A Thank You Note

Sometimes international mail is not the most reliable. Almost a month and a half ago, I mailed out a beautiful stack of bright pink thank you cards to everyone who donated to fund my year in Jordan on the SALT program. So far, I have only heard of one of those cards reaching it's destination. I apologize for the delay, and if anyone else receives their thank you card, please let me know. I am hoping that they did not all get lost in mail.

Since, there is no guarantee that the cards will reach their recipients in a timely manner, I post this blog instead. Thank you! Thank you to everyone who has supported me throughout this process in anyway. Without all of you this year would not be possible. I cherish your thoughts and prayers when things are difficult or when I miss home, and I am in wonder of your support and care during the fun times and the once in a lifetime adventures. Thank you all for everything you have done to help me get here, and I am thinking about you all and praying that God blesses you always.

Hiking, Missing Home, and Finding Strength

 I've lived in Husn for two weeks now. And for those two weeks I've been struggling to find my place in this town. I'm a stranger and a foreigner, I don't know anyone. Most of my interactions happen with shopkeepers. Though, increasingly I've been spending time with the other girls at the YWCA. It's still not the same as knowing the place where I live though. I've been a bit homesick this week. I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss sitting in coffee shops. I miss going out with my friends. I miss having easy opportunities to meet and interact with new people.

Last night was a particularly bad night. I made the mistake of watching the groups of young men hanging out in town, there were no women out, I was jealous of their freedom. Today, I spent the morning reading and drinking tea, still feeling mildly stifled. I decided to go on a hike to feel more independent. So, I put on my hiking boots and trekked up the hill. I took a big road that I've been told leads from oil fields in Iraq to ports in Israel/Palestine. In total I was out for less than two hours, but it did the trick. Standing on the crest of the hill, with the wind billowing around me, I felt freer. I felt like I could do anything. Even the stares from the passengers in the cars driving by couldn't dampen the feeling. I was doing something by myself and proving my ability, strength, and independence to myself in the process.

The hike reminded me of why I love doing what I do. I love getting to see new places and to try to understand them. I love the chance to get to know people and to start to learn their stories. And to hopefully have a positive influence in the midst of all of that. Yes, some days it's hard, and sometimes I want to do go home and be somewhere familiar, but really, I would not give this opportunity up for anything.

Letter from my Father

Dear Hannah,

You are about to embark on an international career, with a year working in Jordan. You will be departing in the midst of terrorist threats and shut-downs of American and other embassies in many countries. Am I worried and concerned, and do I want you not to go? The answers are, “yes” and “no,” in that order.

How could I not be concerned? I love my daughters, and I even worry about the “safe” one in Charlottesville, VA. Do I want either of you to change your goals and choices in life because of my parental protectiveness? No!

Laughing at Graduation

Both of you are intelligent people, wise (I think) beyond your ages. You have made your own choices for years, and are following the paths you have chosen, for which you have taken very specific educational paths. You are going to do what you choose. That is a good thing.

Why should you not choose to work abroad? I did. For many years. In many places. In the midst of civil wars, droughts, and political unrest. In countries ruled by leftist and right-wing dictatorships, by the military, by (often oppressive) “Christian” and “Muslim” leaders. In extremely rigidly controlled societies, with privileged economic and political classes and extremely poor majorities.

How could I object? My first overseas assignment, 49 years ago this month, was in the Congo, in 1964. In the midst of a civil war. I flew there just days after a group of Americans were taken hostage in Stanleyville. That group included a friend from college (he was later rescued).

We make choices; we have options thrust upon us. We can’t always not choose risk if we want to impact those around us.

Bless you, Hannah. We pray the Lord’s safekeeping of you, and for those around you. Go in peace, and come home, at least for visits, once in a while.

Go change the world. Make it better. Amen.

Love, Dad