God bless diet pepsi and wash cloths...

We are back. We are safe. We are half rested. We are not traveling again for a significant amount of time. We are tired of puffy feet and luggage. We are enjoying a real cup of home perked coffee and toast with margarine. There are no people in line ahead of me deciphering what the meal of the hour actually is. There is no guide clapping for us to hurry. It is calm but for the quiet crunching of Shawna's Cheerios. It is a good morning.

I am downloading approx. 1025 pictures as I post. Relax, I won't be posting them all, nor will I post every single little thing that happened. But as the days unfold, don't be surprised if our journey, or part of it surfaces here as I think of it.

We had delays. (Our flight out of Chicago was delayed 7 hours or so due to mechanical failure. Super. We left the country at 10:30 pm or so, instead of 3:15. Or rather, we left the country when we were supposed to be on our way to Tel Aviv. Subsequently missed our first afternoon in Israel and our first good night's sleep. Arrived in time for a two hour nap and began day three.)

We had introductions. (Not only to our co-pilgrims- as many of them, though Crossing family, are still new faces to us; but to the culture, the time change, the experience. All overwhelming. All beautiful.)

We had surprises. (Sun, for one. Our internet weather predictions had prepared us for three days of Israeli rain. Not to be. In fact, everyone but me got sunburned and brought back a light tan. Not sure why only the crevices on the side of my nose were the only area to get pink. A tan would have been nice. We also were pleasantly surprised to find working bathrooms everywhere we went. Some nicer than others, but at least a place to go. Electricity did not support Sha's professional flat iron and hairdryer, so my new do turned quickly into an "I don't think so", and we made do with natural curl and mousse.)

We had overload. (We were warned, but experience is the best teacher. It was just so very much to see and understand at such a pressed pace. By the end of the tour I found myself zoning out about the intricacies of the Sistine Chapel and Vatican City. Just too much to take in. Might have had a little to do with being packed like a sardine for two hours and my inner ear getting sweaty from the disposable headphone we were given...)

We had exercise. (Worried about gaining while we were gone I was relieved to have only gained a pound. Hoping that's the fluid in my chubby feet yet to dissipate. We walked. And walked. And walked some more.)

We had tension. (If the first time delay didn't do it, all the rushing from one location to another did. Oh, and the whole terrorist thing a block away en route to Tel Aviv on Tuesday was interesting. Made our customs stop at the Tel Aviv airport a lot of fun.)

We had close calls. (One of our ladies fell with luggage up the escalator leaving Union Station on day one. As Kevin watched in concern he was surprised when the escalator ended and sent him forward to the floor. Neither was injured. I exited the Church of the Holy Sepulcher....last. Along with the couple ahead of me by a few minutes we were relieved to find the guide of the other bus who reprimanded us for being tardy but led us through the winding streets in search of our busmates. No easy task. Then there was that whole "almost broke my foot" incident at Caiaphas' palace. They tell me those steps have been there over 2000 years. The one I sent rolling down the hill must have decided it was time to shake things up. Me for one...And then that whole terrorist thing...)

We had teaching. (Our guide, Yehuda, is currently the only Messianic Rabbi guide in Israel. Very. smart. man. As the days progressed he lightened up a bit and we had a great time. Liked him a lot. He was able to persuade the man who ordained him a rabbi, Joseph Shulum, to speak to us one evening. Another very smart and very busy man. He taught us the Yiddish term for nuisance, nudnik, as he was pestered into coming the night before a major conference he was giving. As he began to teach he asked several people what their first wish would be if Jesus were to grant them three wishes. An older gentleman wished for all to know Jesus as Lord, another man wished for wisdom. Then he slowly pointed to the blonde in the very last row. Hoping it was Pam who was sitting in front of me but knowing he was waiting for me to answer I hesitatingly replied, "to be a size 5." Not knowing if he would receive this as disrespect I was relieved to hear him laugh and say "it's true what they say about blondes." From then on whenever Yehuda saw me he would simply raise his hand with fingers extended and my nickname was "five" for the rest of the trip. Jerry also took advantage of several moments to teach us along the way. Really cool stuff. Really. cool. stuff.)

We had buffets. (Seriously, everything was a buffet of a few things we recognized and dozens of things we didn't. True of any cultural experience but I was thrilled to down a diet pepsi upon our return to the states. I'll admit I thought the St. Peters fish was fabulous. Shawna opted for pizza despite being shunned at our table but the girl knows how to combat peer pressure and smiled as the cheese stretched from the slice to her mouth...It's probably a good thing the food wasn't all that tempting or I would be regretting my indulgence in spades.)

We had sucker written all over us. (I don't mind paying for a great meal but we were snookered several times and it just wasn't all that good. They told us to allow for $10 per lunch per person. Right. Perhaps they eat less. All I know is that each lunch for the four of us ran between $50-$80 and it just wasn't all that great. We purchased some jewelry with our names in Hebrew and John's sterling silver ring is still turning his finger blue. For $100 it shouldn't turn a finger blue. Live and learn.)

We had peddlers. (Again, we were prepared but until you're in the thick of it you just can't understand how pushy people can be. Gypsies, beggars, kids and all...one dollar? shekel? One guy latched on to Kevin (who had taken every precaution known to man to keep his money and passport securely tucked inside his jacket.) Right there on the night streets of Tiberius he's pulling out all his cash to find a dollar to give the guy. He was a magnet from that moment on. One little boy followed me two blocks from the garden tomb gift shop to our waiting bus. (I was a bit anxious again being one of the last to leave and couldn't see our bus, and was still recovering from being crushed by a group of Nigerians with odor & etiquette issues at the gift store counter as well...) I'm walking down a crowded street hoping to see someone I recognized all the while trying to ignore the pleadings of this little boy who with steady determination followed me from side to side all the way to the bus. My face must have been a giveaway because someone on the other bus snapped my photo as they all had a good laugh at my expense. The lad followed me up the steps of the bus and John ended up giving him a shekel. Had I not be uneasy about locating the bus I would have relented myself just to get him to stop following me.)

We had beauty. (Galilee was something else. I will always remember how beautiful it was the days we were there. The hillsides, the sea, the places we were able to experience were probably my favorite part of the trip. The trip to Caesarea Philippi was breathtaking. I've always had special memories of our trips to the headwaters of the Mississippi but this was incredible. We only had a few minutes there to take in the crystal clear Jordan River waters but I could have stayed all day. The Dead Sea, the desert, Masada, our first view of Jerusalem...all very beautiful. Pictures speak a thousand words but to be there is pretty special and everyone's eyes see it differently. Mine saw it for my mother as well. She would have loved this trip. Well except for the genitalia in Rome. But she would have loved Galilee.)

We had Jesus. (I'll admit to being disappointed along the Via Dolorosa. I think many were. And again, being prepped for this to happen didn't seem to help. I had my Ipod playing music from "The Passion of Christ" hoping to deafen the noise of the city but it didn't really help. We were just too distracted with trying to avoid pick pockets, watch our step, maneuver around vendors, beggars and other tourists to engage in anything that remotely resembled His suffering. It was narrower and shorter than I imagined. Of course it doesn't look exactly like it looked then but it made me realize that life went on as usual while He saved us. That a beaten Savior found it to be an extremely long and painful route to the cross no matter how it seemed to me that morning. Still it felt like I was unable to "see" Him that day. Not in the way I had been anticipating and I felt like I had failed somehow. That like the disciples who couldn't stay awake I had allowed my mind to miss it in the midst of the unfamiliar world around me. Later that night as I was journaling, and after I read something in a devotional I had brought with me, something occurred to me: He walked that road, that way of suffering alone for a reason. So I didn't have to. That was the plan. He didn't want me to experience the suffering He experienced. It was a solo job. I found great freedom in that and renewed gratitude. The kind of suffering He expects from me is the kind that shows His love in action. And I saw that love in action on the way of the cross. It was a difficult walk physically, not so much for the younger pilgrims but it was really hard for the older ones. Part of what seemed a distraction at the time was the effort required to assist those who were having difficulty with the unlevel steps and stones and ascending path. Looking back at it all, Jesus was there in each attending arm, in each set of eyes looking out for each other, in the patience and by some definition, suffering, of those who delayed their journey to bring someone else along. It was a lovely picture of the cross all said and done and I didn't miss it at all. He's the one called to suffer under the weight of the only cross that saves. Walking in its example is our way of saying thank you. I let myself off the hook and gave myself permission to smile a little.)

We had adventure. ( Most of the tour our time was spoken for with little to spare. However, we managed to do some exploring in Tiberius and Jerusalem at night and had some fun in Rome. Opting to walk back from Vatican City instead of taking the bus with the rest of the group, we roamed the streets, map in hand. It was fun. Had the best food of the trip from a quaint little pizzeria nestled in the nooks along the way. I felt like this part of the trip didn't segue from our pilgrimage very well, but it was nice to have an emotional break. Nothing like a set of well... twelve inch marble "balls" to change the pace a bit :) We made our way to Trevi Fountain, tossed some coins, watched some gypsies fish them out with magnets, watched the police scatter dozens of knock-off vendors, tried some gelato, walked and walked and walked some more. It rained and none of us had the umbrellas we had carefully selected for their packable sizes and repeatedly walked past peddlers who had armfuls of them for sale. Pretty bad if you can't sell a wet tourist an umbrella on a rainy day. We enjoyed our time taking in the streets of Roma and would like to try it again with more time. We were disappointed to find out we were leaving in the middle of the night and not the following afternoon as we had thought. We were ready to come home though.)

We had safety. (From the first flight delay due to mechanical failure to the bomb scare outside Tel Aviv, we were safe. Four people fell but aside from a bruised elbow I think everyone was okay. Well, make that six people. Union Station escalator again. A man failed to negotiate his luggage with the exit from the escalator, tricky to be sure, and as he fell backward, softly landing on his suitcase, he managed to topple his wife behind him in a domino effect. Kevin quickly hit the emergency stop button and we all helped them to their feet. Nothing hurt but pride so we were lucky. And that whole terrorist thing. We were on our way to Jaffa on our last morning in Israel, making up for missing it the first day due to our delay, and were stopped by a road block. We quickly, or not so quickly realized we were just not meant to visit Jaffa. If we were passed by one emergency vehicle, we were passed by dozens. Dozens. Not to the mention the military ones. I had an idea the helicopter circling the area above us might be there for something other than a tourist flyover. Turns out, less than two blocks ahead of us, they had stopped a blue van full of 10 men and one 15 pound bomb. 90 minutes later we slowly drove past the temporary shelter they set up to disengage the device as well as the terrorists laying face down in the dirt in their underwear with bags over their heads. Assuming they had envisioned something much different for their afternoon. The papers said people scattered in panic but we didn't see them. We did see guys whizzing on the side of the road, people walking up to snap pictures and lots of people waiting to get on with their day. And lots of emergency vehicles. Lots. There were news crews, but John was already on location, filming it all from the front of the bus. We were thankful, needless to say, that we were spared an explosion as we were close enough to have experienced it in a personal way, but it made for even tighter security at the Tel Aviv airport. Glad to have that all behind me. Had to smile at the echo of so many bequests to return to our beloved America heralding the safety of a trip to Israel. Bummer. Nothing like a little bomb episode to say "welcome". Our bus was probably on CNN. We were right there. "Jerusalem Tours welcomes Pastor Jerry Harris from The Crossing" in the window.)

We had bonding. (Some I could have done without...but mostly, I loved meeting and developing friendships with all those who co-journeyed with me. Since we're still meeting people at church it was a really great chance to get to know people better. As we entered the service last night one of the ladies I fell in love with, the Crossing's version of Wilma Finley, waved at us. We immediately walked over and I was surprised at how good it was to see her. The same thing with seeing Jerry after the service. Just special I guess. An unanticipated blessing to be sure.)

We had home. (I stayed awake from our wake up call to the train, 29 hours or so. Did much better than on the way over...not nearly as anxious, the morning we left I was ready to hop the train and stay home! But I was looped on that train ride home. They tell me Nick Willard was on the train. Sorry I missed him. It was a long, uncomfortable five hours. Couldn't get comfortable, my ears were still plugged and still are, and my feet were swollen, and still are. I think we won first place for the best welcome home party. We were greeted by family bearing posters and extra hands to help with the luggage we were weary of carrying. I don't remember much about the ride to the house or the conversations that took place in our kitchen following. I remember the glorious shower and my very own wash cloth. Aided by a little Ambien I headed to bed. Up at 8:00, caught up bit through the day, headed to church, hit Wendy's with the Feys and tanked around 10:00. That's after hitting a wall at 4:00. Up at 5:13 this morning which is unheard of for me. Kevin followed suit and miracle of miracles, Shawna was eating her breakfast by 5:30. She's worried this trip has destroyed her ability to sleep in. Time will tell. I am glad to be home. Took me several days into the trip to quit thinking about wedding plans but now the feet have hit the ground running. Thankful for Veronica who chased down several items on my list while we were gone, the least of which was getting the invitations in the mail that we addressed two nights before we left for Israel. I missed her and those kids a ton. I know it was hard for her too. Something about not having mom and dad anymore...we are all we have in a way. Something mighty sobering about that truth. Oddly, my mind naturally expected dad to be at the train station; plaid jacket, white beard and coffee in hand. Shoulders raised a bit from the chill in the air and his unoccupied strong brown hand in his pocket. And then I remembered. Didn't expect that. And I had a flash of Tigger. Wondering if she had eaten while we were gone. Go figure. Now, on with it. Much to do and no time to spare. It was a great trip. Difficult but worth every step. And side step. I'll long be living down that rolling step at Caiaphas' palace. And I have the scrape on my leg to remind me for days yet to come. Thanks for praying for us while we were gone. It mattered.)

We have pictures...