In pictures...

Coming into St. Peter after 18km hike!

Freiburg crowd at a children's acrobatics performance

Lipstick ladies taking on Baden-Baden

Morning street in Taize

Symbolic. The promise.

Post-vaca

Greetings.  

I am back in Finland after 2.5 weeks of vacation in Germany and France.  The journey contained just enough elements of surprise and adventure to satisfy this lady.  It was so refreshing to be away, to think new thoughts, see new places and have meaningful encounters.  I think I will be mulling over and integrating things into daily life for a while yet.  They may or may not end up in these posts.

I went to a massive conference in Nuremberg, Germany, where 25,000 people from around Europe joined together to ask God for awakening on this continent.  Then I had a week with my best friend Essy in Schwarzwald, hiking, talking, taking in the local atmospheres.  When we split ways, I went south to France, where after unforeseen twists, I spent five days at a monastery/community called Taize before rounding off the trip with a day in Nice with some wonderful Italians.

Discoveries:

Freiburg is a wonderful city, "the sunniest corner of Germany," they say.  Do visit it if you have the chance.  They have water canals by the street where you can dangle your weary feet.  

The Camino reaches all the way to Germany!  As we hiked through the Black Forest, the seashell signs of the Way showed up for part of the trek! :)  

Blablacar--carpooling or ridesharing around Europe.  This is how I got around frequently and saved tons of money.  What a great concept.  You find a ride to the destination you want, sign up, show up, and get to your destination with interesting people.  In my case, a chance to brush up on some French...

I was initiated into the wonderful world of couchsurfing in Steinbach, Germany, where we stayed with a lovely family.  There is something so heartwarming about hospitality and people who welcome strangers.

It is possible to feel at home in a spiritual community whose traditions are not the same as yours. God uses people of other backgrounds and countries to speak to us, encourage us and open us to more of Him.  He truly does lead us when we ask him to, in all details.

Traveling alone is overrated.  Give me the company of a dear friend over solitary explorations of new cities any day!

I am happy to be back, even though it seems that summer temperatures never reached Finland. :) May my ordinary everyday life be fertile ground for the seeds planted and watered on this past holiday journey.

Freiburg Hostel

I stood waiting to pay 50 cents for coffee grounds at the counter of the hostel this morning.  The lady was explaining to two Spanish tourists about which trains to take to get them to their desired lake. 

The man had a stuffed elf securely fitted under his backpack straps.

"What is his name?" I asked in Spanish.

"It cannot be pronounced with human words," he responded.  The stuffed elf just hung there and smiled. "He is a bit shy.  But look, the bottom of his feet are black." 

I'm not sure what you can say to that, but I wished them a good journey.

Essy and I are also headed out in a few minutes.   We are going to spend the day in the forest.  Yesterday we enjoyed city touring, as Freiburg is a gorgeous place, full of life, history, beautiful buildings, students and outdoors stores.  Dangerous places, those stores.

Our conference in Nuremberg ended on Sunday, and we left for Triberg the next day.  Traveling by train is one of the most enjoyable forms of getting from a to b, as you can peer out the windows and watch the scenery change.  The lush forests and rolling hills/mountains around here are delightful.  Suddenly, in a tiny valley, you see red tiled rooftops and cleanly kept homes, and once again you wonder how it is that people have picked such small corners of the world to reside in.

It is also no wonder that the brothers Grimm set their fairytales here.  The imagination can easily be inspired in dark turns and magical encounters in such a forest.

Heroes and Legends

Elisabeth Elliot

All of us have legends and heroes we grow up with.  There are stories of great deeds that get retold so many times they get old or commonplace. In my childhood, there is one story we had to tell over and over again every time a work team came to visit our school.

You see, our school--Nate Saint Memorial School--was named after one of the five missionaries who was speared by a hostile tribe in the jungle while trying to tell them about Jesus.  We sang the song (to the tune of Finlandia!) that the five sang before they went out on their last flight, and so told the visiting Americans the story of how the work in Ecuador got started.  It's a powerful narrative of wanting to share good news with people of a different culture and language.  And it's the story of the power of forgiveness and sacrificial love.  Two of the wives of the men who were killed went back with their children to live among the very people who killed their husbands, to learn their language, to live as they did, and to convey the ultimate message of forgiveness.

One of the wives, Margie Saint, I met on one of those tour groups who came through the school. The other, Elisabeth Elliot, I never met.  But it is her passing away this month that made me stop to think about the role models and legends I grew up with.  I mean, the very reason my family was in Ecuador was because these five men opened the doors to missionary flying in the region and my dad became an MAF pilot.  Everyone around me was there because they felt called to further the good news of Jesus Christ to people who hadn't heard. So not only did I sing about it to visitors, but my childhood in the Amazon jungle area happened because of a message so compelling it had to be shared and lived out.

Is it any wonder that with role models of sacrifice, missions and breaching cultures and languages, I would have had a "save the world" attitude?  There is something noble and deeply moving about giving your life for someone else, for a cause that will outlast you.  The strange reality is, everyday life reminds you of how small you are, and one day your realize that you're not cut out for it.  I can't save Syria from ISIS, or any other region for that matter. It is not my job to save the world.  (Sigh of relief!)

I have not become a cynic after the initial shock at my lack of superpowers.  I have rather noted a deeper strand of living that I must cling to.  In each situation, I can look for what God is doing and choose to join him.  It is a very small thing, but it is very bold.  Half the time I don't get what he's up to, and sometimes I am hard-hearted and insecure. But I think the greatest way that I can offer my life, is to actually let God lead it in both the small and the great things.   To learn to walk with him and hear him.  The joy that comes through that brings a measure of satisfaction that nothing else can.

But let me end with a thought about Elisabeth Elliot, who went on to write many books, become a sought-after speaker and a radio show host.  She was one person, who, with all her giftings, opinions and experiences, was at the disposal of a greater Love, to do as He willed in her life.

Elliot's former radio producer wrote about her show and the people who called in:

"Just as each story was different, each story was also the same. As Elisabeth so often reminded her listeners: Every situation—no matter how dark and distressing—if given to Jesus, can become your gateway to joy. It was true then and is still true today. What matters to you matters infinitely more to him."

Within that statement is good news.  Because we matter to the Eternal God, he did everything possible to bring us to him in true relationship.  He sacrificed first, loved first, gave first. Remembering that He is present in every and any situation changes how we view the mundane things and especially the difficult things.  There's a lot more that could be said, but I just wanted to say I am thankful for the heroes of my faith and of my life.  The aren't perfect by far, but they point to the One who is.

Kymmenen = ten

The beginning of June marks my 10-year anniversary in Finland.  Incredible!  I came here ten years ago for my cousin's wedding, and ended up staying.  I got my Masters, reconnected with family roots and Finnish culture, met incredible people, enjoyed many beautiful dusky summer nights, and dare I say, even became more introverted and less talkative!

The psychology of "staying put" has clearly developed in a more settled direction.

Year 1--please let me leave
Year 2--if I left now, I wouldn't cry over any one
Year 3--hmm, this winter somehow felt easier than the last
Year 4--if I buy ice skates, does that mean I will be here more winters?
Year 5--am I allowed to stay here?  to want to stay here? to see friends' kids grow up?
Year 6--this skiing thing is not so bad
Year 7--take me to my phD in the US? nope.
Year 8--100% here until I get kicked out
Year 9--getting my own place
Year 10--in progress, but feels good

Another thing that is different is that my family is all here: parents and sister.  That starts a new era for us! I have, of course, also changed, deepened.  All for the better.

This country has been the setting of my adulthood, while Ecuador held my childhood.  I can't think of two more different countries in terms of climate, national temperament and society.  But I have a great appreciation for both of them and what they have added to my life. I don't know how I will celebrate the past decade, but I think it would be fitting to do something.  Go have a sauna, or visit the only friend I had when I moved here in 2005.

Here's to the past 10!  Cheers!

Alice in Wonderland

I live right by the sea, to my great delight.  I can walk out of my door and within a few steps, see boats resting dockside and clamber up on rocky cliffs that are currently full of miniature violets basking in the occasional sun and observing the waves below.

I also live near allotment gardens--small plots with little cottages that city dwellers like to retreat to when summer arrives.  Yesterday I strolled down the paths of this amazing little world within a world.  Colorful tulips and apple tree blossoms greeted me, walkways lush with purple blossoms, deck chairs pulled out from storage and cleaned cottage windows drew my enchanted gaze.

I stopped to chat to an old woman who was leaving her cottage to go back to the city center.

"I've been here since '35, when they brought me here," she chattered, with bright blue eyes and a purple knit cap resting on the back of her head.  "Of course, I didn't like to pull weeds as a child, but i had the mandatory carrot bed or weeded when my mother told me to.  Now I don't mind."

She has spent every summer of her life here.  In her little wonderland of brilliant blossoms.  We traipsed down a small lane together.  She agreed, as I marveled that she has surely seen many changes happen to the city through so many years.  "Back then that Kulosaari bridge was made of wood, and you had to pay 25 pence to cross it."

Way back then the area where I now live was considered "out in the country."  Now it is clearly city, but for these wonderful pockets of nature and gardens.  The city almost got away with taking the area for more apartment buildings, but thankfully, an uproar rose against it!

I will have to go visit my "Alice in Wonderland" lady again, dropping by for a cup of coffee on a summer day.

Cute Therapy

Because today was a rough day:

everyone looks good in a milk mustache

(photo pawned from the wide world of twitter)

Inspiration from Angelou and Frost

the makings of a phenomenal woman
enmeshed in mundane yet
important activity, little realizing
how each choice, maybe towards a
road less traveled or one
trodden black, will lead from
way to way, telling a story of
becoming--coming into being as a
work of art, fashioned by a Creative
Director whose idea of beauty is
not a fashion model's size, rather
the fire in my eyes, the joy in my
feet, the sun in my smile--the Life
he has breathed into me.  whether i
walk in a yellow wood, teetering at a
choice in the pale morning light,
my head won't be bowed,
for i know my Designer is proud,
delighted, in the span of my hips,
the swing in my waist, the
grace of my style. I don't need to
shout, jump about or talk real loud--
His eye is on me. and somewhere ages
and ages hence, I can say with a sigh,
He made me a woman, phenomenally,
and He has made all
the difference.

Rambles after a heavy day

It seems that spring arrived over Labor Day weekend.  Not in full regalia, but with the faintly shimmering green coat that makes you look twice to make sure you really are seeing it.  The weather, though, is still reminiscing about the good ol' days of winter and seasoning her breath with chill.

I've taken up some art projects in a therapeutic sense.  But you could also call it a highly disguised procrastination method to keep from doing my tax papers.  There they are.  On the bench.  Just waiting to be filled with correct numbers.   I will do them tomorrow.

On another note entirely, I read an article about people of character.  I had an "ah-hah!" moment as I read one section where it talks about how such people journey in life:

"People on this road see life as a process of commitment making. Character is defined by how deeply rooted you are. Have you developed deep connections that hold you up in times of challenge and push you toward the good? In the realm of the intellect, a person of character has achieved a settled philosophy about fundamental things. In the realm of emotion, she is embedded in a web of unconditional loves. In the realm of action, she is committed to tasks that can’t be completed in a single lifetime." -- David Brooks

Even now as I reread that, I instantly sense the many things I would like to extrapolate from it.  But suffice to say that I would not have said that my life is a process of commitment making or that character is defined by how deeply rooted I am.  I mean, I believe that to be true, but I wouldn't have thought to say it that way.  In the spiritual life, I see the connection with being deeply rooted in Christ.  But it was a new idea to think about being rooted: to people, a place, a calling, a time, and its effect on my character.  

It highlights the importance of community.  It's a topic I have frequently contemplated, desired, wanted to a new degree.  

Well, that is it for today.  No conclusions.  Just some thoughts on the scenery of this day.

TM

That's my title: TM. Training Manager.

Since the end of February, I have carried this title with some trepidation, a lot of excitement, and slowly, with more confidence.

I don't train people, but I take care of everything related to language training for BBi Communication, a language company that I have taught for since 2013.  So I start courses, enter all information into our systems, send out course checks and evaluations, coach teachers, make sure they get paid, hire new ones, and do a random assortment of other office jobs related to filing, selling and making excel sheets and reports.

On the plus side, I now have a steady schedule, steady paycheck, flexible work hours, a great boss and an arena I care about--intercultural education.  I also still get to teach English, which I love, as I have some special students at the moment.  On the down side, I have excel sheets and a rolling list of to-dos that doesn't have a place for a final check mark.  And really, that's not much of a down side, since I it's good to have things to do and there is a measure of satisfaction when the numbers add up correctly.

The last time I had a full-time job was in 2008.  So let's just say that the post-burnout return to the workplace had me lying on the sofa after work for a few weeks.  But along with adding such a job to my life, I have subtracted a lot of other things, on purpose.  I used to carry a lot of responsibility in other things--charity, church, relationships.  I don't do that anymore.  I no longer mentor anyone, serve at church, or spend time doing things "because I have to."  I realized how much my identity was linked to these things in what had become an unhealthy balance.

Thus, I am living in a new era of my inner life, which also gives me some trepidation, excitement and slowly, more confidence.  It is time for new winds and dreams, spaces carved for art and being, and not so much of the doing; time for new skills and thoughts about the make-up of the world and my place in it.  It's a bit scary, very welcome, and timely.