"Helpers" Who Carry Us Through Sandstorms and Fog....

Desert Fog

When I woke up in the morning after the terrorist attacks in France, the dawn only faintly appeared to be on the horizon.  Instead, the transparent light was blocked, and heavy fog hovered over Doha, Qatar.  I was somewhat nervous to drive my son to school, not being able to clearly see the oncoming traffic.

Later in the same afternoon, another kind of dimness began to hang over the city: a swirling sandstorm blew in to shroud Doha, and blew a murky haze that stubbornly clung to buildings and mosques around the region.  Again, in just one day, my vision was blocked from seeing in the distance.  The usual bright, radiant sunlight was dimmed, almost fading away in the mid afternoon. Dark shadows approached earlier with the sunset, and the luminous pastels that typically paint the sky were covered with a lingering sandstorm.  A layer of dusty sand speckled everything in view.

Just as the terrain here in Qatar was heavy with clouds and sand, there was also a grief, even a gloom, that would not blow away in me after hearing about the French terrorist attacks.  A line in a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins is recalled: "I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day."  My heart hurt for the families of those who had died, and lives who were so needlessly lost.  I was heartened to hear that the Emir Sheikh Tamim Bin Hamad Al Thani of Qatar called French President Francois Hollande.  He expressed his condolences and sympathy to the government and families of the victims, and professed a "harsh condemnation" about the attacks.  Also, I unequivocally believe Malek Merabet, the brother of the slain Muslim policeman who was killed on the sidewalks of Paris when he said, "My brother was Muslim, and he was killed by two terrorists, by two false Muslims."

A picture of Doha during the sandstorm. 

He movingly continued, "Islam is a religion of peace and love.  I address myself now to all the racists, Islamophobes and anti-Semites.  One must not confuse extremists with Muslims.  Mad people have neither color or religion.  I want to make another point:  don't tar everybody with the same brush.  Don't burn mosques--or synagogues. You are attacking people...."

Since moving to Doha, Qatar a few months ago,  I have been greatly touched by the pure goodness of my new Muslim neighbors and friends--people whom I cherish and love now.  While I celebrated and worshipped during the Christmas holidays, my dear neighbor and friend, Abier, went to Mecca and Medina with her family.  When she returned, we sat down to talk about the holidays that we shared with our families.

She spoke with me about her experiences in Islam's holy sights, and then movingly said to me, as she held my hand, "I couldn't stop thinking about you and your family while I was in Mecca and Medina. As her beautiful eyes gazed into my own, she said, "I prayed for you and each of your family. Everytime I went around the Ka'ba, I thought, I should pray for one more person in your family."   I intuitively felt of her spiritual experience, and her enlarged heart.  As she spoke to me in such a tender, kind way, a few tears swelled in my eyes.  Her daily attempts to compassionately love stir me; our friendship makes me want to be a better person.

Although around the world people continue to place borders on their love and acceptance of others, I still believe that a quote by the English poet, Coventry Patmore is achievable--not only in individuals, but in neighborhoods, and even in communities.  He states that ties and links in a community are formed... "not in similarity, but in dissimilarities,... not in unison, but conjunction, which can only be between spiritual dissimilars."  I daresay the most beautiful mosaics and paintings are the ones with the most contrast, texture, and color--where the greatest differences exist.

War, strife, terrorism will likely continue, but I am consoled when I see the innumerable good people of this world--the people who are willing to embrace, rescue, comfort.  They are all around us, much of the time at our elbow as we sit on a bus or train.  Surely, we walk by them every day.

Fred Rogers, the American educator and television host for several generations of children said, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers.  You will always find people who are helping.'  To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother's words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are so many helpers--so many caring people in this world."

After this week, I am more committed to being "a helper"--wherever the road leads....

We have felt grief and mourning in the world this week, but cleansing rain always returns to clear the bleak fog and sandstorms.  I believe people are ultimately merciful, unifying, and resilient.  To feel the drizzle this week in Doha (after the sandstorms and fog) reminds me of hope--that light will penetrate the shadows. Indeed,  I am confident that there will always be "helpers" in the world who will rise up, and slice away the intolerances and false judgements--erasing hate in hidden corners and loving unexpected people.  As Martin Luther King taught, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."  My experiences and journeys in Qatar are showing me there is tremendous love in all pockets of this world, and that it can unfailingly wash away the darkness--drop by drop.

     

Opening new gates and doors in 2015

Visiting a door in the The Old Bazaar market in Cairo, Egypt.   There was a dim, dark alleyway that beckoned to me, and this door was the treasure that I found.  I was told it was about 800 years old. It was dangling open already, like a welcoming portal, to come feel its weathered surface and smell the remote past. The room beyond was empty, but still seemed to contain lingering remembrances of times long gone....

I have always been drawn to old gates and doors; they whisper softly of cherished homes with their long vanished children, parents, and merchants who daily used them. They are symbolic of being able to open new chapters--reviving hope, rebirth, promises.  Similarly, they are passageways to daring treks and adventures, but there is a condition--one must turn the right key to swing open a locked door.  There are innumerable enticing, beautiful doors and gates to open.  Sometimes it is challenging to know which one to access--to know which one is your destined entryway.  Emily Dickinson advised, "Not knowing when the dawn will come, I will open every door."  But I still ask, what doors and gates are we to open?  Which is the right one?

Since it is a new year, I have been reflecting on old and new gates in my life, and I came across a poem that was quoted by King George VI on Christmas Day in 1939 when he made his first speech as England was confronted with unfamiliar challenges on the brink of World War II.   The speech was dramatized in the movie The King's Speech. First of all, he gave words of encouragement, and then he concluded with lines from a poem by Minnie Louis Haskens (1875-1957). The poem is called "The Gate of the Year" or "God Knows."

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”  And he replied: “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”  So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night. And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.  So heart be still: What need our little life, Our human life to know,  If God hath comprehension?  In all the dizzy strife  Of things both high and low, God hideth His intention..........................................So, heart, be still! 

King George finished his speech with this prayer:  

                                  “May that Almighty Hand guide and uphold us all.”

For me 2014 brought a tremendous shakeup of exchanging worlds--moving from St. Louis, MO where I had lived for 19 years to Doha, Qatar.  I would never have suspected or imagined such a radical swap last January; the move was sudden, but imperceptibly prepared for. I was ready, but did not know it.  I was fortunate to have a dim spark, a firefly of light in the darkness, to try to perceive if this was the right door to open. I decided to follow that firefly to an unknown path.

But this year if I met "the man who stood at the gate of the year," I think I would tell him that dimness is acceptable, even comforting, if I know that God's hand is in mine.  I have tried climbing a few peaks in the dark before (especially dealing with my son's autism), and know that God gives us the most radiant, illuminating panoramic views when we get to the top--if we trust his navigation for us. This year I believe, even more than I did last year, I want to trust in His change for me. He alone knows which exquisite, magnificent door I need to open this year.  

A gate where you have to bend to enter at the Sheik Faisal Museum in Doha, Qatar

Doors in Qatar at the Souq Waqif--a marketplace here in Doha.  They are highly ornamental here with glass and beautiful carvings.

My lovely door in my old home that I painted several times.  Sometimes I miss its cozy familiarity, but I guess I had to traverse some other passageways.

I have had much tutoring when I decided to open this door to my new home.

I bought this old, whimsical door (about four feet high) in the marketplace in Doha to hang on my wall.  I wanted to lug home the Egyptian door, but I thought this one would suffice.  Ha!  It is a daily reminder to not be too fearful of opening new doors, even if  dawn has not appeared on the horizon yet.

An Event of Rare Extraordinaire!

Since the Cardinals won the World Series in 2011, our family wore festive Santa hats to the ice skating party to celebrate our team.

One of our favorite family traditions has been to always give a holiday party, but our house, after a few years, became too small for all the people whom we held dear. Also, all of our Muslim, Jewish, and Hindu friends understandably did not want to sing Christmas carols merrily around the fire with us. My magnanimous, generous husband conceived a brilliant idea: rent the local ice skating rink, order donuts (40 dozen to be exact), and bring gallons of piping hot chocolate. 

Our philosophy was to invite everyone from every niche of our life--neighborhood, school, church, workplace, and anybody who was happening to be visiting.... It was definitely a bit of a sociological experiment to mix every age, socio-economic, educational, and religious background together, but the result for the next 17-18 years was nothing less than magical. It became an anticipated highlight of the season.

                           

                Circa 2010 Broom Ball Game at ice skating party--at least part of the team.

Friendships and strong bonds were formed with our network of friends because they always saw each other at the same party every year. It always made me chuckle because I would see our friends (who did not know each other the first couple of years of going to the party) begin to catch up with each other in proceeding years. After going to the same holiday party for almost two decades, they created a bond of their own. Reunions naturally occurred because all the college kids wanted to connect with each other. Some people who had moved away came to the ice skating party because they knew they could intersect with old friends.

Last year Sarah celebrating time together with friends in St. Louis.

After a few years, we started a broom ball competition.  Everyone who wanted to play would bring a broom, and they would swish around a soccer ball like an ice hockey game. The ice rink manager would let us put up the ice hockey nets, and the kids would have a blast for an hour before everyone launched on the ice.  Sometimes there would be about 20 people on each team.

Circa 2005  If you look closely in the pictures, you can see some of these kids grow up.

Last year in Missouri, never imagining we would have our party next year in Qatar.

Sometimes there would be homeless people from a local shelter who would come, and they would skate past a CEO of a large company. We liked to think that everybody, even for a few hours, could skate on the same ice. Some friends could barely hold onto the rail without falling, and others jumped, glided, and bolted past with swift glee. I guess you could say I watched a generation of kids learn to skate, even race with fierce abandonment--sometimes as snowflakes fluttered in the air and even one year with drenching rain. Holiday music would blast from the speakers as a fire warmed another crowd of people who just preferred to watch the festive cheer. Depending on the year, there would be a guitar or a harmonica to entertain them.

This year I wrote a friend in St Louis, and told her we lived in Doha, Qatar now, and she would have to come across the world for our party (the party does go on, after all).  She replied--telling me her breast cancer had returned, and that she couldn't skate this year. Her wish was to come and walk around the rink instead.... In my mind I have an indelible image of her:  she was unquestionably always, every year, the first one to come skate on the shiny ice.  She loved having the smooth, tranquil ice all to herself before the crowd came. I have a prayer in my heart for her renewal of health, but her yearly appearance as the first one to skate always demonstrated to me her commitment to living with exuberance and zest.

Today after the debut of our holiday party in Doha, I was again cheered, heartened, as I always am after our seasonal party. We used the time-tested strategy of inviting all of our friends (in every pocket of our life) to come to an ice skating rink--with groups from school, the compound, my orchestra, from work and church--even a few people whom I did not know.

To watch everyone, strangers an hour before, push each other's children on the ice supports, grab an elbow of someone who didn't know how to skate, help lace up a child's skate who one has never met, and wish another best wishes for the new year are the magic that never fails to happen. Somehow this tradition has given me a gift--to unequivocally know that friendship, love, and compassion can descend on a single, unlikely place with complete strangers.   Whether they come from near and far, or have different socio-economic, educational, and religious backgrounds, it mattereth not. Indeed, there can be peace on earth and goodwill toward men.  This party always gives me belief, if it ever dwindled during the year.

Joseph pushing a coworker and his kids on the ice.  For many expats, it was their first time to hit the ice.

It is an affirming feeling to know that although we have moved across the world, we have new friends whom we did not know only a few months ago. I heard that some old friends had continued our tradition in St. Louis, not being able to let go of the magic that never failed to appear at that holiday ice skating party. Every year we come home with our empty thermoses of hot chocolate, whether it was in St. Louis, MO, or now Doha, Qatar, we think of the image in It's a Wonderful Life. It is the part at the end of the movie when George Bailey sees that he has unexpected friendships, and they are far more numerous than he ever imagined. That is just how I feel tonight.

Notice the painted sky overhead as we skate in a mall in Doha.  No bonfire, but still Krispie Kremes, as shown below:

A. preparing for the party in Doha this year with the first installment of donuts.

Little J. enjoying a skate and a donut.

At the end of our ice skating party in Doha.

Don't you love the 'Flying Camels' logo?  So very fitting in Qatar!

Lessons Learned:  
1)  Cherished traditions can continue--even across the world.  

2)  Everyone loves (and is able) to skate on the same ice.
3)  If you have to leave your post, others can carry on the tradition for you--especially if it was a very magical one.

A Tour of the World in a Few Hours

     

My son and a family friend, who was visiting with us.  Our friend is studying in Oxford, England this year, and came to see what Qatar was all about--trying to "open his sky."

      What's it like to attend a school that comprises 72 nations in the student body?  My high school senior is finding out.  Last week they had an International Week where everyone was able to wear their country's clothes, bring ethnic food, and celebrate at a flag ceremony.   Because he is rubbing shoulders daily with students from ever corner of the world, I know his life will never be the same again.  For example, one of his good friends is from Sudan--a place that before had seemed so far away on a map.


     

There was a flag ceremony, almost like the Olympics, where the students carried the flag of their country.  South Africa was represented by two students--one was black, and other one was white.  I was inspired by the respect, courtesy, and acceptance that was exhibited as each country carried their flag down the aisle.  Everyone cheered for every flag--all 72 of them.

Every child brought food from home that represented their country.  Since I am Icelandic, I appreciated that my heritage was represented from the lone student from Iceland.

         

A Canadian teacher dressed up for the occasion.

       

Platters of rice and lamb at the Middle East table.

              

The Middle East table with an abundance of Arabic cuisine.

The little girl in the middle is dressed up in Qatari traditional wear.

All the kids dressed up for the holiday.

The adults even dressed up, from almost all the 72 countries.  These are Danish moms serving the food that day.
The Greek moms started folk dancing to Greek music, and belted out a few 'Ompas' to the crowd as we clapped to the rhythm of the music.

The Asian section where they were making sushi!

My other son at his International Week with our neighbor and friend.

     Maybe I will never go to an Opening Ceremony at the Olympics, but today I felt the world shrink as different, diverse peoples laughed, danced, and tasted one another's foods.  Maybe they should try an International Week at the United Nations this year....

      

     

     

       

        

        

One Hundred Years Ago Tonight on a Belgian Christmas Eve....

This picture was taken during the Christmas truce near Ploegstreet, Belgium one hundred years ago.

First, the Germans would sing one of their carols, and then we would sing one of ours until when we started up 'O Come, All Ye Faithful. The Germans immediately joined in singing the same hymn to the Latin words Adeste Fideles. And I thought, well, this is really a most extraordinary thing---two nations both singing the same carol in the middle of a war."
 --Graham Williams of the Fifth London Rifle Brigade

"I came to the conclusion," said a British soldier, Murdoch M. Wood, speaking in 1930, "that I have held very firmly ever since, that if we had been left to ourselves, there would never have been another shot fired. "

       The other night after hearing two amazing holiday Philippine choirs at a friend's compound, my high school son posed a question to me.  We were all very moved by the experience of hearing untrained voices sound like they belonged in a European concert hall.  He reflectively asked, "Mom, what am I going to do with my life after having all these incredible experiences?  Sometimes I wonder after meeting all these people from all over the world, I think, "What I am going to do because I was here? How different will I be because I came to Qatar my senior year?" 

The Philippines starts decorating for Christmas in early September, and Christmas carols are ringing everywhere as school begins.  

     

Since it is almost Christmas and one of my favorite stories, "The Christmas Truce" is being memorialized as happening one century ago, I couldn't help but think of an answer for him tonight.  I will recount the story tomorrow he has heard many times since he was a little boy.  But this time, I will say that I think he would have been like one of those young soldiers in World War I on December 24, 1914, on a Belgium battlefield.  He is 18 years old now, and likely the same age as many of those young soldiers on that night who decided to have peace, instead of fight--to play soccer, sing, and learn to have new friends.  Yes, I feel sure he would have serenaded his enemies with carols, and placed a candlelit Christmas tree on the battlefield on that Christmas Eve one hundred years ago.  He knows in a profound way--even more than a few months ago-- that all people are so very similar.  We all want to have a home, be loved, laugh loud, and discover and create new things.   

     The famous Christmas truce story that happened one hundred years ago tonight likely occurred because of one individual's idea--a young German soldier who wanted to celebrate Christmas instead of sitting in a freezing foxhole fighting a war.  A person or experience from his past influenced an unknown soldier to desire peace, and to rally others to instigate change.

It made me think that talking with people who may have different ideas or backgrounds than us, being willing to go across town or even across the street to meet someone new is so vitally important. It is never insignificant or trivial to extend oneself--to embrace another, to love in unexpected ways. Giving our children, in any way we can, a broadening scope of neighbors and others around us could be that particular experience that someday, somehow could be the impetus to bridge cultures. Perhaps it could even stop a battle--maybe a war.   

Whoever you are, Unknown German Soldier, who was fighting on Christmas Eve on that biting, wintry night, thank you. You might not have stopped WWI, but you brought to us one of my favorite Christmas stories. You transformed the world for one night, and in some ways, you have changed it for one hundred years ago--every time someone tells your story.

 And to my own wonderful son, I will try to keep fostering understanding and love for all peoples.  Because when we know and really grasp that belief, we can never really be the same again--even long after Christmas.  

A new holiday to celebrate--National Qatar Day!

For a new expat in this country, it has been tremendous fun to see the excitement stirring here in the last few weeks for National Qatar Day.  It is a holiday that celebrates the unification and independence of the new nation of Qatar.  Buildings and homes are draped with huge flags, children are dressed as soldiers or in the colors of the flag, which are maroon and white.  There have been exhibits, presentation, parties, parades, fairs, and fireworks for a couple of weeks as a drumroll for the celebration on December18.

Interestingly enough, if you venture to the mall or expat compounds, you can even view Christmas trees and lights intermingled with the Qatar National Day festivities.   Indeed, it has been a very merry interlude before we celebrate Christmas in Qatar.

We went to a fair one night to view the traditions and culture of Qatar. Falconry is a huge sport in the Gulf.  The falcon's cage was in the little hut covered with hay.  Of course, all the little boys wanted to climb in.

We are listening to the translator tell us about the ancient tradition of falconry.  The old falconer to the right is telling how for centuries people have hunted with falcons.  They are indeed prized birds, and sometimes can fetch up to tens of thousands of dollars.

Young boys in our neighborhood who are playing soccer in front of this mosque, all of them barefoot.  Everyone has been in a celebratory mood--lots of food, sports, parades, and being with family and friends.

Almost every child is clothed in maroon and white, just like the Qatari flag.  These children are walking around the fair with a traditional Bedouin tent in the background

A two-story high flag hung on a pre-school--two stories high.  The Qatari flag is ubiquitous in this country in the last weeks.  Today I saw cranes ten stories high with the Qatari flag waving boldly in the faint breeze.  

A home wrapped with Qatar flags--showing great pride in their nation.

One of the favorite pastimes in Qatar--going to the camel race track (another post that is coming up).  There were flags and banners everywhere at the track.

At Ikea today with Qatar flags everywhere.

A Qatar flag in front of the grocery store today.

The Emir's picture is everywhere--on posters, cars, clothes, banners.

A Bedouin tent that was on display where men were listening to music, drinking coffee, and socializing.

My high school son dressed up for Qatar National Day.  

We waited in line at the fair about 45 minutes for the Qatari version of french fries.  They slice one potato with one curly cut, fry it on a stick, and put whatever condiment you desire.  Z. and P. anxious to try some Qatari fair food.

E. with his friends at school who are dressed up in their country's apparel.  The t-shirt was given to E. when he was doing archery at the fair the night before.   All the kids were encouraged to dress up in Qatar dress.  We tried our best to be patriotic to the country we are living in now.

A pearl boat representing Qatar's economy before oil was discovered.

 I heard a lot of Americans say National Qatar Day was the 4th of July on steroids.  We ended the day up on a rooftop to see a fireworks extravaganza.  I must say the Qatari enthusiasm, pride, excitement, and love for their country was evident everywhere.  You should come next year to see for yourself!