Tuesday, May 7th:
This morning I checked on a package that my sister sent a couple weeks ago. She gave me a tracking number, and for awhile it stayed in New York. I figured they wouldn't track the package all the way to Iraq, but sure enough, the status read, "Your item was processed through a facility in IRAQ on May 5, 2013 at 1:35 pm. The item is currently in transit to the destination."
I wasn't sure if I should feel as surprised as I did ... the world around me changes daily, certainly nothing like the Duhok I entered over a year ago. Why shouldn't they be able to track packages here?! Still ... when loose wires dangle freely near every "sidewalk," electricity goes out unexpectedly, and we can't buy peanut butter regularly, I suppose it is quite an accomplishment to monitor a package that was sent from halfway around the world!
Today ended up being a time to process. I feel like there are a lot of things going on and I haven't been able to sit down and think through any of it. After school (which went well without incident) I meant to get a lot of things accomplished, and sat down to read for a little bit. Despite my good intentions, I couldn't keep my eyes open and ended up taken a nap. When I dragged myself out of bed, I moved through my schoolwork in an aimless sort of way and was frustrated by my lack of efficiency. I finally realized that my allergies were really bothering me (it is hard to think when your nose is running, you have to sneeze every five seconds, and your eyes are itching and burning.) I decided to cut myself some slack and took up an entirely different project. With my hands occupied, I was distracted enough to keep from thinking of hay fever and able to focus on some of the things that have been on my mind. It ended up being a reflective time, though I kept fighting back frustration that I wasn't finishing all that I had intended to.
Went to bed somewhat early, looking forward to a new day...
Wednesday, May 8th:
My allergies were better this morning and I enjoyed our walk to school with Lisa. As we walk up the steps to the school, I usually run into some of my students; they are always eager to say hello and their smiles brighten up my day. When I think of most of my students, I don't picture the way they look in the classroom. Instead, I think of the way they look with their backpacks on, hurrying past me, turning back to grin sheepishly and say hello.
Our verse for the day was, "They refused to love the truth and so be saved." I felt this would be a tricky one and asked for wisdom to know how to explain it. Most of my students participated in the soccer clinic and I used one of the life lessons to introduce the idea. I asked the students what they need to protect their hearts from, what kinds of things will try to trap their hearts? Facebook, lying, cheating, stealing, bad words, food and smoking were some of the answers they gave. Then I asked them what would set them free from those things. "The truth!" I gave them examples of people who are trapped in lies and need the truth to save them; and others who are trapped by their desire to eat or to have more money. God tells us that there are some who refuse to be saved from these traps because they refuse to love the truth. While I know that my students have very little personal understanding of these words, I trust that someday, when they find themselves in a trap, they will think back to these words and seek out the truth that will set them free.
One of my students came up to me afterwards. She has had a hard past and I have tried to encourage her in different ways. Today she told me that she was thinking about some of the things I'd said back during the school picnic. And then she asked me what kinds of things I would allow my children to do if I had any. This led us into a conversation about the things she has done (without her parents' permission) and how she sometimes feels trapped by those things. She told me some of the counsel she has been giving to her four-year-old cousin [perhaps my students are not so very young after all], convincing her to not be weak, to hold back tears, and protect herself by being cruel. I scolded? admonished? my student that the things she is teaching are not truth, that her cousin will only be trapped in the hardness of her heart. God wants us to be weak - His strength is made perfect in weakness - and as we admit our weakness, we realize our dependence on Him. She listened, desperate to find out the truth, embarrassed that she wasn't telling her cousin "right" things, longing for my approval. I ended the conversation once it reached that point ... I don't want her to believe it is my approval she needs. I will tell her the truth, but I reminded her that it is God's approval she needs and yearns for.
After class, we had a meeting for the spelling bee/talent competition and then I went to the teacher's room to get some work done. I had two hours before "Julie" picked me up to go to the market. I thought I'd get a lot of work done, but kept finding myself interrupted. Nothing serious - the c.c. needing me to post the finals schedule, a phone call, looking at pictures of a teacher's 1 year old - but enough to leave me feeling exasperated. All last spring, God was teaching me to put relationships over tasks and I've come to enjoy adjusting my priorities. However, in the short span of an hour, my task-oriented-ness had had enough. When one of the male teachers indicated that I was in his way as I knelt in front of my locker, I felt unusually irritated. Most often, my feeling of frustration are directed at myself, but this time I was upset with him and wanted to ask him why he couldn't just walk around! (In this culture, women move aside for the men, which is a hard adjustment) Thankfully I didn't say anything, and prayed on the way out of school that God would change my heart. I talked with "Julie" about it in the car ... it was encouraging to remember that our weakness (even the ugliness of it) brings more glory to God. [Hadn't I just been saying that to my student?]
"Julie" and I picked out dushak and cushion material, which was quite the experience. After wandering around a couple shops, we found the right colors for the cushions, but needed to go somewhere else for the dushaks. We finally asked one shopkeeper if we could bring the roll of material back to the shop where we found the pillow colors so we could make sure they worked together. At last we found the right fit, but then there wasn't enough material and we had to settle for a mix of two. A memorable experience ... I'm sure it was for them as well ...
On my way home, I stopped at the corner market from some fruit (watermelon, apples and nectarines) then Hannah and I prepared the fruit salad and watermelon coolers for team dinner. Mareen St. taxied to the Bishop's together. As we got out of the taxi, John turned and paid the driver, pulling out one of my favorite phrases, "Hah-lo, Hah-lo" which reminded me I should blog about it. Instead of saying "goodbye," Kurds and Assyrians alike will end a conversation with "hello." I'm not sure where this comes from, but somehow it manages to infiltrate our speech as well and we catch ourselves saying it on occasion, most often, like John, just to laugh ourselves.
For team dinner, Lisa made a chicken lasagna, which we ate with our fruit salad and roasted veggies by Mary. It was a good, summery meal, followed by fun conversation in the kitchen as we cleaned up. I stayed to watch Zander and Zephie while Andy and Lisa went to a meeting about the basketball clinic. A happy memory as Zander and I were playing Legos and he remembered that Caleb had given him a set back in January. :) After tucking Zander into bed, I joined the conference Skype call with our directors. Graded papers and read until Andy and Lisa arrived, then Lisa gave me a ride home.
