Author: Robin Chartier

After reading my post about my newfound proficiency with a slingshot, one of my sisters said she had been wondering why I hadn’t been blogging. It’s nice to know that when I don’t show up here, there are one or two people who miss it.

I told her that one of the reasons I haven’t been writing is because the most interesting/exciting/ridiculous thing to happen to us lately is it’s cat mating season so our sleep has been an interrupted mess as the cat yowling sets off the dogs, wakes us up, we yell at the dogs, try to fall back asleep, and repeat. All. Night. Long.

I’m positive I’ve written about this before . . . probably each year around this time, but there are at least 20 stray cats on our street. At any time of day I can walk outside and spot at least 6 lying on top of cars, under cars and in driveways. Well, this time of year they “fight” all night, filling the air with yowls and shrieks. The dogs hear the cats, jump up and run back and forth in our bedroom panting, wanting to get outside to chase them. The other night it was so ridiculous that Josh went outside at 2am and aimed the garden hose in the direction of the noise and broke up the cat “fight.” At least that seemed to shut them down for the rest of the night.

So far the only solution that has been mildly successful is playing cat meowing and hissing noises throughout the day to try and desensitize the dogs to cat noises. Thanks YouTube for providing a video library of cat fights to choose from. Of course that means I have to listen to cat yowling and fighting in the daytime, but desperate times. If it means we can sleep at night it will be worth it.

Heavenly Father, I pray that you would be working and active within and through the church. That in spite of still being required to keep our distance from people, that you would bridge those gaps and close the distance spiritually. I pray for the health of our church, that as we are 11 months into not being allowed to meet physically, that we wouldn’t drift apart and that we would remember that we are of one body, on mind, one spirit, one purpose.

I pray for unity within each body — that we would extend grace to each other and in spite of our differences, that we would understand that we all want you to be glorified through us individually and collectively. We may have different ideas of how to best accomplish this, but I pray that you would give us your love for one another and that we would be open to compromise and willing to set aside our differences to work together.

I pray for unity for believers from every culture, language and nation. That we would be able to come together in an understanding of spirit, even when we don’t have cultural understanding or when there is a language barrier. I pray that our churches would mirror your kingdom and that we wouldn’t be afraid to reach out to those who are across a societal divide — whether it’s economic, cultural, or another way we are different from each other. I thank and praise you that all humans are fearfully and wonderfully made and that you love each of us. I pray that we wouldn’t think more highly of ourselves or those we know, but that we’d be reminded that you gave your life for all of those people we come in contact with each day. I pray that we’d be able to communicate that message of hope to everyone we come in contact with.

Lord, I pray that the church would be able to meet freely here in Abu Dhabi. Not just our own church, but all of those groups who are waiting to be registered and acknowledged by the government. I pray that the approval process would be completed swiftly and that you would work a miracle in a situation that is stagnating. I pray that we’d be given permission and blessing to meet and gather and to worship you publicly and freely as we used to be able to do. I pray that you would work within that governmental body to move all paperwork through, to stamp it with your seal of approval, and for there not to be any question regarding permission and legitimacy of the various Christian congregations in this city and country.

I pray that as we have been unable to act and do, that we would not feel helpless, but be reminded how important and powerful prayer is. That it is not ever our success or our action, but yours that causes change to happen. I pray that this period of time where we feel our ministry is limited to praying, that we’d remember that we are not limited as you are limitless. That the power that we have through you working is not diminished at all, regardless of what we see happening around us.

And once again I pray for healing for all who are sick within the church. Not just from this virus, but from all the illnesses that we suffer from as part of this fallen world. I pray for physical healing and for mental healing. I pray for those within the church who are afraid of sickness and whose health anxiety is affecting their day to day lives. I pray that they would be reminded that this world is not what we are trying to preserve, but we are to be living with an eye toward eternity. I thank you that after all the years of feeling like a prisoner inside my own weak, unpredictable body, that today I no longer am afraid. I thank you that I have every confidence that my body works properly and that I would recover if I did get sick, and I’m thankful that even if I didn’t, that I have nothing to fear. I thank you for your peace. Please give me understanding for those who don’t feel the same. Help me to be compassionate and encouraging to those who know you, but feel still feel vulnerable. Amen.

I’ve been incredibly productive since I’ve disconnected from Facebook and Instagram. I’ve been busy building a homestead, hunting rabbits, beaver, and wild boar, crafting boots, weapons, and other survival items and it’s been so satisfying. Unfortunately not in real life, but in a game called The Trail.

Camille, reading over my shoulder, commented, “I wouldn’t call that productive Mom . . .” Yes, I know sweetie. It’s a joke. I traded one fake life for another. But this one brings me joy and satisfaction and the other one caused me angst and stress.

Caleb made fun of me: “That looks like a dumb game,” but next thing you know he’s asking me where to find the birch sticks needed to make a better slingshot.

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Anyway, in real life we’ve been busy/not busy with remote school, additional community closures (malls and restaurants are dropping to 30% capacity), movie theaters closing (so no in person church until that reverses — it’s been almost 1 year since we’ve been able to meet), and waiting for them to announce that we won’t be going back to school in person on Sunday as was previously announced.

The vaccine push has been so successful that they are now running out of doses and have started turning people away for second shots unless they are over 50. The nice thing is I’ve only been hearing about all these announcements second-hand and have rejected my need to be a “breaking news” reporter of information. Instead I’m busy turning my frontier homestead into a house, weaving cloth out of hemp fiber and upgrading my clothing so I can take longer treks through the various trail ecosystems without running out of energy.

It’s comical to think that Josh and I are thoroughly entertained by an evening on the couch, watching a TV show together, while also playing the same game individually. When one of us mutters, “I need another rabbit,” or “Where did that flint pebble go?” the other knows exactly what they mean. It’s a shared virtual existence that mirrors our desire to eventually live somewhere where we can have an expanse of land, be surrounded by nature, and freedom to roam.

I am not a game person at all and certainly not a video game/phone game kind of person, but this bit of simulated life is bringing me joy these days. I don’t know what that says about the quality of real life in 2021, but I’m content for now.

My brain feels like a noisy conference room where all the people present are trying to talk over each other and none of the voices has anything to add to the discussion. 

That’s where I am on my vaccine problem today. They are coming to our school on Sunday to give it to all staff who want it. I don’t want it, but I’m also tired having it hanging over my head. If I’m going to end up having to do it eventually, I might as well save myself a lot of stress and pressure and just do it now. I’m tired of waiting for the next level of pressure to be announced in order to “support the choice to vaccinate,” I’m tired of sitting in a car for 3 hours in a drive through line to get my nose swabbed. (NOT exaggerating), and I’m TIRED mentally of all of it. 

Interlude. I wrote the above on Wednesday and I was too tired to finish writing. I had a fit, yelled at Josh, and was in a bad mood, but that evening Josh and I met with a couple that we have Bible study with weekly (and also talk about life, marriage, money politics and anything else that comes up) and by the end I had thoroughly sorted through my feelings and examined my options from every direction and felt at peace.

Now it’s a week and a 1/2 later and I’ve settled into my position, so let me sum up what life looks like today.

A week ago the vaccine testing team came to our school to vaccinate everyone. It was not mandatory, thankfully (unlike the “not mandatory” vaccine for government and service employees that left people with no viable option other than to get it or lose their jobs). But because the notice went out saying, “Do you want to travel and not have to quarantine? Come get vaccinated!” about 98% of staff, by my estimate either has had it or got it. I know of 4 others beside me who are still waiting.

Ironically, 4 hours later, the government announced via Instagram that because of a spike in cases they increased the testing requirements to travel to Dubai and adjusted the quarantine rule to include those who had the vaccine. That’s right folks, even those who have had the vaccine now have to do a 10 day house arrest with a tracking bracelet upon return. (Unless you traveled to China, the Isle of Mann or a few of the other random countries on the “green” list.) So the difference in restrictions between vaccinated people and unvaccinated? Almost zero. Cue annoyed and disappointed people once again.

Before all this, I had decided to wait because there was no benefit to take it at this time. It didn’t reduce my testing cycle (still had to be tested for school every 2 weeks), I’m not planning to travel for spring break, and I had a few other concerns regarding its source and efficacy. I’m tired of the rollercoaster of announcements and thought that maybe taking it and putting it behind me would change things and give me more freedom, but Josh reminded me that’s not how things work. I didn’t realize he’d be right so quickly though!

Now we are about to start week 4 of remote school, with at least one more week after that. It’s going as well as can be expected. The kids are tired of it, but they are doing their best and their teachers are as well. I’m only going in to school a few times each week and doing most of my work from home.

We had to move Josh’s office upstairs since remote school was extended. We hoped he’d have less distractions working from the second floor, but his work colleagues decided to make the move with him.

The kids may want to go back to school, but the dogs are very happy to have everyone at home.

I’m in the middle of writing a post about the roller coaster of emotions I had last week related to living here/vaccination/covid/school closures/etc — and that’s without any social media. I would have been absolutely mental if I had all that extra input from others. I had enough frustration and ill-will without feeding that fire with extra fuel. And when I say roller coaster, it’s more the plunging and dropping and twisting part of the ride, because there wasn’t a whole lot of up. (That was last week and I’ve made my peace with things, but I’m a bit wary of bringing the rage back by hashing through it again. I will, just not today).

But that brings me to #yarnwatch! I know you’re all on the edge of your seats, waiting to find out if my yarn actually made it into my hands. I can confirm that yes, I finally have 900 grams of a gorgeous cotton/cashmere/angora blend in an oatmeal color (which is perfect for dying). I love this yarn because it’s soft and machine washable/dry-able.

But, to get it I had to wait 40 minutes with my eyes glued to the computer screen, waiting for an online chat representative (the chat window didn’t have an alert sound so I couldn’t be on another window at the same time), give the guy the reference numbers to my 3 different complaints and then he said, “Ok someone will call you.” Hmm, that’s the answer I got the last 3 times I filed a request.

But a few days later I did get a phone call and managed to answer it and the woman said, “I am scheduling your delivery for Saturday between 8 and 4pm. You must pay 30aed.” (All delivery is like this and you have to be home to receive packages. No matter that your entire day is shot . . . ) I told her I wouldn’t be home on Saturday and she said, “OK, Sunday. 8 am to 4” and promptly hung up.

Since Josh is working from home all day, that’s not too terrible. But then I got a text on Saturday, when I was still in the middle of the desert, saying that the delivery driver was on his way and I needed to be home to meet him. Sigh. It never fails. I sent him a message saying I wasn’t home, but would be home after 12pm and if he could redeliver at that time that would be great. And miraculously, he did.

And what was I doing this weekend? More camping. The desert is beautiful this time of year and this weekend there was no moon so millions of stars were on display in the sky.

We drove about 90 minutes outside the city, pulled off to the side of the road, deflated our tires so we could drive over the sand, and drove a 1/4 mile up and down the dunes into the desert where no one else was around except the people in our group.

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Our little tents among the giant dunes

We had a great time, with a bit of extra work to pack up in the morning because of the thick fog. It was crystal clear at night (as you can see in the star photo) and then the fog rolled in sometime before 4am. I knew that because at 4am Star began pacing around the tent, jumping on us and panting and she wouldn’t settle. It turns out that she ate too many treats (trying to calm her around the other dogs that were out there) and had intestinal distress requiring a middle of the night walk in the cold thick fog.

I thought the fog would would clear out as the sun came up, but by the time we left camp at 10am visibility was still really low.

We headed home, mentally preparing to go back to school the following day, only to see on Instagram on the way home (not me, someone texted the announcement to me) that we were all being put on 3 more weeks of remote school. With less than 24 hours notice. After all teachers and students had spend hours waiting and getting PCR tests.

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