Summer swelter

The fact that I'm posting this clarifies that I'm about the worst blogger ever.

Since we've last spoken I've joined three new forms of online social media networking, had snakes drapped over my car-door handles twice, eaten tex-mex approximately 105 times and formed a (probably) unhealthy attachments to Capri Sun drinks. Yes, this is the life of a youth intern.

This has been my second summer working at Life Community Church in Nolensville, TN and it's definitely been one for the record books. Going into college I decided to give God my summer breaks and trust that He would use them for His glory. Well, I'll be the first to say that they have been such intense periods of refinement for me. Two years ago I worked at a christian summer camp called Pine Cove in Tyler, Texas where God broke me apart and built me back teaching me how to rely on Him as my fountain of strength. Last summer, up here in n-ville, God taught me about how the body of Christ works and my roll in ministry. Through all of these he's shown me and taught me about intentionality and building relationships for His glory. This summer, building on the hard hard labor and loneliness that I felt at some points last summer, God has been faithful to build on those first lessons and flood me with grace abundantly in my ministry here.


1. Discipleship
This summer I've been able to relish the difficult labor of building relationships last summer as the Lord has allowed them to mature and develop over the past year. I've had the opportunity to disciple a special group of High School girls as we've studied the book of Ruth and also as we've met individually throughout the summer. I have been blown away by the faithfulness of my girls at studying the Word and their eagerness to apply biblical principles to their life. Seriously, they are such a blessing and I hope that you would join me and lift up the girls of this ministry as they reach out to their friends and community.


2. Community
One incredibly special aspect of ministry here is the interesting role as an intern in the lives of students. Considering this is a small church, the youth workers spend a lot of time hanging out with the students. In fact, I live with two of the girls as my affectionately termed "seeesters" and adopted family. What this means is that work pretty much never ends- days at the church office working and coming home to prank wars, movie nights, fro-yo at Menchies, shooting off fireworks until all hours of the night, etc. This was a bit strange for me to get used to seeing as how the interns at my church growing up led a pretty distant life from us as students except for the occasional lunch or dinner with a large group of other students. But however exhausting this routine of all day work, all night hang-out, it's an incredible opportunity to basically LIVE with the students all summer. I've gotten to know so many incredible church families simply because we live beside each other. We're in and out of different family's homes borrowing movies, playing ultimate frisbee, blowing up water-balloons etc. What an incredible picture of the body of Christ at work! I'm so blessed to be a part of a community that cares so much for itself!



3. Joy
Man, I just really love to laugh. I work with the weirdest, coolest, funniest friends and they just bring me so much joy. I cry I laugh so hard at least once a day and that's such a blessing. It's also slightly dangerous when I'm the driver and my entire car is blaring and singing at the top of our lungs to "No Air" by Jordin Sparks and I'm about to pass out from lack of oxygen I'm laughing so hard. But that's beside the point, if you're a parent reading this I'm a very cautious driver :)

Me, Landon and Jay. Landon was an intern with me last year. He came up to visit everybody at the beginning of July.


Me and Rob. He's the pastoral intern here. This was an intern v. intern slip-n-slide battle. I'll let you decide who won...

3. Obedience
Though I've wrestled so much the past few months with God's calling on my life, He has made it abundantly clear this summer. I'm called to full-time international missions after I graduate in December of this year. Please pray that I would remain faithful to this calling and that I would continue to seek out and discern the Lord's will for my life.

rewind, fast forward, unwind

It's been three weeks or so since I've posted here. If I could quantify in words the change in my life in the past three works, I would most certainly, but it's something that I'm still struggling to grasp.

When I left you it was in a foreign country, where I couldn't walk alone, and couldn't show any parts of my arms or legs. There was family, and mac and cheese, and sister bonding on Ikea couch. Only now have I begun to flip back through my photos and try to organize them and process them. I am so thankful to have gotten to spend those two weeks with my big sister, and am comforted to know that I will get to see her, my brother in law and my sweet niece in a little over a year from now.

However nice it is to reflect on my time there, it's been necessary that my life fall into quick step with my return to the states.

I flew back into the Birmingham Shuttlesworth International Airport (quite inaccurately named) and was greeted by the open arms of my mother, father and little sister. Also accompanying them was a smattering of my closest friends- from high school, college and everywhere in between. It was such a comfort to see familiar and loving faces as the first of my return to Alabama.

The days that followed were quite the blur of running around getting my computer fixed (Morocco killed it), buying new clothes (Morocco killed them) and visiting with friends and family. I never quite got the "two minute talk" down as my go-to answer when people asked about my semester, but I know that my mother sat and listened to me tirelessly speak about the past four months of my life. I ate Mexican food, Barbeque pork and RIBS and got a chick-fil-a chicken bisquit. I discovered that I even like sweet tea now! (thereby solidifying me as a true Southern Belle) I did a lot of sitting with my mom and a lot of joking with my dad and my sister and it was such sweet time. One thing that was a comfort while I was gone was to have a room mate who missed her family just as much as I did. Mary and I shared stories and laughed at our families and sat with each other the times that we were just plain homesick. I'm so thankful for my sweet friend and thankful for God's providence to give me a group of friends to call my family while I was in Morocco.

The four days that I spent at home were wonderful, but Wednesday morning I packed up and headed out for yet another adventure. I've situated myself, this time, in a more familiar place. Last summer the Lord brought me up to Nolensville, TN to do His work in Life Community Church. This summer, His ever faithful hand led me back to the same place to continue the work of discipling His children in the youth group here. If you've been on this online journey with me, you'll note that it was the move to Tennessee last summer that prompted me to start blogging.

These three weeks have been a blessing and a struggle all in one as my plate has been filled and the gas level in my new car has been emptied. I cannot be more thankful for the familiarity of a place that I grew to call home last summer and the blessing of the relationships that I began forming last summer. God has big things in store for this summer and I can only sit back and move my feet in an attempt to keep up with it all.

pausing

So when I stepped off the plane in Dubai International Airport at approximately 3:25am on May 14, I had no idea exactly what iI was walking into. I knew, only, that I would be spending the next two weeks with my big sister, her husband and their daugher. The first thing that I noticed was that MERCY, it was hot. Even at 4:00am when I made it out of security and outside to the waitng area, it was stifling. I had to stand tehre and wait for about 10 minutes because, strangely, my plane had landed early and Alison had slept past her alarm a bit. Those time minutes, time that pre-Morocco Meredith would have been freaking out- foreign country no cel phone credit, haven't showered in a while, that might be some throw up on my jeans from this morning, wait was that yesterday morning, what day is it- passed with quick calmness before I heard my name shouted and turned to see my big sister walk running towards me. I cried, she cried, we embraced and grabbed my stuff to head to the car. Brad and Alison ushered me back to their car where we packed up and headed back to the hotel.

THe next day was a lot of culture shocked as I was forced into Dubai culture. Dubai is not your typical middle eastern city, but it is infact America on crack. For example, we ate lunch in one of the HUGE malls there. We had Taco Bell (classy, I know) but everybody else around us in line was wearing abaiya (google it) and while we bought our dozen Krispy Kreme donuts a veiled woman supervised her children enjoying their fried goodness. For me, coming from Morocco, it was like being hit with two very different worlds intertwined. First off, nothing in Morocco compares in modernity or spectacle to what Dubai offers, but nothing could really compare with the conservative Muslim culture of it. It's amazing, and something that I couldn't believe people before when they said you had to see it for yourself. You must.

After loading up on American carbs, we headed back to their home. They live in the country next to the UAE and our hot hot hour and a half long drive through the desert transported us back to a place a world away from what we left in Dubai. Their city is hot and flat and all of the buildings are painted tan. I had a pretty emotional experience as we walked into their apartment and I laid eyes on my precious 2 and a half year old niece, Lucy, who I haven't seen or held since the last time they visited the US, over a year ago.

Hamdulillah, I've been blessed with two weeks of time with all of them. Alison and Brad attend a local language school learning foosha (formal Arabic) and khaliji (local dialect). They go to school in the mornings while Lucy goes to day care. I typically sleep in a it, read, and catch up with uploading photos from Morocco (clearly I haven't been blogging...) When they get home from school/day care, we eat lunch, Lucy naps, and we spend the afternoon in the comfort of air conditiong in attempt to fight off the 100+ degree weather encroaching from outside. In the evenings we've visited with their local neighbors and friends, watched episodes of the Sing Off on tv and headed on a few adventures to get Arab food and coconut milkshakes.

Needless to say, I've had a lot of free time on my hands. I've been a little frustrated at my newfound lack of mobiility seeing as how it isn't culturally acceptable for women who go wandering out on their own, I can't speak the dialect to be able to communicate properly and it's too stinking hot to leave!

In Psalm 85:4-7 the authors cry out for God to restore them and to revive them so that they may rejoice in Him... "show us your steadfast love, O Lord, and grant us your salvation."

God has used the past two weeks as an incredible time of restoration and fellowship in my semester. I've had the opportunity to read bedtime stories to Lucy, to be filled with good conversation, to laugh a LOT and to be challenged and prepare for this summer. I cannot think of a better way to rewind from an incredible semester than in the company that I'm in now and though it is going to be incredibly difficult to walk into the airport and away from this place for the forseeable future, I will rest knowing that the marrow was sucked out of this leg of my journey.

This is (some of) what the Lord has been doing here these two weeks:

exits

I wrote this yesterday:

May 13. Cairo, Egypt.

So I'm no longer in Morocco. It hit me, and kept hitting me (approximately 9 times during my 4 1/2 hour flight) that the exit stamp in my passport will not be partner-ing with a "return" counterpart. And it's weird to think about returning. Aside from living at school, my home has always been one place- Columbiana Road, Homewood, AL- but the past four months it's become Meknes, more specifically #5 Azhar Residence on a street name I never knew, but that it's near Cafe Dimachk fi Hamria fi Meknes, Morocco.

And now I'm sitting in F8 Terminal of the Cairo International Airport waiting to board a flight to Dubai, United Arab Emirates.

But let's back up to Maroc.

My alarm rang at 5:25am, but I woke up at 6:06am to Mary-Elizabeth reprimanding me for sleeping in. I hurriedly showered and zipped my bags as 9 of my sweet friends sat in our kitchen floor, gulped coffee and milawee covered with laughing cow cheese and honey.

At 7:18, we grabbed my things and walked speedily to the train station where another friend met us. The next 7 minutes were a blur of goodbye hugs, well wishes, and me making really lame jokes while choking on tears. Mike helped me load my body bag (just kidding, kind of...) onto the train and I jumped on and then barreled through an entire train car searching for a seat. The ride was cramped but alhamdu'lillah I found a cabin with air-conditioning//

[cue man's cellphone alarm ringing the call to prayer next to me in the terminal]

// and somewhere between hours 2 and 3 I started to feel sick. I proceeded to hop out of the car, not even make it to the bathroom, and throw up in the floor of the corner of my car- while a group of Moroccan men watched me. Yeah, no more milawee for me for a while...

After this, one of the men took me to the restroom where there was, surprise, no water. During this ordeal, all of the policemen were summoned to come assist the sick girl. I told them I had medicine so that they would leave me alone. (This morning I had told ME that I didn't need to pack any medicine with me because I wouldn't get sick... right.)

Seat resumed, dozed off, felt better. Woke up by the man beside me telling me it was time for me to get off at the Casablanca station. I thanked him, grabbed the body bag and act annoyed that somebody had thrown up right in front of my exit door- seriously?

I make my way to the ticket office and then realize that I'm not in the Casa train station. Panic. I turn around and see my throw-up train start to move. Check my watch- 21 minutes till my train to the airport but how far am I from Casablanca?

(Mom, breath, this is the part where all of my world traveling experiences and down right hood-rat abilities come into play, also a LOT of "do it live.")

So I got a taxi driver- the smiliest of the bunch and asked him how much to the Casa trainstation. He said 100dirhams, I said 30dirhams. Deal. I suck up my fear of sounding like a snotty tourist and tell him, in arabic that I needed to be there, like, RIGHT NOW.

13 minutes to go. Man, impressively, gives me a quick tour of our current city- Ain Sebaa- and navigates Casa traffic in time for me to full on sprint- Amazing Race style- to the train just as the doors shut in front of me. Don't you do this to me, 11:07 train to the airport, don't be like this. Luckily, I had caused enough of a scene so that the station master flagged down the train for me. Roll tide.

So, in appropriate African fashion, I left Morocco sweating and flustered to which I rewarded myself with spending my last 20dirhams on a Poms at the airport.

Where you hang your hat

Home is wherever I'm with you.


In light of recent events, I feel it’s only appropriate to talk about home. Last Wednesday, the state of Alabama was hit with a wave of forceful and devastating tornados. Among the places scattered all along the state that were hit hard, my city, Tuscaloosa, was hit the worst. Outside of my place of birth and residency for my first 18 years of life in Birmingham, Tuscaloosa is my home. It’s where my school is, where my community of friends is, where I worship at church. It’s where we have Taco Casa Tuesdays and walk along the river walk, spend way too much time in a football stadium and quadlay listening to the chimes. It’s my Tuscaloosa, and I share it with people that I love, it’s home.

Tuscaloosa was hit by a tornado approximately a mile wide. Buildings. Streets. People. Gone. I woke up on Thursday morning, check my email and the subject line of an email from my mom is “Lesley is fine.” Alhamdu’lillah, my sister (Lesley) and all of my friends have been accounted for, but the destruction that surrounds them is astounding.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/thecrimsonwhite/sets/

It felt numb first looking at the pictures. The photos, the news articles, the tweets, messages and emails. It’s all too overwhelming to really digest for me. The only words that my friends can describe it with is devastation- like a nightmare. And it hurts my heart so badly that I cannot be there to hug them and hold them and serve alongside them as they pick up our city and care for those who lost so much more. Thousands of people throughout the state lost everything. Tuscaloosa county has reported several hundred people still missing, while lots of cities are just now recovering power, many others are still without running water and basic necessities for life. The state of Alabama received a number 1 ranking on natural disasters- the same as Hurricane Katrina in 2005. President Obama traveled down south this weekend to show his support and celebrities are donating money to help out. This is my Sweet Home Alabama.
The only peace that I can find in this situation- seeing my earthly home flattened- is to remember the creator of that home and his complete sovereignty over the situation. I know that God is real in the way that I see my friends and family loving others. It’s not a love out of selfishness, but out of an overflowing of a heart filled with Jesus. I delight in seeing how my community of friends has found ways to serve helping out through my church in Tuscaloosa and also how those that have returned home have found ways to plug in and help there. Mostly, I am encouraged beyond measure by their faithfulness in prayer and service to those around them. Hah, it makes me realize how selfish I can be that I can sit, perfectly safe, in my room in Morocco and be so torn up over places when my friends back home are picking trees out of their living rooms and singing praises to the Father through it all.

For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. My heart faints within me!” Job 19:25-27

http://rebekahgraceann.tumblr.com/post/5196531059/1-week-ago-1-week-away-half-way-in-between
My friend Rebekah’s blog post.

To complicate things, I found out about this on Thursday morning my time. Thursday afternoon, as I was stepping off the train for a day trip to Fes, we received word that a tourist café in Marrakesh had been bombed. Now, to update you on Moroccan geography, Marrakesh is a good 8 hours away. But when you hear that, no matter where, your heart jumps. We find out later, that a suicide bomber walked into the Argan Café- a place where I stood outside of only a few weeks ago- in the middle of the Dar al-Jma main square (and we are talking about HUGE crazy busy middle of the medina square) and after drinking a glass of orange juice set off a remotely detonated bomb. Here’s a better story:
http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5hmpuF6FVMwrN0sEItXMEH_qNPthg?docId=CNG.91972912fabf7299c7e323bb4a885f3b.701

In addition to this, campus hasn’t exactly been peachy keen either. For the past two weeks Moroccan students have been on strike against the campus administration at our University. Actually, this gets fuzzy and very “Moroccan” because depending on who you talk to, they are protesting for different reasons. Regardless, Moroccan classes have been suspended (but not the classes for American students). Protests at the end of last week got violent and for a while there were rumors that several students and policemen had died. Alhamdu’lillah- nobody was killed. Though there might have been some minor injuries, everybody walked out alright.

It would be easy to be disgruntled and negatively impact by all of this violence and destruction, but I’m learning how to draw into the arms of God for it all. I’ve never had to repeat the word ABIDE so much to myself. It’s written on my hand in an effort that it would be imprinted on my heart. My friends, we live in a dark and fallen world. Tornados happen, bombings happen, death and violence and over-reaction are daily occurences, and without the sovereignty of God, we would have plenty of reason to fret over it all. If He’s good enough for my friend to crawl out of rubble, praising his name in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, then He is certainly enough for me. If He is good enough to grant me salvation in spite of my daily doubt and negativity and uncertainty, that He is more than enough for me.

Please join me in praying for my early homes. Alabama and Morocco. Both have been shaken deeply, but I have hope that neither is destroyed.
.

a bucket list

“Freedom is not the absence of limitations and constraints but it’s finding the right ones.”- Timothy Keller, The Reason for God




A friend and I were talking the other day about what the greatest theme or lesson was that we had learned from a recent trip to Italy. I could probably ramble about practical lessons like dividing a check quickly, converting dirhams to dollars to euros, to drinking my first taste of wine and trying on the shoes of my 21st year of life, but the overwhelming sentiment that I feel has been the discovery of freedom. This isn’t the flippant and sometimes radical freedom of escape from authority or responsibility, but rather the freedom that’s described in the above quote. I feel like this experience so far, Morocco, Italy, wherever, has been an exercise in discovering the freedom of self.



Last week I had to opportunity to travel to Italy for ten days to spend spring vacation with 4 people that I only met a couple of months ago. We bunkered down in hostels, woke up entirely too early to walk to mass at the Vatican and braved long long lines full of fanny packs and guide-maps but what we were met with was beyond what I could have dreamed for those ten days. We found a blessing by the Pope, the glean of paint from paintings we had only read about in textbooks, corners and vistas and gelato that took your breath away.



It was exhilarating, and I could ramble on and on about the glorious details of it all, but the ultimate theme that I took from it all was an intoxicating breath of freedom. Maybe it was our small, unimposing group of five ragged American kids giving ourselves a tour of Pompeii with terribly inaccurate Italian-English translations, contrasted with the countless groups of school children and white-haired retirees filing past in lines donning headsets. Maybe it was the sense of panic that a handful of us felt when we realized that we had basked too long in the Mediterranean sun and were, in fact, stranded on the exotic Island of Capri.



Regardless, I feel that this experience showed me how to dance in freedom- not only the freedom of exploration or age- but the freedom that my faith allots me and in turn I feel that I have been refined by this discovery.


“For Freedom Christ has set us free”- Galatians 5:1

gifts

Today instead of sleeping in and probably not doing homework all day, I woke up at 7am, got on a bus and headed about an hour south of Meknes with a portion of my study abroad group and about 20 Moroccan girls from my University.

We made this odyssey in our lovingly used charter bus that has taken me all over Moroccan in style. The floor of this beauty is green astro-turf and when you sit on the seats a cloud of dust always comes up. I no longer question this occurrence or the cleanliness of the vehicle because it is, most definitely, cleaner than most of the destinations that it carries us to.

But that's beside the point- today our bus was filled with strangers in hijabs and strong perfume. We listened to loud foreign music and danced and sang for the entirety of the journey. The girls taught us calls in Arabic and forced us into the aisles to clap and shake and dance. I could only laugh at myself like I did at the hammam- being completely wrapped up in another culture.

We journeyed, or should I say danced, south and visited several different rural villages where we handed out bags of sugar, olive oil, couscous and tea- things considered nutritional staples in the Moroccan diet. Along with these packages of sustenance, we gave out clothes that the girls had collected around the city.

It was awkward and confusing most of the time. We Americans had no way to communicate with the villagers we were approaching and we instead had to rely on body languages- which is always fun. One thing I am particularly glad for in this culture that continues to reveal itself to me as a mystery, are the traditions and rituals of greeting. When greeting women you greet them with an arabic phrase meaning, "Peace be upon you" and you kiss them on each cheek. It's really a beautiful and intimate moment to partake in- exchanging kisses with these strangers who live in the mountains of rural Morocco- and it will be something that is forever engrained in my mind.

I brought along some suckers and got to hand them out to the children that we met. Their eyes lit up and one girl pulled me down to her level and gave me a sweet little kiss on the cheek. Her mother then invited me and two other girls into the courtyard of their house and chattered on in a foreign dialect her thanks for the things we brought to them. I was humbled by the image of God made manifest through his creation. A woman who may not even know her creator personally. I pray that the Holy Spirit will move in her and reveal to her the truth about her salvation and not the lostness that is around her. I feel burdened for the lost that we encountered, but hopeful that my God can move in ways far beyond my comprehension.

All in all, it was a beautiful day. The Lord gave us bright skies and mild weather, welcoming households with pots of tea and little cakes and the beginning of a chaco tan-line.

alhamduli'llah,

chefcheouan

Shout out to ProMo for being born, this year, on a Wednesday because the school ended up giving us Wednesday, Thursday and Friday off of class, which allowed me time to travel with friends.

I took my first ever Moroccan bus to Chefcheouan- a city in the North of Morocco- with 6 of my friends.

Here's the bus trip in a few key words:
crowded, old women fighting, language barrier, mountain highways, chaos, excitement.

What awaited us as we stepped off of the bus from our 3 our ride was one of the most beautiful towns that I have ever visited.

The entire city is painted a blue that was ethereal it was so beautiful. We stayed in a small hotel in the middle of the medina that was owned by a sweet Italian man who cooked us breakfast both mornings. We wondered through tiny streets painted blue and white, shopped in the medina and bargained with shop owners claiming that we were clearly locals because we go to school in Meknes (surprisingly, this actually worked several times) What was different here is that it's a huge tourist destination so most of the people spoke pretty good english. Additionally, walking around we were not the only white people.

An interesting aspect of the trip was meeting a woman from Croatia who was backpacking through Morocco for a couple of weeks. She was on the bus with us from Meknes and we ran into her several times walking around that weekend. She joined us for a hike into the mountains and we had good conversation about her life in Croatia and her experiences in Morocco.



After a rather intense hitchhike up to the mountains in the back of a hippie van riding with a Moroccan man playing the best of Bob Marley, we made it to the beginning of a trail. Not having dressed for a hike, we only made it about an hour up before everybody was too tired to continue. The views, however, were spectacular.

We spent the rest of the weekend shopping, enjoying pastillas (my FAVORITE moroccan food) and taking in all of the blue.

The ride back to Meknes was an interesting experience because certain routes on the bus were cancelled because it was a nation-wide day of strike to protest the various social and political issues that exist here. We took a bus for an hour, took a grand taxi for another 45 minutes, walked 20 minutes then took another train to make it back to home. Needless to say, it was a very Moroccan journey.

catch up. ProMo Birthday

For those of you who have been complaining about my lack of bloggage, I feel like I should tell you to what lengths I'm going to publish all of this.

I'm currently sitting in a cafe about a block away from my apartment with my room mate. We are the only women here, there is a soccer game on which means it's about 90% full and I'm downing double espressos (niss niss, in Arabic) while inhaling copious amounts of cigarette smoke as well as the stairs from about 10 pairs of eyes as I type this.

Now that we have this clarified, I can update you on one of my favorite parts of Morocco so far.


About two weeks ago, we had the opportunity to take part (or sit on the side-lines, at least) of one of the largest religious festivals in Morocco.

The Prophet Mohammad's Birthday is to the Muslim world what Christmas, Easter and Arbor Day are to the Christian world. (Just kidding about that last one...)

We had two days off of class and pretty much the entire city shut down for days of religious ceremonies, streets crowded with pilgrims and the blood of various farm animals.

All of these activities took place in the medina, which is the old part of the city. The medina is what you would typically associate with Morocco- old old mosques, streets lined with markets and vendors and snake-charmers and mouseleums. It's where we do our shopping and buy the most delicious 1-dirham donuts you can imagine- but more about that later. In sum, the medina is where I would take each one of YOU if you came to visit me.

So, Wednesday morning, me and the girls that I live with dressed in as many bright colors as possible (you aren't allowed to wear ANY black on ProMo's bday!) and headed off to the medina.

What we came upon was unlike anything I've ever been apart of. The streets were packed with women and children in their brightest and most beautiful djellabas (hooded robes that are typically worn with hijabs) and masses of people lining the streets for a reason un-beknownst to us.

So, in typically suit, we followed the crowds and stationed ourselves on a small wall running along the street. Soon after, a huge mass of people starts to make it's way down the street. In the middle of the mass of people were about 6 men playing hand drums and small horns and recorder-like instruments. There was also I man carrying a pole with flags hanging off of it. All of these men were dressed in solid white robes and crowded around them were women and men who appeared to be dancing. Now, this wasn't like Homewood High School Prom of 2008 dancing, it was more of a solitary shaking back and forth type of motion. So we watched the crowd pass and wondered what exactly had just happened in front of us.

My friends and I continued to walk around through markets of goods and produce, eventually making our way to an alleyway filled with brightly colored tents. From each tent came loud music in a similar style to that which we had heard in the streets earlier. My attention was caught by the dark-haired curls of a woman dancing inside one of the more open-tents so we quickly walked over to check out what was happening. Curly, dressed in a bright purple djellaba was dancing and shaking her hair and moving around to the beats of a band of men playing these instruments behind her, situated on stripped rugs. A crowd quickly formed aorund the outside of the tent and we watched on half confused and half amazed at what was going on only a few yards away. A man stood next to me and realized that I spoke French and explained to me what was going on.

This "trance-dancing" is from Berber culture and has seeped it's way into North African Arab culture. The woman was dancing and acting out a spiritual song to the music and it was her way of connecting with Paradise. He said that the songs can last up to 3 hours and that nobody can interrupt her while she is in this trance-like state. The reason we weren't allowed to wear black is because, supposedly, the spirits that possess you don't like the color black and the person in a trance is more likely to act out towards you if you are wearing this color. Fortunately, I didn't see anybody "attacked" by a Spirit, but it was an eery and fascinating moment to be apart of.

I joked about being in the Hammam and being "smack dab in the middle of Moroccan culture," but my experience at the Prophet's birthday celebration takes the cake for cultural experiences on this trip so far.

The more I'm here, the more I'm drawn into the heterogeneous culture that I find myself in the midst of. Seeing and experiencing how a religion as strict and dictated as Islam has been blended with animistic cultures from Subsaharan Africa is fascinating to experience. And mostly, being surrounded by the blurred lines and vague ideas that dictate the greater culture around me has refined my own beliefs and made me even more confident and assured of what I believe.

catch up. ifrane/azrou

It's been about 3 weeks since I've updated, which Miss Kaitlin Orr so sweetly reminded me of in a reprimanding email.

I figure the best way to explain (some of) what I've been experiencing is through photos and stories.

The second weekend that I was here, our group traveled about an hour south to visit the towns of Ifrane and Azrou.

Ifrane resembled a town nestled in the Alps and all of the houses were European in style. Even the lay-out of the town seemed to make sense- clearly it wasn't Moroccan.

After Ifrane, we ate breakfast at the home of a Berber man named Zorgan. I know, I can't make this up though. After filling up on delicious Moroccan pancakes soaked in honey, mysterious almond cookies, coffee and mint tea, we headed off on a hike into the Middle Atlas Mountains.



Along the way, we came across a gaggle of primates.


After a couple of hours of hiking through an enchanted forest, a smattering of snow patches (which provoked all out snow-ball fight war betwixt members of our group) and thinking we would never actually reach the summit of any mountain, we came upon a view that left me speechless.




Despite the day turning out grey and cold, the views were spectacular and I enjoyed getting to stretch my legs hiking the mountain terrain. It was also great to be able to breath in fresh air after two weeks of dirty city air.




I feel like I have been floored more times than I could have imagined on this trip. And it hasn't even been from sights and places, but conversations and occurances and understanding between the friends that I've made. God has been so faithful to take my breath away at LEAST once a day. My communion with the Lord has been so much deeper and sweeter left to the devices that He strengthen me and empower me in the most unexpected ways. One of the sweetest parts of the trip has been being able to use the incredible places that we have traveled as a testament to the Author of it all.

Café au Lait

Maybe it's the homemade humus in my stomach, the mud on the hem of my pants from wandering through the medina or the faint smell of foreign cigarettes that I can't seem to get out of my black jacket, but I'm intoxicated by Meknes.



It's that point where everything is new and wonderful. Morocco is even better than I had imagined and I'm still enjoying the vivid colors of rugs hanging up to dry on balconies, the stale smell of a cramped grand taxi and the way you can see the outskirts of the town and the beginning of the countryside from our roof-top. Our meals are even more savory and much more colorful than my usual entrées in the states.

But all this aside from the apparent romance of the Orient (to make a reference to Flaubert) it is not without it's quirks.

This week I had the opportunity to visit a Hammam . Now, if you just read that, you have a tiny glimpse at the reality. At the truth of the matter, it was a series of chambers structured around a hot hot wood burning fire that heated water for steam. You situate yourself around the edges of the room where there is a kind of canal running excess water around. You grab your bucket, fill it with hot and cold water, and scrub down. Most Moroccans visit the public bath house 1-2 times a week and some swear they don't even need to shower between visits! It's nice, you have your spot, are squatted on the ground on your mat, and can wash your face, hair, and soap up.

The best? part, however, is the scrub down. In my case, in the middle of the large steam chamber sat several large Moroccan women. Their whole purpose is to take very rough scrubbing brushes and get every inch of dead skin off of your body. They will proceed to this goal using whatever physical and emotional violence necessary. I, being the 7 year old girl that I am, laughed histerically. This only made my large, African-American scrubber lady scrub harder and purposely tickle me while chattering off in darija. I was apparently the hit of the hammam, because everybody else joined in laughing at the American girl who couldn't contain her laughter.

The only way to begin to describe my feelings would be to say that I was smack dab in the middle of centuries of Moroccan culture and it was incredible. My room mates and I have decided to make it a weekly ritual. Who knows, maybe I'll impress some woman and she'll arrange a marriage for me to a nice Moroccan man? Insh'allah!

What has been exceptionally great about this week so far has been the new bible study I've begun. I started Beth Moore's book on the Fruits of the Spirit on Monday and intend to use that as my daily "curriculum" for being in the Word. With no local body of believers, I felt the best way to keep myself accountable to my daily Bread was to bring a set out 10-week long study. I began this book many years ago but didn't keep with it for more than a couple of weeks. 3 Days in, though, has already been incredible.

It's started out going through the beginning of Galatians and the foundation for our salvation which is in Christ. It was also an encouragement to read things and discover themes that have been points of struggle for me lately. In Galatians 13, Paul recounts the persecution of the church and the hardships that he faced in ministry but the resiliency of the Gospel to continue to advance and for souls to be won, no matter what was happening socially or politically. I feel especially challenged by that in my present field of mission. But what an encouragement it is that I can not mess up God's plans and that His glory is far beyond anything that I can dirty with my hands!



"But even if you should suffer for righteousness' sake, you will e blessed. Have no fear of them, nor be troubled, but in your hearts, honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet doit with gentleness and respect, having a good conscience, so that, when you are slandered, those who revile your good behavior in Christ may be put to shame. For it is better to suffer for doing good, if that should be God's will, than for doing evil." - 1Peter3:14-17

PS- Go listen to Helplessness Blues by the Fleet Foxes.

Another continent, another country, another world.

Greetings from Meknes, Morocco!

In my absence (due to lack of internet access) I have fulfilled several life goals:

1. Cross the Strait of Gibraltar
2. Come to Africa
3. Come to Morocco
4. Drank Moroccan mint tea
5. Had several tri-lingual conversations

Let's highlight number 3 first, though. I'M IN MOROCCO! This has been a dream of mine since 3rd grade art class at Hall-Kent Elementary where a Moroccan man came and talked to us and told us that Morocco and Alabama are at the same lattitude around the world. WHAT THE HECK?! this has stuck with me ever since and Morocco has always been on my #1 Place to Travel in the World list. So I'm here now, and LIVING here, I'm still a little speechless.

But let's talk in pictures, because that's much more fun, right?

This is part of L'Alhambra, it's a huge palace/military fortress in Granada, Spain. We spent a morning touring and taking too many pictures and just being in awe of the historic importance of it and the VIEWS from it:






After 4 wonderful days in Spain, we traveled south a few hours to Algicera to the Port of Gibraltar. From here we took a ferry across to Morocco!

This is the rock of Gibraltar:



About 5 minutes after taking off from the Port, we could see Africa. At this point, I almost wet myself. It was an incredible moment.

After reaching port, me getting to use FRENCH with the security guards, we rode a bus to Tangier where we spent the night in a hotel, toured the next day, and headed off to Meknes.

(For pictures of this, check my facebook. The Moroccan landscape is breath-taking.)

Since moving into an apartment with 4 other girls, I'm trying to become a local, or something like that.

Here's what my room looks like:


I share a room with one other girl, Mary and we have a huge living room and kitchen with Kalil, Jennifer and Heather. Mary and I have a large balcony off our room, which is really awesome, especially for drying clothes because we don't have a clothes dryer here! Apparently that is a strictly American thing, who knew? Also, there is no central heating here. And I was mistaken about the weather, it's very cold here. We were told that it would warm up in a few weeks, but for now it's multiple pairs of socks a night, leggins, sweatpants, t shirt, long sleeve, and hoodie to sleep in. Seriously, it wasn't supposed to be cold here!

Also, we have two sweet sweet Moroccan women who come cook lunch and dinner for us 6 days a week and clean our apartment. It's cool getting to talk to them in French (they speak NO english) but also I hope to learn how to cook great Moroccan food from them. One of them is a practicing Muslim and pulls out her rug to pray every afternoon- so I, being the cultural nerd that I am, get really excited.

One thing that I have been overwhelmed with, is the Lostness of this world. I mean, being surrounded by mosques and having a skyline full of minarets is a very blatent example of the unbelief here, but even in conversation with the people my heart has been burdened to share the Gospel.

On that note, please pray for the Lord to fill me up everyday and to be the only outpouring of my heart. I am learning to love people in a completely different light.

Know that I am lifting you all up daily! It is encouraging that even with a lack of local Church, God gives us the Holy Spirit to be able to pray for the global body of Christ, and that makes me feel close even when I am not geographically.

Al'hamdu l'illah,

Spanish Nights

The Highlights:

What: Traveling to Sevilla and Granada, Spain
Who: Me, Lauren and my new ISA friends

-Airplanes and jet lag and Spanish speakers and converting currency

The Longer Version:

I've made it (obviously) to Spain and more specifically Granada to meet my group, even though there were a couple of points which I didn't think I would make it through.

Let's back to up the last post. I was sitting in sketch-ball Shuttlesworth airport in Birmingham. Flew to Miami, had a couple hour layover where everybody in my terminal spoke Spanish. I thought this was bad until I got to Madrid and the ONLY thing that people spoke was Spanish! The 8 hour flight was pretty nice considering I had a whole row to myself, made friends with the flight attendants and got extra brownies and drink services. I was also warned repeatedly about the boys in Morocco and they all fretted over my safety because I have the "typical" American girl look. I don't know what that means, but Roll Tide.

I had an hour or so in Madrid, paid 6 Euros for 30 minutes of Internet access which is close to $8! After riding a very bumpy hour in close quarters on an Iberian flight, I made it to Sevilla! Now, I hadn't exchanged money in Madrid because I assumed that I could exchange all of my American cash, and this was a bad idea. So I get to Sevilla, pick up my luggage and proceed to walk around the airport lugging my huge duffle bag and carry-on with around 30 lbs of Doc Justice equipment, ugh.

I found an ATM after directions in broken English and proceeded to guess which buttons to press. Now, I'm not sure if any of you heard about Taiwan-ATM catastrophe, but let's just say, my track record with foreign ATMs is not so hot. I figured out that a warning sign popped up and grabbed a nearby policeman to help me out. I assumed he spoke some English and once again, I was very wrong. I instead got a very large man frustrated while he spoke to me in LOUDER Spanish what I already didn't understand in regular Spanish. He walked away and I almost cried. I was stuck in the airport with no cash to catch the bus or call Lauren to explain the situation. Luckily, I wondered upon another ATM with a clearly labeled, "English" button. Crisis averted.

So, cash in hand, I caught the bus and rode it to the University at met Lauren.

Lauren is a friend from my church in Birmingham and is serving as a journeyman with the International Mission Board in Sevilla, Spain. I had the opportunity to stay with her for the night and go grocery shopping with her and her room-mate (also named Lauren, also a journeyman!) They had a group of students over last night for a party and bible study. I had interesting conversations with students who had very little English experience. Getting to sit in on their (completely in) Spanish bible study was super cool though.

So after a very very long night, Lauren and I went to bed around 2am Spain time. At this point, I had been up for about 24 hours straight and was hurting. I'm still really sore from the car accident and have taken to coughing pretty harshly. We had the intention on waking up early, walking the city some then catching a ride to the train station, but let's be honest, that didn't happen.

We woke up late, called a cab, and headed toward the train station. I purchased a ticket and exchanged my cash (finally!) then bought the best cafe con leche in my life. Spain can do coffee, man, and I love it!

Now onto the subject of my new favorite form of transportation: TRAINS! Ah, so wonderful.

The train ride from Sevilla to Granada was ridiculous. I had downloaded an album by Andrew Belle for the ride down and it was absolutely perfect for the trip! In addition to being really smooth and modern and clean, the view from the train was the highlight. Mountains and groves of orange trees and rivers and gorges.... ahh it was awesome!

In Granada I caught a taxi to the hotel, and moved into my room for the next 4 days. Since then it's been a whirlwind of meeting people and going on a short excursion of the city and eating the most delicious fried dough balls covered in chocolate. Seriously, Spain is treating me well so far.

Tomorrow we are going on a walking tour of a historic part of the city and have the afternoon on our own to explore!

Sending much love your way from Granada!

Airports, etc

I'm sitting in the Birmingham-Shuttlesworth International Airport as a light hangs down from the ceiling in concourse B and flickers in horror-movie type fashion. This is where things get real.

I feel like there is no way that I can head off without first expressing gratitude for the sea of support that has sent me off. I have been floored by the outpouring of love that my sweet friends have shown me. Whether it's been through phone calls/ skype dates while I pack, letters, or prayer, each of you has had a huge impact on me as I prepare for this trip. You have truly been the hands and feet of Christ and I can scarcely believe that I would go into this with half as much confidence if it wasn't for your support.

I can only pray that God will provide me with a community of people to pour into in Morocco to pass along how you have all touched me. Know that the burden that I feel to share with those in my school group, housing and people I meet along the way has been lightened by the joy it is to have such love filling me up from home and the love and grace from Christ that sustains us all.

Birmingham, Miami, Madrid, Sevilla. Let's go.

LOVE.

INN WHY SEA.

I recently had the opportunity to fake that I was an elite jet-setter and fly up to NYC for the weekend. Why? You ask. Well why not? Two of my sweet friends, Morgan and Rebekah joined me to split a hotel room and traipse around the Big Apple for 3 days. Actually, that's a good enough excuse as it stands alone, but one of my close friends attends West Point (the United States Military Academy) located about 60 miles North of NYC. Greg invited me to attend a class formal as his date back in September and I've been anticipating it ever since! Greg and I have known each other since High School and he is one of my nearest and dearest friends. Every year, to celebrate their 500th night till graduation, the junior class (called "cows) celebrates 500th Night which is a formal banquet and festivities to follow. So I was pretty much freaking out because this is a pretty huge deal for their class!

Morgan, Rebekah and I flew up to NYC on Friday, checked into our hotel which was conveniently located two blocks from Times Square smack dab in the middle of the Theatre District and proceeded to dominate the city- or something like that. We had lunch and shopped on 5th Avenue and waited for G to catch up with us. We spent Friday night exploring knock-offs in Chinatown, eating pasta in Little Italy, and playing with toys in the Times Square Toys R' Us. We also had ridiculously excellent cannoli:


Saturday morning we woke up, grabbed breakfast at a cafe around the corner and set out for Lower Manhatten. We explored NYU for a bit (after getting a little mixed up on the subway) and headed back to the hotel around lunch time. Greg and I packed up for the evening (I fit everything I needed- makeup, brush, FORMAL DRESS, and accessories in a messenger bag and was very impressed with myself!) and headed by taxi to Grand Central. We missed our train and spent an hour killing time at the UN (which made me SO happy because I had been wanting to see it!!) eating authentic NY pizza and exploring outside the embassies.

After a BEAUTIFUL 70 minute train ride we arrived in Garrison, NY which is a small town about 20 minutes from West Point. We spent the afternoon visiting with his friends, touring the campus with his cycling coach- Colonial Bastianelli- and me taking a ridiculous amount of pictures of the architecture and views of the river:






After being blown away (literally) by the gusty bitter winds, we retreated inside to his barracks where I got to meet his two roommates and hangout with another girl who is friends with them. I was completely intrigued by their life in a military school. I have a tremendous amount of respect for my friends who make the commitment to such a disciplined yet difficult lifestyle. But seriously, they were all so cool that it made me feel lame for going to a state school (not really, I take it back! Roll Tide!)

After finally kicking all the boys out of the room 10 minutes before we had to be at dinner, I was able to get dressed and do minimal makeup then we headed out.

Dinner was served in Washington Hall which is pretty much what I would picture Hogwarts is like but without ridiculous starry sky yet BIGGER and BETTER. We toasted to the President, to the country, and to West Point. At the end we also toasted to those who were serving overseas and those who have died in service. I loved how tradition driven everything was there. The class president spoke briefly about the achievement of their time at WP so far and then a 4-star General addressed the class. I was, literally, hanging on the edge of my seat. Dinner was delicious and conversation was excellent. We shared a table with 3 of Greg's classmates, their dates and a Major and his wife. After the banquet, Greg and I toured around Washington Hall a bit and mingled with his classmates at a reception in another building. It was INCREDIBLY COLD and my toes were a bit frost-bitten after we walked back from the other building. We both changed and headed back to the City via the train (my new favorite form of transportation) and crashed at the hotel after waking up Rebekah and Morgan in the wee hours of the morning.

Sunday we all got up and packed our bags before grabbing breakfast and heading to the airport. We left Greg and headed back down south to the warm 45 degree weather- it's a breeze after you deal with 12 degrees and wind whipping through the sky-scrapers in the city.

So pretty much, this was one of the best weekends I've ever had. I fell in love with WP. The entire time I was there, I felt like I was in a dream. The history and tradition of the place is astounding and it was so special to get to share this event with a dear friend and a great way to finish up my time in the states.



Doesn't he look so dashing?



Also, I would like to extend a formal apology to my twitter followers for my excessive tweeting this weekend. I was excited and felt like sharing a lot.

Till later,

Fall in Review.

Oh HEY blog,

It's been quite a while since I've posted here. The last time I opened my blog dashboard I was in Nolensville interning and it was probably 90 degrees outside. In contrast, I'm sitting on my bed in my parent's home in Birmingham listening to the sound of snow/sleet out in the chilly 25 degree weather.

But enough about weather. I have challenged myself to get back into the habit of blogging because in a little over 2 weeks I will be boarding a plane headed for Morocco where I will be spending this semester.

Fall 2010 brought many good and new challenges. Apparently getting older means your classes get harder, relationships are more difficult to hold onto and maintain, and the Lord brings more and more challenging lessons.

For starters, I moved into a house on campus and lived with 3 girl friends of mine plus 8 new faces. The Rotary House (or RoHo as it was affectionately named) is a living-learning community of sorts located in an old fraternity house on frat row (holla) that is designed for international students and American students to live together and share life in this house. I shared a room with my sweet friend Emily and we shared a bathroom and shower with two precious girls from China- Lily from Hongkong and Jessiey from Beijing.

For the second year, I served on leadership at Calvary and was blessed by the privilege to lead an upperclassmen girl's bible study with two girls who I became very close with throughout the semester. Meredith M and Rebekah taught me so much through our preparation for leading every week but also through their friendship and the sisterhood of accountability that we shared. After leading a freshman group my sophomore year of school, I was excited to be given the opportunity to lead a group of older girls, but I was a little concerned with who I would be leading with. God is so faithful to put us in situations with people that we once called strangers and by running to the cross together, we were able to develop an incredibly strong bond. I count these girls and the rest of our group close to my heart and will be praying for them as they continue to meet and grow this semester.

August's Potluck Dinner at House 23 kicked off a rousing semester of parties at the home of my favorite 5 boys. Soon to follow was the Anti-Penn State Rally, the Music Symposium, the Red-Neck Meltdown, and the Christmas Semi-Formal. Needless to say, I have some of the coolest friends around. I'm not sure of many other places where 200+ people parties can be held, ridiculous dancing and fun occur, and everybody remembers what happened! This is one example of the LOVING community that I am a part of at Calvary in Tuscaloosa. God's hand on our college ministry blows me away and I am overwhelmed by the love that the church, staff, students and friends of this church has for the Lord and creating community and fellowship where new people are welcome. It's such an encouraging atmosphere to be in.

September I got to work at Disciple Now for the Valleydale Church in Birmingham and get the chance to pour into a group of High School senior girls as well as work downtown at the Race for the Cure.

October I pulled my first ever work-related all nighter of college in the edit lab in Reese-Phifer working on a film project for Documenting Justice. Doc Justice is a year-long interdisciplinary program where UA students learn about film-making, ethics of film, interviewing, etc and make a documentary about a social issue in Alabama. I am in the International Documenting Justice Program which is for students studying abroad. I will be filming in Morocco and next fall will come back and edit my film and screen it in Tuscaloosa (stay tuned...) I also got to attend a banquet in Birmingham for the United Nations Assocation, Birmingham Chapter and meet Susan Dulin. Susan works to head up JUNA (Junior United Nations Association) which is the first Model UN conference I ever attended back in the 7th grade. I was pretty much a teenage girl when I met her and stumbled over myself thanking her for the opportunity to attend and how it has influenced what I'm studying in college now. end nerd rant.

November was busy with a visit to Jackson, TN to visit my best friend Rachael at Union University. We also got to swoon over Dave Barnes and Ben Rector who performed a homecoming concert at her school!
Jessiey also came home with me over Thanksgiving and was introduced to her very first American Thanksgiving with the Wildes-Bryant families and let's just say- that was an experience.

Among other interesting experiences in November, I had the first of my close friends get married. Megan, Kellie, Shelby, Sydney and I road-tripped to the small town of Wallis, Texas and got to be with my friend Katie Truitt as she stepped into a very exciting life as the wife to Tanner Coleman. It was a sweet weekend filled with desserts and blue skies and Love.

My housemate Jessiey also came home with me for Thanksgiving and the Wildes family introduced her to American Thanksgiving in appropriate fashion. I hope my family makes this a tradition for Thanksgivings to come. I love bringing in new people and sitting around making conversations and learning about what being thankful is and to whom we are thankful.

December rounded out with dead week and finals and packing up all of my stuff and moving out of RoHo back home for about a month and a half.

This break has been so wonderful so far and I've had the opportunity to reconnect with my close group of friends from High School who are in college all over the country. Now that they are packing up and leaving to go to class, this semester is really being put into perspective for me.

I'm beyond excited not just for the upcoming stamps in my passport and photos I'll get to take, but for the change that I'm anticipating this semester to hold for me. People always say you come back from any time abroad changed, but for the first time in my life I will be challenged with what it's like to live abroad- to make home and community in a completely foreign land with only the Lord as my sustenance and strength.

So as we continue on in January I would ask that you would pray for me in preparation for this semester.
-That my eyes would be focused on how to enjoy the Lord and seek His face first before anything else.
- For the final plans to be finished diligently on my part and also on the part of my study abroad program
-For the other students joining me in this journey, that God would set aside a friend for me to encourage me and build me up in a Godly manner, that we will help walk through this semester together in the Word
-For my parents as they prepare to see me off for 4 months in a foreign country speaking two languages that they do not know.