Wedding Bells - My Heart Swells

Yipee! It is almost here. I just want to thank Ben and Mary for giving us an excuse to come home for a few days. It is so nice of you two to get married so we can come home and see all of our loved ones, hold our grandsons, and marvel at the fall colors and nippy temperatures! Just a warning: if you see me in Utah in the next two weeks, I will probably have one of my grandsons attached to me, so don't count on my undivided attention. That Kimball and that Thomas have been tempting me for three months over Skype. I have been able to see them grow via the web cam, but seeing and squishing are two very different things. I'm ready for a little hugging, squeezing, and rocking time that all grandmas deserve. I might even make my grown-up kids endure some as well. Abbey has had to carry the load for three months. So watch out Jared, Kristy, Ben and Mary: your mom is starved for some cuddling!

Counting the Days

Hello and welcome to the Kearney Countdown. We are down to only three days before we leave Doha for ten days to go home for Ben and Mary's wedding! Wednesday is the big day for us, and we are anxious to be on our way. It is easy to get impatient with the inconveniences of Qatar right now. It takes soooo long to get groceries or take Abbey to school or even wait at a light. It will be heavenly to live our convenient life in Bountiful, even if it is only for a short time.

I'm not saying that these last three months have been horrible. They just haven't been all that convenient. If you can imagine living in the same little town in Utah for 18 years, imagine how set in our ways Brett and I have become. I guess, in all honesty, this move has helped us appreciate the small and large ruts we have established in our life road back home. The word "rut" has always seemed to have a negative connotation, and I think we felt a little stuck in our ruts, but moving to Doha has given new meaning to the word. The well-worn ruts now have become valuable commodities that we can think of when we can't find cupcake papers or ground cinnamon on the grocery store shelf.

Human nature is uncomfortable with change, and we really changed things up with our decision to move to the Middle East. I think we have been up to the challenge, and at the same time, grateful for the new perspective. We have grown closer to each other - yesterday Brett, Abbey, and I spent 20 minutes trying to remember the words to "There's A Hole in Your Bucket," and I taught Abbey how to stitch up her ripped skirt. Yes, these are things we should have been doing in our lovely home in Bountiful, but we had let the demands of the world creep in a little too much to prioritize sometimes. By moving to Doha, it is almost as if we have been able to shut out the loud voice of "have to" and turn up the voice of "get to" or "want to." So as we create new ruts in a very dusty landscape here, I am picking those ruts more selectively and letting the sand give us the ability to be more flexible and fluid as we travel this new adventure.

Lost In Translation?

Whenever I have visited my friend Joy at her compound outside of Doha I have noticed how courteous and happy the guards at the entrance are. They are all African men, and their English is excellent and easy to understand, which is nice for a newcomer to Qatar. It is also a bright spot in my day filled with impatient drivers and busy traffic. One time when I visited Joy the guard asked for my I.D., asked where I was going, and had me sign in as a visitor. Then with his enormous smile he said, "Have a blessed day." What a lift I felt immediately!

Well, yesterday I went to a triple baby shower at Joy's house for three women in our ward. When we got up to the gate the guard said in his most appealing African accent, "Don't tell me mum . . . you women are going to the baby washing." We were silent as we let that sink in, then answered, "Yes, exactly. That is where we are going." I smiled as I realized the complexity of language and how the guard had translated the phrase almost perfectly, but the slight meaning nuisances made the translation one of the best parts of my day.

Did You Know We Are Celebrities?

A couple of weeks ago we went to Al Khorr, which is an old fishing pearl town north of Doha. They have a nice corniche with a park and a wharf with the old fishing dhows. The minute we stepped out of the car at the park, we could tell we weren't going to have a nice relaxing walk on the beach. Because it was Eid, all the workers, who are men from all the surrounding countries here without their families, were enjoying their time off at the beach. Now you wouldn't think that would be a problem, but we could instantly sense their surprise at seeing three starkly white westerners there. We were, and I'm not exaggerating, the only white people on the whole corniche. The women who were there were either Arabic or Indian, but there were only a few of those and even fewer children. To make matters worse, Brett, Abbey, and I had all worn clothes with very bright colors, standing out even more against our pale skin and light hair.

We proceeded down the beach, trying to enjoy the beautiful view. The wind was blowing a lot that day, and the waves were bouncing up against the cement barriers with impressive force. There were sail boats lazily gliding out around the bay, and the pearl dhows could be seen in the distance at the wharf. There were even a few swimmers braving the salty turquoise water. It would have been paradise if it weren't for the stares, the men nudging each other and pointing to us, and the crowds gathered to discuss our movements. We started to get more uncomfortable with each step. I began to think about how celebrities feel being stalked by paparazzi. Just as that thought entered my head, a group of three men approached Brett, and one of them said, "Excuse me sir, can I take picture." At first Brett thought that they wanted him to take a picture of the three of them, but then we realized they wanted a picture of us, then specifically a picture of Abbey with them. Brett agreed, but stuck next to Abbey's side like glue. I could see the discomfort and confusion on Abbey's face as these men from Indonesia jockeyed to stand next to her. I ended up taking a picture of them too, just to make it a little more reciprocal.

As we walked away, I asked Abbey if she was okay. She wasn't. Abbey said she felt weird. I tried to lighten it a little by telling her this is how Hannah Montana must feel with all the people flocking to see her and take pictures of her, but Abbey was having none of that. She said, "Well, I'm not Hannah Montana." We walked a few more steps and three other men asked to take our picture. These three were from Malaysia. They all were very nice and had big smiles on their faces, so we couldn't refuse their requests. Maybe we should have. It wasn't long before Abbey asked us if we could go. We all were feeling pretty conspicuous, so the relaxing afternoon never materialized. We walked back to the car and left. On the way we saw some Indian families with the women and children all dressed in their traditional saris and silks. One little girl waved at us. She was so cute with her third eye in the middle of her forehead, so Brett asked her mother if we could take her picture. She refused. Interesting and ironic.

So we had our fifteen minutes of fame on a beach in Qatar. Notoriety isn't all that it is cracked up to be. I guess we now know why Hannah Montana chooses to keep her real identity a secret. Maybe we will be shopping for some dark wigs, a thobe and abayas pretty soon, just so we blend in a little more!

Why Does Brett Have a Soapy Flip Flop?

I might have mentioned this before, but when we flew to Doha in August a big shampoo bottle leaked in our duffel bag and ruined a few items, including Brett's dress shoes. One item that the shampoo continues to leave its mark on is Brett's flip flop - not both flip flops, just one. I guess the one flip flop got saturated with shampoo during the trip, so now, every time Brett goes to the swimming pool his one shoe comes home looking foamy and rabid. It has given us some needed laughs, so I thought I would share it. We have tried to talk Brett into getting some new pool trekkers, but I think he likes all the jokes Abbey and I make about how he will always have at least one really clean foot. I wonder if the other flip flop gets jealous of all those luxurious bubbles. Check out those nice legs too! All the other grandpas are jealous of those beauties.

A New Friend in Doha

Last week a woman posted a comment on my blog about how she had been looking for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Doha for months. Someone pointed her in the direction of my blog, and we connected via email. Last Friday she and her daughter went to church with us. It was so good to help someone. It was even better meeting Juliana and Vivian. When she sent me a photograph of herself so we would know her when we went to pick her up, I felt like I had met her before. She seemed familiar. When we finally met I told her that. She laughed and said she had felt the same when she saw my blog photo. How could we know each other? She is from Brazil, born of Japanese parents, while I am from the United States, born of Canadian and German parents. I think there are common parents we descend from though, which might be why there is some eternal connection.

When we first came to Doha we went two weeks without going to church because of the travel and the Sabbath being on Friday here. We were definitely eager to be with the saints and partake of the sacrament by the time we went to the villa for church. As I thought of Juliana waiting for months to partake of the sacrament and the spiritual strength of church, I just ached for her. The power and strength of the Gospel are such gifts. Thanks for reminding me not to take that for granted Juliana, and thanks for letting us help someone here in Doha. It means so much to me.

Kid Questions Part II

Yesterday morning during breakfast Abbey asked, "Dad, do frogs eat cheese?" What could he say? Who knows. Maybe google knows. I had to smile at the thought process that brought that question from Abbey's lips. I would love to dive into her mind some time and swim through the sparkles of thought that jump from one topic to another until leap-frogging to a creative question or solution. It makes me realize how many statements don't make their way out into the open where adults can smile or puzzle over and make her blush.

I remember one day when Ben was two he found a small black sequin on the floor and carried it around for hours gazing at it in wonder. Finally, as if a light bulb had lit up over his head, he said, "Mom, I know what this is. It's a mouse record!" (Of course those were the days before CD's). Instead of asking me what the item was, he studied it and thought for quite some time until he made sense of an unknown object. I wish I could have that kind of patience and creativity all at once.

Knitting As Restitution

The other day I read in the newspaper that an 89 year old woman in Great Britain was facing criminal charges because she went on a rampage and slashed car tires one night. Since the fateful evening she has been placed in a care center because of her declining health. The magistrate was at a loss about what to do with her, so he decided, since she wasn't likely to be a repeat offender because of her health and her age, that he would sentence her to knit a few sweaters as punishment for her criminal activity.

Okay, so here is what is going through my mind since reading such an odd article: What made her so crazed and upset that she would slash a bunch of tires? Was it a random selection of tires, or did she actually know the owners of the cars and deliberately vandalized specific ones? Was she so upset with the neighborhood of teenage hoodlums squealing their hot rods up and down her street that she lost it, grabbed her knitting needles, and sunk them deep into the offending tires with her superhuman adrenaline-enhanced grandma strength? Maybe she is one of those sweet old women who has never raised her voice EVER and had had a lifetime of being pushed around, so she displaced her pent up resentment on a bunch of innocent cars at the supermarket.

Then there is the judge. Was this sentence for his benefit or hers? Knowing she couldn't knit, did he really want to torture her in her last years on this earth and force her to master the yarn craft? Or did he just want some new winter wear in time for the holidays? Filling in all the holes of this story could go on forever. What possibilities come to your mind?