Zakhar

She's two months old, but came premature and malnourished. Her mother took her twin sister home, and their home is far away. So little Zakhar stays in the NICU until she can learn to grow.

Her stomach surgery was successful. It took place shortly after she came into this world. Nevertheless, she can't seem to keep food down. The doctors and nurses have tried everything. The only thing she seems to be missing is human interaction.

I heard this little one's story and volunteered to hold her. Thank goodness my friend Debbie came along. We were ushered into the NICU and the nurses set-up two plastic chairs in the middle of the room for us. We changed our shoes and put on gowns.

Then the nurse with the best English told me to put her down my shirt! The tiniest little baby I have ever seen with every bone of her body visible, and I was somehow supposed to put her down three layers of clothing without breaking her. Debbie & I were completely overwhelmed and in a country where genders do not mix, the male nurse was of no help to us.

Finally I got her situated enough for me, comfortable enough to stop her cries, and correct enough to appease the nurses. There we sat for over an hour, and when our time came to a close she had her milk and kept it down.

Pray for Zakhar. It's already a miracle that she's still alive. Today I held that miracle skin-to-skin as I watched mothers enter the NICU to hold their little ones as they wiped away tears with their head scarves. Babies often die here. I'm not a mother, yet the thought of that sort of pain spurred one of the nurses to ask me to pray and spurs me to ask you to do the same.

Donkey

There once was an old man, his son, and their donkey. They set-off on a journey that would take them from village to village.

When they entered the first village, the old man rode atop the donkey as his son walked beside. And the people sneered, "What a selfish man! He rides in rest as his poor son must walk."

Having overheard their sneers, the old man had his son join him on the donkey as they entered the next village. And the people sneered, "What an abusive man! The poor donkey is burdened by the weight of both man and son."

Having overheard their sneers, the old man and his son both climbed off the donkey and walked beside as they entered the next village. And the people sneered, "What a stupid man! Neither he nor his son have the sense to utilize the donkey for its intended purpose."

The moral of the story: Everyone has an opinion. Many times these opinions are in stark opposition. Respect them all, but know you'll never please them all. Make it your aim, rather, to listen to a voice that actually matters.

Purple Sparkle Flip-Flops

Purple sparkle flip-flops are my work shoes. There are pink ones, too, but I've pretty much claimed one of the purple pairs. They're about an inch too small, but since they're only worn in the hallway I figure it's okay.

Each day I offer up most the Dari I know in effort to greet the doorman. "Salaam Alaikum. Chetor asteen? Hoob asteen? Sahat Shooma hoobas? Tashakor. Hoob astom." I'm pretty sure most those words aren't even spelled right, so don't learn from me, just know it says something like, "Peace to you. How are you? How's your health? Thank you. I'm good."

Watching locals greet one another looks like a competition for who can think of the most things to say while the other is talking. The men place their hand over their heart as they utter each word. Women don't generally greet in public, but I've found in private, we kiss. Mostly I get 3 kisses, but I've had up to 6. We've ended with our right cheeks each time, but have started with right or left. All this adds up to a bunch of rules I apparently still don't know!

But I do know to take off my shoes when I enter a building. It's nice when there are house shoes available, but if not, my sockfeet will do. House shoes are absolute necessity for the bathroom though, as this is always a very wet place. There is usually a pair of flip-flops just inside the door if you aren't already wearing some.

House shoes, however, are just for hallways. As soon as your feet hit carpet, those house shoes rest at the door. Sometimes if a room gets crowded your house shoes disappear before you return to them, but they're usually just a door or two down.

After taking my purple sparkle flip-flops on and off a half dozen times throughout the day, I return to my moccasins to go home, where my brown fuzzy slippers await me.

Pomegranate & Persimmon

A month gone by and with it, my initial appreciation of this place attempting to flea as well. My saving grace, a solitude to hear the call to prayer once again and an evening free to enjoy a pomegranate. This after a day away from the city, spent laughing in fellowship with new friends.

In English we may say, "stop and smell the roses", and I in fact literally did just that a mere three days ago. Life is absolutely about trade-offs; accepting the good and the bad of each new season. Perspectives change and I finally admit not everything is a fairy land, but I refocus on all that says that oh, it actually is.

This afternoon a woman brough tears to my eyes. According to her, my hair is beautiful, my toenail color is beautiful, and I, in fact, am beautiful. As the Persians so graciously reply, "Your eyes are beautiful." If anyone should know beauty it would be this woman, but she actually mentioned on various occassions that she herself was not beautiful. Humbled and honored to chat with her for hours, she filled my heart with joy and reminded me to cherish the moment, all the while smiling, opening up to me, and slipping in more flattery.

Before tonight I had not heard the call to prayer in days. No, it never stopped. It happens multiple times a day whether I am here or not. I simply was not hearing it because I stopped listening. I can likewise so easily overlook beauty because I forget to see it as such. I can start to make cultural assumptions based on incomplete observations. I can let petty overtake precious.

I'm in a land full of pomegranates and persimmons. Sweet and inexpensive, these fruits are to my avail each and every day. I have twenty minutes available to peel and taste a pomegranate. I've learned that looking at a persimmon and thinking it's a tomato entirely does it an injustice. I'm starting to cherish that which became ordinary as precious once again.