I was in a foul mood yesterday. I mean utterly violently pissed off, judgmental and gross inside. It just happened to be Monday, and Quo Vadis? was planned for the evening....which made me even more frustrated. Why tonight, of all nights? My favorite night of the week. But God is gracious in the darkest rain clouds. I was fighting it so hard, speaking truth loudly in my head when any nasty thought popped up. Over and over again... and again... and a few more times. I didn't feel like I totally won but was I sure fighting!

It was a really fascinating night, a totally different group of people.

At 19.00 it started with two beautiful girls who I've never met coming in "... blah blah.. talking.. nice to meet you.. 'Jaap told us about this' (no clue who Jaap is)... blah blah.. two more people, 'we live around the corner'.. we're not going to stay though... oh okay... (two hours later... still there, having a blast!) and on and on.. brother of so and so.. friend of mine, sister in law, neighbor... It was the most eclectic group...

It's so funny how that happens... just when I try to figure it all out and think that I know who will be there and where people are at in their processing of faith and spirituality/God, etc... then I get it again. I am clueless. Absolutely clueless. And once I just accept that... well.... then I love it! I love the fact that God is bigger than my plans, that He always has the ace card, that He has things up his sleeve that I can never guess (I just love surprises). Believing in a God that can't surprise me, a God that I've figured out.... I couldn't do it. I wouldn't. The power, the bigness, the great mighty yet kind and sincere nearness of God draws me closer and mesmerizes me endlessly (even when at the same time it can be infuriatingly frustrating to not be in control).

And it was midway through the night, sitting at the bar, listening to Julia eloquently tell the story of Jesus as a picture of the love of God, like the love seen as a doctor serves an AIDS patient in Africa or the woman who buys the homeless newspaper weekly and talks to the seller... the love God has for me, for us who despite being rotten annoying not very kind or nice people, loves us. He loves me in my bad mood when I'm cranky for no apparent reason. And I realized again that life is hard and it's normal for me to be human and mad and cranky but in the midst of that God calls me to accept his love and to love others. And in the messy confusing act of doing that is where I know I am, where I am called to be, and where I hope to thrive.

I woke up not wanting to go as usual. As I showered, ate some yogurt, and applied my eyeliner I knew, I always know that good things were going to happen, surprises, glimpses of Jesus. Once a month I join the volunteers at a small soup kitchen. I started going to speak dutch but then I just couldn't stop coming. This particular Friday started with hellos and kisses and warm dutch greetings (I hadn't been there in a couple months so we were extra excited to see eachother). We then sat down in our customary places to smear stacks and stacks and piles of bread. First butter (dutch style), then some with peanut butter, some jam, meat, egg, cheese, and chocolate hagelslag. After the sandwiches were done and the soup sizzling we satt down to tea and coffee, a devotion and some songs. I really have to concentrate then to catch the variety of strong southern and eastern dutch accents.

A half hour later the doors open and the place begins to hum. Hundreds of men and a few women sit and enjoy cups and cups of coffee and dozens of sandwiches. It's especially full in the cold weather. Some wait for a shower, others get clean clothes, and we all sit and talk and relate and be in our humanness together. I usually have a hard time being one of the few women and usually the youngest. I feel strange... I worry that when I'm kind and cheerful and interested in the men's lives, that it's taken the wrong way.

I now remember a talk Eric gave a couple months ago on giving. I will never forget this talk. It hit me in the gut. Sometimes we think, oh we shouldn't give money to people, they may buy drugs, etc. and he spoke right to that mentality by quoting C.S. Lewis.. who said something like, it's better to be thought a sucker, to be taken in by someone who didn't really need money, thinking they would just drink it away - than to keep it, since it would have been better to just have drunk the money ourselves. It's better to be taken in by someone who didn't need money than to miss one person who has real need.

And I thought, it's the exact same thing here... my part, what God calls me to do give love and relate with anyone he puts in front of me. I don't have to worry if they're taking it the wrong way or not. God handles that part. He calls me to give and give and give boldly and generously.

And I was a different person that day... laughing and having fun in the kitchen (got a beautiful red paper rose from one sweet grandpa), had coffee with a man who was born in 1940. Through his rattly breathing he told me stories of what his parents experiences during the war and finally at one point he left unexpectedly. A half hour later he was back with newspapers from 1941, 1943, and 1945! All in dutch, all from papers that are still operating today. It was fascinating to look at the old pages, the articles on life during Nazi occupation, the end of the war, atomic bomb and so on. Finally he slid them across the table and said, they're for you, take them and show your parents. He wouldn't let me refuse. I was so honored.

I walked away that day overwhelmed, thinking... so that's how it's supposed to work! There's such joy and freedom in that kind of giving!

I am from

My sister either came up with this idea or found it somewhere.. don't quiet remember but it's too sweet not to share with the world. It's a fun poetry exercise she did with her first grade students (it can be for any age!) entitled, "I am from."

Here's the idea:

1. Write down sensory memories from childhood/life.

smell, touch, sight, hearing, taste

2. Think about sayings you heard often/ lyrics from songs, like...

"don't let the bed bugs bite"

"safely in his bosom gather"

3. Think about things you smelled, food, mom's perfume, or the feeling of a family blanket

4. Write the senses down, don't explain them, but be detailed. Don't just say, "I am from dad saying " I love you more than the stars" say instead "I am from "I love you more than the stars."

5. Put "I am from" before your memories. List some together.

Here is the one I'm currently working on. It's in process. If you write your own, please write and share it with me! I'd love to read it! You could even have your whole family write one one evening.

"I am from"

I am from dress up, homemade theatre and slippery tile floors.

I am from road trips with zween zween and junkers.

I am from Sam and Pam and Henrietta bedtime stories.

I am from strict French school and kisses on cheeks.

I am from head coverings and cigarettes.

I am from elbow wrinkles and “Swallows and Amazons.”

I am from Pirate’s Cove and fake aunts and uncles.

I am from grandpa and grandma blueberry and God stories.

I am from math with dad, surprise checks in the mail, and free cars.

I am from “we’re moving” and goodbye and hello.

I am from bookworm and "rules are made to be broken."

I am from olives, tangerines, and cream cheese cookies.

I am from mom's sisters and skinny dipping.

I am from trips to Michigan and berry picking.

I am from Saturday morning pancakes and “stand up and walk.”

I need to find some hobbies. Bad. A list of interesting slightly unusual hobbies so that the next time I get asked the "what are your hobbies?" over a beer or tea I'll have some backup. I mean come on, I thought I had things I like to do in my free time... but they just don't seem to fit inside the framework of "hobbies." That word is just intimidating. It sounds lame to say I like studying languages, museums, comic strip reading, riding public transport in big cities, wrapping presents, skyping. How do those stand up to yoga classes, cooking, oil painting, and a bit of squash at the gym?

People love knowing what you enjoy doing in your free time in Holland. You put your hobbies on you cv, you talk about them in an interview, you share them with your neighbors. Last night I was asked again... and my answer: "ummmm, watch movies.... ummm go to museums.... hmmm make art (that was a lie= don't really make time for that anymore).... " so at a certain point she had pity on me and helped me out, "do you like to go out? dance? do you play an instrument, do you sport?... "

I need to get myself some hobbies. Allie found a pilates class nearby... that sounds legit. I'll try that... or maybe there's skydiving in Holland? I wouldn't be surprised in the least.

photos from 2009 church retreat

smelling the roses

Pictures from our birthday bash in Vondelpark. Gloria (age 4!), John, and I all celebrated our birthdays. It was lovely fun to enjoy the gorgeous day together and bring all our friends together for some cupcakes and joy!

do you ever feel like you're on the verge of greatness?

So, today I woke up and wanted to change the world... to speak for human rights, to facilitate conversation between people of many faiths, to end world poverty by walking in to a conference room and yelling at every money hungry ceo I could find convicting them deep in their soul, to recycle more faithfully, to cut my shower time down, to write letters to politicians, to be better informed, join a community organization, grow my own tomatoes, personally greet every person I pass on the sidewalk, become fluent in Dutch overnight and move on to Arabic, get my masters in Islamic studies or something fascinating like that, maybe at the same time start studying art history while trying to one and for all kick the word "like" out of my vocabulary, running to help when I see an accident, and on and on...

...and I one hand it can be dreamy and adrenaline inducing to think along these lines but then I think about Jesus who brought justice and life to every person he encountered. Not just the big dogs. He didn't just try to bring justice to women by making a new law, or feed the sick by forcing all the rich to empty their vaults, he simply encountered each person and one at a time loved them. And I'm not saying that people shouldn't change laws and do the "big" stuff, but it does comfort me knowing that I'm not a politician and won't be doing that sort of thing, that I can still be a apart of the change.

... and I think of the Middle Eastern concept of being bound to whoever is in your presence.... even if you're on the way to the most important meeting of you life and you run in to your neighbor who's car broke down and they need a lift, since they're in your presence, as a Middle Easterner that would trump all else. The meeting could wait, the next thing can wait.... this sister of brother is in your presence and in that place is where we're called to act, to be. And for me, as a westerner, that's one of the most terrifying things for me. I love my agenda, I fill each day nicely full, trying to use my time wisely, checking things off as I go....

And just as I head out the door to "change the world," it hits me... ok, who changed the world? Jesus. He was a human living and being love to people. Yes, He was God.. but He was also just as much human, and as a human I can learn from Him. He changed the world through interacting in radically different ways with people... with the people right in front of him.... remember the story when Jesus is on the way to heal the leader's daughter and the woman who'd been bleeding for a long time touched him... he stopped and talked to her, healed her first before going on to the house. I want to be like that Jesus, someone who changes the world by loving the people who are in front of me.... whoever that may be, whether it's a friend in language school, or little Grayson, or my old neighbor downstairs, or the person in the grocery store yesterday who was only short 1 euro at the cash register and I didn't give it to him, oh I long to be that person... and I think, I hope that in the process of loving who's in front of me, I do get to take part in changing the world.

smitten

I'm a mixed up person, delighted to spend weeks at a lonely cottage on a lake, fresh and close to nature, yet likewise, give me a large city and it's like Christmas morning! Over the years I have made my way through many cities in many different countries. I'm fond of many things; quaint cafes, culture compressed, large museums, dilapidated neighborhoods, fashion, good newspapers, advertising, people from all over the globe, and large universities.... but more than anything my heart skips a beat when it comes to public transportation. Yes, I know... am I insane? Sure.

If possible I hope to never own a car again. I've spent many years of my adulthood commuting to work, school, church, the grocery, and back home with myself, my music, my thoughts.... my individualism.

To ride the subway, tube, underground, or el from one end of a city to the other is the best gift ever. Public transport reminds me that I'm human, a part of this massive lovely world. When I begin to get too comfortable, too self focused in my mind with my ideas, too safe in my part of the city, seeing my friends, I head out to the nearest subway.

And it's in that subway where I love being human again. To love people. I breath in body odor, smile at grafitti, follow the little subway map above my head, notice nice shoes, catch a falling child as the train breaks suddenly, exchange greetings with my seat neighbor, and mostly simply sit and live. Even in total silence there's connection as people all collectively read the free city newspapers or listen to their ipod soundtrack.

I especially enjoy underground transport that zooms us from west to east right beneath the nose of the city in the midst of her happy noisy day. The subway also reminds me that we're all the same; rich, poor, every race and ethnic group, woman, man, child, we all sit as one being, one presence. Exiting up the escalator into the world, the magic wanes..... yet I walk, remembering my human family deep below the earth traveling beneath my happy feet.


(photos: on the london tube, chicago el, el platform, tube escalator)

jaar 1

The day has come... August 18th, 2009!

One year ago today I was saying my tearful goodbyes to a small group of friends and family at the Columbus Airport. I then got on a plane, watched some not so great airplane movies and arrived in Amsterdam where I found Allie (my now flatmate) in the baggage claim. We then proceeded out the doors to the welcoming happy tulip filled arms of Julia who then valiantly hauled our 8 bags back to her house. You still rock my world friend.

One year. I love reflecting back, remembering God stories, looking through journals, thanking God for His love and His voice.

I'm very proud of myself to have survived this year! I was the girl who called dad to figure out how to fill up my car's gas tank when I was 17, the girl who's never done her own taxes, my roommates have always paid the rent and utilities and I've written them a check (i love you shelley!) and now boom, I've managed to find an apartment, succeed in getting a bank account in order so I can pay rent and bills in a language that is still so new to me. I've memorize new phone numbers, addresses, pin codes, transitioned from driving to cycling, got an albert heijn grocery bonus card, and done life without any tragic mistakes in another country for a year. Hurrah!

And just as I was relishing the feeling of being great at life, thinking wow, I am so responsible.... my internet stopped working. Um... what's wrong here? We spent two days of fiddling with the airport and cords, "stealing" wifi from a neighbor, even Bernie came over to help to no avail. Finally I called the lovely upc internet people. I relaxed when I heard the guy say, "I know what's wrong," "You do?! How great!" "Yes," he said, "You haven't paid your internet bill for the past three months so there's a hold on your account." I haven't what?... oh man, there went all my pomp... are you kidding me? Oh yea, okay it's coming back to me now.... that must explain the piece of paper that I didn't really read since it was in dutch about direct online bill payment. Okay, yes thank you very much I'll pay it now and I sheepishly hung up.

Some days it feels like I'm right back at the beginning! Some days are steam lined and efficient, everything goes right. Others are humbling and slow, spent waiting at the upc store for a guy to walk me through how to fill out a form. Thank you nice man. Yup, feeling like a kid again!

And yet I am thankful for these days because they remind me that there's no reason for life to be fast and streamlined to see how lighting quick and efficiently I can move and get things done. It's about the process. I'm here to do it all, to love people, to laugh, to be me, to be free, to pay bills and manage to complete my visit to the upc store in dutch, to play with Gigi in her cute panties in the wading pool, to attend meetings, write emails, have dinner with new friends, talk, plan parties, get groceries for dinner, take out the trash, greet my neighbors, and do the whole of my lovely wonderfully complicated never boring life!

(photos: moi, with luke and allie on my birthday, with some girlfriends)

new shoes

I ran for the first time in years yesterday. YEARS. I used to love it. I haven't decided if I love it again yet. I enjoyed the process of thinking about running. It meant I could buy running pants and shoes since the last pair I bought were from the 1999 I think. I plotted out my route (Vondelpark) and set an aggressive schedule (every morning... ya right).

It was a nice run, beautiful sky, fun people watching, my shoes felt good, the sweat felt even better. But it all went downhill when I woke up this morning. Oh yea, I haven't used those muscles in a while. I'm in pain. Hopefully the pain will eventually end. Biking is nice but I want to feel strong again.

And I realize I've received a pair of new shoes in many ways this year. New friends, new team, new house, different food, new language, new street names, new ways to talk about Jesus, new questions, new culture, new way to say hello (love the 3 kisses), new holidays (I remembered the 4th of July on the 5th). New new new. And I love the new shoes but I'm also looking for some old. We'll see if the running sticks.

our jesus

Jesus I found out today, is pretty fabulous, even more fabulous than I already knew He was. This occurred to me while sipping my second cup of mint tea out of a lovely gold trimmed glass, listening to a new friend tell me she plans to go to Blokker to buy the film entitled "Jesus" after she learned that Jesus is referred to 5 times more than Muhammad in the Qur'an.

I grew up knowing that Jesus is a prophet quoted often in the Qur'an, that He was greatly revered and considered a man of God. But today I finally got it. Jesus in the Qur'an. Jesus. My Jesus and your Jesus, our Jesus. We are not be on the same page as to His divinity but what fun to sit in a room and chat about our Jesus. I love this Jesus who is speaking out to us, whether through my Bible or your Qur'an, while listening to pop music on your laptop and discussing our favorite films between agreeing on the miracle of the virgin birth and the brilliance of His teachings.

I love when I'm surprised by Jesus. Thank goodness, it happens all the time.

holland in polaroid

photos: (top to bottom)
allie and ellie in the jordaan
lucas and gigi waiting for a train to the beach
noordmarkt musician
historical museum
mom at the north sea
eva, rachael, nate, and tanya in amsterdam

In June my sister and cousin came to visit. My sister just graduated with her degree in art so in addition to Amsterdam they went on a grand tour of Europe, namely France, Spain, and Italy. Those would be the places to go in my book! I joined them for a weekend in Rome and had a really profound experience.

I am an artist of some sorts and I'm in the middle of an artistic crisis... I studied b&w darkroom photography at university and have been drawing and creating art for my parents home since before I could walk. But since living here in Amsterdam I've been stuck. Not stuck in a swing of bad art which I'm used to those patches. But no art at all. Every picture I take looks like a postcard I've seen in a shop on Dam Square. And even when I do manage a photo or too I realize that all my experience in the darkroom is not helpful when it comes to Photoshop. I'm a novice.

I've even tried the comfort of paint but that's not going much better. At this point my only creative point in the day comes when I choose my clothes in the morning, draw on my makeup, and occasionally bake a cake. I'm experiencing a massive case of writers block for artists. How do you create when you're living in a place that's been so over-duplicated? I long to not make just pretty art but real conversational life art. So, I fled to Rome with my sister to see what would happen there (yes, I'm a bit dramatic...)







I looked around the city; the history architecture, beauty, food, people, my sister amongst the food and people. And it was refreshing and new to me. I began to feel in my groove, to remember why I adored my 50mm lens. And that was nice, but what struck me the most were a few small rooms in the Vatican Museum devoted to contemporary expressions of religious themes. A hundred years ago the pope at the time realized that there was a sad lack of modern art in the museum, so he put the word out and welcomed work from known artists at the time. He received hundreds of pieces from Salvador Dali, Henry Moore, Paul Klee, Marc Chagall, Francis Bacon, Pablo Picasso, Paul Gauguin, and many more. The two pieces that struck me the most were from artists who were unknown to me.


Georg Meistermann's "Pieta" (a stained glass window)

Franco Gentilini's "S. Maria Maggiore" (a painting/drawing)

I wasn't ushered out of my funk but I have some interesting things swirling in my head and I'm looking forward to when they slip out. Whether through a camera, in paint, action, or something else we'll see but I'm considering the idea of "religious art" and how usually it's "bad art" but the Vatican made me re-think that. I'm glad.

my days

Today (sunday may 24th) was gorgeous! About 7o degrees (21ish). We had one of our first gatherings for people interested in vineyard amsterdam. Interesting in being a part of the beginning stages. It was super fun! We went to a super sweet park, Amsterdamse Bos (Amsterdam woods)... it was huge! A bunch of us got lost getting there.. but finally we all made it together, petted some cute goats and baby chicks (even got to feed the baby ones with little bottles)... then set up camp under a beautiful tree. We did worship, talked about vision for the church and how we go about it. Played with the kids, talked to lovely people! What a day! Here are some fun pictures! The title for the picture below is: "Oh you know, just going to church." Ha ha, this is my life!





Here are some other pictures from random life moments. Lorah and Brian came to visit! The park days have begun... (so expect alot of those pictures!).. anything you used to do inside, is just taken to the park! Farmer's tan here I come!



Oh and this is a picture from my last art class. We did a group portrait! This class was on Monday nights and super great for my dutch. A whole new set of vocab words. Very sweet people. All young, all dutch. Great stuff! ... I definately was remembering my old life as an art teacher. All the projects we did, were ones I used to do (in a simpler way) with my students in art class. Miss those days.

out in the sun

My parents are here right now. Visiting for two weeks. It's been like a puff of fresh strong wind in my sails. I love living here and I love my history/my family/my past... so in these two weeks it feels like both have come together a bit. It was so fun last night at small group to introduce my parents to everyone. My worlds mixing for a night. Being with my parents also reminds me again and again of who I am, who Jesus is, and what my gifts are and what he's called me to be. I'm so thankful for this gift! 

It's also so fun to get the scoop on life back home. To hear stories, see pictures, and catch up on everything... not just what can fit in to an hour skype conversation. This morning we walked down to a little bakery... ate a delicious moroccan breakfast and sipped mint tea with arabic mixing in around us.  One of my favorite things is listening to my parents speaking arabic.... oh to be able to do the same some day. Maybe. We'll see.. let's stick with dutch for a while Brooke.

We went to the Van Gogh museum yesterday to see the Starry Night exhibit.. well worth the small price of 2.50 euro (with your museumkaart). In the last room of the exhibit, they describe Vincent as a man, who one day living in the mental asylum in France woke up and said, "I am a failure"... pretty much... I am a failure as an artist. He died soon after that. 

As I read of those deeply gut wrenching mournful words, I thought of the Vincent who loved God.... but struggled with loneliness, longing for companionship and meaning.. but never finding satisfaction. That's what I think he was always looking for as he made art... and what he is identified for later, as "the father of modern art".... he was interested in making the spiritual and emotional known in art, not just duplication of creation. 

And I think of John Wimber who when talking about praying for people said... if nothing happens when we pray, oh well, we don't have to become sad and depressed... as if there was something we could make happen.. it's ALL God and he may choose to heal one day and not heal the next. But instead of frustration, we get to pray openly and often, realizing that the result is totally up to God. We just get to have fun doing the asking. And if in turn we truly live that way, then we can't say "I am a failure." It's about Jesus... not us. And there's life and beautiful freedom every day when I live out of that. I find that there's anxiety, pressure and fear when it's about me. 

 

I sat down and made this last night... kind of out of necessity.
Not sure. It's funny how lately, I think it's because I'm with my thoughts 24/7 without the typical structure/history/sense of culture/normalcy that I had at home... moments come when I get to the end of rational thought and structure. As a release, words or images just poor out on paper. So this time it's image.

My thoughts/emotions have been caught up in what seems silly to anti-climatic to say aloud, but with meeting Jesus. I thought I knew Jesus enough. I thought you do that part once and then you work on the other knowing parts. The knowing the Bible better, theology, spiritual intricacies, gifts, etc... But I have been so wrong. Just like we need to be filled with the holy spirit over and over again, we too need more of Jesus again and again.

This year in meeting Jesus, I'm meeting things about Jesus I wasn't aware of. Or let me put it this way: I'm experiencing in my body, my emotions, heart, senses, what I've gotten used to telling others about. I'm getting hit again and again with the simple power of Jesus. And it has come on slowly. As I talk and talk over and over again about Jesus with friends, as I read to try and figure out how to do that, when I sit in confusion and sadness, unsure of how to proceed... through all of this stuff that has been done in order to share Jesus, it's seeped in to me again.

And it's undone me and has been so unexpected. I've become a fan of the simple Jesus. Because I think that when you get the simple Jesus... then He walks you through the complexities that fill life and they don't seem as terrifying or confusing.

today was a good friday

Just got home from our little Good Friday service. It was lovely. The Larsen's provided a wonderful location and it felt so warm and inviting. Coming off of a breathtaking 70 degree day the windows and doors were thrown open , tea lights lit, and couches pushed back. We had a great group of friends, neighbors, classmates... all of us at different points in our journey of faith. We did worship, read some Bible passages (Psalm 22 and Luke 22), and then had a short reflection on what GF means and how we each can enter in with the message. Finally, at what seemed like the perfect time, we had wine and snacks as we hung out and talked (it had also begun to rain/thunder so we had nice background music).

The simplicity of the night was really profound for me. Every song, every scripture, the few 10 minutes worth of words that Eric spoke, were all chosen carefully and precisely to tell the story of Jesus. As we seek to express Jesus/faith/Bible/spirituality in ways that are clear and understandable to not just Christians, I find that I myself am understanding more in the process, that my faith is more clearly defined, that my vocabulary for describing my experiences is more down to earth, and that at the end of the day I walk away having met with Jesus. Maybe not in the way I was used to in the past, or that is maybe my most natural or comfortable mode of operation but in a way that leaves me with the whisperings of God in my ear as I bike home.

tongue tied

on a sunny day: marieke, allie, and i


In an effort to practice this delightful, complex, frustrating new language I'm learning, I've been seeking out any way to jump off the scary cliff of communication. Monday nights I attend a near by art class. I'm one of about 12 students. They're all real live blond blue eyed dutch kids. It's been a great way to practice! I'm learning a whole new dictionary of vocabulary, concerning the body, art, paint, colors, backgrounds and foregrounds, etc! Who knows what I'll use that for in the future!

I've also been able to hang out with new friends who are sweet and understanding and willing to be patient and converse in dutch over lunch. Communication is so exhilarating but it almost always requires a cat nap afterwards. It wipes me out. I've also learned that I have to feel comfortable and enjoy the person I'm talking to, otherwise it's a train wreck and I can barely ask for a cup of tea. For example, last Sunday I tried to talk to a girl at church and just stumbled over my words, digging myself deeper and deeper into a hole. Feeling like an idiot I switched weakly to english.

However, on the way home, I rode with a dear family in our small group. The 40 minute car ride home was dominated by dutch (with an english word slipped in here or there). We discussed everything from the situation in Israel, to their vacation plans, art, small group, and on and on. I was so encouraged but also aware that in addition to a positive environment, it's also mostly Jesus!

Last Friday I went to a lovely foundation about 5 minutes from my house. Every Friday they are open from 11-3 as a space where anyone can come for lunch, coffee, a hot shower, clean clothes, even a pedicure! I went along with an old family friend, thinking it would be a great place to speak dutch! .... and man, was it ever! We arrived at 10 and for the next 6 hours my brain and mouth were racing to keep up! Between serving coffee, making sandwiches, and picking up dirty dishes I was able to talk to delightful people with facinating stories who were either homeless, jobless, or just retired, lonely, and in need of a place to spend the day. There were about 200 guests, many who spoke Russian, Arabic, Spanish, French and about 20 volunteers. I especially enjoyed the hilarious grandpa aged men in the kitchen who made the delicious soup and spare ribs. They were always telling jokes and in general having a lovely time (I only caught maybe a 1/3 of the jokes!) It was a good day. Best dutch class ever! I will definately be back.

Plaça d’Angels
Barcelona, Spain


As the light leaks low
Long elegant buildings release their humans.
Embraced by the sidewalks they learn to walk.
Tiptoeing.

Left of the plaça sits the MACBA.
Guests peruse its galleries,
Sadly I hope.
As they miss the human exhibit just outside.
I turn away and eat the beauty,
Inhaling the drug.

Skate boards skim by.
Back and forth.
Jump.
Fall.
Up to try again.

Mullets shake hands.
Dread locks drink beer.
Ukulele dabbles
Labrador sleeps.
Lovers walk.
Purple hoody shows off.
Pre-teens attempt to copy.
Smoking girl dances.
Mothers talk.
Black leggings stalk by.
Father aged men peddle cold Estrella beer.

The audience drinks deep.
The breeze pulls.
Boys sail by,
Married to the slick beautiful concrete.

An hour later, hearing my mother’s voice
On warm summer nights
Calling me in from the street.
My eyes close in honor

I wake,
As the police pull up,
To ruin the gift.


photo taken by allie klein

saturday morning along the prinsengracht

Last week I had a scone and good cup of tea at Bakers Winkel in the Center, near Dam Square with Nienke. Had a lovely 80% dutch conversation before exiting the cafe together. Just as I was unlocking my bike (the lock was stuck and it was taking a while) a crowd of men started running my way, quickly we were surrounded by a mass of people... one side of which was wearing mostly black and the other in more red colors with policemen inbetween.

I started banging my lock hard, frantic to get it unlocked. No luck. So finally I picked up my bike and hustled with it around the corner. Nienke was unlocked and ready to go. At that point the crown rushed around the corner to us and I felt like I was in 28 Days Later for a minute (a terrifying zombie movie in which the people spend have the movie running away in fear), I finally got the lock open and joined Nienke as we pedaled off. The last I saw as I cycled away, was a black police van screaching up and a SWAT like team pouring out of the side dooors with sticks and shields in hand, bystanders rushing to the scene and people yelling IJAX. What in the world was going on?

The responce I get from people is: Hooligans. Soccer fanatics, IJAX (Amsterdam) vs. Feyenoord (Rotterdam), maybe? ... but I didn't see it reported anywhere. It feels kind of like it never happened but I kind of love that it did. Hooligans. That should be a title of something.

The Hooligan Story.

crispy clean windows

I grew up in a house that was always a little messy, lived in, informal, and hospitable... and because of those things it was an easy place to be, relax, and invite others in to.

Cold yet sunny today, I was told by a friend "you're being so dutch" as I stood on my balcony and stretched to clean the windows lining my kitchen. It feels so good to have things ordered and clean sometimes. You can often see little ladies leaning out on sunny days to wipe the rain smears away of the glass. My friend Julia will sometimes straighten the her house and then sit in her living room and soak in the "order." And I know exactly what she means. A good book and a cup of tea in a pretty glass and one of my new honey cookies is perfect company to the white chair by the big clean window.

Maybe it's that sometimes with life being so delightfully full of life.. of talking, children, laughter, biking, tasks, good conversations, streets sounds, tram riding, grammatically incorrect dutch, going back to school at 27, being stretched, thinking, trying 100's of new things, conversations home, and making food to survive that sometimes it's wonderful to putz around the kitchen and just clean and not think about anything too important, only basking in the glow of living a life of purpose, being daily dependent and forced often to give up my crispy clean windows and step in to the unexpected next.

More stories coming in my update this month friends.

in search of dust

www.cooperburgess.com

"Remember you are dust and to dust you will return" is the refrain repeated over and over again by priest, vicars, pastors, lay leaders all over the world as they draw an ash cross on the foreheads of their congregations this coming wednesday. Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of the 40 day period, Lent, which which leads up to Easter. Lent is used by many as a time of contemplation, fasting from something (chocolate, coffee, myspace), and remembering the human need for Jesus. 

Three years ago I began attending an Ash Wednesday service. It was a very meaningful time for me. A somber time of repentance and recognition that I am nothing, only dust. Yet it is such a joyful day as well since we are forced to acknowledge that the only person who in fact gives life, fulfilling purposeful focused life is Jesus. And my earthiness is not a hindrance at all, He loves me and calls me to acts of justice, love, and compassion as a human. And I must remember that it is Him who created me and made me out of dust! Out of dust!

Yesterday I went on a search for ash. Typically ash for the service is made from burning the palm branches from the previous year's Palm Sunday, but I can't really imagine people doing that. Fire codes and all :) 

But I had a plan, I'd cycle up to Westerkerk and ask where they get their ash. I walked around the whole church, finding only locked doors before I was able to decipher the sign which indicated I should ring a bell. I finally make it in where the secretary, a sweet old man asked if he could help me. I explained in my faltering nederlands my search for ash and asked if he could direct me where to find some. He folded his hands, tilting his head slightly and kindly said "wij zijn een protestantse kerk," meaning, we are a protestant church. Now you have to understand that I'm just a Vineyard kid who is new to the traditional church calendar and who does and doesn't observe Ash Wednesday. I'm only a few years in to enjoying these old traditions, what the rest of the Christian World has been doing for a long time! I laughed trying to imply, "oh yes, of course, what could I have been thinking," and after receiving some very whirl wind directions to 3 catholic churches, made my way out, chuckling at myself. I continued on with my hunt, to St. Nicolas kerk, a church by Spui (I forget the name now), and two more before failing as well at a christian bookstore. 

I'm starting to wish I stuck some palm branches in my suitcase last August. I think I'm going to resort to burning some paper or wood or coals. Any ideas? Anyone up for a bonfire? 

Last night, late, I went to go hear punk music in this little dodgy club somewhere in Oud West. Or at least I think that's what that kind of music is called. That's what Allie tells me. A friend of Allie's is touring with the band so I went along to meet him and hang out for the night. I always thought I didn't like punk music even though I'd never listened to it before. But the music was surprisingly good. A good feel to it.  The drummer was fabulous and the lead singer had a really interesting voice. I kept forgetting where I was... one minute I'd be back in Columbus at Little Brothers, it had that same musty dank feel but then I'd get a whiff of pot or hear dutch spoken or glimpse the cool lights over the bar, or see people kissing on the cheek... then I'd be yanked back to Amsterdam to the little club on Amstelveensweg or however you spell that. 

And in the process I figured out that I love to do new crazy things as long as there's a familiar part to it, like going with someone I know or speaking a language I can understand. And I love when things overlap, like getting to hang out with Allie, meet a crazy guitarist who kept saying the word "coy," exploring the city more, being in a "dutch" environment. Check check check.

Earlier that afternoon the same thing happened, I met up with some girls from my language class to watch a dutch film, eat yummy dessert, practice language, and in the process had some fascinating conversations about whether two male partners make good parents and what age is appropriate for kid's to have sex, which lead in to personal belief systems, and on and on. I know..... crazy fun, you couldn't have picked a better movie to draw from. I loved it and felt so happy and in the groove because I was doing what I get so much fulfillment and joy from: loving people, talking about purpose, meaning and life issue, practicing this complicated but fascinating new language, and making lovely new friends and just sitting in a room relaxing and being human together. 

Next week I start an art class on Monday nights. I'm so thrilled. I've been so purposeless in my art making lately. Just blah, you know what I mean? So, now knowing that I love "the overlap," I signed up for a painting class, in dutch at CRE, this art collective kind of thing that's a part of Universiteit van Amsterdam , and which you happen to get a massive student discount from since I'm a student at the VU. So I'm hoping I can do the same, make friends, speak only dutch, and rediscover the artist in me that has just been a bit squashed down lately. 

So often I see the story of Jesus, images/beauty that point to him through out the city. Yesterday I walked down 4 flights of stairs, crossed the street, unlocked my bike and began to ride. As I rode through Vondelpark I saw many of these little sculptures of a hand pointing with the index finger up to the sky (they're all over town.. and I really want to figure out what they are supposed to represent.... I know what they mean to me!)... and there are also little birds (that remind me of the peace dove) that are often painted on shops in certain areas of town. Images like these fascinate me and always remind me to look up, look around, and take notice of Jesus who is here in this beautiful complex growing city which often despite popular belief is speaking the name of Jesus, albeit quietly sometimes, but we are invited to take notice. 

But I don't usually notice, I often ride by sign after sign, sculptures, pictures, and words without even thinking. .. and then sometimes I get cynical and think where are you Jesus? Where are you here? And that's when I feel him tap me on the shoulder and say, hey, I'm here you just need to open your eyes and I have little reminders everywhere. 

I even saw Him in class a few days ago as one of my friends, from Ethiopia put his hand on my other friend A's arm, a sweet guy from Turkey, and they just sat like that as we played a nederlands language learning game. I teared up because I saw Jesus in that moment (they had no idea I was watching them)... it was beauty embodied in a picture of friendship and an aspect of the middle eastern culture that I often want to bottle up and get drunk on. It's Jesus. It's his story and also it's how I think God invites us to relate to him, as a dear friend would who has no fear of boundaries or what you should do or don't do. You just are and you are invited to just be. 

my team: a gift

we were pretty excited to be all together again!

considering it all, well.. at least a few things.

I've been thinking so much these days. My brain is bursting. Today I feel so blessed and so free. Bernie and Roxi walked off the plane a few hours ago. We were all there bearing loads of tulips and were our big loud happy American selves for a few minutes. It's been 6 months since I've seen them, since our team has been together but it just picked right up again! We had quite a welcoming committee there and the day was so special to spend all together. We were peeing our pants laughing just like we're used to! It was delightful! They bring such stability and a sense of presence to our team. They are a gift to us. I am so thankful for them, and for Grayon Lewis Nash (he turned 1 today) and ate his first birthday cake as all 1 year olds do, opened presents, walked around on shaky legs and laughed a lot. It was a delight. I'm thankful for the VU (Vrije Univ.), for the fact that I thought I could not learn a language the "sit in a classroom" style but in fact it was a lie. I've learned so much and am so excited to keep pressing in and practicing and making a fool of myself in order to learn this wonderfully complex and fascinating language.

doug mills (nytimes)

So I think I got a glimpse.. in a strange way of God tonight, a window to heaven. Powerful.

I saw the first day of celebrations for Obama's inauguration on tv tonight. I'm so glad Allie got a text from her friend telling us to tune in. Despite the dutch subtitles, I felt like I was standing with the 750, 000 people in front of the Lincoln memorial crying my eyes out as Bono sang "In the Name of Love" with the Edge and the band jamming away. And then Bono said something like "... let freedom reign.. in every village, every palace, every city... and this is not just an American dream, it's an Irish dream, a European dream, an Israeli dream, .......... and a palestinian dream!" 

It was so powerful seeing beautiful diversity pouring off and on the stage... and in that moment I knew and felt that God was getting the glory. The whole celebration was not about Obama (well, for me it wasn't)...  but gospel choir after choir, country music singers, rappers, pop artists, opera singers, actors quoting American leaders like ML King, JF Kennedy, Roosevelt, and on and on. It was like a look back at the beautiful aspects of history, the parts I'm not embarrassed by, and what I see as glimpses of God's beauty and His wisdom through the words of some of the country's past leaders.  I had a moment. And I thoroughly reveled in it!

best

Best of 2008; a year of rich experiences

-pressing in to life in ohio while also prepping to move

-the amazing faith building life giving experience of raising support

-support dessert. who would have known, such a joy!

-team. team. team. 

-soaking prayer

-little jh group at mom and dad's

-moving home for 2 months

-connor, lucas, gloria, grayson

-trying new things for the heck of it (golf)

-seeing cousin rachael 3 times in one summer!

-soaking in family

-risking in relationships

-visiting north carolina for a "last family vacation for a while" trip

-thousand splendid suns by khaled hosseini

-pilgrims of christ on the muslim road by paul gordon chandler

-the lord and his prayer by nt wright

-wendell berry poetry

-upper peninsula of michigan

-sliming down my possessions

-loving my students well and blessing them

-camping at breathe

-learning to love dancing

-a going away party from heaven

-wedding joy: shelley and jon, tara and jimmy

-skype/facebook: the joy of internet communication!

-bon iver show at the paradiso

-living with allie

-learning to love wearing red, tights and boots, and hats

-going to church christmas day

-new years eve memories

-gouda cheese

-starting to draw again

-working/doing life with the people I love

-the museumkaart (unlimited access to dutch museums)

-public transportation

-without vcc/family/friends support structure, learning to dig in to jesus

-talking about jesus more than ever before

-reading to maintain sanity

-friends all over the world

-being ok with weak. i don't always have to be/act strong

-language learning

-discovering picnik.com and poladroid.net