I Have a Tale to Tell

I have a tale to tell. But it has to start from the end instead of the beginning in order to be merciful to everyone involved. I'll divide it into parts or separate posts. This is part one.

Listen: Live to Tell by Madonna (clean)

I wanted to be a writer

In 2006, God began to train me more intensely than in the previous years of my life. I asked for it. I wanted to know more. My reasons for desiring this changed over time, but at first the reason was to be able to write an amazing story. I wanted to be a historical fiction writer. The first story I chose to tell was the birth of Jesus Christ. So in 2000, I wrote “The Stone of Light, ” a story in which three kids from the present traveled back in time to when Joseph and Mary were just learning about their roles in His life. The kids experienced their own adventure and conversion story as they traveled with Mary and Joseph from Nazareth to Bethlehem. It was like the Magic Tree House by Mary Pope Osbourne meets Quantum Leap (late 80s, early 90s television series). It was somewhat of a spin-off of the Tennis Shoes Among the Nephites series by Chris Heimerdinger as well as the Kingdom and the Crown series by Gerald Lund. It took me more than a year to research the setting with all of its geographical, geological, cultural, political, and economic details. 

The rejection of a mentor was painful

When I finished writing it in 2001, I sent it to Deseret Book, and they rejected it. Then I sent it to Covenant Book, and they also rejected it. The reason this hurt me so badly was because I saw Deseret Book as part of my church community. And I had been predominantly raised by that community as mentioned in some of my previous posts. My sense of belonging to a family and community was here. They rejected my offering without much of a reason. I didn't know what to do to improve it. This was difficult because I wanted to "play on the team" and I thought this was the only doorway in.

Additionally, I had a large library of books published by Deseret and Covenant that I had been reading for many years. These books changed my life for the better. I loved them. I read them to my kids. My kids loved them. We were a family that read together. We went on reading adventures together, laughed, cried, and learned. And that brought us closer together. It solved many of the problems we had been having. These stories played a huge role in raising me and my kids at the same time.

I owe so much to the publishers and to the authors of those books. As I said, in many ways they played a mentor role for me. Because of that, I wanted to become like them. I wanted to be a writer. That was my passion, my dream, and my mission. And this is why their rejections hurt so badly.

Back to the drawing board

So, after the rejections, I went back to the drawing board. I read more books on writing, attended writer’s conferences, started a writing group, and hired a writing coach. I learned a lot, but for whatever reason, it wasn’t enough to actually accomplish my goal.

At the BYU Writers for Young Readers conferences (2003, 2004, 2005), I experienced a type of rejection as well. Successful writers spoke to us in workshops about how successful they were. Some of these were the authors of the books that changed my life. I deeply admired them, but I also envied their success in my present failure. 

In our group workshops I learned some good things, but in hindsight what I really needed was someone who believed in me, who saw my talent, and who could help me develop it. Instead, there was a lot of focus on criticizing what we were not doing right. Too much criticism and not enough support, hope, specific training, and reinforcement. After the 2005 writer’s conference, I returned home swearing I would never write again.

To be continued...HERE.

I Know This Much Is True

When I was sixteen (1985-86), I started running for the first time. Before this, I had run on soccer and softball teams and for P.E. But this time I was running on my own around the school track at Herman Junior High in South San Jose, California. 

Who inspired me?

I got the idea for running from this couple at church, who had recently started running and subsequently lost weight. They looked great. I was looking for truth – the truth about how to get in shape. I had tried a lot of other ways that didn’t work. My goal was to improve my fitness and shed excess fat. So, I thought I would test this running idea out. If they could do it, so could I.

How I incrementally progressed

I started with running one mile three times a week and did that for a month. Then I increased it to two miles the next month, then three. I was determined not to give up.

For the first two and a half months, things were going great. I usually ran in the late afternoons after school when it was cooler out and listened to music on my Sony Sports Walkman. I enjoyed the time alone.

A sharp pain in my shins

But when I got up to running three miles, I started feeling a sharp pain in my shins every time I went out to run. It just got worse over time. I tried to stretch before running but that didn’t stop the pain. I was stressed out because I really wanted to continue with this goal, but the pain eventually became too intense. 

Troubleshooting the problem

I needed more truth, so I called that couple from church and explained what was happening. The husband essentially said that I was too heavy and therefore could not continue running (I include a picture of me at sixteen here to show the actual). No troubleshooting. No looking into the facts before offering me this conclusion. Just suggesting that if running wasn’t working, then I should quit doing it. Was that the truth?

I worried that it was, and it really upset me. I was hypersensitive about my weight and had been for many years. I think this is typical for teenage girls, but it was especially intense for me because my brother had teased me about my body weight regularly in my younger years. Nevertheless, I would not give up on searching for the truth about fitness. There had to be a way.

“The glory of God is intelligence, or, in other words, light and truth.” 

– D&C 93:36

Before talking to that couple in my ward, I had felt so good about my level of commitment to my running goal. I believed I had finally found a true fitness solution for me. The track was close. I could run any time I wanted. It didn’t cost me anything. I didn’t have to depend on anyone to take me there (I didn’t have a car yet). I enjoyed it. These were important variables that contributed to my true success.

A second opinion

Next, I went to the doctor for a second opinion. The doctor told me that I had shin splints. That was the truth. But then his resolution process was for me to look into a lower impact sport like swimming. No troubleshooting the running goal. No looking into the facts. Just suggesting that if running wasn’t working, then I should quit doing it. Was that even true?

Swimming? There were no swimming pools near me. How the heck was I going to get there three times a week? I knew that wasn’t going to work for me. After I left the doctor’s office, I cried. I had to stop running, and that was the end of that.

I later became a fitness instructor

About ten years later, I became a fitness instructor. I had to read a few textbooks about things like anatomy, metabolism, exercise physiology, impact and reaction forces, cardiorespiratory endurance, kinesiology, and sports injuries. I had already been doing aerobics for a few years and had learned how to increase muscular strength, cardiorespiratory endurance, and flexibility. 

After 15 years of teaching fitness classes, reading more about fitness, and learning through personal experience, I now know the truth about what causes shin splints and how to troubleshoot the problem. I do not know why that couple from my church didn’t know it, let alone the doctor, but these are the questions I would have asked this teenage girl with this type of injury:

Number 1 

What kind of shoes are you wearing?

Answer: I was wearing a pair of pink Keds with no cushioning, stability, or impact protection.  

Number 2

What are you doing to warm up before you run?

Answer: A few stretches, but I didn’t start those until after my shins started hurting.

Number 3

What conditioning exercises are you doing to strengthen the muscles in your legs?

Answer: I was not doing any.

I know this much is true

I am not a distance runner now, but I have been running consistently for around 5 years. I have got up to eight miles but usually stay around three to five. Before I run, I warm up with squats, lunges, and hip strengthening exercises. I wear running shoes – Hokas, which have excellent cushioning, stability, and impact protection. When they start wearing down, I can feel it in my feet, knees, shins, or calves so I know it’s time to get another pair. When I injure my legs, back, or hips, I either have to stop running for a time so I can heal or wear compression socks and run slower for shorter distances.

“And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” 

– John 8:32

So, I know this much is true. I have learned that learning the truth about things empowers me. Troubleshooting before giving up on something entirely is an intelligent choice. And people who are able to give me correct information and guide me to identifying true solutions are my greatest assets. 

“Whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection. And if a person gains more knowledge and intelligence in this life through his diligence and obedience than another, he will have so much the advantage in the world to come.” 

– D&C 130:18-19

Stopped at the Gates

In 2014, when I was traveling through Israel with my tour group, we visited several sites sacred to Israelis. Our tour guide told us that we should dress appropriately. At least knee-length pants or dresses and longer shirt sleeves. In short, if we wanted to get in, we couldn’t wear tank tops or shorts. 

However, when we went to the Wailing Wall at Temple Mount in Jerusalem, probably the most sacred place for the Israeli people, some members of our group who had forgotten the dress code wore short shorts and tank tops. They were stopped at the gates. The guards wouldn’t let them in. 

But they really wanted to go in. They had been looking forward to seeing the Wailing Wall for the entire trip. They had previously written a prayer on a piece of paper that they wanted to put in one of the crevices of the wall. They were so relieved when someone told them that there were vendors outside the gates selling coverings. After purchasing the coverings and putting them on, they approached the gates again, and the guards let them in. 

Communicate Respect or Disrespect

I have thought about this experience often. Through it and other similar experiences in foreign countries I’ve learned that I communicate respect or disrespect through the way I dress, the way I speak, and the way I act. This concept becomes extremely clear when I visit other countries and especially their sacred places. If I want in, it is an act of humility, respect, and love to make the effort to speak their language and follow their rules.

Kicking Bad Habits – Spiritual Gates

Now scroll back to 1984-85, when I was 15 years old and had recently gone back to church (see Change Like A Sunrise). I was learning more about God and his way of doing things and came to a sort of spiritual gate. I wanted to enter in, but I was stopped and directed to change something about myself first. Here’s how that happened:

I had picked up the habit of swearing during my junior high days. So, even after I went back to church at fourteen, I was still swearing until the beginning of my sophomore year of high school. 

There was one day when I was hanging out with a few of my friends around the cement planter at Santa Teresa High School where we always hung out. I swore and then suddenly sensed that I should not do that anymore. It wasn’t a harsh voice speaking to me. It was more like a suggestion – one that hadn’t occurred to me before that moment. I had approached a point of increased self-awareness and realization. 

It was like the guards at the Wailing Wall that told my friends that they couldn’t come in until they were dressed appropriately. I had come to a gate in my spiritual progression. I needed to increase my respect past this point. I could have chosen not to go in just like my friends in Israel could have chosen that. I could have stayed on that side of the gate and continued along the same pathway. But like them, I really wanted to enter in. 

I chose to change my language. From that time forward, I dropped the habit completely.

The Gates of Heaven

Throughout my life, I have continued to approach other gates. I’m not fully aware of them until I get there and realize the choice. The choice is usually about sacrificing my old ways of doing things for better ways.

I love these gates because they are evidence that the Lord is actively training me. Each gate represents an incremental level and invitation to draw closer to him. My motivation to change is driven by His intense Spirit. It’s a total privilege. At each gate, he unlocks chains that have kept me at a level of sorrow I had no idea I could overcome. It’s the best feeling I’ve ever experienced.

Change Like A Sunrise

It was a Sunday, and the year was 1983. The place was San Jose, California. I wasn’t at church like I hadn’t been for the past year. I was fourteen years old and hanging out at home in my red and white striped shorts and a t-shirt. There was a knock at the door, and I answered it. Two women from my church had come to see me. They introduced themselves as Sister Braun and Sister Schuck, my young women leaders, and asked if they could come in. 

I agreed and showed them into the living room. What followed was a conversation that has echoed through my mind and heart for 37 years. It’s not that it was amazingly powerful or touching at the time. In fact, it was pretty awkward for me. They told me they loved me with tears in their eyes. They invited me to come back to church for 6 weeks. Even though I wasn’t a fan of such mushiness and was anxious for the whole visit to be over, I agreed to go back. 

So, I went back. I don’t remember when the six weeks ended. I lost track of time. There were good friends, boys, love, guidance, leadership, inclusion, and opportunities at church. I needed this community. My ward became my family. My bishop, his counselors, and young men leaders were like father figures to me. My young women leaders were mother figures. And they loved me.

They taught me that I was a daughter of God and that he loved me. They told us all that we had been saved for these last days to perform a special mission for Him. We were youth of a noble birthright. Something stirred inside me. It began to grow.

“Now we will compare the word unto a seed. Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts...” -Alma 32:28

The Promise

Within a year, around my fifteenth birthday, I went to one of the regular interviews that the members of the bishopric have with the youth. This particular interview was with Brother Williams, one of the bishopric counselors. He told me that there is a promise in the scriptures that if I consistently read them, the Lord would prosper me. He took a few minutes to define what prosperity meant – flourishing financially. That appealed to me. During these years, I was very interested in figuring out a way to meet my needs.

In telling me about this, Brother Williams introduced me to a covenant relationship with the Lord himself. He told me about a promise that I didn’t know about before. Up until that time, I tried to obtain some of the things I wanted in ways that were imbalanced and definitely weren’t sustainable. But after hearing about this promise, I latched onto it. I believed it and was excited to test it out.

Change Like a Sunrise

After the interview, I started reading the scriptures consistently. I rarely missed a day. I experienced light. That’s the best way to describe it. It was like the sun rising so gradually, I barely even noticed it and the changes that were occurring inside of me. But in hindsight, I can see the movement, the progress. Over time scripture reading became a habit. Little by little, I learned a better way of living – a better way of obtaining my desires and resolving my conflicts. Many imbalanced thoughts, words, and actions were balanced within a year. But other more difficult relationship issues would take me more time to figure out, realize, and correct. Oh, and financially, I've always had enough and to spare. 

See my post: My Financial Advisor and I Was On a 500-mile Bike Trip for some examples of how that happened.

I Was Part of a Miracle

When I was sixteen, I was at a youth fireside at our bishop’s home – Bishop & Sister Hunter. They were spotlighting our leaders. The leaders had a bunch of questions to answer beforehand. When they did Sister Schuck’s spotlight, they told us things about her like her favorite color, where she was born and grew up, etc. I can’t remember the details, but I do remember one of the questions: What is one of your most spiritual experiences? They read the answer – Reactivating Gretchen Nahinu. I was astonished. I had forgotten who I was before and hadn't realized the full story.

Later she told me that she had received such a strong impression to go to my house and invite me back to church. And then she had watched me grow and change over the years. I was a part of her miracle and I hadn’t been fully aware of it. The realization caused me to reflect on the changes that had occurred in me and her role in my conversion. I also became more aware of the Lord's role in my life. He had come for me. The atonement of Jesus Christ is real.

I owe so much to Sister Braun, Sister Schuck, and Brother Williams. The feelings of awkwardness that I had when I first met them have turned into feelings of complete gratitude. I am so thankful that they came for me and taught me about my relationship with my Savior. It was through these and many other good people in my life, scripture study, prayer, and personal revelation that my relationship with Him has been developed. And it has been through this personal training relationship with him that I've been able to rebalance, work through the more difficult issues that I have been assigned to overcome throughout my lifetime, and find Sustainable Joy.

Could I Forgive My Past Self?

When I was growing up, my family didn’t have a lot. We struggled financially. I didn’t have money to buy what I wanted. And there were many little things that I really wanted. One day, I found some money in my mom’s dresser drawer that I knew belonged to my little sister, Emelia. She had received it for her birthday. I guess my mom was keeping it because Emelia was only eight years old. It was sixty dollars, three twenties. I didn’t think anyone was using it or that they needed it as much as I did. So, I took it.

I stored it on the top shelf of my closet and would take a little down at a time. I used it over the course of several months to buy the things a fourteen-year-old girl wanted. When my mom asked me if I took the money, I told her I hadn’t. I think she ended up blaming my brother.

Do you feel guilty?

One day I was taking some of the money down, when a question came into my mind:

“Do you feel guilty?”

“No.”

“But do you remember learning in primary that stealing is wrong?”

“Yeah, but they said I would feel guilty, and I don’t. I feel perfectly fine.”

I distinctly remember analyzing the lack of guilt that I felt. At the time, I saw the conversation as my own thoughts. But now that I know how the Lord talks to me, I can look back at these memories and identify his presence more accurately. This was definitely one of those moments when he was working with me.

The more I changed, the more it bothered me

This situation was not resolved when I was 14. I did not do the right thing right away. I was focused on my own needs and had little empathy for my sister’s. But over the next few years when I went back to church, I grew up and grew closer to the Lord. The incident was always in the back of my mind. I never forgot it. The more I changed, the more it bothered me that I had done it. 

In a young women’s class, in a Sunday school class, or in a sacrament talk, I heard about making restitution for the things that we did wrong in order to truly repent. Some things were outside of our control, and we couldn’t physically do anything to make amends. But other things we could. I heard this lesson a number of times between the ages of 14 and 19. And when I did, I reflected on the stolen money. The guilt increased over these years. I never felt toxically ashamed; the feeling was more like motivation to make it right. I was one way at 14. I was another at 15 and another at 16 and 17 and 18 and 19.

The motivation converted into action

By age 19, the motivation converted into action. When I came home for the summer from my first year of college, I got my first full-time job. One day after work, I stopped by the teller and withdrew sixty dollars. That evening, I asked my mom and sister to come into my room. Emelia was now around the same age I had been when I took her money.

“I need to tell you guys something. Remember when someone took the sixty dollars that Emelia got for her birthday?”

They nodded.

“It was me. I’m sorry.” I didn’t cry. I felt solemn and excited at the same time. I handed Emelia the three twenty dollar bills (I didn’t know about interest rates at this age).

My mom hooted and said, “I wondered what had happened to that money.” She was happy and maybe even a little surprised that I was making restitution of my own free will.

Emelia had a big smile on her face. At eight years old, she may not have completely understood what she had lost. Now, it was clear that she understood the value of it. Sixty bucks was a lot of money for a 13 year old girl.

Could I forgive my past self? 

In telling this story, my hope is not to highlight my goodness. It’s actually pretty difficult for me to tell it because my values are so different than they were at fourteen. I am not that girl anymore. Her ways are no longer my ways. Her thoughts are no longer my thoughts. I see her as I would another person. And the Savior has taught me to have compassion on her.

That said, my main purpose is to illuminate the atonement of Jesus Christ in action. He wanted to know how much I understood about what I was doing. Maybe he questioned me to make sure. And maybe the questions were more for an older women when she looked back on the younger. Could I forgive my past self if I remembered that she didn’t completely understand the “why” behind the laws?

They that are without the law

A number of years ago, I learned more about Him and the way his Mercy works:

“For behold that all little children are alive in Christ, and also all they that are without the law. For the power of redemption cometh on all them that have no law; wherefore, he that is not condemned, or he that is under no condemnation, cannot repent.” ~Moroni 8:22

Under the Savior’s laws of Mercy, He gave me time to grow up, learn more, and to repent. He held back the full consequences of Justice for me. At no time did he smother me with guilt. But this wasn’t a free pass to just keep on stealing what I wanted. Over the next several years, he worked on me, trained me step by step, and I listened. 

I don’t think that it was ever about the money for him. I think it has always been about me learning the best and most sustainable way to obtain my desires and resolve my conflicts.

The laws of Justice & Mercy

At fourteen, I obviously knew that I shouldn’t take the money. I knew the law. According to Justice, I was guilty. But because of Mercy, I was given time for the law to become written in my heart. I was given time to decide who I wanted to be and to whom I would swear allegiance. At fourteen I had very little sense of belonging. I was operating in survival mode - just looking out for myself. I had not yet consciously devoted myself and my life to Christ. But over the course of the next five years, I gradually became aware of my identity. As my mind sharpened and my awareness of my choices increased, I chose who I would be allegiant to. I became a strong advocate for Christ. And that became a powerful reason for my obeying the law.

My story reminds me of Eustace Scrubb’s in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis. This character is a pain in the butt during the first half of the book. He is always looking out for number one, which ends up causing other people trouble. But in the story he is cursed for stealing and changed into a dragon. He is not happy about this consequence and views it as a prison. Aslan is the lion character that symbolizes Jesus Christ. He works with Eustace to tear off the dragon’s skin layer by layer. Eustace changes through this experience. He becomes compassionate, empathetic, and courageous. He is forever after allegiant to Aslan.

Layer by layer. That is a good description of how I changed over the course of time, from fourteen to nineteen years old. And it’s a good description of how I have continued to change through the Savior’s training throughout my entire life. If I were to dwell in Toxic Shame on any of my past layers, it would really deter me from my future growth. 

The only way I have been able to let go of the past and become more than I once was has been to learn to have as much Mercy on my past self as Christ has had on her. As I have increased in this ability, my patience and empathy with my own kids and other people has increased. Because I was given Mercy, I am bound by the laws of Mercy. I am obligated to forgive myself and others who don’t yet know the law and who do not yet have it written in their hearts. I am harshly censured when I don’t.

The Glass Shattered in My Hands

In 1991, I bought a vintage gumball machine from a garage sale. A few weeks later, I was sitting on the edge of my bed trying to remove the glass globe from the base so I could fill it with gumballs. It wouldn’t come off, so I gripped it tighter and tried again. The glass shattered in my hands and cut me deeply in my palm. I was bleeding heavily. After rinsing and inspecting it, I knew it would need stitches. I covered it with a towel and drove myself to the hospital.

At Utah Valley Hospital in a small room partitioned with white curtains, the doctor removed a few tiny shards of glass and began sewing the cut back together. It hurt badly. I complained and pulled my hand away. He injected more local anesthetic around it but the pain was still intense. The doctor’s response was essentially, “Suck it up.” He could not understand my response and thought I was just being a wimp. So, I closed my eyes and just endured.

After the wound had healed and the stitches were removed, my palm still hurt when I put pressure on it. I thought it just would take some time to completely heal inside. But after many months, I was still feeling the pain. 

I wondered if this was just something that would always bother me. Some people get injured and live with pain and weakness for the rest of their lives. Was this one of those situations?

One day it occurred to me that there may still be some glass in there. 

A Second Opinion

I went to the doctor (a different one) and told him about the problem. He listened to my story and tested the area. He agreed that my hypothesis was most likely true. He then took some x-rays and verified that there was something in there. My skin had healed up completely, encasing it in there.

A few days later, I had out-patient surgery. The doctor opened my palm up with a laser, removed a half-inch sliver of glass, and then restitched it. This time the healing was complete. What a relief!

The emergency-room doctor had very little empathy for me because he did not know the extent of the injury. With the surface-level shards of glass removed and the local anesthetic, he believed the stitching shouldn’t have caused that much pain. He concluded that I was a wimp. Because that was his judgment, I too wondered why I wasn’t tough enough to endure the pain.

Spiritual Injuries

I have learned through years of experience that spiritual or emotional injuries are very similar to physical injuries. A spiritual injury is like the shard of glass in my palm because it is hidden and takes careful evaluation to see and understand the extent of the injury.

If we don’t work with someone who has the patience to listen to our story and the skill to heal us completely, the wounds may heal on the surface, but still cause us pain when pressure, stress, or adversity is applied.

We all have red buttons, pain points, sensitivities, vulnerabilities, weaknesses. If you have a fixed mindset like I used to have, you may think that you just have to live with them. You may think this is your life. But I’ve learned to have a growth mindset: Always take the time to look more deeply for the shards of glass first before thinking I have to live the rest of my life with a pain that may very well be easily removed now.

Physical Challenges

In many cases we do have to live with physical injuries, weaknesses, or disabilities for the rest of our lives. I have read many stories of people who have done this, but have found greater purpose, meaning, and joy in life than they ever would have without the challenge. Here are links to three videos of people who have done this:

Helen Keller

Art Berg

Nick Vujicic 

Before 2006, I had a number of weaknesses and pain points that I wasn’t completely aware of. They were hidden beneath a superficially healed surface. When the going got tough, I felt sharp spiritual pain. I reacted seemingly disproportionately to life’s challenges. Some people thought I just needed to “suck it up.” They couldn’t understand my response and thought I was just being a wimp. I believed them. So I tried to endure it. But I also went to other sources, read lots of books, and tried many things.

Jesus Christ, My Second Opinion

During His lifetime, Jesus Christ was a Spiritual and a Physical Physician. The two abilities went hand in hand.

“They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” - Matthew 9:12

In the following story, we see Jesus as a Physical Physician. The woman, like me, had tried everything she could to solve the problem with the resources that were available to her before learning about Jesus.

“And a certain woman, which had an issue of blood twelve years, And had suffered many things of many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse, When she had learned of Jesus, came in the press behind, and touched his garment. For she said, If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole. And straightway the fountain of her blood was dried up; and she felt in her body that she was healed of that plague.” - Mark 5:25-29

In my story Jesus has been both a Physical and Spiritual Physician. In 2006, I began developing my communication relationship with Him to a level I had never known was possible. When I developed the faith to communicate with him, He was the doctor I went to for a second opinion. He listened to my story. He had the technology to x-ray my soul. In every single case, we identified the problem and worked through it together. We removed one shard at a time. And this time the healing was complete.

It Was the People That Blew Me Away

When I went to Egypt, Jordan, and Israel in May 2014 we saw some of the wonders of the world. In Egypt we explored the Great Pyramids and the Great Sphinx of Giza, Mount Sinai, the Nile, and the Tutankhamun tombs. In Jordan we saw the ancient city of Petra (seen in Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade movie), the Red Sea, and Mount Nebo. In Israel we swam in the Dead Sea, road a lift to the top of Masada, sailed on the Sea of Galilee, and some of our group were even baptized in the Jordan River.

I had wanted to see this part of the world for so many years. I had imagined it would blow me away. And the sites were interesting, but as it turned out they paled in comparison with meeting the people. Most of those we met were in the tourist business - guides, vendors, and servers at restaurants and hotels.

The Great Sphinx of Giza

In Egypt when everyone was taking pictures of the Sphinx, I was talking to the young Egyptian girls who were harassing us to buy postcards, bookmarks, jewelry, and other stuff. They were very pushy and most people tried to ignore them, hoping they would leave them alone. I didn’t like their pushiness either, but I really wanted to know their story. So, I sidestepped their pushiness, and asked them questions about themselves. 

“How old are you?”

“How long have you been working here?”

“Do you go to school?”

A little surprised, they stopped harassing, and answered my questions. The group of them were between 12 and 14 years old. They had been working for a couple of years there. They sometimes went to school but there wasn’t a lot of time for that. Most had beautiful brown eyes with those thick dark eyelashes. One had green eyes. Some wore head wraps. Some wore full cover. One of the girls said she didn’t like to wear the full cover because of the tan line. She showed me how the top of her face was darker than the bottom. They all giggled at that. More joined us. I glanced at the Sphinx a few times wondering if I would regret not paying more attention to it, but facts are facts: The life in these young girls and apparent need for personal attention was more about why I was there than any other reason.

When I was leaving, one of the girls gave me a bookmark with a sketch of the Sphinx on it. She said it was a gift for me and that I didn’t need to pay for it. I thanked her. A few minutes later just before I got on the bus, I gave her a dollar and told her it was a gift. She smiled like she had just opened a Christmas present. I could tell that it wasn’t so much the money as it was the gift giving - her act of love and mine.

Al Siq to the City of Petra

We traveled to southwestern Jordan to visit the well-known archaeological site of Petra with the famous city carved out of the red rocks. We had to walk a long way through a narrow canyon called Al Siq to get there. The geology reminded me of Southern Utah - Lake Powell, Zion National Park, Bryce Canyon. 

As we walked, there were more child vendors. These were among the pushiest we came across. There was a girl who must have been around 13 years old who tried to stuff the postcards she was selling into the shirt of an older lady in our group. She was taking advantage of this woman’s age. I walked over to her and firmly, but not angrily, told her to stop. She stopped bugging her but looked at me with contempt and said, “Don’t worry about it.” I knew I was in her country and in her territory, so I didn’t respond. My hope was to maintain respect while drawing the line at insolence where I could.

The next vendor I interacted with was a younger boy. He stuffed a packet of postcards on my bag and wouldn’t take it back. I didn’t want to be manipulated into buying his postcards so I took off my sun glasses and looked him in the eye and said, “Take it.” Again, I was showing him that I was serious without being disrespectful or angry. 

He said, “No.”

I found this funny, but I also sensed the challenge. As I continued walking through the narrow passageway, over 250 feet of towering red cliffs on either side, he followed me. 

“What’s your name,” I asked.

“Solomon.”

I nodded. “I like that name. How old are you?”

“Nine.”

“Do you go to school?”

“I work here and I go to school later.”

I played around with him a little and tried to stuff the packet of postcards into his sweatshirt hoodie. But it dropped on the ground.  

“Pick it up!” he demanded.

I sensed this was a contest of pride. I knew my goal was to love and not respond with anger like I saw others doing, so I chose humility and picked it up. I’m not saying that was easy. I don’t like it when people treat me like that, but I felt that it was important for me to serve first - “as you wish” kind of thing. So, I picked it up.

“If any man desire to be first, the same shall be last of all, and servant of all.” -Mark 9:35

I handed him the postcards.

“They’re a gift for you,” he said

“No, you can have them back.” I had heard they had a quota to meet and I still didn’t want to buy the cards under force.

He kept insisting I keep them. So I put them in my purse. I could tell he was warming up to me. I asked if I could take his picture. He nodded. (see the above picture) I showed him the picture on my phone and let him play with the phone for a couple of minutes. He was fascinated. 

“Do you have gum?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think I do.” I dug in my bag, found a few pieces, and gave them to him.

Finally he said, “Can I have the postcards?”

I smiled and gave them back.

Before I left him, I asked him, “How much are the postcards?”

“Dollar.”

I gave him a dollar and he gave me the postcards. “Thanks,” I responded and patted him on the shoulder. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

He smiled and we parted as friends.

The Treasury

The next event occurred when I came out of the narrow shaded passageway into the full view of the Treasury at Petra (see picture below). It stood monumentally before me. But that’s not what demanded my attention. A group of older boys selling silver bracelets gathered around me. I braced myself for the harassment. Other people were passing quickly, ignoring the boys the best they could. Again, I didn’t want to be forced into buying, but I also wanted to treat them like human beings. I was in their country. I represented mine. I wanted to meet them. I sensed their value and wondered if I could get past their manipulation game to their hearts.

I took off my sun glasses so I could see them eye to eye. They liked my blue eyes and began to make comments about them. Instead of making this about me, I noticed their eyes - golden brown with dark eyelashes, like natural eyeliner. They were surprised that I was turning the focus on them. They seemed to really like it. There was a little boy among them that was totally adorable. 

I wanted to take a picture of him but some of the older boys said, “No, no. You can’t take his picture.” 

I accepted that without an argument and put away my phone.  

There must have been at least a dozen boys gathered around me. I talked with them a bit, asking them questions about themselves, side-stepping their flirty comments. No, I didn’t want to buy what they were selling. I just wanted to meet them. I treated them as human beings and recognized their value. They were full of intensity. They had stopped trying to sell me something and were enjoying the conversation. At one point I looked around and noticed my entire tour group was gathered a little ways off and the tour guide was giving them instructions that I was missing. Here I was surrounded by all of these young men. What the heck was I doing? But I couldn’t pull myself away.

I asked again if I could take a picture of the boy. They said I could and asked me why I wanted it. I pointed at the Treasury, one of the 7 Wonders of the World, and said, “This is beautiful.” Then I pointed at the boy and said, “But this is more beautiful.”