Tag: Egypt

I’m happy I can’t see the future

because I would most certainly screw things up if given the chance. This morning I was thinking about how we “should have been” back in the US by now, our year in Egypt completed, and on to our next duty station. Instead I’m driving around Muscat trying to find black dress pants for Calvin’s middle school choir concert tonight, baking a dessert for Carter’s classroom party, planning a trip to Dubai over Christmas vacation, and we still have another lovely 6 months stretched out in front of us before we move on to the next place. (Enshalla)

But if I could have seen the future a year ago I would have been completely traumatized by the idea of being uprooted, going back to the US, then back overseas, the decision to put the kids in school . . . if you had given me the choice up front, I wouldn’t have chosen this path. Even the promise of a good result wouldn’t have been worth it to me back then.

But we have seen amazing things come from our crazy year. Being back at my parents’ house, while frustrating at the time because we had no idea what would happen next, was a wonderful two months where we were completely embraced and loved by them, by people at their church, people from our church, and complete strangers who went out of their way to help us out. And to be home for my sister’s wedding was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I will always be thankful for the revolutionaries who generated my plane ticket home — even though I left the country kicking and screaming on the inside.

And our opportunity to come to Oman? If it had been up to me I would have chosen to return to Egypt, curfews and all. And that would have been the wrong choice. Even though there are plenty of times when I miss our life there, I know we are in the right place for us. Really, if we were moved to Egypt tomorrow, I’d have a long, long list of things I would miss about Oman.

Tomorrow marks exactly 6 months until the last day of school and June 13th is the beginning of our next “unknown.” We know we’ll be moving, but we don’t know where. And the fact that I can’t pick the place (or even the country) is a good thing. Wherever we’re assigned, I know God will provide. I’ll just hold on and try to enjoy the ride.


Inshallah

This morning a friend and I were going to meet some other friends at a cafe for coffee, but there were no parking spots anywhere in the area. We drove around the lot, up the street, made a U-turn, circled back around . . . nothing. Not only were all the regular spots taken, but people had resorted to pulling up on the curb, double parking, any available space was fair game. Since nothing was moving, we decided to do as the Omanis were doing.

I pulled up perpendicular to a beautiful black Porsche, took my key out of the ignition and looked around. I was semi-conditioned to the “parking-in” phenomenon during our time in Egypt where double parking was a regular and expected thing. One of our Egyptian friends there told us about a time he came out to his car to find he had been parked in and he had to wait three hours for the guy to come back. When I asked him what he did about it, he said he just sat on the trunk of his car and waited. When the guy came back to his car and drove away, then my friend was able to go about his business. Instead of being upset or angry about it, he just said, “Inshallah.” Roughly translated it means, “if God wills it, it will happen.”  
Well, I wasn’t going to let a tiny thing like a parking spot stand between me and my cappuccino, so when I didn’t see an angry man or woman running toward me as I exited the car, I decided to go for it. Ever the cautious rule-breaker, I strategically positioned my car where I could keep an eye on it while I enjoyed my drink, just in case mystery Porsche owner decided to make an early return. 
So we’re chatting, laughing, and drinking and after a short while I forget about the fact that I am potentially creating a barrier between someone and their very important business. Until I lean over in my chair and see that the front door to the Porsche is now open. Oops! In a flash I grab my keys and run out to the car, ready to make some very sincere apologies to the person I’ve certainly inconvenienced. As I approach the car, the Omani man standing next to the open door says, “Oh, I’m sorry! Did I interrupt your breakfast?” 
Go back and reread that, but this time don’t use a sarcastic voice like you might hear in America. He was seriously apologizing to me, when I was the one who had parked him in. After reassuring him that no, I didn’t need to go back and finish my breakfast before moving my car, he got into his beautiful Porsche and drove away with a wave and a smile and I pulled into his spot. Inshallah at work. 

Thankful

Things are blowing up again in Egypt and as much as I look back on our short time there as a “missed opportunity,” I am so thankful that I’m not looking ahead to this holiday weekend not sure if I’ll still be in country when Thanksgiving arrives. I’m not saying anyone is evacuating, but after going through it last time and being given such short notice, I’m sure there are rumors flying and bags are being packed, “just in case.”

In this alternate universe I’m enjoying Art and Barbara’s visit, shopping at the craft fair (and buying another pair of my favorite beaded sandals), and searching online for Alton Brown/Bobby Flay/Ina Garten’s best Thanksgiving side dishes as I’m narrowing down what to make for this weekend.

It feels a little Gwyneth Paltrow in Sliding Doors as I imagine what my friends are doing in Egypt and contrast it to what life looks like here in Oman. In this case, it’s a good thing I missed that train.