unpredictable marks in a land of grace

 

 

Last night, well, we had a gully washer! Gully washer…I was trying to think of the turn of phrase that might embody the unpredictable, torrential downpour we had last night in Jordan. I know—you in the United States get epic storms pretty regularly, but we don’t here. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise anyone at all here if we didn’t see rain again until November. In fact, it would be pretty normal if we only saw rain once or twice or thrice until 2014…so last night was a surprise, a delightful surprise. The usually blue and clear skies gave way to a really slick almost silky gray, and then, boom, down came the rains…the smell was divine. The cracks of thunder and the webs of lightning gave our gully washer almost a biblical feel!

Yes, the unpredictability of that storm.

As I watched the storm from the comfortable confines of my apartment, it reminded me, in a very strange way, of several phone conversations I had this last Sunday on Mother’s Day…hmmm…what in the world could this be?

On Sunday I called several of my most favorite mothers in my life, from Gastonia, North Carolina, to Dallas, Texas, and to Fort Mill, South Carolina. All three asked me, “So aren’t you finished in Jordan yet?” At first I thought they meant the school year since we do begin and end before everyone else I know. But as each memorable mother pressed me, it was not about the 2012-13 school year but my tenure in Jordan over all.

I responded to each of them, “Well, I know it has surprised everyone, hasn’t it, how long I have stayed! I certainly couldn’t have predicted this when I arrived in 2007!” Each of these matriarchs asked me about my safety, what is going on near the borders of Jordan and Syria, and each expressed worry for me.

So during the gully washer, 24 hours after these Mother’s Day calls and my attempts to put their respective fears to rest, I was staring out at the rain, surprising us all with a May visit, enjoying the awe and excitement of the thunder and lightning, and chuckling at the unpredictable nature of the storm and the length of my tenure at KA. This was one of those storms you really enjoy on a US summer day when you don’t have to go anywhere and you can sit on the front porch and just enjoy the rhythm and grace of the rain.

I recalled a sermon title by a pastor in Boston whose writing I adore—she entitled her meditation, “Marked By Water in a Land of Grace.” I don’t remember much about the sermon except it dwelled on the nature of surprise. Surprise and water, and something to do with when one is baptized one is marked by water and then the surprise is the transformational feeling of grace.

So, here I am, standing at the window for minutes on end, biblical-like rains falling in the actual Bible lands, thinking about some of the mothers who have nurtured me in the last 25 years, who have prayed for me in my time in the Middle East, and how this experience continues to nurture and surprise me even six years into it. Today after lunch I walked with two of my favorite colleagues, Emily and Annabel, for just a few minutes. They are preparing to depart KA after four years each in service here. They are ideal colleagues and in many ways we all surprised ourselves how long we have stayed. I reminded them how we are forever changed from having been here, and the marks of this place and this project will always be on our hearts. They have grown so much as educators here—they are simply outstanding. They have left their marks on the students who have benefitted from their teaching. It wasn’t a long walk and talk, just another chance to think of those marks we make and the marks we enjoy.

Last week after the dinner with Peter Yarrow I happened to talk with a colleague who had run the Boston Marathon once we mused for a moment about long-distance runners and teachers. She reminded me of the running and the running and the lack of water. She cracked a joke about how at the end you get a drink of water and she said, “Finally! It’s like a gift of grace!” We chuckled about how runners and teachers are willing to endure pain for the sake of their practice!

Today I had four hours of different meetings from 8:00 to 12:00, and 90% of the time was spent on clarifying things for the future here. So many things are tighter, better, stronger, clearer, more effective…over these six years we have endured some pain as we work on the practice of schooling and assimilating and administering.

So the gully washer eventually petered out last night. For a country that experiences drought regularly it was a welcome surprise. In those worst moments of the droughts of our souls and when we think our spirits have turned to dust, a surprising rain can come and lift our spirits. The unpredictability of the rains, of tenure, can lift the spirits.