His Cherry Blossom

The driver creeped along the dusty desert road trying to find a way across the sand. The directions indicated that the house we wanted to find was somewhere on the other side of the desolate lot to our right. Finally, he found a dusty track to get us across and headed towards the friendly lights shining off the courtyard walls.  This was my first time going to tutor piano at this young lady’s home, or actually her parent’s home where she lived. I quickly sent her a text as the Uber dropped me off to ensure that I had landed in the right place. After all, addresses are often slightly inaccurate or the location pin could be incorrect. Tall palm trees surrounded the imposing villa with a well tended garden in front. Right behind me, a red SUV pulled up and a young lady stepped out of the passenger side in her regal robes. Waving her hand she dismissed her driver and approached. Her scarf half-draped gracefully over her hair was more like a decorative veil than a restrictive cover. She...

Yesterday I walked in the footsteps of a great woman of God. I heard her stories, I tasted of her history with God. She speaks 6 languages and serves in countries around the world - always loving, always sharing a smile, always filled with hope. I was so inspired to share a few days with her and introduce her to some of my friends. We walked through the market talking to the local ladies, laughing with them, sharing stories. She brought so much life and joy to every shop that we entered.  She loved the new ring that she bought as a present. It means "Traveler of the Way". My local friend had the exact same ring and together we bonded over the God who leads us on the only True Way.  Today I am walking my own story written by God. I much prefer to read another’s story to look back with them and see with clarity all the ups and downs. I much prefer a stable, predictable path, and the false feeling of control. Yet here I am in the place of God’s appointment - insecure, uncertain,...

I live in a culture where presentation and hosting is a BIG deal. If you have a mere stranger in your house, you'll at least serve a drink, but if you have a guest of honor - the sky is the limit! That is when you quite literally slaughter a goat and make a feast. You may even go above and beyond your means just so everyone knows that you are a generous person. There can be a beautiful generosity to this or on the other hand guilt that one hasn't done enough and judgement if others don't do enough. In fact, it reminds me a lot of the story of Mary and Martha. In this simple story, our Lord comes and visits his good friends in Bethany - Lazarus, Martha and Mary. Both women are busy hosting in different capacities - Martha is busy in the kitchen and with preparations and Mary is sitting with the Lord captivated with His every word. Then Martha goes to the Lord and complains that Mary should be in the kitchen helping her because there is so much to do. That is the kind of judg...

Gold is a common topic here, especially when it comes to marriage. "How much gold did he give you?" "Have you seen this latest design?" "I'm going to buy a piece of 24k gold as an investment for my future". There is this impression for the women specifically that gold is a safe keeping, and quite literally plan B in case anything goes wrong with their marriage. There are literally entire market places consisting solely of shop after shop of gold jewelry. Much of the gold is bought by the bride's family from the groom's money given for the woman who is engaged to be married. This gold is for the bride to keep for the rest of her life. Often she will wear it all or most of it on her wedding day and for the first year of marriage. Then will pack most of it away only to be worn on very special occasions (like a close family member's wedding) or to be sold in return for another style of gold jewelry.    In America I don't hear people talk so...

I stepped into the gym class full of women. All the men including my husband were at another gym just a block away. I stood quietly on the sidelines watching the ladies chatting away or lounging on the wooden boxes looking at their phones waiting for the class to start. Despite my 27 years, I still felt like a shy little girl unsure what to say or how to interact. The familiar confusion and anxiety washed over me as I struggled within myself. These lovely Arab women would be happy to hear me try out my Arabic with them. They would be pleasantly surprised to hear me speaking in their language and familiar with their ways. Likewise, I could pull the American card and introduce myself in English. Some people found that more attractive as they wanted to practice their language. But which was the right response? Which was me?  That question rings deeply within each one of us - who am I?  What is at the very core of myself that cannot be stripped away? I am one of the people who has...

 Imagine growing up believing music, color, laughing, fun, and anything pleasurable was a sin. You learn to cloak yourself behind a facade so that no one can see the real you. Why? Because you believe that to please God, no can know that deep down you love singing songs, you thrive in lively conversation, you hate the rigid rules, and are scared that you'll never be good enough. On top of it all, you are told that thinking outside the box, asking questions and being creative is going against the very commands of God.  Now tell me - if you have any fear of the Lord and you truly believe this, can you imagine how you would live your life? Can you feel the fear choking your throat when you go to speak up in a tense situation? Can you picture your stomach in knots at the thought of someone hearing you singing in public? Can you feel the shame that covers your heart every day as you wrestle with the ever present question - did I keep up my facade? Did they see my real colors? ...

Hiding behind The veil of black Keeping me unseen I enter through The women’s door Hoping I am clean. Going to the spickets I join the line Of black-robed women Washing face and hands In ceremony Hoping to be clean. Facing towards  The holy city I hope my prayers Are heard by God Then the pain within Reminds me I’m unclean. Now I kneel down Face to the ground Uttering words I’ve always known Since I was a girl Yet still I am unclean. Slowly I rise Hopeless that I would ever Be good enough For God to be near Someone so unclean. But I’ve heard of  a man in white, A man who’s kind Compassionate Who doesn’t push me Away as unclean. All of my life I’ve been taught that He’s just a prophet But what if He’s More than that and He can make me clean? What if He is  Who they say He is? What if He is The Son of God And He did die To make us all clean? Could it be that This One in white Is walking on  These dusty roads Beckoning me Though I am unclean? Could it be that  He d...