A Nesting Instinct

In anticipation of our arrival in Amman, my husband, “E.,” has been busily preparing our nest. We will live in the family home with my husband’s parents indefinitely, but will have our own private space upstairs.  My in-laws are the sweetest, most sincere people one could hope to know, and they are fairly unobtrusive when it comes to giving us our privacy and space.  I enjoy chatting with E.'s parents over breakfast in the mornings, and we often sit with them for awhile in the evenings as well.  Clearly, they enjoy having their children and grandchildren around, but I do hope we don't wear out our welcome! 


Up until now, the nearly dozen trips I’ve made to Amman have been 2 to 3 week stays in which I have dominated my husband’s closet and chest of drawers during my short time there.  He has always been very generous with his space, making sure I didn't feel as if I was living out of a suitcase.  Because I'll be taking up permanent residency soon, he decided to make a few retrofitted customizations. Once complete, our bedroom should be able to accommodate a full-time female occupant and her counterpart quite comfortably!

Since my husband is somewhat of a minimalist, he has our room there decorated with just the items we need—no more, no less.  Neither of us are fans of clutter; we both keep a tidy home.  That being said, he is wise enough to know that with a woman comes a lot of clothes and shoes…and in my case, BOOKS!  In an effort to make room for my personal belongings and make them easily accessible to me, he is having a spacious built-in closet designed for me so that it will be completed by the time I arrive in August.  Form, function, and placement should all come together, allowing me to feel truly at home.

Here are a few closet ideas we found online.   We have a corner space to work with.  I like the function of the lighter one, but the color and design of the darker one.  

The other day, I sold my leather recliner chair in preparation for the big move.  Knowing I used it often to rest my achy neck, E. chose one for our room there, to give me a more comfortable option for reading than always being propped up in bed.  He very thoughtfully showed me the styles available, and gave me the option of choosing the color.   It will be placed right near our sliding glass door where I can look outside at the trees and enjoy the refreshing breeze in the evenings.  

One thing that I told E. I would really miss about my home here is my bathtub.  I prefer baths to showers, and even during my short visits there, the first thing I do upon my arrival home is to take a nice, long soak in my bathtub.  Because he wants me to be comfortable and feel at home in Amman, he wanted to surprise me.  The only problem is, E. doesn’t keep surprises very well.  He was so excited about his “surprise” for me that he ended up telling me just a day or so after deciding to install a bathtub in our bathroom.   Many, if not most, residential bathrooms have bidets installed next to the toilets there.  He decided to remove the bidet and use that plumbing line for the bathtub, knowing how important that would be to me.  I had not expected this, but am so appreciative of his efforts and thoughtfulness. 

Possible tub option for our bathroom.

Our private balcony has a love seat and table and we like to sit out there together in the evenings.  To add a feminine touch to this otherwise austere space, I requested adding a few flowerpots that I could fill with colorful annual flowers when I come in August.   My sister-in-law offered to go buy the plants now so they can become established in the soil in the cooler months of May and June, saying they would not transplant well in the August heat.  She sent me pictures of her selections, and chose varieties similar to those I have here in Washington. 

Here is our balcony in Amman, devoid of flowers.  Waiting for my feminine touch!

And here are the lovely flower pots E. had put together yesterday, just waiting for me to come tend to them and dead-head their spent blooms!

Coffee.  Is.  Essential.  Make no mistake, you do NOT want to see me or talk to me before I have my first cup of coffee in the morning!  My husband is a smart man.  It took very little convincing that we should invest in a coffee or espresso machine for the upstairs area.  Nobody, especially my sweet mother-in-law or father-in-law, needs to see my crazy morning hair or hear my groggy, pre-coffee voice.   It’s just better for everybody if I have my coffee in private, then join the world.  My husband told me if he conceded to this request, I might never come downstairs for breakfast, preferring instead copious amounts of the aromatic liquid caffeine to a solid meal.  After promising him that I would, he agreed that this was probably not a bad idea, and that he might actually benefit from starting his day with an espresso shot from home as well.

Freshly ground Arabic coffee.

Me, before coffee.

While very comfortable to have, all these amenities are not really necessary.  Just before our wedding, I said to my husband, “I could live with you in a tent!”  Okay, I know that may have been a bit idealistic and a little far-fetched, especially since my husband is more of a five-star hotel kind of guy, but he did get my point.  We don’t need much in this life to be happy.  We need each other. 

These are but a few examples of the considerate ways in which my husband and his family treat one another.  If they see a need or know of a wish, material or otherwise, that they can fulfill, they try to make it happen.  They do this solely to bring happiness or ease to their loved ones, and to show how much they care.  Once I am there, I hope I can reciprocate and make life a little easier or joyful for my family there, especially my sweet and deserving husband!  

Good evening, Seattle, and Sabaah al-khayr, Amman!

~M.

Family Ties

My parents are in their early to mid-seventies, and have been married 49 years!  They moved to the Pacific Northwest, to Washington, just before I was born.  The home they live in now is the same one in which they raised my four older siblings and me since the year I was born.  No matter where I’ve moved since I was 18 and left their nest, my childhood home has always been a safe haven, an anchor and a comfort, chock full of childhood memories.  It is not the home itself that provides that sense of security for me; full credit goes to my parents for having given me that stability. 

Next January, my parents celebrate their Golden Anniversary.  To me, that is symbolic of so many things about them.  They say older people are living in their “Golden Years.”  My parents have definitely been an example of that.  They continually work to improve their health, their home, themselves as individuals, their marriage, and most importantly, their faith in God as the years have gone by.  I have seen their example, and how they have increased the “value” in their lives.  They are having more fun together, are more tightly knit, and more relaxed than ever before.   They are golden.  They shine, and reflect their goodness onto others in their lives. 

A few weeks ago, my dad said, “We need to spend as much time together as possible, before you move!”  These are my sentiments exactly.   Just a few days ago, my dad called me and surprised me with his spontaneity; he asked if I’d like to join him and my mother for a sunny Sunday drive, and said we’d decide on the destination once we got on the road (if you know my dad at all, you know this is very uncharacteristic behavior for him!).  So, they came to pick me up and we had a nice drive to an historic port town, aptly named “Port Townsend.”  The scenic drive was through the beautiful peninsula region of Washington State, and we chatted and listened to some very early blues along the way.  After we arrived, my dad patiently waited and tagged along as my mother and I browsed in a few boutiques and galleries.  We finished up the day by sharing some amazing Thai food and then headed back home, having great conversation all the way.  I am grateful for this time spent with them, and look forward to fitting in several more memorable days with them before I leave in August. 

My parents kayaking on Lake Washington in Seattle

My dad vacationing in Hawaii in 2009

My mom vacationing in Hawaii in 2009

Moving so far away from my parents at this later stage in their lives is going to be very difficult for me to do.  While both of my parents are in good health and still active, I worry that I won’t be close by to help them should the need arise, or just to lighten their load as they get older and maintaining their home becomes more difficult.  As often as possible, I stop by to visit with my parents, usually once a week at a 






minimum, and when I can’t do that, I 
always try to call them to see how they are doing.  My parents seem to look forward to our time together, and enjoy hearing what’s going on in my life and that of my family.  I know they feel this way about all of their children and grandchildren, and always welcome these visits.  As they get older, I imagine this contact will only become more precious to them, and I feel guilty that I will not be around to pay them visits or to be available for them as often as I, or they, would like.   I am going to miss their loving guidance, unconditional love and support, and most of all, their hugs and kisses.  

While my father is pretty tech-savvy and uses e-mail, Skype and Facetime, my mother is still a bit intimidated by computers and other high-tech devices.  I will have to rely on my dad to teach her to use these tools so that if he is out, she can answer my calls!  Fortunately, I’ll be able to call anywhere in the U.S. at no charge from our cell phone plan in Amman, and can reach her on their home telephone line.  I imagine my parents and I will have a scheduled, routine phone call planned shortly after my move there, and I look forward to it!

When I first told my parents about my revised move date, my mother comforted me by reminding me that she, too, moved away from her parents when she married my father who was in the military, and he from his.  They moved all over the U.S. and to Panama before settling in Washington State.  My mother’s parents lived in California, and I remember the weekly phone calls my mom and grandparents would share, and how my mom looked so forward to them, and always had a spring in her step after talking to her parents.  Most summers, she would get a two-week vacation from her role as “Mom” when she would go to visit her family in California, and she always came back home rejuvenated and happy, with wonderful stories to share.  I’m sure those trips sustained her.  Now, when I come back “home” to see my family and friends in Washington, I will get a sense of what she must have felt.   

No matter how old we are, I think we miss our parents.  Knowing I will only be a 24-hour journey away in case of an emergency provides some comfort, but being unable to just stop over unannounced for a short visit makes me feel so sad.  The one thing that helps ease that sadness is looking forward to having my parents make the long journey to see us in Amman, Jordan, and being able to show them around my new “home.”  After all, this is the only way they'll get to see Ellie, their favorite "grand-dogger."  Inshallah, they will both remain in good health so I can accompany them on the way there, and my husband’s family can finally meet these two amazing individuals that I am lucky enough to call “Mom & Dad.”  

My dad & my dog, Ellie, in 2011

        Goodnight, Seattle, and     
       Sabaah al-Khayr, Amman!  

~M.

My mom put a Santa hat on my poor dog, Ellie.  Dec. 2011

Books, DVDs and CDs, Oh My!

Okay, I know it sounds a little silly, but I am having a hard time parting with some of my books, DVDs, and CDs.  It’s a necessary task, since I obviously cannot take all of them with me when I move to Jordan.  Whoever coined the phrase, “You can’t take them with you when you’re gone!” was absolutely correct, although I’m hoping my “goneness” is a little less permanent than he or she had in mind!  Yes, I’m aware “goneness” is not an actual word.  Creative license is being used liberally here.

My book collection, especially, has been tough to go through.  Having made two successful rounds of elimination, I finally filled the trunk of my car full of books.  That was the first big step.  There they sat for a week or longer, sliding around, banging into one another like never before, already less treasured than the ones that, having made the cut, remain snugly secure upon my bookshelves.   My friend Ruby got first dibs after we met for coffee recently.  She chose a few great novels and some landscaping books.  Next, I offered them to my friends Lisa and Helen, and they chose about 20 more.  The remaining books, mostly non-fiction and educational books, I donated to a fairly new used bookstore in my hometown.  The owner did not offer cash in trade, so I ended up just donating them to her (she seemed like a nice lady). 

Recently, my husband and I talked at length about the merging of our books--what he has there, what I’ve left there over the years, books he’s left here and would like to have back in his our collection, as well as titles of which we both have copies, etc.  This way, I won’t pack and send duplicates.  For us, melding our book collection is a pretty big deal.  It’s symbolic, in a way.  Fellow bibliophiles, you know what I’m talking about!  At any rate, that dreaded third round of weeding through my bookshelves shouldn’t be postponed much longer.

Round 2:  Bye bye, books.  It's been nice.

DVDs are a bit easier.  For one, many of the discs from the U.S. don’t work in the disc players there.  Any that I do choose to send to Jordan will most likely have to be played on my laptop computer.  Some absolute favorites I will bring, but most of my DVDs I will probably be able to part with fairly easily. 

And it's off to High Voltage Records you go!

Yesterday, I completed Phase 3 of  ‘Project CD Collection’.  The first phase was stacking all of them (at least 300 CDs) on the dining table and tasking my daughter with checking to see if they were already burned to iTunes on our computer.  All but about 30 discs were, thankfully.  The second phase involved finding a place to move them where they would be out of the way until I was ready to start Phase 3.  There they have sat for the past few months, until yesterday.  The third (but not final) phase was going online to see what their value was.  This was interesting.  Most used record/tape/disc stores only pay between $.25 and $5.00 for used CDs.  This is heartbreaking, considering I typically buy the whole CD (to support the artist…it’s the right thing to do!), then save it digitally and shelf the CD itself.  I finally called a store in a nearby city and talked to a guy there.   He told me they don’t like Classical, Opera or Pop Artists (their loss, in my humble opinion!).  Everything else, he said to bring on in, and they’ll go through my collection and tell me what they will buy from me, and for what price.  So, I went through them, and pulled aside all the “unacceptable” CDs.  These I put in the “Donate” pile.  The “Sell” pile has about 200 CDs.  Phase 4:  carry them down to my trunk, and drive them to their new home.  Very few CDs will be moving to Amman with me but I do have some full collections that I couldn’t part with:  Ella Fitzgerald, Nina Simone, Billie Holiday, Bach, and Beethoven to name a few.

My beloved books, DVDs, & CDs, awaiting transport to Jordan.

All of this has been a true test in detachment!  Already, I feel a little less encumbered.  I’ll end by sharing the following quote:

“Detachment does not consist in setting fire to one’s house, or becoming bankrupt or throwing one’s fortune out of the window, or even giving away all of one’s possessions.  Detachment consists in refraining from letting our possessions possess us.”    (Abdu’l-Baha, Divine Philosophy, pg. 135.) 

I just LOVE this quote!  It makes the parting that much easier. 

Good morning, Seattle, and good afternoon, Amman.

-M.

Relationship Anxiety

   Spending quality time and keeping in touch with loved ones and friends have always been extremely meaningful to me.  Yet, it seems that I am always longing for deeper relationships with my family and friends, and am often disappointed when my expectations for reciprocation are not met.   Often (usually?) I am the one to make the effort to maintain relationships--whether it is a phone call, e-mail, a visit, or other method of reaching out.  Either I am extremely sensitive, or I am out of touch with reality (quite possibly, I’m a little of both), but it seems to me that many people today are just too busy with “life” to invest a lot of time in or place much importance on relationships, unless they are limited to cellular frequencies or bandwidth, made possible by the many amazing technological advances available to us today. In my opinion, however, nothing can replace the intimacy of sharing laughter over a cup of coffee or tea with a loved one or a good friend, or a heartfelt conversation held while walking side-by-side outdoors. These moments that are made possible by making room in our lives for others stretch beyond the bounds of superficial interchanges and go much deeper, and are sometimes even elevated to a spiritual level. There is a special potency to held eye contact, to nuances that can only be perceived fully when all of our senses are tuned in to a conversation, to being fully present and in the moment when we interact with those we value.  Furthermore, these interactions often become precious memories when we are no longer afforded the opportunity to experience them, due to circumstance.  Time constraints, physical or emotional distance, and sometimes even death come between us and our loved ones, and too often, we are left with regrets for not having carved time out of our busy lives to sincerely connect with others when we had the chance.

As a society, we seem to have become socially inept and have lost some very basic skills in relating to others, such as giving others our undivided attention while they speak.  I am as guilty as the rest when it comes to this; I often multi-task while listening to a friend on my cell phone, or even while I am on a Skype call with my dear husband!  Often, because we don't see our friends in person as often as we'd like, we are not good listeners when we finally do get together, but instead wait impatiently for our turn to speak, only half-heartedly listening when our friends are sharing with us.  Regrettably, I have done this to my own friends and family.  With all of the advances we’ve made technologically, to me it seems we’ve lost something vital in the process.  Progress, it seems, has come at a cost.  Social media, while great at keeping us in the loop about the day to day events in each other's lives, seems to have stunted us in terms of real social interaction.  I’ve always thought that as humans, we long to be truly and deeply known, both to ourselves, and by others.  To recognize that very humanity in others by honoring their invitation to know them is, to me, one of life’s precious gifts and greatest privileges.  We can learn so much from each other, and our lives can become so rich when we do.

Just yesterday, I had the bounty of spending a day with two friends from my childhood.  We spent the afternoon browsing through antique stores, boutiques, and galleries and had a wonderful lunch together.  We laughed hard, we explored, and we reminisced.  At one point, one of my friends said, “I just love being with you two.  You are some of the only people who really get me!”  That’s what I’m talking about.  That’s what makes a friendship really rewarding and satisfying…that understanding that we are truly known and loved.

As I reflect on the people and things that are important to me, and as my move date grows ever nearer (and my schedule ever more hectic as a result), I am trying to fit in as much quality time with friends and family as possible.  I am starting to realize that I will need to prioritize those relationships that are most important to me, and that are mutually satisfying.  It’s taken me a long time to reconcile the fact that no matter one’s efforts, one can’t force someone else to become more engaged in a relationship.  We each choose those by whom we wish to be surrounded in this life.  Genuine relationships, those not maintained out of a sense of obligation or duty, bear the choicest fruits and are truly meaningful.  We alone choose the level of intimacy and the amount of energy we will put into our relationships with others.  Most importantly, I’ve learned that sometimes “family” comes into my life unexpectedly, both in the form of deep and caring friendships with those whom I share similar values and ideals, and even with those whose worldviews and opinions differ from my own.  It is just such diversity that enriches my life. 

The internet provides the means to bridge the gap between my hometown and my new home, and I am so grateful for technology and programs like Skype and Facetime and other social media for helping me to remain connected to and in contact with those friends and family who desire the same.  Nothing, though, can substitute the feelings of closeness and joy I feel when in the company of my dear loved ones.  To each of you (and you know who you are!), and to all those newer friends and acquaintances whom I’ve had the good pleasure to connect with here in the U.S., you will be sorely missed. 

Through my husband, I have already met some amazing people in Amman.  As I settle in there, my hope is to strengthen those ties and to create even more long lasting friendships as I cross paths with new people there.  The ‘crazy American girl who tends to over share’ will have to learn to temper herself in Amman’s more formal culture.  Thank goodness the smile is a universal expression of goodwill.  I will share mine in excess, while studiously picking up on social cues and behaviors.  

Here are the words from a song we sang when I was in the Girl Scouts of America as a child:

“Make new friends, but keep the old.  One is silver and the other gold!”

Goodnight, Seattle & Sabaah al-khayr, Amman!

-M.