The one-year anniversary

Last night I realized that in just a few short weeks, I will mark the one year anniversary of my departure from Kuwait. Strange. Maybe I'll celebrate with some good old fashioned hummus and pita bread. And on the tail end of this realization was the reminder that my blogging has been virtually non-existent over the past six months. I have realized that life in America is hectic. It is fast-paced. And it is so cluttered with electronics. Between my work computer, laptop, ipad, kindle, and blackberry, by the time I lay down to sleep at night my eyes have become just the luminescent reflection of pixels. I know that's not a very good excuse for the lack of blogging, but it sounds better than "I just didn't feel inspired."


Much of my writing comes from a place of emotion, whether it is anger or sadness or frustration or excitement. My inspiration is the feeling that if I don't write out my thoughts, I'll implode. And so, since my return from Kuwait, I have felt less inspiration. I guess that's a good thing. It shows a renewed balance in my emotions (a far cry from the angry exhausted woman who boarded that last flight from Kuwait almost a year ago).

It has been an incredible year, full of so many blessings. Anytime I speak of Kuwait, or think about Kuwait, or write about Kuwait, or read about Kuwait, I feel this odd mix of relief and angst. Many have asked me if I would do it all again. If knowing what those 2 years and 3 months would do to me, I would change my mind and skip that particular "adventure." My answer is usually no, although there is often a short pause of consideration before the answer. Kuwait was my grand adventure (not my only adventure, but certainly a big one!). It was also my desert experience. Yet I wonder if it is possible to enjoy God's incredible blessings to the same extent if they do not come at a time when the desert has parched all from your soul? America is not perfect, and already I am feeling the antsy pull of the nomadic life. And yet this past year has been full. After waiting for several months, God provided the perfect job...one that allows me to travel and get out some of that angsty nomadicism so that I can more fully enjoy my everyday life in DC. I have journeyed back into the church and the community of believers, finding a very solid place in a new theological realm (Anglicanism). God has brought me an amazing man and I look forward with anticipation to the future. There is much that is good on this side of a desert.

And so. I continue this journey into the unknown. Confident. Believing that despite the odd twists and turns, the desert experiences, the disappointments, the anger that still lurks in dark corners of my soul when I think of Kuwait, despite all this. God is good, and greatly to be praised.

Everybody's Broken

I've never been a big Bon Jovi fan, but I saw the music video for this song posted on a friend's facebook wall this morning and I fell in love with the conclusion: everybody's broken. Here are the lyrics...

"Everybody's Broken"

Welcome to the party
Come on in and disappear
You're feeling like a stranger
But all your friends are here
Little lines and cracks
Around your eyes and mouth
Something's trying to get in
Something's trying to get out

It's ok, to be a little broken
Everybody's broken, in this life
It's ok, to feel a little broken
Everybody's broken, your alright
It's just life

Step into the deep end
Make yourself at home
When you wonder why your breathing
Know your not alone
It's so hard to believe
It's easier to doubt
You're trying to hold in
But your dying to scream out

It's ok to be a little broken
Everybody's broken

In this life
It's ok to feel a little broken
Everybody's broken, your alright
It's alright, it's just life

Take a look around
Tell me what you see
Is who you think you are
Who you want to be

It's ok, to be a little broken
Everybody's broken, in this life
It's ok, to feel a little broken
Everybody's broken, your alright
Just keep on going
Eyes wide open
Everybody's broken

As a counselor, my job has been to sit with people in their brokenness. And in turn, friends have sat with me in my brokenness. The lyrics say, "Take a look around, Tell me what you see, Is who you think you are, Who you want to be." As an idealist, I find myself constantly disappointed by the world. I believe that our world was created to be this perfect beautiful place, full of shalom (peace). And then that shalom was broken, and the world we live in is not the way it was supposed to be. We are all broken. And so we navigate this life in our brokenness, but too often we try to caulk the cracks and tightly shut our eyes, blinding ourselves to the questions and the pain and the injustice that surrounds us. But what if we decided that it's ok to feel a little broken. What if we chose to live out of that brokenness; to open our eyes and acknowledge that in our brokenness and in our pain is the recipe for the kind of compassion that can change the world.

On Politics: Compassionate Conservatism

So now that I live in DC, politics is of course front and center in daily life. The upcoming 2012 elections are about to turn this place into a frenzy of finger pointing and jabs and uncomfortable conversations. I was in DC for the 2004 elections, and it wasn't pretty. My own political views have changed over the past few years, and I now wait for the upcoming melee standing on a different side of the fence. But my core beliefs are the same, and I like to think that although I choose one political party (how I long for a viable third party!!), it does not mean that I cannot see the good - and the bad - on both sides of the aisle.

Assuming I don't get too many hateful comments from this post, I hope to continue blogging my observations about this race over the next year...but here is my first tentative tiptoe into the subject, based on an evening of simmering thoughts after reading this article and several other recent articles on compassionate conservatism. What is particularly striking to me is Perry's strong repudiation of this particular brand of republicanism. This was Bush's brand, and I understand Perry's desire to distance himself from that. Perry hopes to make the federal government inconsequential (his words, not mine). Now I am not saying that the current state of the federal government, and its spending in particular, is ideal. Far from it. But it saddens me that the current front-runner for the Republicans (or at least, one of the front-runners), is turning his back on one of the only parts of recent Republican politics that I can stomach. Bush was many things, and there are many things done by his administration that I cannot stand. And before anyone gets up in arms, I will readily admit that I voted for him (twice!). By the end of his time in office, I was no longer a fan. I was ready for something different. But I will be the first to say that there are several things about Bush that I admire. I do believe that he is a good man, a President who strongly believed that what he was doing was best for his people. Lest you forget, he presided over the worst terrorist attack on American soil. And in those days after September 11th, we all - Republicans and Democrats and Independents and others - stood together in solidarity as we watched our president speak to the nation. But for me, what I appreciated most about Bush was that he wasn't just a conservative, he was a compassionate conservative. Bush presided over the biggest and most radical spending on HIV/AIDS prevention and medication in our history (targeted toward Africa and the Caribbean). I think that much of his brand of conservatism was derailed by 9/11 and lost somewhere in the great war machine...but I also would dare to guess (based on Bush's rhetoric surrounding the wars) that even his decisions in that arena were somewhat motivated by the ideals surrounding this political view - ideals of freedom and justice. I do not believe it was done right, and I certainly believe that many failures of those wars can be blamed at least in part on other aspects of the administration (including faulty intelligence). But I digress...

Back to Perry and his repudiation of compassionate conservatism. As a moderate (or even sometimes liberal) Christian, I can get behind conservatism on some levels. But I also spent many years living in a socialist country (gasp! socialism?!). I believe that socialism is far from a perfect system, but I also believe that as a Christian, it is at least a step closer to what the Bible describes of Christ's followers in the first church. I believe in helping those less fortunate- through our churches and our nonprofits and yes, our government. Is it a flawed system? Absolutely. But because it is flawed, does that mean we stop trying? Absolutely not. And so I cannot get behind Perry, or any other Republican who seeks to make the federal government inconsequential. Would I rather get a bigger paycheck every two weeks because I am paying less taxes? Of course. Would I rather that the taxes that I do pay go toward items of significance, not an astronomical debt, bureaucratic drivel and unending wars? Naturally. Do I believe that huge changes need to be made in how our federal government operates? Yes. But I am not willing to sacrifice the idea of compassion to accomplish all that. Call me an idealist, but I think we can hope for something better.

*Coming soon: I am working on a post about Women and Christianity. I've been working on it for a while, and have blogged about this before. So hopefully I'll get a bit of inspiration and will publish it soon to the blog!

On women, feminism, christianity and the world

This post has been percolating in my mind for quite a while. I've written on this issue in prior blogs, but it's been quite some time since I allowed the thoughts free reign where others can read. Since coming back to the US, the issue of women has been heavy on my heart, particularly as the topic pertains to my faith and world issues. A couple weeks ago, the english-language Kuwait newspaper posted another front page article about an abused domestic worker seeking shelter at her embassy (here). This is one horrifying story in an endless stream of publicized atrocities. This one story reflects the lives of countless other women who suffer silently behind bolted doors. This week, the story of the nanny living in the Ghadafi home shocked CNN readers around the world- the image of her burned head and body causing an outpouring of response. Our news is so flooded with stories of horror, sometimes it feels easier to just freeze out the world. But I am convinced that as humans, as spiritual beings, and for myself as a woman, I must persist in my indignation. I must be horrified by every story. I must cringe and cry and scream for justice even when it feels like nothing has changed, nothing will change, and no one can really do anything to stop it. I believe in being informed, even when that information makes us weep at the depravity of the world.

And so I come to the broader topic of women...a topic that is fraught with emotion and politics and theology and the age old battle of the genders. As a Christian, it's not considered acceptable to call oneself a feminist (at least that is the common perception, although not applicable to all within the faith). There are times where I have carried the label proudly. There are other times when I have struggled to find an alternate word, an alternate label that will have less tendency to send people around me running for the hills. I wrote a post on feminism several years ago (in a long abandoned blog). You can read it here. I think that age, experience, and a lot of travel in between the writing of that post and today have perhaps nuanced my opinions on this matter, but it is still a good foundational commentary on why I still call myself a feminist in Christian circles.

Living in the Middle East for two years, these issues were a part of daily life. Whereas the question of women's rights has become more subtle in America, it hovered like a giant pink elephant sulking in the corner during my time in the Arab world. I saw it on the faces of women at the shelter where I volunteered- abused domestic workers who had fled from physical, emotional and sexual abuse at the hands of their employers. I saw it in the culture, the head coverings, the difficulty that many female students faced if they wanted to pursue their studies outside the country, the stories of abuse when women are seen as property, and my own experience of harassment in public. I also saw it in the triumph and excitement as four women were elected as members of parliament- the first women in Kuwait to be elected as MPs. In the Middle East, the issue of women is still a whisper...there are a few who dare to speak loudly, but they are the exception.

In coming back to America, my first few weeks were filled with the wonder of being able to walk around my neighborhood at night without whistles and yells and cars following me. I went shopping and actually bought clothes that were sleeveless and lower-cut. I looked men in the eyes and didn't worry that the eye contact would lead to problems later. I was back in the land of equality! And then I started to notice the subtleties of gender, especially in Christian circles. I started looking for a church, and as I read through their sets of beliefs, I stumbled across items like this:

Jesus is the Shepherd of his Church and he has called, qualified, and gifted certain men to imitate Him in the delegated task of caring, guiding, and teaching His people.

and this:

Women play a vital role in the life of the church, but in keeping with God’s created design they are not permitted “to teach or to exercise authority over a man” (1 Timothy 2:12 ESV). Leadership in the church is male.

(Note that aside from this particular issue, the church whose beliefs include these statements is a wonderful community of Christ-followers and might become my church home, if I can reconcile this particular road block.)

I started visiting churches, and noticed how I could go an entire service and not see a woman on stage. Women could run the child care, could sometimes be part of the worship band (although rarely the leader), could be commissioned as a missionary; but at no point did a woman stand up to lead a part of the service. It is subtle, but it is there. When I go up to receive communion, I receive it from a man. There's nothing wrong with that, but am I really supposed to believe that if a woman handed me the bread and the cup in remembrance of Christ, it would be a sin? I cannot believe that. In Christian circles, we still live in a man's world. And if what we practice at home (read: in the church) is a message of inequality and starkly separated gender roles, then how can we presume to be the hands and feet of Jesus to a world full of women who have been neglected and abused, simply because they are women?

I do not presume to have an answer for all my questions. I wish there was a simple way to reconcile christianity and my questions about femininity. I see a stark contrast between the American church and much of the worldwide church. In America, I see men "leading" because they can. They have the power. In the worldwide church, I see women standing in the gap- leading in so many places where there are simply no men qualified to lead. I see women going into the world by the thousands- stepping out in faith to be the hands and feet and mouth of the church. I see women who are amongst the wisest and smartest theologians I have ever met, but who cannot stand up within a non-liberal evangelical church and teach what God has shown them. And for myself, a woman who is not gifted in children's ministry, I find myself wanting to participate in a church but having no easy outlet for my giftings of leadership and teaching.

Simply writing these thoughts has started my mind spinning...but I think this post is already long enough. Please feel free to comment, and perhaps that will get me working on a follow-up post. This is simply an introduction to my questions and struggles as they pertain to this issue. And remember, if you comment, be kind! I am not trying to start a gender war...I just think these are questions that need to be talked about. Out loud. In the context of our faith.

Color in the Soul

I've abandoned this blog for far too long. The past 4 months have been a time of transition, change, goodbyes, new friendships, reconnecting with old friends and learning how to live all over again in the beautiful city of Washington, DC. I'm not even sure how to go about encapsulating all the ups and downs since I left Kuwait. But here goes, in the hopes that I can start blogging again regularly, although from a very different place in life...

Leaving on a jet plane: After shipping off about 500lbs of personal stuff, surviving the worst dust storm in 20 years (that hit the night before the movers came to pack my stuff, resulting in about 10lbs of Kuwaiti dust making the journey to DC), and the bittersweet tears of goodbye, it was finally time to board my last plane out of Kuwait. There was a slight glitch when the airport went on lockdown due to a security threat, but once the sirens stopped, we were allowed to board and I soared off to a new life.

Living the nomad's life: For the first two weeks after flying back to the states, I set some traveling records visiting Portland, Montana, Orlando and finally DC. My personal items from Kuwait were shipped in 2 man-sized boxes to my new place in DC, and my amazing parents helped me prep about 300lbs of books to mail from Orlando to DC. In mid-April, I finally made it to my new home.

Unemployment (aka: hours spent job hunting online, setting up life in America, going to interviews, re-learning the public transportation system, watching all 6 seasons of Bones, and enjoying a glass of red wine with dinner): I spent mid-April to mid-July job hunting. After spending way too many hours trying to find a suit that fits, the interviews began. Although it took longer to find the right job than I had thought, I am profoundly grateful for the number of interviews and offers received over those 3 months, considering the current economic climate. I felt strongly that God had the perfect job for me, so despite the dwindling savings, I held out for the right offer. This time of unemployment was a much needed opportunity to decompress, process my experiences, and learn that when the cashier talks to me and asks me about my day, that's just normal American friendliness. In some ways, culture shock was much easier than I had thought, but it still sometimes sneaks up on me. My new apartment and fantastically amazing roommate (who I met in Kuwait!) made the transition back to DC so much easier.

Employment (!!!!): Last week I was offered and accepted my dream job. So as of this blog post, I am the newest Program Officer for the International Reading Association's Global Operations Unit. I will be tasked with coordinating international affiliates in the hope of increasing literacy rates around the world. I'm absolutely thrilled to have found something that so perfectly incorporates my interest in nonprofit and education. And as an added absolutely incredible bonus, my job includes some international travel...an aspect that breathed new life into me after fearing that my nomadic days were at an end.

And so...there is most definitely life post-Kuwait. I find myself at times "homesick" for the Middle East, remembering the fun experiences, crazed driving, amazing food, and wonderful friends. But as some of you have heard me say, I also believe that Kuwait has the ability to suck the color out of your soul. And it wasn't until I had been back in America for a couple of months that I began to see just how true that was for me. Even as I experience moments where I miss the life I was able to lead over there, I find that color is slowly starting to seep back into my soul. DC is an amazing place full of so many opportunities to just live. From Jazz concerts in the Sculpture Gardens to dinners with friends to finding a new church to re-exploring the city with the amazing number of friends who have traveled through DC over the past few months...I had forgotten how beautiful color can be. I love little things like being able to call my family any time I want, and realizing that I can hop on a plane and celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas with family and friends...color.

As I start this next journey in life, I hope to keep blogging. My stories might not be as interesting as they were in Kuwait (although once the work travel starts, I have a feeling there might be some fun stories to share!), but I love to write so I plan to continue doing so. As the chaos of transition has eased, I have begun to truly process my experiences in Kuwait...the good, the bad, and the ugly. I feel more of a freedom to share now that I am back in the states, so perhaps some of those thoughts will make their way to this blog. I am beginning to realize that there is still quite a bit of raw emotion from my time in the Middle East, and I know that will take some time to unravel. I was trying to decide whether to keep this blog name, or change it since I am no longer a Kuwait City gal...but I have decided to keep the name because my Kuwait experience is a deep part of who I have become. The desert experience (both actual and metaphorical) has changed me and shaped me. So for this Kuwait City gal, now also DC City gal, it's time to step away from the computer and go live a little, but more to come soon!

The emotion of leaving

As I wrap up my life here in Kuwait (countdown = 22 days!), each day feels like an adventure tangled up in a mass of stress. There have been very exciting moments (like when my friend and I signed for an apartment in DC!), and very hard moments (like realizing yet again that I am leaving people that I might never see again). This is the life of the global nomad. There are a lot of ups and downs, but God has been incredibly gracious throughout. I'm coming up on that time in transition when the "lasts" begin...last time hanging out with someone, last time getting dinner at the chicken guys, last sessions with counseling clients, and on and on. And it is hard, but it is also good. As much as leaving feels incredibly difficult, I also know that this change is right for this moment in my life. So I push ahead, try to take my to-do list one item at a time, and trust that God will provide.

During this time, I've also found myself struggling a lot with anger. I know that transition is always an emotional time, and I am also feeling excited, sad, stressed, and a whole bunch of other things that I can't even identify right now. But over the past few weeks, I have struggled on a daily basis with an anger that just leaves my body shaking and my eyes burning. As I have processed the emotion, I've come to realize that much of my anger stems from a feeling of powerlessness as I leave the place I've come to call "home." For anyone who has been reading my blog over the past two years, you know that there are many aspects of the country, the culture, the society, and even my workplace, that bother me. From the treatment of women, to the veneer of spoiled riches, to the hidden ache of so much family dysfunction, to the desire of businesses (such as my workplace) to cover up anything uncomfortable so that they always look good to the people around...my heart just cries out: "this is not the way it's meant to be!"

As a counselor, I have the unique privilege (and burden) of stepping beyond the "always must look good" polish of this society and digging into the muck and mire beneath. And it so often leaves me reeling. My work at the Filipino embassy has brought this into stark relief. Every Wednesday, I sit with a group of women...all of them runaway domestic workers who have fled from difficult (and often horrific) circumstances. I hear their stories, and it breaks my heart. I just can't understand how people can treat other human beings this way...and on such a massive scale. Even though the embassy is constantly putting girls on planes to send them home, the shelter stays filled. Twenty girls leave, and twenty more girls show up at the gates. It never ends. And the same story is repeated at the Sri Lankan embassy, and the Indian embassy, and the Nepalese embassy, and more. And I feel so powerless to change anything here.

This week I was involved as a first responder and counselor during a very difficult incident. I won't go into the details because I can't, but suffice it to say that it was probably the most difficult day in my past two years in Kuwait. Thank God the situation was resolved and the person was ok, but it drained every last ounce of emotional energy from me, and again, it left me so angry. I am angry because this country has almost zero resources for mental illness. I am angry because seeking help is a sign of weakness, and will bring shame to the family. I am angry because if someone decides to hurt themselves, rather than get them help at the proper facility, it becomes a legal/police issue. I am angry because even those of us who want to help can't, because it's a "liability." And I am angry because even though we see the signs of people struggling all around us, there is so little that we can do to help. Shame is a powerful force here. Looking good is the almighty holy grail. And underneath, fractured hurting people try to make it through the day. I'm not saying that this is unique to Kuwait, but I am saying that it seems to exist on a much more pervasive scale here. And I can try (and have tried) to help people with whom I come in contact. I know all about the proverbial "helping one person at a time" is the only way to start making a difference. But I feel so overwhelmed in the face of my own powerlessness. And so, as a good friend (and soon to be roommate!) reminded me yesterday, that's when it comes back to faith. I must believe that even though this is not the way it was meant to be, God has a plan. I must believe that He cares about each individual person so much more than I could ever imagine. And I must believe that even though I am leaving this place, God has still used me...even if it was just one life at a time. And so I choose to take a deep breath, and hand over my anger to God...moment by moment. I choose to trust in His goodness, not only in my own life, but in this country that has been my home but also my heavy burden for two years.

On Living in the Middle East

Many people have asked me what it's like to be living in the Middle East at this time. One of my friends was watching a news show that had a chalk drawing of North Africa and the Middle East. They had placed little drawn flames on all countries that are currently in turmoil. The flames covered the map- Tunisia, Algeria, Egypt, Sudan, Yemen, Syria, Jordan, Palestine, Iraq, and Afghanistan. That's an impressive list! Here in Kuwait, things are calm. The Gulf Region (Kuwait, UAE, Qatar and Bahrain) is a tiny rich enclave in an often unstable region. The people in my corner of the world are kept content (or at least silent) but a constant flow of money and government perks. And yet, this is also a country that is 2/3 foreigners- many of whom hail from Egypt and surrounding countries. The past few weeks have been a constant murmur of voices- anxious Egyptians following the news 24 hours a day, citizens of other countries checking in with family and friends. We are calm, but it feels like we are standing on the precipice of history. It's scary, but it's also exciting. We are seeing the common man (and woman!) standing up en masse and saying, "enough is enough." It's reminiscent of all the revolutions and uprisings that led to the freedom of democracy in our western world. As Americans, I think we too often see the images of men with scarves over their faces yelling in Arabic, riding camels through the crowd, and we think "oh, how scary...those Muslims are scary!" The reality is that we are simply seeing our own revolutionary history played over again with slightly different cultural twists. Perhaps it's scary that some of the political parties maneuvering into power are extremist muslims. Perhaps we fear losing our "allies" in the region. There are a lot of perhaps. We can't know what the future will hold, but we can cheer with the crowds and shout our own versions of freedom. That's my perspective on things...feel free to take it with a grain of salt.