Consulate General of Lebanon

"I must seem like such a foolish American just traveling to Lebanon for kicks!" I thought as I was going back up the stairs for the fourth time in an hour. The mosaic tile pieces were ornately placed for a simple elegance that matched the ceiling. The first time was supposed to be the last time, but I had used up more than I had planned in getting to Detroit. They sent me to an ATM in a deli located inside the next building over. As I walked in, the smells of freshly prepared sandwiches reminded me what time of day it was. But the language I heard reminded me of why I was there in the first place. The man behind the counter was speaking Arabic, and I made a note to come back and talk with him: I ran back up to the Consulate.

As I had been driving through Kalamazoo I realized my need to retake my passport pictures at the same time as I got the International Drivers Permit at AAA.

Rite Aid was close, but I had to teach the staff how to use the equipment. The conversation we had lead from the good weather here to bad weather elsewhere, and that lead to "End Days." We had a nice talk about hope in the end ties, and I think they were blessed.

The third time was because the consulate didn't take cash; only money orders. The fourth time was because it was for the wrong amount.

As the elevator door opened, I dashed down the hall with my money order. The man behind the counter said that he would wait up for me after hours, but I did not want to have to make him wait for me.

Done! the passport would get home on tuesday in time for me to give it to Glen Russel for our Syrian Visas. ّI sighed; now I could relax before the drive back home. Then man in the deli was from southern Lebanon, and had moved to Gambia many years ago. But the family needed better education. He is a business man and owns the deli I was sitting in. But he wanted his kids to do better in life. He is muslim, but serves pork. He explained that there are two kinds that he serves. The names he gave had no significance for me, but when he asked if I understood I said yes, because I understood that he had found a way to reconcile it in his mind and I was not going to further the topic. (something like kosher/Fake pork and well done) He came here in '96. As we talked, I asked him to teach me some words in Arabic. It was interesting to me that he asked me if I had Lebanese in my background or if I spoke Arabic. No and no... So he went on to explain that he read Arabic in my face as I spoke it. I wonder if God is blessing me with "Tongues" or if he was that comfortable with me, or both. Either way it was God.