gardening in israel

In roughly 24 hours I'll be headed to a country where I know no one, speak zero of the language, and have little experience with the culture.

Israel.

I'll be working with a people group within said country, of whom, I know even less.

Palestine.

I'll be working with a program that is teaching a course on the development of agricultural ecosystems intended to be sustainable and self-sufficient.

Permaculture.

I have one solid day to be nervous about the flight, public transportation, and getting to the village.

One solid day to find anything and everything to keep my mind occupied long enough to not have a panic attack when I think about missing flights and losing luggage.

One solid day to say finish my book, clean my apartment, go to the post office, say my final goodbyes, and get to the airport.

Nervous. Just like I always get before I leave.

But, the nervousness will pass and give way to the underlying peace that overwhelms my soul.

It's a peace that was planted long ago.

It was planted when I heard about a woman speak about using music therapy in Israel with Palestinian kids.

It was planted when Jon Tyson told me about his trip to Israel and how it changed everything for him.

It was planted, most recently, when I sat around a table with the Bishai family and Alf told me to go to Israel instead of Africa. His confidence in that choice deepened my peace. Then he told a story, months later, about sponsoring a Palestinian girl and he couldn't finish his sentence without crying and I knew that my July would be well spent.

Seeds are always falling on us. The ones that align with our hearts take root and blossom. We are evidence of where our hearts align.

Israel aligns with my heart.

Palestine aligns with my heart.

We are always scattering seeds. The ones that align with our hearts naturally spill on the world around us everywhere we go.

I want my heart to align with the true and the good and the beautiful. I want my heart to align with the outcast, the oppressed, and the orphan.

July will be a beautiful garden.

I will miss my family. I will miss my friends. I will miss this city.

August will bring me home again, with new flowers and new seeds.

It always does.

It's the life of a gardener.