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