At the little cafe where we broke for lunch: Do you want meat or chicken? I looked at him a bit blankly, then said “chicken” in the interest of both courtesy and safety. Apparently, chicken is not considered a subset of meat in the Middle East. But I could recognize the drink if not its label.
I heard perhaps the most touching and simple version of the story of Jesus I have ever heard, told by one of our guides sitting on the floor cushions and Turkish mat of a refugee tent. The family who call the tent home, watched him, listening quietly.
And then a snippet that you will hear more about in my book.
It was a sudden thing. Around 50 soldiers entered the house at 5am. We were asleep. They killed my husband and his two brothers. I begged them not to kill me and the children, that’s why they left us go.
Did you leave immediately?
I left everything. And then they went after and took a Caterpillar and hit the house down. So they strikethe house down once we left it. Note the typical tray of drinks for the guests!
