12 - Home

We finished out the spring semester with beautiful sunset walks around the city with our coworkers, drinking tea in their homes, and a much needed retreat to Eilat in southern Israel. It was stunning.  We took a boat trip out on the Red Sea and relaxed in the sun. 

Every time we took trips like this, I always felt a little guilty.  We, as Americans, were able to go to these areas and enjoy these beautiful places for a little rest, but our Palestinian coworkers were not. These areas were controlled by Israel and Palestinians were not allowed.  We would always try to keep it quiet when we would go to these places because it simply wasn’t fair. Part of me wanted to boycott these trips.  If my coworkers couldn't go, why should I be able to? The other part of me was desperate for a break and a change of scenery. My Palestinian friends didn’t get to travel and relax, but I did.  It made me want to exchange my blue passport for a green Palestinian ID card. 

Before I knew it, it was June and we were getting ready to go back home for the summer. I couldn’t believe my year in Palestine was over. I wasn’t sure if I was completely relieved or devastated. From complete homesickness in August, to constant fear and anxiety, all the way to feeling a sense of home and having a Palestinian family, the year had been a roller coaster of emotions.  I had fallen in love with my kids, their families, my coworkers, and this country. I love Palestine and the people that live there so deeply. I feel like I gained a bit of Palestinian blood and fire while I was there. I believe in the Palestinian people and I truly believe there is hope for them. I believe God can bring hope, life, and redemption, to a hopeless and lifeless place. While believing all of this deeply, I was at the breaking point of anxiety and knew I had a lot to process. I also couldn’t wait to see my family again.  This was the longest I had ever been without seeing them and I was itching to be home. 

Although I wasn’t planning on coming back to teach at the school, I was looking at different options in Palestine and in Jordan. I wanted to continue to live and work in the Middle East, but as I would soon find out, I was highly underestimating the amount of emotional baggage I had to unpack, along with my two 50 pound suitcases. 

We packed all of our things and had a going away lunch at a local park with all of our friends and coworkers.  It was really sad to leave the people I had come to love so dearly. Saying goodbye to Shireen was especially hard. We had spent so much time together and formed a sweet friendship. The next day we drove to the airport in Tel Aviv, had a small mix up when border control realized we’d been living in the West Bank, got strip searched and asked if any Palestinian helped us pack and put a bomb in our bags - then finally got on the plane to Moscow and then to JFK.

Landing back in America again in June was a total relief. It felt so good to be home and in a place that held less tension, war, and anxiety than the one I had just come from. The fact that I was home and would see my family in a few short hours seemed unbelievable.

They greeted me in the Little Rock airport with balloons, signs, and lots of tears and hugs. I was so happy to see them. The next few weeks were filled with visits to family and friends, eating lots of cheese dip and Chick-fil-a, telling a lot of good stories and hard stories, and spending a lot of time alone, processing.

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Written May 2015

I feel like a young Palestinian. No, I haven’t seen the horrors of the first and second Intifadas like generations before me. The impact of that violence did not fall on me.  I don’t know what it is like to live in an Israeli invasion of the West Bank. 

But what I do know, and what would keep me in the resistance, is the thick presence of hopelessness I breathe in and out everyday. 

I can’t live like this. You couldn't live like this. And I dare you to blame me for being angry.

There is no hope of economic revival, no hope of a future, no hope of freedom, and no hope for my life.  

Calm down, they say. 

There will always be violence and problems there.

Peace won’t happen there. It’s prophesied! 

I don’t give a damn about “what’s prophesied”. Do you see my life! Look at the hell I’m living in!  Do you not see? Are you missing this? Is everybody missing this?

HELLO

Is anybody listening!

Silence.

From the West.

Silence. 

From the East.

Silence.

Even from my brothers in the Church.

When will they finally rise up and say, “Enough. Enough of this injustice. Enough of this racism. Enough of this politically religious agenda that is evil. Enough.” 

When will they quit “trying to fulfill prophecy” and actually love, pray, and fight for people made in God’s image? 

When?

Because silence in the face of injustice breeds wrath. It creates anger and violence. So, “the violence that will always happen there” is partially your fault. Welcome to your part of the Middle East peace process.

Wake up Church. We’ve got a job to do.  And it starts with breaking the silence.