Fall Cleaning


One of the biggest themes for me lately has been fall-cleaning, and not just because it's autumn. To make some very long, very overdue stories short, I will be moving apartments and adjusting to a different life here in about two weeks. Both roommates will have left to go back to the States by then, and the responsibility will be a lot more on my shoulders for my life. So many things to say that I get overwhelmed, and this is a very long update. Apologies :/

It's so odd... I keep thinking I'm growing up. And yet every time I turn around, there's something I have no idea how to do (or worse, something I didn't know I didn't know how to even start on). Paying for the utilities I had down, for example, but then had to be taught how to keep records for internet bills. The weekend my one roommate moved, I finally learned to just enjoy *being* with her and not insist on understanding. And I've since realised just how many of my friends I've been demanding with and had to go back and apologise to. I learned guitar on my own by following music moods and chords, but then asked someone to teach me a song and realised my impatience was stopping me learning. I started applying for grad school and realised I don't really know why I want a higher education. My other roommate informed me that I've actually been a stablising factor the last while, a concept so foreign that I feel like I've had to meet myself all over again!

Each new month, I think "I should send out an update, tell what's going on, what God's doing, to people who I love and who love me. I should be sending out stories to friends who like stories, who are praying for me while I'm working and learning overseas." And every month I come up with a good excuse (or several) for me not to update. For one, there are so many stories. I could write you several stories a *day*, let alone one per month. But I don't. And I could pull together photos, videos, songs, like crazy, to get across the things that grip me, the sense of urgency and time ticking down for me and others. But I don't. And I feel regretful, upset... but eventually shrug the feelings off and get back to 'real' life. Which, ironically enough, I could tell you, every month, I'm still waiting for. One of these days maybe it'll ring on the apartment buzzer like the 'poczta', mail, deliverers. Maybe 'real life' will show up in an email offer from a mentor or boss. Maybe I'll wake up some morning and KNOW, for certain, that there's a certain path I'm supposed to be taking.

I feel like I've been waiting for life to happen for a long time now. There have been plenty of reasons not to actually start it myself- lack of work details, residency and equipment delays, transitions. But, unless something major changes, I'll be headed back to the States in one week and one year. Regardless of how 'real' life was. And that's pretty sobering. I got a lot done since I've been here, but not *nearly* as much as I could have. And I made a lot of relationships, but not *nearly* as deep as I could have. And I don't want to look back on these two years and regret them. I already wish I hadn't waited this long to get serious, get joyful. But here I am now. And I'm asking you, when you pray for me, to pray that I don't go back to waiting. And I'm asking you, when you talk to me, email me, chat with me- to remind me not to go back to waiting. Because, sure, there's a time to wait, to be patient. But there's also a time when waiting is unfaithfulness. And I have no more excuses for that. So I'll be looking for you in the next unwaiting year and a week, perfect or not.



"Caleb, I don't know how to process this. This is not normal for you." "Welcome to the new normal."
- 'Fireproof'

once upon a time


there was a little girl who lived in a blue world
technically, it was a colour-mix world
but it tasted blue to her

the sky was almost always an amazing turquoise
the sea was almost always a lovely deep sapphire
and the music in her house was almost always classical

the little girl had a little mother, who loved blue
so the couches, and the curtains, and the carpets, in the house were blue with white
even the dishes in the kitchen and the sheets on the beds were blue.

every dusky blue night, the little girl climbed into a little blue bed wearing little blue pajamas.
and her little mother would come in and sing soft blue songs
until her little daughter closed her blueberry eyes and dreamed blue dreams

the end.

Once upon a time

There was an older girl who spent most of her time thinking, first in her mind and then with her hands. And when she thought long enough about something, she wrote it to others, or made it into photos and videos and shared it with others. When she spoke it out loud, she showed what she meant with her hands, so they could understand better what she was trying to give. She shared a lot, all the time, but she still felt selfish, no matter how much she shared. It seemed that every time she looked out her window she saw another face, another story that should be told, that she wasn't sharing. Or she talked with friends who knew how to share without thinking so much.

And she decided that was her problem. But she also remembered there was an answer. Once upon a time, God decided to share part of His story with humans, to even create them in the first place to be in a story with Him. And He shared freely, and didn't hold back. But the older girl spent so much of her time holding back, she didn't know how to stop. So she had to ask God, over and over, how to share with the same openness He did. It was a funny case of opposites, she often thought - the more she shared, the more she had left to share. But the more she held back, the more slipped out of her fingers and mind.

So she learned, surely but slowly, how to let go of what was not hers to keep. Time, space, freedom. And she also learned to hold on to what was hers - trust, faith, and friends. And her hands grew more graceful along the way....

Once upon a time...

There was a little girl who lived in the Mediterranean. Most mornings she woke up, ate her breakfast, and had schoolwork to do... but *some* special mornings she didn't. On those days she woke up to hear her Papa calling up the stairs, "Everybody wake up -we're going on an ADVENTURE!" And then her mouth would put on the biggest grin it could hold, and she would climb down the ladder from her bunkbed. Sometimes she jumped on her sister's bed to wake her up (her sister liked to sleep in) and sometimes she helped pull her baby brother out of his crib (he was little but fat).... but she almost always started singing, because singing is what you do when you are happy in the mornings. She also ate, because eating is very important, at almost every time of the day. Sometimes she asked with a mouthful of cereal about the adventure, and her Mama would tell her not to talk with her mouth full. But then her Mama would give her a hug, and some fresh orange juice, and no one would be upset. And sometimes her Papa would say, "We're going to the mountains!" and sometimes he would say, "We're going to the beach!" and sometimes- these were fun times- he would say, "You'll just have to wait and see!"

After she was done with breakfast, the little girl got ready for the adventure. If her Papa had said "Beach!" she wore her swimsuit, but if he had said "Mountains!" she wore her tshirt and jeans and sneakers. But no matter where he said, she alway packed a water bottle, a snack, and a book in her small backpack, because her Mama said that is what you take on adventure. Then she would climb into the van with her brothers and sister in the early morning and start up the winding roads. Sometimes she felt sick, because the roads were very, very twisty, but her mom told her, "Roll down your window, sweet-pea," and so she did. Then the cool, fresh breeze would rush down through the pines and into the van and ruffle her hair. And the little girl would stick her face out the window as far as she could and take deep, deep breaths. If she went swimming at the beach, she let her hair loose on the way home, and it blew dry as they zoomed back to their little city.

The little girl loved the beach, and the soft warm water, and all the shells hidden in the sand. And she loved the mountains, and the tall singing trees, and all the flowers hiding between the rocks. But when she grew up, and friends asked her which one was her favourite, she didn't know, until she remembered one of the best adventure days ever. That day, her Papa woke them up early, and they went to the beach, and played in the morning sand. And then, just as they went home and thought the fun was over, her Papa made them pack their bags again, and they went to the mountains too! And it was so cold there was even snow on the mountains, and her little sister didn't even want to get out of the van. "It's an adventure," the little girl said, and brought her a snowball. When the family was finally tired of playing in the snow, they went back down the mountain to their house. And the little girl found bits of snow and bits of sand in her backpack, and was very happy. And she decided that one day when she was big and got married, she would also take her children on adventures to the beach, and to the mountains, and sometimes even to *both*, because it's fun to mix opposites and surprise people.

The End.

Anything new in your hand today?
Anything old
That could be regiven
Or for me retold?

All you need is the quiet
When I need the sound
Of your voice but it says
You just want me around

And the rift grows in my mind
Till you're here, I'm half gone
Cause I feel we're drifiting
When we don't row on

You're all fine
As I worry I'm losing you
As I sigh and pause
You say don't refuse
With no cause

When I go sad
And the silences fill
You reach out
And I find I'm found
Long enough to be still

When it's okay to be sad

Once upon a time there was a very grown-up girl. And as she grew up to get there, she realised along the way that she didn't feel what most people did when they felt it. So she decided to start telling herself what she felt.

"This is not a good time to be sad," she might tell herself in the morning, looking out at snow. "This is a good time to be sad," she might tell herself, lying in her bed at night, realising there would be more snow and more grown-up decisions in the morning. "This is a good time to be happy," she might tell herself in the evening, surrounded by too many people who were having fun. "This is also a good time to be happy," she might tell herself in the afternoon, when she was standing on her balconey and looking at her new city.

And because she was such a grown-up girl, most of the time she obeyed what she told herself. She even started reminding herself what she decided- she had a sun-face towel that she would turn right-side-up on happy days and up-side-down on sad days. (Sometimes she decided to change partway through the day, and would turn her towel around. She wondered if anyone ever noticed.)

Sometimes she didn't have to decide anything about emotions at all- she *knew*. And she especially liked spending time with the friends that helped her *know* how she felt. She didn't need to decide anything- she just was sad or happy and it was okay with them. And she had other friends that she also loved... but she rarely knew how to feel around them. She had to decide how to feel when they said things, when they did things, even just when they walked into the room. When she spent time with them she felt like switching the towel face every ten minutes.

One day she realised that life was settling down. She no longer switched the towel back and forth so much, not even in her mind. If she could find a way in-between happy and sad to hang her towel, she would. Since she couldn't, she started leaving it face-up more. And she spent less time deciding how she should feel... and more time just living. And that meant that she felt sad more, because she spent less time being carefully not-sad.

But she felt sad less, because she had more time to feel happy.

And she was happy about that.

Once upon a time...

There was there was a teenager who wanted to move away from home.
Because she was tired of where she lived, because she felt caged in by sameness.
Because every time she moved, the picture of 'home' in her mind changed
The collage of that word kept growing every few years

When she was four, 'home' was a little crayon drawing in her little mind
A tin roof... wooden walls... a long porch
With little squares around the sides to mark where one Grandma's house white house was and where the other Grandma's red house was.

Over the years, more papers got stapled next to the first drawing

A square boxy white house smudged in chalk
A watercolour of a long cream house hugged by poplars and grape vines and flowers.
A coloured pencil sketch of a sprawling lodge in the woods

The teenager was still waiting in that lodge when the word came she was moving again with her family
She could barely believe it
And she wondered very hard what her new home would look like

When she arrived, it was a whole new kind
She wanted to add it to the collage.
But she had left some of her art kits behind at each other home

So she stood in the back yard grass, and looked at it
And she stood on the front sidewalk, and looked at it
And she even looked at it from above, in satellite image on her parents' computer
And she didn't know how to put it on paper

Until she found a small camera at the store
And took a photo of her new home
From the red tiled roof to the breezy living room to the friendly neighbor houses leaning next to it.
And she printed out the photo and stapled it next to all her other homes

And then she took another photo
Of all her homes stapled together
And she hung that photo as a poster in every house she ever lived in after that.

The End

Once upon a time...

There was a preschooler who woke up too early
When she looked over, her door was not shut any more.
She heard someone on the stairs, and decided that the door had creaked open as they passed
So she sleepily sat up, pushed the door shut, and lay down again
She shut her eyes

But she always slept on her stomach, so she pulled her comforter up and rolled over
Then she heard a small noise
When she opened her eyes, her friend was suddenly, surprisingly standing just a foot away
And the poor preschooler gave a huge startle

And her friend laughed and laughed
And put down a big mug full of frothy coffee so it wouldn't spill while she was laughing at the poor preschooler
And she said, "haha! i'm sorry! haha! i just wanted to bring you coffee in bed! haha! go back to sleep! haha!"
So the preschooler woke up all the way, and laughed too
And drank her coffee

And decided it hadn't been to early to wake up, after all

Once upon a time...

There was a giving-up place. It had a small door with a lock on the inside, and two small eight-sided windows toward the path. And there was a stone wall inside the giving up place, right in the middle, so no one looking in the windows could see the people when they came to give up. And some days the door was locked, and when a giver-up pulled the handle, the door wouldn't open. And the giver-up would rest a hand on the door and think peace-thoughts for the giver-up inside, then leave quietly. But some days the handle would open, and the giver-up could walk inside and around the wall. And the giver-up might see another giver-up, or two, or three... and maybe they would share hugs and quiet help-thoughts. Or maybe they would read from the life-book together. Or sing quiet openness-songs. Sometimes they would do everything for a short time, and then leave, with a little more life in them from the book and a little more help in them from the thoughts and a little more openness in them from the songs.

But some early mornings, when there was frozen mist hanging between the mountains and the sky, a giver-up would walk down the path to the giving-up place. And the giver-up would try the door, and it would open. And the giver-up would walk inside, and there would be no one else there. And the giver-up would sit on the floor and watch as the sun pushed between the icy trees through the glass wall of the giving-up place.

And the giver-up would give it all up. And that would be enough for a heart for one day.

Once upon a time

There was a big girl who moved to the Middle East.
Her first day there, she could hardly pay attention to anything her friends said.
Because she used to live in the Middle East.
And it felt like home again.

The night before she flew there, she stayed up too late
She sat in the living room in her family's home, and she looked around at her brothers and sister and parents
And she wondered when she'd be back

It was a little after christmas
And it was so cold outside
But so warm inside
They had taken extra photos by the tree
Extra photos of fireworks and sparklers
Extra photos of extra cookies they baked

And the big girl wondered where she would be for the next holidays

At the airport, she handed her heavy jacket to her mom as she hugged and kissed her family goodbye
The plane was the same chilly that planes always seem to be
But when she touched down at the airport by the desert, she started feeling warmer

And the air smelled like it used to- loquat tree blossoms
And the air felt like it used to - a little salt, a little sand
And the air sounded like it used to- rolling syllables and rough laughs and haunting prayer calls from the mosque

And the big girl was content
But sleepy
It had been a late night
And a long travel day
And several time zones
And a plane ride full of quiet excitement

So just as the girl was looking wistfully at her quiet room with a small gecko on the wall...
Her friend tapped her on the shoulder
"Pack your backpack", she said
And the girl was surprised
She wondered if she had heard wrong

But she hadn't
And when she looked in the kitchen, she saw kebabs marinating
And when she looked in the hall, she saw folding chairs
So she asked some questions, and packed her backpack, again

And that night she sat by a campfire, surrounded by the desert dunes
And she looked up at the stars
And she wondered if they were the same ones she had seen as a little girl
And she reached out and hugged her friends
And went to sleep content
Because there was still a whole life ahead to explore

And whether she spent the next set of holidays back with her family in the cold weather
Or here with her friends in the hot weather
She was held in the palm of God's hand
And that was precisely where she was meant to be


The End

I wish I had something worth the telling. I am home. I'm not going anywhere. But my stories are getting smaller and smaller, and I think my own story is getting smaller, even as it's getting re-dimensioned. Smaller can be okay as long as it goes with faster, but what about when it's just a little swallow with dusty wings? Still tracing the telephone wires, still feeling the hum of the life-tracks, half wishing there was a migration south waiting. Wondering, though, if its flight pattern is simply to fly along other birds and bring them to the waiting warmth, chirp them into the nests of parent birds who know the wind currents better.

Once upon a time...

There was a song about stolen hearts. And it played through the house. Was hummed in the kitchen. Was guitarred on the balconey under the stars.

But there was no stolen heart in the house. The heart in the house was fine, more than fine if less than wonderful. What would being stolen feel like, it wondered?

And the song kept playing. It reminded the heart of beaches by afternoon... of mountains under pine tree mornings... of foggy unfamiliar noons. The heart knew where it was now, safe in the city, no where wild. It had taken vacations into uncertainties under the stars and tuggings by lamplight before, but never been stolen. Where would a stealing take place, anyway? Outside, inside, or standing in a doorway? Would it be pulled in from freedom, pulled out of security, or told to pause in the doorway of both, like instructions during an earthquake?

And would a heart know until later that it had been stolen? The song kept playing. Maybe it was giving hints of what was around the corner, like the door creaking open, like a warning to the strong that a thief was coming. Or maybe it was like one more dusk before the end of the end, too far away to worry or start packing. Take your time... take your sweet time.

Once upon a time...

There was a little girl who moved with her family to the Middle East.
And she was soooooo excited.
And her little brother was soooooo excited.
And their daddy was sooooooo excited.
But their mommy was sooooooo stressed.

And they had several months of happy explorations.

And then... culture shock.
And the little girl was just learning to read, so she escaped into books.
And the little boy was just learning to play legos and duplos, so he escaped into that.
And the daddy... he loved it there.

So when he did want to escape, he went to the market.
Or the airport.
Or the streets.

But the poor mommy had just had a baby.
And the poor mommy had two small kids at home.
So the mommy couldn't escape the house for long.

And Christmas was coming.
So she had an idea.

And she told the little girl to pull out the flour.
And she told the little boy to pull out the sugar.
And she put the baby in the bassinet to watch the party.
And they turned on music and started baking.

And when the daddy came home, the house smelled sooooo good.
And the daddy was happy that day, because there were gingersnaps on the counter.

But the next day when he came home, the house didn't smell like gingersnaps any more.
It smelled like peppermint.
Because the mommy had baked peppermint shortbread.

And the next day the house smelled different.
Again.

And years later, the mommy would give other new mommies hugs when they were overseas and stressed.
And she would say, "after a while, life will get better, dear.
And then she would grin.
And she would look at all her grown up, well adjusted children.

And she would say, "One of MY first Christmases overseas....
I baked 15 kinds of cookies."

And all the children would smile.
And kind of wish their mom would get stressed again....

we're not friends, or so i gather.
we're not family, so you say
(shake hands we'll say goodbye this way)

companions on the road that was
in and out a northern day
(shake hands we'll say goodbye this way)

thanks for all you did and were
lovely time, a pleasant stay
(shake hands we'll say goodbye this way)

grace to you, good landing too
go with God, go as you may
(shake hands we'll say goodbye this way)

Busy trains
And railway track
Me and my
Abandoned pack

Lonely me while
Benches empty
No more tickets.
No one sent me.

Work to do
I'm told there's plenty
Here to do
To be contenting

Here I am
Till evening sunshine
Brings perspective
Slowly unwinds

Waiting people
Dirty tiles
Time announcements
Calling miles

Blending in
Grey trekker shoes
"Platform 5,
Non-travel blues."

Not down to obedience at the moment. It's direction...

"It's not about losing faith, it's not about trust. It's all about *comfortable*, when I move so much." (Sara Groves). Even a step beyond that song, a step beyond that simple dichotomy of motion or no. I'm not there any more. A month ago, at meeting, instead of finding out where I was going... I found out where I was. Not in the waiting any more, but not in the motion either.

I had a chance then to share my heart, say, "I'm a great loose cannon. I can go anywhere, do anything, without any warning-- and turn it into media. So give me a travel pass and USE me." And since then, I have been used, and have enjoyed it... but have no travel pass. Which means the question becomes, do I accept that or no? I can go back to living in waiting. Or I can 'push that door', knowing that there is no travel budget for work and I'll have to mostly solo it.

Or... I can settle down. "This place is many things, but I'd never call it home..." (TFK). I can get past that, move into a new apartment, join sports teams, help homeschool kids, keep working and brainstorming with media friends via Skype. I can save money for the future, dive more into language, make this a sweet home of my own, see how God grows me and friendships in the process.

Settling down like that... it wouldn't be a bad life. But do you really think two years of 'not bad' is worth it? Waiting, growing times are useful. We know this. But God grew me up with so much else, *soaked* me with so much different, and it seems so strange to waste that. A house is a house, and I am one of the expatriate, believing, community around the world. And you can add Persian carpets and Swedish bookshelves, Chinese teapots and African wall hangings, and make a welcoming haven, wherever you are.

But a treehouse stands out among magnolia mansions and glass highrises all the same.

i just never thought i'd grow up like this. i neglected to add in emotions when i painted the picture of who i wanted to be. i am nearly everything i ever wanted to be; i have nearly everything i ever wanted. i am a photojournalist in europe with a funky room, spiked hair and sunglasses, a bike, an ipod, a phone, and *freedom*. i can get by in six sports and five languages; i have acquaintances in thirty to forty countries.

and i'm sitting here in a coffeeshop on my own with my computer, skyping with one of my best friends and watching people walk by. if i could have seen five different snapshots of who i'd be at this age, i'd have wanted this life. and yet could i have looked at the snapshot and seen the uncertainty in my eyes? that when i walk back into my apartment tonight, it'll be quietly, because i won't know what moods or discussions my roommates will be in. (if i were to ask, i'd probably be told that it didn't matter- that i can be my own person and not react off them.) could you see the after-snapshot, when i carry my bike up the flights of stairs and wonder how far i can escape the next day. (escape with my computer, naturally, to find a new adventure and a new place to work, somewhere outside of this seven-month city.) rewind the snapshot a few hours to when the youth group and summer interns are hanging out at my apartment, and i'm hugging them and baking cookies and sharing stories. what is not to like about that? especially if you can't tell that i'm tired from too many late night soul-searching talks with a friend who's 7 time zones away and somehow is better at calming me down than any one else. do i look like i'm calm in all the snapshots, like i'm having fun, like i'm not going crazy inside because i've been in the same city for seven months and with the same people for seven months and both have essentially told me to get a life?

and most days, most snapshots, i am good. i am really good. but there was too much i didn't read between the lines when i scripted out this life. the prices for all those adventures and the process of building a life like this. and the person i've become while creating and maintaining it all. it wasn't a waste- it wasn't one big loss. it's been something incredible, but "in-credible" - 'un-believeable' tends to cover all areas, not just the moments when the grins are everywhere and the flash goes off.

check the fine print when you buy a life... blow up the photo and see if the resolution holds true, if the hidden pixels point out what you get to brush into every day.

ruins

rebuild a roof, sweep out the sand
ruin follows saving steps
move the rubble, make a plan
sweat and shift the rocks by hand
turn round to see them crumble down
was born to need to understand

i can't see the ground for all the dust
i can't see the stars for the dirt i stirred up
finally left alone on a rock
to lean back and look at my failures
to sit on a stone and have nothing to come

but more scratches on my skin
yesterday's burns i wouldn't share
or let you in, see me fail again
too little left of me already
to be enough as my shadow grows thin

and then the morning glory vines
start growing on the wall
and a song starts welling up
and soaks me like a waterfall
the walls - they come down for a reason
why rebuild? why rebuild?
despair is for a purpose
a blossom for each hope i killed
a star behind each hole i filled

why rebuild?

why rebuild?



(Lamentations 2:8, 19)

The LORD determined to destroy
The wall of the daughter of Zion.
He has stretched out a line,
He has not restrained His hand from destroying,
And He has caused rampart and wall to lament...
Pour out your heart like water
Before the presence of the Lord;

“At sunrise everything is luminous but not clear. It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us. You can love completely without complete understanding. - A River Runs Through it”

Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in an ancient northern city. In the winter, the snow hurled its fury at the walls, and only the inhabitants dared brave the streets. But in the summer- oh, the summer! Then the city was so beautiful and gracious that people came from the ends of the earth to marvel at the palaces and rest in the fragrant gardens. One day the girl was out on a walk with three friends. Oh, the sight these girls made as they wandered. One watched the sunset with melting brown eyes; another smiled through her long lashes at the birds in the trees. One tossed her glossy chestnut curls in the evening wind and the fourth laughed through cherry lips at the freedom of such an evening.

Suddenly, there arose an obstacle in their path. No longer could the four happy maidens walk side by side and converse sweetly. They must needs walk around two laborers and a carriage in the path. They carefully began moving to the side to pass, and as their bubbling speech paused, one of the men spoke to the other. The girl who lived in the city had learned some of the tongue when she moved there, and caught the word 'Touristka.'
"Ah," she thought to herself wisely, "They think we are tourists. To be sure, we are not blonde, and are not tall, and are not dressed in tall slippers, as are their maidens. But even were we clothed the same, they might have known we are not of their kind. Because- alas!- they can hardly ignore how our Anglo-Saxon words fall at a quicker, more lively pace than those of their Slavic graciousness...."

And while she pondered in this manner, it was as if one of the laborers had heard her very thoughts. And, indeed, were it not so, he must have noted their bonnie dark looks and warm nature. And he spoke to them.

"Buona sera."

"do you know what would make you happy though?"

Chatting with one of my best friends. She has the bright idea to ask this simple, pointed question when I am at a simple, pointed, crossroads in life here. Other people have asked me equally good questions, others have asked me at equally good times. But to combine both while it's almost 2am, I'm still awake, and my room is in a state of deconstruction because square furniture and halfpacked duffels are driving me crazy.... yeah.
reply.

"what would make me happy, in 450 words or less
a rail pass for the next 2-3 months
a small apartment, mine or someone else's, to dump my two duffels and two boxes of books and guitar in
and the good [digital] camera, my vidcam, and macbook in a maroon trekker backpack
and an iphone with continual work suggestions and contact numbers for our people across europe
and connections to shoot articles, photos, and videos to on a regular basis so my work would stay quality and in motion too
*spreads hands
that's what i want
maybe a hammock too"


funny how stepping back puts things in perspective. all i have to do now is pray about it, then talk all this through with my bosses and get approval, step by step... right?

“Is life so wretched? Isn't it rather your hands which are too small, your vision which is muddled? You are the one who must grow up.” - Dag Hammarskjold

nu ik alles kan bekennen
moet jij er nog aan wennen
dat het waar is wat ik zeg
streep mijn naam maar weg
- blof

roughly translates to
'now that i can admit everything/ you'll have to get used to/that it's true what i say/mark my name away'.

learning to mark my name away on any number of things. will admit honestly that a lot of what i do, what i say, isn't honest. it's learned behaviour, a coping mechanism. and to some degree, we all have to live with that. we learn to walk a little slower when walking with a toddler; we learn to cram two-year goodbyes into half an hour at the airport. but that doesn't mean we normally hold hands when stepping off curbs. it doesn't mean we normally talk 120 km an hour and memorise every details of eachother's faces. maybe we should.

but maybe we should learn to distinguish between reality and coping mechanisms. had a semi-shock moment this afternoon, realised how different my life would be if i had my own apartment. i'd known from near the beginning that i'd have roommates, so there was never really a time when i thought, "would i live differently if i didn't have built-in sisters/friends?"

not to say i've held their hands. they've held mine some, having been in this city longer. and we've had moments of memorising faces, or at least of savouring laughing and hanging out together. would we have had so many if we didn't room together, though? interesting to think that through.

Got my residency card.

Now what?

Work meeting in a few days, formal or informal, don't know yet - hopefully will get to do more of the journalism I came here for!

This, I could get used to.

Long good busy day... workmovegosinghelpwalksing. Almost fell asleep on the bus home, my one holdout-against-depressing-tourist-places friend is caving tomorrow and I'll be the loner. Leaning on a friend here to get pierced, and her mom's all for it. One of my best friends in the States had dinner with my family last night after I coaxed them into it, and now I'm jealous of them all. More residency bureaucracy tomorrow- how my luck would it be if they finally kicked me out now I'm not so hungry for escape?

Got annoyed at forgetting footage, started complaining to myself in Slavic without having to think about it. Finished one video, built another ground-up in the last 24 hours, rave reviews. Have to rewrite an article with more info. Doing a photo shoot tomorrow for friends. Love my job.

Helped moving friends clean their place, spent a sweet hour out with their Tesoro who is currently my favourite one-year-old on the planet. Walked where we normally walk, and then some, carried him on my shoulders, taught him birdcalls, took photos. Come July, I'm not gonna see him again for a long while. He's not even gonna remember my name by then....

Learning the song "What Do We Know" and learning it on the guitar. Slung its case on my back yesterday and jetted the house to play by the train tracks yesterday, surprised the commuters and ticked off a German shepherd. Haven't broken anything all week, started packing for vacation a week ahead. Be very proud. Put a pause to overprocessing thinking and stayed out of the kitchen (related?) and haven't been OCD about cleaning, been highly productive and charmingly distracted.

And- wrap thy head around this- I'm quoting less. Still singing at every turn, but the need to sum it all up, spin it over, is lessening... then again, I'm writing more poetry lately. Words and word again.

huge fan of being busy, of being tired and content, grabbing tiny moments of silence and soaking up the shades of cloud edges in the sunset, soaking up the notes and tones in my roommates voices.'

tons of work this week. easiest way to deal with it is to back off from normality, stop all other busy-ness and activity and watching. it's just me and my music and my computer, and hugs to those who want them, laughs and a helping hand to those that need them.

for the rest- especially when i'm running on very few hours of sleep- i just stop wondering, stop feeling. stop trying to figure out what's going on in my friends and roommates heads, stop caring what they think of me. all my emotion, all my energy, is wrapped up in turning pressure into presentation. in taking lifeless dv tapes and memory cards and crafting out living stories.

there's pressure, and the moments of, "o... am i worrying you by deliberate absence?" but there's also a definite freedom in blocking out everything around me. tap me on the shoulder and i'll tell you how i've been- if i remember. and i'll ask you how you've been, and listen. but in a minute or two, i'm gonna walk away and back to work, and, for once, not replay the conversation over and over in my head, feel through it all.

the whole processing process? dramatically different or deleted these days...

Connecting...

Watched 'Terminator Salvation' yesterday, enthralled. The last movie I watched in a cinema was 'Quantum of Solace', last year - I'm not a huge cinema person, but for explosion-movies it helps to have the surround sound and utter silence and blackness surrounding....

What really hit me in both movies was the level of trust in crazy, life-or-death, worlds. In 'Quantum of Solace', it was 'M' letting Bond have free reign to go his missions solo, against all common sense, no matter the consequences. "He's my agent!" In 'Terminator Salvation' it was the resistance everywhere standing down against orders because they trusted John Connor. Without trust, Bond and Connor would have been on their own, flamed out, and then probably died. But they took that extra step to stay connected with others and that made the difference.

I tend to connect when it suits me, when I have time, when I think it's worth it. A certain level of trust floats around, but not nearly what it could be. If it came down to life or death, and it was my voice over the cell phone or shortwave radio- would others listen?

Surreal, random, happy day... and one of the best here yet. Connected much?

Incorrect sunny weather. Lolcats. Outspoken Aussies.

Personal tour by a white monk.

Confused waitress who didn't know whether to speak to us in English or Slavic.

Freshly painted room, but no glitter.

Heart-sharing with a friend, no, two friends, one online and one here with me.

New piercing, a long-promised birthday treat with a friend.

Tons of coffee. Tikka masala. Gerbils. A tram that went the wrong route.

Random parade... random concert... random speed-walking race... random military/redcross/greenpeace recruitment event.

Skyped. Chatted. Sang. Texted. Threw pennies in a fountain.

Electric sunset, blood and hugs, wishes.


Deep content.

Haven't blogged anything in a while... started a new notebook two weeks ago when life got particularly frustrating, and have written in that. Everything from laughing at adventures with friends to copying half-chapters of Lamentations - "I will lay my head in the dust- there may yet be hope." Lots to catch up on, particularly hope.

I've been missing directness, missing authority. I don't do well with vagueness. Got told by my boss that 'if there are any lingering ideas of rootlessness, put them to rest." Which I needed. And life has gotten better this last week, in ironic ways.

Have had some really good talks and hang-out times with my roommates and friends... on the heels of some fairly heated arguments.

Time's ticking down to vacation and volleyball with some old favourite teammates... and realised I'm not in love with volleyball anymore.

More work assignments just as my hardrive crashed and burned. (Now fixed, and I only have to make up three months worth of unfinished video in one month, thanks.)

Have been volunteering at an international preschool (adorable kids that I can talk to in four different languages) and at a Canadian school for VBS preparation. Either way, I come home with paint stained arms and a huge grin.

God... has been good. Very demanding this last month, showing me just how much I don't let Him into my everyday life. Just how much I've been 'waiting on the next best thing' and not caring enough about life and people *now*. And my friends have helped put concrete nudges (and/or scoldings) to His point that I don't trust enough. So I'm working on that.

I have *seen* my residency card at the bureau... the people say I need one more piece of documentation. I kinda think I already filled it out. Twice. Months ago. But at least I know it does exist in a physical state and after five months of deliberate non-committal to anything, I soon won't have any excuse left. Unless work-travel, that shining star which pretty much lured me into this job, actually starts happening... in which case I may not have to commit to anything here after all. "Oh, sorry, I can't get too involved, I'll be out of country that week. Maybe the next three too. I'll drop by and hug you, lend a hand, when I have the time."

Oh, language. Almost forgot that, as excited as I was about it this week. Apparently, between time length here, the month of intensive class, and deciding I liked it enough to start thinking/singing/talking in it... I've finally gotten the hang of it. No where near fluent, or even half fluent. But I can half-listen to a conversation on a tram and understand most of it. I can ask the lady at the supermarket how she is, and follow the answer. Pick out a mistranslation on subtitling of "Amazing Grace" with the college kids. And I want to take the B1 exam in it before I leave in a year and a half.

Crazy to think I'm already a quarter through my contract. So much more I could have done, could have been. Have honestly wasted so much. For shame, I know. But somehow a lot of the non-committing has worked its way into a foundation (which I've never been good at, by the way) and that leaves me really ready to take on the rest of the time. I normally am gone- or about to leave- a place by the six month mark, and can tell myself, "Hey, not too long now. Just another few weeks." Instead, I'm faced with choices I've never had. Quit, or choose to work through the storms while knowing there will be more.


So, yeah. That's me, this May. Un-cryptic enough for you? Be proud- I've been saying more of what I think lately. But I do have a quote to end on.


'I'm not ready.'
"I'm not either. I never will be....
I'm not going to get it right.
I'll never have it together.
But I'm willing to fail with you.
I'm willing to mess up again and again.
To do it wrong and torque you off.
... I've never kept a relationship long enough to for someone to see I'm a screw-up. I left them wishing for what they saw, left them believing the myth....

I want to be real with you."

- 'Unforgotten', Heitzmann

Houston - we are a go.

Residency is accomplished. Now what am I supposed to do?

Realised what my problem is- lack of distance.

To be a good journalist, I think, you have to maintain a certain distance from the subject.
You have to be able to present the people with a relative amount of outside or overhead perspective. And you have to be able to show the events in a way that relates to the viewers/listeners.

The best kind of journalist, then, is someone who is both an insider and an outsider. An insider to the extent of understanding at least a little of what's going on; an outsider to the extent of relaying the story to other outsiders so they can understand it too. An insider has more understanding, but more responsibility to stay and contribute smoothly. An outsider has carte blanche freedom to ask questions, to be awkward, to come and go as needed.

And while this job - on paper - needed exactly the kind of insider/outsider I am - in person - in real life so far there has not been enough *distance*. Which seems a little counterintuitive, since common logic says a person should move to their place of assignment and settle in. I actually think I might have done better, job-wise, if I had never settled in. I no longer have the edge of 'newness' all around me, and, possibly more dangerous, have no sense of urgency for most of my assignments. A time deadline is knowing today will soon be gone. But a *space* deadline is knowing that *here* will soon be gone. Multitasking is simple. Multi-spacing is not, or not until teleportation is invented.

I'm dependent on events and scheduling for the unconscious moments of life that I can translate back to others. And in the everyday life that I'm slipping into, it's way easier to watch the fireworks on tv than to hunt them down with my own camera. Besides, they'll be there next holiday, right? So will these people, along with the seasons. Once I'm anchored, I can always capture them later. I am getting so comfortable here that it is hard to tell the city's stories. I am getting so close to the people that it is hard to tell their stories.

Because stories wait somewhere between the first handshakes and the last hugs.

"We travellers are in very hard circumstances. If we say nothing but what has been said before us, we are dull and have observed nothing. If we tell anything new, we are laughed at as fabulous and romantic."
- Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

cliche


hi, i'm lost, confused, and blinded
standing two steps from your door
but i stop to ask directions
like everyone who's gone before

i'm a cliche
you invite me in
anyway

i'm too short to see the street signs
i'm too tall too see the curb
until i trip all over
everything that i deserve

then i ask why you're not at eye-level
but i'd push you away if you were
i want to know why you're not here at my side
when i look for you round the next curve

i'm a cliche
you invite me in
anyway

one of these times i'll get it right
i'll learn to bring you the questions first
before i work them out myself
and bask in all the sunrise burst
of what i didn't need to know at all...

and one part just hit too close to home, as it were.

"Do not be afraid, Abram,
I am your shield,
your very great reward."

how awesome of a conversation-beginner is that? God comes to you and says, "you have no home, you've been wandering for decades, and you just survived a war. do not be afraid. I'm protecting you. I will be worth it all for you, what you've been working through is not meaningless."

and what does Abram do? exactly what I do, over and over. exactly what i think and what i *say*, over and over.

"O Lord God, what can you give me since...."

nice way to start a reply. with yourself, right? 'since' becomes the issue, not God or His promises. in Abram's case, it's his lack of children that's stressing him. so they have a whole conversation on that issue, and God promises him heirs, and (finally) "Abram believed the Lord, and He counted it to him as righteousness." dot dot dot.

point being, God promised Abram protection and, more than that, Himself. "I am your reward". trophy at a tournament, princess in the tower, acceptance to ivy league schools or promotion in the military. "I am your reward." who gets God as a prize?

and, more frustrating, why is Abram- why am i- so dense about saying, "never mind about that- WHAT CAN YOU GIVE ME, SINCE..." ???

Today this is my country.

Maybe it has been for a while... maybe it will be more mine later.

But today, through the sunshine, the blizzard, hours exploring, and unpacking bags at the end, it was mine.

Got chased by tractors. Barked at by dogs. Waved at by farmers during kilometres of back road biking and gulping in the beauty and freedom and SPACE. Avoided riding through the puddles (mostly) and came home so tired, but oh so content. New favourite place to escape to, as much as I'm fond of our city.

Hills, real hills- did you grow up in them? Did you ever forget the comfort of not seeing more than a few bends ahead, and then suddenly a whole valley dropping at your feet? Did you round a bend to be surprised by a wayside crucifix with small candles still burning? I spoke out loud before I thought about it- "He's not *dead*! He's not dead anymore, y'all, He's *alive*!" Do you think Jesus objects to tiny quiet places in a northern countryside, to small quiet corners where He's remembered with devotion and delicate purple flowered vines? I think He'd like it. But remember why we remember Him! "Why do you look for Him among the dead? He is not here, HE IS ALIVE!" as the angel said on Easter.

Life, she decided, was settling into a comfortable soundtrack.

The days each had their own arrangement of music, varying from morning to afternoon and sometimes from hour to hour, between the classical orderliness of meetings, easygoing R&B and jazz for working at home, and random outbreaks of hiphop or rock during city adventures.

She had thought- oh so mistakenly- that sometime after her arrival in the country life would settle into a pattern. But there was no rhythm to these days whatsoever. The only solidity at all was that (generally) she and her roommates were asleep between 3 and 7 am. Thanks to the invention of laptops, she could do her work at any hour and at any location (top picks? 11pm while away babysitting, 9am next to the kitchen radiator, and 4pm at the coffeeshop.) Meals were eaten whenever and wherever hunger struck (top picks? a 5pm gyro while riding a bike home, 3am cold cornbread with a book, an orange on the way to volleyball, and noon-ish espressos and crepes on a weekend.)

Food, though, had maintained the magic of community in a shifting life. Some mornings, after long weeks or late nights, the only words spoken were, "Do you want coffee?" Some evenings, "Do you want soup?" was an innocent beginning to hours of hanging out. Inviting friends over for meals - and the subsequent preparation and cleanup - made the often-empty apartment suddenly feel like a home.

The only thing was, she learned... not to expect more than there was. To be content with the serendipity of hot coffee, the occasional hug, and spontaneous adventure offers. And to adopt the motto she found inscribed on an old building - "faber est suae quisque fortunae," Latin for "each man is the maker of his own fortune"....

"Revelation" - Third Day

My life has led me down the road that’s so uncertain
And now I am left alone and I am broken,
Tryin’ to find my way, tryin’ to find the faith that’s gone

This time, I know that you are holding all the answers
I’m tired of losing hope and taking chances,
On roads that never seem,
To be the ones that bring me home

Give me a revelation,
Show me what to do
Cause I’ve been tryin’ to find my way,
I haven’t got a clue
Tell me should I stay here,
Or do I need to move
Give me a revelation
I’ve got nothing without You
I’ve got nothing without You

My life has led me down this path that’s ever winding
Through every twist and turn I’m always finding,
That I am lost again (I am lost again)
Tell me when this road will ever end

I don’t know where I can turn
Tell me when will I learn
Won’t You show me where I need to go
Oh oh
Let me follow Your lead,
I know that it’s the only way that I can get back home

Give me a revelation,
Show me what to do
Cause I’ve been trying to find my way,
I haven’t got a clue
Tell me should I stay here,
Or do I need to move
Give me a revelation
I’ve got nothing without You
I’ve got nothing without You

I have cried three times since I've been here, all in the last thirty days. Normally I can go for months, so I'm going to blame on circumstances. Or lack of. For example, I made it through saying dear goodbyes back in the States without melting down, ditto for a month of intense language school here (in a totally random, slavic language, fyi). Hard but surviveable.

However, when I was told I couldn't have a video camera till later, if at all, I lost it. Cried my eyes out for half an hour, then survived into my sixth or seventh week and was rewarded with a love of a camera. Two, three weeks of happiness... and then my grandfather passed away. That, at least, is a good excuse to cry, mourning the loss of someone who was had such a loving impact on life.

And tonight, I lost it again. But this time, it was not in the privacy of my room, and not for family or work reasons. Out on the evening street, snow falling and mixing with the tears, walking the last bit home so I wouldn't climb on the tram all red-eyed. Or maybe just so they wouldn't think I was drunk, since I was definitely crying and definitely *laughing* out loud.

I found volleyball. Right up the road.

You probably don't want all the details, and unless you're one of a rare few, you likely think that, if a camera's a bad excuse to cry, volleyball's a worse one. But there were guys playing- good ones- and they invited me to come back next week and play. There are womens' volleyball and basketball teams too, but I'm not sure if they're college or club.

Point being, there is nothing on earth like telling God you'll trust Him for friendships and activities in a new culture, working with what you're given, and then suddenly having Him drop something like this in your lap. Amazingness. Even if it does involve tears.

3/2/08

This is home. Ergo, I'm gone.
Up before you, out the door
You left unlocked once more - it sees
A new adventure every day
And anyway, I have my keys

I wipe m feet and come in quiet
Not for me your friendly riot
People grouping, hula hooping
I'll be back some time, no hurry
Out again or in, don't worry.

This my home turf you've adopted
I pick up right where I dropped it
Fancy that- I'm fancy free
Staying here where there you see
Much delighted, less surprised
I'm home
I hope you've realised....

Walking home one day this week, I was thinking about some story I read when I was 11 or 12. A friend accuses an artist of being cold-blooded, throws out the statement, "If someone you loved died, the first thing you'd do would be start sculpting." She doesn't reply. A month or so later, one of her close friends- maybe boyfriend- dies. "I'm sorry," she whispers, and starts sculpting....

So I'm thinking about this story, realising that I'd probably do the same thing. Start looking at old photos, at videos, writing poetry and memories down. My grandfather's been in poor health for a long while, but we've had some last great memories this past year and a half in the States, between my old home in west europe and my new-as-of-january home in east europe.

Really God-timing, because I just got a call from my mom- today he went home, to Heaven. And I know he walked (or flew, or whatever spirits do) up to God with the hugest smile on his face and said, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith!!!" And God said, "Well, done, good and faithful servant, enter into your Master's joy."

I've never known anyone as consistently faithful. I've met some awesome guys on fire for God, and that was definitely an attraction for me, because I've seen firsthand what it looks like to grow old in that. To share Jesus with total strangers, whether it's a friendly conversation or just a kind word. To interupt and accidentally (or on purpose!) annoy your wife while she's cooking Thanksgiving dinner for sixty three relatives- and then humbly apologise before she can even say anything. To still love that wife enough to pull her aside for a kiss or brag on her after fifty years of marriage. To have time to tease and talk seriously with each grandkid, no matter if they're 22 or 1. To wave your kids off on the plane for overseas, time and time again. To travel overseas to see those kids and your grandkids, and not complain about traveling expenses or annoyances but be honestly excited for them. To help as you can in the community, write letters to the governors and president about political issues you feel strongly about. To be a patriot, and believe in your country, and yet study issues and act in them.

And there's so much more my grandfather was. And I'm not there with my family- all of it- to *celebrate* his life and what we've gained from knowing him, but he knows I loved him, and he was proud of me for coming overseas on my own path. Which is the better for having seen him walk his.

So what do you do when you roll over in bed on a beautiful sunny morning, look out the window on your adopted city, and the first thought that drifts through the glass is, "This is too big for me. What am I *doing* here?"

And what's a wee bit unnerving is that this is happening to me more frequently (not the sunshine, mind you, the question). I hoped that longer I was here and the more I got to know my city, the more ready I'd be to answer that. Because I know I'm here for a reason. It just happens to be Father-sized, and while it's abstractly comforting to know it's not about me, a lot more faith is required. A whole lot. *Reckless faith.* I've started writing that on my wrist (without the period, b/c there are rarely periods after faith) to remind me what's going on. Or at least what should be going on.

I have my job, and I love it, but in some puzzling way it's giving me more questions than it's answering. The more I have permission to bounce in my fun bubble of warm apartment, hilarious roommates, video editing on my computer, and friends at gym and fellowship... the more I look out my window and say, "Today's not going to be enough if I stay in that safety."

Ever heard the song "I AM" by Ginny Owens? "How can I understand/This thing You're gonna do?"/"That's not your problem," God replied/"There's a bigger picture/ And you don't have to change the world /I'm your creator, I am working out my plan
And through you, I will show them ... I AM"

And I think faith is just going to have to be enough, even on sunny days.

Both promised imperfect neighbors. Both boasted emphatic leadership, zealous disciples, and hearty opposition. It wasn't a question of faith or no faith. It was a decision to put his faith in God or man."

- "Echoes", Heitzmann

"She had challenged his whole life plan-- to find God's will and do it-- said he was fixated on finding the one thing God had intended for him, when every moment was an opportunity.
What if she was right?
Could one choice be God's will, and another as well?
It might not be about finding the one right answer as much as knowing the heart of God and choosing from the possibilities."


- "Secrets", Kristen Heitzmann

Just had a definite craving for the UAE.

I miss the plumeria tree booming over the gate, my grubby-curled, favourite 1yrold charge and his creative family, our camping nights under the Arabian stars surrounded by sand dunes and curious lizards, and South African braai- barbecues. I miss my rough-blackwood bunk and bringing baby Petite up there with me to coo as I proofread documents on my computer. I miss sleeping with the windows open and deliberately not turning the aircon on, and walkking down dust-thick roads to the pool. I miss palm trees.

I miss being somewhere and aching for what I left behind. Here and now, I miss what I left behind, but I won't go back for a year or two and that doesn't hurt me. I didn't belong there anyway, and the belonging that there was, was in preparation for *this*.

I know I'll miss this, but right now I miss three years ago.

Rags and Sequins


This last week was interesting. Still stressed about lack of camera (i.e., lack of work/freedom/fun/usefulness) on Monday, I headed to language school on another (unsurprisingly) grey day. I'd spent the night before alternating between depression and trying to regain perspective. 'Be careful what you wish for,' right? Sitting down on the tram, still consoling myself with "Just be patient", "Just give the whole thing over to God and don't be so dependent," and "It's just a camera, other people have real problems." And then I hear a voice, and saw a man walking pleadingly down the tram aisle.

"Does the lady have any change? Does the gentleman have any change?"

I'd wondered the other day why, unlike other cities, I hadn't seen people asking for money on public transport. Pretty interesting timing. I gave him some change, and a smile. And he moved on.

A few hours later, out of language class, I headed back home the same way. No panhandler (is there a politer word, btw?) but was still struck by the irony of city life and economics. Off at the tram stop, you walk through the sub-zero weather past old, bundled up women at little 30 cent pretzel stands into a heated mall. Down the escalator to the subway, you walk past stores like Dolce&Gabbana where the cheapest handbag might be $100 on a good day. Going over a bridge, you see self-important city trains headed off to Milan, Paris, Prague... and tucked under a corner of a bridge there's a pile of blankets where some homeless person made a bed. Once in my neighborhood, you're passed by gleaming silver Nissans as you walk past a dumpster with a withered shabby gentleman pulling out a half-eaten pizza.

All that. And days when I've got my iPod playing, studying language lists, or looking at train tickets for media work, I blank out the rags as well as the sequins. Which is- full circle- why I want a camera. So I- and you- can really see what I see.




(Good post on the subject from another city blogger -"Gentlemen, you give me hope!"

no wifi for us
you see you see
it's gone
and we're home
without even tv
are we sad?
do we care?
no, we just hit the road
there's way to much out of doors to explode


(hence the lack of updates. no wifi. apologies and we hope to soon return to our regularly scheduled sporadic updates. have a nice day.)

Not going to lie today....

Not that I normally lie, but I don't always tell all the truth. Generally because all the truth involves good and bad, and I'd rather just tell the good, because that's much more fun and there seem to be abundant people who like to just tell the bad.

And there's been so much good here. I've loved language class, and according to my teacher have done really well. Since all I have to go by is whether I understand a little more each day, I'm more focused on whether I can finish our workbook by the end of the next two weeks, which will finish off language class for me.

Adjusting to the culture here... total non-issue so far. It's Europe, where I grew up. Ergo, it's home. Obviously, there are small blips of surprise, like the evening I found liquid milk in small plastic *bags* in the grocery store. Or the time I went to apply for residency and found out passport photos are taken left-profile, not straight on. For the most part, though, it's been an easy transition and a fun one.

This weekend was hard, though. Exhausted from a long week of class, applying for residency, life in general, and getting one roommate fully moved in and another safely packed off for a week. Told the leaving Ragazza that hopefully I'd be getting my new video camera for work this week and could follow her down and catch some of the work on film...

Which leads to the whole 'not lying' issue. If this weekend was 'hard', tonight topped it. My supervisor, having talked with our other supervisor, told me that I'm probably going to have to wait till the beginning of February and our work meeting to figure out my work details. Like my camera, or lack of. And from the beginning I'd been told (and nicely accepting of) the fact that my job this first month was just to focus on language, adjusting, and getting a feel for what's needed.

But it's been three weeks, and tonight I can't handle it. Language is fine, people are fine, and I *need* my media. I am not okay with not having my job for the next two weeks. I know there's stuff I can do around the edges. I know there are good reasons. I know I obviously need to learn patience. And - even worse- I know there are people all around with way more important problems and bigger problems, which makes me feel like a total jerk for being upset about this, thanks. And explaining, "Separation from media and communication is slow *death* for me..." is not going to change the situation.

Two more weeks. I can deal with that. Especially if there are no more weekends like this.

another beautiful day!!

well, beautiful being a relative term... it started cloudy and stayed cold, but the sun came out, language school went great (my teacher and i have pushed and laughed our way through most of seven lessons by now!) and then there was this ('there was a, there was a') ladies get-together at a wee cosy cafe... and then, having had dessert/hot chocolate, me and two of my people made polite goodbyes and headed away from femininity and promptly found a doner shop.

walking down ancient cobbled streets, surrounded by graceful buildings and slavic sounds... mouths/forks buried in shwaerma meat and sla and sauce and burbling away about life and language study. sweeeeeetness. then back to the apt to work on language. this is my life these days, in between periods of depressed boredom and excited exploration.... it's so good.

Will it last? Will it be here after you're gone?



Just take your candle and go light your world....

A week and a half in so far... language challenging but good... good times with friends and adjusting!

Questions.

Why are all the light switches on the outsides of the bathroom? Oh, the mischief.
Why can wifi only work on three computers per system? So limiting.
How can there be so many styles of hats for such a basic need?
Why did I never get a month-pass for transport before? Nonstop exploration fun!
What does it mean when the snow starts melting and someone shows up in *capris*?
How many levels of bureaucracy need worked through to get a room painted, much less important stuff?
How do you make banana juice? Because obviously it's for sale... try some?
Did you *look* at the sunrise this morning? Gor-geous. God sends smiles here too :)

Once we get wifi in our apartment, I'll probably blog more, but till then I've been back to journaling, curled up beside the radiator in the kitchen or my room. My big fat IKEA pillow has a new oriental red/orange/black case, so that will only add to the fun. My room is definitely a mix of travelly stuff, duffels blocking windchill from my balcony, maps on the walls, carabiners hanging from the closets.

And on that note... I'm going to be really honest and very vulnerable. I want to travel and do media, *came* here to travel and do media. I do. not. want. to stay and work in the city. I'm going to be in language school this month, for which I'm grateful, but I need to be on the move. Please be lifting me up, that I'll communicate well with supervisors who aren't pushing the whole travel thing. Technically, you can ask that I'll adjust well, but I love it here and it feels so much like home... only the streets and language really changed when I moved borders, apparently :P


Peace and grace out!

First of all, I'm *home*.

From the very beginning of this adventure, I decided I'd make the best of and try to enjoy whatever place I found myself in... didn't know that would be so EASY.

For one thing, I've spent most of my life in Europe. For another thing, people here have been really welcoming, and I have two of the best roomies in the world. And for a third thing, I had high expectations of myself, but deliberately low expectations of what I'd find. And what I've found has been great - recognisable signs, public transport, and warm welcomes. And an *adorable* wee apartment to make into a home and actually settle down in.... God is GOOD! He would still be good whether I loved or hated it here, but He's definitely worked this all out, and added in sweet small details like a creek and bridge about 5 mins walk from my apartment... like roommates who I 'click' with... like hints of basketball and volleyball possibilities... Just so many "God-winks", as my one friend says....

And I know, definitely well, that there's a 'honeymoon' stage in the psychological view of cultural adjustment, that there will be days when I wake up and hate it here. I just don't think there will be that many of them, because this is pretty much all I've wanted for a long time. And I have language school, hours a day, for the next few weeks, so that may well 'kick my tail'. But I'm already understanding a lot of what's going on, so it'll just be the amp'd up intensity and brain drain... yis.

Anyway! Three days in, cloudy and cold as it is, I'm loving it here. Very content.

blast the music,
pack the bags,
steal away the time that lags

see you later
see you soon
dodge the sun and skirt the moon

catch a vision
catch a plane
let's go together to insane

together crazy
twice the fun
make this journey
worth the run

1. Tell us briefly what you are going to be doing over the next few years

I'm going to be working in Europe as a photojournalist with missions teams and tour groups, essentially. There'll also be some travelling, language, and volunteer work with NGO's - non government organisations.

2. Why is this important to us?
I'll get to tell stories about the various cities and what God's doing with the nationals and groups, using photos and videos and websites. God's doing so much in Europe! in america, we tend to think of Him doing amazing things in africa or china or south america, the *needy * places. and they are needy- physically and spiritually- but Europe isn't saved by any means. And people need to know that they can pray, and give, and go to make a difference there!

3. What would you like us to know about serving in a cross-cultural mission project?
It's challenging. You go for a few days, for a few weeks or months, and you come back changed. You're suddenly looking at your life in the States and saying, 'Wow, I have so much and they have so little!' or whether you come back and say, "I *needed* God when i was gone- and I need Him with me still! Sitting in church once a week (or month?) is not enough for me- I need to wake up and make Him big in my life!" Going on a cross cultural mission project opens your eyes, to what God's doing in other peoples' lives, to what He wants to do in your life.

4. How can we pray for you?
That i won't lose track of the bigger picture when I'm studying language and working. I love media, but I need to love God more. Please pray that I'll take the time to keep up good networking with people here and overseas, because those connections are too valuable to lose.

5. What would you say to those who say that they cannot join in a mission program because of school and work needs?
I met a girl two months ago who's moving as a missionary to the jungles of Peru. She's got a student loan. She thought about working it off and then going overseas, but realised she couldn't wait, that the people there couldn't wait to hear about God. So she gave her family power of attorney, and is sending most of her paycheck every month to that student loan for the next two years. By the time she leaves the jungle, her loan won't be gone but it'll be smaller, and she'll have been faithful.
As far as school and work needs, another thing is that God can use- wants to use- the skills you have. We hear about medical personnel and the great work they do overseas, but there's so much more. I'm a media person, so that's what I'll be doing, and I love sports, so I'll be volunteering in sports ministries. I personally know businessmen, english teachers, musicians and artists, athletes, and tour guides who have just transplanted their lives overseas and are serving God daily. Some of them go over independently, or with Shell Oil or Nike, and they just live transparent lives as committed believers. And some go overseas with a sending agency, which is pretty cool. The Lottie Moon Christmas offering? Also very cool. That's what supports workers around the world so they can focus their time on the lost, before they focus on anything else. FBC is such a deliberate acts 1:8 church, right? "Go into all the nations..." How and where we go makes a difference, but the most important thing is that we're following God obediently.

6. What would you say to those who say that they cannot join in a mission program because they would miss their family?
For one thing, you can miss your family anywhere you go. I know I miss mine whether I'm working three states or three countries away! This is, by the way, where skype and emails and facebook come in handy - i'll be able to wave at my parents and hear their voices via videocamera!
For another thing, in separation, the people overseas and your teammates become your family. My little brothers had six or seven women who considered themselves surrogate grandmothers! Sometimes families and friends visit - and you get to show them firsthand what you're doing.

And sometimes you just have to say, "I'm sorry, but God has called me to go to a certain place. and I can't turn back. I love you dearly, but this is where i need to be. "

What is done has been done for the best
Though the mist in my eyes might suggest
Just a little confusion about what I'll lose
But if I started over I know I would choose
The same joy the same sadness each step of the way
That fought me and tought me that friends never say
Never say goodbye...

- Road To El Dorado

We grow great by dreams. All big men are dreamers. They see things in the soft haze of a spring day or in the red fire of a long winter's evening. Some of us let these great dreams die, but others nourish and protect them; nurse them through bad days till they bring them to the sunshine and light which comes always to those who sincerely hope that their dreams will come true.

- Woodrow Wilson

"You can always trust the information given to you by people who are crazy; they have an access to truth not available through regular channels" - Ballantyne

This week pretty much saved training for me, made me feel that this time of language/culture/overseas preparation wasn't wasted. Learned a lot in class- challenging things about how to live out your faith and the price others pay for theirs.

Thanksgiving was good enough to be one of my top three, if not my favourite one yet. Fun times chatting or gaming with people- no agenda, no time constraints-and then just playing with the preschoolers and bouncing babies for hours and basking in the warmth of of our 'family' here. Marvelous day.

The fact that we played volleyball Fri/Sat/Sun/Mon/Wed didn't hurt either... lots of good time with friends. Wednesday I was actually an hour late for volleyball, but that was because I was talking seriously with a younger friend of mine back home who's really close to surrendering it all to God. Which of course helped me realise that, even if I wasn't excited about our D.C. trip and 'cold witnessing', I really am passionate about people finding God, becoming who they're meant to be. And today ended up great... ate at a cozy Polish cafe with my team and had some good intentional discussions with people there, at the Basilika, and at the station. Sunday we have European cultural worship, which should also be cooI...

In other words- hope renewed that I'll hit the field running with good memories *and* good preparation at my back.

Peace and grace out!

Today was satisfying, but very long... very long.

When i'm tired enough to want to skip volleyball, that's saying something... but right now, this is bigger than tired.

One of my friends left me a phone message saying she wanted to talk with me, so she caught me on Facebook chat a few minutes ago. And now I'm late for volleyball and late for sleep and I don't really care because we're having a talk that's what we should be about.


"yea but i have to give my whole life over to god and thats just something i am not ready to do
i can't trust him with my whole life"

"i didn't think i could either, honestly
but He's worth it
way worth it..."

And I'm leaving it at that while I'm trying to talk her through it, hear what she needs.

This is where it's at. Please be praying for my friend - I call her my adopted little sister - and that she'll realise that God's waiting for her.

“Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.”
-Stanley Horowitz

Hello!

Third weekend arrived... so glad for it to be here :) This week was really challenging, and not in a concrete, this-is-what-you-need-to-work-on way, either. To be honest, I'm finding it increasingly hard to sit in class and listen to the theoreticals of cpm, etc., and to know that 'real' life for me starts after class when I can study language, play sports, or pick others' brains about overseas and what God's been teaching them. I did really enjoy the days of hearing stories and insights from the field, especially ones who were in support staff positions....

Polish is going well.... Exercise... mostly just walking and running around campus, but there's been some good volleyball going on, and - w00t w00t - some of the new people headed to Europe later play good volleyball too! "See you in April!" is becoming a definite watchword around here. As far as 'telling the story', that's mostly just been in good conversations with friends here, but I did share yesterday online with an Iranian friend for about half an hour. I never thought I'd get this comfortable with saying, "I hear you, and I value our friendship, but this is what I believe, no hedging." Reading through Acts and hearing how bold the 'sent ones' were is really working on me. Our small group is still amazing- so many great stories and perspectives during the discussions.

Prayer needs... mostly just that I'd be able to focus on who God is and what He has for me, here and now. Was a little rebuked by what one of the Xtreme leaders said- "This is not just preparation for the journey - this *is* part of the journey. Make the most of it."

Peace and grace out!
Lee G

Another week almost done!
All of us trainees are defiitely settling in, getting a better feel for what we'll be given every day (lots of information, eye openers, and promises) and what's expected of us (learning, communication, and godly living.) Formal sessions include taxes, language, and cross-cultural witness; informal learning covers everything from practicing testimonies to sharing personal stories...

It's been good, but not that challenging so far. There's some pressure in the deadlines and following this schedule, but it's not generally till the after-class hours that life really begins. That's when friendships solidify, when the session hightlights are seriously talked through, when the books are read. (I know I'm partial to books, but a lot of the session hours could have been condensed into reading material!)

Anyway. Overall, it's been really good. Overachieving to the point that a lot of my homework is already done (or half-done) and spending some quality time with other learners. That's pretty much what my life's going to be for the next six weeks.... :)

The Night Before the Party Begins.

Tomorrow I'll be back in the Bronze Valley again. Quietly, crazily, excited. "One of these days, maybe," I thought. Left the Valley last winter, thinking it'd be months or a few years before I saw the place again. "We want to see you back," said Professor El, when I said I was moving to a different state, different job, different life. "Of course you'll see me back," I smiled, "even if it's just for a visit one of these years." "No, as in, back for the eight weeks." In other words, for training. I just shrugged.

And tomorrow I start that training. In a deliciously unstressed state of mind, because I've 'gone through' four trainings, as it were, already, just by working there and hanging out with the trainees. Yes, it's going to be challenging. Yes, there'll be tons of surprises. But I'm a high need-to-know person when it comes to work and study, and knowing ahead of time what I'm getting into is a huge blessing. The more I know, the better I can prepare, right? I sound like such a stick-in-the-mud... should probably add that, "the more I know, the more fun I can have". And I'm not gonna add any more along that line, because, see, some people just aren't a fan of mischief. Alas for them.

And I don't intend to distress anyone or harm property, but let me say this - me and my 'mates are going to rock out training. Ace the papers. Throw ourselves into the learning. Rock out the volleyball courts and other sport times. Give God that "white hot worship" that He deserves. That was a John Piper reference, by the way - I'm almost done with my first book report (overachieverrrrr) which means I get to hand it in early, do the second one, and then not stress about those writings when there's homework to be done, cookies to bake, or adventures to have....

2008/06/04

Many people got the opportunity to see Jesus Revolution in action when concert team Central came to Wisla in Poland, with it's 11 000 inhabitants and hotels with space for 26 000 tourists. The team started the day by visiting the high school in the city.... They performed dances and invited the students to the concert that same night. As many as 145 youth found their way to the city’s cinema, where the concert was located. "I came because I saw the school visit", says Pawel, a 14 years old student. "I pray to God every night, because I know that He is there, but today I understood that Jesus loves me," he added when the concert was finished.

-http://www.jesusrevolution.com/jesusrevolution/?pid=News&id=176

Getting closer to overseas again. More info from my boss... good stuff on what to expect. Drafted back the beginning of an email, which I'll fill in with more questions as I come up with them... "Thanks for taking the time to answer all these questions- I'm a huge information person, so the more I can find out ahead of hitting the field ... the happier I'll be :) "

So, language. Culture and city study. I've already done some, and now I need more.

She had a pink hibiscus on her shoulder by her ear
It caught my glance because tattoos aren't common around here
I asked her why she had it
And she grinned without surprise
Then rubbed half off with a blue-nailed finger
And laughed with green-rimmed eyes

Why not take a chance, she asked?
What else are colours for?
If they're not used to paint your life
What do you save them for?




-random jotting from today

Old Town

Spent yesterday wandering the old town... honestly, I'd have enjoyed it more if I wasn't *living* here. And if there had been more people around- anywhere in the world, there would have been more people out enjoying the sunshine and breeze. Even on a Sunday afternoon. Especially on a Sunday afternoon.

Why does it still surprise me to hear people speaking English?

Subconsciously I still expect to hear the neighbors talking in Dutch across the fence. Schoolkids walking by should be speaking German. Shopkeepers should be arguing politely in Arabic. And I should *especially* not understand anything going on around me in airports. That I do is a little unsettling. It's been almost a year... two more weeks? And the time between hearing a voice and having those tones translate into Anglicised words is still... odd.

The only excuse I have for the delay is that hardly anyone in the southern United States speaks proper English anyway.

Travel Snapshots

No language homework today... yet. Might still happen, might not. I've been pretty good about it, especially considering there's no one to make me or even really care. Which is encouraging when I wonder how I'll do when I get overseas. To be sure, I could be travelling so much I won't be sent to language school, but I'd still want to do well whatever country I lived in,and I absolutely hate being an obvious foreigner. In Holland, I didn't care if I stood out, as long as it was for the right reasons- height, sports passion, multilingualness.... And some accent was okay, especially when they said I sounded more British or Canadian than American :P But not to stand out as an awkward, 'visibly unassimilated' outsider. And I don't really see that changing. Which means extra study here and now. *shrugs*

I'm a little curious as to whether some of the recent tax law changes in europe and friends leaving are going to mean any changes in leadership or timing... is there *any* chance I could make my way over before next year? I realised today, while out on a run, that I've still got a footlocker or two in storage over there, wondering how I'm going to get it out. Or if, you know, I even really need it anytime soon. Was reading about Rebekah at the well (Genesis 24) yesterday- I never caught the speed of the story before. She saw the situation as God's hand on her, and left her home for the future in about 24 hrs. I've read that story several times before, and yet I'm at an age and place where God could very easily send me out as well. And would I be as graceful about it? For the adventure, definitely! In full trust in God and His timing in the surprise invitation- that would be harder. And could I make ready and be gone in 24 hours? She probably had servants, lol, but it's still a good challenge. Should we ever be to the point where we couldn't leave everything behind in 24 hours to follow God's call?

"Does He not say that where two or three are met in His name, there He is in the midst of them?"

"Yes."

"Then thus far I will justify myself to you, that, if I do not go to what you call *church*, I yet often make one of a company met in His name."

"He does not limit the company to two or three."

"Assuredly not. But if I find I get more help and strength with a certain few, why should I go with a multitude to get less? Will you draw a line other than the Master's? Why should it be more sacred to worship with five hundred or five thousand than with three? If He is in the midest of them, they cannot be wrongly gathered!"


-George MacDonald, 'The Elect Lady'

Still working on overseas opportunities for next year...

And, yeah, I'll admit I'm frustrated it won't be sooner. At least I'm getting to the stage where I think I can see the hand of God in that, and not just wondering why He won't do the 'logical' thing and send me over sooner. I know how good this time for me here is. And I'm grateful for the discussions that are going on even now that might give me a job over there that I'd really love, and maybe have long-term. I was so ready to go in February- I would have happily gotten on a plane within six hours and been at the training, and then on across the sea. Which would have been crazy fun on one hand, but I think this will be better, long-term.

I'm just not very good with long-term. And considering that it affects life so much, long-term is probably something God's working with me nowadays.

new favourite place. and new half-way point, eminently visitable. a library just blocks down from our church. with wifi. and hidden corners near windows, where i can sit, access internet, and watch squirrels outside. a small downside is that the web system blocks xanga, so i'll have to upload certain jottings later. but blogger.com is fine, so i'll def be more motivated to keep that up.