O Thou Whom My Soul Loveth

"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine." -Song of Solomon 1:2

This post needs music. 

I remembered being married for a couple weeks and seeing couples who were a year into their marriage and thinking, “Wow, they’ve been married for a while! I can’t wait until we’ve been married for that long!” It still feels like I’ve only been married for two weeks, but our two year anniversary is in less than a month.

Kevin is my best friend and love of my life. Some day he’ll be the father of my children. Life is good; so good, and I’m overwhelmingly grateful that I get to spend the rest of it with such an amazing man. 

I Don't Want To Build Cities Unless They're In Space...

"Make the decision, make it with confidence, and the world will be yours." --Jaren L. Davis

I will be making my tenth and final major change in December when I transfer to Brigham Young University. I have moved through environmental science, architecture, construction management, psychology, recreational therapy, international relations, political science, economics, and communication disorders.  So what have I decided on? Engineering. That’s right. 

After one silly astronomy class I have decided to aim for the moon (and beyond). I want to work for NASA building telescopes and working on spacecraft. My options are optical, mechanical, or aerospace engineering.  You’re probably thinking, “There’s no way she’s going to stick to that. Look at how many times she’s already changed her major-- This is just another phase.” Well, I wish you were right because engineering is math heavy and math is my weak spot (although I do love it). It’s the only major I’ve picked so far that really makes me feel good. Other than being worried about all the math tutoring I’m going to need, I feel at peace. It’s weird how a degree that once sounded so scary now makes me feel confident and secure. The call has come and I'm answering. 

 Aim high or go home, right? Wish me luck.

I'm feeling good, my friends.

"Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn." 

                                       --C.S. Lewis

I have always wanted a big family; seven at the least and twelve at the most. When I placed Little Bear for adoption I wasn’t afraid he wouldn’t be sufficiently loved, but I did fear (it seems petty now) that he’d be raised as an only child since he was their first. Being an only child isn’t a bad thing, but I loved the relationships I had with my siblings growing up and I wanted Little Bear to have that himself.

39 weeks/ 4 days before I went into labor/ it was really cold

            Ten months after placement I received a phone call from my caseworker. She informed me that an expectant girl in a similar situation to my own wanted to place with Little Bear’s parents and asked if I would approve of the *Justice Family adopting another baby. Honestly, I was a little confused at first. I found it pretty ludicrous that they would call me for my permission, but since it hadn’t been a full year they were legally obligated to ask for my consent (or something along those lines)…

Needless to say, after the initial bewilderment had passed, I was ecstatic! I called my mom in tears to tell her the good news, e-mailed the Justice Family, and announced it on FaceBook right away. I couldn’t have been happier or more excited for Little Bear or his Parents. Oh, life was good and adoption was sweet. The Lord was working miracles and I felt my family was on the receiving end.

            That happened in August of 2010, and in October of 2010 I was privileged enough to get to meet *Miss America at Little Bear’s first birthday. I was thrilled to finally be meeting this beautiful girl that was bringing such happiness into the family, but once I saw her everything became so terribly bitter.

Miss America, Momma Justice, Myself

The boys: Little Bear and Kashe-Nut

            I go into detail about how I felt here so I won’t repeat all of it, but the moment I saw Miss America I immediately remembered where I was when I was in her shoes—the pain, the guilt, the sorrow, the happiness, the anxiety, the fear. I hadn’t even thought of what she was going through up till this point and I felt awful because of it. Out of every single person there, I should have been the most sensitive to what she was experiencing, but I hadn’t been. That was truly the worst part about Little Bear becoming a big brother.

The boys: tiny Kashe-Nut and big boy Little Bear

            Now, the biggest problem I face is jealously. I love Miss America with all my heart, but she’s a lot better at taking advantage (and I don’t mean that in a bad way) of the amazing open adoptions we’ve been provided with. Since Little Bear has been born I’ve seen then maybe five times total. I know I can see them more, but I’m timid and I don’t want them to feel like I’m crampin’ their style. Ya dig? Well, Miss America goes over there a lot which is great, don’t get me wrong, but I’m afraid Little Bear is going to know Miss America more than me, or think she’s his birthmom, or worse… think I don’t love him as much as Miss America loves the baby she placed. Ahhh! My heart would explode.

On to a happier and less dramatic subject; since placement I’ve gotten married. I have now been married for fifteen whole months! Man, time sure does fly.

I met my husband when I was sixteen. We were friends, but didn’t have much contact until I was eighteen and three months pregnant. Throughout me pregnancy he was my best friend and gave me the most support. We hung out constantly and he helped me through a lot of my neurotic pre-placement episodes. Neither of us was looking for a romantic relationship (ahem, I was pregnant with a child that wasn’t his… just a tad bit awkward), but by the end of my pregnancy we were dating. Oh, how we tried to deny it (lol); anyway, three months after the placement he proposed (I said yes, duh) and four months later we were married.

            I don’t think we would have gotten married if I didn’t get pregnant as crazy as that sounds.

First off, I was living out-of-state when I found out and the only reason I moved to Utah was because things didn’t work out with the birthfather and I had family there. The only reason I called up *Rambo, my husband, is because I knew he lived in Utah and I needed to spend time with friends. If I didn’t get pregnant I would have stayed in Arizona and Rambo and I would have stayed pen-pals.
            Secondly, the adoption helped me grow immensely and I know that’s one of the reason’s Rambo didn’t mind being around an emotional, ketchup and dog food loving, swollen pregnant girl. The pregnancy/adoption really put things into perspective, helped me focus, and got me back on the right path. Aside from the actually being in the same state and spending time together, I know Rambo wouldn’t have been able to be with me if I stayed in the same place I was when I first got pregnant. It just wouldn’t have been a healthy relationship for either of us.

            Since placement my husband and I have also had the wonderful opportunity to intern at the Ministry of Social Development in Jordan! Yeah, the Jordan that is next to Israel, Syria, and Saudi Arabia. How cool is that? For the past three months we have been there working, traveling, eating amazing food, and meeting incredible individuals. We’re hoping to go to Egypt next year to teach English.

Out in the Badia with the camels next to the Syrian border

In the beginning, the placement was hard (beyond hard, it was practically unbearable), but I have learned so much from the experience. I wouldn’t be finishing my education, married to a wonderful man, healthy, happy, and have an incredible extended family. I wouldn’t be as close to God and I know Little Bear wouldn’t have a life as good as the one as he has now or all the extra love. I know it’s cliché to say, but if I had the chance I wouldn’t go back and change what happened even though there were times when I wanted to die. I am stronger than I’ve ever been in my life and I am finally living life in a meaningful way.

My pregnancy, Little Bear, the adoption, the Justice Family—it all changed my life for the better and I will be eternally grateful for that.  

Little Bear

Holding Little Bear the morning after he was born 

Miss America, Kashe-Nut, Momma Justice, Little Bear, and myself 

Their family

Little Bear and me

Momma Justice and me swinging Little Bear. He loved it.

Cute picture of Little Bear (not one of me) on his 1st birthday!

Over n' Out, y'all

Zaki. Zaki. Zaki. Mom, you're going to LOVE this.

"We should come home from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day with new experience and character."                                                                                                                                        -Henry David Thoreau

Last week I went with Kayla, a girl from SIT, to eat lunch with some of our friends. It was the first time in about a week and a half that I was able to enjoy an authentic home-cooked Jordanian meal. We had maqlooba, which literally means upside-down.

We’ve been told that maqlooba is a Palestinian dish, but we’ve also been told that it’s not. I suppose that’s as helpful to you as it is to us. Maybe it’s so delicious that everyone wants to claim it as their own? Anyway, not important; moving on…

Maqlooba is a rice dish that has sautéed carrots, cauliflower, and chickpeas, mixed into it and is topped with slivered almonds or peanuts. (The maqlooba we had also had coussa, which is squash, added to it.) The rice itself is flavored with all sorts of spices which give it a rich gold color. It smells kind of like ramen noodles, only ten times better.  Roasted chicken is prepared, but right before it’s done cooking, you pour all the rice and sautéed veggies over it to let the magic happen. Once the chicken is done you turn the pot upside-down, hence the name of the dish, and everything is poured out onto a large serving platter. It is served with side salads of diced tomatoes, cucumbers, cilantro, parsley, and sometimes green peppers and onions along with bowls of yogurt. It is one of my favorite dishes here. It might even beat mansaf. Zaki, zaki, zaki (delicious).

I’ve never tasted bad maqlooba, but that afternoon at lunch we had THE BEST maqlooba I have EVER had, but it just ended up having a secret ingredient that I wasn’t fond of…

Kevin and I have already had parasites and I have found bugs in flour, sugar, food, etc. before so I’m generally very careful, if not paranoid, about the food and water here.

Well, during dinner I was looking at my heavenly plate of food when I noticed that some of the grains of rice where much darker than the rest. I immediately thought they were bugs, but I told myself I was being ridiculous, and kind of rude, so I kept eating. It really did taste amazing, so I kept eating, but every now and then I’d casually pull the dark grains of rice to the side of my plate and before I had finished off my second serving of rice I decided to take a closer look. They were a little bigger than the other grains of rice which was unnerving, but other than size and color it looked mostly like rice. I squished a few with my fork and they squished like rice. I was about to declare it as a false alarm, but then I found legs. I started picking out more of the dark pieces, and the more I picked out, the more legs I ended up finding. Upon closer examination I realized the rice was full of maggots. Not a maggot here or there, but full of maggots- almost a quarter of the meal, in fact, was maggots instead of rice.

Now, I really love the family we went to see so I didn’t mention anything to Kayla because I didn’t know how she’d react and I was afraid she might offend them. Also, by the time I discovered the secret ingredient the cook came back into the room so I decided to have another nice sized serving of the rice to show her how much I liked it (I hadn’t had much rice yet and we were at their house for breakfast which I passed on because I wasn’t hungry yet).

I ate two servings of rice, and WILLINGLY ate one big serving of rice after I found all the maggots that day. It was truly a bitter sweet meal. Best maqlooba ever, but if I think about the maggots my stomach hurts. However, having said that, they did taste like rice and if I wasn’t so paranoid I wouldn’t have even noticed. I didn’t eat the chicken either, so I guess the maggots were my protein blessing in disguise (actually, I would have liked it better if they were disguised).

By the way, after all the family members had left the room I did tell Kayla. What was her response?

“Well… it could be worse.”

How awesome is that?

They will reap the fruits of their labors

“In the long run, we shape our lives, and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility.” ~Eleanor Roosevelt

We’re watching the change take place.

The first six weeks Kevin and I were here in Jordan we were out in the Badia. I felt pretty out-of-the-loop whenever we’d come to the city because, well, we were. The Zaytoon team in Amman had been conquering battles of their own which Kevin and I had not yet had a chance to be a part of. Part of what we missed was the first set of business modules, but I have since then been given the opportunity to teach English at all of the module lessons.

The business modules are taught every Monday and Wednesday from 5:00-7:00pm down at the community center in Na’our. There are four modules: empowerment, problem solving, goal setting, and budgeting. At the beginning of the class the students are informed that they will be required to detect a problem in their community, find a solution and write up a project proposal, figure out the necessary budget, and last but not least, carry out their plan.

The first group of projects ended up falling through, but we were still working out all the kinks in the system so I don’t think it was much of a problem. Now, however, action has been taken.

 The youth we’re working with are awesome. Saba, a seventeen year old girl, is determined to go to Harvard. Ahmad, a sixteen year old boy, wants to go to school in America and become a doctor. Zainab is also sixteen. She loves playing football and reading. Harry Potter is one of her favorites (which made me very happy). Banan is twenty, married, and has a son. She loves cooking and reading. Banan wants to learn English and her ambition is to travel to Canada which is where her husband is from. Bashar likes drawing and is involved in a Taekwondo club. He has three sisters, two of whom are also in the class. The list goes on. All together we have thirteen students that come twice a week.

A couple weeks ago there were three projects in the works. A group of girls wanted to make street signs for their community like “speed bump ahead,” or, “children at play.” A mixed gender group wanted to create a no-smoking campaign (everyone smokes everywhere here) with petitions for people to sign, etc; and the third group wanted to clean up an abandoned area, lay some tile, build a fountain, and put in some plants. We were surprised, and worried, about how ambitious their projects were. I don’t think we were expecting anything that big, especially the fountain. Go big or go home, right?

“The great thought, the great concern, the great anxiety of men is to restrict, as much as possible, the limits of  their own responsibility.” ~Giosué Borsi

Well, over time the projects have changed. The three small projects have gradually merged into one big health & environment community project. The fountain is out, but a park is in. The signs will no longer be throughout the community, but in the park, and the no-smoking campaign is still on and thriving. In fact, we might even get news coverage for the no-smoking campaign because our students have connections.

We’re going to build a fence, fix the swings, clean up all the trash/glass, fill the play area with sand, re-paint the things that don’t need to be replaced, possibly plant some trees, get some trash cans, install some park benches, and make “no littering” signs. Along with that, the students will be carrying out their no-smoking campaign.

We’re watching the students learn through all this. When their fountain project didn’t work out they didn’t fall apart. They went out and found another problem in their community that they could fix. Not only did they find a problem, they came to us with their own solution and with a plan on how they were going to implement it. That’s what we’ve been teaching them! Isn’t it beautiful?

These kids are bright. They get it. Change is already taking place and I know we haven’t even come close to their full potential.  I’m looking forward to seeing what they have in store for their community, and possibly ours, in the future.

Alma 32:42-43

42 And because of your diligence and your faith and your patience with the word in nourishing it, that it may take root in you, behold, by and by ye shall pluck the fruit thereof, which is most precious, which is sweet above all that is sweet, and which is white above all that is white, yea, and pure above all that is pure; and ye shall feast upon this fruit even until ye are filled, that ye hunger not, neither shall ye thirst.

 43 Then, my brethren, ye shall reap the rewards of your faith, and your diligence, and patience, and long-suffering, waiting for the tree to bring forth fruit unto you.

I didn’t get to see an American flag.

“Posterity, you will never know how much it cost the present generation to preserve your freedom. I hope you will make good use of it. If you do not, I shall repent in heaven that ever I took half the pains to preserve it."  --John Adams

Amman is statistically safer than Salt Lake City, Utah, but displaying an American flag outdoors on the Fourth of July would not be a good idea. After all, we are in Jordan.

Yesterday was the first time that I’ve felt uncomfortably restrained. Nothing in particular even happened. I didn’t feel like I would be punished for celebrating Independence Day, but I didn’t feel right wearing red, white, or blue to work, I didn’t feel comfortable bringing it up at work, and I definitely didn’t feel comfortable showing my patriotism out in the streets. I have never experienced keeping the Fourth of July on the down low.

I spent the morning reading up on the founding fathers and, honestly, kind of freaking out about going to work. Silly, I know. I didn’t think the other staff members at the Ministry of Social Development would be aware of our American holiday (a lot of our own interns forgot what day it way) and that they’d be watching us or that the secret police would be tracking us throughout the day, but I was worried that I’d forget where we were along with the political restrictions that apply to this intern and make a fool of myself. Luckily, no such thing occurred.

The day went as usual. We all went to work, I spent time creating a new English lesson for our students, I worked on the donor packet with Brenden and Tyler, we grabbed some falafel for lunch, I caught a nap after work, we ran out of water, and we went to the community center down in Na’our.

The community center well. Even though we didn’t have a module assigned for the day, only one student didn’t show up. They listened, made comments, answered questions and seemed to be well engaged the entire time. The English lesson was great (we went over conjugations), and the students were given an awesome homework assignment- they need to tell a funny story or joke in English next class. I’m pretty excited.

After the community center we grabbed a couple watermelons and headed back to our apartment complex where we were planning on having a little party on the roof that evening. From what I knew, the other girls were making fried chicken, a cake, and mashed potatoes. The Zaytoon interns would be coming and possibly some of the BYU interns. I wasn’t expecting anything big or even all that entertaining. It ended up being one of those times were you couldn’t have been happier with the actual outcome.

First off, almost all our living room furniture had been moved up to the roof so there was a couch, chairs, and mini tables. There were two large food tables drenched in fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, biscuits, cakes (yes, more than one), banana bread, ice cream, popcorn, peach cobbler, cookies, juice, soda pop, and watermelon (thank to Yazeed and Khalil). Joel brought up his speakers, Kevin brought his guitar, and Loren brought his harmonica. None of the BYU interns showed up, but all the Zaytoon people were there including several of our Jordanian friends from work and a Jordanian family from our apartment complex.

The food was fabulous. It was an excellent homemade Fourth of July meal. The girls really knocked it out of the park. We were looking out over the city of Amman, but eating in America that night. It was the first time I heard anyone other than my husband say “Happy Fourth of July” that day and even though I never saw an American flag that day,  everyone at the party was finally decked out in their red, white, and blue attire. There was lots of dancing, which was awkward at first with our Jordanian friends, not because they were weird about it (actually, they jumped right in which was pretty fantastic), but because I haven’t been to a mixed gender dance party here before. I mean, we still sort of danced separately because the girls danced on one side and the boys danced on the other, but we were next to each other. We broke out a broom handle and played limbo, too. Nobody other than our Zaytoon interns had ever played limbo before, but all our Jordanian friends got WAY into it. I don’t think I’ve had that much fun in a while. Whenever Joel, one of the Zaytoon interns, would be up for limbo, all our Jordanian friends would clap and shout “Magic! Magic! Magic!” I think we recorded the entire game so once I find it I will post it because it’s truly priceless. Later on Kevin and Loren plays some blues tunes and the group sang songs together. We didn’t have fireworks, but there was a wedding taking place a few streets down and they did have fireworks. We could only see the light flashing on the brick walls on the apartment complexes, but the sound of the fireworks is what I soaked in.

One of the best moments was at the end of the party. As a way to end our celebration, our Zaytoon group sang our national anthem together. I can’t describe how I felt. There we were, on a rooftop in the middle of Amman, with a Jordanian audience, standing around wearing our American paraphernalia, singing the Star Spangled Banner. It wasn’t perfect, but it was truly beautiful. Immediately following our national anthem, our friends asked if they could sing us the Jordanian national anthem. I saw some people roll their eyes, but we all agreed. Even though we were celebrating America’s Independence Day, their national anthem only seemed to add to the beauty of the evening. I think everyone in the group realized that after they finished singing. I will cherish that moment and the feeling that it brought.

It all seemed to die down on its own and everyone went on their way. After everyone left we moved all the furniture and food back into the apartment and played cards with Abdullah, one of the boys from the apartment complex, until 11:00pm or so. (Speaking of Abdullah, he’s here right now. He’s playing more card games with Kevin, Mat, and Tyler.)

I’m grateful the party was as phenomenal as it was. It was the perfect celebration and I don’t think it would have been as amazing as it was if it weren’t for the restrictions I had felt throughout the day or for our wonderful company. Not seeing a single American flag on the Fourth of July really touched me. Celebrating an American holiday with our Jordanian friends and enjoying the beauty and significance of both our national anthems was beyond incredible. It taught me a lot and made the Fourth of July, 2011, the best Independence Day I have ever had.

***AND, for our LDS comrades, we all got a good laugh about how our Jordanian company was probably really surprised at the party we had. Some of the views they have of Americans is pretty funny.  We’re pretty sure they were expecting the type of party they see on television, but instead they got all non-alcoholic drinks, clean music, clean dancing, and limbo, lol.

Jerusalem Photos