Red Dawn, Spring of Peace and a Battle Lullaby

It’s a long road and a long way down to the place where I hang my hat for the moment. I went to the mountains with my translator’s family this past weekend and it was the closest that I’ve had to freedom since my arrival. It’s hard to be a woman here in the city unless you check your brain at the door. If the only thing that concerns you is cooking and cleaning, you’ll be just fine. I was never much of a Martha although I never turned my nose to taking care of my home. Yet to discover that the country allows a bit more leg room is a pleasant surprise. I could race my friends outside (I won), play in the wicked cold springs (the people called me a mermaid since swimming and diving skills are rare in this part of the world: mostly, they bob awkwardly) and relax my guard from the wagging tongues of city neighbors about American morals. It’s rather interesting how everyone is irritated by gossip but nonetheless it flourishes here. But the countryside is a breath of fresh air to the body and the spirit. I walked along old aqueducts, picked purple plums and juicy peaches in blossoming village orchards. I drank clean, cold water straight form the mountain streams with my hands and sang Waka Waka with my new friends. The many mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts, and cousins that I met were one and all good to me. Everyone is related. A stranger is really a family member that you haven’t met yet. I felt very comfortable and loved and had a few opportunities to share the gospel which left me hungry for more time with them. They are so lovely to be around, my heart aches that they are in darkness without Jesus to cover them with the holiness of God. The days are decidedly hot but we walked the shaded overgrown trails of the mountain forests and were refreshed by streams everywhere. Wildflowers and roses blossomed in abundance. I spent a fair amount of time touching, smelling and photographing the wild flora with quiet delight. Water has such a significant meaning out here. It produces beauty in this rough climate. And it is more than a basic substance but refreshment to the whole body: I think of how Jesus referenced Himself as the living water and as we constantly were refilling our water jugs at the village drinking well (although the homes have electricity, the water is contaminated). We found the ancient Spring of Peace that had been fought over for centuries. Good water that provides life in this arid region is precious and worth dying for if it means that your family land will survive. But that was not our concern, however and water fights ensued. So I awoke every morning at 5 am to the sound of the call to prayer from the village mosque, slept on the roof even after my friend came to check the roof for desert snakes and scorpions and without fear, fell asleep to the dizzying display of the Milky Way and the sound of bombs a few miles away. I was in perfect peace as my mind reflected on the providence and direction of God. Of course, it could have been the Turkish dark chocolate that they kept feeding me or the promise of a beautiful red and purple dawn that I knew would wake me up but it was a straight way for my heart to see that all that I had lost since I came to this country was but a piece of the magnificent puzzle of this wilderness in the East.