Something of late

One month. I have a ticket. One month. People have started to say to me things like: let's make sure and do this before you leave ...and make sure to make good last 'scenes' to look back on and remember..., and when shall we have your goodbye party?... One month. I went to put on a pair of shoes the other day only to realize those shoes that one week ago were stored under my bed, are now in America. My team leader for the summer was gracious enough to take home 2 of my 4 1/2...possibly 5 suitcases with him on his way to his sister's wedding. One month.
Tonight, I went to a friend's house for my usual weekly time in the Book with my sweet sisters. We are studying basically a quick from Creation to the cross. Tonight we read about Noah and the Tower of Babel. i was able to not eloquently, but sufficiently share my thoughts and pray in this second language that I now have panic attacks of going to America and forgetting. Can you believe I used to have panic attacks about never being able to learn this crazy language. He is so good. I'm more than I ever have been aware of how incredibly hard--despite my sheer ecstasy--that it is going to be to leave this place. To say the goodbyes that I have already started preparing myself to say, even as I tear up while I type. No one understands why I'm returning home. Why wouldn't I just stay forever? Why wouldn't I? Because, all I know is that home is obedient for now. I don't know what He has for me there, but He's got something and, like a line from a song that I love says, 'whatever's in front of me, I choose to sing Hallelujah.' It may be a mixed tearful hallelujah that first plane-ride as nearly all of my friends have offered to come to the airport--which I think may be more than my puddle of emotions will be able to handle. But, I am blessed for the 2 years I have lived and loved in this place. I will never be the same because of having lived here and I will love God more for having brought me here and sustained me here.
I'm studying the Psalms of Ascent right now, 120-134, psalms of pilgrims on a journey and that is what I am...a pilgrim on a journey. Now, it's become a journey home, but I know that I have found my real 'home' while I was away from home. And I will until I see Him face to face continue to be a pilgrim on my way there, home.

So, a few snapshots of our time of late. Spending lots of time, just about every night with friends and making the most of last opportunities. We went to make food with our sweet friend last night and I always love cooking with this friend because she's just not the best cook and she's learning, too. I can relate to that. I love all the fun phrases that can always be heard while cooking here, things like...be your own architect (when shaping rolls), it should be the consistency of your ear lobe (when kneading dough, of course), and then being reminded when our friend pulls out the special cheese from Cyprus, that she is using the 'special things' because her 'special friends' have come. 'Special friends'. A phrase that is music to my ears and sweetness to my soul. That is one of the scenes I'm storing up for a rainy day...

Something your way

It's amazing how slow time can pass and how incredibly it can fly, at the same time. Another year. Another Ramadan here in Turkey. I took this picture very discreetly at the mall yesterday. That's right. At Burger King, you really can have it your way... Is that even their motto? I haven't watched television commercials in 2 years...(i'm a bit behind the times). If it's not their motto, it really should be! You can come to Turkey, observe Ramadan by fasting all day, and break fast at Burger King with their special holiday menu. It comes complete with a date (of the dried fruit variety)--which is one of the foods that they break fast with and then a special dessert. It's called the Sultan Menu. Does not look appealing to me at all, but isn't something in you just temped to order the 'Sultan Menu'? You even have to say it with a certain inflection in your voice. The 'Sultan Menu'. I passed up the 'Sultan Menu' for a just plain delicious Whopper Jr. +cheese. I don't know why, but Burger King is a haven for me here. It ranks right up there with Little Caesar's for a treat, but I'm banned from ordering Little Caesar's for awhile. Possibly until I leave...how sad is that. I really wasn't planning on it, but I guess I'll indulge you and tell you my crazy embarrassing story. The one which has henceforth unspokenly added me to the Little Caesar's blacklist. (Before I share my little story, let me share that when I come home, the first places that I will want to eat are NOT going to be Little Caesar's, Burger King, or who knows what my mother was thinking when she excitedly told me they had found a lamb kebab place near our house! Mercy. No, my first weeks back I will be substituting these nonetheless appreciated Turkey staples, for well, ...the good stuff.)

Ugh. Okay, so I'll share my Little Caesar's story. It was a sad moment for me and you have to put yourself in my shoes for the moment while you read and realize that while I realize that Little Caesar's food is not the most wonderful pizza in the world...it's not only a food group here, it's a symbol. It is a piece of home. It's one of 3 familiar restaurants that have made an effort to travel across the globe to greet me in my Turkish neighborhood. It's exactly the way it is in America. And it has helped shape my experience here. Okay, I'm exaggerating now, but I love it and it's nice to have something familiar and easy every now and then or sadly sometimes way too often. But, I digress.
We ordered pizza one night. We were leaving town the next day, didn't want leftovers. Love us some pizza. I ordered the usual 'Caesars Caesars' pizza. It comes with extra cheese, some beef but very delicious substitute pepperoni, black olives and pizza sauce. (This may seem like a minute detail to you, but most pizza here does not come with tomato sauce on it.) I have placed many an order through the phone to my beloved team manning the Little Caesar's phone. Usually no problems understanding. Not so that night. Apparently the operator thought incorrectly that Melissa had said 'Caesar's Caesar's Ekstra'. Well, we didn't realize this until the driver brought our pizzas and mine had some type of meat on it. Some type of chopped up marinated meat on it. Now, it might have been beef, but you just never know! I did not want this pizza. By now, my hopes had risen, I'd had a long week, and I was waiting on my Caesar's Caesar's goodness. (It's the little things in life). Open box. Utter disappointment. Melissa runs to the balcony to shout at the delivery man getting on his motor bike (I had ordered her to do this, very uncharacter-like for her). I am running down the stairs pizza in hand (4 flights mind you) to try in hopes of catching delivery man. He is very speedy and I miss him. He apparently has poor hearing and Melissa misses him also.

What to do? On another day, I might have eaten the pizza. I probably would have. Not that day though. In America the customer is always right. I am not in America, what am I thinking? I call back the pizza place and I inform them that my order was wrong. They disagree. We disagree for some moments, until I give in to my insane-ness and inform them...that yes I am a foreigner and I do have a strange accent, but it has never hindered my pizza ordering abilities before. I want a new pizza. Yes, I'd like the pizza I wanted. I'll give them back the pizza at my house that I don't want. Silence.
Do I want to pay cash or credit for this new pizza, operator man asks. I want to pay neither. I don't want to pay for it. It will be free, I insist. Long story, still a long story...I got the pizza that I wanted. It was free. I got a very dirty look from the delivery man who I wouldn't have blamed had he spit in my pizza that I devoured anyways. So, what has living overseas turned me into? Apparently a rude person. I hope not. It can take me up to an hour on the bus to get places that you could drive in 10 minutes. People misunderstand me and I misunderstand them on an almost daily basis. I feel helpless alot. I miss home alot. No one does things the way I would do them, alot. In spite of all this, I love living here. I normally pride myself on trying to fit in, going with the flow, being uber patient because living in another culture is never easy. But, pride does come before the fall So, I had a bad night. It cost me some pride and possibly Little Caesar's delivery until I leave. What had I become that I was willing to be crazy person over a pizza??? I am quite sure, it was a new and foreign experience for them. But, it was a good lesson. A good point to step back and check myself and re-evaluate the value I place on a pizza or what it represents: all things convenient and the way I think they should be. My purpose for being here is bigger than all those things combined to eternity.

So, for some reason, these last days, I find myself craving Chick-fil-a and Sonic and Outback...and etc. But, I am keeping on trying to let Him use the mundane things in my life like pizza delivery gone bad to refine me and give me perspective that leads to joy in this place. I'm spending time like crazy with neighbors and friends and soaking up all that He wants to teach me during the rest of my time here and trying to be moldable into a usable worthy vessel. Embarrassing pizza story, but I'm a work in progress. But, it turns out Burger King is not the only place in town where you can have it 'your way'!

Something homeward bound

I have to admit, that lately I have not been the best blogger! I know, I know. But I'll try to do better! I had a really restful week in Istanbul a couple weeks back and now I'm back for the final leg of my journey. I have officially bought my ticket home. October 24, Jackson, MS 7:30...Lord willing and the creek don't rise, I'll be home.
But, here I am for the moment and enjoying all the time I can get with friends. We went to see our neighbors tonight and of course, they are not ready for me to leave and would prefer (they did ask), that we visit them daily! Not sure about daily, but I am making the most of every minute with these sweet people I've come to love. Things are a bit different here this month. It's Ramadan time and that means during the days, most people around us are fasting. This is a spiritual month for our neighbors in that they fast during the day in order to try and win favor with their god. But, before they fast, they wake up about 4 every morning to eat before the sun technically rises and they are obligated to fast. We do not fast with them and we do not celebrate the 4 o'clock pre-fasting meal with them, but if we wanted to...we could. There's an official pre-fast alarm clock for anyone who cares to be woken up and anyone who doesn't want to be woken up! I have woken up about every other morning since the neighborhood drummer started making his rounds before the crack of dawn. Good reminder to pray for those around me and then, roll over and go back to sleep immediately (which if you know me, then you know I have no problem doing).

Something tasty

So, tomorrow morning I'm heading off to Istanbul for a week. But before I go, I thought I'd leave you with your mouth watering. I'm learning to cook Turkish food. My friend is teaching me and we cook together every week. It's become quite a feat this summer because the kitchen can get a bit toasty, but it's been worth it to learn how to make my beloved Turkish culture's food. I'm coming home with some new skills.
So, after my cooking lesson, we had another friend over this week to taste the dolma (stuffed anything you want, basically...mine was stuffed peppers, eggplant, and zucchini) and let me know how authentic mine turned out. She was so ecstatic and assured me that my cooking was better than hers (sadly not a hard feat though), and that it was de-licious. I thought it could stand a few moderations. It didn't taste nearly as delicious as my neighbors dolma which is out of this world. But, it's a work in progress. My 'cooking teacher' is becoming a pro at fixing errors that she has never encountered before, than I tend to make when we cook. I don't do it on purpose, but bless her heart, if there is something I can do while she's not looking to cause a disruption to the recipe, all be it meaning well, I usually do... and then she has to figure out how to fix it. She dares not turn her back on me! She just laughs at me though because I tell her, these are necessary skills. I'm very likely to run into these very same situations when I'm making this on my own, so I need these problem solving skills! I think that she fully expects me to skype her every time that I make a Turkish dish...and I very well may need to!

Something for the Bus Driver

I've decided that maybe I need to change my bus route a bit. I'll explain. I don't have a car here, as most of you know. I take public transportation, which means I usually take the bus. It's no big deal, I'm used to it. If you don't know, I live in a city of 2 million people and I cannot even imagine how many buses there are in this city, but you know...after time you tend to see some of the same bus drivers around. Well, let me go back and give you a small transportation orientation. Okay, in Adana, there are blue buses and there are red buses.

The blue buses are in general not air conditioned and they're smaller and not as nice. The beauty of the red buses in summer is that they are air conditioned, but they are less frequent than the blue. So, in general you roll up your sleeves and let the warm breeze cool you off on the good old blue bus. And then--I'm not totally sure why, possibly because there are a large number of illiterate people in my city, or maybe just because there is a lot of unemployment in my city, or maybe for some reason that I have no clue about-- but there are bus helpers on all of the blue buses. It is an official job. They collect your coins and then at every stop, they get off the bus and holler (yes holler) out where the bus is going. If you look like you're unsure of where you want to go, they'll try to convince you to get on the bus and go where they're going. It's very amusing, but nice if you actually don't know where you're going (like I tend not to at moments). You can tell them where you're going and they'll help you get off at the right stop. On these blue buses, you can press a button above the door to signal your stop or you can just call out that you're getting off at the next stop or say the stop's name. That's what I generally do. Remember those key words, way back from the first month of my blogging..."Durakta!"

I'd say you're oriented to the buses now. So, the other day I was riding on a blue bus. On the small blue buses, there is a row of seats that sits facing the driver. So, I was sitting in this seat and before we got to my stop, and before I'd even had a chance to realize that I needed to be getting my things together to get up and call out my stop, mind you, the bus driver looked at me and said, "the next stop is yours, isn't it...". Well, I'm a foreigner and I do tend to stick out, but apparently people keep tabs on us a bit more than we realize!! I hadn't done anything to let him know I'd be needing to get off. I think he just purely recognized me and knew my stop was coming up. Now, let me tell you in a city of 2 million, full of hundreds of buses, this is not a service they offer to everyone...memorizing your stop and all! Despite my cover of sunglasses and poor Turkish accent, alas, my comings and goings still tend to draw a bit of attention. What do you do?! The day he veers off his route to turn down my street to drop me off, that's the day I'll worry! Until, then I just laughed at his efforts and said, yes, my stop is next.

Something 'bana rağmen'

So, recently I was preparing a short devotional thought for my bible study (in Turkish) and my language helper was helping me...err...well we'll call it refine my sentences. I must have said something to the effect of, 'I hope He can use my Turkish', to which she responded, He can work even in spite of you. Exact translation. (All of our conversations are in Turkish.) Hmmm, well at first I was almost offended and thought, He'll work in spite of me? Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. (so my flesh thinks.)
But, the more I've thought about it lately, the more her words have resonated in me and I've found Him drilling them into my head. They've become His words which has led me to be reminded to praise Him that He has and is working here through me and in spite of me, because He is in me. I praise Him that He works here IN SPITE OF ME...especially after some of the humble pie that I ate last week. I am telling you, the summer heat makes my attitude crummy. And I can do that fine on my own without the heat here! But, I'm working on it. He is worthy, oh so worthy of my good attitude because of all He's done, because of WHO HE IS, even when it's 95 degrees, 85% humidity, and I've had no air conditioning all day for many days in a row. He's always worthy of it and I'm trying to be better about desiring to give Him a portion of the glory He's due here in this place this summer, even in my melting moments.
I've been reminded several times this week that I am so grateful that He works in spite of me. I saw one of our neighbors in a store downtown on Monday. Her husband has been out of work for most of the summer now. We exchanged pleasantries and before I left, I made sure to tell her that we will continue to pray for her husband. We'd mentioned that we would pray for him and their family when we learned about his job loss. I tend to pray more for his soul than his job, but who knows what the Lord might use to draw them to Himself. So, when I told her we'd continue to pray for them, she said that she knew, she always knew that we were praying for them. hmmm. Praise You Father, that here in this place in spite of me, you have given me a testimony that speaks of You in this place. Praise You that You work in spite of me.

Something loud

To watch this video, scroll down to the right side of my blog to the music player and push pause. It's just a little snippet, but my Internet won't let me attach any of the longer videos. Last night, our neighbors got engaged-mış mış. There's a whole verb tense in Turkish for things that you have heard or are almost certain of, but don't know for sure because you don't have first-hand information. You add this "mış" ending on to the end of your verb to clarify that well...you weren't there, but you heard... or you didn't see it, but you know that... and so on and so on. I hardly ever use it, because well...I can't totally figure out how to use it correctly most times. The hearsay tense, if you will. I don't know for sure, I wasn't invited, and I didn't go... but guessing from what I saw and heard outside of our windows last night for a very long time, I'm assuming one of our neighbors might have gotten engaged. There are no noise ordinances in our city. Your neighbors can decide to have a raucous loud party across the street from you that doesn't start until 8:30 or 9 and might go until...who really knows when because at some point, your ears adjust and you just fall asleep in spite of the noise--thank goodness--and there is nothing wrong with it. Actually it's perfectly acceptable. And you quite expect it. So, there was lots of loud pop music and lots of dancing--some traditional, and some maybe not so traditional! Some people are dressed up and some not, some maybe a little too dressed up for a party in a parking lot, but it's still a special occasion. The noise started about 7:30 when we heard this drum banging outside our window. The sound check had begun. We knew we were in for a loud night.

I mean, really, if you have a party that we can feel like we are attending in spite of the fact that all of our windows are closed, our air conditioner is on, and we are watching a movie at full volume, then you'll have to indulge us because we are going to spy on you and take pictures! My apologies. But hanging out the window listening to Turkish pop music and trying to get a good night picture did entertain us for probably...too long. It's loud, but it's fun to watch and sometimes be a part of their traditions. If it wasn't loud and over the top, it wouldn't be right somehow!

And then sometimes, there are things that they do that aren't quite the way we would do it, and I think...that really worked in our favor. Last night, (pre-very loud lively party) I called Melissa and asked her to bring home a salad to go with our leftover lasagna. Everywhere you eat here will serve delicious salads before the meal, many times more than one, so sometimes we'll stop and pick one up for really super cheap from a restaurant we like close by and eat it as a side. Last night, she was coming home from a different direction so she stopped somewhere new. This ordering a salad-to-go and no meal is very strange to them. Why wouldn't we just make our own salad at home. We're lazy. Inconceivable. So, of course, they do not make Melissa only one salad, they make her the traditional lettuce salad, the onion salad, the roasted red peppers, and a tomato salad and wrap them all up for her. Delicious. Why would we want to make our own when we can pick up such delicious sides, I ask you. So, she gets ready to pay and they don't want any money from her. She hasn't actually ordered a real meal, so why would they charge her? I mean, she came home with a lot of vegetables! But, they wouldn't let her pay for any of them! Perhaps they felt sorry for the foreign girl who they thought possibly couldn't find her way to the grocery store? We just laughed about it. We're so strange here. We can't help but not fit in, but sometimes it just works in our favor!