Life on Mars

I’m sitting on my balcony overlooking all the tiny people below.  They’re scurrying around like determined ants.  Soldiers are hustling up to the base nearby.  Despite the heat, a few brave, fully-covered women march into the stores below in preparation for the day’s meals.  White-capped men wander into the mosque across the street as the droning call fills the air.  Cars honk impatiently, unable to wait their turn around the circle.  A coffee seller adds to the din as he yells about his merchandise to those racing toward the vans that act as our public transportation system.

And everything is orange.

A dust storm has moved in and coated the air, creating the look of Mars or Tatooine.  The clothes I washed and so carefully hung are now covered in a fine film.  The same covers every surface of my apartment.  There’s no use cleaning it up.  It’s too hot to close the windows, so the dust will coat everything, including my lungs.

My view is not as crisp and clear as it normally is.  I now view my neighborhood through through a screen of dust.  Interesting how much of life is that way.  I never really see things clearly.  I always see things through my own perspective, based on my experiences and knowledge.  And as I gaze below through the haze of the dust, I see my neighborhood differently.  There’s a softness to it.  The harsh reality of life in the Middle East has been distorted, changed, to something quite breathtaking.

I wonder if this is how God sees me, soft and beautiful, through the screen of the blood of Christ?

It really was that orange outside.

 

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