The Rememberer

Elias getting his Eagle Scout award last week here in Doha. I was tremendously struck as I looked out into that audience in Doha of all the people, visible and not, who helped him get this award. Many communities interlinked in my mind as I thought of all his mentors whom he has loved and love him.

Definition of a "rememberer": Someone who belongs to a community or has been a part of several or many communities. All those people of the past are pressed into the rememberer's heart--bonds they will never let shrivel and die. The simple unraveling of the memories of people, known and connected, bring comfort and elation. The rememberer, above all, is supremely grateful to be a part of a community, a neighborhood, a family because it gives the opportunity to connect and love even more. Every person is important to the rememberer.

Often times people will ask me what it is like to have a child with autism. They are curious and I want to answer their question as succinctly as possible. The autism journey is individual and personal--no child with autism, of course, is like the next one. But for me, if I could say what I have learned most is: I am blessed to live with a "rememberer." Elias absolutely loves people. The mere mention of anyone who is in his memory bank brings him infinite pleasure and joy. He loves without conditions and boundaries.

Relationships and people are his euphorias. It fuels him to the top to see and visit those whom he loves. Furthermore, he knows their birthdays and talks about the impact they have had on his life. He will even ask about your grandfather's birthday and if he fought in WW2 or the Korean War. He is not only curious about you but he wants to know extensive facts about your family. If no one else is interested in your family history, you can depend on him to be. There are hundreds and hundreds of people in his head swirling around whom he has loved, and he never lets them vanish. Never. I know because I hear the reflective unfolding of his memory bank daily.

When you are an expat who has lived in the Middle East for four-plus years, there is a constant flow of people coming and going in your life. It is ever stretching, transforming. As I say, "You never know how long someone will be on your island." In sometimes brief interludes of time, you try to comprehend and grasp what you are supposed to learn from those people who are placed on the island with you. For most people, we relinquish many relationships because of time and distance. But not for him. No matter how long you have been on his island, he will remember and love you.

This past summer we went to St. Louis for a wedding. We raised our children there for many years so I tried to see as many people as possible. We went back to our old neighborhood and gazed at the home where we had all grown up. Elias pleaded to go to various neighbor's homes to visit them. He wanted to knock on every door and greet them. At first, I resisted. We didn't have that much time. There were events to attend and prepare for. But I agreed to let him walk around, knocking on doors, to see the faces from his old community, his old space of feeling loved.

I was a little ashamed of myself that I was initially hesitant about his request. Everyone wanted to see him, his growth, and the pure pleasure he had in seeing them. Again, I was reminded of the importance of the community I had loved and what was actually still very much a part of me. No matter which community I reside in, he teaches me to be an intentional rememberer--to try the best I can to bind and connect all those people I have loved. He is a benediction and a blessing to me every day.

Thanks for all the multitudes of communities in our pocket. Every one of you are remembered . . . and loved.

Some of the workers in our compound from Bangladesh and the Philippines who happened to be here on the day of his award. The Philippine man had been a Boy Scout in the Philippines and had even gone to the Philippine National Jamboree in the 1990's.

Never forget old friends...

Reunions in St. Louis

The old childhood friend who we found at the door in St. Louis. 

We went to visit beloved Dorothy who has loved and supported him all his life.

Janet, a friend, and teacher, who takes the time to teach Elias many things. In this picture, she is teaching him to play the game of Splendor.

At an art barn in the Tetons where Elias and I teach art to teenage boys. I am beyond grateful for the given gifts Elias's communities have given him.

Here in Doha making bubbles for a child here at the school where we teach art 

A community of people who love us and we love them here in Doha--at a school for children with disabilities. They are our people.

And of course, the community of people as in Where the Wild Things Are when "Max the kind of all wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all." That is the best kind of remembering... 

Elias' Art: Getting ready for his big exhibit

Art is something you breathe with a different kind of happiness.  --Anni Albers

The incredible Anny Ku from Kaohsiung, Taiwan who has lovingly, patiently taught Elias and me so much about art the past two years. She is a very gifted artist who paints scenes from all over the world, but mostly about Qatar where she has lived for 13 years. Anny Ku Artworks

Sometimes I wonder now what my life would be like if autism had not come on my path. But perhaps, the most important questions are, "Who are the people I would never have met?" So many mentors have almost magically appeared. Elias's first art teacher, Gabriel Deerman, saw more than a 12-year-old boy with autism in 2014 when Elias entered his class. Instead, he saw a boy who desperately wanted to create and connect. Perhaps, also, he saw a new expat mom who needed some sore assistance too. Blog about Creative Connections Since that time, art has gathered friends and brought purpose to a young boy (and a mom) over some difficult bridges. As I have said before, autism and adolescence are not an easy mix. The past four years have been more tranquil and joyful than, I believe, they otherwise would have been without creating art together.

Art has increased his self-confidence, purpose, and curiosity. Elias is willing to try any medium, any project. This summer he took up wood carving--with some kind mentorship.  He is always pushing to the next horizon with me panting, trailing behind. Ha! If I am honest, and I try to be, I know he has brought me, with his art, to other places and people I would have never seen. I know better now how to wait for the unfolding process of not only art but of life itself. I am more patient with the improvision--not expecting immediate results.

Indeed, there is a power and enfolding when we do art. We see again as children, in the splendor of all colors and textures. We again believe, if we ever forgot, that anything is possible. Every time we do a project, we create something new that has never been known before. We are reborn again and again--feeling the exhilaration and renewal of creating. We talk, answer questions to each other. Life and the world makes more sense.

Elias's art has reminded me that yes, he, as a kid with autism, has boundless possibilities. 

Doing work with Adell, curator of exhibits at the Fire Station in Gallery, who is helping Elias have an exhibit. If you live in Doha, you have to go to this place Adell has asked Elias to have his own exhibit this year so we are busily preparing and painting. Initially, I thought it would be too much for him to do an exhibit by himself--maybe share the spotlight? But Adell insisted that he wanted Elias to do a solo exhibit.

Here are are some older paintings from a few years ago. But just a sneak peek of a few that will be in his exhibit. We have a busy year ahead, for sure! 

First exhibit in May 2015 here in Doha at the Malthaf Museum. Encouragement of his first art teacher, Gabriel Deerman

He Lon Bay, Vietnam Painting a place we visited for Christmas three years ago with Seurat style dot painting. Questions as you paint, "Do you remember how big the mountains were? Do you remember the light shining in the ocean in the morning? Do you remember the caves in the mountains?

Qatar desert. Painting with texture and sand 

Qatar desert Questions: Tell me why you like living in Qatar. Let's learn about the animals that live there. What would it be like to journey in the desert long ago? 

Tossing Waves Questions: What does it look like under the water? Let's go and see some pictures. What colors and light are under the water? How is global warming affecting the ocean?

Beach Swirls--painting about 50 different small pictures turn into a mosaic. Lots of small pictures make the whole. Elias and I talk a lot when we paint--telling stories and asking questions. With the conversation and the image in front of him, he begins to understand and see the world in a deeper, more detailed way. For example, asking "Do people have a lot of parts in them? Do you have a lot of pieces and parts in you?"

Idaho/Utah Fall Aspen Trees
Asking questions like, "Did you know that the aspen trees feed and give nourishment to each other under the ground? They help each other to stand. Elias and I never tire of painting aspen trees, the trees that flutter in the wind.

A Raven--With Printmaking, done with his first teacher, Gabriel Deerman
Printmaking is always spontaneous. You watch and discover what appears on the page. A lot like life. We talk about that too.

Painting a commissioned painting for a friend in Utah

Keith Merkely with Elias in our "home" gallery."

Some fun ways Annie taught Elias how to mix various techniques

"Teton Spring"--A commissioned painting that now hangs in Utah

"All the Fruit to hold"

Books: The Joy in the Find

"The best moments in reading are when you come across something--a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things--which you had thought special and particular to you. Now here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. and it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours."  --Alan Brooks

Some special summer days for me this summer were going to a book sale in Springville, Utah. Every week 50,000 books were delivered to a warehouse, and the manager has a couple of sales during the year. I have found a wonderful library in Victor, Idaho that sells many of its books every summer. You give a donation what you think works for you. My sister lives in Ithaca, NY, and they have a huge book sale every year that my parents would often go to. My mom, now almost 80, is taking the trip to Ithaca, NY from Utah this fall--always in search of another book. I guess for my family it is a treasure hunt.

So I guess I should be a satisfied enough parent. I agree with Anna Quinlin: "I would be the most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves." After moving one daughter this summer to her own apartment, she showed me her bulging, cherished books. Last night I saw her wave her hands with glee and joy, almost dancing, as we saw her new bookshelves-- the collection she has been adding to since she was a little girl. Another daughter and her husband recently finished a DIY project of making a wall of bookshelves for their evergrowing library. My sons love the chase of a good book or a thoughtful talk (even with a stranger) about a book.

We come from a long line of book lovers. My sister and I had a library in our bedroom when we were kids where the neighborhood kids could check out books. We charged a nickel if the book was overdue--more than two weeks (I don't remember collecting much change). Now, as I look back, I can't believe my mom allowed all the neighborhood kids to tromp through our house and halls to peruse our books. I can see me in mind as a nine or ten-year-old kid freely offering my very high and refined literary recommendations to those who cared to listen. Ha! Since it was summer and there were no libraries around, our family's collection was shared. I guess we were all a little bored, but we did voyage into our literary worlds.

I take pride in being Icelandic and their Christmas Eve holiday of Jolabokaflod--when everyone gives books to one another for gifts and you read all night together with a cup of cocoa. Books are the dreams, sermons, stories, and enchantment we hold in our hands. They enfold our curiosity, imagination.  We are never the same again--just like when we meet people who etch on our minds and hearts.

Dallin and Kristen Oaks have said, "Find out what hobbies your ancestors had. Discover how you are like them. What did they enjoy doing, reading, learning about? Understand the connections of how you are bonded to ancestors. This summer I was reminded of our connection to books as a family.  I am told one of my grandmothers in the 1920s read every book in the Springville, Utah library. There have been times in my life when I had little money, but I always seemed to have enough for a new book. 

This summer I bought a plethora of books--children's books, history, classics, cookbooks, field books, poetry, art, books on religion. Most of them cost almost nothing since I go to special sales in warehouses, garage sales, or libraries. I love the hunt or finding a treasure to give to someone else. 

But perhaps one of the most fun experiments of the summer was bringing the columned piles of books out for some family gatherings. Conversations grew deeper, eyes became direct and steady on one another. People listened to the other's comments and insights. Other conversations were more light, with lots of chuckles. As young adults read some of their favorite children's books alone or to a child, memories started to return to magical moments when fairy tales could be like real life--the beginnings of when you began to understand the forces between evil and good. 

The greatest indication of their joy was there were no cell phones: everyone just wanted to revel in a book. We were all a little closer that night--going places we otherwise would not have known. Everyone just wanted to talk, learn, and laugh--not look at a screen.

It might be 2018, but I have faith in the power of a book. 

My mom and sister learning about our hometown with a book we bought--so much entertainment for a mere $1.We all bought a pile and I pulled them out for a family dinner. Look at some of the responses, connections, and bonds. Priceless.

My sister and nephew sharing moments with their books I gave them. It was fun to give books out that I had bought for a dollar or less....

One of the reasons I loved reading books to my children was that I had them next to me, close skin to skin--even heart to heart.  I could see their enthralled eyes of wonder, and they could hear the lilt of my voice.

This World War 2 book sparked a steady conversation for more than an hour. 

My niece enjoying reading her old favorites.

Peter and Sarah with books that reminded them being cuddled with a book.

Enjoying time together with books...

Sarah enthralling her cousins.

Brothers, my nephews enraptured.

Smiles and laughs with a book. Moments to remember...

My nephew reading to his niece. No one could get enough books that night and all the days and nights we were together. 

Traveling Through Time in a Day

 For time is told also by life. As some depart, others come. The hand opened in farewell remains open in welcome.  And time that is told by death and birth is held and redeemed by love, which is always present. Time then is told by love's losses, and by the coming of love, and by love continuing in gratitude for what is lost. The great question . . . is not if we have loved enough, but if (we) have been grateful for love received and given. 
                                                    --Wendell Berry 

Thinking of Matthias today....

Today was one of those days when the past, present, and future run together like a flowing river. I had an infant son die who would have been 15 today. I imagine him as a blonde-haired sweaty soccer player who is tender and streaked with independence--a boy who now would be trying to navigate his life. Although I held him for a short time in his brief life as I stroked his golden hair, he has had a significant impact on our family. Life became more precious because we learned that breath is taken away when we cannot predict it will stay with us. A brush of passing time can change us forever.

People speak of angels holding them in trials. The Celtics believed there are "thin places."A blog on: "Thin Places --meaning a small, almost imperceivable space between heaven and earth. Thin places can be in hospital rooms, a sacred space, anywhere. The angels came for me on that day. That is all I can say. The sun continued to shine. I remember my sister saying to me, "How can you be so happy after Matthias died?" For some reason, I was given joy and I took it--with surprising gratitude.

A life that did not breathe long gave blessings, wishes, intentions. His handprints are still there to remind us that others too have invisible losses and perhaps even wounds. Since my husband is a perinatologist (taking care of high-risk births), he has been able to console others in a hospital room when their gift unexpectedly did not stay. He can speak with authentic reality for he has known their pain. I have had hallowed conversations with both strangers and friends. Matthias' life has given us an opportunity to hopefully bless and bond with others--all because he lived. Who would suspect a small interlude of life could offer so many new understandings?

I do not seek hard times and I cringe and wince when others have to face their own. Yet, I know that I (we) are stronger when we allow the blows to cause us to move farther down the river. If, instead, we choose not to get stuck, but to keep going, moving. The answer is to not be engulfed in the flurries and eddies that would push us down but to hope. 

Today I am grateful for a little babe whose influence I feel often. Although he lingered for a few hours, he has been a gift that has kept giving to many people. Someday when I meet him again I hope he will be pleased: that I not only loved him but I was tremendously grateful he ever came. Every speck of time encountered with another life is infinitely beautiful. Ultimately, the thing that really matters is what we became with the gift that was so freely offered. 

A picture a friend gave me. It has reminded me that trials make us grow. And that is the big purpose anyways.

A Non-Muslim's Perspective on Ramadan

Breaking the fast with some Sudanese Muslims in a park in Doha, Qatar
As my son and I walked by many Muslims who were breaking their fast in a park, we were wholeheartedly invited to their Iftar feast (The Iftar feast is when you break your fast every night at sunset with family and friends). My blog from last year that explains Ramadan more: Ramadan 2017

The Sudanese men eat together, while the women eat a short distance away. 

As a non-Muslim living in a Muslim country for almost four years, I must say Ramadan is my favorite time to be in the Middle East. Ramadan, the holy month of fasting and prayer, is observed by Muslims worldwide. It means that from sunrise to sunset, people do not partake of food or drink. Furthermore, they try to study the Quran and pray more. They apologize to people who they might have offended. Cursing, lying, gossiping is not allowed so that peace can come. There is a desire for more reflection and becoming a better person than before they started the 29-30 day fast (depending on when the crescent moon appears). During the 30 days fast, there are increased prayers (salat) and recitation of the Quran. Any good deeds or charitable giving is considered to give you more blessings during Ramadan.

It is sweltering hot in Qatar. I tried to fast, but I could not do it without drinking water. Although I have fasted one day a month all my life in my faith, it is altogether different for one month straight. I did not get up early in the morning before sunrise to have suher (the small breakfast before you start your fast. I would just fast the entire day. And I found myself looking at my watch a lot!

A few observations about Ramadan from a non-Muslim:

1) I noticed an intentional change in my Muslim friends. They told me that as they fasted and used more self-discipline in their life, they remembered the unfortunate more. Their pangs of hunger or parched throat caused them to understand those around the world who have no food or water. One Egyptian friend told me, "I remember that when I see someone who is poorer or more unfortunate than me, I do not look them up and down. I remember we are the same. There is no difference between me who has more education and opportunities than someone who does not. Any of my suffering to fast helps me to understand others more."

2) The first night of Ramadan is the holiest one of the year. With the small crescent moon to start the fast, every night the moon shows more light. The point of Ramadan is to grow light, as the moon. That is why everywhere there are lanterns, candles, pictures of moons and stars.  Everyone wants to gather more light inside of them. I found myself looking at the moon too and watching as it has enlarged--a sign to glean more light. Ramadan is supposed to be a time to sequester oneself from the world, finding more inner light.

Decorations in front of people's homes abound everywhere of lanterns and moons.

There are about 50 of these huge light panels in the Katara in Qatar. The beautiful light panels that you go through in your car remind me of what it says in the Quran that is believed to happen during Ramadan: all the gates of paradise are swung wide open. 

3) Perhaps my most profound emotion as an observer of the Muslim faith is to have a front row seat to remarkable self-restraint. Their examples move me to be to want to be better. Their generosity of spirit that seems to hold no bounds. Their humble and unswerving desire to be more holy inspires me. 

A Bangladeshi friend and worker in my compound whose job it is to water plants and sparsely covered grass
Imagine the self-restraint needed to water all day long with a long hose and not drink any of the water. 

4) Ramadan is not exclusively a solo experience, although it invites more personal prayer and reflection. It is for children too. Although you are not supposed to fast until you reach puberty, children enjoy the sense of newness around them--new clothes, the festive dinners to celebrate the breaking of the fast, and doing charitable deeds for others.

My husband and friends at the hospital where the children handed out treats to the health-care workers.

Since I teach art at a school with disabilities, I decided to help them make Ramadan banners. In Arabic, it says, Ramadan Kareem--meaning "May your Ramadan be blessed."

One of the proud students with his Ramadan banner.

5) The next few pictures are at the newly built mosque in Education City in Doha--a magnificent place of great workmanship and peace. People came from different faiths to feed 1,200 workers for their Iftar meal. Christians and a few Muslims from all over the world wanted to give their time to those who were fasting. 

Working together to get 1,200 meals served very quickly.

Working together with strangers who became friends... The spirit of generosity and kindness permeated the mosque with people from all over the world. The overarching feeling was that we are all God's children.

There is something very moving when you give someone water when they have been fasting all day in scorching heat. Here are my husband, Elias, and a friend giving free water to the workers in Qatar from Africa and some parts of Asia. Honestly, since it was 11 6 degrees that day, I couldn't help but have a few tears come as I watched the Muslims receive their long-awaited water. It is a scene I will never forget. One must always find ways to give water.

We who are not Muslims had the most profound respect for our Muslim friends. They are some moments I will not soon forget. 

A Nigerian Christian man and a Sudanese Muslim greet the workers who are lining up to receive water and dates before they receive their meal. 

The workers resting before their prayers.

Submissive and heartfelt prayers are given before the workers received their meals. A reverence and peace were felt by all--no matter your religion or nationality.