Fear.

Realizing that my time here is growing smaller and smaller every day, I wanted to take a few minutes and let you all know some personal information about me.

I'm afraid to come home.

I'm afraid to stay here.

It's not like a "monster under the bed" fear, but a much less obvious fear.  It's like, an anxiety over compromises.  When I am back in Pennsylvania, am I who I was when I left?  Or am I who I was in Palestine?  I've made some lifestyle changes.  Some small, some large.  I look different.  I feel different.  I am different.

I don't feel like I've been in very good contact with a lot of friends in this year, by both sides' choosing.  Will we pick up where we left off?  

I miss MTOs, driving, church services in English, walking out the door and not getting stared at, wearing gym shorts out in public, coming in the turn lane and crossing the railroad tracks into Marion Center, watching my mom water the plants, and so many other things that I can't even began to fathom right now.  I feel like I'll be writing a similar list of things I miss from Palestine in a few months.  I'm just curious how long after arriving home, that I'll say, "I miss Palestine."  

I guess where I'm going with this rambling is to say that I love Palestine.  It has become a huge part of my spiritual, political, and emotional self.  And yes, I can label my "political" self.  Palestine is very important to me.  I think the fear in the begining of this blog post comes from being terrified that I'm going to come home and everyone's going to glaze over after my third story of the conversation.  Or worse, people are going to ask, "So, how was Israel?" or only want to know about the "holy" sites.  

I saw Israel.  Tiberias is beautiful.  Visiting the churches in Capernaum was amazing.  Eilat was different.  Tel Aviv is hip and happening, and still a beach town.  So, yes, Israel was cool.  However, I saw Israel build new sections of this massive concrete wall that kept my friends, coworkers, and students from visiting the town where their families grew up.  I saw soldiers deny feeble, old women wanting to go to the hospital.  I saw soldiers quickly carry a man by his limbs into a tiny room at the checkpoint, while we were waved through.  I know that one of my five-year-olds was strip-searched by Israel's Defense Forces.  I heard a teacher tell the story of standing and watching her cousin get shot dead by the IDF, in front of their house.  I could go on, and on, and on, but I think you get the point.  Please understand then, if you choose to ask me "So, how was Israel?"  I might be less than positive with the answer.

Additionally, some of my least favorite interactions have been with tourists at the "holy" sites, besides the IDF of course.  I had a man stop and ask me to show him the video footage my mom wanted of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, because he didn't want me to catch him on film.  He would lose his soul.  I was rudely kicked out of a church in Capernaum, so that a tour group could have a private mass.  Again, I could go on.  Please understand that asking me just how the "holy" sites are, while interesting, will still prove to be a frustrating conversation for me.

So what can we talk about?  Ask me about Palestine.  Ask me if I was afraid living with "Arabs."  Ask me about my crazy kindergarteners.  Ask me about the amazing Palestinian food.  Ask me about blowing glass in Hebron, face-painting a bunch of children and adults with special needs, being a woman in the Middle-East, my Arabic teacher, or so much more.  I sense that if you're reading this, you probably have gotten a better sense of my life than those who haven't kept up with my blogs.  

I'm not saying all of this to be rude, but to rather prepare you for who I am now, and what that will mean for our relationship when I come home.  I'm also saying this for my own sanity.  I need to put it out there and be completely honest with myself and others that this transition home is terrifying.  

I've said several goodbyes over the last few weeks and none have really hit me like they should.  I cried when I said goodbye to the kindergarteners, but they didn't know it was really "goodbye."  Which then means, all of the grieving over those goodbyes are going to compound and hit me like a train when I step off of the airplane.  

This is the list of things that a former YAGM and current Global Mission staff member, Andrea Roske-Metcalfe, wrote in regards to understanding how to approach a YAGM re-entering the United States.  

10 Suggestions for Helping your Young Adult in Global Mission (YAGM) Return Home

1. Don’t ask the question, “So how was it?” Your YAGM cannot function in one-word answers right now, especially ones intended to sum up their entire year’s experience, and being asked to do so may cause them to start laughing or crying uncontrollably. Ask more specific questions, like “Who was your closest friend?” or “What did you do in your free time?” or “What was the food like?” or “Tell me about your typical day.”

2. If you wish to spend time with your YAGM, let them take the lead on where to go and what to do. Recognize that seemingly mundane rituals, like grocery shopping or going to the movies, may be extremely difficult for someone who has just spent a year living without a wide array of material goods. One former YAGM, for example, faced with the daunting task of choosing a tube of toothpaste from the 70-odd kinds available, simply threw up in the middle of the drugstore.

3. Expect some feelings of jealousy and resentment, especially if your YAGM lived with a host family. Relationships that form during periods of uncertainty and vulnerability (the first few months in a foreign country, for example) form quickly and deeply. The fact that your YAGM talks non-stop about their friends and family from their country of service doesn’t mean that they don’t love you, too. It simply means that they’re mourning the loss (at least in part) of the deep, meaningful, important relationships that helped them to survive and to thrive during this last year. In this regard, treat them as you would anyone else mourning a loss.

4. You may be horrified by the way your YAGM dresses; both because their clothes are old and raggedy and because they insist on wearing the same outfit three days in a row. Upon encountering their closet at home, returning YAGMs tend to experience two different emotions: (1) jubilation at the fact that they can stop rotating the same 2 pairs of jeans and 4 shirts, and (2) dismay at the amount of clothing they own, and yet clearly lived without for an entire year. Some YAGMs may deal with this by giving away entire car loads of clothing and other items to people in need. Do not “save them from themselves” by offering to drive the items to the donation center, only to hide them away in your garage. Let your YAGM do what they need to do. Once they realize, after the fact, that you do indeed need more than 2 pairs of jeans and 4 shirts to function in professional American society, offer to take them shopping. Start with the Goodwill and the Salvation Army; your YAGM may never be able to handle Macys again.

5. Asking to see photos of your YAGM’s year in service is highly recommended, providing you have an entire day off from work. Multiply the number of photos you take during a week’s vacation, multiply that by 52, and you understand the predicament. If you have an entire day, fine. If not, take a cue from number 1 above, and ask to see specific things, like photos of your YAGM’s host family, or photos from holiday celebrations. Better yet, set up a number of “photo dates,” and delve into a different section each time. Given the high percentage of people whose eyes glaze over after the first page of someone else’s photos, and the frustration that can cause for someone bursting with stories to tell, this would be an incredible gift.

6. At least half the things that come out of your YAGM’s mouth for the first few months will begin with, “In Mexico/Slovakia/South Africa/etc…” This will undoubtedly begin to annoy the crap out of you after the first few weeks. Actually saying so, however, will prove far less effective than listening and asking interested questions. Besides, you can bet that someone else will let slip exactly what you’re thinking, letting you off the hook.

7. That said, speak up when you need to! Returning YAGMs commonly assume that almost nothing has changed in your lives since they left. (This happens, in part, because you let them, figuring that their experiences are so much more exciting than yours, and therefore not sharing your own.) Be assertive enough to create the space to share what has happened in your life during the last year.

8. Recognize that living in a very simple environment with very few material belongings changes people. Don’t take it personally if your YAGM seems horrified by certain aspects of the way you live – that you shower every day, for example, or that you buy a new radio instead of duct-taping the broken one back together. Recognize that there probably are certain things you could or should change (you don’t really need to leave the water running while you brush your teeth, do you?), but also that adjusting to what may now feel incredibly extravagant will simply take awhile. Most YAGMs make permanent changes toward a simpler lifestyle. Recognize this as a good thing.

9. Perhaps you had hopes, dreams, and aspirations for your YAGM that were interrupted by their year of service. If so, you may as well throw them out the window. A large percentage of returning YAGMs make significant changes to their long-term goals and plans. Some of them have spent a year doing something they never thought they’d enjoy, only to find themselves drawn to it as a career. Others have spent a year doing exactly what they envisioned doing for the rest of their lives, only to find that they hate it. Regardless of the direction your YAGM takes when they return…rejoice! This year hasn’t changed who they are; it has simply made them better at discerning God’s call on their lives. (Note: Some YAGMs spend their year of service teaching English, some are involved in human rights advocacy, others work with the elderly or disabled, and at least one spent his year teaching British youth to shoot with bows and arrows. The results of this phenomenon, therefore, can vary widely.)

10. Go easy on yourself, and go easy on your YAGM. Understand that reverse culture shock is not an exact science, and manifests itself differently in each person. Expect good days and bad days. Don’t be afraid to ask for help (including of the pharmaceutical variety) if necessary. Pray. Laugh. Cry. This too shall pass, and in the end, you’ll both be the richer for it.

Without having actually experienced this, I can't necessarily confirm everything, but I've already joked that someone's going to find me in the fetal position in the corner of Wal-mart somewhere.  And the 70 flavors of toothpaste?  That will be me.

I guess I'm just asking for your patience and prayers.  I'm having a really hard time with this, and I don't think that I'm going to have an "easy" time with coming home until I've been home for a significant amount of time.  I'm thinking at least 6 months here, folks.

Yup.  That's about it for this blog post.  Nothing profound.  Just fear.  I guess fear is pretty profound.  

Peace and love,

Meredith

"Too many tears have flowed. Too much blood has been shed."--Obama

My last blog was written from pure emotion and frustration.  Here's the blog entry that revisits these issues in a different light, and with different emotions.  It's also an appropriate reaction to the situation.

On Wednesday, I had the greatest lunch invitation I've had here thus far.  I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but Palestinians eat their big meal of the day at around 2pm, when kids are done in school.  Many businesses close for a few hours for this mealtime.  It's also when I typically get invited to someone's home.  It can be difficult, because I usually come from school.  I'm tired and hungry, but it's time to interact with a family.  For this particular invitation, I was going with a kindergartener's family.  I know his family from school and church.  His family also speaks absolutely no English.  

I ended up staying at their house for about six hours, before they gave me a ride home.  I can't necessarily explain why it was so great, but it was.  We ate lunch, which was specially prepared for me.  His grandmother explained how happy she was that I was there, calling me "habibiti" every other word.  We ate our lunch, then visited the church cemetary.  Their family actually cares for the cemetary that serves the Lutheran churches in Jerusalem and Bethlehem.  They proudly pointed out to me anyone that I could possibly know a relative of.  We walked back to their house and had the traditional fruit and coffee.  I can't remember the order of all the events at this point, but we Skyped some of their relatives in Jordan, picked mulberries, talked about the kids, played soccer with the kids, learned about the hospital that the grandmother recently had a surgery from, looked at pictures of the different family members, etc, etc, etc.  I think my favorite part was just sitting with his grandma on the porch.  We talked about whatever we could, with my limited Arabic being the only language we had to share.  She took my hand and showed me her garden of tomatoes, facurs (some sort of squash with a bit of fur...not sure if we have an English word for them), other squash, olive trees, escadinia trees, etc.  She wants me to come visit her every day, but especially wants me to come again soon, so she can teach me how to make one of the REALLY yummy Palestinian dishes with squash stuffed with rice and seasonings.  

I think part of why this was so nice, was because I felt so comfortable.  I was just sitting on their porch, listening to the dad water the plants, watching the sun begin to lower, feeling the breeze, and munching on the pretzels she put out for us.  She taught me some new Arabic words and kept kissing my cheeks.  It was pure.  It was love.  On one hand, I want to say, "And this is why I get so fired up about this Palestinian slaughter!  Israel is a big jerk, blah blah blah."  However, this is also where I can, and prefer to say, "Okay, so, I hurt because I love these people, but look at them!"  

We didn't talk about the Occupation at all, while sitting on that porch.  We talked about the beauty of the weather, kids, vegetables, school, church, work, her family, my family, and most importantly, we shared expressions of love.  I think that's the part of the peace process that I ache for more of.  It's easy to say, "They should just figure this whole thing out and get along!"  It's not that simple by a long shot.  It's extremely complicated.  It's people and homes and opinions and history.  It's not black and white.  What can help this though?  Relationships and love.  For me, I was blessed to have this awesome afternoon with this sweet woman and her family.  They wanted to show me their home and eat with them.  They gave me love and joy and peace, on top of an amazing lunch.  I'll go on to say that I think I probably got this afternoon in part because I was so angry and sad over the Palestinian story.  

This place is so difficult to live in, both as a local and as a foreigner.  I don't know how to even sum it up to explain it when I come home.  I don't know what to piece together and say, "And this is the end of the story!"  

Another little piece of my own personal peace came recently in reading Obama's speech in Cairo to the Muslim world.  I'm not sure how well advertised or discussed his speech is, seeing as it would have been televised at 3am in the United States.  I would strongly recommend all of you to read his speech, because he's very direct in what he believes needs to happen in a variety of situations.  I was inspired and pleased that the president of my country, of our country, The United States of America, took a stance.  I am proud that he spoke against the atrocities for, essentially, everyone in the world.  Prior to writing my previous blog entry, I had been emailing my mom.  She asked if I was okay, because she heard about the men attacked near Ramallah.  I went off in my email about how it hurts so much to think about coming home, because I don't think people will care as much about the Palestinian struggle.  She kindly pointed out to me that yes, people do care, but the Palestinians are the only ones suffering.  The Air France plane incident, Darfur, Afghanistan, etc, etc.  The list goes on and on.  It's important for me to remember that there are these big issues out there, that are different from the Israeli-Palestinian horror that I live in everyday.  So, while I would encourage you to read his speech yourself, I included my favorite quotes for thoughts.  

"So long as our relationship is defined by our differences, we will empower those who sow hatred rather than peace, and who promote conflict rather than the cooperation that can help all of our people achieve justice and prosperity. This cycle of suspicion and discord must end."

"Of course, recognizing our common humanity is only the beginning of our task. Words alone cannot meet the needs of our people. These needs will be met only if we act boldly in the years ahead; and if we understand that the challenges we face are shared, and our failure to meet them will hurt us all."

"Given our interdependence, any world order that elevates one nation or group of people over another will inevitably fail. So whatever we think of the past, we must not be prisoners of it. Our problems must be dealt with through partnership; progress must be shared."

"Six million Jews were killed – more than the entire Jewish population of Israel today. Denying that fact is baseless, ignorant, and hateful. Threatening Israel with destruction – or repeating vile stereotypes about Jews – is deeply wrong, and only serves to evoke in the minds of Israelis this most painful of memories while preventing the peace that the people of this region deserve.  On the other hand, it is also undeniable that the Palestinian people – Muslims and Christians – have suffered in pursuit of a homeland. For more than sixty years they have endured the pain of dislocation. Many wait in refugee camps in the West Bank, Gaza, and neighboring lands for a life of peace and security that they have never been able to lead. They endure the daily humiliations – large and small – that come with occupation. So let there be no doubt: the situation for the Palestinian people is intolerable. America will not turn our backs on the legitimate Palestinian aspiration for dignity, opportunity, and a state of their own."

"It's a story with a simple truth: that violence is a dead end. It is a sign of neither courage nor power to shoot rockets at sleeping children, or to blow up old women on a bus. That is not how moral authority is claimed; that is how it is surrendered."

"No matter where it takes hold, government of the people and by the people sets a single standard for all who hold power: you must maintain your power through consent, not coercion; you must respect the rights of minorities, and participate with a spirit of tolerance and compromise; you must place the interests of your people and the legitimate workings of the political process above your party. Without these ingredients, elections alone do not make true democracy."

"It is easier to start wars than to end them. It is easier to blame others than to look inward; to see what is different about someone than to find the things we share. But we should choose the right path, not just the easy path. There is also one rule that lies at the heart of every religion – that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. This truth transcends nations and peoples – a belief that isn't new; that isn't black or white or brown; that isn't Christian, or Muslim or Jew. It's a belief that pulsed in the cradle of civilization, and that still beats in the heart of billions. It's a faith in other people, and it's what brought me here today."

The last thing I want to include in this is a poem my mom sent me in one of those silly email forwards (sorry, Mom).  It was one of those, "Send to 11 people" numbers that drive me mad.  The point of the email though, was to send Saint Theresa's Prayer, as in Mother Theresa.  I think it goes along with my sentiment of this day and this blog post.  

Saint Theresa's Prayer 

May today there be peace within. 

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. 

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. 

May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. 

May you be confident knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. 

It is there for each and every one of us.

I think that's about what I have for now.  It's starting to get back to that Middle Eastern heat here, so it's back to sweating a lot.   

I, like Obama and Mother Theresa, wish you God's peace.  I wish for peace of heart and mind to understand not only your innerself, but the world at large.  I pray for my own peace in this as well.  I pray this finds you all well.

Namaste,
Meredith

Broken hearted.

I know I haven't blogged in awhile, and I apologize.  I can blame this partially on being so busy and hectic that sitting down to blog was the last priority.  I can also blame this on being so totally overwhelmed by living in an apartheid, that I can't even process God or faith or politics or anything related to anything of substance.  I know we've been told not to blog when we're highly emotional, but here it is.  

**Israel handed out 28 house demolition orders for the town of Nablus, in the West Bank.  What does this mean?  It means that Israel will bulldoze 28 houses, probably while people are at work or unware, within 10 minutes.  It means that they'll do this in another country, technically.  It would be like us showing up to Puerto Penasco, Mexico, and bulldozing houses, because we want the land.  http://www.maannews.net/en/index.php?opr=ShowDetails&ID=38242

**6 Palestinian men were beat to a bloody pulp as they stepped out of their car, on their way to work, to move the rocks that illegal Israeli settlers had placed in the road.  http://www.maannews.net/en/index.php?opr=ShowDetails&ID=38222

**Report shows that 30 Palestinians have been "seized" from Bethlehem and it's surrounding villages (Beit Sahour, Beit Jalla, Deheishah, etc), in the month of May, alone.  Seized means you were essentially kidnapped from your house in the middle of the night, or by force some other way.  

**The United Nations just sent a team of officials into Gaza to research whether or not there were war crimes during Project Lead (the war in Gaza in January).  1,400 Palestinians killed during a three-week assault.  Phosphorous was used.  Bombing schools was used.  Any cruelty you can name was used.  War crimes?  I surely hope that's an affirmative.

I'll refrain from continuing, because this probably not my most eloquently written blog, nor is it fair to connect this particular blog entry to the the church and my work here.  I must be honest and say though, when this is just a tiny sampling of the daily news stories, that I am frustrated.  I don't know where to tell you God is in all of this war and hatred.  How can I explain that Christ's love is abounding, when I know that every day, in my town and my neighboring towns, children get harrassed walking to school, adults get kidnapped, families fall to desperation, and people die.  This is not the Holy Land.  This is not God's land.  This is the work of men and of evil.  I cannot possibly tell you, in all of this pain and chaos, where I see God right now.  

I apologize if this isn't the light-hearted blog post about the cool "Jesus sites" or about my travel adventures.  This is the truth.  We can try to ignore it and push it out of our minds, but it is still there.  It is always there.  The loss of lives and the loss of quality of life is a constant in Palestine.  The variable is just the amount per day per village per family.  

I pray for all of you.  I pray that you may critically analyze not only Israel, Palestine, Hamas, Fattah, Israeli government, IDF soldiers, PNA soldiers, citizens, haters, and lovers, but critically analyze yourselves.  Where are we in all of this?  Have we contributed to this problem?  Have you contributed to the Occupation Wall that segregates families from being together or from picking olives?  Have I contributed to the children that get rocks thrown at them?  Have I contributed to men being brutally beaten?  Have I created war?  Worse yet, have I allowed all of this to continue, while remain placidly content in my comfortable American lifestyle?  How does all of this connect to our relationship with Mexico?  Or, any other country in the world, for that matter?  

I will end here before I further alienate any of my friends, family, and other people, who are reading this ranting blog entry.  This was written purely from sadness and rage at the immediate moment of reading the news articles that I've been avoiding for a few weeks, so I could live without feeling helplessly miserable for a bit.  

-Meredith