A Week Abroad

I’ll just say it: I’m allergic to schedules.

I like to think I’m a flexible person. As the oldest child in a large family, and as a young adult involved in volunteering, freelance work and travel, this trait has stood me in good stead. But it also trips me up nearly every day, whenever I allow (usually good) non-essentials to deflect me from the tasks God has actually give me to do.

But sometimes the very distractions are His assignment for me at that moment.

Confused? Me too! But I think the bottom line is very simple.  I need to be very straightforward with God, asking Him what His overall priorities are for this season in my life – and then sticking to them. At the same time, when some new opportunity appears, I can send up a quick prayer for guidance.

Do I do this consistently? No. I’m convicted even as I type this! But in the last year and a half, God has been helping me to internalize this fact: whatever my circumstances, He expects me to be a good steward of each opportunity sent by Him. This cuts out excuses and self-pity on one hand, and overload or distraction on the other.

When I’m at home, my weeks generally consist of freelance writing or editing, sharing in housekeeping with several of my sisters, mentoring, and keeping in contact with friends and family. I like a quiet life, but recently stewardship has meant taking on more responsibilities than I naturally would choose – and discovering a great deal of joy in doing so.

But right now, I’m visiting Israel. Since I’ve been here before, my time as a tourist looks a lot like staying with friends: we share meals, cook and clean together, play music, host dinner parties, take walks, talk, and talk, and talk some more. Or I find a quiet corner and work at my laptop. Here’s what I’m learning: once I have settled into my editing groove, I am oh-so-tempted to resent a call to help in the kitchen. (And if I’m happily cooking, I don’t want to have anything to do with computer work). There’s a fine balance between being responsible for my time, but not selfish with it.

This exuberant, purposeful flexibility certainly does not come naturally to me!  But God is busily building it into my life.

An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered.
An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered.
-G.K. Chesterton

Wednesday
I wake up thinking this is a normal day. But after breakfast, a friend decides to take a sightseeing trip, and invites me to come along. Within about an hour, we are packed, and in a rental car, headed for the Mediterranean coast. We make a great team: one drives, one navigates – and I sit in the back, and share any tidbits I remember from my historical geography courses. Fortunately for them, I also have an editing deadline. As the scenery rolls by outside the window, I can’t think of a more magnificent office to work from.

Instead of coffee breaks, we stop at the ruins of New Testament-era port of Caesarea, where Paul gave his defense before the Roman governor. The sun is intense, the ocean is exquisitely aqua. The ancient theater is filled with singing Korean tourists, and a bride is being photographed near the Crusader fortifications.

We don’t have time to eat, but we do grab granola bars in the gift shop. Next stop: Mount Carmel, site of Elijah’s showdown with the prophets of Baal. Wooded slopes lead to a church, and on its roof, I stop and gasp at the view, which seems much further down than I remember climbing. The huge green Jezreel Valley, with the rugged hills of Galilee behind it.

Night falls as we drive into Nazareth and find our hostel on a street so narrow we have to pull in the mirrors on our car. We wander the busy city on foot, and eat local: a pita stuffed with shredded turkey, salads, pickles, hummus. And for dessert: gooey, tender white cheese topped with crushed pistachios, and what seems like fine, honey-sweetened shredded wheat. We sleep well.

Thursday
We hit the street again for breakfast: fresh pastries from the bakery, yogurt and juice from the corner grocery store. Then we’re off to Nazareth Village: the ruins of a farm from Jesus’ time, brought to life with stone homes, linen-clad villagers, sheep, centuries-old olive trees, and a three-day-old donkey colt.

We drive north, north, north to Dan, an Old-Testament-era city, complete with tall stone gateway. Also a nature reserve, with green woods and a spring barreling out of the foot of Mount Hermon.

We have no time to eat lunch, but we do grab an ice cream at the gift shop. Then it’s time to turn south. Next stop: dinner outside a little restaurant on a lantern-lit street in Zichron Yacov. I edit almost all the way home, arriving sunburnt and utterly happy.

Friday
By early afternoon on Fridays, buses stop running, and shops close down, because Sabbath begins at sundown. Folks clean house and set tables. Out comes fresh clothing and fresh flowers. Candles are lit. Guests sit down. There is singing, talking, and lots of good food.

Lately I’ve been reveling in the opportunity to hone my challah-baking skills – something I only allow myself to do as a treat when I’m at home. But this week, I’m the guest. Someone brings dilly onion bread, another person a salad, and another makes authentic Indian chicken. Old friends + good food = a happy heart.

Saturday
I sleep in, and wake up looking forward to a quiet day. Sometimes I read, take a walk, chat with family overseas. Sometimes I actually slow down enough to still my heart before God. But today we have an impromptu Bible study, and eat dinner together. It is all good, but I find myself fighting grumpiness, thankful for my heart-changing Savior. In the evening, I take a minute to commit the brand new week to God’s plans, not mine. This is the rock that undergirds my days: knowing I’ve asked for His leading and help.

Sunday
In meeting today, we read Zechariah 4, and I’m reminded: God sees and rejoices over our efforts to serve Him, even if they seem tiny and insignificant to us. That’s good, because my day consists mostly of editing, cooking, and planning a trip for tomorrow.

Monday
I travel out of the city to meet a friend. Outbound, all proceeds according to plan. On the way back, we get directed to the wrong bus stop, wait a long time at the right one – and then, on the way home, the bus breaks down! (First time this has ever happened to me.) The other passengers hop right onto a new bus, but providentially, we are within walking distance of our destination. But for the heavy bag I’m carrying and my concern for my friend, I enjoy the adventure immensely.

Tuesday

Today I’m helping some folks move. Bright and early, we begin the fascinating process of turning a house into a home. Lots of dusting, sweeping, wiping precede the treasure hunt that is unpacking boxes. Furniture hasn’t arrived yet, so mattresses on the floor are our couches. By afternoon, I am very happy to sit down! I write up the notes for this post, and work on some accounting. The stove isn’t hooked up yet by suppertime, so we turn two boxes into a table and eat Thai takeout. Later I attend a young adults’ Bible study: a lively, interactive, international experience.

Despite all the physical activity of the last couple of days, I have trouble sleeping. I pray, relax, practice patience…

…get exasperated, get up and read the election results as they’re being tallied back in the States. Though I begrudge the missed sleep, I’m grateful for the opportunity to pray for my country!

And so ends a week abroad.

Did you spend your week at home or abroad?  Tell us about it over at the YLCF blog carnival!