I must now fully confess my obsession with rocks. I don't mean the geological fascination of naming the mineral elements, but the archaeological use of these rocks, their links to the past, the stories they cannot tell. Living in Lebanon, I touch the Holy Land history in my modern life. How old is this ruin of stones? Who saw it? If this ancient church's rock foundation is 1500 years old, what did the faithful grapple with inside? What did they understand? Who taught them? I know that Elijah, Jesus, and many of the apostles traveled Lebanon's ancient roads, saw the same mountains, felt the same sea breezes. Where do I fit in after 2000 years? How close am I to the people who sacrificed to celebrate Christ in the Eucharist, hidden in the mountains, meeting along the seashores, gathering at Lebanon's ports?
My husband rightly anticipates a high level of my "geeking out" over early Church history when we tour this part of the Middle East. Put me in the middle of a pile of ruined capitals and foundation stones and I'm good to go. Running my hand along the chisel marks created so long ago connects me, chisels at my spirit to fit me into the structure of this house of Christianity. Jesus told the Pharisees in Luke 19:40, "I tell you, even if they (disciples) kept silent, the very rocks would cry out!" They do cry out. They remind me that history exists, and it is called the present. Now, how do I want to live it? What do I make of my own history? What "rocks" will I leave behind to witness to Christ?
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
A Growing Season
The cold winter rains have passed here in Lebanon. While we rubbed the sleep out of our eyes and finished our last long yawn, spring crept through every crevice. Now the signs of all things new have pushed out into every open space. Lebanon has an uncanny ability to grow what you would not expect. On my walk this morning I discovered "birds of paradise" flowers, new roses, fruit trees in varying colors of blooms, wild cyclamen, rosemary, blankets of wildflowers, yellow mimosa trees, and one of my favorites, wisteria vines. As I descended windy stairs from one level of our village to the next, I passed each house's garden with peppers, cabbage, and onions. It's only March!
My amazement finds its root in the earth these plants use for nourishment. We live on a mountain of rock, with only a shallow covering of clay and stones to serve as soil for growing. The plants grow almost in spite of what they are planted in. Is it any different with the soil of my soul? I give the Lord poor earth, full of the rocks of sin, and I provide slimy mud when he delivers his sweet rain. Yet he brings forth such life that I do not deserve. He grows blessings of sweet scent and color with little encouragement from the life they have entered. He continues his active work of creation as pure gift, with no connection to my worthiness. My only work is to make my life an act of gratitude for what He has created, and wow, I have a long way to go!
My amazement finds its root in the earth these plants use for nourishment. We live on a mountain of rock, with only a shallow covering of clay and stones to serve as soil for growing. The plants grow almost in spite of what they are planted in. Is it any different with the soil of my soul? I give the Lord poor earth, full of the rocks of sin, and I provide slimy mud when he delivers his sweet rain. Yet he brings forth such life that I do not deserve. He grows blessings of sweet scent and color with little encouragement from the life they have entered. He continues his active work of creation as pure gift, with no connection to my worthiness. My only work is to make my life an act of gratitude for what He has created, and wow, I have a long way to go!
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Oops
I just saw that the slide show below is missing all the captions. The building is our apartment (ours is the bottom floor you see, though there is actually another apartment underneath us around the back. The road scenes are our walk to school, International College. There are also pictures of our Halloween party with new Lebanese friends from school. Cheers!
And we have contact!
The Essex family now has internet in the home! So, voila, les photos de notre vie au Liban! Here are some initial photos taken at the start of our time here. It's November now, and it still looks the same. No more grapes on the vines, but just as many flowers and sunshine. We are on our third blooming of roses around our apartment. It's lovely, which helps heal the nostalgic aches for home.
We are going to a neighbor's house tomorrow to learn how to make arak, the national drink. Everyone has a grape vine in the garden or on their roof, and if they don't eat all of the grapes, they use them to make vinegar or this hard alcohol that's mixed with anis seeds. Hey, when in Rome . . .
Thursday, October 22, 2009
It takes a village . . . to buy groceries!
Cultural Experience of the Week: buying groceries with input from, well, everyone.
At the small village grocery this week, I found Granny Smith apples, Bridget's favorite! In this store you place items on the counter as you go along, instead of carrying a basket. That typically leads to several people standing at the counter trying to buy groceries at the same time, figuring out what belongs to whom. I placed those apples on the counter with other items and walked to buy some mixed nuts. The clerk called me back, "Those aren't good." I thought they had bruises on them. She continued, "Those aren't Lebanese apples." OK, maybe this an extra-nationalistic store? She finally explained that you can't just eat them raw, but need to cook them with salt - she just wanted to make sure I knew that. So I thanked her very much for the tip and went to buy those nuts. I placed them on the counter and went to buy ham. She called me back, "Those aren't good. The ones next to them are better." So I went and changed them, since they were the same price anyway. She said, "No, not those, the other ones." She then accompanied me back to get a 3rd bag of mixed nuts. Same price. Mixed nuts. Good, let's go. Went to buy some ham, held my breath. Success! I must have passed the "Choose the Ham" event! OK, I admit there was only one kind. I went back and paid and bagged the groceries. The clerk asked, "How are you getting home?" I answered that I'm walking, to which she told me that my bags were too heavy and if I could just wait 10 minutes, she would drive me home. I thanked her kindly and walked anyway. I needed a moment alone!!!
While it can be a bit over the top sometimes, I do appreciate the sense of community in village life. They are very endearing people. Even the priest took Eamon car shopping, and I get reports from students everyday on when they see me outside of school and how cute my kids are. The odd dynamic (that I am told) is that they share a lot of their lives with one another, but trust is shallow because of the nature of the wars here and sketchy politics that trickle down to the experience of the general public. I find that so sad. However, the people we have drawn close to are absolutely lovely, generous, kind, and hilarious. Everyday is an adventure!
At the small village grocery this week, I found Granny Smith apples, Bridget's favorite! In this store you place items on the counter as you go along, instead of carrying a basket. That typically leads to several people standing at the counter trying to buy groceries at the same time, figuring out what belongs to whom. I placed those apples on the counter with other items and walked to buy some mixed nuts. The clerk called me back, "Those aren't good." I thought they had bruises on them. She continued, "Those aren't Lebanese apples." OK, maybe this an extra-nationalistic store? She finally explained that you can't just eat them raw, but need to cook them with salt - she just wanted to make sure I knew that. So I thanked her very much for the tip and went to buy those nuts. I placed them on the counter and went to buy ham. She called me back, "Those aren't good. The ones next to them are better." So I went and changed them, since they were the same price anyway. She said, "No, not those, the other ones." She then accompanied me back to get a 3rd bag of mixed nuts. Same price. Mixed nuts. Good, let's go. Went to buy some ham, held my breath. Success! I must have passed the "Choose the Ham" event! OK, I admit there was only one kind. I went back and paid and bagged the groceries. The clerk asked, "How are you getting home?" I answered that I'm walking, to which she told me that my bags were too heavy and if I could just wait 10 minutes, she would drive me home. I thanked her kindly and walked anyway. I needed a moment alone!!!
While it can be a bit over the top sometimes, I do appreciate the sense of community in village life. They are very endearing people. Even the priest took Eamon car shopping, and I get reports from students everyday on when they see me outside of school and how cute my kids are. The odd dynamic (that I am told) is that they share a lot of their lives with one another, but trust is shallow because of the nature of the wars here and sketchy politics that trickle down to the experience of the general public. I find that so sad. However, the people we have drawn close to are absolutely lovely, generous, kind, and hilarious. Everyday is an adventure!
A Cacophony
We are back to the blog! I have internet available a couple times a week now, so we can start writing down all these stories that have been stacked in our heads for almost two months! Now I can't remember any short ones . . .
I can say that Lebanon living is an experience for the ears. Our normal soundtrack of children is rounded out by the wicked chicken next door. Yes, a rooster with a reputation. He is known in the village for having no sense of time. When we first arrived we thought, "How quaint, to wake up to the natural sounds of a rooster in a village." Then we spent our first night waking to those natural sounds at 1am, 2:30, 4, 5, 6, I don't even know. Now we are getting used to the sound and can sleep through it, thank God! The other night we felt a lot of empathy for Noah. Not only was the rooster crowing, but our 3 newborn kittens and our 2 2-month old kittens were all yapping at the same time. Plus we had our own two offspring, hunters hunting birds, AND we were trying to have a conversation. It is like life here, it all comes at the same time and it is rich, diverse, and truly chaotic!
I can say that Lebanon living is an experience for the ears. Our normal soundtrack of children is rounded out by the wicked chicken next door. Yes, a rooster with a reputation. He is known in the village for having no sense of time. When we first arrived we thought, "How quaint, to wake up to the natural sounds of a rooster in a village." Then we spent our first night waking to those natural sounds at 1am, 2:30, 4, 5, 6, I don't even know. Now we are getting used to the sound and can sleep through it, thank God! The other night we felt a lot of empathy for Noah. Not only was the rooster crowing, but our 3 newborn kittens and our 2 2-month old kittens were all yapping at the same time. Plus we had our own two offspring, hunters hunting birds, AND we were trying to have a conversation. It is like life here, it all comes at the same time and it is rich, diverse, and truly chaotic!
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