Kim Priore

Well it may not have taken 40 years of wandering in the desert, but these past 24 hours have sure seemed like an eternity.  Nevertheless I am finally home, back in the land of Dunkin’ Donuts and CVS, praise the Lord.  When you fly out of Tel Aviv airport, they tell you to get there 3 hours in advance.  Because I am my father’s daughter, I gave it a good 9 hours, just to be on the safe side.  Actually it was because Shan flew out at 11:30, and rather than make Doug and Mandy drive me back at 2:30 in preparation for my 5:30 a.m. flight, we just made one trip and I camped out in the airport for the night.  (They’re not kidding about the 3 hours either, fyi, they all but give you a cavity search, they don’t mess around.)  So after a whirlwind tour of Jerusalem all day Sunday, and a quick stop for some Arabic Chinese food (don’t ask), we bid the Holy Land a fond farewell.  My first flight was uneventful; the second included a screeching baby across the aisle from me, and a Romanian woman next to me who was straight out of central casting.  I’m talkin’ the head scarf, no teeth, the whole nine yards.  Didn’t speak a word of English, knew I didn’t speak any Romanian, and YET proceeded to chaaaatter away at me like we were old friends.  It was kind of adorable. 

So that’s that.  A short Logan Express ride later and here I am back at 7 Fairview with only a suitcase of dirty laundry and souveniers, and a few stray Israeli shekels in my pocket to remind me that it wasn’t all a dream.  This trip had many layers to it – on the surface there was just the sheer fun of being on a break from school, away from the everyday work responsibilities, etc etc and hanging out and laughing with some really fun people.  Then there’s the spiritual aspect of it and how it really makes the Bible kind of come alive when you can really see the places and picture how things really would have looked (occasionally with a helpful reenactment photo to aid you).  There was also of course the pure joy of hanging out with my brother and sister-in-law again, and being able to see firsthand how they’ve become a part of the community there and are so clearly doing God’s work.

People keep asking me what the highlight of the trip was, and it’s really hard to narrow it down.  For the fun layer – just hanging out at the apartment, telling stories, laughing till our sides ached.  For the spiritual layer – I think the Galilee sights were especially cool to see, to be on a hillside looking out at the lake and realize that even if this isn’t the hill where the Sermon on the Mount was preached, it’s pretty close to it.  For the family layer – watching Doug joke around with his students and realizing that while they may give him a hard time, they truly like and respect him.  And watching Mandy’s 4th graders sing “Lord I Lift Your Name On High” in Arabic, complete with the hand motions, really brought a tear to my eye.  You get so used to hearing Arabic only when, as Shan said, it’s shouting slurs at you thru Al Jazeera, that you don’t realize that there are children here in this forgotten corner of the world, using that same language to praise the name of Jesus.  Children didn’t ask to be born in the midst of a war they didn’t start, and who certainly didn’t ask to be fenced in like animals, children who live at the birthplace of Christianity where it’s now threatening to die out.

Doug wrote that it was harder to say goodbye this time, and it was for me too, but for different reasons.  Because now having been there and seen how important their work is, I can’t wish for them to be anywhere else.  Some people work to bring peace and stability to the world with weapons, and I know in many ways that’s a necessary thing.  But my brother and sister-in-law are using the words and the love of Christ to try and bring people the peace that passes understanding, and it makes me so proud.  Their presence there is a living testimony that these people are not forgotten.  Having met them now myself, and laughed with them, and drunk their tea (and coffee!) and enjoyed their hospitality, I know that I won’t forget them.

After all – excellent, emotional soft rock is hard to forget.  And if you don’t get that one, you’ll just have to come hear the story.