Living Behind the Veil

I'm often asked what I wear in Afghanistan and what it's like to wear a veil. It's freedom. Freedom to have a bad hair day, freedom to arrange my chadar to conceal the curve of my breasts and backside, freedom to not be an expatriate for a little while. It means freedom to hide even on the street from the Afghan men's eyes which seem to strip me naked.
When I relax my shoulders and walk less purposefully, less confidently, my eyes downcast and covered by sunglasses, I pass for an Afghan woman. I hear the men whisper in Dari, "Is she a foreigner or local woman?" I chuckle but am silent. On the street, I'm also a free target....freely exposed to groping, sexual innuendos whispered to me as a man bicycles by, free to have stones thrown at me, freely seen as no one's wife, daughter, sister, mother, friend, or boss. I step inside my gate, and remove my chapan and chadar. Now I'm someone's boss, motherhood returns to me as little steps run to greet me, and I receive a kiss from my adoring husband. Now I'm free to his loving and gentle eyes which know and enjoy my curves, free to once again be under the protective umbrella of being a wife, mother, friend, colleague, boss, niece, sister, daughter, woman.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Live Deliberately

I decided early on in my adult life that there are two quotes which would define my life, one by agnostic Henry David Thoreau, and the other by the Apostle Paul.

Thoreau wrote:

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. 

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it..."  


The Apostle Paul, the greatest missionary who ever lived, wrote in Philippians 2:7: "Even if I am to be poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrificial offering of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all."

A drink offering is poured out, totally, without reserve, not stopping, hesitating, or looking back. It's suffering endured as a joyful, willing sacrifice, so that the other, or those for whom the sacrifice is made, will have more holy and mature faith.

This is living with a whole heart, holding nothing back. I cannot live life with only half a heart. I tried that once, and all it got me was anger and coldness, a stony heart unable to feel or breathe. I wasn't me. 

The Gospel in a person's life can do so much more than we can imagine. It can melt hearts of stone, it can pour out the fires of anger and kindle love long lost, it can transform, as in Charles Dickens, a man at the end of his life to the most-loved and generous man the town had ever seen.

I can never settle for living without infinite hope in Christ's transformation in me and in the most hopeless and worst sinner.  There is ever so much freedom in living in childish anticipation of what He can do, as well as incalcating a sensitivity to woundedness by those I hold dearest.  Callousness or indifference to another's sin, without ever calling it out, is in the end enabling and points no one to righteousness.  

Spiritual Motherhood means the trained ability to discern what is righteous and what is sin, and where is forbearance necessary? Over all that, grace poured out in abundant measure, listening closely to what Jesus' Spirit says is to be done is the only way to discern the correct path when the way ahead is obscure, foggy with differing messages, statements of pain mixed with being misunderstood, unmet expectations, and character assassination.

The road is narrow, and lonely, but living deliberately is the way of all those who want to go deeper in having a pure heart and an intimacy of relationships with others and with our Lord.


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