10 years old

      When I was 10, I lived in Indonesia. My dad worked for a copper mine in Tembagapura, a small town on the Irian Jaya side of Papua New Guinea. I was in the 4th grade at the expat school, where my teacher, Mr. Ellis was also American. My classmates however, were mostly Filipino and so there was a class period that they all went to ESL (English as a Second Language), and I was left with my teacher alone. His assignment for me was to pick another culture that I wanted to know more about and to write a research paper about what I had learned about these people I would choose. I knew right away that the people I wanted to read and write about were those mysterious desert people, women in exotic clothing and veils, men with white flowing robes from head to toe, desert tents and carpets...the Bedouins. I chose to learn about the Bedouins. From the time I was very little I was enamored with the Arab people and it's culture. The vast and ancient desert and its history, holding an intense fascination for me for as long as I can remember.
      The funny thing is, at that time I did not equate Islam with Arabs. I had been living in Indonesia for a year, and heard the call to prayer (Athan) every day, five times a day. I had grown accustomed to leaving my shoes outside every door, and learned not to give anyone anything with my left hand. Most of the Muslims I knew there were nice, some were scary in that they really did make us feel unwelcome...just a tad. But it was enough to taint my thoughts and perceptions of Muslims. It was enough to make me think Muslims had hatred in their hearts for anyone not like them. So when my journey began, my love of all things Middle Eastern was completely separate from any ideas I had about Islam. I loved the Middle East, I loved Arab culture, I loved Jesus and the Holy Land, and felt pulled toward those things like a magnet for as long as I can remember. Islam floated in the background somewhere, but it was unrelated (to me at the time) to all those other things.
      This next part is a little hard for me to admit, but it is the truth, and so I have to own it right? Well, to be honest, I left Indonesia with a not-so-warm feeling towards Islam and Muslims. I was convinced they were mean people who worshiped the devil and were full of hate.I felt this way throughout junior high, and high school, and then I went to college. I was taking religion anyway because believe it or not, I was a good little Catholic girl and I loved Jesus and I loved my church and God and I was pretty sure we were going to have a showdown at some point with the Muslims and so I wanted to know more about the people I thought were my "enemies" ( I really cringe to hear myself say that). So I took Islam. And more than one reason...that class changed my life forever.