Our Daughter, The Graduate!

Aria-Magna Cum Laude
Outstanding Graduate in Communication

I could barely focus through my tears as I watched my youngest daughter, Aria, walk across the stage to receive her Bachelor's Degree. Cheers from lifelong friends and dear family members rose as we celebrated together this special achievement in her life.

Each of these special souls have poured into both Aria and Emileigh's lives through the years. They are different and better as a result. Celebrations such as graduations give us opportunity to pause and remember all those who make our lives richer.

So I cried for the way Aria navigated life in the US, then Egypt, followed by Sudan and Kenya and the US again.

I cried at the continued love that our community shows us in words and deeds. They drove from Texas and Illinois and Michigan...to SIT IN A GRADUATION CEREMONY with over 600 names to be read. That's love.

The Cheering Section

I cried remembering Emileigh's graduation just 2 short years ago and how she and her husband have thrived since that time.

John gives me a hug understanding all of the emotions swirling in the moment. We are thankful to be in this moment. We want to freeze it in time just to savor it a bit longer. The Lord has brought us this far...and we are blessed.

We'll return to the desert in a couple weeks, but just for now we sit with the overwhelming gratitude of children who agreed to live a life of adventure, challenge and stretching and came out on the other side stronger, deeper and more confident.

Congratulations, Aria! We love you.

John, Pam, Paula (Sister), Aria, Bud (BIL), Jacob, Emileigh

John, Pam, Jacob, Emileigh, Brittany (Niece), Aria, Alexis (Niece)
Shirley, John

The Fam

Proud Parentals

Celebration Lunch and S'Mores as Ocean Zen

Norma and Jerry (Friends since 1985)

Susan (Dear Friend and Auntie driving from Texas!)

Terisa (Dear Friend and Auntie driving from Texas!)

Easter in the Sand

I wasn't sure I heard our pastor correctly. He smiled and repeated his announcement. 

"We will meet in front of the church at 6 am on Sunday morning, take a boat and hold our Easter services in a Nubian village," he said.

I laughed and muttered something to the effect that Jesus would still love us at 10 am.

As a teenager, I remember participating in sunrise services in Missouri. As the sun peeked over the horizon, we would burst forth in the "Hallelujah Chorus!" However, that tradition seemed to wane over the years as families found it more difficult to get everyone in their "Easter Best" in the wee hours.

Part of the group gathered at a
traditional Nubian dining table.

On this side of the pond, the tradition has continued. Though I am not exactly a morning-loving person, I do like gathering together in the crisp morning air to celebrate our Greatest Hope!

We attend a small international church established by a German organization over 100 years ago. During the cool season, we may have 60 attendees; during the hot months, maybe 20. The believers that gather are from all over the world here in our city for various reasons. 

This particular Easter, John would lead worship and I would speak. I double-checked with our pastor to make sure he had the schedule correct. 

"Do you know that you have scheduled me on Easter?" I asked.

"Yes, I meant to do that," he responded.

"Oh, wow. Thank you. This is an incredible honor." I was truly honored.

In my exuberance of the festivities, I had volunteered to bring cinnamon rolls and an egg casserole for the brunch that would follow the service. The pastor's wife asked, "Why are all the Americans bringing this 'egg casserole' dish? What is it?"

This is the first area John set up.
Then he had to relocate to the other side
of the room for working electricity. 

I laughed and explained that it's just an easy way to make eggs ahead of time. She said it didn't matter as long as I brought the cinnamon rolls, too.

Once I had selected the items to bring, I began to prep for it. Oh, snap! Cinnamon rolls out of the oven and ready by 5:30 am?! I realized what I had done, but it was too late. I was committed. I would have to set my alarm at dark-thirty to get them ready.

I did manage to do just that and get ready and review my sermon one more time while John had the arduous task of gelling his hair. Well, he did have to pack up his keyboard and speakers and such. 

Arms loaded, we met our friends and all proceeded to the motor boat that was waiting to take us down river. 

John set up his gear after locating the one plug in the building that worked and led the group in a series of beautiful Easter hymns. 

As I stood in front of this group, my heart swelled. Could I have ever imagined that my life would be this? That I would be sharing Easter morning with friends from Germany, Canada, Egypt, Holland, Scotland, South Africa? We come from many different points on the globe, but we are united in Christ, our Risen Savior. Sadly for most others that surround us, it's just another day. 

In a remote place on the Nile, these dear brothers and sisters bring encouragement by gathering together and declaring that Jesus is worthy for whatever He asks or wherever He leads.

Pam speaking...

Life abroad can be tough, really tough. Being a "minority everything" is wearing. It can also be incredible. In the Easter season, I'm reminded that Jesus left the splendor of Heaven so that we could experience "God with us" and see the heart of God live among us. His followers, likewise, also try to demonstrate the character of Jesus to each other and those with whom we live in proximity. 

Easter reminds us that the very power that raised Christ from the dead is that same power that allows us to continue the path that God puts before us. That's good news! It's not up to me to make things happen. I can rest in the fact of simple obedience and the faithfulness of Jesus to complete what He started. Hallelujah!

Following the sermon, the kids enjoyed an Easter egg hunt among the palm trees and in the sand. We sat together enjoying many types of breads (from the Germans) and lots of egg casseroles (from the Americans). Finally, we gathered our items and made our way back to the boat and onto our village.

Yes, this was a beautiful Easter, but we have another chance to celebrate here in Egypt. The Coptic Christians celebrate Easter this year on May 1. Or maybe as Christians, we challenge ourselves to live and share the knowledge and power of the resurrection all year long. 

He is risen indeed!

On the boat!

How Was Your Afternoon?

The incline...

 John got a call from Marcos* (a local friend) asking him if he could meet later in the afternoon to discuss a book they were both reading. John said he could and they agreed on a time.

When the time came, I kissed him goodbye and began prepping food for dinner. I figured he'd be gone a couple hours and planned the rest of our evening accordingly.  

However, after 3 hours passed I began to wonder where he was. Now I don't go straight to "Call-the-US-Embassy", but I do try to remain aware of times, locations, etc. when we're separated. It's just good practice.

I was breathing a prayer when he walked in the door smiling. "You are not going to believe this!" he said.

I poured him a glass of water and asked him what happened.

"Well," he said a bit out of breath, "It seems that Marcos has purchased a new car for himself. Well...new to him. It's a pretty old car."

He took a sip of water and continued, "He was waiting for me at the gate and told me to get in. I saw that there was also a woman and a man inside that I hadn't ever met before. I introduced myself and got in the front seat.

"I complimented him on his new wheels and he proudly revved the engine before he tried to put it into gear. Loud grinding gears gave me a clue that Marcos does not know how to drive a stick shift. We were on a slight incline which gave Marcos all kinds of trouble. He tried to take off in second, and third all the while cursing his brother who was supposed to have 'fixed' the car. It was definitely user-error for this, although Marcos would never admit it.

"We continued swaying up the hill and back down again until the car was flooded and would no longer start. Now the words for his brother carried up into the atmosphere loud enough for our neighbors to hear. 

"Marcos got out of the car and began stomping around the opened hood looking for a solution. Two men stopped alongside us and began fiddling with the distributor cap. The car would sputter to life for a bit while the man under the hood would bang and twist and shout.

"Eventually the man got the car running and took it to the top of the hill so that Marcos would have a fighting chance of getting out of the neighborhood."

I said, "Wait a second. How long were you right outside the gate?"

John answered, "We were there about an hour before we even started toward our destination! We finally arrived at the cafe where we were to talk, but I was still confused about the man and woman that were with us."

"Marcos introduced them, 'This is a friend, Abdi, and this woman is from Cairo. I met her last week when I was visiting there.'

"This did not help me at all. Marcos had said he wanted to talk with me, but now we had additional people with us. The woman, who was not a family member, clearly presented a problem because culturally she should not be with a group of men who are not her family and certainly not in one of the cafes where the men hang out, play backgammon and smoke sheesha.

"Marcos saw my discomfort and said, 'Don't worry. We can all talk.'

"Maybe I was projecting, but I could feel the eyes of the others in the cafe resting squarely on the back of my head. We chatted a bit about different things until I reminded Marcos that I had a meeting that I needed to attend.

"He protested, but turned his attention to the soccer game on the television and I took that as my cue that it was all right to leave. So many cultural nuances to navigate!

"A distinguished man was leaving the cafe at the same time I was. He asked where I was going. I told him and he directed me to an old Mercedes that was polished perfectly. He drove me to my meeting location and told me that any time I needed a ride, just ask. I thanked him and made it just in time."

John smiled at me, took one more long drink and said, "So, that was my afternoon. How did yours go?"

_____________________

*Not his real name

It's Official. I Can't Take It Any More.

The women are on one side of the street.

If this sounds like an overly dramatic title for a Monday, you could be right. 

For months now I have been plotting and planning a new website update; something that Joyce Meyer, Steve Jobs and Ben Bernanke would be proud of...As you can tell if you are reading this, it hasn't happened.

I've been storing up stories, daily life accounts and lessons learned so that when the glorious day of unveiling happened I could mesmerize you with a slick, user-friendly, engaging site while regaling you with interesting tales of life on the Nile. Yes, big plans...

I think the final straw came on Friday night. I had been invited to my dear friend's engagement party in a village a bit removed from ours. A friend and I took a taxi through the barely-one-car-width "streets" of the Nubian village. We arrived to ear-splitting music, flashing lights and a neighborhood intrigued. 

Bashamel (like a white sauce lasagne),
Roast Beef, Mashy (stuffed zucchini with rice)

We moved to the women's side of the celebration and began walking toward my friend, Farah*, who was sitting on a platform with her fiancé. The crowd parted like the Red Sea. I greeted my friend, kissed her cheek while offering warm congratulations. I shook the hand of her fiancé and began moving to the side so that others might greet her as well. I thought I'd quickly snap a picture of her in her dress, but was spotted. Farah pulled me up on stage with my other foreign friends and soon we were in a photo op for the entire group.

As we descended the platform, we were met by a sister who kissed us on the cheek and then directed us into her home where she fed us a beautiful meal. Dancing would follow through the night until the first call to prayer around 4 am. I, however, lasted until midnight. 

The men dance, too, but in a separate area.

It truly was a special moment. I was so thankful that I had been included, but I wanted to tell you about it. I wanted you to see my glowing friend in her hot pink engagement dress. I wanted you to know that her family members are kind, endearing people. I wanted you to know that I try to dance when I clearly cannot. 

I pondered this over the weekend. Sunday came and as the sun rose over the Nile on a crisp Easter morning I thought, "I want my friends to know that there's hope here in this part of the world! All is not lost! The power of the resurrection of Jesus is everywhere in the world. Take heart!"

So with that said, I continue to work on the new site but I won't be silent during the interim. I simply can't take it any more. 

With much love and words,

Pam in the Sand

*Not her real name

Easter Sunrise Service