We awoke early today, as we were to go to see how native crafts are done...colorful designs in embroidery done with the hands of the women in the families here...They learn the designs from their mothers and grandmothers, and since most families are extended within in the households here, little girls learn sometimes at their great-grandmother's knee. The designs are sometimes ancient, but they also sometimes carry modern themes of an independent state, the poverty and sadness over families being physically ripped apart by the wall, and often the dream of peace, with doves, olive trees, and the word 'Peace' stitched into the intricate designs.
The people here are so giving, and when we asked to purchase some of the artwork, they were more than willing to also give gifts...I feel so humbled when they do that...they give anything they can...everything they have...and in all the cases, they have so little that it makes you cry that they want you to have it. We insisted on paying whatever they asked, as we want to help them feed their children. You may say to yourself, "That sounds a little dramatic." I assure you, it is not. The families here live day-to-day, finding food wherever and whenever they can. There is no such thing as 'enough' here. Your children, my children, they go to bed each night with full tummies and no worry in the night.
The children I've met, I've seen...their innocence, which is the responsibility of all adults, even you and I, is deeply endangered. They sleep, but it's not the sleep our children sleep each night. These children awaken to little food and no healthcare, working from the very earliest ages for food...five, six years old...imagine your small child walking the streets for food, working 12 hours in a day for $7.00 U.S or less...It's real, and I've seen it. You see the massive poverty that the people here live with, and they work with embroidery and olive wood to try to live...Yes, there is poverty in America, but there are resources to help the children who are its victims.
Yes, I worry about money; We worry about making sure our children are safe and their tummies are full...and that they have clothes to wear and school...The people here desperately rely on the religious organizations and churches (Salesians, Franciscans, Orthodoxes, and many more) to educate their children, and God is the constant presence in their lives. The trust and love they feel for each other and their community...I have seen them all loved and treated well by their fellow neighbors in Bethlehem and the surrounding villages. It's not a show put on for the tourists. I've been to their homes and seen how they live, and I've seen openess and a sense of being responsible for each other that is really rather rare in other places. I've cried more in the past month than the past year, as I am still thinking about all the reasons I was brought here...what I am to learn and what I am to share with those whom I influence.
I carry all of these people with me now, and although my heart is heavier, it is richer and now connected to the hope of those I've seen, those whose reality I have been witness to here. You cannot express an accurate or truly valued opinion about any part of the world until you've been there, lived as they live, and opened yourself to something larger than yourself and how you live your daily life. I am more grateful (I never took anything for granted, but now I am profoundly grateful.) for all that I have in opportunities and our lives, but I also feel such a sense of responsibility to those who need our help so much...and it's responsibility out of love and respect, not pity.
We also visited the workshop of one of the olive-wood carvers here in Bethlehem. The workshop is just next to his home, and everywhere you go they will offer hot tea with mint, turkish coffee, and food, even if they can't spare it. The homes of the artists today were no exception. When the gentleman showed us the process for carving the wood, where he keeps the wood before carving (in a cave beneath his house), and then talked with us about how difficult it is to feed his wife and five children, I wanted to do something to help he and his family so much. They need help, and they need it quickly.
One little boy, his youngest, followed me around while we were there. He was fascinated by my camera, and he would shyly smile at me whenever I looked at him. His little world is that house and workshop. His brothers all work in the machine shop and his sisters and mother put together the little nativity grottos in the house. They were working on an order from the Fransiscan monastary here, which comes once in a year or two (whenever the church can afford to purchase anything...limited funds even for them). I asked her how many she might make in a day and her answer was 200...everyone in the house was working on some aspect of the family business...the family hope...all except the smallest child. He was about four.
Most families here seem to live on only three or four dollars a day. This little boy still had that wonderful, charming look that we see in young childrens' eyes...the one that has not been touched by the internet or television, fear and violence. There are many children here who have lost that look of innocence, and instead they have a look of sadness and uncertainty. All I could give to this man's child today was a few minutes of looking at the pictures of his father's world that lay revealed on my camera screen and then, a tiny piece of cherry candy...such a tiny thing to give, but instead of popping it directly into his mouth, as I expect most children would do, he clutched it tightly in his tiny hand...with an olive that he had pulled from one of the trees as we were leaving his home. I couldn't imagine a more apt metaphor for the future of this little boy's country...the strength of the olive tree and looking forward to something good in the future.
V
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