A life worth living

I just finished reading a book that I recommend to everyone. Because of my time at Mars Hill, being a part of the community there, and my years spent in Grand Rapids, I was aware of the events recorded in this book as they took place. Although I am not an acquaintance of the author, the story holds a dear place in my heart. It's a story of adventure, of destiny, of fulfillment, of tragedy, of faith, and of doubt. It's a story about life, about the life we were meant to live.
Below is a passage from the book that expresses just many of the thoughts I've been pondering recently. As I prepare to end my time in Israel and return home, I wonder what the next step in my journey will look like. What is in store for me? I still long for adventure and a journey on a road less traveled. Yet healing needs to take place first. My current journey has been exhausting yet I cannot imagine living "comfortably" after living in a place like this. I have been changed. I only hope that the next step will take me to a place where I am fulfilling the life I was created to live.
Take to heart the words below...

"There are things in this life that are far worse than death. A grave awaits each of us, and in the grand scheme of things, is being alive for eighty years really any longer than eighteen years? Our life is just a breath, whether we die old and gray or young and vibrant. When death comes for us, it will not matter how many years we managed to preserve our existence but rather what we did with the short time we were given on this earth.
The most horrible and terrifying thing that I can imagine isn’t that I would put all that I am on the line for a cause I believe in and then be called on it. The most horrible and terrifying thing is the thought that I could spend my whole existence minimizing the risks I take, living ignorantly convinced of my safety, rejecting the purpose I was created for, and then someday wake up an old man and see that my life has passed before me, and now with death knocking on my door realize that in all my years I have never truly lived.
We each have a destiny, a legend that only we can live. To embrace it is scary and dangerous, and most choose not to. Most put it off until tomorrow, until after high school, until after college, until after establishing a financial base. Can’t they see? We only get one shot at this life. Tomorrow may never come. The time is now! Not to drop everything and move to Africa, but to find the passion that is inside us and embrace it, to listen to its subtle whispers…" ~Erik Mirandette. The Only Road North

Article from Jerusalem Post on VA Tech Shooting

This article was written for the Jerusalem Post by an Israeli. It has an interesting perspective on the events and in many ways expresses how I have come to see this situation after living in a country that deals with tragedy on such a regular basis. So I thought I would share it with all of you. The part that I found interesting was the different views of democracy between Americans and Israelis. In many ways, I think the author got it right. Enjoy the read.

Jerusalem Post

Apr. 19, 2007 23:34 | Updated Apr. 20, 2007 17:28
Va. Tech shooting: Defense mechanisms
By HILARY LEILA KRIEGER
WASHINGTON

When Anat Elazari got to the Virginia Tech campus Monday, she vaguely noted extra cops milling around the dormitory next to the building she was heading toward. She didn't dwell on them, since she often saw officers at the university. As she approached the door, she noticed in a perfunctory way that no students were on the road around her, or indeed outside at all. That also didn't give her pause; she chalked it up to the unseasonable cold and snow.

And so it happened that the 24-year-old engineering graduate student spent the entire morning within 300 meters of a bloodbath that claimed the lives of 33 of her classmates and professors. With nothing to rely on but nebulous rumors of an incident on campus, Elazari remained oblivious until she went home and saw the chilling news account.

Once she found out the extent of the atrocity, she felt many emotions, shock and sadness high among them. But not fear.

"You'd think it would be scary," the Tiberias native, who has been studying at Virginia Tech for nearly five years, reasoned. "But growing up in Israel, I've been next to terror attacks. That stuff happens. As soon as you figure out that everyone you know is okay, you move on with your life."

She added, "For a lot of the Americans here, this is the first time they experienced something like that, so it's a lot harder."

As it turned out, there was another Israeli at Virginia Tech Monday who was even more intimately connected to the tragedy than Elazari.

Liviu Librescu survived the Holocaust only to suffer under the communist regime of his native Romania. In 1978, he succeeded in bringing his family to Israel, where he could have more academic freedom. He went to Virginia Tech for a sabbatical in 1986 and ended up staying on at the university, where he taught aeronautical engineering.

On Monday, when he understood that a murderer with a gun was coming toward his classroom, he kept the door shut with his own body so that his students could escape out the window. In doing so, Librescu was shot and killed.

Upon hearing the story of what Librescu did, "the first thing that occurred to me about it, besides the tragedy of it, is how his heroism was informed by his experience as an Israeli," remarked William Daroff, director of the Washington office of the United Jewish Communities. "He clearly had thought about terrorism as an Israeli and, with a split second to respond after hearing a gunshot, went into autopilot, barricaded the door with his body and gave his students time to flee. Being an Israeli, having that mentality of how to deal with this sort of crisis comes more naturally."

IF THE reaction of two Israelis caught up in the Virginia massacre was different from that of their American peers, how much the more so for the nation. The examples of Elazari and Librescu suggest the ways in which the responses in America and Israel would diverge, both in terms of coping with the emotion unleashed by the event and dealing with the security risks it exposed.

When it came to the latter after the 2002 bombing at Hebrew University, the actions of the Israeli authorities were swift and comprehensive. The school effectively shut out the general public, sealing off the porous campus perimeter, beefing up the number of guards monitoring entrances and refusing to allow non-university ID holders on campus without a pre-arranged sponsor.

Such hands-on security methods are unlikely to be implemented at American campuses, which, for one thing, are simply too big. Size is one of America's defining elements, and the expanse of college campuses is no exception. The grounds of Virginia Tech, for example, span more than 10,500 dunams. The Hebrew University had to bolster the fence surrounding the campus; in America there are no fences.

“What are we going to do, put up a security fence? It's going to be like keeping out immigrants?" Brandeis Prof. Jacob Cohen asked facetiously.

Cohen teaches in the American Studies department and has for many years given a course on violence in America.

He suggested that new types of security measures which scrutinize students, such as monitoring e-mail exchanges and sharing information on their behavior, might be more likely. But even there, he said, "there'll be tremendous resistance on free speech grounds and among civil liberties groups."

Reflecting on the leftist tendencies of American college faculty, Cohen decided, authorities wouldn't even try it.

And anyway, he said, imposing strict security measures on college campuses goes against the American spirit: "It doesn't mesh with the concept of learning and transparency and freedom."

IN ISRAEL, there's no such spirit.

"If you ask any kid in America, they will tell you what the First Amendment is, the Bill of Rights. It's really deep. It's under the skin of Americans," said Uri Dromi, the head of international outreach at the Israel Democracy Institute, who points out that Israel doesn't even have a constitution.

In the Jewish state, he said, "The question of civil liberties is always in the shadow of security."

Israelis ask, "If you don't exist, what's the [point] of having civil rights?" he noted. "The first right is the right to live, and this is what Israelis get in the milk of their mothers. There's security and then, thank God, there's democracy. People in America value democracy first."

While the debate rages in America about the balance between these poles, Israel has already come out with a balance, said Dromi, who's seen some of that debate up close in the last few days. He arrived in America on Tuesday to hold a conference titled, appropriately enough, "Democracies Fighting Terror: What Can Israel and the United States Learn from Each Other's Experience?"

Dromi has been struck by the intensity of Americans' reaction to the Virginia Tech shooting.

"The big difference is that for them it looks out of the blue. For us, it's a sad way of life," he said, referring to the "routine of terror" that Israelis have gotten used to. "Once they have this kind of basic preparedness in the back of their minds, if this happens, people don't fall off their feet, [thinking] that something unthinkable has happened, which is the feeling that people have here today."

The shock of the event has exposed a certain naivety on the part of Americans, he continued - the eternal question of why anyone would want to hurt them. It is the same question, whether the attack is the work of an Islamic extremist or a disturbed student railing against his surroundings.

"Israelis are more resigned to the fact that the world is a terrible place, and terrible things happen, and you learn how to cope and protect yourself," he said, pointing to ubiquitous guards at restaurants and cafes as one sign of this protection. "In a way, it [the security] is always this reminder that terrorism is there, that bad guys are trying to harm you. Therefore, when it happens, it doesn't come as such a [shock]."

Yet there is at least one response to the tragedy that is shared between the nations: reading Ecclesiastes. And nothing underscores that better than the way in which the selection was recited at Tuesday's memorial service, held in the very building where Elazari spent Monday morning. The next day, filled with 10,000 Virginia Tech students, staff and community members, Elazari recited Ecclesiastes in Hebrew, as the campus's American Hillel director read the English translation.

"To everything there is a season and time to every purpose under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die," she said. "A time to mourn and a time to dance."

No one deserves a tragedy

I realize it has been a ridiculously long time since my last blog post. I am due for an update and hope to do that soon. However, this entry I want to reflect a bit and leave an update for another time.
The events of the past week in Blacksburg, VA at Virginia Tech have really gripped my soul as I imagine they have for most of the U.S. It's often difficult for me, because I live in such a completely different world, to relate and fully understand the tragedy the community is going through as I feel so far removed from it all. This contretemps is not the first to strike American schools, and unfortunately will not be the last. I remember when I began studying at my current university. The process of entering campus requires extra time. It's become routine after two years, so I no longer mind showing my student ID card and having my bags checked at security and passing through a metal detector. I know which items not to carry in my pockets and which shoes will inevitably cause the alarm to sound. As this process has become habit, it no longer phases me. It's not really an inconvenience any longer; and this past week, I actually found the process to be a blessing.
I don't worry about security at school, or in the dorms where I live, because I pass by security guards at both points. Granted, we have all found ways to bypass these security measures, mostly out of laziness... but nonetheless, I know they are there for my protection. But I live in the Middle East...that region of the world that people shudder from when its uttered. I understand, the ME gets a bad rap... but seriously, is it any worse than anywhere else? Maybe I just feel safe because the country I'm in is constantly being watched, so random gunmen don't take their anger and damaged souls out on the innocent.
It seems so surreal that this misfortune has happened in the U.S., that maybe now school campuses everywhere should have security like mine does. Really no one is immune, as much as we Americans would often like to believe we are. But at the end of the day, security doesn't really phase me any more. As many of the students have found here, the security is often just for looks, there are ways to bypass it. It's a false sense of security...
So how does this fit into other situations? For the future of the students at VA Tech? I'm not really sure. Will they ever feel "safe" again? Are metal detectors and security guards with guns really the solution? Was there really a "right" way to prevent this catastrophe?

I read an article recently by Jim Wallace from Sojourners Magazine. In his article Jim quoted a speech given by Nikki Giovanni, a professor and poet. She said in a convocation given Tuesday at the university,
"We are sad today, and we will be sad for quite a while. We are not moving on, we are embracing our mourning. ... We do not understand this tragedy. We know we did nothing to deserve it, but neither does a child in Africa dying of AIDS, neither do the invisible children walking the night away to avoid being captured by the rogue army, neither does the baby elephant watching his community being devastated for ivory, neither does the Mexican child looking for fresh water, neither does the Appalachian infant killed in the middle of the night in his crib in the home his father built with his own hands being run over by a boulder because the land was destabilized. No one deserves a tragedy."
On the very same day, I sat in class and had a professor make an off joke about the situation in VA. Another student called him on it and said that he was inappropriate and out of line. The professor then posed the question, "Why exactly is it that these school shootings occur all the time in the US?...(he himself not being and American). What's with all of these kids getting guns and shooting people?"
To which I reply, but what about the kids with guns in Sudan, and in the Congo, Liberia, and frankly countries all around the world, not just in Africa? People are dying everywhere from guns, but is that really the problem? It just happens that genocides and robberies on the streets, murders of all sorts don't make the news, but this stuff does. It's odd that this statement would come from someone living in Jerusalem. I suppose I could ask, well why do people get on buses here and blow themselves up? Why do I have to be skiddish when I ride buses? Why is there a wall separating families and people from jobs? There is tragedy in all of our societies. Sin seems to reach beyond the personal, in to the social into systemic sins that plague our world. These are tragedies. And as Professor Giovanni said so beautifully, "no one deserves a tragedy."
So my heart goes out to the young boy, who was so angry and lost, so depleted of love, compassion, a community, friends, that this devastation was the outcome. I don't think this is really a time for blame on any one individual...not on parents, not on teachers, not on the boy himself. It's a time for mourning. But it's also a time for reflection. How as a society, as religious, non-religious, as political, non-political, as educators, as individuals, do we prevent such a tragedy in the future?
I won't pretend to have any answers, but writing provokes me to ponder these same questions in search of a solution, or at least is a prompting down a path which may end in a solution. I really hate to be depressing, but sometimes our tragic world calls for times of reflection, times when we ask ourselves how we as inhabitants of this earth are either contributing to the problems, or how we are part of the cause seeking a cure. Blessings my friends, and I pray we will all find ourselves and the side of the cause, daily bringing about heaven on this earth.

"Toot"

Okay, it's late and I need to get to sleep because I have an early class tomorrow morning, but this post just couldn't wait. So many odd things happen to me here, and I often overlook them and categorize them in the file entitled "living in Israel." But this seriously takes the cake.
Tonight, I was in my bathroom, I know, I know, you're thinking, Linds, we don't want to hear about this....too much information. Well, I'll skip the gory details. So the toilet paper roll in our bathroom had reached it's end and as I reached for it to dispose of the old cardboard roll, I noticed a sweet aroma, something that reminded me of cotton candy, or something of the likings. And I thought to myself, " Self, this is odd, what on earth is that smell?" "What did I eat for dinner...." "No, that couldn't be it..." So I looked down at the big pack of 48 rolls of TP which I purchased on sale the other day. Lo and behold, on the package there is a picture of a Strawberry, or "Toot" as it is called in Hebrew....a coincidence I think not! To my surprise, in Hebrew letters, plain as day, is the word "Nicho'ach" which means fragrance, and then the word "toot" or strawberry. Now I knew Israeli's were creative, and frankly the Jewish people have proven to be one of the smartest in the world....but seriously, Strawberry fragrant toilet paper!!!!! What is this world coming to????!!

Frankly, I'm not sure what else I can say. It sure makes blowing my noise much more pleasureable. But I'm not sure what else this fragrance is for.... any suggestions? My roommate Keleigh is a bit worried. She says there are too many associations with smell and having strawberries in the bathroom is just going to ruin them for the rest of our lives....

Post office scare

So I never write about these things, but this is just one example of the craziness that I often email or talk about. I'm sort of used to weird things happening to me, so my story will seem normal to me. However, I'm always a bit surprised about how I react to events such as these. What do you all think?

So a few days ago, I heard a knock on my front door at about 8:30 in the morning. Seeing how I wasn't expecting anyone, and was admittedly still in my pajamas, I didn't answer the door. When I left later that morning I discovered a notice for a package that someone had tried to deliver. Normally I pick up my packages by hand and the post office down the street. So I sort of disregarded the message and figured I'd pick up the package when it was convenient. So this morning, I walked down to the Post Office and while I was there, a black folder/carrying case was left at the counter of one of the stations. The office clerk panicked and raced to find the manager. The manager came out and asked everyone standing in the room (not a very big room, and it was fairly crowded) if the item was theirs. Everyone answered no and she got a panicked look on her face. I watched the people around me and most of them were quite calm, not really thinking anything of it. However, three ladies that work at the Post Office were getting as far away from the case as possible, and no one would touch it. There is a security guard standing about 2 meters outside of the Post Office but no one went to get him. He has a magic black wand that he waves over every person who walks through the door to see if he/she is "packing heat" of some sort. And frankly, most people are. I've never seen so many guns as I do here. But because everyone serves in the Army, I don't really think much of it because they all know how to use their weapons safely.

Back to my story, after a couple of minutes of panic, a walked into the office and said, that it was hers, that he had left it here by accident. I sort of figured this would be the case. But I was surprised at myself for not panicking more. I mean, it could have very well been a bomb. And all of the spectators/customers just stood there and watched as the office workers went bazerk.

I just find it odd, that I even have to wonder if there is a bomb or some sort of harmful package when I walk into a Post Office. Yet as I have seen today and on many other occasions, asking this question doesn't really phase most Israelis. They are just sort of used to it. No one moved out of the office, in fear of losing his/her place in line. (Which in itself is a miracle because most Israelis don't use lines. There is more of a survival of the fittest mentality.)

So, everything was fine, although I didn't end up getting my package...grrr. Apparently I was supposed to call the number on the notice, like 4 days ago. Whoops. This in itself will be a new adventure for me, because when I called the number, my Hebrew still stinks, and I only understood half of what they told me on the phone. So...another adventure waits me as I search for my MIA package.

Back in the land

I returned last week to this place I now call home. It was quite surreal as I rode in the Sherrut from Tel Aviv back to Jerusalem. The sun was setting, a beautiful sunset, and the moon had began its assent across the sky. Two full orbs, circling around me, the same two orbs that greeted me in Idaho, and I suddenly felt so small and insignificant. It was the first time I had been in the land since the war began. A war which is currently over, although many think the peace will not last very long. I saw smoke in the distance, a blackness rising above the horizon, and I wondered if this was just a fire, fairly common around here, or the remains of a rocket, like the ones so common up north. Its a weird feeling to wonder if you are looking at the devastation of war. Somehow I feel like the people of Lebanon and Israel are used to asking themselves if they are peering at the remains of war, but I can't imagine that one ever gets accustomed to seeing such sites.

I've been telling people that things in Jerusalem are fine, and they are. Jerusalem seems like the center of the world sometimes, yet in reality, nothing seems to ever happens here. In the 15 months that I've been living here, there haven't been any bombings, or major attacks. Instead, they've been in Ramallah, Gaza, Tel Aviv, Haifa, and so many of the little towns up north. Yet Jerusalem in all its craziness remains "quiet."

My return to the country came just after a quick visit to New York City where I visited my dear friend Kara. She showed me around Queens, and we delved into the diversity of the region by eating different ethnic foods every night. I also really enjoyed talking with an employee of Blockbuster who could read my Israeli blockbuster card in Hebrew and still let us rent videos on it. Now I knew Queens was a melting pot of people from all over, but this totally threw me off. This guy looked to be of African American origin, and spoke perfect English, yet apparently knew Hebrew. What a treat!

Kara and her friend Lenny took me to my first major league...anything! We saw the New York Mets kill the Philadelphia Phillies 8-1. I ate a hot dog, sang, "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," and I even saw a grand slam! above: at the Mets game

The church Kara works at is also amazing. It's called New Life Fellowship. The congregation has over 60 different nationalities! Kara and I were two of the very few white faces around. G-d has been showing me the beauty of diversity over the past few years and being at New Life was another treat. Kara describes the diversity here as not just countries, skin color, and languages, but also ideas, religions, and cultures. For me, it was a blessing to see a snapshot of G-d's kingdom full of different nationalities and languages yet a common love and faith.
Kara, Lenny and I also went to the beach which was my first time in the Atlantic. It was fun but very cold and rough compared to the tranquil waters of the Mediterranean that I am used to. Kara and I at the beach.

So, back in Israel I am working on papers all summer. I had planned to take a Hebrew class but it was just too much work for me on top of my papers. So far, I have one down and four to go....The road seems long.

Well, I'll end this post with a picture of the family. While I was home we had a chance to do some hiking in Idaho (one of my favorite things to do!) I hope you all enjoy your summer. My goal is to update this more often. So stay in touch. Blessings and Shalom.

This post is long overdue. (Like most of my papers here.) However, since Easter is my most favorite holiday, I felt it was necessary to update you all on my holiday festivities. In J-town there are lots of festive events to attend during "holy week." Its tradition to participate in a huge procession down the Mt. of Olives on Palm Sunday, waving palm branches and getting ripped off by the locals to purchase one for way too much money... or to walk along the Via Dolarosa on Good Friday morning with groups from all over the world carrying crosses along the way. However this year, I decided to do neither; one because I forgot it was Palm Sunday until the procession was over, and two, its sort of crazy with all of the people there...a "belagon" as Israeli's say, and not particularly a "holy" experience for me. But I participated two years ago and for some, these events are crucial elemtents of a proper "pilgrimage" to the land. I did however get my body out of bed on Easter morning, at 4:30 so that I could trek up the Mount of Olives for a sunrise service overlooking Bethlehem and the small Arab villages just to the east of Jerusalem. The service was really lovely, conducted by the local Lutheran congregation from the Church of the Redeemer.
After having breakfast on top of the mountain, I decided to hit up the Resurrection Service at the Garden Tomb. This is the place the Protestant churches here support as being the site of the resurrection...although a Protestant, I must admit it's not where I believe the miraculous events took place, but I'll give them credit that there's a beautiful garden there. And look, it is indeed EMPTY! This photo was when the pastor said, "He is risen" and everyone responds with "He is risen indeed!" I'm a cheeze ball, but that's my favorite part!
Following the service my roommates and I had friends over for Easter dinner and we even had a cake decorated like an Easter Egg...just to keep the ole commercialized part of the holiday alive. No bunny visited our house this year :( And I unfortunately did not get to blow up any Peeps in the microwave (cuz we don't have one) this year. It's a tradition of mine that will have to wait until next year, when the billowy creatures of sugar and and fluff come out of their hiding places to once again decorate the shelves of the grocery stores. Ooohh how I love Easter.

I should have clarified before, but these previously mentioned events were of the "western" Easter that I participated in. The following week was the Orthodox Easter (they have a different calendar). And because I'm taking a class this semester on the Eastern Orthodox churches, I wanted to participate in their events as well. I was fortunate enough to make a new friend over the week, Father Goosan. He is a father for the local Armenian church, and I was fortunate to visit with him a couple of times. He invited me and a few of my friends to attend a beautful service on Maundy Thursday that was called a "Footwashing service." I wish I would have brought my camera along because it was one of the most beautiful services I have seen. There were many dignitaries present from the Orthodox churches and I believe a Catholic Cardinal was also in attendance. The service had beautiful music and insense to set the solomn mood. But my favorite part was when the Armenian Patriarch, dressed in his elaborate clothing and looking like a king, bowed down before the many bishops present, and humbly washed their feet. I love that a man, dressed in all his glory, with all his respect, would reenact the beautiful humility that Jesus himself displayed, when he, the king of the universe, God, bowed before a bunch of Jewish kids, and wash the dust off their dirty feet...

This beautiful service with the Armenians was only the beginning of many other processions, services, and worship-filled moments to follow in the next few days. I was fortunate enough to receive three tickets from my Armenian friend, Father Goosan, so that my friends who had never attended the Holy Fire ceremony could witness this beautiful event. Unfortunately for them, the crowd was so unbelievably big and insane this year, that they were blocked off by soldiers and security gaurds a few hundred meters from the Holy Seplucure and unable to attend. I was fortunate enough to catch the Ethiopian version of the Holy Fire ceremony which took place on that Saturday evening on the roof of the Holy Seplucure. I love the ceremony because it selfishly gives me a chance to take some great pictures and I happen to think that the Ethiopian community is one of the most beautiful peoples I have ever seen. (pic of Via Dolarosa on Good Friday)
So, I guess that pretty much wraps up my Easter holiday. Perhaps next year I will be able to participate in other unique events. I still want to catch the Samaritan sacrifice that happens on Good Friday on Mt. Gerazim. A friend of mine attended and said it as amazing....bloody, but amazing. As our Jewish friends say, "next year in Jerusalem!"

So the craziest thing happened to me in the last 24 hours. Last night at 11:45, when I was "googling" old friends from college, reading up on their public information on the web, I got a call from my sister. Now normally, I'm in bed like two hours before this call, but I happened to be up. My sister relays a message to me, that my former college, (yeah Calvin!) got an email that my passport was missing. Now my first repsonse was, this is obsurd, someone is playing a joke. How could I have gotten back into Israel without my passport? So I start searching my bookshelf where my passport should be, and to my extreme shock, it wasn't there. I didn't even know it was missing, nor do I know for how long. So panic sets in, and I get information to call Michigan and track down my missing passport. A very nice girl Susan informs me that she received a mysterious email about someone "googling" my name and seeing a small paragraph about me on my former college's website. So he emailed them to see if anyone knew how to track me down. So this lovely young girl gives me the information from this mysterious email, and sure enough, the contact info is from Israel. So, I email the two different names and addresses from the email, and rest peacefully, hoping my passport shows up soon.

This morning, I telephoned the number from the email, and luckily, the guy on the other end of the line speaks English (the Hebrew's still not great for situations like this). He happens to be an American, who lives in my neighborhood. We arrange to meet, and I am super excited to see my passport back safely in my hands. The crazy thing is that when I asked him where he found the passport, he said he didn't. Someone from his synagogue found it, and didn't speak English, so he passed it on to Shmuel (the hero of the story) to figure out what to do with it. Shmuel, after trying numerous times to contact the US consulate and embassy, with no repsonse (boy that makes me feel safe) decided to post a notice on JANGLO, a website for "anglos" in Jerusalem, that he found a lost passport. He laughed and said he had like 4 reponses from people who told him to contact the consulate...well duh. Apparently the notice had my full name on it, and someone...an unknown Philip, "googled" my name and he is the one who found the paragraph about me on the web. I still have no idea who this unknown Philip is, or why in the world he "googled" my name and emailed my college. This story just kept getting crazier and crazier. I can't believe how many hands my passport passed through, or my name from computer to computer, or phone call to phone call. So...with great joy, I can report that my passpsort is where it should be, and just in time.

Tomorrow I have a field trip to Jericho in the West Bank and I need my passport to cross at the border check point. I can just picture what would have happended if I hadn't gotten my passport back...me, searching frantically, followed by a mental breakdown and lots of crying; and roommates pissed off that I'm making them late...it would have been a disaster. And, I'm thinking about traveling in a couple weeks for Pesach. What if I would have purchased a $500 plane ticket to Ethiopia and then couldn't leave because I lost my passport and would have been out tons of money and severely disappointed...or what if some terrorist found my passport and altered it to sneak into the US and the next September 11th occured? Or what if someone tried to hold my passport hostage and demand a ransom? Or..maybe I'm watching too many movies, but seriously, this is Israel. Nothing goes smoothely. How the heck did I get so lucky? I guess someone pretty amazing is looking out for me. Baruch HaShem!

So, I conclude this way too long post with a word of thanksgiving. Just when I thought this place couldn't get any crazier, I'm reminded that there are amazing people here, and I'm grateful that I got a little taste of heaven encountering some of them. Thanks Shmuel, thanks mystery Philip, thanks Susan at Calvin College, and thanks Sis for the late night phone call that saved the day!

what do you think....do we look anything like the spice girls?

Happy St. Patrick's day to all of you who celebrate, and to my fellow Irishman, isn't it great to be green? Well, it's official, JPOST, the local newspaper reported today that the Bird Flu has hit "the Holy Land." I guess all this "holiness" just couldn't save the birds. Two bird farms have been found with the disease and possibly more on the way. I guess if it's not one thing here, violence, war, racial conflict, religious conflict, why not add bird flu to the mix?

On a lighter note, this past week we celebrated Purim. It's a great Jewish holiday that celebrates the saving of the Jewish race during the time of Nebucadnezzer. Haddassah, or Esther as she is often known as, was able to save her people from mass genocide. Purim comes from the Hebrew word Pur, which is a lot...like the casting of lots... The evil Haman cast a lot to decide which day the Jews would be killed. However, in the end, it was him who faced the unfortunate "lot." On the 14th and 15th of March, Jews attend synagogue and hear the reading of the book of Esther and dess up in costumes. I've heard different reasons for the costumes: 1 because if they dress up, then they are unrecognizable as Jews and hide their identity as Queen Esther initially did, which kept her safe. or 2) the name of G-d is not mentioned in the book of Esther at all, and I believe is the only book in the Bible that does not mention him. Jewish midrash speaks of the "hester pan'im" the hiding of G-d's face, only visible between the lines of the text, but not specifically mentioned. Therefore, just as G-d hides his face, so do the Jews during their celebration.

For some people, this holiday is just a good excuse to get drunk and dress up. Jewish Halachah says that people should get so drunk that during the reading of the book of Esther, they cannot tell the difference between Mordichai (the good guy) and Haman (the bad guy). During the reading, everyone boos and makes noise with noise makers and the like whenever the name of Haman is read. People also hissed at the name of Haman's wife, and the lady in front of me at synagogue made horse neys and galloping noises when the horse was mentioned. I got a big kick out of it. It was great fun and I could actually understand the reading and follow along in the hebrew text this year. I guess my hebrew is improving...

My roommates and I followed up synagogue by going to a party at a friend's house. Since there are 5 of us, we decided to dress up as the Spice Girls. It was a great excuse to drag out our slutty clothes that we don't normally wear, and put on way too much makeup. I don't actually think we looked anything like the Spice girls, but I got to wear an Afro-wig which i loved. I think i could have been black in a former life...

Q: How many girls does it take to kill a mouse?

Question: How many girls does it take to kill a mouse?
Answer: At the residence of Beit Shilo: 3

You got it. Last night our quiet house was disrupted by a small little creature resembling Stuart Little, but not as friendly or cute. Where do i begin? About two weeks ago when my roommates were in the States for Christmas, i heard a little visitor in my trash can early one morning. I turned on my bedside lamp to find my new little house guest scurrying for the door, unsuccessful in his escape attempt and resorting to the little hole in the wall behind my bookshelf. Yes my new little friend kept me company all through Christmas and New Years, yet he kept to himself, foolishly making me think he had decided another room in our house was more fitting. Oh but to my surprise he decided to resurface last night. And to my dismay, this great land with gynormous rats and mice fails to produce a decent mouse trap. Instead of the familiar wooden traps, cheese and a surprising "SNAP," all that exists in Jerusalem is a flimsy piece of Styrofoam with sticky glue on the bottom. I purchased two of these so called "traps" two weeks ago when my visitor made his first appearance. But to my surprise, he didn't like peanut butter as first suggested. So i tried banana chips which i happened to have been snacking on the other day. These little chips interested my new friend, but when he ventured on to the sticky walkway....he was only tricked into thinking this was actually a trap, because he successfully managed to roll himself off of the glue, leaving me a small token of his gray coat as a souvenir. So, I tried the other trap i had, and loaded it with cheddar cheese (a rare commodity in this country). Within less than 2 minutes of me turning out my light....i heard scurrying, the Styrofoam dragging across my stone floor, and then nothing. When the light came on....no mouse, and no cheese. So i decided i needed to get a little smarter for Stuart Little. He obviously was getting a kick out of the meal that i had so conveniently provided for him and the stakes were now being raised. I decided to take this mouse "to the mattress." My willing roommate Rachel and I put on some shoes (i'm in my pajama's at this point) it's past 12:00 am and I have class early the next morning, it's raining outside, nevertheless, we trapse off to find an open store that sells mousetraps. After my embarrassing purchase at the 24 hour market (not knowing how to say mouse trap in Hebrew makes for a fun game of Charades, and a good laugh for the store clerk) Rachel and i were on our way back home to show this mouse who is boss. I loaded my two new "traps" with cheese and set them out as bait and waited. I was grateful for the silence that ensued for the next two hours...apparently Mr. Little had decided to take a snoozer which allowed me my only winks of sleep for the evening. and then it happened. It was 3:30 and I am awakened to that familiar sound of Styrofoam across my stone floor. I waited, and then heard it again. This time i wanted to make sure my little friend was stuck...but then it occurred to me, if he's stuck, and still making noise, he's still ALIVE! and SQUIRMING! and then the panic set in. I turned on my light to see little Stuart thrashing violently around on his little fly paper...and then the screeching began, note: screeching ensued by Stuart, Rachel, and myself. I had no idea what to do. No way in hell was i going to pick it up with him still alive....so the only thing to do of course... was to get Erin. Luckily she was still awake because she has a guest in town and they had been up chatting late into the evening. And to my saving grace, they had drank a few glasses of wine which i believe was the lifesaving element of the evening (perhaps it was Erin's courage, but I think the wine played a small role) Once Erin had stopped her screaming i handed her a broom and she took a swing at the "trap." unfortunately for us, Erin's not a golfer and missed the target, instead, getting the broom stuck to the glue. So now our little Stuart has leverage to help pry his squirmy little body off of the trap. and he's making progress quickly. So Rachel and I scan our rooms quickly to find another weapon. Thanks to the other hero in the story, Rachel has very large feet. Size 11. And she just happened to bring back new knee high boots for Christmas. Rachel quickly grabbed for the boot and passed it along to me. Erin graciously volunteered me to take a whack at Stuart. By this time I should have mustered up enough loathing for him to take it out on his little head, but no....I"m a chicken. I passed the boot on to Erin and after her muttering" forgive us Lord for killing this thing" (no joke, we prayed first) Erin swung and whacked little Stuart right over the head. Bravo Erin, she's really the hero of the story. But the story doesn't end yet, we thought little Stuart was just in shock and because we all lacked the guts to swing at him again, we frantically ran to the back yard, with the broom, still attached to the Styrofoam, with unconscious Stuart riding along....we thew the whole broom outside and shut the door! Great cheering and celebration followed. Forgiveness was asked by all for the sinful amount of swearing that accompanied our battle, and relief was had by all.

Unfortunately for me, I didn't know exactly how many mice were in my room. I feared that Stuart had brought friends with him during his two week stay and my ears were perked for the next three hours while i lay awake in bed. I had too much adrenaline in my blood at this point and even the slightest creek in our house launched my head straight up in bed to see what the "commotion" was about. Thankfully, I have not had another visitor. I guess word got out that i'm not big on sharing my room. It just wasn't big enough for the two of us. So, after a long day of class, with little to almost no sleep, I wearily write this email to inform you all of the answer to my big question. How many girls does it take to kill a mouse? One to supply the room and trap, two to have the big feet with big boots, and three to drink wine and swing at will, ending the bellagon which we call, life in Jerusalem!

Christmas update

Hag Sameach (Happy Holiday) from Jerusalem.
It has been quite a while since I have sent out an update and I figured wishing you all a Merry Christmas would be an opportune time to send a greeting. Life in Jerusalem is crazy as always. I find that there are so many new things for me to experience and learn here. Whether I am practicing my Hebrew in the shuk while buying groceries, or on my bus ride to school, or chatting with Israeli friends at a local coffee shop, or outside my front door peering into the synagogue service across the street, new adventures are ever present. School is going well and I am enjoying my classes. Most of them are Bible classes, taught in English (except for Modern Hebrew), but I am continually translating and discussing Bible passages from Hebrew. My Modern Hebrew is slowly coming along. My desire to speak Hebrew is continually growing because I want to communicate better with locals in their language and not mine. However, most Israelis are eager to practice their English so they often are excited to chat with me, just not in Hebrew. I live with a house of 4 other wonderful women who are all students at the university with me. We have a great time together and I am blessed to have a support of Christian women around me.

The weather here has been unusually warm which has helped me gloss over the holiday blues of missing home. But it has turned cold over the last day and the chill of winter is setting in. I suppose it is fitting for a cold Christmas, although no chances of finding a white one. Our home has been transformed overnight into a holiday scene with Christmas decorations and even stockings hanging on our chimney with care. Perhaps we will even find a tree to liven home. I continually find it odd that I’m in Israel for Christmas and yet no one around me is celebrating. How is it that Jesus was born three miles away and yet, no Christmas in Jerusalem? I suppose it fits with the irony of this place. I am hoping to head to Bethlehem some time on Christmas Eve. I’ll be spending Christmas day in class, but hope to celebrate the evening with brothers and sisters from all over the world, gathered around the manger scene. Perhaps you will catch me on CNN. I hear that all of the news stations are there to broadcast the big day. I’ve also heard that Bethlehem transforms into quite a carnival. The streets will likely be filled with a plethora of the shop keepers out to sell their famous olive wood carvings or whatever good their family trade produces.

Well, this letter is getting long and drawn out. I wish you all a wonderful holiday season. May you be surrounded by family and friends and the love and joy of Christ in your hearts. I send my love from far away. Think of me as you sing “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem” and eat a cookie or two for me. Also, may you ring in the New Year with great expectations, pleasant memories of the past, and adventurous goals for the future.
Shalom vbrachot meYerushali’am! (Peace and blessings from Jerusalem!)

new at this whole blog thing

So i have officially created my own blog, i think. i'm not very technologically gifted so i hope this works. however, as i embark on this new journey of my life to Israel, i want an easy way to communicate with my family and friends back home. i am told that a blog is a great way to do this...so, here it goes.

i'll be leaving for Israel in less than two weeks. the countdown begins. i still have tons of packing and organizing to do. for real, how does a girl pack two suitcases for 8 months of living? especially when the weather changes to different seasons. this could be interesting. i always thought i was low maintenance, but who am i kidding? so, back to packing.