October 19, 2007

You do not have to sit outside in the dark.  If, however, you want to see the stars, you will find that darkness is required.
-Annie Dillard

Dear Friends,

I do not like thunderstorms. An old childhood fear: I still get twinges of anxiety when clouds form and lightening strikes. It brings back memories, good and bad. When I was little, I used to hide under the bed with the dog. She’d gotten there hours before me, knowing the storm was coming. I’d pet her and try to calm her down. In doing so, I was comforted as well.

Now, whenever I want to feel daring, I go out and challenge the storm. No umbrella, no raincoat, just me and the raw wind in the pouring rain. It is not the storm that I seek to challenge, but the fear that resides within. It does not necessarily get easier with time to face the fear by going out to face the storm. As long as the courage to try remains, the fear can become a source of strength. Still, there is always the desire to just wait it out under the bed; if I could even fit under there anymore!

It hasn’t rained here in Jerusalem since late April. That is normal. My friends said that I would come to crave the rain, a storm, anything to come from the sky. As the dry summer dragged on, I began to think about how nice it would be for it to rain. Not a storm, just a soft nourishing rain. People in the villages I’ve visited recently said their wells are very low compared to previous years. People are hoping for a better rainy season this year.

It finally stormed on Wednesday. A group of friends gathered for our weekly volleyball match up on the Mount of Olives. They waited for a break in the rain to continue to play. I just stood on the hill, overlooking the city, watching the lightening flash across the sky. We probably should not have been out there, but it was strange how the storm stayed at a distance, leaving us in a bubble, letting us feel safe enough to keep playing.

I moved to Jerusalem a year ago. I am glad to be able to continue working at Sabeel during the week, to join in another olive harvest on the weekends. We have several new faces in the office, and I am amused at how much of the area I know compared to the newcomers. It won’t take too long before their Arabic catches up to mine, or their knowledge of the conflict increases, or their frustrations about the situation produce a hopeless cynicism, or their faith is challenged unlike it ever has been before. These are the storms I’ve weathered. I hope to help others in their journey, but I’m no expert. There are some lessons people have to discover on their own. But I can sit with them outside, despite the darkness, as we watch for the stars to appear.

Prayer for many is like a foreign land. When we go there, we go as tourists. Like most tourists, we feel uncomfortable and out of place. Like most tourists, we therefore move on before too long and go somewhere else.
-Robert McAffee Brown

Peace,

Shannon

The 2007 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 170