The Girl Who Left Israel

Written en route from JFK to Atlanta, July 24, 2015:

Everybody around me on this plane is sleeping and I’m caught up in reflection. I know we say the same about school years, childhoods, and relationships, but I can’t get over the paradox of time during this seminar. When I rode that Sherrut back to Tel Aviv from Jerusalem last night, it felt like it had been YEARS since my nervous cab ride in the middle of the night on July 4. However, it also felt like it was just a minute earlier.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the grace I received for this trip. The decision to go was an incredible struggle, even though I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was something I was meant to do. I miss my girls and Kraig when we are apart even for a night, much less almost half of the summer. And have I ever mentioned my anxiety on this blog? ;) I imagine the worst in every scenario and worry when I hear news of a wreck on a road that a family member MIGHT be on. I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle being across the world for this extended period of time. BUT GOD. While I thought about them often and missed them with a sweet ache, I never felt plagued with deep sadness at being gone. The moment of leaving, as I expected it to be, was so difficult and filled with tears, but the rest of the trip was just a time to rest in His grace. I worried when I got news of the shootings in Chattanooga, had one period of panic when I couldn’t reach anyone while they were at the beach, and had one evening of some … I wouldn’t even call it homesickness, per se, but SOMETHING… but other than those brief times, I was so comfortable and content. It was honestly a miracle of His goodness and I am so very thankful for this chance.

So many pieces of the experience grated against the very fiber of my being, or what I THOUGHT was my being… traveling alone, BEING alone, not knowing anyone, leaving my people, losing three weeks of my summer. I’m not the girl who does things by herself. I had eaten two meals alone in a restaurant in my life (prior to this trip). I try to time my arrival to parties and other social gatherings when someone I know is also going to be there if I can't just ride with them, which is my preference. I was sad this past school year when I found myself alone at lunch on a field trip to Nashville. I also guard my summer like a bulldog, consider my weeks off as gifts that belong to my family and me.

As much as I gained insofar as knowledge and experience on this trip, I think the self-discoveries I made at least equal the rest in value. I want to be careful what I say here and how I say it…
When you are born in a place, a small town, and you grow up, go to college, marry, get a job (at your alma mater), have kids, and start to grow old all in the same place, something gets lost along the way sometimes. That something is YOU. Over the course of a lifetime, people change. And sometimes, when you remain in the same place with the same people, that change stays pushed down in those hidden places. This part is so hard to articulate… I hadn’t realized fully that there was a new person inside me because she hadn’t ever had the opportunity, or felt safe enough, to come out. (I see the irony of finding safety and opportunity in the Middle East…)   In Israel, my sense of insecurities were gone because no one there had any expectation for me. I could fade into the background of the crowd if I wanted to. I could eat alone in a restaurant and not worry that I would see someone who would pity me for not having friends. I could say no to invitations to the terrace or dinner and not feel bad that I was letting someone down. I could also say YES to trips to the Old City and the craft market without being concerned if anyone else was going to go because I was willing, for the first time in my life, to be the only person doing something. I found that person I have always so admired in many of the people around me, the one who does things because she wants to and doesn’t do others because she doesn’t want to without worrying all the time about everyone else and how it makes her look or not look.

I ran around at night and explored new places with new friends. I navigated streets and city alleyways and found restaurants with single table balconies and bookstores. I sat on the terrace and enjoyed the evening, sipping on a Coke while everyone else had wine. I was ME, and I was also NOT me, or at least not the me who has awakened in this body for the past 37 years.

I have loved Cleveland, have loved living there and growing there and raising a family there. I always say I’m a roots person and that hasn’t changed. I am so thankful for my small hometown and what it means to be part of it. I wouldn’t have even been on this trip were it not for Cleveland and her people. I wouldn’t change a single thing about my life because that road is what brought me here and brought the people into my life who make it so full. But for the first time in my life, I question my college decision. Not necessarily WHERE I went to college, but certainly HOW I went. I had an almost four year relationship from the end of high school through my junior year in college and, due to that, I viewed college as merely a means to an end, a vehicle to get me to my degree, a hallway I had to go through to reach the living room of real life. I didn’t bother to get to know anyone in my classes, to attend any college activities, to connect in any way with student life other than my activities with the Honors Program. I had a chance on this trip, for the first time ever, to live the life of a college student. I had no responsibilities other than classes and my daily phone call home, no one was depending on me for anything, and I was only accountable to myself. I regret that I allowed a relationship to keep me from studying abroad, that I missed so much living by treading water.

In these three weeks, I made close, special new friends and had fun with new acquaintances and avoided people with whom I didn’t connect or who made me feel uncomfortable. I realized that, in large part, I have spent my life believing that people like me because they have to, that most friendships are based on habit and convenience and not choice. I have always felt like I was in the right place at the right time with the right connections and that’s why I have the relationships that I have. I’m not saying they aren’t true and authentic relationships, just that people wouldn’t seek me out to befriend but rather it’s a matter of circumstance. I have said for my entire teaching career that I am a well-liked teacher because my very first group of tenth grade honors kids and I had a great connection, they were good people and well-known, and they built a reputation for me through word-of-mouth. I think it could have easily gone the other way, had it not been for that first group. They liked me and I liked them and we developed a symbiotic relationship that has continued through the years with all of my kids. I loved teaching in year one because of those kids. Therefore, I started year two with a passion for education, those kids sensed that AND had heard good things from the kids in year one, and so we did well with each other. That year fed my enthusiasm and love and passion even more, etc, etc, etc.. In Israel, I made deep and lasting friendships with people who saw ME. Just me. Not the me who is friends with this person or the me who taught that person or the me who goes to this church or the me who is involved in this ministry or the me who is related to this person or the me who does this or that… just ME. The real, complete ME. And they liked me. And they chose to hang out with me and ask me to do things with them. And it was good.

I don’t know if this discovery of my true self is something that will be apparent to those around me once I return or not. (I feel like all of this is probably making people think I’m going to abandon my family and run off to another country to live. Not the case at all.) It truly doesn’t matter if it is or it isn’t, because I found her and I like her and I want to keep her. I hope I will have the strength to do so. I hope I won’t slip back into my old insecurities and desires to go along, even if they are comfortable and fit me like a favorite pair of jeans. I found a strength of individuality and character that I never knew I had and it will die if I don’t nourish it. As this plane nears Atlanta and my precious corner of the world, I am clinging to the hope that the girl who left Israel is the same one who is going home to Tennessee.