Happy new year to me

Three weeks ago I rang in the new year in Mallorca, two weeks ago I stood by my best friend as she married the man of her dreams in Sweden, last week I took my parents out to dinner as a thank you for putting me up (and putting up with me) in Spain, and this week I celebrated my (temporary) return to the United States with a lock down and escape drill at my new place of employment (oh right, because school shootings are a common occurrence in this, the “greatest” country on earth). Happy new year to me. 

I’ve been ‘on my way’ to Lebanon since September, but somehow I’ve ended up in Boston, Massachusetts teaching Spanish at a school for privileged rich kids. I seriously have no idea how that happened. 

Since being ‘in transition’ has become my new normal, I’m trying to counteract my weariness of living out of a suitcase with gratitude for the amazing ways in which God provides for me. For one, I get to live in New England, my favorite part of the country. There are certainly worse places to end up. For another, I get to live with relatives whom I really like. Relatives who also happen to attend and work at the same school as I do, making the transportation question a non-dilemma.  

For many years I’ve been in love with Concord, Massachusetts. It has got to be one of the most idyllic towns in the country; quintessentially New England and just so so beautiful. And I get to drive through this town every day on my commute to and from work. How lucky am I?!? Side note: I’ll be upfront and say that if I a manage to find an eligible bachelor who stands to inherit a home in Concord (because no one can actually afford to buy one) and is willing to marry me, I would chuck the whole Lebanon thing without thinking twice because, I mean, I have priorities. 

Apart from a 10-week stint in New York City in the fall of 2015, it’s been almost a decade since I’ve lived Stateside. As I conversed with a new colleague this past week about what kind of tea she likes, it dawned on me that I really have been gone a while. Several of the tea brands she mentioned I’d never heard of. Also I’d forgotten what a huge deal sports is here. Like if you are wearing a certain team’s logo close to Super Bowl time, they let you board the airplane first. That kind of thing just doesn’t happen anywhere else. And if I couldn't afford to buy organic, I’d be stuck with eating high fructose corn syrup and partially hydrogenated oils. Luckily American private school pays more than Swedish public ones. 

Speaking of which, I’ve got a pretty sweet set up. Small classes, well behaved students, a very welcoming teaching staff, a ridiculously nice facility - I’m feeling very spoiled. I also get three weeks off from work in March to do whatever I please. I can finally go to those ‘middle states’ I’ve never had time or money for on previous trips to the U.S. Things could definitely be worse.

Yes, I’ve decided to be grateful for this ‘detour’ and prolongation of my ‘in transition’ phase. The Lord hasn’t stopped being good to me just because he’s taking me in the opposite direction of where I want to go. I’ll get there, and in the meantime I have a lot of new things to enjoy. Happy new year to me. 

In Mallorca

America, get over thyself

I was out lunching with a former teaching colleague today and ran into another teacher at the school who is currently on paternity leave. He and another guy, clearly on paternity leave as well, were sitting at the table across from us with their baby sons. Apart from thinking for the umpteenth time how enjoyable it is to observe young dads spending time with their kids, it occurred to me that this scene, while I’ve grown used to it since moving to Europe, would be such a rarity in the United States (outside of Williamsburg, Brooklyn at least). The supposedly ‘greatest country in the world’…. 

Please misunderstand me correctly: I love the United States. While I’m perfectly content with being an ex-pat, I still love visiting the land of toilet seat covers and Trader Joe’s and mint chocolate chip ice cream. But please hear me when I say this: America is not the greatest country in the world. Despite its plethora of options and opportunity, it is an acutely dysfunctional society on a number of levels. As someone who’s been living abroad for nine years, I feel I can say with some authority that there is no such thing as THE greatest country in the world. There are many great countries, as well as many rubbish ones, and each place insinuates itself into your heart and psyche, for better or worse. 

For six years my paycheck has shown a 30% chunk of my salary going to the government. That’s a pretty big chunk. But I’ve also completed a Master’s degree without paying any tuition, I’ve received medical attention when I’ve needed it without having to sell my soul for cash to pay for it, and had I been born in Sweden, both my parents would’ve been able to spend a year at home with me without fear of losing their jobs. 

I love that in Sweden parents gets a full year of parental leave, during which they still receive a portion of their salary and are guaranteed the same job upon returning to work. Yes, this requires higher taxes to keep such a generous system afloat, but this is something I’m happy to pay taxes for, even though I may never have children myself. Society as a whole benefits from parents (and especially fathers) spending time with their young children, and since we’re all in this together it seems a worthy investment. Of course there are aspects about work culture in Sweden that I don’t like, but the parental leave thing is a serious win in my book. 

Selfishly, my biggest reason for not wanting to return to the States is the issue of vacation. Because I really love vacation, as does any well-adjusted human being. It is a European standard to provide employees with 30 days of paid holiday, because really, how much can you possibly get done in the relaxation department on only one week of vacation (or if you’re a really loyal employee maybe even two weeks)? It could take a person a full week to just stop thinking about work, let alone relax. I think this is nonsense. 

A more controversial aspect is the question of state-provided healthcare. I’ve not enjoyed my experiences of waiting for hours to see a doctor the few times I’ve been to the emergency room, but I’ve certainly appreciated being able to afford to see the doctor when I don’t know what’s going on in my body. I cannot adequately put into words how angry I get over health insurance providers refusing to cover medical expenses when it’s the sole reason health insurance providers exist. Yes, such companies should be allowed to make a profit in order to pay their employees, but in no world should they be an outlet for big business. 

Don’t even get me started on the right to bear arms. Most people outside of the United States think Americans are total fools with regards to this question, and I have a hard time defending my compatriots. If you want my opinion on guns, read previous blog post: http://annikagreco.blogspot.se/2016/01/am-i-my-brothers-keeper.html 

Also, Trump.

America is a country in which veterans are not properly honored (oh yes, we copiously honor them with our lips, but when it comes to dishing out in order to properly take care of them, we contract attention deficit disorder). America is a country in which mothers have to return to work just three months after pushing a human being through their vaginas, regardless of whether or not they’ve been able to physically and emotionally recover. America is a country in which fathers only get two weeks to be at home with their newborns. Two weeks!!! America is a country that stubbornly insists on bearing arms even though we haven’t fought an actual war on our soil since the mid-1800s. America is a country in which people die unnecessarily from treatable illnesses despite us having some of the most advanced medical technology in the world because they can’t afford to pay a year’s salary for the privilege of living. America is a country in which young adults are digging their own financial graves because they're told that college education is necessary to get a decent job. America is a country in which irresponsible banks get bailed out by the government while families lose their homes and life savings, a country in which the most despicable financial crooks avoid jail while a potentially innocent man gets shot because he’s black. 

The nation who values its privileges over its principles soon loses both (I believe that was Eisenhower?). Well America, that’s about to happen. If I have to listen to another politician wax poetic about American ‘freedom’ and ‘greatness’ I am going to seriously lose my sh*t. There are a lot of things that make our country great, ABSOLUTELY, but our self-congratulatory arrogance poorly masks our poverty of conviction and integrity, and it will soon be our downfall. Ironically we won’t be able to blame it on any terrorist organization or ISIS jihadist as it will be entirely of our own doing. 

The other side

I am 31 one years old, highly educated and well-traveled but currently unemployed and living with my parents….again. I suppose I just described your average millennial…sigh. My excuse is that I am ‘in transition’, currently living between three countries, my life packed up in boxes, impatiently waiting for the light to turn green. For now though, I’m seeing a lot of yellow. 

The difficulty of being in transition - I find - is that it’s hard to know what you don’t know. The other difficulty is no longer having an address. For example, I return to Sweden in a few days for a three-week visit. That’s what it is now: a visit. I suspect it will feel surreal - staying at a friend’s house because my apartment isn't mine anymore; going back to all things familiar yet feeling like a stranger. I’ll spend time with my friends, frequent my favorite restaurants and cafes, jog my usual route, catch up with my old students and teaching colleagues…and it should feel like home - except that I’m just a visitor now. 

Sweden is my past. It’s where I figured out who I was and experienced the best season of my life thus far. But it’s no longer my home. Spain is my present. Here I have a church, a familiar community, my parents… But this isn’t my home. Lebanon is my future. It’s where my (soon to be) job, apartment and tribe are. It will be my home. But I’m still waiting at a yellow light. 

I hate being in transition. It sucks in major ways. But I know there are so many good things waiting for me on the other side. However long this transition period lasts, the best is still to come. Beautiful sunsets are to be had no matter where I am. 

The sunsets of my:

Past

Present

Future

When "Love thy enemy" gets real

Imagine holding your ten month old son in your arms and your unborn daughter in your belly, a horizontal line of AK47s pointed at you, crying out to God to let you die before you see your family killed in front of your eyes. Imagine being plagued by nightmares for months and years afterwards, not being able to hear the enemy’s dialect of your own language without suffering an anxiety attack. Now imagine showing love to these same people as they flood back into your country only ten years after having left it. The woman whose story this is was literally seconds away from being executed by Syrian soldiers on the very last day of the Lebanese war. For six years she battled acute fear of anyone speaking Arabic with a Syrian accent. Now she serves among the refugee community living in Beirut, helping Syrian mothers access healthcare and register their kids in school, listening to their own stories of war trauma. She is loving her enemy - because Jesus told her to.

“I don’t like Syrians. If a Christian Lebanese tells you he likes Syrians, he is most likely lying.” The man who, very bluntly, said this to me grew up under Syrian occupation and, during his college years, took to the streets to protest the regime that had oppressed his countrymen for 15 years (and that’s not counting the 15 years of actual civil strife). Today he happens to be the director of one of the only organizations in Lebanon reaching out to Syrian youths who find themselves stuck indefinitely in a (to them) hostile country. He’s made it his personal mission to reach out to the 53% of Syrian youth who feel unsafe in Lebanon, to the 41% who feel suicidal, to the 94% percent who are not in school. He is loving his enemy - because Jesus told him to. 

Multiply these stories by a few thousand and you start to get an idea of what it’s like to be a follower of Christ in Lebanon. When Jesus said “Love thy enemy,” he wasn’t talking about the annoying neighbor across the street who lets his dog poop on your lawn. The divided, tribal nature of Middle Eastern culture is not one a westerner can begin to understand unless he/she visits the region. Western believers like to think, consciously or not, that we invented Christianity and that our sanitized interpretations of Jesus’ words are the right ones, forgetting that Jesus said those words here, in the Middle East. I, a white western woman, have no idea what it’s like to love my enemy, because I have never truly had an enemy. Would I be so exuberant in my love for Jesus if it meant serving the very people who were about to kill me and my family? The very people who played a significant hand in tearing my country to shreds?

“I’m so thankful God doesn’t answer all of my prayers, because with my little faith, I prayed to die before my family did. But God said, ‘No. I want to give you more than that.’’’ This woman knows what it is to love her enemy. She has lived the cost of following Jesus. 

Oh that I may someday have that same faith, grace and compassion. 

Letters from a tent community

The YFC staff do a monthly outreach to Syrian kids living in refugee tent communities in the Bekaa Valley. The kids get bussed in from the camps for a half day of games, and you can tell this is something they really look forward to. They've lived through trauma and God knows what manners of abuse, but these resilient kids find joy in simple things. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Beirut Diary - The issue of statelessness

How many nationalities do you have? I have two, and they allow me to live and work anywhere in the United States and the European Union. With these documents, I’ve been able to get into any country I’ve wanted. And not just that, I’ve been able to get a job, open a bank account, attend university, access healthcare and get a driver’s license in more than one country. Deciding which nationality to keep and which to discard is a choice I sincerely hope I never have to make. 

But what if I were stateless? I wouldn’t have been able to do any of these things. I’ve never properly thought about it before, but without citizenship, you don’t have the right to have rights. You can’t leave the country, you can’t register your marriage or the birth of your children, you can’t obtain legal employment, do banking, attend school, access healthcare, vote…. You are essentially invisible and voiceless. 

There are circa 15 million people who are stateless in the world today. Many of these are war refugees who lost their papers in the process of fleeing their homes. Others are whole ethnic groups who are rejected by their nations - for example the Rohingya of Burma whose recently elected liberal progressive president won’t even mention them by name - not to mention the Palestinians who continue to be stateless as long as a State of Palestine is not recognized by the international community. Still others are generationally stateless. Since many countries (27 to be exact, Lebanon included) do not allow the mother to pass on her citizenship to her kids, it’s up to the father to do so. But what happens when the father doesn’t have his documents in order? Or he is absent? Or dead? Stateless kids grow up to be stateless adults who have stateless children. 

Part of what makes this problem so frustrating and asinine is that technically, this is a question of paperwork. In a matter of weeks, nations could issue documents to all of its stateless members and clear up this mess. Also, as a new friend of mine recently pointed out, a really easy thing would be to add the words “and women” to a nation’s policy. This would allow mothers to pass on their citizenship to their children, thereby solving the problem for a huge number of people. This is so doable. But as long as there is a lack of political will, it won’t get done. 

I feel powerless to do anything. I’m not in a position to change national policy. But what we ‘regular folk’ can do is put pressure on our global leaders. There is an #ibelong campaign being forged by UNHCR. If you’re interested, you can sign the petition here: http://www.unhcr.org/ibelong/ . I hope I see the end of this dilemma in my lifetime. 

Climb every mountain

Upon reading the title of this post, did you immediately think of Mother Superior in The Sound of Music singing this song for a distraught Maria? Well, I am currently feeling in need of some holy Mother Superior exhortation. 

First, let me brag a little bit (and then you’ll see where I’m going with this). I’ve just recently finished a Master of Science complete with a 60-page thesis and a defense of said thesis, all of which I managed to survive just fine. I chose a risky topic to write about and I had no idea if I was going to be able to pull it off as it involved, among other things, a quick trip to Rome to maybe hopefully potentially converse with people I knew nothing about, based solely on a suggestion by a person I’d known for a grand total of two days. It also involved executing a case study on Ghana and interviewing locals without actually traveling to Ghana or knowing any locals. But since I’m busy living in the favor of God, I pulled the whole thing off in eight weeks. A challenge? Sure. 

…but a giant piece of cake compared to the seemingly insurmountable feat of obtaining a Swedish driver’s license. Hands down the most challenging mental exercise I’ve had to do in at least a decade, if ever (and I’m including the SATs in there). I’ve been doing these online practice tests to prep for the theory exam, and I’m to the point of having to sit with the blasted manual in my hand as I answer the questions because they’re just too freaking confusing - and I STILL get the answers wrong. My nerves are fraying. I am swearing trilingually. I am irritated. And discouraged. And stressed out. Because of course I decide to finally get my license when I only have a couple of months to get it done, time and money being very scarce. My fellow Americans reading this are probably wondering why in the world a couple of months is a short amount of time to get a driver’s license. Well let me tell you. 

In Sweden, getting your driver’s license is about as lengthy and expensive a process as getting a college degree. And not just any degree - I’m talking a triple major in Physics, Traffic Law and Environmental Sciences. I thought driving was about following the basic rule and making sure you don’t kill anybody. But now I have to know how to answer questions like “By how much is motive energy reduced, and therefore the braking distance, if you reduce your speed from 100 kph to 50 kph?” Also important is knowing how many wildlife are killed by automobiles every year. And which one out of the alternatives nitric oxide, carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide causes respiratory problems. 

For someone who spent a week doing Driver’s Ed in high school before going to the DMV to do the theory test and spend 15 minutes driving around the block before paying max $20 to get the plastic card that signified freedom, it is ridiculous to me the number of hoops I am expected to jump through to prove that I am worthy of the same freedom on this side of the pond. I mean, I get that there is no international agreement between the U.S. and Sweden with regards to drivers' licenses, but who do Swedes think they are? (Apparently world leaders in traffic safety, but whatever.) 

For the simple reason that I prefer to spend €700 on a trip to somewhere fun rather than on a driver’s license I don’t urgently need, I’ve put it off year after year. But since I’m in a major life transition at the moment and don’t know where the next season will deposit me or what it will require, I’ve gritted my teeth and decided to just get it done. So here I am, trying to answer questions like “If you’re going at 90 kph, how many meters do you travel in one second?” and “If you reduce your speed by half, how much have you reduced your kinetic energy?” 

If Mother Superior were here now, I bet she’d say “Oh Annika, you can’t escape your problems - you have to face them. Get on it girl. Climb that mountain. Then maybe, just maybe, they’ll let you drive down it.”