Celebrations

Muslims around the world celebrated the end of Ramadan this Friday with a holiday called Eid al Fitr, and my wonderful family was no exception.  I wanted to take the girls to get henna done Thursday night but the wait at the little shops in the Somali malls was about 3 hours, so sadly we had to forego tradition.  For those who don't know, henna is a dye women use to decorate their skin with in intricate and beautiful patterns for parties and celebrations, and it lasts a couple weeks or so.  We'll have to go another time when it's not a madhouse.


Anyway, Friday morning they woke me up and were excited to go...somewhere and they wanted me to hurry up and get ready.  So I put on a skirt, figuring we'd end up somewhere with Somalis so I attempted to disguise my Americanness a bit (ha yeah right).  A Somali woman and her family that have befriended my family came and we all piled in the cars and drove off, but I just followed in my car since I still wasn't sure where we were going.  We ended up at the convention center where I'm sure nearly all the Somalis in the area had gathered to start the day off with prayer together.  It wasn't till we had walked into the huge hall with the thousands of other Somalis and had started forming lines shoulder to shoulder that I realized what exactly was going on!


I said to the Somali woman who had led us there, "You're getting ready to pray?"  and she said yes, so I said, "Ok this is going to be a little awkward if I stand here because I don't pray the same way!"  But luckily she wasn't planning on praying either because she wasn't ritually clean so we sat at the back of the hall while everyone else prayed.  Let me tell you....that was a once in a lifetime experience and I have never prayed so fervently and so discreetly in my life! haha!  It was a challenge to process all the emotions and desires flying through me and turn them into prayers while attempting not to show any of it and still carry on a conversation with the woman sitting next to me!  I only saw a handful of other caucasian people there that morning and all of them were dressed like Muslims, women with their heads covered and men in long prayer tunics.  What a crazy moment.  My heart was so heavy for these thousands who have come here to the "christian" Western world, and most have probably still NEVER heard the good news of the Messiah.  


What a shame...seriously, this is a shame on us as a church in America that the overwhelming message these people receive and the thing that changes them the most is our materialism, commercialism, and media saturated lifestyles.  How many immigrant or refugee families have kids who are totally American-meaning they've got the right clothes, know the right movie quotes and have 500 friends on facebook?  How many refugee families have ever been invited to church, or better yet a family dinner at their neighbor's house?  We have tremendous influence, for better or worse, over these people who are so eager to soak in our culture, and I pray that God will make us alert and ready to lay down our agendas and personal kingdoms to welcome them.  


So back to the story...that evening I went with mostly the same group to the Mall of America, which is apparently what every other Somali in the area did!  I have never seen so many Somalis in one day-not even in Kenya!  That place was the most crowded I've ever seen it, and the clash between American and Somali cultures and between strict Islam and commercialism was incredible.  Most of the people I saw were a dynamic mix of the four identities, especially the teenagers.  The girls with me were shocked at the way some of them dressed, although they would still be considered modest by most American standards.


So we went into the center area of the Mall, which is an amusement park with rides, games, bright lights, music and all the makings for an extremely overwhelming experience if you arrived from a refugee camp exactly 2 weeks ago!  The girls literally walked around with their mouths hanging open, staring at everything and everyone!  We took two of the girls on a roller coaster for the first time and they laughed and yelled prayers to Allah the whole time! hahahaha!  I joked with them that I'd never heard the "Bismillah" prayer said that many times in such a short time!


We stayed right up until the mall closed, so walking back through the hallways to the parking garage, the mall was mostly deserted.  I was really excited to get to focus on the second to youngest of the family, a 5 year old daughter who usually gets looked over or lost in the mix somehow and hasn't warmed up to me as much as the other kids.  So I took advantage of the empty halls and taught her how to skip!  We sat on every bench, ran around every fake tree and just about exhausted my ideas of how to make a long hallway fun.  It was in the middle of the skipping lesson that my dad called me with sad news.


Tim Harrington, a friend, supporter, church elder, and much more in my life passed away that evening.  He had been battling cancer for years and finally got his greatest desire, to be with Christ.  As heartbreaking as it is to lose him, especially for his wife and kids, I am so glad that he is no longer in pain and that one day he will have a body that is perfect and glorious.  So as I let the news sink in and tried to decide if/how to get home to be with everyone, the Somali woman with us asked what was going on, so I told her through tears that one of my friends had died and I needed to go home the next day.  She was shocked and asked questions about him and his family, and translated for the rest in Somali.  So they heard all about Tim's love for God, his family and his encouragement and support in my life.  I explained to them that I was really sad because I would miss him, but that I had hope because I knew death wasn't the end.  I know I'll see Tim again, and when I see him, everything will finally be right.  They definitely understood and were so compassionate it made me even more emotional!


The dad asked me to wake them up in the morning before I left, so after I packed and figured out directions to my sister's school in Iowa, I went to bed for a couple of hours before I threw some things into my car and said goodbye to the family.  Before I left, the dad handed me money and told me to give it to Tim's family to show their concern and compassion.  I started crying all over again, which I'm sure was a little embarrassing for them since they don't really cry easily or publicly, but it moved me so much I couldn't help it.  I will always be amazed at how generous people who have so very little can be. 


It's no surprise to me that God took what was horrible and evil and sad, the death of one of his children, and made something beautiful and good out of it.  Even though Tim is gone, there is now a family of 9 Somalis and another Somali husband and wife who heard his testimony and witnessed the hope and victory that Christ brings over death.  I hope many more conversations will spring from Tim's story so that Christ is more and more glorified through his life.  I was very grateful to be able to drive home with my sister Abby for the memorial service where we celebrated Tim's life with friends and family.  I'm half way home now, dropping Abby off at school and heading the rest of the way to Minneapolis tomorrow morning.  Thanks for all who prayed for me this weekend as we travelled and such, and please pray for Tim's wife Mary, his son Alex and his daughters Ashley and Jessica as they make this immensely difficult transition into life without him.  Pray that they would let themselves grieve and be comforted and heal in the right times, and that this would draw them even deeper into God's presence.