snow, neighbors, and baking

It snowed a lot here in Amsterdam on Friday and Saturday (it's still here!). It was so fabulous and for the most part people are jolly and in a good mood about it, except for those who fall while cycling, which has been a daily, hourly, minute by minute occurrence! Most people who are brave enough cycle, do so with one foot either on the ground or ready to plant in case of a slippery spot, even the little scooter dudes who whiz past you on the bike path, sometimes nicking your handlebars, are reduced to driving slowly with both feet gliding along the street. That made me very happy! But for the most part it's just too beautiful to be grumpy. Even though I'd love a white Christmas, I'm hoping I get to my brother and sister-in-love in Switzerland safe and sound before any more flights are canceled or airports shut down.

Here's a little photo story of what happens when it snows on a Saturday and you have super nice neighbors with kids the same age as your dear friends.

babe

Yay! There's a new little babe around town! Just in time for Christmas.
Grant Pershing Nash is a sweetheart. He's Amanda and John's second which means I get a lot more opportunity to hold him and as you can tell here, I'm thrilled about that.

house show

On Saturday we hosted our first house show event. Well, Mark hosted the show at his sweet apartment overlooking a canal, and Rue Royale provided the entertainment (Eva Ellingsworth opened), but it was a a group effort on the part of our faith community. My sister and Rachel gave me the sweet idea of emailing Rue Royale and asking them to play and since it happened to be during a week I was feeling bold and creative, I emailed. And they said, absolutely we'd love to! Hannah provided the gezelligheid complete with glühwein and hapjes, Reetta, Anete, and Amanda baked up a storm, and everyone invited their friends. It's moments like last Saturday night when I look around and think, okay... yes, this is what I love doing. There's a lot about planting a church that's so hard, and annoying, and just plain depressing sometimes, but nights like this give me such joy and I leave feeling like the luckiest girl in the world doing church in creative ways in this city that has crept under my skin and become a part of me.

i like huge tables

On Saturday I went ice skating with some friends on "natuurijs"which can be found on frozen lakes or small ponds, any kind of ice clad body of water which is not man made. We skated on the Oostvaardersplassen. I actually switched back to my boots quite quickly since it was my first time on "noren" ice skates which were a bit too big for me and I'd forgotten to bring my trusty white "figure" skates as a back up. Nonetheless I enjoyed walking the ice and watching people skate off. Noren skates are super fast, people who use them look like the speed skates at the Winter Olympics!

The whole experience was great fun though. It was a very snowy bitter cold day. We arrived by car, parked, and headed down a little path to the lake. A small wooden structure was built next to the lake where other skaters were either putting on their ice skates or taking them off to go home. Everyone was super jolly. I was offered, and accepted numerous cookies and sips of tea. Nieke felt the need to explain, saying this is one of only two times that dutch people connect with strangers... while skating and the other being complaining about public transportation weather delays! Chuckling and still nibbling at our cookies we strapped our skates on and hobbled to the lake. Laughter and calls of "veel plezier" from the wooden shelter following us onto the ice.

I would have to agree with Nieke for the most part about the dutch tendency to connect less with strangers, since she is dutch after all and the expert. But I may add a possible third place of connection and spontaneous gezelligheid; the Coffee Company (which would be the Amsterdam version of Starbucks but much better). Sitting today drinking my latte and reading my book, I accidentally kicked my "neighbor" across the table, he looked up and I laughed apologetically. Later he asked me to watched his mac as he went to the wc. I obliged. He came back and we chatted with a lady and her son enjoying their hot chocolate. He offered to take a photo of them. And blah blah blah. As I settled back to my book I recognized how much I enjoy the Coffee Company tables (pictured below). They're large slabs of wood built together to make huge large tables, while slightly too low for me to cross my leg over my knee, they are the perfect place to engage in pleasant small talk between a sip of coffee and a page of my book. These sorts of tables have become the way I choose a restaurant to eat lunch at or a place to grab a cup of coffee. Wagawama has them and a few others. I enjoy them in the similar way that I love public transportation. Who says we need individual cars or tables to sit at. I love sitting and being human with other humans. I don't know if the guy with the bruised knee feels the same.

Thank God for Sweden

I've been feeling very nostalgic lately. Nostalgia is actually rarely far from me. Perhaps it's that change and living far from family and traditions has been a constant aspect of my childhood and adult life. Ritual and remembered tradition is very special to me.

Yesterday I began to crave the bread my mom would make every Christmas morning growing up. I'm not sure it was actually every year but my memory has deemed it so. I stayed up late yesterday making it and surprised my co-workers with it this morning... plus a few hungry children who were home sick :) Try it.. it may become ritual for you as well!

Swedish Tea Ring:

1 cup warm milk
2 packages of dry yeast (or 4 teaspoons bulk yeast) (let this sit in 1 cup of warm water for 5 min)
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup melted butter
2 eggs
6 to 7 cups of flour

Mix the following together for the glaze:
3 to 4 cups of powdered sugar
1 teaspoon of vanilla
a pinch of salt

Add water or milk by the tablespoon until the glaze will dribble off a spoon. Set aside.

Measure warm milk into a large mixing bowl. Dissolve yeast in another bowl of warm water. Once dissolved pour yeast water in to the milk. Stir in sugar, salt, and butter. Beat in eggs. Beat in 2 to 3 cups of flour. Stir in remaining flour. Knead on a floured surface. If dough is too sticky, knead in a little more flour, a quarter cup at a time. Let the dough rest for 20 minutes. Afterward, knead dough for a few minutes. Roll out dough into a rectangle approximately 24 inches long by about 16 inches wide. Spread with soft butter. Sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon. Beginning on the wide side, roll up dough. When the dough is rolled, be sure the seam is on the bottom. Grasp dough on each end and pull gently to stretch the dough another couple of inches. Cut the roll of dough in half. Grease two cookie sheets. Take each end of one roll and put them together on the cookie sheet to form a circle. Use a scissors to cut about a third to a half the way through the dough at two inch intervals all around the circle. Gently turn the dough outward. That is, grasp the dough and turn it on its side so that the cuts are on the outside instead of on the top. Repeat with the other roll. Set in a warm place to rise for 45 minutes.

Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 25 to 35 minutes. Allow the tea rings to cool completely. Frost with powder sugar glaze. Use a spoon to drizzle the glaze over the tea rings. Decorate with toasted almonds before the glaze has a chance to set. Cut into slices to serve. This recipe makes two large tea rings. Let me know how it goes!

street art

I've been on a bit of a street art kick of late, wishing deep down that I had created the art movement which is now ironically entering in to the mainstream creative world. Street artists could be crudely identified as graffiti artists who have something to say, who's wall art communicates more than scribbles on the side of a train or metro car.

I spent a chunk of my adolescent years in Orange County, California where at that point graffiti was only an eye sore, sprayed haphazardly over freeway overpasses. Then I met Connor, a cool 12 year old who thought graffiti was pretty awesome and who liked to write in the style. Also, in Amsterdam there's a guy who goes by the name of Laser 3.14 and he writes statements and questions on buildings or temporary structures which are under construction. His prose has a prophetic lyrical quality to it. Nearly every day I cycle by one of his "paintings". A couple years ago I visited London and discovered "Banksy", a street art "painter" who has a narrative quality to his work. I am fascinated by the idea of an artist choosing to be a "voice" for one particular city. Amsterdam has Laser 3.14, London has Banksy (though he now makes art all over the world), Paris has Space Invader, and on and on.

Setting the question of illegal vandalizing of buildings aside, the art these men and perhaps women produce is truly interesting and their way of choosing surfaces in order to purposefully decrease the lifespan of their art. Laser 3.14's "art" is often gone after a few months when the construction material is removed. Banksy recently created a documentary on street art, called "Exit Through the Gift Shop." It's a well made film, inviting the viewer behind the curtain to glimpse a bit of the mysterious life of the street artist. I also recently bought this book, "Concrete Messages" for my parents who went to Israel for a few weeks and were struck by the constant presence of the large wall which divides the Palestinian neighborhoods from those of the Israeli people. The book has beautiful photographs of art created by street artists from around the world to give a voice to the Palestinian people.



In close, my brother and his wife Tanya recently discovered a "Space Invader" (the artist is based in Paris I believe) a couple blocks from my house when they visited last. How cool is that? Here's proof (my brother with the invader). So, as you walk or drive around your cities and suburbs keep your eyes open, you never know when you'll see a glimpse of this controversial art medium.

the day after

Babysitting is super productive I'm learning tonight. At least when the baby in question is less than 3 months old and sleeps like a stud. I'm in Den Haag watching Emerson, son of my dear friends Adrienne and Nic Grimes. They're out on a rare date. I'm getting so much done, I've even whittled down my inbox to 4995 unread emails! Yes, I NEVER delete emails. I'm trying to turn a new leaf since I'm tired of people freaking out when they look at my desktop.

Despite my productive stint, I'm actually quite exhausted but I don't think it's from a long day or an hour train trip or not sleeping enough, rather from turkey that I'm sure is still sitting in my stomach. Gobbling. I'm used to abnormally large things, I'm from the land that invented abnormally large things, yet this truly was the largest turkey I've ever seen. There was a collective gasp when Amanda and John unveiled the beast at our Thanksgiving dinner last night. This picture does not even begin to describe how much meat there was on that big boy. Let's just say that the 24 of us ate less than 1/4 of it.

It was a great Thanksgiving. I spend the day hopping between the Nashes and Pickerills, cooking delicious things, decorating, baking nana's roll recipe, and lots of skyping with dear friends and family. I enjoyed meeting new people during the dinner and just sitting around and chilling. In true T-day tradition Connor even rented a film for us and we had a sleepover after the cleaning up was done. We have, for the most part, switched to Dutch holidays, but this is the one American holiday that we keep alive and well. Julia and I threaten every year to go buy little roasted chickens but between Amanda and Connor we are kept to the straight and narrow. Toward the end of the night I escaped to the kid's room and watched a bit of Monsters Inc. with them, trying to let the effects of the tryptophan wane enough to help clean up.

Emerson is starting to stir a bit so I will close. If you come from the Thanksgiving celebrating tradition, I hope it was a wonderful holiday for you, with lots of family and good friends nearby.

funny funnies

The days and hours go too fast. I feel these days like my life is whizzing by me and I'm trying desperately to stop and smell the roses. There are small things in life that give me delight and they often involve children, ritual, food, and memories. I received all 4 this afternoon.

I went over to Amanda's to bake pies with my grandma's special pie recipe. I think it's from her, I can't remember. But the secret ingredient is vinegar (I can't keep secrets). We baked and talked and I cried and we talked and Grayson played. Halfway through Gloria, Connor, and Lucas arrive with their parents, hungry for an after school snack. So, we make funny funnies! We hardly ever had dessert in my family, but when we did it was usually pie. And when you make a pie there are always extra dough bits left. And when you use my grandma's crust recipe it's too good to not use every bit! Thus, funny funnies came in to being! We drank tea and ate funny funnies and played Yatzee Jr. and reminisced and laughed. A good day.

Recipe for "funny funnies":

• Take all the extra crust bits and mash them in one ball. Roll it out.
• Sprinkle on sugar and cinnamon generously then roll it up into a log.
• Cut little slices along the top of the log about 2 inches apart (don't cut all the way to the table).
• Curve it a bit into a wreath shape and then shove in the oven on a pan next to your baking pie.

These will get done before your pie does ... so you have something to snack on as you wait!

Remembering stories

Lately in an attempt to remember my roots, the truth of what God has done in my life, I've been re-listening to the testimony of John Wimber (the founder of the Vineyard movement). It's entitled, "I'm a fool for Christ, who's fool are you?" I'm thoroughly enjoying it, both laughing and sniffing back tears. I think more than his story or the way he articulates simple Biblical truth, or his laid back hilarious manner ... is the intimacy with which he talks about God, it almost sounds too personal, too dichtbij, but it's having quiet the effect on me. I love all his little quips, for example... "one prayer that God always answers, is 'God, what's wrong with me?' " Or, how he had been praying for healing for over a year and finally a woman is healed, and he walks out of her home, looks up at the sky and says, " Yeah God... we got one!" His journey from being raised in a thoroughly un-churched family (for generations) to a personal relationship with Jesus, to falling in love with the church, to encountering the Holy Spirit and starting a new movement of churches is such a gift to us.

I met John just a few times in my life. He died when I was about 18 years old and I still have strong memories of him sitting on a bar chair each Sunday morning and praying simply, "Come Holy Spirit." My brother, sister, and I would at that point put away our coloring books which kept us occupied during the message and sit up to watch the Holy Spirit come. Some people encountered Him in a quiet way, others with tears, others with shaking or laughing, it didn't really matter how He came but that He was thick in the place. And the way John lead the time was without hype or extra craziness, just simple and confident.

We grew up excited to go to church, expectant to see what God would do. Still to this day when it's time to pray for people at the end of a Sunday service, I get this little twist of excitement in my stomach, expectant to see God touch people. Listening to John's testimony brings back my childhood memories, it renews again my love of the greater Church and makes me so thankful that Jesus didn't just promise to return one day in the future but that He left His Holy Spirit with us for the now.

the crew: ages 2 till 53!


pub quiz time! (hannah sure made it hard!). I still can't believe the Sahara desert is only 20% desert.


hannah, trav, daniël, mark, and jaap apparently up to no good...


I'm back from a lovely weekend away with some of my favorite people. For our church retreat. We crammed into an old building in Driebergen, once used as a stable for horses. Yes, high class digs. There were large bunk rooms for the men and women... and kids. It was cold but we had candles lit nearly 24/7 and the heat turned up. The kids ran wild all weekend (I was glad I did't have to wake them and take them to school come Monday morning). We explored some nice trails in the woods around the area, played some mad games of Phase10 and Werewolf (kind of like Mafia), completed a 1000 piece puzzle, who's the geek who brought that? :). During the day we had workshops on meditative and imaginative prayer and how to study the Bible, we worshiped and best of all the Holy Spirit really met us and did some great things. It was a weekend that I will not forget quickly. We left Sunday afternoon, some in their cars, other walking to the bus and train, all saying, let's do this again soon! Here are some of my favorite pictures from the weekend, the top one includes not everyone, some had already left by Sunday afternoon.

would you know how to intall this?

Over the past couple weeks I've felt so empowered, trying my hand at a few things that freaked me out or that I simply hoped some kind soul would do for me. There is much I can do on my own but a few things like the installation of this bike rack... I wasn't so sure about. I'd been putting it off for months, had even bought a new one at the market, it would just stare at my as I left the house each day, perched next to my boots. Every time Gloria or Mark or someone needed a ride on the back of my bike, I would remember my broken rack (from too many passengers!) and it would make me cringe thinking of them sitting on there. But yesterday, I did it! And man, did it feel great to get greasy fingers and and figure out how to install my brand spanking new bike rack (there's actually a better term for it, but it's slipping my mind).

This has come after a few weeks of high "You can do it" moments for me! I was terrified to drive in Amsterdam and had managed not to for 2 years, I had also not driven a manual transmission in 2 years either but then I moved and I rented a huge moving TRUCK ... and I drove it remembering how fun manual driving is. To top that off we went to a conference last weekend in the England AND I rented a van AND drove on the wrong side of the road all weekend. I think my shoulders were in a fixed cramp but I did it! And only merged onto oncoming traffic once! But the Brits are so polite not even one person honked as I backed up and entered the correct lane.

Thanks for relishing my "you can do it" moments!

non-violence is beautiful

and so is this cool poster.

Recently, after hearing stories from my parents who are currently in Palestine, I came across this film, Little Town of Bethlehem, about 3 men who were expected to be enemies but are working together to end the cycle of violence in Israel/Palestine. I haven't yet seen the film but I'm hoping to organize a screening/discussion in Amsterdam soon, so stay tuned for details and come out to watch and discuss. If you want more information about what organize the film is about, check out Holy Land Trust's website. This is an organize doing a remarkable thing, seeking to train people in the manner of Gandhi and MLK in non-violent resistance.

I've been having a lot of weekends "away". Last week I traveled to Nottingham, UK to attend the "Cause to Live For" conference. Eric and Julia were invited to speak so a bunch of us in our 20's from Vineyard Amsterdam went along. It was a great weekend. I realize when I'm in the UK there's a sense of "home" I experience for a bit, maybe it's being able to speak English and sound intelligent (unlike my "very intelligent" 8 year old Dutch skills), or listening to a lovely English accent, or more likely the deep kindness and gift of hospitality Trent Vineyard has. They organized host homes and food for us all weekend, while being just wonderful fascinating welcoming people. Their church serves a huge need in the community providing free furniture to impoverished families and immigrants to name just one thing. I left definitely wishing we were a church of 1200 and able to do things like that.

What will be the areas that will define us as a church? They started those ministries more than a decade ago, how will we start serving and loving the people of Amsterdam now, which God will bless years down the road?

This weekend I'm in Utrecht, just down the road from Amsterdam, for a Benelux leaders retreat, getting to interact with other leaders and church planters in the Vineyard movement in the Benelux (Belgium, Netherlands, and Luxembourg) area. Then it's off to Tobi's wedding in Zwolle tonight, Tobi is marrying Geert-Jan! I'm looking forward to celebrating them tonight.

I hope you find yourself also doing what you love and enjoying your weekend whether it's "here" or "away".

With love...

I'm remembering back to Ouarda's wedding today. It was so lovely. Thoroughly Moroccan, meaning fabulous food, dancing, music, and most important gorgeous dresses... yet set in the Netherlands. It was a joy to be there. May you have many happy years of marriage Ouarda and Hamid!

YA and Trash

My "no brain power needed" book of the week is "The Knife of Never Letting Go" by Patrick Ness .. some young adult fiction Amanda recommended. YA is so good when you have a pile of other books that you really need to read and all you want is a bit of something other. I don't know if it's good yet but it's actually provided a lot of food for thought.. and I'm not even a third of the way in. It takes place in a world where there are only men and they can all hear each others "noise" and the main character is the last boy in this town. And one day he discovers a hole in the noise, he discovers quiet. Having lived his whole life hearing the thoughts of the men around him, their "noise," he is overcome by the unexpected"quiet" and has no idea what to do.

Well, I can't hear it, that's the whole point, but when I run towards it the emptiness of it is touching my chest and the stillness of it pulls at me and there's so much quiet in it, no not quiet, silence, so much unbelievable silence that I start to feel really torn up, like I'm about to lose the most valuable thing ever, like there it is, a death, and I'm running and my eyes are watering and my chest is just crushing and there's no one to see but I still mind and my eyes start crying, they start crying, they start effing crying, and I stop for a minute and I bend over and Jesus H Dammit, you can just shut up right now, but I waste a whole stupid minute, just a whole stinking, stupid minute bent over there, by which time, of course, the hole is moving away, it's moved away, it's gone.

This "hole" is later revealed to be a girl. This discover of quiet puts his life in danger and he's forced to flee for his life. So far the book looks to be an interesting social commentary, which coupled with the prevailing presence of large amounts of trash piled around Amsterdam due to the trash collector strike and the images of the still uncontainable oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, has made me keenly aware, yet again of the mess we humans have made of the word and of our lives. We are so in need of cleansing, the cleansing of Jesus' grace and love.

We had our first baptism today at a lovely little Christian community house that had a super nice chapel, including the all important baptismal! It was fun to be in a quaint little place like that, worship together, hear C's testimony, and witness her baptism. It was such a joy to celebrate with her, to see her in so many words say, "Yes, I am throwing my life in with Jesus, I want to be identified with Him forever, and I want to be cleansed and whole."

I know Amsterdam is in need of new life from the weight of this trash, the Gulf of Mexico and the animals affected by the spill, and myself and the whole of the world. Noise and trash: reminders of the decadence of life and the need of a Savior.

I am always exhausted by the time Sunday afternoon comes around. The good kind of tired that radiates out through your body while gifting you with lovely memories. On Sunday mornings I get to do church. My experience of "church" over the past few years, I'm sure, has seriously screwed me up for life.

Church to me has become very messy oh so much fun. Especially since most of my experience of "church" does not happen on Sundays at 11.00 but all throughout the week with people who ask fabulous questions, say things that I promptly run how to write down, and who are ultimately seeking truth.

Yet Sunday mornings are pretty fun in and of themselves! Today I woke, took artwork off my walls, a plate out of the cupboard, tulips, and fabric and cycled 10 minutes to the building we rent twice a month. It's owned by a sweet Christian charity. The first part of set up involves taking down all the nice but slightly intimidating large print paintings of Moses or Abraham or white Jesus. Then out come the artwork, masses of tea and coffee, cookies, flowers, and music equipment. We have a stand up sign that is put out on the sidewalk (chained to a pole with a bike lock). Soon afterward, John entered with a large rolling suitcase full of kids toys that he's brought with him on the tram, and the musicians come in with guitars and drums they've balanced on their bike handle bars. Today even Manuel came with his keyboard. By 10.45 the kids area is set up, the coffee is hot, "Brown Feathered Sparrow" is playing through the speakers, and friendly people are welcoming at the doors.

We worship in Dutch and English while sipping coffee and tea (yes this plays a significant role throughout the service!). Today Julia taught on Jesus' encounter with the Samaritan woman and how we are called to help others encounter Jesus. It was excellent as usual but today's message was especially poignant for me. She spoke on how Jesus was a boundary crosser. He was always going where no one else would (a Samaritan village.. talking to a woman! Insane at that time period). And Julia, said .. "God is not afraid of people who don't believe in him... he's not afraid to go to them and engage them." That really hit me. Who is it that I'm afraid to go to, that I'm afraid to look straight in the eye? Who is Jesus calling me to cross over to?

And she spoke about how Jesus was a bridge builder.. how he was rooted deep in the Kingdom of God on one side but then he walks over a long bridge to love and engage winsomely with people who don't know him and then walks with them back over the bridge to his Kingdom. She concluded by saying that in the midst of following Jesus' example and doing the hard work of crossing borders, we are then asked to wait patiently. Wait patiently for God to reveal himself, for God to save. We get to take part but only God can be the cherry on the top which transforms the whole ice cream sunday.

The service is concluded with a mass "clean up" which is just as fun because as the music plays in the background, I'm sweeping floors and washing cups with people who are family. Finally as I lock the door and cycle away, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to remember it all. Remember it forever. Then I head home for a nap!

community

Sitting in my messy apartment with no one coming over that day (thus no pressure to clean), I was listening to a lovely music mix, thinking about a conversation I had the day before, and soaking in the sun. And it dawned on me how lovely it is to be in community. Not just because it's fun and life giving and Jesus was all about it or because I become angry and cynical without it, but because community gives me the permission not to try to be good at everything (which I can't be anyway). Being an oldest child, overly responsible, self critical, perfectionist is so hard sometimes. I always wish I were better at more things. More of a renaissance woman.

For example... music. I do not have an ear for music, not in the slightest. I enjoy listening to music when it's given to me, or someone tells me what's good but I can sit in a cafe and not pay any attention to what's playing (it's like white noise to me). I wish it weren't. I wish I had impeccable music taste like my friend Allie, I would like to read snobby music blogs (I think people who do are so stinking cool), I would like to be able to drum, or sing the lyrics to a song I remember from 9th grade... but I can't do any of those things and I know I'll never do any of those things... and I realize I'm completely fine with that because I know people who do instead. And I love hearing from Allie or Julia or Mark or the other music savvy people I know about good music and funny blog posts, or listening to amazing drummers, and laughing when someone hums an old school song. I will never be that, and why should I when I know so many people who do it so well?

Or why should I flip out when it takes me hours and hours to design a business card on indesign ... when I can email a friend who in a flash designs a slick map for the back of the card and I can just plop it in. And instead of feeling jealous (though I still do a tad), I think, "wow, I am so glad I'm in community".... where I know people who work wonders with adobe software or make the most sublime music mixes, or preach the most eloquent heart stirring sermons, or write fabulous articles on good theology, or spell really well..... or make the best popcorn. Um... never mind maybe I would like to learn to make the best popcorn... but then, maybe I wouldn't enjoy it as much! Ok, I'll let John be the best at that! As long as I get my weekly fill.

I've been applying to graduate programs here in Amsterdam. Is there something I can study now that would help me do something later that I would love? So, I decided to check out some graduate programs. I could go part time, meet new people, learn, be inspired, etc. Lovely Holland may even be willing to give me a grant or a portion of the fee to attend. Questions arise. English speaking? Dutch? Combo? I found out that I can follow a dutch taught masters in Art History or Comparative Art and still write my papers in English. Now that may just be the winning duo. As these thoughts have been on my mind, my friend Kelly came to visit and I tried to host her well in the midst of sending off applications, begging professors who I haven't seen in 7 years to write me recommendations. We had a lovely time despite the turmoil. I mean, it's finally sunny... how can you go wrong?

I did discover a way to give digital photos the essence of a Polaroid photo. Now that was a good find... except that it makes me slightly sad now that I rarely use my real Polaroid land camera, with photos that pop out on real paper which you have to really shake, no longer seems that novel. Oh the joys and heartache of technology.

Tonight I'm heading to Den Haag to celebrate Adrienne's birthday! What a completely utter joy it is having her and her husband Nic so close. When I am with them I realize what a gift it is to be with people you have history with, people with whom you can sit and say nothing or say lots and laugh about things that happened 10 years ago. Now, I no longer have many friends who I've known that long. Only a few.

This is a bit of a rambling post. But that explains my brain of late. I had a dream last night about my friends Tara and Jimmy's wedding. She was wearing a red and pink empire style dress, he was in a cream suit, I was sitting cross legged on the floor with my friends Brian and Lorah. Brian was holding Lily Zappin (a baby of a friend, who I have yet to meet in person), while the person sitting behind me was giving me an amazing shoulder massage. Oh the life!

Happy weekend!



"fake Polaroid"



"real" Polaroid

Easter love

So we planned our first baptism for today, Easter Sunday and then sadly had to cancel due to insane rain and cold... But that didn't keep us from enjoying the day and each other! I'll never forget this sweet Easter!

Sweet Pauline prepping dessert

Kelly my dear friend who flew in to see me Friday and the next thing she knows is whipping up a feast for 30+ people!

My living room on Easter Sunday! I love being the rain location! Super fun and always full of unexpected adventure!

i must remember...

I often have that feeling these days... usually thought and said with a panting voice in my head and screwed up fists, "I must remember.. this.. must... I have to... try harder... " Kind of like when you're a child and play around with the idea of moving the pen across the table with your telepathic abilities. Same thing. But way harder because so much is freaking going on and I can't remember and hold it and love it all.

Last night found me doing the same, sitting in my little living room on a white couch which I would never buy myself but which I love. I always thought it may be fun to be the kind of person who had white furniture. White represents the height of beauty over function to me and I love that.

And it was when Julia started describing the difference between walking toward Jesus and walking away from Jesus and somehow getting around to answering a question about the devil.... in dutch... to some of the sweetest people most hilarious fast talking people I've ever met, that I thought.... ahhhhh God, help me remember this moment, this feeling. And the whole night was like that as I barely kept up with the zooming conversation, hearing these women open up about their lives, their questions about faith, their fascination with Jesus despite knowing they don't want a relationship with him because it means he gets to have a say on how life is lead.

And I sat there and thought, is this my life? Is this what I get to do? This is the hardest more infuriating, exhausting, emptying 2 years of life I've ever led but I want it. I want it because I love these moments when I get to see people, I get to hear stories, I get to wrestle through how to explain what Jesus' idea of church was in another language to people from another culture, and I get to do it with people I love and respect. And I think Oh God, I really need your help because I don't know what the heck I'm doing even though I love it and want it.

Today is Ash Wednesday. Wow, it came fast. I usually feel like this day marks sort of beginning to spring, or at least the thinking about spring. Yet for me the fridgid cold, kissing snow, and frozen canals keep my mind elsewhere. I really appreciate Ash Wednesday and I am experiencing a small case of homesickness today as I think about friends and family heading off to special services at home. I miss the smudgy ash on my forehead and the "Remember you are dust and to dust you will return" spoken over me. And remembering that without Jesus I would not stand and looking forward to His death and resurrection.

I do still have some palm branches from last year, I should go burn them up and ash away but I'm too tired and sore from moving friends yesterday and it sounds like a lot of work so I will just sit here on my couch and try to take some deep breaths and not let this special day go before I've had a minute to think. Click here for a lovely article on Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent if you are interested.

I'm also still considering Lent, if and what I will give up. Oh and that reminds me that Allie mentioned that some years instead of giving something up, she adds something to her life that does not come naturally to her (ie giving some money to every person begging, writing encouraging notes to a different friend every day, helping at a homeless shelter, and on and on). I like that idea even though it will be just as difficult, adding something that doesn't come naturally, as refraining from something I adore.

Good morning! I started reading a new book over the weekend. Oh goodness, it's a fabulous one. Hits deep. It's by Eugene Peterson (yep, the author/translator of the Message). I'm always so thankful for book recommendations. I hate taking time to find books but I love when good ones are just placed in front of my nose (bluntly put, I'm lazy in this area). I have a couple friends who tell me about the best books. This one is from my dad. It starts out with a striking poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins who was my favorite poet in high school. He was my first introduction to a poet madly in love with alliteration, the poems hopping with tension. Here's the lovely example:

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's
Bow strung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves - goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying What I do is me: for that I came.

I say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is -
Christ. For Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men's faces.

The book concentrates on the living out of our theology which he calls "spiritual theology"... That the two words cannot be separated without being at an imbalance. Oh and yes, the book is naturally called, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places. It was cheap on bol.com (if you're in the Netherlands), otherwise I'm sure you can get it for next to nothing in the US. Well, there you have it, my plug for the day!

I'm now off to prepare for my first teaching in dutch (eeek!) on prayer. I'm preparing in English then will translate it to dutch, I may figure out mid way that I'm doing double work. We'll see, I'm sure the next time will be easier. Ideas/tips are welcome! Which reminds me I also need to buy a Bible in dutch, so I'll stop by the bookstore as well. I keep misplacing the ones I thought I had. Then my day will hopefully finish with some mad quick graphic design skillzzz which will inshallah (God willing), produce a sign/banner of sorts for the entrance to our "non church" looking church door this Sunday. Here we go!

I got my hair cut today. It was a fun experience. Went to Kinki Kapers in Utrecht. Trained down with lovely Allie. We stepped in to this raging energy filled space with hairdressers snipping madly away. Felice, my new favorite person was there to great us. She's been cutting hair for just under a year and is freaking amazing. A total gift and finally a hairstylist that's got "the gift." She takes a really long time but the result is fabulously smooth and light (which is a good thing for my hefty mane) but it means we have longer to talk. And talk and talk we did, all in dutch of course, which I always am pleasantly surprised when people do speak dutch with me, since often their English is so perfect. It's one of my favorite things. Even when I ask for clarification, it's in dutch! Thank you God for Felice.

I love when life tasks overlap... need a haircut since it's been 6 months and need to practice dutch and it's always good to meet new people and even bump in to another friend and connect with her... oh the overlap is a sweet thing! By the time we made it back it was late and time to catch a few maddeningly amazing Lost episodes with friends.

Tomorrow I have letters to sign, a teaching to write, my thoughts to process, and some new and old friends to see. It will be a good day I'm sure.

My thoughts today have wandered to Martin Luther King Jr. and the annual remembrance and celebration that goes on back home on this day. And I got to thinking about the MLKs all over the world who work for justice and seek peace. And that these regular people like my friend Sarah who helps women in India who are coming out of prostitution by providing them with an income (making beautiful blankets out of recycled sari material) are full of the grace and love of Jesus. That's who Jesus was, a radical justice seeker who gave his life to put the world to right. And now we're a part of that time line, seeing the "right" being worked out and waiting for the full "right" to come. And I pray for justice soon, for real hope people can taste, for a future for Haiti, for the people there who have sustained years and years of kicking while they're down. Oh God, keep us full of hope and keep us with our eyes stuck on you. And help me to be that kind of person here in Amsterdam. Let me be a hope broker as Carl Medearis once said he was when asked what his profession was. I want to be a broker of hope, we're called to be brokers of hope.

Here are some happy pictures I'd forgotten about and thought I'd share... they all have stories attached but for now you get just the picture and a blurb. Life has been a bit hectic, I hope to get back to some actual writing and musing soon.


gathering with new/old friends. this was a really good night.

when the snow came to stay a while! we've had a couple more dumpings of snow since this first snowfall. it's been magical and deeply silent.

allie playing in the snow. it was really sticky snow!

alessandra, mahawa, and i lovin' on eachother.

new year's day came with a swim in the north sea. it was sooo cold and glorious! i'd do it again in a heartbeat.

I hopped home for Christmas to see my family and say "see you soon" to my brother and sister in law who are moving to Switzerland. I'm so excited to have them closer. It was such a treat to all be under one roof together again. It's been many years. I haven't been back to Columbus for over a year so I wondered what I would feel/think. And surprisingly it felt just as much home as ever and I realized that instead of gaining a home and losing another I just feel at home in two places. Now that's something I can live with!