Weddings and a...Circumsision Party

This past weekend I found myself partying halfway across Turkey. Literally. Friday afternoon I went over to a friend's house to, well, wait for my friend to get back from having her hair done. As soon as the girls came back, we were off. First stop...a circumcision party near downtown Ankara. This marks a coming of age in a boy's life and usually takes place between 6 and 12. In this case, the boy was 10 or 12 (I kept getting different answers). He's been battling cancer for a while and had to wait until the upper end of the age range for his party (an presumably circumcision, although I never did have the guts to ask).
Party number one down and it was off to the village, about an two hours east of Ankara. Crashed out for the night at my friend's house in the village. Saturday morning we all crawl out of bed, have breakfast and get ready for a marathon wedding day. First the village wedding party, about a half hour east of my friend's village. We ate (men first then the women), we danced (Turkish folk dances), the women gossiped (so did the men), we danced some more.
Then it was time to leave the village wedding and head east to Sivas for the groom's side to have a wedding party. This is the farthest east in Turkey I had been so far. Five hours farther east is the town of Erzurum and after that comes Armenia. The Sivas party was a little different than the village wedding in that it was inside, there was no meal, and company was mixed. Other than that, it was fairly typical. We danced folk dances, guests (friends and family) pinned gold on the bride and groom and we ate cake.
At about 10:30 or 11 everyone headed for home, we for the village. I was in bed by 3 am and...drum-roll, please...slept in until 8:40. Yes, this is a miracle. Still slightly in shock that I traveled all the way to Sivas to dance folk dances and eat cake.

A Trip to the Center of the...Country

This past weekend I decided to shake things up a bit and...get out of Ankara. Wait. For me, that really isn't shaking things up a whole lot. This I admit. I get out of Ankara on a regular basis. I have to say that this frequent trip out of Ankara business does make you love home when the bus rolls back into town, though. I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

I have friends and co-workers in Kayseri who are currently without other co-workers in the city. They also just had a baby in March. Woohoo! I get mixed reactions to traveling outside of Ankara. Some friends do the same and understand. Others are jealous, but at the same time love to brag about how much their foreign friend has seen of the country. Still others worry for me while I'm on the road. Make that all of them. All my friends worry for me when I'm on the road, while I'm living alone in Ankara, when I get home late...basically my friends worry. A baby is a reason to travel that is 100% normal. I've found the way to travel! Now if I can just convince all my friends to continually be having babies.... I think I'll just have to settle with being weird for a while.

Hop on the bus Friday afternoon (bought the bus ticket Thursday - I love the last minute convenience of life in Turkey!) and 5 hours later was in Kayseri. Met my friends at the bus station, went out for birthday dinner and then proceeded to have one of the most relaxing weekends I've had in a long time. I would love to give you all my impressions of Kayseri culture, but alas, I spent Saturday chatting it up and flipping through American magazines. And Sunday? Two friends from America showed up right around breakfast (this is not exactly normal - a great surprise!). Sat around talking to them until it was time to go to fellowship in the afternoon. Great teaching from Heb. 11 from a nat'l brother. Back home. Pizza and a few rounds of Master Chef Australia. So as far as special Kayseri "events", I didn't do a whole lot. Wait - I did eat pastırma Friday night. My dictionary says it's "preserve of dried meat", "cured spiced beef" or "pastrami". My friend says "dried garlic meat." None of these are quite as appetizing as the real thing, I assure you. Kayseri folk are quite proud of their "dried garlic meat", so she says.

Yesterday, off to Kapadokya to meet up with a group of students here from Liberty. Again, no camera because I was feeling lazy. Yes, I went to thousand or so year old historical sites and did not take pictures because I was feeling lazy. You know you live in Turkey when...

Caught a bus last night at 6:30 out of Nevşehir and was in my house by 11 pm or so. And I did buy the bus ticket at the counter that afternoon. As I rolled into Ankara, in between waking and sleeping, I thought, I love my city with all of its ministry buildings and government offices. Yes, sadly, this did come to mind. But it is home. And I do love it.

The Day of Unpreparedness

So today was going to be a quiet day. I was going to study, find a pack cover for tomorrow's hike (the forecast declares rain in our future...again), and teach my friend Gizem to ice skate. The studying happened - love Tchibo and their 2.95 filter coffee (although it would be nice if they had a bathroom...but then again, a bathroom in a store sort of promotes shoplifting). The pack cover was found and purchased. In the purchasing process I also may have stumbled upon one of the only cross-country skiers in the entire city. Winter is only a few short months away, folks!
And that is where all good planning ended. After I first left the house I realized I had left without my umbrella. This is not a good situation to be in when the clouds are looming black overhead. So I turned around and headed home to pick up my umbrella which was no where to be found. I have to admit, the first thought to enter my head was not a charitable thought. I assumed that someone had stolen my umbrella the night before. Nothing to be done, I would simply have to buy an umbrella while I was out. Which I did, from a toy store (first mistake) for 5 lira (second mistake). The third mistake of the day, I left home without suitable long sleeves. Not only was I something to stare at in my bright blue shirt, I was possibly going to be very cold later. So into one of my favorite stores I tromp and buy a new, very pink hoodie for 15 lira. Yes, we are at 20 extra lira here, people. After coffee and on my way to skating I popped into a cosmetic shop to buy a nail file. I assumed that such a thing would cost a lira or two. Wrong! Got to the counter and I was so surprised that I did pay the 19.50 lira for a package of 6 and walked back out the door. Yup, this is now up to 39.50.
To skating I go. And, oh, wait - a hockey game has appeared. No more sessions today? Guess I'll go home. Maybe to the market first. Catch a bus as it starts to rain. Good thing I have my new 5 lira umbrella. Well, we get to the station, I hop off the bus, open my umbrella and the handle completely separates from top! Too bad I bought a hoodie and not a rain coat. I dash off to the nearest covered area where a gentleman asks me what happened to my umbrella. Thank you very much, it appears to be broken (we have a lovely tense in Turkish for such appearances).
I wait until the rain lets up before I run to the taxi. A taxi from the bus station to my house is 5 lira. We're now up to 44.50 in unpreparedness money. As I'm in the taxi digging for my house keys, what happens to be sitting in the bottom of my bag but my umbrella.

On Shepherds

My language helper and I are working on describing John 10 in my lessons. The Good Shepherd. Of course, it helps to know a bit about shepherds when one wants to describe a passage on shepherds. I grew up in Juneau, Alaska which means I have not spent a large portion of my life observing sheep. My helper, on the other hand, spent part of her childhood in a village on the southern coast of Turkey. She has had the chance to see and observe sheep.
Sheep must have a shepherd. Without a shepherd they don't know where to go, don't know what to do. They're standing in the middle of the road, a car comes along and they don't move. In a standoff between a flock of sheep and a car, the sheep win. Sheep will eat their way off a cliff.
The shepherd truly does know the sheep and the sheep truly do know the shepherd. They will follow him, they will run to his voice. When a stranger comes into the fold, he can say whatever he wants, but the sheep will not hear him.
Ah, but she made an interesting comment. If a stranger comes into the fold and beats the sheep into submission, they will follow him. But it is not out of trust that they follow. Instead it is out of fear.
So, what have I learned? I've been thinking about this off and on for the last several days. Jesus is our Good Shepherd. We really are like sheep. Yes, I know I've heard this uncountable times before. But I've gotten a little closer to it in this process. And...those who come to kill, steal and destroy? They really can come in. But it is only the Good Shepherd who we will follow in trust.

Measuring a Day

Five cups of tea, a cup of Turkish coffee, Nescafe with creamer, and (of course) the morning cups of joe later, I went to bed. Yes, my day was fueled well. For those who may be wondering , this is not entirely a normal day. Typically I don’t drink the Turkish coffee.

I lay in bed last night pondering the day. It was full. It was good. It really was a typical fall/winter/spring Saturday. Morning at home (coffee), basketball game in the afternoon (nescafe), dash home to greet friends (three cups of tea), run over to the two neighbors on my floor to give them leftover pastries (no tea), then run upstairs with cake to welcome the new neighbors into the building (Turkish coffee and two more cups of tea).

Instead of tea, lets describe it based on food. Woke up, drank coffee and made pancakes. So good. And the strawberries this time of year…heavenly! My goal is to have strawberries every day until they are out of season. After working out I made börek, a pastry I would serve to my friends coming over later in the day. Lunch and off to the game. No food at the game. This was a good thing. My friends lost by a hair, which means that if I did have food I would have ended up mindlessly tossing it in the air every time my friends missed a basket or let a turnover happen. Several times I was forced to put my cell phone in my pocket for fear that it would end up flying three rows up and smacking someone in the head. Game over, run home. My roommate, being the younger member of the household, served the börek I had made this morning, along with purchased stuffed grape leaves (sarma), a bean salad (piyaz), cake, and baklava given as a gift by the visitors. Off to greet the new neighbors. I gave them my plate of cake. In return they invited me in. They’re offering was a poğaça (sort of like a roll or a bun), éclairs and a slice of pound cake. Fortunately, as I had dropped in, I was not obligated to eat everything on my plate. Even more fortunate, they did not force the issue. This bodes well as I look ahead to future visits.

Or we could describe the day based on friends. I woke up to a quiet house. My roommate had stayed the night with friends. Ah, the sound of silence. Off to the game. On my way I ran into one of the players, walking her dog to the gym. We talked on our way in. She told me of her latest crush. To the gym where I said hi to another player, chatted with a player’s mom, and sat in the stands to watch warm-ups. During warm-ups I waved to several other players. Another friend came in and we watched the game together. A sad play-off loss, but we still have another chance. Game over, run home to greet friends. My roommate and I had a believing couple and their son over for 5 o’clock tea. Amazing conversation. I am full of thanksgiving for this couple! They leave, and I deliver pastries to the neighbors. These neighbors are my landlord’s sisters and they are a hoot and a half! One is practically blind, the other is basically deaf. Home to fill up a plate with cake, then off to the new neighbors. A new family moved into the building a few weeks ago. As far as I can tell, its two single girls in their 20s/30s and their parents. Their grandparents are staying with them at the moment so their grandma can have tests done at the hospital. The girls recently opened a beauty salon. We talked about everything from my background to university studies to the tort problem in America (but not in so many words). And we have basketball in common. They have a friend playing on the other women’s division two basketball team in Ankara. Turkey is indeed a small country.

By Your Tears...

Recently I had the opportunity to go see Ravi Zacharias speak. Following his presentation (which, after hearing it translated into Turkish, I've decided that I will go into professional translating ONLY after living here for 25 years and even then, we'll see) there was a time for questions. Several people asked very interesting, very good questions. Some of those asking questions were believers, others clearly were not believers.

One question in particular sticks out in my mind. The very last question was asked by a believer. She said that one of the biggest problems we face here as believers is our family. Our families say, "choose us or choose your faith, you cannot have both." She said that sometimes believers were beaten or kicked out of their home. Would it be better for us to keep our faith a secret? I'm not sure if she knew, but the individual to whom the question was asked had been there before.

My initial response to such a question, admittedly and unfortunately, is not very merciful. I want to say, "We are promised to have difficult times, so get out there and proclaim what is most important!" He never said that. He also did not deny that we are to be open about what we believe. He shared out of his own experience. He said that he would often leave books and tapes around the house and he knew they would be listened to. He told of a father who was quite mean in his discipline, but who, after coming to saving faith completely changed. The change was so complete that in a lineup of pictures from his life, his friends and family could tell when he had become a believer. Ravi did say that one way or another our light must shine forth. "By your tears..." he understood the heart of the person to whom he was speaking.

This is one side of the picture here. In my studies I listened to words of another believer who had been kicked out by her family. She told of how He had provided for her, both through work and through housing. Next time I see her I want to ask whether or not her relationship with her family has been at all mended. She continues to walk in faith.

This may not happen everyday to every believer. It happens often enough to know that there are even those who are reticent to come because of their families reaction. Do not ask only that they would have courage. Ask also that I would have an understanding and merciful heart. I have not been in their shoes. I can direct them to One who has. But I want to do so with compassion and grace.

On Hiking and Uniformity

A week ago a friend and I joined a hiking group for a Sunday stroll in the mountains. Okay, not so much a stroll. Definitely a hike. Actually, had the snow been a little less tricky and slow going in spots, we could have called it a climb.

For a while now, I've been wanting to both get out and be in the great outdoors that I've grown up loving and to find those locals who enjoy the same types of pursuits. It became very clear that this type of activity is primarily done through an association and an association is found by asking those you know. So off to my acquaintances I went and I began to ask for information. All of their answers led me back to one group, who's office happens to be a 10 minute walk from my house. Then, when one of my co-workers who will shortly be moving to another city joined the group for a hike, I decided to follow suit. But before I committed, I asked a good friend to join me - one who happens to be a girl. The last thing I wanted to do is to show up and be the only girl!

Last Sunday at 7 am we headed out my door with all our gear and walked up the hill to the association office. There we were met by folks who, by all outward appearances, had done this sort of thing before. And, as I am finding to be true in this country, they were a community of sorts that all knew each other. We picked more people up as we headed out of town in our hired bus and were off to the mountains.

I looked around me. Everyone was dressed in more or less the same brand of clothing, more or less everyone was wearing red and black, and everyone was basically of the same socio-economic status. We had our tea, we had our rolls, and we had our conversation.

We stopped on the way at their usual bakery to buy bread where almost everyone walked out with loaves of bread. Then we stopped at the truck stop where soup and tea would be consumed and gaiters would be put on. Here my friend learned that there is only one way to put on gaiters.

So off to the trail we went. Ah, but wait - no real trail would lead us to where we were going. We were at the mercy of our guide, his GPS, map, and previous hiking in the area. The remainder of the day I watched him climb and teach. Every time we stopped everyone was instructed to drink water. When we hit slopes covered with snow that would require a certain type of step, everyone was not only told how to walk, but shown how to do so. When a decision needed to be made as to whether or not we would attempt the peak or attempt to simply get back to our vehicle, everyone was given all the possibilities and all the reasons for deciding certain things. Here was a guide, a teacher, a shepherd of a flock of hikers with varying levels of experience.

Lunch time came. We found a flat area, stomped down our snow and out came, once more, identical gear and identical menus. The guide (who we called hoca - the word for a teacher - and who called us hoca, i.e. Catherine hoca, Sevda hoca) had everyone put on all their layers, stamp down the snow in a certain way, and continued to instruct on different aspects of winter climbing.

Hours later, right about sunset, we made it back to the vehicle. Here the hoca led everyone in stretching and then back to the vehicle. Down the road we went to the truck stop for the same bowl of soup, the same pickles and onions and the same tea. Rested, hydrated, happy and tired it was back to the vehicle and back to town where we all went to our various, non-identical houses, jobs, friends and families.

Slowly, slowly, slowly I am learning more about the community aspect of this culture. Community and doing/liking the same things as my friend seem to be the order of the day. With me Ask that whole communities will decide together to follow the Truth. And as we Ask this question for Turkey, lets Ask something for ourselves - do we live in community with one another? I don't believe we are taught that community and uniformity are the same, but there is something to be learned here from this culture that so values community.