Our happy, touchy-feely, awkward, Christmas photo. Please note the reindeer sweaters. The only thing that is missing is a big plush red cotton ball to attach on one of the reindeer's noses as a button.
Of course, another doughnut.
Dead in the Tomb of the Kings.
Warm pita from the "pita factory." It turns out the factory is a tiny little store, with men munching on falafels inside. I love the smell of a warm, soft pita.
We became bobbing apples in the Dead Sea.
My skin felt oh-so smooth and supple after a leathery mud bath.
Dear Family,
Ugh. My heart hurts.
I don’t want to leave.
Mom, Dad, when you come to pick me up, you may be quite started to see the difference in your daughter: I turned into a gypsy.
Yes, I bought another gypsy hat, today.
I asked the boys if the guys back home would find my ensemble attractive? I thought I was looking quite sexy in my long curtain dress, gypsy hat tucked around my fluffed up hair-do, and pulled up thick socks, complete with "hole-y" sneakers.
Their blank stares and fish-gapped mouths said enough ... Next time, I will ask the men in the Old City. They always think I look like wonderful.
But I will wear my gypsy hat in the States, simply as that little bit of Israel always with me.
The only reason I am glad for the end is because with the end comes the end of finals. (Hooray a break from mental breakdowns!) When I returned from Galilee, I was determined: I would raise my grade in ANE. And then I would declare it a Christmas miracle.
So I locked myself within this Castle on a Hill (Oncoming: Mental Breakdown alert!), towed my heavy backpack up the Mt. Sinai-like flight of stairs, and basically lived in the cold, stuffy library.
Miracle of miracles, I think I passed the test.
While I was quite busy figuring out who in the world was King Ahuta-what’s-his-name was, don’t fret too much, I did still manage to have fun.
Our last field trip was on Monday.
And we went to the Dead Sea.
I am sure we went to other historically significant places and I’m pretty sure those places were on my field trip final (Masada, Qumran), but let’s get to the good stuff: I became a bobbing apple in the Dead Sea.
When we pulled up the Dead Sea, we grabbed our towels and swimsuits and ran for it. We all handed in our shekels and raced for the locker rooms. I tiptoed into the shower, shimmied into that sexy swimsuit Melissa gave me (modest is hottest), and then we rushed down to the sea. All around large barnacle-like salt stones fissured around the sea. The waves crashed and churned on the salty stone diamond crusts and I was, I’ll admit it, a little scared to jump in the water.
But all my friends had already become bobbing apples. So I carefully climbed over the fake, salty diamonds and jumped primly into the water.
My head didn’t go under.
I bobbed up.
I loved the feeling of just letting the waves curl around the salty brine buoy and me up. But then, my eyes started to feel like marching ants were doing the Macarena on my eyelashes.
Salt crusted in my hair and when I smeared mud all over my body, I became a human strip of beef jerky. Or actually, more like the Slim Jims, Melissa and I used to eat like licorice but they smell like a dog’s treat.
Yes, the sea salted me with enough salt to beat out Top Ramen.
I had more sodium in me than an Arby’s meal.
I smelled like rotting eggs for the rest of the day but it was so, so worth it.
After this field trip, began the week of stress, which I can’t really recall right now. It is just a blur of Byzantine, Persian, and Roman empires. Then, scripture passages that still echo in my mind. I still make Bible jokes all the time now. Yes, I am a nerd.
But, finally, I finished last night and today, we went back into the City.
I just wanted to grab each person’s face and hug each person close (not a good idea with some of the men out there…). But I just wanted to keep a mental picture of each person: Omar at the olive wood shop, the doughnut man, the woman who tried to scheme us on red-pea coats.
I will miss them all.
Now, it is time for me to blubber:
Life is so wonderful. I stepped off the plane, with an agenda. I told my Heavenly Father that I had many questions and here, in this place where Christ prayed, I wanted answers.
But Heavenly Father had other lessons for me to learn and other adventures for me to experience.
I wish I could peek at the heavenly schedule on my life, but I suppose that is cheating.
Our last Sabbath day, yesterday, we went to the Garden Tomb. Together, a big group of us sang hymns. The other groups there, from parts of Africa, Australia, and everywhere and from other churches, joined in, too.
It was windy and my hands felt chapped, and I probably looked like a purple urchin child, but it was so warm, just to be there.
We ended with “I Know that My Redeemer Lives.”
What I will miss about Jerusalem:
· I will miss getting lost in the Old City.
· I will miss passing by the people: the tacky senior tourists in their J-ru shirts, the children munching on falafel balls, the women with the babies cradled in the arms, the shopkeepers with their carvings.
· I will miss running on the rooftops and losing my shekels in the shops.
· I will miss the warm, gushy doughnuts outside of the shuk and the doughnut man who gave us chocolate hearts.
· I will miss waking up on Sabbath mornings, looking like a little bit of bukra fel mesh mesh, clipping a cow plop of rumpled curls atop my head, and going to breakfast with 81 friends looking every bit as bukra fel mesh meshish as me.
· I will miss Dr. Chapman calling me “Frenchie” when he sees me in my gypsy hat.
· I will miss waiting in the pita line after dinner, for my warm milk.
· I will miss the Sabbath day question: Where to today, Gethsemane or the Garden Tomb?
· I will miss scooping the diseased cats up onto my lap and wondering what strange diseases they are sneezing on me.
· I will miss the impromptu Justin Beiber dance parties.
· I will miss my 81 friends.
· I will miss singing hymns at the Garden Tomb.
· I will miss feeling like a gypsy as I get lost and wind around the cobblestone streets.
So Mom, Dad, you can come pick me up now. It’s time to go home. As much as I will furiously protest, it is time to go home. I am trusting Heavenly Father from now on. I know I was supposed to come to Jerusalem and now, I know it is time to go home. So hurry and come get me. We have a date with the doughnut man.
I will be the gypsy girl waiting under the olive tree.
Olive you,
Kimberly
“I Know that My Redeemer Lives”
“He lives to bless me with His love … He lives my hungry soul to feed … He lives to help in time of need.”
