Arrived home about 10:30 a.m. on Friday, October 27 to a beautiful, sunny Columbus, Ohio, and as you might surmise, there's no place like home. We felt a burst of energy so picked up the mail from vacation hold, got some groceries, and happily recovered Gracie Lou Freebush Mace from the kennel. She wasn't quite as wired as she usually is and we expected her to be after nearly two weeks at "the spa", so we were grateful for that. And, she got a good report noting that she really loves to play fetch (and yes, she's in the professional league in that largely unknown sport).
Late afternoon and we started to sag. A quick dinner and things began graying out during the ABC Nightly News with our fave, David Muir. Managed to stay, mostly sleeping, in my chair until 8:00 p.m. (3:00 a.m. Tel Aviv time) before crashing and lights out in about 14 seconds or less. Slept pretty much straight through until 4:00 a.m. and then awoke, fully refreshed. Got up, made coffee, had breakfast and got started on the catch up process we all experience when we're away for any length of time.
I wanted to reflect for a moment on what this trip has meant to Cheryl and I before signing off blogworld until our next great adventure. Let me begin by talking about our group. We got together largely as strangers despite having a couple pre-meetings with Dave and Aimee Walton, and ended up after a few short days as, perhaps, lifelong friends. Everyone had something special about them, and I could certainly wax poetic about the wonderfulness of each of them All were there seeking the same thing we were. . . a connection to the greater universe and our God.
Some stood out to me in, in particular Father David Shalk and, of course, the aforementioned group leaders, Dave and Aimee Walton. Still relatively new to Catholicism as a convert, I've seen more than a few priests, some who do little to move me and others who do a great deal without even trying. Father Shalk is one of the latter as he takes very complicated lessons and simplifies them, all in words so easy to understand and moving a the same time. As a young man, he has his whole career ahead of him and his parishioners are very lucky to have him as their spiritual leader.
And, I've mentioned before in the blog the unflappable (and also a convert like me) Aimee Walton and her steady as a rock husband, Dave. They were always the first to arrive, ensure everything would be ok for a given visit, lend a helping hand to those who lagged behind, and a kind word for everyone. What great leadership they provided for all of us, and I hope our paths cross again in the future.
So, what did this trip mean to me? Raised from birth in the Methodist church, we heard all of the biblical stories at one time or another, but to me they always seemed pretty remote and not something easily relatable. This trip erased that completely and made the Bible as real to me as it could get. There were lots of examples of this, some mentioned (e.g., Zaccheus wanting to see Jesus so badly he climbed the Sycamore tree in Jericho) and some not.
Of the latter, the most powerful was seeing the pathway from the Mount of Olives on which Jesus rode the donkey into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday with the cheers of "Hosanna" raining down on him. Seeing that road and the gate through which he rode will be an indelible memory to me for the rest of my life. For me, it is ALL believable more than ever because I've seen it firsthand, and it simply wouldn't have survived and thrived for two thousand years plus if it weren't real. And, as our guide Itai so eloquently said (at the House of Caiaphas but applying to pretty much everything "If it wasn't here, it was near". Powerful stuff.
Also, I got a firsthand education in how difficult it will be to solve the Mideast problem. The distrust, fear, and outright hate between the many groups who lay some claim to parts of the Holy Land is palpable. And, it isn't a recent problem but one for millennia that has only multiplied as more and more groups become involved. Each owns a bit and piece of the situation and are ever so protective. We saw this in lots of places, and the division of the Church of the Holy Sepculcher into who controls what was only one piece of visible evidence. It will take a true miracle before this tangled web can ever be sorted out.
For Cheryl, her best memories are a bit different than mine. Renewing our vows at Cana was perhaps the highlight of the trip for me as well as her. Also for her, though, the rhythm of the daily Mass and saying the Rosary was particularly meaningful. It allowed her to commune with God more deeply than the fragmented, frazzled daily life she experiences in her normal world. She comes home, not worried about the laundry that has piled up, or the billion e-mails she has waiting for her, but rather peaceful and relaxed and I hope it follows her all the rest of her days. The whole thing was so special I think it just might.
Of course experiencing it with our dear friends Ray and Mary Lee, their friend Cathy Murphy, and my sister Mary also added a special touch. And for all the others, seeing the blend of cultures, skin colors, and personalities in our group says something special about America. Coming from the Middle East where these are constantly and bitterly clashing, I got the reinforcing lesson that America really is a special place. No place like home, and I'm darned glad to be here.
Thanks to those who've been reading and following along. And, thanks to those in our group who happened upon this blog and had some kind words to say for which I thank the best teacher I ever had, the late great Rachel Martin. Hope she's looking down and reading my words and not finding too many mistakes that she taught me to avoid.
Shalom, and may God watch over you and yours through a wonderful life ahead.
Late afternoon and we started to sag. A quick dinner and things began graying out during the ABC Nightly News with our fave, David Muir. Managed to stay, mostly sleeping, in my chair until 8:00 p.m. (3:00 a.m. Tel Aviv time) before crashing and lights out in about 14 seconds or less. Slept pretty much straight through until 4:00 a.m. and then awoke, fully refreshed. Got up, made coffee, had breakfast and got started on the catch up process we all experience when we're away for any length of time.
I wanted to reflect for a moment on what this trip has meant to Cheryl and I before signing off blogworld until our next great adventure. Let me begin by talking about our group. We got together largely as strangers despite having a couple pre-meetings with Dave and Aimee Walton, and ended up after a few short days as, perhaps, lifelong friends. Everyone had something special about them, and I could certainly wax poetic about the wonderfulness of each of them All were there seeking the same thing we were. . . a connection to the greater universe and our God.
Some stood out to me in, in particular Father David Shalk and, of course, the aforementioned group leaders, Dave and Aimee Walton. Still relatively new to Catholicism as a convert, I've seen more than a few priests, some who do little to move me and others who do a great deal without even trying. Father Shalk is one of the latter as he takes very complicated lessons and simplifies them, all in words so easy to understand and moving a the same time. As a young man, he has his whole career ahead of him and his parishioners are very lucky to have him as their spiritual leader.
And, I've mentioned before in the blog the unflappable (and also a convert like me) Aimee Walton and her steady as a rock husband, Dave. They were always the first to arrive, ensure everything would be ok for a given visit, lend a helping hand to those who lagged behind, and a kind word for everyone. What great leadership they provided for all of us, and I hope our paths cross again in the future.
So, what did this trip mean to me? Raised from birth in the Methodist church, we heard all of the biblical stories at one time or another, but to me they always seemed pretty remote and not something easily relatable. This trip erased that completely and made the Bible as real to me as it could get. There were lots of examples of this, some mentioned (e.g., Zaccheus wanting to see Jesus so badly he climbed the Sycamore tree in Jericho) and some not.
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The Path of Palm leading from the Mount of Olives to
Jerusalem upon which Jesus rode a donkey to enter the
city to cheers on Palm Sunday, as seen from inside the city
at the Dome of the Rock
|
Also, I got a firsthand education in how difficult it will be to solve the Mideast problem. The distrust, fear, and outright hate between the many groups who lay some claim to parts of the Holy Land is palpable. And, it isn't a recent problem but one for millennia that has only multiplied as more and more groups become involved. Each owns a bit and piece of the situation and are ever so protective. We saw this in lots of places, and the division of the Church of the Holy Sepculcher into who controls what was only one piece of visible evidence. It will take a true miracle before this tangled web can ever be sorted out.
For Cheryl, her best memories are a bit different than mine. Renewing our vows at Cana was perhaps the highlight of the trip for me as well as her. Also for her, though, the rhythm of the daily Mass and saying the Rosary was particularly meaningful. It allowed her to commune with God more deeply than the fragmented, frazzled daily life she experiences in her normal world. She comes home, not worried about the laundry that has piled up, or the billion e-mails she has waiting for her, but rather peaceful and relaxed and I hope it follows her all the rest of her days. The whole thing was so special I think it just might.
Of course experiencing it with our dear friends Ray and Mary Lee, their friend Cathy Murphy, and my sister Mary also added a special touch. And for all the others, seeing the blend of cultures, skin colors, and personalities in our group says something special about America. Coming from the Middle East where these are constantly and bitterly clashing, I got the reinforcing lesson that America really is a special place. No place like home, and I'm darned glad to be here.
Thanks to those who've been reading and following along. And, thanks to those in our group who happened upon this blog and had some kind words to say for which I thank the best teacher I ever had, the late great Rachel Martin. Hope she's looking down and reading my words and not finding too many mistakes that she taught me to avoid.
Shalom, and may God watch over you and yours through a wonderful life ahead.
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