What's the Good News

When I got home Friday afternoon, Hubby asks me -

"So what's the good news?"

He couldn't have asked more prophetically.

You wanna hear good news?

"I'll tell you the good news is that the Messiah is coming."

That morning I went to a Christian Zionist charitable organization to get some help for my family - thanks to a friend who directed me to them, since Hubby hadn't worked in 2 months and money is scarce for basics. They didn't thrust New Testaments at me nor did they make me swear my allegience to Jesus. No, none of that. They were lovers of Jews and lovers of Israel and chose this type of service to help new Jewish immigrants and people like ourselves struck by difficult times. They were going to help me out with bus fare for myself and the children and weekly food packages. It was all a bit dreamlike because it feels good knowing no one's going to starve in my family and that if I moved to Newark, NJ I would have made the wrong choice, because these Christians believe that I belong right here in this country, for better or for worse, through hell and high water. So in order that we don't pack our bags and leave for colder pastures back to Canada, they've provided temporary social assistance so that we stay put.

I needed to provide a family photograph for them so they can send it to our sponsors. Getting a family photograph is more difficult than obtaining a breakfast of bacon and eggs in Jerusalem. My family is never together and if they are, then they're in such a state of disarray that no one wants their photograph taken. Luckily we're all getting together for my son's 13th birthday soiree - a bar mitzvah in our Jewish tradition and, hopefully, they'll all be in the mood to pose nicely for the camera. We'll be dressed nice and won't look so downtrodden. The photograph I did provide was nearly 2 years old, and Hubby and I both wore sunglasses, which was a no-no. The sponsors want to see our eyes! Heavens.

I took my son with us to the interview and he was okay up until 1 1/2 hours later. He kept on poking me in the arm, and pointing to his invisible watch. The interview went well. I think the UK interviewee was surprised to hear I am involved in the holy messianic work of dialogue between Christians, Jews and Moslems to bring peace to this country. I told her a bit about it. I don't think she had come across any interfaith workers beforehand. And at the end of the interview she thrust a box of treats at my son, which he promptly hid in his bedroom so his siblings wouldn't get ahold of it before the Sabbath.

The woman asked me what my dreams were. My son told her his dream was that he wanted to be rich. I thought I'd say something nice like - peace in this region, etc. What I did tell her, though I had more modest wishes than my son, was that a dream of mine would be an 2 bedroom apartment of my own smack in the middle of Jerusalem so I can walk everywhere. She wrote that down. Maybe they'll pray for me that that happens. Who knows. But if it works, I'll certainly tell you.