On Being and Cold

I become more reflective as the days get colder. I imagine it's because a year both begins and ends in cold, and because it's easiest to think about where time has taken me when I'm not busy thinking about how lovely it is to be outside. And since it is finally double-jacket weather here in Brussels, I am drowning out the cold winds with thoughts about my days.

This has been a year of transition. I began 2012 as an engaged preschool teacher living in Berlin, Germany, and will be ending it as a married intern living in Brussels, Belgium. If you count going to Ohio for the summer to have a wedding, I am living in my third country this year. My job, roommate, marital status, and place of residence have all changed drastically since last time it was cold enough for a jacket over a jacket over a sweater. Even the type of job I'm doing is new; I've gone from working with children every day to interning with an NGO who works with the EU institutions on behalf of organisations who work on behalf of organisations who work with children. My life would completely lack diaper changes and toys in primary colours if it were not for my one-year-old housemate, Sophie. (She keeps me young.)

All of the constant changing makes me think about about changes to come. At what point have we sewn ourselves into the jumpsuit of our choices? I studied practical theology for my Bachelor's. I've been a waitress, an RA, a preschool teacher, and am currently on my third (third!) internship, none of which were related. And do you know what I think about more than anything else? Cooking, a field in which I could not hope to be employed without serious and expensive training. There are days that I want to cook until there is enough food to fill the biggest table, and then I want people to surround it and partake in true Viking fashion, with optional cutlery. I would love to travel the world, mostly to learn how to make their most treasured dishes from somebody's mom, who obviously knows the secret to making it better than anyone else ever could. What I don't know is if it's a future to build toward, or something I want to do while figuring out what I want to do.

People who have a firm grasp on what they want to do have always been enviable. It seems to me that most medical professionals have known which career path they wanted to pursue from childhood onward. I assume the same can be said for firefighters, police officers, and super heroes. My husband has known that he wants to teach philosophy since he took his first philosophy class at college, and I love him for it. I, however, have never been that kind of person. So how does one who does not know what she wants step forward?

At the very least I can hope that somewhere there is an intersection with my name on it, where relationship building, cross-cultural connecting, theology, social care, and culinary arts all meet. I believe that is where I would like to build my house someday.

Happy November, everyone.

Walking.

I sometimes take a moment to wonder how I got to where I am now. This moment, a unique and complete set of circumstances, unable to be reproduced or even fully remembered, full of questions and uncertainties, expectations and a strange desire to bake something a little bit surprising. Perhaps I will get to that later.

I am living my dream. Since I can remember, I've wanted to move to Europe after high school and start changing the world at the right hand of God himself. I wanted an espresso-laced adventure to a culture that is partially mine, to see the cynicism and masterful baked goods first-hand. I thought if I were lucky I might even learn how to pull off one of those all-black ensembles with the expensive shoes and the long cigarettes. And above all, it would work out well. I've got European in me, after all. I've lived in other places. My whole life has basically been one big culture shock. (I would like to think that this means that I am not meant for this world, but in real life, I'm probably just a child of a lot of transition and a healthy dose of honest-to-goodness awkwardness.) Moving to Europe was just the next step lest I get too comfortable.

Dreams are sometimes not exactly what you envision them to be. Five months into this adventure, in my fantasy life I am surrounded by my sophisticated European friends who are eager to incorporate me into their context. (In fantasy land, everyone is as eager to make friends with me as I am to make friends with them. I am also still American.) I see the love of my life once every couple of weeks -- long enough for it to sting but not hurt, and not so long that I forget what kissing feels like. I get into my job with absolutely no hassle, everyone in our apartment building smiles and says hello, and I'm really good at making dinner for the many people we are often hosting around the evening hour. Also I'd be suddenly very good at dividing my time into "keeping up with lovely people far away" and "being present with lovely people here now", and the "here" part would be all in grammatically perfect and complex German.

So the reality? I miss my Wheaton life so much that it sometimes hurts. I miss my friends, specifically, and my kitchen, and the proximity of me to the the wise older people of my university days who were eager to pour their insight and wisdom into me until I turned "God's own heart" colored. I am terrible at keeping up with people, to the point that many of the folks that I miss might not even know that I miss them. I am good at cooking and bad at getting people into my house to experience it, and I often question whether or not I am still doing "transition" right. (After so many, you'd think that I'd have it all figured out by now.) 

I have been doing a lot of thinking about God these last five months. I have been doing a lot of thinking about God and the way that we relate to him in everyday life, the way that we encounter him actively and passively. Both are necessary in day-to-day relationship, just like every other "person" who affects us relationally. We never exclusively encounter someone actively. The exception here could be Cleverbot, but I think that aids my thought process here. There's no real relationship with someone if we are only actively interacting. I think through exclusively active encounters one cannot really acknowledge another's personhood. (I like that thought. I might extrapolate on it in another post.) Then again, everyone knows (probably through experience, for many) that you cannot build a relationship through passive interaction. That equally does not acknowledge another. (And it feels BAD.)

Honesty moment: I do not know how to balance active and passive encounters with God. And before well-intentioned readers begin to leave helpful suggestions in the comment box, I'm not sure anyone would benefit from a formula, least of all myself. (I have never taken a single chemistry class for the following reason: Formulas are yucky.) That, I think, would also limit the relationality of God. I am, for one of the first times, taking a walk through life. I am testing the waters of what it means to walk with God at my side. (On the side of God? I won't try to translate that statement into churchically correct lingo.) I am full of questions and doubts. I do not know if I am doing this right. I do know that there is a lot of space between me and my relationship with God in my fantasies where I am ideal in every way. (In that world I still do not like formulas.)

For the first time in my life, I'm in a stage where there's no goal in mind. There's no graduation to look forward to. (There is a wedding though -- this is an exciting thing.) The thing to look forward to is that place up the road a bit, where we are still walking, God and I, but with a little less space between us.

I sometimes take a moment the end of the blog post to wonder how I got to where I am now.

Well, then. Onward.

Current

Sometimes I feel like a rock. Note: not dumb as a rock, heavy as a rock, or blunt as a rock. Though there are certainly times that I'm at least two of those three options. (You can guess which two, though your answer might determine whether or not we'll stay friends.)

However, on this occasion, I feel like a very large, very inconvenient rock placed dead in the middle of a river. A shallow river- a channel? A rivulet? I should have gone camping more often when I was younger. I might know the name of the travelling body of water to which I am referring, and everything is better when it has a name. But I digress- I am a rock in a river.

It's second semester senior year, and my life is full. It's almost time to walk the walk (you know the one). When I was little, I dreamed about being bigger. When I was in middle school, I dreamed about high school and hoped that someday I would fill out my clothes. When I was in high school, I would dream about what college and friends and living away from home would be like. Now that college is almost over, I am left to dream about the next big thing. Unfortunately for people in my situation, that happens to be one of the biggest things there is- the deep and wide and vast universe of adulthood. Luckily, Developmental Psychology recently named my next life stage as that of the "emerging adult", so my many failures will probably be received with grace for a couple years at least.

At the same time, though, part of me feels like I must not be keeping up. Life must have always moved this fast- there's no reason that Time would slow down or speed up depending on my stage of life, and yet it feels like everything and everyone is running, swimming, being carried by the current, and I'm a huge rock in the middle of the river. I don't even have legs. I'm a rock.

Heavens to Betsy. I hope I get some legs soon.

On Taking a Break

It has been a long time since I have posted on this blog. (This was pointed out to me by Grant. He's like my blog mentor. My Blogtor.)

So another semester has come and gone, and with the going comes the coming of the best of all possible breaks- Christmas break. And after sitting awhile in the midst of finally-taking-a-break-apathy, I have compiled several theses related to the idea of breaks in general.

1) Taking a Break is Possible. (I Sometimes Capitalize Things Like Titles. NBD.)

People need breaks. And yet, in the middle of things, a break often sounds totally unmanageable.

The Following is an Excerpt from a Conversation that Might be Real:

Friend B: "Hey, friend. You should take a break."

Friend A: "What do you mean, take a break? You have NO idea how much work I have to accomplish between now and the END OF MY LIFE. Which MIGHT be soon. I have more work than any other person! In the world! Who has EVER EXISTED!"

Friend B: "Oh, okey dokey. Well, I was going to watch a movie later."

Friend A: "I am wracked with guilt, torn between the needs of my good Friend B and my desire to achieve. No matter what I do, I will be letting someone down."

Friend B: "Huh."

An hour later, Friends B and A sit down to watch a movie. For Friend B, it's a break. For Friend A, it's an agonizing attempt to formulate his honors thesis while also concentrating on the witty banter provided by Friend B and hoping that some of his assigned readings will include huge charts and pictures. Nobody wins. Except Friend B.

2) If you take breaks, people will like you more.

I'm taking a break right now, and I have more friends than ever. Seriously.

3) The longer you go without taking a break, the more your breaks will suck.

Not uncommon: For people to try to just muscle through from August to Christmas (or the comparable period of time for adults. Which is probably Christmas to Christmas. Another reason for me not to grow up.) and then use up their entire break self in a concentrated period of time.

Problem associated with this: All the things that you want to do to take a break (write a novella, create a matching set of clay mugs, read that one book by that author that someone you respect likes, do your laundry) falls to your "breaktime", which has now been inconveniently compressed into 13 days of also experiencing Holiday Cheer, family obligations, and angsting out over what you're going to get your fave 7 people for Christmas.

4) Most of the people I know suck at taking breaks.

Myself included.

5) We should practice taking breaks.

Not just when we're forced to. Not just when we need one because we're about to explode from angst and tension and we end up breaking down in secret. Not just when we actually hate doing things that we love because we've forgotten that it's how we used to take a break. But all the time. Habitually. Taking time out of life to remember why we're doing it. Because I (and most people I know) came to a point this year where we forgot, and life sucked more. And practice makes progress, you know.

So, I have finally gotten around to writing a new blog. Now I just have to finish the Brothers K and do my laundry. So I can actually start Christmas shopping. So I can have an enjoyable Christmas with my family. Somewhere in there I'll let my friends know that I haven't forgotten them.

Yay for Breaks.

Sweet Sorrow (Aug 1-4)

And like that (I'm snapping my fingers), 8 weeks has gone by. The Crown team (and Karissa) booked their flights for the day before mine, leaving me 24 short hours to figure out how to say goodbye to a city that I've come to love. Before the Crown Team left, we found time to go out to authentic German dinner before heading over to the Brandenburg Gate for great Gelatto, group pictures, and a ride on the fun touristy bicycle for 8. (Note here- I definitely almost fell off this thing. Those guys go fast!)

We got to say goodbye to the Gnadenhaus, our brief but wonderful home, at 4.15 AM when the team had to head to the airport. Then again 3 hours later as my luggage made its way out with Katie's and Karissa's. Dropping Karissa off at the airport came next. This was a tough one- Karissa was a big part of my internship experience. Then a day of adventuring with Katie and Sarah before dinner at an American-style diner (that was a funny experience), and packing at the Careys' in anticipation of my 7.15 flight the next morning.

It was almost fun to pack up. I carefully set my Polish pottery amidst paper wrapping and soft clothes, remembering the day that Shelly and Sarah took Karissa, her friend Kat, and me to Poland for the day. I bagged up the Chocomel (a Dutch treat we grew up with) that I'd bought for my brothers, musing about the injustice that I'd found it only days before my departure. I folded my "Germany clothes", hoping that I'll get to go shopping with Karissa sometime soon in the States and remembering all the "Culture Days" well spent with her.

And then, the next morning, I left. It was hard to believe that my surroundings could change so drastically in 24 hours- from the energy and life of Berlin Mitte to my little house on Tolowa Trail in Lima, OH. But change they did, and I'm adapting slowly. This was one of the most powerful summers that I think I've had. It is hard to be back, but I'm excited at the ways that God will continue to use the experience and the ways I've grown this school year. Now it's only a few short weeks and off to Wheaton for a new house, homework, and a lot of friends I haven't seen in far too long.

And really, for Berlin and Europe as a whole, goodbye is best said in the immortal words of the Terminator.

"I'll be back."

Peace.

Speak English, please! (July 22-31)

This is going to be one post about 9 days simply because English Camp was a week of no-computer, no-phone, no-internet hanging out, and it's worth just having one blog post dedicated to it.

So English Camp is a week-long attempt at an immersion learning experience for German youth who want to improve their English language skills. The kids all eat breakfast with us (the Crown Team, the Careys, and the Interns), have English class, lunch with us, free time and activities with us, more class, then more activities and dinner with us. Dinner is followed by Etwas Mehr ("Something More") sessions and small groups, all in English, and then Snack time. The counselors and leaders were consistently able to be heard from my post in the kitchen- "Guys! Speak English, please!" It was a week of exhaustion, fun, laughter, and lots of "lost-in-translation" kind of moments. We had German kids from all walks of life, all modes of expression, and all levels of ability when it came to their English.

I worked in the kitchen with Sarah and Lea during English Camp. 6 American Breakfasts, 5 American lunches, and 7 American dinners, all with one Mrs Sarah Carey at the helm. Some of the kids were rather reticent to try everything that we made (seriously, kids? Who doesn't like Breakfast Burritos?), everyone had to try everything at least once, and most even found that we surprised them with unexpectedly tasty food.

So some background on me- I love to be in the kitchen. Food is, without question, one of my biggest love languages. Generally, the things that I make in the kitchen turn out pretty well. That is, while I'm no Rachel Ray, I love trying new things, experimenting with flavors, and creating treats for my friends. So I found out I was going to be in the kitchen for English Camp, and I was like, "Yes. Finally, something I'm good at from the get-go. Piece of cake."

I'm telling you, God finds the funniest ways to humble me.

From burning cookies on the first night to using granulated sugar instead of powdered for our nice desert, and every possible blunder in between, it must have taken Sarah and Lea a lot of grace to put up with me. I burned myself twice, once in picking up a coal that I thought was not hot but which was, in reality, white on the other side (It's okay. You can say it. "That was real dumb."). I put too much baking soda in the buttermilk pancake batter (which God took care of with a quick overnight miracle), my pudding didn't set, and overall the week might have been pretty darn discouraging if I wasn't swimming in the grace that my co-workers and my God had for me. In the beginning of my internship, Ben asked if I was a perfectionist, because if I was, I "might have kind of an interesting time here".

And so, God doesn't require perfection. This is a thought tried and true among Christian circles. I'm almost hesitant to reflect in this direction for fear of triteness, but if I haven't been able to nail it down as a lesson well learned, surely there's someone out there who also hasn't. And if there's not, you can rejoice with me as I swim farther into the sea of truly knowing our God. Our God who does not require perfection.

It almost tastes good to say such a beautiful thing. I serve a God who has total grace for me. For every batch of gross pancake batter and gritty pudding, God has grace for me. For every time I judge someone for thinking differently than I do, or act immaturely or in manipulation, God has grace for me. As an extension of that, my family in God has grace for me. I don't ever, ever earn my place as a servant of the King of the universe. I can never earn the right to call other believers my brothers and sisters. And yet, at the end of a week where I made more mistakes, both in the kitchen and out, than I thought were humanly possible, I am still as loved as I was in the beginning, simply because there is grace from a never-ending source.

English Camp was a wonderful week of making relationships that will last, both with my fellow workers and with the campers. I saw kids try foods that they were unsure about and like them. I saw people try to make friends with people they were unsure about and like them. I saw God's grace and love moving in and around the counselors, the cooks, the students. We all learned something about God this week.

And we're all definitely going to be friends on Facebook.

Peace.

My Berlin (July 15-21)

Well, it's official- the Crown Team has arrived, and we are all getting settled in our new home, the Gnadenhaus (German for "Grace House). It's a big old house that the owners rent out to missions teams who've come to bring Jesus to Germany, specifically to Berlin. What a great place! It's big and beautiful, feels like a home, and has the biggest dining room table I've ever seen. (No kidding- it's basically a dream of mine to have a table so big someday.)

So this is the week that Karissa and I got to take the team around Berlin- our Berlin. We got many chances to walk with them through the city and show them our favorite spots, including Napoljonska's, which is our impossibly-named favorite cafe to go to for waffles and crepes. It's on Kastanienallee if you're ever in Berlin, and definitely worth checking out. Though, I'll admit, when I tried to take Katie Meyers there, I got totally turned around and it took about an hour just to find the place. Yes, I can even get lost going from one end of a street to another. (Not really. I just didn't go far enough. But still!) It was a little ridiculous.

Having the Crown Team here has been a lot more fun than I expected. We're all slowly bonding together, as we spend the days doing various projects and enjoying one another's company. One day we cleaned and painted the Salvation Army building, where we also hold our Freischwimmer services. Another day, we had a birthday party for a very special 4-year old boy (Yes, Travis Carey, I'm talking about you!) and then the team went off to play pick-up soccer and get to know some area youth while I stuck around to hang out with the family.

I've really enjoyed getting to show this city off to the team. It reminds me of the excitement of first arriving, of the passion I had even before I arrived to come and work in Germany.

This has been a quiet week, one of helping to make food for 21 people, going grocery shopping early in the morning to feed hungry mouths delicious Germany breakfast (by this I mean cereal), and of learning that God is even working during the lulls in the action. This is something that I forget easily- it doesn't have to be exciting or adventurous all the time. The Gnadenhaus is pretty quiet at night, outside of occasional back massage chains or adventures in sharing one computer betwixt all of us. Our days are filled with hanging out with each other and the missionaries, working and playing and talking about life. God is making us into a real team, just in time for English Camp to come down the chute. Ready or not...

Peace.