Remember me?

I can't believe how long it's been since I've entered anything here. So much has happened, yet it feels like nothing's changed at all. God is doing interesting things in me, but I feel sometimes like I'm just driving through life without a map. the good thing is that #1 I know I'm not lost, and #2 the scenery and people along the way are beautiful.

I am still loving Israel, still loving Bridges for Peace, and feeling no leading towards leaving. It can be hard though. Life in ministry is constantly changing and you have to be flexible enough to go with the flow or you'll drown. And while my body is getting older and a little less flexible, my spirit on the other hand, is getting older and a lot more flexible. So I guess as long as my body can keep up, I'll be okay.

One sad change is that two of my closest friends are moving to the states on the 22nd. I'm not ready to say goodbye, but I will do my best. It would be so much easier to guard my heart so that when people leave it wouldn't hurt as much. But then the rest of the time wouldn't be nearly as much fun. I think that in God's economy, the more pieces of your heart that you give away, the more you have to give away later. It's more like subtraction equals multiplication, which scientifically doesn't make much sense, but it is nevertheless true.

Hopefully this will be the beginning of me getting back to my little pink chair, but right now I'm just a little tired from painting my office all day (and last night). Brown and blue. It feels so much better. So at about 7:00 tonight I decided I was hungry and I didn't feel like cooking, so I called my favorite little sandwich shop for delivery. When the guy came, he told me that his friend used to live in this apartment about two years ago. Then he looked around and said, "You've painted. It looks amazing." Well, the tiny little apartment is finally starting to look more homey. And I'm starting to feel much more homey. My Hebrew is coming along slowly but surely. I've even found a dentist here (broke a crown -- bad!!!) and he and his staff are the nicest I've ever experienced. I'm not looking forward to the bill, but at least I'm not terrified and this guy speaks perfect English.

It's funny, but this month in particular I've really started to see the truth in Mark 10:29-30: "I tell you the truth," Jesus replied, "no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—and with them, persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life." My friend that is moving has been giving me all this cool stuff that they had in their apartment, even a Christmas tree with red and white ornaments! And I just won a breadmaker at our Christmas Party. (It's almost as big as my kitchen, but I'm sure I'll find a spot for it!)I always wanted a breadmaker, so that was really, really cool. Anyway, God is providing. And if you're wondering about the persecutions, well, there's a little bit, but not much!

I think I'll sign off for now. But hopefully I'll be back really soon.

broken, not crushed

The last two weeks have felt like a year. I had been working a lot of extra hours on a freelance project, so by last Friday I was really tired. I still worked from 4:00 pm to 1:30 am that day. I went to bed exhausted but feeling pretty good because I was able to do some pretty tricky jobs that night.

Then Saturday happened. I got up a bit later than normal, had a good quiet time with the Lord and then walked into my office. I don't think anything could have prepared me for seeing my entire desk, along with everything on it, covered in water. There sat my computer, back-up hard drive, printer, modem, a friend's jump drive and Jon Mark's study books all looking like swimming was their favorite sport. I quickly threw on some clothes and ran upstairs to the apartment above me to see if we could find where the leak was coming from. (I wish the guy had bothered to throw on clothes before he opened the door.) Anyway, we couldn't find the leak, but they said they would call their landlord as soon as Shabat was over (most traditional Jews do not talk on the phone on Shabat). I left their apartment and burst into tears. I left Racheli a sobbing message, called some friends to pray and started cleaning up.

All that work. My livelihood. I couldn't think; all I could do was cry. But the Lord was very gracious and had made provision for me. For some reason that I can't explain, I had burned a disk earlier in the week that had everything except Friday's work on it. And as for Friday's work, I had been obsessed with getting it e-mailed on Friday night, even though I knew that the folks at DaySpring had probably already gone home. So I was able to retrieve everything I sent from my e-mail's "Sent" folder. That means that I lost only one file that was pretty easy to recreate. Yay. I won't think about all the personal stuff that could be gone forever, like about 1000 of my favorite songs. Funny thing about that is that I had just noticed that I didn't have all my music on my computer at work and that's why I had my friend's jump drive in the first place. I had loaded the missing songs onto it before the leak and it wasn't damaged at all (Thank God!)

Well, I haven't had the nerve to get the computer to the MacDoctor again. I'm afraid of what it will cost. Ori, the landlord upstairs, is already saying it's not his responsibility to cover that cost. Racheli is saying that it is his responsibility. And I'm stuck in the middle, feeling broke and paralyzed. Ori had a plumber friend of his look at the problem and he said that it was because it wasn't sealed good between the tiles. Umm-hmm. I wasn't born yesterday. No way that much water came from leaking through the tiles in the floor. So I'm supposed to watch it and see if it happens again. Which means that I can't put anything back in there, I can't hook up my modem and actually do work. What if I wait a week and nothing happens, then I put everything back in there and then it breaks again? It gives me a headache to think about it.

So I've been spending a lot of hours at my BFP office trying to finish projects and stuff, and going home to an apartment that smells musty and damp, has computer stuff and books and papers drying out everywhere and is generally driving me crazy. Yesterday I was pretty grateful that the week was almost over and I had completed my last freelance assignment and turned it in and could finally get some rest. Then I got home to find that my cat had decided that it would be better to throw up on my bed rather than on the easily cleanable tile floor throughout my apartment. On my favorite quilt. The one that makes me happy when I wake up snuggled under it. The one that went into my suitcase rather than muc needed extra clothes. Sigh. I stuffed it in the washer and threw the cat outside and cried some more.

Then I noticed the funky smell. Not the musty smell. No, this was a new smell. Like a dead animal. Coming from my bedroom. I couldn't find anything, but that didn't make the smell go away and it kept me up half the night. That and the image I had just seen on TV about dust mites in pillows.

This morning I woke up and decided it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself and being overwhelmed because of my circumstances. It was time to start being thankful. So I started thanking God for whatever I could think of, and what a difference it has made in my day. I hate it when I forget to be thankful. I think it is the most powerful weapon we can weild against an enemy that seeks to steal, kill and destroy.

So, does my computer story have a silver lining? Well today I saw that MacIntosh is recalling the battery in my computer because it overheats and sometimes catches fire. Maybe God was doing some preventative medicine on it. With only water damage, there's a good chance that my hard drive and files can be retrieved; with fire damage, well, that's pretty much not fixable. At least I'm going to choose to look at it that way.

I don't need to go into any more of the stuff that has happened. Why waste energy on what is not good? Worrying will not add one minute to my life. I'm "broken, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." 2 Corinthians 4:8-9

And I'm thankful once again. God is in control and my livelihood is in His hands. That's a fact.

the most unpleasant noise in the world

I actually had a kicking fit last night somewhere around 3:00 am. For the past two nights they have been doing road construction on King George right outside my apartment building and it's mostly that horrible jack-hammer noise. Two nights ago it was going on well past 3:00 am and last night until well past 4:00. I can't tell you how obnoxious it is, and though I can sleep through the fiercest thunder storm, I cannot sleep through this. And the worst thing is that they just started up again about two hours ago. I don't think I can handle another night of it. Running on very little sleep and getting mighty grouchy....

I'm longing for those Southern summer nights right now with catydids and crickets and lightning bugs, but I can't get past the banging and clanging of concrete being ripped up and three inches of dust and sand covering everything in my apartment.

Too tired to keep writing. Even James Taylor isn't soothing me right now. Please God! I need peace in Jerusalem!!!!

Tonight, preferrably.

learning from Daniel

Daniel is just over two years old and starting to talk like crazy. I've been watching him closely lately. He and I are in the same boat, the only difference is that he is learning to talk for the first time and I am learning to talk for the second time.

Of course, I am talking about learning Hebrew for myself. I have really been trying recently--four hours yesterday and just taking a break after two and a half hours today. It's amazing what doors open up when the people here see that you are trying. The guy in the pizza place on King George has never been overly friendly to me. But the other day I asked for a Coke in a bottle, and I did it in Hebrew. A big smile spread across his face and a wall came tumbling down. I experience it at the Souk as well and it's such a good feeling.

The guys in the falafel shop are beginning to know me as I come in once a week for lunch. They see me coming and go into the back to get a bowl of cucmbers (WITHOUT tomatos) just for me. Last week when I went in, the guy pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen and said "write." Then he told me the Hebrew words for "spicy" and "eggplant". We had alsready established that "no tomatos" is "lo agvaniyot" and cucumbers are "melahfefonim". And even though they know my order by heart, I hope to go in this week and tell them in their native tongue.

I want to be a blessing, and so I try to keep learning. Watching Daniel is quite a learning experience for me. He just keeps talking; there's no fear of rejection if he says the word incorrectly. He just keeps saying it until he gets it right. I pretty much think it's adorable to hear him speak. I don't know if Israelis think it's "adorable" to hear me speak their language, but I think it is attractive to them. I know that I for one am so thankful when someone tries to speak my language with me.

So I'm getting serious about it. I went to a shop and bought the biggest pads of paper that I could find so that I can make word charts and have written out the "alef-bet" (alphabet) in both print and handwriting and posted them on the walls above my desk. Then I went into a small bookshop on Zion Square to purchase a "serious" Hebrew/English dictionary with pronounciations, and my Rosetta Stone language program is getting a big-time workout from me. I really want to break down this barrier that's towering in front of me.

With God, all things are possible. Just watch a baby learn and grow if you don't believe me.

me? a bad guy?

I'm in a place I've never been before. I've always been a "Good Girl"; a "Good Christian" and growing up in the South, in the Bible Belt, that was considered a good thing. Now, in the last couple of weeks I have read various articles by Jewish people that have painted me, Ms. Evangelical Christian, in a horrible light. I'm not used to being viewed as the bad guy and I don't like it.

The first was an editorial entitled "A Special Place in Hell". It was a scathing commentary on Christians and Messianic Jews who attempt to convert Jews to Christianity. This weekend I read two more teachings by a rabbi who seems to have every Christian's motives and tactics figured out. The teachings were a little more academic, yet full of animosity and reproach. This one really bothered me. I kept thinking about it all this morning and then when I went to check out my blog there was a comment on a post inviting an open discussion about the very same thing. God has a way of getting our attention.

On "Converting the Jews", I don't have some kind of secret agenda--at least not one that I'm aware of. What I do have is an inexplicable love in my heart for this people group. So much so that I quit my nice comfy job, sold most of my belongings and moved to Israel so that I could "comfort His people and speak tenderly to Jerusalem..." Isaiah 40:1-2. I came here to bless and to serve, not to accuse and try to change. I don't want to see people lose their Jewishness; I don't want them to cease to exist as a nation; I want God to redeem all the years that have been eaten away by the locusts (Joel 2). I want them to survive and come shining through; to always be able to say, "Hear O Israel, the Lord thy God is One God."

My heart hurts so badly when I think about the things that the Jewish people have walked through, and I'm not just talking about the Holocaust, although that was bad enough... It started way before that. Just look up Jewish persecution on the web some time -- from Pharoah to the Babylonians to the Romans and then the Crusades; the Ottomons, the Spanish Inquisition, the pogroms in Russia and Poland, through the Holocaust to the current situation with radical Islam wanting to wipe the Jews off the face of the earth. It's overwhelming, and I want to do everything in my power to say, "I'm sorry. Oh my sweet God in Heaven, I am soooo sorry for everything that you have walked through! What can I do to make life better for you?"

My dear friend Racheli called today. Her oldest brother lives in the North. He refuses to leave there, even though he is extremely close to where the rockets are landing. His daughter is in the military guarding the border, doing her job to protect her people. Her Abba (Daddy) is not leaving her. And I'm not leaving them because I know my Father in Heaven is not leaving me either. Racheli mentioned that this war is hurting us; that people aren't coming into the country because of it. I told her that I'm still here, and so is everybody that I work with. We're not leaving.

I feel for those soldiers. I pray for them daily; for their safety and supernatural wisdom and discernment. I'm also trying to do practical stuff for them as well. Last weekend I volunteered to help pack goody baskets for the soldiers on the front line, and I prayed over every one; that it would be a blessing to the person receiving it, and that he or she would receive it and know that somebody out there cares and loves them and is thankful for what they are doing.

This post was supposed to be about the issue of Christians trying to convert the Jews. I don't think it came out the way I expected, but it has shown me that I really needed to search my heart and weigh my motives. I think the above outpouring is the result of that. I don't want to defend myself or Christians who truly believe that they are doing what God has called them to do. When God calls someone to a certain task, then it is up to God to defend them in it. He's a lot more capable of it than I am. I just needed to figure out where my heart is, and I think I have done that.

Jennifer--I don't know if this is the kind of dialog you want or expect, but it's what is in my heart. And I pray that nothing will be able to shake you in your faith; that you will stand so strongly that if anyone did pray for your conversion from your faith that it would just be like tumbleweeds drifting along in the breeze but unable to move you in any way (Reference Psalm 83). I love it that you and your dad are having good discussions about sticky topics; may God bless your relationship with him and give you two many, many precious times together.

face to face with a lot of things

When you're young in America, you never wonder IF you'll have a car when you grow up; you wonder what KIND of car you'll have. My niece just graduated from high school and got a green VW Beetle. I'm totally jealous, because that is the car I've been praying for.

I never thought my life would turn out the way it did. That's not regret talking, just me realizing a few things. Actually, my life turned out so much better than I ever thought it would, but there are still some things I definitely feel are missing.

For example, I never, ever thought I would live this long without getting married and having a family. I find myself thinking a lot these days as I'm quickly approaching my fourth decade of life that it's too late. It must not be what God has planned for me. If that is His will, that's okay. It just makes me a little sad. I always wanted six boys. Well, with Sandra's four and one on the way that could possibly be another boy, I guess I can live vicarously through them. But as much as I love them and would lay down my life for them, it's still not the same.

And growing up I never dreamed that I would actually live in a foreign country. And not have a steady income. And not have a car. And feel illiterate most of the time (I used to think I was smart!). And live in a city so frequently threatened by suicide bombers and a country hated by most of the world.

Growing up in the South, I was well acquainted with predjudice against people, especially African Americans (which is not the term we used growing up). But I really never knew how deep the hatred could run until I came to Israel. It goes beyond any logic or reason I can muster in my brain. It just doesn't make sense to me to hate someone just because of their ethnic background. At least that's what I thought until a couple of days ago.

I'm a hypoctrite. I got on the Number 14 bus to go to work out the other day and came face to face with an Arab woman. She was a beautiful, young, smiling woman. And the first thing I did was to look her up and down to try and determine whether or not she could be sporting a bomb. She was pretty slim—no bulging explosives anywhere, so I just made my way past her and towards the back of the bus. My mind just kept reeling with the news stories I had just been reading about young Arab women deciding to join in the fight against Jews and Christians by forming suicide brigades. I kept praying and watching her and trying to figure out what an Arab woman would be doing on that particular bus, going from one Jewish area to another. I had just about made my mind up to get off at the next stop when she got off instead.

So there it is. I was hit hard by my own predjudice, my own media influenced thought patterns. Not every Arab is a murderer. Not every Arab wants to kill all the Jews and Christians. It's just the ones who do want it that make the news. It's so hard. I feel so called to the Jewish people in particular and have tried to educate myself on their history and their culture, and unfortunately with that, I have developed a horrible predjudice against Arabs. I tell myself that I bless those who are called to love the Arab people; and then justify myself by saying that I'm not called to them and want nothing to do with them.

God needs to do some work in my heart. I have no idea how to judge rightly in this situation. I need to have a heart of compassion for these people and I just don't have that right now. I know that they are going through very tough times, and I would truly hate to be in their shoes. I just don't know that I can be neutral. I've always had such a competitive spirit; I don't know that it's in me to not choose sides. Even as I say that, I'm realizing that it's okay to choose sides; I just need to see that the true battle is a spiritual one, and it's easy to take the right side in that. I just have to keep reminding myself that the battle belongs to the Lord. His is the victory, no matter what the battle may look like here on earth, He will reign victorious.

As for the other ponderings about my life and how it's turning out, well, that battle belongs to the Lord as well. I confess I have been feeling a bit defeated lately. But you know that David often felt that way as well, crying out to God and asking why the wicked prosper. But it's all in the perspective — like the parable of Lazarus, the rich guy who died and went to hell. He received his reward in full while he was on the earth; but he suffered through eternity after that. Life on earth is just a vapor, just a breath and then we go on. And after that, we go on and on and on—so far that our finite little minds can't even begin to comprehend it. I have to say that although the battle is stong sometimes, I'd much rather receive my reward in heaven than to have it briefly here and then burn for eternity. I just need to keep setting my mind on the things above.

I have so much to be thankful for. I don't know how I dare to complain at all. Forgive me, Lord. Look beyond my imperfection to what You have meant for me all along—that one day I will see You face to face and then I will be as You have intended since before I was formed in my mother's womb. Until then, I'll just keep going, sometimes stumbling and sometimes sprinting, but hopefully always moving on towards You.

are you happy?

I cannot believe how disconnected I have felt, not being able to get on-line at home. But my little MacBaby came home today from the MacDoctor and all is well again!

An interesting thing happened the other day. That day I had been praying that God would direct my steps. I actually try to pray that every day, and so I trust that He will guide me wherever I need to be. So I was walking home at about 6:00ish and a car pulled up beside me and the guy started talking to me in Hebrew. (This is quite common here; people are usually asking for directions.) I told him I didn't speak Hebrew, and he said, "Are you happy?" That took me a little by surprise, but the conversation went something like this:

"Yes, I'm happy."
"Why are you happy?"
"Because I love God with all my heart."
"Do you have time to talk to me for a few minutes before you go shopping?"
"I'm not going shopping, and yes, I have a few minutes."

So I stood there talking to this guy for quite some time. He had gone to the hospital to see someone that day and asked a guy he met there if he was happy. The guy tried to give him some kind of formula for happiness, some penitent recitals and other things to do. This guy didn't think that would bring him happiness. He felt that God was upset with him and so he was not happy right now. And he wanted to be happy.

He asked me where I was from and what I was doing here. I told him that I was volunteering for Bridges for Peace, helping the people of the land. He asked if all of the people there were Jewish. I said, "No, we're Christians." He suddenly developed this shocked look on his face and said, "You're not Jewish?!" Nope. Then very quietly, he said, "I've read the New Testament. But I don't believe it." The street was kinda busy and I could tell that he didn't want anyone to hear him say that. I told him that was okay, I'm not here to try to convert anyone; I'm here to love and help the Jewish people."

The thing you have to know that is the whole time I'm talking to the guy, I'm praying like crazy to the Lord for him! But with Jewish people, it is so easy to turn them away before you ever get started. Their biggest fear is annhilation as a people and they see that it could happen in two ways: 1) they are literally killed off, as attempted by Hitler and the Crusaders and other persecuters through the years, and 2) through conversion or turning away from their Jewishness. This is not a people that you can just rattle off the sinner's prayer to; this is a people who have been butchered and humiliated and persecuted in the Name of Jesus for 2000 years. They will know we are Christians by seeing us walk out our love for Him, them and each other. It's as simple as that.

So I kept talking to the guy and finally agreed to meet him a little later to talk some more. He wanted me to bring my Bible. I did some praying and thinking before I met him, and I realized a very important thing: I am happy (at peace) because I know that I am forgiven; that there's nothing that I can mess up so badly that God is not able and willing to redeem. This is the way that I began my conversation with him and I ended up talking to him for a couple of hours about Yeshua (Jesus). He had great questions and was not trying to prove me wrong, and I wasn't trying to prove him wrong; we were just trying to understand one another. I was really put to the test and I'm not sure how I did. No doubt I didn't do the best job of explaining things, but he could tell that I really believed what I was saying and he seemed to like that. He asked me to pray for him and I did. In the Name of Jesus. Who knows? I may never see this guy again, but I pray that he finds his peace in Jesus, the only Name that is able to save him.

I did feel like I had some insight, but he stumped me on a couple of things. He said that they don't believe that Messiah will be God incarnate. Why would God need to come to the earth? He's God. He's the big boss. How could God be Yeshua's father? God is spirit, not flesh. I had some okay answers... Wasn't that God's original plan in the garden of Eden? To come down to earth to walk with Adam and Eve in the cool of the evening; to fellowship with the humans He created? Once we blew it, He made an alternative plan of salvation/atonement for His children; first through the blood sacrifices in the Tabernacle and then the Temple. Then Yeshua became that perfect sacrifice for us; He shed His blood so we would no longer rely on animals and the law to make ourselves holy; now we could be holy through His sacrifice. And on God being His father? Who was Adam's father? Elohim. Why can He be Adam's father and not Yeshua's? The Prophets foretold that He would be born of a virgin; doesn't it make sense that God would be His father?

On and on we talked. He asked me what I do to prepare for prayer? Do I wash my hands? Where do I recite the prayers from? Do I wear a cross? These questions revealed a lot to me about our differences. I pray constantly, when I get up in the morning, walking to work, reading the news, going to the store, even now as I write. I once read "Practicing the Presence of God" by Brother Lawrence. It changed my life. Basically, Brother Lawrence tried to consciously think about God and talk to him all the time; to try to not go an hour without centering on God. He said he often failed, but would just keep trying when he realized his mind had strayed. This conversation I had made me realize how personal my relationship is WITH God. I think that was a big difference—he was relating TO God, and that in a more impersonal way—by reciting prayers, washing his hands before praying, going to the synagogue, etc.

It totally has to be the Holy Spirit that draws men to believe in Jesus. I can't talk someone into it—it doesn't last that way. But when the Spirit beckons, it's real. I pray so much for God to reveal Himself to the people here. When I walk through the park in the morning and I see workers there cleaning up the trash, or I get on the bus and see so many faces going here and there, I pray God's blessing on their lives. Then I do what I can, whether it's just a smile or giving my seat to someone on the bus. I believe that when Jesus walked here 2000 years ago, He could just melt a heart with one glance of His eyes. We have the same Holy Spirit that He has. We have that power in us, to look through the eyes of love and see beyond what the world sees. And that's the kind of love that will change lives forever. Amen!

war & peace

I'm fine. Mostly. Thanks for asking (all of you who did.)

I haven't been writing here because my Mac at home has decided to be a little obstinate and not work anymore. He got sent to the MacDoctor today. I have to confess that it was a little hard to hand off my baby to a complete stranger who couldn't speak English very well. Sigh. I must remember Who's in control.

I am a little distracted lately. Hmmm. Could it be that the itsy bitsy country that I am living in and love with all my heart is at war? The latest is that foreign airlines are in the process of deciding whether or not to stop flights to/from Tel Aviv. Hizbollah has threatened to give Tel Aviv residents a one-hour warning so that they can evacuate before they start bombarding the city with rockets. I find that very interesting. Since when have terrorists EVER given anyone a warning before terrorizing? Something's fishy there. Of course, if they can get the airlines to stop coming in, it will cripple the already fragile tourist trade here. Or maybe there's something else up their sleeves—who knows? Well, God knows, of course and He is still on the throne and I totally trust Him.

Friday night I went to my friend Racheli's for my first Shabat dinner with a real Jewish family. Her family is religous and so it was quite an experience of new things for me. It was her parents, two brothers, one sister, one Ultra-Orthodox nephew, two (huge) dogs, two cats and about 28 birds of varying species. I love that family so much, even though the communication is still really difficult as most of them speak very limited English and well, I'm slowly working on my Hebrew. Every time I said a word in Hebrew, they all clapped for me. It reminded me of the first time I ever went bowling. After 8 straight gutterballs, I finally managed to get that stupid ball to connect with some of the pins and everybody in the place started clapping for me. I don't bowl anymore.

But I have matured a bit since my bowling debut, and am committed to keep learning the language no matter how much I'm laughed at. It's so hard though. Today when the guy from the Mac repair place came, he called my cell and told me he was at the door (he wasn't). I asked if he was at the car gate and used the Hebrew word for car. I have no idea what he said after that. If you say one word in Hebrew, they assume that you can speak it and then it's all over for me.

So anyway, back to Friday night dinner. There are so many laws that they have to follow! First they started turning out the lights that they wouldn't need on Shabat; evidently it's against the law to flip the switch on Shabat. Then there was the blessing of the wine. They all drank out of the same cup, but gave me my own little, not quite as pretty cup. I felt like I should be screaming "Unclean, Unclean!" Then we had the ceremonial hand-washing and I finally found out what those funny, two-handled mugs were for. Back to the table and the blessing of the bread. That was cool. Then out came the food. And it just kept coming. I haven't seen that much food since Mama used to cook suppper for my brother and his football buddies from college. Her mom pouted a bit because she thought I wasn't eating enough. Good grief! How do they eat soooo much??

It was a fun evening though, and I was glad to get to talk to the nephew some. Ultra-Orthodox guys are not supposed to talk to "goyim," but he finally relented and talked to me just a bit. He's a sweet kid. They wanted me to spend the night, but I suspected that I would be on one end of the sectional sofa and he would be on the other. Not thinking that that would be very prudent, I decided it best to go home. Racheli couldn't take me home because they don't drive on Shabat (Shabat had not yet begun when she picked me up). So I needed to call a taxi; they don't use the phone on Shabat either, so I had to call on my cell. I couldn't pronounce the name of the street they lived on well enough to get the taxi guy to understand, so I finally held my phone up in the air and told them just to say the name really loud. He got it and 45 shekels later, I was home. It was an interesting and fun and relaxing, peaceful evening.

The standard greeting on Friday is "Shabat Shalom" which means "have a peaceful Sabbath". Even in the midst of war, everyone greets one another with peace. There are so many things in this culture that I don't understand. Like I don't understand why it's considered "work" to flip a light switch and not work to clear the table of a million dishes. Ask me which chore I'd rather have—flipping a switch would win out every time. And they can't talk on the phone, but they can talk face to face or towards a phone. I read Exodus and Leviticus all weekend to see if I could catch some insight. Not really. Okay, it says to not light a fire on the Sabbath, but lighting a fire in Moses' day was slightly more work than turning on a burner or flipping a light switch today.

Well, I may never understand. But that's okay—understanding everything is not a prerequisite for loving someone. At least not in my world.

I can't complain

Two days ago it got hot. Annoyingly hot and summer isn't really even here yet. I'm hot walking to work and hot once I get there. The air conditioner doesn't work properly in the office where the designers are. It works everywhere else in the building; as a matter of fact in the kitchen it's usually about 47 degrees. I was seriously contemplating getting a scooter as I walked home today drenched in sweat. Of course I would have to rob a bank first to be able to afford one, so more than likely I will just keep hoofin' it around town.

So last weekend we had another BFP outing; this time we hopped on the #99 double-decker tour bus and headed around town. On this bus, you see most every major tour site in Jerusalem and you have a little headphone thingie that points out stuff as you go by. Between sites, the audio program consists of various bits of music. I expected the traditional Jewish music, but what I didn't expect was "Dueling Banjos" and the theme to those old Agatha Christie mysteries. Well, I guess we are a diverse city after all. One of the new places I had never been was Mt. Scopus, where Hebrew University is located. It was probably the most beautiful place I have seen here, with an incredible view of the Mount of Olives, the Old City and the New City.

Ultimately, our goal was to get to Yad Vashem, which is the Holocaust Memorial. It was amazing. The main hall was huge and after almost four hours, we still had not seen everything. There were many pictures and movies and interviews with survivors and relics like yellow Star of David patches, diaries from prisoners, and yes, even a cattle car. I had no idea that there were so many countries in league with Germany. I couldn't believe the amount of photos and videos, obviously taken by Nazis who were proud of their work. If anybody doubts that it really happenend or even doubts the severity of what happened; they should be made to walk through the hall. I think it is the most incredibly-designed memorial/museum that I have ever seen. Once you enter, you have to go all the way through to get back out; I'm sure it was purposefully built that way so that once you come out the other side, there's no denying the breadth and depth of what happened.

One of the hardest things for me was in the very first exhibit; it starts out with the beginnings of anti-semitism and there is a statement that Christians believe that the Jews were responsible for murdering Jesus. I know that during that time period there were a lot of "Christians" that felt that way, and there still are today. What hurt so deeply was that it was worded as if it's still a fact and that all Christians still believe it today. I wanted to just stand there all day and tell everyone that read it that it's not entirely true. I wanted to grab the IDF soldiers that were going through their mandatory "here's what you're fighting for" tour and tell them that I pray for them daily and that I'm so thankful for them and that I love their nation and their God. But I didn't. What I did do was to pray for truth. God is able to defend His people. In His time and in His way and He really doesn't need my help to do it.

It was hard to see it all. But I think it was so important. Toward the end in one room there was a section of the floor that was about 4' x 9' and there under the glass was heaped piles of burnt shoes that were retrieved from the burning of victems at one of the camps. It was horrifying to think about the people that once wore those shoes. The whole thing was pretty horrifying. And though I don't want to return any time soon, I am so thankful that I was able to go there and see the evidence and remember what this people that I love have walked through. I feel saddened by my complaining, grumbling heart. All of a sudden the temperature doesn't feel so hot here anymore.

how do you do that little queen wave?

Back in October, I wrote about finding my family tree online. At the time, it only went back to about the late 1600s, and it seemed as though I could only know of my family since they came from Europe, but not before that. I recently revisited the site and was surprised to find that the guy has added a lot more information. He has been studying the history of the clans in the area where Daddy grew up and putting all the data on his web site, complete with references for where the info has been obtained.

I started looking at my grandmother's lineage and found quite a few surprises. I got really excited when I started finding people born in Ireland (I had always suspected I was a bit Irish). And then there were some born in England, really close to the Scottish border—more excitement since I have this fascination with George MacDonald and his beloved Scotland. And then I started seeing titles like "Sir" and "Knight" and "Baron" and I thought that was extremely cool. I just kept going back and back until I noticed "Henry III, King of England" and I thought, no way!!

My jaw was set in permanent "drop" position as I saw the names of those who've gone before me:

Of the Kings of England (circa 1000 - 1200 A.D.):
• Edward I "Longshanks" (The king that William Wallace was revolting against, for all you "Braveheart" fans. I don't know that I'm real proud of that one....)
• Henry III
• John "Lackland"
• Henry II "Plantagenet"
• Henry I "Beauclerc"
• William "The Conquerer"

Of the Kings of Scotland (circa 900 - 1000 A.D.):
• Malcolm III Canmore
• Duncan I
• Malcolm II
• Kenneth II
• Malcolm I

Of the Kings of France (circa 900 - 1200 A.D.):
• Philippe III
• Louis IX
• Louis VIII
• Philippe II
• Louis VII
• Louis VI
• Philippe I
• Henri I
• Robert II "The Pious"
• Hugh Capet
• Hughes "The Great"
• Robert I

There were also Kings of Sweden (Olaf III, Erik VIII, Emund Eriksson and Erik—900s to 1000s A.D.); Emperors of Germany (Otto II and Otto I); but the name that almost threw me off my chair was "Charlemagne, Holy Roman Emperor", who reigned from 768 to 814 A.D.!!

I stared at the computer screen for a long time. How could I be descended from royalty? And not just the royalty of one nation that no one has ever heard of, but of nations that ruled the world! How cool is that???

As Christians, we're often exhorted to believe that we are royalty—heirs to the Kingdom of God. And we are—I believe that with my whole heart. The only problem is that I've never actually felt like royalty. I've always just felt pretty much like a nobody, or actually like an "anybody"—not extraordinary at all. And practically speaking, my new-found ancestry doesn't really change anything about my everyday life—nobody treats me any differently; I still have to push my way through the crowds at the souk and carry my groceries home in my backpack and scrub my own toilet. But I think I'll keep practicing that little "queen wave" just in case anyone ever discovers that I'm heir to the throne....

independence day at the dead sea

If I could be anyone in the world right now, I would be Elastigirl from "The Incredibles". I'm peeling. Shoulders and back. It's bad. Last Wednesday was Independence Day here and I went with three friends to the Dead Sea for the day. We all got a bit fried in the sun (but we also agreed that it was totally worth it). If I were Elastigirl, I could just reach around and peel all the dead skin off my back and give it a good scratching.

I had never been in the Dead Sea before and I must say that it's one of the strangest feelings ever. The water has a huge concentration of salt and the consistency of oil. And you bob. You can't sink. I kept laughing at myself because I couldn't get the hang of it and all of the sudden my legs would just shoot straight up in the air. I felt like a Weeble—I kept wobbling, but I didn't fall down.

It was such a relaxing day, though. And there were some pretty interesting sights. Umhmm. Some bodies are just not meant for bikinis. That's just all there is to it. And you try not to look, but it's like passing by a car accident; you have to look. It's like a bikini wreck. And old, tubby guys in skimpy little speedos? What's up with that! Well, dispite the "view" and getting sunburned, it was really a wonderful day. We rented a car to get there, and it really made me miss the freedom of having a car. I don't mind walking to work and walking to get groceries and pretty much walking everywhere else, but sometimes you just gotta get out of the city. And I miss being able to go pick up stuff that I want—like lava rocks. I would love to get some for my little garden to cut down on the mud when I water, and I would love to get a swing to put in the garden, but I have no way of getting the stuff home. It's probably just as well, cause that stuff's probably really expensive here anyway!

I can't believe I've already been at Bridges for Peace for over a month. It feels so natural to be there, and it's going well I think. My life is so incredibly different since I came back from the states this time. I'm still getting used to it. All of a sudden, I have so many more people in my life and so many more social engagements. I'm starting to feel so much more like myself again. I'm really thankful for the six months of "acclimating" that God gave to me, but it really made me hunger for more relationships as well. I love people (well, most people, anyway!) and it's hard when you feel so isolated. I've also plugged into a local church fellowship called "King of Kings." I know I've needed that accountability, but just haven't felt at home until now.

The Davis boys are still the love of my life, though I feel like I don't see near enough of them. Sunday was Levi's 6th birthday and I took him to the toy store and let him pick out a gift and then we went to McDonald's with Jeremiah and Sandra before heading out to Andrew's soccer game. Those little guys are such a gift from God to me; I don't know what I would do without them.

Well that's probably enough for now. I need to go find some kind of back scratcher!

my little desert adventure

I think I've finally recovered enough to write about the adventures of last weekend.

I spent last Saturday night in a Bedouin tent in the Negev Desert (sounds cool, huh?). After starting out bright and early on Saturday morning with about 28 other people from Bridges for Peace, we spent the day climbing "tels" (and learning what a "tel" actually is); seeing the valley where David bested Goliath (pix #1); hiking through a desert pass (pix #2)and climbing 139 horrifically steep and narrow steps (pix #3) carved into the side of a canyon wall (not good for the claustrophobically challenged). I saw an ibex for the first time. Actually I saw quite a few. They look kinda like deer to me, but are amazing to watch climbing canyon walls.





Our tour guide was a wonderfully informed and experienced Christian. He was also ex-military. I wanted to kill him by the end of the day. We finally got to the Bedouin site and saw the long black tent (pix #4) that we would be sleeping in that night—boys on one side, girls on the other. My friend noticed the somewhat agonizing look on my face as I took it all in and commented that this should be a piece of cake for me since I had spent time in China. I must have forgotten to tell him that I stayed in five-star hotels in China.



We were able to rest for a bit before the traditional Bedouin "feast" which consisted of sitting on cushions around little trays of food—roasted chicken on rice and veggies with flatbread, followed by dessert of baklava and the worst coffee I have ever tasted and also the best tea I've ever tasted. This was all mingled with our host, Salim, telling stories about the Bedouin lifestyle—men with 5 wives and 45 children and giving camels for wedding presents and how a tracker could tell that a camel didn't have a tail by the way his poop hit the ground (only he used different word for "poop" if you know what I mean).

Then came the night walk and study of the stars. I'm not sure why the tour guide asked us to bring our torches (flashlights) since he wouldn't let us use them at all. He started out by making us do some military-type maneuvers. My group was definitely the worst. We could never find each other and I busted it a time or two trying to get into formation. It was really cool to let my eyes adjust to be able to see in the darkness, though. The only bummer was that on the way back to the camp, the guide was going a little too fast and dear, sweet Bob, who's in his seventies, fell head-first and ended up fracturing two bones in his hand and hurting his knee. They had to take him to the emergency room and didn't get back to camp until about 2:30 am.

Some of us were to go on a camel ride at 7:00 the next morning. I managed to somehow wake up about 15 minutes before my alarm went off (yay! I didn't want to wake the whole tent!), and with a borrowed, semi-wet towel in hand, I headed to the shower. I didn't care about the big ol' bugs crawling around on the floor, I just kept my sandals on and rejoiced under that stream of warm water. It was one of the nicest feelings ever. So then we were on to the camel ride. Two people per camel, and I was in the front saddle of mine. Now a camel gets up back-side first, and I thought I was going to tumble headfirst into the rear end of the camel in front of me, but somehow managed to avoid that catastrophe. I gotta say that the ride was my favorite part of the trip, even if I did walk like a bow-legged cowboy for the rest of the day. Camels have the cutest little faces in the world and I loved watching their feet (hooves?) as they confidently walked the path!!!!

After breakfast, we went to some Nabatean ruins, and from there my memory is a little shaky. I fell asleep in the car and I just remember stopping at some point and everybody else climbing a big hill while I slept. Then I awoke as we were driving down into this giant crater and I wasn't sure we would ever get out, but we did eventually. The last sight-seeing stop of the day was this place where they have all these greenhouses. Right in the middle of the dessert, about a 100 ft. from the Jordanian border, they are growing all these fruits and vegetables and sunflowers. We read Isaiah 35 while we were driving through and it just became so alive... "The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom....Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert....The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs. In the haunts where jackals once lay, grass and reeds and papyrus will grow."

From there it was back home to Jerusalem, and overall, I'm really glad I went. The desert seems to magnify any issues that one may be dealing with, and if you are willing, you can learn a lot about yourself, and hopefully let God deal with your heart on those things.

I learned that I don't particularly like the desert. When you grow up in the beautiffuly inviting, lush Appalachian Mountains, surrounded by nature's green and cool mountain lakes, non-descript tannish brown sand and little scrubby growing things just don't cut it. Especially when that's all you see for mile after mile after mile. I was able to endure it because I knew that I would soon be returning to my cute little apartment by the park in Jerusalem. Maybe that's why Paul tells us to set our minds on the things above (Col. 3:2); if our minds are set on the good to come, we can better endure the hard times here on earth.

I also learned that somewhere along the way I transitioned from an all-out tomboy to a complete girly-girl. When did THAT happen? I didn't even notice. I mean, I knew I was getting a little more girly, but I think I finally crossed over. I didn't feel like a girly-girl in the desert, and I didn't like it! I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing; I think it's just a thing in general.

I learned that I really like to go my own pace when I'm exploring and trying to keep someone elses pace just wears me out. I think I could have handled the weekend so much better if I had been going my own pace. Unfortunately, that just doesn't get to happen in big groups, and if you do decide to break off and go your own pace, chances are that you'll get a label attached to you—something like "loner" or "rebel" or that you're not a "team player." Funny how nobody ever says, "Boy, that Melissa knows who she is and she knows her limits and abilities—it's cool that she understands who she is..." Nope. Nobody says anything like that. I'm not saying that anybody actually labeled me; but experience has taught that if I had broken away it wouldn't have reflected well on me. I know this to be true because a few did actually walk to their own drum beat and unfortunately they were labelled. It's a silly game we play with each other, and the only way to break out is to have grace for one another. But you can't really force that, can you?

Well, now I can say that I've truly been to the desert. I can also say that I don't want to go back any time soon. Hallelujah! I know who I am and I know what I like!!!!

removing the leaven

Pesach, or "Passover" as most Christians would know it, is a Jewish holiday that started last Wednesday and ends tomorrow. It is the commemoration of God's miraculous deliverance of the children of Israel out of slavery in Egypt. It has been a true blessing to be here during this time. To be able to celebrate by sharing same traditional meal with my friends that Jesus shared with His disciples on the eve of becoming our Passover Lamb makes it even more special.

I didn't know exactly what to expect this week. I honestly didn't think it would affect everyday life as much as it has. I probably experienced more than most aliens here because my office is on the edge of Mea Shearim—the Ultra Orthodox neighborhood where the men dress in black suits and wear black hats and earlocks and are not allowed to speak to non-Orthodox women. First there was the smoke from the fires. On Preparation Day, they remove all leaven and anything that has leaven from the house and burn it. We're talking major spring cleaning here! Then there are the loudspeaker announcements ringing out over the neighborhoods, reminding everyone to do this or do that in order to keep everything kosher.

And then there was the grocery store. I went on Tuesday last and was amazed. They cover up anything with leaven in it with big sheets of opaque plastic. It's not just removing bread from the store; it's covering stuff like cereal, grains, flour, cookies, frozen breaded chicken, frozen pizza, most alcoholic beverages, and, much to my dismay, all of my favorite ice creams. I can't figure that one out. All of the usual fare at the bakeries have disappeared and been replaced with interesting alternatives. Actually, I was in this one bakery as they were bringing out pizza and it looked good, so I decided to give it a go. Let's just say that just because something LOOKS like pizza doesn't necessarily mean that it TASTES like pizza. It was truly disgusting. I have no idea how they made it. I don't really want to know.

I hadn't realized how dependent I had become on the nearby falafel stand and Big Apple Pizza for lunch, until they closed for the week. Now before you go getting all judgemental on my unhealthy lunch choices, I'll let you know that I have to walk back to the office up this massive hill (what hill in Jerusalem isn't massive??), so I feel okay about a slice of cheese pizza for lunch. Okay, the falafel place isn't that far away, but at least I still have to walk there and back. And I walk to and from work. And to and from almost everywhere else as well. But I digress. I think the point I was trying to make is that it has definitely been an unusual week. It hasn't helped that I've been designing a page with an article about our daily bread. Seven pictures of scrumptuous looking bread making my mouth water every day...

But the most surprising thing of all is what happened last Saturday. My friend Hanna came over for dinner and a movie and we made homemade pizza and had some of the cookies that I had baked earlier that day. When it was time for her to go, she took some of the leftover pizza and cookies with her. She had to drop off the car for her dad who was working at Bikur Cholim, a local orthodox hospital, and when security searched her bag at the door, they found the food and confiscated it. Seriously.

And I thought they were only looking for weapons!

my comfort

The LORD is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid?
When evil men advance against me
to devour my flesh,
when my enemies and my foes attack me,
they will stumble and fall.
Though an army besiege me,
my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
even then will I be confident.
One thing I ask of the LORD,
this is what I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
and to seek him in his temple.
For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
and set me high upon a rock.
Psalm 27:1-5

There was another suicide bombing today in Tel Aviv. It was the deadliest attack in two years, killing nine and wounding about forty people. And the Palestinian government applauded the action. Why? Why? Why? I don't get it and it just makes me want to kick and scream.

In these entries, I usually try to present the upbeat, positive side to life here. I'm not in denial; the fact is that I don't want the people who love me to worry about me. But the reality is that Jerusalem is on high alert right now and has been since the week before I came back. Security is out in full force; extra guards, extra soldiers, extra police, extra undercover agents. But MY reality is that I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that God has called me to be here in this place, at this time. Would it be safer to live somewhere outside of His will? I don't think so.

Am I afraid to be here? No. A resounding "No." My heart is saddened and heavy to see the coming storm; but that just makes me pray all the more; and it makes me love and trust Jesus all the more. The Word of God is my security; Psalm 27 is my comfort. I will follow Him, or my life will not be worth living.

I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.
Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.
Psalm 27:13-14

Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem.
Please.

Easter Sunday

Today was cold and rainy—drizzling mostly, about half the temperature that it was on Friday. I had agreed to meet my friend Trystan and his roommate Zach at the Damascus Gate so that we could venture over to the Mount of Olives and I was determined that a little precipitation wasn't going to stand in my way. We walked to the Garden of Gethsemane at the base of the mountain, and it was just beautiful. I was so awestruck as I was stood there looking at the sealed Beautiful Gate of the Old City on my right, the Kidron Valley stretching out in front of me and the Mount of Olives towering up to my left.

I can barely comprehend how my life has been shaped and moulded by events that happened right here almost two thousand years ago and how all of that shaping and moulding is preparing me for events yet to come, when Jesus will set His foot down on that very mountain and it will be split in two and living water will flow out to all nations from His throne. I'm so glad that we went there today. I wish I could truly describe it; what comes to mind is the Alpha and Omega—the beginning and the ending. It felt like this is where it all began and where it will all end, yet I know that life here began way before Jesus came, and that life will go on for Eternity. Maybe the beginning I felt was the start of Redemption; and the ending will be that of sin and a fallen world. In this place where history and the future will soon collide, I am trapped in the present, so thankful for the past and so hopeful for the future.


There in the Garden, there are these amazing olive trees that they say were there in Jesus' day. From the size of the trunk on this one, I don't doubt it a bit. I don't know how a tree can seem so alive, but I could imagine it weeping with Jesus as He prayed there and I could almost feel it waiting in eager expectation for the coming glory (Romans 8:19).

It started raining much harder as we were leaving and I thought for sure I was going to have a heart attack climbing the hill to Lion's Gate to get back into the Old City. But I didn't and we meandered our way through part of the Arab Quarter, hoping to go up on the Temple Mount. Today came crashing in on us as we learned that the Mount was closed for the day because of possible trouble with some Jews planning to go up there. Back to reality and the turmoil that hovers over the land like a dark cloud. It makes me even more thankful for those supernatural rays of sunlight that break though in places like the Garden where you can truly experience the peace of God in the midst of it all.

Zach left us at Jaffa Gate and Trystan and I decided to do the "Ramparts Walk". If you pay ten Shekels, you can walk on top of the Old City walls and get a bit more of a bird's eye view of the new and the old and lots of other stuff as well, like this basketball court on top of one of the buildings in the Old City. For some odd reason, I just never expected to see a basketball court in the Old City.


This evening we went to church at a congregation called "King of Kings" which is located up by the souk. It was a really good service and I couldn't stop singing "Amazing Love" as I walked all the way home in the rain. It was probably one of the most enjoyable walks I've ever experienced here. "Amazing love, how could it be, that You my King would die for me?" I don't know if I can fully grasped the significance of being here in Jerusalem at this particular time, but I feel it in my spirit. Maybe some day I will be able to put it all into words; but for now, I'll just keep singing about His amazing love.

new territory

I made it to the end of my first week at Bridges for Peace. I feel like myself again. I didn't actually realize how much I didn't feel like myself for the past six months until this week. I have discovered how much I really need to be in a "work" environment with other creative types—it feeds my soul. Being able to bring back more clothes from the states helped a lot as well. When I first came, I brought only practical clothes—jeans and t-shirts and basics. Now I have some of my fun work clothes and it's amazing what a difference it makes in my attitude; I just feel better about myself whenever I'm dressed nicely.

Word had gotten around before I arrived that I'm also a massage therapist. On my first day, I "worked on" three people, the first of which could not speak any English, but she was having problems with her back and the personel director sent her to me. That was interesting to say the least.

It's been cold and rainy all week and I haven't really enjoyed the 25 minute walk to work in the cold rain. My hair has enjoyed it even less. I try to be thankful for the rain, knowing the dry season is coming, but it's hard when you're huffing and puffing up a big hill, carrying fully loaded backpack and purse, wishing that there was such a thing as a really good umbrella that could withstand the wind. There's a guy from Britain that started the same day as I did and I figure that the cold rain is God's way of welcoming him into the land, so I'll have grace for a while, but I really hope the sunshine comes soon.

Most of the week was going well, and then yesterday happened. I caused everyone's Photoshop program to crash. We won't go into details on that one, but thankfully the Lord helped me figure out what I did and how to correct it, although it took a few hours to fix. In my department, there is one woman from South Africa, one from America and one guy from New Zealand. In the office there are people from all over—Germany, Britain, Canada, Australia, and a surprising number of folks from Texas. It's a job to get used to all the different accents.

We only work half days on Friday and today was special because we celebrated Pesach (Passover) at the distribution center and had lunch together. Pesach begins next Wednesday and lasts for a week. During the Feast of Tabernacles, there was a giant tent in fron of my door for a whole week. During Pesach, there will be no leaven (yeast) nor anything made with leaven in any of the stores or restaraunts. It will be interesting to see what kind of alternatives the bakeries and pastry shops come up with.

I'm starting to yawn and my eyes are droopy, so I think I'll call it a day. Shabat Shalom, y'all.

whirlwinds

It feels as though it's been forever since I visited my friendly blog page. I've been touring around the Southern U.S. for the past three weeks and it has been completely crazy. Even before that, I was really sick the week before I left for home and I just didn't have the energy to form cohesive thoughts.

I'm currently sitting in the Newark International Airport, trying to kill 6 2/2 hours before my flight to London, then on to Tel Aviv and back to Jerusalem—About 26 hours including layovers and getting to/from the airport. It makes me tired to think about it, so I'm not going to.

So. How has life been for me? Well the day before I left for the states, Sandra called to say that Levi had the chickenpox. I've never had them. I spent the evening before at their house, playing with him in his most contagious period. But prayer works! I had to go to the doctor while in the states to get an HIV test—the Israeli government requires it for all volunteers—so I had them check and I'm immune to chickenpox. Yay! I don't have HIV either.

The good ol' USA! Can you gain twenty pounds in three weeks? I feel like I did, or at least should have! Everybody spoiled me rotten. How fun was that!! I spent the first week with my sweet brother, Mark, then headed out driving to Kentucky to meet up with my Aunt Darlene and Uncle Joe. We visited more relatives, especially Aunt Gladys, who has battled colon cancer and narrowly survived radiation and chemo. It was a sweet time together, although Uncle Joe likes to talk till 3:00 in the morning... Can I just say that the people in Kentucky are the nicest people in the world! I was amazed—even the people working in fast food drive-throughs.

From there it was on to Arkansas, and God worked everything out so beautifully—I got to visit with so many people and had a wonderful time with my friend Faith who was in from Colorado. I got to see my beloved Cat and the wonderful woman who has put up with him since I left. Yes, having Tovi makes me realize what a stinker Cat was. Still I loved him, even with all his persnickityness. It was a crazy week there and I went to bed crying from tiredness many nights. I went shopping, went to Tulsa, saw my accountant about taxes, went to the doctor, visited my stored belongings in the basement of my old house, shipped about 30 of my old books to myself, went to a wedding, met with the elders of my church, got a massage.... It was never boring, that's for sure!

Then it was on to Fort Worth for three very, very short days. I was so sad that I didn't get to see many of my friends there, but again, every minute was packed. On Thursday, I made the 14 1/2 hour drive back to Atlanta to rest up a couple of days before flying out.

God was so incredibly good to me in so many ways. My brother loaned me his car so that I didn't have to rent one (How cool is that—especially considering the fact that I put over 2500 miles on it!). I got to see so many people that I love. I ate wonderful food and savored beautiful moments in Barnes and Noble. We won't talk about Target and Wal-mart, except to say how incredible they really are.

Soon I will be back in Jerusalem, starting my new adventure with Bridges for Peace. Did I mention that I took a volunteer position with them as a graphic designer? I will start the week after I get back and I'm so excited about it all.

Well, that's all the trivial, factual news that I have for now. I'll get back to heart stuff later on. For now, I must go find the British Airways check-in counter and get some boarding passes before going through security again. Plus, a woman just sat down beside me with the strongest smelling hot dog in the world. I need to leave before I throw up.

bye for now

the other side of lonely

Recently I have had two younger people say to me that their worst fear is loneliness. I was a little surprised by both for some reason, and I've since been doing a lot of thinking about the subject. Maybe subconsciously they see an almost 40 year old who's never been married, living alone in a strange country and they figure I should know a thing or two about loneliness. Maybe I do.

I think that the FEAR of loneliness is way worse than actually being alone. Fear can be so paralyzing, and fear of loneliness in particular can actually feed the very thing you're trying to avoid. It's self-destructive and can keep you so bound up that you don't make the effort to cultivate good relationships.

The second thing I know about loneliness is that God will use it help you grow if you let Him. Most of the time, we tend to turn to people to meet our needs, that's just human nature. People are tangible; it's easier to hear the physical voice of a person than it is to hear the voice of God. It's easier to receive physical comfort than to try to even grasp the meaning of receiving comfort from God. But here's the thing: God created us for fellowship—with Him and with one another, but it's a balancing act. How do we keep from looking to people to fulfill those things in us that only God can?

One way that God has done this in my life is to lead me through seasons of loneliness. The first major season that I remember was right after I first moved to Arkansas and my Mom died. I was 25 and I didn't have a clue about grief until that point in my life. What followed was a year of anger that I couldn't explain away. During that time, I managed to alienate almost everyone in my life with the exception of a few incredibly godly people who looked past the anger and saw the pain. Those people prayed me through it all, even though I had no idea until much later that they were looking out for me. It got so bad that I actually remember saying to my supervisor that I was going to have to leave. I had messed up so badly that there was no way it could ever be fixed. I didn't realize that my Faithful God would rise up and redeem everything I had almost destroyed. And as a result of that extreme loneliness and God's work, I began to see how important people were. I started asking God every morning to help me make life better for the people around me; and He did it. New and good relationships started opening up right and left. The next six years were an incredible time in building relationships and experiencing what real fellowship was all about.

I was comfortable there; life was good; work was not stressful. But I needed to go deeper with God and so He led me to Fort Worth. My first six months there were so lonely that I thought I would shrivel up and die. I used to go to the mall just to be around people, which didn't help my budget at all. I knew it was up to me, though. New friendships wouldn't just walk up to my door; I had to go out and find them. I found, or actually God led me to one of the greatest churches ever and the relationships that I formed there were probably the healthiest, strongest I had ever had in my life. There my relationship with God grew so much through those godly friends and incredible spiritual leadership. And then after four years, it was time again for another season of loneliness.

That's when God led me back to Arkansas. I know beyond doubting that He did. There were so many confirmations that it was right and everyone in my life new it. Once I got back to Arkansas, God began stripping away my closest friends. One by one they began to move away—not just out of town; they moved out of state! And just as the last one was leaving, Daddy passed away. I've had much occasion to think about God's timing in that. He could have easily kept me in Texas surrounded by so many people who loved me and would just drop anything to be by my side. But He didn't do that. I can see why—during that time when I felt so stripped and naked and alone, I surrendered everything to Him. I told Him I was willing. No more excuses; it was all for Him or nothing at all. I sold most everything I had, left a really good and promising job and got on a plane for Israel.

Now I've been here for almost six months and it has been another season of loneliness; I have approximately 6 adults and 4 children in my circle of friends; oh, and one kitty cat. But here's the strange part: I don't feel lonely. Not like I should anyway. I think now I look at alone times as time set apart for me and God. I do look to Him more and more. Sure, I really want more fellowship here; but I know that God will bring that when I am ready to handle it. For now, it's me and Him. And I like it.

There are so many things in life that are worse than being alone, and I'm glad that those two brought up the subject. It was good to stop and think, and to realize again just how blessed I am. One day a few weeks ago Sandra called and the first thing she said was, "How can you stand it here, being alone?" I just laughed. I realized that it was a moment of crisis for her, not me. My crisis moments are about other issues. But for now I'm fine. I'm on the other side of lonely.

life is daily

Life seems to just go on daily here; so far the election of Hamas to the Palestinian Authority has not affected my life at all. I feel like I'm settling in and even going to the souk on Friday is not a big deal anymore. There are still a few cultural issues, though. For example, I ate bacon yesterday. I felt strangely guilty and kept looking for the kosher police to come and arrest me. I took Andrew to lunch at this teeny-tiny hamburger place called "Meat Burger". Andrew is 13 and could probably eat his weight in meat if his mom and dad would let him. Being such a carnavore myself, I am very sympathetic to his plight and being able to treat him to a giant bacon cheesburger, fries and a coke was really fun. I had a grilled chicken sandwich with bacon and cheese and it felt like it was the best thing I had ever eaten! I can't figure out why God commanded the Israelites to not eat pork and then went and made it taste soooo good!

Israeli electronics. I finally broke down and bought a dvd player. It has issues. At first I couldn't get anything to play, so I stopped in an electronics shop to discuss my predicament. I came home and did some fiddling with it and finally got it to work. Now it has language issues. Newer dvds that have multiple languages on them must confuse the poor thing a bit. I tried setting the language to English, and then I get no sound at all. I tried "The Three Musketeers" but could only get the sound in French. Then I tried "Never Been Kissed" and it would only play in Espanol. So then I went for an older movie -- "Groundhog Day" and it worked fine.

And even though I have tile floors everywhere, I really want to buy a vacuum cleaner. The dust bunnies here are like this mutant breed of giant fuzzballs. Mine are all red for some reason. It must either be the towells in my bathroom or my favorite warm fuzzy throw.... Anyway, I'd like a vacuum because everytime I start sweeping them up, Tovi decides that they are somehow a new toy for him, until I get mad and throw him out the window (at least I'm on the ground floor!). The main problem is that I have this fear of buying anything electronic here. I tell myself that surely nothing could go wrong with a vacuum, and then part of me pictures it bursting into flames or even worse, sucking up my couch. Then of course there's the issue of carrying the thing home once I actually bite the bullet. That's probably the reason I haven't bought a microwave either. Well, that and the fact that my kitchen is about the size of a closet, and we ain't talking walk-in, either!

I guess life is really settling down for me here. That's a good thing. I can't believe I leave for the states in less than two weeks! I'm excited. I can't wait to see the people I love and to get to drive again; to go to Barnes & Noble and stock up on books in English; to go shopping and to eat a big ol' steak and some Cheetos (but probably not at the same time)!!!! Wooohooo! The only bummer about it is that they have changed the baggage weight limit from 70 lbs to 50 lbs. Maybe I shouldn't plan on buying tooo many books!

transitions

I was starting to give up. Time and time again I caught myself going over the possibilities of where I might find a job back home, how I would buy new furniture and possibly a new Volkswagen Beetle.... I just kept thinking that I came to Israel for more than just sitting in my apartment doing freelance design work all the time. I could do that back home and not have to deal with all the cultural issues of daily life here.

Even though this has been in the back of my mind, I still went ahead and purchased my return ticket for March 26. I guess I just couldn't let go of what I thought God had instructed me to do. So with that in mind, I started trying to extend my tourist visa until March 6 when I'm scheduled to return to the States. I tried to do a visa run by land, basically just crossing the border into Egypt in order to get an extra month. I'll never do that again. The border control officers treated me like a criminal, and only gave me one extra week. So then I tried to get an appointment with the Ministry of the Interior. They're booked solid until April. Add a horrible sinus infection to the visa situation and I was really ready to call it quits this past Sunday. I was feeling like such a failure.

But then Monday came and I decided to call Bridges for Peace, a Christian organization that promotes unity between Jews and Christians in very practical, servant-hearted ways. They need a graphic designer here in Jerusalem. I'm a graphic designer. I'm here in Jerusalem. Their mission statement describes my heart's desire. Their office is two blocks from Sandra and John Mark's. I went for an appointment on Tuesday and I left feeling so hopeful and encouraged. This may truly be the place for me. The application process takes a while, so my timing is really perfect as I'll be going home and could start as soon as I get back.

I came to Israel in faith that God would sovereignly lead me to the thing that He has called me here for. God told Abraham to go, and Abraham went, not knowing where God would lead. I never thought I could do that, but looking back, I guess that's exactly what I did. I really hope that it works out with BFP, but even if it doesn't, I still want to follow wherever God leads. This open door has shown me that He would never lead me on a wild goose chase or abandon me as long as I'm trying to follow Him. It's worth every minute.

did you see your shadow this morning?

Every year since I can remember, that was the standard birthday greeting from Daddy, since I had the priviledge of being born on one of the best holidays ever—Groundhog's Day. But this year my greeting didn't come. And it was really hard. The whole day was hard. I'm getting old. Everybody does. I just wish we didn't have to commemorate the fact. And at the same time, it would be a real bummer if no one wanted to celebrate the day I was born.

So last night we were having dinner at Sandra's and Hanna remarked that she thought she saw lightning. But people were doubtful becuase it just doesn't really storm here. Maybe it was the neighbor turning on a flourescent light or the TV or something. I commented that I really miss storms. It's true—I love the roar of thunder reminding me that God is huge and in control and I love it when He decides to amaze me with a laser show in the sky. Oh well. The upside of no storms is that I don't worry about my umbrella being a lightning rod when I'm out and about.

After a wonderful dinner and strawberry shortcake with fresh whipped cream, it was time to walk home. About five minutes after walking in my door the storm hit big time—we're talking thunder, lightning and even hail! And it has stormed most of the day today as well. Could it be anything other that God just saying He loves me and reminding me I'm not alone? He knew how much I needed it; how much I was missing Daddy. Maybe He was working with Mama and Daddy—maybe they were having a blast tossing around handfuls of hail, throwing lightning bolts in the air and jumping up and down to rattle Jerusalem and remind me that they were really glad that I was born! Thanks for the party, y'all!

(And even though Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, I didn't see mine. Maybe my winter is just about over....)

get busy livin'

I just got an email from a dear friend who has become disillusioned with her life. She was lamenting that she would never be a movie star, Stevie Nicks or live in a mansion with servants waiting on her. She's feeling old and past the point of life where you can still enjoy yourself. She's five hours older than me.

I think so many people are in that phase; just going through the motions, watching life pass them by. How sad!!! As Andy said in The Shawshank Redemption, "You gotta get busy living, or get busy dying...." So I wrote back to my friend and here is an excerpt from that letter:

As for wanting to be a movie star or Stevie Nicks or waited on hand and foot in a big mansion—here's what I think. Movie stars are never happy, never satisfied, never have privacy, and I don't think they really have ultimate trust with their mates because they're so good at acting. Who needs that? Stevie Nicks? Old before her time, worn out and haggard looking. You don't need that either. The rich life? Hmmm Let's spend all our time wondering if ANYBODY loves us for who we are or if they all just want to leach off of us and use us.... It ain't worth it. Look at your own grass, honey. I think it's pretty green...

So I have to tell you this little story. Let me preface it by saying that I know most of the world, U.S. especially, no longer believes that God can and does miracles today; they think He's distant and aloof and hands-off when it comes to relating to us. I'm not one of that majority, cause I totally think He does do miracles, and He is involved in the smallest details of my life. So anyway, day before yesterday I had to go to the Post Office to pay my electric bill, which was about 540 Shekels (about $110 US). I can't write checks over here, so I withdraw about 2500 shekels from the ATM and that lasts me a pretty good while, but I was getting a little low on the cash side. Right before I left, I took out my money, which I carry in a little bitty zippered pouch in my purse, and counted it -- seven 100 shekel notes, a twenty and some change. I went and paid my bill, which left me about 170 or so. Then I decided to venture down the street and explore a bit since I hadn't been that way before.

I found this little kitchen shop that had some really fun stuff in it and I found some mugs I liked. I thought this would be a good purchase since I only have one. There was also a little mug stand that I was contemplating, but it was a bit expensive and all of it together would leave me with very little cash. So I only got the mugs. Then I stopped by this little cafe and got a falafel for dinner and headed back home. At the crosswalk just in front of my building, an old beggar woman was sitting on the side walk. She seemed a bit different than most beggars around here; she was holding out her hand instead of a cup and there was a gentleness to her. I counted out a little over twenty shekels for her and went and put them in her hand, and kinda touched her hand and looked her in the eye and smiled at her. (you don't usually do those two things with most beggars here).

The light changed and I went on home. The next day I was getting ready to go to the souk (open market) for some food and I got out my purse to see how much money I had. After the mugs and falafel, I should have had about 100 shekels. Instead I had 300 shekels. I'm no math genius, but somehow I had two hundred extra shekels that were not there the day before. I guess most people would explain it away; say that I had just overlooked the money or miscounted or something. But I don't think so. I've had that happen before, where I have given something to someone, expecting nothing in return and God has given me back ten times as much.

Other "interesting" things have happened since I've been here. One night I woke myself up coughing in the middle of the night and my head was all stuffed up. I actually heard a voice say, "Use the white pillow, m'lis" (I have two green ones and one white, which I generally snuggle with). I didn't stop to think about it, I just moved the green pillow, put the white one in it's place and the second my head hit the pillow, the pressure in my head broke and I was fine. I just went right back to sleep without thinking a thing about it, but the next morning when I woke up, it all came rushing back to me. I thought, "did that really happen?" and I was laying there on my white pillow...

I'm not sure why I told you those two stories, except that maybe I think that life IS how we CHOOSE to see it. I could choose to write those things off, chalk them up to coincidence or just bizarre moments; but I don't. I know that God did them. And when you have an outlook on life that chooses to see the good or the potential, life is no longer boring. Does that make sense?

There are so many things in my life that, if I chose to, I could get majorly bummed about: I'm pushing forty and no potential serious relationship in sight. My parents are gone, Marty's not speaking to me again, so basically Mark is the only family I have left; I live in a city where I can't speak the language, can't find clothes big enough to fit me; my closest new friend can never have dinner with me at my house because she keeps kosher; I have no car, no guaranteed income/regular paycheck, no dryer for my clothes; I have to walk everywhere and carry all my groceries about a mile or so; I have no microwave; I don't understand how to work my oven; I can't read the labels when I go shopping.... the list could probably go on and on.

But the thing is that there's blessing in all that, if I choose to see it. I'm not in a horrible, bad relationship like so many people I know; I am strong and able to take care of myself. Mom and Dad are gone, but Daddy's passing brought my Aunt and Uncle back into my life and they have been so supportive since I've been here. I miss Marty, but I love the relationship I have with Mark; I talk to him every week. I may not be able to speak the language here yet, but I'm learning, and every time I can understand how much the vendors at the souk are asking for, that's another victory for me. I don't really need to buy new clothes anyway, I would probably just be throwing my money away. Even though Racheli can't eat here, she has gone out of her way so many times to plan fun stuff for me and has had me in her home with her family and her parents love me. I don't have to make car payments or pay for insurance or gas, and I'm healthy enough to walk wherever I need to go. I don't have a guaranteed salary, but I'll make a big sum on freelance this month and I can work in my pajamas anytime I want. My clothes are staying so nice and not getting worn out from a dryer. I don't really need a microwave; I can always reheat stuff on the stove. I'm learning to cook again, more from scratch and it's forcing me to be creative; the result is not boring!

(end excerpt)

So I thought I would just share those thoughts here in case there's some out there who can identify with my friend. If you are one of those finding yourself in that disillusioned state of mind, it's time to move to another state. There's blessing in the midst of the hard times if we just open our eyes to it all.

new kid in town

Yesterday was a very interesting day. In the morning I dreamed that a cat had jumped up on my bed and snuggled against my legs. It was so real that in my dream I got up to see how he had gotten into my apartment, and I found a window open in the living room. My friend, Jennifer, walked in about that time and told me that she had left the window open. Jennifer loves cats. The dream then morphed into a bizarre scene that I won't go into at this time.

Later on that day, I was walking through the park next to my apartment and this really cute little kitten came running up to me. This is strange because 1) the stray cats around here run away from people, 2) they're usually pretty mangy and scraggly looking and 3) he had on a collar. I started trying to find the owner, but there was no one in the park except three business men walking along. The cat wouldn't leave my legs and ended up following me home. I fed him of course, and thought maybe he could hang around a bit.

I started to do some work at my computer and he jumped up on the desk, which I can't stand, so I decided to put him out. I started feeling a bit guilty and then I prayed that if God wanted me to help this little guy out, that he would show up at my office window. A few minutes later he showed up at the window. So I let him back in.

That evening I left him in the apartment and went to watch the boys for a little while. When I got back he was curled up in the little bed I had made for him. I went back to my desk to work a little more and he jumped up again and laid down between me and the computer. That would have been fine except for the fact that he kept getting in my face and going for my hands to get me to pet him. I couldn't take it. He went out again.

This morning I opened the shutters on the living room window and a few minutes later, there he was. I let him in and he curled up next to me as I had my quiet time on the couch. It wasn't long before he was in my lap and I finally gave in. He's so sweet and I can tell he just feels a little scared and lost—kinda like I do most of the time. I held him snuggled up to my chest for quite a while and he just calmed right down and dozed off. I just kept thinking that when I'm scared and lonely, that's the place I need to be—snuggled up to the heart of God.

He's been with me most of the day, except for a few short stints outside (I pray he answers nature's call out there until I can find a litter box!). I left him again for a while tonight and came back to him snuggled on the couch. We've kinda worked out the desk issue—he can stay there as long as he just sleeps and doesn't interfere with work. After all, it looks like I'll be needing to buy some cat food....



I've decided that he'll definitely speak English, because the Hebrew word for cat is a little hard for me to pronounce. But I'd like to give him a Hebrew name and I'm considering "Tovi" which means "good." I'm hoping that it will be prophetic and that he will be a good kitty as long as we're hanging out together.

waking the dead

I've been struggling with insomnia—not being able to go to sleep until 2:00 or often 3:00 in the morning. Then of course, I can't get up until 9:30 or 10:00. And I never feel rested when I finally do get up. This is a new problem in my life and it's really been getting to me. I feel like most of the day is gone by the time I get up.

Last night, I finally had a bit of a breakthrough. I was walking past a bookshelf and my hand, of it's own accord, reached out and grabbed my "Waking the Dead" workbook. "Waking the Dead" is a book by John Eldredge that I read probably a year and a half ago. It really hit home then, but I never got around to doing the workbook. I started at 11:00 last night and cried bitterly through the first part of it, but by the end of the first section, something had snapped back into place. I had forgotten how big of a battle we're in, how Satan wants to rob us of all our joy, make us doubt God, and make us miserable in general. So I did a little spiritual warfare and I slept so peacefully. Then I managed to get up much earlier this morning, have a quiet time with the Lord, go for a walk, have breakfast and do laundry all before 9:30. It made me feel so much more human and responsible somehow.

I know I'm a "plugger"; I push my favorite things on people all the time. But that book is really, really good if you're feeling down, like you're living a mediocre existence, hopeless, out of touch, and are beating yourself up for feeling that way. If you're in that place, give it a try. It's well worth it. That's it. No long discourse or major revelation. Just a little recommendation.

Joshua & Caleb were right

When Moses sent Joshua and Caleb and the other spies into the Promised Land land to check it out, they brought back reports of milk and honey flowing and giant fruit, as well as actual giants (Exodus 13 & 14). I think that somewhere in the back of my mind, I had reduced this to fairytale. Giants are hard enough to believe, but giant fruit? Come on! My experience had always been that the smaller fruit had more flavor, any large fruit seemed like a freak of nature; over-fertiziled and somehow tricked into growing really big, but losing it's great taste somewhere along the way. I think that it has been especially true in the last few years. I would buy these beautiful specimins and then be utterly disappointed when I bit into them. I had just about given up on fruit.

So when the giant strawberries started appearing in the souk, I would walk by thinking, they sure are beautiful, but they're too expensive and probably have no taste at all.



I did break down and buy oranges finally and they turned out to be so good that I thought that maybe the strawberries might be okay too. Yesterday I noticed that the price had come way down, so I decided to buy some. They don't come in the tiny little containers that you see in American stores; it's more like a container built for a family of eight and the average strawberry was about 2 1/2 inches. But I bought one thinking that probably the ones on the bottom were bad anyway. When I got home I bit into one (it was way too big to put the whole thing in my mouth!) and it was the sweetest, most flavorful thing I have tasted in ages. I had never before met a strawberry that didn't need a little sugar to make it sweet. And out of the whole package, there was one that was bad, and it was a very small one. Now I have more strawberries than any one single person needs, but oh well.

Lately I've been asking God to fill me with awe at His word. Maybe the giant strawberries are proof of His word, because I am now in awe of the fact that Joshua and Caleb were not exaggerating and it was not just a fairytale.

There really are Giants in the land as well--sometimes I'm overwhelmed with them. Tsunamis, hurricanes, earthquakes, coal mines collapsing, schools teaching that evolution is true and banning teachers from even suggesting that God made us and the earth, suicide bombers, and not knowing what's going to happen now that Israeli Prime Minister Sharon is incapacitated. But in the middle of all these giants, there are these strawberries. These little glimpses of the goodness of the Promised Land, a sign that God has not forsaken us, though our actions say that He should. God didn't want the children of Israel to fear the giants; He knew He could and would take care of them. But they let the fear crowd out the incredible blessings that God wanted to give them, so He let them wander in the desert for forty years.

Forty years.
No thank you.
God can handle the giants. I'm going to savour every bite of His goodness in the Promised Land.

And just in case you were wondering about the milk and honey, since I've been in Israel, not a drop of milk has gone bad in my house! I think I could drink it by the gallon, and let me assure you, this is no small miracle. I was always throwing out spoiled milk back home—I don't think I ever finished a container! As for the honey, I just bought my first and it definitely wasn't disappointing.