The earth is still turning, the ocean waters remain.
Sounds of fear engulf my heart, saying to the flying gulls,
rest awhile on the sandy beach, till I return to my home with hope.
Along with my friends, we mull over our unkind questions, quivering.
Was it the raging winds, was it a misfit wire, was it a tattered mind
that ignited such unwanted fires? Was it my fault not praying?
The evening brings the setting sun, I sigh and walk back to my hotel,
Facing these numbing thoughts, I am unknown to myself,
who will help my grieving heart but You O Lord.

Today is the day of great sorrow, for my American Jewish friend and for me. Where do I stand? I am on the side of the Palestinian Pastor who is distributing food, clothing, providing help with the members of his church to the suffering people in Gaza. I am standing with the Israeli mother who is still groaning with grueling sorrow for her baby who was tortured and killed at the hands of the terrorist. I am standing with Jesus, asking Him to help me take part in His prayer, “Your Kingdom come and Your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.” I am on the side of the Prophet Jeremiah* who wrote: “Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom; let not the strong man glory in his strength; let not the rich man glory in his riches. But only in this should one glory: in his earnest devotion to Me. For I the Lord act with kindness, justice and equity in the world; for in these I delight declares the Lord.”

*from the Tanakh, the Holy Scriptures. The book of Jeremiah. Traditional Hebrew translation.

He had asked me to give Him the forest, the wilderness and the mountains to Him. I consented. That was some years prior the Covid era. As yesterday came to be, I proceeded to meet Him at my secret garden in our backyard. I sat on my usual wooden outdoor chair, the small table in front of me. I gazed at the pecan tree, now luscious and full with shiny green leaves. I put my Bible and notebook on the table, I had peace in my heart. He called my name. Only three days ago, I had asked Him to hold me in His strong loving arms. The faith of His Son now surged in my soul.
All else vanished at His presence.

I wish more than ever to settle in a forest,

if God’s wild creatures allow me there.

Boring pavements I leave behind,

technology as well.

When finally I reach God’s heaven,

Jesus shall choose my company well.

On heavy issues we shall not wrangle,

neither show faces that betray our hearts.

Lucine Evahan

I have been silent in my writing to you. Unending news of wars had a heavy effect on my soul. In the past months of early winter and spring God’s word had given me an unusual uplift to my soul. I went to my prayer corner where my Bible and journals are on a small folding table. There I checked some of my daily devotional writings of various saints and in addition I read parts of Naregatzi’s prayer book. I read my Bible, focussing on small chunks of the Gospels, the Epistles, the Psalms and the Proverbs. Early mornings and evenings I sat at my refurbished old armchair with the small pillow in my back that I had sewn some years ago. I wanted to meet with God. He would meet me again in Genesis and in Job, the two ancient books of the Bible I loved.

One of those days I felt a surge of anxious thoughts that drained my energy. Why so many intrusions to my privacy – my cell phone, our landline, my emails! There were the overflow of mail dropped in our mailbox, the advertisements and extra mail, statements and what not. I became angry at life and at the God of my life. I said to Him: “Lord, nothing is private anymore!” His answer was, “Neither am I.” It took me awhile to understand what I heard. I quieted myself to know the meaning of those three words.

In mid April I remembered my old friend Zeyna* with whom I had spent our teen years and early twenties as newcomer immigrants to Canada. Taking a break from the gardening I relaxed with, I called her. She told me she was facing her Red Sea – a difficult decision that needed immediate attention. Would she leave her comfortable house to go to the adjacent country where her two older brothers had recently suffered debilitating sicknesses? They had no wives or children or real friends to care for them, the brothers were in desperate need of someone’s care. Would she sacrifice the comfort of her spacious home to go many miles away and reside at her brothers’ dingy apartments? Could she take care of their medical necessities, which would take several months or a year or till they can not longer stay alive?

She asked me to pray. I did not tell her that I was facing my own ‘Red Sea.’ Besides, I had no feelings of compassion for her brothers, recalling how they were not so nice to her when she was a young woman. I cared for her and loved her as a loyal friend. Zeyna* chose to close her beautiful house which she had purchased with her life’s hard work. She got ready to move to the city where her brothers lived. Only once she said to me on the phone, “I miss my home sweet home.”

What importance does Zeyna’s decision make for a major newspaper article? Might a journalist notice Zeyna’s story amidst college protests and current wars that make first page articles in daily news? Zeyna and I are no longer young, but the faith God gave to us kept our hearts connected with Him. He continues showing us that the grand sacrifice of His Son Jesus is the Good News now and forever. He sees the Zeynas of this world who give themselves helping the weak while no one takes notice.

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*Name change

What was it that moved my deepest emotions yesterday!  It was a short film titled “The Shepherd” made by Angel studios that produce The Chosen; the latter is the title of Christian films on the stories of the Gospels. The main character in the film was a poor limping young shepherd. He was rejected by the elite priest of the local synagogue and even deemed as an outcast by the group of shepherds he was with. One night, when this poor shepherd was told to go and eat his meal some distance away from the presence of the other shepherds, God decided to send his band of angels to joyfully proclaim the birth of the Baby King in the manger.  The lonesome poor shepherd viewed the angels, astounded and excited because of the joyous commotion in the sky. He was the first one running to see Baby Jesus. On his way to the manger, he let go of his crutch and was healed of his affliction. In the film I could see his beaming face finding the Holy Child with Mother Mary. 

In spite of my faith in the story of the angels’ news of Jesus, I had thought that this year I would not get a live Christmas tree, because of the tragic and inhuman ongoing wars in the Middle East and Ukraine. When will it all end! Did not the angels say in their praise songs “Peace on earth”?   

This all changed when my blind friend called, It was only few days earlier she invited me to her tiny house to show me her decorated Christmas tree.  I did share with her all my grief and sadness. She listened with care. ”Why not get a Christmas tree?” She said, “the Christmas tree is for you and for Jesus.”  Now it is standing by our bay window with its colorful lights and handmade ornaments collected within the past years. 

How I wished my sister would have been here beside me this Christmas. I am not the only one who wished to have the shared joy of a family sibling. Some weeks ago I called my Jewish friend who lives in my neighborhood. I asked her about her sister’s wellbeing in Israel. She said that a missile had nearly fallen on her sister’s living space, but it was intercepted. I told her how I missed my own sister in Lebanon, and how I yearned to be near her, yet I could not go.  

We understood each other’s hearts. Our sisters’ countries are not at peace with each other, but my Jewish friend and I remain friends. 

 

The Crepe Myrtle tree in my front yard has blossomed in bold profusion of bright pink flowers. They were not there in the months before. They go and they come back. Oh but when the goings or comings break the normal expectations of life, with bitter pain, then sorrow shatters my heart. My phone calls were not answered, neither were the text messages returned, I did not think of death, I thought my friend had traveled to Texas, to visit her family. No wonder Paul the apostle in the Bible calls this abrupt severance of life “the last enemy.”

I hate death, even the death of Sevoug, our darling black cat. I was crying in our kitchen all by myself, when suddenly an unseen presence pierced the small room. I was not used to such intrusions, but that presence brought an unusual peace. Like a quick lightning, a thought occurred in my mind, “I am making all things new.” I knew who had said those words. Could Jesus even care for the grief I felt over the dying of our cat?

More than any other time in my life, I lived through a sense of peace so utterly tranquil, that outwheighed my understanding. It was when my mother lay on the hospital bed, bereft of life and any communion with her family, her friends and her church. Her face looked calm, I was alone in that room. I felt no sorrow yet, no dread or confusion in that sacred segment of time . As if the God I trusted had prepared me to witness my mother’s motionless body. I sat on a chair beside the bed. The nurse had left the room and closed the door. Soon I noticed my mother’s hymnbook. I reached and took it in my hands, I opened page after page; each hymn that I sang was in a melody unknown to me. How long was I there alone singing, an hour or more? I put the hymnbook down and started calling the rest of my family to notify them of her departure from this world. Her going was timely, she was ninety nine.