The Call to Prayer

Just outside Abbey's bedroom window, across the street, there is a mosque. In fact, there are two mosques that can be seen from her window (look closely to the left in the photo below to see the second minaret). As I write this I am listening to the call to prayer that comes from the loud speaker mounted on the minaret (tower, or the literal translation is lighthouse). This call to prayer is sounded six times a day, and during Ramadan, not only are there LONGER calls to prayer, but also angry sounding sermons or readings of the Qurán that go on for over an hour. I'm sure if I understood Arabic it wouldn't sound like an anger-filled political speech, but until I master their language, the Muslim call to prayer is pretty grating on my nerves. I wonder if any Muslims are annoyed by the volume level and the tone of the continuous neighborhood moaning.

Even if I were part of Islam I think I would be saddened by the excruciating noise coming from an electronic device that seems to give the surrounding neighborhood no choice but to be force fed Islamic doctrine, and out of tune distorted chants. I would be embarrassed by the lack of dignity and respect. Being western, my worship has always been more private, more internal, more secluded from the eyes of the common man. Last night, though, as we were driving to an Iftar at sundown, there, next to a tire souq, was an indoor/outdoor mosque squished up against another souq. Just as we passed, men were taking their places on very dusty,filthy rugs and bowing down for prayer. It was all I could do to keep myself from snapping a photo to prove what I was seeing, but even that dirty area next to the busy street was someone's place to pray, and I couldn't disturb it, even if it was a starkly ironic setting.

I heard someone say that one reason many mosques have electronic loudspeakers is so that the women, who do not go to the mosques to pray like the men, can hear the service and be edified while staying in the seclusion of their homes. (Lucky them!) I also heard that the reason why women are not allowed in the mosques with men is because the men could not handle kneeling down behind a woman - it would be too distracting, too sensual for a man to concentrate on spiritual things when faced with a female backside. Hmmmmm . . . . . . I could think of some solutions to that, but I probably shouldn't share those here.

Well, I will continue to puzzle over the religion of this region and try to increase my respect and understanding for it. A few weeks ago, while in the very large "hypermarket" called Lu Lu's, a Muslim man presented me with my own English copy of the Qurán. I was surprised but thanked him for his gift. I have been interested to read a few passages and find that my interpretation of the written word is much different than what the modern practices are. I guess, to me, it only reinforces my gratitude for a true and living prophet on the earth today and continued revelation, both personal and global. I will continue to hear the loudspeaker outside our villa calling people to prayer, but what sends me to my knees each day is an internal, more powerful desire to speak and listen to my Heavenly Father. He is the reason I kneel each day, not a device on a tower.

Baking For Comfort

I missed my mom today and everything about home. Doha is still in the triple digits with 76% humidity, so everything about our Utah home seems extra wonderful. As I stood outside the school today waiting for Abbey, my elbows began to drip with sweat - gross, huh! It was easy to start pining away for the crisp fall days full of juicy Utah peaches and crunchy apples at the fruit stands.

So to bring some of Utah to my kitchen, I broke out the Grandma Giggey bread recipe and baked this beautiful bread and these delectable cinnamon rolls. I had invited my visiting teaching ladies over for lunch so we could celebrate our birthday month (yes, we are all September babies), so we enjoyed an afternoon of pasta salad, warm bread, cucumber/cream cheese crackers, and cinnamon rolls. The villa smelled like home! Thanks, Mom, for teaching me how to make delicious bread and yummy, sticky cinnamon rolls that have those stretchy sugary, buttery strings when I take them off the pan. I still miss you and everything Utah, but eating away the homesickness is much more enjoyable than sweating it off!

Yes, My Husband Is An Artist

I'm really proud of Brett who has been painting again. It makes him so happy, so that makes me so happy. He has just applied to be in the VCUQatar Faculty Art Exhibit, so he has been working furiously. Here is his latest painting, and I think it is wonderful. He used a photograph that was taken by my friend Tish at the fruit and vegetable souq here in Qatar. This little Arabic man is the perfect subject to paint - full of character and depth. This picture does not do the painting justice, because the palette strokes make me want to reach out and touch them. I hope you enjoy "Souq" as much as I do!

What Is It Like to Live in a Muslim Country During Ramadan?

• On the way home from work the other day, just as the sun was setting, Brett and Byrad were stopped by the police. Thinking it was a security check, they were surprised when the police officer handed them some dates and water in a very fancy, red bag - doing all they can to help prevent road rage in all those Muslims out driving with low blood sugar at sundown. Drunk driving isn't a factor on Doha's highways, but temperaments can get even more aggressive than usual when you run into a Muslim (he would do the running into part) who is on his 25th straight day of fasting.




• The malls are filled with "Ramadan Kareem" decorations, complete with crescent moons and stars all over the place - symbols of the faith of Islam. Last night Brett and I were at the largest mall in Doha and found masses of people admiring and taking pictures of a cultural display that had automatronic figures - Arabic men on camels or lounging on shiny pillows in tents and veiled women preforming various laborious tasks in a desert setting. It was as if Disneyland had turned Arabic. The hordes of people taking pictures were incredible. These pictures were taken by my friend Darla (included here with her permission), but had I had my camera, I would have been taking pictures to prove the unbelievable rather than out of admiration.




• It is difficult to plan around the no eating or drinking rules during day light hours. The other day I picked up Abbey from school and she told me she felt like she was having a low blood sugar. She quickly unzipped her lunch bag and began eating. When I reminded her about Ramadan Abbey's eyes got big and round. She was mortified and quickly covered her mouth and ducked down. In reality, children are exempt from the rule, so technically she could have eaten, but we don't want to take any chances of offending anyone.

So there you have some of my observations of this year's Ramadan. We are only two weeks into it, and I already feel deprived - and I'm not even fasting, except on Fast Fridays that is.

First Day of School: Third Grade

We all made it through the first week of school! Getting up at 5:30 AM cured us of any lingering jet lag, so that has been a good thing. It also cured Abigail of any problems of being able to fall asleep that she was having. So we are off and running. Brett too has been pretty busy with new classes and new students. It is a good thing he likes his job so much. Darn it, I forgot to take a picture of him in his new school clothes!

Abbey's teacher Mrs. Errico seems very organized, and that is such a blessing. When I walked Abbey to class that first day, she was right there meeting each student and helping them feel comfortable. She asked me a few questions about who would be picking Abbey up and other procedures. She even wrote down my answers. I really appreciated that. Dropping your child off on her first day of school gets a little more emotional and worrisome when you do it in a foreign country.

Abbey quickly found her name card at her table and sat down. Her name was printed on one side of the name card and then written in cursive on the other. It made me remember the joys of third grade, especially being able to learn how to write in cursive. I've never been an artist, but handwriting has always been my thing. Abbey, on the other hand, is not looking forward to that part. I guess she leans more towards her dad in that way. He had to take remedial handwriting during recess and still talks about that scarring experience.

With the start of another school year, as always, I have been feeling a little melancholy about my baby growing up. It is always a time for moms to mark the passing of time and long for the less complex baby days with warm snuggles and rocking chair closeness.

Abigail further illustrated her race to grow up later in the week when we were driving home from the store. I was singing one of my favorite songs "You Are My Sunshine" to her to help keep my sanity as we dodged the random crazed Land Cruiser on the roads of Doha. This song has always been my Abbey song, and I have often changed the words while singing it, putting in lines like, "You are my Abbey, and you're a sweetheart. I love you more than you can know . . . " I know, very silly, but one of my favorite things to do with my children and grandchildren.

So after I finished singing, I was basking in my great mothering practices that build up my daughter's self-esteem, and went and asked a dangerous question. "So do you like it when I sing to you like that and make up words about you for the song?" Without hesitating, Abbey said in a matter of fact tone, "Yes, but don't ever do it in front of my friends." That kind of stunned me and I got pretty quiet as I thought about how early this was for her to already be embarrassed by her mom. (It also made me think of an old movie with Barbara Stanwyck titled Stella Dallas. Check it out if you haven't seen it.) Just as I was about to get my feelings hurt, Abbey piped up in the back again and said, "If your feelings are hurt, you are the one who asked." She was right, so I had no one to blame but myself for now knowing that my baby no longer looked at me with blind admiration. Sad, I know.

Identities Revealed Volume Two

Okay, there weren't many guessers, but here are the identities of the mysterious ladies:

1. Lynn Millis

2. Lucille Wilkinson

3. Lorna Giggey

4. Rachel Hixson

5. Annie Hixson

6. Kate Smith

7. Ann Smith

8. Michelle Smith

9. Emma Hixson

Thanks for being such good sports, ladies!

Guess Who: Volume Two

Okay, here are some more fun pictures of friends and family posing in the abaya, shayla, and veil. Try and guess who these fun ladies are:

#1

#2

#3

#4

#5

#6

#7

#8

#9

A New Experience

Hey, when Abbey was about three she kept telling us that she wanted to move because she wanted to have a new experience. Well, moving to Doha has certainly given her that -- probably more than she bargained for.

Speaking of new experiences, I did something this summer that I never thought I would: drive a Jet Ski or Sea Doo or Wave Runner, whatever your preferred term is. Yes, at first I was hesitant as Brett coaxed me to get on with him and hold little Kimball between us as I made my maiden voyage. I was hooked and went with him a second time, this time remembering to take off my insulin pump first. It was a good thing I did too, because Brett dumped us. But that didn't dampen my new found enthusiasm. Brett was then able to talk me into driving with him on the back. Before I knew it, I was racing across Jordanelle Dam, daring the bugs to crash into my teeth as I smiled from ear to ear. It was freezing cold that morning, but the exhilaration of moving so fast across the water helped me forget myself for awhile and experience the thrill.

Then a few weeks after that first encounter with combining speed and water, the Reilleys invited us to go wave running with them. I hadn't planned to drive solo, but that is exactly what I ended up doing. Brett was on one wave runner and I was on the other. Then Lori and I went out together. I even got brave and did some "risky" turns. Abbey even ventured on the water with me. No, she didn't drive, but she did hold onto my life vest as I twisted us through the waves.

No, I wouldn't impress anyone but myself with my new skills, but I conquered a fear. Not everyone knows what it is like to have a diabetic reaction, so not many people understood my reluctance to be on a high powered machine in the middle of a large body of water all alone. Exercise and excitement can sometimes bring on these reactions, so my worries were not imaginary. I finally just had to tell myself that the life vest would do its job if the most terrible thing happened.

I'm so glad I let myself be coaxed and cajoled into trying something new. It was pure enjoyment, and the thoughts of those days skimming across the water will go a long way during the heated days of Doha these next few months. The family day we had at Jordanelle will go down in the Kearney History as one of the best. I don't have a photo of Kimball sandwiched in between Brett and me on the jet ski, but that moment is embedded in my memory forever - the first time Kimball and Grandma Dianna rode the wild waves. Thanks for sharing it with me little Kimball boy!