My Dad

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas. We had the most different Christmas we have ever had. After waking up early to sweet Abbey's excitement, we went down to the tree and opened all the surprises from Santa. Then we skyped with Ben and Mary - it was their Christmas Eve. Then the phone rang and I felt a dread I haven't ever felt on Christmas Day before. I knew it was my step-mother calling to tell me that my dad had passed away.

My dad has had Parkinson's Disease for several years now, but the last few years have been quite a trial for him and his wife as he struggled to fight a losing battle. A few weeks ago he told my step-mother that eating wasn't worth it anymore - he was losing the ability to swallow which is one of the last stages of the disease. Then he stopped eating and drinking altogether. The Hospice staff confirmed that his body was shutting down. My step-mother let us all know so we could prepare - if that is even possible. It has been difficult to be so far away, but when we left, my dad and I had said our goodbyes, knowing this would be a possibility. Then on Christmas Eve at about 11 PM Utah time, while my step-mom was holding my dad's hand and reading him scriptures, my dad took his last breaths.

My logical mind can reason with my emotional mind, and I am convinced that this was the best present Dad could have received - to be released from his broken body. I have imagined all the reunions he is having in heaven with my twin brother, my sister, his parents, and two of his own siblings. I could even feel his happiness. Yet, the emotion of losing a parent is more powerful than I ever imagined. It is a wake up call for my mortality, because if my dad dies, my dad who used to have all the answers to my three year old questions, anyone can die, including me. I'm sure everyone comes to this realization when they lose a parent, but even though his frail health should have prepared me for this day, I feel bereft.

So the rest of our Christmas day continued to be uniquely strange. While I was talking with my step-mother and emailing family the news, Brett continued making the crepes, bacon, and biscuits I had started. Then our friends Felicity and Jesse came over and played with Abbey (thanks so much guys) while Brett and I dealt with booking my flight home. In the middle of breakfast the plumber came to fix the sink in one of the bathrooms (Christmas isn't a holiday here). Then I made a batch of rolls and a cake to take to the dinner at Priedeman's we had been invited to. Then when we got home from dinner I wrote an obituary. There seemed no time for sadness.

I'm sure my Dad would have wanted everyone to celebrate the life of our Savior on this day - honoring the one who makes this experience full of hope. And just as Abbey wrote in her message for Grandma to read to Grandpa before he died, I know that I will see my father again. I will see him standing fully erect and dignified as he did before this disease took his perfect posture away. I know we will be able to hug once again. Thanks, Dad, for teaching me about patience, humility, forgiveness, and so many other virtues we all struggle with.

Petra

The next two days of our Jordan trip took us to Petra. If you've seen the Indiana Jones movie The Last Crusade, then you will recognize some of these photos. Petra means "rock." Excavations in the 1950s unearthed a neolithic village at Al-Beidha which dates from about 7000 BC, and now only 5% of Petra has been excavated. The real stars of Petra were the Nabataeans, a nomadic tribe from western Arabia who settled in the area around the 6th century BC. They soon became rich by plundering and then by levying tolls on the trade caravans in the area. The temples and tombs are hewn from towering rock walls of multi-colored sandstone. The desert tribes who sculpted them cleverly hid their capital city from the outside world. It wasn't until Johann Ludwig Burckhardt of Switzerland, in the early 1800s on a long-planned expedition, who lived as a Bedouin and passed himself off as a Sheikh so he could obtain the trust of the local people, that the western world was finally allowed (unknowingly) into the legendary city.

We arrived in the modern city of Petra after the sun had already gone down, but we were in time to buy tickets to the Petra by Candlelight tour at 8:30 PM. It was beautiful to hike through the narrow canyon (the Siq) at night, especially with the path lined with paper bags with candles inside and a full moon in the sky. We were told by our guide that there are thousands of candles used for each candlelight tour. As we came out of the canyon after a short 2 kilometer hike, we were speechless. The Treasury is the first building on the hike, and it is the one featured in the Indiana Jones movie. There were candle bags across the steps of the building and it was a spectacular sight. Bedouin musicians were performing on ancient string instruments and singing haunting songs, and everyone sat down on rugs to watch. It was pretty cold that night, so we were all bundled up as much as possible. Compared to Utah this time of year, the temperature was balmy, but the wind was pretty nippy and Abbey got too cold and too tired before the festivities ended, so we left early and missed the Bedouin storytelling.

The next morning we were up and ready to see Petra with sunlight. At first we felt right at home, because the canyons in Southern Utah are much like Petra's rock formations. It was glorious and overwhelming to stand in front of these cliffs and think of the hands that carved the pillars, the statues, and the gorgons. The site was filled with people, camels, donkeys, and aggressive souvenir-sellers. We were quickly convinced that we needed a camel ride, so Brett and Abbey got on one and I got on another. It was surprisingly comfortable to ride around the square, but Abbey later accurately described it as a teeter totter ride. Camels are notoriously ornery and Brett's camel "Jack"quickly took liberties with the journey and tried to find his own route. My camel decided to reprimand Jack with a bite to the ear when we were posing for pictures.

As we explored the different buildings and sites, I learned that a writer I had been told about was there in Petra selling her book entitled Married to a Bedouin. Marguerite van Geldermalsen is a New Zealand-born nurse who was traveling in Jordan in 1978 with friends. When they were invited to stay the night in a local souvenir-seller's cave in Petra, they accepted and prepared for an adventure. Marguerite's adventure continued throughout her life, because she ended up marrying the kind Bedouin host and raising a family in a 2,000 year old cave. She became the resident nurse for the tribe there and learned to live like a Bedouin.

Sure enough, as we explored the various souvenir tables, we noticed Marguerite standing out with her red hair and freckle-faced complexion in a sea of Arabs. She was kind and signed one of her books for me. She answered a few questions and told us about her grown children who are very educated and accomplished. Her husband died a few years ago, but she still stays connected to Jordan and lives there as well as Australia. Marguerite then sold me some earrings made by the enterprise for local women that she supports. The Noor Al-Hussein Foundation provides training and marketing assistance to ventures which create needed jobs for women and revive traditional craftsmanship throughout Jordan. Marguerite has used her notoriety to bring attention and much needed sales to these ventures. I walked away from her with so many questions about how a very civilized woman could embrace such a seemingly backward culture. I will have to read her book to uncover that life-altering decision.

As I mentioned in a previous post, Brett went native on us and wore his Arab headgear all day in Petra. We had quite a few second glances with some Arab men commenting about what they thought of this obviously white western man wearing a traditional Arabic garment. Some of these comments were given with half smiles, some with less than friendly stares. Maybe it was a good thing we didn't know Arabic this time. All through Petra there are men and boys who are high pressure salesmen trying to convince all the visitors to hire their horse, or camel for the trip or to buy their handmade jewelry. As we were leaving Petra, another horse rider was pressuring us to hire his horse for the rest of the walk out. "For your daughter!" he would say to Brett. When he realized we weren't taking the bait, he yelled to Brett, "For YOU Lawrence of Arabia!" Brett is going to repeat that story a few thousand times. I think he liked that little comment, made in derision, but complimentary nonetheless.

Here is the inside of a tomb we explored.

The aggressive salespeople that filled Petra almost outnumbered the tourists the day we were there. Some of them were very charming, others not so much. I was amazed at the number of children there on a week day - school? One family caught our eye and we asked if we could take a picture of the mother with her three children. Two of the children ran off to play before I snapped the picture, but hopefully you can get some idea of the personality of this family. She was very kind, saw that I had bought Marguerite's book, and told me that she was a cousin of Marguerite's husband - a celebrity! When we left she said, "A gift for your daughter!" Then she wrapped a bead bracelet around Abbey's wrist. Brett promptly gave some money to one of the little girls. A generous heart can be found in all walks of life.

Abbey was a trooper through this whole adventure, so I must give her credit for not being the typical whiny kid on vacation. She was brave, patient, and tough, and she really enjoyed our trip. She is a lucky kid to be able to have these international experiences. As an eight year old I don't think I could have been as resilient as she is. Way to go Abbey!

The rest of our trip in Jordan was pretty much uneventful. We stayed in Amman the last night and then flew back to Doha. I never thought I would be happy to say I live in Doha, but after visiting such an impoverished country, I have a new appreciation for the thriving economy and the industrious people who care for their surroundings here. I guess oil money makes the difference, but there is also hope in Qatar with a ruler who puts his people and their growth high on his list of priorities.

I'm sorry if I got a little too detailed in this travel log. I had requests from Kristy and others to give details, so I did. Thanks for reading!

Dental Hygiene

This morning before leaving for church I asked Abbey if she had brushed her teeth. She thought for a moment and then said, "Yeah, I must have eaten a lot last night because I sure had a lot of tooth mold." (I hope no one is eating right about now because that is pretty gross.) Then Abbey explained that because she got to have a movie night with Brett last night she had been too tired to brush her teeth before she went to bed - hence the tooth mold. I thought it was a very good description of that fuzzy stuff that builds up on teeth sometimes. Abigail has always had a very inventive way with figurative language.

The Dead Sea and Baptism Site

The most beautiful two days of our trip to Jordan was at the Dead Sea. After our first night in the dumpy hotel, when we stepped into the Movenpic Dead Sea Resort Hotel, we felt like we had walked into paradise.



Our room overlooked the deceptively beautiful Dead Sea. At night we could see the lights of Jericho and Jerusalem from our eastern viewpoint. The weather was blissfully cool, and the breezes that blew in through the window were calm and hypnotic. I don't think I have ever slept so soundly.


The food was decadent and we ate way too much. There was a man in the lobby one day, dressed in traditional Turkish attire, pouring wonderful lemonade from an elaborate golden flask for anyone who wanted some. The gardens at the Movenpic resort reminded me of what I imagine the Garden of Eden to be. The photos here do not do it justice. We also saw an olive tree that is 1400 years old. Amazing!

There were four different swimming pools plus the Dead Sea to conquer. There is no way to describe what it feels like to float in the Dead Sea. The harsh, salt covered rocks were well worth the torture, because I have never felt so buoyant as I did when I finally reached float depth. Because we live so close to the Great Salt Lake in Utah, we thought we knew what it would feel like to bob around in the Dead Sea. This was nothing like that brine shrimp pool in the U.S. I could have stayed in there all day trying not to let my backside pop up and tip me head first into the salt water, but Abbey didn't care for the salt very much.

So after the salt water, we investigated all the pools at the resort. The beach pool was the most interesting, because we could walk into the pool from a man made sandy beach and then dive in the deep waters at the other end. Brett mostly investigated the shade and took pictures of his feet relaxing. Our two days at the Dead Sea ended all too quickly.

After leaving the Dead Sea we traveled about 30 minutes to the site by the River Jordan where scholars believe John the Baptist baptized Jesus Christ. We definitely wanted to go there since Abbey had just been baptized herself a few weeks ago. The River Jordan has receded so much over the years because of diversions for crops that there is actually no water at the actual baptism site. So our guide took us to a point beyond the Greek Orthodox Church where there is a narrow part of the river that remains.

We were only a few feet across from the Israeli border and could see the flag waving on that side. We asked our guide what the Jordanian soldier posted there would do if someone tried to cross into Israel. He told us that he would give sufficient warnings and then use his weapon. That was quite a contrast to the actual purpose of the site.

One of the more interesting parts of our trip happened at the River Jordan. When we were at the river's edge, with our guide's permission, three women from our group went into a small changing tent and changed into white baptismal gowns. Then they proceeded to go down into the river and they baptized themselves. This picture of Abbey looking on is very significant given her recent experience. I later asked her if she knew the difference between her baptism and theirs. She said that the water was cleaner in the Arabian Gulf. She smiled and then knew the answers I was looking for. As we got onto the bus to leave the site I noticed the women who baptized themselves got on with some pop cans full of water from the river. I guess they wanted their own kind of souvenir.

The Greek Orthodox church was interesting to see, but very different from my idea of what a house of worship is. I took this picture of Elijah for my grandson Thomas Elijah. It is quite striking, but gaudy.

The whole experience of those two days really left us with grateful hearts. We were grateful to be walking the earth in the same land that the Savior walked. To see the glittering lights of Jerusalem was an almost reverent experience, maybe even more so than if we had actually gone there. We could look at the city where Jesus Christ walked with a distant view and pull back from the intricate details that make up Jerusalem and focus on the most poignant, life-changing parts of the city - our resurrected Savior was tried, crucified, and then lived again in that city on the hill.

Consider Yourself Gifted

A Christmas tradition we have in our family is to make deliciously soft sugar cookies, decorate them with creamy frosting and a variety of designs, and then deliver them to Abbey's grandparents. In many instances our tradition has included baking the cookies with Grandma Giggey. This year that tradition would require a $5000 plane trip, so we decided to do things in a more economical way.

Brett's brilliant idea was for us to make the plates of cookies, and then deliver them to the guards and maintenance men here in our compound. They are expats like we are, but all "bachelors" here in Qatar because their families are still in their native countries. They usually work seven days a week and get very little pay. In spite of these things though, they are always courteous, friendly, and happy. As you can see from the photos below, these men appreciated our deliveries, even if they had no clue about what the cookies were supposed to be. I think they understood that we were giving them something that had to do with Christmas, but I'm pretty sure they didn't recognize the frosty snowmen on the plate or the snowflakes (from a flower cookie cutter).

So Merry Christmas to Grandma and Grandpa Drawe, Grandma and Grandpa Giggey, Grandma and Grandpa Kearney, Grandpa Kenny, the Robinsons, and Ben and Mary. Sam, Mennen, and the other guys in the crew, with names I cannot pronounce let alone spell, all thank you for the gifts you most generously donated to them. By the way, when I told Kristy (via Skype) what we were doing and then showed her the plate of cookies we were donating in their family name she said, "Thanks a lot. I guess now I'll have to make cookies too and donate them to myself." I don't know if that is the idea we had in mind, but I'm sure Kristy is using the same "recipe" this Christmas for giving things OTHER THAN SUGAR COOKIES.

Jerash

Our second day in Jordan was spent at the Roman/Greek ruins site of Jerash in the Biblical hills of Gilead. It was impressive, and the weather was perfect for exploring, with bright sunshine when we arrived and then cloud cover throughout the day. It even waited to rain until we left. Abbey loved stepping on the cobble stoned path down colonnaded street that was marked by the ruts of ancient wagons and chariots that had passed over thousands of years ago. The pillars of the temples were almost surreal, baked with the vegetation and weather of centuries. There is nothing more elegant than a moss covered Roman pillar, and the perfection of this site made Brett's architectural heart soar. He testified that the Romans really knew their design.

Speaking of Brett, even before we entered the ruins, he had his eye on some Arab head gear and asked one of the many salesmen to help him try on the shmagh (also called keffiyeh). This red and white one is the traditional pattern for Jordanian men. He did buy it on the way out of Jerash and then embarrassed me and Abbey at Petra by actually wearing it. I will tell you that story later. I snapped the other photo below as we left Jerash. The colors of these shops are amazing. I couldn't help wonder which one of my friends would want belly dancing apparel for Christmas. Maybe you will be the lucky one!

Two of my favorite places at Jerash were the south theatre and the north theatre. We were able to sit and enjoy some Bedouin music in the north theatre, and in the south theatre Abbey helped demonstrate the amazing acoustics these theatres create.

Then there was the Temple of Artemis, or, as the Romans and I prefer to call it, the Temple of Diana. It was built between AD 150 and 170 and had 12 columns (only 11 are still standing). At this temple there is a column that can be moved and it doesn't topple over. There were many Jordanian people there helpful to show us the trick by putting a spoon at the base of the pillar and then pushing on it. The spoon would move up and down. It was amazing. That is also the site where many people get their picture taken between the 5 columns - I did it too. There was a young man there named Ali who was quite a hustler. He helped us with the moving column, told us all the history of the temple, took our pictures, and then ended up selling me a pearl and silver necklace. When he found out my name was Dianna, he knew he could make an easy sell.







All day I was struck with the evidence of the ages all around me. It was difficult to comprehend how many lives and how many years had passed among those stones. I couldn't help but think of the many labourers who chiseled and carved the beauties that were still evidence of their skill. It made we wonder what I am building now that will last through the ages. I thought of my family and the evidence of my skills as a mother. I feel confident that people will be blessed by my handiwork many years from now through the children and grandchildren that I have helped bring about, not through any personal talents, but through the great blessing of parenting with the Gospel. The foundation of my family was long ago established by related craftsmen and women. I am grateful for them, and I hope my progeny will be able to call me blessed. Personal and world history is an overwhelming topic to dive into. It was amazing to do it at Jerash.