I love to travel, though lately my body has begun to protest against 16 hour flights across the Atlantic to the Middle East.
My travel plans began when I registered for a conference hosted by
Bethlehem Bible College called “Christ at the Checkpoint,” a biannual event which I have attended in the past.
[No, Terry didn’t accompany me on this trip. Our youngest daughter was expecting our second grandson while I was away. So, as you might expect, the prospects of a new grandbaby outweighed the joys of traveling with me. Once again, grandchildren outranked granddad. And, oh yea, maybe the ongoing war had something to do with it, too.]
Unfortunately, this year’s conference was cancelled and rescheduled to the Christmas season due to the Israeli/American war against Iran. However, I had already scheduled a number of meetings and visits with friends in the region, so I decided to stick with my original plans and go anyway.
Yes, a few friends thought I was crazy to visit this part of the world during a war, but I wasn’t as fearful of flying or dying as I was about missing out on another adventure in a part of the world that I have come to love.
Everything went smoothly, though there was an undercurrent of periodic confusion given the number of flights cancelled (5 in all) requiring me to regularly rebook and reschedule even as I travelled.
The only time I thought much about perilous possibilities was on my flight home from Dubai, in the United Arab Emirates. Dubia sits on the NW tip of the peninsula jutting north and tickling Iran’s underbelly, forming the Strait of Hormuz. As I watched the plane’s progress on the animated map in front of my seat, I noticed that we were flying directly down the center of the Gulf of Oman, the body of water forming the eastern entrance to the Strait. Iran was some 20 miles to the north. I knew that my airliner was prominently displayed on every antiaircraft radar screen in the region.
I said a quick prayer that no one in this field of combat would get an itchy trigger finger.
My travels took me to places I have visited several times before plus one new destination I was eager take in for the first time.
I was happily able to spend time with friends in Jerusalem, Bethlehem — where my adopted Palestinian family lives — Amman, Jordan and Salalah, Oman. This would be my first time in Oman.
I will tell you more about these visits in future posts.
The only detail I will leave with you now is a word about the extraordinarily generous gift of hospitality that I always receive from my Arab (Palestinian, Jordanian, Omani) hosts. I know that traditionally a house guest is pampered for the first four days of their visit. On the fifth day, when you become like family, you are then expected to chip in with household chores.
I well remember our first experience living with our family in their refugee camp. On the fifth morning Ghada, the matriarch of the home, informed me that now we were no longer guests but family. So I would be expected to take my place in the dish washing roster along with everyone else.
I laughed knowing that I had moved into the inner circle.
And Terry and I remain in that inner circle to this day. I’ve been periodically living with the Al Azzeh family for almost 20 years, and it never gets old. They give me bear hugs and tell me how much they’ve missed me every time I arrive. Thankfully, all the children are old enough now that I rarely have to wash the dishes — plus they recently bought a dishwasher, which the girls of the family all love.
I will have more to say about my visits in the near future. For now I want to underline that Palestinians are precious human beings made in the Image of God. They are not a race of terrorists forming at the mouth for opportunities to kill Jews.
That is a vicious slander against God’s Image popularized by Zionism.
Palestinians have hopes and dreams like all people. Ruwaida wants to be a fashion designer. Yumna dreams of becoming a film-maker. Qusai practices in order to become a professional soccer player. Amsam is studying to become a dentist. Her older sister is already a practicing dentist with her own clinic in Beit Jala.
And I could go on . . .
Arabs are people with families, hopes, disappointments and dreams just like ours.
Palestinians are an especially oppressed people who have endured decades of Israeli violence and occupation, and yet they persevere in displaying the same humanity that defines you and me.
They laugh. They cry.They fall in love and begin new families. They adore their children. And they dream of a better future for the next generation.
I have committed myself to sharing in the that dream along side them.
I hope you will too.
