Ghosts of Easters Past

I've found myself all over the place in Easter memories today. I have such fond memories of childhood Easters in Horse Creek. We would get up in the cold early morning dark, dress quickly, and drive to the hillside with the white cross, where Dad usually had a nice fire burning. There wasn't usually much of a crowd, but those who found their way to sunrise service were always glad they came. Mom would always give the starting note and we would sing "up from the grave he arose" with all the fun echoes, and "Christ The Lord is risen today, with rolling a-a-aleluias in abundance.
Breakfast in the church basement always consisted of bacon and eggs and all sorts of cinnamon rolls. After the meal, it was time for a quick bath and clothing change into the new flowery Easter dress. Then it was time for church, and the crowded celebration feeling.
I always loved the bouquets of Easter Lilies, and there were always tulips and daffodils blooming in our yard. Spring existed to the it utmost.
The rest of the day consisted of egg hunts for candy in the house, and for those lovely boiled eggs we'd spent so much time coloring the day before. There was always at least one egg that had taken the all night soak as well. The eggs would make colorful salads and sandwiches in the days to come. It never bothered me when the dye leaked through to the edible parts inside. That only made those boiled eggs even more special.
In the years since childhood faded to adulthood, I've spent a good many Easters far from the comforts of my early memories. I will never forget joining friends from The Vine Church in Hong Kong for an Easter lunch of dim sum. My first Easter abroad was a far cry from the norm, and yet the heart of the celebration remained the same.
Then there was Easter in Poland with my old roommate, Naomi. We were amazed by all the monks and nuns walking around, a sight which would have been highly unsual in Czech where we lived. We enjoyed the Marketa, strolled by the Vistula River, and enjoyed the fabulous markets full of colorful wooden eggs.
I could go on, recalling Easter with the Wendels, or Easter in Prague with Marek and Malin, but it is nearing midnight, and I want to post this before Easter ends. Those who want the picture show should check the Aprils of years past. They're highly enjoyable if I do say so myself.
This Easter we had fabulous weather. We didn't make a sunrise service but did get to church, then spent the afternoon redoing most of the store. Perhaps not the most inspiring Easter ever, but being able to relive those past moments, and having a chance to continue working out our future was still a good way to spend this special day.

2012: Now Official Worldwide

Well, over here in the Czech Republic we brought in the new year with a BANG! And a pretty serious one at that. My father-in-law is amazing in the pyrotechnic department. It might have taken a little while to get it set up, but that just meant that all the amatuers were finished so they could enjoy a real show. I've got a few pictures of the set up, and I'll try to get them in later, but for now, just trust me, it was amazing. I have now experienced New Years celebrations in 5 different countries, and I have to say that the fireworks here were by far the most exciting. We didn't go into the middle of town to see the craziness there, but out here in our little corner there were all sorts of people setting things on fire and letting them shoot up into the air all over the place. However, at the end of our display there was actually applause. Nice! The rest of the evening was spent quietly watching TV, including some New Year's celebration from 1979 which was pretty interesting. Defintely a different era. This country sure has been through a lot during it's long and tumultuous history, and I wish it the best in the coming year. I've also been thinking a bit about resolutions. I think I mentioned before that I've been hearing a lot more about goals vs. resolutions. There seems to be something mroe palatable in the idea of a goal that you are striving for, rather than a complete an unequivocal change in lifestyle. Some of these are rather general ideas, and others are things brought up by my inspiring husband, so let's see what I can come up with... 1) Collecting more than 5 recipes (not counting cookies) that I am not freaked out to get in the kitchen and make. 2) Publish an e-book (this one is from Mark, who is encouraging me to put out some of my old stories as free books to start creating a following) 3) Contact traditional publishers with my (soon to be) completed manuscript. 4) Finish up some of the other books I have lying around on various devices in various stages. 5) Get a job (did I mention these are in no particular order?) 6) Work on creating a more balanced and healthy lifestyle, as opposed to my general lackadaisical approach (this is partly due to the fact that, while I might still feel 23, my body has slightly different and more bloated ideas.) 7) Scrapbook of my wedding 8) General crafting incorporation into life. (I'm hoping that once we have our own place and can sort of set things up I can create a better system so it doesn't take so much effort. I'd really like to work more with the journal making project that I came up with last summer and see where it can take me.) 9) Find a way to integrate myself more into local life, wherever it is that we "end up." 10) Try to join a writer's group. 11) Improve my Czech. (This is a constant, endless, and frustratingly impossible goal, but it is something I always want to try. In my dreaming of 'someday's I imagine sitting in a real classroom with other language learners, studying Czech in a serious sort of way, but it's not likely to come anytime soon.) 12) Improve my blogging record. It would be great to hit the 100 mark. That only means a couple blogs a week, and if I stay focused I don't see why that shouldn't be manageable. I'm considering monetizing as well, but that's still in the air. There are more things bouncing around in my head right now, but I'll stick with this as it's already a long list. as always, I want to live more, love more, and experience God more. There is so much in life to enjoy and experience, whether in good times or in bad, and I hope to continue making a concentrated to be engaged in the life that I am living, rather than just passively letting it slip by me. So I end again with Happy New Year! and wish whoever stumbles upon this humble blog of mine all the best in life and health and love and joy in this new year.

Record Breaking

Well, I've done it. I've managed to write more posts in a month than I ever have before. This has been quite an up and down one in my own personal blogland. I've had months where I didn't write a single post, or only one or two, then I've capped it off with a mind boggling best personal posting record here in December. In a skype chat with a friend a couple weeks ago she was pointing out how she can always tell when I have too much time on my hands. Those are the days when the posts become more frequent, even though there isn't a whole lot to say. At least it's good to know that people can benefit from the time I spend sitting around on my back side. I've actually done all sorts of writing this month. My book has more than doubled in size since we arrived here in the Czechlands, I've written a ton of blog posts, and the big 200 page journal that I brought along for the trip is more than half filled. I did bring an extra tiny journal along, as well as my Gadanke become journal and a journal for writing notes on thankfulness in, but I'm thinking I just might have to make an extra journal purchase as well, seeing as three and four are just specialty journals. Some might see this as overkill. And perhaps it is. Most of my journals are not meant for any sort of wider dispersion than for my and God's eyes only. My blog is read by a handful of friends and families (and the odd hits that I get from bizarre Russian URLS that make no sense to me whatsoever). I have no idea if the book I'm currently writing will end up being published, let alone a best seller (although I have a nephew who has already said he'll make the movie and a second who has asked to be the star character after hearing the briefest synopsis). I guess it all just goes to show that writing is something I do because it is a part of who I am. As much as I love comments, as much as being published is a huge dream, I don't write for that. I write because I love it. Well, I'm heading out to Cheb again today to hopefully meet up with some former students. Then tomorrow Tammy and I will go an see another former teacher who also married local. Should be an interesting couple of days, so I had to be sure to post a little something to get ahead of things. See I'm at 80 posts for the year with this one included, and my record for posts in a year is currently set at 82. Let's just see what I can do :)

Have Yourself a Merry Czech Christmas

It's Christmas morning in the Czech Republic and I've just been doing a little research. In my years of teaching here, my favorite times were always when students shared their traditions or stories of their lives. The main reason I was here, after all, was to become a part of their world while sharing my love of Jesus, the reason for the season :) The irony here, is that after all those wonderful classes learning about Czech Christmas traditions I just did a blog survey and realized that I never really shared any of them here. Now as a part of being in Europe, I wanted to make the most of the time. Whenever I had a holiday I hit the road. So every time Christmas came around with it's glorious two week holiday, I was outta here! Consequently, that meant I was either too busy getting ready to go, or too bursting with stories of my travels and all those photos, to share very much about what a Czech Christmas is like. Well, this year is different. This year, I'm going to share with you some Czech traditions along with what I actually got to experience. It is very different from the way things go with my family in the US, and naturally different from being on the road as well. So now, I give you, A Very Merry Czech Christmas. As in most European countries, the main celebration takes place on Christmas Eve. The preparations, however, begin much earlier as I have shared my stories of making Christmas cookies. In the morning on the 24th the cookies were put on beautiful plates atop festive napkins, and set in different places around the house to make them easily accessible all day long. Seeing as how we weren't going to be starting things until around 5, there was a lot of day to use up somehow. One of the things Czech's love on Christmas is watching "Fairy Tales." Some of them actually are what we would call fairy tales in the US as well, but others are just old classic movies. They even had "Elf" on in Czech, which I found highly amusing. We watched bits and pieces of different ones all morning and into the afternoon. Then Mark and I spent some time out with some of his friends to greet them for the holiday as well. In the early evening we got together for Christmas dinner. One of the Czech traditions is to buy a live carp and keep it in the bathtub until Christmas time. Then they kill it as can bee seen in this commercial. Really worth watching :) Seems Chuck Norris has a weakness after all. Thankfully, my family here doesn't do the whole carp thing, so our Rižek was either Pork or Turkey. I went for the turkey option since it's closer to my own Christmas meal of choice. This meant that we could not participate in another random tradition in which people save one of the carp scales in their wallet for a year in order to be lucky in money for the year. To begin the meal we had a toast with champaign and strawberries. Then it was time for our feast of breaded and fried filets (turkey for me) and the classic potato salad made by my father-in-law. The meal was delicious, and it was nice to sit around the table with the family. Next we gathered around the tree which Anna and I had decorated earlier in the morning. It was a sparkling vision in silver and white. Very fitting to my mom-in-laws taste. We even put up the decorations in order of kind. First white puffs, then snowflakes, silver balls of different varieties and glass ornaments. We opened presents together, and enjoyed the time of sharing. Then our little Czech Christmas was pretty much finished. We cleaned up the paper mess, put our gifts in our rooms, and spent the rest of the evening watching more "fairy tales" and eating chocolates and Cukrovy (cookies). It was a lovely evening really. We were a bit too tired to go out and find a church having a midnight service (another Czech tradition) but we did watch part of the live broadcast from the Vatican, which was interesting since Mark and I went and saw the Pope when he visited Czech a couple years ago. And so it went. Here are some other traditions I have heard from students in the past: * cutting an apple in half the round way to see the Christmas star * not eating anything all day long in order to hopefully see the golden pig which will signify luck for the coming year. * There's something about dropping molten metal into the bathtub. It actually happened in one of the movies we watched. I'm not really sure what it is supposed to signify, but it makes some interesting shapes. * Naming the carp in your bathtub "Pepa" which is the nickname for Josef That's most of what I can think of for right now. Just some nice things to add to my list of Christmas traditions. But despite all these things, the best part of Christmas for me is thinking of the reason we celebrate. What a miracle to think of how God sent a part of himself into the world to show us what love is all about. How blessed we are, despite our personal difficulties, to live in a time where we can turn to a Savior and be forgiven. Were it not for this silent night a good two thousand years ago, this world would be an even more desperate and hopeless place to live. I am so thankful to God for us indescribable gift. Merry Christmas to All, Peace On Earth and Goodwill to All People, and Oh So Much Love from the Czech Republic on this Christmas Day 2011

Foreshadowing

I've been thinking a lot about foreshadowing recently. It's one of those things that writers often use. Sometimes they're little hints you don't even realize until you've finished the book. I have to say that J.K. Rowling was always very good at this. When you have a plan and know where it is going to go, it's hard not to slip in little clues. Perhaps it's out of some sense of duty to prepare your readers for a big event. And even when you tell a story about your own life, it's hard not to slip in little previews of what is to come. But on a daily basis, foreshadowing does not exist. Sometimes things you aren't planning for just happen. It's like Katcha, Mark's beloved dog, having a stroke two nights ago. He had spent the whole year missing her, looking forward to spending time with her, and remembering all the good things about her. Then two weeks after we arrive, she has a stroke. Wednesday night she was perfectly fine, and Thursday morning she was vomiting buckets. She's a bit better today, and the doctors have apparently given her some hope, but she can hardly move on her own, and scarecely nibbles at food. It's a horrible tragedy, and we didn't see it coming. This happens so often in life. The end of this month will mark the one year anniversary of my dear friend Becky's death. She was just on her way home from work on a Thursday. Nothing remarkable, except that it was a rather nasty weather sort of day, but her family, and she herself, did not have some lurking feeling that horror was on the horizon. Now in retrospect, we can often see signs. If I were writing the story of us, I might say that the way Katcha responded to Mark when we arrived was a sign that she was pulling away, preparing for disaster. He was so thrilled to see her, and she was reserved, almost resentful even. I teased that she was giving him the cold shoulder for being gone so long, but now it can be reinterpreted as something deeper. Perhaps the very fact that I was thinking about foreshadowing before this happened was foreshadowing enough. I continue to make progress on my book, but I'm writing it in a different way than I normally do. After reading a book in High School, by Gilbert Morris of all people, I got in the habit of layout. This is actually a very usefull tool when getting something accomplished. If I plan out what will happen in advance, all I have to do is fill in the pieces. It's also useful to have models written up of each character, so you don't accidentally change them from being brown eyed to blue somewhere in the middle. I suppose an editor would help with things like that too, but this time, I'm just wingin' it. There can be no foreshadowing because I don't exactly know where I'm taking it. This is rather dangerous, because it often leads to "Never ending story" Syndrome. But it also means when things happen in the story they happen more organically. They come to pass in the moment, rather than having informative music playing in the background, telling you exactly how you should feel about the upcoming scene. I'm sure when all is said and done, we should be thankful that we cannot see the future. While it might force us to hold the ones we love a bit more dear because we know the exact moment when we will lose them, it would most likely also blind us with fear. It must be enough to say that God is in control.

Two Weeks Notice...

I feel like my job status is endlessly in transition these days as well. Right after getting my promotion, I've now had to give my two weeks notice that I'm quitting. I don't regret taking the job for the short term. It has helped the store out, as well as providing me with more hours, higher pay and a greater range of job experience over the past couple of months. Of course the fact that I've worked CLOSE every single day that I've had this job is pretty annoying. Okay, that's slightly wrong. I was the mid shift one day I think. But otherwise I've had to close by myself since I started working in the Moscow store. That's not exactly cool. Especially since previously I was working only in the mornings.
I haven't actually talked to the store manager yet, that'll come today in a few hours (ugh) but I told the assistant manager. She fully understood, and I think I should still be able to get a good reference, as well as possibly being able to get a job at the same store over in Oregon when we come back. Not sure if I really want that, but it's always good to have options.
So two weeks from Saturday (that's Nov 19th) I'll work my final shift. While I'm totally ready to move on, and really excited about our trip back to Czech, it's also a bit nerve wracking to know that I'll be unemployed once more. Not really my favorite way to be. I pretty much abhor having everything up in the air. I like plans, and having everything lined up and in place. Right now I'm looking at a black hole sort of future again, and, quite frankly, that freaks me out.
It's one of those times when I have to pull back again and remind myself that God is in control, and while I don't have all the answers, he certainly does. I know the road might still be far from easy, but He will make all things right in His perfect timing. Just have to count on that to get me through.
Which reminds me, I got an absolutely lovely gift box from my friends Amy and Nate. Included in the box was a book about Creative Worship from my old church in Hong Kong, The Vine. It's a great workbook, focused on using all aspects of creativity to worship God. I really appreciate that it stresses how music is not the only outlet we can use for worship. This is especially poignant since the main author of the book is married to the music leader at the church. Anyhow, quite a few of my friends were involved in the project, and I'm so excited to see how God will use this book in my life. It's been a hard and strange disconnected sort of year. I feel unsettled and distracted at best, so it's great to revive a little focus in my life.
Here's to the next chapter about to begin...

One of THOSE days...

Ever have one of those days when things just don't go right? It's like everything is just off kilter and bound and determined to get nothing but worse. Now, I've known a lot of people lately who've had ridiculous bad days. The kind where you wake up and expect normal, but by day's end someone you love is no longer in this world. It's been one of those years of death actually. Haven't known so many people that have died since 2003-04. (sigh) I certainly don't want to trivialize that sort of bad day with the kind I had on Saturday, but it was a doozy all the same.
It started out okay, pretty well even. Mark and I hit up some garage sales (something he's become quite fond of both hosting and visiting this summer) and we made a great find. A Foosball table in excellent condition. And not some wimpy little one, but a serious (heavy) one. So we had a little Christmas in September, and handed over the cash. It definitely wasn't going to fit in our little Milan, so we headed back to Moscow (all the sales were in Pullman today, due to the fair being the star event in Moscow this weekend) to borrow my Dad's truck.
While we were back at the house I had a little time. It felt good to sit be still for a while after getting up at 6 to check the sales, and I decided to check e-mail. I don't get much by way of exciting e-mail anymore these days. It seems most people now resort to facebook messages rather than actual letters (the paper kind obviously having fallen out of fashion years ago with the astronomical rise of stamp prices) so my inbox is mostly full of ads. It get lots from wedding sites, despite the fact that my wedding took place over seven months ago, as well as airline ticket companies, Publishers Clearing House, and different survey companies. Today, however, I got a most unfortunate e-mail that really kicked me in the stomach.
Basically I've been saying my entire life that I want to write. I've no doubt been spoiled by the praise of those near and dear to me. I got plenty of recognition in school, and figured I had a handle on the whole writing thing. Naturally, when my sister called me with the idea of joining some freelance writing website it seemed like a no brainer. I checked out a couple and was pretty excited by some of the options. Then I went to check my e-mail after having applied to a decent paying company only to receive a rejection letter.
It's not like this is my first rejection letter. When I was in High school I sent out copies of my manuscript and got a nice handful of the things, but I was aware that they were all unsolicited, and had been expecting rejection. But to have a company try to say nicely that I might have been told in the past that I could write, but it's highly competitive and I just don't have what it takes picked me up and threw me headlong over the edge. The thing is, I know I can do just about anything. Tell me what you want me to do, give me and idea of how to do it, and I'll manage. That's one of the reasons I've always been so irritated when job hunting. I know I can do these jobs, and all my previous employers will gush over me, but that doesn't mean I can manage to get an interview.
The whole episode brought me back to the day when I got a rejection letter from the Simpson acting group. The truth is, I probably would have been irritated by the sort of acting they did. It was all overly theatrical religious skits for chapel, but when I got the letter saying they felt like "God was calling me in a different direction" I was beyond crushed. I was down right angry. So angry that I wrote a letter to the club captain and informed her that she should seriously consider rewording her rejection letters because she had no right to represent herself as being equal with God when deciding what a person should do in life. The sad thing is, I haven't acted since then. Realistic or not, the entire thing put me off, and there really haven't been options since then. And I suppose you could say the rejections in high school put me off trying to publish anything, because I certainly haven't offered up a manuscript to a publisher since then.
It was just a black mark on the day. The sort of thing that's hard to shake. Mark and my parents were fabulous in trying to make me feel better and encouraging me to try again, but the truth is, a letter like that makes me lose the desire completely. Sure, there's another company that I can work for, but they pay an tiny fraction of the price and require three versions of every article. I'm the girl who didn't ever write drafts in college. They were a waste of time. Why write something over and over when you can do a great job the first time? Utterly pointless in my book. I know I should probably make myself do it, but it's really tough to force the issue.
After that it was hard to motivate myself to go and pick up the Foosball table. I wanted to sit in my chair and cry at my computer for the rest of the day. But we'd already given them the money. So we hopped in the truck and headed out. Unfortunately, the gas tank was empty so we had to put in a few gallons. I had the brilliant plan that I'd just add $10. It would be plenty to get us to Pullman and back. I asked Mark to pump for me, and I went inside to prepay. Nice idea, right? I mean, what station out there actually lets you pump before you pay without putting in your credit card first? I can't remember the last time I had that happen. Well, apparently the Moscow Chevron is a different sort of place. The trusting type you could say.
After waiting several minutes for the attendant to show up behind the counter, and then waiting a bit longer while she served the man in front of me, I was blown away when I told her to put $10 on 5 and she informed me that it was already more than that. Come again? Apparently, she'd been feeling extra helpful and just started it up without waiting to see if I was going to prepay. I rushed right out and shouted for Mark to stop the gas, but it was already up to $30. I. Was. So. Angry. I could scarcely contain myself. It was like adding expensive insult to crushed dream injury. I wanted to shout at the girl and ask her what she was going to do if all I had was $10. I mean, seriously. I was shaking and trying my best to talk politely, and assure her that I realize it wasn't her fault, nor was it Mark's fault. Most likely the whole mess was my fault. But I REALLY didn't want to throw away that much money at that moment. Not cool.
All this led to me just being a mess for the rest of the day. We got the Foosball table home, and after an immense amount of effort managed to get it into the basement. We won't talk about when it slipped out of my hands while we had it on its side to get through the door, or how my back is still not too pleased with how heavy the whole ordeal was. We just have to be happy that we have the beast. Not to mention how we had enough gas in the truck to drive up Moscow Mountain and have a romantic walk on our 7 month anniversary. (okay, so I didn't actually realize Monday was our anniversary until the next day. It also happened to be inventory day at work, meaning I was up at 4:15 AM in order to count a bunch of stuff. Not my favorite time of day.) Some days really are better to just put in the past and move on. Sadly, not everything is as easy to walk away from. I'd really been hoping the writing job could help us when we're living in Czech for three months with no jobs, and then returning to the US after, still with no jobs. Don't really have the life savings to fall back on that I had when we came back last time.
In his eloquent way, Mark reminded me that maybe this was all just God trying to wake me up from my every day life so I can start "REALLY" writing. Hard to say. For now I'm just going to do the best I can to keep on going through these days with the hope that some day it'll all come together for us, one way or another. And every day that isn't such a miserable, horrible, no good very bad day needs to be seen as a blessing. And I guess I even need to look for blessings in those icky days too. God does like to play like that every now and again, especially with me it would seem. So it goes.

Finding my place.

I wouldn't be surprised if I've lost anyone who might wander here. It's been a while. I'd say it's been a busy summer, but that wouldn't exactly be the right way to put it. Yes, there have been busy things. There were visits from nieces and nephews, the endless tedium of the work place, and trips around all the little villages and cemeteries that populate this corner of Idaho and Washington. But there hasn't been anything big. Nothing pressing. Nothing of the sort to call big news, or to blame my absence on.
I just haven't been around. I haven't had the moments to sort my head and get things out. Yesterday I had the day off and was able to force in some journal time. I was almost a month behind! Not even funny. It's just that nothing seems to get done the way I'd like it to.
Things I'd love to be doing:
1)Writing - this includes both literary as well as personal. Journals, blogs, books and poetry.
2)Learning Czech - this is one of those things that seems to escape me most of the time. I'll spend a few minutes going over word lists from Byki, and then I'll lose the time somehow. I know the kind of motivation I need to really study and get down to it, but there just aren't classes on Czech at U of I to immerse myself in.
3)Reading - This summer I've managed to acquire quite a few great books via Goodwill, yard sales, and even an antique store. But do I have time to read said books? Well, not nearly as much as I'd like.
4)Quality time with God - Yeah, I try to get in some spiritual reading in the mornings, and I make it to church most Sundays, but I feel the strain of living a life less passionate than I would like it to be. It's always hard when I find myself in situations where I feel so little purpose. It's in these times that I long to really life, but instead find myself waiting.
The truth is, I've done to much of that in recent years. Waiting for "real" life to start. Whether it was waiting on paperwork to come to the US, or paperwork to make it possible to leave, it seems we've been putting life on hold for a long time. A constant sense of delay before we get into something that matters, something we can call worthwhile. I took a temporary sort of job thinking it'd be a month or two. Now it's been four months, and counting.
5)Transition - I guess this sorta goes with that last thought as well. I've lived a transient life for so many years you'd think this would just be old hat. One year at a time has been the model. Free summers to visit people and have fun. Jobs that follow school years and take me to different locations. This is the last week for all the summer holiday students to be at work. They're getting ready to get back into their studies and I find myself oddly jealous. I was so happy to be done with school, and have often worried that I would have no idea what to do with myself if I went back to school again. But now I find myself missing the thrill of spiral notebooks, colorful folders and pens filled with fresh black ink. I miss the thought of entering new classrooms, trying to figure out what style will best impress the teacher and make the grade, searching for the students that connect with my way of thinking, and those that will irritate me to no end. Yeah, oddly enough, I even miss those types.
Then there's also a girl who is heading to Spain for a semester and the travel bug starts to wiggle and squirm inside my stomach. Even though I know it will happen again, I'll get on a plane and see both old familiar places and new, it's hard to watch other people starting their new adventures while I'm floundering to make it from one lousy paycheck to the next.
Living is such an important thing to do. Vital. To breath in the moments of this life. To suck the marrow out of each day as those Dead Poet's Society members would chant. Just have to figure out how to get it all done, and how to keep on living life to the fullest while I'm at it. The time is just too short to put it all off and wait for tomorrow for things to be more interesting.
I read a blog about living an authentic life. I think it's very true that we need to learn how to be true to who we really are, how to live out what you believe, and to me, a part of that is learning how to really live. It's so easy for me to get caught up in routine that I forget to enjoy, to look deeply at the things and the people that I've been blessed to experience life with, and to be thankful for them.
I noted one of the comments on that blog in which someone said that in order to be true to themselves they wanted to do things just only for them. While I believe that we shouldn't allow ourselves to be overly influenced by the opinions of others, to be truly authentic I want to be able to live in such a way that I make life better for others. Working at Mother's Choice in Hong Kong, teaching English in the Czech Republic, helping to work on a church in Italy, Bible Schools in the Pacific Northwest, these are the sort of things I've been blessed to do, the moments in time when I've been able to impact the world in my own quiet behind the scenes sort of way. I know that, when life is somehow properly lived, I can have an impact on the people around me whatever my job or locale. It isn't always so easy to see, but I know it can be done. And I honestly believe that writing here can be a part of that. I have no notions about having a massive following list or anything like that, but I hope the little bits of my life, the little deviations and thoughts and diatribes that I go off on here, will touch people in some way, make them think about their own lives differently.
I'm hoping that, as summer winds down and we're trying to save money and travel less in order to afford a Christmas trip back to the Czech Republic, that I'll have more time to keep up here. I'm hoping I'll stay caught up in my journal (once I manage to get caught up that is), and that I'll be able to solidify a few more Czech phrases in my life. I don't know if the people I hang clothes with will remember me a few years from now, but I hope that in my quality of work and the way I speak, that I will have a positive impact on them, maybe even help them to see the world in a fresh new light. This is where I am for the moment, and I want to live...

Oh Yeah, I Got Married...

Life changes some times in the most startling ways. Okay, it's not like I didn't see my wedding coming or anything like that, but in a sense, it still all took me by surprise. Some of the changes are subtle at first, but as time passes they become more obvious. When you're single for the first thirty years or your life, you tend to form some habits. Most of these habits have to do with the fact that you're responsibilities are few. I'm not talking about what you do for work, or what you have to do to survive or anything like that. Obviously, you could be single and still be doing something that requires you to act responsibly, like taking care of babies alone on a night shift. However, ultimately, you're only responsible for yourself. Your decisions are your own. You can go where you want, when you want (within reason of course.) Being in a relationship starts to change that gradually, but once you're married, it's a whole new ballgame.
I find myself now living a life in which I'm really not in control anymore. Not only is God in control, a fact which I've long had to wrestle with, but I have to think of someone else too. I can't just make up my own mind about what I'm going to do or where I'm going to go. I have to take into consideration the thoughts, feelings, and needs of someone else. And after thirty years of getting all set in my ways about how I want to do things, that's a pretty big adjustment. It would be great if I could say this is something that comes joyfully and easily to me, but that would be a lie. I can be pretty selfish when I get right down to it. I like to do things my own way, and when another person comes up with a whole new line of thoughts and opinions that aren't exactly in tune with my own? Well, I have to adjust.
Living cross culturally has often forced me to learn how to "be flexible." When I joined ESI (aka Teach Overseas) they pounded into my head the importance of living with ambiguity. It would appear that this is exactly what I've chosen as my life style. It should fit in rather well with the transient world I've called my home, but it still makes me stop and force myself to think on a regular basis. No more lackadaisical running around for me anymore. I'm a wife now.
That all being said, I'll jump right back into the big photo share I started working on lately. Along with the collision of friend worlds, I also was so happy to have my entire immediate family involved. To my knowledge, this was the first time all of my siblings, their spouses and their children have been in the same place at the same time, because the last big get together we had was before all the kids were born. So cool.






Sadly, not many people from Mark's family were able to come, but we were so thankful that it worked out for his parents to be there. His mom was really sick the week before they were supposed to fly, and since they're not used to flying, and don't speak any English at all, we were really afraid they wouldn't be able to make it, but thankfully God had other plans and knew just how important it was for them to be there with us.

Having these people, my friends and family, all together to celebrate was really such a miracle. Just look at how great they all looked :)



We also had the usual sorts of things like a cake that ended up a bit sad looking, but at least tasted good.

And these beautiful mints that my sister Janet made. They were just like the ones we had at her wedding only those were sea green and pink and there was such an overabundance that we had to freeze them and continued to eat them for years. She was much better at calculating this time around.

I had a lot more photos I thought about putting in, but for now I think this will have to suffice. It's at least enough to make it pretty obvious that a wedding did, indeed, take place. After years of being more than certain that it would never happen for me, having failed to get my MRS. while attending Simpson Bridal College (funny, they didn't give me my money back...) I at last have it in hand.

It is Finished...

A few years ago, rather a long time ago I suppose when I really think about it, my dad asked me to speak at our Good Friday Service. It was quite an honor really. I can't say that I enjoyed the Good Friday services of my early youth. Back in those bygone Horse Creek days the speakers were all men, and most of them seemed overly excited by the opportunity to hear themselves speak. Probably they were nervous. After all, they were mostly working type men, not at all speakers, but it seemed to me that they would go on and on for hours and my child brain had trouble retaining any of what they said.
Maybe before I drone and on and on and get totally off subject I should explain a bit about these services. I realize that first paragraph really can't be called a well constructed paragraph anyway. If I was turning that in for a class or anything real I would be laughed at for putting so many different ideas together and pretending they were somehow cohesive. Anyhow, that's all beside the point.
So these services are a time to reflect on the 7 sayings of Jesus when he hung on the cross. It's a very profound time to really imagine the suffering he went through and to reflect on what that should mean to us in our lives today. I love taking the time to really meditate on these words of pain, suffering and victory, all poured out in the midst of the most intensely horrifying experience imaginable. It's not the sort of thing I love in a warm fuzzy sort of way, but in the way it impacts my soul every time I force myself to deal with these important truths.
At the service, Dad would always choose different people to speak about each saying. As I stated before, when I was a kid these were always men. Perhaps it was suited to the era and location. Whatever the reason, they didn't impact me quite the way they do now. Except I always looked forward to hearing Nancy Hood, the amazing woman who devoted months of her life to living basically in solitary confinement in a forest service lookout tower, singing "Were You There," in her mellow tenor voice. It was a haunting experience that has stayed with me from early childhood, and was later carried on by my sister Julie singing the song at the Blodgett services. It was also in Blodgett that Dad broadened the scope of the speakers he used. Soon it was a glorious mix of men and women of a variety of ages.
The year I was chosen to speak I was just back from my first year in Hong Kong, all raw with emotion, and uncertain about the future. (Yes, that's a pretty common theme for me.) True to his discerning character, Dad chose just the right passage for me to speak about. The misplaced English Major rejoiced in having the shortest verse, only three words, in which to pour all her thoughts and reflections. I knew I would have to present the topic in at least three different ways in order to really do it justice, and no doubt now I'd add even more layers.
I made one large mistake, however. When it came time to speak, perhaps it was out of foolish pride, I chose just to speak my thoughts, rather than to read the words I'd carefully thought out and typed up. I've always been better at writing things right than at speaking them. I'm not a story teller but a story writer.
So now I thought it would be nice to share the written version with anyone curious enough to read it.

John 19:30 "It is finished."

When Jesus proclaims, "It is finished," just prior to his death on the cross, the words take on a multitude of meanings. The word "finished" brings about a closure to all that has come before. Jesus' ministry is finished. His time on Earth as the Son of Man, is finished. The prophecies that have been spoken throughout time concerning the Messiah have come to an end, all of them having been satisfied in the life and death of Christ. Along with these finales, Jesus is closing the door on the sins of the world. His task on earth is complete. In his deepest moment of despair, these words are a sign of relief. The end is at hand as he "[gives] up his spirit," and leaves this mortal life.
In the book of John, much emphasis is placed upon Jesus' "in the role of the Jewish rabbi" (Thomas/Gundry 296). This can be seen in the entire passage on the crucifixion in his gospel. Throughout these verses he details all the ways in which Jesus is fulfilling prophecy. In verse 28, Jesus has gone through all that has come to pass and realizes "all was now completed." He then goes on to die so that scripture will continue coming to pass, by preventing his legs from being broken to speed up his death. This also led to him being pierced which also complied with prophecy. Jesus knew all that had been written about him before his birth. He knew what he must do in order to accomplish what he had come to earth to do. His comment that "it is finished," signifies his awareness of the moment that has, at long last, arrived.
There is more to be seen in these words than merely a completion of prophecy, however. These words can be seen as a sigh of relief. The past few days had been heavy on this man. He had been tortured and mocked. Though knowing he was innocent of any wrong doing, he was sentenced to a horrifying death that included being deserted by all those who had once been his friends and devoted followers. The hardest of all, however, was the burden of the sins on his shoulders, leading to separation from God. During the time he hung there, Jesus experienced Hell. As God cannot even look upon sin, Jesus was left utterly alone. It is impossible to imagine what this must have felt like. To go from total harmony with his Father, to no contact whatsoever is an impossible agony to fathom. It is not surprising then, as he hung there adding everything up in his head, that when he realized that all had been fulfilled he couldn't help sighing with relief that it was finished. All the work had been worth it and he was soon to be reunited with the Delight of his heart. This thought would have given him unspeakable joy. He is at a point where he has seen the bleak consequences of sin. Not only has he experienced the life of man, but he has seen where sin will lead. So he gives up his spirit with the knowledge that these people he loves so very dearly will now be able to experience eternal life with God. He has effectively paid the price for the entire world so that all might be free.
In my current position in life, I see another important element in this verse as well. While perhaps not as crucial as fulfilling prophecies, or as relieving as knowing that the separation from God will soon be over, and life has been attained for all who believe, I still think it is interesting to ponder the idea of Jesus leaving this life he has lived behind. Over the past year, I have experienced an incredible life. I have been able to reach out to the world in ways I have never before experienced. By taking care of the babies at Mother's Choice, I have come to look at Jesus life here on earth a little differently than I would have before. Jesus came to rescue us. He lived among us and looked after all our needs, just as I did with the babies in Hong Kong. In so many ways, we are just like those neglected infants. On our own, we are utterly helpless. While on Earth Jesus was able to give aid first hand to his wayfaring children. He was able to heal the sick, and inspire the downtrodden. He could see the needs of those around him, and reach out and touch them, watching the wonder on their faces as he handed them life. He loved them so deeply that when his friend Lazuras died he wept (John 11:35). When I had to leave my precious babies it was so incredibly hard. After caring for them for so long, it was hard to imagine leaving them. No longer would I be able to see to their daily needs. No longer would I know what was going on in their lives. While Jesus is still able to help us in our daily needs and reach out to our wounded hearts, I can't help but wonder if there was some pain in the thought of leaving them on their own. He already knew that there would be trials for them in the days to come. He already knew that Peter had denied him. Here he has given every thing for these people, and now he has to leave them to struggle along in this life without his visible presence. When he said "it is finished" he knew that all of this was over. There would be no more boat rides on the Sea of Galilee, no more walking on the dusty streets of Jerusalem, no more talking firsthand to the people he loves. I doubt that he was sad to leave. He was well aware that he would still be able to keep track of them all, still be there to whisper to their hearts through the Holy Spirit, yet a change was indeed taking place. One that will not be reversed until he comes again.
As I think over all these three simple words can mean, I am again in awe of all that Jesus has done. The exhaustion that he felt at the end of his life on earth is beyond any I can even fathom. He bowed his head with the knowledge that he had done a job well done. Along with that, all he could do was trust that people would see and believe. There was nothing more that could be done for those there watching. The time had come to leave them to ponder all he had done, even as he bore away all the evil of the world. What an amazing gift. What a heavy ending. It is finished.

Oh the joys of transience

I'm feeling overwhelmed, out of my element, and generally confused about pretty much everything. Christmas is only a few short days away. We're heading down to Medford on Wednesday so hopefully the weather will be good. All Janet's boys are home now so it will be great to see them all.
It's also now less than two months until my wedding. It's still so unreal. Having trouble processsing where I am and wht I really need to do. At least I have this super cool new phone that allows me to blog where ever I happen to sit at the moment.
My head is awhirl with it all... I want to drink in these moments, but instead find myself waking up in the night with noclue how to make everything come out right.
But it is almost Christmas. Nearly the day we celebrate the. Birth of our Savior, the one who is truly in control. So in the midst of my inner mayhem and stress this is what I must cling to, and in this alone can I truly rejoice. May God bless you all in the days to come as the new year awaits us just around the corner. And in the holiday spirit of cliches that still ring true, may you remember that Jesus is the reason for the season!

Almost There...

Oh packing, how do I loathe thee? I'll not count the ways.
To do a thing so tedious would take to many days.
I dream of lofty weight limits, and luggage flown for free,
Of locking you without a fear that they'll safely let you be.
And then there are thoughts about airports, that flutter through my mind,
They seem to do so many things that make peace hard to find.
I do recall much sweeter eras of travel from the past,
When all those hard goodbyes didn't have to come so fast.
But now we all must live in fear of idiots with power,
Dreading the scans, the endless demands, and worries about two hours.
I'm ready just to have it done, and to be safely through,
To leave behind the stress and scales and be "home" fresh and new.

Any ideas what I've been up to today? Not to mention what every waking moment has been focused on for the past week or so. Hard to believe that tomorrow we're heading off. It sounds like we're going to make a night of it. Mark's sister will come in the afternoon to sleep for a few hours, then we're leaving about midnight so we should make it in plenty of time for our departure. Our flight leaves at 5:55, so we have to be there now later than 4. Pray that the road conditions are clear. It's been cold and icy with snow for the past few days. We've got roughly 2 or 3 inches at the moment. I don't think any fresh came down today, but it sure is cold. When I was in Prague on Thursday there wasn't any snow, but it can still be treacherous for driving.
We're also hoping for no flight delays. At the moment we should have plenty of time for getting through the whole immigration process, but delays would add stress to it all, so prayers for a smooth process all the way through would be immensely appreciated.
Hard to believe the time really is almost here. I'm in that holding pattern at the moment where most things are done, but I'm just not quite sure what to do with myself until it's really time to go. And the more times I check information about luggage and flight delays and weather the more freaked out I get. Unfortunately, even looking at wedding things freaks me out right now because I start seeing how close it all is and how I have no clues about anything and no job and and and... Breath. Do. Not Hyper. Vent. I. Late.
God is in control. I've seen that time and time again throughout this process. You'd think that would teach me to finally get over my habits of worrying and freaking out, but it seems I haven't grown up that much yet. I still fail. I still look at the daunting tasks ahead of me and question everything. Even those things I know to be true. There are so many things to be thankful for. So many reasons to rejoice. And in 48 hours I'll be flying over America. And in 72 hours I'll be sound asleep in McMinville (hopefully, if jet lag isn't to silly with me.)
Pause.
Sigh.
Keep breathing...

Making an Impact

I've often found throughout my life that I feel the best when serving in some sort of manner. Not that I always enjoyed serving my mother by doing the dishes or cleaning my room, but isn't it usually the people you're closest to that it's always the hardest to serve. Rather an unfortunate oversight really. But beside the point for my little note of the moment.
So I love to serve, especially when I really feel I'm doing something for God. I'm not, however, so great at the whole evangelism thing. I think it's great that there are people out there who are. But I am just not one of them. It isn't that I'm afraid to share my faith, it's more that I want to share my life with people, and in that way express my belief.
When I was a kid I definitely never thought I would grow up to be a missionary. It just wasn't something that I was able to wrap my head around. I was more than happy to pray for missionaries every night with my dad (especially when we would forget who we were supposed to be praying for and I would leave him to rest his eyes while I went to find the bulletin and creep quietly back into my bed hoping he would stay asleep so I wouldn't have to fall asleep alone) but in general I could never wrap my head around the concept of really "having a heart" (as Christianese is so fond of calling it) for the nations of unknown faces.
God did, however, find a way to give me a love for the nations through relationships with individuals that dot the globe. And in my care for them I support the work they do and the impact they have on the people around them as well. All those people who are so near and dear to my heart as I pointed out in my last post. Most of which I've had to say good-bye to in one way or another for the time being.
It's not surprising, however, that when I headed off on my first mission trip I chose a work team. I was able to serve, to really throw my back and my arms quite literally into it. I always loved travel to, and imaging how those abstract faces in foreign places lived, and this was a great opportunity.
Mother's Choice was another easy fit for my personality. What better way to serve than to dote on beautiful little babies awaiting their forever families? Totally perfect. And I've seen the results in such positive ways as the years have gone by, especially with the likes of my sweet Caleb (Chaska) who God blessed with the perfect family that I prayed so hard would come and take him home.
There are a lot of people out there with a very skewed idea of what a missionary really is. They think of the privileged white man going to the natives and trying to turn them into little clones. Or even worse, of tragic episodes in religious history like the Crusades when people were forced to claim Christ or die. Can we say ridiculous and totally counter intuitive? While the church has come a long way from these age old stereotypes, there is still a lot of pressure for "converts." Especially when the mission field is far from home. This is partly because these same people ignore the fact that we are called to be the love of Christ to whatever people God places in our paths, regardless of where we live at the moment. That's right, folks. You CAN be a missionary in your office. But this is also rather a tangential sidetrack from what I really want to write about.
As an English teacher in the Czech Republic, I didn't come with any sort of hidden agenda. I wasn't out to blind side my students with scripture verses in class, or force them into uncomfortable theological discussions. I came to care about them. I came to teach them English. I came to learn about them as people and to take part in their culture. Sure there is always the great hope that through conversation I would be able to stir their hearts towards the things of God, but as I'm about to leave the country after more than three years I have no radically changed lives to mark down in any ledger. Does that make me a failure as the "missionary" I was sent out to be? I think not, and here is a little glimpse as to why.
Last Tuesday, the day before my birthday, I went to Cheb in order to see Laura who was there for a couple of days as a part of her yearly visit to Central Europe. When arranging lodgings with Tammy, she informed me that she was going to be substitute teaching for a class at Winfield because the Czech teacher was in a meeting. I put two and two together in my head (a bit slower than I might have liked, which is sadly often the case!) and realized that it was likely one of my old classes. I asked if she would mind if I tagged along, and she agreed.
I arrived in Cheb early and had a chance to see how much Winfield has changed. It has now merged with a language school for children, and was definitely a different place, but still, just being in the building brought back a lot of good memories. I met the new guy, who now teaches the class I was about to visit, and it was so strange to know that he now had the chance to spend time with this amazing group of people.


These photos were taken during our last class in June. Two students were missing that night, but you can at least get a little feel.
So 5 o'clock rolled around and I followed Tammy into the classroom. Actually, the two missing from the photo were the two that were there when I first walked in, along with two new ladies I'd never seen before. The eyes of my former students grew wide, and smiles spread across their faces. This was a good sign. They were happy to see me. Two more students came and the looks on their faces were priceless. That sweet mixture of shock and pleasure that never fails to make a person really feel welcome. Finally the last two arrived, I like to call them "the Happy Couple" and they were as exuberant as ever at my presence.
Well, class quickly became a catch up session. They were all very curious about how things were going for me and when I would be leaving the country. It was so great to be able to share with them what was going on in my life, and how all the plans I've been working on for ages now were finally coming together. It was like an hour and a half long warm fuzzy hug really. I was amazed to feel myself slip so confidently back into my teacher voice. Even the way I moved had that familiar teachery motion to it. And I don't think the new ladies were horribly offended by it all. They laughed at the appropriate moments, and even shared a thought and question or two as well. It was definitely a highlight of my time spent as a teacher, right up there with, after deciding not to return after my second year, I changed my mind and people were suddenly telling me what a great teacher I was and how thankful they were that I was staying.
We talked a lot about the upcoming future and my move into farm country. I can't say I'm fully prepared for what life will be like on a burgeoning farm with a horse, two sheep, a handful of chickens, two cats and 5 dogs, but it was a great opportunity to teach them male, female, and baby animal names. Not a chance you just get every day. Did I mention it was a great night?
It was hard to close things down at the end. I felt so at home with these people I'd taught for two years. It seemed so right to be there with them again. As they left there were hugs and handshakes, and one sweet lady even got a bit teary as she hugged me. It was what I needed. It showed me that the hours I invested did make an impact. And not because of who I am, but because of Christ in me. I didn't always want to go in and teach, but through His strength I entered class every day with a genuine smile. Through His grace I was able to really care about these people who come from a world and a history so different from my own. What an incredible gift.
When everyone had left I went with Tammy back to the office, all aglow with the pleasure of the experience. Then, to make it all even better, one of the ladies had to come back to get her umbrella and as she passed by the office she said how good it had been to see me, how I always had such a positive attitude and brought so much joy to the class, and how they'd all been talking about how wonderful it was to have me back that night.
I've spent a lot of years thinking of myself as a pessimist. There have been long lists of dark days when I've hung my head low and bemoaned this or that about my existence. What a revelation to hear that people find me positive, that my presence is uplifting to them. As I said before, I KNOW that is only through the grace of God.
I'm leaving the Czech Republic on Monday. Embarking on the next massive phase in life. I don't know exactly what my acts of service will look like in Moscow, Idaho, but my prayer is that wherever I am I'll continue to let God work through me, to turn me into a positive light, and to impact the people around me. It truly is the greatest blessing around.

Good-byes are NOT my friends!

Can I just say that there is nothing easy about separating from a way of life. I've done it so many times, but it really never gets easier. And when you have to watch someone you love doing it for the first time it's even crazier. We spent our last weekend in Germany and started the real good-byes there. At nearly 4 the boys really have no concept of what it means to hear that we're flying away in a week and they won't see us for a long time, but the girls really felt it. They gave us sweet cards and hugs that brought tears to my eyes. The world is growing smaller every day. There are so many means of communication that can make you feel closer to people even at a great distance, but there is something so magical about sharing actual space, breathing mutual air.
I've never been one who enjoyed the end of things. I would eat my candy bars as slowly as possible in an attempt to always finish last. This spread to the point of needing to throw away last year's Halloween Candy before I could trick-or-treat again. (Naturally the Reeces Peanut Butter Cups and other "real" candy bars were spared that treatment, but there were always some tootsie pops or those horrid peanut butter taffy's still sticking around to the stale end.) It's even worse when it comes to letting people go. I was the girl who would write faithfully to camp cabin-mates for years, and who was serious about the friendships developed with pen pals.
While many people believe that social networking and the likes are killing real friendships, I find them to be one small way I can at least nominally feel connected to so many people who still hold little bits of my heart in their hands, whether they know it or not. Granted there are also those people from high school that probably would have chosen to talk to someone else rather than me, but when informed that "you have 15 friends in common" went ahead and made the request...ah well.
What I really just wanted to point out is that, after three years living in Czech, I've had to say a lot of good-byes here and there. Most students were only in my class for a year, and then they vanished to jobs and universities. Most of my teammates only stuck around for a year as well. It's been draining and exhausting, though not quite as painful as giving myself fully to babies that were then handed over to families, their sticky fingers grasping portions of my heart so fragile that I sometimes thought I'd collapse with anguish of their departure. And now, here I am having to say good-bye to family again.
I'm so very much looking forward to being "home." Loosely translated, that means a place in which I can come in contact more easily with a majority of my family and a few scattered friends. I'm looking forward to a new chapter in my life, and new experiences. But it's never easy to leave a place that has become so familiar, or people who really are a part of my family now as well. For five months I've been living with Mark and his parents and they've treated me like one of their own. Hard not to feel like I'm stealing their baby away from them and running to the ends of the earth even after all the sweet things they've done for me. It's just hard, that's all.
Of course the packing process doesn't make it any easier. Every time I go through things I'm able to pare down more and more, but it's a big job, and there is always so much stress involved, not to mention stupid weight limits. And why they ever thought it would be a good idea to charge per bag I'll never make sense of. It's like the airline industry just wants to inflict more irritation on people in an already emotional state in order to cause them to freak out so that they can initiate a serious pat-down. Makes NO sense to me, but I've long been accustomed to the fact that most of the world has some strange idea of how things should be which is totally opposite to my own. When will they ever learn?
So there's a week left to go before the big flight date. There are rumors that snow could be on the way, so we would appreciate huge prayers that it doesn't cause flight delays. We'll be on a rather tight schedule once we get to the US as we'll have to pass through immigration and really don't want to miss connecting flights. But if everything goes according to plan, we'll be back with my parents by about 6:30 or 7 PM next Monday. Hard to believe it's finally here. Strange to think that we'd expected to be back in the middle of August, and here it is the end of November and it all seems to have flown by so fast.
Perhaps the sheer randomness of this post is enough to convey a bit of the frantic state my mind is in at the moment. I know that it will all pass. We'll work things out. We'll get on the plane. One way or another we'll end up getting through the good-byes and make it to a fresh round of hellos. But the process is so slow and painful...I just keep reminding myself that "those that wait upon the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar with wings like eagles. They will fly and not crash mid-air. They will walk and not grow faint." (random paraphrase as well, but you get the picture.)

Fleetingly A Leaf Lowers

I must confess, shocking as this may come to some people, that I positively adore warm climates. Being sticky damp with humidity the instant you exit a building, having to carry an extra shirt to compensate for ridiculously cold air conditioning and endless piles of laundry aside, the tropics are an amazing place to spend time. But there is something satisfying about living in a place where there are real seasons. Personally I'd be happy if the warmer seasons were the ones that spanned the greater part of the year, but no one has ever said that life even has the faintest possibility of being fair.
The other day, whilst walking about the glorious parks of Marianske Lazne, I was impressed, as always, with the way God has organized His creation. In summer, the vibrant greens lend a cooling effect to the landscape. They appear an oasis in the midst of intense heat. (No I've never lived in a desert, nor do I plan to! Granted I never expected to live in Alaska, but that's another topic all together, and rumor has it that they do have a pleasant summer, I just missed that bit.) Anyhow, what really blows me away is how God then opted to have the move into colder months accompanied by a glowing fire of color in those same trees. "I've never been to Boston in the Fall," or any of those New England states that I hear are famous for their leafery, but here in ML the trees are ablaze in splendor that would put the most illustrious designers to shame.

The bust seen here is of Skalnik, the visionary gardener who drained the swamp land that was originally Marianske Lazne, and created the fantastical parks that now grace the town.



These next few pictures are views of a couple of my favorite houses in town. I've really been thinking of how better to advertise this place. It really is just so fabulous that I don't know why more people aren't rushing here to check out this spa town. Honestly, Karlovy Vary doesn't light a candle to Marianske Lazne. This place is out of control beautiful and just brimming with old world style. Unfortunately, most of the guests here are equally old world...


These next couple pictures don't have so much to do with the leaves, but I did take them over the past week when walking through the parks. I've always enjoyed the statue, and though I've walked past this very interesting tree many times, I'd never noticed it before. Really not sure how I missed it, but it goes to show that there is always something new to be seen in this world.

Yesterday Mark and I enjoyed an amazing walk through town. We had no real agenda and were able to just bask in the beauty surrounding us. We both really enjoy being out in nature, so it was a great time to just be together and have a little fun as well. The leaves were just too big a temptation to pass up, and so an impromptu photo shoot broke out. I won't plague you with all the details, or photos, but here's a little glimpse.


While hot chocolate and scarves have been cropping up in my life with increasing intensity, I'm thankful for the warming glow that God has blessed us with on the very branches of the trees...

Positively Ducky!

I was in the park in the central part of town today. There is a fountain in the middle of the pond, flowers all around the edges. A bench or two here and there. And today, a whole lot of ducks. I was sitting reading Dostoyevsky, eating a chocolate chip cookie from the other day. The ducks were going crazy. They all appeared female, but I think a lot of them were just young so they might still change. They kept diving under the water, and then popping up in different places, an underwater sort of tag. It was hilarious to watch them in their antics. Bit too cold for me to think joining them would be pleasant. And the water a bit to green...
Earlier, walking close to the stream that wends through town, watched two fish trying to avoid me. They're gray, and would blend in so well if they just held still. And don't know what they have to be afraid of. No one fishes in this stream. But they flitted so I caught them in my eye. And then they hurtled themselves all in a rush, one after the other, over a little water fall. Whoosh! Whoosh! Then no more fish.
There used to be a gold fish in a pond. We bonded in a sense. Or maybe I just liked him. I'd look at him every time I walked past. He'd try to hide from me. I don't know how he ended up there. He was all alone, but seemed to run the place. Made it his home. Maybe transplanted from a home pond. Maybe jumped the falls from some place higher up like the ones I watched today. But he's gone now. I don't know where too. There has been so much rain this summer. Maybe it was just too much for him to stay.
Kelly told me that her father has a little pond with gold fish in it. In the winter it freezes over, fish and all. In the spring it thaws, and so do they. Just like that. Something...something...Cryogenics. Hmmm...it starts with fish I guess.
And Dostoyevsky continues to deliver. Really packs some punches. Makes me think. Human nature. Things about faith. I shared before from page 47. Now on to page 155

"For even those who have renounced Christianity and attack it, in their inmost being still follow the Christian ideal, for hitherto neither their subtlety nor the ardor of their hearts has been able to create a higher ideal of man and of virtue than the ideal given by Christ of old. When it has beenn attempted, the result has been only grotesque."

What a powerful statement. One to take to heart. One to really consider. Christ is the ultimate ideal. There is no better, no more worthy example for people, be they Christian or otherwise. But sadly, there is such a lack of really conforming to the mind of Christ on any level, in any sphere. And yet when we study Him, when we see what He was really like, how can anyone not be overwhelmed by the goodness of Him? Not long to have something of His heart inside? Still I fail, fail, fail.
So many thinks to think. How have I managed this little life. This little snippet of time in which I have time to think, to contemplate, to bask in the beauty of literature. Believe you me, taking on Dostoyevsky for fun is not something most people have the time or fortitude to do. But it is making me think, and I do have the time, because that just is what I have right now. I know it's fleeting, even while I don't know how long it will last, so I need to take hold of it and make something of it and all of that as well.
And now up past page 110 of my writing project. So maybe there is some reality in the myth of childhood dreams and I'll produce something. And I've at least amassed a small international following, faithful enough to buy something if my name is on it, or so they've said from time to time when I bring up the fact that I write. And at the moment it's true. I do write. But still hard to say what much it will come to.
I also spend time doing pointless sort of searches. There are those addictions like facebook that are so easy to succumb to when one has time.
I found through a friend's page (and an actual friend at that, not just an acquaintance or someone I knew once when I might even have been another person entirely myself) a link to a list that talks about things that let you know you're an English major. This April marked the 9 year point. 9 YEARS!!! 9 years that have come and gone since I ceased to be a practicing English major sitting in a classroom of peers and dissected literature and felt the rush of knowing and discovering and informing others of the rightness of my particular opinion. 9 years, and yet I looked at that list and with more than half of them I nodded my head. And with many I thought, how could someone NOT feel or know those things. Like the differences between there, their and they're.
Then I thought of things that would be on such a list if it was talking about knowing you're an English teacher. Like when you use "use to" and "used to" which sound precisely the same when spoken. Or what phrasal verbs are an exactly why they're so confusing to language learners. I could go on and on, but Katcha needs to go out, and I don't mind. I've been sitting here awhile as before I started this post I added a good ten pages to my story. Memories of writing 3 massive papers in one day because my computer was accidentally murdered, after the only time in my history that I actually wrote papers early. (sigh)
And so adieu. And off to walk the dog.

A Dose of Dostoyevsky

Night has come and a hush is falling over the flat. It is a place that goes to sleep a bit earlier than I am accustomed to, or at least settles down before I cease to be alert. I've been writing a lot today. Not only is this my second blog today, but I've been working on a story and am close to hitting the 100 page point. It's been a long time since I've produced so much. An encouraging thing if writing still resides in my soul.
As mentioned before I've also been reading a lot. The last book I finished clocked in at about 827 pages if I recall correctly. Sadly, it wasn't so much worth the reading. Rather funny to note, part of the reason I pressed on was because it was a massive book and Karina had carted it all the way across the globe so I figured there must be some value in it. When I returned the book to her this weekend, however, I learned that she hadn't even read it yet herself.
Well, at least the book I'm reading now has proved to get me thinking already. I've taken on the rather daunting task of reading The Brother's Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. To finish it will be no small feat at 718 pages with very small print, but I'll do my best to make it through as I ponder the insights I find therein as well.
There have been some challenges for me this past year. This being a public forum I won't go into great detail, but I'll be honest. I have struggled. I want to be a loving person. I want to be the kind of person that, upon spending time with me, people feel as though their life has been bettered in some way. Not because I myself make them better, but because they experience the love of God through me. I know that I, of myself, am far from being a loving and considerate person. It is work for me. While there are ever so many people that I love dearly, there are equally as many, and no doubt exponentially more, that drive me batty. They get under my skin for one reason or another and being kind to them, let alone loving, is not my first thought. But this is not what I want from my life, and not what God wants from me either.
Let us look now at some wise words written by Dostoyevsky:

"That's the chief question-my most agonizing question. I shut my eyes and ask myself, 'would you persevere long on that path? And if the patient whose wounds you are washing did not meet you with gratitude, but worried you with his whims, without valuing or remarking your charitable services, began abusing you and rudely commanding you, and complaining to the superior authorities of you (which often happens when people are in great suffering)-what then? Would you persevere in you love, or not?' And do you know, I came with horror to the conclusion that, if anything could dissipate my love to humanity, it would be ingratitude. In short, I am a hired servant, I expect my payment at once-that is, praise, and the repayment of love with love. Otherwise I am incapable of loving anyone."

I've read this passage several times now, and every time I am struck by how much I can see of myself in this. It is so easy to love people in theory. So easy to care about their souls. But when they don't care a whit about me? Well, it's suddenly not so easy. It's not even so much about expecting them to do the same things that I do. I don't expect that. But what I've grown to see so clearly this year is that I do respect a certain element of respect. I expect people to follow the golden rule. If I treat them kindly and with respect, I want to be treated the same way. And when I'm not...where is the love?
I think in some ways it is a lot easier to accept this sort of treatment from people who do not believe in God. I've long seen the beauty in the adage that we must "love the sinner, hate the sin." I think as a Christian it is important to realize that I cannot hold non-Christians to the same standards that I seek to live my life by. They don't follow the same moral code. The things that are not acceptable to me, might be completely acceptable to them, and therefore, I have no place to tell them where they are doing the wrong thing.
I'm not talking about absolutes, like saying, "well, you don't know any better so it's really okay for you to go out and shoot your neighbor because you want to steal his car." I'm talking about the moral codes that I chose to live by because of my faith. And because I have spent a long time contemplating this sort of issue, it isn't so difficult for me to accept when people who are not Christians don't agree with my beliefs, or when they see the world differently.
However, it's a lot easier to become judgmental of others who I feel should be on the same page. We are called to unity in Christ. We are called to accept one another, to love one another, to pray with and for one another. One of the greatest blessings in my life is that I have been able to live in three countries, in cities of all different shapes and sizes, and to experience humanity in general and Christians in particular in all three locales. The churches I have attended have varied greatly, but in each and every one that I have been in, I have found people who love Jesus with all their hearts, souls, minds and strength. They worship in different ways, they praise in different ways, they even serve others in different ways, but I have seen Jesus in them, I have felt accepted by them, and I have grown in my faith through contact with them. I might not always agree with them on every point of debate over the word of God, but I can love and accept them because I have seen their hearts.
Why then do I find myself coming in judgment of others when the thing they don't seem to agree about is me as a person? Is my love so shallow that a mere act of ingratitude is enough to shake it entirely, to cause me to withdraw it. In truth, just as the woman said of those suffering patients, people who are in pain, or have issues of one kind or another, often lash out at those who are trying to help them, or fail to see the value in what is being offered them because of their own misfortunes.
I know that I am weak and frail, that I do not love the way I ought or serve as much as I could. I know that I fall and fall and sometimes before I can even get back on my feet from one disaster I'm back on my face again. It's like the year after I got a concussion in a Hong Kong hospital. I couldn't seem to keep my balance. Over and over and over I found myself on the ground when normal people were perfectly capable of remaining vertical. But in those cases I did my best to brush it off and jump back up, sometimes before the people around me had fully become aware of the fact that I was down on the ground for the hundredth time. If only I could learn to be more resilient when it comes to hurt feelings. If only I could manage to grasp the truth that I am not the one sent to judge the world, but to love it. "For how can I love God whom I have not seen if I can't love my brother who I have seen?" (my own paraphrase of I John 4:19 I think) No matter how many times I have read those words I find that I still slip back into my old ways, longing to do to others as they HAVE done to me, rather than as I wish they would do.
I must confess, it's been a really long time since I've written a paper. Obviously this is not a paper, but it feels a bit like some sort of discourse and as though there should be some nice little conclusion to wrap things up. Something to pull it all together and make it, if not more pleasant, at least somehow resolved. But this isn't the sort of thing I really know how to resolve. It's something I'm still trying to hash out for myself. So rather than tying it off with a sweet little bow of repentance and forgiveness, I leave it as it is, something I need to keep working out with fear and trembling and will hopefully learn to do better with as God gives me chance and circumstance in the days to come.