As I see it...Tine

As some of our followers have correctly noted, there has been some blogging "mania" over the last 6 weeks or so. And indeed dear reader this has been the case. I would like to provide a rationalization of this development and yes crew, I am launching into "analytical mode". Perhaps I should begin by quoting these two aphorisms: Number 1: "there is no time as productive as the last minute." And number 2: "if it weren't for the last minute, nothing would ever get done". As a caveat I should note that I frame my remarks through the lens of my own experiences as Tinenenji (although I have an informed suspicion that my fellow volunteers share many of these thoughts). And before I venture any further, I would also like to pay tribute to Lena who kept the blog going while the four of us were too busy "being on the project". Lena, thank you for encouraging us to blog more. We should have listened.


Ok with that lengthy preamble out of the way, I shall proceed. During our orientation sessions in Cincinnati, we were informed that one of our obligations to the project was to maintain a blog. This requirement was mentioned in passing and had a "step-sister" status to the other "big" requirements like "stay close to God", "be a light", "serve diligently" etc. And yes, in light of these "weightier matters" the blog was quite appropriately a postscript. And yet it was still a requirement, just as the "less weighty" matters of the law are still requirements and should not be left undone.


I see my blogging tendencies as having gone through a dysfunctional lifecycle of at least 5 distinct stages. Stage 1: At the outset of the project, I was overwhelmed by the fact that almost "everything" (including our first trip to the grocery store, our first cab ride, and our first falafel sandwich) was blogworthy. I was in a sense – overwhelmed into inertia, so, I essentially did nothing. Stage 2: Over time as things levelled out and as I attained a level of normalcy in my life in Jordan, it seemed as though almost nothing was blogworthy - everything was routine and familiar. Stage 3: I became so incredibly busy with my project assignment; I literally did not have time to blog. Stage 4: Then came my slap in the face. All of a sudden it was March 27th, and in a state of panic, I penned “It’s Slipping Away”....my last blog having been almost 3 months earlier. Stage 5: In an attempt to salvage the situation, I began making some "last minute" amends.

I think there are some compelling spiritual parallels here. At stage 1: we can get so overwhelmed about everything we are “supposed to do” as Christians, that we end up doing nothing. This was the blunder of the servant in Mathew 25. He was so overwhelmed by the enormity of his assignment that he did nothing at all – paying with his life in the process. Even if we are not tripped up at stage 1, there is still danger at stage 2: As the excitement of our calling plateaus, there is the risk that what was once electrifying and energizing becomes ordinary and routine, and we lose that “awestruck” quality becoming lacklustre. But even if this is not the case, we are still in the danger zone, for there is always stage 3: Life can be so busy sometimes that the “cares of this life” prevent us from properly investing in the things that matter. Ironically, this “busyness’’ may even involve a disproportionate focus on certain aspects of our calling, to the detriment of other aspects of that same calling. Depending on the severity of the lapse of judgement in 1 -3, by the time we are subjected to the slap in the face at stage 4, our fate may already have been sealed and even if it is not yet so, our ability to mitigate the disaster at stage 5 may be severely limited. Stage 5 is of course the “last minute”. I realize that while a last minute methodology worked brilliantly for me in my academic career, I realize it will not work so well for me as a kingdom seeker, as there are some prerequisites to entry that cannot be accomplished at the last minute (as the 5 foolish virgins found out to their detriment).

Now, our project manager has been very happy with the blog and yes, the project has been a sterling success so I am not trying to “rain on our parade” by deriving such a serious lesson from a seemingly insignificant development. And yet I do think that there is a lesson (however tenuous). We decided as a group that we will bind the blog entries into a scrapbook as a keepsake. I know that my kids will be disappointed that their mother blogged least when it mattered most, and most when it mattered least, but then hopefully there will be lesson wrapped up in that for them

You're a Decent Person...Zach

Last Wednesday the PE department at ABS took us out for an Arabic meal as a farewell party for me and another teacher who is leaving this year. Of course we left the table a couple pounds heavier because the amazing spread of Arabic specialties that we were given. I think one of the most common things I hear from my co-workers is, "Zach, take...eat!" They usually fail to look and see that I already have a falafel ball in my cheek and a piece of bread with zattar the size of my head on my plate. Lately I have been strategizing and trying to eat slow so I'm always chewing, but that doesn't help much either. The hospitality is so incredible that if you show any sign of want someone will be offering you a treat within seconds. Amazing people.

They also brought a little gift along, something from the department to help me remember them. The little wooden box held inside the message, "Wishing you the best of everything...wherever you go & forever. P.E. Department. 17.6.2009." It's been hitting me lately how comfortable I have become here, and how much I love the people I work with. One of my best friends at the school is old enough to be my father. His name is Mohamad and he's been working at ABS for 16 years. He still remembers the voluteers that worked there when he first arrived. We were talking about them one day and I commented that they must have done an amazing job if he still remembers them. I joked with him that I hope he will remember me for at least one year. But with his all so common genuineness and sincerity he said that he will remember me for many years to come. In many respects, such a simple comment was mission accomplished for me.

One last confidence booster for me that I'll share comes from the title of this blog. In our last Arabic lesson I asked our teacher to help me write a note in Arabic to the PE team. I gave it to the head of my department this week. She read it with a smile, thought for a moment, and then said, "You are a very decent person. We all love you." You are a decent person doesn't seem like a flattering comment to most, but amidst the language barrier, with the last 10 months in mind, that was more than I could ever ask for. Although Lena doesn't want to admit it, the end is near. We are all excited to see our friends, families, churches, and homes...but it will definitely be difficult to leave our new relationships behind.

Remain Calm...Tine

Dear readers,

The most important thing at this stage is that you all remain calm. I am working with Lena to ensure that her volatility is stabilized and brought under a measure of control. My friend is grappling to come to terms with the fact that the project officially ends in just over 2 weeks. She is slowly (but surely) progressing through the stages of grief. Yesterday was stage 1: Denial, and today is stage 2: Anger - hence the irate blogpost. As the picture below so eloquently portrays, stage 2 could be potentially harmful to the health of those of us in close proximity - BUT like I said, there is no need for panic, at this point. Should things substantially deteriorate, I will call for a collaborative brainstorming session on how we can best ameliorate this (potentially alarming) situation. I will continue to monitor her condition and if things continue to decline, we will proceed accordingly. However we are still on orange…for now.

Very (IN)Sincerely,
Tine
Ps: Mr. Horchak, these exchanges are our coping mechanism with the "inevitable". You can "chide" us accordingly on Wednesday :-)

For The Sake of Clarification -- Lena

Dear Readers,
This blog is simply to assure you that, contrary to the last blog's title, we are NOT at the end. You will hear more from us, like it or not. In fact, I'm quite sure that there will be a flurry of activity in the next few weeks. I won't say what's going to happen after the next few weeks. However it is definitely NOT end game. I have said my piece, I do hope it has been informative, if not entertaining.


Tine thinks I look evil in this picture. You're all invited to comment and/or discuss




This is the waterfall that Lewie and I hiked to on friday:

LAST MOMENTS :-(

The end game guys...

Living on the fringes...Tine

If you are reading this, chances are you are not a refugee. However according to UNHCR, there are over 11 million refugees and 26 million Internally Displaced Persons world-wide - many of these young children. These persons live on the peripheries of society –below the poverty line, separated from their family members, without access to a livelihood, without psychological support, subject to ethnic and sexual violence, and ultimately - with very little hope for the future. Since 2003, Jordan has received staggering per-capita arrivals of Iraqi refugees (over half a million), and this has stretched the Kingdom's already struggling economy to its limits. Jordan is one of the largest refugee hosting countries in the world and currently plays host to millions of displaced persons most of them of Palestinian origin.

I have had the honor of meeting a few of these displaced persons, and some of you have expressed an interest in my ongoing forced migration research at the RHSC. When I first arrived at the center in August 2008, the forced migration cluster was new and non-operational. The director gave me the flexibility to shape the cluster as I saw fit, and I had to start from "scratch" as it were, rewriting the cluster description, conducting a literature survey and choosing a research focus. While I am no longer officially at the RHSC, I remain involved (between "stolen moments"), and plan to complete my research projects (although their conclusion may now take longer than I had originally planned). My research page is finally up on the RHSC website and you can view a description of the cluster and my current projects here http://www.rhsc.org.jo/content/research/Forced%20Migration.php
I am still editing the literature survey but plan to have it online within the next week or so.

A lot of refugee situations are complex and protracted, and most will never be fully resolved - at least not in this lifetime. If you are reading this, count the enormous blessing of being a recognized national of a recognized state - this is something we can so easily take for granted. You are free to pursue your aspirations and build a sensible future for you and your loved ones. Remember that some day soon, we too may be refugees - on an undignified run for our lives, buffeted at every turn, and living on the peripheries of society, entirely dependent on direct handouts from God for survival. Until that day, please spare a few thoughts (and prayers) for all those that are living this reality now.

Meanderings -- Lena

I'd like to start this blog by thanking all of the people who have been reading it, whether it be a one time event, or our faithful followers who diligently trudge through our morass of words, it is MUCH appreciated. I've been thinking about writing a blog for a week or so now, but I often feel like a blog hog, and like to let others take the reins for awhile. For those that know me, they know I am rarely at a loss for words and it would be very easy for this to become the UYCLENA blog if I didn't exert some modicum (to steal a word from Tine) of control. In addition to my unusual exercising of self-control, I also haven't been able to think of anything to write. This writers block does not, by any means, stem from a lack of material, but rather the opposite, too many things are swirling in my head to pluck out just one. In fact lately it has been hard to get my thoughts to slow down enough to even fully identify what I am thinking. Imagine, if you will, that you are standing in the center of a dark circular room while thousands of Polaroid photographs spin around you as though you're in the center of a tornado. This room is my mind, and the pictures are my thoughts, every time I think I've grasped one in my hand the wind has whipped it from my hand before I can fully identify it. However, every now and then they come into focus around me like a bullet in a slow motion sequence of an action movie, and even the smallest details are superbly clear to me, but only for a split second. In these (VERY) rare moments of clarity there is one thought that seems to loom larger than the others lately. If this picture/thought had a caption it would be ISOLATION.
For the first time in my life I am in a congregation with less than 75 people, and it is only temporary. And we're spoiled (sometimes I feel greedy). We have had an amazing team of ministers that have kept us well fed with Skype call check-ins, Sabbath notes offering us a bit of food for thought, and the occasional Skype bible study. We were able to spend the Feast of Tabernacles with a wonderful group of 32 people in Sri Lanka. Mr. Dave Register took the time to spend nearly a week with us here in Amman, even enduring the city bus ride. And then we had Passover, NTBMO, and First DUB in Israel with 50+ brethren from around the world. With the wonder of modern technology we were able to listen in on services in Indiana for Pentecost, and I see my mom and dad usually once a week on Skype. While we are far from our home, we are far from isolated. So why does this thought of isolation keep popping into my head? After much rumination, I think I've found my answer. Though I am not isolated, there are many that are. Imagine being the only person in your entire city to believe as you do, now try and imagine being the only one in your entire COUNTRY that believes as you do. Now that is isolation! And unfortunately it exists now, in the midst of our fellowship we have those that see other members once a year, and some who’ve gone even longer without visits. Thinking of these brethren makes me want to go and visit each and every one of them; to sit with them, talk with them, and listen to them. Despite this great desire on my part to visit the isolated, chances are slim that I will have the opportunity to do so, at least on a large scale. However, this doesn’t have to stop me from reaching out to them nonetheless. And this, I suppose, is the crux of my blog. No matter how far apart we are from each other, we are a family, and we should be encouraging each other as such. I so desperately look forward to the day when we can ALL be together in the Kingdom of God.
The '08/'09 Jordan Crew tonight after dinner...we had a "photo shoot", yeah, we're that nerdy

Our Friend Dave -- Em

After about 7 months of living in Jordan, our excitement was growing to spend the Holy Days with other church people on the tour in Israel. We didn't know what to expect, and I wasn't sure if I would even remember how to interact in a room full of English speakers outside our Jordan 5. After arriving, I was struck with amazement at the welcoming smiles and friendliness of the people we met. Even though we only saw a few familiar faces, we were accepted with open arms, and treated like part of the group. On our first night at dinner, Zach and I were choosing a place to sit, when a woman named Leslie and her husband Brian, from Australia, came over and said, "Hey, aren't you guys from Jordan? I've been reading about you!" It was so nice to hear that someone we had never met, from a country to which we had never been had heard about us, and was looking forward to meeting us.

(Zach & Dave)

We met so many nice people, and were encouraged just by being around them and getting to know them. One such person has left a lasting impression, and taught me a great lesson that I'd like to share. His name is Dave...

We waited in the lobby as the tour group arrived. We were so happy to see a few familiar faces after being away from them for so long. As most of the group went to their rooms to put away their things and settle down, a man came up to Zach and me, and introduced himself. He seemed really interested in us and took the time to talk to us. Little did we know, he would end up riding with the 5 of us in our van (along with Dr. Levy who was so kind to spend some extra time with us), he would share his life stories & adventures, he would treat us like his new best friends, and he wouldn't forget about us when he went home.

Dave made us feel at home in a far away land, and continues to reach out to us even after he's been back home, with all of life's distractions. To me, he is the shining example of the verse in Matthew 25:35 "... I was a stranger and you took Me in." Even though we were strangers, he reached out to us and showed us that he cared. Dave has inspired me, and made me want to do the same for others, to show that same care for everyone I meet. Afterall, we're each a little strange in our own way ;) but we all have the desire and need to feel loved.

Pictures: Lewis & Lena in Capernaum; Tine, Lena & Sheri at Megiddo; Lewis, Lena, Jo Robertson & Me in Jerusalem

Palace Garden Party...Tine

I just returned from my first major social event at the Palace - the annual Garden Party! It was not as taxing as I had imagined and my special thanks go to my girls - Emily & Lena for helping me get ready.

The "What Ifs" --- Lewis

Sometimes I like to think "What If." I don't do it seriously, but it is interesting to think about. I know that I've thought about what things would change if I had taken a certain path on a walk, or if I had spoken to a certain person that I never actually got around to speaking to. Most of the time these thoughts are looking backwards and playing back moments in my mind of times that I can't have again, moments that will always just be memories; experiences that I can't change.

What if I had gone to a different university and met different friends, had different experiences, or chosen a different subject to study? Where would I be now? What if I hadn't taken time off after college to move to Ohio and meet all the people I now know as friends? Would I have met them at some point later on?

These thoughts could even be taken back further, back to the times of when I was young and full of energy; when I was impressionable and naive. Those crucial days when the mind is shaped and molded.

What if I had actually decided to do exactly what all my friends did back in high school instead of playing it safe and being the voice of reason, stepping back when things weren't going the way they were supposed to go? What if I hadn't written that story in third grade that made me want to write more? What if, in kindergarten when my friend Sarah and I would laugh all day long together, I had actually decided to color within the lines?

Some of these thoughts, these happenings, my personal history, seem so simple and unimportant. But what would really happen if these times were changed? What would really happen if I had chosen a completely different path than the one I am living on today? Each moment that we live comes with choices. These choice lead to other moments with different, new choices. Each choice has some kind of consequence and can change the direction of the motion of life. Each step that we take will change where we go and how long it will take us to get there.

There are some moments that I would admittedly take back. Those little "oops" moments where I can look back and say, "I made the wrong choice." A moment where I took something that wasn't mine. A moment where I hurt someone when I shouldn't have. A moment when I didn't go up and meet new people and make new friends. A moment when I could have pushed myself harder to achieve even greater things.

What if I could go back and give back the things that I took? What if I could take back every harsh word that I said; take away any heartache that I might have caused someone? What if I had gotten to know some of the people who aren't around any more? What if I had asked more questions of those I did get to know? What if I had pushed myself further in my studies? What if I had put more effort into every activity that I had started?

I could say that I do wish I knew what I know now when I was younger (I stole that one from a song by the way). I'm sure that at some point in our lives we all take a look back at our own personal history and ponder the paths we have taken and where they have taken us today.

In my "wise old age" now that I am finally 26, I can say that I have looked back often to see where my feet stepped. I can follow the path just like a well marked road map (or perhaps one of those treasure maps in the cartoons, you know, the ones with the path marked out in red and at the end of the trail is a giant X marking the spot). At the end of the road is the spot that I stand on today; the place that all the choices I made yesterday and the day before have brought me.I don't want to turn around and take it back. There are plenty of mistakes that I may have made. There are plenty of bad choices that I could have made better. I could have had a better attitude when taking on certain tasks. I could have pushed myself to do better. I could have encouraged others in a better way. I could have ended up in a different place.

What if I looked back into the past for a moment and observed everything I saw? What if I took this knowledge of the steps that I have taken and turned back around to face forward? What if I made better choices tomorrow? What if, tomorrow, I am better able to take the right steps to direct my path where I would have it go because I had looked back and remember the mistakes that I had made before? What if I was able to change my future?

My personal history, the path that had led me to this point in life, is part of what makes me who I am. It is what makes me Lewis. I can't take any of it back even if I wanted to. I can only look forward and make sure I am taking better steps from here on out.

But why do you have to go?...Zach

Those are the words that break my heart but warm my soul every time I hear them. Especially when they come from one of my most loving little third graders. Unfortunatley we cannot post pictures of our ABS students onlne, so just imagine a tiny little 8 year-old girl with glasses and a disapproving look on her face as you read this. The disapproving look never seems to fade, even after asking me just about every time I've seen her for the last month why I have to go back home after this year. I thought I would get tougher after the first time she asked me, but I still hurt a little bit inside every time she asks. The first time she asked about my departure was about a month ago. She came up to me during break time and said, "Mr. Zach, I'm going to miss you. Why are you leaving?" I told her I have to go because my mom and dad, and the rest of my family and friends miss me too. She wasn't buying this at first, but when I told her I have to go see my nephew she got distracted for awhile because she was amazed that I was an uncle. But she is a bright girl, so she didn't let me lead her off track that easily. "But why do you have to go?" Her mom works at the school and she told me just the other day that her daughter is so distraught because I am leaving. I laughed a little and said, "I'm not sure why."

The last week or two more students have been expressing their desire for Lewis and I to stick around. During one of his lessons this week, while dealing with a difficult student who wasn't listening well, Lewis stopped for a second and just said, "I'm going to miss you." The student said, "Yeah, I'm going to miss you too." And then Lewis continued to try to capture his attention.

Although they don't always show it in the most loving way, I guess our students do like having us around. 7 or 8 months ago I definitely didn't think I would be getting requests from some of my students to stay another year, but day after day we hear more of these pleas. It is comforting and rewarding to know that even through all of the challenges that we've faced as young, first-year, volunteer, foreign teachers, we have made some kind of an impact. We must be doing something right! Although it is hard on the heart, I will take as many "But why do you have to go"'s as I can get in the next two weeks.

Lewis playing with a new friend in Aqaba.

At the ABS Middle School Sports Day

After an amazing meal at Reem Abu Wabi

More Mudding & Floating - The Smiths' Adventure :)

Spreading the Good News at the Dead Sea :)

Floating & Mudding...Tine

This past Friday, Lewis, Lena and I made our way down to the Dead Sea while Zach and Em opted for a quiet day at home. Of the 5 of us, only I had not yet visited the legendary site. Zach and Lewis had previously escorted a group of their students down there for a robotics competition, and Emily and Lena had visited in April while I was en route to Toronto for a conference. Fortunately for me, L & L were kind enough to "endure" (yeah right) another excursion for my benefit so off we went...this time in a red gremlin which I must say was definitely sturdier than its green counterpart and had the added benefit of air conditioning!

I don't know how many times I will use the word "amazing" during this project, but no other expletive will suffice. The Dead Sea was just that – amazing. Because of its unusually high salinity (35%), the Dead Sea is incredibly buoyant, and upon entering it, you will undoubtedly float. The feeling is impossible to describe. You can literally lie on your back, (completely horizontal), read a newspaper (with your eyeglasses), have a nap, apply chap stick, listen to an I-pod, or eat an ice cream cone, -and not go under. You can also stand (in deep waters) and not sink- chin up and all. Of course, this is a major tourist attraction and people come from all over the world for a first-hand experience of this anomaly. Naturally I was anxious to try it (a bit skeptical as well..."oh me of little faith"). But I am pleased to confirm that all the scientific studies, eye witness reports, and participant accounts are accurate. I floated in the Dead Sea. As Lena told me in her maternal and chiding tone - "Tine, stop thrashing around and treading water, just float!" I did.

For those of you who need specific instructions on the floating process, just follow this simple 4 step process:

Step 1: Enter the water (no really guys, I'm serious,this is an integral part of the process.)














Step 2: Recline (stop questioning the science of it, stop rationalizing, this is one of those rare moments in life where you are not supposed to think - just do it.)









Step 3: aah, there you go!(Lena does it best.)




Step 4: Bask in the exhilaration of it all (disclaimer: if you have any fresh cuts or abrasions whatsoever, or have recently shaved, be warned: IT WILL STING).
In addition to all its historical and biblical significance, another major Dead Sea attraction is - would you believe it -mud. Because of its rich mineral content, Dead Sea mud is renowned for its healing and therapeutic properties and people come from far and wide for the "mud therapy" offered at the fancy in-house spas. It is quite a scene to watch all the tourists "mudding it up" and of course we did too! The hotel we were at had huge jugs of mud on the sea shore just for that purpose. After we were all floated and mudded out, we made our way to the pool side, had lunch and fell asleep...which proved to be disastrous for Lena, you should see her sun burns... XXX

The many (mis)adventures of Miss Lena -- Lena :)

This week has been a rollercoaster ride of emotions for me. Emily and I are really beginning to feel the pinch of our last day’s creeping up on us. We’ve begun the task of preparing our students for our departure. It’s an arduous task, and not one that we enjoy all that much. To see the look of sadness and confusion on their faces is pure torture. What’s even worse, is the question, “Why?” A few weeks back I began telling the students in my English class that they would be getting a new teacher the following year. And each time they are reminded of this fact, I get the same response, “why?” “But you’re our teacher.” “Don’t you want to stay?” How do you answer these questions? You answer them as honestly as you can, and try not to cry when you’re doing it. When asked why I have to leave I said that my time here is over, I was only coming for one school year, and if I didn’t leave then the next volunteers couldn’t come, and I also had to go back home and see my family and friends, and go back to school myself (inshaallah *God willing*). This week Tariq seemed particularly distressed with this news. At the end of class he sat there, with his hand on his head, and brow furrowed, when all of the sudden he snapped, and said, “I’ve got it!” And I dutifully answered, “What is that?” and Tariq said, “Tell your boss that you want to stay.” In his mind, the matter was settled. I reminded him that there were other reasons I needed to leave, and that besides, my visa was going to run out and I couldn’t stay in Jordan. He sighed, furrowed his brow, and then a slow smile spread across his face, “I know! Tell the soldiers you want to stay.”
Now there was no argument, in his mind it was DEFINITELY all settled, if only it were so easy.


Tariq in ceramics









I will miss these students more than I thought possible:

The shy smile from Fadi in the morning.














Squeals and hugs from Willa,















The mischievous glint in Lewai’s eye when he contemplates giving your hand the death squeeze or just a friendly squeeze.















The fervent “Miss Lena!” and giant hug from Nasser.















The hugs and “habibi” from Raed.














And so many more students than I have room or the emotional fortitude to mention.
If only this were the only excitement this week! Alas, this is not the case. I’ve had a rough year when it comes to my health. I’ve had wisdom teeth pulled, various stomach ills, upper respiratory infections, and finally bronchitis. However, I had an adventure this week that I wasn’t banking on. Emily and I have recently taken over the full time aide position for one of our students, Razan. Well Razan suffers from seizures, and if she’s had a particularly difficult evening, she sometimes won’t come to school the next day. Yesterday was one of those days, so we had a little unexpected free time. During lunch the kitchen crew gave us all some mulberries fresh from the tree out back. They were delicious, so I asked if I could pick some to make a pie. They said of course, so out we go. It was me, Emily and our friend Sajedah. Emily and I took turns climbing on a chair and shaking the upper branches to get more mulberries. It happened to be my turn on the chair, and I reached up and grabbed a branch, only to feel a horrible stabbing in my right hand. My first thought, was “OW! I didn’t know mulberries had thorns!” as I grabbed what I thought was a berry sticking in my hand I felt it move. I threw it as far as I could (whatever “it” was), and jumped off the chair holding my hand, and yelling, “I GOT STUNG!!” Emily and Sajedah followed me inside asking me “by what?!” I had no idea, but it hurt like crazy, and that made me mad! The kitchen ladies immediately cut open some garlic cloves and rubbed them on my hand, which didn’t seem to do much good, as the pain raged in my hand and up my arm. (At this point I should mention that I’m allergic to bees. I’m not sure it was a bee that stung me, but it was powerful whatever it was). They walked me to Mohammed’s office to tell him what happened. I was still pretty in control at this point, still in pain, but not panicky or anything. It wasn’t until I was sitting on the couch in Mohammed’s office that I noticed my fingers were turning purple, it was around this time that I started to panic just a little. I burst into tears, having convinced myself I was going to die in Jordan from a bee sting. Sajedah and Mohammed just kept telling me not to cry. After a few minutes the logical side of my brain caught up, and I convinced myself to calm down, and to say a little prayer, knowing God is in control of all things makes everything a little easier to deal with. Emily said she could see the calm come over me, as I talked silently to God about my predicament. The teachers scrambled my stuff together and rushed me outside to take a bus to the nearest medical center. They decided a bus was overkill, so they brought the school pick-up truck. Emily, Mohammed, Sajedah and I all climbed in with the driver. He did a hasty u-turn and sped a block up the road, and came screeching to a halt. Emily and I looked at each other, as if to say, “Why are we stopping?” When everyone starting climbing out. It was then that we realized we were at the medical clinic. I couldn’t help but laugh. First, why on earth had we taken a car to drive a whole block up the road? And secondly, how on earth had I managed to not notice, in 9 months, the medical center a whole block up the road?! Unfortunately it was closed, so we climbed back in the truck and sped off to the next destination. A medical center about 7 minutes away, and miraculously it was open! Mohammed told the doctor the situation in rapid-fire Arabic. I was immediately taken into an exam room where the doctor slathered my (now swollen to double its size) finger in salve, and began opening a package. And that is when I saw it…a GIANT needle. My first instinct was, “Oh great, they’re going to stick a needle in my hand, come on! Wasn’t getting stung bad enough?” And I said as much. Then I thought, “No, they’ll just give me a shot in my arm, no big deal.” Then the doctor did something strange. He handed the needle to the hijab wearing nurse and walked out of the room, and Sajedah began pulling the curtain to the room closed, and that is when it hit me….I was going to be getting a shot in the (yep, you guessed it) derriere. I resigned myself to my fate and bent over. I was released with a tingling arm, a sore rear-end, and a prescription. Other than some tingling in my hand now and then, and some discomfort while I type
We ended the week on a good note, a thank you party for Mohammed, which we’ll tell you all about in another blog.   