1.31.05

Monday, January 31, 2005

I feel scared. What if having these people in my house somehow jeopardizes my kids? It seems like an absurd thought to have now. But really, I don’t know anything about these people and I feel a little leery about them. I can’t believe I am even saying this. I think the episode I watched of “24” tonight is getting to my head. I mean, they are Islamic. I am a Christian. Our worlds are so different. And I have to say I feel a bit confused about the whole Muslim religion. I guess in a lot of ways they are like Christians. Many people who say they are Christian’s really don’t “practice” their faith. It is more like a tradition. I think it is similar with this family. They don’t wear traditional Muslim clothes (except Mama). They certainly have never prayed at all or even asked which way is East. Maybe I am reflecting on the tension in our country over the religious differences we have.

And yet, here I am taking this risk. I am risking my family for an “alien” (Biblical word for “foreigner”). Of all the people who would be the least likely to take this chance, it would be me. As a child, our house was a haven too. Convicts, witches, and the sexually promiscuous. I believe they would all say they were “recovering”. I can’t say that was completely true in every circumstance. Even being a blue eyed, Youth Pastor’s daughter in an inner city church was hazardous.

Something in me just went cold. My fingers don’t want to type and my heart has slowed. My past lingers in the deepest recesses of my mind, but it regularly reveals itself when fear comes to call. My biggest fear is that something will happen to my children. God forbid. Maybe this all seems highly paranoid. Actually, I fight the demons of false-reality each and every day. The “What if” question I began with says my emotions want to control my reality.

If I back track and close my eyes, I hear the laughter and giggles of children echoing off the gym walls at Highpoint Center. We played there today for an hour and a half. We rolled, spinned, jumped, cart-wheeled, kicked, and threw balls. Finally, we danced. The older children are teaching me traditional dances.

These are not my enemies. No. These are children who are learning to love a Christian. I am a Christian learning to love Muslims. In my mind, I see their eyes closing, mouths agape, rolling on the floor, and laughing hysterically at my ridiculous efforts to do the “marriage dance”. We are students of love and acceptance. We are learning the language of trust when it seems illogical. I can say it is illogical for me personally. But from their viewpoint, wouldn’t it be the same? What experience do they have of a white American family? Who am I to think that I am the only one needing to overcome these fears and paranoia? They are living in a land that used to enslave their kind. How much do they know of that? And the exposure that they have had to America, hasn’t it been about gangsters and criminals? I guess I had never thought about it from their perspective. They could be thinking we are about to steal their belongings or whatever. I don’t know their thoughts, but at least it is worth me considering.

I want to validate my own feelings of protectiveness of my family. That is a God-given feeling. However, I also need to look at this rationally. There has not been any situation in which I have felt threatened by these people. They have been kind and respectful of us, and we to them. The only one I don’t know very much about is Father because he is quiet and not conspicuous. Maybe it is our cultural differences that cause him to be so careful and discerning. However, my children are never alone with the family. This is my own personal boundary that we have enforced.

And so, the emotional energy that I have spent considering the risk is worthwhile but also I know our family has responded to the calling that God gave us all the while knowing He is Emmanuel, God with us. He will never leave us nor forsake us. So as Christians, we go deep to embrace those that we perceive as different either religiously or otherwise. I must look deeper than skin to see what God sees. I must look deeper than a religious category. What does God see when he looks at Abdullahi, Adharo, Majeni, Fartuna, Amina, Fatuma, Halima, Mohammed, Ali, Medina, or Mohammud? Maybe I am crossing the road that the Samaritan crossed to care for Jew that was robbed and beaten. I have considered a more traditional course and if I had chosen to stay on my side of the road, I would never have been able to smile tonight thinking of the new American’s sleeping in my home tonight – Muslim or not.