Not About Soup....well, maybe....

If my weight loss supporters have tuned in to my blog today, you're not going to read about my delicious version of Weight Watchers veggie soup, sorry John and maybe Wayne, nor are you going to read about the dismal valley I am currently traveling on my weight loss journey, at least not directly and maybe not today. This morning God woke me up and told me to write about something else--well, He woke me up, and He made me laugh about our night together last night....in the context of the past 8 years. My friends, close friends, mere acquaintances, as well as complete strangers who crossed my path, all know how ridiculously panicked I was after 9/11. I am not proud of how thrown off I allowed myself to be by the attack on my country, my city and my sense of security on September 11th, 2001, nor am I proud of how suspicious I felt of all of the people who immigrated, or fled, to our country from the East Asian countries back then. But my Father in Heaven, who knows me and loves me anyway, was not thrown at all, and He has made it His business to make sure I learned very quickly that I am not going to avoid His beloved people from the part of the world where He chose to begin His journey with mankind.

Prior to 1979, I had spent all of my life in and around the Texas Panhandle.
At that time, there were fewer than a handful of people from other parts of the world who came across my path. When we moved to DC so that my husband could play in the USAF strolling strings, I was very proud of the fact that my children went to school with children from all over the world, attending a public school in Georgetown. I felt enlightened and cutting edge as we invited a little person named Wahab, who came on the AF base with his limo driver for our oldest son's 6 year birthday party. His dad was an ambassador somewhere "over there". Our church, too, was diverse and I learned to love people from all over the world. But, when the planes hit the towers and, especially, the Pentagon, I was thrown completely off center. I was only beginning to come out of my haze of fear a year later when the snipers took our area hostage, and after that, I looked at all people who I didn't know well, with suspicion. But, as my fear grew, God stepped in and made sure I was exposed with increasing frequency to the very people I feared most. I was a teacher at the preschool at my church, and we had children from all over the world in our classes. I loved the children and their families, which helped my fear. Most of them were here to escape atrocities in their countries. But still I refused to fly, driving to see my family in Oklahoma when I could. I began to teach ESL classes, reluctantly and sporadically, thinking it wasn't my talent. I loved the people in my classes, though, and couldn't escape noticing how courageous all of the ESL students were, coming to a country where they didn't speak the language, and often giving up professional status in their countries to take jobs most would consider menial here.
My heart and mind was beginning to open. When my dad was dying I was forced to fly to be with him, because I was recovering from knee replacement surgery and couldn't drive. It was a sudden decision, so I didn't have long to pack. I had a carry on bag that I used for preschool, and since I had been making apple crisp the Friday before, and had stuck the knife in my bag to keep it out of the hands of the kids, I was confronted by a very grumpy security person, while my knees were being wanded!
That threw me off, and then, when I got on the plane, I got a further glimpse of God's ironic sense of humor! I was sitting in my seat next to the window, trying not to scrutinize every face that boarded the plane, when my seatmate sat next to me. His complexion was what my students would call dark beige. In front of him and me, sat two very large very dark beige men, and across the isle in the single file seats were two very beige men. No one talked at first, and I tried not to stare, looking out my window and praying....a song played over and over in my head, "How Great is Our God....sing with me...." Finally, I am ashamed to say, my seat mate spoke to me first. I realized right away, he was from India. He asked me if I was comfortable sitting next to the window, and I assured him that I was. The other men across the isle were also from India, and were very friendly. The two men in front were pretty quiet, but they seemed "normal" too. I was upset that my dad was dying, I was a little shaken by the possibility that I could have been stripped searched but wasn't thankfully, and I said to God, in my silent shame, "Okay, I get it, and I'm sorry."
The rest of the way, I looked out the window, spoke some to my seat mate, but he had a laptop, and was working, so I didn't need to talk to him. Mostly I hummed quietly,
"How great is our God" as I looked into the beautiful sunrise on that crystal clear fall day, not unlike 9/11. More later.....a teaser, you say? Well, for starters, my precious baby grandson was born on Sept.11th, 2007, and I am COORDINATING our ESL program now....AND directly involved with many many people from all of the "scarey" countries....more later! "How great is our God...." "How silly is His servant...."