I had never been so excited to go to church. I remember my mom dragging me out of bed when I was a little kid and forcing me out of soccer shorts into khakis or a skirt. I remember the eternity of the service and thinking I just might die until finally, finally we reached “Thanks be to God, Alleluia, Alleluia” and I could run over and be first in line for pastries at coffee hour. I can remember those things and remember the same nave and hallways and people and maybe that’s why my summer return to church felt more like a homecoming than anything else. I sprang out of bed and put on my skirt and sweater and for once I was the one standing at the back door, asking my parents if they were ready to go.

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My relationship with God has been sort of distant lately.

I have always liked Him, but we only really got together late one night last August in my central Jerusalem apartment. For a while we were inseparable. Whenever I was happy or sad or needed help, I would turn to Him. As this school year progressed though, things came between us. I got too busy and stressed to devote time to Him. I would try to deal with my issues alone, shutting Him out. When I did try to talk to Him, it wasn’t with the same excitement and candor that I had before. Things became mundane and I started having commitment issues.

We need to spice up our relationship. We need a getaway where the two of us can be close and I can get back to Him free from the outside pressures of my life.

Good thing I’m leaving for three and a half weeks in Israel on Wednesday.

When I first heard Billy Collins read his poem, The Lanyard, I was entranced. It was hilarious; it was sensual; it made me cry. It is damn good use of 331 words.

I tried in vain several times to write something this Mother’s Day that would mean more to my mother, grandmothers, and all the women and men who led to my existence, than this poem. I failed. I simply found myself left with the truth in The Lanyard. I thrust them out today.

.....I had never seen anyone use a lanyard or wear one, if that’s what you did with them, but that did not keep me from crossing strand over strand again and again until I had made a boxy red and white lanyard for my mother. She gave me life and milk from her breasts, and I gave her a lanyard. She nursed me in many a sickroom, lifted teaspoons of medicine to my lips, set cold face-cloths on my forehead, and then led me out into the airy light and taught me to walk and swim, and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard. Here are thousands of meals, she said, and here is clothing and a good education. And here is your lanyard, I replied . . .

You created me and taught me words and opened my mind to the richness of this world and readied me to step out into it. You held my hand when it knocked me over and set me up onto steady ground to try it all again. Through thousands of emails, phone calls and text messages, you give me a place to call home even though I live all alone and far away.

I give you this blog post.

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I'm back in the Middle East and raring for action. The amazing thing about Israel is that it pumps you up – everything I do feels like it means more or is somehow more dramatic in a place that some people think of as Zion and that practitioners of Islam, Christianity and Judaism all claim as religious ground zero.

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I’ve been dreading the end-of-spring-semester packing and cleaning since I moved here in August, but suddenly sorting my clothes and dishes into boxes and mopping up the floor seems exceedingly appealing. Lately it’s been hot and humid and North Carolina pollen is not a force to be reckoned with, but I’ve been putting in extra runs and laying out during the day, because who wants to be “that girl” who came back from college in the South out of shape and pale? Also, has anyone noticed the news has been especially interesting lately, specifically the Miley Cyrus/ Annie Leibovitz photo scandal? Just riveting. Oh, and I’ve been spending a lot of time deleting e-mail. There’s a pastime that never gets old.

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