Thoughts of Frost

The best way out is always through.

Robert Frost

Ever since I arrived in Jordan, the other students in my program would exclaim, "You're spending your last semester abroad in Jordan?!" And I would always respond, "Yeah. It seemed like a good idea at the time." And, really, it did. I had considered going abroad earlier, but something always came up. Either I was cast in a show that I just couldn't miss or there was a core class that was only offered during a certain semester. So, finally, my senior year rolled around. There I was, with no more excuses left. It was time to head to the Middle East.

Today I sit here, on my bed, having finished my last class ever of my undergrad and I can't help but wonder, "Was I crazy?" Why did I leave everything comfortable, everything familiar, everything easy? Why didn't I just relax and enjoy my final semester? But then - I remember why.

A person will sometimes devote all his life

 to the development of one part of his body

 - the wishbone.

Robert Frost

Truth be told, I had put all my eggs in one basket when it came to Jordan. Jordan was the symbol of my independence, my future, and my dreams. Jordan was supposed to make my future clear. It was intended to mature and refine me. It was going to be the perfect way to end university, because it was going to make me the person I'd always wanted to become. Quite clearly, Jordan was my wishbone. And I was wishing for the world.

About halfway through this crazy experience, I realized Jordan was just another place. A place filled with beautiful people who love nothing more than to pour their love (and food) into you. A place filled with taxi drivers who really just want to be your new best friend. A place filled with sad kittens who paw through dumpsters looking for something to eat. A place filled with men who stare you up and down or worse. But, still, just a place. There was no secret palace filled with all of my future's secrets. And there was no magical genie waiting to grant me my every wish.

This reality overwhelmed me. There were days when I felt like maybe, after all this, I had wasted my time. I felt that, while my friends were back in the States applying to jobs and finishing university like normal human beings, I had slacked off and run half way across the world. But tonight, I am stepping back and realizing something. I don't need to have everything figured out. That's just not how life works. Life is not ever going to be perfectly laid out for us. Life is messy and things can change or end at any moment. We may think we have everything ready for the next step, and then life happens. I need to stop expecting Jordan to become something that no place could ever be for me - the answer.

In three words I can sum up 

everything I have learned about life:

 it goes on.

Robert Frost

Here I am, Grace Pilet, stopping and looking at what Jordan really was for me. Jordan was my teacher. And it taught me that every day is an adventure. It doesn't matter if you're riding a camel in Wadi Rum or if you're just catching a taxi to campus on a rainy morning. It doesn't matter if you're practicing Arabic grammar for hours or if you're in the middle of a war in Jerusalem - there is always an adventure waiting for you. Life is yours to be had, day in and day out. I don't want the adventures to stop. Just because my time in Jordan is coming to an end, does not mean that I must have everything figured out. In fact, if I had everything figured out, there'd be no room for the adventures. And, friends, there must always be room for adventures.

So, was I crazy? I guess the answer to that was - yes, I was. But, I'd like to think I came out even a little crazier, filled with excitement for the unknown. I don't have my life figured out. I don't even know what this next year is going to hold for me. But I do know it's all going to be okay. After all, now I'm even more ready for my next adventure.

Jordan was not the answer. But, perhaps, Jordan was just the beginning.

'Tis the $eason

As you know, I have lived in all sorts of places. Everywhere from Midwest USA with their plethora of fast-food restaurants to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia with its very hairy yaks. And in all of these places, I noticed something interesting. Not about them, but about me. My status as a person changed, depending on where I lived.

The concept of wealth and these changing lifestyles are not new to any of us. But I never considered, until now, the significance of this in my life. In the mid-west, my family and I were fine. You know - fine - not rich, not poor. Just fine. In Mongolia, we were the elite. Our apartments were the most beautiful. Going out to eat was a common occurrence. We could go to fancy resorts in Thailand or visit Beijing for the weekend. But that didn't mean life was easy. Our white skin was a symbol, important because of what it meant for how fat our pockets were. Our groceries were stolen; my friend's family had their apartment robbed. We were the envied, the "dream."

When we moved to Seattle, Washington my family and I became poor. The cost of living was far out of our grasp and I tangibly felt the vast chasm I had fallen through. People like to say that when you're poor you focus more on what's important, like your family, because that's all you have. But let's be real, when people are poor they sometimes become so consumed with being able to feed their family that the important things continue to be ignored. Wealth is not simple. I continue to be astounded at how one can jump through social classes like hula hoops as one flies through time zones. But, I have realized that this is the nature of wealth. The Gold Rush spoke of "rivers flowing with gold," but the reality is: a big enough wave will make the gold flow downstream - away from you.

In Amman, I have noticed again this relative concept of wealth. The majority of this country is very poor. They barely manage to survive with the money they do have. And when fuel prices rise like they did recently, the impact of that drastic change can be devastating. All this to explain that, when I see a Jordanian with an iPad, I stop and stare. Electronics are roughly 300% more expensive than in America. In America, seeing a person with an iPad wouldn't mean much of anything to me. As a matter of fact, it's a frequent occurrence. But seeing a Jordanian with one, shocks me into silence. The wealth of this Jordanian is something I will probably never be able to comprehend. And yet, here in Jordan, I am also one of the wealthy - me, a practically broke college student. I eat at their fast food restaurants which are considered for the wealthy. I go to one of their most expensive and prestigious universities. And yet, I will be returning to the States, a graduate of college with basically not even a penny to my name. Wealth is so relative.

As we head into the Christmas season, it's almost impossible not to think about money. We are worried about having enough money to buy gifts for our loved ones. We make lists of all the gifts we hope to get. The season consumes and is consumed by money. I have noticed that it becomes increasingly easy to feel the pressure and stress this involves. We become upset about not getting the gift we want. We forget about enjoying the season in our rush to purchase all the gifts for friends and family. And now I apply my own lesson to myself - wealth is relative, it is temporary, it is changing. 

If we strip away the buffer of wealth that we find within our different social classes, what are we left with? Whatever the answer, this is what we should cling to this Christmas season. Even in America we see that a person's social class can change almost overnight. With jobs being lost or medical tragedies striking, families can go from wealthy to poor in what may feel like a matter of moments. It is this that reminds us that there is so much more to life than money. And it is this that reminds us how we we are all similar in our own ways.  I constantly need to remind myself that I must guard my thinking in this area. Sometimes, I let myself get caught up in the stress of money. But, in the end, wealth will always be relative and it will always change. This Christmas season I am going to work hard to remember what is most important.


After all, "Some people are so poor, all they have is money."

Twelve Days of Jordan

So...this is what I do instead of take notes. Senioritis.

Introducing the Twelve Days of Christmas - Jordan Style.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, Jordan gave to me...

12 People Staring

11 Hookahs Bubbling

10 Falafel Frying

9 Gunshots Ringing

8 Men Smoking

7 Plates of Mansaf

6 Angry Protests

5 Calls to Prayer

4 Dumpster Kittens

3 Crazy Taxis

2 Bowls of Hummus

And a Wonderful Host Family.

Yes, I have Christmas Spirit despite the 70 degree weather.

Just Like a Circus

In 23 days I am no longer "undergrad nomad." This is not only because I'll be on a plane headed back to the States, but because I will be finished with my undergrad. Completely finished. Wrapping my head around this idea is terrifying. I think, sometimes, when we're in college we pretend there isn't a real world out there. But, guess what? Hey, Grace, there's a real world out there. As I head into my last few weeks of college, I think it's about time to reflect on what college has taught me and where in the world I am heading next. But, first, a story.

When I was nine-years-old, I went to see the Russian circus while in Mongolia. I watched, wide-eyed, as men stuck their heads in the mouths of lions and tigers. Trapeze artists swung, gracefully, dangerously, through the air with amazing strength. A tight-rope walker steadily made her way across the rope at a frightening height. A man cartwheeled his way onto the stage and began to juggle everything from fire to knives. A young girl in a sparkly suit stood on a box and began to bend her body in ways that shouldn't be possible. It was all beyond phenomenal. As I'm sure all children do, I spent the next week planning out ways I could run away with the circus. Eventually, I decided it was infeasible. I came to the conclusion that my Russian was far below par (not that I didn't have any particularly circus-worthy talents).  I gave up that dream and moved on to others that were, given, equally infeasible.

As I begin the career-search and dream-pursuit, I have begun reflecting on all my old childhood dreams. Ballerina. Circus performer. FBI agent. Astronaut. Egyptologist. Actress. Secretary of State. Awhile ago I realized that every decision I have made has meant I was closing a door on other decisions. When I quit ballet lessons, I said "no" to being a ballerina. When I stopped taking science courses, I said "no" to being an astronaut. This pattern is something with which we are all familiar. And sometimes, these decisions affects us more than we expect. However, today I have realized some wonderful news. I'm finally ready for the circus.

It turns out that all this time, as I was struggling through my undergraduate, I was actually being prepared for the circus. And here's how:

Juggler: University taught me that, in life, there will always be multiple things you will have to do at the same time. It is simply unavoidable. We can choose to either be overwhelmed by each as they fall down towards us, or we can choose to focus on each as they fall and pass them from hand to hand and back up again. I know very well that it can feel like "when it rains, it pours." But, I also know that life continues on. And we must learn how to cope with whatever comes our way. And, just like a juggler at a circus, we learn to get through each one with a smile on our face.

Trapeze Artist: For me, this is the skill of handling seemingly terrible situations with a grace that seems impossible. It is smiling and clinging with strength to the important things in life. It is trusting the people in your life to catch you when you fall. It is enjoying the moment even though the landing is uncertain. Sometimes life hits us with really hard things to handle. During college, I dealt with the death of my grandfather, close relationships ending, and having to relearn who and what I could trust. These things were really painful, but these growing pains are so important. I have learned to cling to my faith, my family, and my friends. I think, now, I'm ready to be a trapeze artist.

Lion-tamer: There will always be beasts in life. Seemingly, terrible creatures that want to rip you apart. They scare you, try to make you run away. But this is when we learn to stand our ground. Just like the lion-tamer, we learn ways to befriend the beast. By the end of your time with the animal, you're able to be friends. Maybe it's still a guarded relationship, but you are braver because of it. These big, bad beasts usually are nothing like what we originally thought anyway. Everyone becomes a lion-tamer at some point or another.

Tight-rope Walker: I've never been very good at balancing. I took gymnastics for a little while as a kid, and the balance beam and I never really got along. I would stand carefully, perfectly in tune with the world, and then I would take a step. I would promptly fall. I eventually realized that my problem wasn't with my actual balance. It was that I allowed myself to become distracted by everything around me. University has taught me how to walk along the straight and narrow. During this time, I have learned how to keep putting one foot in front of another while focusing on the finish. We balance life by seeing what is important and going after it.

Contortionist: The flexibility shown by contortionists is something so beyond what we can understand. They move in ways that look as though every bone and ligament in their body has broken or snapped. They are bent and twisted like an old tree, but they don't break. They are smiling and beautiful despite their crooked forms. The past three and a half years have taught me to be flexible because life has bent me. We must embrace what comes our way even when we are at our breaking point.

After further reflection, I have decided that life is a circus. So, maybe, just maybe, college has prepared me for life. I'm not as smart as I thought I was when I went in, and I'm definitely a lot poorer. But, I think I am better prepared than I was three and a half years ago. So, just like nine-year-old Gracie, I'm once again excited to run away and join the circus.

It Is Well with My Soul

This Thanksgiving season I am thankful for pain. Yes, pain.

Over the last few days I have begun to realize it is very easy to be thankful for the good things in our lives. For example, being thankful for my family, for my friends, for my house, and for food to eat. The obvious, the easy. So this thanksgiving, I encouraged myself to be original. In my search for originality, I stumbled upon a very convicting truth about thankfulness. It does not just include the happy things in life; it includes every aspect of our lives. Because, if each moment is a gift, that includes even the hard times.

Most of you probably know this already, but my mother died when I was seven years old. It was a sudden, painless death for her, but sometimes I think it was the opposite for the ones she left behind. Losing a mom as a child is something no one really understands unless they have been through it. It's something that affects your entire life because you always wonder what life would have been if they hadn't left you. It somehow can manage to be painful even when it isn't. As I grew older, I would hear my dad recount the story of my mother's death. Over and over again, I would hear it. And after almost every retelling, my dad would pick up his violin and play the old hymn, "It Is Well with My Soul."

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

I loved listening to it. Eventually, this song became the only tangible thing I could equate to the story of my mother's death. I am so thankful to my dad for his amazing strength throughout my life, despite the pain. He has taught me well that this song can represent God's sweet relief.

Less than a year after my mom's death, my dad was remarried. He married this beautiful, young lady named Nicole. And she's been the world's best mum ever since. Not only did I get a wonderful mum, but I also now have five more perfect siblings in addition to Jonan. Jonan, my best friend and confidant. Elim, the brilliant, goof-ball. Josiah, the sensitive, super-cool kid. Andrew, the quiet, creative genius. Moriah, the beautiful, sassy sweetheart. And now, Rose the loving, smiling pretty one.  You know what? I am thankful for the pain, because God gave me them. And they are a sweet relief.

For many years, my family and I lived in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. It was home. Homes are hard to come by as I have learned from a lifetime of exchanging houses, pets, and cars for new locations and languages. We were supposed to stay there for as long as I could imagine, but that was not to be. When my brother, Elim, was diagnosed with autism, we were shipped back to the States faster than I knew possible. Mongolia was the first time I had happily laid down roots, and been ready to commit to a home. Having that cut off, hurt. I just wanted to belong somewhere. But now, I have the ability to look back and see how lucky I am that I was able to experience it for even a little while. Not only did I get to see the world, but I also got to meet so many wonderful people by coming back to the States. Even some friends for a lifetime. I am thankful for that pain, because God taught me that home is wherever you open your heart to someone. And that is a sweet relief.

Every stage of life has its ups and downs. The pain starts to surround you so thoroughly that you begin to think you're drowning. But it's like they always say: if it weren't for the darkness, we would never see the stars. Pain teaches us things that nothing else can. We know better what joy is because of pain. It brings such sweet relief.

Being in Jordan has brought its own round of pain. Homesickness and culture shock tried to paralyze me at the beginning. And, later on, the everyday inconveniences of men and taxis tried to send me packing. But here I am, a month from going home, and I am thankful. I am thankful for the pain I have been through, because it has made me that much stronger. It has made me realize how fortunate I am to have the opportunity to be here and to be studying. I am thankful that I am surrounded by amazing people - here, at home, and all over the world. So, thanks for the pain, Jordan. Because...

Even so, it is well with my soul.

Whispers

Sometimes, I just feel like this land is burning. And I burn alongside it.

They call out words like, "truce," "ceasefire," and "peace talks."

But we know better.

Their words feel hallow next to words like, "invasion," "rockets," and "death."

Our leaders cry out, "Diplomacy will solve this!"

But diplomacy is slow, diplomacy is filled with handshakes and false promises.

Diplomacy doesn't console the crying, the hurting, the dead.

And it's painful to watch.

WAR

violent conflict

a fearful, hateful reality

temporary constructions mandated by perishable human beings

a hopeful desire for love

positive tranquility

PEACE

The Visible and The Invisible

Hatred.

Hatred of the unknown and the known.

Hatred of the constructed, imagined enemy.

Real.

Real faces, real lives, real people.

Real danger because of their hatred.

Fear.

Fear of the noise, the silence.

Fear of the hatred that has permeated reality.

Hope. 

Hope for a better today, tomorrow.

Hope to end the reality of hatred and fear.

Desire. 

Desire for the conflict to cease, for peace.

Desire for the hatred and fear to fade into a reality of hope.

Love.

Love that consumes - the friend, the enemy, the conflict.

Love, desire, and hope for the end of this fearful, hateful reality.

A Time to Learn

Before I begin, I need to address something. I realize I am only a young college student. I don't pretend to know everything, or anything for that matter. The things I say are simply what I have seen and experienced. All I will tell you is solely based on my personal experiences.

---

I have learned that timing, timing is everything.

Two weeks ago, I decided I would go to the Holy Land over my long weekend. It was an easy decision; It's cheap to cross the border and I had some friends who wanted to go. We booked our hostel and prepared for the trip. We decided we'd leave a day early, that way we'd have a little longer to see the sights. The only potentially difficult part of our trip would be crossing the border. We just hoped it wouldn't be a problem - after all, we were just some college students wanting to see the Holy Land. 

Tuesday finally came and my friends and I hopped into a taxi headed for the border. Down, down, down we descended to the Dead Sea until we finally reached the check point where we would pay our exit fees and bus over to the Israeli check point. Now you must understand, we'd been told some serious horror stories about this check point.

"Oh, it took us five hours." 

"I got interrogated about why I was learning Arabic." 

"They yelled at me and didn't want to let me in." 

"Yeah, it took us four hours to get through."

 I was preparing for the worst. As our bus pulled into the check point, I started reciting my response in my head for why I wanted to visit Jerusalem. My friends and I handed off our luggage at the security and walked to the first counter that checked our passport. Counter after counter we walked,  never once waiting in line, never once having a difficult time. Before we knew it, we were out. Luggage in hand, we stood on the other side of the check point, grinning at each other. "Easy-peasy," I said and we got into a bus to head to Jerusalem. Good timing, I guess.

At the city limits, the bus was stopped and an IDF soldier climbed in to check all of our passports. His name was David and he couldn't have been older than 18. His AK- 47 looked scarier than he did. We didn't talk, but I don't think I'm going to forget David. He was my first glimpse into the reality of every news article I had ever read about Israel. Little did I know, the weekend was going to be moment after moment of a reality I never thought I'd know. It's all about the timing.

When we arrived to the hostel, I learned that it had free wifi. I immediately pulled out my iPhone to check my email and Facebook. (Fast, free internet is a big deal in the Middle East when you're used to paying for every moment of internet you use.) This was what greeted me when I opened my inbox:

 DEMONSTRATIONS IN PROGRESS: SECURITY ALERT

EMERGENCY MESSAGE FOR U.S. CITIZENS

 In a few short hours, Amman went from silent and calm to angry and loud. The government had released the information that they were raising the price of fuel by 53% while we were crossing the border. Our program cancelled school for the next day and those who were planning to travel for the weekend by car were no longer allowed to travel outside the city. My friends and I looked at each other - what remarkable timing.

The next day, we began with a guided tour of the Old City and saw some of the sights. Honestly, it didn't even feel like real life running around the Old City's quarters and coming upon the Dome of the Rock and then the Western Wall. Everything was so close to everything else. When the tour was over, we went back and revisited the places we had breezed over with the tour. It was then that the glamour of seeing the sights started to wear off. As I waited in line to see a possible tomb of Christ in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, I couldn't help but feel like I was in a Holy Disneyland. Everything around me was so overrun with tourists that I felt completely separated from what I was seeing. While it is amazing to be able to say I have now seen these famous artifacts and locations, I can't help but feel that they have simply become attractions for the masses. I found myself missing the simplicity of standing on the bank of the Jordan River from the Jordanian side.

When we got back to the hostel that evening, I checked the news for more information about Jordan. While there were updates about Jordan, there was something far more significant and pertinent on the front page of BBC news. 

ISRAELI AIR STRIKE KILLS HAMAS MILITARY CHIEF IN GAZA

And so it began. It turned out that while we had been standing in line in the Holy Disneyworld, Israel and Gaza had begun something huge. Something that was going to greatly effect everything. Emails began pouring in saying things like, "US SECURITY ALERT - ISRAEL." Suddenly our proposed trip to Bethlehem looked out of the question. We headed to bed with a new plan of spending the next day in Tel Aviv where it was sure to be calm. I fell asleep thinking how unbelievable the timing of all this craziness was. 

The next day we got a late start, but arrived in Tel Aviv around 1 pm. We proceeded to get lost for a few hours, but eventually ended up on the beach. It was beautiful. The sun was beginning to set and there were only a few people spread out on this long beach. After we had exhausted the sunlight, we headed into Old Jaffa for dinner. Old Jaffa is said to be the port that Jonah set sail from before his fateful experience with the whale. As we walked towards Jaffa, we heard a deep, loud boom. We looked at each other wondering what that had been, but shrugged and walked on. We found an adorable cafe and proceeded to have a fantastic dinner. After dinner, we headed back to Jerusalem. Once we arrived back, we all decided we wanted to find a bar to hang out in. There we met two IDF officers who introduced themselves to us. They were delightful company and I was so glad to put personalities to this faceless force. During the conversation, my friend curiously asked them, "Do you think this fighting with Gaza will escalate much?" The IDF soldiers hesitated a moment and then said, "Oh yes, for sure. I mean, they fired on Tel Aviv tonight after all." It was our moment to hesitate. "They did what?" "Fired on Tel Aviv." Under my breath I said, "I knew I heard a boom." Our timing was impeccable.

GAZA CRISIS: TEL AVIV TARGETED BY MISSILES 

The news was everywhere. Tel Aviv had been targeted, one hitting towards the south of the city and another off the shore into the sea. My mum had already sent me an anxious email by the time I got back to the hostel. I quickly responded telling her I was fine and that I was safely in Jerusalem now. No worries anymore, right? 

The next morning we headed to Yad Vashem (the holocaust museum in Jerusalem) on the tram. At the stop before we were to reach Yad Vashem, a young Israeli man came over and told us, "We have to leave. This is the last stop. They found an unidentified object ahead so the tram will go no further." With this new knowledge, we set out on foot the rest of the way to Yad Vashem. Ahead we could see there was police tape marking off the area all around the next tram stop. We skirted the area as we headed down to the museum. Great timing.

A few hours into Yad Vashem, I was ready to head back to finish up sight-seeing in Jerusalem. It was a bit heavy for me to look at for too long. The rest of my group was not ready, so I decided I would head back by myself. I walked back to the tram and took it to the Damascus Gate. When I arrived, the area around the gate was crawling with IDF troops. I could barely get around them to find my way to the gate. As I weaved my way through, I was struck with how many girls I saw. Now, if you know me, you know that I'm not a military person. But watching these girls, I have never wanted to be part of the military more. I felt so weak just looking at them. I realized that living in a nation where women are not considered strong had made me crave the power that I saw in these Israeli girls. I was tired of feeling vulnerable.

Once I was inside the Damascus Gate, I realized that I was in the middle of the Arab quarter. An American girl all alone in the Arab quarter is probably not a very good idea. But fortunately, I was a girl on a mission. I rushed past the men calling out and staring at me. I just kept walking and turning down narrow alleys as I recognized graffiti after graffiti. I wasn't really sure where I wanted to go, but I loved the feeling of being free. I was walking alone by myself in one of the most ancient cities in the world, in a country seized by war. But I was able to be alone and I wasn't lost. I felt powerful and in control despite my circumstances. And I loved it. I think I needed that moment - it was good timing.

Later that evening, my friends and I went to the Mount of Olives, and more specifically, the Garden of Gethsemane and Basilica of the Agony. In the Basilica of the Agony, mass was in process. It was beautiful to listen to in the majestic church. As some of my friends sat in the pews listening, I headed back outside. As I left the noise of the ongoing mass, I was greeted and overwhelmed with the sound of the call to prayer. The reality of what I was listening to struck me deeply. The clash of religions, cultures, and people there in Jerusalem is so complicated. As I sat on the stairs leading to the Basilica of the Agony, I was overwhelmed with the agony this clash has brought to the region. You so badly want there to be peace, and there is none to be had. I sat and waited for my friends to come out. It wasn't more than a minute after they joined me that a foreign noise filled the night sky.

AIR SIRENS

Tourists began to look at their tour guides with panicked faces. People began rushing around. My heart dropped into my stomach. And yet, the Israelis simply walked on. Immediately, I thought back to David, the young man who had looked at my passport as I had entered Jerusalem. Was he going to be in danger? What about our new IDF friends from the bar? What about the girls who had seemed so powerful hours ago? Faced with something as huge and terrifying as rockets, suddenly every single one of them seemed as weak as me. As my friends and I set off to get back to our hostel through the Old City, I realized every people, every culture, every country has their own weaknesses. Jordan is not alone; I am not alone. As we walked back through the streets of the Old City, gun fire played like a chorus in the background.

One particular shop owner came out to greet us as we passed. He was grinning and laughing as he said, "The rockets!! Gaza is firing! Everyone is scared." I couldn't understand why he was so happy. This was his home. And then, it hit me. He was proud of Gaza finally making a strong move against Israel, even if it meant the city he was in was at risk. His attitude stated more than anything he could have ever said. I found out later the gunfire was from Palestinians celebrating all throughout Jerusalem. Suddenly I thought about all the Gazans dying less than an hour from me. I thought about the mothers crying for their children. I thought about the hate that saturates the air in this nation. I thought about the reality of a conflict that had driven people to cheer their city getting hit with rockets, the reality that I was suddenly in the middle of. My heart ached and continues to ache.

There is so much pain on both sides. I think too often we get caught up on one side of the conflict. I understand that, I really do. But seeing the faces of both sides makes everything so real. I have noticed in myself that, when I feel very passionately about a subject, I often forget about the credibility of the other side. This trip was very important for me. I saw both sides in a tangible way, and really, it's devastating. I imagined each of these people growing up. From childhood they are taught a certain way of thinking and living, just like I have been. We, they, just don't understand each other. And there is much more to learn. No matter what we think about each side, we can agree that this endless violence needs to stop. Needs to stop.

You'll be glad to learn that on Saturday I arrived back safely across the border. Jordan has calmed down a bit, so getting into the country was not a problem. Although, there are still protests scheduled through out this week. But, to say the least, my weekend was perfectly timed despite terrible timing. I know that doesn't really make sense, but I really was safe while still being in the thick of it. I feel heavy with the weight of what I have seen and learned, but I know it is crucial to wrestle with this knowledge. We should not be comfortable with what is going on.  Our world is so sadly diseased.

While I was in Old Jaffa, I purchased a pocket watch. At the time, I thought it was just a cool accessory to own. But now, I find it so much more significant. It reminds me of this moment in my life where timing was everything. It reminds me every day how time can not be taken for granted. It's ticking, it's flying, and it waits for no one. Every second, minute, and hour is a gift. How much time have I wasted on hate and not love? I don't want to waste another moment. It's time to start seeing clearly.