To boldly go...

The Helpers

2011-10-14T16:31:00.000-07:00

We are the people that help others.
We help you.
We provide you counsel.
We minister to you.
We serve you food when you would otherwise go hungry.
We give you advice.
We are the ones that you come to when you have questions, need guidance, wisdom, or encouragement.
We are strong for you, and even when we don't have all the answers, we always manage to find an answer of some sort.

We speak of having gone through the same afflictions.
We speak of having endured.
And while this is true, the moment we are finished having endured, we are back to being those that fix,
back to being strong for those that need us, that need our wisdom, gleaned from our experience, to lead and encourage them through their struggles.

We are strong, so we tell ourselves.
We are strong for those that need us, we whisper to ourselves.

And yet, we rarely allow someone else to see us in our weaknesses.
We rarely allow someone else to be strong for us.
We are supposed to be the strength and to have all the answers, (so we tell ourselves),
and to encounter our own weakness is crippling, embarrassing, and shameful to us.
For we are the healers, the helpers, the wise.
We are the strong, the encouraging, the counselors.
We are here for you, and deem ourselves selfish for needing another.

Yet, you are the strength, you that have leaned on us. Yes, we have been strong for you and helped you through difficult times, but you are the ones who have been brave enough to invite someone into your struggle. You have been you, transparent and raw, open to being seen, honest about your humanity, and ever so beautiful because of it. You have struggled and wept openly, and not attempted to be greater than you need to be in the moment. You have been humbled and softened, wise to the fact that we all fall and stumble, that we all have needs and weaknesses. You are wise to the fact that we are better in community than on our own, especially when it comes to trials and difficulties.

So thank you, for the strength you demonstrate.
Thank you for being strong for us, in a way that teaches us, and allows our hearts more able to experience community, and intimacy with others.
Thank you for teaching us what it means to be strong, to be humble, and to be human.

The Walk

2011-10-03T20:01:00.000-07:00

"Desperate for more of his company," Charles Foster in The Sacred Journey described those who followed Jesus.

Not perfect.
Not seminarians.
Not financial leaders.

But those who couldn't seem to do anything but take a walk with him, see where he went, what he would do, and what he had to say about things.

My family has a dog I would describe the same way, except I might use words like 'clingy' and 'obnoxious.' Optimus, short for Optimus Prime, our two year old personal-space-invading puppy, has an affinity for leaning up against you, in a way that means he simply wants to be in your presence. It makes no difference to him whether you're standing and prepared for it, or walking and therefore inclined to stumble. No matter where you're going, he aims to get right in front of you, be noticed, and feel close to you.

Jesus said "Follow me," and oddly enough, people did. They got up, left their posts, sometimes leaving family, occupations, and other 'societal obligations' behind in order to take a walk.

I live in a sociological context where walking seems rather impractical. Public transportation is sparse, industry is reachable only by vehicle, and exercise is about running. I'm not in college anymore where one can often walk to class, nor do I live in the heart of downtown where everything I need is within a mile radius. Here, it is not often that one simply goes for a walk, and in a society motivated by production and efficiency, to do most anything, the belief is that there need to be a purpose, a goal in mind, and something being achieved. To set out on a walk one might find questions from within demanding to know, 'Where are you headed and why,' 'How can you get there with the most alacrity,' and 'Is there a way to cut the time in half and save twice the amount of energy.' Such is the context in which I find myself these days.

I wonder what it is exactly that we can learn from walking. Why is it important? Why was that the entry point for those who became his disciples: No formal education, no prestigious credentials, but an invitation to walk?

So with these questions in mind the other night, I set out for a walk, with Optimus by my side. Like I said, he is one who is always anxious for company, whether you are walking down the street or simply headed to your car, and reminds me of the way the disciples seem to have been unable to help themselves when they got up and followed Jesus.

Our walk began about a quarter til 9, plenty of time for the sun to have made its descent and the moon to be firmly planted in the corner of the sky. Where we live the stars are visible and often radiant, and down our dirt road the presence of streetlights are sparse, so off we trekked, down my dusty road, headed into familiar but currently indistinguishable territory.

The first thing I always notice when treading in the dark is the extent to which other senses are heightened when your sense of sight is diminished or even inaccessible. I noticed an unfamiliar smell, reminiscent of mint. I was more attuned to the choir of crickets, and rustling in the trees or brush. I could taste the cooler Autumn air, and the added freshness it brings as a foil to the humidity of the retreating Texas summer. I felt the gravel shifting beneath my shoes as I advanced this familiar terrain. An oncoming car approaching from the rear was sensed much sooner than usual, due to the glimmering headlights against the thick, aphotic night.

Riley, one of our other dogs, came with us this night, as she often does. Riley stays right next to me most of the time when we are out walking or running. She and I have spent more time together; for her entire first year she lived in an apartment with me. She is well-trained, docile, and obeys promptly. Therefore, I never put her on a leash. Optimus doesn't opt for the leash either. In fact, I cannot say with any certainty that our family even has a working leash available. So, during a walk, or a run, Riley keeps my pace, while Optimus, on the other hand, refuses to stay close. He'll only approach if he becomes jealous of the attention given to Riley, and even then, he keeps his distance until we return home. At home, he wants to be near, to be touched, to give and receive affection, and to always be connected, but on a walk, he keeps his distance, he loves to wander, and he refuses to get within arms reach for more than a moment, lest we grab him.

Our dusty road has one rather sharp turn, and on that corner live multiple dogs at one residence. They are secured by a wooden fence, but every time I walk past, the residence seems to have acquired a new canine, and every time Optimus joins me for a walk, there is an inevitable barking session. I usually run this route we're on this night, no matter the hour. Optimus and Riley always tag along for my runs, and my faster pace keeps their barking and incessant chatter with other dogs at bay. However, I knew that today, my tempered gait, the chatter between all parties would be augmented, and lengthened.

Despite the ruckus caused by Optimus chattering with the other dogs, I committed to the walk. The point was to learn what it meant to follow Jesus, and what was the importance of walking. But as we ambled past the crowded canine corner, I wondered if there were similarities to the way God walks with us, or the way Jesus and the disciples walked together. Do we often stay close by, the longer we've been walking together, like Riley with me? Do we often get distracted and caught up in things, and fail to heed instructions, as Optimus does? Do we race ahead, ambling about? Do we follow closely at the heels? Do the disciples resemble my beloved canines in behavior, sometimes staying ever so close, and other times straying off directionless, simply making sure they never get too far away from the one with whom they're walking? Optimus does check back in, after all, and he does follow the path I walk, even if he runs far ahead, or falls behind upon finding a distraction or point of interest.

Optimus knows one command, and that's how to sit. But he has to be paying attention to perform, and he only knows what to do if you not only tell him to sit, but accompany it with a snap of the fingers. However, on this night of walking, I realized that if I snapped while we were in motion, that Optimus actually listened, a bit. Upon hearing it, even amidst all the noise, he removed some distance from me, ever so slightly, and even gave a second thought to whether he would run off and stir up trouble with another canine.

It's a start.

Soon we had passed the canine corner, and we were on a new street, one that consists of pavement instead of gravel, adorned with two streetlights instead of the lone one on the previous street. The dark of night remained heavy though, and while the eve is peaceful, the unknown teems with possibility. And as anyone experienced in walking or sauntering could tell you, Adventure, even the smallest kind, is sure to find you on a walk.

I didn't realize what Optimus was doing at first; I simply heard rustling in the brush to the right of the pavement, and snapped my fingers in an attempt to get Optimus back on course. In the dark I saw the medium-build silhouette of my beloved mutt, whipping his face back and forth vigorously. Suddenly, it occurred to me that the rustling in the brush had been much faster tempo than that of Optimus rustling, and I realized this familiar silhouette was attempting to kill another other creature it had found. A smaller, unfamiliar silhouette was in his grips. I kept walking, suddenly aware that the dark isn't as empty and void as I previously thought, and I was uninterested in making any new friends on this night, of any kind. Soon Optimus caught up to Riley and me, and to my surprise, his mouth was empty. He had not taken any prisoners, or trophies. What then, did he find?

There's a flashlight application on my phone, and I had indeed brought it with me. But I did not need it. My olfactories, despite their recent bout with allergies, did not let me down: soon I knew that Optimus' new friend and latest victim (yes, I do feel as though I indeed was privy and audience to a murder this night) was a skunk.

At first, it smelled that distant scent - the most common aroma of skunk I have encountered. It's an echo, if you will, the kind that tells you that a skunk was nearby, or that it has recently sprayed someone, or something. It smells putrid, but it is not fresh, it is not developing in the present moment, and it does not hold the same ability to permeate within the nostrils as the scent that soon came after this incident, when Optimus came near.

This was skunk stench as I had never known it, and it was happening all around me. As if someone had brought rotting onions and allowed them to decompose in my throat, even breathing seemed unnatural as the smell seemed to emanate from within. As my allergies flared up, even sneezing seemed undesirable; that would have required an inhaling in order to release all the pressure and tickling effects.

Not only had I been present for a life vehemently ended, but I was to walk in the olfactory reminder for the remainder of our jaunt. Breathing, a typically involuntary process, suddenly took effort and concentration. Meanwhile, Optimus proceeded to roll around and scrape against the brush and trees as we continued walking, obviously as anxious to retreat from the smell as we were. He continued this attempt at cleansing behavior all the way home, including a dip in the neighbors pond.

And as we made our way home, I thought about how we get into messes.
I thought about how we want to be clean.
I thought about how sometimes it feels like the smell of our regrets, or shame, or inadequacies, or mistakes will never ever leave us.

And I thought about how the walk continues, despite the smell, the blisters, or the mishap.

I returned home to a posture of stillness, for the moment having finished walking, at least literally. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure what Jesus meant by wanting to take a walk, or for us to walk with him.

Although, I do know that by walking, you physically leave something behind.
You head in a new direction.
Maybe sometimes something needs to be left behind.
Or, maybe something needs to be found.
Often, in walking, you discover something new, perhaps literally, as Optimus did. Or perhaps more philosophically, as I always hope to when I take a walk.

I am certain that the road, the journey, the process of walking always has something it can teach us.

And not only that, but by walking you engage in an activity that is so crucial to the human spirit, as noticed and illuminated by voices such as Jesus, Thoreau, G.K. Chesterton, and more. Any pilgrim, tramp, traveler, or vagabond can tell you the beauty and benefit of a good walk.

I do know that by walking with someone, you learn a little bit more about them.
You encounter things along the way, and you learn how they respond.
You see their reactions.
You notice what they make important.

What do they take with them?
What do they leave behind?

Who and what do they notice?
What do they take the time to stop for?
What do they walk past?

How close to the path do they stay?
Do they stray from it, and pave their own way, or do they refuse to explore the uncharted territories?

When they encounter danger, mishap, folly, frustration, or a setback - how do they handle things?

What does it look like when they're tired, and what do they do to recharge?

Do they walk as if they own the place, and it is created to serve them?
Or do they walk in a way that respects the ground they approach and encounter, in a way that treads lightly as a visitor, rather than a sense of entitlement?

Meanwhile, Optimus still has a putrid scent to his coat, and there is one less skunk in the world.
But perhaps by walking, the two of us learned a little bit more about each other, and about ourselves.

Jesus once said that if someone asks you to walk a mile with them, go with him two. I once heard it said that this was because in walking with someone you could learn more about them, what they're about, and perhaps after two miles, a former enemy will have been made a neighbor, or even a friend.

I have no idea what walking will teach you. But I can say it has always taught me something, and for many a great mind, it seems to be some of the greatest advice and one of the best blessings that a person could receive and experience.

"All walking is discovery. On foot we take the times to see things whole." -Hal Borland

“Jesus promised his disciples three things—that they would be completely fearless, absurdly happy, and in constant trouble.”-G.K. Chesterton

"My father considered a walk among the mountains as the equivalent of churchgoing." -Aldous Huxley

"It is solved by walking." -Latin proverb

Irreligious.

2010-12-14T16:09:00.000-08:00

"I'm often accused of being irreligious, and I suppose it's for this very reason. Whether it's Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Catholicism, Hinduism, Judaism, or any other ism, when a religion is created on the subtle premise that God withholds his love and you must submit to the system to earn that love, I consider it the worst of corruptions.

But again, these traps work only because of two things: we long for love, and we are convinced that all love is conditional.

Ironically, this is where so many have a problem with Jesus. For centuries the church has been telling us if we want God to love us, we need to follow the rules. It's been far more important to focus on the sin problem than the love problem. This is the only way the institution can maintain control over our lives. After all, if love is unconditional, what will keep them following our rules?…

What governments have not always been able to do, religions have accomplished with amazing effectiveness. They keep people in line.

What in the world would happen if people actually began discovering the message of Jesus - that love is unconditional?"
-Erwin McManus

No matter what.

2010-08-29T14:32:00.000-07:00

"I will always forgive you.

I will always be here for you.

I will always help as you will let me.

There's nothing you can do that will scare me off, or cause me to cease being in your life supporting you.

As long as you want me there in your life, there I will be, helping you achieve what's best for you.

Don't worry about your inadequacies, for you are only human, and a beautiful work in progress. We are all works in progress.

I hope in our relationship and interaction you will always know you are safe, to be you, in your highs and lows, in your triumphs, your fears, your failures.

I hope you know that you will always be accepted just as you are.

I do not love some future version of you, but you today, just as you are.

No matter how distant you are, whether you decide you hate me, no matter how cold you may be, I will always care about you.

I will always believe in you.

I will always stand up for you and stand by you.

Regardless of your actions, you will always deserve to be loved, and I hope you always remember that you are."

-Agape

Packing for your Journey.

2010-08-17T08:59:00.000-07:00

Journey - (n) 1. a traveling from one place to another, usually taking a rather long time; trip: 2. a distance, course, or area traveled or suitable for traveling; 3. a period of travel; 4. passage or progress from one stage to another; (v) 5. to make a journey; to travel

When planning for a journey, packing the essential items is of the utmost importance. You can only carry so much, and for the circumstances and situations you may encounter, you're not going to want to be left in a pinch without the necessary tools to get you through. So whatever your journey, whether personal or physical, whether you're backpacking across Europe, playing soccer in Brazil, volunteering in India, going on walkabout across Australia, taking a road trip around the Rocky Mountains, hiking the Scottish Highlands, teaching English in a foreign country, or something else entirely, the following is a list of the indispensable items to pack. But first, it's important to note the items better left out of the proverbial suitcase (or backpack), for if we accidentally fill our luggage with non-essentials, we won't have any room for the crucial items.

First, leave at home (or discard completely) any and all prejudices, and closed-mindedness in general, for the world is a vast place filled with people living and living well, and while perhaps different than the way you are accustomed to defining how to live, this does not mean their way of life is invalid, or ineffective.

Leave behind the idea that you have nothing left to learn. You will always be wrong if you actually believe this.

Leave behind the idea that communication is simply the statement of words that have been given associations, the black-and-white idea that 'this word always means this one thing'. For you will find that effective communication is much more complex. It takes time, understanding, listening, redefining words according to how the person who is speaking them means them, etc. Instead, aim to convey concepts and ideas successfully, the images and thoughts beyond the words, rather than simply the words themselves.

Leave behind pride and arrogance, for they are never helpful other than to assist in your isolation from others.

Leave behind vanity, a weight you'll soon regret bearing as you tramp from place to place, recognizing that there are more worthwhile things with which to concern oneself.

Leave behind cynicism, for the world is not so bleak as you think. And yet, while in some ways it will be bleaker than you imagined, no change will occur if your attitude already forces you to sit in darkness.

Leave behind a need to live a completely predictable life, or any firm grip upon schedules. Other people and cultures will operate within different rhythms than you're used to, and even if you get exactly what you asked for in an experience, a journey guarantees it won't be exactly as you expected.

Finally, leave room in your life for change, for growth, and to bring back home with you new perspectives, new vision, perhaps even some new aspects of who you are.

Now that we've cleared out unnecessary items, in my humble experience, these following things are absolutely essential when embarking upon a journey of any kind.

Bring with you open-mindedness. Be open to the potential for change and growth to occur, for your horizons to be broadened, to giving someone else the space to exist, recognizing that you are both alive, in your different ways, and it is good that you are both alive and bring something new to the table. Wisdom is found all over, and every moment has something worthwhile to teach, if you are listening.

Bring with you an interest in other people, in the strange, in the 'other', for you never know when you might have encountered a future friend. Be prepared for their arrival in your existence with questions to help you get to know them, good travel games, icebreakers, and an ability to listen, both to what people do say, and what they don't say.

Bring with you a spirit of adventure. Be open to seeing those inconveniences you're certain to encounter as yet another opportunity for an adventure.

Bring with you a sturdy pair of walking shoes. The best way to see a place, a country, etc, is by walking, and oh the blisters you will acquire. But think of the places your feet will have taken you, the growth you will incur, represented by the tough skin developing upon the soles of your feet, evidence that you can persevere, develop strength, and survive.

Bring with you a journal, something to write upon. You'll want to remember the details, great and small, of such a journey. They'll be priceless to reflect upon in the years to come.

Bring with you faith:
In people,
In a higher power and the realization that your needs will be provided for,
In a sense of order in this world,
In the potential for growth, change, beauty, majesty, honor, nobility - life will always surprise you.
You'll need to trust people, and I guarantee you won't be able to go your entire trip without relying on someone. Generally, people are willing to help, trying to do their best, and they're absolutely the best source from which to learn new things.

Bring with you a keen perceptive sense. Notice everything. For safety. For comparison. For interest. For knowledge. For wisdom.

Finally, bring with you a search for truth. Don't stop searching just because you think you've found part of it. "And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." -Hamlet

To Live in Italy.

2010-08-16T17:15:00.000-07:00

What it's like to live in Italy:

First things first, the schedule. Italians wake up later, eat dinner later (8:00 pm / 20:00 is early for most restaurants), and 'riposo' is a highly enforced time in the smaller Italian cities. Riposo is like siesta time in Spain, only it's the Italian version. Every day, from 13:00 to 16:00/16:30, most shops close, restaurants take a break, and most Italians take an afternoon nap. All over the smaller towns the volume diminishes, and neighbors have been known to come by and request you shut off your music or dim the volume, as they are literally attempting to nap, in the middle of the day, ever day. It's brilliant. I once joined an Italian for their lunch break. They left work at 13:00, picked me up, and we went to their parents' house to enjoy a homemade Italian meal. Then, we watched a movie, and at about 16:00, they turned to me and said it was probably time for them to go back to work. I love it.

As for the meals, breakfast is similar to that of the French. It's some form of croissant, with Nutella (delicious chocolate liquid substance), cream, or plain, and coffee, an espresso, etc. You will not likely find eggs and bacon as you may know breakfast to include in the States. Lunch in Italy is light, and often skipped altogether. Lunch is also often skipped by many Italians, but if taken, it's later in the day, typically after noon, usually around 13:00 or later. Depending on the job, it's not a hard-and-fast lunch hour break either, but as I learned from my friend, lunch time is flexible, savored, and sometimes even slightly prolonged.

When the Italians communicate, they're louder than we might imagine. What sounds like a verbal fight to an American is simply casual conversation to an Italian. It's not uncommon to find a man walk into a store to order something, and engage in what looks like a verbal altercation with the employee, only to find them depart from the interaction pleasantly. The onlooking foreigner is often left confused if unaware of the social norms of public conversation. But when they are actually fighting, the Italians aren't afraid to show their emotions of hostility in public, out in the open. I was once at a train station and had front row seats to a woman and her husband engaging in what would be considered a heated domestic dispute in the States.

Also, Italians talk with their hands. If ever you need to interrupt an Italian, you need to physically grab their arms and hold them down to their sides.

What about shopping? Markets are rampant in Italy, and they're typically the best places to find 1) the freshest food, 2) the cheapest deals, and 3) the best and most authentic clothing.

When trying on clothes at an Italian market, clothes are hanging everywhere from a small stand, and you're less likely to be able to look at one item and ask if they have it in another size. If you're lucky, they will. But it's not guaranteed as in the big department stores, etc. When you find what you like and want to try it on, you'll be guided to a van with a sliding door, that's been gutted for this sole purpose, and to hold all the merchandise at the end of the day. They bring you a mirror and let you change, hoping that any approaching the van will at least knock before entering. You're also able to barter in the Italian market system.

Depending on the city, markets are open all around the area, on various days of the week. Some are larger, some are smaller, all are filled with vendors selling a variety of clothing, shoes, household objects (including the occasional giant wooden spoon), food, even pets, etc. These markets are different from the ones you'll find at tourist traps; the types of vendors in touristy areas display and sell things like Pinocchio dolls, vulgar cooking aprons, and mups that lean with a picture of the Tower of Pisa on the front, that also lights up.

With no Walmart equivalent in the country of Italy, medicine, etc is found at the Pharmacia, while stamps, phone cards, cigarettes, etc are found at the local Tobacci store. A separate grocery shop/market (indoors) holds the food, perishable and nonperishable, and typically all stores close down at the late hour of 20:00, 21:00 if they're a bit rebellious.

The food in Italy is, as you've probably heard, incredible. My favorite? Proscuitto crudo. It will set you free. 'Prosciutto' is the Italian word for ham, and the 'crudo' style is a dry-cured ham, sliced thinly and served uncooked. It is to be distinguished from 'prosciutto cotto', which is cooked, and, in my opinion, less delicious. :)

Fruit and veggies are freshest at the local markets, and open six days a week, Italian hours. Often the 'grocery stores' have less fresh food, and they'll often require you to bag each item individually. (Italy is less environmental than some countries and cultures, which I will get to later.)

You won't find frozen ice for purchase in Italy, and they have less quantities of bottled water than you'll find in the States.

Environmentally, Italy is less concerned with the issue of Italy than Texas is, home of the "Don't Mess with Texas" motto, a program against littering statewide. I've seen Italians throw entire meals out their car window, and walking along the streets you'll find anything from cigarette butts to whole pieces of food discarded. Not all of Italy/Italians feel this way, however. Italy has free water fountains all over the cities, with delicious drinking water available, and flowing nonstop.

As far as the beaches go, nudity in the Mediterranean is more common that we're accustomed to in the States. It's not uncommon for girls at toddler age to run around in only half a bathing suit, and the adult male is more often than not found donning the infamous speedo.

In terms of their homes, Italy is not a country that believes highly in the use of indoor air-conditioning. Instead, most houses have large awnings they can extend when the sun is beating down, and windows also come equipped with large shutters that can easily be opened, closed, slightly cracked, or completely sealed, shutting off all light and a great deal of heat from the outside. Homes will often have individual AC units, only broken out in dire situations, or for sleeping at night.

While most homes do have a washer for laundry, the load size is significantly smaller than the American standard, and it is rare to find a house equipped with a dryer for the clothes as well. For dishes and clothing, most Europeans don't dry either by machine, but instead allow nature and time to take its course. Each house is equipped with lines outside some window or balcony to hang clothes amidst the daylight warmth and air, and every European I've ever met owns a clothes-drying stand easily purchased at IKEA, for drying clothes inside when the weather is cold or the night falls.

In August, Italians, and all creatures of the Mediterranean, head on 'holiday' ('vacation' in the States, 'holiday' in Europe), anxious to escape the heat. The country typically has a month of holiday, as is the case in a great portion of Europe. In some places holiday has dwindled to a mere two weeks, but overall, Europe is more general with their vacation time as a culture than the United States. A friend in France has a standard annual holiday allotment of five weeks (she's worked at the company for 3 months), a number that will only increase with her tenure at the company.

Dogs in Italy are fiercely loyal to their masters, and all over Europe they're allowed almost anywhere, it seems. I've seen dogs in the streets, in the shops, of course on the beaches, on the trains, on the metro, even in the Apple store. Often they'll be walking alongside their owner sans leash, and never seem to stray very far, regardless of being completely unhindered from doing so.

The Italian personality is fascinating. Italians are passionate and have a zest for life, but when it comes to logistics, they're frequently unreliable, and proud to be so. Italian planes and trains always run on their own timetable, indifferent to whether you are in the know or not. It is not unusual for an Italian train to be 45 minutes behind schedule, or for an Italian plane company to shut down a flight and simply not reschedule it. Often Italian trains will switch platforms, despite what the board says. So if you aren't paying attention, you just might be standing at the wrong platform as your train leaves from a nearby platform.

And this only scratches the surface. Italy is a fascinating place, filled with a zest for life, passionate personalities, and culture that is intellectual, diverse, and thriving.

Italy: Add it to your bucket list. ;)

Be brave. Breathe.

2010-08-02T07:43:00.000-07:00

Life is not always easy.

No matter how old or young we are, weathered or sheltered, broken or whole, trudging or flying, wise or naive, brave or fearful, rich or poor, foreign or local, conservative or liberal, black, white, or anything in between, you, the reader, already know that this is true.

Sometimes life is really hard.

Sometimes we've been hurt by someone, whether the situation at hand is a breakup, divorce, someone lied/deceived us, a form of abuse, cruelty, neglect, persecution, judgment, or a misunderstanding gone awry.

Sometimes struggles happen that are out of anyone's control. Perhaps someone dies, and we get left behind; perhaps someone gets sick, a natural disaster occurs, there's an accident, the opportunity goes to someone else, plans and timing don't go the way we wish they would, etc. Perhaps the time is defined as boredom, angst, despair, alienation, or we simply have to wait.

Perhaps the struggle lasts a few days. Perhaps it carries on into months and even years. The nature of the struggle is that it often defines itself as it transpires.

When the struggles come, I've found we often wish we could sleep through them, fast-forward to the good parts, time travel to when the waiting was worthwhile and paid off - because it is the waiting through the struggle that seems so hard. It is living in the day to day that seems to prove time can slow down and drag by, as we wait for the promise tomorrow brings, or we hope it brings.

In a way it would be nice to sleep through the days/months/years of struggle, simply to wake up when the hard part is over. In the fairy tales, Snow White or Sleeping Beauty slept through the tough parts of the story. Of course we all cringed when we watched them eat the poison apple or touch the cursed spindle, but when facing a pain in this life that you must simply "endure" or "wait it out," I'll be the first to admit that sleeping through it seems like a choice I'd be happy to give a try. Hand me that poison apple or cursed spindle and let me wake up when this thing is all over. After all, I do like a good, long nap. When you awaken, the world will be as it should, the waiting will be over, and that handsome prince, (Mattel, the creators of the modern fairy tale 'Barbie,' would call him 'Ken'), will wake me up and tell me that while I've been sleeping he defeated the proverbial dragon.

I've always liked philosophy. My favorite is Existentialism. The existentialists are brilliant and strong; they discuss the nature of living and the nature of existence, and what it means to exist. These guys don't just pass the time, they really live, and they challenge us to do the same. They challenge us to really exist, and to make our breaths count. They pursue what it means to live a meaningful and fulfilled existence.

They emerged and wrote during periods in history when struggle was happening on national and global fronts, when the question of what made a meaningful life had to be answered. The days they were facing were far from easy, but rather filled with trial, pain, misery, loss, and many, many questions.

In times when so many were letting the despair of the times cause them to crumble, the existentialists were fighting an internal battle, defining for each moment a meaningfulness to life, in their own way. They were seeking how to live passionately and sincerely, in the midst of obstacles, distractions, and tribulations that could lead the individual to simply sit through today, only living for the coming of tomorrow.

I think I love them so much because I admire their bravery. They fight for purpose and don't shrink back when life deals them a tough hand.

It's a brave thing, to breathe.

It is a brave thing, to live, facing the struggle, the conflict, the pain, the trial, and to face it head on.

It is a brave thing, to breathe, despite all the circumstances that could potentially convince you it's not worth it.

Perhaps it would be easier to sleep, to let go, to give up, to run away, to stop caring, to fall away.

But...

to stay awake,

to press in,

to hold on,

to wait patiently,

to keep fighting,

to continue loving,

to stick around,

to continue caring,

to remain passionate,

to pursue meaning in the struggle,

to continue living,

to keep walking,

...despite all the terrible things that lie ahead on the path - that is profound bravery.

But why should we carry on?

Why not?

Who are you to say tomorrow can't be beautiful?

Your hands are quite capable of change, and there are plenty of people in this world that need to be helped, inspired, encouraged, fed, comforted, kept company, appreciated, valued, clothed, visited, nurtured, and loved.

It is often in our struggles that we learn better how to care for others, that we often learn traits such as empathy and compassion for one another, on levels deeper and greater than before we knew what it meant to struggle and suffer.

Besides, when the days seem long and unbearable...

Keep in mind that today is only 24 hours long, and tomorrow hold tremendous promise.

Keep in mind that these storms never last forever. Harriet Beecher Stowe once said, "When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn."

Keep in mind that dawn in coming, and surely fast approaches.

Robert Frost reminds us, "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on."

Keep in mind that even the most trying of times are made a little more bearable when there's someone around to hold your hand, and weather the storm with you.

And if all that isn't good enough for you, keep this is mind:

You, I, all of us, have been through struggle.

We've been through some sort of pain, suffering, misery, confusion, doubt, disbelief, etc - and we're now here, reading this, writing this, enduring this - surviving.

Keep in mind that while breathing takes profound bravery in times such as these, it is so worthwhile.

I take strength from the existentialists, because regardless of what they define as meaningful, they all rise above struggle, live in the midst of it, and pursue meaning in spite of whatever pain they may be enduring.

But that's the beauty of the existentialists. They may define meaning in different ways, but they all, in the beauty of the movement, ask the questions and press into life. It matters not so much about the specific answers they each came to find. But the beauty is that their struggle is our struggle, and we are each called to determine what it is that makes our days worth living, as Kierkegaard said, "...to find the idea for which I can live and die."

When I say survive, I mean your heart can carry on. I mean the loss/grief/confusion/struggle you may be dealing with doesn't have to break you. Doesn't have to mean that you'll be in pain and struggle forever.

Often in literature and movies, rain is an archetype for change.

It may be raining in your life, and life may be changing.

But it's certainly not ending.

Today, you're still alive, still breathing, and you can do something with those breaths.

I don't know what it is, that's for you to figure out.

I have my own meaning to find, my own trials and battles to fight, to breathe through, to win.

But the point is: your existence is not without purpose, and the fact that you're still breathing in the midst of and beyond the trial, beyond the loss, during the pain means you still very much have something to give.

You still have

something to offer,

something to create,

people to inspire,

books to read,

movies to watch,

things to learn,

miles/kilometers to travel,

adventures to have,

countries to visit,

people to meet,

hands to shake and hold,

lives to change and make better,

smiles to cause,

laughter to share,

joy to be had and found,

things to be discovered...

You still have a life to be lived.

So be brave, fellow human. Breathe, and continue living.

For this life, this trial, this struggle is only meaningless if you say it is.

"Listen as your day unfolds

Challenge what the future holds

Try and keep your head up to the sky

Lovers they may cause you tears

Go ahead, release your fears

Stand up and be counted

Don't be ashamed to cry."

-Des'ree

"For I consider that our present sufferings
are not worth comparing
with the glory that will be revealed in us."
-Romans 8:18

"You desire to know the art of living, my friend?

It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering."

- Henri-Frederic Amiel

"Life is meaningless only if we allow it to be. Each of us has the power to give life meaning, to make our time and our bodies and our words into instruments of love and hope."
- Tom Head

Lines in the sand.

2010-07-18T03:48:00.000-07:00

Dear "the Other",

I'm not supposed to like you, I'm told.

I'm told that you and I, we aren't supposed to interact.

They say you're different, what you believe and the way you do things.

They say you're naive, ignorant of the way things really work.

They say you're a coward, too weak to do the right thing.

They say you're arrogant, refusing to see the other side.

They say you're dangerous, and that the carelessness of your hands leads to evil.

They tell me we shouldn't be friends.

They tell me we can't be friends, that your kind and my kind - we don't get along.
They tell me we'll never see eye to eye.

They tell me people like you don't play well with people like me.

They tell me people like me can't trust people like you.

But from the first moment we met, you've seemed nice.

In fact...

You're clever and talented, in your own unique way.

You're intelligent and creative, brimming with ideas.

You love and pursue beauty, even if you define 'beauty' differently than I do sometimes.

You're passionate, perhaps about different things, but just as mine, your passion makes you come alive.

You want to save the world, just as I do, even if we don't always agree on what that looks like.

You're human, just like me.

You were born one day, and you will die one day, just like me.

You breathe oxygen, you need sleep, you eat food, just like me.

You feel pain, pleasure; you have feelings, dreams, goals, and fears, just like me.

The more I see that heart of yours, the more I see that you're just trying to live this life the best way you know how.

It would seem we're all on our path, and I see that your path has brought you to different places than mine has.

But the more I look around this ocean of existence, the more I see people who don't have all the answers, just like me, people who are all just trying to live this life the best way they know how, just like me.

To be honest, you don't seem all that bad.

In fact, I really like who you are.

Other people, from the different sides we come; they seem keen on yelling at each other.

They tell me that's what I should be doing, that I should be yelling at you.

They tell you that you should be yelling at me.

Our alleged sides demand we take up arms against each other.

But don't they see that all this yelling can be hurtful to people?

I look at them yelling, taking sides against the other, and before you know it, we're left with violent hearts and violent hands.

I think, by drawing lines in the sand, we're hurting each other. Or we're at least failing to value and respect each other, which ultimately causes damage as well.

I don't see the point.

If all we do is yell at each other, how will we ever listen to one another?

I know, I know. They tell me it's dangerous to listen to the "other".

But listening doesn't have to mean we change our opinions, beliefs, perspectives, or stances, does it?

All listening means is that we're listening.
All listening means is that we're giving someone else room to exist.

Aristotle said "It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it."

Maybe by learning how to interact we could grow a little bit.

I'd like to listen, and see the world through your eyes, if only for a moment.

It doesn't have to change me.

They keep drawing lines in the sand, but can't they see their lines are only serving to box them in?

It seems to me we could be missing out on relationships, interactions that could really serve to nurture us, inspire us, challenge us, and make us better versions of ourselves.

After all, why must where I stand require someone to stand against?

I don’t think it does.

In the eternal words of Dispatch’s 'The General', “I have seen the others, and I have discovered that this fight is not worth fighting.”

I once heard about a guy named Jesus.

He spent a lot of time with people that “they” told him he shouldn’t.

The standards ‘they’ set down didn’t seem to work for him.

Instead, he walked with people, he spent time with the ‘other’.

He went into their homes,

held their hands,

met their families,

came to their work,

had dinner with them,

cried with them,

laughed with them,

talked with them,

went to parties with them,

sailed with them,

endured pain and suffering with them,
listened to them,

etc.

Instead of drawing lines in the sand, he walked with people.

I like this concept.

I look at you, and I like who you are.

I wonder if, given the opportunity, we could learn a thing or two from each other.

It’s impossible, they say.

But perhaps they’re wrong.

Maybe it’s not impossible. Maybe it’s just harder than easy, sometimes.

I’m sure it’s not always easy to walk with someone so potentially different.

Maybe some days it will take added patience and creativity, as we figure out what interaction looks like with the ‘other.’

It would definitely be easier to only interact with people that looked just like me, talked just like me, thought just like me, believed just like me, had a similar story to me.

But I’d rather not restrict myself to only looking in a mirror all day, for the rest of my life.

I’d rather grow, listen, see you, and value you as a person, despite our differences.

I don’t think it has to change me, what I think, what I believe, where I stand.

I think it’s a worthwhile endeavor.

They tell me I should hate you,

mock you,

shun you,

stay away from you…

But I’d rather call you ‘friend.’

I don’t want to draw lines in the sand.

I’d rather let these ocean waves sweep over the lines we’ve been told to draw.

I’d rather walk with you.

I like who you are.

I wouldn’t have seen that, and how much we could laugh together, cry together, grow together, learn together, or play together, had either of us decided the lines were more important than the person.

Perhaps instead of drawing lines, we could build sand castles, for “if he can build sand castles, he can build community.”

Just think of the friendship and blessing I’d be missing out on if I’d listened to them.

Instead, I’m off.

You and I have a sand castle to build.

Love,

Your ~~Enemy~~ Friend

“Once you label me, you negate me.” –Kierkegaard

“I have learned that a man has the right to look down on another only when he has to help the other get to his feet.”

“There’s nothing noble in being superior to your fellow men. True nobility is being superior to your former self.” –Ernest Hemingway

The most important phrase to learn...

2010-07-15T18:45:00.000-07:00

When visiting someone's home, Emily Post/Mrs. Manners would teach that you are a guest in their home, and therefore it is important not to get too comfortable. It would be respectful for you to try to operate by their rhythms, their schedule, etc.

When traveling, the same rule applies. You are not in your own country, you are in someone else's. Therefore, it is wise, polite, and extraordinarily helpful to learn a bit of the local rhythms, specifically, the language.

However, this can prove challenging when you're traveling through countries at rapid fire pace, sometimes one country in one day and night, then on to the next country with their language that hardly resembles the language their neighbors speak. Being a lifetime citizen of the United States of "We only speak one language and not always well", I will admit my lack of fluent languages under my belt, although this is something I intend to remedy in the years that follow.

So, in the event that you find yourself backpacking across Europe and don't have the opportunity to fluently learn German, French, Swedish, Norwegian, Finnish, Czech, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Croatian, Slovak, Polish, Russian, etc, a simple suggestion I've found most effective is to learn at least one phrase, one specific phrase.

If you learn nothing else, this phrase, I believe, will speak volumes, and for multiple reasons.

My personal opinion: One of the most important phrases to learn how to say in a language is "thank you."

Scratch that. One of the most important phrases to learn, bar none, is the phrase "thank you." Trust me, not only will this make interpersonal interaction and communication as you travel run a whole lot smoother, but it also benefits your inner world as well.

First of all, you'll need it when the locals are patient with you, putting up with the fact that you didn't take the time to learn a substantial amount of their language. You'll need it when they take the time to listen while you wear them out speaking too quickly, as if speed helps the comprehension process at all. You'll need it when you ask for directions in broken sign language you just made up, and they kindly take the time to make sure you've understood what they've said. You'll need it when the man that doesn't speak a word of English at the French train station behind the ticket counter puts up with your Post-It communcation technique, requesting the train and times you need to get to the middle of nowhere. (True story.) When traveling, you will never find knowing how to say "Thank you" in the local vernacular to let you down or serve you poorly.

Second, and this is inevitable: we're going to need help. We can't completely traverse this world on our own and independently, and who would want to? There's such a blessing in the community and fellowship with others. You need the people that drive your buses, taxis, limos, and trains, the people that serve you food and stock the grocery story at which you shop. You need the fellow at REI or Barnes and Noble who helps you find that which you seek. You may not always utilize it, but when people offer to help, lend a hand, extend some advice, it's an act of kindness you may come to appreciate more than you realize, and should be received with a grateful heart and kind appreciation expressed.

As for the the inner scope, practicing verbally articulating a phrase that is indicative of a thankful heart will only serve you well.

We don't say "thank you" enough, these days. In fact, we're only really thankful for something when we think it's good, or it's fun, etc. But as we grow older, as we put more candles upon the cakes we eat to celebrate our birth, as we put more days and years behind us, perhaps wisdom teaches us to recognize that even the seemingly tough days, bad situations, disappointing circumstances can breed positive results, valuable lessons, strengthening of character.

Perhaps to live thankfully has little to do with things always being good, fun, or beautiful.

Perhaps, if we seek to be grateful for what we have, for what we get, for when our needs instead of our wants are met, well then we might just find something fantastic happening within our hearts.

When my dad was a freshman in college, the upperclassmen went about their usual business of employing the underclassmen to do their bidding, confident this method of harassment mixed with service was a brilliant means of ensuring their authority for the upcoming year. While most underclassmen groaned or complained at the command to carry an upperclassman's instrument, my father, a beautiful mix of inner peace and sarcasm, when confronted with an upperclassman's command, would energetically respond, "Oh, thank you sir! May I carry something else for you as well?"

Every time an upperclassman would arrive to order him around, my dad would respond this way, adamant about refusing to let the circumstances change the state of his heart, define the course of his mood or day, or let him be smaller in their eyes. To him it did not matter; the act of service put him at no loss, and in fact, it soon took all of the fun out of the attempted hazing the upperclassman sought to commit, and they soon began to treat my father with a respect reserved for equals.

Even the toughest of situations can breed strength, a great story to tell, and exciting adventures, if you simply go with the flow of things and, as the ocean does, let things just come on through. Gratefully accept what life, the Lord, the day, the situation has just given. Perhaps if we can learn to press in and take from a situation all it has to teach us, perhaps an attitude of gratitude can guide us to new levels of peace, understanding, and depth of character.

So, for this blog installment, I've brought you, the reader, a gift. In 21 different languages, I give you 21 different ways to say "Thank you."

Spanish: "Gracias"
French: "Merci"
Italian: "Grazie"
English: "Thank you"
Croatian: "Hvala"
Czech: "Děkuji za pozornost"
Danish: "Tak dig"
Dutch: "Dank u"
Finnish: "Kiitos"
Flemish: "Dank u"
German: "Danke"
Greek: "Σας ευχαριστώ"
Hause: "Na gode"
Hungarian: "Köszönöm!"
Norwegian: "Takk deg"
Polish: "Dziękujemy"
Portugese: "Obrigado" (European) or "Obrigado" (Brazillian)
Romanian: "Va multumesc"
Serbian: "Hvala vam"
Swedish: "Vi tackas"
Turkish: "Teşekkür Ederiz"

I may not always be able to speak the language you speak...

...but by helping me when I'm lost, bringing me my food, offering advice when you think I need, listening to me when I vent, just being there standing beside me, or by simply existing, you have done something good in this world, and I'll want to know how to thank you, how to show my appreciation. I'll want to know how to thank you in a way that you really hear it.

It is my belief that gratitude and a thankful heart can heal us of our selfishness, our discontent, and our tendency to mistake an adventure for an inconvenience.

So come, let us live gratefully.

"A person's greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated."

"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow." -Melody Beattie

From Taize to Perugia to Croatia to Beach Weeks.

2010-07-08T05:17:00.000-07:00

Since I last updated, a lot has changed in the world. Life is like that sometimes.

It seems that since I've been gone a lot of chapters back home have ended, making way for new ones to begin, for new plots and story-lines to develop, for new characters to arrive, leave, and for new types of growth to occur. Thanks to Facebook, email, and the occasional Skype phone call I can see my loved ones embarking upon adventures of their own, these adventures coming in the forms of soccer camps to Brazil, new relationships developing, graduations, motorcycle trips across the US, babies on the way and arriving, screenplays being written, trips to China to pick up a precious adopted son, packing up and moving to new states, homes, jobs, and world travels of their own being planned and started. It's amazing how quickly things can change, and how in a mere four months a life can suddenly become almost unrecognizable from what it once was - in a beautiful way.

In the last month a great deal has changed in my life as well. When I last updated, I had recently left Taize, and was in Perugia, Italy, located in the Umbria region. Beautiful, let me tell you, and my time there was not what I expected when I arrived, but certainly turned out to be a greater blessing than I could have imagined. I spent roughly two weeks in Perugia relaxing, being Italian, learning the language, recuperating from 2.5 months of constant movement and travel, and basically: breathing. Perhaps more detail on Perugia later.

I left Perugia and went back to the Rome area to get ready for my flight to Brussels, where I would meet up with the people and organization with whom I would be serving in student ministry for two weeks at camps. (More on these camps later for certain). However, due to some last minute necessary changes, I ended up postponing my flight to Brussels by a week, and instead took a trip to Croatia and through Slovenia for a long weekend. It was glorious, it was necessary, it was productive, and it was filled with unexpected blessings, new opportunities, and new paths one could potentially pursue. While in Croatia one of the priorities was to make sure a "Happy Birthday" was issued to the one and only Z-bud, who turned 12 last month. One of the biggest downsides to traveling is missing your brothers' birthdays, or rather celebrating them overseas and far away from them. ;)

Back from Croatia the next week, life had flip-turned upside down, as the Fresh Prince would say. That following Wednesday I flew from Rome to Brussels via another RyanAir flight with a lot on my mind, but anxious to serve in the upcoming student ministry trips. In Brussels I stayed for only two days before heading out on a charter bus for an 18 hour drive down to Italy with high school students for a week of what they call "Beach Week" - a camp for military kids, to camp, experience the beautiful Italian scenery, live it up for the week on the Mediterranean, cliff dive, hike, visit Cinque Terre, Pisa, Lucca, Elba, and generally bask in God's beautiful creation. The organizations affiliated with this trip are MCYM, Club Beyond (like Young Life but in Europe), among others. So the first week was high school, the second week was middle school, and we were simply camping and hanging out with the students, making them laugh, having countless opportunities to serve them, while traveling with them, singing with them, dancing with them, exploring with them, and making time for conversation with them about whatever may be on their beautiful hearts. Those two weeks were filled with tremendous blessing, and I have now met so many new kids whose hearts are precious, whose lives are priceless, whose stories are unfinished and full of promise, and whose capacity and potential are endless. It is my prayer that they realize how truly beautiful and worthwhile they are, how much their own two hands are capable of, and that to believe in impossible things is not only something inspiring, but it is a perspective this world needs, for I believe it is not that reality is locked in, but that we have become people that have forgotten how to imagine, and therefore create, inspire, and dream.

Between the high school and middle school Beach Week trips, another volunteer leader Molly and I had the opportunity to explore Italy a bit as tourists for the weekend, so I brought Molly down to Rome to explore and feed her love for architecture and travel. We spent Saturday touring Rome, then Sunday laying around at the beach in Latina, Italy, relaxing and recuperating from high school Beach Week 1, getting ready for Beach Week 2 with the middle school students, which was just as incredible as the first week had been. Two weeks of exhausting but worthwhile ministry, and I think I'm still catching up sleep.

So where am I now? Well, I decided to stay in Italy after the Beach Week trips, and there are some more ideas for travel in mind. But there are one or two things here the Lord and I have decided to pursue, so pursue them we shall. At this point I'm unclear on when exactly I'll be stateside once again - given the flurry of changes the last month has brought, I could be back as late as early November - we'll just have to see how it all pans out. But in the meantime, life is still happening, change is still occurring, and having past the planned out parts of my existence this year, I now venture into uncharted territory, unsure of what tomorrow brings but thrilled to be making the journey and continuing to explore all this life has to offer, continuing to learn what it means to love and to serve, and continuing to have adventures as I meet people, hear stories, learn how to listen, pursue the Lord, learn more about myself, find purpose and calling, and discover what it means to live rather than simply survive. More on that later...

I love you all, and my prayers are with you. Hope to see you sometime this year. But for the moment, I live in Italy. How did life get to be so blessed? ;)

"I know I'm searching for something
Something so undefined
That it can only be seen
By the eyes of the blind"
-Billy Joel, "River of Dreams"

"Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."

Ruby slippers.

2010-06-03T07:09:00.000-07:00

Two days ago was June 1st. Not only does this date represent things like the end of school nearing, Memorial Day weekend recently occurring, and summer on its sweet way, for me it represents the fact that I've been away from home, from the States, from free refills and delicious Tex-Mex, etc, for over 3 months.

As you know, Alex has already returned home. He's now happily off at camp as a counselor for the summer, living it up on the lake and keeping the children in line.

You may be wondering, "What am I still doing here?" I've been asking myself the same question, not out of despair, but in the ongoing search for purpose and direction.

From the beginning of this trip, I had a transferrable flight. I forsaw the possibility of not returning with Alex, in fact, I planned for it. Because while Alex had certain things for which he wanted to make sure he returned, I practically said goodbye to the life I'd been living when I stepped on the plane, determined to be fully in the journey, and to potentially uncover what it was in life I wanted to pursue, where I wanted to be, perhaps even discover a vocation to which I felt called and within which I felt inclined to serve.

As we traveled around Europe, we met so many people involved in really incredible jobs, lives, journeys of their own, ministries, and dreams, a lot of which have opened up doors to some neat opportunities. As it were, my cup currently overflows with possibilities of communities to spend time, trips I can volunteer for, new friends to go visit, etc. For example, there's an organization in Belgium that works in student ministry for middle school and high school students of military parents stationed overseas. Towards the end of June I'll join them on two trips with their students to visit more parts of Italy, to hang out, be in the presence of incredible company, have tons of laughs, and be a part of student ministry once again for a couple weeks.

But in addition to this opportunity, from the beginning of planning this trip there were a couple communities in the Europe area I thought I might want to visit once Alex headed home and I was exploring on my own. You read about one in the last post (Taize), and that's where I went when Alex left. There's another community, similar to Taize, called Iona, and it's located in Scotland. From what I've heard, it's beautiful, and about a month ago I applied to serve as a volunteer at Iona, a term that would include a minimum of 6 weeks. The type of position I'd fill would be something like kitchen staff or housecleaning, a task necessary to keep the community functioning and flowing, and while it seems menial, I really love the idea of doing that for 6 weeks. As I mentioned in my last email, there's a type of meditation that can develop from the monotony, and Iona's beautiful vision is that work and worship are one and the same; there's no need for them to be two separate activities or perspectives. It's this philosophy that captures my attention and interest in Iona. In essence, if God is available in all moments and situations, I want to experience that presence everywhere, at all times. After all, it seems to be that's what Jesus was getting at, "always one with the Father" and what-not. So I really latched on to the idea of practicing remaining mindful of the Lord and pursuing Him in all moments, great and small, whether those moments found my time spent washing dishes, walking, reading, sleeping, partaking in food, conversing with a new friend, writing an email to an old friend, praying, enjoying a glass of wine with a dear friend, or whatever the case may be. Plus, Iona's in a beautiful area, and from all the referrals I've heard, the people are incredible, kind, open, inspiring and authentic. What's not alluring about such a place?

So I applied. And a few days ago, I heard back, after an anxious month of waiting. Iona has offered me a position on the housekeeping staff for 6 weeks later this summer. They provide room and board, a weekly allowance, and I've already described how much I like the atmosphere, the people, the vision. I will arrive on August 18th, and leave Iona September 29th.

For a long time on this journey in search of path and purpose, I thought Taize would be a place I'd arrive and spend an extended period of time. They allow people from the age of 18 to 29 to spend up to a year or two there, simply serving as part of the community and enjoying the serenity and simplicity of lifestyle Taize has to offer. This sounded like a lovely retreat, a place to really get in touch with the internal, to pray, reflect, breathe, observe, listen, and grow. So when I arrived the day after Alex left, I had every intention of staying at Taize until it was time to head to Belgium for those trips, about a month over all.

But, have you ever had an experience where you get all the way to the Emerald City, and realize you had the ruby slippers on the whole time?

In March of 2009 I left the church I was working at with this verse on my heart: "But he said to them, 'I must preach the good news of the kingdom of God to the other towns as well; for I was sent for this purpose." There was a vision of travel and movement in life, but I wasn't quite sure which direction. I used to do a lot of searching for purpose, vision, calling, path in life, etc. In my experience and conversations, I've realized that a great many people, especially around my age, want to know what the heck they should be doing with their life. Regardless of beliefs, they want something to fill their day, they want something they enjoy, that they're good at, and that they can survive from, be passionate about, perhaps even make a small difference in this world because of it.

Moving to Houston was part of my journey. Living in the DFW metroplex was part of the journey. Going to seminary for a brief stint instead of the full 4 years was part of the journey, as was spending a few years feeling like I was stumbling around in the dark. The journey certainly didn't begin the minute Alex and I stepped on the plane, nor does it end when I finally make it home.

Getting to Taize was part of the journey, as was deciding to leave after only a week of spending time there, instead of taking the option and original plan to stay longer. Because I realized something at Taize: In all this time (over two years) of journeying, walking, exploring, questioning, seeking, and often feeling like I was in a world of darkness, I'd been learning all along the way I feel called to live my life, that I had the answers for which I'd been searching. I had arrived at my spiritual/journey equivalent of the Emerald City (internally), and realized I was already wearing the ruby slippers.

Simply put: to Love. To love people, to walk with the Lord in all my moments and steps, to strive to practice His presence constantly, to listen when I have the opportunity and to continue learning in all circumstances. To Love in every opportunity I have, to serve, to walk this earth living the best way I know how, and Loving those I share this planet with every opportunity I encounter.

I don't think this is just my calling. I think our vocation is to Love, and I refuse to be silent about it. I've been having great conversations with people, and some of the most fascinating ones have suddenly taken a dive into the depths of the heart, and discussed humanity and the question of Love. And I think I have the great pleasure to simply walk this earth, and Love the people I encounter. It comes out in the neatest ways, as cultures interact without judgement, as people share in some tea, enjoy a laugh over something silly, wash 4000 dishes and try to figure out songs everyone knows to sing to, in order to make a mundane job more fulfilling and fun. I have the great opportunity to love the Frenchman who sells me my train ticket, despite his rough day reflected in his coarse demeanor. I have the great opportunity to love my brother who, like me, although not as bad as I can be, wasn't always cheerful or awake or excited about what the day held. I have the great opportunity to love the Lord by trying to really trust that He means what He says when He promises He is faithful and won't forsake me. The opportunities to Love are endless, and the need for Love in this world is boundless.

A dear friend recently asked me what my definition of Love is. Honestly, this is a tough question, because to Love finds such versatile application, depending on the context, the person, the situation, and I think I'll always be figuring out how it looks. But I think it is, in essence, to serve, fearlessly. To love, in a way that sets someone free into a life of fulfillment. To inspire. To help. To be with. To appreciate. To value. To challenge. To teach. To listen. To give someone value, in your eyes and in theirs. To enable them. To pursue them. To forgive them. To be kind, kinder than necessary. To value that they are alive, and recognize it is good, just as you are alive, and it is good. I honestly have no idea how to sum in up in a vaccuum. But I know it is something I must do, because it not only heals others, it heals me. It is good for all souls involved when Love is applied and chosen, instead of fear, hatred, selfishness, etc.

These are the things I've been learning, a myriad of ways in which Love applies, and I hope that the rest of my life is spent discovering more ways to Love in this life. And I think now is not the time to continue reflecting on such lessons, but to begin putting them into practice, and reflect as I go. There is a world out there filled with people, and every moment of our lives we have the opportunity to love our neighbor as ourselves, to recognize that they are alive, that it is good, and that we are alive, and it is good. Because I think I have been learning how to live, and so live I must, not isolated and retreating from society, but in the midst of society, daily, in the regularity. It would be naive to think such lessons only apply out in the wilderness, during the travels, on the vacation.

So I left Taize. I have learned that there is a difference between what is necessary and what would be procrastination. If there wasn't a vision, a purpose, etc, then yes, I'm sure it would be phenomenal to continue to kick it around Europe exploring and traveling for 8 out of 12 months this calender year. But where there is purpose and vision, let us not hesitate to set it into action. Because I have learned what I set out to learn, and I realize that as each day passes I will continue to learn, grow, travel, and explore, wherever I am. But as Paul realized after his experience on the road to Demascus, the time is now to begin to practice what you've been taught.

So I won't be going to Iona. Perhaps another time. But for now, it's not necessary, and I've realized it would be procrastination.

I've come what I came to do. I've backpacked around Europe, had phenomenal adventures, met a serious amount of friends I'm looking forward to staying in touch with for years to come, started to learn what it looks like for me to be in relationship with my God, started to learn what it looks like to listen and to Love, and I have a solid vision on what life looks like for me in the next chapter.

But now I realize that chapter is fast approaching.

In other words, I'm coming home.

Sometime this summer. ;)

"One sees great things from the valley; only small things from the peak." -G.K. Chesterton

"The mountaintops are only noble because from them we are privileged to behold the plains. So the only value in any man being superior is that he may have a superior admiration for the level and the common..." -G.K. Chesterton

"I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of this glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance that I have come. But I can rest only for a moment, for with freedom comes responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not yet ended." -Nelson Mandel, "The Long Walk to Freedom"

We may be right, but it's irrelevant.

2010-05-30T12:10:00.000-07:00

Let's talk about Taize, because such a place is worth discussing.

I wake up in the morning, in either a tent or a barrack with multiple beds (much like a hostel), and first thing, I head off to morning prayer. Prayer at Taize consists of singing a great many hymns, with the brothers that live at the community, and the rest of the current Taize congregation. We sit on the floor, and lift our voices in a variety of languages, depending on the hymn. It's one of the most serene experiences I've ever encountered, and it's really beautiful to listen to.

After prayer, we head off to breakfast. At Taize, everyone gets a job when they walk through those welcoming doors. Everyone participates in the rhythm and chores of the community, participating in creating the lifestyle in which the community lives from week to week. That being said, the job I signed up for was washing dishes for breakfast and lunch. As menial as this job sounds, washing the dishes became one of my favourite parts of the day, and definitely a task I was always looking forward to. I'll explain later. Because I was part of the dish-washing crew, I was able to be one of the first to get breakfast and lunch, which is a killer perk, let's be honest. So I leave worship, and head straight to the outdoor dining area, where I meet up with the rest of the dishwashing crew and don the oh-so-stylish plastic apron. We make sure there are enough hands to handle the load of washing that the meal will bring, and then we go through the line to secure our meal.

Taize has a vision of simplicity, among other things. While the bulk of Taize's vision I will touch on in more detail later, the aspect of simplicity hits you immediately when you partake in a meal. Coming to Taize, you can't expect to find gourmet. But Taize is a bit like camp, so even though the food isn't something normal standards would deem high quality, you're so appreciative to be eating three square meals a day that it truly does feel like you're being spoiled when they feed you. Breakfast was my favourite, especially because at the beginning of the week, breakfast and I had a love/hate relationship. Breakfast at Taize include a small baguette (roll of bread), a single serving thing of butter, and a couple sticks of chocolate, with either tea or hot chocolate to drink. What people proceed to do with this assortment of ingredients is the following: tear open bread, apply butter to the inside. Then, as if you're making a sandwich, apply chocolate between the pieces of bread, upon the butter, close pieces of bread, and eat your freshly made chocolate-butter sandwich.

I don't know about you, but this is wierd to me. Thoroughly wierd. I realize I'm in Europe and they're all about Nutella here, but Day 1, it feels too early in the day to be having chocolate. However, by Day 3 I'm hooked to the idea of having chocolate each morning, although I never converted to the "butter and chocolate sandwich" idea. But the chocolate Taize serves is beyond delicious, and I enjoyed my bread and butter with chocolate for a breakfast dessert every single morning. (That being said, the chocolate and tea ALONE is worth coming all the way to Taize. Truly, it's the best I've ever had).

Now that we're done with the meal, we get ready to start cleaning the entire community's dishes. For breakfast, this isn't so bad. Here at Taize they use bowls for the cups, and the bowl/cup for the tea or hot chocolate is the only dish utilized for breakfast. However, when lunchtime rolls around, all dishes are on deck, including trays, plates, a bowl/cup for the beverage, and a spoon as the sole utensil, utilized creatively as a spoon, a fork, and a knife. (You learn quickly when you must make use of what you have. And you're only frustrated by the solitary utensil until you consider how long it would take to clean dishes for 4000 if forks and knives were added).We get the giant vats of hot and cold water ready to receive the dirty dishes, and anywhere from 10-20 sets of hands remove jewelry and watches, and proceed to scrub down the incoming dishes. This is a monotonous task, and often perceived as menial. But when you're making new friends as you wash, and eventually start singing tunes to make the job more fun, it's not long before meeting these great people twice a day and partaking in an hour of sillyness with fellow soldiers in combat against the war of dishes becomes the favourite part of the day, and certainly a time anticipated with much joy. Truly, with the exception of one or two, I met my dearest friends from Taize while washing the dishes. I had challenging and beautiful conversations, I learned new words, and together we created memories, song lyrics, and friendships that I anticipate will last a lifetime. Speaking of which, Taize is a place that seeks to help people find the presence of God in their lives. Personally, I believe that God is available in all places, circumstances, trials, and days. Verena, one of my new friends from Bavaria, commented that in the monotony of washing dishes, a sort of meditation emerges. How beautiful a perspective, to find meditation in the midst of monotony. See what amazing and wise people I was getting to spend time with daily? I think these are the people whose company I value the most: the type of people that inspire me. Not people I always agree with, but people who inspire me and challenge me.

Between breakfast and lunch, the younger people had a bible reflection, while those of us that are older, i.e. 25 and up, had free time. I spent a great deal of this time doing one of two things: either I was in conversation and fellowship with one or more of the people I just washed the dishes with, OR I wandered down to a nearby village to spend some quiet time in prayer in their chapel. In the French countryside, Taize finds a very tranquil environment. It's impossible to hear the noise of trains and rare to hear the sounds of cars driving by, but it's common to hear the wind rustling through the grass and trees, and to hear the noises birds make as they celebrate their existence. I loved this type of silence, especially in these simple and beautiful chapels. It can be terrifying, because you can actually hear yourself think, and if you aren't ready for those thoughts, often noise is the preference. But these became some of my favourite times as well, learning not only to silence my verbal communication, but try to silence my head and my heart as well. I wonder, what does it really mean to listen? With each circumstance I admit I'm still figuring this out.

At 12:20 midday prayer happens, and again, the majority of this time is spent in song. The brothers will read some scripture, and utter some prayers, although in multiple languages, but all in all, it's a beautiful and peaceful experience, one I came to really enjoy. Then we lunch, and this repeats the breakfast process, except, as I mentioned, all dishes available are on deck, so it takes at least twice as long. But to me this only meant more laughter, songs, and times of fellowship, plus we still get to eat first. :)

After lunch, there's a longer stretch of free time, available to be filled with the "25 and up" bible reflection, in addition to some worship each evening. For a couple days I did the bible reflection, but as the week progressed I chose to spend the time in other ways, which usually consisted in conversation, fellowship, or times of prayer at my beloved chapels.

Then in the evening we had dinner, sans cleaning up dishes for Stephanie, then evening prayer, following much the same format. The prayer times usually lasted from 45 minutes to an hour, and the evening prayer could potentially go longer, but only if some people wanted to stay.

After evening prayer, there was a spot that served drinks that had a great location for people to congregate, and sometimes I'd go and join in the celebration of existence. But often prayer ended at 21:30 or 22:00 (9:30 pm or 10:00 pm), and frankly, I was tired, since we wake up at 7:45 or so to make it to morning prayer.

Besides the loose schedule, the times of peaceful prayer, and the glorious beauty of the French countryside, the appeal for me with Taize is the vision behind the community. Not only is it beautiful physically, but the beauty emanates from within. It is a community intended to welcome people from all ethnicities, backgrounds, beliefs, perspectives, histories, genders, and ages, for a week at a time, into a place where reconciliation is the aim. It it a place that aims for a Love between all people as the Lord defined it, in the unconditional sense. (The Greek word is "agape".) And so, when you arrive and live at Taize for your week or perhaps longer, you find yourself amidst a constant interaction with other cultures, languages, affiliations, and experiences. It's phenomenal. I rarely met another American while I was there, instead the people I spent most of my time with were from Hamburg, Bavaria, Slovakia, Latvia, Austria, London, France, Ireland, etc, some of which I truly hope to visit later on this summer, if possible. And as you wash dishes, engage in service of others, and share in laughter and song, you find authentic friendships developing, with no regard for whether this person's views of the world align with yours ideologically or on any other front. You find the vision of Taize coming alive in the smallest of moments, and as you put a face and friendship on the "other" you once feared or misunderstood, all you know is this: I am alive, and it is good, and you are alive, and it is good.

There once was a young woman.

Like any honest human, all this woman wanted out of life was to be loved. Not just adored, not simply cherished, but loved, seen, known, appreciated, enjoyed, and valued.

But when a person goes out into this world and begins to feel like love is out of reach, well, they'll begin to settle. And often the way one settles when in search for love is in the arms of any person that will show them even the slightest glimpse of affection.

Which is what this young woman began to do. Eventually she finds herself engaged in adultery.

But for a while this pursuit of love really worked for her, and she thought she'd really found a place where she was cherished.

Until one day she was caught. Not just caught, she was exposed, dragged into the light, and publicly humiliated.

Somehow, the public officials, government officers, and religious leaders discover her infidelity. Upon making their discovery of this woman, caught in the midst of her intimate moment, they drag her out of her privacy and into the public streets, through the dirt and the grime.

Welcome to the climax of her shame.

They pull this woman through the city, through the streets, up a hill, and into a crowd of people, all the while she is completely helpless to fight back, stop the embarrassment, or cover herself up at all.

Who's ever had the dream about being completely naked at school?

This day is worse.

But back to the woman.

She's being dragged, half-dressed, in her shame, through the dust. The leaders of the society that regularly play golf with her parents, the religious leaders that used to be her Sunday School teachers, the elders that once dealt so kindly with her as a child, that she's always looked up to and respected - they are now dragging her by the hair through town.

Eventually they slow down and let her fall. She drops to the ground, and for a moment she can't tell where she is or who else is around. All she can hear are the men who towed her halfway across town yelling, and as her eyes adjust to the light and she regains her vision, she notices their shouts are all directed at one man.

Suddenly they're lifting her up onto her feet, and the attempt she had made at covering herself with her hands becomes futile. As she squints in the morning sunlight, she's facing hundreds of men, and some women and children. The group of men that have dragged her and been yelling are there holding her up and surrounding her, and behind the man they continue to yell at is a crowd of people sitting down attentively.

This is really the last type of audience she wanted to have in her moment of ecstasy, in her quest for love and acceptance, which has now been transformed into a deep sense of disgrace.

As she looks out on her neighbors, her peers, her friends, her relatives, among others, she suddenly feels the pain that comes from being surrounded by people but completely and utterly alone.

Suddenly the yelling ceases, and her escorts are now speaking more understandably. They refer to the man they've been yelling at as "teacher," and she realizes it's a class that they've interrupted with her indiscretion.

They explain where they found her, how they found her, and she feels the knot develop in her stomach, because she knows what's coming...

...Then they explain that because of her crime (adultery), the punishment is death.

By stones.

They propose, to this teacher whose class they have just interrupted, that they put this woman up against a wall.
They propose that everyone present take a rock/stone in their hand.
And they propose that everyone present precede to throw these stones at the woman up against the wall, until she dies.

Brutal.

Now let me pause here for a second. Because you should know that so far in this story, while these guys may seem like jerks, they are completely in the right.

Let me repeat that: they are absolutely right. They're justified. Validated. Not in the wrong. They win.

What they have said is not against the law, it is not false, nor is it even indecent in the sociological context.

To be fair, these guys are worried about what's best for their society, and maybe a little bit about themselves. They feel threatened, and feel allowing any indecency to occur in their midst would enable crumbling in their system, which has worked well for them for years. They're tough on the rules, because otherwise the entire structure and support everyone counts on would collapse. Who can blame someone that wants to protect what they think is best for their children and the society in which they live?

The one that's in the wrong is the woman. She cheated. Committed adultery. She is messing with the family genes and is therefore deserving of punishment. This punishment. "Stones thrown at you until you're dead" punishment.

The man they're saying all this to knows this, the rules and what's right in this situation. The poor woman can only look on, horrified, as she knows exactly what's coming for her.

The man doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he bends down and starts to write on the ground. The woman looks on anxiously, wondering if he's attempting to start class again. Maybe he didn't hear them, although she's not sure how that's possible.

Her accusers repeat her crimes, demanding the man respond.

The woman wonders if there's more to this story than her recent indiscretion - these men seem to be keen on getting an answer from this man, and she wonders why they haven't just started throwing rocks at her. What's one less arm throwing a stone going to really do to the process of a slow and painful death for her?

After they continue to question him, the man stops writing in the dust, and stands up. He turns to the men who dragged her here, who are still holding her up, who are accusing her and questioning him, and simply says that whomever has never done anything wrong should be the one to throw the first stone at this woman.

Then he drops down to ground level and takes up his writing in the sand once again.

As the men accusing and the religious leaders yelling and the audience crowding around with their stones in hand hear this, they pause. A wave of hesitation sweeps over the anxious crowd. The woman looks around, and you can almost sense everyone at once stand up slowly, as their thoughts drift back into the depths of memory. They remember their own pasts, recall their own mistakes, and shudder, as they are forced to look back at ways they too have been imperfect.

One by one, beginning with the oldest, those with the longest histories, the people leave. The woman watches on, dumbfounded, as the crowd begins to dwindle.

Soon she is standing alone with the man who writes in the ground, the teacher, whose opinion every was so keen on hearing.

"[The man] straightened up and asked her, 'Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?'"

"No one," she said.

"Neither do I condemn you," Jesus said. "Go now, and leave your life of sin." (John 8:1-11)

Why does he let her go? It's not that he's unaware of the law. To be clear, he's completely aware of the letter of the law. But still, he lets her indiscretion slide. Why?

Because of what He understands. He knows her search for love was fruitless, that it was settled for in all the wrong places. He knows that when a person commits adultery, or another sin of any sort, the damage they're really doing is to their heart, and there's a longing inside that isn't being filled in the way it was meant to be filled.

So instead of condemnation, which locks a person to their mistakes and failed attempts at wholeness, he offers grace, and sets her free.

She's pursuing love, so what would condemnation do? Trap her.
What does grace do? Sets her free. To find what she really needs.

He leaves her with the command to leave the life she's been living, knowing that her heart longs to be filled, and the path she's been pursuing will not reach her desired destination. He sets her free to experience the full life she was meant to experience.

And regardless of the fact that the religious leaders and teachers and elders and men of authority were right, it was irrelevant, because there was something more important than being right.

In one of the enjoyable times of fellowship and conversation with one of the dishwashing staff at Taize, my dear friend Sona made this brilliant comment, "People have stones in their hearts, but we should give our stones to God." I don't think she realized at first how profound she'd just been. We'd been discussing Taize and the brilliance of its vision of reconciliation, and the beauty that emerges when people of all different varieties can come together to serve, to live, and to love one another. And I think to love, in the agape, Jesus-sense of the word does just that: it gives up the stones it carries, which imply both that we have something to throw, and a hardness of heart.

Taize's view of reconciliation and love is brilliant because it lets go. We drop our stones, and we pursue people instead. We pursue life for people and for ourselves, and a beautiful, fulfilled way to live it. We pursue wholeness, healing, unity, fellowship, and community.

Needing to be right can lead us to sacrifice that which is most important: the fact that there is a situation, a human, a circumstance right in front of us that needs to be loved, inspired, set free from the bondage from whence it came. We may be right at times, but it's irrelevant unless we're loving, i.e. seeking the best for someone. After all, Jesus gave us two commandments that unite them all: Love, and Love. (Matthew 22:36-40)

So, let us LOVE.

You or I may be right, but without loving someone in the process, it's irrelevant.

"If I have all abilities, all knowledge, all sacrifice, but have not love, I have nothing, and I am nothing." -1 Corinthians 13

Let go of the stones. Drop them. And let Jesus teach us about grace.

At the end of the story, notice that everyone leaves. Personally, I wish they'd stuck around, the ones with stones, the onlookers, etc. Maybe they could have learned something.

But then again, as Mother Theresa once said, "it was always between us and Him anyway."

“Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind – and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.” –Mark Jenkins

"Under the surface, we're all the same. Searching for purpose, running from shame..." -Wideawake

"The most effective medicine here on earth is love unconditional." -Sri Chinmoy

"And they will know you [those who know Me] by the way you Love." - Jesus to the disciples

Blisters.

2010-05-17T02:48:00.000-07:00

Alex left for London yesterday, and will be Stateside tomorrow! What a lucky guy. Make sure to give him tons of hugs, and ask for pictures of his hair if you don't see it before his haircut. Those locks are a crazy long length at this point!

I'm currently still in Paris. But today I take a train out to a really neat community in the French countryside, where I'll be for a week or a number of weeks, no telling yet. After that, I'm just not quite sure about what the specific logistics will look like. I may head back to Italy for a bit, do some more exploring. Eventually I'll head to Belgium in June to serve with an organization called MCYM, which is student ministry for the kids of parents in the military. Very cool organization, we'll be taking kids on a couple youth trips, and I have the great pleasure of volunteering on those trips. Very exciting stuff. :)

Then after that I really have no idea. There's a possibility to head to Scotland to volunteer at another amazing and highly reputable community, but I'm still waiting to hear back. Fear not, you'll know when I'm back Stateside.

But until then, I'll be updating when I can, because the lessons and adventures on this trip are not even close to being finished.

What's funny to me is what a trip like this makes a person look like once it has taken its toll, and I mean that physically, mentally, spiritually, physiologically. At day 77, Alex and I have had more than our share of experiences, embarrassment, laughs, frustration, surprises, simple pleasures, confusion, being lost, new friends, taking too many pictures, not getting enough sleep, sleeping in the strangest places, trying to find our way, etc. We've handled tons of maps, broken English directions, metro and train tickets, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, foreign currency, host's keys, etc. All our clothes are dirty and there's a bit of fraying, and we're basically tourist-ed out. We're now used to sleeping anywhere as long as we're horizontal, but every so often we'll find a few hours of REM sleep even sitting upright on a train. We're ready to not be on the move every few days, and while I'll still be traveling even though Alex gets to head home, the blessing is I'll be able to be in one place for a longer amount of time than what we were clocking before.

Not only do we have the pictures and blog and stories and worn backpacks to prove the authenticity of this trip, (That's to say, we haven't been hiding out in a basement somewhere back home faking a 7 hour time difference), but Alex is a little bit scruffier, both of us have crazy long hair, and to look at us you'd notice we're a little worn from the type of living we've been doing. Although, I think he's made it out more unscathed than I have.

On this trip I have had what I believe was food poisoning, and a strange stomach resulting from that experience for about a week and a half. I currently have what look like zombie eyes because of a blood vessel issue in both eyes, so I wear my sunglasses at night (in addition to indoors and out during the day) to avoid frightening little children. The blisters on my feet are on their 6th or 7th generation. Honestly, I never thought I'd get used to walking on blisters, and no longer find it uncomfortable. But truth be told I've grown used to my blistered feet, they no longer cause me pain, discomfort, nor do I really take much notice anymore. A trip like this is guaranteed to take its toll on a person, and would be letting you down if it didn't change you.

In Isaiah there's a verse that says, "How beautiful are the feet of those that bring the good news." (Isaiah 52:7). Take a minute to think about the kind of feet referred to here. I seriously doubt they're foot models. Considering these, and the feet of Jesus and the disciples, those feet have seen a lot of walking in their constant travels, as was necessary to communicate any sort of message to more people than in your small community. I imagine their feet would shock the Vietnamese woman giving pedicures as I'm sure mine would, if not more. Travel, specifically travel by walking, was a staple for the lives of those who wanted to get a message out, and especially a staple for the disciples, etc. And I now have first hand experience of what the feet of a traveler that does a tremendous amount of walking look like.

I'm thankful for the blisters, because they mean we've been traveling. They mean we've gone places, seen things, met people, had experiences, made ripples in the water of this world, experienced growth, and perhaps places and people are different for having met us, or are inspired from having known us, as I know for certain we are different and inspired for having been to those places and met new people. I'm thankful for the callouses that develop from the blister process, for on this journey we have lost layers, of skin, and more importantly, of who we were, layers we thought we needed, only to find that they have been replaced by new, stronger layers underneath.

Did you know that the Monarch butterfly, in caterpillar form, sheds it's skin/shell 4-5 times before it actually undergoes the butterfly transformation process? When it does finally go from caterpillar to butterfly, the emergence from the cocoon is a great struggle for the butterfly. But it is this struggle that gives the butterfly its beauty, and its wings the great strength needed for life. For the more the butterfly struggles when coming out of its cocoon, the stronger and more beautiful its wings will be.

May we grow to be grateful for the struggles and trials we are enduring, whether at home or abroad, knowing that there is a strength and perseverance building up from enduring such things, a beauty soon to behold, a great change going on within. I agree with Paul when he says, "For I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." (Romans 8:18)

"Meaning is not something you stumble across, like an answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of the affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. The ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success or failure is of less account."

“To get to know a country, you must have direct contact with the earth. It’s futile to gaze at the world through a car window.” – Albert Einstein

Invisibility on the Metro.

2010-05-10T10:55:00.000-07:00

Imagine a train station. Imagine high ceilings, long hallways, and lighted boards constantly flickering, displaying destinations and times and platform numbers. Imagine directional signs guiding a person towards luggage storage, the ticket counter, the toilets, the exit, and the nearest metro station. Imagine escalators and stairs going in every direction, leading the masses to various platforms, through security checks, to local restaurant flavor and shopping for the traveler to nourish their needs and spending desires. Imagine flurries of people with suitcases, backpacks, pets, children, guidebooks, cell phones, and maps, meandering through such a scene, all in a hurry, trying to avoid all obstacles, human and inanimate, that may be in their frantic way.

Imagine a metro station. Imagine a dark tunnel, with one or two sets of rails parked in between opposite platforms. Imagine a row of ticket machines with lines of people in front of them, all fishing through their pockets for change as they navigate the 21st century touch screen. Imagine the crowds pouring down the escalators from upper to lower levels, and the stairways packed with people moving at a slow pace that allows no one to be in much of a hurry. Imagine rows of turnstiles checking your purchased ticket that's small enough to be impossible not to lose, with all but two of the turnstiles in either direction out of order. Imagine colorful maps and color-coated signs directing the masses to the correct destination and line. Imagine trains that run on time and follow the "every two minutes" time clock on the one board per tunnel, but train cars that are so packed that you can often forget about sitting down, in fact, you're always breathing in the flavor of someone else's chewing gum, your hands slip due to the humidity of so many people from the bars that are meant to help stabilize as the train weaves through the winding tunnels, all the while you're wishing you could be one of the people only carrying a purse instead of the giant backpack your current lifestyle demands.

These days, these are the places I live.

And these are my neighbors, the people I sit next to but never speak with, the people whose personal space I have invaded and they've invaded mine but we've never introduced ourselves, the people I've spent hours with going from one country to another but have never known what their passions are or who their dearest friends are, nor do they know this information about me.

These are my neighbors, and half the time, I don't even see them. Perhaps they don't even see me. (Although, when Alex and I have the backpacks on, everyone sees us.) This isn't an animous or bitter observation, because especially on the metro, we aim to go unseen. Not only can it be awkward to make eye contact, but you're focused on going from point A to point B, you're counting the stops until yours, and a person hardly has time to concern themselves with who else is riding the same metro. People on the metro avoid eye contact, put on their headphones, stick their noses in books; they stay in their own world for the same reason I dress even more conservatively than I do back home: we don't want to be noticed. We're aiming for invisibility.

And this makes sense in the context. You're on your way to or from work, your mind is in another place, you're trying to get something done, etc. Perhaps it's purely an effort to mentally use the time efficiently, or it could be that after a long and trying day, it's nice to get some quiet and not have to interact for your 30 minute commute home. Perhaps you just don't want to be a possible victim of the common theft that often occurs in such places.

The invisibility can be quite appealing, I imagine. Whether traveling from city to city or enjoying the personal seclusion of the crowded metro, you're never really staying long enough for people to actually see you, or for any sort of responsibility or ownership to settle in. We've been traveling for over two months now, and honestly, we make new friends every single day. But even if we spend a few days exploring cities and sharing in laughs with these people, we don't ever get the pleasure of really getting to know their depth, or letting them know ours.

And the cities, don't even get me started on how much we don't see in each city and country. It's impossible to do unless you have months and years of time to dedicate to each. When backpacking, time really only allows you to scratch the surface with people and places, and honestly, you really only get to wave at them, then bid them the best of luck in their travels.

Most of the time, this is acceptable, at least to us. Because we're on a mission to see places and keep moving, and it's not all that sad to leave things behind with such a bright future ahead. But then again, every once in a while you meet someone, or you encounter a place, and leaving doesn't become so easy anymore.

Did you know that when you ride the metro, you purchase a ticket in the denomination of "journeys"? Meaning, you can purchase one "journey", or you can purchase, let's say, 10 "journeys", which is a handy purchase for the tourist/traveler such as we are.

But one "journey" is defined as the distance from where you first enter the metro, to where you last exit the metro. That being said, a "journey" could consist of riding only one line, if that's all it takes to get to where you're going, or it could involve two or three metro lines, and multiple interchanges. From when you first enter the metro system to when you eventually exit, this is all under the definition of one, single "journey."

So theoretically, if a person had the time and desire, for the small price of a "one journey" ticket, one could just ride the metro all day long, never exiting to return up above to the hustle and bustle of life, never getting off at a stop to go out and participate in the world around. A person could just keep on riding the metro, to their heart's content.

Come to think of it, it seems entirely possible that a person could spend their entire life on the hypothetical metro, never getting off at any stop, never actually participating in a life where people see you and know you.

I suppose you could be anyone on the metro, or while traveling. The other day, we were at a hostel in Lisbon, and the 47762657th person asked me what I would do when I went home/what I did when I wasn't traveling. Instead of giving them the honest epic tale briefly telling of 2-3 years searching for purpose and enlightenment, which is still ongoing, I thought I'd spare this stranger/potential friend the bore, and instead provide some lightheartedness between us. So I simply responded,

"I'm a ninja."

And without missing a beat, he was clever enough to respond with comments about the job security of such a career and his personal struggle with tapping into such a secretive job market. It's always a good day when you find someone so quick-witted and easygoing as that with which to banter.

But the thought then occurred to me how easy this would be to do everywhere. One city I could play the ninja card, then next city or country I'm an underwater basket weaver, another I'm a pirate on leave, and the next perhaps my life consists of circus performances and finely tuned trapeze skills.

And like the hypothetical metro, I would remain in a perpetual state of invisibility, because no one would ever actually get to know who I really am.

For the last 6-7 years, I've lived a life that many would consider nomadic. Never quite satisfied with where I was, the place and the path I was pursuing continued to change every few months or year. A mentor once said I was simply having trouble adjusting to the point in life where it was time to lay down roots. But at this news I was appauled - I had no intention, at the time of that conversation, to lay down any roots anywhere. It wasn't that I was having trouble adjusting, it was that I was adamantly rejecting the idea! That was 3 years ago. Now, I'm beginning to see that traveling is teaching me what it really means to be somewhere, and the type of place I'd really like to be, what it means to really get to know a place, a city, etc, not to mention the type of person I'd really like to be. (Yes, a ninja.)

Traveling can be so glamorous, but as we move from place to place I begin to hear the Postal Service's cold words in the back of my head, "I am a visitor here, I am not permanent..."

I think after a while it will be time to get off the hypothetical metro, and hopefully we all find a place where we can do so. There's something very beautiful about finding your way home, to the people that you'd like to let go of the invisibility for. I suppose it can be frightening, letting down one's guard, because what if they don't like what they see, or we don't like who we really are behind the fun and entertaining "ninja" mask? But to have a place where people know you, where you're really seen in a deep and powerful way, can be the most incredible feeling and reality to discover. I know there is great beauty to be found in places I can visit. But what can be said about the beauty of a place you don't want to leave?

Perhaps we're all trying to get home, to a place where we can let down our guard, and be visible, to people. Except I wonder, if you ride the hypothetical metro long enough, do you forget how to be anything but invisible?

If you know and see me, you can inspire me, encourage me, support me, cry with me, laugh with me, gently help me see my faults and blind spots, grow with me, and share in all things that life entails with me. If I know and see you, I have the great pleasure of doing the same, and I can share in your life with you. But as exciting as it can be to constantly be on the move, unless we get off the metro and dig in somewhere, we will never be able to experience more than this surface level joy with people, or with the places we visit.

It doesn't even have to be literal travel. Like I said, the metro could be hypothetical. Proximity to someone does not automatically mean depth of relationship, and your literal neighbors could be just as foreign to you as those I ride the metro with daily. On the other side, there are those that I do not currently see at all that know my heart more deeply than everyone else on the planet. I think, like in the case of the metro or the ninja question, it all depends on how much we let someone else see into who we really are, and if we're actually listening when someone decides to let us see who they really are.

My hope is that whatever our travels may be, we are learning what it means to dig in to a place, to fully be known to people and to fully know people, to stop 'flirting with life' and to start building solid relationships and legacies. Because it is becoming increasingly obvious that it is people that make up the stories worth telling, that make the memories worth reliving, and that make the journey and places come to life.

"Everybody's talkin' in words I don't understand
You've got to be the only one who knows just who I am...
Cause you make it real to me" -James Morrison

"We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend." -Robert Louis Stevenson

“Traveling is like flirting with life. It’s like saying, ‘I would stay and love you, but I have to go; this is my station.’” –Lisa St. Aubin de Teran

Some days you turn 25.

2010-05-09T11:13:00.000-07:00

Like today, for example.

Some days your birthday is on Mother's Day, and the two go poetically hand in hand, since you're her oldest child. :) You're thankful she decided to be a mom, that she keeps deciding to be a great one, and you're thankful to be alive yet another year, breathing oxygen and all that jazz.

Some days, you're traveling, backpacking through Europe with your 19 year old brother.

Some days, like today, you sleep and wake up on a train, even if it's your birthday. Because the day still has its priorities and demands, and right now the priorities and plans involve travel.

Some days, you're surrounded by strangers that have no idea today is so special in your world, as my current neighbors are always strangers, and my current neighborhood(s) are metro and train stations.

Some days are better than others, especially when traveling.

Some days, despite your careful planning, volcanic ash and other things in the universe cause your well-laid plans to go awry, and instead of making it all the way to Italy tonight, you find yourself stuck in places you didn't plan to be.

But some days being stuck isn't so bad.

Because some days do take their own course, but often, if you listen as the day unfolds, things can turn out quite better than you'd planned, people can surprise you, and a day you might have thought to be regular and a birthday you thought might pass by rather unnoticed can turn out to be absolutely blissful.

Some days you end up sleeping in Barcelona rather than on another night train. Which means that some days, this 25 year old gets the opportunity to get a shower and sleep in a comfy bed rather than a train seat, go for an evening run on the beach in Barcelona, enjoy a free meal, use the free internet to receive her warm birthday wishes from her thoughtful friends and family, and go to the zoo with her brother and their new friends to celebrate her 25 years of existence.

Some days, much like this trip, are nothing like I expected. But when given the chance to run their course, most days, especially this trip, are everything I hoped they would be. Some days are not what we imagined, but exactly what we needed.

I love days like these. :)

“To travel is to live.” -Hans Christian Andersen

“Stop worrying about the potholes in the road and celebrate the journey.” -Fitzhugh Mullan

“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” -Martin Buber

15 days until the next great adventure.

2010-05-02T10:34:00.000-07:00

15 days until Alex and I part ways. He'll head back to the States and I'll head to the French countryside for a bit.

We're currently in Barcelona, and tomorrow we leave for Madrid.

I turn 25 in one week. And all I ask for my birthday is that you have and enjoy some Taco Bell, on May 9th. That would be the best gift ever. :)

We're still having a great time. But I think in some ways we're ready for what's next. For Alex, the land of the free and the home of the brave, complete with free refills, Taco Bell, good friends and loved ones. For me, a time of some very cool and highly recommended communities where I get the chance to volunteer, meet some incredible kids, go back to Italy for a while, go to the French countryside, go back up to Scotland, and hopefully be completely ready for the path and graduate study I'll pursue when I do finally return to the States. We'll see how it all plays out... :)

For Alex the trip is almost over, at least the trip abroad. J.M. Barrie said, in his tale Peter Pan, "To live will be a great adventure."

For me, I haven't even hit the halfway point for being abroad yet.

Unbelievable.

It's funny to me to think how life goes on, even when we may feel the world should stop turning because of an event or circumstance. Someone dies, and the rest of the world gets up the next morning and drives to work and goes about their business as if they're unaware that our world has stopped. Someone leaves/moves, and even though they're missed, we carry on, we go about our days. 9/11 happens in the States, and Texas still has their football games and practices. The London Underground is bombed, and the British still carry on, business as usual, by riding the Tube, as if nothing happened. It's not insensitive, and it's not just the sorrowful moments. It's actually quite brilliant. For if the world stopped turning every time an event of great magnitude occured, at the macro or micro level, nothing would ever get done, there would be no force of time pulling forward the grieving/healing process, and we'd all have a bit of metaphysical whiplash from the world constantly slamming on the brakes.

Alex and I, we've certainly changed. We may not be aware of how we've changed, or that we've changed at all, but after visiting over 50 cities in 2.5 months, meeting a handful of people in each country, and sharing in meals, laughs, and adventures with those people and the various cities, a person can't go through such things and not come out the other end different than how he or she went in. Absolutely unavoidable.

And yet, you've changed too. You've had days and seen things and had experiences that we haven't been able to share in with you. Life has carried on back home even though we weren't there to live it with you.

When we return home, you may think our stories are more exciting to hear and tell. But I beg to differ, because where you were, life was happening and people were interacting and transportation was necessary and not always predictable...and we're going to want to hear about it.

We promise to tell you our stories, and hopefully avoid too much embellishment. Hopefully up until this point you've felt like you've been able to join in some of our experiences. But you should tell us yours too. Because we're coming home, to reinsert ourselves back into your lives, and we have every intention of having just as much fun in the day to day, as we had here in Europe, living the alleged "adventurous" life. Because I agree with J.M. Barrie. I think, among the people that we love and cherish and have missed ever so much, the people we can't wait to get home to, to laugh with and hug once again, to meet at Starbucks, Taco Bell, or anywhere conducive for some phenomenal conversation, to watch hours of tv series marathons and movies with and live the daily life with - to be back among our people and living, that is the next great adventure.

Personally, I am so looking forward to it. :)

"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow." - Lin Yutang

"I should like to spend the whole of my in life travelling abroad, if I could anywhere borrow another life to spend afterwards at home.” – William Hazlitt

“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.” – George Moore

Public transportation: 2. Stephanie & Alex: 0.

2010-04-27T15:33:00.000-07:00

Time for an update, for you, the Reader. It's Day 57. In exactly 21 days, Alex heads back home. Can you believe it's gone by so quickly?

Now, to catch you up, let's answer the question we get at least once a day, as we're meeting tons of new people and everyone wants to hear about our travels thus far:

"Where have you been so far?"

I'll tell you.

England (London, Windsor, Manchester, York, Bath, Salisbury)
Scotland (Inverness, Aberdeen, Edinburgh)
Wales (Cardiff)
Ireland (Dublin, Rosslare)
France (Cherbourg, Paris)
Belgium (Brussels, Brugge)
The Netherlands (Leeuwarden, Amsterdam)
Germany (Berlin, Munich, Frankfurt, Konstanz)
Switzerland (the Alps)
Finland (Lahti, Helsinki)
Sweden (Stockholm)
Norway (Oslo, Bergen)
Denmark (Copenhagen)
Czech Republic (Plzen, Karlovy Vary, Prague)
Austria (Innsbruck, Salzburg, Vienna)
and
Italy (Venice, Varese, Milan, Bologna, Florence, Genoa, Latina, Rome)

Thus far.

Like I said, there's still three weeks left of the backpacking portion of this trip, and more sights, cities, delicious food, and people to meet.

Since we're moving at such a rapid pace, it was nearly impossible to prepare ourselves Rosetta Stone style for all the communication. But you'll be happy to know, we're learning at least one new language:

The Language of Public Transportation. (Not yet available in Rosetta Stone.)

For those of you that have experience living in a big city with lively and fully functioning public transportation, this is probably a language you already know. But coming from a small town near a big city that relies on the automobile for a person's main means of transport - the public transportation system is not our first language, or forte.

But, rule # 7 is this: If you learn how to navigate the public transportation system, it will be almost as if you actually speak the language.

For example, I don't speak Dutch, French, German, much Italian, or any of the Scandinavian languages, but within seconds of entering a train station I can now find the information booth, and know which word means platform, train number, etc. I never understand what the people on the overhead announcements are saying when they speak to the passengers, but I have learned how to recognize when it's time for our stop. (For the most part - more on that later...) I know now what "next stop" is in multiple languages. I know when they want to see my ticket/rail pass, even though I never understand what they're saying.

I've learned to simply recognize the word of the stop, and can successfully communicate to a native where I need to be. I never have a clue what the rest of the words are, and I couldn't carry on a more detailed conversation with any of the natives in the countries, but I can successfully count the number of stops from where I am (insert the name I just read from the sign here), to where I need to be (insert the name of the location I need here).

But just because we're learning a new language doesn't mean we always win when it comes to speaking this language.

Most of you know this, but I'm going to state it anyway. Alex and I, we're Texans. Not just any Texans either, we're from the DFW/Houston/Austin areas. Those are the places Alex and I have spent the most time while living in the Lone Star State. Those of you familiar with said cities and our state are familiar with the lack of a public transportation system that could legitimately rival Europe's.

Just when we thought we'd really conquered the train system in Europe, this occurred:

16:37 we're supposed to leave from Florence to Pisa. Italian trains are notorious for running on their own schedule, and true to form, our train pulls away from the station at 16:57. Given this delay, I mentally factor in an extra 20 minutes until we're supposed to arrive at our destination. The train to Pisa is roughly an hour.five long. We didn't sleep the healthy 8-9 hours the night before, so on the train Alex dozes off. He usually seems to count on me to be on top of the game when we're on the train and he's tired, and I don't mind. But after being on trains for 2 months on a regular basis, we've caught on to when we can relax and when we need to keep alert. This train on the schedule appears to be ending in Pisa, and that kind of stop is nearly impossible to miss. So while I never doze off on the train, I definitely nod off once or twice. And at one point, I start to think "we should have made it to Pisa by now." But as I'm aware of the reputation of Italy trains, I'm not concerned. Although...it's never served me poorly to ask for directions, so I walk up to an old woman with kind eyes, and ask her how far to Pisa.

"Pisa?"

"Si."

(Points over her shoulder). "Back. We...already pass. You miss."

"Oh."

Honestly, I'm not concerned, or really jilted. It's just one of those moments where I realize, what the heck are you going to do?

So I return to my seat and inform Alex. He responds with the same composed demeanor. I mean honestly, what are you going to do at this point? So we at first consider getting off at the next big stop. But after one smaller stop, we begin to think it could be quite a while before we get to the next major station. So we get off at the next stop, anticipating a train will come through heading in the opposite direction to take us back from whence we came.

The lady with kind eyes gets off at the same random stop we chose: S. Stefano Magra. (Actually, it's a beautiful place, definitely not a bad place to get stranded.) The lady continues in her kindness by asking again, "You go to Pisa, no?" We nod, and then explain we'd like to get there or to Rome. She proceeds to explain to us that this isn't a major station, and we can't get to Rome from here. But we can get back to Pisa, or carry on to La Spezia. She runs off to check the schedule. (This should be known - we're under a bit of a time crunch. From Pisa, trains don't run all night to Rome, and we're currently running the risk of missing the last train of the day. This fact is in the back of our minds the entire time.) Turns out there's a rain leaving within the hour that gets back to Pisa, but it doesn't arrive until roughly 15 minutes past the last train to Rome. The reason we're so keen on getting straight to Rome tonight is this: we have a Couchsurfing host there awaiting us, and not only would we prefer not to pay for accomodations if we already have them lined up, but we're anxious to get to Rome, meet up with Allison, and explore.)

So we hope the next train to La Spezia at 19:28. Arriving at La Spezia Centrale at 19:46, we have roughly 14 minutes to catch the train to Rome, the last train of the evening. But, it requires a reservation, and we've arrived a few minutes late. So I drop my stuff down with Alex at the platform, and race off to secure a reservation for us. (If you don't make a reservation for a train that requires one, you can incur a 40 euro fee, if not more.) But not only am I running short on time, but I really have to pee, don't have any time to do so, and while a nice Nigerian let me go in front of him in my angst and rush, the two Chinese girls at the counter in front of me did not share my passion for alacrity at the moment. By 19:58 I figure it's worth the 40 euro fee as long as we catch our train, and I run back to the platform where I left Alex. Right as I run up the stairs, the train pulls up, and we quickly grab our bags and hop on. I explain I didn't manage to get reservations, but Alex, noticing the lack of humanity aboard said train, doesn't think it's going to be a problem.

Now we're on the train. Insert sigh of relief here. There aren't many feelings better than catching the train you needed when you thought you surely wouldn't make it. We've experienced this feeling multiple times during our travels. As Christian would say, we're "time optimists."

I drop my stuff in our seats and run off to find a bathroom, glad we can finally relax from this minor catastrophe of ending up in the unfamiliar small towns of Italy.

But as I'm walking around the train, I'm recognizing that for a "reservation compulsory" train, it's rather dingy. My first opinion is only confirmed when I try the first bathroom, the lock is broken, and I nearly walk in on someone doing their business.

"Mi dispiace."

Second bathroom is unoccupied, but the toilet is missing a seat cover, toilet paper, paper towels, and soap. What it does have is a faucet that works, but only for 2.7 seconds, and all that time it merely sputters out. Beautiful.

I return to my seat, to find my observations confirmed: the dingy-ness of this train does not match up to the typical train that requires a reservation. Why? When I return to my seat, Alex looks at me and exclaims, "I think we're on the wrong train."

You're kidding me.

Turns out we hopped the train on platform 2, and we should have been on platform 3, the one directly behind the wrong one we took. (There are downsides to the flexibility a rail pass provides.)

So now we discover, after my broken Italian words helps me ascertain information from the only other person on the train, that we're bound for Genova/Genoa. We will be arriving there at 21:30.

At this point there's no hope in making it to Roma tonight, as we're only getting further away, and the train system is nearly completion for the day. Fortunately, and for this I'm quite thankful, the city towards which we are headed is in our guidebook, and I am able to call and reserve us a room so we have a place to sleep that night. What awaits us is a very nice bed upon which to sleep, with breakfast included in the price, and the most cheerful and welcoming Italian concierge we've ever met.

On the plus side, I am thankful for guidebooks, our pay-as-you-go-phones, and a God that provides. Not to mention, who knew one could get access to your email, Facebook, and bank account from the Kindle experimental basic web feature? Nifty.

“A good traveller has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.” – Lao Tzu

"Tourists don’t know where they’ve been, travellers don’t know where they’re going.” – Paul Theroux

Simple things, great pleasure.

2010-04-23T13:23:00.000-07:00

“Travel does what good novelists also do to the life of everyday, placing it like a picture in a frame or a gem in its setting, so that the intrinsic qualities are made more clear. Travel does this with the very stuff that everyday life is made of, giving to it the sharp contour and meaning of art." -Freya Stark

When it comes to my taste buds, my palate is a bit strange, as far as most opinions go.

For example, I actually prefer the gourmet quality of Taco Bell's grade F meat to the authentic and high quality Mexican food. (But given how much I mention Taco Bell, this may not surprise you at all.) In addition, I will choose the tastiness of delivered pizza such as Papa John's or Dominos over a pizza cooked by a fancy Italian restaurant. (Although I'm currently in Italy, and any pizza, anywhere, from any place tastes delicious. You can't miss in this place). When ordering ice cream, 99.9% of the time I'm ordering classic chocolate, no matter what kind of snazzy and creative flavors are options.

What can I say, I'm a girl of simple tastes, and when it comes to food, I'm not complicated to please. In fact, as you have probably ascertained by the amount of blog space I've already dedicated to Taco Bell, I take great pleasure in my simple tastes. (Plus, they save me quite a bit of money on food!)

People used to tell me that high school or college were going to be the best four years of my life. Anytime someone told me this, I thought they were crazy. That sentence alone depresses me. Who wants to be maxed out at age 18 or 22? Not this girl. I like to believe that life only gets better with age, with wisdom, and with experiences.

When on a trip such as this, backpacking through all these glorious cities in Europe, the days are filled with moments of glamour and beauty, and "once in a lifetime" opportunities abound with all the sights to see and experiences to have.

But as beautiful as the "once in a lifetime" joys are, I personally think it's a bittersweet concept to only get something so joyous once in a lifetime. Were my sources of great pleasure only found at the expense of a one time backpacking experience, or the four years of high school or college, logically that leaves a great portion of my life only dreaming about such experiences, or working my way up to the next source of great pleasure. Sadly I find a great many people spend most of their life dreaming about glamorous, exciting experiences while living in a perspective that sees the world (and perhaps even the people) around them as mundane. We believe the great pleasures and joys are only found "once in a lifetime," and somehow we've satiated ourselves with mere dreaming, convinced this is the way things are.

But as for me, I like to find and see the great joy in the little things, the things that will still be available to us tomorrow, the things that can still be found years from now. I'm convinced of this: If we can learn to find great joy in some of the simplest of things, the world will suddenly be filled with possibility for phenomenal experiences all the time.

I once saw the sunrise from Mount Sinai. No question, that was incredible. But I take just as much joy in seeing the sunrise or sunset from the simplicity of a backyard, or the ferry ride a few weeks ago.

Consider the laughter of a child. It is pure, unadulterated, completely innocent, and 100% bursting with authentic joy. Few things are more beautiful, in my opinion. I realize you don't have to cross oceans and time zones to see or hear this, and to me, that's the beauty of it. Its availability on this planet is nearly ubiquitous.

Recognizing this, suddenly one realizes that journeys such as this one, where every day is a new adventure filled with new potential friendships, new photo opportunities, and grand places to visit - these journeys don't have to end when we return home, but they can continue for all of our days.

“The traveler was active; he went strenuously in search of people, of adventure, of experience. The tourist is passive; he expects interesting things to happen to him. He goes sight-seeing.” – Daniel J. Boorstin

On the one hand, I can choose the life of a tourist. I visit beautiful places and people, and let them visit me internally. But I do not take them with me, they do not change who I am.

But on the other hand, I can choose the life of a traveler. I can appreciate the beauty of the Duomo in Florence or Milan, but I can also find just as much beauty in the soft rain falling outside my window, just as much joy in a short message from a good friend.

I would prefer to be a traveler through life, capable of carrying the perspective I am learning and recreating the magical experiences I am living into each and every day of my life, regardless of where I am. For as I am meeting people and seeking out the beauty in places, I ask, "Is this not possible in any place, where there are people and existence and life happening?" Perhaps, if I allow my vision to become inspired, I can find myself living days such as these wherever I am, whomever I'm with. Perhaps you and I and all places are beautiful simply because they all reside under the same sky, because they are all created by the same Hand, because they all reflect life and the beauty that lies within.

I don't wish to spend my life going from one mountaintop to waiting for another, only really taking pleasure in the "once in a lifetime" experiences that take (sometimes) miles and years of valleys to reach again.

No, I wish to find the joy and beauty of the valleys, the mundane, the redundant, the simple, and the commonplace...

...because if we can achieve that kind of vision, the world becomes a blissful romance, a constant delight to the sense, even the shades of gray.

“I soon realized that no journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within.” Lillian Smith

"Your true traveller finds boredom rather agreeable than painful. It is the symbol of his liberty - his excessive freedom. He accepts his boredom, when it comes, not merely philosophically, but almost with pleasure." - Aldous Huxley

What does it mean to 'hope'?

2010-04-23T09:11:00.000-07:00

On April 22, 2010, we are on a train in Italy at 21:45...

We went to Bologna, Italy, with the hopes that we could connect with a Couchsurfing host who said he could host us tonight and tomorrow night. But with no response on Couchsurfing, no texts or calls from the potential hosts to whom I gave our contact information, we were 45 minutes away from missing the last train. So, we are now on a train to Florence.

Picture this, folks. I have duct tape wrapped around the balls of my feet. Why? Because in the process of walking around so much (after the great weather prompted an exciting switch from hiking boots to Birkenstocks), I now have quarter/2 euro-size blisters between the pads of my feet. Unpleasant. Which means I am also slightly limping, as I try to avoid full pressure and body weight upon said duct-taped blisters.

I am walking, with my brother, and I'm constantly on the lookout as we tread through the dark and somewhat daunting streets of Bologna. (Not that Bologna, Italy is particularly scary, but let's be honest, any foreign city where you don't have a place to sleep yet is going to be daunting and a bit creepy when the lights go dim and everyone looks potentially threatening.)

I'm frustrated, because despite the positive statistics of having multiple potential hosts in a city, they have all proved to be fruitless this evening.

I'm exhausted. I miss the days when I didn't wonder where I was going to sleep that night.

I'm a bit afraid. I hate walking around cities at night, especially when they aren't my own cities. It's never less scary, the next foreign city I walk into, with the backpack that screams "tourist", to not have a place to call home for the night, a base at which to set up camp and feel like you have a space in these foreign lands.

And frankly, I'm confused...because I'm out here attempting to put faith in my God, and I'm not exactly sure why He hasn't shown up yet, in this moment.

What does one make of a situation like this? What promises have You made, Lord? What can we actually count on? No one texted or called even though we had people promising they could host us. Yet without contact information or a response with directions in order to meet them, no matter what they said, we still don't have a place to put down our things and rest our heads. Never has it been more frustrating to not have regular internet access, as I must check the Couchsurfing website to see if any responses have been received. And it's far from cheap, using the internet cafes.

So have we been defeated, as we go to Florence to get a hostel? You never promised it would look a certain way. And we did try. Did You fail us? I believe we'd have a host in Bologna, a host said we could stay there, and yet, it didn't work out. So what does one make of this? I feel abandoned in moments like these, thinking, "Surely, if the Lord loves us, He wouldn't leave us without a place to stay." And my situation isn't the worst of possibilities, only a slightly fearful one. There are much worse ways to be spending an evening, much more fearful scenarios that boggle the mind and send shivers down the spine.

It's no coincidence I'm reading the book of Job right now. And as I put on my headphones to find peace in the train ride, I hear these words from Phil Wickham...

"In Your presence, God, I'm completely satisfied."

And there it is. Job says, "Though He slay me, I will hope in him." (13:15)

I don't know if you can relate, but my first reaction when reading what Job says here leaves me completely baffled. What kind of idiot makes a statement like that, going back in for another beating?! Dearest reader, I will never pretend to always be great at deciding to follow the Lord. Sometimes it seems completely illogical, insane, and absolutely ridiculous.

So back to the question at hand. What kind of idiot makes such a statement as, "Though He slay me, I will hope in Him?"

Perhaps the kind that knows what is really worth saving, and fighting for. The kind that has fallen in Love, and believes Your judgement is wiser than mine/his/ours. (Parents will appreciate this one, knowing that sometimes you really do know what's best for your children, and they simply don't see it. Does it make them an idiot to obey you if they can't too see the logic behind the decision? Not at all.)

Perhaps the kind of idiot that knows that things in life are such small things compared to the greater spiritual things. (This reminds me of the time in Matthew 9 when Jesus forgave a man's sins, but at first left him in his crippled, paralyzed state. Only when questioned about his authority to forgive such eternal, spiritual matters did Jesus heal him, saying 'Take up your mat and walk.' Because Jesus knew the greater treasure was to be forgiven for his sins; compared to such things the use of one's legs is not a great triumph.)

But I'm still confused. The disciples followed You, and yet You allowed harm to befall them. Beaten, imprisoned, crucified, persecuted...and yet they continued to hope in You. Paul, referencing David's words, said, "What can man do to me?"

Well - a lot of things! Life seemed to really kick your butt, Paul! You were shipwrecked, beaten, lost at sea, imprisoned, flogged, exposed to death more than once, lashed, stoned, constantly without a place to call home, nearly drowned, seemed to be threatened in one way or another by any and every type of person he encountered, sleep-deprived, often starving, cold, and without clothing, etc. (2 Corinthians 11)

But he had You.

Even Jesus didn't go through life physically unscathed. Why?

At least one reason: to show us that not only do we take in fellowship with Jesus who suffered when we endure, but our prize is in never being left alone by You, God.

I may one day end up sleeping on the streets, or worse, but You are always with me.

Job lost everything. And sometimes that's the way it looks. Sometimes we try and think we are so faithful, hoping You'll respond with "your faith has healed/saved you." (Jesus does a lot of rewarding people's faith in the New Testament). But then, when the day ends, and we're still crippled, we're sleeping in a train station, life is still imperfect, things are still scary...we wonder if we did it wrong. We wonder if perhaps we had the wrong password to Heaven.

Then, we wonder if, this entire time, we've been talking to ourselves, and You are nothing more than a wishful figment of our imaginations.

Or maybe we only care about Your existence as long as it can bring us a good and profitable existence. But that's not Love in the way it's meant, is it?

Perhaps there was and still is something we held as more important than You, perhaps a blessing from Your hand we wanted more than the precious hand itself.

Yet the gift was You. And through that relationship, a beautiful inner life, independent from the outer circumstances, emerges. The kind that can produce joy despite immense pain and struggle, the kind that breeds hope when circumstances appear hopeless.

Though I cry, I may still laugh with You, because You never leave my side. Though I feel pain, disappointment, despair, anger, and exhaustion, all this will pass, and what will be left is always You.

Though this day and moment don't look as I might have wanted, I have You.

Can I be completely satisfied in Your presence? Or am I still hoping the hand will bring me something other than beautiful company, fellowship, empathy, and a shoulder to cry upon?

And honestly, what is better than a hand to hold in a time of need?

"In Your presence, God, I'm completely satisfied." -Phil Wickham

"Though He slay me, I will hope in Him." -Job 13:15

(And yet, the story ends well. Not two hours later, Alex and I found ourselves in the best hostel I've ever experienced. Who knew such a gem stood at the end of the long and weary road we traveled this evening? Through it all, we were safe, we had options, and the means to be flexible with the situation. For You, Lord, are my hope...Psalm 71:5).

“The longest journey a man must take is the eighteen inches from his head to his heart”

Losing things.

2010-04-19T07:39:00.001-07:00

“He who would travel happily must travel light.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupery

I hate to admit this, but in our six weeks of travel, in all the places we've stayed, in the packing and unpacking and repacking and doing laundry and searching for something that you find at the bottom of your belongings so you´ve been forced to take everything out...in this ongoing, cyclical process:

We've lost things.

The list of things we've lost is pretty versatile. We've lost hats, other various articles of clothing, a piece of technology or two, a rail pass, hopefully some body fat, and a few pairs of socks. This is definitely an everchanging list.

We're also losing a great deal of pride, as we learn it's ok to ask for directions, it's ok to like a fool and laugh at oneself, that we don't need to always demand our way in life, it's ok and much more fulfilling to be less selfish and more serving towards others, etc. We're losing the illusion of control over things, as we recognize that mistakes will be made, plans won't always turn out the way you expect, and sometimes you are arriving at a train station, with no means to contact your host, praying that the Lord will guide you and them together so you don't end up sleeping in a remote part of the Czech Republic that evening. We are losing our prejudices as we make new friends of different background, cultures, races, perspectives, sexual preference, ideology, religion, languages, etc. We are losing our vanity as we are working on day 49 of wearing practically the same outfit. We are losing the past's hold on us, as time takes us through experiences that shape who we are and the way we see the world, completely aware that we will never be quite who we were before this trip. We may even be losing some relationships, as time, distance, and divergant paths can often cause interaction to fade and people to lose touch.

But in times such as these, we also gain quite a bit, including a lighter physical load thanks to our forgetfulness of a few belongings. We are gaining muscles of all kinds, from carrying/hiking with/running with our big backpacksto more spiritual/mental muscles from learning how to endure when times are tough and things seem impossible, etc. We are gaining insight into new cultures, cities, perspectives, and ways of life. We are gaining many new friendships whether they be with our gracious hosts or someone we meet on a ferry, in a park, or at a local pub. We are gaining understanding of the way another person lives, believes, interacts, and sees the world, in addition to an understanding of things like foreign public transportation systems, and a few words here and there in various languages. Hopefully we're also gaining a lighter load mentally and spiritually, as we learn that some people really are trustworthy, and that beautiful relationships can develop when we're willing to do what we can and live generously. Hopefully we're gaining a lighter mental/spiritual load as we learn that life really can be fulfilling in the moment and the seemingly mundane, even if a person has no idea what they want to be when they grow up.

"Maybe like a match being lit or the sinking of a ship, letting go gives a better grip..." -David Crowder Band

Maybe sometimes losing things is the only way to really gain. I mentioned previously the concept Jesus mentions of new wine needing new wineskins, instead of being put into old skins. Otherwise the wine spills and is lost, and ruined. Perhaps what we hold onto actually hinders us from moving forward, and it's only when we let go of some things that we can actually be ready to receive the new.

I once heard a bit of information about monkey traps. In tropical countries, in order to capture a monkey, they will put a banana inside some sort of container, with an opening at the top big enough for the monkeys hand to reach inside. The container is obviously anchored to the ground or something to keep it in place. The monkey can easily reach in and grab the banana, but the hole is small enough that the monkey cannot pull his hand back out with the banana still in grip. In order to free his hand, he would have to release the banana, which often the monkey's don't do, therefore making this trap very effective. (So I hear).

"Whoever seeks to preserve his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will keep it." -Luke 17:33

Spending time focusing on what we've lost distracts us from recognizing what we've just received room to gain. We can only carry and hold onto so much in this world/lifetime, and honestly we spend quite a bit of time holding onto things, (physical, mental, spiritual), that simply don't matter, and weigh us down. Burdens, toxic relationships, regrets, and other various types of junk that sap the joy out of life. Hopefully on our journeys we're losing what need be let go of, and gaining that which is priceless and precious.

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose." -Jim Elliott

“If you wish to travel far and fast, travel light. Take off all your envies, jealousies, unforgiveness, selfishness, and fears.” – Glenn Clark

Don't get too comfortable.

2010-04-19T00:46:00.000-07:00

It's hard to come across a really good headache these days. With the comfort of chairs and the sleep number beds, the cocoon of peace easily achieved with one's iPod and headphones, not to mention the effortless access to over the counter drugs that can make a person feel euphoric for days on end, a quality headache is just hard to come by. And if you are lucky enough to stumble upon one of these treasures, they're certainly hard to keep, for the same reasons listed above.

Yesterday we were sitting on a train from Innsbruck, Austria (great view of the Alps) to Salzburg, Austria ("The hills are alive..."). It's a two hour train ride, and Alex and I, having gotten a total of 20 hours of sleep in the last 4-5 days, are both looking forward to a little down time to take a quick nap.

Rule #5 when traveling: Sleep when you can. You never know when you might get another chance, or you'll have to wake up before dawn cracks the next morning. When you have a moment to rest and catch a REM cycle, take it. You'll thank me later.

So, we're on the train, and thinking about catching a power nap, if possible. I speculate upon possibility for two reasons. To start, I'm not sure to what I owe such a gift, but I had managed to be the recipient of one of life's top notch headaches. You know the type - it just seems to make everything on the inside feel as though your skull is officially too small for what's inside anymore, and no matter which way you wear your hair or take off your hat or close your eyes, the throbbing only seems to be agitated by your lack of appreciation for it, and plays its rendition of Stomp even louder within your cranium.

So I'm simply trying to sit still and make peace with my headache, appreciating the opportunity to take off my bag, jacket, scarf, and sweatshirt, unlace my shoes a little bit to give my feet some breathing room, and put in my headphones for some delicious tunes.

About 20 minutes into the train ride, a slew of high schoolers boards, and the volume at which a group of teenagers communicates breaks through my "death to headache" cocoon, obviously catching my attention. Pretty soon a pushy gentleman I can only assume is one of the chaperones opens our compartment door (on this train they have those 6-seater compartments, like the ones seen in the Harry Potter movies), and begins yelling at us in German.

Eventually we get him to explain to us, that we are clearly in their reserved seats.

Rule #6: Do not get too comfortable. You are not at home. This is not your space you are occupying. You will eventually have to get off your train, or you'll be in someone's way and need to move, or getting too comfortable could cause you to push the boundaries of the setting you are in. (Our last Couchsurfing host had some rather strange rules when it came to surfing at his house because of (literally) terrifying previous experiences - most of which I was afraid to ask what horrific circumstances prompted such guidelines).

And that's fine, it's happened before, us being in someone's reserved seat. Some of the trains are well marked when people make reservations, other times it is a vague and unmarked process, and you just sit down, hoping that no one comes along claiming you're in their reserved spot. Not to mention, we appreciate a reservation as much as anyone, so it's perfectly understandable that you want the seat you took the time to secure.

We begin to lace up the shoes, gather up our belongings and bit of food we'd gotten out, and we are now attempting to get out of their way. Except, due to the space these compartments take up, the aisles outside of the compartments really only fit one person. At a time. Sans bags.

Currently we're caught in a stampede of teenagers, heading the opposite direction that we need to go to evacuate the premises of their reserved space, and this guy won't stop yelling at us in German that we're in his compartment.

"Yes sir, I understand this, but given the fact that I have this giant bag upon my back, and you and your kids all have massive suitcases and the 60 of you are taking up this train car and the next two, I'm not exactly sure where you want me to go."

Finally he understands, and the Red Sea of Austrian trains parts. We kindly step out of their way, and proceed to find another compartment with just one woman sleeping in it. We ask her if it's available (wouldn't want to get caught up in another reservation situation), to which she nods, and we sit down and relax once again.

But Rule #6 still applies. Not 15 minutes later, we reach another stop. The middle school version of 15 minutes ago boards the train, and sure enough, we're in someone else's way again.

Oh good, because I was actually starting to get worried that this headache I'd been nursing would abandon me before its prime. ;) Wouldn't that be a shame? :P

So we again pack up our stuff and move, and we're again in some German chaperone's way, except this episode stars a female character. Finally we find two seats that aren't obviously reserved down at the far end of the train, and manage to spend the last hour of the train ride in one spot. Although this time, we remained at the ready. ;)

Pascal said that “Our Nature lies in movement; complete calm is death.”. Even when the movement seems inconvenient, I've found it often leads to beautiful places, that, while unexpected, can be some of the greatest adventures. After all, we still managed to sit down, did we not? And with the combination of the headache and the inconvenience, one is once again reminded that nothing will ever always be as you expected, nor is everything perfection in this lifetime.

Tomorrow is not guaranteed, nor is it guaranteed to look the way you expect it too. Faith requires a certain amount of flexibility, and optimism. We are called to love the world and its people around us, and every new situation, inconvenience, transition, etc, is another opportunity to love Jesus-style in the direction of one more person. Not to mention, if we hold onto the things of this world with a looser grip, we find our pride that keeps us clinging to demanding our own way lessens, and we can find ourselves to be much more peaceful creatures overall. For it is in our pride that we demand to be seen, noticed, validated, vindicated, etc, and to let go of that sets us free into tremendous places of joy. There is nothing someone can take from you if your identity and peace is not rooted in any of the things around you. Mother Theresa spoke of disregarding when life hands you inconveniences or threatens what you've built or your image, for "It was only between you and Him {the Lord} anyway."

Not to mention, travel and movement through this life is meant to teach us to hold onto things loosely, using them as needed but not allowing them to become things that obtain control over us. Part of the innate purpose of traveling is to keep one at the ready. You lose a grip on many of the things you're so accustomed to having and going unquestioned, and you realize that not much in life is guaranteed, despite the illusion of control and predictability we often fall into believing. Things could change at any second, and if you believe as I do in a place where (agape) Love heals all wounds, you know the things of this world are not meant to make us feel at home, quite the opposite, actually.

'I am a visitor here, I am not permanent...' -The Postal Service

Change is the only constant, in this world where an instant can alter one's existence forever. So sleep when you can, roll with the punches, and don't get too comfortable. One day we'll find our way home, but until then...I have all I need, and I'm simply grateful for a good friend, a good book, and a place to sit down.

Oh look, my headache is gone. :)

“I am so convinced of the advantages of looking at mankind instead of reading about them, and of the bitter effects of staying at home with all the narrow prejudices of an Islander, that I think there should be a law amongst us to set our young men abroad for a term among the few allies our wars have left us.” – Lord Byron

"People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered.

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.

Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.

Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.

Be honest and sincere anyway.

What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.

Create anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, will often be forgotten.

Do good anyway.

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.

Give your best anyway.

In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway."

-Mother Teresa

Taking you with me...

2010-04-14T14:00:00.000-07:00

We´re currently in Berlin. Norway was fantastic, but pricey. Scandinavia was all around a really great place to visit, and experience, although Alex and I are both glad we´re not experiencing their winter climate: cold and dark, and more dark and more cold. For these two Texans, that just doesn´t sound like an adventure we´re ready to tackle.

The other day we woke up on a train, and spent the rest of the day on 4 other trains, including one surprise ferry. That was interesting. We´re on a train to Hamburg, assuming we can relax and mentally shutdown until 20:00, since we´re scheduled to arrive around 20:16. Except, around 17:40, we notice strange surroundings...

Alex: "Stephanie, I think we have to get off the train.."

Stephanie: "What? No, this isn´t our stop, and it´s too early." (I put my headphones back on, then remove them again.) "Wait, why do you say that?"

Alex: "Because we´re on a ferry."

Stephanie: "Excuse me?!"

We grab our stuff because the conductor is pushing us out the door while mumbling something in German, and sure enough, Ladies and gentlemen, please step off the train for 45 minutes, it´s mandatory ferry time, and this one´s for free!

(You see, folks, the rail pass only covers, well, the rails.) For the ferries we´ve had a discount, but still had to pay a bit of a fee.

Which is why Alex was thrilled to announce...

"Stephanie, we just rail-passed a ferry."

Nice.

Rule #4 when traveling: Pay very close attention when traveling on buses/trains/the metro/trams, etc, especially when the major language used is not one you speak. Even if the ticket/information you´ve received says your stop is the last stop, that´s not guaranteed. Even though you think something should be in a certain place, that doesn´t mean it´s there. And you may just find your train ride involves a ferry, the bus doesn´t actually go to your stop the bus driver assured you it went to, the bus driver may not understand your attempt to communicate the stop and therefore tell you it doesn´t exist, among a number of other travel scenario possibilities. Pay attention, and nap at your own risk. ;) The public transportation will take you wherever it´s going, not necessarily where you need to be, or where you think it should go.

“Remember what Bilbo used to say: It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien

Let´s reflect for a second. It´s Day 44. We´ve covered (England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France, Belgium, Germany, Switzerland, The Netherlands, Finland, Sweden, Norway, and Denmark), 13 countries. WOW. A little over a month left of the backpacking portion of this trip, and in that time we´ll tackle 6 more new countries, plus some other cities in a few more countries we missed the first time around. But more important than the countries we´ve visited and will visit are the experiences we´ve had, especially the people we´ve met.

We are meeting so many incredible people as we travel, literally, we´re averaging about 3 new friends a day. It´s completely exhilerating, even for an introvert like myself. I love to hear their stories, learn what they´re passionate about, and try to listen to and get a brief understanding into how they see the world.

But the bittersweet truth about the way we´re currently doing life is that we are forced to leave every single one of these people behind. Especially some we discover that instant and solid bond with, it´s not easy to say goodbye to them a day or two later, having no guarantee our paths will ever cross again in the future, other than what modern day technology makes possible via email/Facebook.

When you really think about it, there aren´t a whole lot of people we get to take with us in life, physically. We move, they move, careers change, paths diverge, and people part ways from being in each other´s daily lives. After all, this is why things like Facebook were invented, right? So that we might more easily bridge the gap that our divergent paths create between us and those we´ve come to know and love.

Why is life like that? Why are there so few people we really ever get to take with us? If you venture out from where you grew up, you leave people behind, and you meet new people. If you head off to a new place whether for school or job or another reason, you leave that place behind and its people as well, and their paths often call them to different places as well. These are the facts of life.

Maybe that´s why dreams are so appealing, but rarely acted upon: we can mentally explore great places and situations, but to act on them usually requires we leave loved ones behind, (not to mention a life of comfort and predictability, therefore security), sacrificing the blessing and privilege of getting to share in the little but meaningful day-to-day moments.

It requires tremendous amounts of courage to leave such comforts and preditability/security behind. It takes faith in something: that what you´re leaving for is worth leaving for. It requires a dedicated focus on one thing, one aim, one prioritized gain, in order to be able to sacrifice a countless number of other things that could easily keep one from moving/exploring at all. If you´re like me, you hope that when you leave people behind, that it´s not forever.

But courage is only possible where fear was first present, and to let fear have its way means we are sacrificing the possibiliy of dreams moving from 2D to 3D, and those dreams becoming our sweet and blessed existence. I´ve always been of the mindset that dreams are worth chasing, and the most worthwhile people are ok to leave behind sometimes, because the sweetest relationships stick with you, and the important ones leave an everlasting mark upon you. (Most of my closest and dearest friends I´ve been in long distance friendships with at least once in my life, often more than once, and often for decades. But these people continue to make a beautiful and lasting impact upon my life, and the Lord continues to work through and bless such precious relationships. And they don´t get replaced either.)

Bear this in mind, unless we chase after those dreams and go out into the world, on the paths we feel called/directed, we will never be able to make the change in the world that could potentially be made. Leaving and going and moving and meeting new people allows us to make new friends, brothers, sisters, and perhaps do more good in this world than we could have done had we let fear have its way and we stayed put. The ones with whom I have continued to share in fellowship and community across the distance continue to inspire me, and give me strength and wisdom with which to use in the places and contexts I currently reside. They continue to impact my life, despite not being in it on a daily basis.

Every person I meet changes me a little bit. Getting to know something about someone can inspire me in some way, make me reconsider things, challenge me, capitvate me, provide me with some much needed company in a time of need, teach me something about the world and the way they see it, or simply bring some much needed laughter or simply joy in a moment. I´ve picked up new entertaining slang, been challenged to grow and be more open, and been reminded of the type of person I want to be. I´ve been given hope by meeting someone that reminded me there are still incredible people in a world that can often look dark and discouraging, I´ve been taught it is better and good for the soul and the heart to live a generous life, always seeking out the sunshine in people and situations instead of getting caught up in the darkness. I´ve been introduced to new music, learned new skills, jokes, and had the pleasure of finding commonalities in people that were formally strangers, and the beauty in the differences with people from all walks of life. Needless to say, who I am does not go uninfluenced by the people I meet. Everyone has a story to tell, and we´re all looking to be loved. I believe the latter points us back to God and the unconditional (agape) love there, and I believe taking time to listen to the story can only soften the heart and make us into better human beings.

Because what would be the purpose of a journey like this if we didn´t come out the other end changed, hopefully for the better? It would be as if nothing happened, and the time didn´t pass. Hopefully even if we return to the places from whence we came, we do not return exactly to the people we were before we left. Experiences like this, each day, are meant to bring us into better versions of ourselves.

And so despite having to leave most of the people I know behind and rely on the blessing of email and Facebook and the occasional postcard to bridge the gap, I smile at the end of the day knowing I take each of you with me, you people that I love and who have made an impact upon my life.

"And if all else fails,
you can look up at the sky,
because it´s the same one
that shines above you and I..."
-Matchbook Romance

You know the impact we´ve had on one another connects us, in one way or another. You´ve left a mark on my soul and I on yours, hearts as well. Who we are is/can be shaped by those around us, and therefore we carry a piece of people with as as we continue on our journeys which often take divergent paths.

Life goes on, and may we realize, as we are forced to part ways, that it was the Lord that connected us in the first place, and He connects us still, through the bonds that have developed in our hearts.

"He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together." -Colossians 1:17

"Once in a while it really hits people that they don’t have to experience the world in the way they have been told to.” –Alan Keightlez

What I've learned from the water...

2010-04-08T13:52:00.000-07:00

Right now we're in Norway. You know that feeling, when you meet someone new, and within a matter of minutes you just know you're going to get along well with this person? They instantaneously make you feel comfortable and at home. In a place where just looking at the street signs reminds us "you aren't at home," I'd say that's quite a feat in itself. Our host here in Norway is like that, immediately welcoming and his demeanour puts you at ease in his home and his presence.

The majority of our hosting experiences have been exactly this. We are meeting newfound family and dear friends all over the place, in so many different countries. I imagine a reunion trip is in order down the road, simply to come back through and visit all our new cherished friends across Europe.

It's such a privilege to be welcomed into someone's home. They make the country immediately seem less foreign, now with an advocate on your side, and if you're lucky, they often feed you, provide a roof over your head, give you a comfy place to sleep, let you borrow their computer for a moment to 1) check email, 2) make couchsurfing requests, 3) upload pictures, 4) Skype, 5) write a blog post, 6) update your Facebook status, 7) book a ferry/train/flight reservation, etc; and provide you with a personal perspective of the city in which they live, and what life within said city/country looks like.

As I said, currently we're in Norway, and when I last left off, we were in Finland. Time with Beth and Caleb was incredible, a much needed rest from the constant motion of the first month of our travels. We're on Day 38 now, can you believe it? So we left Finland on Monday evening, said goodbye to some of my dearest friends, and rode an overnight ferry from Helsinki to Stockholm.

Side note here: Some of my favourite experiences on this trip, second to the people, are the ferry rides. But it's not simply the ferry, it's the access to the ocean that I'm absolutely weak for. I could sit by the ocean for hours, and I'm not sure exactly what it is about the ocean that I adore so much, except I just like how small I feel next to it. The waters we've sailed have been relatively peaceful, hardly any white-capping. (I have my brother Alex to thank for informing me of this term.) But I could just stand up on deck and look at the waters all day long, listening to the sounds they make, and marvelling at the fact that I can't see land in any direction I look. It's terribly important for the soul, I think, to stop and take notice of how tiny we are compared to things like the oceans and the mountains.

(And this is where I get very Zen...)

I learned in high school that a foot of water, that's a mere 12 inches, can carry a Suburban away from its resting location. (That seems ludicrous to me.) A person can drown in only a few, if not a couple inches of water. In its icy form, water can destroy homes, wreck cars, sink ships, and support tons of weight if thick enough. (Here in Norway, we learned that it's quite common to have barbeque's out on the frozen lakes with your family. A strange concept, to say the least, to this Texan, who is accustomed to triple digit heat and who only sees it snow once every 365 days, roughly.)

Needless to say, water's powerful. And yet, meek. (Meek: adj - showing patience and humility; gentle). It's one of the two greatest metaphors for true and authentic strength, in my opinion, the other being the mountains. When upon the ferry, we're in a massive boat, that being a classic caricature for strength and power. But if the water around us wanted to, it could tear us to pieces. We wouldn't stand a chance, whether by iceberg or torrential waves. If the water wanted to, it could smash us to bits and swallow us up without giving us a chance to protest. Yet, despite all this power it could potentially hold over us, it allows us to float on by gracefully. We come bearing a white flag, hopefully respecting the power the water could hold over us, and as we pass through it seems to find no reason to display just how much power it really has, and just how feeble we really are compared to it. The ocean gently submits to our mass, and simply reconvenes behind us, basically untouched.

The greatest type of strength is like that, isn't it? One learns in martial arts that the greatest fighter finds a way to avoid the physical battle entirely, because the real strength lies in mastering oneself, not in obliterating or defeating another. (Sun Tzu says that the battle is won before the two sides even take their positions on the playing field.) The need to tear someone down to make oneself advance a level is actually a sign of weakness, and the true strength lies in simply knowing one's strength, and having no need to prove it. Like the water, the mountains hold a similar powerful meekness. They simply stand, confident in their power, but rarely needing to make sound or great display to make sure you're taking notice of their power.

There's a lot to be learned from the water and the mountains when it comes to strength and power. Often, those wishing to be seen as powerful and as giants among men like to make a lot of noise. We fall victim to this vice called Pride, whispering that we should be noticed, that people should respect us, that our way is the best way and we should loudly make sure everyone respects our authority. But the true strength of character lies in not having to prove oneself at all, I think. Take Jesus for example, a personal favourite for examples of strength of character. This guy knows that He's God, and yet seems to walk about telling people to keep quiet about Him. Why? I suppose when you know you're the Almighty, you really don't have to prove yourself to anyone. That's the thing about strength isn't it: when you really are strong, and know who you are, you have no need to prove it to anyone. But it is when we doubt that we seek the approval and notice of others.

I'm not sure how much we're changing and growing. I don't know if we're learning who we are, or simply getting the opportunity to listen to other people's lives and perspectives, and it will be later in the reflection and retrospection that we'll notice a great change in who we are and have become. But right now, these days, I feel it's very important to just sit, to listen, to let people be who they are, and to let the situation and day teach me what it has to say. Often it is our expectations of who we think someone should be that causes us to add friction to a situation or interaction anyway. We may not agree with something, it may not be how we would do things, but to have visited 11 countries now, been on the road for 38 days, I'm learning that when we shut up and listen, it doesn't have to mean we agree with it, and it doesn't mean we're going to be changed, corrupted, or become confused by letting the ship of another person's being float gracefully on by. What it means is that we can be exactly who we are and still let them exist as they are, and if we have strength like the ocean, we allow room for that other person to exist, and it doesn't have to change our composition in the slightest.

So to sum up: Stockholm was beautiful - that city just consists of islands, and each one has a personality of its own. We really enjoyed just walking around and taking in the sights. Tonight we're in Norway, hoping to see some fjords tomorrow. Travel is still great, and I think most of what we're learning about is simply how to be who we are, among all these different backdrops, cultures, experiences, etc.

When you get a moment, take a minute to consider the power and strength of water, or the mountains. There's no need to prove ourselves to anyone. So, being secure in who we know we are, let us learn to listen to someone else. Especially those we disagree with on perspective, opinion, lifestyle, etc. Let them have their say without needing to retort, clarify, correct them, or even respond with our thoughts. Because simply by listening we don't lose ourselves in the slightest, but perhaps we can learn what it means to love another.

“Experience, travel – these are as education in themselves” – Euripides

"Education is the ability to listen to anything without losing your patience, (identity), or self-confidence." -Robert Frost

Taco Bell, you have captured my heart.

2010-04-04T05:49:00.000-07:00

If you're reading this, you probably know me. And if you know me, you know that there are certain things in life that have captured my heart.

I won't make an exhaustive list here. But one of the things in life that has captured my heart is none other than: Taco Bell.

I kid you not, Reader-That-Isn't-Familiar-With-The-Things-That-Have-Captured-My-Heart. Earlier this year, when the founder of Taco Bell went home, (that's a euphemism for "died"), I had a moment of silence, and my heart endured a heavy thankfulness for this man, Glen W. Bell, Jr. A dear friend even gave me a thoughtful and comforting card, knowing how much Mr Bell's life legacy means to me. When driving around certain parts of Texas, I can tell you which Taco Bell's serve Dr. Pepper, and which ones are solely Pepsi. Did you also know that Taco Bell is the only place you can experience Mountain Dew's Baha Blast? They don't sell it in stores, only at the Taco Bell fountain.

Also, if you've been reading previous blog entries, you've noticed that, on more than one occasion while on this European adventure, I've mentioned having dreams of partaking/almost partaking in Taco Bell. I've come to accept about myself that a love for Taco Bell is not only stomach-based, but appreciation and love for the 48 year old fast-food chain has become founded in my heart and soul as well.

So, needless to say, I was thrilled to discover that towards the end of 2008, Taco Bell opened its doors to the general public in Madrid, Spain. (In 2004 they had opened a store in Spain, but it was on a naval base, and it was only open to those with access to the naval base.) Yum! Brands then announced they would be opening more locations in Spain in early 2009, in order to see how Taco Bell favoured with the European market.

(To answer the unspoken question, of course I sought out this information, Reader. I couldn't not know, and after the dreams became plural, I thought that surely in all of Europe there must be SOME sort of Taco Bell franchise budding...
...Link to Wikipedia below.)

What this means for us, Reader, is that Alex and I will have the great pleasure of partaking in Taco Bell while over here in Europe. It would be hard to overestimate the excitement I'm experiencing at the discovery of this jewel of information.

I am very much looking forward to having a #7, with chicken quesadillas with extra jalapeño sauce, a soft Taco, and (if they have it), a Dr. Pepper to drink. That, right after living like Jesus, is heaven on earth in my books, folks. :)

-S

European Taco Bell - in Madrid, Spain. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taco_Bell
Google Maps gave me this address: Calle de la Calderilla, 1, 28054 Madrid, Spain (Taco Bell)

April Fools.

2010-04-01T13:04:00.001-07:00

"I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship." -Louisa May Alcott

We've been at this thing for about a month now. Happy travel anniversary to us. :)
I'm still a bit sick, and so while that's not fun, I'm realizing that even though there may be aspects of this trip that don't live up to or match my expectations, that doesn't mean it's not still growing us, and that doesn't mean that things have gone awry. (Gotta love when you get the opportunity to use the word 'awry'). Truth be told, often our dreams don't turn out exactly as they plan, but I have found, in my experience, that they usually turn out better, more beautiful, and have a much sweeter effect upon the heart and soul if we let them.

Germany was incredible, and we even got to check the "See Switzerland", eat "Swiss Chocolate" and "Visit the Swiss Alps" boxes off. Let me explain: Luisa and her family live in Konstanz, Germany. (They were incredible, by the way. Luisa gets the award for being the world's best personal interpreter. And Luisa's dad gets the tour guide award. This guy's enthusiasm and warm heart certainly made the sight-seeing over the top enjoyable, entertaining, and educational.) Konstanz is so far south in Germany that you can literally see the Swiss Alps from their backyard. (As Nick would say, that's quality.) So while in Germany we rode the Autobahn, saw an Audi shop, took a ride across the border to go up the Swiss Alps, and enjoyed the hospitality of a legitimate German family. Success!

We've reached a bit of a rhythm in our travels. In each country, we set up base, and then explore with whomever we're with. We make great friends, experience the food, the culture, days in the life, and then when our time in that country is up, we get things in motion for the travel days that bookmark the culture/exploration days. These travel days tend to really suck the life out of us - although it's always great to arrive at the next place, the new country, awaiting the next adventure. This morning - awake at 4:00, leave the house at 4:30. Our first train leaves at 5:00. We meet up with our second train at 7:18. We catch our third train at 8:30. At 9:18 we're walking to a bus stop in Mainz/Frankfurt, Germany, looking for the bus that will take us to the airport an hour away from the main part of town where our flight upon RyanAir leaves to take us to Tampere, Finland. (That's right - we had our first RyanAir experience today too - but I'll get to that in a moment.) But in the process of trying to find our bus stop and ask directions, we supposedly miss our shuttle that was supposed to leave at 9:30. But not to worry, our flight doesn't leave until nearly 13:00, we'll make it in time.

Or...

..the next shuttle leaves at 11:40, and arrives at the airport right at 12:55, exactly when our flight should be racing down the runway pulling away from land and lifting those wheels up. Hmmm...

But a nice German fellow said, "Not to worry, I just called, the shuttle be here in two minutes." (Yay thanks, friend.)

Except, 17 minutes later, we're trying not to grow too concerned at the lack of a shuttle, and our new friend is nowhere to be found.

It's ok, we can take a taxi.

"Of course, taxi driver, all three of both of our first born children you can have...yes, and my right arm....whatever it takes so that we don't miss our flight. Scheiße."

(I kept hoping he'd be in the celebratory spirit and throw out an April Fools somewhere. No such luck.)

But we made our flight, and that brings me to RyanAir. The recommendations were right, it is cheap, but you go over that 15 kg limit on your checked bag, and they'll charge you 20 EUROS per KILOGRAM. Good thing mine was only over by a kilogram, and Alex's was under by a kilogram. Therefore, some minimal shifting allowed me to save any children after #3 that I may have in my lifetime, and my left arm, and avoid any further unnecessary, excessive spending. (All part of the experience/adventure, 'eh?)

(By the way, did you know that when traveling overseas, people first ask if we are Canadian, instead of American? This seems to be a common theme. Apparently, Canadians get offended if someone assume's they're American. I had no idea.)

But aside from RyanAir making their real money by charging you for all the little things, it was quite a comfortable and enjoyable flight. They even arrived 20 minutes early to our destination, which they celebrated by playing joyous calvary-style music over the loudspeaker, and then announcing their record for being on time 90% of the time last year - and the most on time flight company in all of Europe. Let's all give RyanAir a big round of applause...

(Not to mention, it snowed on us as we were leaving Frankfurt - and this Texan will always think snowfall is beautiful! It really is all about taking pleasure in the simple things.)

Now in Finland, with two of my favourite people. Looking forward to a relaxing and nourishing Easter weekend. Finland is beautiful, there's snow on the ground, but even if the scenery wasn't picturesque...brutal travel days, ongoing sickness, and excessive prices are all worthwhile when we have the blessing of fantastic company in each of the countries we've visited so far. I am growing more and more convinced that it is people that make the places what they are - beautiful, welcoming, captivating, and something a person can call home.

“Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.” –Jack Kerouac