blessings

photos by me, taken just north of the wall in Old Nicosia

Good news!  Mr. F and I found an apartment!  We will be moving into town (that makes me sound so provincial) in the next week or so and starting anew.  With the news of our House of Dreams on the horizon, we were both taken aback by the fact that it's been almost exactly a year since we left Cyprus.

Since most of our belongings are still in boxes, I have been using the time I should be devoting to packing to reading through journal and blog entries from our final days in our island home.  The heartbreak of leaving was so raw, the anxiety of the uncertain still palpable.  But I also caught sense of the hope that derives from coming home.

While in Cyprus, our daily interaction put us in contact with Filipinos, Syrians, the Lebanese, Indians (dot, not feather), Chinese, Pakistani, Greeks, Germans, Georgians, the English, Dutch, Scottish, Portuguese, Israeli, Turkish, Egyptian, Nigerians, Romanians, and more.  And no, this is not an exaggeration.  In fact many of these nationalities were from our church congregation alone.   Many of these people came to Cyprus from the far east, seeking a European education and decent employment.  Cyprus was a hope of moving further into Europe and stable life.

We listened to our friends tell of their personal experiences as wartime refugees, fleeing from Northern Cyprus to the south in 1974.  Escaping from Syria and Egypt.  Personal experiences of the ever recurring wars between Israel and Lebanon.  

We heard of mothers, barely older than myself, who had left their children behind so they could take a job half a world away to work as a maid, little more than an indentured servant, so they could make more money to provide for their children.  Children who would scarcely know the sacrifices their mothers made on their behalf.

We met Africans who moved to Northern Cyprus with the promise of education but were denied practicing their faith because they were unable to cross the border to attend worship services.

We listened to stories of grandparents who had lost their ancestral homes during WWII because their heritage did not match newly formed geographic boundaries.

We were asked by countless Eastern Europeans working as waiters in tourist trap restaurants why we were in Cyprus and not in America.  They never believed us that we could not find a job in the States.  Never.

I read an article recently, speaking of poverty in a Christian context.  The author explained how so often she thought that she had been blessed financially because God blesses those who work hard.  While she found this to be true, as she traveled the world and encountered poverty head on, she realized, much like I did, that hard work does not always guarantee financial success.  Birth, education, and location still offer promises of success in a modern age of online universities and jet engines.

The article resonated so much with me as I thought of our experience in Cyprus.  The struggles our friends faced daily.  Threats of deportation, starvation, unemployment, illiteracy, limited education, crippling working conditions, and so on.  I thought of the benefits I enjoyed purely by being a white, American woman and the opportunities that allowed me.  

Mr. F and I made jokes often that our American passport was akin to Willy Wonka's Golden Ticket.  We were seldom detained in customs checkpoints.  We were allowed to cross borders freely that were denied to many.  And perhaps, most amazingly, we were allowed to come home.  To the U.S.  Where little bungalows with white picket fences are still the ideal and the promise of work and decent wages for the willing bring people from all over the world.

Our new home is far from being a palace.  In fact, we chose the cheapest place we could find in the hopes of saving more for the future.  Not just money, but resources.  This new home will allow us to serve more, work more, and even play more.  It is going to be a humble home, but daggum am I grateful for it and excited to make it our own.  I am so grateful that Mr. F lost his job a year ago and we've had this year to work together.  I miss Cyprus brutally sometimes.  I find myself longing to lemon trees outside my window and the smell of the salty Mediterranean in the air.  But I am so grateful to be where we are now and to have the opportunities afforded to us.  I hope that we will make the most of them and make our friends who are so limited by their circumstances proud of us for living up to our own potential.