With Open Doors

You are entering into the Church of the Nativity, the birthplace of Jesus – picture taken at night. I can imagine the shepherds guarding the door, “Shhhhh. the baby is sleeping.” In the arms of his mother, Jesus slept like he could sleep nowhere else. Every baby is lulled into calm by the arms and bosom and voice and heartbeat of its mother. Blessed are you, if you still have your mother to hold you. Blessed are all of us who can place ourselves into the arms of Mother Mary. By the way, I am sleeping like a baby in Bethlehem every night, in heavenly peace.

At a lunch feasting on “Upside Down” (Makluba) at their home table with Joseph and Nadia, with Ranim and her brothers Nasri and Bishear, we were talking about how God has protected us in everything, in things that we were worried about and also in things that we did not know would happen or in things that surprised us. Nadia said her mother used to pray that God would protect them “during the hour of the nap.” What a great prayer to pray for our children.

When I met Amir for the first time, after Ranim asked for my permission to call him to invite him to come meet me, I told him right away that it was going to difficult for me to like him. He was very quiet, as I kept chattering away. When I told him, “If you break her heart, I will kill you,” he responded, “I would kill myself first.” Hmmm. Good response. Do you think Ranim had prepared him to meet me? I am not sure how or why the next topic came up. Ranim was surprised that I had never heard a song before. She and her Amir looked it up online. “Yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda. Don’t touch this. Yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda. Don’t touch this!” She started singing. You keep singing it to him, Ranim.

The young woman with me is “used-to-be-thirteen-year-old-visitor-to-Milford-Ranim.” The photo of me is so dreadful that it makes me think of her one day visiting me in the old folks home. But I had to keep this one taken at her home. She had just surprised me with the news that she was getting engaged, and that I was going to meet him after lunch. I told her that, even before I met him, I hated him!

My sole mission for this morning was to walk through the old city of Bethlehem looking for a hair brush and notebooks. Not the typical souvenirs for a pilgrim to take home. Something made me feel sorry for Joseph looking for a room in an inn.

The Curious George in me, that’s my Confirmation name, asked what Halva was. The waiter kept saying, “Sweet, sesame. Sweet, sesame.” My first shall not be my last.

On the flight from Cincinnati to Paris I got bumped up to first class. They treated me like I paid for the seat and the service. I told the flight attendant that it was like I died and went to heaven. When she gave me the cheesecake a la creme brûlée dessert that I had chosen, to which she had added a drizzle of chocolate, with a side strawberry and a dollop of whipped cream, she said, “Now you’ve died and gone to heaven.” God is always so good to me, even though and, it seems especially so, when I do not deserve it.