Middle East Trip: Day 7

Day 7: Leaving Bloudan (Fri August 27)

What they say about company and fish seems to hold true at our hotel. The entire fifth floor has a peculiar odor which seems to emanate from the sewer connections. Sitting on the balcony grants a reprieve but as I finish packing that morning I know I will not miss that smell.
The morning service was special. After bilingual worship Carol gave her testimony and then Rodney taught the final lesson. As we prayed near the conclusion I suddenly and unexpectedly began to weep. I was confused what I was experiencing. I prayed to the Lord, telling him I was not sure we had done what He wanted. A great peace and calm welled up inside of me as I felt the comfort of the Lord, as He simply asked me to rest in His love, that, sure, at times we stepped on cultural toes and at times I put my foot in my mouth, but that we had had done exactly what He asked of us and that the rest was in His hands. Marsha and other team members passed out rocks to all the attendees and they were asked to take some burden or hurt that God has shown them and bring it to the foot of the cross. And so began an extended period of prayer, reflection and cleansing as many came forward. I was so thankful for auto focus because tears constantly blurred my vision. I held onto my small rock as a reminder to pray for E and the evangelical church in Syria.
Afterwards many heart-felt good-byes were shared, email addresses were confirmed and partings were sealed with hugs and kisses on both cheeks, men as well as women. The conference had been a special time of fellowship and I would sorely miss them, All too soon we were on a bus, headed for Damascus, but still attended by quite a few of our new friends who would be staying in Damascus as well, waiting for their flights to depart over the weekend. On the bus ride I had a final opportunity to talk with C from Pakistan. He is quite a remarkable man, speaking five languages and very committed to the Lord and to his family.
Our destination in Damascus is a couple of monasteries in the Christian quarter which have a hostel-like area in which people can stay. We are splitting our group between the two monasteries for security reasons: the tension between Egypt and Algeria preclude them being housed together. But initially we are dropped off once again at the open air market since we have a couple of hours before we are to show up at the monasteries, although our team is dragging after all we have been through the past week. We did a little shopping but spent a lot of time at an open air café right outside the Umayyad mosque. We ended up missing the bus because it was getting into rush hour and the police would not let the bus stop in the taxi zone where they had dropped us off. So a group of us ended up having to take taxis to catch up with everyone at the first monastery.
I will never forget that taxi ride. There are no traffic laws in Damascus, very few traffic lights, and the taxi drivers could hold their own on a Nascar circuit. We are whipping through traffic, narrow missing pedestrians and cyclists. At least three time I suck in my breath as we just miss a collision; at least one there is a pop as the side view mirror hits something. We get lost and are whizzing down narrow streets with children just feet away. Amazing sights, like a bike which has the front wheel replaced with a rear one with disc brake pad on it. I see a horse drawn cart with traditional fringe barreling down the narrow street towards us with the horse at near full speed. The taxi driver futilely attempts a U turn into one way traffic and after a few minutes, bales on that idea and does another U turn across the traffic. All the while the two teenage girls with me and W, R and R, are calmly chewing gum and texting their friends. They say this is nothing compared to Cairo where they drive. I resolve to pray for them.
Arriving at the first monastery there is much confusion as bags are unloaded and sorted for those staying and reloaded for those of us heading to the other monastery. Unknown to me my suitcase is left hidden behind the monastery wall. Because of the narrowness of the street the bus has to back up several hundred yards to be able to leave. As they are working to clear traffic behind the bus, H climbs on the bus holding my vitamin dispenser and ask if it belongs to anyone because the bag it came from is not on the bus. As H and I retrieve my suitcase the bus is backing up. There is this scene of a huge bus backing down the street, people shouting and horns blaring, and me and H walking down the middle of the street, pulling my suitcase and trying to keep up with the bus. I look up at the bus driver and am amazed at his calmness. Just another day at the office for him apparently. After the bus backs out, the doors open and I happily climb back on board and we are off to our monastery.
Our monastery rooms are clean, simple and have air-conditioning. We are so thankful. Damascus is considerably warmer than Bloudan; I don’t believe I could have slept well without the AC. H is a guardian angel again, retrieving Jonathan's iphone and Carol's Bible that were left on the bus. We have dinner with our friends at Casa Blanca restaurant which is in the old part of Damascus, maybe a ten minute walk from the monastery, and just a hundred yards or so off of Straight Street and Ananias’ house. After a wonderful meal and time of fellowship it was hit the showers and then the bed for a good night of rest.