Yallah binat!

I forgot to tell an EPIC story in my last couple blogs and I wanted to post some randomness about my last few days.  

First, my totally epic adventure that I forgot to blog about.  Alright, so, my daily schedule includes spending about a little over an hour teaching or helping teach swim lessons to all grades.  Some days are better than others, depending on behaviors, attitudes, language barriers, and just moods, to be honest.  Plus, I've been asked to stay until all the girls are dressed, so we know they're going home with clothes on.  Apparently, there was a first grade boy that couldn't find his pants one day, so he just went home without them.  Since then, I've been asked to either watch the boys or the girls.  Typically, the other teachers and parents flock to the boys, so I stick to the girls, thankfully.  This does mean a lot of yelling, "Binat...yallah!", which basically means "Come on, girls!"  They usually giggle a lot at me when they hear me yelling, but they usually hurry up.  I'm giving you this long introduction, filled with random extraneous details, as my family would all testify is the annoying sign of a Meredith-story, because it should explain that by the time I've spent an entire day with middle school English classes or kindergarten kids, followed by swim lessons, followed by herding my "binat" out of the locker room, I'm pretty beat.  I usually go and check in at the office after swimming to see if they need any emails, documents, etc, done in English, and then I head home.  Phew!  Finally, it's time for my epic story.  

Mom, don't be worried.  So, I came in the locker room after swimming several days ago, changed out of my swimsuit, herded my "binat", and started to get my stuff together.  My bookbag and other belongings usually stay in one of the lockers.  I reached for my bookbag and I thought I saw something move.  I'm not usually one to get squeamish over bugs or creepy crawly things, but something sent of my danger signals here.  I pulled my bookbag out and looked inside.  I couldn't see anything, but I was sure something was in there.  I was the only one left in the locker room, so I started taking out my stuff.  I saw what I had seen initially!  It was this creepy centipede thing that was probably five to six inches long, and brownish.  It crawled into the seam of my bag.  I shook my bookbag onto the floor, hoping to dislodge this creepy thing from my bag, but it refused to come out.  I couldn't even see it in there at this point!  One of the cleaning ladies came in and looked annoyed at me, because I had dumped my bag on the floor.  I used my limited Arabic to try and explain what was going on.  Naela had about the same English as I had Arabic, which isn't much.  I should also explain that our very kind and extremely intelligent Arabic teacher has yet to teach us how to say, "Help me...there's a creepy centipede in my bag."  This resulted in a lot of sign language.  She really didn't understand.  I relied on my Pictionary skills at this point, and pulled out some paper and a pen.  I started drawing this creepy centipede, and before I could even finish, she started squealing and jumping around!  She looked terrified!!  Again, I'm not afraid of bugs, but this reaction was not your normal anti-spider reaction.  She kept asking me "Wen???  Wen???", which means 'where.'  I showed her how big it was with my fingers and explained that I didn't know where it went.  I continued to shake my bag, while she looked in all the corners of the locker room.  Finally, when I flipped my bag inside out, I saw that the creepy centipede was in the bottom.  She squealed some more, and we carried it out of the locker room, where we ran into the man I used to teach swim lessons with (he quit recently...I'm not sure why).  His name is Nour, and he looked at us with this, "What do you crazy women want?" expression.  We showed him what was in my bag, and HE looked panicked!  He carefully took my bag outside and dumped it on the ground.  Creepy centipede fell out, and the guy stomped on it.  He smeared it into the sidewalk too.  He has very limited English too, so he was talking with the cleaning lady in Arabic, and they were both panicking and seemed very upset.  It was one of those moments, where I knew the gist of what they were saying without the language, based on the body language.  I did, however, feel like I was missing a few key points; such as, what the heck was this thing?!  I asked them both what it was in Arabic, and he said, "Number 44."  I looked confused, so he said, "Barath."  He used some sign language, but grabbed one of the other guys to translate for me.  When Nour told Musa, in Arabic, what had just happened, Musa looked upset and started scratching himself.  Naela and Nour were also doing scratching themselves.  I touched Musa's arm and asked him to translate in English.  He yelled for Mary, who also works in the Wellness Center, and has excellent English.  He translated, along with Nour and Naela interjecting their panicked sentences.  Mary jumped up on the desk and had the SAME shocked look on her face.  This has been about 15 minutes and four people that have had the same reaction to this centipede, and not a single one of them has told me what the heck was going on.  Finally, I asked Mary if she could tell me what it was in English.  She also told me that it was a "Number 44" or a "Barath."  She also told me that had it bitten me, it's poison would have caused me to die within 20 minutes.  She asked me at this point if I had been bitten, and I assured her no.  I was given the advice to throw away my bookbag.  I'd like to say that I listened, but I've had that bookbag since like, 9th grade, and I couldn't bring myself to do it.  I'm still itching when I talk about it, and it happened almost two weeks ago.  So, yes, this was my epic adventure.  I almost died.  I only read about scorpions before coming here and I haven't seen any of those yet.  I'd like to tell you that I looked up exactly what it was online, but I saw enough random pictures of poisonous giant centipedes to last me a lifetime!  One of my friends works at an Environmental Education Center here, so I'll get the scoop and update later.  It was epic though.

It also rained yesterday; as in, it poured.  It sprinkled a little today.  I think this means we're starting the rainy season.  It's only slightly rained twice in the whole time I've been here, before yesterday that is.  It will be interesting to see more rain!

I've been sick all week, so I don't really have any amazing adventures to tell.  I did spend most of yesterday at the one pastor's house, learning how to make Palestinian salads with his wife.  Salads are pretty prominent here, as far as food goes.  It's not the lettuce salad I'm used to, but this is stuff like tabouli, baba ganouj, etc.  I wish I could tell you the names of everything I learned how to make, but I'll just have to show you what they are when I come home.  It was really nice to spend time with his family.  They have a month-old baby that doesn't hurt either! :)  It's nice to feel welcomed by different families into their home.  Another random note, I found out that meat is considered a special thing you give to visitors.  Even the poorest family will work to give visitors meat.  I can't say that I've seen that specifically, but I know we've been served meat everywhere, and meat is very expensive here!

After the day with the family, I came home and did my normal email check.  I check my emails, blog for comments (PS...the comments are slacking, everybody!  :)  Kidding!), and yes, I check Facebook.  It was really strange, because I'm half-way around the world, and in a matter of 30 seconds, I found out that one of my college roommates gave birth to her first child and also that one of my coworkers from camp lost his grandfather.  It was this really surreal feeling to be so far away, but yet to know that one life passed away as another began.  I don't want it to seem that I'm implying one replaces another, by ANY means.  It was just a strange sensation to be celebrating the birth of one and mourning the loss of another, from a very long plane ride away.  I guess I would just like to take a moment here to then say that I'm praying for all of you.  Those celebrating newborn Caius James and those mourning Vernon Adams Sr.  Peace.  Salaam.  

With that being said, I wish peace upon all of you.  Hug someone you love today.  In fact, hug them everyday.  
Much love,
Meredith

Squishy Brown and Purple Humbling

Alright, so, I think after about two months of living here and being pretty busy with life, I'm realizing that my blog posts are going to be longer and further apart in frequency.  Sorry if that distresses any of you...mom.

It has been a crazy week!  Things are going well though.  I ended up going into Jerusalem last Saturday to help with the olive harvest.  It was really cool!  We spent several hours in the "orchard" I guess you could call it.  We collected 17 bags of olives and 21 bags equals a ton, so we picked a lot of olives!  They took them to the press Monday, so the turn around time is very fast.  When you make olive oil though, it needs a few weeks to just sit and procure.  Please consider buying some olive oil though.  Also, if you would like to have a longer-term impact on Palestinian healthcare, consider buying an olive tree for $1000.  It would be planted on the Mount of Olives, and be picked every year to produce olive oil, which would then be sold to pay for healthcare for Palestinians.  Remember: without this and other Lutheran World Federation funding, people would not get any medica

l care!

Sunday was the Palestinian Thanksgiving, or so Christmas Lutheran Church said.  Beit Sahour Lutheran Church celebrated Thanksgiving the week before and the week after (yesterday), so I'm not really sure when Thanksgiving was.  Regardless, we celebrated Thanksgiving last week in Bethlehem.  It was really cute, because all the Sunday School kids brought fruit and vegetables to the altar during the processional, and they were all wearing traditional Palestinian dress.  They did some sort of small play/speech, and sang, "Jesus, Prince of Peace", in Arabic.  It was awesome!  

I had some interesting interactions after church.  There was the man who came up to me in a very shady fashion and asked where I was from.  When I said the United States, he pulled out a wad of money and asked if I wanted to exchange money.  I was really offended!  I told him no and that "This is a church!" in my most disgusted voice!  He was like, "Yeah, I know, but church is over."  No, my friend, church is not over.  We're standing and greeting each other after service.  You are two feet from the door!  The church open space is still within the gate of the church and a story above street level.  So, to come into this space, it is very intentional and should not a place for money changers to come.  I was so mad!  

I was talking to the one woman who works at Dar Al-Kalima after church.  She is so sweet and has been very welcomingto me at the school.  She pointed to her feet to tell me that she was wearing her "walking shoes."  I asked her why.  She told me it was because she thought she was going to walk to church.  That's simple enough.  I asked her why though, and she said, "We thought we were going to have to walk, because soldiers have been bombing a house in our neighborhood since 5am.  We didn't know if we were going to be allowed out.  I went outside and asked a soldier if we could go to church and if we could drive, because my father-in-law is in a wheelchair.  He seemed hesitant, but that he was allowing us because of my father-in-law.  I think they were trying to take a man to prison."  I was dumbfounded.  Here's this woman that spent the morning listening to "bombing," which I think is translated better as shooting, but she still came to church.  It was important to her.  It's also normal for people here.  Like, that wouldn't stick out as something peculiar.  A few people mentioned it at school on Monday, but it was very low-key; it was normal.  It's sad really.  It's sad that soldiers attacking a house in your neighborhood on a Sunday morning is normal.  

After church, we headed to Taybeh.  I believe it's the only Christian town in Palestine and it's the home of the only beer brewed in the Middle East--Taybeh.  Now, I'm not a good Lutheran, because I really don't like beer, but I do support this as an economy.  We went to Taybeh on Sunday, because it was their massive Oktoberfest.  I ate a lot of falafel, drank one Taybeh to support the cause, and was able to see a few different Palestinian performers.  It was a good day.  I definitely felt like a tourist, since Oktoberfest is really geared towards internationals.  It was still neat to be a part of though.

On Tuesday, we went to see a photography exhibition at the Aida Refugee Camp.  It was beautiful!  I'm hoping to include some of the pictures of their pictures in my photos.  It was really cool to see how much hope the young photographers have in their world, despite the occupation and suffereing.

We then had dinner at the home of a young man we met in the market.  This may sound suspicious, but when you're invited to dinner at a guy's house here, it means he wants his whole family to meet and interact with you.  It's a whole-family affair, not a date.  We had dinner with Yusef, who is actually in college at a school in Atlanta, Georgia.  His family was phenomenal!  They were all very eager to meet us and entertain us.  His two sisters, Razanne (19) and Daana (17), were extremely interested in speaking with us in English.  His brothers were nice.  His mom fed us absurd amounts of food.  We walked into their kitchen to find three plates.  There was a small chicken on each plate, along with a massive amount of rice with peanuts and seasonings.  The family had already eaten, so the food was primarily for us.  Fortunately, Yusef, Daana, and one of their brothers sat down and helped us with the pile.  We finished what we could, all the while having more offered to us.  We moved to the living room, where Yusef's mom brought out the fruit.  I've found that fresh fruit comes after the hot meal.  She gave each of us 1/2 an apple, 1/2 a BIG orange, a pear, and a bunch of grapes to start with.  She refilled our plate if we let it get too low.  We then had Arabic coffee and nargila.  One of the kids brought us a bowl of pomegranate seeds.  Then we had tea with mint and date cookies.  I was ready to explode.  It was so, so, SO good though!  We parted sadly, but very stuffed and tired.

I'm basically the "paint master" in the kindergarten now.  On Thursday, the kindergarten teacher asked that I have the students paint their feet and print their left feet in one color and their right feet in another color onto paper.  The teacher recommended that I cover the entire bathroom floor in newspaper and go to it.  Alright, I have to admit, this is where my elementary background came into play, as did my obsessively clean side.  I set up this system of papering the back corner.  I sat in a chair on the edge, and blockaded my paper area with the drying rack for the prints.  I had one child at a time enter the space.  I helped each one take of their shoes and socks and rolling their pants up.  We walked over to the paint buckets.  The buckets the teacher gave me were these massive, six-inch deep buckets, used for cleaning floors.  So, I helped each kid put their right foot into the bucket of specially mixed purple paint (she asked me to mix different colors...purple was one they didn't have), print onto the paper, switch to the other bucket, put their left foot in the brown paint (it was the one she chose for the left foot), print onto the different left foot paper, and basically carry them to the rinse bucket.  I sat in my chair and rinsed off each kid's feet in the bucket.  It was really very humbling to wash each child's feet.  It reminded me of all the "foot-washings" I've participated in church or at camp.  It was really cool though.  In spite of my crazy fears of paint-covered walls and floors, I was able to create this intimate relationship between each kid and me.  We laughed together when I tickled their feet.  We made crazy faces when they felt how squishy the paint was.  It was just a truly awesome experience.  I loved it.

Thursday continued to get better.  The swimming lesson kids are improving.  The kindergarteners have the most visible improvements.  The one little girl would not smile, splash, or do anything other than let her mother hand her to me to hold in the water.  She was completely indifferent to being in the pool.  She now walks by herself in the shallow end, with a big smile on her face.  She splashes and jumps and has FUN!!!  She is so confident that I have to still watch her and stop her from wandering into the deep end.  The other highlight of my day on Thursday, was to take this little boy from screaming hysterically to walking around on his own.  His mother literally brings him screaming and crying onto deck every week.  I work with him every week, mainly just holding him and letting him scream.  I figure if I can get him used to the water, then that's an accomplishment.  He did his normal screaming and hyperventilating routine when she brought him onto deck this week.  I don't really know how I did it, but somehow the boy was also walking in the shallow end and jumping in (with help) by the end of class.  He was shakier than the little girl, but for both being 3 or 4 years old and having a complete turn around in behavior, I was rather pleased with the day.

There was a lot of other stuff that happened this week, but I can't really remember at this point.  I had to come home early from school yesterday and I missed today, because I'm actually sick.  It stinks.  I had the interesting experience of going to the medical clinic in Beit Sahour though.  It cost 15 sheckels to see the doctor, which is like, $5, and another 150 sheckels for medicine, which is like, $50, which is more than I wanted to pay.  My roommate Nikki is also sick and hers was only 45 sheckels for medicine, so who knows.  

Oh!  I also found out, for all of you interested in the olive oil, there's a way you can do more!  If you contact the same email address in my previous blog, you can send $1000 to actually BUY an olive tree on the Mount of Olives!!  It would be an awesome church project and would mean years and years of helping Palestinians get medical care.

Alright, I think that's all I really have to blog about for now.  The weather is still pretty warm here.  Chilly at night, but like a comfortable late spring/early summer day at home.  Arabic lessons are going well.  The kids are crazy as usual. :)  I'm having a lot of fun!

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul!
Dear God, 
Thank you for these past few weeks.  Thank you for showing me how to be humble, even to five year-olds.  Thank you for encouraging me to see the positives in situations and to develop deeper relationships with people.  Please be with all who cry out to you, whether in their suffering or in witnessing others' suffering.  Please watch over Cinnamon and Lois.  God, I ask all of these things in your son's most precious and holy name,
Amen.

Teach them not to drown.

Hello all!  A lot has been going on over the past several days, so it's been too crazy to blog.  

First, let me tell a few random stories that will connect later.  

I have had an interesting week or so with communication.  I help the kindergarteners with painting a lot, which is hard, since I don't know what the Arabic words for any colors or shapes are.  I could tell the one little boy wanted one of the dishes of paint, so I asked him which one he wanted.  He immediately looked down at his painting smock and pointed to the color he wanted.  He was so easy for him to think on his feet like that!  It was really cool to immediately understand what he wanted too.  I still felt bad that I don't know what the colors are in Arabic, but he communicated well with me.  

I was also invited to a presentation last night, hosted by an NGO in Beit Jala.  I randomly met a woman who volunteers with them, through young people visiting here from New Zealand.  The woman invited me to hear the speaker, because I'm looking to get involved with another organization while I'm here.  I'd like to find something in addition to the school, to create more relationships and get a different picture of what's going on here.  This woman was extremely nice excited to see my interest.  The presentation was about a block from our flat, so I walked up to listen.  I walked in and saw the small crowd forming.  I asked the man at the door if it was the right place for the presentation.  He said yes, and then skeptically asked me if I understood Arabic.  Apparently, the presentation was in Arabic.  Oops.  It was interesting to me that the woman neglected to ask me if I understood Arabic and that I neglected to ask if the presentation was in English.  I stayed for a bit, because she was kindly translating for me.  It was difficult to really get the message of what was being said though, so I left.  She was still very excited to see me and welcomed me to visit her, where she'd take me to a variety of NGOs to see what I was interested in becoming a part of.  

I was having a rough time with my school placement, because I was feeling like I wasn't really wanted there.  Let me explain.  I think people wanted me there in the sense of "doing" stuff, but I've spent the last six months or so, preparing to be doing a ministry of presence, and not "doing."  I found myself typing worksheets, laminating, stringing packing peanuts, etc, etc.  It's a lot of "doing," but not this profound feeling of accomplishing great feats.  I was even getting frustrated with swim lessons, because I wasn't communicating well with the kids.  We literally have less than ten words that we can communicate with, due to my Arabic and their English.  It was just becoming harder and harder to brush it off as okay.  I was talking to one of the other internationals here about it though, and he said, "Your role might not be to make swimmers out of the kids. It might be just to teach them how not to drown."  I just sort of took that as advice and moved on.  I really didn't think about it much.  Of course I want to make swimmers out of the kids!  They don't drown by being swimmers!  It seemed to just be a Hallmark-esque answer to this conundrum of feeling completely useless to this community, other than for cutting paper.

 I started thinking about this more yesterday though.  I was with kindergarten and the teacher has unofficially dubbed me the painting supervisor.  This means that pretty much the majority of my time with her class is spent coralling the children from painting each other, the floor, the sink, or me.  I picture myself herding cats while I do it.  Let me interrupt my more important story to tell you that kindergarteners are adorable, but insane.  The teacher fills the soap dispensers in their bathrooms almost daily, and I caught a child dumping his water bottle into the soap dispenser, creating a large collection of bubbly goodness.  He just looked at me with that innocent child face that says, "I don't understand why you're looking at me.  I didn't do anything wrong.  Are you going to keep standing there?"  It was insane.  Back to the painting though.  I was suppose to have the kids paint these shapes with specific colors and print their paper with a red circle, blue square, orange rectangle, and yellow triangle.  I did my best to avoid chaos.  I demonstrated what the teacher wanted by showing them how to paint the shape, then printing it on a page.  The first group understood and did it exactly as I expected it was to be done.  The second group did not do quite the same.  One little boy, the one who used to just run out of the room and is continually disobeying everyone, kept sticking the "wrong" brushes in the other paints.  He had this chaotic brownish greenish paper disaster that wasn't anything like I expected.  He wasn't the only one though.  The kids were painting these shapes all different colors and just painting the paper.  When you combine my desire to follow the rules (as in, what the teacher said she wanted done), my slight obsession with keeping colors neat and separate, and not being able to explain in Arabic what the expectations were, I was a little upset.  

I started to look at the kids though, and I realized that they were kids.  They weren't supposed to color or paint or do anything "perfectly" to our expectation.  It was perfect that they were being creative!  The boy's brownish greenish chaotic paper disaster was seriously beautiful.  I would have framed it as an abstract piece of art.  It wasn't printing with blocks, but it was kindergarten creativity.  This also clicked for me the idea of "teaching them not to drown."  I won't ever be able to save Palestine.  I won't be able to take down the Wall, reunite families, create respect from the Israelis, or any other huge, progressive change.  I can't and I won't.  It's not my job to do that.  It is my job, however, to keep them from "drowning."  I can, as one person, help children be creative.  I can help them laugh and run around and just be happy.  I can talk to different people and listen to their concerns for the future.  I can sit and have tea with Majdi, this amazing shopkeeper, and let him introduce me to every American, assuming that I know them already (because we're both from America).  I can't change the world, but I can maybe stop them from drowning.  

Some random stories...
I'm really loving this one kindergartener who runs and leaps into my arms everytime she sees me.  I'm also really loving that while I have expected to be warmly greeted by the Christian community here, I have been received by a lot of Muslim parents more than Christians.  I didn't feel very welcome at church (meaning, nobody really talked to me, even though I work with a lot of them), but I walked outside and was stopped on the street by one of the Muslim mothers from the school.  Her daughter is in the kindergarten class I volunteer and swim with.  She is actually from Brooklyn, New York, and is Spanish, so she has this interesting New Yorker/Spanish accent when she speaks English, wearing her hijab.  It's really cool though.  She made a point to tell me how much she appreciates me working with her daughter, even though she's "crazy."  It was a really nice comparison to feel that unwelcomed at one point, but immediately welcomed by someone else.  

The sixth grade English class wrote their favorite "sentences" for an assignment the other night.  When they presented, I heard a variety of well-known quotes.  This was like, "If speech is silver, then silence is golden," and so forth.  My favorite quotes were both by boys, in sixth grade remember.  They were, "I want to love you, but you already know" and "Every night, in my dreams, I see you, I feel you..."  If you remember, I had a seventh grade boy sing that song a few weeks ago.  He did it to be funny, obviously.  This boy was serious about his quote and nobody in the class laughed at him.  I think there must be some sort of underground Titanic following here. 

Another interesting concept here is the shame-based society.  I know I've talked about this before, but it's the idea that people are more ashamed if other people know they did something wrong, rather than the guilt-based society Americans live in.  The shame thing is especially interesting in the school setting.  Three students were talking during morning devotions and one teacher made a point to basically call them out in front of everyone.  He talked about how they did something wrong and so forth (I'm guessing...this was in Arabic).  I was thinking though, that if a teacher did that in the States, he would make on the 6 o'clock news.  It's how life is here.  It's a social norm.  

Well, I think that's about all that has been going on recently.  I might be going to help with the olive harvest on the Mount of Olives tomorrow.  Olives are a huge crop here, as most of you know from the infamous olive oil.  The Lutheran World Federation has something like, 800 trees on the Mount of Olives.  The olives picked are compressed into oil and sold all over the world to fund the Augusta Victoria Hospital.  This is your opportunity to help people from your seat at home.  This hospital is one I've already talked about.  The olive oil then provides a lot of funding for the hospital.  I'm asking that you consider purchasing a bottle of oil (or a few) to support this cause.  It will benefit so, so many people.  There are children that receive kidney dialysis here and travel to and from their homes every other day...every week.  It hosts some of the only treatment facilities for Palestinians.  Literally, it has the only radiation bed for Palestinians.  When we toured the hospital, I learned that the Israeli treatment of cancer means 80% of people get curative treatments and 20% get symptom treatment (basically, for pain, but not for eliminating cancer).  Palestinians are the reverse.  80% get pain treatment, and only 20% get curative.  That means, that very few Palestinians with cancer hope to even see a day of their lives without cancer.  This is extremely upsetting.  "AVH provides many specialized services that are not easily accessible or that are unavailable in other hospitals in the occupied Palestinian Territories. These specialties include ear, nose and throat surgery; adult and pediatric nephrology; radiation oncology; allergy and immunology; pediatric neurology; and certain gastrointestinal procedures. The Cancer Center at AVH will be the first facility in the occupied Palestinian Territories to offer Radiation Oncology, and the only Radiation Oncology facility for East Jerusalem and the West Bank. No other medical facility in the occupied Palestinian Territories offers pediatric dialysis."  This information, and more, can be found on their website.

I'm asking that you consider purchasing some olive oil.  You'll provide medical care to Palestinians.  This also funds the LWF buses that travel daily to pick people up from all over the West Bank and Gaza (I think).  Plus, I'll be actually picking the olives to be pressed into the oil and you'll get to have a bottle of olive oil to brag to your friends about.  Not that you really needed these other reasons, but I'm really trying to sell this.  Think about.  Here is the website with the email address for ordering.  It would make an awesome church-wide project or an individual purchase for Christmas presents.  Also, the olive oil is put into bottles made in Hebron, which is a considered a high-risk city in the West Bank known for it's AMAZING glassworks.  You really can't lose!!!!

Alright, I'm done with my soapbox.  Check it out though, if you're interested.

I've added a photo album on the top of my blog, so check for pictures there.  I'll probably still post pictures in specific blogs, but this will be the bulk of random scenery shots many of you are looking for.

I haven't prayed through this blog for awhile, and I'm sorry for that.  I've had a hard time seeing that "easy" faith in God while I'm here, despite the fact that it's the Holy Land.  It's just tough.  I do want to pray with you now though.

Heavenly Father,
Thank you again for bringing me to this place.  Thank you for blessing me richly with friends and family, both at home and here, who love and support me.  Thank you for creating me as a wealthy American who went somewhere and wants to help.  Please be with Hilde, Cinnamon, Lois, and many others who are in pain and need you to be with them.  Please also be with those struggling with their faith and facing defeat in every corner of life.  Please be with me to understand how to keep others from drowning, rather than teaching them how to swim.  Please remind us to love each other.  It's the only way we'll survive this world.  All this I praise and ask for in your Son's most precious and holy name, Amen.

That's all for now.  Keep asking me questions!  Much love! :)

-Meredith

Stalking and sightseeing

Fair warning, this is going to be a very long blog post.

We have the week off for Eid, which is the four days or so of feasting, which follows Ramadan. I worked Monday, then had a very long night. I went to yoga, then we changed clothes and headed out to eat. We treated ourselves to a nicer meal out, because we've been cooking for ourselves solidly for the last three weeks. Anyway, we ate dinner and relaxed at this restaurant, where we met the owner. He was really nice and had actually lived in Orlando, Florida for a few years.

We then walked up into the old market, which was crazy busy with people buying things for their Eid celebrations. It's really interesting, because since we clearly stick out as three American (or at least foreign) women, we're remembered before we've even met someone. This means that pretty much every shopkeeper we buy something off of remembers us and knows us by name. This is really cool! We stopped to buy a floor squeegee (not sure how to officially spell that), because all floors are tiled here, and they dump water on the floors, then squeegee it into floor drains. Our squeegee broke, hence buying a new one. We ended up walking out with a window squeegee though, because we couldn't explain what we wanted. The shopkeeper's son remembered us and ended up walking around the market with us, which was really cool.

We walked home, as usual, and were actually followed for a bit by two guys our age who were making that whispering sound you use to call cats with, and we're not really sure what that means. We stopped in a supermarket to let them pass before heading down a darker street. We walked down to the top of our street, and somehow had a guy walking behind us, and then with us. He was dressed in all black and was wearing a black scarf. We kept talking and walking, not really worrying about him, but he continued to walk with us. He didn't talk to us, he was just walking with us. I suggested that we go visit George, who is the owner of our favorite market down the road. It was late and we were all tired, but we had visually agreed that we shouldn't show this guy where we lived exactly. So, we continued to slow down and we walked past our house. We had slowed enough that he was about twenty feet in front of us. He took this as a cue to stop and wait for us to catch up. When we got to him, he started walking with us again. I wasn't scared, but I wasn't completely comfortable with his actions. We walked onto George's porch and told him what happened. He told us to sit down with his parents and eat some of the lemon icecream he had just made. It was sweet too, because he made a point to say, "I'm inviting you for icecream. That means I'm giving it to you and I'm not selling it to you." He also insisted on giving us a ride home when we were ready. This was an amazing gift! The strange guy had turned and walked down the street a little ways. He was actually sitting and watching us from the porch for awhile. He eventually walked away, fortunately! We sat for a long time with George and his family, then he took us home.

It was a really awesome feeling to know that people were that concerned for our safety. I had told George that we could walk home, because we hadn't seen the guy for awhile, but he and his mom both insisted that he drive us. It was really, really sweet. It was nice to feel safe and loved by locals. :)

Tuesday was spent hanging out with the daughter of one of the kindergarten teachers that Nikki works with. She's our age and the four of us just spent the day together. We watched TV and then headed next door for her to do her aunt's hair. We went with her to a Henna party that night, which is part of the Palestinian wedding tradition. Now, I'll do my best to explain the wedding procedures, but I may mess it up. There are like, four days of wedding parties before the ceremony. The first day is the bride's immediate family goes to the groom's house and they have a party. Then, there is the Henna party, which is not what our idea of Henna is. It's a party for all of the female relatives, where the groom's family mixes the Henna, which is a mixture of herbs, water, and Chai tea without sugar. It's greenish in color and is placed in a dish, with flowers to decorate. There is a smaller group of women singing and dancing in a circle, typically wearing traditional Palestinian dresses. They bring out like, wedding favors (candy in little bags) and dance with those in the circle. They dance with the Henna. Then, they dance with the gold, liquor, and whatever else the groom's family bought for the bride. The bride comes in at this point and she sits on a high chair on a table, so she's looking over everyone. This particular bride was wearing a traditional Palestinian wedding dress. They can wear traditional dresses or "engagement" dresses, which look very much like the poofy prom gowns we wear in the States. The bride is presented the Henna in the dish, and is tradition to put her finger in it. I'm not sure the significance. The groom's sisters then adorn the bride with the gold they brought and give her a lit candle. The dancing and singing continued for awhile. It ended and is typically followed by another party, which is then opened to the men of the families. After the actual wedding ceremony, there is another party at the groom's house, where the bride brings over her clothes and the families...look at her clothes??!! I'm not really sure the significance of all of this and I apologize for giving you really vague generic information, but this was just the first experience I had with the wedding.

On Wednesday, we got up and went to Herodian. We've already visisted the basic outside of it, so I think I told you about it. We visited again to actually tour the facilities. It was really beautiful though.

We visited some of the sites in Bethlehem too. We went to the Church of the Nativity, which was built on the spot historians believe Christ was born. There's a star on the floor in the church marking the spot. I'm not really sure how accurate it is, but it was beautiful. We went to the Church of the Milk Grotto as well. This is the spot that apparently Mary was breast-feeding Jesus and some of her milk dropped to the floor and turn the rock white. It's also said to have been the place where Mary and Joseph hid with Jesus during the Slaughter of the Innocents. It's a beautiful spot! We also stopped at this olivewood carving shop. The artists invited us in to see their work and to go onto the roof--it's one of the highest points in Bethlehem! Their work is gorgeous!

Alright, I'm going to try to post some pictures, but it will depend on the Internet speed. I hope all is well with all of you!