Morocco is the milk

To accept everything is an exercise, to understand everything a strain.
Orthodoxy

I found Morocco to be a land of color, hospitality, and couscous. 

Oh, and beautiful camels.

Honestly, it was refreshing to be in a developing country. So many things-even the smell of the fresh air- reminded me of Honduras. One particularly difficult time with respect to nostalgia was a short walk to a beautiful outlook, led by a kid no more than 10 years old. He and a group of little, soon-to-be friends accompanied us through their narrow streets, kicking around an old soccer ball and trying to make small conversation with the few arab words we knew. 

Passing by shanty towns was also difficult. Many people come into the cities seeking a higher standard of living, and they're left in slum like towns on the outskirts- no running water, no address to put down for applications. 

I was forced to think again about how I fit ___(fill in the blank with some unjust thing) into my faith in a God who is just and loving. Why does evil happen?

And again I was brought back to the evil- the injustice- that I am so thankful He allowed: the cross.

That's the only response I can accept to that question, for now. It just isn't a scientific one; it doesn't ask for an explanation of why there is evil in the world and why it can be that evil existing in the world doesn't contradict God's character.

It's a personal question. And He gives a personal answer: me too. I'm not far off. I suffer from evil too.

So I thought of that quote up there and the reality that understanding everything is a strain.

One thing I love about Morocco is their way of talking- every other sentence included a 'God be praised' or 'God willing'. I don't believe in the same God, but it was still so encouraging to hear a people who do not presume to know everything or be in control.

And, amazingly, I met a sister in the Lord! The Moroccan family I stayed with has two students from the U.S. for the semester and, soon after meeting them, one was talking about how she wants to do campus ministry and I was like 'no way! I'm doing that this summer!' God be praised. I was so encouraged.

I also missed home a little extra in Morocco because every day, at every meal, we drank this delicious Moroccan tea that is just like the iced tea my mom makes during the summer with mint that grows beside our house. 

But at least I got cleaner than I've ever been since birth. We went to the Hammam-the public baths- and received these scrubbing gloves that literally take the top layer of skin right off. It was quite the experience. That's about all I have to say about that.

After the baths we all got henna. As we had been traveling in groups, we now got to see other people in the program for the first time in a couple days (and those being very exiting but tiring days), and it felt a little like a family reunion. I realized how blessed we are by this program. IES Granada es la leche. Morocco es la leche.

That literally translates 'it's the milk'. But in Spanish that means it's really great...It cracks me up every time.

Toward the end of the weekend we got to hike up to a home in a rural village and talk to a woman and her mother about their lives. It was so special to talk to them and learn about their experiences, their struggles, their joys. 
We talked about the great disadvantages of being a woman in their time and the things they remember fondly. For example, the mother said that, as the youngest, her brothers treated her like a princess. She said that with the cutest expression, revealing how sweet those memories are to her.


Her daughter and one of guys in our group somehow almost got together. 
*please note that this is all through a translator* 
The daughter said she could see right through him, that he has a golden heart. Then she proceeded to tell him there is a difference between light honey and dark honey and that dark honey is better. Yes, he's african american. And he responded, 'I like moroccan honey'... Just chilling in a rural village in the mountains of northern Morocco. We were about dying with laughter.


We spent the last night in Chefchaouen. It was a dream- all blue and white. 

I found a Penn State sticker in our hotel the first night in Morocco. I must say I miss Penn State a lot and I am greatly looking forward to my return, Lord willing that I return. 

But I've decided to enjoy the time that remains. The Lord brought me to this verse a couple days ago: He who goes out weeping, bearing seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him. Psalm 126

I guess I needed a reminder that He is working things during my time here that I will harvest later. He's sowing things-whatever lessons He's had for me-that I know will result in later joy. These lessons sometimes involve a little weeping, but I am looking forward to bringing Him a harvest with shouts of joy.