The Spice in the Air…
Leaving for Israel
And so it begins! The journey that I’ve been dreaming about since my Grandma Alice returned from her trip to Israel. In that last week of her life, she didn’t stop talking of it. She felt 100 percent certain that Jesus was going to return soon- and she wanted to go back to Jerusalem to be there when He returned.
In a sense, she wasn’t wrong. Jesus came for her that same week- but He didn’t meet her in Jerusalem. He met her on a paved country road next to a bean field outside of the Illinois town she lived in. He met her when a drunk driver slammed into the side of her car after running a stop sign. And it was in that bean field, that I first truly met Jesus. He became REAL to me when I realized that I was actually and totally alone. But HE was there.
I’ve always wanted to go to the Holy Land since then, so that I could understand how her eyes sparkled when she talked about the Holy Land. And much more humbling, so that I could experience where Jesus walked, talked, and died for all of us. And even though this journey has been a struggle, a mess of nerves, and sometimes slightly comical, as I am sitting here in my seat (surrounded by 200 Mexican teenagers on a school trip). But I am in awe and complete gratitude for where I’m sitting.
Arriving in Tel Aviv, Israel
Honestly, my first impression of seeing Israel for the first time was a little chaotic. It all started in the airport when people seemed to be in a rush, pushing and bumping others to get their Visas and their luggage. But everything and everyone seemed ALIVE. Something rare to see in the US, where people mostly stay indoors, and social media is their social life. Being here reminded me of when I lived in Argentina with my family. It was strangely familiar.
I arrived a day early, so I knew I had to (1) find myself a shirut (a van-like taxi you share with other passengers). Once in the shirut, I'd be (2) driven from the airport in TelAviv to Jerusalem. Once (3) deposited by the shirut in a busy intersection right beside the Old City of Jerusalem, I'd (4) find my way to the Gloria Hotel in Old City Jerusalem. Whew! Those steps alone freaked me out. I mean, this was my first trip solo in almost 20 years - and to a foreign country! My nerves were pretty ROUGH as I followed the passengers to the lines to receive entrance to TelAviv. I remember telling myself to breathe… breathe… breathe! Thanks to God, I had noticed another group of American teens on the same flight as me, all wearing Jerusalem University College t-shirts, the SAME school I was taking the class from. While waiting for baggage, these teenagers surrounded me. (It was as if God had literally surrounded me with them). I realized they had two professors, and after introducing myself, I was invited to join them. In less than 20 minutes after grabbing my insanely huge suitcase, I was seated comfortably on board their bus, making my way to the Gloria Hotel. God had divinely provided me a safe trip to the hotel. (Amen!)
Jerusalem at night.
When we pulled into the city limits of Jerusalem, the sun had set, but lights blazed from everywhere. There were still people on bicycles, families in the street, laughter, and chatter everywhere. The bus deposited us close to King David's tower. So, we lugged our suitcases up the stairs to the Old City's Jaffa Gate and across the cobblestone road to the Gloria Hotel, which had a sweet, garden-like courtyard and a beautiful dining room. I found my room, which overlooked David's Tower and the cobblestone street below. I couldn't believe where I was. The clean sheets called to me, and soon I was dreaming of the trip all over again.
Jerusalem at Dawn.
The following day, I awoke by 4 a.m., thanks to jetlag. By 8 a.m., I was ready to find my way to the school's campus. Even with helpful photos, Google Maps, and verbal directions, I walked down the cobblestone sidewalk, crossed a roundabout traffic crossing, and headed back up the other side. My hiking backpack was on my back, my money sling across my front, and my 65-pound suitcase bumping on the cobblestones behind me. (Yes, I DEFINITELY overpacked.) All carried the only worldly possessions I'd use for the next three weeks.
I was told the campus was just up the hill. Unfortunately, a dumpster had accidentally been deposited at the end of the driveway to the school. Since JUC (Jerusalem University College) was situated about a quarter of a mile past the end of the driveway, I thought the directions were incomplete. Google Maps did not help, and I found myself somehow at the bottom of that hill with my enormous, overpacked suitcase. I began the walk up the winding driveway to the bottom of ANOTHER set of steps (steps became a way of life in Israel!), hauling my ridiculously packed suitcase up EVERY SINGLE STEP. Luckily, another grad student found me sweating up a mess and offered to help me the rest of the way up. She was able to check me into the school. After being shown my room for the next three weeks, I collapsed upon the bed in exhaustion, only getting up to finish the pre-work for the class.
For this, I sat studying in the garden outside my room. The view here sheds light on the broken beauty that this place holds. I am already falling in love with it. Amidst car honks and birds singing songs I'm unfamiliar with (besides the "caw" from a grey and black hooded crow), I keep breathing in the sweet spice and dry wood aroma in the air. And wonder, "Did He ever walk this area and look out across this view?"
