Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Until Next Time

I'm back in my spot of contemplation as I await my departure from Lebanon. Sitting at the same computer in the Centre d'Affaires in the Cedar Lounge at Beirut International Airport, I always like to take a minute to appreciate my time in Lebanon before boarding my flight to Frankfurt.

There really is nothing else like family. My cousin Raymond said it best this evening as we sat on his balcony looking out over Roumieh. He said that all of us may have different experiences and different viewpoints, but when we sit together we can see something special in each other that runs in our blood. Flatteringly, he remarked how special it is to have a cousin like me that three generations after leaving Lebanon can still feel the spirit of this country and our family. After about 10 days of hearing my cousins say less than loving words about my other country, it was a great feeling to hear Raymond raise a toast "to Lebanon, to the US, and to the greatest cousin in the world."

I don't know if his last comment was quite accurate, but maybe he was talking about someone else. Regardless, it is me that is unbelievably fortunate to have such a large group of distant relatives that so willingly welcome me as part of the family. I am even more fortunate to have an immediate family that is close and truly care for each other, but there is something particularly gratifying about returning to one's roots. The feeling grows stronger as one begins to understand those roots. It is as if the tiny frail ends of a tree root have suddenly found new nourishment and grow strong, wrapping themselves around the source of this nourishment.

My younger cousin, Jean Charbel, Raymond's son, asked me today if I would stay in Lebanon forever. "Why you have to go back? Stay here. We have many universities in Lebanon." I promised him that I would try to come back next summer, but he insisted that next month would be better. The prophetic youth then told me that someday I would live in Lebanon with a beautiful wife and a happy family. I told him that I would like that very much.

So here I am again with such mixed feelings, preparing to leave one home to return to another. Each time I visit Lebanon, I become a little more aware of the country's shortcomings and the difficulties of living in a place like this, but at the same time, I grow more and more attached to the people and the culture. There is no problem or defect that Lebanon could ever have that could sever my love for this country. It is a place like no other, and it will always be part of me.

For tonight, Lebanon, I say, "Until next time."

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Home

Sitting by the old stone church surrounded by family and friends, I watched the sunset behind the alter as the choir sang the movingly melancholic songs of a Maronite mass honoring St. John. I feel a sense of peace in the midst of this chaotic land of conflict and prejudice. Why is it that I feel so comfortable in a place full of so many problems? I feel at home. I feel a sense of belonging that is somewhat inexplicable. Three generations before me, my great-grandfather left this land to find a better life. I am so far removed from this place, and yet it is a part of me that I can't escape. Whatever part of Lebanon flows through my blood, its influence over me grows stronger with every moment I am here.

Despite the innumerable problems that Lebanon faces on a daily basis, there is something enchanting about this country and its people. They are a people that find it so easy to hate, both others and themselves, and yet they are a people so warm and hospitable that it is often difficult for an outsider to comprehend. Lebanon is a country of constant contradictions, but that is part of the intrigue.

I am a very lucky person because I feel as if I have so many homes. I was born and raised in North Carolina, and it is clearly my home by definition, but I feel at home in so many other places. After four years living in Austria, it is easy to understand why I feel at home there; I know my way around, I understand the language perfectly, I sometimes speak the language well, I have great friends there, and I feel comfortable there. I am also at home in Lebanon, the land of my ancestors. My family's history in Lebanon has brought the country close to my heart, and I will always consider it one of my homes. I have also spent over 10 years traveling regularly to Slovenia, Croatia, and Bosnia & Hercegovina. Despite having no real connections there other than some of my best friends, I feel at home in those far off countries.

I recognize how lucky I am to feel at home in so many places because I have seen the pain of those that are forced to live somewhere that they don't feel at home. On this visit to Lebanon, I have been working with an organization helping to resettle Iraqi refugees. I had the honor of interviewing a young woman from Iraq that is living here in Lebanon while waiting to be resettled with her husband in the states. Her life and the lives of her family were threatened in Iraq, so she has a genuine fear that may prevent her from ever seeing her real home again. She lives in Lebanon, a country that she admits is beautiful, but she does not have a home here. Many factors keep her from feeling any comfort or sense of belonging here. I wish I could explain the sadness that this woman feels living here, separated from her husband by bureaucracy, but it is something you can only appreciate by seeing it in her eyes and hearing it in her voice.

There are so many people in this world that have no home or have been forced out of their homes. I am thankful in so many ways that I have been blessed with so many homes.