:: A Year ::

2008-07-17T11:44:00.000-07:00

Maybe...

2008-06-25T06:54:00.000-07:00

Maybe Fort Wayne can be beautiful. I took both of these here.

I was driving home from Hannah and Tony's last night. The sun was setting. So amazing. I rushed home to try to take a picture of it. My house is surrounded by houses so to get a good photo, I climbed a tree. :)

For Hayley... Looking at what's been over-looked

2008-06-23T14:38:00.000-07:00

I'm going to start writing again for Hayley. I think she's the only one who still tries to read this. Besides, she is one that has encouraged me to write by her own writing. One time Hayley sent me a 14 page letter. Two days later there were another 10 pages or so. I need to start writing again. AND... I told her I'd write the next entry for her.

Sometimes home is a hard place to be. This week I've heard of or seen or even experienced so many examples of this. One friend of mine has been abused, and returning home for her means remembering. Another friend just flew home because a family member died. Currently, I am working with refugees who have all fled their homes. Sometimes home is just hard. For me, though there have been times where I've missed my home, it usually is hard when I feel restless. During those good old college years, it's always a transition. Moving in and out. Getting jobs and quitting jobs. From class to work. From friends to family. Independence to... Transition.

I love traveling and seeing new cultures. There are times when it seems I live in the most "culture-less" place in the world. My traditions are bland, clothing is indistinct, the skyline is forgettable. I know that this is because I've been here most of my life, so I'm numb to even the positive aspects. But I'm here. I'm here for another two months. So I'm going to start looking for what I've been over-looking for so long. There will be pictures and hopefully stories.

2008-02-03T20:22:00.000-08:00

Between the days....

2008-01-28T18:59:00.000-08:00

I like this picture. I took it on a day that was quite the opposite of most the days I've been living here. Not good or bad. Just opposite.

This day in particular, I was walking the harbor in Dun Laoghaire. By myself. Didn't know a single person I passed. Had no where to be. Slow and full of room to think. Slightly lonely, because even if I wanted to talk, I had yet to make friends in Dublin. Lots of paths to walk and plenty of time to walk them. I looked at everything around me. Took in every detail. That's when I saw these little flowers coming out of the wall.

These days, the feelings of loneliness come in a completely different way. People everywhere, acquainted with most of them, but all of us in too much of a hurry to do much about it. There's always something more to do or think about or figure out. And although much of these things are good and profitable, they don't leave room for free thought. The pace of my steps is a bit quicker here than that day. It's a Dublin city-center kind of pace. Point A to point B.

A song that I discovered while I was abroad has some great lyrics that apply to both of these days. It's called "In Between the Days".

"In between the days,
sometimes you need a change.
I want to do something
that takes my breath away.
And makes me not want to go home
at the end of the day.
In between the days."

And though these days are different, they're still comical... For lots of reasons... Because sometimes I wear slippers outside after a heavy rain. (Sorry, Mom). Or because solace comes in cups of tea. Because sometimes having a Zimbabwean meal is necessary on a Sunday evening. (Note to self: look at these oddities more and enjoy them.)

Cold and loving it

2008-01-20T19:35:00.000-08:00

Exploring. One of my favorite things in life. In the different places to which I've travelled, my favorite thing is to explore. Walk and meander around... Find a random place to get tea... Go up and down hills... I do the same thing with people. I want to know all about them and what they're passionate about. I like getting past the surface and beyond the beaten path with most things. And I'm learning that the potential for that is everywhere. Yes, everywhere.

Today was a great day of all of that. My friend Grace and I went to Yellow Springs. It's a little town near by that is the opposite of Cedarville in so many ways. It's still small, but has a hippie-sort-of-flare. Our goal was to walk around and take pictures to further develop our photography skills, all the while getting to talk and spill our souls. It was absolutely freezing, adding another point to my life of favorite experiences that have happened in the intense cold. Here's some shots from the day...

Walking around Yellow Springs town...

Yellow Springs gets its name from an actual spring that's more orange than yellow flowing nearby. We decided to venture out to find that as well.

After we took as many pictures as possible before our fingers lost feeling, we got some coffee at the Emporium, a small coffee shop with yellow walls, old persian rugs, and chipping wooden floors. Coffee for a dollar and a quarter. When all was said and done, we decided to make this a weekly tradition.

I'm learning a lot lately. Learn. A slightly overused word. I'm processing. I'm wrong a lot, and seeing that. I'm seeing and hearing new ideas and thoughts. I'm rediscovering things I've heard most of my life as if they are new. Yes, learning.

First photos of Ohio

2008-01-17T16:21:00.000-08:00

I feel like I exhaled so much tension as I took pictures. Blessed with a good chunk of time, I read, wrote, and photographed. The calm was brief. As soon as I check my email or my planner, I'm reminded of all the British Broadcasting I have to read and all the other things there are to be done. For my sanity's sake, I'll keep pulling away and taking pictures, focusing on all that is beautiful or telling or intriguing...

I took some pictures last week when I went to the Gorge with my roommate, Brittany. The Gorge is like a really little, little piece of Glendalough. But it is nature and outside and therefore, smile-provoking.

Proof.

There are shoes in this picture... that's for Susan.

These next two are a couple I took today while wandering around the village of Cedarville. This is where I live for now, so different from where I've been. And yet, still so good and still so saturated with evidence of God.

I like roads. I like driving them, running on them, and the way they can symbolize a journey.

Simple me in a multitasking culture

2008-01-16T21:37:00.000-08:00

Being busy is not my favorite thing. I figure a quick update is better than nothing up here at all. So here goes...

These past fews days have been completely consumed.... Reading about democracy in the Middle East, playing basketball, looking at Jesus' interactions with women, walking, learning theory and application of rhetoric, eating pita bread and hummus, meetings, running, calling my mom, discussing potential problems with Iran, memorizing BBC, shivering, cups of tea, conversations over said cups of tea, learning that I am wrong a lot, talking to Jesus, crying, missing people, meeting people, trying to keep a schedule, reading more BBC, singing...... and much, much more.

Last week was very similar to my first week in Ireland. I like feeling connected to people. That process is starting here. I'm kinda laughing at myself right now, because I think I saw last week as a time of mourning. Mourning the loss of my Glendalough... the Fry's... the DART... the market arcade... my family... I didn't take a single picture. That changes tomorrow.

Multitasking is not quite a gift of mine. Not at all. But the idea is important right now. Simplicity and simultaneousness. I need to cut out what's unnecessary. And accept multiple facets of life. I don't need to figure out the future now. Food and clothes are not worthy of my worry. I can and will miss Ireland, even while I love the people here and keep in touch with my family three hours away. It will all balance eventually. And if not, it's still life. Life is good. Joy is there. Always. I really wonder when we started thinking that difficulty in life was bazaar or unacceptable. I love being alive. And, with Jesus with me always, I'll keep loving it and living.

And I'll even appreciate the cornfields.

Adjusting

2008-01-12T12:51:00.001-08:00

I think this is my first update of the week. That may communicate how busy it has been. One night I tried, and after writing a few lengthy paragraphs, the electricity went out in all of Cedarville. So I couldn’t post it.

Culture shock. People say that it’s worse when you get back from being away. I don’t know about all that. In some ways this is true.

This place is supposed to be comfortable. This is supposed to be normal. When I got here and realized how many ways it is not comfortable or normal, I guess it felt like there was something wrong with me, instead of just realize things just change. Also, because I have lived here before, and I do know so many of these people, I don’t feel like I have the right to “need time to adjust” or things like that. So I frustrate myself. But I know this is part of the process of being gone and coming back. That daily choice to embrace or resign is more like a hourly decision. And sometimes that goes well and sometimes not so well.

So much has been going through my head as I couple processing what happened last semester and ideas I’m being exposed to even now. Already, I can tell my classes are going to be so amazing. Hard, especially compared to the academic schedule I had last semester.  But so good. Three examples….

I have a class called Advanced Public Speaking. Now, speaking in front of people is hard enough. Supposedly more people in the world are afraid of speaking before an audience than death. Supposedly. First day of class, our prof asked us why we thought this was called “advanced”. Hm… She told us she was going to teach us to feel the pressure. Great. But then she went on about how the greatest influence on pulic opinion is not the media or the government, but word-of-mouth information. You trust what people around you say more than what you read or hear on tv. Therefore, taking the responsibility of daily conversation seriously, she wants us to be people of influence under pressure. I’m so not ready for that, but wanting to be.

Global Issues is another favorite. We don’t take notes or have tests or write papers. We read a ton. Last week I was assigned to read all the BBC News website. After being quizzed on how well we were familiar with the information, we just discussed it. Why are there problems in Kenya? What can be done about the blizzards in Iran? How can we prevent more war? Those kind of things. So interesting.

Lastly, I have this class centered on dissecting what we say we believe, and really getting to the inside of it, and learning to communicate that clearly. The other day we talked about the significance of grace, something that I don’t think could ever get old. It’s such an out-of-this-world concept that we can be given something, greater than anything imaginable, and deserve not an ounce of it. On the contrary, we deserve it’s opposite. And yet this is the foundation of all I believe, that God gives what I cannot earn, and live life from there.

Despite difficulties of adjustment and discomfort, I know it will be a good semester. God is moving, all over the world. And that means here too.

Resigning vs. Embracing

2008-01-06T18:45:00.000-08:00

Back in Ohio. Back to cornfields. Back to classes...

I heard someone talking about how we, as human beings, both cling to and hate those things in our lives that are the same. We don't really like getting out of our routine. We don't like having to figure something out just to go about our lives. And yet we hate the daily grind. Ironically, we wilfully stay in the ruts we could get out of, and fight against the things that cannot change. Hm...

Mixed feelings fill me up about being back here. Good and bad. Pros and cons...

I love people. Already, I've run into some old friends and gotten to hear the stories that have comprised their lives for the past 6 months. Living in a dorm lends itself to lots of story sharing. Separation, restoration, new hobbies, new directions... When I get bogged down in thinking just about me and what's going on in my life, it's comforting, humbling, and perspective straightening to look at how many other people are living life around me. Significant.

And since I love people, I hate saying good-bye. I talked with my mom about that. I'm realizing that the more I travel, the more I meet people, the greater number of good-byes will need to be said. And I'm horrible at them. Part of me feels like not being here, because it feels like it further separates me from people and experiences that are so much a part of my own self.

I like reading and writing. We do lots of both here. And I like libraries. We have one of those as well.

I like being outside. Winter here is like death. However, my appreciation for cold has grown, so I will go out into the great outdoors regardless of the weather. Within reason.

I like new and exciting. And although Cedarville is so many great things, it isn't often new or exciting. But I had my time of all that, for a while. And in life there's always more to come. Which in itself implies new, and perhaps exciting.

So yes, mixed feelings. Sometimes an attitude check is necessary, no matter what the place is like where you find yourself. You can resign. Or embrace. You can't change your age. You may be in a situation of marriage, career, or education that you can't alter at this point in time. There's lots of things like that. When I realize I can't change something, there's an immediate choice. Resign or embrace. The difference is simple. I can begrudgingly "get through" whatever situation is before me. Or I can full on accept that this is the characteristic of this time in my life, but that it's still time and it's still life. One forces eyes to the ground. One opens eyes. One robs energy and joy. One gives expectation.

So, the plan is, whatever I think or feel through these first days of yet another transition, that I will embrace it. I want to proceed through life with as much hope and expectation and smiling as possible. And I'm fairly sure we don't reach that "as possible" very often.

Beautiful Motion

2008-01-04T20:39:00.000-08:00

These first days of the year, and last days at home, keep passing faster. I had not even finished unpacking, and began packing again. I got to have conversation, one of my favorite things, with people. Finally, I got to spend some time on my own. I've never been much into New Year's resolutions. But I've started a list. Maybe it's to try to stay the change that's happened these past four months. Nothing super ambitious. The list is compromised of a bunch of simple and sometimes obvious ideas. Listen more. Spend less. Write more poems. Finish reading the Bible. Run a mini-marathon. I thought about really trying to give up coffee. For real this time. Completely out. That's not going to happen. For me, there will always be less coffee than tea, but there will always be coffee.

I've spent a lot of time these past few days trying to develope photos. This has proven to be quite a task. I have over 3,000 to sift through. And besides that, one problem after another has occured in getting the images from my macbook, to that glorious blue envelope the prints come in. I'm kinda daft when it comes to technology, hence it's been problematic. In all my love for photos, and all my love for Ireland... the task is not one of the most important things in my life right now.

This past summer I met a family from Sudan. Darfur actually. I'd hang out with them every now and then, and we'd just have a wonderful time. Comparing cultures, learning the language of the other, drinking tea... January 1st, I got a call from Wedad, the 21-year-old daughter of the family. She wanted me to come over the next day. I wanted nothing more. So the next day I went to their apartment where out of their poverty and their generousity, they shared some goat meat and tea with me. After seeing Asila (the mom), Nual and Warda (sisters), and little baby Yasim, I fell into conversation with Wedad.

She started tell me about their life in Darfur. I heard, first hand, these stories of what it was like to leave friends behind. Her village was attacked by "helicopter bombs". She saw her uncle get shot twice in the head, and live 15 days before dying. After some years of fighting, their family decided to escape. They fled, on foot, to Chad. Where they lived under a tree. For months. With absolutely nothing. And something I noticed, she spoke of these things with not a single plea for pity. It's just her life.

I asked her if she'd ever go back. She said she would. And then explained in her beautifully broken English something along the lines....

"It's my country. Leaders die. Armies leave. But it will always be my country. In Darfur, seeing people important. Here... work important, school important. My country, you always see people."

Wedad is a Muslim. Eventually we moved into the topic of Islam, what it means to her, and finally, what she thinks about Jesus. It'd be really hard to recap that conversation. But I'll try.

She's very passionate, very intelligent. She explained her religion to me, in great detail. She knew it so thoroughly. Her shock at how so many people can say "I am Christian" or "I am Muslim", and yet live completely unconsumed by it showed so much of her heart. A heart that genuinely wants to give herself to something she can believe in. She likes Jesus, and the things He taught. I told her I do too. So we went down that path.

The biggest difference... I believe Jesus is God and that He came to save the people. I explained, as best I could to someone not natively speaking my language, about how Jesus brought grace, forgiveness. And you know what... it's a pretty incredible thing, to see someone's face as they first hear about forgiveness.

We ended with lots of unanswered questions, and lots of hugs and photos and smiles. And hope. Wedad, because she just may believe that she can be forgiven. And me... I left with hope as I was reminded that my God moves in beautiful motion.

Canyons and summits, hellos and good-byes... A good year.

2007-12-31T13:47:00.000-08:00

I'm very aware of time. When a new month turns over, I take notice and become sentimental about what's happened. And of course New Year's Eve is a concentration of that. This past year, for me, has been a turning point. A launch pad. A runway. A catalyst. The details of where I feel myself being propelled are nonexistant. I just don't know. But I'm excited.

However, I look back at the year and see. Retrospection is a good thing. My Best Friend has remained faithful, involved, active. Not always understandable. Hardly ever expected. Sometimes I doubted. And yet I see this great work that He is doing all over the place, and I see a handful of times where I got to be a part of it. And He's changed me.

I thought about putting up different highlights of the past year of my life. Then thought against it. I never remember it all, but I am the product of it. Those Women of Vision at school did the clothes drive with me for Iraq. They showed me some hefty things in life and people. My trip to California with the family giving my tired heart room to breathe taught me much. Going for walks and jogs with the girls in my hall at all hours of the night through the country roads of Ohio.... I did portraits of kids this summer, learning to capture moments of happiness in chaos and help others savor those moments gave me the idea to do the same with life. But then the highlights get more and more personal. Too personal. From the end of July til right now, the mess my life has been shaken into, and the honesty I had to gain to come to grips with those pieces... It's brilliant. Just too personal.

Yes, this year was fantastical. Almost unreal. Ideal. Broken and mended. Really high, frustratingly low. Irreversible. Loved it.

I swam in both the Pacific Ocean and the Irish Sea. I went down parts of the Grand Canyon and explored some of the depths I can experience on my own. There were lots of new introductions, and some good-byes that actually tore my insides. I found myself at the top of the Eiffel Tower and the top of my world. Met people from every continent and became friends and family with them all. And there was much that was not so glamorous. I eventually made my way back to my home... on the couch with Emma, in the gym with Hannah, talking with my Mom stopped in some random parking lot, and talking personality types with Dad while he made pancakes.

This is the year that the Lord has made. I can rejoice. :) So can you.

How I see we want something greater...

2007-12-30T22:12:00.000-08:00

I've seen a lot of different people these past few weeks. Being an emotional person, I walk away from most interactions with some kind of impression, something to process. I leave feeling uplifted, or with nagging thoughts wanting to be sorted, or even feeling like I need to recover. Regardless, people have an affect on me almost every time. Hence, I've spent a lot of time observing people, and analyzing my own reactions to them.

When I watch people, I usually see myself a bit more accurately. I see a person who is striving for approval... dressing to please, smiling to please, staying silent to please. It initially makes me sad. Then I realize how much of that is what I'm prone to do. I recognize that I was made to create. Now I do so usually with some filter in mind of who will see my creation and what will they be most impressed by. Maybe it's taking a picture, cooking food, or what I write up here. This also tells me that I was meant to create for something. Or Someone. My inner drive to make something beautiful was given to me with purpose. The times when I long to write down something, anything, come with a goal. Maybe not a tangible goal. But I want it to mean something. I start to feel like there's a reason for that.

My faith would tell me that a lot of what I just wrote is not completely off base. Many of those thoughts come from a real source. I was created, by a Creator, who has the greatest imagination and flare of any being ever. And He instilled in me this desire to use movement and color and snapshots of life and words for.... a reason. To enjoy it, by enjoying how much I see/experience/recognize HIM in it. It reflects Him. I hope so anyway.

There are others things... more features that I notice in other people, then find accentuated in myself. A desire to be loved. A great frustration at injustice. Insecurity and therefore, second-guessing. A people-pleaser. A need to be silent and still. Wanting to understand. Obsessive. There are all these traits, positive and negative, that reveal. I've never been all that great at veiling who I am or how I'm feeling in the first place. How I make decisions, what makes me cry, what I really believe... It can easily show much of myself... sometimes too much. The anger I get at injustice shows that I believe there's a right and wrong. My bank statement would tell you how much I value material things, even in direct contrast with the desire I have to live simply and generously. I see God as being so generous and simply beautiful, yet I find enough of my worth in the eyes of others to feel the need to make silly purchases. Part of me wants to be affirmed by those around me. Part of me wants to give up everything, because my Jesus did. And His life is beautiful.

I sense this is getting confusing. I guess my thoughts are just this... I think people are complex, yet we have these needs and drives that we were created in. And we try to fill them, meet them, thrive in them. We make our attempts in many ways. And the different avenues that you or I pursue on a day to day basis betray the greatest guises of what human beings are really for. Something greater.

Coffee to tripping to cooking to laughing to stillness

2007-12-27T23:51:00.000-08:00

It's almost three in the morning. I'm needing sleep desperately, but today was rather eventful, so I'll stay up a few more moments to put them down.

I went to coffee with my friend Hayley this morning. We've gone to school together from the age of 6 to age 18. The time together was good. We are very different people. In high school, this was problematic. We kinda disliked each other off and on. Since going to college, we've started to appreciate each other. The differences have sharpened us over the years. Now we recognize it. And enjoy it. Hayley is creative, even when she doesn't try to be. She's blunt, so if she doesn't agree with me, I'll know it. Which is fantastic, because when my thoughts stay unstirred, they grow stagnant and useless. Hearing Hayley talk about life is sometimes like watching TV. You'd ask yourself if this was really happening. Is she really saying that? Then you'd see that it's actually really close to how we all think. So yes... good morning coffee.

I've been needing some time of quiet. Rest. A place for the thoughts to just kinda stumble out so that they can be dealt with. (That may not make very much sense to you, but inside my head it does. It's crazy in there.) So when I found that home would not be a very serene place this afternoon, I started to lose it. Bruce Springstein blared. Cabin fever set in. I packed up my journal and started to head out of the house. Three steps from my front door down the brick pathway to my car, I felt my feet lose connection with the slushy ground. The camera in my hand found shelter beneath my left arm. My right wrist and both knees took the brunt of a huge wipe out. This fall did not so much for my mental state at that point. That was the low point. After an hour or so at the coffee shop, mostly spent just sitting in silence, I found calm returning.

Later on, I went over to Hannah's and helped her make Moroccan chicken for her husband Tony and our friend Josh. I've loved all the family time I've had, and the different looks that has taken. Getting to spend time with Hannah and Tony as friends with their friends... it's been so good. Life-giving. We talked and laughed. We went to Atz's for ice cream. Excellent time.

A couple of friends of Hannah's from high school, Phil and Jerry, were coming over to my house with Hannah and Tony. Countless rounds of cards, more ice cream. Coffee. Laughing until I cry. It went from 7:30 until almost 1. In the end, it was just my mom, Phil, Jerry, and I playing cards. I tend to get a little competitive, so there may have been some trash talk. Maybe. But the fun didn't stop there. Phil, Jerry, and myself went to Steak-n-shake. For those of you unfamiliar with this place, some details... Open 24/7, supposedly famous for steakburgers, it's a diner that has french fries, shakes... Stuff like that. So the hour from 1-2 was spent there. What a fantastic time!

Really, this day was so full. Mostly in good ways. I've loved getting to be around new people and hear their perspectives of the world. Or even of things smaller than the whole world. I just like people. Even if I'm not like them. Still...

I'm feeling like I need to sit still for a bit. Maybe just literally sit in silence. Read. Breathe. My mind is always going so fast. So full. I think of my ever present Jesus, and I know that it's okay to just be. Be. Just be... with Him.

Merry Christmas!

2007-12-25T21:23:00.000-08:00

I woke up and some form of illumination came through the window. It wasn't sunshine. It wasn't street lights. I think it was just dawn. A gray sort of dawn. This may not seem significant. And maybe it's not. But for some reason, it's simple things like that where I see God. And I love when those kind of moments are the first of my day. Merry Christmas.

We started the Christmas celebrating with a big meal. My parents, Emma, Hannah and Tony, my Grandma, and my aunt Liz all present. And myself. Hannah doesn't live at home anymore. Grandma's from California. I'm in and out of house. It was good to all be together. And it was fully everything "being together" should entail. There's part of humor that is best accentuated with those closest to you. We laugh a lot together. And it wouldn't be a real Kowatch experience if one of us didn't end up crying at some point. And one of us did, though I think it's unnecessary to specify which one.

We had the typical Christmas events... opening of presents, Christmas movies, food... We like to play games, whether it be cards or something like that. This year we played this sort of tag game, which would take entirely too long to explain. I will say that by the end, Hannah, Tony, Emma and I were sweaty and I sustained a floor burn on my arm and a bruise across the top of my foot. Worth it. So yes, typical Christmas celebration.

Among my favorite gifts... a book of poetry, "Traveling Mercies" by Anne Lammott, yoga mat, electric tea kettle, a book of photography from Ireland, and arm warmers.

After evening, I went with Hannah and Tony to some friends' house. We sat drinking tea, talking, sitting silent, petting the dog, holding their 7 week old baby. Just being together. My heart felt calmed. I don't think it's a surprise to anyone who knows me that my mind has been full. Busy. Running. Even in a good way. Being around people and hearing their thoughts and lives soothes so much of me that feels a bit raw. Another amazing present of the day.

One place my thoughts are often... Jesus. The more I live life, small as that may be, the more I realize that what I believe is crucial. And not believing is not an option. We all believe something. But I'm staking all I've got on Jesus, or at least trying to. So I want to know everything about Him. I love Him. I'm fascinated by Him. I want to know. One thing I've been learning about Him is how to see Him. Sometimes I start looking at Him through lenses of what He's done for me... or who I've been told He is. When I start at the beginning, and just kinda introduce myself to Him, I think the vision is a bit clearer. Jesus was a man. He spoke of amazing life, new life. He spoke of peace. He taught of hardship and generousity. He claimed to be God. He upset people. He was killed. He surrendered Himself to it. He came back to life, showing to Himself to be greater than death. And now He is the fulfillment of every longing. He is salvation. He is freedom for all captivity. He is, and always has been, love. And I first met Him when He became a man. Jesus. My Jesus. What a beautiful name!

This is why Christmas is a big deal. It resonates.

Sculpture

2007-12-22T20:21:00.000-08:00

I love sculptures. Almost every time I'm in a museum, the stone and marble figures are what intrigue me most. I can't fathom how you would go about doing something like that. I would stand in front of a big rock with a hammer and chisel and not even know where to begin. And yet I see the life size forms that are frozen in a very life like moment. I love when fabric looks like it's falling. Or when the muscles of the face show that a smile was beginning.

When I look at sculptures, life seems to slow. Because I'm examining this one moment, and all the thoughts and emotions that could be coupled with it, I feel my own mind and heart slow down. And it usually takes a lot to get me to do that. I'm constantly accused of thinking too much and of being too emotional. Guilty.

Wouldn't it be neat if we could stop everything at different points of life and just look? Look at our faces and surroundings and just evaluate it all. Maybe we would understand ourselves better. And if we could do the same for each other, maybe we could understand each other better. I would like to look at your life like a sculpture.

An idea: maybe you, whoever you are, could leave a comment just telling me what you're up to. Or what's going on in your heart or head. Just a little piece of the scuplture that is your life, so that I can know. Whether I see you everyday or hardly ever, I would love that. Plus, I would see who actually reads this.

Please take 30 seconds and leave me a few words on your life. I bet it's beautiful!!

Mad as the Mist and Snow

2007-12-21T12:46:00.000-08:00

"Bolt and bar the shutter,
For the foul winds blow:
Our minds are at their best this night,
And I seem to know
That everything outside us is
Mad as the mist and snow."
-W.B. Yeats

I had written a good bit about what I did today, then realized it was not too pertinent to life in general, just to me. So I replaced it with a picture of my house and some words by my favorite Irish poet. I like those words.

Reminders

2007-12-20T13:32:00.000-08:00

They're everywhere... reminders of Ireland. I was just walking around doing some Christmas shopping. I saw a Borat DVD and a set of The Vicar of Dibley episodes and immediately found my mind with some friends in Dublin. And found myself smiling. I turned on the radio and heard a version of Amazing Grace that an Irish friend introduced me to, and then found myself a bit emotional. I like it though, the little reminders. It shows how closely my life in Ireland and my life here mesh. They're not mutually exclusive.

Cold is another reminder. This morning I took my puppy for a little walk through the snow frosted streets. She gets a little excited when we're outside, so we'd sprint every now and then to let out the energy. Those times of running made my face burn with cold. But I like that. Reminds me that I'm alive. A handful of my favorite experiences abroad are coupled with intense cold. Swimming in the Irish Sea, standing on top of the Eiffel Tower, sleeping in a tent in Florence, outside at a rugby match... Very cold... Very alive. I think it's fantastic that God created cold and that our senses can perceive the differences in temperature. It makes me more than a little happy to feel that same sensation here as I did on the hills of Glendalough. Even if the similarity is small... it's there.

I had coffee with my dear friend Jamie this morning. We are both finding ourselves in a place of transition, going from something so loved and so ideal to a place seemingly less inspiring. We believe in God. We believe that He has asked us to live a full life, one characterized by freedom and light. It's true that God is bringing me back to Cedarville and the cornfields of Ohio. And it's true that Jamie has to start a new job. But it's also true that it's still an adventure to be lived with our God, just because that's HIS nature. That reminder was exciting to me. It doesn't cancel out emotions connected with ending a elated, joyous phase. It raises hopes and expectations of what is to come. And I'm increasingly comfortable being uncomfortable in that tension. I am reminded that Jesus is more creative than I am.

Happy to hurt a bit

2007-12-19T09:59:00.000-08:00

I've been home a couple days now. I promise I won't always reference life from when I left Ireland... but for now, I still feel like it. I look at the date, and I see that it is the 19th. It's strange to me, because for four months I saw nothing past December 16th. Now I'm on the other side of it. And to be honest, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.

I could probably say a lot about how hard it is to be away from friends in Ireland, or go on about how much I miss the hills. There's a plethora of thoughts along those lines. But perhaps the details of those ponderings need to stay within me for a while. Maybe. Besides, I'm still overwhelmingly thankful that my experience was even that great that I miss it this much. I think it's brilliant that I even know those people back in Dublin to miss. If I didn't ache being removed from it, it would have been no great thing. And it was incredible... beyond superlatives. So I'm grateful for the hurt, as it reminds me of how good I've had it. And I'm also very much aware of the blessing it is to have this family to come back to. So the hurt and the smiles and the tears and the laughter all comingle... and I can't complain.

Life is Loved

2007-12-17T20:56:00.000-08:00

I thought I needed to change the title of my blog since I'm no longer living in Dublin. I'm still alive, and still loving it. And I don't know the reason for anybody reading this after I'm back from excursions abroad except to see what I'm doing in life and what I think about it. Well then...

I love life. I do. Life is full, unexpected, often hard, colorful, changing, purposeful... I love it. I like living it. So even though I've changed locations, I'm not going to stop getting really excited about little things and seeking to do big things. I'm walking this life with my God, so I'm excited to see what will come next. Whatever it is, it'll be up here.

Whatever you see from my pictures, or gather from words written here, I just hope that you see something of the nature of life, when life is loved. Not when life is lived perfectly, or when it is understood, or even when it is easy. When life is loved. My God is the creator and giver and sustainer of life. He is love. There will be struggles. There are some now. And yet, life is loved.

Final Post From Ireland

2007-12-15T21:30:00.000-08:00

When people ask me how my time in Ireland was, the best answer would be "an ocean". I won't say this often, but it really works best. It was big and indescribable. It was deep and full. It was invigorating and exciting. It was menacing at times. It held so much, some things expected, most things weren't. And as the tide changes the shape of the coastline, so the days, hours, moments spent in Dublin have changed me. It was an ocean.

Thank you to my friends here. I love you all, with the deepest part of me. You've impacted me as you've carried me, laughed with me, cried with me, talked with me, ate with me, danced with me, ran with me, swam with me, climbed with me, sang with me, sat still with me... Like it or not, a part of me is left there with you.

It must be said... I will miss the hills... the trees... the water...

I say good-bye to Ireland with all the grief good-byes are prone to have. And I greet the coming days with expectation and hope. I lived life here; I'll do the same back home. God is love. And He is life. I hope to walk on with Him, because He's been my best friend.

"The LORD your God who goes before you will Himself fight for you, just as He did in the wilderness, where you have seen how the Lord your God carried you, as a man carries his son, all the way that you went until you came to this place."
Deuteronomy 1:30

I will keep posting on this blog. The content will change. But I will keep writing, because life is life, near or far. And as always, there will be pictures.

Great is His faithfulness to me.

The End of the Road

2007-12-15T13:50:00.000-08:00

The days continue to go by quickly, despite my objections. I'm still learning how to deal with it. To be honest, I'm struggling to know how to deal with it, and not really believing that it's okay to be at a loss. Which I am.

My last full day, we went to Glendalough, one of my favorite places in all of Ireland, Europe... the world really. Trees everywhere. I always go with a good friend or two or three. Conversation. Space to think. Room to cry. Hills to climb. Mud and water. Nature. Paths to walk or paths to opt not to take for some unbeaten trail. It was good to remember and soak in.

Since I'm still not sure what to say about many things, I'll keep it brief. I'm overwhelmed with emotion, at many points on the spectrum. This journey is almost over, and like a day at Glendalough, it's been fulfilling and invigorating, and yet a big part is sad to see it done. At least for a time.

Pictures. :)

Good-bye Killiney Hill, Good-bye Dear Ones

2007-12-13T16:28:00.000-08:00

We lived today, like I've lived a lot of my Dublin days.
We woke up and went for a run, after a breakfast of muesli. Eventually, we went up Killiney Hill... It was my last time, at least for this phase of my life. And it was as beautiful as ever.

Dinner was with Vera and Kristyn back at my house in Dalkey. In traditional, Irish fashion, we had shepherd's pie. Then Kristyn, Hannah and I went to the Queens, the last venture to that familiar pub. Eventually, I finished packing up all my things from the house. I stood in my empty room, evaluating my feelings on it all. I was sad. So sad. I didn't cry though.
I explained it to Hannah, Katelyn, and Kristyn as just knowing that I have no regrets. I feel whole. Sad, slightly bruised... but just very at peace. And very comfortable with feeling all those things, and more at the same time. Saying good-bye to Vera, Pat, Kristyn, and Katelyn hurt. And it felt slightly unreal. But looking back, I see so much good. It's hard to grasp the reality of it. That's no surprise though.

Sisterhood...

2007-12-12T16:04:00.000-08:00

Dublin city center is a comfortable place for me. We fit together, we have great memories today. I love it. That's where Hannah and I went today. My feet stepped the familiar route to retro second-hand clothing stores, my beloved arcade, and drizzly streets, my sister with me. I kept trying to tell myself to savor it, because it just may be the last time. But eventually I found that I was just enjoying those places, like I always do. Whether it's the last time or not doesn't change it. To start the day off right, we took the Dart into town. Love the dart.

Once in town, we meandered around, just taking in all the city is. Really, it is a neat thing to see someone you love appreciating places that you love. Thus the joy of today. We went to that favorite tea place of mine, where Hannah bought a few bags. I put out a few euro for a couple more teas. They also gave me one of the boxes they ship it in, which excited me greatly.

We stopped by the Immigrant Council. I wanted Hannah to see where I work, and it was a chance to say good-bye to Nusha, Brian, Ruth, and Moire. Sad. It's always sad saying good-bye. I hate saying them. But I love the experiences I've shared with them, and the possibility of being with them again. Someday. I've heard that you're not supposed to peak in your career until your at least in your 40's... something like that. The amount that I relished working at the ICI tells me I may have hit my peak far too soon. Oh well...

Lunch=Wagamama's. Ethnic food is very typical of Dublin city life. It's such a diverse place with people from all over. Indulging in some Japanese food seemed to fit the occasion. Delicious.

I had my last class today, just to get our final articles turned back to us, so for a couple hours, I left Hannah to explore. To be honest, the class wasn't very challenging as far as amount of work or theories of journalism is concerned. That's just the way it was. I love writing, yet in journalism scenarios, I just find my writing to be sub-par in so many ways. Anyway... those thoughts are for another time. Not for this day with Hannah. :)

Meeting as planned, we continued through the city that was now illuminated by the thousands of Christmas lights hanging above. No kidding, they have chandeliers of Christmas lights. Lovely. I think so anyway. Hannah did too. We went to Leon, a French place serving desserts and pastries. I've walked by it before, admiring the artistic skill obviously required for the food, yet also appreciating the distance between my budget and their prices. But with Hannah here... it's just a different story.

Banoffi is a fantastic dessert that I get along with very well. Apple pie is a classic. Splitting seemed like a good idea, so we got both.

I meet with some folks from my church on Wednesday nights. We eat food, share in life, talk about Jesus, and talk to God about it all. These people, oh these people, how very dear they are to me. Mandy and Richard, the couple I first found friendship with in Ireland, just had a baby. Ryan and I became good friends right away.

Once again, hate saying good-bye. Loved the privilege (and a privilege it is) to get to know them. People are so close to my heart. Many people. It rips to be away from them. Some of my friends in Ireland are the best I've ever known. They weren't just fillers for the semester. I understand this is a part of life. I don't have to like it though.

One person that I've been away from for far too long, and I'm more excited than words to be reunited with is.... EMMA!! Being with one sister makes me want to have the other here too. Em, I miss you so incredibly much. Ah! I can't wait to talk with you and hear you laugh about things. I want to know how you're doing, deep down. But right now, more than anything, I want you to be here with me. You're so special. I tell everybody this. I'll see you soon. Just know that you're missed. I love you!!

A little honesty

2007-12-11T17:20:00.000-08:00

I thought I had changed so much. These experiences are supposed to change you for life. Has it really? I've enjoyed a lot. Done new things. Met great people. But have I really been changed? Altered for the better? I thought so.

HOWEVER... I'm seeing in myself quirks, bad habits, and just plain faults still alive and well. Still. I find myself doing random, fidgety things with my hands when I'm insecure. I hum when I'm eating, even in public. And I think I'm as selfish, defensive, and proud as ever. Maybe moreso. I enter conversations with an idea of how it would go best for me. I guess I feel like I shouldn't be wrong. And I think other people should at least believe I had good intentions when I'm wrong. Slightly grotesque, but true. So have I really changed? Or have I just seen pretty things?

Maybe change or even progress can't be measured in a list of boxes to be checked or a destination to be arrived at. After writing that, it seems obvious. Maybe it doesn't matter if I'm seen as different, as long as I've moved forward. Now, I don't know for sure, I don't have answers, but I'm thinking that's it.

Some of me will stay the same for always, things that should and things that shouldn't. I just want to keep walking onward and upward, though. Tripping is frequent and it's a dirty process. I just want to keep going.

A man named Paul once (and probably on more occassions) lamented his seemingly hopeless state. "Oh, wretched man that I am! Who will save me from this body of death?" Very heartfelt and mournful discription of self. I think we had a similar thought process on this one. But I will try to make my answer to that question the same as his, as I keep stumbling onward. "Thanks be to God through Christ Jesus our Lord."

Hannah is here....

2007-12-11T08:31:00.000-08:00

Hannah is here! Unbelievable. For a few reasons really... One, because it forces me to mesh my life back home with what I've been living here. Two, because it means this particular time in Ireland is almost at its finale. And three, because Hannah is one of the best people in the world. Her presence challenges me, teaches me, and makes me feel happy. Plus she thinks I'm funny, so I like having her around.

She's only been here a day and she's already seen some of my favorite things here: my house, the Dart, Dalkey harbor, the Fry's... This list will grow. The past 3-4 months consist of a plethora of monumental experiences. (Even if they wouldn't seem that way to other people, they are to me.) For someone so close to me to see the place where much of it occurred... it means a lot. But I wouldn't want just anyway to see it, at least from my point of view. Because it is so deep and personal to me. Anyway... Here are some photos of what we've done so far.

After getting back from the airport, we went to the little health food store in Dalkey. We split a goat cheese and vegetable pita, which was amazing.

This last week here, Hannah and I are staying in a flat at adjacent to the Fry's. It has a little kitchen, a fire place, and lovely little table by a window where we ate breakfast. It felt so good to be back in conversation with Hannah again.

We took the bus into town. This picture verifies the words of a member of my homestay family: "You're the image of yourselves."

We just got back from visiting the National Gallery, a lovely museum of Irish art. Jack B. Yeats, the brother of W.B. Yeats, had a special exibit there. So good. Then Hannah and I had some soup before coming back to relax.

Tony, she misses you. I'm sure you miss her two. And family, I miss you. But will be seeing you soon.

Vertical

2007-12-08T08:38:00.000-08:00

Quick update on the past day or so. Went to a rugby match on Friday night. Absolutely loved it. Jonny and I got free/amazing tickets, and it was just a brilliant night. Leinster thrashed Edinburgh, which is a good thing. And I left amazed that human men can be that massive.

Went out with Kristyn and Katelyn last night to The Queen, a pub in Dalkey that the three of us have met up at more than a few times. It was kinda our last deal together. Which is sad. But the Banoffi tasted good, and it was great to be with them, thinking back on the semester. (Sigh.)

Tonight we had the Carols by Candlelight, and I said good-byes to friends at Grosvenor. It made me excited for Christmas, amazed at what Jesus did (and daily does) for me, sad to leave the people, ready to see my real family again. Okay, that's all the day-to-day stuff of the weekend.

I've been thinking about people a lot, and how the interaction between people ebbs and flows and really confuses. Different individuals of different genders from different age groups from different cultures all interact so differently. We adapt so quickly to each other, and come to need or to be repelled by different interactions. The way people can be around eachother so often and either become deeply connected or incredibly indifferent is astounding to me. And I guess I don't know about you, how exactly your interactions with people go, but I'm beginning to see some trends in myself.

I'm deeply affected by people. Their actions, their words... I pick up on a lot and almost none of it goes by unnoticed. Someone laughing at something that I don't even know about can make me laugh. Small comments can leave a mark. Someone else's hurt can inflict me with pain. But I would rather be exposed to them for the sake of just feeling connected, then to be without that vulnerability. I'm learning that this can be good, but I also need to be cautious. How quickly I become dependent on people and attached! How important their opinions can be. This shouldn't always be the case.

But I love people. I love hearing about their lives... Even more, I love being a part of them. I love feeling like I can contribute to their life. It's a scary, but true thought that there may often come a time within those relationships where it's time to put distance in. I hate distance when it is between two people. Hate it. But just like I had to leave my family for a time, I have to leave a great many people here for an uncertain amount of time. There are new relationships I need to foster, and ones I need to put space in. Ebb and flow.

A wise man once explain relations in two categories. There's the horizontal relationships, which are important in so many ways. And then there is the one vertical relationship with the GOD of the universe. The horizontal ones change. They can even break. The state of my vertical relationship is what dictates who I am and where I am. And it's that vertical relationship that has become so strong, and so precious to me through out the past 6 months of my life. And I think I've realized this as the horizontal relationships have changed, added to my life, hurt me, been broken, or just fallen away. I need that vertical. I am given life by that vertical. The vertical pulls me to purpose, adventure, peace, joy. And it makes me appreciate the horizontal in a completely different way.

"These days, a little bit longer than the last... a little bit stronger than the past."

2007-12-07T09:18:00.000-08:00

Just a little overview of my day...

Woke up at 7:30. Went for a run. First one in three weeks. Went down by the harbor and ran as the veiled sun came up. Came back tired and sweaty. But happy.

Went with Sylvia to the women's Bible study where I watch kids. Read childrens books to the kiddies. Played with Ella, Leo, and Owen. Kids thought it would be cool to start running and jump/sliding into me. Got a nice bump on the lip from one of 'em. Ella and Leo gave me a card that they made. I almost cried. Love those kids. Took pictures.

Back at the Fry's... learned to make Christmas cake. Hung out with Sylvia and Laura. Listened to Christmas music. Copied recipes of dessert. :) Kept snacking. Laughed. Took pictures.

Hiked up Killiney hill with Sylvia and the dog, Holly. Loved the mud beneath my feet and eventually up my ankles. Took many photos of the view, of the trees, and of the earthy goodness. Mentally cemented the feelings of the wind at the pinnacle of the hill. Soaked in the wind. Got refreshed by the simplicity of nature. Realized that those hills will be one of the most missed things when I'm back home. Felt emotional. Ran after the dog. Loved being outside. Came back with numb fingers and rosy cheeks.

Drank some hot tea. :)

Leaving

2007-12-06T08:33:00.000-08:00

Last day at the Immigrant Council of Ireland. I am sad.

I love this job. Probably in a way some people never experience about their occupations. People who work at NGOs are a unique breed. Nusha, probably the one I'm closest to here, will be missed. Her Bulgarian accent is my favorite. I could go on about the different things I like about her, but that's not really the point. Just getting to work with the people I have, is amazing. Most of them are immigrants themselves, and the stories would amaze you.

Getting the opportunity to help people on a daily basis... Getting to speak out to influence change... Getting to be a voice for those who don't have one... I'm privileged, honored. And incredibly humbled.

Nusha and I discussed this whole leaving business. "You will be back. I have this feeling." You have to picture this almost Russian inflection and pronunciation. "Not like Arnold Schwarchenegger, but you'll be back." Oh Nusha. Oh me. Oh dear.

Maybe I will be back. Who knows.

For now, 11 days to leave a bold exclamation point on my time here. Now. Just now.

Talking tea to turkey

2007-12-04T06:08:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite places in all of Dublin is the Market Arcade. This market is found in a tunnel that goes right through the middle of all the large buildings. It is the epitome of a hole-in-the-wall kind of place. Little booths with clothes and scarves from the east, an almost cafe where I get soup a few times a week, and my favorite tea place are all located in the Arcade. Every time I meander through there I encounter something or somebody new.

Today, I was just picking up my weekly tea. I decided about 5 weeks ago that I would buy one bag a week of the loose-leafed goodness to reward myself for working that week. This is silly because I love my job, it's not work. And because I usually go on Tuesdays, before the week is even over. Like today.

I was talking with Aaron, my tea-selling friend, and basking in the aromas of my new Jasmine leaves. Our weekly chit-chats have become a routine. It's great. It's not usually spontaneous or leading to anything out of the ordinary.

But then David walks up. I didn't know David, but now I do. He's a friend of Aaron's, working in one of the booths in the Arcade. Since he sells war antiques, collectibles, and these old buttons with political jargon on them, he's unique from the get go. He's only a couple inches taller than me, but very large. He had a mug of cappuccino, white hair down past his shoulders, and a British accent. Having just returned from the States, we all started talking about his time in Pennsylvania.

"Apparently, they don't like it when you take road kill."

Seriouly? Seriously. The story goes, he was driving along toward Philly when he hit a turkey. This is strange to me. I've seen lots of road kill in my time in America, but not turkey. Anyway, he explained that after hitting the turkey and finding that it was still alive, he picked it up and took it with him.

"They are easier to pluck when they're still warm." Too much information. He made sure to tell us that even though he learned that it is illegal to pick up (and therefore eat) road kill in Pennsylvania, it did not stop him from enjoy a great many turkey sandwhiches. And even trying to get it back to Ireland by plane. Ha. Amazing.

I hope you enjoyed that half as much as I did.

Hold up, wait a minute. Put a little LOVE in it.

2007-12-03T08:45:00.000-08:00

December is here. This means Christmas. But may I introduce you to (or remind you of) a lesser known holiday.

Human Rights Day. December 10th.

There's a quote up on the UN's website in regards to this holiday:
"Today, poverty prevails as the gravest human rights challenge in the world. Combating poverty, deprivation and exclusion is not a matter of charity, and it does not depend on how rich a country is. By tackling poverty as a matter of human rights obligation, the world will have a better chance of abolishing this scourge in our lifetime...Poverty eradication is an achievable goal." From last year's Human Rights Day.

I think this is brilliant! Wanting to do something about global poverty is not an issue of being guilted into it or trying to conjure up some emotion of compassion. You and I are human. As humans, we understand that we have to have some things to survive. (Though that "have to" probably includes a lot less than what we think.) And yet constantly, other HUMAN BEINGS are denied these things. Water, clean water. The means to not go to bed hungry. Doing something about this can't be about a "neat opportunity to be useful". That's not urgent enough. Allowing people to continue on in destitution is an affront to beings who are made in the image of God. Hm...

And the statement that this is an "achievable goal" calls up support. Ghandi said, "This world has enough to satisfy everyone's need but not everyone's greed." And more important than what Ghandi says, it is a fact that 20% of developed nations consume 86% of the world's resources. And furthermore, Jesus told us that what we did for the least of these, we did for HIM.

If you should choose, here are some ways to celebrate this Human Rights Day. Do it on your own, make it a family activity, lead your class in the action, make it a staff collaboration, go with a buddy or a significant other, incorporate it into your holiday shopping.

Learn a little:
Go to news.bbc.co.uk to read about what's going on in the world and personally raise your awareness of the current human rights violations.

Give a little:
www.amnesty.org/actnow/
http://one.org/takeaction/
http://donate.wvus.org/OA_HTML/xxwvibeCCtpSctDspRte.jsp?a=b&lid=85&lpos=top_drp_WaysToGive
https://giving.samaritanspurse.org/c-7-gift-catalog.aspx
(Because I am not techno-savvy, you will have to copy and paste the links into your search bar. If someone wants to show me how to put links into my blog, it would be much appreciated.)

Love a little:
Really though, let's look around. I think back to fifth grade and I can vividly see this girl being bullied. That is a human rights violation. The elderly are marginalized, and that is a human rights violation. Let's put a little extra change in our pockets for that person looking for some help. Maybe we can just keep our eyes open to the dignity and need for love of people we come into contact with...

every.single.day.

God is love. We were made in HIS image. What reason more do I need to see the value in him or her, and do something to show HIM/LOVE?

Living in Dublin, home away from home....

2007-12-02T09:41:00.000-08:00

Ireland is beginning to get very cold, windy, and wet. Overall, as I've said before, the weather has only been obliging to me. Usually somewhat sunny, only minor spots of drizzle, and usually welcoming a walk. Not so with this weekend. I've still enjoyed it though. I think knowing I only have two weeks left, and looking back at the life-giving time this semester has been, makes the abrasive weather not so forboding.

I put in an extra day of work on Friday at the Immigrant Council, I like it that much. While there, I handled one of the most difficult situations yet. A social worker from the hospital called me, inquiring into the situation of one of her patients. The problem was, the girl came from Sudan and immediately went to the hospital to get treatment for her leukemia, that's in a very progressed stage. She has no medical insurance, so the hospital is threatening to withold treatment. And on top of all this, her visa is only valid for a few more weeks.

"Can you do anything for us?" she asked. As Nusha (one of my colleagues) and I discussed later, it's a shame that our passion isn't the bottom line in getting these people help. After lots of deliberating and research, the best we could offer was that she go back to Sudan and attempt to get a medical treatment visa. In this scenario, the effort to find a soluation and the agreement in frustration at the situation was of more help and encouragement than the actual answer.

After work, I got to meet up with some friends who were visiting Dublin from Oxford. Seeing familiar faces has been a rare occurance during this semester, and it is always interesting for me to try to mingle what I've known here and that good ole familiarity. It was great to have a comfortable dinner at a pub and just laugh and share stories/thoughts from our time abroad. Then we met up again yesterday for a few hours. Strange it is to try to show people around. I mean, what I do day to day, is not the highlights of Dublin. And to be honest, I'm slightly ignorant as to what the tourist attractions are here. I just kept asking them if they'd want to go hiking. That's just me. :)

More than ever, I feel at home here. Not that this is my ultimate home, or that I feel most settled here. But it is a home of sorts. I love Dublin. I like the quirks about it, the green/rickety Dart, the familar streets, and the diverse, crowded nature of the city. I love it.

Thoughts on Poverty, Round Two

2007-11-30T10:31:00.000-08:00

Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Matthew 5:3

Still, I am still thinking and observing and internally consumed with poverty.

There's this street in Dublin, close to where I work, called Grafton. It's this glitzy, brick-paved road where cars don't go. Being almost December and all, Christmas lights make the place sparkle. Rising up on both sides you'll find clothing stores, Starbucks, kiosks of antique jewelry and the like. It's for tourists and high-rollers.

If you would turn off one of the many side streets stemming from Grafton, you would find beggars every 20 feet or so. Often times these women wrapped in layers of blankets will be holding their little babies on their laps, always with a worn paper cup sitting in front of them.

There's the Louis Vuitton, and around the corner the poorest of Dublin. The way these two are so closely situated is a good picture of what's going on in my mind from day to day. There's the pretty parts of my life, the areas that are nice to look at and comfortable to see. But I know that not far off, there is need. There is a very physical need in others, and there's a deep spiritual need in myself.

I think that verse is true. Blessed are those who realize their spiritual poverty. When I am completely aware of the lack I have inside myself, it leaves me in a very good place. I am a beggar, spiritually speaking. I see this man on the side of the road, wearing whatever clothes he has, no airs and graces. The empty, beaten cup sitting there, waiting to be filled. There's a recognition that it can't be filled by the hands that hold it.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. In that place, that recognition of complete poverty, there is room to be filled by all the goodness, love, grace, joy, peace, and fulfillment beyond understanding that God can pour out. And He does.

So with this in mind, with the reality of my poverty, I will keep looking to the poverty around me and try.

A Superior Camera and the European Union

2007-11-29T09:22:00.000-08:00

Through out my life, and even more so through out my travels, I've become a little bit of a picture-taking fanatic. I don't claim to have any great talent for it, but I love doing it. It's therapy. It's an outlet. It's communication. I love it.

I was talking cameras with one of my Irish friends, Michael, who happens to be quite the photographer himself. He is on a whole different level than I am. He's pretty gifted in my opinion. So anyway, we were talking about some great cameras that I've looked at and he owns. A few days later, I get a message from him saying I should borrow his SLR for a week or so. (Hint: the SLR is quite the camera.) After recovering from my shock and disbelief I said I would love to take it off his hands for a bit. So for the past 36 hours I've been taking so many pictures. It's going to be hard to go back. Unfortunately, the pictures I've taken thus far aren't downloading at the moment. Maybe later.

On another note of elation in my life, I had another really great opportunity at the Immigrant Council. We were hosting another one of those round table discussions, and I was just told to go such and such a building to help with registration. This discussion was about the trafficking of human beings. This issue is so close to my heart, and it's become quite the problem in Ireland. Women and children being taken and sold into this sexual exploitation. And it's not just third world countries, it's in places like Ireland. Many people are ignorant, and have no idea a practice like this even exists. Many others are choosing to ignore it, saying that the women involved choose this lifestyle. So we were all getting together to talk about how to stop this. Really, to put an end to it. (This is not a new dialogue though. The past 100 years governments all over have been seeking to eradicate it, but still, here it is. Yet we will press on!)

Anyway, so I walk in and it takes me only a few moments to realize I'm in the European Union Building of Ireland. The European Union. People from Amnesty International, Human Rights Commissions, the Department of Justice and Equality, and others are there. I really felt so privileged to talk with these people and hear how they want to go about influencing this world for the better.

Once again, for the billionth time this semester, I can't believe I'm here, and how much I'm loving it.

Thoughts on Poverty

2007-11-28T03:05:00.001-08:00

This trend of being aware of poverty increases in my life, especially here. I pass people begging every day. Sometimes I pass by, sometimes I do something. Every time, however, there's an inner dialogue. Thoughts of where that bit of change would go, why are they where they are, what do they really need...... they flood, and I am torn.

I really want to do something about the poverty of this world. Through my job at the Immigrant Council and the nature of the place I live at this time, I find myself confronted constantly with the presence of poverty. I don't want to be a person that has to turn the other way, ignore the person sitting on the curb, or immediately justifies a closed pocket because "they probably buy drugs with it" or have some reason why I need it more than they do. But I want to be wise as well... I just want to stop copping out of helping.

This is a work in progress in my mind. The dialogue continues. I thought I'd post up some quotes or verses... just some food for thought in regards to global poverty.

"Whoever oppresses a poor man insults his Maker, but he who is generous to the needy honors Him." Proverbs 14:31

“Let us touch the dying, the poor, the lonely and the unwanted according to the graces we have received and let us not be ashamed or slow to do the humble work.” Mother Teresa

“What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like.” St. Augustine

Jesus said to him, "If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me."

"Today, poverty prevails as the gravest human rights challenge in the world. Combating poverty, deprivation and exclusion is not a matter of charity, and it does not depend on how rich a country is.
By tackling poverty as a matter of human rights obligation, the world will have a better chance of abolishing this scourge in our lifetime...Poverty eradication is an achievable goal." Louise Arbour, UN High Commissioner for Human Rights

This is what I'll be thinking about through out the day. And there will be more on this later as my mind continues to mull these things over.

I like cathedrals, lights at night, and European food

2007-11-27T13:08:00.000-08:00

The flight from Dublin to Edinburgh, Scotland is one hour on the dot. A short little jaunt. We landed and took a bus into town. Edinburgh celebrates Christmas with these huge festivals... or more like one big festival. I arrived on the scene with Kristyn, Katelyn, and Philip.

Christmas lights everywhere, a man playing the bagpipes, a ferris wheel, beautiful archietecture, and glorious Edinburgh castle all surrounded us. I think one of us started jumping up and down. It may have been me.

The had all these littls booths, some with food, some with trinkets, all inspired by the holiday season. We snacked quite a bit... My favorite were these deep fried doughnuts, covered in sugar crystals and the doused with melted Nutella. Can you imagine? It was incredible.

We went to the traditional reading of "T'was the Night Before Christmas". There was a swing band singing Christmas carols in between the different verses of the poem that were reenacted. Complete with trapeze artists, fireworks, and Santa's sleigh flying over head, this huge event had us all singing and hugging. Maybe not all of us... Also to be noted, we were the only people there without a child under the age of ten in tow. I'm proud.

We went to our hostel after that. All I'll say about either of our hostels is that they were quality. And that we slept a lot. At least I did.

Sunday, Katelyn and I just walked and explored. This is my favorite way to search out a new place. We stumbled upon a antiquated graveyard, a hole-in-the-wall joint for some fish-n-chips, and a bajillion places with wool scarves and plaids. We walked and talked and heard stories from the best accent ever. Good day, our pace...

Monday we started with a free walking tour. We had an Australian tour guide, which was surprising, but still amazing. Katelyn and I were amused that the route we took as a group closely resembled the way we walked the day before. This time though we heard more of the details. St. Gyle's Cathedral was probably my favorite. (We would return there later and look through the inside. It was small for the way cathedrals go, but the stained class windows communicated loads to me. When we left, it was to the sound of bagpipes and a light, drizzly rain.)

For our lunch stop on the tour, the four of us split Haggis, which is a combination of the innards of some farm animal. I will say it's good. Cringe if you will, but it tastes good, and I will eat more if it's put in front of me.

After the tour, we made our way to Edinburgh castle, which is large and old and fascinating to go through. And besides all the greatness of being an old castle, it's perched on the top of this massive hill, giving a view of the rest of the city. Perfect.

All that was left to do was fill up on some more snacks from the Christmas booths, then head to the airport, play multiple rounds of spoons minus the spoons, and fly back to Ireland, crawling in bed a bit after one.

This is the quick version of my trip to Scotland. I loved it, absolutely loved it. I think back over my three trips... Italy, France, Scotland.... I couldn't pick a favorite. It's just all so amazing. More amazing than I anticipated it would be. As I walked through Dalkey, after midnight, from the bus to my house... I just kept thinking about all the people I've met, the things I've seen, the life I'm living. Since I turned 16 I've dreamed and pushed for this experience. And it has been so hard at times, yet so good all the while. And I know, I know, that I will look back on it with all satisfaction, and probably a longing to go back.

I have less than three weeks to make the most of. You have some pictures of Scotland to look through.

Pictures!!!

2007-11-23T13:31:00.000-08:00

Hurray!! I am able to get some photos up here. I'm shocked at how much my heart feels better knowing that these are up here. As you can see from the pictures, it was a fun-filled evening. I feel like you're a part of it now that you've seen a bit of my holiday in Ireland. I mean this especially for my family. I got my fill of good food. I got to cook, which was a big deal for me. I'm so thankful for that day and those people. Won't forget it. :)

And since I'm getting some kind of euphoria from downloading photos, I'm just going to keep going. I got real happy with the camera today.

And just you wait, there will more pictures upon my return from Scotland...

And I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Dell for making these kodak moments possible. :)

Technical difficulties and Thanksgiving

2007-11-23T11:11:00.000-08:00

At this moment in time, technology is not my friend. My computer refuses to pick up wireless, my email account is on the blink, and my camera is not wanting to share photos. I don't like being technology-dependent, so I suppose this is a good excercise for me. All these things will be remedied. In the meantime, I'm learning to cope with slight stress at looking for alternative means to writing articles, letting go of my need to share my experiences through photography, and being okay with being disconnected for a time.

Yesterday being Thanksgiving, a day I usually spend with my family, I decided to record the differences of this year's holiday with a load of photographs. (Unfortunately, as mentioned above, those will not be shown here today.)

I went to work yesterday morning, and a beautiful morning it was. Hectic day at the Immigrant Council, but really good nonetheless.

Because I'm American and it was Thanksgiving, the Immigrant Council was kind enough to let me off for half the day. The plan was for me to meet up with a couple of American girls and the three of us would make a Thanksgiving dinner for about 25 people. Initially I was in charge of the sweet potatoes, but that responsibility grew. After three to four hours and mulitple trips to the local groceries, we finished. And I think it turned out alright. :)

We filled that apartment. It was full. Conversation. I laughed. We ate. I'll always remember it.

I got to talk to my family. Every single member of my family. That was the best part of all.

Today was pretty incredible as well. I got to hang out with a bunch of kids. Then I took a walk up Killiney hill with a couple of the Fry's. Again, pictures are better than words, so I will stop short, with no descriptions.

Tomorrow I leave for Scotland for a couple days. But I'll be back... And hopefully the photos will be up and running.

I'm missing you guys. I don't know who's reading this, but I probably miss you. Relational... that's just how I am. And I would love to have a conversation with you right now, just to hear what you're thinking and such.

Excavation

2007-11-21T04:37:00.000-08:00

It's been so...

I can't think of the word so I'm just going to put tons of words that come to mind and the combination of these words will have to suffice to communicate the sensation: imploding, swelling, calming, enriching, dazzling, thick, warm, eye-opening, new, deeper, out of control, surrendered, triumphed, uncertain, unanticipateable, satisfying, love...

Yes, it's been all those things... "It" being life inside of myself these days. What I've been experiencing with God this past month is something I never would have anticipated. A mountain top high experience, I could have imagined... An in-the-depths-purely-hanging-on-by-a-thread journey, that wouldn't have surprised me so much either. But it has been more like digging... excavating. That's the word!!

EXCAVATION!! This slow, but sure shoveling of ALL and going through the contents... Getting rid of the just dirt, understanding the fossils of what happened before, classifying the new elements, and trying to get to the absolute core. There's been victory and there's been this emotion of complete excitement. But there's also been times that feel numb, and pointless, even as the thought process presses on. There's also been times of anxiety and question and doubt and fear.

The constancy has been the best part. I tend to be person of extremes. Being somewhat emotional, the highs and lows are familiar to me. The steady progress is new to me. The topography of my heart is different because of it. I know I say that a lot, but it's because it's true. I like the change in scenery.

Where I am today...

2007-11-20T08:34:00.000-08:00

This will be random and only my own personal thoughts, just to forewarn you.

There are some things I know: My favorite color is marigold. I love my family. Gravity works. Chocolate tastes good to me. I know the way from Fort Wayne, Indiana to Cedarville University. If a bus hits me, it will hurt. I need God. There are things I just know.

There are things I believe: God exists. Jesus is God. God is love. He is involved in life. There is life after death.

And it amazes me how closely the two things are in my mind. And you know what, I would stake my life on what I believe over what I know. Usually what I know is based on some kind of logic, and I find that has potential to be faulty. But I still know these things to be true. What I believe on the other hand, I believe with all of me. And the aspect of faith in all of that is strong. Stronger perhaps than logic. But again, I find that what I believe has a great amount of logic in it. And what I know requires a certain amount of faith.

Where my mind has been lately though is on what I don't yet understand, the things I can't yet classify.

A friend and I have been conversing about her friend that tried to kill herself. At work today I helped a woman find her way to a shelter to get away from an abusive husband. I've been doing some research for a class and in that process came across details of children taken into the human trafficking industry. I pass beggars on my way to and from work daily. I know people who are sick. And I just have to admit that I don't understand. I can't boil these things down. Can't get my arms around them.

These things become this strand, fragile and thin. But as the things I know and the things I believe braid together with it, I find myself with thoughts, thoughts that fuel and direct and influence. I know that gravity exists, so I don't jump off cliffs (unless there's water below). I believe in God, and so all of life holds hope and purpose. I don't understand the pain of this world, but I still want to help change it.

This is where I am today.

To the beautiful Emma Paulyne

2007-11-19T14:36:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday, Emma!!!!

My kid sister turns 13 today. All day today I've been thinking about the flight of time, and it has been punctuated with snippets of life with Emma. Right now I am thinking and remembering the many moments of bliss with her, and I am chuckling to myself. But those are just between Em and me. There is one though that captures Emma's innocence and the way she delights everyone around her.

So one day, Mom, Emma, and I are driving through The Fort and we pull up beside a shiny, black Hummer.

"I would look great in that." I say matter of factly, with a little sarcasm.

"No, I would look great in that," says Mom matching my ridiculousness.

Emma tops all: "I would look great on a black stallion."

I laughed until I cried. Then I kept laughing. And to this day, a moment of blueness can be brought to sunshine with that little memory. And that's Emma, the gift that keeps on giving.

On a more serious note, Emma is one of the prize possessions of my life. There was a time in my life that was so dark, so hopeless, that left to myself I saw no reason for life to keep going. But I saw Emma, and she made me want to reclaim the joy of life. The depth of that influence I'll never forget, and it's yet another reason of why I'll treasure her always.

Emma loves people. Emma is packed with imagination and dreams. Emma is wise beyond her years and has often been my counselor. (Times playing psychologist, me laying on a couch, often turned into real advice being imparted to me by my 8-year-junior.) I need to learn more from her.

Smoodge, I love you always. You truly are amazing, and I could not be prouder of you. I cannot wait to see you and hug you 'til you're sick of me. Happy Birthday.

Rest in Wexford

2007-11-18T09:30:00.000-08:00

When you hear the word Ireland, that picture that comes to your mind... that's where I was yesterday. The green rolling hills, stonewalls, farms. I went to Wexford, just a county south, to this house in the country. Three of the Fry's and myself went and spent the whole day relaxing. And as is true with most relaxing days, the details would be found boring by anyone not there. So there will be a few pictures and no more ado.

And this final picture is Holly, the Fry's new puppy. She's a crazy dog that sometimes acts like a cat, leaves those typical puppy dog messes, and yet is so loved. The Fry family was rather uphappy with me when I didn't originally include the picture.

Climbing rocks and eating chips....

2007-11-16T09:01:00.000-08:00

Today starts the one month count down until I come home. Mixed feelings for sure. I can't wait to see my family. Can't wait. But this is a home now. I belong here in a lot of ways. There's routine, I have my regular spots. I love where I live. I run, I go to work, I go to class, I write. I live here. I've been living here for some time, and a big part of me is starting to get really sad at the thought of leaving. The relationships I have here have such a different dynamic than those of home. Not better, just different. And I'm beginning to understand that it is a irreplaceable spot they have with me. There will be a void when I go home. And just as I was unprepared to deal with the homesickness when I first arrived, I had no idea saying good-bye would be so hard. And it's still a month away. And still each day is amazing.

Katelyn and I ventured out once again to enjoy the day. This little harbor in Dalkey is a favorite spot. I run by it often, but today was the first time I went past the little dock with all the fishing boats and around the garage to this rocky paradise. It was our first stop for the day. We talked about life and all the things that make life so hard. Depression, distrust, suicide, genocide, distance, and the like. She admitted to the desire inside to make a difference in it all, even though it seems like a hopeless mess at times. I know the feeling. Sitting on rocks, water sloshing up beneath, slight sunshine in the nice fall weather creates a prime atmosphere for conversation. You should seriously try it sometime. If you can come to Dublin within the next four weeks, I'll show you.

We then proceeded to hop on the Dart and get off at a random stop before the city center. Explored, split a danish, and then returned to our beloved Dalkey. We got some chips. Amazing. We walked around some more, stopped in at the local art store. Have I ever mentioned Country Bake? It's amazing. After stocking up with some raspberry bar type things, we went back to her place where we watched movies for a good bit.

It was just an extraordinary day, because it was so ordinary. This is what we do in Dalkey. We walk and explore and climb on rocks. We get snack food and love it. We go home, passing by the harbor on the way. This is what I mean when I say that life is here, and it will be hard to leave.

While Katelyn and I sat at P. Borza, the best place for fish or chips, we watched people. Still talking. She asked me, "So why do you think you were put on this earth?" Great question. Do you see why I love this girl? It provoked me to thought. Immediately, many things came to my mind. But instead of putting those thoughts here, I will ask you:

Why do you think you were put on this earth?

Good news to the poor

2007-11-15T05:25:00.000-08:00

The daily grind of work that I experience is actually something I enjoy. There's a constant stream of questions and frustrations, and I feel very lucky to get to interact with these people. And even though sometimes there's nothing we can do to help their situation, I find there's always a way to interact that will leave them feeling understood and like someone can empathize. It's repetitive. It's discouraging. It's inspiring. Day to day, it's good. The problems of this world are massive. Attempting to help one individual, though just a drop in a bucket of hardship, is a good place to be.

Tuesday, after a crazy morning at the Immigrant Council, I saw another aspect of what NGOs get to do. Nusha, the Bulgarian woman I work with, and I went to this "round table discussion". About 35 heads of organizations similar to ours gathered to discuss what can be done to help minority women, and women in general, as the Irish government attempts to conduct an intercultural dialogue. (The diversity in Ireland is fairly recent, so they are just starting to make strides to help those coming in.) At the event, we were broken up into three groups and given the opportunity to just brain storm. What can be done? Who needs the most help? How can we provide that help? Where do we need to speak out?

I found myself surrounded by some very passionate, and very influential women. The woman heading up this event was small and fragile looking, yet when she spoke, it was powerful. Her heart for hurting, marginalized women reflected the aspirations of all the women in that room.

Though I am just a lowly intern, I was not treated like that. I was given this incredible chance to speak my opinion and voice some modes of action in attempts to help asylum seekers and refugees.

Through out the years, my heart beat for these kind of people has grown and grown to the point that I sometimes hear little else. I've had two trips to Africa. Seeing the state of women in that culture opened my eyes. They will never be closed. This org I'm involved with at Cedarville, Women of Vision, works to help widows and orphans in their distress. The mobalization of women who love is an incredible thing to be a part of. Once I started, I couldn't stop. At home in Fort Wayne I've been blessed to hang out with a family from Darfur. The mother, Asila, and her daughter, Wedad, and I became friends. As I heard the story of their flight from their home, my heart was once again charged to a new level of activism for the least of these. More and more I believe the women of third world countries, and their children, are the least of these. So needless to say, when they asked what I thought, I had some opinions to share.

I believe that a lot of the inaction of the Western world on behalf of these people is largely due to ignorance. Either the true state of these people is not understood, or the ways to make a difference are blurry. If people don't know, how can they care? And if there's no channel for change, what will they do? The stories of the survivors need to be told. I think so anyway. The plight of those still struggling should be heard. And not just because they're women. Or because they're having a hard time. Or even because we have more money than they do. We should listen, because we are human, and so are they. One thing I've learned while abroad is that there is common ground everywhere. No matter the growing mountain of differences, there is common ground. Starting from there, we see the hurt of this world more clearly. And just like you would come to the rescue of a friend or family, you would want to make a difference for these people. You help your brother not because your brother is weaker than you, but just because he's your brother.

Jesus was so passionate about the poor, the widows, the sojourners. He spoke of giving all you have to the poor (whether this was meant literally or figuratively is up for a weak debate). Jesus Himself reached out and touched and took in the down and out. He turned and noticed widows. He held children. I want to be like Jesus.

I got to share some of my thoughts with the group. In turn, our group mediator shared a compilation of our thoughts to that head woman who works for the governement. She took notes and was excited to initiate some change. I got to be a part of that! I'm humbled, so very humbled. I'm thankful. And oh my word, am I excited!

Throughout this time abroad, what I thought I would "do with my life" has changed a number of times. What my gifts are, I don't know. How I'll use my major, still not clear. But I do know that I want my life "to preach good news to the poor. HE has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to comfort those who mourn." (Isaiah 61:1-2)

To the kids of room 207

2007-11-14T07:58:00.000-08:00

I just got an envelope with a bunch of letters from second-graders in my aunt's class. They've been studying Ireland, and I must say, I'm so proud. So this next blurb is for them.

To the second-graders of room 207: Hello from Ireland!!

I so appreciated the letters you sent me. It sounds like you're learning a lot about Ireland. It's so good to find out more about the world. It's a big place that hopefully you'll get to explore someday. Keep up the good work and know that it's possible for you too to visit Ireland!

You asked some great questions in those letters, so I think I'll answer them now:

Yes, Ireland is cool.
I live in Dalkey, which is a little town in Ireland by a big harbor.
I will try to send more pictures of mountains and sunsets.
My favorite thing in Ireland is the hills. They are beautiful and constantly changing with the weather.
No, I haven't played hurling. But there are hurling fields just behind my house.
I have eaten soda bread, and I love it.
I've eaten mutton as well. Also delicious.
Another favorite food of mine here is shepherd's pie. It has meat and vegatables, kind of like stew, and then it's topped with mashed potatoes. Mmmmmmm!
Yes, I do have friends here in Ireland. They are fantastic people who love to laugh.
No, I wasn't scared on the rope bridge. In fact, once I got to the middle, I started jumping to see how much it would sway. :)
I do have a pet. A dog named Addy. I miss her almost as much as my family.

I think that answers all the questions. :) I can't wait to come and meet all of you. And Jamie, I'm sorry about your cousin. I said a prayer for you, and for the rest of the class as well. You guys are awesome!! Thanks so much for sending me those letters!!

And to everybody....

It's been a good week so far. I had a pretty incredible opportunity at the Immigrant Council yesterday. I'll expound on that tomorrow.

I'm realizing how close I am to leaving, and how much this has become another home to me. It's familiar. And I love it. This morning I had just finished some tea, some reading, and was still in my pajamas. A friend of mine called, said he was in Dalkey and would I like to get some coffee. Of course. It felt so much like the parts of being "home" that I love. Familiarity, spontaneous connections with people, and the everyday living.

Paris does the heart good

2007-11-13T12:00:00.000-08:00

My first memories are of red wagons and games of hide-n-seek in sunny California, which is not my place of birth. So I'm serious when I say I've been traveling for as long as I can remember. I've lost track of how many times my family has trecked across country. I have memories of a broken down van in Kansas, driving through floods, sitting in the back of a vehicle with my legs propped up on a cooler, eating melted gummi bears. Ah, the life on the road!

I used to have this little suitcase when I was a kid. I would pack it and repack it, depending on the destination I was pretending and imagining in my head. Traveling and exploring has always been a part of my life. And I love it.

It continues. This weekend was Paris. I left at 4:45 a.m. on Friday, and got back last night 4 minutes before midnight. Four wonderful days. And just as that my little kid suitcase could never hold all I felt necessary for a trip, I won't be able to fit in all the greatness of the weekend. So a few highlights....

So much of life here is so surreal, it's hard to realize where I am. However, when I got off the train, and came up out of the metro station and saw the Eiffel Tower, it hit! Seeing things like that... something I've seen pictures of and seen in movies.... and there it stands right in front of me. I'm just so undeserving of this life I'm living. But so thankful, ever so thankful.

Paris is great. And I think I'll let the pictures speak for me on that. There's other things I want to talk about.

People. Generousity. That's what I'll remember when I think of Paris. A few quick little bios....

David and Kathy Lohnes. The airport I flew into was a tiny little thing outside Paris. David picked me up at the airport and made sure I got on the right train that would lead me to the metro, at which point I'd make a couple train changes and finally end up at the flat I'd be staying at. He was a great welcome into France. He invited me to join him and his wife for dinner before my out going flight a few days later. He hardly knew me, but decided to treat me like family. So generous!

Chad and Kim Deakyne. The lovely couple that let me and my friend stay for the weekend. The opened their home, fed us excellent meals, and enjoyed conversation with us. They have a three month old baby, a wonderful boy Povel, which makes their flexibility and hospitality even more spectacular. Kim let me cook with her, and showed me how to make crepes. We had some in depth conversations about everything from love to eating habits, having kids and wanting to travel from childhood. There was lots of common ground between Kim and I, and I'll appreciate that frienship forever. After a few brief days, it brought me to tears to say good-bye. And to put the icing on the cake, I got to hang out and hold that little baby. If you know how I feel about babies, you can imagine how much my cheeks hurt from smiling.

Kathleen. Oh my dear new friend. Friend like a sister. We travel the exact same way: a little nervousness, but lots of excitment, wanting to see some sights, but preferring to explore and be a part of the culture we're in. We ate lots of pastries. Lots is an understatement. One time we bought six at one time. That was just one time of many. We laughed so hard we cried, a lot. I haven't done that in so long. Originally we met in Creative Writing, and so of course, writing was a natrual topic of conversation. We have the same life goal: to use writing to help these global problems by awakening action and compassion from people who can help those who need it.

Kat and I also talked about some really intense things. One of the things I miss from home are those kind of conversations. Not that I can't have them here, but they usually require some common ground, some history. Some friends that all comes naturally. Kat is such a friend. I will cherish her always. We pray for each other, and we speak truth to each other. This is some of the truth exchanged: God is the source of the greatest life! We are messes and that is okay. And life lived in step with Jesus is one of adventure and passion and a security that transcends understanding.

Kat and I spent one full, full day in the city center, exploring Paris as much as we could. We spent one day relaxing, sleeping in, reading books, eating, walking, sleeping, talking, talking, talking, and laughing. And we ate pastries. Chocolate ones, some with apricots, little tarts topped with almonds... It was a grand time.

My heart was filled in Paris. Filled with friendship, healed by conversation, ignited by exploration. Paris does the heart good.

Friends, Celebrities, and Mothers

2007-11-08T05:21:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was pretty fabulous, I must say. It was, in a lot of ways, the epitome of living the life in Ireland. Tea seems to be a part of all good days. The trend continues. I had a couple cups before my little jog, and a couple more afterward. Living in Dalkey is incredible. I love being out from the city, a little sanctuary to wake up in.

Took my book, my camera, and some euros and headed into the city. I met Merilee and Melonie for lunch. Havana is the name of the little cafe that we ended up going to. Good food, fairly reasonably priced, lots of flags hanging up. It was an eclectic place. I don't often eat with the two of them, so as is true with most rare occasions, it was memorable. We laughed and ate off each others plates and talked about how different we are now from when we arrived. Up to this point, the day was beautifully uneventful. That was about to take a turn, though not for the worse.

We were just finishing up when Merilee got a phone call. I was still in the process of getting my change when I heard some squeals and saw her blond hair flying all over the place as she jumped around. The reason for all the ruckus? Celebrity sighting...

As we followed a very excited Merilee out of the cafe, the story came out. Apparently one of our friends saw Colin Farrell. I was dubious. But low and behold, as we turned a corner, there he was. Sitting at a cafe table by a second story window that overlooks the intersection. Hm. I'm guessing he was trying real hard to keep a low profile. As are most encounters with famous people, I found it rather anticlimatic. But the other girls didn't. Oddly enough, I was the only one with a camera. So yes, I have pictures of Colin Farrell. And yes, I'm seriously debating charging all the other girls for copies of them. We shall see.

At this point, I was ready to go to class. So we tore ourselves away. :) Class was excellent, as we got reviews from the features we turned in. I always find it interesting to be able to pinpoint the differences in cultures. We read parts of each feature with no names attatched, and yet I found it rather easy to determine which ones were written by Americans, and which were written by Irish. Or which excerpt was the African girl's. I can't tell why exactly. It must just be the inner voice that comes through. I mean, we all have a basis of understanding, a learned way of perception. Learning, or at least trying, to approach other's writing, speaking, and communication with that understanding is a big deal I think.

After class, I sat in a coffee shop with my book open and a cup of tea. Yes, another one. The seat I had over looked this bustling street of Dublin. I got a surprisingly little amount of reading done, because that spot worked ideally for people watching. A whole entry could be dedicated to describing the people I watched.... but I will refrain.

It was soon time for me to meet up with Kristyn and Katelyn. Last night my internship was putting on this photo exhibition to launch a publication. The booklet is Feminism and Migration, and the theme of the evening was Mothers and Daughters. It's generally understood that the life of an immigrant can be rather precarious. The truth of this statement is concentrated when it is a woman immigrant. The ambassador of Lesotho (small country located within South Africa's borders) spoke. The photographer of the exhibition, who was once an immigrant himself, shared as well.

That time was inspirational and very rewarding for me. I got to see the impact this organization is making. The day to day tasks that we do at the Immigrant Council are not glamorous. It can be messy and dishevelled. But still, the amount of influence grows as we work for justice. And I'm just honored to be a part of it.

Each photo portrayed a mother/daughter relationship. Some of the mothers came from India, or Norway as it was torn by WWII, or places in Africa where women are nothing. Stories attatched to the photos expressed the importance of freedom from oppressive habitats, and how mothers are often leading the way to that liberation. In every story, without exception, the strength of the mothers could be seen in the daughters. And often, the daughters had greater opportunities than the previous generation.

(A tangent that I must follow.... I could not stop thinking about my own mother the whole evening. My mother is strength and wisdom. I look at my life right now, the things I'm getting to do and be a part of. And truly, none of it would have happened without my mom. Those stories reflected so much of my own life. The love and inspiration of a mother is irreplaceable. I think my mom would like to travel. But I'm the one with the opportunity, mainly because her and my dad provided for me to come... because they pushed me to be stronger in things.... and because they helped me funnel my hopes and energies into action. My mom teaches third graders. She's a world-changer, because she loves kids and channels their minds and imaginations to great things. Mom, thanks for living honestly, for loving completely, for always speaking truth.)

The whole night was a great success. I couldn't have been prouder. Or more thankful. Today I'm back at the Immigrant Council. I've been priviledged to talk with people and hear their concerns. And I'm relying on God CONSTANTLY to give me the wisdom to help and the compassion to feel. HE is passionate about injustice and the cause of widows and the poor, so I know HE cares very much for what's going on here.

Tomorrow, I'm off to Paris early in the morning, and won't return until late Monday. I just laughed to myself, because I read this... And I know I'm undeserving. These are great days I'm living. You have to know that more than anything, I'm overwhelmingly thankful. Who am I that HE is mindful of me? I am nothing. But I see Him in every moment of these days. It is mind-blowing. Tomorrow I'll be in France. Today I'm in Ireland. And it's just another day in the life.

Something I read...

2007-11-07T08:08:00.000-08:00

A Fransican Benediction

May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,
So that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and
To turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world,
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

La Chaim.... To Life

2007-11-06T08:21:00.000-08:00

I'm just being honest. I feel like crying. Not sad. Not even overwhelmed. There's a place where you can become accutely aware of who's around you and what's happening. I am there.

What's around me, as I'm sure is the case with many of you, is a complex combination.

Daily, I cross paths with people looking for serious help. And even if I detatch from the individual situations, the sheer number adds up. Whether they are dire in nature, or just perplexing, it is there.

Some friends of mine continuously come to mind for the burdens they're carrying or the situations they're charging. Their faces are there right now.

I'm going to Paris this weekend. I miss my family. I'm tired. I'm full. What excites me, breaks me, and occupies me fundamentally differs from what did two months ago.

Come on now, I know I'm not in the minority when I say that life is full.

Life. Creativity. Love. Noise. Conversation. Footsteps. Sore throats. Pain. Numbness. Friendship. Loss. Work. Play. Breath. Breath-taking. Song. Drives. Roads. Greetings. Good-byes. Food. Lackthereof. Pride. Misunderstanding. Grudges. Trees. Cold. Laughter. Healing. Morning. Epiphanes. Distractions. Tea. Death. Life.

Today I'm just aware.

A Good Morning

2007-11-05T06:01:00.000-08:00

My body keeps waking me up at 6:57 a.m. on the dot. Today I made myself go back to sleep for a half hour. Then I made myself some strawberry green tea, from that new favorite place of mine. I sat on my bed and read and wrote in my journal.

One thing, of the many, that I hope I take back with me from my time abroad, is the feeling of hope and expectation I get in the mornings. I suppose it's a little bit easier when I'm in Ireland to get excited and look for the next amazing thing to happen. But that is life! Where can I walk today? What will my eyes see today that they never will again?What would a conversation with that person behind the counter hold? Who will I accidentally run into? That kind of hope is a daily thing.

After said cup of tea, I took a walk that eventually became a run. I got to Killiney Hill, and slowed the pace. A warning will find every person preparing to venture to Ireland as regards the weather. Rain, rain, and more rain. I have no idea what they're talking about. My umbrella has opened only twice since I've been here. The morning I met with today left me trying to convince myself that it really is November. Really, it is. The wind has picked up a good bit this week, so every part of the path canopied by trees would rain down dry, multi-colored leaves. And yet there was still enough foliage on the trees to keep the tunnel feeling protective as I walk. After a while, it opens and the paths traces a curve that over looks the downward sloping hill. All the bay and hills and sectioned plots of farmland cover the landscape like a throw rug.

Good morning, Krista. I took no photos, except the one inside my head.

As I went to catch the Dart, I ran into Katelyn, so we conversed as it lurched all the way to the city center. I love the random path crossings we have. It's good to talk, get a cheap cup of hot chocolate out of the vending machines at the station, and wander around.

I had some extra time before I had to be at the Immigrant Council, so I explored, my new favorite hobby. When you or I are walking with a certain destination in mind, so much of the valuable gets lost in the peripheral. It is a good thing to purposefully look around. Try it today.

I went back to that fantastic tea place. M & D Tea and Coffee is the name. I'm putting together this mental list of all the teas I'll purchase to take back home with me. I think it will be a weekly present for myself in the mean time. You've been spared the verbose descriptions of the various leafy mixtures, though if you'd ask me at all, I would not hold back details. The smells, the tins that contain the tea, and even the colors of the dried bits... It's a very happy place for me. And I'm learning things I never new about brewing a quality cup of tea. Did you know that most tea-bagged teas are just the dust left over from the real tea leaves? Hence the supremacy of the loose-leaf. Okay, quite enough of that.

Aaron is the guy that works at M&D. I'm not sure which one of us gets more excited as we pour over the tea canisters. Me as I waft each tin? Or him having someone to impart his tea wisdom on? Either way, we're a happy lot.

For now though, the Immigrant Council. Another good day, after another good morning.

The Best Thing

2007-11-04T09:32:00.000-08:00

Yesterday. 6:30 a.m. Walking. Singing. No one's around. To the harbor. Gray. Breezy. Sea gulls crying. I sat on the cemented wall circling the little marina. Feet dangling over the edge or crossed underneath me. The next couple hours went by fast, but slow. I didn't do anything in particular. Wrote in my journal, observed, stared. This past summer, I just started learning the necessity of time alone. With no agenda. Not working out, not trying to finish a book, just being. I need to unpack, I need to filter, and I like slowing down. Idyllic. That's what the morning was for me.

I love walking as well. It's a much underused mode of transportation. One of the things I love about Europe: cities are made for walking. And just so you know, whenever you're walking before or while or just after the sun is rising, you won't cross many people. If you do, it's a safe bet that there's a similarity in thought on mornings being a things of joy and solitude. There's an understanding. Since I didn't pass very many people, and no cars passed me, I felt so comfortable. Yes, I sang along with my ipod. I walked with my chin down at times, because leaves are fascinating. Other strides I walked with my head all the back, like a kid looking up to her Father, viewing as much of the first daylight as possible. I'm fast becoming a morning person, and I can't say that I'm upset about it.

As much as this outings on my own are vital, I'm also discovering my need for relationships. I have to admit, I'm wired to interact with people and talk out the insides. So I'm happy to say that I invested the rest of the day with two great friends. With one, a long meandering through hills of gold. With the other, a long laugh and some junk food.

Peter and I went to Glendalough again. It's up in the hills of Ireland, and the DART doesn't run there. Otherwise I'd probably be there most of my life here. Unfortunately, I find myself at the mercy of my friends with cars. Fortunately, Peter's been willing to drive me up.

One of the losses of spending a semester out of the midwest that I've mourned, is the loss of fall. I adore all things of autumn. Apple cider, trees changing color, Thanksgiving, and the way we embrace it all back home. I was mistakingly under the impression that Ireland remained green under any and every circumstance. Imagine my joy as we were driving through winding roads sometimes completely tunneled in by orange trees. :)

Glendalough is one of my favorite places in the world. Top five for sure. Places where I can sit and think and have no boundaries attract me. There are broad paths, and there are ones that zig-zag through rocks, and then there's trail I blaze on my own. (Has anyone seen the movie Fern Gully? Well, it's about a fairy named Krista who wants to save things, one of which is a rainforest. Glendalough looks a lot like that in ways.)

I walked and hiked. I climbed a tree. I stepped on a little knoll of grass that was so bog-like, I sank in and found my socks wet. I "fell" in the dirt and dried leaves and loved every minute. I picked up a very authentic souvenir for my mom. And I talked with Cephas (aka Peter). We through sticks in the water, again and again until I finally got a picture of the splash. The bare necessities of life.

Anyone want to come?

It's always painful to say good-bye to Glendalough. Yes, I like it that much. But don't worry, I'll be back.

Katelyn and I hung out later in the evening. We picked up icecream bars and penny sweets at the local newsagent in Dalkey, then went and laughed. A lot. Medicine to my soul!! I love that girl. Some brilliant bonding time.

I'm happy here. I really am. I know being happy isn't everything, and I've experienced the truth of that here as well. I've lived here, and that will always stay with me. I heard in a movie once, something along the lines of "this is life, and it's all we have." I beg to differ, because there's really so much more to it. Life as we see it interconnects with so much more. I saw that today as I sat on my own watching the the gray get lighter. Places like Glendalough agree with me. And Katelyn and I conversed about similar themes. Life is great. So great. I know I bring God into all of this a lot. Quite frankly, I can't help it.

This whole time, I've been living the dream with HIM. He's there to answer the questions, to listen to the quandries. He's all I want. All of this, the beauty, the adventure, the excitement... It's all nothing compared to knowing Him. Because He's constantly letting me know more of Him, and I can't believe how incredible He is. How intricate His personality. How deep His love for me. How constant His pursuit of me. He's the best thing about this time.

Writing

2007-11-03T15:54:00.000-07:00

It's Saturday and I got up, on my own free will, at 6:30 a.m. Went for a walk to the harbor. Sat. Now, 17 hours later, I am tired.

Right now, I'm going to elaborate on today. Not now. There are photos and stories, but I just don't want to right now. I feel like I would be forcing it, and a day as natural as this day has been, shouldn't be forced.

As far as the whole concept of writer's block is concerned, I think it's ridiculous. A very gifted journalist once said that writer's block is just pride. We fear that our words won't impress, won't draw attention, or something of the like, so we can't start. This seems telling and accurate to me.

I love writing. Maybe I'll get to do it for life. Occupationally, recreationally, personally... Lately I've been reading many different writers and seeing different kinds of people create. It's sent me into this very introspective (and restrospective) cycle. Some people can write great things so succinctly, and I envy that. I see writer's that can spill words on a page with ease, just because they like writing. Or they like their "voice". Some can shape words, portraying life honestly. Just the way it is. That kind of communication happens so rarely, it looks like genius when it does.

Anyway, all this to say, writing has been coming with great difficulty for me as of late. Sometimes I just don't know where to start narrowing things down and selecting what I'll share. Will it be an experience from the day? A new thought? A revelation? How much I miss you guys? How much I'll miss it here?

Tomorrow I'll try again. At least I'll share what I did today. The Emerald Isle turns amber come fall. :) And I love being outside.

Meandering

2007-11-02T13:18:00.000-07:00

A lot of times, the ideal does not happen. Today it did.

Perfection came as a fall day in Dublin. Taking off for a run at 7:45, I found out all the things autumn should be. The leaves grinding under my shoes gave off that smell. Earth, cold, smokiness. The sky was generally clear, and the people I ran by uncommonly friendly.

Through the little town, down by the water, I ran by the rockiness lining Dublin's harbor. I got to my halfway point and turned around, facing directly into the waking sun. Don't even call it a sunrise, because it was completely different. None of that fading colors of the rainbow. Definitely no pink. The water, fairly still in that pocket of the harbor, reflected light. No color in particular, just light. Sometimes sun shining off water shines so strong it just whites out the rest of the scene. But the water was almost like an impressionistic picture, just with more brilliant tones. Where the water didn't mirror the sun, it just rippled with cobalt, indigo, azure, sapphire.... Any brilliant blue you can think of radiated out of the water like it was coming from the floor beneath the cold sea.

Stop. That's all I could do. Won't forget that. The rises and sets often. But that... was something else. There's was no one around, so I actually sang a little bit. What else can you do?!

The rest of the day I spent with Katelyn. Staying true to my creedo to slow down, we meandered. Walked around the towns nearby, caught the train into the city center, ate some cheap lunch, snapped photos. Some of the hidden gems of Dublin were found today.

I fear my bank account is going to be threatened. There's this little booth that sells tea. A hundred different kinds, all loose-leafed. All fresh. Oolong, black, rooibus, green, white.... Teas with jasmine, pieces of strawberry, ginger... Glorious. Katelyn and I sniffed through the next 15 minutes or so. I made friends with the guys selling the teas, then purchased a small, green paper bag of some green tea infused with dried blueberries and strawberries. Mom, you can count on something very special from that place. And Dad, I was just kidding about my bank account being in jeopardy.

Second hand shops, vintage clothings stores, and places with treasure troves of old records. (John Denver, Gloria Gaynor, and much more). Katelyn and I, I'm happy to report, spent no money on all these finds. But we enjoyed, and we were fascinated. The creativity inspired me. I want to color. Or paint. Or decopadge. :) So I took a bunch of pictures, and I'm not impressed with a single one. Maybe tomorrow. :)

Eventually, we tired. Heading back to Dalkey, tea in tow, we stopped by the Country Bake for scones. There are few things as unwinding as tea and scones after a day of meandering. We talked a lot, and I realized how much I like Katelyn. She makes me laugh, and sometimes she thinks I'm funny. So we get along well. We can be honest. And we agreed that it's a good place for friendship when you can not be all put together. We're messes. :)

And in conclusion, some lyrics from a favorite song, "wildly appropriate" for today:

Friday morning, purple dawn,
Broke a yawn, as I stepped through the fog, like I stepped to a song
A moment like a poem, you wish you could hold it
I shut my eyes like it's frozen, it's gone when I open
My feet hit the ground like a beat for the lonely
On a path beaten down by the crowds in the morning

You're the only one who stuck it out last night
The only other one who caught the other line
You're the only one when this world collides
The one that I can't deny

It's undeniable how brilliant You are
In an unreliable world You shine like a star
It's unforgettable now that we've come this far
It's unmistakable that You're undeniable

Undeniable; Mat Kearny

Foot off the pedal

2007-11-01T09:50:00.000-07:00

My dad once told somebody that when I drive I have one speed. It was a sound effect that basically said "pedal to the metal". I have no comment.

My current goal: slow down. I'm a sprinter. I just want to go, all the time. And even if I'm not doing so much physically, my mind is racing. But I want to slow down. These days are going so quickly as it is.

I've been writing a lot. Constantly. And yet sometimes, I scribble so fast, that I feel it is sub-par. I guess I feel that the faster and the more that I write, the more likely I'll have something to look back on with this semester. Similar with pictures.

Deep breath. After stopping for just a second, I see value in it. When I slow, I can soak in more. Right now.

Instead of processing the very serious situations here until I think I can regurgitate them, I'll let it exist in my mind, incomplete on a page. Just let it be. It's that kind of idea.

So a few more cups of tea. Not getting caught up in the Dublin pace of walking to and from the train. Not always eating like it's my last meal. Listening and taking time to respond. Being silent. That's what I'm going to be doing this weekend.

Be still and know...... Yes.

A change

2007-10-31T13:17:00.000-07:00

These days, muesli is my favorite thing to eat for breakfast. Really, I love it. So a couple days ago, I was having myself some, while Vera and I reminisced.

“You’re just not the same girl,” she told me.

I’m glad somebody else sees it.

We talked about the changes that have transpired since a very emotionally unstable, scared, naive girl drudged out of a taxi.

She wasn’t sure I’d make it. I wasn’t either.

Before I coming to Ireland, I guess I thought these huge, ideal thoughts about this semester. I was ignorant. It’s funny how being in an ignorance-is-bliss kind of place can often look like bravery. Or something like that. But truth must be told. I have been grappling and struggling all these weeks. Don’t get me wrong. Victories and laughter and breath-stealing moments have also been at an all time high. However, it’s a daily occurrence that I just want to throw my hands and say, “I can’t do this.” And yet I have been ignited.

That’s it. That marriage of total helplessness and complete elation, on a daily basis, work through and through me. The vulnerability stops any denial of my disabilities and ugliness. The exhilaration keeps me thrilled about life.

See the thing is, in ALL of this, my God has been the closest thing to me. It’s not a crutch or a neat little philosophy to make me feel better. I believe it. And like I believe in gravity, I live differently because of it. There are so, so many times, where I am aware of His presence, to the extent that no nearness of another person could feel closer. He’s just constantly there. Explaining and escorting, listening and living with me.

And it’s changing me. He’s changing me.

Can't Help Myself....

2007-10-29T02:25:00.000-07:00

I'm somewhat keen on taking photos. There's a plethora that have yet to be shared. Here are a few more from the trip up North for you viewing pleasure.

My time in Northern Ireland

2007-10-28T14:08:00.000-07:00

I find this photo ironic. And incredible. Ironic because it was taken in Northern Ireland. Incredible because the truth of it runs so deep. It resonates in my life.

I just returned from Northern Ireland, a province of the UK located on the same island as the Republic of Ireland. They have different accents, use different currency, and have a different history. Fighting and tension divided this region of Ireland in a way similar to our own civil rights movement. So much heartache, so recent.

Beautiful place though. In spite of all they've been through. You'll see that in all the pictures. And again, the frustration is mounting as I sift through the many photos I took, trying to choose a few that will communicate all of it. And a thought just came to me: nothing will. I walked cliffs and hillsides of Northern Ireland, with my own thoughts. I tripped on the rocks on The Giant's Causeway, got my jeans slightly soaked by the waves, laughing with people you'll never meet. I walked through the streets of Derry and Belfast, listening to a man who lived through the Troubles and saw the devastation that I only caught glimpses of. So to communicate that, and all that's between it, just won't happen here. So there will be pictures, but they're only the tip of an iceberg that's mine alone to dwell on.

We stopped first at this glorious point of creation where the cold, foamy, blue, green water rushes up to rocks and grassy hills. There's this place where a rock juts up just out of reach from the coastal cliff. So they made a way in between: a rope bridge. Swaying in the wind, showing the water beneath... A brilliant means to an out of control view. A short drive away from there rests the Giant's Causeway, a phenomenon of God's own doing. These rocks come up, in hexagonal shape, about a foot in circumference. There's thousands of them, like footsteps covering the coast where sand usually would be. Some raise up higher and higher, so the concept of a stairway to heaven doesn't seem to ridiculous. Amazing.

The next couple days were spent touring Derry and Belfast, two of the centers of the movements surrounding the Protestant/Catholic troubles of the north. As a communication major, one facet struck me in a very particular way. These wall murals, paintings communicating messages, thoughts, and emotions... they are splattered here and there around the city. If you're at all mentally engaged, it'd be a difficult thing to pass them without thinking. At one point we talked with a man who was a part of the march on Bloody Sunday. His brother was one of the thirteen killed on that infamous day. Again, any level of engagement will produce emotion.

The more I see of the world... the more this concept of peace both confuses me and calls me. And for fear of unpacking that statement inaccurately, I'll just leave it at that.

So here are the pictures. Enjoy.

Where I'm going, what I'm thinking, who I am...

2007-10-24T08:08:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow morning we leave for Nothern Ireland. After Italy, it's not looking all that exciting, full of information and what not. And yet it is a place with some significant and recent history that has fascinated me for some time. That region is still just catching its breath after much conflict and aspirations of freedom. Besides, with my camera in tow, nothing's ever dull.

I put in a few hours at the Immigrant Council answering emails. In all the research I did, I came across some policies that got me rather fired up. After typing a few paragraphs and deleting them straight away, I'm deciding not to go on any rampages about them. I will only say that I get deeply provoked when a group or body has the ability to help... and does nothing. But there is a small army of us trying to do something anything. Taking turns getting mugs of coffee or tea and continuing the dialogue of what needs to change in the world even when we're off, we're doing what we can. I love the people I work with.

I ate lunch with a good friend of mine today. Sitting in the park, covered in sunshine, scone in my hand... It was a good place for conversation. Among other bits and pieces of conversation, we started talking about some things that make me rather uncomfortable. Not an awkward kind of uncomfortable. But an I-don't-know-how-to-deal-with-that uncomfortable. It may come as no suprise to those who know me that I'm on the defensive as soon as such topics come up. I quickly form what I see to be a concrete opinion and stand my ground.

Today was a mini break through. I was so tired of doing that. Though it felt slightly vulnerable and humbling, I just had to admit that I don't know. That I'm not confident in situations that almost everybody around me seems to have under control. And not just that I'm not confident, but that I'm finding that I genuinely lack the ability to compete, to keep up.

Relief. More comfortable in my own skin. Just me, where I am for now. Not hurrying, not struggling. Just still. Still me. And as always, not enough on my own. But embracing it. :)

The Nearness of God is My Good

2007-10-23T12:12:00.000-07:00

I'm still recooperating from the weekend away. Not so much catching up on sleep, which probably should be a priority, but sorting out all the thoughts that were stirred. And resting my mind.

Every day I'm at the Immigrant Council, I feel as if I report the same thing: there's a lot of heartache out there, and only so much that can be done. It frustrates. And it hurts. I remember what Marta told me. About not just crying, but doing. I spend most of my time in the consultations just trying to communicate that we are listening, and we do care... whether we can really improve their situation or not. It seems like the situations get progressively worse. Desperate really. And I'm kinda tired of putting them up here. And yet....

"Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed..." 2 Corinthians 3:17,18

So yes, I'm walking this road. :) Hand and hand with Jesus. So many times as I've been here I've been completely at a loss. Moer so than ever in my life. But usually that just serves to create a greater assurance that when all else fails or is absent, He is there. Ever present. Ever love. So I'll keep walking. :)

THIS ROAD
All heavy laden acquainted with sorrow
May Christ in our marrow, carry us home
From alabaster come blessings of laughter
A fragrance of passion and joy from the truth

Grant the unbroken tears ever flowing
From hearts of contrition only for You
May sin never hold true that love never broke through
For God's mercy holds us and we are His own

This road that we travel, may it be the straight and narrow
God give us peace and grace from You, all the day
Shelter with fire, our voices we raise still higher
God give us peace and grace from You, all the day through
- A song written by somebody, not myself

A ridiculously long recap of my trip to Italy

2007-10-22T11:28:00.000-07:00

I boarded a plane in Dublin as the sun just woke up. When it set, I found myself in a water taxi, cruising down the grand canal of Venice. My mind, my eyes, and my soul all took in a great deal over this past weekend. On a train, on a bike, on my own... my time in Italy left an impression. In so many ways.

Bus to plane, plane to bus, bus to train, to train, to boat...

I made my way to meet up with my friend Kate. She's been studying in Ferrara this semester. After a hug and a brief stop at her apartment, it was back on the train, this time to Venice. I wanted to see as much as I could in the few hours left of the day. A continuing theme through out the weekend, we spent the hours on the train in conversation. Catching up, empathizing, sharing, and listening. Brilliant. Kate spent so much time pouring into my weary heart this weekend.

VENICE

Stepping out of the train station at Venice, it was one of the moments that I idealized before coming to Europe. We stopped. Took out our cameras. Smiled. And jumped on a water taxi. I was mentally pinching myself for the next few hours. Venice is like another world. It's unique. It's a novelty. Italy is surprisingly similar to what you would imagine. The gloriously old buildings with romantic architecture, walls with plaster and brick all in warm colors, decorated with awnings over balconies with flowers dripping over the sides line the entire canal.

All the things I was thinking and feeling I will not even attempt to write down. Most things end up being thought-provoking to me, but this place was a concentration of the sensation. Kate and I just smiled. A lot. We had heart to hearts leaning over the side of those water taxis, finding that we could relate on situations that for a long time were sorely left to be carried alone.

When you only have a few days in Italy, there is precious little time to consume enough gelati. Taking in about three servings a day, I feel as if I did well. Between my first tasting of tiramisu gelati and a cone of some chocolatey goodness, we walked the streets over canals and between little kiosks of trinkets. Again, it's all somewhat surreal. The pictures will have to suffice to communicate what it's like.

Sooner than I would have liked, it was time to get back on the train and head back to Ferrara. But we made a good time of the ride as well. Except for the part when the bathroom of our car flooded. Yes, except for that.

After a short night of sleep and adding another member to our entourage, we got yet another train. To Florence. :)

FLORENCE

Kate, Katie (another girl from Cedarville that has now become a dear, dear friend), and I first defeated the puzzling challenge of finding the bus that went to our campsite hostel.

Krista, Kate, and Katie. :)

We checked in, got some paninis, and went off to find the Uffizi. We spent most of that first day exploring the museum. It's so great to go through a gallery like that with art majors. They see and appreciate totally different aspects of all the pieces. It constantly amazes me how much of art, throughout history, is about God. Attempts to portray, to understand, to accentuate... and it's all about Him, ultimately. :) Some of the paintings were done years before my continent was even discovered. It serves to put a little perspective on the vastness of things.

Museums have a way of taking all the energy right out of you. We meandered through the streets of Florence (reminding myself of the fact that I was actually there) until we came to a little cafe where we had calzones and cappucino. I loved traveling with these girls, because it wasn't high maintenence or super touristy. Sitting for as long as we felt like it, we enjoy the quiet time in that cafe, then we were off to explore some more. Another benefit of going around all these places with artists was the picture taking. Collectively, we may have taken a thousand pictures in those two days. And being in Florence could get just about anybody's creative juices flowing.

As we walked back through a lit up city, the presence of cold was always there. And as the day got progressively colder, it became more difficult for us to forget that we were staying at a campsite. Tent. I could see my breath as we walked and relief would not be soon in coming. I was just thinking about how I couldn't feel my appendages when Katie noticed a drop on her forehead. That drop multiplied. Rain. And yet, this did not stop us from taking pictures when we thought the lighting was just right. Or something like that.

So much could be said about that night. It was both horrible and glorious. There were tears and there was much laughter. There was some sleep, lots of coughing, and conversation late into the night. The three of us ended up in the same bed, trying to make the most of blankets and body heat. This will remain one of my fondest memories ever. The night I camped in Florence.

For 8 euro a night, we got our money's worth. The view was incredible. And after all the rain, there was a rainbow. :) In attempts to keep this update as brief as possible, I'm omitting some AMAZING photos. Perhaps they'll resurface later in the semester.

Most of the morning we just wandered. My favorite. We also saw the Duomo and The Baptistery.

I took almost 300 pictures on this trip, and it is frustrating me that I can't put them all up. There were so many beautiful things, most of them in the mundane buildings or the regular passer-byers. Again, hopefully I'll post some of them randomly. Italy is beautiful.

We met up with one of Katie's friends. Morgan made us an amazing pasta lunch. And after our chilling-to-the-bone night, it was nice just to sit in a warm apartment. Her generousity and sweet spirit warmed us up completely.

After some more train rides, back at Ferrara, Kate and I went for a bike ride around the town. Then we each got half a pizza and retreated to their apartment. One more early morning, another train to bus to plane, and my weekend in Italy was over. I love Italy. I love it! Kate and Katie were amazing, giving me mittens, tea, and even a hair cut. The giving spirits that surrounded me this weekend made my impressions of Italy that much greater. Their creativeness reflects God to me. I love those girls. Even more than I love Italy. But ah, Italy. :)

Need

2007-10-18T06:45:00.000-07:00

Immigrant Council again today.

It can be a rather emotional job. The questions these people bring are so personal to them, so pivotal for their livlihood.

Today, there were stories at two different extremes.

Vivien, from Nigeria. She has a son. No place to stay. No money. She can't get a work permit. She's been in pursuit of refugee status for some time. It was so difficult to explain that it basically comes down to a piece of paper she doesn't have, the proof that she's lacking to show the government that she's truly destitute enough to be labeled as a refugee. Then maybe she could get help. Tears, many tears. She sat there rubbing her head, like she's trying to keep herself from losing it. As of right now, there's not a whole lot we can do for her. We're just scurrying around to find a homeless shelter that will take them in. This was hard.

The next couple, married. One is a member of the EU (European Union) the other is from the Cote d'voire (Ivory Coast). The hurtles they have to jump and gauntlet they have to run is slightly ridiculous. But with a little direction from the Immigrant Council, it looks like it will soon be possible for them to be together, work, and live life.

In one of the moments between these meetings, I just thought about my concerns, the things that have been worrying me. They don't even compare. I make things so much more complicated than need be. School, a home, clothes... I have so much that I don't think I really understand the word "need". My mind is just racing to all the things I spend money on or put importance on. Thinking... thinking...

I am free to love. I am unhindered from the pursuit of life. I have complete access to people and avenues. No limitations.

My worry becomes my limitation. Materialism. Preoccupation with self, comfort, and safety. I do to myself in thought what I see these people face in reality. It's provoking for me. It makes me question what I'm using my freedom for... myself? The least of these? Hm...

Tomorrow, well before the crack of dawn, I will be on my way to Italy, meeting a friend there for some exploring. There will be pictures, and hopefully some great stories.

As I'm gone, know that more than likely, I'm praying for you. If I know that you read this, I'm definitely praying for you. Because I miss you.

The Hound on my Trail

2007-10-16T11:14:00.000-07:00

I spent today at the Immigrant Council and actually got to be of some good. A full busy day it was, and even if it had not been, my mind was busy. Like the streets of Dublin. Or the crowded cars of the DART.

Some days you wake up with a song in your head. Today, some lines from a poem I heard in high school came to me. I'll copy those here, because I don't have much to say. And that's okay.

If you would have walked with me today, your feet would have scraped along the dirty cement, shoveling faded, dry, orange leaves to either side. You would smell like tobacco smoke. You'd have hugged your arms close to you, because it was a little bit chillier today than yesterday. You'd walk briskly, or lunge, or even pull half a skip in attempts to cross the street and evade all cars. Folded newspaper under your arm, you'd think. Today was a good day to be quiet while walking. Even if you were with someone. And though it was a good day to be quiet, it was a good day to have someone nearby. And this is probably why I'm imagining for you what it would be like... had you walked with me. And in the absence of company, something would fill your head. And if you were me, it would sound something like this...

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat -- and a voice beat
More instant than the Feet --
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."

Wherefore should any set thee love apart ?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught" (He said),
"And human love needs human meriting :
How hast thou merited --
Of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot ?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art !
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me ?
All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms.
All which thy child's mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home :
Rise, clasp My hand, and come !"
Halts by me that footfall :
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly ?
"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest !
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest me."

The Hound of Heaven, by Francis Thompson

Some thoughts on love...

2007-10-15T13:06:00.000-07:00

“Let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair.” G.K. Chesterton

I just finished writing a paper comparing motivations between the civil rights movement in the U.S. and the Civil Rights Association of Northern Ireland. As I researched I came across reminders of similar attempts people groups have made to come out from under oppression. South Africa and the apartheid, the Jews in WWII, the people of Darfur, and those held tight in North Korea.

At my internship with the Immigrant Council, I am constantly exposed to stories of individuals victimized by governments or their own families. I can think of friends from back in Fort Wayne that are trying their hardest to recover from war-torn countries or the separation from loved ones in which they find themselves.

All these thoughts are floating or flying around my head. Not to mention other circumstances that are closer to home. The conflicts are tearing at me. The anger I see makes me cry. And it makes my hands shake as I try to type it out in a way that would make it understandable.

As I compared the two movements, I was surprised at a couple things. First of all, the emotion welling up inside of me. It's overwhelming at this point. The second thing was along the lines of where we draw lines. I was told to find similarities between African-Americans out of slavery and Catholic Irishmen. They were there. But I was more intrigued to look into the similarities between those on either side of a singular fight. Choosing to zero in on the difference is the cause of friction in these instances. And it breaks my heart.

An quote from Philip Yancy:
"We are, we humans, a mere pinch of dust scattered across the surface of a nondescript planet. At the heart of all reality is God, an unimaginable source of power and love. In the face of such reality we can grovel in humanoid humility or we can, like the Psalmist, look up instead of down, to conclude, 'O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is Your name in all the earth!' "

I don't know where all these things connect. Or if they do at all. I just see a need for more love... EVERYWHERE. I need to give it more. And I want to help be a channel for others to pass it to others. I think somethings have to be let go of before we can love fully. Self for one. There's other things I'm sure. And I'm starting, just starting, to learn that it's essential to love looking at God first. We love because He loves.

If this is coherent, then I'm slightly surprised. It's just what's on my mind right now.

Precariously standing in grace

2007-10-14T12:57:00.000-07:00

I find that fresh air is vital to the mind. Being in a foreign country and learning that few things are guaranteed, I rejoice that I live in a place constantly lending itself to outdoor activity. Oh the insanity that would ensue without nature!

These 7 weeks have been some of the hardest, most complex of my life. Nothing about current life mirrors what I lived the 20 years previously. Family is farther than ever as my kid sister goes through one of the most crucial phases of life. Coming from the midwest, where I saw more corn fields than grafiti, makes city life new, exciting, and yet sometimes terrifying. I used to drive myself everywhere, now I'm completely dependent on public transportation and my legs. Being a person that thrives on deep, open relationships, I come to a country where I know no one, and I have to start from scratch. I've always been taken care of and protected. Now I find that safety cannot be seen in anything tangible.

Besides these circumstancial changes, much has gone on behind the scenes. Things I won't put up on the world wide web. Knowing of people that are hurting due to losing loved ones or fighting disease touches me, deeply. I watch the pupils dialate in the eyes of new friends while they share stories of what they've seen in Africa or China, knowing such intimate details of their past that I can't ever share. And I'm never, ever unaffected.

Reality. These things are reality. But knowing of death, missing others, and being in less-than-ideal surroundings cannot mean that life has to hiccup. Otherwise, what would make waking up in the morning worth while? If living in denial or living in fear were the only two options, what would be the point?

I'm looking back on today, the past week, the days since August 27th, and I don't see a time void of trouble or pain. Not in the least. And yet I still treasure this time so close to my heart. So I wondered why.

I choose. Daily, I have to choose. I don't fear, because I choose to take my God at His word when He says that perfect love cancels out fear. I choose to not be ruled by my emotions, because life is bigger than just me. Because what good are tears unless I do something about it? So I choose to do. I choose to swim when it's cold, run when I'm sore, and stay up late when I'm tired. I choose to pry my eyes off of myself and look around me. And the countless moments that I'm reminded that I'm not enough, I choose to fall on Jesus. He catches me, holds me, carries me, walks with me, runs with me.

And that's why I love these days. That's why I love being here.

Yet another walk with friends...

Theresa, Laura, Sylvia, and I at the summit.

Maybe someday....

When words don't want to come...

2007-10-13T09:01:00.000-07:00

...take pictures.

Here's to slowing down...

Maybe my favorite thing...

2007-10-12T12:15:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I put in 8 hours at the Immigration Council, then worked away the evening on a paper. No complaints though. It felt good to be doing things that were ligitamitely productive.

But today, oh TODAY!

All the things I've seen since I've been here, and all experiences I've had, this one may have been my favorite so far. We went swimming!!

Freezing. So cold. Numbing really. But it was the kind of cold, out in raw nature, that makes me thankful to have senses. It made me think of what life would be like if we didn't have feelings of temperature. The senses are just an amazing thing.

There aren't a lot of waves here. None at all really. So I could swim or float or just be. If I looked out towards Wales, all I could see was water. Jade colored water meeting a gray sky. To my right stretched parts of coastal towns, slightly hidden by haziness. The left side was harbored in by these large hills, blocking the fog before it poured over.

Goose bumps, muscles going numb... I just wanted to sing.

So much of this trip has been like waking up. From old ways of thinking, from presuppositions. Today, it woke up everything that was still sleeping. So cold. Glorious cold.

Whenever I told people what I was doing today, most of the time they called me crazy or mad. Really. And I'm pretty sure no one understands how much today meant to me. And how much my insides are just resonating in it all.

An alien among aliens

2007-10-09T09:01:00.000-07:00

If you happened upon we within the next hour or so, you'd probably get an earful about how much I love my internship. It's BRILLIANT!!

Ecclectic and dynamic is the group I find myself working with. Brian, my "boss", is a native of Ireland with a very distinct accent. Laid back and easy to talk with, it's an ideal situation. He answered all my questions and we spent a good deal of time discussing why nations like Ireland and the U.S. should accept and absorb refugees from Africa. :) Emmy, another woman I work with, is from Romania. She's expressive as she talks, often using her hands. As she deals with the questions and scenarios of different people, her face always maintains a calm and encouraging air. Perfect for this kind of work. Nusha hails from Bulgaria. I haven't had much time to interact with her, but the little I have, I can tell we'll get along. She didn't want to go on her break and constantly smiled, like she was about to laugh or something. Lastly, there's Liwei. Like me, she is an intern. Unlike me, she is from China. Gentle and intelligent, I just really enjoy conversation with her. As you can see, an all-star line-up.

In the morning, I sat in on consultations. These are the meetings where people ask questions, get direction, and even help writing letters to the government for the help we can't provide. Every single situation is a story. Through this process, I met people from Lithuania, the Cote D ivoire, India, among others. And stories, oh the stories. There will be no shortage of them. Some are rather emotional, but the beautiful thing about this job, is that I have a platform to help in such situations.

Brilliant.

On another note, two of my co-workers today were surprised to find that I am from the States. :) They thought I was European.

More of the life I don't deserve...

2007-10-08T14:28:00.000-07:00

Since getting back from the castle, I've been getting back into my running routine. I was a little sore after this morning's run, but it helps me. The rhythm of running and the time of solitude just makes my day.

Peter and I planned to hang out today. We had no exact idea of what we wanted to do, and my only stipulation was that we keep walking to a minimum. So we went to Glendalough.

So yeah, we had to hike all the way to the top, but it was completely worth it. As you can see.

I'm not sure exactly how long the hike up took, but beautifulness everywhere.

At one point, we sauntered upon a thicket of pine trees. The "first smell of Christmas" we decided. It had rained during the night and drizzled throughout the morning, so the scent was intensified without other smells to dilute it. Like any mature 20-somethings, we played hide-n-seek.

Fun.

Eventually, we made it to the top. A-mazing.

Even here in Ireland there are times when life gets to be mundane. Daily tasks, responsibilities and what not. I haven't had a whole lot of that, but the monotany exists at times. Times like these, taking in the 360 degree view, I'm reminded of where I am. And how much I love it.

This is me on top of the world. Literally and in a slightly deeper way.

This is Peter.

Wandering off the stone-paved trail, we went out toward the edge of one of those glorious hills. Just enjoyed the place. All that God has done in that corner of the world. No time. No noise. Except the occasional tourist children trailing behind their group. Good time.

Part of the way down, a waterfall followed along beside the trail.

Glendalough is another one of those places that I'll be going back to. Frequently if I can. A sobering thought: I have less than ten weeks left here. Among these hills, and the people. Oh the amazing people. So I'll keep hiking up hills, even when my legs are tired. Making the most of every moment.

Tomorrow I start my internship! I'll be going into the Immigrant Council on Tuesdays and Thursdays for the rest of the semester. Between sitting in on interviews with internationals new to Ireland, researching, and hopefully doing some writing, the days will be full. There will be stories, lots of stories, to come with all of this. And I love stories.

Inexplicable fullness

2007-10-04T14:30:00.000-07:00

This week has been so full. Emotionally full. Full of change. My tummy is constantly full. Just full.

Revelations. The dynamic, wise people I'm interacting with here are constantly speaking words of revelation. Inspiration to pursue change. Strength to follow through on things I'm afraid of. Determination to think through... everything. Multiple times, I've considered copying their words into this blog. I think that would frustrate me though.

Unless you can see the tenderness in Marta's eyes, it won't say the same thing.

Unless Karel, a passionate and fatherly Dutchman, literally pounds on your heart as he speaks, it won't convey a fraction of the message.

Kobus, a rugby player look-a-like from South Africa, tells stories of crossing borders between Zambia and Zimbabwe, of bribery and of miracles. But he has to tell them. I can't.

You probably won't get to hold Victor, the 6 month old baby from Slovakia that I have the priviledge of taking care of from time to time.
Fully grasping the meaning of my time here would be impossible unless you see his blue eyes laugh.

You can know, however, that this is incredible. Imploding is always an option here, because my mind is just so full. I'll be sad to leave these people. It's like another new family. I have lots of those now.

If all goes well, hopefully there will be pictures of all these people... and more. And soon, when I have the time, I will expound on the metamorphosis taking place in me. I mentioned a few days ago that I feel like play dough. It's true. I couldn't define myself right now, at all. Sometimes when we try to do that, it ends up putting unneeded pressure and pretense on how we live. Not having a defined "Krista" frees me up to live honestly. There's a greater openness about mistakes. Less shying away from my quirks. More confidence in thinking and acting.

Believing that God loves like the perfect Daddy also turns the tide inside. I can't help it. I'm perfectly loved, no matter my weakness or failure, so how can I help but live?

Story time

2007-10-02T15:13:00.000-07:00

I'm going to share a story that was told to me this morning.

Marta, the story-teller, is from Ethiopia. In fact, she was an important member of the Ethiopian government before it became a communist country, at which time her and her family were forced to flee. After the communist rule ended, her and her husband returned and started a school that now educates 1500 Ethiopian youth. They've had 40 some children of their own, whether biological or adopted.

Marta speaks slowly. Softly. Regally. You have to lean in when listening to her. The six of us with Marta in a circle did so promptly. Her stories are many, their content enriching. Her eyes are always happy to see you.

Marta hears the voice of God, so clearly as it seems. Her tale surrounded such a scenario.

20 years ago, while walking through Khartoum, Sudan, she felt someone following her. As she explained, she motioned behind her as she shared the feeling, though being scared wasn't a part of the memory. Turning, she noticed a poor, Sudanese woman. Walking at the same pace. Marta says God told her to talk to the woman. A few times, she turned back, yet before she voiced a word, the woman spoke first.

"I like your shoes," the woman said simply. Admiringly.

A few things went through Marta's head. First, she wanted to reach down and take them off. Shaking her head slowly, regretfully, Marta went on. She also thought about what it would be like to walk through the streets of Khartoum without shoes. What would people think of her? These thoughts kept her from truly responding to the woman.

Marta kept the shoes. Hasn't worn them since. "They belong to that woman," she explains. To my open-mouthed astonishment, she spoke of the prayers she's verbalized for that woman. She actually prayed that the woman's daughter, or granddaughter, would cross her path. Perhaps one of them could benefit from the shoes.

I sat. In shame. In grace. Shame because I see myself more accurately in the light reflected in Marta. Grace because I got to sit with her. I sat with my arms and legs kinda tingling, a physical recognition of the reality in all she said.

And as if conversations and stories the resemble this one aren't enough, the place I'm staying for the week is probably too nice to exist. Or it's too nice for me to exist in it. That's nearer the truth. See for yourself.

Why I feel like play dough...

2007-09-30T14:27:00.000-07:00

I can remember playing with play dough with Hannah as a child.

I also remember smashing it between each miniature creation.

That smashing that happens before something gets recreated... that's what's happening in me right now. Not a lot of definitive characteristics any more. Just an awareness that I'm being changed.

It's good. So good.

Couch to castle

2007-09-29T09:21:00.000-07:00

Right now I'm sitting in a castle in Kildare, joining the Masterworks Foundation conference. (Background: One of the leaders of this foundation was the kind, adventurous woman, Laurie, with whom I traveled to Africa all those years ago.) I'm here helping out and enjoying the scenery, food, and friends here. I'm staying in a room with Laurie. My bed, situated by a window, over-looks Irish country side, sectioned off by a vine-covered wall. Brilliant. I really don't know what the plans are, what I'll be doing, or what it's all about, but I'm learning to enjoy such situations.

Yesterday cannot pass without a word, because it was an amazing day. In the morning, I watched 6 or 7 kids for the women's Bible study at the church I'm going to. It was so fun to be around little ones again. From the girl scooting around on her rear, to the brother and sister (ages 4 and 2 and a half) break-dancing through carpet caked with cookie crumbs, to the little boy dressed like a Teletubbie, I had a grand time. My face started to hurt from smiling so much.

I had a good amount of time to talk and hang out with Sylvia, the mother of the Fry clan that has adopted me. They didn't know me too well when they did so. I think it's working out famously. (Sidenote: I could not be more overwhelmed by their acceptance, kindness, and love toward me. Brings me to tears... literally.)

Then Peter and I (with sometimes Debbie or Laura) had a day of movies and food. It was kinda cold and drizzly out, so a fire and popcorn and movies and a couch seemed the best option. We watched Lady in the Water, Syriana, and part of Shallow Hal. Between scenes or rounds of popcorn or while the movie was rolling, we had some great conversation as well. Funny stuff, shallow stuff, and some very challenging stuff as well. Stuff is the perfect word for it all, because it varried in substance and shape in so many ways. Days like yesterday should be perscribed for various ailments. I'm sure it had healing qualities.

Now I'm here. Here is a great place. How the brilliance of yesterday and the picturesque place I currently find myself can be talked about without a single picture, I can't figure. As always, more to come...

Reflexes

2007-09-27T08:56:00.000-07:00

One of the biggest problems with my writing during my Fiction class last semester was my tendency to produce passive sentences. This is when the object receiving an action becomes the main subject of the sentence. Not usually ideal. It still happens when I write. Passive. It's an action only by default, the lack of action.

I suppose there is a place for passivity. However, for that word to be a descriptor of my life... shame. I don't want life to happen to me. I want to live it. And I don't mean living large or acheiving success. I mean that I hope I act, instead of just reacting to what happens.

I woke up this morning, like I have every other day of my life. Today, this waking business felt horrible. Sad. Slightly depressed. Nauseous. The more I thought about it, the larger it grew in the back of my throat and the pit of my stomach. It's presence remained as I did the normal tasks of a morning. There it was as I walked to the Fry house. I talked to Jesus. He understands. He said it was okay, even if I still felt that way.

At the house, Susan asked if I was okay. Poor thing. Over the years, I've developed a skill of not showing that I feel like crying, until I have to speak. I guess the vocal cords and my crying reflex link together somehow. I cried. Which is okay. Susan was there. That is a great thing, for people to actually be there. Then she suggested we go. Action.

As we drove, I thought of this whole concept of living passive, which seems rather contradictory to me. I decided to live. I want to keep deciding to live.

We set out for Powerscourt, which initially looks like the set of some Jane Austen film. With a golf course and a gift shop. Beautiful though just the same.

Susan and I walked through different rooms of the place before stopping for tea and hot chocolate. Then we walked some more, talking. :) Susan let me indulge in taking pictures of anything and everything, photos that I will spare you. Random trees. Leaves that are shriveling with disease though still attached to said tree. Flowers. Rusted metal.

I made a friend in the midst of it all.

More outside goodness...

Now, the story of the way home....

One fairly significant difference between Ireland and the States is the size of the roads. Much smaller here. But the cars go faster. There have been more than a handful of scenarios where I've been riding along and find myself letting out an embarassing squeal because we're passing another car at an uncomfortably close proximity. Uncomfortable for me anyway.

I'm learning to keep those sensations to myself. Anyway... as we drove along, admiring the beach we were passing and casually looking for Bono's house, we were coming up to another close encounter. Trying to be brave, I said nothing and made no sound. Then... a sound like two cars high-fiving broke our ears. And the side view mirror.

Thankfully, the other car showed no trace of the exchange. In this moment I realized, sometimes what we do is purely reflexive, and that's all you can do. React, respond... And take pictures.

Life-giving

2007-09-26T08:05:00.000-07:00

The run I had this morning was an ideal run. Very brisk outside, yet sunny. The wind hugged me the whole way. My mind slowed, probably to match the beat of my feet. Certain moments, this deceleration is a good thing. Today, it was very needed.

On a very important side note, I had the best pita sandwich of my life. The train I was getting into town wouldn't leave for another 20 minutes when I arrived on the platform. Wandering back into Dalkey, I went into the Organic Health Food Store. I got this massive pocket of pita bread, stuffed with chicken, copious amounts of basil, and fresh veg. Oh my. Life-giving food. I took it with me on the train. Pity to the poor guy sitting across from me.

I had my first class today. Feature Writing. Excitement is welling up inside of me. Seriously. The fascination in writing Feature pieces lies in the depth you can go while researching and writing. Take any current event and there's an underlying issue. Feature writing delves deep into that issue. Profiling an individual or a certain class of people is also a type of feature writing. I can hardly wait to get started. Really.

After class today, Shannon and I went to Butler's, got a little hot chocolate and had ourselves some quality conversation. With people, like in feature writing, it's not surprising to find something more complex and want to climb down into it. I like that more times than not, simplicity is the conclusion, the answer, or the end of the means. I like Shannon. She's fresh and energetically transparent.

Time for me to go. C.S. Lewis is going to take the train with me back to Dalkey.

The Day

2007-09-25T12:23:00.000-07:00

Today is better expressed in pictures.

Walking. Reading. Journaling. Thinking. People watching.

Familiar weather and a good book

2007-09-24T08:56:00.001-07:00

I just sat outside with C.S. Lewis for a few hours. I enjoyed our time together.

Then sun was in harmony with the wind, and I stayed in it for a long time, turning page after page. Like icecream, when it's the perfect temperature, how can you pass it up? Plus, being outside is almost always good. (Go outside and take a little walk. Even if it's cold. Or hot. You don't have to go anywhere in particular.)

After the shadow of the house spanned the distance from one side of the yard to my feet, I went inside and five minutes later it rained. And I was reminded of the Midwest.

Food for thought from my reading:
There's this story about a talking horse and a boy trying to escape two kinds of slavery. The boy, like many, has never ventured the known premises of his "prison". The boy lacks almost all capability to get away on his own. After learning of the boy's handicap, the horse presents a vital question:
"If you can't ride, can you fall?"
"I suppose anyone can fall," says the boy.
"I mean can you fall and get up again without crying and mount again and fall again and yet not be afraid of falling?"
"I - I'll try."

Me too.

Homesickness and Prawn Crackers

2007-09-23T08:15:00.000-07:00

Thanks to the wonderful world of Apple, I got to see my family yesterday. Now you get to see them.

My Dad and Mom

My sister Hannah with her husband (my new brother) Tony.

Emma (aka The Smoodge), my little sister.

We had ourselves a little video chat which was surprisingly void of tears. Some bouts of homesickness cluttered my week. Don't know why really. I very acutely miss home. I was thinking today that it has served as a catalyst to make me grow some roots here. Feeling precarious here causes me to search out people and build relationships. Spending precious time away from my family helps me realize the value of now. It comes and goes in waves. When it's here it drives me to pour into my surroundings. When it's gone, it's usually because I'm actually living in the present. Being here now.

I spent yesterday evening with Mandy and Richard McConnell.

They were the first open arms that embraced me here, and they introduced me to many more. We've had ourselves a handfull of wonderful conversations. I don't think any subject has been off limits, every issue being touched on to some extent. Love it. Last night over chinese food, coffee, chocolate, or prawn crackers, we kept with the tradition of dialogue. To top it all off, they took me to Richard's office and let me take as many books as I wanted with me. That's one thing I've missed. My books. So I'm refueled with C.S. Lewis, an anthology of poetry, and a few other works.

In this coming week, I have massive amounts of free time and a Wednesday afternoon class of Feature Writing. I'm thankful for places to walk, books to read, and cafes with open tables and friendly workers. If I wasn't already a regular at Mugs, this week I would become one.

For now, I'm at the Fry's, watching rugby, with a happy stomach and full mind. Or a full stomach and a happy mind. Either or.

"People... People who need people...

2007-09-22T06:46:00.001-07:00

...Are the luckiest people in the world." So sings Barbra Streisand in Funny Girl.

A lesson about myself: There are roots of introvertedness that must be paid attention to. The commute I have is prime for such attention. I made my way into the city dodging car lights with squinting eyes and the cold air with crossed arms and brisk steps. I had my ipod with me, and the music and lyrics just directed my crazy thoughts into a channel. Swaying with the train for 35 minutes, walking for another 15, and breathing slow all the while, and I was ready for social interaction. I got my fill.

We ate at Wagamama, which is a Japanese style restaurant. People sit around these large tables, like one big, happy family. There was eight of us there to celebrate life with Allison on her prior-to-birthday-day. Now, I'm lucky because rice is my favorite food, and it's one of the most readily available staples on our planet. However, it's not a common food in the daily Irish diet. So it was a particular treat to have some steamed, white rice. Contented sigh.

I sat with Rachel, whom I appreciate greatly. She's one of the few Americans I've encountered and gotten close to since I've been here. One of the things I love about Rachel is the way she asks questions and her direct way of thinking. If we're talking about something holding any weight at all, she is sure to inquire and point my thoughts deeper to my intentions. Everyone should have a friend like this. Plus, sometimes we dress to match without even planning it.

After Wagamama, we went to Andrew's apartment which is, interestingly enough, located above the church. Five flights of stairs? Something crazy like that. Here you see Allison and Jane lounging and enjoying the aura of pure bliss that filled that little apartment.

Introduction: this is Rebecca.

I've been needing to give her a little shout out and a blurb of dedication for some time. I like this picture of Rebecca because it tells of her. She's laughing. And Rebecca is usually laughing. Or making me laugh. Have you ever laughed so hard your clavicles hurt? It happens when I'm around her. In the picture you will also notice that she's preparing multiple cups of tea. I love how Rebecca is there for others. As are most of my friends here. A new word should be invented that is the superlative for hospitable. Hospitalitiest? Something like that.

Together we enjoyed tea, coffee, and chocolate. These are a few of my favorite things.

A place I will often return to, whether in my mind or in actuality, after being here is around a tea kettle. Or a pot of coffee. Beautiful things come out of a circle of people surrounding such a center. Rachel and I sit and bask in such a place.

To put a little icing on the cake of an amazing evening, Andrew brought out the Wii. Rebecca is practically a professional bowler here, as you can see by her form. Oh Rebecca, bringing more joy to the masses.

Susan (my amazingly dear friend who drives me to and from church and with whom I have many a conversation that quickly unpack my crowded mind) and Michael do a little lite boxing.

I've only been here a month, and I really feel attached to these people. It ususally doesn't take me long to be emotionally knit with individuals I interact with, but even more so here. People are so intriguing. What makes people open up their homes and inner circles to adopt me? I follow them around, eat their food, take pictures of them. Why? Hm... Maybe this is the way we are supposed to be. I'm thinking that we belong in such situations wherever we go. There's always someone who is opening up or needing to be welcomed in. Potential relationships and bonds everywhere. I've walked into some great ones. As you see.

Miles to go...

2007-09-21T08:32:00.000-07:00

With the cessation of the three week culture class, there is not a single responsibility to worry about except finding the next place to hike or explore. Our regular classes are supposed to start next week, but we have yet to receive the schedules for said classes. I'm really okay with that at this point. I'll either be taking a class on Globalization, which would be completely fascinating since I'll be with people from all over the globe. Or, I may take a class on Feature Writing. And writing classes are delicious. So either way, I'm excited.

You may be asking, "What is she doing besides taking one class?" That's a great question, truly. For starters, I'll be starting my internship with the Immigration Council of Ireland. I'm not sure how much I've elaborated on this internship, but let me do so again. If you are already in the know, skip to next paragraph. :) I'll be doing a combination of different tasks. I'll be hosting phone and office interviews with immigrants who have questions about their status or the next steps they should be taking. This could mean working with refugees from Africa or American students who want to stay and travel. And everyone in between. It's a non-governmental organization and is purely confidential. This is helpful for when immigrants have questions and are fearful the answers to the questions they'll be asking. I'll get to learn lots of policy in this way, by researching the questions that are asked. All this and the usual grunt work of an intern will keep me busy. And I look forward to it. A lot.

For right now, there is free time in abundance. I realize this is not a reflection of reality or of the way things will always be. Being here, there is so much to pursue. And so much to take in. There are books to read. Pictures to be taken. Soggy, cool ground to walk on. Conversations to transpire. Paths to run. Hm... Robert Frost...

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."

Random thoughts and memoirs of a birthday

2007-09-20T09:01:00.000-07:00

People respond to authenticity. Threats are useless unless they're believed. Promises hold no value if they can't be trusted. Love is proved with evidence. I observe people. Reactions to words, walls put up, or guards let down.

In communicating to people, in trying to help someone understand something, being a little raw can go a much greater distance than other means. I'm a sugar-coater in a lot of ways. As I meet new people, attempt to see their core, I find no success in making common ground. Usually trying to do that ends up in creating makeshift platforms that have to be torn down later.

There's something fluid about our understanding of eachother. It seems to be constantly flexing and bending. Or at least that's how we perceive it. Otherwise there wouldn't be an ongoing attempt to be seen in a certain light.

I cry. I embrace and feel acutely the times of trial in my life. I see pain and experience it in a small way inside. It's embarassing at times. But I'm learning, that people see me most accurately after seeing me cry. This is just an example. I think this is what I see going on around me and inside of me.

There's freedom, to me, in knowing I have nothing to hide. People are so able to be loved when I look at them. Really look at them. Not looking for potential, or even for justification. Just people.

When I look at myself as I think Jesus looks at me, I'm stunned. Then I look at other people, and it's like a completely different turn of the kaleidoscope. There's no fear in love. And there's so much love. To draw from and to pour out. It's just completely untapped most of the time.

When I ride the train standing up, every now and then it does this thing where it shifts awkwardly and my inertia is not quite sure what to do. That's what I'm going to do now.

So yesterday was my birthday, and a brilliant day it was thanks to my new friends here.

Kristyn and Katelyn took me to Butler's Irish Chocolatier.

Good times. I guess if you don't like Guinness in Ireland, people just give you chocolate. No, I really don't mind.

After we got back, my dear friend Susan picked me up and trekked me over to her house for dinner. There I was surprised to find not only lasagne being served beneath Happy Birthday banners, but more friends to just celebrate life with me. These people have been more than generous with me.

Birthday Girl, Susan, Theresa, Rebecca, Debbie, and Sylvia

I wish I could copy and paste the conversations, and the way my cheeks hurt from smiling so much, or the way Peter sang "happy birthday". (Speaking of the latter, I heard a rendition of that song that will never, ever be duplicated. Ever.) Alas, none of it can be replicated. But it was good. And I am blessed. And tomorrow will be just as amazing. Because life can be lived. And it's good. :)

An Annual Celebration

2007-09-19T04:09:00.000-07:00

21 today. A needless fear, I worried that today would go by, and I would have nothing to remember. I'm in Dublin. I don't feel any different. In attempts to recap the past of my life, I was going to produce a list of all the memorable experiences that make up my life. Realization: it wouldn't communicate anything significant. There have been good birthdays and bad ones. I can think of moments in life that I'll never forget, and I've forgotten some that I probably shouldn't have.

Age is relative. I woke up this morning, my 21st birthday, and pulled the box my parents sent from my desk to my lap. Like a little kid, I couldn't wait, so I ripped it open before I even got out of bed. (Thank you, family!) Chantelle, my lovely South African friend, left me Irish chocolate and a card on the front door step before I had even stirred from my room. Plans for the rest of today are varying yet simple. Perfect. Details and pictures will come tomorrow.

My parting thought, what I will declare looking back over 21 years of history, is this: God is faithful. Gloriously faithful.
"I have not hidden Your deliverance within my heart;
I have spoken of Your faithfulness and your salvation;
I have not concealed Your steadfast love and Your faithfulness.
As for You, O LORD, You will not restrain Your mercy from me;
Your steadfast love and Your faithfulness will ever preserve me!"

Stream of consciousness...

2007-09-18T09:43:00.000-07:00

Life here continues. We are almost finished with the three week Irish Culture class, and I can hardly believe how fast the days are passing. Fall is here. Dried, crispy leaves under foot and the addition of coats and socks inform me so. Arm warmers are my new favorite thing. (They're like really long gloves that leave all the fingers free. Brilliant.) Next week we'll start the normal classes and interning. Looking forward to jumping into the Immigration Council, I'm excited to meet more people, do something constructive, and have a schedule.

Lately I've been thinking. A lot. My thoughts have been provoked often, and in ways that leave me spinning for some time. The greatest provocation of such thinking spells is usually conversation. Sometimes I'm completely fascinated by people and I analyze why. Usually it's because of some strength they have, some aptitude for adventure and real living. More recently, it's been on the other end of the spectrum at times. I hear people talking and it just gets me going inside. I can't figure out why, so I turn very introspective. Certain perspectives and certain ways of living just drive me mad. What's worse though, is that usually, sooner or later, I see a tendency in myself to that same way of thinking. All I can do is take that before the Lord and ask Him to mold me to think like Him, and live life like Jesus did. But all these encounters change me. Some in small ways, some in monumental ways.

My thoughts are everywhere. More than likely they are with you... Dearly missed family, all the teachers who've shaped me, Cedarvillians (no one in the world like you), and those who merit some term deeper than friend... Searching myself inevitably turns my musings to all of you. And thinking of you turns my eyes upward.

A few Kodak moments....

2007-09-17T09:18:00.000-07:00

Life goes on, and today has been a very typical Monday. Accept as I rode the train home I watched the Dublin harbor fly past beneath a sheet of rain. That's very atypical. Besides that though, there is not much to report. So here are a few pictures I haven't yet put up. Just to keep things interesting.

At The Queen with Katelyn and Kristyn

Just on my way to class....

Trinity College

A celtic cross... very Irish

Amazing Grace

2007-09-16T08:39:00.000-07:00

Got up this morning, once again without an alarm, and ran up Dalkey Hill. Yes, ran. I either overestimated my ability to run, or underestimated the hill's ability to own me. What hurt most when I reached the top were my ears. Random. All of that was soon forgotten in the light of the morning sun filtered through clouds. For a moment there I wished I had brought my camera, but I realized the discomfort that would have added to my already pained body. (Hannah, you should come, just to run that with me!)

Today's just been another beautiful day (this time with some rain) with amazing people taking care of me. The Fry family has taken me in the past two Sunday's and fed me all kinds of wonderfulness. (If I had another picture, it would be inserted here.)

On a complete side note....

I sing the praises of this intoxicating place and the once in a lifetime experiences rather loudly to you all. For honesty's sake I have to say, it has not been void of some pretty low moments. I think with my emotional nature that most of you are familiar with, homesickness hits me more than hard. There was a time here when I celebrated going a few hours without tears. I can even recall two distinct moments where I truly wanted to call it quits and head home. That is a reality.

HOWEVER, I'm still here. I started thinking of why when writing in my blog, it does usually end up so positive. THE NEARNESS OF GOD IS MY GOOD. As He introduces me to people and further acquaints me with elements of Himself, the self that feels so afflicted is marginalized. And that is the truth.

This morning we sang "Amazing Grace".... "His grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home."

This train ends at Howth....

2007-09-15T08:56:00.000-07:00

Today I traveled to the end of the DART on the north side of Dublin. After nearly an hour on the train, I came to Howth.

Planning on meeting my friend Theresa from Germany and knowing full well that I was early, I just explored. I wandered around the docks and piers, the rocks and miniature cliffs. More than once I've expressed my love of water and fresh air, so I won't get all verbose on that subject.

Theresa and I walked and talked, treading that common ground that can be found between any two human beings. Relationships, experiences, emotions... they all coincide in some way. Theresa is a calm yet daring soul, all behind the sweetest disposition ever. The conversation was comfortable and real. And it reminded me in ways of sitting down for coffee with dear friends from home. Then I looked around me. :)

Being poor, traveling students, an insatiable appetite is always present, even more so after walking the pier once or twice. Ice creams cones were being sold near by and for under 2 euro. We indulged.

No pun intended, this time with her was so sweet. Just sharing the similarities of our cultures and the very distinct differences. Also affirming each other in our attempts to stay on course and be about a higher purpose, a purpose that is not of this world.

I can't understand or make sense of this universe without thinking and recognizing God. He is so incredibly involved. His creativity and artistic flare reveals itself everywhere. It can be seen. Seen. With my own eyes. The weaving of people from all over the globe, the constant new details and varying scenes within all He has made... it all shows that coincidence is not an option. At least that's how I see it.

Here are more pictures of this place called Howth. I say this after every place I explore here, but it's true... I'll be there many a time before the semester ends. Who could blame me though?

Wake up slow...

2007-09-14T06:00:00.000-07:00

After two full weeks, I welcomed this free day with open arms. No alarm. I still got up by 8:30, but I took my time getting out of bed, eating my toast, drinking green tea, and playing with Toby (the dog). I'm completely renewed by the rest and the way I could let my mind wake up slow. Laying in bed, it was like I was supposed to pinch myself... Am I really in Dublin? Yes I am.

The run that I ventured out on woke up my thoughts and eyes even more. At the 20 minute mark in my run, I turn down Harbor Rd between two houses and it opens up to show the harbor, some small fishing boats, and the gray, blue water separating me from the UK. It's the perfect spot at the perfect time to keep me going.

I finished my run, got cleaned up for the day, and decided with Kristyn to go up Dalkey Hill, a glorious spot famous for the 360 degree view of Dublin. It's quite the walk, uphill almost the whole way. Loved every minute. We reached the top and were greeted by this!!

The wind was cool and awake, and felt like an indicator of the autumn on its way. That uphill walk and I are going to become good friends. I can't see myself being able to go very many days without looking from that spot, seeing the changing of the tide and the turning of the leaves. Ireland is known for its greeness, but the locals sing the praises of the orange fall they have. I can't wait.

Kristyn and I took a picture at the pinnacle.

Different spots offered different points of perspective on the surrounding area. This picture I love because of all the calming grays and serenity of blue!! Peace of mind in a picture.

From the hill, I can also look down on Dalkey and Dun Laoghaire and almost even to the city.

Walks and runs and mornings like these make me feel like I'm absorbing the country goodness like a sunburn. I feel it in my skin. I love Dublin. I love the city and the way walking there changes the beat of your steps because of the surrounding music. I love the constant food for thought and insight into mankind. But the life-giving nature of being out here is rare. And in my opinion, here lies the real novelty and treasure of Dublin.

Survival of the Fittest

2007-09-13T07:09:00.000-07:00

Dublin is beginning to become a second (or third) home. Certain actions or sights that felt so foreign translate quickly now. I look the right direction before crossing the street. Entering a car on the left side with no intention of driving feels normal. The smell of curry mixed with tobacco and soap that occupies the air on the walk through the city doesn't confuse my senses. The conversion from euros to dollars is a no brainer, though I've learned to not try to figure that out so often. I differentiate the difference between a Dublin Irish accent and a Belfast one.

The streets I walk, alone or with friends, trace a familiar path. I know where I'm going and I appreciate the culture I'm surrounded by. And more than that, I'm a part of it. I never would have guessed.

The glorious life of traveling and living abroad has its reality checks. Even more so for the idealist. In the face of these sometimes rude awakenings, I'm adapting. I'm learning to save money, because transportation and food can cost more than I'm willing to spend. Shock at my slightly aching feet is no longer tolerated. Being surrounded entirely by new individuals, exciting though it may be, may not always lend itself to deep conversation. Being content when left to my own thoughts becomes essential. It's a skill I'm developing. Nothing is handed to me. (If it is, chances are I shouldn't take it.) So taking initiative and searching out for myself comes from a survival instinct. It becomes a hobby. A hobby that I enjoy... like mod podge or photography. I find people that are of like mind... Or I find the common ground in the unlikely...

And so I'm being changed. Not by chance or by happenstance. By very intentional and omniscient hands. Refocused not for myself. For Him. For the glory of Another. I welcome the renovation.

The many facets of Dublin night life

2007-09-12T08:43:00.000-07:00

Pubs. Every corner. Every street.

Every time (possibly without exception) that I informed people of my semester in Ireland, the response had something to do with pubs or Guinness. Or Bono.

Drinking and socializing in a pub is a part of the Irish culture that could never be removed. It's intertwined with every holiday, any minor celebration, most meals, and the whole social network. I knew I would encounter the setting sooner than later.

The past two nights I ventured into five different pubs. Accompanied by my dear friend Rachel, her cousin Doug, and his friend Ryan, I saw a whole new side of Dublin. A side that I'm quite fascinated by. And seeing it all with some Americans made the whole thing kinda cozy.

The first pub we went to on Monday night had two older gentlemen playing guitars and banjos, along with a lady who had one of the most beautifully folky voices I've ever heard. I decided to drop the classes I'm currently enrolled in and take voice lessons from her. And I only wish I wasn't kidding. Those moments are there in my mind for good... drinking my coffee, smelling the Guinness, hearing the renditions of Simon and Garfunkel, and just totally being romanced by the music... I think that was one of the first distinct moments where I fell in love with Ireland.

The next night we enjoyed some fish and chips at a pub called The Dirty Lemon. Rugby, another great love of the country, played on the tv above our table. So we watched. They explained some of the rules to me, and when we were at a loss we consulted the beer coasters on the table that defined different rugby terms. And it made me miss watching college football.

Next we made our way across the street to a pub that offered salsa dancing lessons as well as some pool tables. We chose the latter. Doug and I won. :)

The next two stops were sought out and successfully discovered for the music. A fiddler, a banjo player, and an accordian played in a glorious fury. The traditional Irish music just left me amazed. The accuracy and emotion blended together perfectly. And I was in awe. It's all rather thought provoking as well.

All these stops were spaced by walks as intriguing as the pubs. Walking in Dublin at night with good friends is such a treat. Stir in some conversation, whether amusing or inspiring, and you have a perfect night in the city center.

In all of this my camera had regretably been left behind, so pictures and a couple videos will be in circulation soon enough.

9-11 thoughts from outside the country...

2007-09-11T08:29:00.000-07:00

One thing we get warned about whenever we leave the country is that dreaded ethnocentricism, looking at and analyzing other cultures using your own as the plumbline. That can be a daunting task, sometimes near impossible. But worth the attempt.

I was reminded today that it's the 6 year anniversary of the terrorist attacks of 9-11. I'm still processing, but it's already been interesting to think about those events while I'm living in a culture and country where acts of terrorism have been frequent. Perhaps not on such a large scale, perhaps not followed up by major war. The constant tension that this country has dealt with most of its existence has produced a society that longs for non-violence. The struggles in Northern Ireland are at a new place of serenity, compared to so much of the history. There's an excitement that can be felt about it. The ripple effects that come every now and again provoke responses declaring how the corner has been turned. No going back.

I suppose I tend to lean to the side of being a pacifist. Non-confrontational for the most part. I see this culture and the success they're experiencing. The new appreciation of peace they have. The new pride they feel. They talk about it. They get fired up about it. I think of people groups in Africa and North Korea that are experiencing terror everyday. And I have hope. Not in governments or massive movements of people. Not in war or lack thereof. There is a bigger Entity. Who causes wars to cease. One day every nation will see. And praise.

"We Are Family"....

2007-09-10T08:09:00.000-07:00

Seven of us ate lunch after church yesterday. A feast of potatoes (made three different ways), lots of vegatables (simmered, boiled, mixed with tomato juice), and chicken. Top it all off with a chocolate/fruity/creamy dessert and four different accents, and then you may begin to sense the richness.

Introductions from the left:

Chantel, from South Africa, beautiful accent. Later on, we had an opportunity to really indulge ourselves in the swapping of life-stories, (which is fast becoming one of my favorite activities). The Lord's faithfulness and intimate interaction is seen in her story. She's been in Ireland for a few years now. Her energies are focused on eventually return to South Africa, which she loves deeply, to influence people there for the Lord, whom she also loves deeply. She, more than most, has been able to empathize with the homesickness. Yet another dear friend, and sister.

Theresa. from Germany. Brilliant girl! She just followed me into the row of chairs at church yesterday and we soon discovered the common ground of being new to Ireland, new to schools here, and eager to invest in the body of believers here. We brought her along instantly, and her openness and aptitude for English makes her a joy. Many more conversations and walks to be had with this girl.

Laura, from here. She makes people laugh, and seems to be an ideal younger sister. But you'd have to ask her sisters.

Debbie, one of said sisters. She will be my mode of transport to and from church over these coming months. I look forward to those heart to hearts and to reaping from her wisdom. Just to give a little glimpse into Debbie, she spent a year in Austrailia, work as a banana picker. :) I like her!

Carmel, also from Ireland, though unrelated to the others. It was time to disperse when we came to hearing Carmel's story. So that will come I'm sure. She said there's not much of a story. Usually that means there's a great one. And now my curiousity is up there. Hm....

Susan, the third sister in this family of hospitality. Sharing a listening ear, and some toffee, I've found a ready friend, and a seemingly new sister with her. She also has spent much time abroad and the perspective I see her live in is kinda intriguing. Oh man, I can't wait to get to know those girls.

Then there's the American. An optimistic girl who's been fighting emotional battles most of her life. I'm pretty excited to see how God will use this precarious time to make her more into what He has in mind. She's constantly asking into more details of people's lives, and can often be found getting choked up at what she hears. More to come on her as well....

A Long History of a Two Day Journey to Cork

2007-09-09T08:20:00.000-07:00

I left my house in the cool, gray of 6 a.m. in Ireland. On the train by 8 and making my way south, I began to experience the Irleand I had always thought of and imagined. Though all my mental images were weighed, measured, and found wanting.

The most famous feature of Cork may be the Blarney Castle and the Blarney Stone at the top. Therefore, the four of us girls made our way that direction first. We entered the green haven of Blarney and walked paths lining streams and tracing trees before turning a bend, crossing a bride and staring up at the antiqued, weathered walls of the castle. I caught my breath. Breathed in the country air and the sight before me. Then, like any good tourist, I took a picture.

Following in the steps of many notable characters like Winston Churchill, we climbed winding, stone steps to the top. That is where the Blarney stone is. The tradition of the stone is that if one kisses it, they will be blessed with the Gift of Gab. Eloquence. So as we approached, we saw many pilgrims of the Blarney hanging upside down and planting one (or two) on the stone. Before I knew it, my turn was up. So without thinking of how many people had their mouths touching this particular piece of rock, and just embracing the experience of Ireland and all the history beneath me... I puckered up.

This next photo was taken after we had all kissed the Blarney stone. We stood there for a good amount of time, not really keeping track, just basking in the beauty of that place. And in my mind, I rejoiced in the gloriousness of my Creator.

After unwinding down the stairs, exploring the grounds some more, and finding some phenomenal ice cream, we returned to the city center. And to our hostel.

We originally intended to find a Bed and Breakfast, but apparently most of Ireland decided to go to Cork on the same weekend. Trying to save face, I attempted to not show on my face that I was terrified of what this hostel was going to hold for our little weekend get away. The fear was needless.

This graffiti welcomed us and directed us to the door.

We ended up getting our own private room that we could lock. Two bunk beds, a sink, and a mirror were more than enough to calm my anxious mind. Our view overlooked a graveyard, but beyond that was a horizon of European rooftops and church steeples. It was a perfect blend of quirky, hostel weirdness, and sufficient comfort. We spent some time there unwinding, and I scrolled through my pictures more than once while perched on my little place on the top bunk.

We got to bed early for an early start in the morning.

Deciding to continue our pursuit of country simplicity, we headed for the town of Kinsale, a friendly fishing village on the south coast of County Cork. I think it was perfect.

We hiked quite a big around this harbor. Up and down hills until finally arriving at Charles Fort. From the Fort we could see amazing views of the Irish countryside. It threw me into many introspections as I realized I was standing in the same place where soldiers fought and protected their homes over 400 years ago. Still amazing.

One particular feature of this site that I particularly appreciated: places to sit and time to think. City life is constantly excited and there is a continual feast for the eyes. This kind of serenity is rare and much more favorable to my personal preference.

As a group we took one last, exhausted photo before hiking back to a pub for lunch.

Despite the scenery beyond description and the history that fascinates, my favorite part of the weekend is yet to be told.

Cue in Nulene.

As we walked around the little town of Kinsale, exploring while we waited for our bus, I came across this woman selling jewelry. I was immediately intrigued, because the pieces looked so earthy. I picked up a little cuff bracelet made of bronze and asked her about it. She explained, in a gorgeous French accent, that she made it while she was in Africa. Africa? In no time at all, I was sitting cross-legged with Nulene on the side of the street talking about the situation in different regions of Africa and what we could do to help. Her and her boyfriend raise money by selling jewelry or playing music then go to Africa to help build orphanages. I ended up buying the bronze bracelet and a couple other trinkets for a couple sisters of mine, girls I thought would join me in the support of such a cause. Nulene and I talked more, sharing stories and hopes. Then we parted ways. In many different ways, this is what I hoped for as I came to Europe. Random conversations, people with a variety of backgrounds that somehow care about the same things. I was recharged.

The train ride home was filled with conversation and laughter. (And to be honest, it was also filled with some less than pleasant odors as we gave our tired, soggy feet a little release.) Glorious exhuastion.

More to come... always an adventure. I'm walking near to a creative God that has plans for me. He is showing me HIS glory in new ways. Every day could be a different facet and I would never exhaust the resource of what is to be seen of Him. Refuge, stronger than that castle. Friend, close even when I'm alone. God, plans going forth despite any effort of man. And it is to this end I live today... glorifying Him, just by enjoying Him. :)

The Daily Commute

2007-09-06T08:43:00.000-07:00

One of the things I love most about here is where I live. I may have talked about it briefly before. Dalkey is a little town, full of character, and located some glorious distance south of the city center. On the coast.

The commute I take everyday to school is a little under an hour. Five minute walk to the DART, 20-30 minute ride on the train, 20 minute walk to the school. Some would find this unfortunate. Not I.

After a few hours in the city center, the noise is more than overpowering. And it's not just audible noise. I'm a people watcher. Maybe even a people-watching addict. There is more food for thought in watching the people of Dublin then I could process in good chunk of time. Some of it is entertaining. Like the Brazilian who needs directions. (That eventually became an interactive experience beyond just people watching. I felt local to be able to point him to where he needed to go.) Some of it is confusing. Some of it is intriguing. Some of it is sad. Like the young woman and little girl I pass every few days. They crouch by a wall, huddled beneath a sheet with a paper cup sitting in front of them, open for gifts. And almost all of it makes me emotional to some extent. Oh that God would be known here.

As I sit in the train, listening to conversation around me, watching through the window as the harbor and houses and graffiti speeds by, I unwind. I unpack. Before the Lord, I sort out my busy mind. When I get overwhelmed, I place the source before Him. When I don't understand this world that I'm living in, I remind myself of who He is and talk to Him. HE knew that I would survive easier with those precious moments with Him in the middle of the day.

On a side note, there may be a couple days where there are no posts. I'm traveling to Cork (southern Ireland) with a few girls. I'm ready to build relationships, see more of God's creation, and trust myself to Him with each step.

Opening Eyes to a "Loathly Lady"

2007-09-05T11:03:00.000-07:00

A myth was told. Three brothers walked through forests and fields in Ireland, and coming upon a lady they immediately deciphered her best adjective as “loathly”. Though they didn’t speak it out loud, a truer description one would be hard pressed to find. She asked for a kiss in return for gifts beyond imagination. The first two brothers kissed her hesitantly on the cheek. The third, the hero of this myth, “kissed her proper”. Not only was he rewarded riches, she (from some unknown and unnamed influence) declared him king. So goes the story of Niall, one of the high kings of Ireland. As told by Donal, my history prof.

The moral I gathered: With open eyes, there is always something entertaining and captivating. Not just in Ireland, though maybe the fascination factor is a smidge higher. The adjustment process seems to be a constant opening and closing of that vision. Good moments I see so much potential for life here. The bad times come when I lose sight of that. And it’s not just true here, far. The greater danger of losing that vision most likely comes with comfort. The opening of the eyes comes, in my limited experience, with zeroing the lens on the God of all creativity and beauty. If you’re wondering what I’m doing right now, chances are it’s something along those lines.

Conversation was the wonderful exclamation point that punctuated yesterday, leaving my eyes open. I met Rachel at Grosvenor last Sunday and we planned a rendezvous by the Dun Laoghaire pier. She hails from Washington state, but has lived in Dublin for over a year. We got to discuss the common ground that brought us to Ireland, what it’s like entering a new culture for the first time, and how to truly approach a new people without preconceived ideas. Watching the way the setting sun behind illuminated the harbor before us lifted my spirits and turned my thoughts to the many different aspects of the culture and the people I have to explore. Very life-giving.

BLOG EDIT!!!

2007-09-05T10:59:00.000-07:00

It has come to my attention that in my previous entry I referred to my homestay as a "less than humble abode". Let me explain. There is nothing humble about it.... It is a brilliant place with brilliant people. They are the most hospitable people I have encountered in this country. Pat is constantly making me another cup of tea. And Vera feeds us such feasts that other meals seem unnecessary. Add to the fact that we live two minutes from the coast and other beautiful scenery and you will see how incredibly blessed I am. Let this be understood!!

(I would like to take this time to thank my editors, Mom and Dad. Love you two dearly!)

2007-09-04T08:40:00.000-07:00

Today we went to the DART station a little later since we found ourselves uncommonly early to class yesterday. Kristyn and I scanned our tickets and looked to the board to see when the next train was pulling in. 20 minute delay. There was a train sitting there, but to catch it, we would be all out sprinting up the stairs to the overpass and down the other side. This we proceeded to do post haste. We caught it, but just barely. It was a classic experience.

Today's classes were history and Northern Ireland. Both of which I found interesting to som extent, and quite a bit more than the other students. Oh well. I'm counting on it getting even better as we get more in depth. Watching and learning about a culture and not being a part of it has been rather insightful. More than just learning Ireland, I feel that I'm learning about the nature of people. That is an overwhelming subjuct. :)

My friend Merilee arrived yesterday and so I got to see her. It's always exciting with Merilee. The best part was just seeing a familiar face and get a hug. The next best part was when she almost bought a container of coleslaw for 8 euro ($12).

Then a nice slow paced ride home on the DART. I get to ride to and from home with Kristyn, and also with Katelyn, the other girl staying a homestay in Dalkey.

Katelyn, Me, and Kristyn on the DART returning to our AMAZING abodes.

Tonight I'll be going to Dun Laoghaire to meet with a girl I met at the church, Rachel. I'm so looking forward to that. Another day done... More classes to come.... More lessons to learn... More life to see.... :)

First Day of Classes

2007-09-03T11:05:00.000-07:00

Today we had our first real sessions of classes. The first two hours was focused on Irish Literature. I was surprised at how much I was familiar with, without evening knowing the Irish roots. W.B. Yeats is a poet (among other things), and a book of his work from a used book store sits in my room at home. (Indiana home). The Importance of Being Earnest is a favorite movie with my sisters and I, and that was written by Oscar Wilde, and Irishman. So parts of that class was interesting. I found the connections between the works of fiction and the times in which they were written more interesting than the fiction itself. My own personal preference though.

Then we had a break, where I got some lunch with a lovely girl from the group. Then back for some Irish History. Now that is something that I find interesting. It was just a brief overview today, but I look forward to that class, and that prof. Tomorrow we go into more history and then the goings on in Northern Ireland. That may be the best part yet.

One thought from all I heard today... The lit prof spoke of how Ireland lifted up their writers. Many years back, as these writers were being held is such esteem, it was not the strongest point in Ireland's history. He said out of "Ireland's inferiority complex, they praised their writers and Guiness." A very telling statement. Very telling of many people as well. I've done so much people watching since I've been here. I find that when people are wrapped in their insecurities they push forth the parts that they know people will agree with best. Hence the focus on Guiness and writers for Ireland.

Good reminder to me of how security is neither in others or in a view of self. Thank the Lord for defining me. He is the only security I have in this uncertain time. And He is all that is needed.

Tomorrow another day!

"Known in all the earth.."

2007-09-02T07:46:00.000-07:00

HE has done gloriously. Let this be made known in all the earth.

This morning I attended churcch at Grosvener (pronounced without the "s") Baptist. Protestant churches are the minority, and to find one even remotely evangelical or "non-denominational" represents under 1% of the population. The lump in my throat was constant as I heard new found brothers and sisters singing the same songs I've voiced with kin in Christ back home. HE is Lord everywhere. He performs wonders everywhere. And it will be known everywhere. Today, in a small way, in a small church in Rathmines, we declared HIM as the Incomprable, the Universal. And my soul echoed with the truth as if it sounded off the stone walls.

Afterward, I met a group of people my age. Ish. It was good to hear names and see faces and know that I'll see them again. There's a number of things to get involved with, I plan to jump in with both feet. Almost everything translates to some extent between cultures. What a house church is in the States is a house group here. Sign me up.

Mandy and Richard, my new friends here, took me out to lunch afterward. Moda was the place, bagel sandwhiches the provisions. We shared our stories of how God went about showing Himself to us. Stories of how we came to all be at that place right then. Obviously, He has done gloriously.

Well folks, if insides could sing, my would be. My tongue feels slightly numbed from all the hot tea. My hair is wrinkled from the first Irish rain that has graced this head. And I'm glad to be here.

Here are a few of the pictures from Dun Laoghaire that didn't make it yesterday. Imagine you're with me. Because I am. :)

Discovering Dun Laoghaire

2007-09-01T10:44:00.000-07:00

Do you ever wonder what a day of exploration and bliss looks like on the coasts of Dublin? Well let me show you...

This morning, after a couple hours in my cafe writing and making small talk with passerbyers, I got to meet Dun Laoghaire (pronounced Dun Leary). Mandy and Richard, friends of the Websters, picked me up and took me for coffee and muffins. After some amazingly encouraging conversation, some sharing of a burden, and a few tears, we walked out on that pier. Richard is a history teacher here, so he could answer all my questions about the Easter Rebellion and the fighting in Northern Ireland. We discussed a great many things of that nature. Mandy is so sweet and just her smile brightened my day. She'll be having a baby in November, a great month since I'll still be dwelling in the coasts of Dublin.

My house would be located somewhere in the middle of this picture. I'm jealous of myself when I look at it. :)

I loved seeing Dalkey so much that after they dropped me off, I took the train back and wandered. And wondered. Walking mixed with breezes coming off the water make for a good pensive atmosphere. It'd be neat if I could take pictures of my thoughts and post them. I suppose they'd look like a chaotic, obscure painting with little blurbs of prayers splashed about. That's the flow of my head.

On my second trip into Dalkey, I again found myself sauntering dow the pier, this time on my own. I came across some Dubliner Dancers. I have some brilliant pictures of them, but they don't want to download right now. So I shall leave you in suspense until a later date.

I'm sure I will be in Dun Laoghaire quite a bit. The train takes no more than 7 minutes to get there. And if I ever get ambitious, it's a five mile run from my house to the end of the pier and back. (Hannah, you should totally be here!)

As I walk this place and watch people and imagine what they're thinking, the truths I know about my Jesus become even more amazing. The fact that He brings life, that He sets free (free indeed), the fact that He's beaten death... it astounds me even more. And I'm comforted as my mind rests there.

Two little girls...

2007-09-01T01:44:00.000-07:00

Let me introduce you to the bright spot of my days here!!

Everyone, this is Abigail:

She's the granddaugther of Vera and Pat. Or Nana and Granda if you're talking to her.

So the Irish accent is one of the most brilliant things to listen to. Think of what it sounds like... Now put it in a three year old. Precious! She's a lot like me in that she is quick to open up and quick to show affection. We get along splendidly. I always find children so soothing to be around. It's usually such a happy atmosphere. And the things they say are sometimes so insightful. Abigail will often refer to the time when she was a little girl. :) She's sees herself so grown up now. I thought to myself, "Funny, I think I feel more like a little girl than she does."

She also knows exactly what she wants to be when she grows up. (Not a little girl, not grown up... so me.)

I have yet to see this girl not wearing her ballet slippers, and most of the time she's dancing around. She was even trying to teach me how to do a thing or two. That lasted until she did her splits. I was done and then became the official "watcher".

Every now and again she'll just say, "Krista," in that beautiful accent, "I love you." :) What a brilliant blessing to be living just next door!

A few other random updates....

Our Irish Culture class starts Monday. I go to that for four hours, four days a week. It will cover Irish history, society, literature, and then a special section on Northern Ireland. They say the situation in the North is the best it's been in years. I questioned that slightly when I saw on the news how a man was tarred and feathered the other day. Hm... I think it will all be interesting just the same.

I applied to intern here, and I have an appointment Wednesday to "interview" with the Immigration Council of Ireland. I'm not sure what all my job will entail, but it seems fairly interesting. Dublin is becoming quite a diverse area, with many different nationalities. And things in Africa being as they are, refugees are coming all the time. One of my duties would include sitting in on the interviews of new immigrants. That sounds fascinating to me. We'll see where that ends up.

In the meantime there's lots of free time, and I'm enjoying most of it. I think I've had enough alone time to last me the semester. I've learned a lot through it, and am thankful for the way Jesus is just showing Himself to be so near. Unmistakably near.

Second Post Today - Biting off more than I can chew...

2007-08-31T02:38:00.001-07:00

I was sitting here thinking of how to describe this time...

Biting off more than I can chew. Typically a statement indicating that one is overwhelmed. It was close but didn't quite get the full force of it in my mind. So here is the bazaar comparison I've come up with branching off of that one...

It's like being plunged head first into a pool of Thanksgiving Dinner. Yep. That's it.

It's so many of your favorite things, completely overloading the senses. You know that it's all good and you want to enjoy it. However, there must be a really awkward feeling. Seriously, gravy dripping off my face and stuffing being stuffed all around me wouldn't feel quite pleasant. So there's a conflict there.

And that is where I'm at. I see so many exciting things. So many things I want to experience and discover and take pictures of and write about. Conversations I want to have and people I want to hear about. However, it's surrounding me with so much force and with such great volume that it's kinda like swimming in a pool of Thanksgiving.

Hm... There's a thought for today. :)