately:
Ha matose tas
and
al ha shulchan
Which, when you put them together, is probably a horrible English spelling of "The plane is landing on the table." Or something like that.

I'll never understand it

Today started out good. I colored my hair this morning and despite the fact that the instructions were all in Hebrew, the color came out better than it ever has before. So it's a happy hair day. I'm really thankful that you can find instructions in English for just about anything on the Internet — from Loreal Preference hair color to HP printers and ovens made in Germany!

I worked a bit more, then took a break to fix lunch. It was a new recipe and it turned out great! Ahhh. God must love me bunches. Back to work and making a lot of progress on my projects. Listening to great Christmas music. Yep. Life is good in general.

Then I got an email from Bonnie asking if I was okay; evidently there was another suicide bombing in Israel today. And all of the sudden, all the good just seems so stinking trivial. Obviously, I'm fine. Physically, I'm fine. Emotionally, I'm so angry. I just don't understand how a 19 year old boy can strap explosives to himself and try to take a bunch of innocent people with him. Nor can I understand a religion that rewards this behavior; or the mother that claims she is proud of her son for his "heroic" actions. I guess senseless violence happens everywhere. The motivation just takes on different forms, from religion to retaliation to drugs or money, but the motivator is always the same: sheer evil.

Logistically, today's bombing happened in Natanya, which is a town just north of Tel Aviv—not too close to my beloved Jerusalem, but of course security is on high alert across the nation now. For the past few years, Israel has been building a security fence on borders between it and Palistinian territories. It's been very controversial, but personally I think it helps keep Israel a little safer. Well that, along with the fact that God is still on His throne. And I think that the truth is that He gives us the good things to help us through the bad times.

I'm struggling for words. Maybe the only words that are appropriate are: Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. Please.

the heart of a faithful Jew

Yesterday morning I got up early and walked to the Old City. It was a beautiful day and I just wanted to start out the day by going up on God's Holy Mountain. More than that, I wanted to recapture the feeling that I had when I went there on last year's visit. I didn't feel it again, at least not in the same way. I stayed there and prayed a little, wondering what direction the Lord may take me in while I'm here and feeling a bit like surely He brought me here for more than what I'm doing now... surely there's relationships to nurture and people to love and help? So far my little world mainly consists of the Davises, Hanna and sometimes Racheli, my landlady. That circle is tiny for someone who loves to love people.

Well, I left the Temple Mount feeling a little disappointed, yet satisfied that I had been obedient to do what God wanted me to that morning. As I was walking back through the Jewish Quarter, I was thinking about a teaching letter from Bridges For Peace that my friend, Jean, had forwarded to me right before I left the states. It was called "The Heart of a Faithful Jew" and was written by a man that owns a shop called Shorashim in the Jewish Quarter. Now this article is one of the most insighful teachings I have read or heard in years and in it, he talks about how groups of Christians often come into the shop and sometimes they just shut the door and talk about God stuff.

So as I was wondering about the shop, I looked to my right and I was walking right in front of it! It was closed though, and since I had not had any breakfast yet, I went into the little cafe right beside it to get a muffin and some iced coffee. The lady who was working there was the most friendly shop person I have encountered in my experience here. I asked her about Shorashim and she said they usually open at about 10:30. It was only 9:00. I went to one of the tables outside to enjoy the quiet of the morning, the beautiful blue sky and perhaps one of the best muffins I have had in quite a while. I kept thinking that it was too much of a "coincidence" to just leave without going to the shop, but didn't really know what I would do while waiting. The friendly lady came to my rescue once again.... She said that the shops along the Cardo were wonderful, even just for window shopping.

She was right. There were some wonderful art and jewellry places and I managed to not spend too much money there! When I got back to Shorashim, it was open and there were no other customers there yet, so I got to have a little chat with the owner, Moshe Kempinski and his brother, Dov, when he came in. And there I found a little more of the Presence of God. I think that for the first time since coming here I actually felt a warm welcome to the land. I told him about going on the Temple Mount that morning, looking for God. And he was so encouraging, telling me that in Israel, I would find God in the most unexpected places. He confirmed what I had felt from the beginning—that in Israel, especially Jerusalem, you are physically closer to God. This is the land that He has chosen for Himself and His people. He encouraged me to come back and to just ask if I needed help with anything. I hadn't really realized that I hadn't felt welcome here until that point.

That afternoon, I looked up the teaching letter on the Bridges for Peace website to read it again, and what I discovered there was that BFP might just be what I'm here for. When I read their opening paragraph, I thought THIS IS WHAT I'M CALLED TO. Maybe this is the route I'm supposed to take. I looked at the volunteer positions that they have open and there it was: Graphic Designer. I called them to talk about it, but the lady said they had already closed for the day and I could call back tomorrow. She did tell me where they are located though, and that's right by Sandra & Jon Mark's house! There's a lot to pray through and process, but there's definitely a stirring in my heart. We'll see what happens.

Now back to the original goal of the day, which was being in the Presence of God. Looking back over yesterday, I see His footprints all over the day, and I smell His fragrance everywhere. He was there as I was sitting by the Beautiful Gate beside the Mount of Olives, asking Him to come back soon. He was there in the little orange Tabby that looked just like my beloved Cat. He was there in the little toothless Arab man that wanted to give me the history of the Mount, and whom I will keep praying for. He was there in the beautiful, ancient olive trees. He was there in the lady of the cafe, in the art on the Cardo, in the Hebrew people crying out to Him at the Wailing Wall. He was there in the shop with Moshe and Dov. He was in the Christian bookstore as I was able to replace my favorite book that I had lost. And He was there as a guy asked me what time it was and I was able to tell him in Hebrew!

Last night He was there in the laughter of the boys, the joy of a meal shared with friends, a wonderful study on God's word and there in the midst of chatting with a friend. Today He was there as I walked to the souk, there as I found fresh-popped popcorn (haven't had any since I've been here), there in the guy who made me laugh by asking if I was from Mississippi. There in the fact that I'm starting to understand a little more when they tell me prices in Hebrew; there giving me grace for the crowd and all the bumping into. There on my walk home and there in the sounding of the Shabat horn. There in a single phone call from Sandra and an invitation to dinner.

Look for God in the unexpected places — what simple, yet beautiful wisdom from the heart of a faithful Jew!

***You can read the teaching letter by Moshe and see more about Bridges for Peace by clicking on the title of this entry.****

hollie jollies

I'm trying really hard to get into the Christmas spirit. I don't think it's happening. I wonder if they do special Christmas stuff in Bethlehem? It's only a few miles from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, I should definitely try to go there. But when you don't have transportation, a few miles can seem really far.

I've been searching for good Christmas music on iTunes and I've come to the conclusion that I already have all the best. So I thought I would list a few of my faves, just in case you're looking for some good stuff. Here's my top ten:

1. "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" by Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan
(This one is good to play over and over and over... just put it on "repeat")
2. "O Holy Night" by Tracy Chapman
(She puts so much soul into it—it just makes it so divine)
3. "Let it Snow" or "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" by Chris Isaak
(Okay, I couldn't decide. That voice—you just gotta love it!)
4. "Go Tell it On the Mountain" by James Taylor
(What can I say? It's JAMES TAYLOR...)
5. "Tennessee Christmas" by Amy Grant
(Being the daughter of a tender Tennessee man, you know this would be on my list!)
6. "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" by Jars of Clay
(This was my fave version until the Barenaked version came along. I still love it though.)
7. "Children Go Where I Send Thee" by Natalie Merchant
(Well, I've been a fan for years and she doesn't disappoint on this)
8. "Christmas Time" by Smashing Pumpkins
("Smashing Pumpkins?" you say... Honestly, I know nothing else of theirs, but this song is addictive)
9. "In the Bleak Midwinter" by James Taylor
(Again—it's JAMES TAYLOR)
10. "Carol of the Bells" by Destiny's Child
(Saul got me hooked on this one last year!)

In addition to the above list, I have two absolute favorite Christmas CDs:

"Your King Has Come" has amazing renditions of a bunch of the traditional carols from a group of Christian artists. I think that these are my all-time favorite versions of these classics:
"O Come All Ye Faithful" by Mandy Ihrig
"What Child is This?" by Billy Cerveny
"O Holy Night" by Matthew Perryman Jones (okay, it's really hard to decide between this and the Tracy Chapman version)
"It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" by Jill Phillips
"O Come, O Come Emmanuel" by Matthew Smith (I love singing "and ransom captive Israel...")

The other incredible CD is "It's Christmas Time" from the artists that do "City on a Hill". It has two of my favorite traditionals:
"Do you Hear What I Hear" by Out of Eden
"In The Bleak Midwinter" by Paul Coleman Trio
And even though I'm sometimes a traditionalist at heart, it also has some great original songs:
"Manger Throne" by Third Day
"Babe in the Straw" by Caedman's Call
"Bethlehem Town" by Jars of Clay
"Child of Love" by Sara Groves

Well, if any of these songs enrich your Christmas in some way, all this typing will have been worth it. At least it's put me in more of a hollie jollie mood!

something to be thankful for

Okay, we're finally able to post photos again, so here it is:



Be thankful that you didn't have something like this on your Thanksgiving table to make the little boys cry. That's right, it's the sweet potato casserole disaster with the pink and white striped marshmallows (using that term loosely) in it's pre-charred state!

Yummy!
(but not really)

on missing things...

Just upstairs from where my friend Hanna works, there is a music store filled with beautiful guitars and other instruments. They have Washburns there. I never expected to see a Washburn guitar in Israel. That's the brand of Daddy's last guitar; the one he gave to me. The one I left behind in the states. The only "thing" I cried over leaving behind. My sweet brother is taking good care of it for me, though, and I hope he gets it out every now and then to play a little.

I've been in the shop a couple of times and Hanna went with me today. She is an amazing musician who does fun stuff like drumming on her pillows or on water and recording it. How creative is that? Anyway, we went in looking today. I really want to have a guitar here. There are so many quiet moments when I just want to pick one up and play my little heart out. That's usually the only time I play -- when it's just me and God. I think His ears are more forgiving than most people's are! Maybe one day I'll get one. Right now, my novice status won't let me justify the expense.

God's grace really is sufficient. All the things that I thought I would totally miss just haven't been that big of a deal. Food wise especially, other than me making myself give up Coke--four days and counting! As I sit here and try to think of things I miss, I'm actually having a hard time, because there are upsides to not having some things...

I miss having a clothes drier, but my washer is amazing and the clothes just don't seem to get worn out as much.
I miss having a car, but I definitely don't miss buying gas and car insurance.
I miss movies, but my time is better spent without them.
I miss Barnes & Noble, but -- okay, I really miss Barnes & Noble! But at least I found a little shop that has two of my favorite magazines: Elle Decor and Marie Claire Maison!

Of course there are things that nothing can replace or even make up for, like my family, my friends, Cat and Daddy's Guitar. But God is good and He keeps us connected. So I'm thankful for that. Well that's enough sentimentality for now. I have to work.

a few ramblings

Okay, it's 10:38 pm and I'm eating Ben & Jerry's coffee ice cream in between typing words. I'm trying to get rid of the headache I have from giving up Coke. It's been three days. Three very long days. But I gotta give it up. I don't sleep well when I drink it later in the day and lately I haven't had the willpower to stop at one with lunch, so it's better if I just don't have it in the house at all.

I'm giving up beef as well. Hanna and I went to Burgers Bar for lunch and I couldn't eat my burger. The meat tastes funky and has a weird, almost undercooked texture to it. As much as I love beef, I just can't take it. If it wasn't for chicken, I would think that I'm turning vegetarian. Sometimes I go days without meat, and so far it's been fine. Must be the grace of God.

And can I just rant for a minute about my credit card company? I tried to make two purchases this weekend and they were declined. So I called the company to see what was up because I'm nowhere near my limit and have paid on time every month. I have called them three times already to tell them that I am living in Israel and that I need to be able to use my card here. She told me that they have blocked my account since the beginning of October because they couldn't get in touch with me to confirm some purchases on my card. Purchases that I have made in Israel, but she thought they were made in Illinois because the abreviation for Israel is IL. Sigh. I don't think there is a Jerusalem in Illinois. I talk to the same lady every time. She remembers me. Anyway, she said she would take care of it all right away. But something tells me that I need to call every few weeks and just to make sure we're on the same page.

At least I finally got gas for my stove delivered today. You know all those delivery guys that can't find my apartment? Well, these two just stood outside yelling my name. At 7:30 this morning. I thought that was creative (or at least effective). And Racheli had said that it would be 150 shekels. Nope. Try 270 shekels. I'm hoping it lasts a bit longer than three weeks this time.

Well, without the benefit of caffeine, I'm starting to get very sleepy... Maybe I've ranted enough for one night. So I'll end hopeful that tomorrow will be better... "Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul." Psalm 143:8

keep me out of the kitchen on holidays

I think maybe I'm a kitchen disaster waiting to happen when it comes to the holidays. Last Christmas, I stopped up the sink so bad it took forever for Jon Mark to get it unclogged (how was I supposed to know the disposal couldn't handle potato peelings?). But I think that God had mercy on me because He let the food I cooked turn out really good; especially the sweet potato casserole. It was really yummy despite the fact that I completely made up the recipe as I went along.

Maybe that's why Sandra put me in charge of the sweet potato casserole yesterday. Let me just say that when two little boys would rather cry than eat your casserole, you KNOW it's bad! Well, part of it could have been that the marshmallows here are totally different than the great little miniature ones back home in the states. I knew I was in trouble when Jon Mark came back from the store with big pink and white striped ones. Then I let it burn, so it was kinda like marshmallow roasting gone crazy on top of an interesting sweet potato concoction that even I didn't like (and I love sweet potatoes in almost any format). Real brown sugar would have probably helped as well. (I have a photo of the pre-roasted version, but for some reason, it's not letting me upload the image.)

Well, the rest of the meal was really yummy, and the time together was great fun. I did kinda miss being able to watch a football game or two, but it wasn't that big of a deal. I was thankful that I had to walk home, though, cause I really needed the exercise after all that stuffing.

Some other good news on the food front: when I went on my quest for Karo syrup yesterday morning, I not only found it but I also found Hunts tomato sauce! Maybe there's yet hope for my spaghetti. I was so excited I grabbed all that my arms could carry. I don't know if Hunts is really the best brand or if I just feel that way because that's what Mama always used. Either way, I guess it doesn't really matter. I think that maybe God and Mama teamed up to give me a special Thanksgiving gift from Heaven all wrapped up in beautiful red cans!

All in all, it was a very Happy Thanksgiving.

it snuck up on me

Not seeing any decorations of turkeys, pilgrims, pumpkins and such here in Jerusalem, Thanksgiving actually snuck up on me big time. I don't know if I'm ready for it. Actually Sandra and I are going to cook tomorrow. They have fresh turkeys at the souk, which, even though we may have to cut off a few parts that most Americans don't usually have to deal with, are reportedly quite good. Potatoes, sweet potatoes and corn are in abundance here, so no problem with our favorite starches. It will be a bummer to not have green bean casserole though as canned soup is not really in existence here, let alone those yummy fried onions!

I think Sandra was able to find pumpkin pie filling though, and in the morning I'm off on a quest for light corn syrup to make pecan pie. Neither of us actually have pie pans, though and they don't really sell them here. You have to use the disposable tin ones, but the edges are actually straight, rather than slanted. Should be interesting.

Of course it's not really about the food, is it? Although the tradition of the meal keeps us close to our memories of those we love who are far away, or even in my case, gone Home to Heaven. It's about thankfulness. A line from one of my favorite songs is "A thankful heart prepares the way for You, my God..." It's so true. When we start being thankful, the world becomes a better place and we become better people.

Today as I was waiting for my friend Hanna for lunch, I was sitting in a little square at the bottom of Agrippas Street. The sky was a perfect blue and the air had that beautiful crispness that comes with the autumn. And I sat there thinking, "Oh, God, I have been such a brat these last few days... wanting more than I have, not trusting You to meet my needs, when my needs have always been more than met by You." So I just began to thank Him for random things that came into my mind. And it started to melt away the ice around my heart, and my outlook started changing.

I have so much to be thankful for; I have so many people that I love and who love me back. I have a sweet little home in a city that I have longed for so many years. I have a sound mind and skill to support myself. There's technology that keeps me connected, cell phones in case I get lost. Indoor plumbing is a biggie to be thankful for! And even though the souk can be so stressful at times, I was walking through there today looking at all the beautiful fruits and veggies and spices and nuts and raisins and cheese, and I was so thankful that it's there. Thankful that I'm able to walk where I need to go, and thankful for buses and taxis when it's too far to walk. And think me vain if you wish, but I'm so thankful for good make-up, shampoo and great smelling soap. And I'm really thankful for deodorant.

Thankful for street musicians and the aroma that surrounds me as I walk past my favorite bakery on my way to Sandra's. And I'm really thankful for Sandra and Jon Mark and those wonderful boys. I'm thankful for people who smile, thankful for hooded jackets on rainy days, thankful for sunshine and trees, moon and stars and a bit of grass in the middle of this big stone city. I'm thankful for good lotion, lip balm, my favorite quilt and the cozy throw that my brother just sent me. Thankful for red and mossy green and yellow, and most other colors as well. Except maybe teal. I'm thankful for great stores with cool furniture and accessories -- even if I can't buy any of it; sometimes it just makes me feel good to look. I'm thankful that laughter sounds the same in any language.

I'm most thankful for Jesus, though. My Messiah. My Yeshua. My friend. My Husband. My Savour. My king. My Forgiveness. My Love. My Hope. My Peace. My Security. My Joy. My Truth. My Way. My Life... None of the above would mean a thing without Him.

I could go on and on and on. But I won't. Not here anyway, but hopefully I will keep going in my heart and I will go to sleep being thankful and will wake up being thankful. I hope.

Happy Birthday Sweet Friend!

Sandra's birthday was this week and we've been scheming for a while about a surprise party for her. So yesterday I braved the souk to pick up ingredients for Jon Mark to make her a cheesecake. Friday. I forgot how bad Friday was at the souk. I almost broke down crying a couple of times in the cheese store. I hadn't eaten all day and by the time I got home I was a mess. I tried to work a little, but my hands were shaky and I just decided to give it up and take a nap. Naps are wonderful; I woke up feeling so much better.

So today, Hanna and I kidnapped Sandra for a few hours so Jon Mark could prepare for the party. I smuggled in the cheesecake ingredients under the guise of returning a suitcase I had borrowed. Little did she know what was hidden inside! We went to Abu Ghosh and had Lebanese food (yum!) and then we went to En Kerem for coffee. It was so nice to have some girl time. Here's Sandra being her serious self...


We finally got her home to the party and hopefully she didn't suspect a thing; but I suspect she might have. Either way, I think she had a good time and Jon Mark did a smashing job on the cheesecake and homemade salsa. There were lots of kids there and I got to meet some new friends as well. As I was talking to one girl and told her that I grew up in North Carolina, she said, "Hmm, you don't have a Southern accent..." Which really made me laugh, cause let's face it; I'm as Southern as they come....


Well, Happy Birthday, my dear sweet friend. Thank you for adopting me into your family! I hope you enjoy many wonderful moments in your new swing... if you can get the kids off it long enough!

stop worrying, y'all

I guess it's been a few days since I've written anything here. Life got hectic all of a sudden. I have quite a bit of freelance work to get done in a short time and also we had two birthdays this week, not to mention my little escapade into the world of woodworking.

Several people have emailed concerning my last two posts saying that I seem a little down. I'M OKAY. REALLY. Life just happens and it's probably no different than back home, with the exception of a little language barrier and a few other minor differences. I guess I may just be a little too transparent sometimes, and I probably shouldn't write late at night when I'm tired!

So what's the news? Hmmm -- well I finally got my new printer and it's working so far. Yay. And two gas technicians came to fix the gas leak the other night, so the line is fixed but they haven't delivered the new tank, so I still have no gas for the stove. Oh well, guess you don't know what you can do without till you have to, huh? The funny thing about the two tech guys -- one could speak English really well and the other not at all. And the one that couldn't had the other one ask me if I wanted to go out for a drink! Hmmm, what's the Hebrew for "No, thank you"? Lo, toda. I actually like to be able to communicate with someone before I go out with them. (That's not my only requirement, by the way, so stop worrying, Bons!)

Oh, and the best thing is that a group of us are doing Mike Bickle's (http://www.fotb.com/) study on the Song of Solomon on Thursday nights and it's really great so far. I'm looking forward to digging deeper into it. I think the most profound thing that I have learned so far is that God has intentionally placed these 7 different longings in our hearts that only He can fulfill: 1) to be fascinated/not bored 2) to possess beauty and feel beautiful 3) to be great/successful 4) for intimacy without shame 5) for assurance that we're enjoyed (liked) 6) to be whole-hearted and passionate and 7) to make a deep and lasting impact. Knowing those longings are put there by God makes me go, "What? You mean it's okay to feel this way?" A definitive "yes" to that; it's just not okay to try to fulfill them with the world... Amen to that!!!!

new experience #349

I thought trying to decipher my mail in Hebrew was hard.

Tonight I went to a class with Racheli. It was a class was on woodworking. I don't know what I was thinking; I didn't even think about the teacher only speaking in Hebrew. Duh. It was a very long 4 1/2 hours, and I'm still finding wood chips in my hair.

It was nice of the teacher to let me try it out before I enrolled, though, and the time with Racheli and her sister was good. But as I talked to him about it, I said that my Hebrew was horrible, and he just replied, "I know." And then told me that if I wanted to take the class, I would have to come to at least three lessons by myself so he could teach me in English. Not going to happen. Let's face it, I really don't have a big need to know how to use a lathe right now. Well, it was an experience anyway.

At least we stopped by the mall on our way home. That was really nice. Ahhh, it is a beautiful mall. I don't think I'll go there that often, but it will be a nice little escape for me when I need it. Maybe I'll be able to find good shampoo there. I stopped by the pharmacy last night and they only had about 4 brands!!! Ugghh. I am so spoiled when it comes to hair care stuff and I really miss my favorite shampoo! I don't think that good hair is high on the list of priorities around here and a lot of women wear hats anyway. Guess I'll just have to stock up next time I'm in the states.

Still no gas for the stove. Still no printer. Fed-ex still can't find my apartment. Still can't make spaghetti sauce. Guys still bugging me on the streets. Welcome to Israel.

acclimation

I think I'm experiencing blogger's block. Every time I start to make an entry, I go blank.

I had a really hard day on Thursday and I'm not sure I've recovered from it, plus the cough that I picked up in Cyprus has decided to turn into a cold so my brain feels fuzzy. I'm not sure what happened to make that day so bad, but I kept feeling like a spiritual bomb had gone off right in front of me. It was the first day since I've been here that I really wanted to go home. And it only took two months!

Friday was much better. Much, much better. I was able to talk to a friend online for about 3 1/2 hours and it really did a lot to lift my spirit. Thank God for Instant Messenger! I can't imagine what the bill would have been had we been talking on the phone.

So I guess the newness is wearing off and as I settle into my new life here I am starting to realize the lonely place of starting over again. I've been there before, and in the past my coping mechanisms have not been the most healthy in the world. When I first moved to Texas, I used to go to the mall just to be around people, which was pretty pathetic; but the crowning moment of desperation came when a telemarketer had called and I just kept talking to him. He eventually said, "uh, ma'am, I have to go now..." Have you ever had a telemarketer be the first to hang up? Now that's truly pathetic!

Well, here I haven't made it to the mall yet, and I have no telemarketers to talk to, so I'm finally having to turn to the right place for comfort--my heavenly Father. That's a good thing. And I am drawing closer to Him and crying out more and more, but I gotta tell you that I'm really missing Old Navy and Barnes & Noble right now.

I've basically given up on the spaghetti sauce thing. Maybe I'll try again some day. And I'm about to give up on the printer and just go buy another one. They still haven't replaced my broken one. Maybe I am learning patience. When I got back from Cyprus, the gas was out for my stove, so I called my landlady to get it replaced. It's been almost a week and I still don't have gas. And basically it's not bothering me.

So maybe I'm acclimating. That's good. But I'd really love to run to Wal-Mart and pick up some Nyquil right now. Well, the pharmacy will open back up tomorrow and I can go get whatever the Israeli equivelent might be.

And just an amazing little note to end with: In my Cyprus entry, I talked about a Palestinian named Steve. Steve was on our flight back from Cyprus and the last I saw of him, they had taken him into a side room for a questioning session. He had expected that and so we weren't surprised. He did eventually get through customs, but since they close the Gaza border at a certain time every day, he wouldn't have been able to get in. So he took a sherut (shared taxi) to Jerusalem where he would stay with a friend. On the sherut, he got into a conversation with an ultra orhodox rabbi and the rabbi told him that he had been reading the New Testament and was interested in learning more about Christianity. So he asked Steve to share with him, and then He invited Steve to stay at his house that night.... How amazing is that!!!! Talk about mysterious ways!

Cyprus

I'm back from my little trip to Cyprus for the worship conference and despite a little chest congestion, I think I made it through fine. Actually the conference was really great. We were pretty wiped out by the time we got there because we had to leave at 3:00 am and neither Sandra, Jon Mark or I slept at all that night before.


The hotel was really nice and we had great little balconies with a beautiful view of the Mediterranean. I must say that it would be hard to get used to living around Cypreans, though. They seem to be so easily offended and get into yelling matches way worse than any I've seen in Jerusalem. I thought Jon Mark was going to come to blows with a taxi driver at the airport who didn't want to wait for Sandra and the boys, he just wanted to leave without them. So we unloaded everything from that taxi and took another one. We won't talk about my little run-in with the little old man bussing tables in the food court.

So the conference. Wow. God really did some things in my heart. The ministry hosting the conference is based on Isaiah 19:23-25:

"In that day there will be a highway from Egypt to Assyria. The Assyrians will go to Egypt and the Egyptians to Assyria. The Egyptians and Assyrians will worship together. In that day Israel will be the third, along with Egypt and Assyria, a blessing on the earth. The LORD Almighty will bless them, saying, "Blessed be Egypt my people, Assyria my handiwork, and Israel my inheritance."

There were people there from Egypt, Israel and Assyria (Lebanon) as well as America and Scotland, all praying and worshipping the Lord together in unity. Arabs and Palestinians side by side with me and my heart for the Jewish people. And I loved them. These people captured my heart and God used them to open my eyes to some things. I have to confess that in general I have had a major dislike and mistrust for both Arabs and Palestinians. But God in His mercy allowed me to see a different perspective through the eyes of Steve, a Palestinian living in the Gaza Strip.

Steve, who is a friend of Jon Mark's, was on our flight from Tel Aviv to Larnaca and he and Andrew and I ended up taking a taxi to the hotel together. I politely asked a few questions about Gaza and the recent pull out of Israelis, and I just as politely listened to him tell how much easier life was for the Gaza Palestinians. All the while I listened, I was still thinking that the whole thing had been evil and cruel to the Israelis who lived there. But over the course of the conference, I got to know Steve and his heart, and God opened my eyes a bit. In the past I have been guilty of totally associating all Palestinians with terrorism. I would think that they're all just a bunch of evil radicals who want nothing more than to kill innocent people because they are Jews. The reality is that the radicals are actually a minority of the whole; it's just that we only see the actions of the radicals in the press, not the actions of the everyday Palestinian.

I asked Steve, "Do you love Gaza?" He said, "Yes I love Gaza. Nobody else loves Gaza, but I love Gaza. And God loves Gaza. And God can fix Gaza. No one else can." During the conference we had many conversations about loving one people group but not the other. And we came to the conclusion that we can love both; we can open our hearts a little more. And God can totally cause Palestinians and Israelis to live side by side in peace. I didn't believe that before. I believe it now. Reality is that nobody wants the Palestinians. Israelis say, "Why won't the other Arab countries take them in?" Other Arab countries don't want them either. Can you imagine the hurt and rejection these people must feel? I can't. But I can do what God allows me to do by not being one of the ones to persecute and reject them as well.


I was also blown away by the team that came from Lebanon (see picture) and by the Egyptians as well. There were such tender hearts there and a connectedness that I haven't really felt before with total strangers. I can't describe it. I wish I could.

One evening we started to pray over people in the arts and of course, I went to be prayed for. Not knowing of my crying out to God on Daddy's birthday to heal my shattered heart, a man named Michael looked straight at me and started praying over shattered hearts. Then Sandra started praying over me that God would give beauty for ashes, and suddenly it hit me. I've read that verse so many times and it never clicked before that when people were in mourning, they covered themselves in ashes. Beauty for ashes; beauty coming out of mourning. That's where the anointing on my artwork will come from; the ashes of my mourning.

It wasn an incredible time. I was really sorry to say goodbye. But my heart has been enlarged, my vision expanded, and that is a very good thing!

the family tree & orange soda

Have you ever entered your name in an internet search just to see where it would take you? I never thought that the very first search result would actually be about me (Melissa Reagan is a pretty common name). But there it was, my Grandfather's name in the first result -- his name is not so common: Christopher Columbus Reagan, born November 10, 1881.

It was a link to my dad's family tree that went all the way back to Timothy Ragan, born in Maryland in 1678. I didn't know anything of my family's history; both of my grandfathers had died well before I was born. Both grandmothers died when I was very young. I didn't know either of them very well since they lived in different states. In the few times I saw them as a little girl, neither one passed on any of our story to me. So there I was, looking at names that I wasn't familiar with; names linked together that somehow ended up with me, the youngest child of Paul & Shirley Reagan.

There are so many questions I would like to ask, like what country did Timothy Ragan's family come from? Why was the spelling of our name changed? Why did my great, great, great grandfather move from Maryland to Tennessee? What was life like for these people?

I feel so far removed. When Daddy died, there was really only one thing of his that I wanted: a book on the history of the Pittman Community Center. Located just outside of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, it's the place that Daddy was born and raised. There were some pictures in there that, for some reason, I just cherish. One was of my Grandfather, C.C. "Lum" Reagan, taking the doctor on a house call in his horse-drawn wagon. Another was of my dad as a young boy in the "Aeronautics Club" of his school. And there's one of my two aunts as precious little girls walking across a footbridge with their brother, Frankie.

It's such a mystery -- all these people linked to my name have their own stories, but I don't know them. I wish I did. I wish I knew what it was like for my daddy growing up on the farm, but I could never get him to open up more than a sentence or two about it. Maybe that's why the book was so important to me. With it, I can imagine my dad as a happy young boy smiling for the camera with a mischievous look in his eye. I imagine that just after the picture was taken, Daddy doing something totally boyish, like pushing the boy kneeling beside him over. I don't know; it was just the look in his eye that made me think he was up to something. I have a feeling that, being the youngest, and handsome as he was, he was the little darling of the family. And I'll bet that "little Paulie", as his sisters always called him, probably got away with a lot of stuff.

In one of the few times I caught a glimpse of Daddy's boyhood was when he showed me a place where there used to be an old country store that he and his brother Frank would walk to. It was the place where he had his first soda. I asked him what kind it was. He said, "If I remember right, it was an orange soda." Orange Soda. There was something almost magical in that memory; something that really defined a generation that seems so far removed from my own. I don't remember my first soda at all; it was so commonplace in my home that it almost ran like water.

So there are the names of my ancesters for as long as they've been in America, put out on the internet by a man that I don't even know. Maybe some day I'll look him up and find out his story, and how it's linked to mine. Or maybe I'll just wait until Heaven, where I'll no longer look through a glass, darkly, but will see face to face, then shall I know even as also I am known (I Corinthians 13:12). And there it is--that true, undeniable need to know and be known...

printer, round #2

The battle goes on. Yesterday morning I went to German Colony with Sandra, and I got really sick. By the time I got home all I could do was lay on the couch and run to the bathroom every once in a while. So I didn't take the printer back to Bug. I don't think I could have made the walk there. Surely one more day couldn't hurt?

It hurt. I took the printer again and the guy faxed my bill to them, and then told me they were closed until Sunday. I want to cry. Still no printer. So I carried the old one back home. I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't just go buy a new one somewhere else and just forget this nightmare.

It's beyond ridiculous at this point. Oh well. Maybe Sunday.

Oh, and the notice from the police? It was for someone else who needed to go pay a fine (my friend Hannah interpreted it for me). But let me just tell you that I jumped out of my skin when someone knocked on the door at 8:00 that next morning! It wasn't the police; it was a guy wanting me to take my succa (tent) down because a lady was coming in a wheelchair and couldn't get through. At least I think that was what all the hand signals and gestures meant. I finally got it through to him that it wasn't my succa and he walked away. When I got back from German Colony, a guy was taking it down. Yay! No more girl in the bubble!

feeling like an idiot again

There is one thing about living here in Jerusalem that absolutely drives me bonkers. The mail. I can't read it.

Today when I checked my mail, there was a piece of folded paper with some kind of form on it and handwriting in some of the blanks. I got really excited thinking that my package from my brother had finally arrived. I assumed that since it had a line that had tomorrow's date and 0800 (time) on it, that I could pick up my package at the post office tomorrow morning after 8:00.

So armed with my happy news, I walked joyfully down the street, helping strangers when I could and smiling a lot. A little girl dropped her bag as she was crossing the street with her Mom and it rolled under the car that was waiting for the light to turn green... she was crying and I went back to the car to see if I could reach it for her--of course being careful to make sure the driver knew what I was doing. Alas, I could not reach it and the driver wouldn't back up just a bit so I could. The mother was very grateful even though I was unsuccessful. Oh well. My package has finally come, so I'm still happy!

After doing my shopping, I was walking down the street and I met that guy again -- the one that asked me out the other day. How weird is that? We chatted a bit and talked about getting some coffee tomorrow maybe. Well, I'm thinking to myself, things are looking up!

Then I went to Sandra's to watch the boys and was all excited to show her my notice to pick up my package. Only thing is that it's not from the post office; it's from the police. That's right, THE POLICE. And we have no idea what it says. I'm resting in the fact that I have not committed any crimes ever in my life and that if they come after me, they'll be just like the delivery people who can't find my apartment. Hey, maybe that "3" on the door is a good thing after all!

Once upon a succa time

This past week, I have been patiently dodging succas (tents) all over the city. They're everywhere; in front of restaurants, in front of my door. I found myself saying, "Okay. That's enough. Let's take down the tents and get on with life..."

I feel trapped. I feel called to love a people that I don't understand--a people whose ways are so foreign to me; yet when I read of their struggle to survive through the ages, I am brought to tears every time. I want to speak blessings and not curses. I want to "speak tenderly to Jerusalem....to go up on her high mountains and shout "Here is your God!" (Isaiah 40). Sometimes I succeed; I manage to pray out blessings in shops and on the streets. More often than that, I fail. But I am determined, and with the help of God, I will not give up.

So today, I bless Israel. And I want to share with you this little story of Golda Meir that I just read in the Jerusalem Post. "Once upon a succa time" Read it all. It's well worth it.
http://www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?cid=1129479806195&pagename=JPost%2FJPArticle%2FShowFull

SLEKHAH!!!!!!!!

Today I succumbed to the spirit of yelling. My printer, which I bought approximately one month ago, decided to stop working last Thursday. After several days of going back and forth with HP tech support via email to no avail, they recommended that I take it back to the store. So this morning I boxed it up and headed out the door to walk the few blocks to take it back to "Bug", the electronics store in which I bought it. Fifteen feet from my door, the handle of the box broke.

After waiting patiently in line to return the thing, the guy told me that they don't take returns and that I would have to call HP tech support in Israel and they would come to my house and replace it. So I took my box back home and called tech support. The guy didn't even want to listen to what I had already tried with online tech support; we had to walk through the whole thing again. Is it plugged in? Yes. What happens when you turn it on? Nothing. Look at the power box. Okay. Is the cord plugged into it properly? YES. Can you plug it into a different power source (outlet)? I've already done that a few thousand times, but, yes, I will give it one more try. Nothing. Can you hold for a few minutes? Do I have a choice?

After a few minutes of listening to some recorded Hebrew announcements, he then comes back and tells me that there are two options: What we normally do is send a technician to your house and he will replace the printer with a USED one that works. WHAT!!! But I don't want to do that to you, so the other option is that you have to fax the bill of sale to me. I don't have a fax machine. No, you have to take the printer back to Bug (you gotta wonder about a store that names itself after a PEST), write your name on the bill--your whole name, by the way, your last name is Reagan. Yes I know that. Are you related to the royal family? If I said yes, would you give me better service? No. I'm not related. Write your name, your passport number, the name of the printer, its serial number, the case number I am giving you now and Bug's fax number on it, have them fax it to me, my name is Shomi. How do you spell that? You don't know how to spell Shomi? I'm not from here, okay, give me a break!!! S-H-O-M-I. Then they will give you a new printer.

You mean I have to turn around and carry the stupid thing BACK to Bug? Don't do it today, wait until Thursday, after the holiday, because we're closing in less than an hour. There's another holiday? Good grief, there's a holiday every time I turn around. Yes I know--I have lived here all my life, I'm 28 and I still can't get used to all of them. Okay. I'm sorry I yelled at you. It's okay. So, when I take this printer back to the store, they will fax you, and you will fax them and they will give me a new printer? Yes. Okay, thanks for your help.

Happy Holiday, again.

Holiday? Again?? Oh crap. Now I have to get to the store before it closes, so I grab my backpack and head out the door. Why is it when you're mad at the world and just want to get your shopping done, the crowds are just impossible? Three women went down the steps to City Cellar in front of me chatting and not paying a bit of attention to me trying to politely get by them. Then I got in the store and every corner I turned, there they were, taking up the whole isle. Good grief. Anyway, I grab all my stuff and get in line. A woman walks up behind me with only a handful of items and I move aside and offer to let her go before me. She does. Without even a smile or a word of thanks. You're welcome. Oh well. I check out, pack the heavy and cold stuff into my backpack and the rest in bags and I head out the door and up the steps. Rats. I need meat. I'll just run up to the souk while I'm out. The adrenaline of anger is fueling me along anyway.

Mission accomplished, bags in hand, I start back home. The streets are really crowded and no matter how loud I say "Slekhah!" (excuse me), people will just not budge to let you pass. At this point I'm just daring people in my mind to get in my way--You get in my way, I'll knock you over with my 80 lb backpack.... Except for you soldiers with the big ol' guns. And you little old lady with a walker. And you happy little kids. But if you're a normal, healthy adult, don't get in my way....

So I get past the crowds and I'm determinedly walking towards home, thinking of ways to torture tech support guys, and this guy walks up beside me. Excuse me, are you from the states? On no. Here we go again. Within two blocks, I've been asked to go have coffee. So then the battle rages inside. He's cute. I don't have many friends here. I do like coffee. Could it hurt? Hang out at Cafe Hilel. Be able to talk and get to know someone. He works for the water company. Hey, maybe he could translate that bill for me!!! Rats. We're already outside my apartment and he's walked with me the whole way. Will I go have coffee with him tomorrow evening? I don't know. Can he call me? Ugghhh. Before I know what's happening, I'm giving him my number. I gotta be crazy.

A couple of days ago, I wrote about finding God in everything. I have to admit that today, I'm having a hard time. Well, I'll just keep looking and praying that God protects me from harm. And from myself. And we'll see if Bug gives me a new printer. And we'll see if the guy even calls....

tomorrow is another day

Some days are better than others. I woke up this morning with a terrible pain in my back. It hurt to breathe and bending over was excruciating. Sandra came to the rescue with Biofreeze, a hot water bottle, Ibuprophen and loving hands that massaged the ache away for quite some time. It's a lot better now, but I'm still having some pain. I've basically sat on the couch most of the day, hot water bottle on my back, watching back to back episodes of Felicity on TV. I'm still in my pajamas wondering what to do about dinner and have graduated to "O Brother, Where art Thou?" on TV. All I really want is somebody to feed me cheese pizza and coke with Donna Miller's chocolate cake for dessert and tell me that life's gonna be okay, even if I never get out of my pajamas or make my bed again.

Okay, that was a little over the top dramatic, but I get that way when I'm in pain. I'm the biggest wimp I know. I know everthing's going to be fine--I'll survive a little back pain. I even managed to sweep the floor (how does it get so dirty so quickly?), but I'll save the mopping for another day. I don't know exactly what I did to make the muscles in my back rebel in such a manner. Carrying my new carpet up the hill yesterday? Trying to place it under the desk by myself? Maybe it's the fight I have with the shutters on my windows every night. I kinda have to do this pull with one side while pushing with the other side thing to get it locked. Could be the painting, wall patching, moving furniture, carrying heavy things... Guess it just said, "Enough. It's the Sabbath and we're going to rest." Smart muscles.

I could really use a shower and some clean clothes just about now. But in the words of Scarlet: I won't think about that today. After all, tomorrow is another day.

God is ALWAYS speaking

This first photo is looking out over the Ben Hinnom Valley, where in Biblical times, children were sacrificed to the pagan god Molech. I love the contrast of sun shining in the valley while the darkness looms beyond. It was almost like a sign from heaven that God is redeeming the valley, and that life and praise will come from it.

The second photo is of the building where people from all over come together in two hour time slots to praise and worship the Lord 24/7. It overlooks the Ben Hinnom Valley and the Old City walls toward the east.

The day that I took these photos was very interesting. It had been raining all day and when I got to the spot where I took the photos, the sun was shining so beautifully. Yet beyond Mt. Zion, the clouds were still dark and threatening. I went inside to hear a guest speaker, and not long after that it started raining so hard that I couldn't even see across the valley. I don't know--it was just powerful. Like God was washing out the valley or something. I don't want to over-spiritualize everything, but sometimes I think we really miss out on hearing and seeing God in the everyday things of life. We write it off as "strange weather" or "coincidence" or "luck" and we totally miss it. God is always speaking. ALWAYS. I know this and yet I'm so guilty of ignoring Him most of the time.

I know so many people trying to "find God". I just think it's not that hard. He's everywhere. But we make life so complicated with rituals and spiritual rules of how to do this and what not to do, that many people just get so frustrated that they give up or settle for some acceptable form of religion. Maybe it's a bit too audacious of me to say that. Maybe being here in this land just makes me feel like He's not hard to find. Maybe.

No. I don't think so. I think we make God too little by under-spiritualizing events. The evidence is everywhere if we just open our eyes. Whenever I get frustrated and feel like I can't see Him, I start reading Job 38 and on to the end of the book. It doesn't take me long to remember who He is and stop my whining when I read God's response to Job:

Then the LORD answered Job out of the storm. He said:
"Who is this that darkens my counsel
with words without knowledge?

Brace yourself like a man;
I will question you,
and you shall answer me.

"Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation?
Tell me, if you understand...."
JOB 38:1-4

Can't you just hear this thundering voice that shakes the earth! That just gets me every time!!!! So many of my words are just without knowledge. It's extremely humbling, as it should be, to know how little I am and how big (can't even grasp HOW BIG) God is. And to think that He loves me so much that he died for me is just about more than I can handle.

Open the eyes of our hearts, Lord, that we may see You.

I can read my name now

Whew. I guess clarity sometimes comes with the morning. Or it could just be an answer to my prayer that God would give me an interpreter for my mail. This morning as I revisited the "water bill", I couldn't find my name anywhere. Yes, I feel like I'm in kindergarten trying to learn how to associate these crazy looking letters with my name, but if I go really slowly, I can pick it out. And then I noticed the dates -- thank God that numbers at least look the same in Hebrew! Anyway, the date of service was from 7/27 to 9/18; which was the day I moved in! Yeah! We'll let Racheli the landlady deal with that one.

The other piece of mail in yesterday's post WAS to me. I found my name on it. The envelope has a little icon of an electrical plug and cord, so I'm thinking that it's from the electric company. At least it's not a bill; it's a letter and I'm really hoping that it's just a welcome and that they're not telling me they're going to shut off my service or something like that.

out in the rain

I've been here 36 days now and today was the first time it has rained. Of course, I was out of everything, so I HAD to walk to the souk for some groceries That's about 20 minutes each way, carrying groceries on the way back.

Then I HAD to walk to Succat Hallel for a teaching by Jim Goll (one of my favorite authors). That's about 30 minutes each way, coming back is ALL up hill.

Then I had just enough time to stop by my apartment, throw my stuff down and head out the door to my friend's house to watch their 4 boys for a few hours. Again, twenty minutes each way.

All in the rain, and can I just tell you how cold it got today! The wind was fierce. I'm looking in my closet thinking, oh no! The limited amount of clothes that I could stuff into 3 suitcases just ain't gonna cut it through the cold months! And speaking of closets, I have approximately 29 hangers in mine. In America, I had that many just laying on the floor of my closet. (I never was a neat freak about closets). And they were huge -- always big walk-ins, packed to the hilt. I took a bunch to charity before I left and even after that I still left some in storage.

I'll adjust, I'm sure. But the one thing I'm having a really hard time adjusting to is going to my mail box and not being able to read any of the mail that's in it. Half the time, I can't even tell if it's mine. The other half of the time, I'm trying to figure out if I've even got the envelope right side up. Hebrew just looks so different. Today I got what I think is a water bill, but 575 Shekels seems like a whole lot for 4 weeks of water. (that's about $128 U.S)

Please, God! Don't let that be my water bill! And send an interpreter fast!!

Spaghetti Disaster #4

Tonight's spaghetti was a fiasco. We're talking nasty. I couldn't eat the stuff. At least the meat was good -- I finally found good meat at one place in the souk. But the sauce was way past bad and all the Italian seasoning in the world couldn't change that. I would probably pay a hundred bucks for a couple of cans of Hunts spaghetti sauce right now. I don't know why this has to be such an issue; you'd think that if you can find the ingredients, you can make it taste good. But that's part of the problem; you never know if the local store will have the same brand twice. I tried an Israeli brand and it was the best so far, but the meat I had put in it was interesting, to say the least, and I haven't been able to find that brand again.

Maybe I'm just supposed to give up spaghetti. I don't know. Cooking other things gets complicated as well. For example, all those yummy caseroles that you put cream of chicken or mushroom soup in? They don't have canned soup here. And let's talk about the oven: At home, we have degree settings and a little light goes off when the temperature is right. Not so here. My oven has all these little symbols and I can't for the life of me figure out what they mean. One thing I have perfected, though, is toasted garlic bread. I buy these incredible baguettes at the store and slice off a little piece, add some butter (awesome butter!), a little salt and minced garlic, stick my hand in the oven to see if it's hot and if it is, I watch the bread very closely. It's soooo good, and is great for grilled chicken sandwiches. That was another good find for me -- one brand of yummy pre-cooked chicken breasts, now very much a staple at King George 41/24!

One thing that I'm really grateful for here: No fast food or junk food commercials on TV. I didn't realize how much the advertising had affected me! I don't really think about that stuff anymore, and that's amazing. I haven't really missed it at all. There's a McDonalds two streets over, which I have not set foot in and a Burger King one more street over that I went in once. It wasn't that great and I haven't been back since. Hmmm. I haven't had a burger in over a month. No pork either. Well, so far I'm not missing it. Let's just hope it stays that way!

there's a big tent in front of my door

So yesterday after finishing writing on my blog, I opened my front door to walk to my friends house, and there was this huge tent in front of it -- seriously, I had about a foot and a half to get through. I felt like the boy in the bubble! It's another holiday here (Feast of Tabernacles) and evidently everyone feasts in a tent. I don't have a tent, so I'll be dining in tonight.

I went to Sandra and Jon Mark's and we played some games with the kids and then we had a time of worship. They knew I was having a hard time with Daddy's birthday, and they kind of zeroed in on me. As much as I just wanted to run away and scream, I didn't, and when I finally could say something, it was messy. All I could say was that I felt like someone had reached into my chest, pulled my heart out and smashed it into a thousand pieces on the ground. I felt like a lost kid standing in the park screaming, with my heart at my feet and no one to put it back together. But as we prayed, an amazing thing happened; in my picture of myself standing there crying, Jesus came and knelt down and started picking up the pieces. And He just let me stand there and scream. So patient, so kind, so loving, so tender. I'm not alone. I don't think it will be put back together overnight, but I know I'm not alone anymore.

They reminded me if God is truly calling me here to "comfort His people" (Isaiah 40) then I need the anointing of having experienced His comfort myself. Guess I'll learn to receive that comfort as I go. It's hard though--I mean, to speak tenderly to a people that, by Southern standards, would be considered anything but tender themselves. Most of the time as I walk down the crowded streets, I'm yelling (in my mind) for people to get out of my way or to watch it when they almost knock me over without even pausing for an "excuse me" ("slekhah" in Hebrew). I think that they just have such a need for self-preservation that they can't recognize it when someone does want to help or reach out to them. It's easy to be nice to nice people, but harder when someone is yelling at you, or jumping in line in front of you. I guess that's what God's up against with me every day; Him wanting to comfort me, and me just kicking and screaming. Ouch.

Well, I'm learning. And I'm trying. And I'll just keep walking step by step.

Well, I'm off to try yet another recipe for spaghetti. I figure if I keep trying, someday it will taste good. Probably never as good as Mama's, but who could touch that perfection anyway?

Missing Daddy

It's October 16 and it's the first time that I can remember not talking to my Daddy on his birthday. Most of the time I was there with him and we'd go driving through the mountains looking at the fall colors. My favorite birthday with him was a few years ago. I had flown into Knoxville and rented a convertible to surprise him. It was the most beautiful trip. We drove the newly opened Cherohala Skyway (http://www.cherohala.com/), which is a road that basically goes from North Carolina to Tennessee through the middle of nowhere. And the scenery is incredible.

That road will always be "Daddy's Road" to me. He was working as a surveyor on the original road when I was just a few months old and we moved to the little town of Robbinsville. We stayed there even when the government stopped funding on that road because my oldest brother started school and Mama refused to move us around after that. So we stayed and Daddy worked away most of the time. But when I was in high school, they started to build the road again (with a slightly different route), and the best part was that Daddy came home to stay.

Here are some of my favorite memories with Daddy:

• Countless hours of sitting on the front porch working crossword puzzles.
• When I was in school, Daddy used to wake me up so sweetly; he'd quietly come in with my slippers that he'd warmed up by the heater and wake me with a gentle little rub on the back.
• On Thanksgiving when I was little, he'd wake me up before anybody else and we'd watch the Macy's parade together.
• I loved the way that he and I were always the last up from the dinner table--we both ate so slowly.
• When I would come home from college, he'd always have a country ham biscuit from Hardee's there waiting when I got up in the morning.
• When I changed my major from accounting to art in my Junior year of college, Daddy said, "Well honey, I'll support you in whatever you want do."
• I always loved to hear him play guitar.
• I loved the way he could always point out different mountain peaks and how he loved the stars and whippoorwills.
• I loved the way he always took care of the Rose of Sharon bush out in the front yard and was so proud of it's blossoms.
• I loved the way he always used to pick wild blackberries.
• He always sent greeting cards--that's so precious to me.
• Nobody could skip rocks across the water like Daddy could.
• Nascar Racing, the Yankees, and the UT Volunteers (I know Daddy's blood ran bright orange!). Daddy loved sports and I loved sharing that with him.
• I loved looking at maps with him.
• I loved the way he would always call me on Saturday morning; it was such a good way to start the weekend.
• I loved knowing that he loved me no matter what.
• And my very favorite thing was the way he called me "m'lis" is his soft Southern accent. I hope my heart never forgets that sound.

As I sit here remembering with tears and thankfulness, I'm realizing how much my Dad shaped who I am. I think he gave me so much that he never even realized, from his artistic eye to his love of words. My quiet mornings with him have translated into quiet mornings with my Heavenly Father, and I know that someday, we'll sit on his heavenly porch together again.

I miss you, Daddy. I'm glad I was there with you in the end, but I know you're in a much better place and you'll be there waiting for me when I get there. Thank you for all the love and memories. I'll forever be your little girl.

A Holy Day in Israel

Yom Kippur (the day of atonement) started yesterday evening in Jerusalem, and I had planned to go with my friends and their boys to a worship watch (http://www.succathallel.com/) from 8:00 to 10:00 pm. As I walked up to King George to meet them, I felt like I had stepped into the twilight zone. No cars or buses or taxis were running and people were milling around in the streets. The stoplights were not even working. It seems that Yom Kippur is the one holy day the all Jewish people in Israel observe, whether religious or not.

There are also lots of little extra rules on this day, like you can't wear leather. You should wear white. You're supposed to fast -- from everything -- even bathing! Being the good little Christian Gentile girl that I am, I didn't know all these things, so after a nice long shower and then some spaghetti for dinner, I donned my favorite black Old Navy t-shirt and jeans and headed out the door with my leather Bible in hand. I really wasn't trying to be offensive, and no one threw anything at me, so maybe they didn't even notice.

Anyway, it took about 25 minutes to walk to the Mt. Zion Hotel, where Christians from all over the world come together in two hour time slots to worship and intercede for Jerusalem and the nations 24/7. The worship room overlooks the Ben Hinnom Valley, where in Biblical times, children were sacrificed to the very unholy god Molech (the reason I can't bring myself to say "holy Moley" ever again). It's such a strange feeling to look out over that valley to the walls of the Old City. I can't describe it--just knowing that Jesus walked in this very place, that this was the place God chose to let His Presence dwell in His Temple, the place where King David lived and worshiped.... What can I say? Words just seem so insufficient in the presence of this reality.

So there I was singing "What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus" and looking out the window toward the east, probably not even a mile from the place where that blood was actually poured out for me. Then I read the following verse: “Rejoice, O Gentiles, with His people; For He will avenge the blood of His servants, And render vengeance to His adversaries; He will provide atonement for His land and His people.” Deuteronomy 32:43, and I just began to pray that the people's eyes would be open to the atonement He has already provided through His Son. As Jon Mark began singing and praying about God purifying His bride, I asked the Lord to spread the corner of His robe over us like Ruth did to Boaz, asking him to be her kinsman redeemer. After I found myself praying that, I remembered in Revelation where it talks about Jesus coming on a white horse and his robe is dipped in blood.... and then I understood more than ever the connection--not only is He taking us for His bride, He is covering us with His blood. What a beautiful picture of true redemption, total acceptance, total committment. There is not even a shadow of turning away from His promises.

"I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and makes war. His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. He has a name written on him that no one knows but he himself. He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God." Revelation 19:11-13

"He who testifies to these things says, “Surely I am coming quickly.”
Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus!
The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen." Revelation 22:20-21

the boy is under the plane

Well, it's Friday and I just braved the Jerusalem "Souk" (pronounced "shook") which is the open market where there are stalls and rooms for everything from meat and fish, fruits and veggies, to shoes, clothing and household goods. On most days the crowds are not that bad, but on Friday everyone is out in force yelling for this, pushing this way or that, trying to get everything they need for the Sabbath. I think I had to prove to myself that I could do it. Plus, I was running out of cucumbers and Bulgarian Goat Cheese.

So why is it such a big deal to me? Because one of my biggest issues in life has been personal space! At least eighteen inches all the way around me at all times, please! But that just doesn't happen here. You're in line at a store and the next person is already putting their stuff on the counter and paying in front of you... It's kinda like a mama dog with her pups, if there's a weakling in the litter that can't push his way to the milk, he ain't gonna get fed and mama ain't gonna push the others away. So you gotta get in there or you just won't get it! And the thing is that no one thinks it's rude. It's just the way. So I'm learning new ways and trying to put my little Southern manners aside. It's a whole new ballgame but I think I'm getting the hang of it, although inevitably I'm exhausted by the time I get home and just have to crash on the couch for a while.

So yesterday, I ventured out in another direction. I took the bus (keep in mind that this country girl isn't used to mass transit, especially mass transit that is ofter targeted by terrorists) to another area of town and I found this amazing store called IDDesign. I walked in and there was all this really cool furniture and decor and Coldplay's "Beautiful World" was playing and I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. I think I stayed in there about three hours! And I got some goodies as well, some cool green glasses, a set of 4 cubes that you can stack as shelving or tables or whatever, a measuring cup (this was a big deal cause I had not been able to find one anywhere!), some utensils and some really cool black and white coasters. I wanted much more though!

So in the communication game, I have found a great service online that teaches Hebrew by speaking phrases and you choose which photo goes with that phrase instead of a literal word-to-word translation. I'm doing okay at it, though it's tough to do the gutteral sound for me. It seems so unnatural. It is a good way for me to learn being the visual person that I am. And I'm just waiting for the right moment when I can say "the boy is under the plane" in perfect Hebrew. I'm sure that moment will come any day now.