Waiting

I've been thinking a lot lately about the act of waiting. I feel like my entire past 8 months have been a continual process of waiting -- on making decisions about our future, for visas, for the birth of my baby. And it's interesting to me that the time of waiting is a mix of action and inaction. There have been times of furious activity on our part, when despite waiting, we had decided to move forward in hope. There have also been times of inactivity -- like not purchasing all our plane tickets at once.

And right now, as I'm only 3 weeks from my due date, but fully aware that the baby could come pretty much any time, I feel a strange sense of waiting -- like I'm caught between weight and buoyancy, not sinking but not floating. My baby moves within me, with strong vigor, and I feel the pressure and slight pain that foreshadows the labor to come. Often in those moments, I long for the waiting to be done. I want this baby to come -- now! A part of me is tired of my waddle, tired of being out of breath, tired of finding it uncomfortable to hold my 2-year-old.

But also in the waiting, I want to treasure the last nights I have of fairly good sleep. I want to hold on to my days that aren't consumed with nursing and holding a new little one, whose vigor will include cries once s/he's on the outside of my womb. I want to soak up the joy and energy of my amazing 2-year-old in all our interactions, before my attention is suddenly divided.

While waiting, I want to be active, cramming in as much sightseeing and teaching as I can before life gets fuller and tougher. But I'm also exhausted. The weather is still quite warm and sunny, and it's much more comfortable to just sit in a breezy shady spot than to tour Jerusalem.

And so I linger in these last days and/or weeks before the baby's birth, having no idea when life will suddenly change. May I make the most of what remains, and take hope in the joy that is to come...

Around Our House

Welcome to our apartment at Tantur Ecumenical Institute!

Naomi's room is small but homey since she brought more photos and knick-knacks than the rest of us. The goal is to have Miriam join her, especially once the Baby's born.

 

The boys share a room and so far, they're getting along better than they did in the US.

We're grateful for a furnished place! Living & dining area combined.

Our tiny kitchen that we hardly use since meals are provided in the dining hall.

We have a lovely back patio, but sadly, it's not on the breezy side of the house.

So far, Miriam shares the master bedroom with us. We love having a big bed! Both the boys' room and our room have an entire wall of closet space. Ironic, since we weren't able to bring much with us in 6 checked airline pieces!

You Know You're in a Different World When...

I've posted short lists of "ways to know you're in a different country" periodically on Facebook, but realized there are some friends and family who won't be seeing them unless I put them here as well. So here are my first 16 observations...

• A lunch conversation about the pros and cons of Tel Aviv has two disparate views, but the reason is not that one speaker is a 'city person' and the other isn't, but rather that one is speaking from a Palestinian understanding and the other from an Israeli.
• The tour of the campus includes where to go if you hear a bomb siren (and the difference between a bomb siren and a siren that announces Sabbath).
• Dinner conversation about where I should give birth includes the point that having a birthplace of Bethlehem (in the West Bank) will give my child a chance to be allowed in to many more Middle Eastern countries in their lifetime than they would with a birthplace of Jerusalem.
• You can't flush the toilet paper
• You're the only patient at the hospital NOT wearing a hijab.
• On the way to town, you can't communicate with the bus driver who only speaks Hebrew, and on the way back, you can't understand the driver who only speaks Arabic.
• Dinner discussion is about the varied concepts of land ownership around the world, and in particular, includes the heartbreaking question of whether or not the Israeli army has razed a nearby Bedouin village they've been threatening for months.
• Your washing machine is in the bathroom and is so small that doing one load only half-fills the drying rack we use on our back patio.
• You hear a call to prayer every few hours. 
• You get to eat dates, fresh guavas & persimmons at lunch, and pomegranates hang in your backyard.
• The price for a smallish pack of diapers is listed as 25-75 (NIS).
• The whole country shuts down for a holiday you've never even noticed before.
• Toilet paper doesn't come on a roll, but instead comes out sheet by sheet (like kleenex) from a dispenser on the wall. 
• What sounds like fireworks on a Friday night *might* be just that, but also might be tear gas getting lobbed into the Palestinian refugee camp inside Bethlehem. 
• Your babies' birthweights all have to be converted into grams when your medical history is taken.
• Heavily armed Israeli soldiers enter your bus on the way home, to check the i.d. of every passenger on board. 

  

  Our small capacity washing machine, squeezed into the bathroom.

Heading to the Hospital in Bethlehem

A cool breeze sent us on our way as I inhaled the delightful scents of jasmine and pine. We walked down a rocky path to the smaller, more convenient door in Tantur's boundary wall and punched in the code to make it open. It was time for another prenatal check-up at Holy Family Hospital in Bethlehem, and this time Steve and I were going to walk there.

The first thing I noticed after we got off Tantur's property was the trash. We were on a dirt path, which led to a back road that didn't seem very used by cars, but there was litter on both sides. Little did I know, it would get worse! It was less than a ten minute walk to the dividing boundary between West Bank and Israel, but we were slightly confused as to how to go in as pedestrians. Passing by even bigger piles of trash on the sides of the road and then the zigzagging sidewalk, we went through two large turnstyles and found ourselves officially in Bethlehem.

We were immediately greeted by a gathering of taxi drivers, very anxious to get our business and drive us somewhere -- anywhere! Wanting to explore on foot this time, we turned them all down, but one even followed us down the street half a block, persistent beyond my comfort level. The barrier wall was on our right and the sun was high and hot. Since we'd gone through the pedestrian checkpoint (different from the car one) and since the wall zigzags through town at this point, even cutting Hebron Road right off from itself (to keep Rachel's Tomb inside Israel), we were on what seemed to be a quieter road.

Again, my biggest impression was the assault of trash and various stenches on my eyes and nose. This surprised me. I've not only visited places like Mexico and Haiti (the impoverished parts, as a volunteer -- not as a tourist) but I've *lived* in Nigeria, where I know the trash and smells were just as bad. But I realized that it's been a long time since I've walked down sidewalks in a place like that. I tried to breathe through my mouth instead of my nose.

This was also the closest I'd been to the barrier wall. Rising about 30 feet, with barbed wire at the top, this concrete monolith effectively cuts off the West Bank from the rest of Israel. It is a very visible, physical reminder that Palestinians are not equal to Israelis. Graffiti art covers much of the lower 2/3 of the wall, everything from hastily painted angry phrases to carefully crafted thoughtful works of art to longer quotes pasted up.

We eventually made it on to a main road, which was quite congested with car traffic, and as we passed by another stand of taxis, we were accosted once again. We stood out as foreigners, I guess, unless they call out to every passerby, assuming that no one *really* wants to walk anywhere. I was getting tired of having to react "No, thank you" to every fellow who offered us his services.

I was glad we hadn't brought Miriam with us. A friend had warned me that the Bethlehem sidewalks are difficult to use a stroller on, and today I saw why. One problem is that cars park in front of a shop by just pulling right onto the sidewalk. This meant that I was constantly stepping on and off curbs. There were other obstacles, as well, from piles of rubbish to dumpsters, to vendors taking up half the space. We passed all kinds of stores, restaurants, carwashes, hotels, and numerous food vendors on our walk. I was thankful that one side of the street was mostly in the shade!

About 50 minutes after we'd set out, Steve and I arrived at The Holy Family Hospital on Pope Paul VI Road, hot and sweaty and tired of hills! We showed them my registration card, were sent first to the lab for a hemoglobin test, then had my weight and blood pressure taken, and finally were seen for a brief consult and ultrasound by a doctor. (All the signs in the hospital are in French and Arabic, and Steve noticed today that the translation of "laboratoire" in Arabic meant "seeking information.") The hallways and waiting areas were full of Muslim women, all covered from head to foot, some accompanied by husbands, others not. I wore a long skirt myself, but a short-sleeved shirt and sandals because I knew the walk would be hot. There weren't enough chairs for everyone to sit on to wait, so many of us leaned against the hallway walls.

I was seen by a different doctor than last week, and was relieved to see that the ultrasound showed that our baby is back to being 'head down.' Frustratingly, though, the doctor was very insistent that I should opt for a repeat C-section due to the fact that one of my previous births involved shoulder dystocia. Last week's doctor had also favored a repeat CS, but was less pushy about it. I left the hospital feeling discouraged and wondering if we're making the right choice in birthing at Holy Family after all.

On the way home, we stopped in at "Jumbo," a store our friend had recommended last week. We picked up a 4L bottle of shampoo, a pack of size 5 diapers, and a few other toiletries, the total coming to about 90 NIS. It was going to feel like an even longer walk home, carrying those items! We felt better about walking back, but despite correcting an error or two from the way there, the trip still took about 50 minutes. It was strange seeing tourists posing next to the Wall. I'm not sure if it felt uncomfortable because I'm here to live, not to be a tourist, or because to me the Wall signifies such pain that it doesn't seem like something to pose with. We saw a vendor pressing fresh pieces of pomegranate into cups to sell fresh icy juice, and stopped to ask what the cost was, but walked away when we heard his high answer.

This time, crossing the border back into Israel involved an actual checkpoint where we needed to put all our possessions on an X-ray machine conveyor belt, go through a metal detector, and have our passports and visas checked by Israeli soldiers wearing body armor and machine guns. As soon as we passed through the door in Tantur's wall, the fragrance of pine wafted over me and I felt relieved to be back at "home." It had been an interesting 3-hour outing...

Struggles

I was in the middle of writing a nice "Day at Tantur" post earlier today. But then reality hit. And folks should know -- my new life here definitely has its struggles. Today was a "If I had a plane ticket, I'd be on the next flight back to America" kind of day.

As I sat on my bed sobbing, with Miriam snuggling in my arms, trying to comfort me, I realized that the biggest cause of my inner pain came from feeling displaced and unneeded. Back 'at home,' our family felt like more of a unit. We were each other's fun, and each other's conversation partners. We had our meals together and played games and watched movies together. Now, that's all shifting. The kids have good neighbor friends their age, with whom they've watched a movie, played daily board games, and even eaten many dinners. Steve has all kinds of interesting people working and studying here, with whom to share intellectual conversations over meals. I? I feel like a nobody.

I'm not fun for the kids. I have to either watch Miriam, or I feel tired, or pressured by trying to plan homeschooling. I'm not interesting for Steve. What do I know about theology or history or anything really? I'm not even needed at the moment for the kids' schooling, for they're using online sources or are bright enough in the areas they're studying to really be doing fine on their own. That will change soon, but for today, I'm a nobody. I don't have my tutoring or my weekly homeschool co-op or monthly homeschool game nights. I'm also not needed for cooking, the way I was for the last 18 years. I have no input to what we eat, and get to hear no one say with satisfaction, "That was delicious, Mom!" And even Miriam, who still needs me more than anyone else does, is behaving as you'd expect a 2-year-old to -- pushing boundaries, practicing independence, and sometimes the very reason for my tears.

So when you think of us in Jerusalem, perhaps jealous of the cool places we go and historical sites we visit, or wishing you could be the one who doesn't have to cook for 9 months, just know: it's not all rosy by any means. My heart is breaking today, and it will be a struggle to get out of this pit I'm in...

Life Changes: A New Country & A New Baby Coming!

The fragrance of jasmine graces the walk to my new apartment and ripe pomegranates hang over my backyard's wall. I hear the call to prayer, relishing the dry autumnal breezes coming through my open windows. We are definitely not in Virginia anymore! It's been one week since we arrived in Jerusalem, and months since this journey began.

Steve's dissertation topic is on Christian/Muslim relations in medieval Palestine, and he'd been talking about the idea of overseas research for years. But it wasn't until last winter that the idea started to become a very real possibility, as he applied for a fellowship that would allow him to research and write at Tantur Ecumenical Institute on the outskirts of Jerusalem. If he was accepted, his plan was for us to leave in January 2019 and stay for 5 months.

Around the time that Steve was sending off his application, I received the exciting news that I was now expecting our fifth child. Welcoming Miriam to our family in 2016 had been such a pivotal and joyful occasion for all 5 of us, and we hoped that having another baby would give us that special experience one more time. We also looked ahead to the not-too-far future when all 3 of the "big kids" would be out of the house, leaving Miriam behind as an only child, and realized we wanted a sibling for her who would be present for her growing up.

My early pregnancy was fabulous and winter raced by as we looked ahead to some huge Spring consignment sales in which we wanted to sell baby clothes, toys and books, all in the anticipation that we *might* be moving soon. In April we received word that Steve had the honor of being granted the fellowship, and thus we'd all be moving to Israel. The baby's due date of October gave us pause for thought, though, and after discussing how difficult the Fall semester would be if we stayed 'til January, we decided to change our plans. Steve's new goal was a start date at Tantur of September 1. The only problem was that the 3 big kids and I had been denied entry into Israel at Jordan/Israel border crossings THREE times in the past, and we had no idea if getting visas for us would even be feasible this time around, given our history.

So began a 4-month whirlwind period of trying to get visas -- getting new passports, expediting those mid-process, asking Tantur to begin the visa application process as soon as possible, waiting to hear of any results, not knowing what was happening; preparing our home to be sold -- deciding on a realtor, massive decluttering, sorting, and packing, fixing things that needed fixing, installing new kitchen counters, painting all the walls and much of the trim, opening the house to showings and then deciding on a buyer, fixing more things they wanted fixed, and then fixing MORE things the homeowners' association wanted fixed; and trying to help the kids transition from their almost-7 years of life in the DC area to the concept of living in a new country, all while pregnant and dealing with new insurance issues regarding care providers.

Packing up to put our stuff in storage

It was a trying time, to say the least. Naomi was involved with a new drama group, which she loved and hated the thought of saying goodbye to. She'd made a few new special friends, including one she went to prom with, and was NOT happy with us for "tearing her away" from them all. The boys were excited at the prospect of living abroad again, but Ethan was sad about leaving our house, our trampoline and our neighborhood. We all grew very tired of living in a state of upheaval, with piles of stuff being sorted and boxes and a seemingly endless to-do list. In the background of it all, we were anxious about our visa status, and often wondered if we were being foolish to move ahead with things like selling our house when the future was still so uncertain.

Visiting the African-American History Museum

One of many trips to see DC memorials!

Our house went on the market by June 15, and in less than a week, we'd signed a contract with a prospective buyer. This was really happening! The end of June was an overwhelming, but fun, combination of Naomi's final dress rehearsals, Naomi getting her driving learner's permit, 7 shows of "Music Man Jr.," my sister and her kids visiting from California, Naomi turning 16 and taking a trip to New York City with her aunt, and continuing to both work on the house and make the most of our last days in the DC area. It seemed like we did more museum visits and field trips in June, July and August than we'd done in the last few years combined!

Naomi and my sister touring NYC

On July 29, friends helped load a moving truck we rented, and on July 30 we moved out of the home we'd owned and lived in for 5 years -- the longest in my and the kids' lives. Steve's parents, who live 3 hours away from DC, graciously welcomed us into their house, offering us not only bedrooms for each of us, but also attic, garage and basement space in which to store our furniture and boxed belongings. We still had no word on visas.

Saying goodbye to our home of 5 years

My parents flew from CA and we drove from VA to visit my brother's family in Wisconsin

August included an ill-fated family camping trip, multiple trips to DC for medical and school purposes, a great road trip to Wisconsin and Illinois to visit with family and friends, some down time in between traveling (though this was a mixed bag of relaxing and finishing/starting homeschool since we'd taken so much time off preparing for the move), and ended with still no definitive word from our contact in Jerusalem as to our visa status. We'd already booked some plane tickets (though not all) and were really growing desperate to get plans finalized, especially as my due date of October 17 grew closer and closer.

Swimming in the Chesapeake on our camping trip

Visiting with my parents in Wisconsin

Finally on September 4, we walked into the Israeli embassy in Washington, DC to apply for visas in person. We'd driven up the day before and stayed with friends. We arrived at the embassy that Tuesday morning, nervous but hopeful, and in an amazing turn of events, walked back out in less than an hour (that had included no questioning) with our visas -- six one-year, multiple entry, student and student-family visas glued into our passports. We were SO happy!!!

Celebrating visas with milkshakes in Georgeotown!

With a departure date of September 9, we began one last whirlwind push -- this time to actually get here! We had to buy our remaining plane tickets (which were now triple what they'd been 2 weeks earlier), do our last packing up (hours and hours of final sorting and weighing to make sure the most important things were coming but would fit within Air France's limits), give Naomi as much driving practice time as we could, and say final goodbyes. In that time span, we also found out the sad news that Steve's mom's cancer had come back and that she'd be facing radiation right after we left. It was an emotional week.

Preparing to leave the US at Dulles in DC

The first leg: DC to Paris

By the evening of September 10, we were not only in Israel, but had arrived at Tantur itself and were being greeted by the many residents who will be our neighbors for the next 3-9 months. (We're here for 9, but some are leaving in 3.) I'm now 36 weeks pregnant, and hoping that all will go smoothly with labor and delivery at a nearby hospital in Bethlehem. I'm grateful to have next-door neighbors who are also moms and who can help me in this first-time-ever adventure of giving birth abroad. It's hard to put into words how thankful we are that, despite the roller coaster of emotions and the intense stress and anxiety we were under for months, everything worked out as well as it did, with selling our house and being able to store our things and the kids having many chances to say significant goodbyes and finally getting here with visas in hand. The year of 2018 will forever be remembered as one of the most change-filled years in our lives!!

At the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Our new home: Tantur Ecumenical Institute