Getting off the island one stroke at a time.

I'm sitting in a room surrounded by people, but it feels as though I have been marooned on a desert island. It's not like I haven't felt alone before in a crowd of people. I'm an introvert after all, and it takes effort for me to be sociable with lots of people. Usually, when I feel disconnected it's because I don't know many of the people or they are super different from me and I'm struggling to come up with how to make connections quick so I become connected to the group. But, this time, my isolation is due completely to language, or rather lack of understanding. The loneliness hits me like a particularly large wave as I realize just how much of our human connecting is done via words.

This is not my first time speaking French, but it is late and I am tired and we have moved on to a whole realm of vocabulary I don't have the words for. Conversations hum around me and I just don't know how to break into the flow. I struggle to martial up French phrases and make them stand at attention, ready to fall into line. My English keeps getting in the way, mowing down the French constructions as quickly as I summon them. Je pense que…I have no idea.

My helplessness and frustration are quickly getting on the highway for self-pity city, so I mentally grab my shoulders and give them a shake. I politely explain to the person sitting nearest me in my English-ravaged French that I can't understand what they're discussing because they're talking too fast, and make a quick exit. I refuse to feel like a failure for this. Sometimes, it is just too hard or too late in the evening to continue to think.

When I think about this experience and my emotions in it, I begin to better understand others when they are trying to learn English or exist in an English-speaking environment. It is exhausting and it is lonely to not be able to communicate more clearly than a child. I have thoughts and opinions but I can't express them. Everyone's laughing at something, but I have no idea why. I'm asked a question to which the answer isn't really yes or no, but I somehow make one of those responses work because it would be too complicated to explain more. The hardest part is inserting yourself into the conversation. If someone asks you something directly, it is so much easier, and if someone offers to explain something, it is even better!

Now, to the flip-side. I AM making progress in French. Not every day is like the situation above. When  people ask me if I speak French I have stopped responding by saying, "un petit peu" (a little bit) but instead saying, "Oui, je parle français." Because I do! Not as well as perhaps I would like, but I do speak French. The other evening, I had a whole conversation with a French-speaker in an English-speaking context just because I was imagining myself in her situation. Her English was great, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it's nice for someone to make the effort to talk to you in your own language. It's perhaps harder to speak French with a native than with someone who is also learning French. I become very conscious of my mistakes in any case but we were able to connect on a much deeper level because I made an effort in her language instead of expecting her to make an effort in mine. I know it's not always possible to do that, but when you make an effort it can have a big reward.

The isolation that can come from not speaking the language is a very real, very present ocean. But I can't let my fear of the water keep me on the island forever, so I wade in and start to swim and if I sometimes get caught up in a big wave, it's ok to come up for air and strike out once more.

Global Impact - Berlin

This blogpost is long overdue, but it's been a crazy week since I arrived back from Berlin on Monday. I went there with my team leaders for the Global Impact conference which is all about international student ministry (ISM) in Europe. There were about 80 people from 40 different countries all over the world with a whole range of ages and experiences. Some of the participants are currently international students studying in Europe, others were there because they are involved with their country's national movement, and still others who have long been involved in ISM and were there to train and encourage those with less experience. The conference center we stayed at was about an hour outside of Berlin, but we had some time before the conference and afterwards to visit the city. I finally saw the Berlin Wall! Unfortunately, I had a cold before and during the weekend so I was in a bit of a congested fog for a lot of the time. Some of the people I will see again at future conferences, and others are now my newest Facebook friends, but it was wonderful to meet so many really awesome people. One of my favorite parts was when we had a multicultural night. People had been warned ahead of time so they brought food from their countries to share with everyone. YUM! We also were treated to several different performances of songs, dances, stories, and skits.

Here we all are!

Strasbourg

This past week, my team joined other teams working in Francophone countries for a mini retreat. Twelve of us met up in Strasbourg, France where another American couple works. We were able to stay with them in the church where they have an apartment. It was great to have free accommodation and lots of space to hang out in. We enjoyed fellowshipping together and sharing with each other. 

Strasbourg is an amazing city and a mix of French and German influences because it is right on the border between these two countries and changed hands many times throughout history. I also got to meet up with an old friend of my mother's who is currently living there. She showed me around the city and it was beautiful even in the rain! On Thursday, we left Strasbourg and it was sunny so we arrived early enough to wander into the city before our train left for Switzerland.

Our group of Francophone workers, Teams Lausanne, Strasbourg, Paris, & Brussels

Making dinner

Samuel in Molsheim, where we stayed.

With Lynette, my personal tour guide, in Strasbourg

La Petite France, Strasbourg

Strasbourg Cathedral

inside Strasbourg Cathedral

inside Strasbourg Cathedral

Astrological clock

Strasbourg from the river boat ride

The European Parliament and Council

Strasbourg in the sunshine

Andrew and Claire enjoying the sun in Strasbourg.

More than Hot Milk

One minute and forty-five seconds. I have determined that this is the ideal amount of time that my cup of milk has to stay in the microwave in order to become a delicious mug of hot chocolate. But it's not one minute and forty-five seconds all at once. First I zap the milk for one minute and thirty seconds. Then, I take it out and add three teaspoons of Cadbury's drinking chocolate to the now hot milk and stir vigorously. I replace the mug in the microwave for an additional 15 seconds, remove, stir, and sip happy warmness in a mug. Mmmm...

Sorry, short break while I go make a cup of hot chocolate....

Precisely one minute and forty-five seconds later...I'm back! :) Imagine one day my milk starts talking to me. It complains that it is too cold in the refrigerator and that it would like to try being warm. So, I stick it in the microwave and before the first minute is up, it is complaining it is getting a little too warm. Then, I have the indecency to dump in chocolate powder and it complains that it doesn't like brown and why didn't I try to turn it blue or pink or orange? It also detests being stirred and complains bitterly about being heated for even more seconds. When, at last, it has been turned into a delicious mug of hot chocolate it cries and says heatedly that it wishes I had spilled it on the way from the refrigerator rather than having gone through all the hassle and unpleasantness.

It is a little bit ridiculous to think of milk talking, even more so that it wouldn't want to become something as delicious as hot chocolate! But even as I sit here contemplating this whole ridiculous situation I find that I myself am often rather like this "sour" milk. I tell God I'm too cold, then too hot, I say I don't like brown, I'd prefer green, I complain about being stirred, and I whine about the rising temperatures. I don't even notice that he's working to improve me, that he's turning me into something even better than cold milk. He's making me warm and chocolatey and all I can say is I wish I was a puddle on the floor. It's a little like the verse in Isaiah:
You turn things upside down, as if the potter were thought to be like the clay! Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it, "You did not make me"? Can the pot say to the potter, "You know nothing"?

Or, perhaps sometimes I am aware of the uncomfortable circumstances are caused by God and I tell him that I'm hot enough, that I can't take any more microwaving, I'm fine with being just hot milk. That's when he takes me out and I think I'm done, he says "not yet" and calmly sticks me back in. Because, God does not want us to be comfortable. He wants us to be mature and complete, not lacking in anything. In fact, if God were to take us out before we had learned from our trial or hard situation, he would be doing us a disservice. We would be a lukewarm chocolate that no one wants to drink.

The fact of the matter is, I need to be heated up, stirred up, and changed by God into something delicious into a pleasing aroma of Christ amongst those who are being saved and those who are perishing. And all the while, he holds the mug in his capable hands. He knows exactly how long I need to be in each and every situation of each and every day. And I have the audacity to complain. I am silly foolish milk, but by the grace of God, I don't have to stay that way.

A Christmas Tradition

I know it's Christmas time because of the clementine peels that are crammed into the car ashtray where my dad puts them and forgets about them. The smell of orange is in the air. Clementines seem to be everywhere this time of year and, in fact, my dad is peeling one now, while steering the car with his knees. He offers me a segment and I accept it with a gloved hand because it's Christmas and because I want him to keep his eyes on the road.

We are going on our annual last minute shopping trip around 9PM because the stores won't be as busy then and yet they are open late during this busy sale season. In my purse lies my mother's carefully composed wish list and my dad is on a mission to tick off as many things as he can. I have come along to validate his choices and help him make decisions. He knows my mother very well and can usually tell just as well as me what she will like, but still, it's important that I come and give my opinion too. It's a part of my job as the eldest and it's a part of the Christmas traditions in my family that I wouldn't trade for the world.

When I was younger, my dad was also my soccer coach and we spent many hours driving back and forth to practices together talking and thinking out loud and laughing. We have the same sense of humor. Now that I'm older, now that I can drive myself places, the times where we are alone in the car are few and far between. But, there's always this moment in December, I can count on it, even down to the orange peels and slight stickiness on the steering wheel.

"I gave you Mum's list, right?" he asks me as he accelerates to make it through a yellow light.
"Yes, I have it."
He casts me a smile, the one that says, 'you're such a good dependable daughter.' At least, it could be that one, or it could be the smile that says, 'I just saw a car, MAKE MODEL#, that I would love to own someday.' Either way, I smile back. He continues to weave his way through the traffic down Route 50, Celine Dion's These Are The Special Times CD can be heard faintly in the background. He doesn't care for the radio much but he adores Ave Maria. I now know why my mother couldn't find the CD when we were decorating the tree two weeks ago. What's Christmas without Celine Dion?

We don't say much of anything all the way to the mall, which he accomplishes in about half the time it normally takes me, due to frequent lane changing and bursts of well-timed acceleration. He just so happens to find an empty spot right outside the main entrance and soon we are inside with Christmas songs blasting over the loud-speaker and twinkling lights in every shop window. We head into JC Penney, find the specific socks detailed on the list, and start looking at sweaters.
"What about this blue one?" I ask, holding up one the color of cornflowers.
"OK, but what size?" He never knows what to get and always saves the receipt. Even though I usually get the color right, I'm not always good with the size either. It's the game we play every year, so in the end we just pick one and move onto the perfume.

After buying a bottle of Anaïs Anaïs, we head to a jewelry store. I simply love going to the jeweler's with my dad. He always talks just a minute too long with the sales person, to the point where they wonder if he's there to buy something or not. Then he makes them get out everything in the genre that he is looking for. This time it is pearl earrings. After he has asked the young, overly made-up, Helzberg Diamond's employee if she is enjoying the Christmas season and will she be skiing in the near future, he asks for her to pull out a pair of pearl drop earrings. What I know, but she doesn't know, is that he will probably end up buying these earrings. But, he still makes her get out the others, one after the other, until they're lined up on the counter. He asks me what I think and I tell him I like this one for the size, this other one for the color, this third one for the style. And of course, I confirm what I already know to be his top choice. He goes so far as to ask Jenny, (he has seen her name badge by now) if I can try on a pearl and diamond pair. Finally, he buys the pearl drop earrings just like I knew he would, but only because by this time the sales clerk is just desperate and tells him there is a holiday special where he can get 15% off. After a "Merry Christmas, Jenny," we finally head back to the car mission accomplished.

Christmas Eve will find us wrapping all the presents for my mother, including small things for scrapbooking and a half open bag of chocolates that were hidden in the garage, but that my dad had to dip into because he had had a "chocolate emergency." I've also found her some cute lotions at Bath & Body Works, as well as some other small things from Target. There will be new white board markers and some pens. We don't wrap things individually though, because we haven't the time. Sometimes, we're even lazy with the socks.

I can see it all now, smell the freshly peeled clementines, hear Celine belting it out, feel the sales person's displeasure, but I am not there this year. It's a first. I will not go on this special trip with you this year, Dad. Although I know it's selfish, if you take a sister I hope it's not the same. I hope you miss me as much as I miss you and our annual tradition. And when you listen to the CD I hope you think of me:

And through it all one thing will always be true;
The special times are the times I spend with you.

Merry Christmas, Dad, and try not to wait 'til the 23rd this year!

November in a Nutshell

I have really been a slacker about updating my blog this month but here is just the highlights reel of all the great things that have gone on this month!

Wine tasting near Nyon on Lake Geneva. We got to walk through some beautiful scenery on a not too cold fall day! There was also a little train that you could take from place to place-my favorite part!

Looking through the vines down toward the lake and mountains

Le petit train!

Our group

I love trains!

This month our iCafé was Thanksgiving themed. As the American, I had lots of work to do! We also got pies and other food made for us by people in the local church which was really great!

Together with Brandon, another American, we were dressed up as pilgrims to tell the Thanksgiving story.

All the desserts that people made for us!

We whipped some cream!

on the tables we had people write what they were thankful for

Hello, students! 

Raclette is a traditional Swiss meal and I got to try it for the first time this month.

The special raclette set. On top you can fry meats and on the bottom in the little pans you melt your cheese.

Then you put the melted cheese on whatever you want-but usually potatoes!

Bon appétit!

The Christmas markets have begun in Lausanne!

Keeping warm

And sometimes, just for fun we take advantage of just being in Lausanne.

chilling in Ouchy

That's right, we can spell!

Water you turned into wine

Psalm 34:8 "Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him."

"Everyone who drinks water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up into eternal life." ~Jesus, John 4:13-14


Just a taste, that's all the wine they splash into your glass. They want to entice you to buy. Because a taste is never meant to be all that you have. You are supposed to taste, find that it's good, and then lay down the money for an entire bottle. That's what wine tasting is about for the vineyards. For us poor students, it's about getting free wine (well, we had to pay a small fee) and perhaps visiting the countryside of Switzerland. 

Jesus talked a lot about wine. From his first miracle of turning water into wine to his great example of "I am the vine," he used an example that his audience could relate to. However, he knew that wine doesn't completely satisfy thirst the way water does. That is why he uses water to demonstrate the life-giving good news. 
So many people "taste" Christianity. For some, it perhaps makes them thirstier, but for others they are immediately turned off. They say that they prefer the red to the rosé but the white is ok for you. But, fortunately, Jesus is not like wine, he is like water. Water is necessary for survival and it's something which everyone has a taste for. Jesus is for everyone. That's why he came to die so that we might live.