Left Behind

You’re looking at Mt. Herman from the spot where Paul heard the risen Christ speak on the road to Damascus as well as a picture of Ananias’ house on Straight Street. I’m afraid these pictures and the following update are a bit like finding last week’s newspaper on your front lawn. But, tardy though it may be, here is an account of recent and not so recent events over the past two weeks starting with notes I made during our time in Jordan.

Amman is covered in a foot of snow. You may never hear such wintry words from me again. Many twists and turns have delayed our correspondence. Upon arrival, our computer went about regurgitating 980 past emails in triplicate. Although, we didn’t consider it a rough flight perhaps Hewlett Packard did. It was several days before we could stem the flow. It was then difficult to jump aboard our secure network and thus we were handicapped in both the means and the time to write. Most of the past few days we’ve spent in meetings, which have been good but lengthy. When we finally ventured forth from the land of agendas, we headed toward Syria. I’m not sure I can fully describe (not that I would want to) the hoops we’ve tumbled through, the walls we’ve besieged, the rivers we’ve traversed and the patience we’ve extended to the bureaucratic world of red tape. While in the States, Dave made two trips to Washington D.C. to acquire a much needed second passport. So now, with a new passport and Syrian visas in hand, we were confidently breezing our way through passport control when our light-hearted chatter was interrupted with the abrupt news that I would be staying behind. Apparently, my much-scrutinized passport revealed I’d left Jordan and returned to Jordan with no indication of where I’d been in the intervening time. They didn’t need to wonder…it was obvious…the west bank. Well, a life of crossing borders does hit a few roadblocks.

Dave and the friend we were traveling with had clean passports so off they went to Damascus. (As I recall, this road is noted for surprising folks with a change of plan.) I pulled a few good books from my backpack, reminded Dave to let someone know I was here, and took a cold seat on a metal chair to wait for a ride back to Amman. Nearly five hours later the ride came in the form of a taxi already occupied by a Syrian woman with enough baggage to accommodate a small band of Bedouins. I was content to hop aboard, as the weather had turned gray with winds and rain nearly slicing through what remaining fortitude I had left. Our entire luggage, meaning mostly hers, every bit of it, was unloaded and inspected in the freezing rain. I was then taken inside a building to briefly speak to an officer concerning my predicament and discovered I was still on the Syrian side of things in regards to the border. All this time I thought I’d been in Jordan. I love breaking news. I gave him my best-dumbfounded, confused American tourist blank stare, which took very little acting and soon I was back in the taxi and on my way.

The ride back to Amman allowed me just enough time to calculate all the items I would need that were now kindly making their way to Damascus with Dave. He had my make-up. I had his iron. He had the toothbrushes. I had the paste. He had the electric teakettle. I had the tea. He had the blow dryer. I had the hair. Well, as a result of my natural beauty, good friends and Jesus, things never are as bad as they seem. I found my way to a very comfortable guesthouse where I’ve spent the past five days in virtual anonymity. I, with the rest of Amman, have been completely snowed in but this little resident has happily found herself as cozy as a cub in a cave. ‘Good friends’ checked in on me frequently and usually found me in my bright pink bathrobe. (The one that makes me look like a sumo wrestler.) They came with offers of food and since I had very little, I agreed to trek to their home. I considered wearing my bright pink robe because of its obvious warmth and secondary function as a beacon, making it easier to spot me in the snow if I failed to arrive. But, I’m happy to report no such misadventures accompanied me or Dave as he safely returned from Syria after a God appointed trip. We are now home in the Gulf for a few days before flying to Thailand on Sunday. As my computer indicates, I’ve just begun my second page of monologue so I better get to some prayer requests. I can’t think of a time when they have been more needed. We’re unable to be as specific as we would like but if you will pray, God knows the details and will answer.
Pray for God’s grace, goodness and power to sustain those who currently find themselves in harms way.
Pray for a bold witness with authority and great courage from those who stand before Caesar and men of much less worldly importance.
Pray for those in our company who are the decision makers.
Pray for the couple who now shares a role like ours who are walking with many from Chad who are in deep need of a healing touch from Jesus.
Pray for us as we travel to Thailand to receive training in Peer-to-Peer debriefing. If ever a region of the world was in need of debriefing their challenges, traumas and losses…we are surely one.
Pray for stamina, wisdom and emotional resiliency for Dave and I as we and others absorb many second-hand jolts walking and living so closely with those who are getting hit and hit hard.
Pray for an eternal perspective at all times at all costs.

A thousands thanks, Sara for Dave too…near the trenches