Just sitting here in Cheryl’s room, helping her with homework. Been thinking about you a lot, wishing we could hang out. I miss you sis. It would be so kool if you were here, if all us girls could go out for drinks, (and of course, hot chips). I’m thinking about you all the way over there, and the fact that we didn’t really get to say a proper goodbye. I told you I’d be there in a bit, and that we’d navigate the new country together. It was a promise when I said it, and I’m sorry I haven’t kept it yet. I was sad thinking of not seeing you for a few weeks, and now it’s been months.

Anyways, I miss you a lot, and realize that I got addicted to having you there these last five years. We did some crazy things!! Remember dancing in our first typhoon?? The wind was blowing the rain sideways, and we laughed. Other people huddled under their umbrella’s and we sang at the top of our lungs. Branches fell from the trees and we skipped in our high-heels. Drivers pulled over and cowered undercover and we shook our heads while our long hair got soaked. People worried about acid rain and we foolishly drank in the raindrops. Lightning and thunder struggled across the sky but we shouted louder. And then, having narrowly escaped drowning, we walked into Starbucks and offhandedly drenched the entire store. After which we drank cold coffee and laughed some more.

People don’t get it and we seriously don’t care. We’re just sisters and we like that. It’s ok that we’re best friends, and it’s perfectly fine that we don’t have an explanation. Well, I could go on and on about how it’s because you’re crazy fun, well read, stunning, smart, incredibly talented, kind to a fault, insanely loyal, (and tall, let’s not forget tall). But truthfully, honestly, behind all the why’s and the wherefore’s, and looking far past the fact that you make me look good (!), it’s because you are real. You are a solidly real person. And in this crazy time of people who poke and prod and photoshop themselves into asexual mannequins that live mostly online, it’s refreshing to find a slice of Audrey Hepburn pie in the mix. A girl who will wear hipster jeans and flats out clubbing, because she really is going to dance for oh, 500 hours, and might even dance up on the bar. Who, after the party is over, will trek all the way home, across town, in the wee hours of the morning, just because she has the common sense to sleep in her own bed. Who thinks Dumas is a good read as opposed to, oh let’s say, Cecily von Ziegesar. Who knows all the words to my favorite Andy Williams song, and will sing it with me on the subway. Who’s idea of make up is lipgloss. Who always remembers everyone’s birthdays – and I do mean everyone!

I love you sis. I miss you. Just thought I’d say so. And yes, I was planning a major post for your birthday, but then “stuff” happened, and all I could do was call you and hear your voice and laugh about your antics and never-ending handsome admirers. If I could ask for one thing for you in this year, it would be that you stay you. Always.

Tons of love, ‘chelle XXX

While watching the elephants, who were very large and standing in plain view, Cheryl and I overheard these stellar remarks, from some genius adults:

“I think I can, like,  see, like, an elephant. I think it’s an elephant. Maybe it’s two elephants.” (What the ____?)

“It’s like they have an opposable thumb right in the middle of their faces.” –”Oh you know soooo much about elephants.”

“Awww, the last time we were here we got to see them poo.”

You’ve gotta love the zoo goers.

PS. Keep your eyes peeled for some keen insights on this subject from my brilliant niece Cheryl.

Guys, I am still in Amrica. And yes, that is how you spell it. Amrica, baby.  I don’t know that I can find the words to clearly explain what its been like to spontaneously leave behind our entire lives since July.

What I can say is that it has given me quite the edge on perspective. Think of it this way, take away your job, your lifestyle, your livelihood, your house, location, friends and jettison yourself into an entirely foreign environment . Man, the epiphanies have been coming so fast that I am 90% liquid epiphany solution right now. The other 10% is calamine lotion.

The best part has been getting in touch with my family here: Christina, Nick and Cheryl, Sancho, Prem, and the extended family in Portland, as well as my Dad’s brother and sister and their families from Canada, and I even got to visit with my parents! In Amrica! Meeting Steph’s family goes right up there on that list, Danny, Ytala, Maria, James and Mark.

So that’s my silver lining of epiphanies. And I just wanted to tell you that if your life has been thrown through a man eating wringer, well, just think how enlightened you will be on the other side. HA.

Cuz, right now, the planets are charting a course of irreverent-headlong-non-stop change that might take you through shingles, staph and chickenpox all in one week. Be prepared.

Oh and I am loving WiiFit.

On Friday we found out that Stephs Dad has had another heart attack.  Steph is leaving with his Mum within 24 hours to see him, and Alex and I will follow shortly.  His Father is in a very fragile state, and needs our prayers for his health, comfort and peace. Thank you for your prayers for him, and that we will be able to fund our emergency travel. Love always!

Yes, thats my lengthy explanation for my last post. Celebrated my 30th, and am kissing my 20’s goodbye! I have to say, I enjoyed them immensely. At the same time, I have a feeling that whats ahead will be a whole lot more happiness. The last couple of years have the been some of the happiest of my life – and I expect it to continue!

Even though Ive essentially been doing the same thing for the last five years, days filled with work and striving for better, the last two have been exquisitely punctuated with strong arms to hold me, and little baby kisses and smiles. Its a sense of joy  that I highly recommend.

So, no, I don’t regret my age. I love it! Ha! I actually feel blessed to look back on 30 years of a life of faith, loving the missionary life. I have so many dreams for the future, so much I want to do – more changing the world, if I may! Realizing that we’ve made it this far, gives a little thrill to think of what lies ahead.

Steph escorted me to Brown Sugar – a lovely jazz lounge, where we had cocktails and grilled tiger prawns, and hours of music to die for. Che’ Best is a stellar vocalist from LA, and truly won my heart. She killed pretty much every singer out there, and did it with class. This was all after an afternoon of girlie shopping for pretty things from my man, and then a full on salon treatment session the next day…..so spoiled! All thats missing is celebrating with my friends and family, as my last birthday with Sam, Vin, Alina, Mike, Ia, Paul, Joy, Justin, Rossi and so many others.

We shall see!

Goodbye forever!

Children of Gaza, Run to the Angels

By Suzanne Baroud, Palestine Chronicle

Me: I just read this, and it moved me to a point that I haven’t yet been as a mother. I hate war and have been against it all my life, yet this past year the terror deepened unimaginably. Yet, what a stunning  picture of what your very real faith can bring you through, what it means to you when faced with such sorrow. No words.

Ironically, it was in Palestine, 20 years ago, that I concluded that there is no God. For how could a God, who claims to love all and treat all with impartiality, allow such horrors like those in Palestine to happen?

This unbelief grew stronger with each curfew, with each strike that mourned the death of yet one more martyr, with a decapitation induced by gunfire in the main square on a sunny Ramallah afternoon so many years ago. But it was cemented the day I had to tell one of my fifth grade students that his brother had just been taken away by the Israeli army. His expression, his body going limp, the shuddering of his shoulders as he wept with his classmates … that’s what finally did it.

Nearly 20 years have passed since that day, and I have now married into a Gazan family. I am a wife and mother, the sister and aunt of so many kids living the horror of what Gaza has become. As we watch the footage of Israel’s onslaught [in January 2009], I hear myself, whispering as I see one more martyred child, “Run to the angels … run.” After so many years, this living nightmare is fostering a burning desire to believe once again in the afterlife.

Caged, starved, sniped, suffocated. They are slaughtered like sheep, but the leaders of the free world just cannot seem to find a moment to comment. Golfing, vacationing, Obama, Bush, even the EU, they just aren’t important enough. My mutterings have become like a canter. I call out to these stricken and shattered little bodies, who frankly never experienced life to lose it. The only consolation to offer is the respite found in death.

A crowd gathers, shrouded in gas, smoke and dust. In the front stand eight young fathers, each holding a white swaddled bundle of what used to be a son, a daughter. For a few moments there is no screaming, no chanting or crying, but a moment of quiet and stillness that presses one to wonder just whom has been granted the greater mercy, the toddler who caught the sniper’s bullet, or the young father, who will have to find some way to live beyond this moment?

A young boy sits on the sidewalk beside his mother. She is propped up against the wall of a collapsed building and her life is bleeding out all over the sidewalk. It is spattered on his face and smeared on his shirt. She uses the last of her strength to lift her arm and clutch his cheek in her palm and then she is gone. He rests his head in his hands and cries. He is all alone.

The camera zooms in on the scene of a freshly detonated building, a civilian home. A little girl’s brown curly hair covered in dust and eyes wide open is all that can be found of her. Her mother wails and pulls her hair while her father frantically searches among the rubble for the rest of his daughter. Where could she be? I whisper again, “You will be made whole again in Paradise. Run to the angels.”

What amazing faith. What strong devotion that a father loses his mother, father, wife and eight children, that this man before anything can assert, “God is Great, Thank God for Everything.” He holds his child, now still and ashen, he smothers him with kisses and then gently pulls back the sheet to expose two bullet holes in his chest. He then tenderly places the child beside his brother and again, pulls the sheet back of his youngest son to reveal a single sniper’s bullet to the chest. He can barely compose himself and he moans to the sympathizing camera man, “God is Great, Thank God for Everything.”

An old and wrinkled Imam so lovingly cradles a little girl’s lifeless body, as if mishandling her now could inflict more pain. He mumbles a benediction and gently lies her beside her sisters and her brothers in the mass grave. I try to comfort her, saying, “Finally, a place of safety. Rest beside your sister. Your brother. Put your fears to rest and meet your beloved Prophet and the many of your little friends who have fallen before you.”

Hospitals, schools, mosques, civilian homes, UN shelters, all worthy targets. Doctors, medicines, food and water, truckloads of relief from all corners of the world line up for miles at the Egyptian border but they are refused entry. Security is high, food is scarce, water is completely gone.

Faith seems to spring forth in the strangest of moments. For me, it seems to be coming full circle out of desperation and in agony, for the sake of the snow-white souls of the many bloodied innocents of Gaza.

UN workers coordinate with Israelis to get civilians to safety inside a UN school. Hundreds are tucked inside the mutually agreed safe haven. Soon after, the school comes under Israeli fire. Bruised and battered refugees stare Satan in the face, clad in his fatigues. Hundreds wounded, scores dead, many lost and unaccounted for.

Governments negotiate a cease-fire. Rumors buzz of conspiracies. The US President-elect is forever silent. Parents search beneath the collapsed walls for what remains of their children. Shattered concrete, random arms and legs, broken glass, tossed together in a bloody hodge-podge. But, in my mind, I see them whole, their little bodies swiftly being swept up into Paradise, and I call out to them, “Run!”

Suzanne Baroud is the Managing Editor of PalestineChronicle.com.

(check Mama’s site for her comments.)

This is a little something from Steph and I, to our mum’s, the three best ladies the world over. We have known and loved you all our lives, and hope and pray to one day make you proud. We love you!

You Were There…
You were there when we took our first steps,
And went unsteadily across the floor.
You pushed and prodded: encouraged and guided,
Until our steps took us out the door…
You worry now “Are they ok?”
Is there more you could have done?
As we walk the paths of our unknown
You wonder”Where have my children gone?”
Where we are is where you have led us,
With your special love you showed us a way,
To believe in ourselves and the decisions we make.
Taking on the challenge of life day-to-day.
And where we go you can be sure,
In spirit you shall never be alone.
For where you are is what matters most to us,
Because to us that will always be home…

(Author Unknown)

Dear Leika,

Here it is – as promised! This is my current form of anger management – looking at the gorgeous view that we have practically to ourselves. I  just sit in the sun on the terrace and drink it in! All else fades away, all the annoyances, all the unsolicited advice, all the opinions -  just gone. I’m reminded of how large life can be, and how powerful He is.

Beth Jordan - she's all that!

My too-kool-for-skool sister IL had her birthday today! Beth is one of those special souls, people who are as near perfect as you can get. I have always thought of her as one of those heroines in the story books, simply because everyone loves her. She’s not just a charming lady, she actually cares about people and lives that way. See what I mean? Special.

Here’s what I know about Beth: She takes you as she finds you – not listening to gossip or other peoples opinions; she makes her decision about you based on your heart. She loves life in a quiet, strong way, helping people live their dreams. She is beautiful without shouting about it from the rooftops, which helps you feel comfortable in her long-legged, blue-eyed, gorgeous presence. She is a lady. She fights for you just because she loves you, and not because of your sinlessness. She is loyal. She is talented – a born star, someone who doesn’t need to fight for the spotlight, she brings her brains and skill to the table minus a desire to garner fame.

See what I mean? Special. Oh and she also has the cutest kids – totally adorable.

She won’t agree with me about this, but she is strong. This is a woman who actually smiled and laughed in order to comfort me in my heartbreak, when she had just endured one of the most heart-wrenching things any mother could ever go through. She praised through what I am sure was enough tears to last a dozen lifetimes. Amazon.

Send her some love and prayers today, for this wonderful, wonderful woman, who made my little brother one of the happiest guys on earth. We love you Beth!