Wilderness

letting go

I'll spill out the words to bring my freedom:
You don't need me,
and I don't need you.

You are the confusion I leave in Cairo.
You are the sand wiped from my eyes in the desert.
You are the stone I throw in the Kineret.
You are the paper in the Kotel that is given to God.

I am leaving you
in the ways I only know how -
I am learning to be free
in a place that isn't home.
With great pain comes great choice:
to hold on...
or to let go.

Yes,
I am releasing.
And I am reaching for the wilderness -
for the places that leave me with nothing and everything.
Parched and tire,
I find a spring for my soul.
Oh Lord, Elo'im
my heart you have redeemed.

flowers for nagwa.

On a walk through town, I wave to many people. Later, I see some boys on Brent and Matt’s street. They ask my name, and one of them proceeds to do cartwheels all over the street, singing, “Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!” in between each turn. It was quite the circus.

I give him a high five, which he gleefully responds to. Then I make my way to the flower shop to pick up a bouquet for my host mom. The florist talks with me for a little while, and she throws together a beautiful bouquet for Nagwa. I walk back, carrying bright red and yellow flowers amid a faded, gray street.

Bonita.

(Beit Sahour, West Bank)

Sometimes, things are not what they claim to be.

kitty quake.

Around 12:30 today, there was an earthquake, apparently. I felt shaking because I was sitting in my bed. Didn’t think about it until the second time when it lasted about thirty seconds and some cats screeched below the house. I don’t know why, but I seriously just thought there was an animal under my bed.

“Jenny, my bed is moving! I think there’s a cat under my bed…”

The thought made absolutely no logical sense. But I’ve never felt an earthquake before. She said she felt it, too. Later we found out, yes, it was an earthquake. My first earthquake…. and I thought it was a cat under my bed. Good grief.

Love Day

The final week of living in Beit Sahour/Bethlehem is here, but the excitement certainly has not fizzled out. Today, as you know, is Valentine's Day. (And I wish a very happy one to allll of you!)

On any other Valentine's Day of the past, the thoughts I have had would seem quite trivial in comparison to today's experience in 2008. Other Valentine Days were spent thinking about baking cookies, giving cards, and the "horrors" of being single on such an occasion. This Valentine's Day, I have examined the heartcries of the people all around me - Palestinian, Israeli, American, and even Native American. (a group of 5 Native Americans who have joined us the last few days. They have built relationships and found many similarities between the Palestinians and what has transpired on US Reservations. They are here in Palestine for about a month)

Funny how all should accumulate on this day meant to celebrate the love for one another in a place thick with both great love and great hatred. Love, at its roots, is loyal to the point of destruction, yet on the other hand, can redeem and restore and build. In a location where nothing is simply explained, love is not exempt. This is Valentines Day in Palestine for me.

Beit Sahour has been the grounds for such examination of the world, people, and myself. In the past three weeks, I have visited Palestinian cities Hebron, Ramallah, Nablus, Bethlehem, Jericho, the Jewish settlement Ephrat, a refugee camp, and more. I have been disappointed by human ability to inflict pain of every dimension upon another human being. I am frustrated by things that both US and Israeli and Palestinian governments do on behalf of self interest... representing a whole people though actions that do not communicate its constituents true heart. But I've been pulled in by the resilience and hope, too, especially the hope of Christ. He is definitely the firm foundation for this time of personal worldview shaking and changing.

A Valentine's Party is on schedule for tonight, so I should leave. I hope that this wasnt too depressing... but I pray that all of you are doing well and constantly living each day to its full :)

Happy Valentines Day, I love you all.

Hubez.

We visit Beit Aribiya, the home and peace center of a family whose home was demolished four times, rebuilt five times. Because of the trauma, his wife no longer speaks. His child temporarily lost sight. Their spirit was struck again and again. His resistance is strong, but it is heartbreaking and traumatizing for him and his family. Demolishing. Traumatizing. Robbing. Damaging mind, body, and spirit. This is not the way a human being should treat another human being.

Later in the evening, as I walk home, I pass the house where I rescued the crying little girl a week ago. The grandmother and mother are there cooking hubez (bread) on the outdoor woodfire oven. I say hello, and they beckon to me and answer, “Hubbez! Tfaddal.” Bread! Please.” They offer me some of the hubez. I accept it, shake hands, and try to make conversation in the best Arabic I can muster. I say my name and “beit” (home). I meet a little boy and shake his hand. The family was so warm! I thank them and say, “cheroffna” (my pleasure), and head back, eating the best bread I have ever tasted.

I hold the generosity of this rejected family in my hands, and I could almost cry. Their smiles are maybe what make this bread so good. It was by far the best and warmest welcome I have received yet. I do not know if they can afford what they gave to me. It stirs up my heart. I will never forget their smiles, the broken attempt at communication, and the warm bread in my mouth as I savor their generosity and welcome.

out of power.

Tonight, the power is out for about a half hour. The whole hill lost power, which is sort of neat to see. The stars are even clearer. Nagwa dances around the house, swinging her hips and singing in Arabic. Raneen is annoyed at her, as any fourteen-year-old would be. It makes me smile from the inside out.