Chin Up

What an intense day.

Technically, I live in Israel.  But most of the time I don't feel like I live in Israel.  I spend most of my time on the Bahai properties or in my flat or the flat of other Bahai youth serving here, so my time to explore the country is pretty limited.  But today I decided I wanted to do everything I typically do, on my own.  First I went to the little mini-mart a couple of blocks away from my street, and on my walk over, an old man who I see frequently in the area reached out his arm and stopped me as I walked cavalierly on the street because the sidewalk was too crammed with illegally parked cars.  He spoke to me in Hebrew so I didn't actually understand, but I gather he was telling me not to walk on the street.  I paused and explained that I don't speak Hebrew ("lo hivrit, lo hivrit" translation: no hebrew) and then he switched into a combination of Hebrew, broken English, and a Romance language I'm not familiar with (or that he was making up).  In the course of our brief conversation, somewhere between his fragmented English and my fantastic miming skills, I'm pretty we had a conversation about how he is of Hungarian/Romanian descent but had come from Germany...and I'm also pretty sure he told me he'd been at a concentration camp...I wished so much I could communicate with him adequately to hear his story.  But instead I slowly articulated and exaggeratedly gestured with my arms that I imagine he must have seen and experienced a lot suffering in his life.  He nodded his head yes and said something in the Romance language that I didn't quite catch, and then he switched into English and said, "never walk on the street.  I know, I'm a driver.  We drive crazy here." I stepped up onto the sidewalk to be polite, and as if the universe were trying to prove his point, a massive truck came barreling towards us, which, had I not moved onto the sidewalk, probably would have fractured some part of my body, if not done worse damage.  

"You see?" he said.  I thanked him and told him I would cross now and stay on the sidewalk, and as I crossed the street he said, "Make something good of your life."

A few minutes later I was in the store and the owner taught me how to say straw in Arabic (exciting, I know!) and I taught him how to say it in English.  We tried out a few different words and finally landed on chocolate, which we decided sounds familiar in every language.  Then I asked him how I could get somewhere and I he walked me out of the store--didn't even lock it up or anything, and walked me to the stairs where I needed to be.  So kind of him!

So as I made my way through the Hadaar (our downtown) there was this homeless man resting on his knees, hands outstretched asking for money.  I reached into my purse and grabbed a small sweet I had in there.  "Do you like chocolate?" I asked. "Yes," he said.  I handed it to him, just this small chocolate sweet, nothing sacrificial or even generous on my part whatsoever, really, and yet he prostrated himself before my feet and thanked me, as if I'd just handed him a golden nugget.  I wished so much at that moment that I could say anything other than "left", "right", "yes", "no", "stop", "thank you", and "receipt please", in Hebrew.  I wanted to look at him and say to him, "I am not better than you.  None of these people are better than you..." How utterly horrifying that this human being, this noble creature, felt this lowliness.  I could just feel it in him.  Feelings of unworthiness.  I don't know.  It was the most bizarre sensation, but i swear in that moment I felt like he and I had connected, and I sensed his sorrow, his sadness.  And my heart just ached, wondering how he'd come to be this way... What must he have gone through in this life?

But I kept walking and made my way to the sherut.  On the sherut I decided to put my seatbelt on even though for some reason most people here opt not to.  It was also being REALLY difficult so I almost gave up but decided to tug a little longer and finally it gave and buckled.  Twenty minutes into our sherut ride, a truck plowed into the side of the sherut causing our driver to veer into the next lane and slam on his brakes as the next lane was full of oncoming traffic.  I slammed hard against my belt, and was sitting in the front seat, passenger side, and realized had I not tugged a little longer just 20 minutes before....

A day of near misses.

I had a beautiful time at the Shrines though and thought of all the things I have to be grateful for.  And was reminded, once again, how fragile life is.  How one instant can change absolutely everything, and how we really don't have control over our lives in so many ways.

Life, what a crazy ride.