Wolf 101: when love turns fatal

Once upon a time a woman struggled to gain her footing while trekking through the forest of life. She was bruised and battered from the recent storms and continuously stopped along her unmarked path making frivolous attempts at mending her broken bones and bleeding wounds. As she pressed forward she realized that twilight was approaching, she would need to seek refuge from the terrors of night.

As she sought out a safe place a great wolf approached her from behind and whispered, “Hey miss lady…all alone I see.”

She was immediately afraid. Life had torn her limb from limb and she was sure that this great wolf would devour her as well.

“Hello,” she shuddered. “Please don’t hurt me, I only need to rest.”

“Oh it’s quite alright beautiful, you can rest here with me. I will keep you warm and keep the other predators away. But remember, I am a wolf and I do bite.” He smiled.

The woman was exhausted. She weighed her options considering the dwindling daylight.

“Okay, Mr. Wolf. But please be aware that I am badly injured; I couldn’t run if I wanted to. If you ever choose to kill me…do so swiftly.”

The large sly wolf crept closer. He gently sniffed her neck. Kissed her forehead. Told her that she had beautiful hands. Could she truly trust a beast?

They soon drifted off to sleep. The days turned to months and beauty and the beast became great friends. Despite the wolf’s warning, he was delightfully charming. He kept his word to protect her from the other predators. He even used his keen areas of expertise to teach her about the forest and help mend some of her broken bones. The woman felt relieved to finally make a friend, for the forest had been mostly dark, mostly lonely, and altogether scary.

One day while she was picking wild yellow roses the wolf watched his friend closely. The woman was kind, intelligent, caring, compassionate, beautiful, and his prey. But, the wolf knew he would have to kill her. He normally stalked his meals for a much shorter time. After all, a wolf must be true to himself to kill and eat.

He silently approached his prey from behind as she hummed to herself picking her favorite wild flower. Ironically, she hummed with joy reflecting on the love that bloomed with the beast. Just as she noticed the great wolf from the corner of her eye, he pounced! In one swoop his massive jaws closed around her neck, blood immediately oozed from her body staining the flowers that dangled from her finger tips.

As he clenched his jaws to end her, she looked at him through eyes of weakness and despair. She whispered, “why great wolf?”

The beast dropped her at once and scoffed, “I was never meant to love you! My only purpose was to feed off of you. But first I had to gain your trust...it makes the kill more fun.”

The woman lay on the forest floor in a growing pool of her blood. She wept. She wept for her life that was fading. She wept for the friend she thought she gained. She wept for the cruelty of the forest that she could not escape. She wept for the mortality of love.

“Please close your eyes my dear. This will not be swift as you requested; I like to eat slowly.”

How to help your grieving friend: understanding tears and time.

 

Let's first realize that everyone experiences grief and everyone will have a different experience with grief. With that said, I'm writing about my current experience and in my opinion how others, that consider themselves friends and loved ones of the grief stricken, can help.

1. You don't understand, unless you do.

The best comfort that anyone has afforded me during this hell, is to just be there. Not talking, not advising, not telling me their story. Just there. Just listening. Unless you have experienced a similar grief, i.e., parent for parent, grand for grand, cousin for cousin, you just don't get it. Yes everyone has lost their granny, Pop-Pop, Uncle B, Auntie, or cousin June-bug; and please don't feel that I'm diminishing the loss. But when mom or dad passes, whether it be suddenly due to a heart attack or slowly before your eyes because of cancer, it's just not the same. Please do not attempt to console your friend/loved one by telling them you understand because of when your cousin, granny, or uncle died. I'd much prefer an honest, "I don't know what you're going through, but I'm here for you." It's truthful and it allows your grieving friend to be vulnerable.

2. Your timeframe is just different.

My cousin found my father dead in his bedroom on December 3. I was back in America on December 5. I saw his lifeless body in the mortuary on December 6. I gave his eulogy on December 10 at the most unique and touching funeral I've ever been to. My brother and I started a civil war to begin his estate process on December 14. I was back in Abu Dhabi on December 31. We finished the estate paper work on March 29. Now these are just dates for reference.

It's easy to be selfish with your loved one's death, because after all it's your father or your mother. So at times I've kept in mind that my father was a great man and he impacted many people. There were people that were greatly saddened by his passing. For example, the woman at Structure House, the weight loss center where he also taught classes, cried in my arms when I went to tell them that he wouldn't be coming back to teach. But let's be honest, one month later, two months later, three months later; all of those people are getting over it. They aren't crying anymore, they are enjoying his memory with levity and laughter. Four months later, five months later; people that were a little closer than co-workers, and friends of circumstance, have also gotten over this great loss because let's face it, he's not a part of their DNA and they have gone through the stages of grief happily arriving at acceptance. For them the pain, shock, sadness, and maybe anger have subsided. So here's the stitch, his kids: Zenani and Igwe, are still going through it like its December. Because every day is December 3 and December 6. We still carry his heart on our sleeves, we still have this daddy-sized weight in our pockets, we still trudge through many days with broken hearts. 

I implore you to remember this. Because although it's been 5 months since my daddy left this earth, I'm still sick. I still miss him terribly. I still pick up my phone to call him out of habit. So please, do not bring yourself to tell your grieving friend to get over their heartache, or to move on, because trust me if it were that easy we would.

3. Save your advice for boyfriend/girlfriend  breakups.

The last thing I've wanted to hear from my friends or anyone else was what/how my father would feel about me being sad. My dad never liked to hear his little girl upset, however he had a keen understanding of emotions. If I was sad, he didn't say "don't be sad" he said "tell me what's bothering you my dear" and then he would listen. Don't be so quick to give advice in an area where you are ill-equipped, remember to be true to your friend and be the shoulder to lean on not the voice of knowledge. Your advice may seem like really good advice, but the bottom line is that we need someone to listen and be there with consistency. This is a problem, but don't feel compelled to provide a solution or have wise words; your presence is enough. 

We will be strong when we are strong, but on days where reality has become too much to carry, just be there as promised.

4. If you have committed to being there, don't flake out.

There is nothing worse than a flaky person. Well actually there are far worse things, but you get my point. I had a conversation with a man that lost his mom last November. He said that his long-term girlfriend broke up with him shortly after his mom passed, at that moment my heart recognized his heart because my boyfriend also left me shortly after my father passed. This motherless man said to me, "No one that says they love you should leave you at a time like that." Now I won't go into bashing my ex for his dishonorable behavior because I firmly believe that you reap what you sow. But please know, that keeping your word is essential. Someone may be counting on your shoulder to cry on. Someone that loves you needs you in their dark hour. Someone that you claim to love needs you to show and prove. So when it gets hard, because it will (they are hurting and rediscovering life with a missing piece) just weather the storm if your love is true. But if you are too selfish, too busy, or just not cut out for watching difficult times then leave them gently and honestly.

5. They are trying.

Even when it doesn't look like it, your grieving friend is trying. Trying just looks different on different days. For me, some days trying is lipstick, a pretty dress, and heels while other days trying is getting out of bed and remembering to shower. And there's a whole range of in-betweens. But I am trying, it's just that my definition of strength varies from day to day. So when you tell them to "be strong" just keep in mind what it took for them to leave their bed or even answer your call.

6. Reach out to them.

Countless people have told me "I'm here for you," or "call me if you need anything". Now don't get me wrong, I think that they mean well. But I just don't function  that way. I feel awkward reaching out to someone with such a heavy burden. What I need is for someone to reach in to me. Ask me how I'm doing. Ask me if you can come and sit with me. Ask me if I've eaten today. Or hell, just show up and knock on my door. That's what I need; that's what eases this emptiness. Finally, know that they will need you past your moment of grief. As I stated in number 2, your timeline is different than your grieving friend. So as you may have called to check in on them in the first 2 months, just remember their timeline of grief extends past yours.

 

I hope that this has been received with openness, as I've really hoped to be honest based on my experiences. This has been a rough road and it helps when I encounter people that are genuine and are open to what I need. We will all experience this particular grief from loosing a parent at some point in life. And there is nothing that can ease the pain; because let's face it, the highs of love and drugs are temporary. However, knowing how to better help a grieving friend can make a big difference!

Vacation to Hell: the unfolding of unrequited love.

 

 

As of December 1, life was amazing! I was living abroad, on vacation in Zanzibar, my finances were mostly in order, I was in love, my family was being themselves (but everyone was their own version of happy and healthy). I had just arrived in Zanzibar and was elated about the adventures that awaited us! Stone town, Prison Island, island hoping, shopping, snorkeling, great food! I was high on life!

"Why isn't he answering the phone?" I thought aloud as I laid on a beach chair listening the evening waves. After all my dad was the only person that I think truly appreciated and was just as excited as I was to hear about my international rompings. He'd howl with laughter, gasp at just the right moments, say, "oh no then what happened?" with sincere delight. He was truly happy for me. So why wasn't he picking up the phone so I could tell him about my trip so far?

"Zenani...I have very bad news for you...are you sitting down?...Zenani...are you ready to hear this?" I wondered why she was being so serious and dramatic. Did my brother do something stupid, is my little cousin hurt. Did someone die...no that's not possible, no one is sick. These thoughts streamed through my mind in what seemed like slow motion. "I'm listening...what is it mom?" I replied apprehensively, because after all it couldn't be that serious right? "Your father passed...(silence)...Zenani did you hear me?"

Then the world ended. There was no cataclysmic boom, or meteor, or great earthquake followed by massive tsuamits. But my world completely ended. Because my center, my everything, my favorite person, my biggest cheerleader, my number one, my source of inspiration, the center of my love, hope, and affection was gone. The journey back to America was a blur and had never seemed so short. I could barely eat from nausea. I cried almost uncontrollably on each flight. I felt empty and heavy and lonely. Why was this happening? Maybe I'll get there and this will all be a misunderstanding. Surely Jesus raised Lazarus...he could do the same for Sherman...right?

Wrong. He did not raise Sherman from the dead. We buried Sherman Fogg on December 10, 2015. Although the world ended on December 3; December 6 was by far the worst day of my life. Seeing my lifeless father in the mortuary, not yet embalmed looking as if he were peacefully resting. Where the most horrific screams erupted from my body and my legs forgot what their job was due to my cries. He did not wake up. The first of many tears that he will never soothe.

I've read that a parent's death is the worst pain that we will ever endure. One's age at the time of death, closeness with the parent, and cause of death (i.e., long-term suffering or sudden) can all have an impact. But overall, it is the worst pain that we will bare. And this holds true for me. Most days it hurts so much that I just feel numb. Other days my body aches. I sit and stare at nothing, or lie in bed hoping for sleep so that I'm not aware of what I'm feeling.

People don't know what to say to you. Most people say something stupid or nothing at all. I for one prefer those that just say, "I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry and I'm praying for you." All of the "be strong...this happens to everyone...be happy" folks can go play in traffic. But the reality is that the only people that know what you're going through are people who have been there. And even then, everyone handles grief differently.

The teacher in me sees a lesson in everything. So I've compiled a list of do's and don'ts to help when this happens to you.

Number 1: HAVE A WILL!
Wills trump everything. And having your finances laid out along with that responsible person that will handle the affairs of your estate clears the air before family members get notions of "hidden money" or begin to feel entitled to what is "theirs". No one wants this headache while they are grappling with the loss of a parent. If you have children, ensure that all of your "death documents" are in one safe place and that you have clearly outlined your wishes. If you don't have children, still do this.

Number 2: IF THERE IS NO WILL, BE HONEST AND ALLOW ONE RESPONSIBLE & MATURE SIBLING HANDLE THE ESTATE.
Every state is slightly different in how they handle estate matters (an estate is basically all of the assets of the deceased that must be accounted for. They go into one account where outstanding debts must be paid and the flow off money in and out must be accounted for in an inventory. This must be done before money is then released to the surviving children). In the state of North Carolina by law siblings must split assets evenly. However, establishing the estate is a process. It can be easy (allowing one person to do the leg work). Or it can be hard (having more than one person with a different agenda in the mix).
If your parent passes and they are unmarried this falls on the children. In a perfect world, all siblings would come together in difficult times and work together to make their father proud. But we don't live in a perfect world and sibling rivalry and jealousy is real. If you and your siblings cannot work it out just get a lawyer and save yourself the additional anger and grief.

Number 3: GRIEVE YOUR WAY.
As I stated before, there will be those that want to tell you how to grieve; ignore them. I'd even go so far as to say stay away from them, they will only make you angry. If you want to cry, then cry. If you are angry, then be mad as hell. If you want to be alone, then get some ice cream and do it. If you need to vent, then talk to someone who is willing to listen. The grieving process is not linear, it is chaotic. You bounce between denial, anger, and depression like a drunken ping pong ball and that is to be expected.

Number 4: GET HELP.
The black community often shuns or mocks the idea of therapy. But I applaud those whose recognize a problem and seek treatment. We take care of our physical bodies and we should take care of our mental faculties as well.

I've always been extremely sensitive and I've learned how to avoid toxic people, shelter myself from the wrong vibes, and recover from things and people that hurt me. However, I do not have the antidote here. I don't know what prayers ease this pain. What exercises to take my mind off of it. Or what liquor will numb me long enough. Every morning I realize that my favorite person no longer walks among the living and that hurts beyond what words give credit to.

Bad Teacher Part II: a teacher revisited.

After writing "Good Teacher vs. Bad Teacher" I desperately hoped that what I was experiencing was merely a growing pain, a portion of reality, a temporary upset. Now, I know that there are certain cultural norms that myself or any other expat educator will not single handedly, or even with a concentrated group effort, be able to change. But as teachers we live for change. We breath to see light bulbs go off and character develop in our little ones. Because we all know it's not the paycheck that keeps us coming back! I had to do something. I was dying on the inside! Now the staff had gotten much better. Many more smiles and greetings. Although some will still not even turn their head in response to, "assalamu alaikum." I mean really...if me and you are the only two people in a room you could at the very least acknowledge my greeting! I digress... The staff has been much more friendly, we chat about fashion, food, the administrators, and of course our rowdy students. The students were making acceptable improvements. Many days still felt like pulling teeth and herding cats but we were making progress, baby steps. I was just glad to feel like we were moving! And then...

In January I attended a workshop where Jon Bergman, creator of 'the flipped classroom' was presenting. I'd previously heard of flipped classroom, but I didn't buy in. After his presentation I figured it was worth a try. Flipped Classroom is a teaching model in which the teacher uses a video platform to create video lessons that the students view at home and complete notes as homework, this would normally be classwork. In the classroom the students' classwork is now additional practice or projects that might normally have been assigned as homework. Hence, flip the classroom.

So as I began a new unit I got busy making video lessons, guided notes, and training my students on how to view and take notes from my videos. Initially it felt like we were on a roller coaster ride of 'who's doing their homework' and Miss Zenani going DMX on those who didn't complete their homework. It was a lot of extra work, making videos and writing guided notes, and once again I began to feel weary. The pre to post test results from the first unit were okay, higher than the prior unit with no flip. But I wasn't sure if it was even worth all of the additional effort. Then came the Matter Unit. Ohhhh boy!! I had never seen so many A's (yes 90% and above) from my girls! The growth in that unit was tremendous. I had to show them what hard work could do! After making it a point to return both the pre and post test and call attention to the increase in test scores, I saw almost 100% homework completion in the following units! I was wowed.

As the month of March marched on I didn't even know these girls anymore. Yes some were still lazy, but most were excited! They were collaborative, taking initiative, and some were doing legitimately well (no extra curve or puffed up grading scale). It's been a refreshing change. It's made me feel like I matter to them, because honestly every educator wants to matter.

Here's the icing on the cake! I had to shared my pre and post test results, the students had DOUBLED (yes doubled) their gains! They were making increases of over 50 percentage points! I shared my data with my Science Advisor and Principal. First, the science advisor shares with her colleagues, who are impressed. Exposure! Then she asks if I would share my videos with another school who lost their science teacher. Absolutely! Exposure! Then she puts me in contact with another advisor in our system, after sharing my data with him he tells me he's going to feature me/my flipped classroom in the next EMT newsletter! Bam! Resume builder! The principal shares my data with her supervisor, we know principals love when their staff makes them look good. Name drop! Then she asks me to present to the staff during our professional development week. Well of course I will; I love teaching teachers! Again, resume builder! Now if you know me well, you know I'm not bragging, just gushing. I've been so happy for this turn around. I've been praying earnestly for a new season. And don't we know that God always comes through! So am I boasting about myself? Nope. Not at all. But boasting about my God. Well yes yes! Because favor doesn't come from man. And it would be downright wrong for me to think I did anything or had any influence all on my own.

So the bad teacher gladly eats crow.

Thank you for partaking in this dose of 'A Journey Along the Journey'! I hope that you continue along the ride, until we meet again...be blessed!

I use an iPad app called ShowMe to create my videos, here's the link to my page to check out some of the lessons: http://www.showme.com/Zenani-Fogg

The Upside of Blue

Returning home for winter break was the best thing that happened to me this year, and leaving...well that was the worst. After this much needed trip home I came to realize a plethora of things that I had taken for granted. Simple things that I never cared to give my time or attention. Things like the beautifully barren trees of winter, the smell of rain, the tranquility of cold winter air, the charm in my mother's house, the way my dad sings (very old songs) while he cooks, hearing my cousins play, being annoyed by my Shakiya's constant questions, standing in line at Panera, arguing with my best friend. I know this list may sound cheesy, but it's all the things that grabbed my attention and didn't let go. It is all the things that I never knew I loved and never fathomed that I would miss. It's all the things that makes home...home.

So upon my return to Abu Dhabi, not only did I miss my friends, my church, and loved ones buy I missed the trees, crisp air, rainy days, and parental homes. I missed the smell of coffee, the touch of loved ones, and driving familiar roads. Everything that felt right was a 14-hour flight away and that downright sucked! I was in a serious funk and all over again ready to leave. I could not even remember why I moved here or why I wanted to move here in the first place. I felt foolish that I packed up my life and moved to the middle east. It's been weeks and I'm still trying very hard to make sense out of WHY I left at all! In the grand scheme of things, two years is not very long, but right now it feels like I'm staring eternity in the face.

I had to lift myself up out of it, or at least try to. So I made a list of the character benefits of living in Abu Dhabi. I had to go past the surface stuff of saving, paying off bills, shopping, and traveling because although those things are great they are material and I've been able to survive without them. So I chose to focus on the experiences that are building character within me.

Patience!

I claimed to be a patient person, but ohhh was I impatient. I couldn't wait for anything! Lines in the grocery store, relationships, answers to text messages. I hated waiting. Well until I had to get directions from someone who didn't speak English, I hadn't realized what patience meant. I'm still a work in progress, I still don't like waiting but I can handle it a little better. I've learned that patience means listening closely. It also means understanding that what you want is no one's concern but yours and just might not be an actual emergency...so chill!

Firmness.

I'm a nice person. I don't yell, unless extremely provoked. And I try to get my way with smiles and sugar. Well I guess sugar melts too fast in this Arabian sun because nice was not working when it came to getting things done. A co-worker gave me a piece of advice when complaining about how I just couldn't get things delivered or connected on time. Her advice, "You just gotta be a b*tch." WHAT! ME! lol. So shortly thereafter I put her advice into action and low-and-behold, it worked!! I was rude, cut the man off when he was speaking; I was demanding and in my opinion down right insufferable. But the next day, my cable/internet was fixed! And this seems to still work anytime I need a service completed! So I came to realize that my version of b*tch was actually firmness. I was persistent without a smile. I was sticking to my guns and not taking "no" or "okay later" when the answer should by all means be "yes ma'am we will take care of that".

Communication:

(Disclaimer: I'm still working on it. Best when emotions are not involved)
It's easier to communicate with someone when you both have the same primary language. But being thrust into an environment where English sounds foreign to both parties is quite a quandary. I'm more conscience about how fast I am speaking, not using contractions, splitting verbs, or using sayings that are common to in our American vernacular. I've also learned to listen more closely and ask more questions because I have to keep in mind the dual meanings of words. For example: "open the light" or "turn the lights on"...same same.

Directness.

This combines firmness and communication as I've found myself in situations that were very new to me and probably would not ever occur if I were at home. There are the numerous times that I've firmly reminded strangers that they could not cut in front of me in the grocery store line, or any other line for that matter. But the best example is this one: while standing in line for cell phone services there was a man standing dangerously close to me and he was repeatedly touching his privates! Ummmm eww gross! But I didn't freak out (although I wanted to). I looked him in the eye and with a straight face said, "Back up, now." He then apologized and backed away.

I'm glad to be able to learn new things and develop in such unique ways. I don't think missing my loved ones will go away or decrease in these next two years. But God knows what he's doing.

Thank you for partaking in this dose of 'A Journey Along the Journey'! I hope that you continue along the ride, until we meet again...be blessed!

Good Teacher vs. Bad Teacher

To be quite honest, I was ready to come home after one month. I was fed up with the lack of systems and logistics. For example, it took two weeks for the technician to come install my internet and cable because the man processing paperwork wrote my cell phone number down wrong! Then when the technician came, the internet wasn't working so he left! He literally said, "it no work" and walked out the door! I. Was. Livid! It took another two weeks of my making phone calls and sending emails for someone else to come and fix the defunct installation. Now I normally wouldn't care about cable/internet but internet was and is the only way that I can communicate with my loved ones at home. It was extremely hard to only be able to talk to my parents using the weak internet connection at the coffee shop across the street. Nothing seemed to work right, there was a new senseless frustration everyday.  I quickly learned that when it comes to customer service nicesities just don't work, rude works. I don't like it but it gets the job done. 
Most of all, the reason why I came, to teach, seemed like a sick joke. I was really waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out with a big smile telling me that I'd been 'punked' and point out the hidden cameras so that my real job could start! School seemed to be a complete disaster zone, chaos that made 2009-2012 ILPCS seem like a walk in the park (and my dear friends from Lincoln know it was far from that). One day, within my first two weeks at the school, another staff member even tried to bully my computer from me! I mean really...who does that?? And to top it off, our paychecks were late, with no real explanation or projected pay date. They literally said, "if you're lucky, you'll get paid next week or maybe the week after that." Needless to say I wanted to come back home to what I knew in the United States! Well as you can see I stuck it out, and we did get paid, that really helped things look a little brighter.
As I approach the three month mark things feel more settled. School feels easier. But it leads me to wonder... Have things gotten better, or have I lowered my expectations? I think that it's a little bit of both. I'm no longer shocked at the screams and screeches coming from the hallway. I limit my time telling girls to get to class and clearing the halls of ones that are skipping because it pisses me off to high heavens when students yell at me for telling them to go to class. Not to mention they are yelling in Arabic and I have no clue what they're saying. I've come to the sad conclusion that actual 7th grade curriculum (and definitely 7th grade U.S. resources) will not work in my 7th grade science class because the language needed for vocabulary and the skill level for inquiry just isn't there. As an educator it makes my heart heavy and makes my hands feel dirty. I think that teaching is one of the most magnificent professions that one could have! Teachers influence and educate future generations. We mold young minds. We are more intelligent, creative, innovate, and talented than we will ever give ourselves credit for being. We work long hours with no thought of over-time (I would always laugh when parents would see me leaving school at 6 or 7pm and ask if I got paid extra..."ummm no"). We wipe tears, debunk fears, and encourage our pupils as if they were our own off-spring. We love them and we 'teach like champions' because we are someone's hero! Every year I've fallen in love with a new group of children. But this seventh year of teaching has been different. I've been disrespected past what I've ever experienced and devalued past what I anticipated. I've been met with a disgusting disdain for education, a lazy disposition, and a dishonor of the classroom. I want to love them, but honestly...I don't. Maybe I will, maybe this love takes a lot more time and trust. Maybe I won't see the fruits of my labor until the end of the year. Maybe I'll only see one light bulb flicker a week. Maybe...I have a lot of maybes.

But at the end of the day, I live in another country and I'm going to travel to and see people, places, and things that I've only dreamed of! If it was all good, I wouldn't be able to grow. So I'll just continue to trust what God is continuing to unfold along the journey.


Thank you for partaking in this dose of 'A Journey Along the Journey'! I hope that you continue along the ride, until we meet again...be blessed!

What if Religion was Life?

Religion is a way of life [here]...

In America, the land of free and the home of brave, we are accustomed to many liberties. Freedom of speech, press, and religion just to name a few. But here in Abu Dhabi, although being a more progressive area considering its geographic location; those freedoms seem...well stifled. Free speech and press, well let's just say I've rewritten and revised these first few blog postings several times. There is lots of monitoring and I'm sure that some of my very opinionated opinions may be frowned upon so I've censored myself. The UAE practices freedom of religion but you better be sure to respect theirs! Religion directly influences culture. Style of dress for example, expat women do not have to cover but are asked to dress modestly out of respect for the culture on daily adventures. [Side note: this seems to go out the window after dark, I see the same club/lounge/bar attire as back home] Modesty meaning no mid-drift, back, or cleavage. Additionally, shorts are also not preferred for women. Now anyone who knows me, knows I love shorts because I have great legs lol! So, needles to say, I haven't worn shorts in public here, only to the pool and beach. However, I digress.
In reflecting on the freedoms of home and juxtaposing them with the present culture in which I've ben immersed, I started down a road of what living in the US would be like if we actually practiced and lived a national religion, while showing tolerance for others. Of course I took the perspective of Christianity because I am a Christian and wholly believe that Jesus Christ died for my sins and was resurrected now sitting on the right hand of the Father.

Below are two practices that I have observed here or researched and what they might look like in the United States:

Prayer in School

UAE - every morning during Tabor (similar to morning assembly with announcements) a student reads from the Holy Quran and the students pray. Students also take Islamic class where they learn about their religion and about the Quran.

America - prayer in our US schools would have an evolutionary impact. To be honest I learned to pray for my students with my friend and team member, Jason Banks, when I moved to PG County. We had a tough (that puts it lightly) group and we prayed for them regularly. And I have seen over the years the great difference it makes in the flow of a school day if I simply pray for my students and over my classroom the morning. God loves the pure hearts of children; if they could pray corporately in school we could easily see an increase in test scores due to reduced anxiety and a severe decrease in school violence. My third grade class a few years ago would regularly ask me if they could pray, to bless their food for class parties or if someone was sick, and I gladly obliged them! Now I never prayed with them, I know that gets sticky and I was not about to risk my job, but I certainly allowed whomever asked to lead the others in prayer.

Closed on Holy day

UAE - Friday is Holy day here. Many Muslims attend Jumu'ah, around noon, for prayer, a sermon, and congregational prayer. During this time many locally owned stores and businesses are closed as well as banks, and some may be closed for the whole day out of respect for the holy day. [Side bar: traffic is soooo much better on Friday mornings, this is the only time that I will go to certain places because its so much less crowded]

America - What stores, other than Chik-fil-a can you think of that are closed on Sunday? Some might close early, but who is closed  for the whole day?? If you can come up with any, its not many! Now I know that Sunday may be the only  time that many people have to shop, but at the very least a delayed opening would be nice! I had an ex-boyfriend who was routinely pulled from church attendance because of work. It bothered me so much because I felt that his job would not have suffered to be without him for those two hours. I know of many others whose only excuse for not attending church is  their work shift. Would it hurt our economy to open stores just a little bit later on Sunday morning? Well...no, I don't think so.

Of the many things I've gained thus far while living in Abu Dhabi, I have developed a deeper respect for Islam. Now don't jump to any conclusions, I am not saying that I will be converting. I just have an even greater respect for the religion because of how deeply it influences the culture. As Americans, we say that we reverence God with "in God we trust" printed on our bills and the Ten Commandments engraved about the Supreme Court, but culturally what do we reflect?


Thank you for partaking in this dose of 'A Journey Along the Journey'! I hope that you continue along the ride, until we meet again...be blessed!


P.S. - I visited the Grand Mosque last week and was blown away by its beauty and grandeur. It got me thinking along another path. What if our churches were as grand as the mosque? King Solomon was given specific guidelines to build the temple and it was beautiful and ornate, made of rich materials from near and far! So why are some of our churches today so jacked up!?