My 5,000th Comment

After seventeen months of blogging, 425 or so posts, 84,000 or so views and more than 30,000 spam comments, I just received my 5,000th comment!!

Gila Weiss is a new linker, an American-Israeli blogger who lives in Tel Aviv.  She is a survivor of a bomb attack there, which is why she started her blog ‘My Shrapnel”

In the last month, I’ve been linked by three American women living in Israel. It has been an eye-opener, and a reminder why we need to be ‘in touch’ at many levels to hear stories from every side of the issue. I trust we can all ‘be nice’ to one another as we connect on-line and bump into painful areas.

Thanks to all who continue to make this blogging experience a fun, instructive and stretching part of life.

Easter 2008

This year, the Amman International Church decided to combine a baptismal service in conjunction with our Easter celebrations. So instead of heading off to a mountain top to sing in the break of dawn, we headed down to one of the deepest valleys in earth. Jordan is such a land of beautiful contrasts, what a blessing to live in such a place. Imagine, being baptized in the same river our Saviour was, what a rare privilege.

At 4:45am the alarm went off, and even after only four hours of sleep I awoke with a sense of excitement. The Kounouz, who have to be dragged out of bed at 6:30 on school days, were up like shots and didn’t need to be followed around to make sure beds were made and teeth were brushed. One would think there it was Christmas! Even the late-sleeping college kid Gaza Girl was ready to roll on time, masha’allah.

As I opened the abu-jours and windows, I was surprised by the chill and the cloud cover racing between me and the morning stars. Even more surprising, it had even rained! What a gift…needed rain on a special day, and a reprieve from the untimely spring heat. With arms full of picnic breakfast supplies, clothes for all weather and ’stuff to do’, we were alone on the dark road to our meeting place.

Not for long. Soon the parking lot was full of cars and people, drinking coffee, laughing and marveling over the horizontal displays of lightening over Amman. Most stayed outside to feel the gentle rain come down as we waited for the bus driver (who had overslept). Soon we were off, enjoying the fresh smell and colors that a good rain brings to the scenery. Even better, the rain caused the drivers to slow way down on the road to the Dead Sea, making it a leisurely trip rather than a white-knuckle experience.

Gaza Girl got a text from her parents saying they BOTH got permits to leave Gaza for Easter. This was great news, as at Christmas only one received the coveted prize. So what was her mom going to do, leave her dad at Christmas? And why does the news of these permits only arrive the day before, requiring one to either be in limbo or rush around to make plans for the most significant holiday of the year for Christ-followers?

Having Gaza Girl around always brings a bit of perspective. As we were waived through the checkpoints, she laughed “You call this a checkpoint? Without having to wait for hours with no news of when they will close it? With guards that smile and salute you as you pass by?”. The closer we got to the Jordan River, she tried to get some radio stations from home. There was her border, but she couldn’t just ‘go home’. She will graduate soon, but agonizes over what to do with her future. How will she combine her skills and her major to match up with getting a visa to the US to study, in a school that offers what she wants to study, near enough a family member to make her parents happy, AND get a scholarship? I will miss her so much.

Descending into the valley, the clouds parted and the sun began to shine in earnest.We were the last to arrive, dozens of cars ahead of us as we meandered toward the parking lot of the Baptismal site. It had been four years since we had been there, and things have really changed as one can actually be baptized IN the Jordan River, not just in the pool up above. Lovely churches are being built, the paths were clear and canopied with young trees to keep the sun off, the walking path along the Jordan River was like a safari trail.

We gathered on the steps near the bell tower, and sang Easter hymns with the breezes and birds accompanying. I forget how loud silence can be with no city and traffic noise to compete. We heard the stories of how two of the ‘to-be’ baptized came to faith in Christ, and we prayed for them and the other fifteen as they took the step of baptism to be fully a part of the fellowship of faith.

The whole crowd then went down the wooden steps to the river, lining the shore as pastor Rick and assistant pastor Justin waded in. Rick had a specific verse and charge for each one, whether a child or an adult, he spoke prophetically over them. With a strong man on each side, each candidate was released into the water then brought up again to cheers, then Rick prayed for them.

As a long-time Sunday School teacher, I was especially especially touched to see seven of the kids  who I have taught at various times be baptized.  Some of them I  had agonized over, wondering from their behaviour if they were truly followers, and if I had done my part in loving and instructing them well. One of the most special moments was when Rick baptized his youngest son. Abu Kounouz and I look forward to being a part of  the next baptism, as all the boys have decided they are ready to publicly confirm their faith.

For us, we aren’t born into faith as Christians by virtue of parental faith. Even though we instruct our children in what we believe, each one makes their own choice. There are no promises  that they will follow  us (although praying moms and grandmothers often seem to tip the balance between free-will and predestination :D). Evangelicals don’t baptize infants, rather  waiting until a child has chosen, and then has a track record of life choices and behaviour that reflect belief in Christ. For us baptism doesn’t mean a step toward  salvation, but a step in submission to ‘believe and be baptized’.

Then, it was communal breakfast time!  Breakfast casseroles, home baked biscuits, muffins, coffee cakes, cinnamon rolls were passed from family to family by the kids;  fruit, juices and coffee were poured and  distributed. The younger kids scarfed and ran off to climb the hills and discover bugs and stuff, the older  kids played card games. We adults just kept eating and talking :). Finally, the haaris told us our time was up, ‘after all, this is a militarized zone’, he said. It was strange to see the Israeli flag waving just yards away. I wondered what it would have been like if there had been a baptism on the other side at the same time.

It seems time was up also because four tour buses arrived, filled to the brim with Italian tourists. Such elegant ladies, they alone can pull off wearing white pants on a bus tour of Jordan.

It is days like this I have to do a double take and remind myself what an awesome thing it is to live in the holy land, to experience the tension of Middle Eastern life, to know people on all sides of the various conflicts being lived  through. I am thankful for this gift.

Providentially Ordained Moments, Pre-Easter

I was starting to post about an amazing Easter Celebration, but realized it has just been an amazing week with which today’s Easter festivities were a culmination of joy. God’s hand has been upon us this week in a special way.

1) First, Abu Kounouz did have cancer in that tumor that was removed, but it was a superficial basal cell carcinoma and was caught early. All because we watched a movie which had Karposi’s Sarcoma as a theme and reminded hubby he should get that sore checked out. (Side note, but I must admit my error of judgement with the Dr’s stitching: the nasty stitches were removed, there is no bad scar. Sorry, Doc!)

2) I had a wonderful time meeting a bunch of ex-pat ladies at Um Omar’s to meet her mother. Lovely group of mover/shakers, some bloggers, some commenters, some ‘lurkers’ (I see you, M!), the food was delicious (shu, the biggest mound of guacamole I have ever seen, from PALI avocados!) and of course, my fav MommaBean who also brought HER mother.

3) Later that evening, our church youth group had a going-away potluck for several college students who had spent a ‘gap’ year in Jordan and had volunteered to help our young people grow spiritually. We had had a youth pastor for two years, but there had not been a suitable replacement. Our older teens decided to run it themselves, (with some parental investment) organizing VERY fun bi-monthly large group gatherings, and small group bible studies during the other weeks. The did an EXCELLENT job! I listened in on the one Spikekid attends, and was astounded by the maturity, leadership and practicality of teaching exhibited by the older teens.

The youth group is half the size of the church, and I believe their fire and commitment is bringing a form of spiritual revival to us all. We in the church are loving one another better, being more involved and more fully invested in one another’s lives. Listening to the kids lead worship and see the power point of the highlights of their year brought tears to my eyes. It seemed Easter began than night as we all saw how God had brought these college kids in such unique ways, and how they were touched by the investment they made in our kids.(oh yea, and the food was ‘church-potluck-at-it’s best’; I think one could measure spiritual revival by what kind of food the participants bring: there was food made from US-stash ingredients that took some time to prepare. Generosity flowed!)

4) The new car hadn’t been driving well, it seemed like it needed some alignment/brake work (hhmmm, a little too fast over those speed bumps perhaps Kinzi?). On the way to baseball (7:45am, mind you) a serious banging noise started while flying down airport road, and hubby discovered a piece of tail pipe missing. He then slowed down a bit and stayed to the right lane. Good thing, as not ten minutes later one the rear tires blew and shredded, and he was able to pull over without a problem. Had we been going fast, it may not have gone so well for a van packed with people. The man behind us pulled over and helped hubby change the tire, so we got to enjoy Jordanian hospitality in one of it’s best manifestations without mansaf! And not five minutes after that, a church family on the way to the ball field saw us, and promptly took the coach and kids to their game right on time.

5) After one of the baseball games, I was talking to a mother and some of her extended family I hadn’t met before. Just chatting, she asked me what I do here. When I mentioned the course for abuse victims, I noticed they all blanched. She leaned in and said “Could you spare some time to talk to us about this? We just discovered our family has been affected by this horror and we don’t know what to do”. I knew immediately God had brought me there just for those woman. They were so desperate for help they trusted a stranger they knew for ten minutes to help navigate a very difficult and delicate life tragedy. We spent a half hour talking, and had put together an applicable plan for the victim, the abuser and the family. I cried afterward, at the great love of God to allow that ‘chance’ meeting just when it was needed.

6) I had been way too busy, and my US-stash too barren to contemplate a real event Easter egg hunt for the kids. Then MommaBean came up with a plan that would be fun AND promised to be a huge return on little investment. I also found a mini-stash of suitable ‘hunt-worthy’ treats, and had just enough time post-baseball to power-color eggs and get the rest all ready. It was a delightful time for all the kids, and us adults too. Um MommaBean & Um El 3atal both provided my kids with some ‘grandma’ words and kindness. Thank you, Momma Bean, El 3atal, MimiBean, TetaBean and Helper Bean!!

7) After preparing the Traveling Pants for another journey, the rest of us (plus Gaza Girl :D) went to church for our evening Easter service. Pastor Rick gave us a dramatic presentation of the last earthly days of Christ, and the resurrection story, from the perspective of the Apostle Peter. From his confident outbursts, his denial of Christ, and finally that beach-side conversation with the Lord where he received His calling to ‘feed My lambs” it was a moving way to remind us all again the power of what we would celebrate the next morning. It kept my mind filled as I stayed up to midnight making cinnamon rolls to take to the sunrise service the next morning.

to be continued…

Freedom for Fouad Al Farhan

My post today was going to be entitled “Wish Fouad Had This Back-Up”, linking a CNN story about an American journalist who ‘twittered’ his way out of jail.

Thank God, it wasn’t! Saudi Jeans reports he was released, is with his family and Jeddah, and is in high spirits. Thanks for breaking the great news, Nas!

Since receiving inspiration from MommaBean’s post, I have been praying for him according to the Psalm of the number of days he has been detained, using the theme of the Psalm or characteristic of God revealed in it as a foundation. Psalm 135 speaks of the great things God has done, so I prayed Fouad and family would  have faith for better days based on God’s previous faithfulness. Psalm 136  proclaims: “His mercy endures forever” after each stanza of His faithfulness. Since ‘mercy’ is more specifically translated ’steadfast loving kindness’, I prayed Fouad and his wife would be encouraged that no matter how bad or long it seemed, His steadfast loving  kindness would be real to them.

Today was Psalm 137 which was entitled “Tears in Exile”, which I initially learned as a song from the rock-opera “Godspell”, it is a special one to me. It seemed a very appropriate commemoration, although one I found no encouragement in to pray, only tears of empathy and longing for home.

Tomorrow, I will rejoice in Psalm 138 as I end 138 days of intercession for a fellow free-thinker who paid a steep price for speaking his convictions. Here is Psalm 138, called: ‘God Answered My Prayer”, a perfect end to this chapter of Fouad’s journey:

I will praise You with my whole heart;

Before the gods I will sing praises to you.

I will worship toward Your holy temple, and praise Your name

For Your lovingkindness and Your truth;

For You have magnified Your word above all Your name.

In the day I cried out to You, You answered me, and made me bold with strength in my soul

All the kings of  the earth shall praise You, O Lord,

When they hear the words of Your mouth.

Yes, they will sing of the ways of the Lord,

For great is the glory of the Lord.

Though the Lord is on high, He regards the lowly, but the proud He knows from afar.

Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You will revive me

You will stretch out Your hand against the wrath of my enemies,

And Your right hand will save me.

The Lord will perfect that which concerns me, You mercy O Lord, endures forever.

Indeed, as MB mentioned, it is fitting that Foud was released just before Easter, and I join her in proclaiming that God is awesome!!!!

Another Dutch Filmmaker Redefining Faith

Well, well, well. It’s Easter time, so it must be time for another batch of ‘new discoveries’ about Jesus Christ. Sure enough, the director of “Basic Instinct’, has a book due to include another set of blasphemous allegations. Surprise , surprise, his extensive theological training comes as a result of participating in the so-called “Jesus Seminar”, the criterion of which seems to be not believing anything of historical Christianity.

Like the Catholic commentator said, I think he should stick with Sharon Stone type themes. Not that I would ever watch or read either endeavor.

Just wait, Muslim world, some of your own apostates may just come up with a “Mohammad Seminar” someday.

Mommy, Easter & Writer Rambles

* I can tell it is time to get out of Jordan for awhile. Coming on to Zahran yesterday off 6th Circle, a little VW Bug zipped in front of me at the u-turn and stopped in the lane that feeds on to this main thoroughfare. I slammed on the brakes, then did the polite short ‘beep’. He didn’t budge, so I did two long honks. He made that “What is your problem?” hand motion, and meanwhile everyone behind me is backed up and honking too. SO, I lost it and screamed out the window in English, “This is a STREET, not a parking lot, get your BUTT out of the road!”. He started up and zoomed off, indignant. The car was packed with kids, and they were very silent and wide-eyed.

* It is ant-season. Creative creatures, they find every missed crumb on the counter and send a shock-and-awe army to retrieve it. The Kounouz are on ant-patrol, now, armed with a bottle of Easy and handful of Fine to clean up the remains. No more laziness with the dishes.

* Sunday is Easter and I haven’t done a THING. We are going to have to do power egg-coloring Friday, indeed. Thank God for MommaBean, who has a plan to save Easter for the kids in planning an egg-hunt.

* TOO much going on. But all fun stuff. Today, we have a small gathering at Um Omar’s house to meet her mom, then a pot-luck later. The seasonal goodbye parties are starting, and I realized I need to plan two birthday parties in the three weeks before we leave. To save fuel costs, I am now baking 4 batches of my famous brownies at a time and freezing them. I think I have made 100 batches of brownies this year.

* Remember SAGA? Well, there is now SAMA - Stray American Men in Amman. About 75 American college students are on an exchange program through CIEE at JU. They have saved the season for Amman Little League Association, as they are looking for ways to serve the community and are helping coach teams. They are hoping to serve in areas more needy than the upper-crust baseball community, so watch out Action Committee, they are coming your way! They are good boys, they know the rules, don’t worry about having to lock up your daughters.

* I am learning lots of new tactics in my new role as debt-collector. A certain magazine has passed the 90 day mark of non-payment. After the 12th weekly run-around from the receptionist, editor and manager, I tracked down the owner and made my plea, with Lil Kinz in tow. Ma ahwani, eh?I was proud of myself that I didn’t cry in frustration, but I did not come back with dinar nor goods in payment. Just the ‘next week’ promise. Uh-huh. Any tips, guys?

* I am not alone in this role, and one of the other free-lancers asked if I would start a writers’ union. HAH! So, to the commentor who thinks I am a right-wing ‘bottom feeder’, take note I am on my way to becoming a Union Boss.

Have a wonderful weekend! For those who are observing Good Friday tomorrow, may the Lord meet you in a new and fresh way as you contemplate the cross. For those celebrating The Passover, I don’t know the right words, so I’ll just say the same thing: may the Lord meet you in a new and fresh way as you contemplate His faithfulness!

Hikmat’s Crossing

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about the tragic death of Hikmat Kaddoura, since I drive by the place where he died regularly. It seems when you become a mom, that every child becomes your child. In my heart, I have named that new intersection “Hikmat’s Crossing”, to remind myself of the potentially terrible price of excessive speeding on the streets.

When they began to tear up Mecca St. to put the stoplight in, I was hoping for a cross-over between Rabia and Um Uthayna. Although that didn’t happen, I slow down with reverence to that stop light, knowing traffic speed is now decreased enough that someone who may get hit has a chance to live. My delay is worth lives.

Hikmat’s parents have created an organization to enhance the safety of our roads, and increase public awareness of traffic laws, visit  www.hikmat .org to see what they are working on and how one can get involved.

Someone told me that one of Maher Kaddoura’s goals is to take the excuse of ‘nasiib’ out of consequences of bad driving. It is way too easy to say Hikmat’s death was just God’s will, shrug, and continue driving like a maniac. We can’t blame God for our irresponsible behaviour on the roads. It is a travesty to do so. Human recklessness and stupidity are choices we make and can choose not to. Accidents happen, but when one is making it happen out of foolishness, resulting two tons of steel impacting a human body, there is just no excuse.

Whether by carrot to encourage better driving or by stick to punish bad driving, I am so proud of how Mr. and Mrs. Kaddoura are using the pain of this loss for greater good. Hikmat’s life will not just be remembered in a plaque on a building, nor a fading memory, but in accidents that will not now be. Hikmat’s death will result in the growing, vibrant and unfolding futures of other children who may have died on Jordan’s roads, only God will know which parents were spared the same suffering. I choose to be thankful for their efforts as if I knew they had saved my children.

Quick Takes

Cool, not-so-cool stuff that caught my eye lately:

* Imseeh Jewelry’s ad agency again wins the KinziBlog prize for creative, head-turning advertisements. Moving on from the lovely Mother’s Day dia -’mom’ offering, they have revealed the wedding season theme: Lord of the Rings. I love, love, love it.

* Nadia Dajani’s talent infused into the RSCN silver jewelry collection has added a really lovely new element. In line with my LOTR obsession, her apricot blossom themed necklaces and upper-arm bracelets that look like something straight from Rivendell. On a more local level, she also created a necklace capturing the form of Khoubbeizeh leaves. Too clever, too cute!

* The baby blue Ferrari from Classic Cars has been snagged and is now hiding in someone’s garage in Abdoun. The Kounouz were sad, it was their favorite Wadi Saqra drive-by sighting. Maybe I’ll take them by Nai on a Thursday night to see if we can find it there with all the other local Ferrari owners. Yup, if you want to see lux cars, Amman is a great place to live.

* Saudi Sightings. Seems a bit premature, but a Saudi fam has moved into the neighborhood. He has either overdone his allotment of wives, or has lots of teenage daughters. He doesn’t seem to see anything wrong with parking his massive Suburban in front of our gate, and his kids like to climb on it to see Tasha go ballistic inside. She is ready for doggy Prozac at this rate. In the evenings, they lean on said gate and pretend we are a reality TV show through our windows. The thing that bugs me most is the transparent white dish-dashes. That is just wrong. The women are walking black tents, the men seem to think revealing their fav undies is all good. I have to avert my eyes, one accidental glance seemed to reveal that one guy doesn’t do boxers, nor tighty-whiteys, but some ‘thing’ else . Shudder, gross, scary; really, isn’t it illegal in Saudi? Where are the morality police when you need them?

* Abu Kounouz had a tumor removed from his forehead. He’s cool waiting for the biopsy results, I’m not. Not only that, the dermatologist did an awful job stitching him up. Ya Doctor, it’s his forehead, usually doctor’s attempt plastic surgery size stitches to minimize scarring, sa7? No. This guy decided hubby needed some sloppy scar to detract from his dazzling handsomeness, I guess. I could have sewn him up more neatly. Waiting for the results isn’t doing much for my beauty either, white hairs and worry wrinkles emerging hourly.

* Baran, a film by Iranian Director Majd Majiid. Recommended by the 4th Circle Plaza Video guy, it is a very sweet love story revolving around the theme of illegal Afghani construction construction workers in Iran. Some very similar reminders of situations here. Hearing Persian reminded me of my college days, (”Khoda Hafez”!), when our uni football team held a bunch of the Iranian students hostage in retaliation for the US Embassy hostage situation. It ended quick when uncles and fathers showed up with machine guns. My roommate’s parents were killed in the 1979 revolution, and she realized why they sent her to the US to ’study’ against her wishes. I wish I could have been a better comfort for her then, the poor thing lost everything important to her and she was stuck with self-absorbed blond beach girls as flat-mates.

Interfaith Dialogue at the Ball Game: A Model

Baseball season is great fun. In spite of Amman being SO small, there are some ladies I only see during baseball season. If your kids don’t go to the same school, it’s hard to maintain friendships the rest of the year apart from Eid/holiday phone calls. So, us seasonal-baseball-buds talk and laugh a lot during these ten weeks to make up for the off-season.

One such friend is “Alia”. We met when her oldest was on hubby’s first T-Ball team, whoa, years ago. One of those rare friendships where the moms get along, the dads like each other, and the boys play well. She is one of those amazing Jordanian women who raised her young boys (yea, another 3 boy mom) while caring for her home while getting her degree, and lived to tell about it. She and her hubby spent most of their lives in the US, but wanted to come back so their kids knew Jordan as more than a summer holiday destination.

She had several other baseball mom friends, including a very funny American lady who I am acquainted with as well. This woman had older boys, who Alia joked around with a lot, and has left Jordan. As Alia and I were getting caught up during a practice, she got very serious and looked in my eyes and said “Kinzi, I need to ask you a question”. She proceeded to tell me that the other woman’s son had sent her an email after he had been in college a few months that had really surprised her. The jist of it was, he didn’t understand how she could believe the tenants of Islam, and he was a little, um, disrespectful in the way he presented his questions. He also told her what he believed and why. (I choked a little bit, and wondered where this was going and what my response to her was going to be!)

She had been surprised and a little offended initially. After thinking about a response to him, she said he realized she had probably never talked to him about her faith and he had probably ran into some Muslims that surprised and offended him in their approach. She also knew he respected her and that was why he came to her with his honest questions, even if his manner was off-putting. She researched his questions, and understood how he could have them, and took time to answer them. Sh also knew that his way of sharing his faith with her was not tit-for-tatting, but that if he believed what he did about his faith, it was a love offering from him out of his concern for her eternity.

Alia asked me how I thought she handled it. I told I thought she did a beautiful job, and I wished there were more people like her. She said “Sub7an Allah for our friendships. You know, the basic tenants of Christianity are for us heresy; and for you, the basic tenants of Islam are heresy. You would be overjoyed if I became a Christian, I would be overjoyed if you became a Muslim. We have too much honesty between us to pretend that we believe the same thing, or that all paths lead to God, or that either of us should compromise what we believe in order to be friends. I see God in your lives, you see God in mine, and we can enjoy our friendship without blasting each other about our differences”.

I say “Sub7an Allah’ with Alia. I think that she and I accomplished more to promote interfaith dialogue, mutual respect and love than any of the big conferences held between scholars, leaders of faiths and countries. Maybe they should put baseball on the agenda.

Dozan Wa Awtar, Shireen Abu-Khader & Co.

The Dozan Wa Awtar choir and instrumentalists, with Shireen Abu-Khader conducting, exceeded my very high expectations with a performance that was simply amazing. Solo Violinist Anar Ibrahimov was flawless, the other musicians were wonderfully talented: Violin I - Timur Ibrahimov, Lauren Manning (yay!) and Sharif Khatib, Violin II - Basil Khouri and Jafar Hashem, Viola - Majed Al Ghazali, Cello - Khaled Bal’awi, Contrabass - Aziz Madi and Rania Ijeilat on piano.

The setting of the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ Church in Khilda was perfect. I had attended Shireen’s production of Mozart’s Requiem there in 2004. Events like this cause a little Orthodox-envy in my Protestant heart, as the visual beauty of the architecture and images of faith do add an element of worship through all the senses. One cannot enter without feeling a bit of the majesty of the Almighty. The acoustics were wonderful, especially in the second piece, Allegri’s Miserere, when the soloists Caroline Widegrin, Sarah Gerhart, Helena Fanek and Mohammed Sleeq sang from the upper balcony, answering the call of the main choir.

An interesting note from the program: “Miserere mei Deus is the most celebrated of Allegri’s compositions, is a setting of Psalm 50. the work acquired a considerable reputation for mystery and inaccessibility…the Vatican, wanting to preserve its aura of mystery, forbade copies; threatening any publication or attempted copy with excommunication. Fortunately, they were not prepared for a special visit in 1770 from a 14 year old Mozart. On a visit to Rome with his father, Mozart heard it but twice and transcribed the piece faithfully from memory, thus creating the first ‘bootleg’ copy.”

Having spent several years in Austria in a town where Mozart had lived, walking the same streets, listening to his compositions every Sunday in the park, it was a wonderful reminder of a time my life was more full of classical music, gorgeous green parks and freedom to wander.

The opening piece was Vivaldi’s Spring, from The Four Seasons. It was a rousing rendition, and seemed more soprano focused than I have ever heard it before. His Domine Fili Unigente was my husband’s favorite, the Latin stirring his Catholic roots . I didn’t swoon, as I feared, but felt as if I was only partially present, a part of my spirit was before God’s throne in worship. Transported by this amazingly talented group of vocalists and musicians. Not in San Francisco, not in Chicago, but Amman, Jordan.

Bach’s Gloria, from the B Minor Mass, was the piece I took home as a treasured Easter keepsake. Gloria, indeed!

Shireen’s conducting is such a joy to watch. She is connected to those she leads through each movement. She makes eye contact , it seems, with every participant: lifting an eyebrow or a finger, smiling as she anticipated a climactic point, drawing them up with her chin and out with her baton. Watching the choir respond to her was just plain fun. Each was very aware of the importance of their contribution, and they offered it fully and joyfully with their facial expressions and posture as well as their voices.

I was surprised by how many I knew in the choir. Friends, children of friends, teachers of my children, my children’s friends, people I’ve met through church or work. Sarah Gerhart told me afterward that when Shireen saw how many American male singers were in Amman participating in the Christmas Concert (which I missed due to my mil’s death), she just HAD to do an Easter concert while most of them were still here to add to the Jordanian male voices locally. Guys, we need more trained singers here, yella.

Our thanks to all for a tremendously uplifting evening:

Sopranos: Mariana Halaseh, Rita Bawab, Kathy Sullivan, Sarah Gerhart, Caroline Widegrin, Lillie Ris, Hanan Ghannoum, Lexi Haddadin, Munia Abu Lame, Lana Habash, Sarah Brayford, Dana Hudairi, Ghada Odeh, Emily Lodge, Jude Zada, Takako Haddad.

Altos: Hala Qubein, Dina Batarseh, Dr. Nora Tleel, Samia Ghannoum, Jennifer La Chonce, Peg Clement, Eve Omeish, Rania Ijeilat, Yasmine Ireifij, Helena Sayegh Fanek, Rana Konqar, Dr. Barbara Burgan, Renee Makdah

Bass: Silas Brinkmann, Hanna Bawab, Stephen Judson, Mohammed Sleeq, Jad Ireifij, Jeremy Knapp, Yanal, Sunna, Nedy Muna

Tenor: Rami Mihyar, Alaa Werdi, Nathan Shepherd, Yousef Jefferson, Sevak Chekrijian, Zach Dunlap