There are two grocery shops relatively close by. One is about halfway down the hill and the other is about 10 minutes further away. Since I just needed some basic ingredients, I decided to go to El Khawli, the one closer by. I set off at a good clip down the hill, slowing down to listen to a loudspeaker blasting out Christian Easter music. Several men, perhaps a family from across the street where tall layers of apartment buildings stood, were sitting in the shade near a cross and arrangement of figurines. I'd seen the cross on my walks before but this time something had been added to it. A length of black cloth, casually wrapped around the crossbeam, flapped in the cooling spring breeze. I paused to look and thought about its significance. Black signifying death; an empty cross signifying resurrection.
After reaching the store, I decided to pick up the kitchen utensils first so I hurried up to the third floor where household items were laid out. I found two serving bowls that would double as mixing bowls, picked out what looked like a good serrated cutting knife, scooped six small glass jars into my basket so I could store my bulk spices neatly, and after much debate, decided on a plastic and a metal serving spoon. I looked longingly at a pair of beautiful metal serving spoons but the cost deterred me. If I lost them, I would feel sad that I'd spent a lot of money on them, so being the frugal German/Dutch? that I was, I picked up the cheaper spoons and made my way down to the ground floor for the fresh ingredients. There I rolled a green leaf between my fingers, crushed it, and breathed in deep to confirm that I was indeed buying cilantro. I pinched sad looking onions until I found three that looked promising enough, chose a beautiful head of garlic, and bagged 20 fresh mushrooms. In the grocery stores here, you take your items to a scale where someone weighs them for you, then slaps a sticker on the bag so it scans immediately with the price at the cash register.
I finished picking up what I needed there, then made my way back up to the middle floor where the cash registers were located. I contemplated buying chocolate Easter eggs but settled instead for basbousa. At the cash register, the lady who scanned my items asked if I wanted to pay in dollars but I said lubnani, or Lebanese. Usually they ask lubnani aw dular and I reply Lubnani since I get paid in Lebanese pounds. (A tip to the frugal, because the smallest coin is 250 Lebanese pounds, paying in dollars means they round down so you actually pay a little less. However, I haven't figured out if you lose something in the conversion rate).
Walking down was the easy part; now I had to walk back up again. Though a mile or so, the hike is rather steep and carrying three bags in each hand gave my heart a good workout! I huffed and I puffed and thankfully none of the houses fell down and I made it to my dorm room where I deposited everything and then lay down for a few minutes to catch my breath.
My good friend Marisa is back from a week in the States for work so I was happy to have someone to eat with at lunch. I was doubly happy because we had brownish looking rice and steamed greens that didn't have any cheese on them! After a couple of weeks here, I decided I wanted to eat vegan as far as possible, especially since my throat itches a lot if I eat too much cheese.
I helped Marisa with song service and then the college students did a creative play in honour of Easter week. Each of the 7 students represented a different person who had known Jesus, for example Mary Magdalene, Peter, Nicodemus, and Mary the mother of Jesus. As they spoke casually, conversationally, reminiscing about their experiences with Him, it was easy to imagine being there with them. Dressed in era-appropriate attire, their thoughtful words were accented with the flavour of the times, making the skit feel authentic and more meaningful.
As we left the auditorium, the father of the new baby boys handed out baklava in celebration of his firstborns. Though weary, his eyes held a new glow about them as he was now a proud father. I thought of the clip my best friend had posted earlier that week. Her 3 year old son was riding a trainer bike without wheels, as his father ran along beside the tot, hands protectively encircling him, speaking excited words of encouragement, as the boy, fearless, peddled fast down the road. It brought tears to my eyes as I thought how perfectly it illustrated our heavenly Father's love for us. We are on our trainer bikes, peddling as fast as we can go, confident that we're going to stay upright, but it is our Father whose hands protectively encircle us to keep us safe and keep us from falling. (Jude 1:24) He is excitedly encouraging us to our final destination and takes joy in our fearless zeal for living and serving Him. What a beautiful picture of God!
Though the Christian life is not always easy, I can say without a doubt that there are moments when you know with certainty that you are within the circle of God's hands. Today was one of those days. I'm thankful for the peace, the joy, and the contentment that I feel being here and knowing that God has a plan for my life. I'm excitedly looking forward to how He will unfold that plan and so thankful that as I persevere, He will be there with me, excitedly encouraging me to the finish line. (Romans 5:3-5)
No comments:
Post a Comment