A Walk in the Park...

So... park walking and running has become my new morning recreation. Months ago we were walking at 7-ish am. But it's too hot then, now. But the park we run at is really a wonderful place. There are lots of people, even women. The parks are some of the only green left in the city. They water them so much. Even the plants on my patio are looking distressed. Has anyone tried growing tomatoes indoors?




Anyway, the park is lovely and green and the air in the mornings is less than 100 degree F. I took pictures one morning as I walked.

The Not-So-Ordinary...

My life as a teacher is usually fairly predictable. I have scheduled classes I attend every day, I grade papers, and I read stuff for prep. Occasionally this regularity is punctuated by a child vomiting in the classroom, a visit from someone out of town, or the doorknob breaking and locking me or the students in or out of the classroom. These are the eventful days.


This summer, however, has proved to have it's own adventures. My arms are still weak feeling from carrying a heavy bookshelf up the stairs (with the help of a construction worker who was working next door). In the last week I've been chauffeur and photographer (in the dark!) for a wedding, soccer coach for dozens of children in over 100 degree heat, language learner, counselor for issues large and small, and problem solver for water shortages and appliance noises. This may be common for some of you, but it has been a busy week for me!





I noted the return of the mullet as a fairly common hairstyle for young boys here and we also cleaned, pulled up the rugs, and rearranged our living room.

265. Clean rug smells
266. Watching movies on the big screen (in the house!)
267. A new furniture arrangement
268. A new dress from Kuwait
269. Falling asleep from language study
270. Going to bed early because I'm so tired, this is a good thing.
271.Writing a note to Shokhan in Kurdish on my phone
272. Getting invited to RG with some students
273. Having water again in the house--and then not... again. hmm...
274. A day off
275. Living Water
276. Not having water not being a stresser. How cool is that! Totally a God thing.
277. The neighbor checking his trees in his pajamas
278. Lunch with my language tutor and giving her some company
279. Opening myself up for God to change me
280. Revelations (however painful) of how self-serving I am and how I seek my own glory
281. Good news from friends in Europe
282. Talking with Laurel on the phone
283. Red sparkles glinting on the wall from the jili kurdi my neighbors lent me
284. A quiet bus
285. Our dripping AC water caught in a bucket to flush the toilet =)
286. Zh. understands me!
287. Chatting and hanging out with Lizzy!
288. Long afternoon naps
289. A successful tournament

Being Thankful...

It's all in how you look at it. I realized the other day that it was a bit funny that I was thankful for the sign with an exclamation point on it. And being thankful for a road sign that isn't exactly informative is somewhat out of the ordinary. But if the world is a story, and more than that, a story written by a loving father, then what else could that sign be for? It doesn't represent just a traffic warning, it represents a God with a sense of humor with stories that are funny and encouraging. It represents conversations about punctuation in grammar classes and cultures allegorized by their writing styles. It's no longer just a sign for cars, it is a sign for me that I have a God who loves and writes a story with details that make me smile... even if I have been on a hot bus for 7 hours. Thank You!

Werzish

Exercise is a wonderful thing. Everyone talks about the endorphins and the energy you get and I don't doubt them. It's just that I haven't gotten there yet. I'm still at the drag myself out of bed and stumble around with sore muscles stage. I dream of the day where I can jog effortlessly like some of the people I've seen running. I hardly expect it to come, though. I just don't like running THAT much. It is rather freeing, especially her in the Middle East, for a woman to have a place where she can go and run or walk without feeling supremely awkward. So, I am thankful for the opportunity and the friends to encourage me to get in more exercise. Running or walking 4 times a week and doing exercise videos 5 times a week seems like we might be biting off more than we can chew, but I'm glad to aim high and it is the summer time after all. =)

254.My new orange skirt with sequins and all
255. Kalle helping me with my grammar and spelling
256. Jeremiah spending hours in the bazaar to find a part to fix the car
257. Breezes blowing at my back in Azadi Park
258. Seeing the guys awake, cheerful, and doing things in the morning
259. Mornings where we've accomplished things
260. Full breakfast with friends for dinner!
261. My chickens being cuddly in the evening
262. Running
263. Sore muscles that prove I did something!
264. Learning over and over again the same lesson, God cares enough that I actually get it... how patient he is. I wish I were so patient a teacher.

Good Gifts...

I've been pondering and discussing good gifts with people lately. It probably stemmed from my reading of Ann Voskamp's book "One Thousand Gifts" a couple months ago. But it resurfaced as my roommate and I were trying to buy a gift for a woman we don't know that well. We both like our gifts to be meaningful and special for that person. We don't like to give gifts that have no personal connection to the person. We want to get something the person will like and use. This is hard if you don't know the person well.

If we, who don't even know someone well, want to give good gifts, how much more does our father in heaven want to give good gifts?

What if he is giving us good gifts all the time, we just fail to see them for what they are. I think he is. I think I fail to see.

In part, I fail to see because I fail to ask. I've always been a timid prayer, more afraid that I'll ask for something I shouldn't have or that isn't God's will than boldly stepping out in faith (or even curiosity!). I wonder how many of God's gifts I've missed out on, not because they weren't given, but because I failed to see the giver in them.

For  the  real good of every gift is essential first, that the giver be
in the  gift-as God  always is, for He is love-and  next, that  the receiver
know and receive the giver in the gift. Every gift of God is but a harbinger
of   His  greatest  and  only  sufficing  gift-that   of  Himself.  No  gift
unrecognized as coming from God  is at  its own  best: therefore many things
that God would gladly give us, things even that we need because we are, must
wait until we  ask for them, that we may know whence they come: when in  all
gifts we find Him, then in Him we shall find all things.
                                  ----George MacDonald (#92, An Anthology, C.S. Lewis)



242. My new sticky notes program for my desktop
243. Warm bagel smell
244. Funny chicken noises
245. Convincing Erik chickens can be fun!
246. Our house is cool
247. Byki (computer flash card program)
248. The smell of fresh basil, tomato, and cilantro plants
249. Quality time with friends, just talking
250. A new TV show, Human Target, made me laugh with friends
251. Peach iced tea at the grocery store!
252. Having convinced the local theater to get Super 8. This is at the only real theater in this part of my country!
253. There is so much beauty in an eggplant

So my mother wants to see my chickens...

Easter: Check out my very long neck, everyone!

Hermes: I'm a one-eyed pirate! Arrrgh! ... oh, wait... actually, I'm winking at you! Can you tell?

Pecky: Strutting is what I do best. Have you noticed my fine feathers?

Pushy: I'll sit or stand on the highest thing I can find. This did prove a problem, however, as I... uh, descended down the wrong side of the wall from the roof and well,... made some noise. The tall man caught me and took me back to my peeps.

My happy chicken family.

No new thoughts...

It is amazing how studying a language can drain out any mental ability to think of anything else. I have a newsletter to write but even as I try to think about what has happened over the last month I come up with a random blur of vocabulary, students, grading papers, and having people over for dinner. And they pop into my head in such a fractalizing sort of way that no cohesion can be brought to them. I become tired just trying to think about what I'll write and then I give up. How on earth do people write books and memoirs and newspaper articles with deadlines? I haven't the foggiest idea... props to Miriam for all her hard work!

Now on to some thankfulness from my week!

230. Audio Books
231. Chickens survive a 3 story drop
232. Classical Music and how it's so Christian
233. Being able to predict the power schedule
234. Playing football with the 5-7th grade girls
235. Problem solving on an elementary level
236. I am of a people held
237. Librivox
238. George MacDonald and all I learn of truth from his characters
239. Having a friend I can vent to who understands what it is like here
240.Our mubarida (swamp cooler) and how I even felt cold during an afternoon nap--it's over
100 degrees F outside!
241. Pushy's pitiful and cute attempts at crowing

Pride

I remember reading about the seven deadly sins in the Faerie Queen in high school. Pride is such a key to all of them, a love for self that has permutations in various pleasures or behaviors. Pride gives way to each of them. But pride in and of itself is destructive on its own.

We see it in the faces of small children who don't receive a trophy or win a game. They are hurt not because they scored fewer times, but because they did not receive glory. It is easy to see in them, they haven't yet become skilled in covering up their pride and self-seeking attitude.

But we adults are the same way. We dislike being neglected, forgotten, behind the scenes, because we want attention, honor, glory. Maybe we don't want it in all areas, but each of us has an area we really care about, something we want recognition for, or something we feel we deserve.

Whether we deserve it or not, whether it is given or not, I have found it imperative to be willing to bring myself to my knees and kill those desires. Unless a seed die... Unless I die to myself, I am rejecting the life of joy where God's glory is made manifest. How much better to live in awe and wonder at what God is doing, rather than be puffed up with myself.

Smile

Some days we all just need a smile!

It's Hot Now

The thermometer reads 107˚ F. We've had a long spring, full of rain and thunderstorms. The wind a few days ago nearly blew away my poor chicks and chickens and the dust that came with it has turned the sky tan for days. But even this is something to be thankful for. After all, the temperature would be considerably higher if it weren't for the dust. Our swamp cooler is able to keep the house at a comfortable 85˚ F, for which we are quite thankful, now that the city power isn't on as much. We can run the swamp cooler off of generator power.

I've been walking at the park some mornings and we're considering moving it earlier because we feel sluggish walking in the sunshine even at 7:30am. Another group of girls has begun running even earlier and I'm not sure if I'll join them or opt for a gym fee and some air conditioning instead of the heat and dust.

I'm memorizing Psalm 23 in Kurdish today... or rather working on it today. I struggle memorizing Scripture in English. But I always tell my kids that memorizing helps learn language and gets you used to the patterns that occur in it. So I'm taking some of my own advice. I'm going to write it up on one of the tiles in my kitchen in wet-erase marker.

Other than that... I graded my tests, I mopped the floor, I started a load of laundry, and now I might just take a nap to ward off the head cold/allergies that I'm fighting. Life is good.

213. Laughter at the dinner table
214. Good wine
215. Kind friends who tell you nice things
216. New desktop sticky notes program
217. Kevin graduated
218. Chickens liking watermelon
219. Our swamp cooler
220. Being done grading my tests
221. Spring smells in the park in the morning
222. New breakfast ideas
223. New sister discovered
224. Student presentations
225. Pleasant picnic spots
226. B. talking to a small brown bird
227. Mr. R's charisma with the students... they're wrapped around his finger
228. Students' love for their teachers
229. Good conversations

After the hard times...

After the hard times filled with Satan's lies, after pushing through and demanding the snake's silence, after going back to my knees with thanksgiving, humility, and death to self...

Then it comes.

The vision of grace.



God's glory unfurled if only for a moment or even a series of moments stacked one upon the other. And I am thrilled down into my marrow at the seemingly random fitting into place. I am amazed at how God doesn't always call the people we think he will, he redeems the Moabite widow, the harlot of Jericho, the girl who cried in the hallway slicing her arms, Saul who persecuted the church, the boy whose atheism sounded loud through the years, and God builds his kingdom step by step.

And in a moment my heavenly family grows and I see how God put things together that I never could have and how the ugly is used for his purpose and how my failure was what what was needed and how our great mistakes can be the answer to someone's prayer.

Do you ever have days where the lies of the enemy crowd in around you and you can barely hear yourself pray because of the din they make in your mind? ...where you see the good work of others and despair because you know you will never be that kind of person, have that talent, be that impressive, have that charisma? The distraction of this cacophony can be intense like a screeching microphone during a speech. The pressure bows the shoulders and tries to push tears from the eyes.

The enemy says, "You don't impact these peoples' lives, why even try? You won't be remembered by any of these students. You don't make a difference. You might as well go back to the States for all the good you do here! Other people are far better at this than you. Why are you even here?"

But this is where He goes wrong. Being remembered isn't the point. And if I look only to myself each statement is true. But while I can't make a difference, God can and HE has asked me to be here. I can't accomplish good here, but God can and HE has called me to be here. Other people may be far better at this or more talented, wiser, more impressive, but God's power is made perfect in weakness. Myself must die; I don't matter.

As the lies of the devil lose their power, the noise quiets, and I am in the quiet again. How do people survive if they are really the center of their worlds, if it is really they that matter?

Does the leaf complain that it is transitory and falls to the ground instead of being a more lasting piece of trunk?

Empty and Full

Some Days...

Some days the internet is so slow that I give up on posting altogether.

Some days Easter is so sad to be left outside with the other chickens that I take her inside with me and even let her sit on my shoulder for a while as I write blog posts or try to load various searches and pages.

Some days the sky is the most beautiful thing I can imagine as it fills with rain, clouds, and lighting. But almost as much as that is the cool air it brings and the delay of the desert heat.

Some days I can barely think of my class work as I marvel at the change wrought in some by the Great God of Heaven.

Some days my allergies are so overwhelming that I just curl up and take a nap.

Some days I get to play games with my sister over Skype and how awesome is that!

Some days the chick falls asleep on my touch pad and makes it difficult to navigate.

Some days I want to do nothing more than clean my room but it still isn't high enough on the priority list to be accomplished that day.

Some days I pour water on the B-ball coach's head to make friends with the girls and to make them laugh.

Who doesn't need...

A Happy Chick Pic!

Reveling in Rain

The Orange Tree

(My late Monday post due to lack of internet)

This is the first year I’ve owned an orange tree. It is small and this year it put on three buds. I watched those buds and waited… I thought at one point that they were ready to bloom. I expected them soon. But time went on and the buds got bigger and bigger. They became nearly triple their earlier size. I had no idea how far they had to come before they would finally bloom. Would they ever bloom? Then one day one petal folded itself out of one bud. By the next day all three were open and fragrant, permeating the patio with glory. And at the same time, but waited for and prayed for many years rather than weeks, the full blooming of a new creature in Christ was born. And the fragrance was revealed before the telling and the permeating of God’s glory in this new creature will not fade like the flower, will not wither and will never die.

192. The American Christians in Michigan who help Kurds... such an impact.
193. Halparke
194. Beautiful fabrics that make me dream of my next jili kurdi
195. Me actually wishing for the baby I'm holding to spit up on me (how funny is that... I thought I wanted to go home.)
196. Fake cheering and applause played over a speaker
197. The bobby Dutch groom learning to dance Kurdish style
198. Writing thank-you's by strobe light!
199. Baby Zhian and all her cuteness and slobber
200. The servant-king/beggar-king
201. Staring at the sun, round and clear through the dust
202. Persian Rugs
203. Child prayers
204. The pigeon and his iridescent blue black feathers beside the soft brown koterie bird
205. Softy's continued flights carrying sticks up to build her nest
206. Black Highlander Grogg coffee
207. Toasted bagels with cream cheese
208. Good conversations with friends on the phone
209. Leaving messages for my family
210. The answers to my student's question being in God's hands not mine
211. The orange tree blossoms
212. New life in a person

The First Crow

I think Pushy is a rooster. The comb on his head is far higher than Pecky's... although Pecky seems to have quite the tuft developing. Today, though, I think he tried to crow. He became serious looking and lengthened his neck out and made a funny noise... something between clearing your throat and honking... but quiet.


I know, I know... I've got dozens of pictures of my chicks. They are just the most willing photography subjects and give me the opportunity to play with all sorts of lighting and movement. Chicken photos are my new hobby. =)

Phases

We all know that we go through phases in life. Some of these phases are determined by our likes or dislikes: a cooking phase, a stamping phase, the phase we went through in 5th grade where we only wore pink. (Most fifth grade girls have a pink phase... even in the Middle East!) Other phases are a little more out of our control. They can look the same, like my sister's phase of wearing pink that came not of her own desire but because all the hand-me-downs were that color. (Sadly, she hated pink and still does.) Others that fall in this category are phases of frugality or wealth, phases of business or more rest, singleness, motherhood, or retirement.


I am beginning a new phase. This is the phase of being alone. I've had phases like this before. One of the best things about phases is that you know they won't last forever. Nearly all of my close friends and housemates have left the country. It happens when you live overseas... people go back to their home country or they move on somewhere else. But when all leave at once it can leave you feeling a bit at a loss. There is loss. And in a life with much work and few believers it can be hard to find that friendship and fellowship that fits into the rest of life.

I am thankful for this phase of alone. I should be able to spend more time reading and doing language study. And I'd like to spend more time in prayer as well. I have high hopes.

And as one of my students so aptly reminded me... God is not a phase. Christianity is not a phase.

170. Drenching rain with my sister and one last lightning storm together
171. Giggling past 1am
172. Choking tears of finality
173. Buying a basketball rim
174. A successful Kurdish phone call
175. Leveled benches
176. Laughing over dishwashers and tea-bags
177. Coconut-milk in the refrigerator section
178. Laurel's visit and all the games and backrubs
179. Giving my students something to be thankful about
180. Student saying, "Oh yeah, he's cool." in reference to God
181. Listening to a French Quartet perform live
182. Bad acoustics
183. Plucked violins and cellos
184. People who say hello, good bye, good morning, good night, and thank you
185. Little chicken feathers and stretching wings
186. Nursing mothers
187. Fellowship
188. Spontaneous hairspray adventures
189. Praying during the call to prayer
190. The Iranian woman... and her story translated through
191. Fruit that looks like it is glowing

The Storm

I've been thinking. This is a problem. My brain can get ahead of itself. I have so many words, thoughts, ideas, concepts running through my head. The connections between them are lightning... fast, bright, crackling and sparkling. A moment after I can't really see them anymore but the imprint is burned into my retina and a shadow still remains.

I'd like to draw out a bubble chart as the Bible, One Thousand Gifts (by Ann Voskamp), Notes from the Tilt-a-Whirl (by N.D. Wilson), and the Odyssey all collide in this tornado . I read Rasselas (by Samuel Johnson) next with my students and I know that that will only add force to whipping wind that swirls in my head.

At moments it's just confusion, at other times I've been drenched in the rain of revelation, where things suddenly make sense... a word or phrase fills me with understanding and sinks in deep, I'm wet through with it.

I am in a good place. It's hard place. But my God has given it to me and he only gives good gifts. Sometimes my favorite gifts are the thunderstorms.

Easter Thoughts

"What Have I Got to Do with Easter?!"

It's amazing how we use hard-boiled eggs to represent life and resurrection for Easter. I've never quite caught the vision for the parallel. It has always seemed an image pushed too hard, an attempt at Christianizing a symbol taken too far. After all, hard-boiled eggs? Really? Whatever might have grown in there is dead. Really.

It wasn't until I actually got chicks that this idea began to make sense. I've been researching about chicks and chickens a lot lately. I don't know if mine will be hens or roosters; I don't even know really how old they are. I looked at photos and drawings of the various stages of growth and gender traits. This is where I found "candling". This is how breeders tell if an egg is fertilized or not, by whether various certain details show up in the egg when a bright light is shined through it.

And while I've always known eggs carried chicks, I caught some of the enthusiasm for the coming life that eggs can be anticipatory of. As I imagined my own chickens laying eggs some day and how each of them came from an egg of their own, I saw how an egg could be a symbol of life. It became more real to me. That said... I love Easter.

153. The propane truck's ice cream song warbled with the call to prayer-makes me laugh!
154. Life is not an emergency.
155. Watercoloring with Laurel and her painting of a yellow umbrella
156. Funny Boggle words
157. Beautiful bagels in the oven
158. Borrowed eggs
159. Meeting new people in my cleaning clothes
160. Sunbeams revealed through orange dusty air
161. The smell of rain and the sound of rain on a covered football stadium
162. An orange and yellow sunbeam quilt with the word "Hope"
163. A little girl with her head on daddy's shoulder and wrapped in his arms
164. A deep Scottish voice leading songs on Easter
165. Man in jili kurdi, with guitar and sunglasses... a traditional "rockstar"
166. Young charismatic Kurdish man preaches and is translated by conservative middle-aged reserved Scottish man
167. Christ is risen and gives us new life
168. The glint of sun off of jili kurdi pants, orange, white, pink, silver...
169. The seed of woman is not limited to biologically birthed children

Last night I took 3000 photos

I kept these five.

When the head aches...

I step into the school building, a veritable flood of noisy children running and screaming in every direction, forming eddies around the pillars that hold up the swooping marble staircase. The whole place echoes, it wasn't made for any sort of quiet. The tile walls and floors bounce the sounds around over and over again, magnifying the effect on the ears.

Up the staircase and down the hallway, cliques of adolescent girls or boys gather like dust bunnies in corners or around trash bins. Their voices mingle with the crunch of chips, the smell of overcooked hot dogs, and the vision sunbeams showing in the dusty air.

Entering the classroom with no doorknob, accidentally kicking an empty water bottle left on the floor, and piling my things on the empty student desk at the front of the classroom, I let out a sigh and smile at the students who are milling around the room. It's warm today, but not bright. The haze hides some of the sun, and the students have pasted pieces of paper to the windows to keep from being blinded on the sunnier days.

I smile, nod. Some rush past me with a mumbled phrase in Kurdish or English. Rubbing hard, I erase that morning's math lesson from the white board, the ink well soaked in and all over. In a few minutes, the bell will ring... a mass of students, half of them screaming, will rush toward their classrooms. Others will dawdle, waiting until the last minute to enter, pretending to throw away trash or that they were in the bathroom. And then, then, I'll quiet them, then I begin. Then it finally gets quiet enough for me to hear the pain throbbing in my head and I am filled with wonder.

Thanks:
142. That the headache comes on a day where I have very little lecturing to do.
143. A silky bright orange scarf
144. Boxes with gifts from friends and family
145. Little cheepers running towards me for breakfast
146. Starting thankfulness lists with my Muslim students... who knows...
147. The painting Pauli made for me
148. New cross-stitch colors to fill in missing spots
149. Laurel's willingness to take care of me
150. Water... that we can drink it and it tastes good!
151. Language lesson revelations... I finally understood the word for wash in the present tense!
152. Giving away books and stories of others who have given away books