America Day 4

We got up and packed for the park once again.  This time the kids wore their suits as we planned on going to a splash pad, as Sherah called it,  a park - all perfectly made within a high fence.  The playground was in a bowl with places to climb, drive, and swing.  The wading pool was encircled by a large and high fence - keeping the kids locked in, and out of, reaching distance.  

The kids loved it, but I was feeling pretty lousy all morning.  We turned around to head home for launch and I was felling worse - I thought I was going to throw up.  Sure enough, halfway home I had to hit the brakes, jump out, and throw up in the grass.  (Mostly the water my sister had been pushing me to drink).

I got back to the house and laid down but my body was throbbing with aches that I hadn’t noticed before.  I suppose it was a flu bug, but the aches kept me from any relief of sleep.  I laid miserably in the bed for an hour and half while Tolga and Sherah managed feeding and changing the kids for nap time.  Even though I had breakfast hours earlier and had been laying for over an hour - I got up and threw up everything.  

We all napped and I woke up still feeling miserable.  On top of this, my sister asked if we were planning to stay the night because “if we were, Mike was going to go and stay at his parents house.”

Tolga was annoyed and said, we’ll go then.  We were going to go to Seth’s but in the end - I vetoed moving because I could hardly move.  I promised Sherah we’d leave first thing in the morning, but I just couldn’t manage it.  

It was fourth of July - Josh was going to join us for fireworks, Libby and Seth were going to too - but instead I laid in bed, nursing Tuana, getting up occasionally - but all my energy zapped.

I missed the fourth of July in America.  

American Day 3

We hung out in my sister’s backyard today.  She lives in St. Paul so she has the typical small house, small front yard, small narrow backyard that runs out to an alley where a dilapidated garage sits.  They have two Adirondack chairs in their backyard - the fad these days and now sold in plastic so they don’t rot.  Ezra has a sandpit in the backyard and some toys to dig in the pit.  It was a warm sunny day and we sat there most of the morning taking turns watching the kids, getting coffee, cleaning, or preparing food.

My brother Josh stopped by this day too.  He had made some empty promises about coming earlier, but asked to be excused from stopping by earlier because some friends were in from out of town (…um, hello?).  He looked handsome fit, and charming as usual - full of smiles, hugs, and plans to get to together - but left nonchalantly, having decided we’d have to meet another time.  That's my brother Josh - good intentions, little follow through.

Right after naps we packed up and headed out to Seth’s.  It would be the first time for us to see my parents since coming by plane on Thursday.  My pops was slow moving and wobbly - using a cane to steady himself.  My sister-in-law, Libby, had created a huge spread to feed the family and friends.  My mother had probably made a hundred trips to Cub Foods for the event - helping Libby set up.  My aunt Jackie had come to celebrate after having invited herself this past Friday.  The whole family was together -  nieces, nephews, brothers, sister, in-laws, my high school friend-adopted-family member - we made 25 in total at my brothers.  I guess it was a lot of people, but to me it felt just right.  

These are the sweetest times.

America Day 2

It’s only day 2, and I’m not sure how long we can keep this up.

This morning Tomris was up at 4am, but I convinced her to lay in bed until five - when Tuana woke up then I got a big cup of coffee and sat in the downstairs den with them.  Tomris played, while Tuana looked and smiled around.

Ezra woke up early too and I brought him downstairs to play and eventually Teoman woke up too.  Pretty soon they were all hungry and NO ONE in the house was getting up - so I gave Cheerios to Tomris, oatmeal to Teoman, fruit to Ezra, and started frying up some bacon, eggs, and toast.  I fed the kids bacon as it was coming off the pan, scramble half the eggs and fried the other half as well as the toast in the bacon grease.  Disgusting, I know, but we’ve been living on a bacon shortage here - so I figured it was okay.  

My sister just picked at her son’s plate, Mike didn’t come down until much later but ate a helping as well.  At breakfast we’d finished the milk, eggs, bacon, and coffee and I felt like I was on ration cards because it didn’t seem like we were getting anything else out of that fridge.  

My sister made some peanut butter sandwiches and small snacks for the kids - but I wasn’t sure what her plan was for the adults - actually, she said we can snack on the kids foods but I was already making second plans because peanut butter squares were not going to cut it for me.  

We headed out to Como Zoo - Tolga and I had actually planned on going to the big Minnesota State zoo, but Como was free and close - so with our two young families, it seemed more practical.  

But it wasn’t.  The zoo was packed.  The whole park seemed packed because the zoo is just a small part of “Como Park” where there are biking paths, ball fields, a lake, golf course, picnic and playgrounds - and so festivals and weekend picnickers, sporting events, and other miscellaneous activities had already filled the corners of the park and it was only 10:30am.  We parked and made our way pass a small amusement park - paid the “suggested donation” to get in, but we never made it too far into the zoo for a few reasons.

1. We stopped to stare every few minutes and the most common of creatures (i.e. a chipmunk running across the path).
2. Toddlers have many and various needs all the time.  
3. We didn’t have a map, my sister insisted she knew where the polar bears were and they were NOT by the bison (they were by the bison, we found out later - after she left and we could pause and look at a map).
4. My sister’s children are on a TIGHT schedule.  I hadn’t realized how obsessive she was about their schedule even though the first night we arrived she had mentioned about a hundred times that “Ezra was sooooo tired” and “it’s way past his bedtime”.  Well the last 30-40 minutes at the zoo was spent following Sherah who kept saying  “we have to go” “let’s make our way back” “I’m going to split you and mom up because we’ll never make it to the polar bears.” (We didn’t make it).  We circled back to the entrance and Sherah and family went home while my mom stayed with us to have lunch at the cafe.  

Actually, first my mom wanted to go eat at W.E. Frost - or some other extravagant place - she was excited to go somewhere fancy with us, drink wine and relax.  But her excitement she’ll easily put to the side as while I wasn’t as obsessive about a schedule - the hour and a half it would take to find the place and order was discouraging me and it was already past twelve.  

We got home just before 2pm and they were sleeping hard in the car.

However, they all woke up and hit the ground running when they realized we were back at Auntie Sherah's house.

At night we went to Minneahaha park - ate at the Sea Salt Cafe and listed to some ho-dunk band.  Teoman, Tomris and Ezra danced to the 5-man band of a stand-up double bass, a banjo, violin, guitar and saw.  (The man was drawing a bow across the saw to get an obnoxious sound).  The female guitarist occasionally put hers down and brought out a platform to to dance.  

The kids danced right along with their poor overtired legs.

America Day 1

Flying to America jet lag plays out like this:

Very early mornings.  Slightly crabby children and adults.  Hard to wake from naptimes.

We were up at 4am, which I was surprised at because we had such little sleep on the plane - but Tomris was up first, then Teoman and they were busy playing away with all the new toys (that is, their cousins toys).  I went up and prepared coffee and some cereal around 6 and Ezra heard me.  Ezra is 6 weeks younger than Tomris and was calling his mama, but he smiled pretty big when I came in and cuddled with me in the chair - I offered that he come down stairs and play with us to which he agreed readily.  

My sister Sherah has two kids - Isaac who just turned one, and Ezra, who will be three in August.  Her home is in a nice neighborhood of St. Paul.   It's a a cottage - a main floor with two bedrooms, a half upstairs with their bedroom and shower, and a finished basement with a second living space, bedroom, full bathroom, and laundry room.  

Small in American standards I suppose - but pretty huge to me.  

Sherah works for US Bank doing bank stuff, and her husband Mike works for an Insurance company doing insurance stuff.  They both have management positions - but that’s about all I understand no matter how many times they try to explain it to me.  

We had to get out of the house in the morning according to my sister because Mike had meetings on the phone between 8-9am.  According to Mike - we were welcome to stay.  For us it didn’t matter as I knew we’d be up early anyhow so we headed to a donut shop a block away.  The bakery helpers were not Minnesota nice as they waited while we all goggled at the donut choices.  Nor did they understand my request.  I’m forgetting English words and my first thoughts are in Turkish and I find myself thinking how do I say that in English?  

We walked to the park that my sister said was a block away.  But it turned out to be six.  These are things I know about my sister and she hates for me to say out loud - so in order to avoid a fight, I don’t.  She says,

“It’s just a block away”.

Meaning: plan as usual - bring stroller, snacks, water, blanket.

Sherah insisted I didn’t need the stroller, offered her baby carrier - but I claimed my shoulders couldn’t take it so she offered to carry her.

Go for it.,,

In the end we had Isaac on the lower level, Tomris on the top, and Tuana in Shereh’s pouch.  We stopped at the bakery, went to the gas station to put air in the tires, and headed to the park - this one was labeled “Treasure Island” - a community funded park that was all wood and built with lots of paths and simple stairs for kids to run around and get lost in.  

We also went to Sherah’s in-laws for a pool party.  They live in Stillwater, our home town, which was about a half hour drive away if you go fast.  (“Not far” according to Sherah - but quite far in comparison to what my kids are used to).  Mike’s parents are good people with big hearts like her husband - and Tolga and I had met them on several occassions.  We had swimsuits for the kids and the swam, ate pizza, and cake.  

My parents came, as well as my oldest brother Seth and his wife and kids.  (My other two brothers are not in town right now).  My Aunt Jackie (my mother’s sister) and her husband came as well - Jackie is quite faithful in showing up at all family events - and quite miffed if we don’t tell her immediately  about family events.  i.e. When my father was in the hospital - I messaged her the same day and she was angry that “nobody told her.”  When she was leaving, Seth mentioned the family barbecue was being moved to Sunday, and Jackie overhearing piped in with a suspicious,

“What family barbeque?”  

My uncle Don has ALS and  has recently been confined to an automated wheelchair.  He uses a walker to move from chair to chair, but with some difficulty.  He loves talking about fishing and is quick to make jokes about his immobility,

“Let me just jump right up there,” when it was suggested we move to the table on the deck.

made it!

waiting in Istanbul

 I was trying to figure out how much my kids slept on the plane (and me) and I think it was about 4 hours in the 24 hour period.  Teoman can be enthusiastically stubborn - in spite of being obviously overtired he wasn't too bad - he was just overly excited about going to "Merica!" 

The toughest part was was customrs/security/passport control in Toronto after a ten hour flight.  We waited in five different lines even though we got fast-tracked in some lines because we had small children, and in another case because it seemed we’d miss our flight.  (Tolga was running ahead while I struggled behind).  It seemed they held the plane for us - the captain announced the delay was due to “slow boarding”.

we travel with superheroes

We arrived and my mother was waiting near baggage claim, my father was still outside - they came in two cars to haul us and our luggage.  (We made it to Ankara airport in one taxi...).  We headed straight over to my sister’s house where we will spend the next few days.  

Travel time reflection:

Woke up: 2am

Left to airport: 3:15am

Ankara Istanbul: 5:45am

Istanbul Toronto: 11:15am

Toronto MSP: 9:45 pm (Ankara time)

MSP Airport: 12:30am

Sherah’s house: 2am

Visit, dinner, bed: 4am  (8pm central)

That’s more than 24 hours people.  
And because we went back eight hours, it's still Thursday...

preying on the weak

Last night came the news of another terror attack - this one at the airport in Istanbul.  The news made me feel sick to my stomach.  We are flying as a family tonight/tomorrow.  We are getting up at 3am, flying out at 6am to Istanbul then Toronto then Minneapolis.

They were in our path.

Then, you start to rationalize your odds and its amazing how far you can take this.  If I were in America I'd be glad it wasn't my country.  But I'm here.  And I'm glad it's not my city, or my street, or at the same time that I was going through there... the danger is getting closer - but even when it's close - I still remove myself from it, it's still hard to believe it's happening here and not just on TV.

My sick feeling stayed with me all day.  Partly from not sleeping enough.  Partly from the news.  Partly from the pigeons on our balcony.  I don't particularly like pigeons, but occasionally they land, build a next and lay some eggs before we notice.  No one in this house has the heart to get rid of the eggs - so our balcony becomes full of poop as the eggs hatch and the chicks grow under the parents wings.

But this is the third or fourth time pigeons have nested and hatched chicks on our balcony and the chicks have all come to the same fate.  A hawk or crow finds their nest and destroys them.  Yesterday the first was killed and the other was injured.  I looked out to check on them because I had noticed the mother was away earlier and the one was a bloody mess onto balcony.  The others' wing was askew and it was trying to get up and move back to its nest.  The parent pigeons were just watching form the railing - maybe ready for the predator to return.

I looked later and the dead chick had been skinned, and a little bit later only some entrails were left, and then nothing.  Meanwhile the injured chick had made it back to the nest and the mother was no top again.  But today it too was killed and slowly stripped down to nothing.

The scavengers preyed on the weak and unprotected.  The cruelty and darkness of this world is everywhere...

baking calm

I was stressed last night so I made this:

It's a strawberry lattice pie

It helped.

on justice

When I was in 7th grade I was pretty self-confident.  Junior High destroyed my self-confidence - but I started off pretty grounded.  I was excited to make new friends.  I kept a "What Would Jesus Do?" self made poster in my locker before it became a thing.  I was first chair in orchestra and didn't even know that was a big deal.  I played all sports year round.  I was ready for the big time.

Even today, I think a big part of middle school is the sense of justice.  Things had to be fair, teachers had to be mature and gracious, peers had to kind, and so on.  I was playing sports after school and I'm not sure which one, but my shorts got stolen out of my locker.  They were Umbros and cool at the time.  Our steel gym lockers were webbed and if you were determined you could stick a finger or a hanger in there and pull the thin shorts out through the webbed steel.

Mine and a few others were stolen one day and for some reason I decided I was going to be all Nancy Drew and figure this case out.  And I did.  I don't really remember how - I just remember asking around and finally getting to the few girls who had stolen the shorts.  I confronted them and they lied, but after some prodding - they confessed.  I'm not sure why - maybe I convinced them I knew, maybe I threatened to tell the principal - anyhow they confessed and promised to return the shorts.  I had an official meeting with the vice principal about the whole business and in the end, I think I was trying to get them out of trouble because they had confessed and said they were sorry.

I remember this story because it wasn't satisfying.  I had found the thieves, got them to confess, maybe they returned the shorts, I had shown the principal what a problem solver I was ... and I felt... I felt...I felt like, so what?  Justice was done - and it wasn't as satisfying as I imagined.  People getting what's coming to them, embarrassing someone for their wrong, simply forcing someone to admit it - well it wasn't my business.  It was my shorts - but I'm not sure it was worth all the drama.

I've been thinking of this story when I think of how the colleague of mine got fired (and of all the other teachers that have been wrongfully fired).  How I want to go in and weed out the confusion and dishonesty and bullying and do something to stand up for what is right.  Something to push this shadow back.

But why? To make it a better place?  Sure.  To help my friends?  Sure.  But I know why I had that empty feeling inside before - justice cannot be the point or driving force.  It's the relationship.  It's not to prove I'm right, you're wrong.  It's not even to "make this a better place" because I'm not sure I care that much.  It's because the people that are causing the pain are in pain too, and that's the real heartbreak.

my dramatic family

Scandinavians are known for their reserved nature.  For their skeptical and cautious opinions.  For their stoicism and self sufficiency and determination - among many other independent and proud traits.  For buckling down, ignoring personal "inconveniences" in order to get a job done.  My family is from a Scandinavian heritage - and these traits and more come out in all of us.

My father's MRI of the brain he described as "awful" and hardly expanded on that.  For my father to call it awful, I knew it was bad.  I asked him why and he said "because the machine is right there in your face."  I knew what he was talking about - but he didn't expand on it or even mention that it was downright terrifying.  Tolga did - he said, "my dad started screaming.  He said later it was like bouncing in his brain."  My father just nodded.  I couldn't help but feeling - you should have screamed too.  But then again, for my him to scream would be heartbreaking too - knowing what it would take for him to scream.

where people invest

It always seems like American's are so rich - and they are in comparison.  But I realize foreigners seem so rich too.

I have students whose families spend 10K on vacations to America, families that spend 10K on education - It's hard to say who has more or which is better - but I'm starting to think the difference is where we invest.

Americans have big houses, cabins, boats, multiple cars, garage sales, and lots of extracurricular activities.

Turks have summer homes, apartments, small cars, priy.vate schools, new things, lots of relatives, gold, and fancy vacations.

As an American I would never consider spending 10K on a vacation.  As a Turk - I would consider the experience it would give my children to see a better life, learn English, and be proud.  As an American I would think about all the other places I could invest that money - or I'd say I can't afford it and it would be true because my money would be tied down in my cars or projects or 401k.

As an American I would consider a visit to Turkey a luxury.  As a Turk I would consider a visit to America (if I were privileged enough to consider) it a necessity.

on giving gifts

Last year on Mother's Day (just like this year, actually) - Tolga got me a beautiful purse and matching pair of shoes.  I didn't really use a purse until then, as my school bag always had to be big or these days - I travel with a diaper bag - but I had bought a simple one in America and started using it more when he got me this purse.  It was leather, hand stitched with silk lining - made in Turkey.  Beautiful and unique.

It made me think of my mom - and so I showed it to her.  In her enthusiasm, she said, "I want one too!"  And Tolga, in his enthusiasm said,
"OK Mom!"
And I thought - ugh.  I knew it cost hundreds of dollars, something I would never buy for myself - and Tolga would buy for anyone whatever they wanted.  Money is not an object for him.  It's really beautiful - and on the very opposite spectrum there's me where money is this huge obstacle.

We brought it up to my mom again - about the purse, and she said she'd be happy with gold earrings (dangly ones) or something to put on the wall.  Quite the wide spectrum of things - her enthusiasm and logic are not so entwined.

When I asked my sister what she wanted, she said, "What would you ask for if you were me?"

We both know the answer - something nice or course.  We are cut from the same cloth, unfortunately.

don't retire, live!

I heard a sermon the other day about God's Kingdom and how there's no retirement for there's no age that God can't still use you.  My parents have embraced this philosophy.  They retired from their careers and moved full time into ministry - an organization that evangelizes and disciples people.  I can't give a whole lot of details because I'm not exactly sure what they do, who their affiliated with, and what exactly it is that is requiring so many meetings, donations, and their time.  (It's particulary hard to talk to my mother about it because she sounds like a commercial).  In the wake of their ministry efforts - in fact - my whole life it seems, they've always been linked to the poor and outcasts - and often they are even taken them into their homes.  They are always busy with their projects.  One was linked to this international movement of praying 24-7, and in the midst of the 24-7 praying - teams are sent out to evangelize.  So in addition to their local ministry, they have linked up with "Love LA" and "Love NY" - a week intensive proselytizing effort - and are currently helping lead "Love the Twin Cities".

However... Pops had to got to the hospital on day two of the event.

My Pops is 72.  He's always had a slew of medical issues: seizures when he was young giving him a 4F classification for the military, splenectomy from a car wreck that killed his father, E.coli, endocarditis, major shoulder reconstruction work that resulted in two subsequent infections, he was born with a bi-cuspid heart that aged and required open-heart surgery sooner than most but was delayed because of complications the doctors at Mayo couldn't resolve.

He is better about going to the doctor these days - and he's been sick with low-grade fevers, some dizziness, acute shoulder pain from passing out a month ago, occasional high fevers with chills - but tests, scans, and grams all revealed nothing.  

And then the other morning - on Tomris's birthday he couldn't get up.  He was at my brother's house, called my brother for help, my brother came down and wasn't responding to his voice.  He was brought to the hospital by ambulance.  His temperature was 103 degrees.  He is still in the hospital getting loads of antibiotics and tests.  He has a heart infection again, he may need heart surgery to clean it out around the heart valve that was replaced 8 years ago.  He has a fractured shoulder and pneumonia.  But they still aren't so sure about everything that's going on - so the tests aren't finished.

He is dreading surgery - it is devastating on the body, especially with his age, and the ever threatening risk of infection has him afraid.  He didn't say he was afraid - but it is fear to me, and understandable.

I spoke to my mom on FaceTime that day.  My mom, in true fashion, couldn't really talk to me but rather showed me the room, held the phone for me to listen in on the doctor's comments as well as help give medical history.  She showed me those who had come from "Love Twin Cities" effort to worship and pray, she showed me the 99 year old sick woman in the room next door.

My mom doesn't really know how to handle these things, and so I just went around the hospital at her hand - as she showed me everything she saw.  The patronizing nurses who talked to him like he was a small child (or elderly dementia patient).  The efficient doctor.  The Love Twin Cities team that seemed to smile too big.  The slightly neurotic leader of the group that made up a song on the spot and sang it to me:

Rachel rachel rachel Rayyyy-chal.  
Come to the hospital Rayy-chel
Come and join us Rayyyy-chel
Oh, you're in Turkey, that's just around the cornnnnner.

together in pictures

say cheese

at the gym's outdoor pool

they were playing "horsies"

eating simit

Tomris turns three

Our tradition when the kids wake up on their birthday is to give them all a present.  We had blown up balloons and put them in the living room.  The kids came in and opened their presents - Tomris got a collector's edition Wonder Woman (that was her Baba), Teoman got Optimus Prime - that transforms from a semi to a robot, and Tuana got a chew toy.

breakfast with heroes

We got dressed and ready for the day - but just before heading out I asked Gokhan to take a family photo since we were all dressed and most likely to forget when we came back.  We both felt so proud taking the photo.  Gokhan took a lot and as we paged through the photos I was slightly horrified at the weird things I was doing with my neck and face and how pudgy we were looking.  Tolga summed up the juxtaposition of our feelings and the reality in the observation that we were "Fat and proud."  We laughed until we cried at our proud fat selves.

still are working on getting a proper family photo...

We went to the mall in the morning as well to continue our tradition of allowing them to pick a toy from the toy store.  They kind of surprised me - they were like toy shopping professionals and three and four years old.  They didn't want everything, but went from toy to toy and picked their toy and walked around, then changed their minds three or four times.  In the end Teoman got a race track and Tomris hot a Barbie and horse.

We drank coffees and ate simit, the kids played Wonder Woman and Optimus Prime.  We went home and opened their new presents, ate lunch and sang Happy Birthday and ate the terrible cake.

I had the sprinkle cake with the jello princess, candles, sparklers, and handed bubbles for Gokhan and Teoman to blow while we sang happy birthday took pictures of the lasting memory.

Tolga commented, "I like your scenario."  And then we couldn't stop laughing at my elaborate "scenario".

on baking a cake

It's harder than I thought.  And I wasn't aiming high.

Tomris wanted a princess cake.  I bought cake mix, someone gave me good ole American pre-made-yellow-dye-5-and-6, sugar-and-palm-oil-based-with-high-fructose-corn-syrup-on-top - vanilla frosting.  I also bought chocolate whipped cream topping because Tomris like the picture with strawberries and INSISTED this was her princess cake.  So I bought a kilo of strawberries as well.  I also have some sprinkles, jello and marshmallows I might add because... why not?  I mean, what is a princess cake anyway - other than everything you shouldn't all mixed together?

The cake stuck to the pan (it always sticks to the pan!) and I peeled off in pieces and glued it together with the frosting.  I have a cake decorator tool - I tested out some designs and it turns out I'm terrible at that as well.  The cake platter, princess on top (stuck inside jello) and sparklers will be used as distraction.

Good thing she's three and we're both not perfectionists.

The Hiding Place - review

I remember my father reading this book to us during family devotions.  I remember only the name and after reading it - one part of the book I remembered - the part were Corrie ten Boom walked naked past her guards with a Bible - and the Bible passed through uncollected.  

Reading it so many years later - so many parts stand out to me in different ways.

The story is a biography of a Dutch Woman who ran the Underground in Holland during World War II.  The story starts when she is 45 years old, just before the war.  Her family is beautiful, sweet, and strong.   They live in Haarlem and Corrie is unmarried, living with her father, three Aunts and sister at "the Bej".  There are flashbacks into her childhood and moments that tell of her wedded siblings, the many foster children they brought into their home, the people her Aunt and mother helped, and their family business as watchmakers.  

And of course, their faith that guides there steps in the good times, and in the horrific times to come.  

What I liked: Her dear sister that thanked God for the fleas, and they learned later it was the fleas that kept the guards out of their barracks and allowed them so much freedom to pray and meet.  Her dear sister saw the future, dreamed of a house - a mansion that came to be - sweet visions.  The fact that she learned many years later that she was only released on a "clerical error" (which makes me wonder what this error exactly was), and a week after her release all women her age were take to the gas chamber.

What I didn't like:"When we've lost a friend, when a dream has failed, when we seem to have nothing left in the world to make life beautiful - that's when God says, you're richer than you think."

I'm not so sure about that line.

Quotes: Other great lines:

"Every experience God gives us, every person He puts in our lives is the perfect preparations for a future that only He can see."

"Will you carry (the traveling case) off the train, Corrie?"

"It's too heavy"

"Yes, and it would be a pretty poor father who would ask his little girl to carry such a load.  It's the same way, Corrie, with knowledge.  Some knowledge is too heavy for children.  When you are older and stronger you can bear it.  For now you must trust me to carry it for you."

(Best sex talk every)

"Our wise Father in heaven knows when we're going to need things, too.  Don't run out ahead of Him, Corrie.  When the time comes that some of us will have to die, you will look into your heart and find the strength you need -- just in time."

"How can we bring anything to God?  What does He care for our little tricks and trinkets?...Dear Jesus, I thank You that we must come with empty hands.  I thank You that You have done all-all-on the cross, and that all we need in life or death is to be sure of this."

"She loved people she saw in the street - and beyond: her love took in the city, the land of Holland, the world.  And so I learned that love is larger than the walls that shut it in."

"There are no 'ifs' in God's world.  And no places that are safer than other places.  The center of His will is our only safety - Oh Corrie, let us pray that we may always know it!" (Betsie's comment after learning Corrie had narrowly missed being killed).

"Love.  How did one show it?  How could God Himself show truth and love at the same time in a world like this?  by dying.  The answer stood out for me sharper and chillier than it ever had before that night: the shape of a Cross etched on the history of the world."  (in a family discussion about lying in order to protect others)

"There has been too little praying here.  The very walls know it.  But where You come, Lord, the spirit of strife cannot exist..."

"And then we would hear the life-giving words passed back along the aisles in French, Polish, Russian, Czech, back into Duthc.  They were little previews of heaven, these evenings beneath the lightbulb."  (worship within the concentration camp barracks)

"...must tell people what we have learned here.  We must tell them that there is no pit so deep that He is not deeper still."

"For there lay Betsie, her eyes closed as if in sleep, her face full and young.  The care lines, the grief lines, the deep hollows of hunger and disease were simply gone.  In front of me was the Betsie of Haarlem, happy and at peace.  Stronger!  Freer!  This was the Betsie of heaven, bursting with joy and health.  Even her hair was graciously in place as if an angel had ministered to her."

"And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world's healing hinges, but on His.  When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the common, the love itself."

until we meet again, part 2

I was then stuck in traffic and over a half-hour late for school yesterday.  It didn't really matter as all my obligations were finished.  Yesterday was a half-day - the students would get their report cards, teachers get fired, everyone goes home and seminars start on Monday.

For me, it was my last day - I would not be returning on Monday.  For me it was time to say another goodbye to colleagues for the past six years.  

school logo in the background...see ya!

My school "is one of the better ones" but even so when I gave to the news a few months ago, and slowly to my peers - most reacted with a knowing smile and replied, "good for you!"

Many teachers have used their exit as an opportunity to complain - to say all the things that didn't get a chance (or were fearful) to say. - indeed, I was appealed to "please say something for us!"  Part of me had a lot to say, part of me wasn't sure I had a right to say anything.  I was a bit on the fringe of all the trouble - because of my foreign-ness, because of my program being always separate and independent, because of my maternity leave, because I often wondered if I just wasn't understanding the situation.  Indeed - I always want to find a solution to conflict, to make a place better - but I couldn't discern the truth from all the things I felt or heard this year.  People seemed unhappy, administrators seemed aggressive, people were stressed, nervous, fearful, overworked, used, dishonest ... I could only deal with those directly related to my work, and I always asked questions to try and understand the root of the problem - but my questions got evasive answers.  The consultant I worked with - his answers were even more confusing (and he was eventually fired too - our consultant to the new curriculum).  How I wish I could effect change to the place - but how to explain to an organization that there is a culture of fear in a school when their literature touts the exact opposite.  The message spoken is that we are a team and family, that we practice skills of a good teacher, that performance evaluations are for improvement.  And at times it feels that way - but then the curriculum is forced on the teachers, concerns are ignored, and exam scores have to  be justified by the teachers to the parents and administrators.

It seems all education systems are this way - but in Turkey the logic seems even more glaringly errant and teacher's have less of a voice.  It has been a tough year particular with massive curriculum changes that were against everyone's professional opinion.  Today was the day people were ready to be fired because "you never know" - without warning or reason it seems - other than personal - people are fired.  I never believed this until last year when I witnessed someone whom I'd worked with and loved be fired after 18 years of service.  She was a committed teacher and hard worker - and after that, well its hard to be loyal to a company that holds that type of omnipresent threat over people.  Another from our department was fired today - and everyone sat with long faces depressed and all probably wishing the same thing - I'd quit too if I could.

So while I regret not knowing what to say, not knowing how to offer a solution to this broken problem - I do know how to encourage.  And so, I wrote letters of encouragement and thanks.   To my department, to my principal, to the director of the school, and to Aysegul - the first person to take me in, listen and support me, and encourage me.  (Aysegul called me later bawling her eyes out saying "I love you to canim, I will always be here for you too!)

I made rounds through the elementary school of about 1000 students and 50 or so teachers, through the administrative buildings.  Some were shocked, most asked me "Are you going by your own will?"  I said goodbye to one of my favorite employee - Adnan Bey (Mr. Adnan) - he is the driver for the administration and who brought me on several occasions to the emniyet to have my visa sorted out.  He was always kinds, respectful and gracious - I told him my American colleague and I agreed he was the best person in the school.  His face was shocked and truly looked disappointed when I said I was leaving (I was surprised he hadn't heard, because word gets around here), and his colleagues in the room showed the same disappointment.

I said goodbye to my friends in the department, hugging each one - it was awful and wonderful at once.  Wonderful to have known and worked with such good people - to be able to hope for the future together.  Awful because the English department head already seemed to be iced out from the others, taking the blame for the latest firing of a colleague.

And once again, I ached for that sword of truth.  

until we meet again

Lucas "vlogging" me... he may have been crying too

Tomris had left her purse at the hotel and I decided to run by on my way to school this morning.  The play purse had her favorite toy - Robin - as in Batman's Robin - and I thought I may catch my friend just before they were to leave by a private mini-bus service they had booked to take them to the airport.

Their ride wasn't hard to spot.  It was packed floor to ceiling in the back three rows - including that dog whom I've never actually seen.  I came in the hotel and Enoch was working out the hotel payment with Kristen looking concerned by his side.  I didn't interfere...well not physically...instead I texted them: I'm right behind you. 

Kind of always wanted to do that.  

I retrieved Tomris's purse.  Kristen joked that her friend said she should come to throw water on the vehicle.  I told Kristen I had timed my visit to see them off one last time and throw water at them.  It's a Turkish thing I always see at the bus stations... family's waiting and waving, and then as the bus pulls out they take they splash water on the bus, emptying their bottle in a prayer and blessing for safe travels - that your road will be open and your travels fast and light like water.

"You did?  Did you bring water?  (Me pulling my water bottle out of the car).  She brought water!"  Kristen started to cry.  "You came to throw water after us (bah hoo hoo!)  She came to splash water on us!"  The Turkish porters nodded and smiled in approval.  "So how does this work?" Kristen said pulling out her phone camera and everyone gathering around.  I explained how I must do it while they drove away - and while they had all come out to say goodbye once again, they all eagerly and dutifully clamored back into the van, skipping hugs in their excitement, trying to fit their viewfinders through the tiny spaces between suitcases to capture a final Turkish moment.  I tossed the water at minibus as he pulled away and the porters yelled at me "throw it all ON the car!  ON the car!" and so I chucked the water so that it splashed on the back as they pulled away.  It was kind of awesome.  

those precious to us

those feet

Tuana has started reaching for things this week.  She is now 17 weeks old.  She coos mostly.  Still rarely cries (except for the gas cramps) and this week she's started to reach for things.  She studies her fingers like they don't belong to her.  This morning she stopped nursing to slowly reach for my bracelet with the sweet wonder of babies.  

Tolga is still in the field.  He is in the southeast of Turkey - a dangerous place to work in general and even more so these days.  Unfortunately - his boss doesn't think so and insisted he go because "he went there before".  (Ten years ago).  These days are different though, more tense, and Tolga is always vigilante.  My brother likes to say "you'll be fine" and its always the joke and the challenge among men to push the limits.  But Tolga isn't like that when it comes to work - to be a man to him is to remember your responsibility to your wife and children - and to work and live and make decisions based on this responsibility.  Reason 1024 why I love this man.

a picture from Tolga in the field - southeast Turkey - Elazig

out with the kids

my friend Kristen and her mother

   

Enoch holding Tuana

After school today I brought the kid's to my American friend's hotel.  All five of them were staying at the Hilton in hopes to relax and enjoy their last few days in Turkey.  Instead they were still caught up in the logistics of moving overseas.  The foreign registered car sale had paperwork to be finalized.  They had wine and liquor the movers hadn't packed so they were wrapping to ship back to America.  (They pawned quite a bit of rum off on me).  Their hotel room was an explosion of suitcases and even their dog required paperwork.

I had vaguely intended on joining them for dinner - but I had all three kids with me so I was trying to stay flexible according to how they were doing.  Tuana slept on their bed while we chatted and Tomris and Teoman played with Kristin's teenagers.  Kristin's friends showed up in the lobby downstairs so we moved down their as well.  Their friends were from Texas, had two girls and a boy Teoman's age, and they all liked to drink beer.  I sat for a while - anxious it get onto dinner, looking at the bar menu, cooing to Tuana laying next to me.  The Americans were loud and the kids unruly - I could imagine Tolga or Gokhan with me constantly hounding after the kids to not run around, apologizing to the Turks - but I could only handle so much, and Tuana soon took all my attention.  She was having gas pain and couldn't sleep.  This is a relatively new problem - and aggravated by being outside in a noisy environment.  Teoman ended up sitting and playing iPad with his new buddy and Tomris quite impressively kicking a soccer ball in the hotel lobby to the older girl, while I nursed, burped, strolled, bounced, went upstairs, and kept moving to try and find relief for Tuana.  Tuana eventually slept - I would have tried to escape home fast at this point, but the kids had gone on the backs of the older kids to a nearby restaurant so I joined in.  I ordered food for the kids right away, but no myself because I new Tuana would wake up again.  She did so I changed her, fed her - but those Americans were sooooooo loud.  I was half embarrassed - half shrugging it off because I was inevitably going to be grouped with them anyhow.  

Kristin took Tuana so I could eat.  I hadn't mind not eating, nor had I planned on it - but she, then Enoch took the baby - insisting I sit down at our table of fourteen and enjoy the company.  There was a small strip of grass where the kids were back to playing football.  They closed the evening with a fruit boat which the kids were thoroughly impressed.  

It wasn't exactly quality time - but in fact, Kristin and I had only spent a couple times a year together exactly like this: me distracted by kids, and she distracted by everybody - but it was worth it.

fruit boat on dry ice - or as
Sydney said, "Is that liquid Nitrogen?!"

Texan: "Don't touch it our you'll freeze your giblets!"

success measured in ounces

a successful day

She isn't waking at night - hasn't since about two months old - for she finds her thumbs and soothes herself back to sleep until morning.  I usually wake her up in the morning from a sound sleep.  I feed as soon as I get up at 6am, and then again before I leave at 7:30 - always late out the door around 7:50.  She cluster feeds in the day.   am pumping as much as I can because Tuana is drinking it all and drinking formula when my milk is finished.   On more than one occasion I have forgot something in the morning related to my milk needs: a part, a top, a falange, an extra bottle, a cooler.  I spilled milk twice at school.  I had imagine these last weeks a time where I could have meaningful chats with friends, work on some personal projects, and some goodbyes - but my days are still full.  I do one-on-ones through for the first two hours (even through break time), pump milk and wash the equipment, do more students, eat lunch, more students, pump milk again if I can, then leave early.  I get to leave an hour-and-a-half early on "milk permission" - time given by the government for mothers to go home and feed their baby's.  Milk is the central focus of my day.  

After school I walked down to the the bank with Gokhan to collect my dogum parasi - unemployment for my maternity leave.  We had been submitting the paperwork all along, and I was to pick up the money between specific dates at a specific bank that I had forewarned of my large withdrawal.   Tolga had called the offices on Friday to send the money, I had gone to the bank on Monday to make sure they put the money in the vault for me today, then I had to come after three to pick up the payment.  The bank manager came out to watch the transaction - it was just over three months salary I had stuffed in a large envelope - but it wasn't mine, it was money I had to deliver to another bank and deposit in my school's account.  They had been paying my salary all along - so it was there money.  I was entitled to exactly 122 tl - "milk money" they called it, but it's still unclear what the milk money was to pay for (a pump? a steak? a taxi home to feed the baby?)