Sometimes the song carries the experience.

You're Not Alone.

Our Family History

it was the green tupperware

   olive container

she missed the most

silly, maybe

                                            it was tall, square

   a strong proud green

   with a sieve at the bottom

   you could pull up slowly

   with the black oblong olives

   sitting happily on top

   draining the Mediterranean

   robust marinade of

   pure olive oil

it was almost a ritual

going to the market

scooping up a plastic bagful

of the trees' ripe fruit

bringing it home, then

after filling the tupperware

pouring the oil over top

the lid firmly pressed

   shut

(c) maria L. 5.27.11

Amreeka

I watched Amreeka today, a movie by National Geographic about a mother and her son who relocate from Palestine to Illinois and the challenges they face. Based on the director's personal experience of growing up in rural America, she includes her confusion at not having a home country, the prejudice that they faced in every day life, and the adjustments that needed to be made to adapt to a new culture.

The sights, the sounds, all brought me back to familiar memories. I caught words here and there that I could understand, and I could almost smell the dust in the air and feel the hot summer sun beating down. In an instant, I was there, a part of the moment, and I understood the dynamics of the conversations, the home furnishings, and why they kissed each other on the cheeks to say hello and goodbye. The young boy chewing on a cucumber, the men dancing in the Middle Eastern restaurant, the french fries and falafel sandwiches, and the checkpoints with armed soldiers all made sense to me.

From the movie's website, the director says, “My parents immigrated to the U.S. right before I was born.  I was born in Omaha, Nebraska, and grew up in rural Ohio and Jordan.  When people ask me where I’m from, it’s always a confusing question,” Dabis explains.  “For most of my life I felt like I wasn’t American enough for the Americans, nor was I Arab enough for the Arabs.  And as a Palestinian, I inherited my father’s quandary in not having a nation or a national identity, which only exacerbated my sense of not belonging anywhere.  My own desire for a place to call home, a place where I belonged, was always a very big part of my identity.” www.amreeka.com/html/pn.html

Sometimes I sit and think about who I used to be. It isn't often, because part of the reality of being an MK means that you learn quickly how to move on and adapt to the new culture to the point that you are easily recognizable as being a local. I have fooled many of my peers, teachers, and acquaintances into thinking that I was American over the past twelve years. And while it was easy enough to do, as I learned to say "wahter" and "toematoe", to give the traditional "How are you? Fine, Thank you" greeting, found my way around giant supermarkets, and dressed like everyone else, deep inside there was always a piece of me that refused to  change.

The MK must also learn to forget. If you try to bring your previous culture into the new host culture, you will soon find that no one is interested in who you were before. While you try to syncretize the two into something that makes sense, you soon realize that it will not work. The hidden immigrant must remain hidden, for if you determine to hold to your previous culture, you will never be fully accepted into your new host culture. So you forget who you used to be and learn how to be someone different, someone who fits in. 

I spent almost 5 years in West Africa, and 9 in the Middle East before I turned 18. Those 14 years made me who I am today, even though it often seems to have been buried so deep no one can see it anymore. Every now and then, a flicker of memory will surface and startle me. I will wonder where it came from, and I won't be sure if I can even understand why it was there. But I will remember. . .

Spinning Around

It was a bit of a rough end to the day, this afternoon at work. While most of the day went rather smoothly, as I learned how to operate a centrifuge and busied myself with charts and phone calls, by the time it started winding down, I was ready to go home. Except I couldn't go home. There was a rather large lab waiting to be picked up and I thought it would be best if I stayed till the lab guy showed up, usually around 6 pm or so. I wasn't too pleased at the thought, however, because I was tired and hungry.

Even though I didn't know it, God was working things out for me. He sent a friend to talk for some time, so I was distracted from thinking about waiting and wanting to go home. When she left, it was almost 6 and I had just sat down at the front counter when one of the doctors walked in. He told me there had been a change to the schedule for the next day, and while I was thankful to know then rather than the next morning, it meant I had to spend some additional time redoing the schedule. I turned to the computer and began to try to figure out how to make everything fit in a very tight time slot.

Then the phone rang. It was after 6 now, and normally I wouldn't answer the phone, but a glance at the caller ID let me know that it was one of my coworkers. I picked up the phone and a few minutes later, with a great sigh of relief, I hung up. There had been yet another change to the schedule, but this change meant that my original change would work just perfectly and I wouldn't need to sit and move things about. The lab guy had come and gone, and I could go home.

As I turned off lights, locked doors, and prepared to go home for the evening, I thought about how each of the small events in the past hour had worked out just perfectly so that I could go home with all my work done. I was grateful that I wouldn't be faced with a mixed up schedule the next morning and wouldn't have to scramble to get it sorted out in the few minutes I would have had. I knew it was all because God was looking out for me, and for that I am most thankful.

One Sweet Day

They came in through the front door, busily talking amongst themselves in French. I smiled, handed them the forms to fill out, and pointed where to write their names. One man was writing his date of birth down when he realized that the American way was different, so I took a pen and corrected it for him. They didn't know I understood every single word they said, as they discussed whether to stay for the exam or go to town. They didn't know that replies to their questions were on the tip of my tongue as I tried to revive rusty wheels that barely squeaked, but still moved with the language of my childhood. As they sat in the small waiting room, I inhaled the strong scent of their perfume. Mingled with the familiar sounds, it carried me back over twelve years to even stronger memories.  

Maybe you never really say goodbye for good. . .

He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy. ~Zeph 3:17

Have you ever tried to sit still and be truly silent? I tried it the other day and it was really difficult! I'm not sure if it's because I'm a sanguine, or because I'm constantly talking, but here's a look at the thoughts running through my head.

"Okay, I want to be silent now, so I can listen for God's voice. I need to stop thinking. Why am I always thinking? Why is my mind always going a million miles a minute and I'm analyzing and deciding and planning ahead and wondering and figuring things out? Okay, I need to stop thinking. . .I wonder what time it is. I wonder how long I've been sitting here. I should have looked at my watch, but this is ridiculous, because it's not about the length of time, but about focusing on God. I need to focus. . .I wonder if I should turn the heater off? Oh, I need to buy more Braggs, we are out of Braggs, and let's see what else I need, oh yes, I need to make a return to Walmart and buy a pair of good walking shoes. Stop Thinking!. . .Maybe I should drink a glass of water now. I wonder when I should eat my breakfast. I really am feeling sleepy as well. Why is it so hard to be silent? I really need to stop thinking. . .I can't stop thinking!"

It took me a good while to stop the frantic pace of thoughts running around the treadmill of my mind and come to a sense of calmness. When I did, I began to think about the value of spending time with God. Now I am a social person and I enjoy spending time with my family and friends. I am also a talker, so often their patience is tried as they get to listen to me talking a lot. I do listen too, though! But one thing I constantly need is that connection with the people who are close to me. I want to talk, to do things, to share experiences, and just to be around them. Isn't it the same with God?

I wonder if God looks forward to the time that we specifically set aside for Him in our day? I wonder if He is excited when we stop to thank Him for an unexpected blessing, or to ask for His guidance in some matter? I wonder if He is eager for us to see all the special ways He is reaching out to say He loves us, through unique gifts that only we understand and fully appreciate because He knows our hearts?

Somehow I think God is even more excited about connecting with me than I am when I connect with others. Now that is a thought almost too amazing to think. . .

Indescribable

I may have mentioned this before, but one of my strongest desires in life is to understand Who God is and how He views me. There are many ways I catch glimpses of Him and when I do, it just amazes me. It may be through a song, a friend's encouraging words, the beauty of huge snowflakes thickly falling, or someone's kind actions, but every time God speaks, I lean in close to listen.

This morning I caught another glimpse and then I thought, isn't that just how God is? Eagerly waiting, like a little child on the edge of their seat who can hardly sit still, waiting for us to realize He is right there? Isn't He exploding with love for us, excited to show us how much He cares? I'm learning that God is overflowing with blessings and good things for us, not because we deserve it, but because He wants to give us joy. I'm learning that God is a steady Rock in the difficult times, and while He may not keep us from tears, He will hold us through the grief. I'm learning that God is an amazing listener and when we are silent, He speaks comfort, peace and hope to our hearts. I'm learning that God is only good because He is love.

"How precious to me are Your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!" ~Psalm 139:17