Now, don't freak out. Yes, the title does say "date" but before you get all excited, it was merely a hang-out time with my good friend Allison.
On our hall, our R.A. will pair us up every week and then whoever is coupled off goes on a "dorm date" so that we get to know the girls on our hall better. It's a fun way as I don't know a lot of the girls very well this year, and our schedule's have been so insane that I just haven't had time to get to spend a lot of time with them.
Allison and I bonded last Christmas break over J-terms and Star Gate Atlantis, but we decided to go someplace fun just to get out of the normal groove of eating at the cafeteria together or procrastinating on book reviews and papers by watching SGA on Hulu. She had the brilliant suggestion of going to Bass-pro shop in Indiana.
Bass Pro Shop, for those of you who don't know, is that store you dreamed of as a little kid in which everything morally desirable is available to do or buy in one store. It has every piece of outdoor equipment you'd ever think of owning (including 'original-smell' fish bait. You can smell it without turning down that isle) downstairs, and upstairs it has food, clothes - outdoorsy camo and that western-style fashionable stuff that I love - as well as jewelry, books, and a lazer-shooting range in which once the targets are successfully hit (no easy task) the stuffed animals or objects you are shooting at will move or sing some silly song or something of that nature.
I had had a crazy morning, so didn't eat breakfast, so by the time we pulled up at 1 I was starving. It was so bad that when we walked by the huge fish tank by the waterfall, the enormous catfish that were the size of my torso swimming around made me salivate. Allison laughed at me when I told her this and we ran upstairs to find that the restaurant with fish tanks by all the tables was closed for remodeling. So we dashed over to Chick-fil-e (after this crazy miniature poodle scared the living daylights out of me as we walked by the pick-up-truck it was apparently guarding. What buff hunter in his right mind would own a miniature poodle, I don't know)
So we ate and then went back.
When one enters into Bass-pro shop, one must go through these very heavy, forest-green double doors that have antlers for the handles. I ran ahead of Allison and tried opening both of them at once. Ha. She laughed at me while I heaved my full body-weight against these dratted things and asked me what I was doing.
"Well, I was going for the 'Aragorn-two-towers' entrance. I just couldn't resist." :-)
(you know the part where Aragorn returns from the dead and makes that dramatic entrance into Theoden's hall? I still say the books are better for the whole LOTR experience, btw)
We decided to just walk around for a while before heading towards the shooting range. We stumbled across the kids-clothes section and spent the next fifteen minutes cooing and giggling over the newborn section of camouflage booties and camo-onesies with lace randomly stuck on it.
"We're such nerds." I finally giggled, holding up some cute item of child's apparel. "We come all the way to another state to go to a macho-hunting place to drool over kids clothes."
Allison laughed and agreed. The funny part was that we not only drooled over the kids clothes in camo, but would throw random theological and heretical statements about the equipment we passed by. It was great.
So then I found this absolutely amazing quilt that had suede, chenille, and very soft cotton all containing a down-batting for the interior. It cost an arm and a leg so I guess I'll have to wait until I'm rich and famous to buy that, right along with the amazing bedroom set I discovered that looked like it was made from trees with the bark still on it.
We headed over to the womens clothes and jewelry section and spent a while there before we stumbled across the tent section. We found this HUGE tent that was possibly the size of Allison's dorm room before we saw the cot.
The cot was black, and had a tent over it. I said it was cool.
"Yeah, if you feel like crawling in and zipping yourself into a coffin for the night." Allison commented. I will never look at that cot-tent in the same way again. I very well may never be able to sleep in one, either. ;-)
So after drooling over the kayak section as well, we headed downstairs to where the fudge was. We were originally thinking just one piece each... but... there was a sale... and....
someone want to help me eat fudge? :-D
We thought we were leaving but then we found an entire OTHER section of food so thought we'd stroll through and discovered how many different names out-doors-ey kind of guys can find for hot and barbecue sauce. Not all of them are appropriate.
I found this really cool "Celtic Jigs" CD but Allison reminded me that we already spent $6.50 each on fudge and really didn't need to be buying music. I still say that I was merely investing in study aides with the fudge and music put I put the CD down with a sigh. Oh well. My Gaelic roots will just have to content themselves with listening to what I already have.
So we walked back outside and got into the car and sliced off a sliver of fudge before driving out of the parking lot. Then I started to slip into sugar-coma while Allison started to get rather perky :-)
When we got to our dorms, we each pulled out our ID's. Its a new policy, last semester we could waltz in and out whenever we wanted but now they are enforcing the flashing of identification before they allow girls to go upstairs. Its good 'cause we've had stuff stolen this semester, but it can get obnoxious.
"Oh that's right I forgot we had to identify ourselves before we entered the sacred ground of Boyce Harem." I muttered as I pulled my card out. Allison didn't hear me but lowered her head as what I said registered.
"That is wrong for SO many different reasons!" she chuckled. I thought I might have offended her but as we got to our floor after waving at the security guard she murmured,
"Well we WERE born and raised for such a time as this..." Quote from Esther. I love Allison. :-)
So we've decided that we really ought not to have forgotten the camera, and may, for you dear reader's sake, have to return to Bass-pro shop soon to take pictures so you can witness the joy of the experience for yourself.
We've also decided it would be a great place to have a REAL date, but Bass-pro needs to install a rock-climbing wall first. Preferably on the man-made waterfall. :-)
Off to do homework. Blah.
~Princess Ouch~
Living day to day trying to keep Christ as the focus
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
The Imam's wife
Today I went to the Bosnian Mosque with a group from school. My one friend who works with Middle-Eastern Muslims says that the hoodie and jeans I was wearing would be fine, but Hollie -who went with us to this Mosque- said a long skirt and nice, long sleeved shirt would be better. SO I opted for the second choice and was GLAD I did!!! We also wore headscarves. Hollie had one from Iran that David her husband bought her when he was there, and I wore one of my Gypsy scarves. I felt very ethnic as we walked up to the church where we were meeting our guide in my flowing black skirt, nice shirt and headscarf. I really really wanted some bangly earings so that i would feel more Gypsy-ish, but wanted to see how jewlery was seen before I tried that.
Hollie and I were directed towards the front door where we slipped off our shoes and went to sit down. The Mosque was a small house that had been converted, and the front living room with a small fireplace was the women's section of the worship center.
Four women, a little three year old and a baby were already there, and in the next ten minutes four other women came in.
The three year old and I had fun making faces at each other, until the little girl realized her mother was at the bowing and kneeling part of the worship time. At that point the little girl ran up beside her mother and dove into the prayer rug they had spread for her and proceeded to try and murmer the prayers in Arabic.
The women were all dressed in colorful robes and headscarves that were not tied the ways Hollie and I had tied ours. She and I stayed back against the wall and didn't go up onto the prayer rugs they had spread for us during the prayer time. It was considerate, and I didn't even realize that they had done it until they were all up at the front of the room. But neither Hollie nor I felt the need to participate in prayers to Allah.
The did a message in what I believe was first Arabic, then translated into Bosnian, and then English. It was rather sureal.
It ended what seemed to me rather abruptly, and one woman began hugging the others and kissing them on both cheeks. Hollie and I smiled and the ladies smiled shyly back, but no one approached us. One woman gave us a huge smile each time she looked in our direction, but soon pulled a black veil over her face until only the slits of her eyes were showing and quickly slipped out the door.
The woman who began the hugging finally came up to Hollie and I and hugged us, kissing us on both cheeks, wishing us "Salaam Allekium" (I don't know how you spell it, sorry) and I murmured "salaam" in return. I know there is another traditional saying, but the meaning is "Peace of Allah" and "Allah's peace upon you", whereas "Salaam" is merely "peace." I'm fine with wishing someone peace, in fact that's what I"m committed to as a Christian, but the peace that comes from God, not Allah.
The woman was the Imam's wife. She asked where we were from and why we were there. I told her I had never been to a Mosque before, and was curious about what was there and who was there. She asked if we were American, if we were Christian, and what kind of Christian. I said yes, yes, and Baptist. She asked if I had alwas been Baptist. I answered no... only a year. (hehehe... how do you explain "non-denominational" to a Bosnian Muslim?) SO she asked if I understood my religion. I said yes.
"Are you SURE?"
"Yes."
"Are you SURE you are sure?" she insisted.
"Well obviously God is too big to fit inside my small head, but yes, I understand my religion. I am in school to learn more, and of course we are always learning."
"Hmm... you have to go?"
Hollie and I shook our heads no.
"Come and sit down. My English not so good, I study for six months now, though I have been in America fo six years. COme sit. Now. This is the problem with Christians: you do not understand who Jesus is. Muslims do not agree that he is GOd. He cannot be the son of God. God has no son, no wife, no beginning, no end. Jesus cannot be God."
She went on for a good ten minutes expounding on that fact. Hollie tried to interject that Jesus said in the Bible who He was, but the Imam's wife interupted.
"No, you see. The Bible, it is corrupted. Shatan has corrupted it." And went on to expound on that point for a good full five minutes.
"May I explain to you how we see Jesus?" I asked when I could get a word in edgewise. She nodded.
"God, who you call Allah, made the whole world. Yes? And so God made man, because He wanted man to be in fellowship with Him. He wanted to be friends with man. But Shatan came and said to Adam and Eve, the first man and woman, "you can be like God. Take this fruit from the tree God forbade you to eat from, and you will be like Him." Adam and Eve disobeyed God and took this fruit. But Shatan lied to them, this did not make them like God, it caused them to sin and they understood sin. And God cannot look on sin, because He is righteous. He is a righteous God who cannot sin and cannot look upon sin. So He said to Adam and Eve, 'Go out from the garden!'
Shatan said, "Aha! God cannot look upon sin, look, the man has sinned. Now he is mine!" But God said, "NO! I created them! I love them! They must still be mine!" So He sent the prophets, Abraham, Isaiah, and others, to tell mankind how to live righteously, so that they could have communion with God. But man said to the prophets, "Who are you to tell us this? You are man like us! You know nothing!" They didn't realize that God sent them. So they rejected the prophets.
God decided that He would go Himself to tell mankind how to live. He wanted us to understand so we could have communion with Him. But man cannot look upon GOd directly, because He is so wonderful and glorious. His majesty is too much for us to see; we will die if we look on Him. So He came in the form of a man. He had to come as a man so that mankind could see Him and have relationship with Him. And the man who was God was named Jesus."
She nodded and was listening intently, agreeing with all that I said, UNTIL I said "That man was named Jesus."
"NO! This cannot be. Jesus was a PROPHET! A good prophet. We love the prophet Isa. Isa is what we call Jesus. But a prophet! He and Mohammed were very close..."
And she continued for a long time after that about different stories from the Quaran about Jesus and Mary, and how it is written that Jesus said specifically that He never claimed to be God. I wanted to get into Pharisaical lies etc. but could barely get a word in edgewise.
"You see, man corrupts all good things, and man has corrupted the Bible. For example, you celebrate Christmas in December. But Jesus was very clearly born in springtime. Quaran says that Mary ate a date after Gabriel spoke to her. A fresh date. How can you eat a fresh date in winter?"
I explained why CHristians celebrate Christmas in winter, and emphasized that this was not something that was in the Bible, just a tradition.
'You see? Pagan influences corrupt."
"Yes, I agree. So Mohammed had a Christian wife and a Jewish wife. Since pagans corrupt, did not these pagan wives corrupt Mohammed? He had three wives not Islamic, no?"
"No! He had NINE wives. BUt princesses, so that their people would come to know Islam."
"They were pagan."
"But you see, man is a step ahead of woman. So man always leads."
"Yes, the man is the head, but isn't the woman the neck, turning the head whichever way she wants?" (I love 'My big fat Greek wedding.' Who knew it would help in theological debates).
All three of us laughed at that point.
"No! Man is a step ahead of woman."
"But if Mohammed had nine wives, that would be more women than man, so wouldn't that put the pagan wives at least a FEW steps ahead of the man?"
She didn't get that reasoning, and went on to talk about the fallibility of the Bible, and more Islamic stories about Shatan and Gabriel fighting over the Quaran.
David poked his head in and said we had to go, and the Imam's wife followed us out encouraging us to get a copy of the Quaran and start researching on the internet about Islam.
As I put on my shoes, she said,
"Pray to God to open your eyes to truth."
"I will pray to God to open my eyes to Truth. I pray also that He opens your eyes to Truth."
She smiled a, "I've got it covered, honey, thanks." look on her face.
"You DO realize," the missionary stated when Hollie and I retold this story, "that you just took on the most devout Muslim in the entire area."
"All I wanted was for us to plant ONE seed of doubt in her mind, so that her eyes could be opened to Truth." Hollie replied.
"Obviously we won't make a change today, we just met her. But its a start."
Hopefully, anyway. We are going to try and go back in two weeks. The Imam's wife has always wanted to be an Imam's wife, she waited until she found an Imam - who was 20 years older than her - to get married. "Islam is all that I am, all that I love." She told us.
Funny thing, I had been feeling nausious the entire day, and as soon as we started the conversation with the Imam's wife it went away and has stayed away all day. No, it was not nervousness. I'm pretty sure it was Spiritual Warfare. Another funny thing was that once the Imam's wife found out Hollie was married, she targeted me for most of the conversation and sort of blew off Hollie. HOllie attributed it to the fact that since she was married, she would follow whatever her husband believed, and so would be 'unconvertable' until he was converted.
Anywayz. So that was my first exposure and experience with Muslims and Bosnians.
Wow.
Now, the hysterical part of this is that when I was in Jr. High, I told God that He could call me to be whatever He wanted, but if He called me to be a Missionary, I would have to tell Him no, so just don't bother. My reasoning was that we got "Voice of the Martyrs' when I was younger and I was convinced that all missionaries were persecuted brutally and most were martyred. So when God called me to be a Missionary, or I at least responded to that call, I told Him, "Fine, but please please please don't call me to work with Muslims or Communists."
I thought Bosnians were Eastern Orthodox when I started researching them. Nope. The Bosniak Bosnians are all Muslim. At least in this area. I've been to an EX-communist country four times, but I'm curious to see if I go into a communist country one of these days. God DOES have a sense of humor, and He likes to remind us -or at least me, I don't know about you- that HE is the one who calls the shots. :-)
Anyhoo. IN other news, the head chef in the cafeteria started a food-fight with me when I started to sing, "Oh Suzanna" - which he hates, and I do just to irritate him. :-) I do not like working for other people, I would far rather have my own business and call the shots myself. But if I HAVE to work for someone, I'm glad its here, with fun people who love Jesus and are committed to keeping the workplace fun. God has blessed me a lot, with an amazing family, good friends, an awesome school, amazing opportunities to serve and witness for Him. Most importantly, He gave me a rich relationship with Him, which has permeated into every area of my life. Halelujah.
~Princess Ouch~
Hollie and I were directed towards the front door where we slipped off our shoes and went to sit down. The Mosque was a small house that had been converted, and the front living room with a small fireplace was the women's section of the worship center.
Four women, a little three year old and a baby were already there, and in the next ten minutes four other women came in.
The three year old and I had fun making faces at each other, until the little girl realized her mother was at the bowing and kneeling part of the worship time. At that point the little girl ran up beside her mother and dove into the prayer rug they had spread for her and proceeded to try and murmer the prayers in Arabic.
The women were all dressed in colorful robes and headscarves that were not tied the ways Hollie and I had tied ours. She and I stayed back against the wall and didn't go up onto the prayer rugs they had spread for us during the prayer time. It was considerate, and I didn't even realize that they had done it until they were all up at the front of the room. But neither Hollie nor I felt the need to participate in prayers to Allah.
The did a message in what I believe was first Arabic, then translated into Bosnian, and then English. It was rather sureal.
It ended what seemed to me rather abruptly, and one woman began hugging the others and kissing them on both cheeks. Hollie and I smiled and the ladies smiled shyly back, but no one approached us. One woman gave us a huge smile each time she looked in our direction, but soon pulled a black veil over her face until only the slits of her eyes were showing and quickly slipped out the door.
The woman who began the hugging finally came up to Hollie and I and hugged us, kissing us on both cheeks, wishing us "Salaam Allekium" (I don't know how you spell it, sorry) and I murmured "salaam" in return. I know there is another traditional saying, but the meaning is "Peace of Allah" and "Allah's peace upon you", whereas "Salaam" is merely "peace." I'm fine with wishing someone peace, in fact that's what I"m committed to as a Christian, but the peace that comes from God, not Allah.
The woman was the Imam's wife. She asked where we were from and why we were there. I told her I had never been to a Mosque before, and was curious about what was there and who was there. She asked if we were American, if we were Christian, and what kind of Christian. I said yes, yes, and Baptist. She asked if I had alwas been Baptist. I answered no... only a year. (hehehe... how do you explain "non-denominational" to a Bosnian Muslim?) SO she asked if I understood my religion. I said yes.
"Are you SURE?"
"Yes."
"Are you SURE you are sure?" she insisted.
"Well obviously God is too big to fit inside my small head, but yes, I understand my religion. I am in school to learn more, and of course we are always learning."
"Hmm... you have to go?"
Hollie and I shook our heads no.
"Come and sit down. My English not so good, I study for six months now, though I have been in America fo six years. COme sit. Now. This is the problem with Christians: you do not understand who Jesus is. Muslims do not agree that he is GOd. He cannot be the son of God. God has no son, no wife, no beginning, no end. Jesus cannot be God."
She went on for a good ten minutes expounding on that fact. Hollie tried to interject that Jesus said in the Bible who He was, but the Imam's wife interupted.
"No, you see. The Bible, it is corrupted. Shatan has corrupted it." And went on to expound on that point for a good full five minutes.
"May I explain to you how we see Jesus?" I asked when I could get a word in edgewise. She nodded.
"God, who you call Allah, made the whole world. Yes? And so God made man, because He wanted man to be in fellowship with Him. He wanted to be friends with man. But Shatan came and said to Adam and Eve, the first man and woman, "you can be like God. Take this fruit from the tree God forbade you to eat from, and you will be like Him." Adam and Eve disobeyed God and took this fruit. But Shatan lied to them, this did not make them like God, it caused them to sin and they understood sin. And God cannot look on sin, because He is righteous. He is a righteous God who cannot sin and cannot look upon sin. So He said to Adam and Eve, 'Go out from the garden!'
Shatan said, "Aha! God cannot look upon sin, look, the man has sinned. Now he is mine!" But God said, "NO! I created them! I love them! They must still be mine!" So He sent the prophets, Abraham, Isaiah, and others, to tell mankind how to live righteously, so that they could have communion with God. But man said to the prophets, "Who are you to tell us this? You are man like us! You know nothing!" They didn't realize that God sent them. So they rejected the prophets.
God decided that He would go Himself to tell mankind how to live. He wanted us to understand so we could have communion with Him. But man cannot look upon GOd directly, because He is so wonderful and glorious. His majesty is too much for us to see; we will die if we look on Him. So He came in the form of a man. He had to come as a man so that mankind could see Him and have relationship with Him. And the man who was God was named Jesus."
She nodded and was listening intently, agreeing with all that I said, UNTIL I said "That man was named Jesus."
"NO! This cannot be. Jesus was a PROPHET! A good prophet. We love the prophet Isa. Isa is what we call Jesus. But a prophet! He and Mohammed were very close..."
And she continued for a long time after that about different stories from the Quaran about Jesus and Mary, and how it is written that Jesus said specifically that He never claimed to be God. I wanted to get into Pharisaical lies etc. but could barely get a word in edgewise.
"You see, man corrupts all good things, and man has corrupted the Bible. For example, you celebrate Christmas in December. But Jesus was very clearly born in springtime. Quaran says that Mary ate a date after Gabriel spoke to her. A fresh date. How can you eat a fresh date in winter?"
I explained why CHristians celebrate Christmas in winter, and emphasized that this was not something that was in the Bible, just a tradition.
'You see? Pagan influences corrupt."
"Yes, I agree. So Mohammed had a Christian wife and a Jewish wife. Since pagans corrupt, did not these pagan wives corrupt Mohammed? He had three wives not Islamic, no?"
"No! He had NINE wives. BUt princesses, so that their people would come to know Islam."
"They were pagan."
"But you see, man is a step ahead of woman. So man always leads."
"Yes, the man is the head, but isn't the woman the neck, turning the head whichever way she wants?" (I love 'My big fat Greek wedding.' Who knew it would help in theological debates).
All three of us laughed at that point.
"No! Man is a step ahead of woman."
"But if Mohammed had nine wives, that would be more women than man, so wouldn't that put the pagan wives at least a FEW steps ahead of the man?"
She didn't get that reasoning, and went on to talk about the fallibility of the Bible, and more Islamic stories about Shatan and Gabriel fighting over the Quaran.
David poked his head in and said we had to go, and the Imam's wife followed us out encouraging us to get a copy of the Quaran and start researching on the internet about Islam.
As I put on my shoes, she said,
"Pray to God to open your eyes to truth."
"I will pray to God to open my eyes to Truth. I pray also that He opens your eyes to Truth."
She smiled a, "I've got it covered, honey, thanks." look on her face.
"You DO realize," the missionary stated when Hollie and I retold this story, "that you just took on the most devout Muslim in the entire area."
"All I wanted was for us to plant ONE seed of doubt in her mind, so that her eyes could be opened to Truth." Hollie replied.
"Obviously we won't make a change today, we just met her. But its a start."
Hopefully, anyway. We are going to try and go back in two weeks. The Imam's wife has always wanted to be an Imam's wife, she waited until she found an Imam - who was 20 years older than her - to get married. "Islam is all that I am, all that I love." She told us.
Funny thing, I had been feeling nausious the entire day, and as soon as we started the conversation with the Imam's wife it went away and has stayed away all day. No, it was not nervousness. I'm pretty sure it was Spiritual Warfare. Another funny thing was that once the Imam's wife found out Hollie was married, she targeted me for most of the conversation and sort of blew off Hollie. HOllie attributed it to the fact that since she was married, she would follow whatever her husband believed, and so would be 'unconvertable' until he was converted.
Anywayz. So that was my first exposure and experience with Muslims and Bosnians.
Wow.
Now, the hysterical part of this is that when I was in Jr. High, I told God that He could call me to be whatever He wanted, but if He called me to be a Missionary, I would have to tell Him no, so just don't bother. My reasoning was that we got "Voice of the Martyrs' when I was younger and I was convinced that all missionaries were persecuted brutally and most were martyred. So when God called me to be a Missionary, or I at least responded to that call, I told Him, "Fine, but please please please don't call me to work with Muslims or Communists."
I thought Bosnians were Eastern Orthodox when I started researching them. Nope. The Bosniak Bosnians are all Muslim. At least in this area. I've been to an EX-communist country four times, but I'm curious to see if I go into a communist country one of these days. God DOES have a sense of humor, and He likes to remind us -or at least me, I don't know about you- that HE is the one who calls the shots. :-)
Anyhoo. IN other news, the head chef in the cafeteria started a food-fight with me when I started to sing, "Oh Suzanna" - which he hates, and I do just to irritate him. :-) I do not like working for other people, I would far rather have my own business and call the shots myself. But if I HAVE to work for someone, I'm glad its here, with fun people who love Jesus and are committed to keeping the workplace fun. God has blessed me a lot, with an amazing family, good friends, an awesome school, amazing opportunities to serve and witness for Him. Most importantly, He gave me a rich relationship with Him, which has permeated into every area of my life. Halelujah.
~Princess Ouch~
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Poetical moment
So far for my Great Books class, we've read The Odessy, Augustine's "Confessions" and Boethius' "The Consolation of Philosophy". One of our assignments was to write out an experience or memory in a poetical style that was similar to that found in the Odessy. I wrote out an experience from this summer and have been meaning to post it here. Hope you enjoy. :-)
As an unbroken colt bucks and bounces
vainly attempting to rid itself of its' master
who gentles it into submission,
so did the old Dacia car buck and bounce
as we crawled up the dusty Carpathian roads.
Sweet grass danced across the hills
and jagged mountainous ridges
as gentle Ewes grazed with their lambs
their bear-like shepherd dogs
faithfully watching.
These sights I drank in with pleasure
as my dear companions escorted me
further away from the world familiar
and into the hidden, sunlit valleys.
As the seagull, wild and free, cries out as he flies
so too did the voices of the village greet us
before its' sights and smells.
Olive-skinned children, turned black by sun and wind,
ran to greet us as they laughed their salutations.
My own voice joined them, my tongue clumsy
as I made the unfamiliar words of their world
shape themselves and fly from my lips.
I let my strange white hands
be touched and stroked, as laughing
the children tried to explain my sky blue eyes.
Their flashing raven hair bobbed
as they danced for me.
Husky voices raised in jeers and compliments.
I smiled and thanked my God,
as once again He had brought me here.
And I was proven faithful in my promise
to return to these my Gypsy friends.
As an unbroken colt bucks and bounces
vainly attempting to rid itself of its' master
who gentles it into submission,
so did the old Dacia car buck and bounce
as we crawled up the dusty Carpathian roads.
Sweet grass danced across the hills
and jagged mountainous ridges
as gentle Ewes grazed with their lambs
their bear-like shepherd dogs
faithfully watching.
These sights I drank in with pleasure
as my dear companions escorted me
further away from the world familiar
and into the hidden, sunlit valleys.
As the seagull, wild and free, cries out as he flies
so too did the voices of the village greet us
before its' sights and smells.
Olive-skinned children, turned black by sun and wind,
ran to greet us as they laughed their salutations.
My own voice joined them, my tongue clumsy
as I made the unfamiliar words of their world
shape themselves and fly from my lips.
I let my strange white hands
be touched and stroked, as laughing
the children tried to explain my sky blue eyes.
Their flashing raven hair bobbed
as they danced for me.
Husky voices raised in jeers and compliments.
I smiled and thanked my God,
as once again He had brought me here.
And I was proven faithful in my promise
to return to these my Gypsy friends.
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