Some Last Minute Things

I got to hang out with this cutie

One of the greatest parts of going away is that it forces you to spend time with the people you love.  Since you won't be seeing them as often as you would when you lived stateside, you obviously make time for them.  One of the greatest things I've done in preparation for leaving was spending a few days with my parents.  Fortunately, they moved back to the city we lived in when we first moved back to Texas in 2005, Clyde.  I love this little town, I love the people my parents made friends with, and I ESPECIALLY love it because my sweet nephew lives just 15 short miles away.  I love to snuggle this babeh, kiss his sweet cheeks, and watch him do all manner of funny things.  I'm sure the next time I'm home, he'll be doing all sorts of new things.  So, these moments are especially precious.  It was great to have a couple of days hanging out with my parents, sister and brother in law.

Sending my Visa Application to HK

One of the complicated parts of moving abroad is inevitably the Visa process.  Luckily, it is completely legal and allowable to enter Hong Kong as a tourist while waiting for Visa paperwork to be processed.  This is exactly what I'll do - and I'll have to exit HK once my Visa goes through, travel somewhere else (probably a boat to Macau) then re-enter the country on my permanent working Visa.  As part of my visa application, I had to fill out about 9 pages of paperwork in order to get my visa processed.  Mostly, this included educational records, and a letter of support from each of my previous churches stating my job duties, and 6 pages of paperwork in Chinese and English.  See my previous post, The Spinster, for more info on this hilarious form.  Long story short, I finally received each letter, dutifully provided on letterhead, and sent it off to Hong Kong last Monday.  I also encountered the mythical chupacabra of the Postal Service, a nice, competent employee who actually seemed to like their job and life.  As Mary helped me fill out my envelope, it all became very real to me!  I'm moving to Hong Kong in just over eleven days!!!

What? No oven in Hong Kong?!

Last, I had a great meeting with my future boss and his family this past Wednesday.  His son goes to Rice University here in Houston, and they were in town visiting him and their other family in The Woodlands (North of Houston).  We got together at the Galleria, ate some great Mexican food, and talked about everything Hong Kong and Community Church related.  It was great to get to meet Steve and Marian and to have a face to go with the name finally!  I got to ask a lot of my questions, mostly about what I should do about banking once I get there, and got a lot of good feedback on some things I should do and expect once I move to Hong Kong.  One funny thing that I discovered is that most apartments in Hong Kong don't have ovens.  Not something I ever would have thought to ask, but it came up somehow.  I shared this info with my roommate who is a baker-extraordinaire, and this was her reaction.  She can't imagine how one would survive in an environment without an oven.  Stay tuned, everyone, I'll let you know!

Well, the final countdown is on.  I'm leaving in 10 days.  It's all becoming more real and more surreal by the moment.  I'm drowning in the little details, but incredibly excited and ready for the adventure to begin!  Til next time,

The Adventurer

The Spinster

Several great and funny things have happened over the past week.

First and foremost, I was invited over to the home of Suzanne and Eric Chai who are across-the-street neighbors of one of our church members. Suzanne grew up in Hong Kong and had a bevy of information for me about what I should (and shouldn't) do in Hong Kong.  She recommended several cheap shopping areas for food and clothes, which I will definitely be checking out once I move.  The best part of the entire evening happened while she was telling me about one area in general, 女人街 (Nu Ren Jie, literally, women's street).  She and Eric were telling me about all the great finds to be had there when she stopped for a moment, studied me intently, then quickly scrawled "Please Bargain" on the paper.  To explain herself, she succinctly said, "They probably don't give you a good deal...because you're American!"  And that was the moment I decided I was a fan of Suzanne Chai.  The great news here is that she and Eric are coming to HK for a wedding in October and there is a possibility that we can meet up.  Hopefully that'll work out!

It was a great way to cap off the evening, I think.  Oh, and I also learned a very funny phrase in Mandarin... it goes like this... 对牛弹琴 (Dui Niu Tan Qin) It means, basically, playing guitar for cattle, or doing something that is utterly (udderly?) useless.

Spinster?

Early last week, I received my visa paperwork from the church.  It is about 15 pages long, mostly of explanations on how to fill out the two pages that require filling out, and all of the supporting documentation that has to go along with it.  The good news is that my visa does NOT have to be in my passport when I move.  I can come in the country as a tourist (no visa necessary) and once my working visa is approved, I'll have it inserted in my passport, I assume, and continue on my merry way.

In any case, one of the funny things about Chinese in general, is that there are oftentimes no good equivalents for Chinese words.  Add on top of all this the British cultural influences in Hong Kong, and there are bound to be some funny translations.  The first of many, I feel certain, is on the visa application. Apparently, my only choice of marital status is to check "spinster".  This is definitely a new category for me! I'm not sure that there's anywhere to go after this, so I'll leave with that.

 Til next time, The (spinsterly) Adventurer!

Preparations

Just a little less than a week ago, I shared that I'd be moving to Hong Kong.  This information has been in my mind for a little while now, and the newness of it has started to fade away.  I had a few days of renewed elation about it after having the chance to share, but now the reality of all that this move means has set in.  I have a LOT to do!

Tonight, I took what I consider to be the most major step so far forward (after accepting the position in the first place, of course) and that is booking my ticket.  If you know me at all, you might know that I am detailed, thorough, and an information-seeker.  This created quite the situation for me in booking this ticket.  I've done quite a bit of International traveling, but I haven't ever:

a) been flying at someone else's cost (thank you Community Church for paying my ticket to HK)

b) booked an International ticket just a month out

c) had so many different options to choose from (Canada or San Francisco?  JFK or Moscow?) 

So, now, I'm not only trying to be a good steward of the church's resources by booking a low-cost ticket, but also being creative with some sold-out flights, and trying to figure out how exactly to fly halfway around the world.  Phew.

Tonight, I sat down on my couch at approximately 6:37pm with the full expectation to book a flight I've been looking at for a week.  It's a Singapore Air flight leaving out of Houston in the evening, connecting through Moscow, Russia (no plane change, just drop off and pick up some Russians, I presume) then to Singapore.  From there, I'd connect to Hong Kong.

This not the plane I'll be going on, but you get the idea...

But then, as I sat down, I started to think of all the other possibilities.  First, I could pay about $200 more dollars and connect through LA or San Francisco and save about 7 hours of travel time, cutting  from two days to one.  Or, I could save $100 and fly through Calgary, Vancouver, then to Hong Kong, but with 7 excruciating hours of layovers in each location.  Each new possibility had its benefits and drawbacks.  I found myself going back and forth, reading reviews on each airline, each plane, each route.  When I finally looked at the clock, it was after 8:00!  

Finally, I decided to man up and book the Air Canada flight that had slightly shorter layovers, and was a little more expensive.  I got to the check out page and noticed that I wouldn't be eligible to get ANY frequent flier miles with my Star Alliance carrier partner with this fare.  Oh my.  Of course, at this point, I had to go back and re-research all of the previous options to figure out just how I could maximize my frequent flier miles. 

And then, that led me to a whole new conundrum.  I do sincerely believe that frequent flier schemes are elaborately hatched plans to make you feel like you're getting a great deal while really shrouding useful information in a vast fog of codes like Y, Q, W, Z, V, etc.  Can I buy a vowel?  No, I can't as it turns out,  because I work for Jesus, and those are the first class fares that I will likely never be traveling on. Ha.

All of this became quite comical when, at 9:05pm, my roommate and best friend announced that she'd had enough of my fact finding mission and that it was time that I stopped worrying and just booked a fare.  So I did.  And what fare did I book?  The Singapore Air one.  The flight I originally intended to book three hours before. 

So yes.  The moral of the story is that I will be traveling to Hong Kong, China on Tuesday, August 21st.  I will arrive almost 2 days later after being on a combination of planes for nearly 27 hours.

Let's end this positively and note that:

Singapore Air has been voted one of the best airlines in the world for several years in a row
Their in-flight entertainment is apparently the best in the sky
There are in-seat power plugs, which will be REALLY nice

and lastly, I'm moving to Hong Kong to serve Jesus and all of this doesn't really matter so long as I remember what I'm there to do.

Til next time!

The Adventurer



 

Hong Kong

I'm moving to Hong Kong. Whoa, it feels weird to type that.  But, in just a little over five weeks, I'll be packing a few belongings, traveling over 20 hours by plane and moving to my new home for the next two+ years. 

Since I started quietly announcing my move, I've had all manner of questions.  I've had every reaction ranging from full support to outrage.  I couldn't have prepared myself for this part.  I thought the 10+ Skype interviews I did with my  new church (literally, no exaggeration), were rigorous, but the questions I've gotten since announcing my move have been way more intense than any of my search process.  My hope is that I can start to answer some questions here, because I know that many people are wondering what the heck I'm thinking...

Most popular question #1:

Why Hong Kong?

The easy answer to this is "because God called me".  While true, this may sound like a cop-out to some, so I'll go into a little more detail.  For about the last five years, give or take, I have felt a call on my life to serve abroad.  I was pretty sure that I would be given the responsibility (and opportunity) to answer such a call at some future point in my life.  For the last five years, however, the answer has been yes, but wait.  I'm not an ultra patient person to begin with, so this has definitely taught me patience!!  Over the last six-ish months, however, it has become increasingly clear to me that God is calling me abroad.  At first, I dismissed it, citing restlessness, but God kept pursuing me.  One day while casually perusing some job boards, I found (no kidding) 5 job postings in Hong Kong.  A couple for an intern, and a couple for a Youth Director, all at International churches.  This, of course, piqued my interest, and that's how the whole process started.

Have you been to Hong Kong before? Do you know anyone over there?

Nope! I've never been to Asia.  I do have an acquaintance from college who works for Hong Kong Disneyland, go figure, and we've facebooked a little bit.  Other than that, I'm pretty much flying solo.

Where are you going to be working?

I'm working at a International church called Community Church.  Once I decided to leave Houston (not an easy decision), the decision to take the call at this particular church was one of the easiest ones of my entire ministry career.  I had several lengthy Skype interviews with people from the church ranging from the pastors, committee members, students, parents and pretty much anyone else you could imagine.  Throughout the whole process, I felt God confirming the process (as did they, obviously).  I fell in love with the people I talked with, and feel that I'll be a good fit for them, and likewise, them for me.  I'll be co-directing with their present Director of Youth Ministries.  She's been there for a year, so she will definitely be the veteran - I'm excited to learn from her!

What will you do while you're there?

I will be working as a co-director of Youth Ministry at the church.  Their program is actually very similar to a program at a church in the US.  Basically, they have Sunday School time, a fellowship opportunity at another time during the week, missions, events, etc.  It will definitely be a challenge doing ministry in a new context, but I'm excited to learn.  

Don't you need to learn Cantonese?

This is an interesting question.  I did take Mandarin Chinese in college, though my comprehension level was completely blown out of the water thanks to my year of Danish study from 2008-2009.  I'm probably at the level of an articulate three year old right now, so definitely not super useful unless asking where the bathroom is, making general inquiries, or ordering food.  With that said, HK was part of Britain until 1997, so basically everyone speaks English.  Many signs are in English as well, if I understand correctly.  I feel certain that I'll want to continue my Chinese study there, however, and will probably take up Mandarin again.  Many Hong Kongers also speak Mandarin.  I'll definitely learn "Taxicab Cantonese" as a little bit gets you far (and makes the locals know that you're making an effort, which I'm all about). 

Isn't Asia unsafe?

Quite the contrary, in fact. And Hong Kong is one of the safest cities in the world.  According to the state department. "Hong Kong has a low crime rate."  Those State Department people don't mince their words.  If they say the crime rate is low, I'll believe them (and the thousand other expat blogs out there!)  I even had one parent tell me in a Skype interview that they let their elementary schooler take the metro by themselves in the afternoon.  I think that's a pretty good indication of the safety level.

What's going to be your living situation while you're there?

This is the part I'm the most interested to figure out.  For the first bit I'm there, a church member has VERY graciously offered to host me in her home.  I'll probably settle in for a few weeks then commence searching for an apartment.  This will, by far, be my biggest expense while living in Hong Kong.  The rent is astronomical.  I'll be paying well over a thousand dollars a month for a TINY apartment (probably less than 500 square feet).  This is okay, though, because I didn't get into working for Jesus for the money, and I've always lived modestly.  I also won't have a car, which I am happy to say I won't miss in the slightest.  I've been wishing for public transportation since the day I left Denmark and am excited to take the efficient and inexpensive public transport available in HK.

What's your commitment there?

I have initially signed a two year contract, with the option to extend for more year(s) at the end.   I have no idea what God is going to do in the future.  If you do, kindly email me and we'll chat!

What kind of things are you moving with you?

Not a lot, to be honest.  It's very expensive to ship things there, so I'll be taking the bare minimum.  Probably clothes (as I'm considered enormous compared to Hong Kongers, who average seemingly at a size 0) movies, pictures, my laptop, and that will probably be the extent of it.  There is an IKEA in HK, as well as many local craftsmen who can make furniture fairly inexpensively.  This is probably how I'll furnish my apartment.  I will also not take any of my electronics as their current and plugs are different from ours (and after my near hair-frying experience in Denmark, I think I'll be leaving the voltage converter at home).  I will be selling my car and most of my other belongings, so if you're interested in my great e-garage sale, let me know!

Are you going to travel?

YES.  To all the places.  Okay, probably not ALL the places, but I do have an ever-expanding list of places I'd like to visit.  Where, you ask? Well I'll be happy to share.  Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Indonesia, and Japan are currently in my top five, though I feel certain I'll find many other places to explore.  

How do your parents feel about this?

The good thing is that my parents know me well.  They've been managing my wanderlust from a young age - They raised me to be this way, after all.  My Dad was in the Navy for over 20 years, and has traveled extensively.  He is THRILLED.  Believe me when I tell you that he's already looked up hotel rooms in HK.  (He doesn't seem interested in staying in my 500 (or less) square foot apartment with three people... I can't imagine why!!).  My mom is excited, but, hey, she's my mom, so she has normal mom concerns, mostly based around when and how often I'll be coming home to visit her.  She does know that this is God's call for my life, and is very supportive.  And, as she says, planes fly, and there's Skype.  If this had been 20 years ago, she might not have been on the bandwagon, but now with technology as it is, I think we'll stay connected just fine. 

I think that's it, but obviously, I'm no stranger to questions.  Please, please, please pray for me if you're the praying kind.  I am about 51% excited and 49% nervous, and those ratios fluctuate daily, if not hourly!  Pray that my roommate and best friend, Sara, finds a new, awesome roommate, for both of the jobs I'm stepping out of (that Grace would find a new, awesome Elementary Director and that Sugar Land Ice would find a great Assistant Skating director.)

Most of all, pray that God uses me in a big way, and that through all of the new, scary, humorous, and ridiculous experiences I'm sure to have, that HE will be known.

Whitney

oh yeah, and keep reading my blog, because this time, I PROMISE to update it.

How to deal with that PK (or Staff Kid)

Every church has them. The infamous Preacher's Kid. The troublesome staff kid. You'll know these kids because they are usually the ones causing a ruckus, "volunteering" (hanging out in the youth office rendering at least one if not every youth staff person useless), or talking back to you in a way that most "regular" kids wouldn't ever dare address a youth or children's pastor.

I know this because I was one.

I didn't sit down to write this post to commiserate about these kids, I sat down to talk about how to love them. First, a few things. Yes, these kids are a lot of work. They will talk your ear off, defy your authority, and make out in any and every dark, unlocked room in the building. But they also NEED you.

Growing up, I needed my youth group. See, the trouble with staff kids (or preacher's kids, in my case) is that they fly under the spiritual radar a lot of the time. People assume that because their parent(s) work for the church, their spiritual well-being is taken care of. What's that old adage about the cobbler's children? That they never have shoes? I think you'll find in more cases than not a large amount of spiritual drought in our church-working families. Ministry is hard on a family: from long hours in the office, to the constant pressures to do the right things and seem like a perfect family, kids who grow up on this side of church often yearn for the spirituality they are surrounded by. Not one single time in my high school career did one of my small group leaders ask me how I was doing spiritually. Not one. Is this because they didn't love Jesus and want me to as well? Absolutely not. It is because they assumed that because I was the preacher's kid that I had it taken care of. Let me let you in on a little secret. Preacher's kids are some of the best posers out there. We are pros at looking good on the outside while harboring a mess on the inside. My small group leaders didn't confront me because they assumed. They assumed I had it together.

Another large problem facing preacher's kids is that they are ALWAYS in the spotlight. One particular instance that stands out to me was right after a retreat. I was probably a freshman in high school, and I was mouthy. We got home, I was tired, and one of our youth sponsors was trying to give me some directions. Sleep deprivation and teenage angst combined, and she and I got into an argument. During the argument, she said something to me that I have not, to this day, forgotten. She looked me square in the eye and said, "Who do you think you are? I see that you leave the choir loft EVERY Sunday after the youth choir sings. You don't even stay for the sermon! What kind of example are you setting?". At that point, I probably said some ultra church appropriate words to her and walked away. See, what she didn't know is that my dad had gotten appointed to another church. My parents flat told me that I had to start participating at the youth group at my dad's new church (in the same city as the old church). And I was angry about it. I could participate in the youth choir at the old church (of which I was the president), but I had to be at my dad's church service, which meant leaving after the choir sang. It was a horribly painful transition for me. But she didn't take the time to get to know my story. She just saw the behavior and lashed out at me. And I still remember it, more than 10 years later.

See, we need to CARE for our staff kids. I can tell you firsthand that it isn't easy growing up in the spotlight. I could recount to you countless times where something "got back" to my parents that in fact hadn't happened. I wasn't a hellion in high school, in fact, I hung around with good, Mormon kids. I made the honor roll, and got into a very competitive college. But people could see what they wanted to. Growing up in the church was incredibly hurtful at times.

Lastly, preacher's kids are often saddled with an immense amount of information. Some families do a better job than others of insulating their kids from what goes on in churches, but no matter what, preacher's and staff kids are impacted by the negative things spill over from mom's or dad's job at the church. I remember at the age of 14 knowing who was cheating on who, who was getting divorced, who was getting counseling for their marital problems, and who had a drug addiction. I was both an inquisitive child and an eavesdropper, and therefore, I knew WAY more than I should. What all this goes to say is that staff kids often emerge with their rose-colored glasses off. Whereas many of their peers are meeting Jesus for the first time in middle or high school, these preacher's kids have known Him and his band of ragtag followers for years. They are, in ways, like little adults, hardened to the realities of a messy world. And this is why they need grace. This is why they need love.

So, in summary, that kid may be driving you insane, but they're driving you insane because they NEED to be heard. They are desperate for someone to genuinely ask them about their faith. They're desperate to not just be a stereotype, to not be typecast as the partier, or holier-than-thou, but to just be beloved son or daughter of the king.


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Sweden

While I was in Denmark, I only went to Sweden once, despite it being so close to Denmark. It takes a mere 10 minutes to cross the Ørseunds Bridge to get there! I almost went a second time, in fact, the first day I came to Denmark (I almost got on the wrong train headed straight to Malmø central station, but that's another story...)

In any case, this time, the Brissons graciously invited me to accompany them to Malmø to see the opera, Carmen. I hadn't seen it before and I was REALLY excited. To top it off, we were going to eat at a traditional Swedish Bakery before the opera, so I was looking very forward to it.

Sunday morning, Maggie, Jørgen, their son David, their current host student, Ruby, and I all piled in their car. It only took us 45 minutes to get there from their house (which is outside of the city to the west of Copenhagen). Maggie made a comment at one point that it would take us longer to drive to the Copenhagen Opera because of where it is. Probably true!

In any case, we drove across the bridge and into Sweden. Really, Sweden (or at least that part) is pretty much exactly like Denmark. Flat, cold, with an occasional willowy tree here and there, but not incredibly diverse as far as terrain is concerned. The most exciting part of the journey for me, I will admit, was seeing an IKEA, IN SWEDEN. For some reason it seemed like some strange coincidence to see one there, you know, in its motherland.

Anyway, we got there, parked, and walked to the cafe. It was a Sunday, so of course, it was totally packed. Maggie guided us to the counter where we all selected a smorgasbord sandwich. These things were HUGE. I chose one with lots of baby shrimp piled high. It was garnished with Tomato, Cucumber, and Lemon. (I didn't eat the cucumber and tomato, but I did garnish the heck out of it with lemon juice). It was one of the best things I've eaten since I've been here.

Midway through our meal, one of Jørgen's colleagues from the Embassy in Mali met us to pick up some things the Brissons had for her. Perhaps this is a good time for me to tell you that Jørgen works for the Economic branch of the Danish Embassy in Mali. He lives there for about 6 weeks then comes home for a week or two. I have no idea how they do it. They are both very strong people. In any case, Jørgen's colleague, Angelique was very interesting. She was a Rwandan refugee who sought Asylum in Denmark about 10 years ago, and who ended up working for the Embassy in Mali. She's now studying for her masters, I think. In any case, she was explaining her thesis to us and it was very interesting. She has developed a model for predicting if African societies were ready for democracy. Really interesting!

Anyway, we talked and talked, and ate cake and hot chocolate. And by the end of it all, I felt like I had eaten about 3 days worth of food. It was actually quite nice to go outside and get some fresh air, even if it was FREEZING! Here I'll point out one major difference between the US and Denmark. On our way to the opera, we passed a park. It was no more than 35 degrees outside. If you were in the US, you would be hustling to get inside as soon as possible, probably. But Maggie suggested that we take a nice walk around the park (we had time). We did, and it was fantastic. David and I found a huge saucer swing and took turns pushing each other on it. We enticed Ruby to join in as well. It was fun to feel like a kid again.

After our play session, we headed into the opera. We were still VERY early, so we waited a bit. Jørgen pre-ordered our drinks for the intermission (I have never heard of such a thing, maybe it happens in the US, and I'm just ignorant of it). In any case, he pre-ordered them, and they were promised to appear on one of the lobby tables when we came out. Finally, they allowed us in the theatre, and we found our seats.

The first act was good, except the words and subtitles were in Swedish! I have never heard of such a thing before! I expected that it might be in French with Swedish subtitles, but alas, not so. It was funny hearing Swedish being squeezed into the popular tunes! In any case, we enjoyed ourselves (except David who kept getting the evil eye from a guy in front of us because he was explaining the plot to me a little too loudly during the first act). It was set in a very modern way, which helped us to understand it more.

As promised, our drinks were on the table during intermission. I had a Swedish brand cola which was good. We went back to the theatre to finish it up and something very interesting happened. Right after Carmen gets involved in the underworld with the nomads and such, that scene is depicted as being in a pole-dancing bar! The girls were covered up, but not very much! It was a surprise to see that in the opera, and I'm sure my American-ness was totally showing. Europeans in general have very little problem with nudity and sexuality, but I was totally blushing. Blame it on my raising! In any case, we finished the opera, which was completely depressing, of course, and went home! It was a really great time - I'm very glad we went.

Lots to tell about my biking adventures in Copenhagen, but that will have to wait until another day!

The (Swedish?) Adventurer!

Spring Frokost

Yesterday, Maggie and Jørgen invited their neighbors, Birgit and Selle over for a spring frokost (lunch). And it. was. incredible.

First, we all got up early and put the finishing touches on the meal - Jørgen cooked the Frikadeller (a Danish kind of meatball, but with onions, and a whole lot of other things in it - a SUPER traditional dish), Maggie put together the ingredients for an apple sauce with onion and bacon, and Ruby (their current host student) and I worked on keeping up with the dishes. Once everything was prepared, we had some time, so Maggie and I went to the grocery store.

Maggie and I decided to use the car instead of riding bikes there, since it was raining. Great! When you arrive at a Danish grocery store, you are likely to encounter less than 20 parking places for the whole store. Do keep in mind that Danish grocery stores are small - probably no bigger than a Walgreen's. In any case, most people bike to the store, making the need for parking slightly less prevalent. Anyway, when you get there and park, you go get a cart, same as we do in the US. But the catch is that you have to put in a 20 kroner coin to get it out. You slide it into a slot in the shopping cart and unhook the cart from a chain connecting it to the previous cart. The coin stays with you in the cart the whole time, and once you return it safely and reconnect it to the wire, out comes your 20kr. I'm going to be honest, I have no idea why this exists. Even if you were going to steal the cart, 20kr does not seem a significant enough investment to deter one from doing so (it's only about $4). Perhaps one of my Danish friends can elucidate here... but I digress.

Anyway, Maggie and I shopped in the store, and I noted that prices are even more expensive than they were when I lived here! Over $4 for a can of green beans!

Once we shopped, we came home, unloaded, and got ready for our fest. Birgit and Selle came over about 2:00 in the afternoon, right in the middle of a light drizzle. It was the perfect environment for hygge (coziness) all gathered around the table with some candles lit. Birgit and Selle did half of the cooking, and the Brissons, et al, did the other half. Once all was settled we got started on the first course (by the way, there were four).

The first course was a lovely smørrebrød spread. If you're unfamiliar with smørrebrød, it works something like building a house. You pick a piece of dense rye bread for the foundation. Next, you slather on some sort of binding material (usually butter) to hold the next layer on. The next layer can range from picked herring, sausage, or fried fish (what I had yesterday) to turkey or ham. Yesterday, we only had fish, though. So I picked a piece of fried fish (delicious), and added it to my bread. On top of the fish, you add a heart-clogging quantity of mayonnaise, such that the next layer (a bountiful amount of boiled small shrimp) will stick. You garnish with lemon juice and fresh herbs, if you so desire. Then you eat. With a fork and knife, because let's be honest, your sandwich is now about the height of a one story building. You NEVER put another piece of bread on top, because then it is no longer Smørrebrød, and it is now a sandwich. (Not to mention that one piece of rye bread is enough.)

The second course consisted of pork. Yes, pork. In all different forms and fashions. We had applesauce with bacon, frikadeller (pork meatballs), pork chops, and even some roasted pork with the cracklings still on (fat, fat, and more fat), and yes, you eat it all, and you LIKE it. Nom nom nom. So, that was that.

In the middle of all this is interspersed conversation and drinking, two things that generally go hand in hand for Danes. I was happy to be seated next to Selle, who speaks NO English. He gave my Danish a good run for its money, but I was able to understand about 70% of the conversation, which I was happy about. I might have sounded like a delayed kindergartner when trying to speak, but I got my ideas out eventually. Also in the mix are a series of drinking games disguised as "toasts". Every so often someone will cry "Skål!"and everyone at the table will give an appreciative nod to their snaps-glass (read: shot glass), will raise the glass, and sip politely. Repeat til everyone is sufficiently toasted, if you know what I mean.

After we have been "Stille og rolig" (still and quiet, or something similar) we had the next course. A cheese smorgasbord with different crackers. At this point, all the fat you ate earlier has now given way to the alcohol in your stomach, and you begin to feel tipsy. All the more reason to carb-load on crackers! (Our smorgasbord was particularly delicious with Swiss, Muenster, Bleu, and Brie cheeses). After this, you stille og rolig again, then have dessert. We had a delicious cake, sans cream, sugar, or butter, prepared by Maggie. It was really good.

By the time we talked, drank a copious amount of alcohol, and ate our four courses, it was 7:45PM. Let me say that I LOVE this style of living. Okay, not necessarily the engorging of oneself on food, which, by the way, Danes don't do often, but the conversation. I mean, when was the last time you went to a 6 hour lunch? It was fantastic. We talked about politics in the US and in Denmark, we talked about the differences between America and Europe, and we had a raging good time. This is what I came to Denmark for. This is what I have missed for the past three years. This is what I value. We had no superficial conversations - Birgit and Selle asked me what I did, but after that, there were no more questions like I'd find in my typical American conversation. No "so, what did you do last weekend?" The conversations had depth, and were hilarious.

My cup runneth over, and I am finally overcoming jet lag so I am going to wrap this up. It is with a warm heart (even in rainy Denmark) that I say goodnight.

-The (Danish) Adventurer

Back in Copenhagen

I have safely arrived in Copenhagen after a very un-full flight on which I still managed to not sleep, despite the two seats I had to myself. Darn you, jet lag! Nevertheless, I arrived in Copenhagen on a cloudy and snowy day - which was pretty much what I hoped for. I love the weather here. I know I'm a freak, but I'll take an overcast day over a sunny one, anytime.

So far we've accomplished everything I specifically wanted to do in Denmark - my list wasn't long. The only thing I didn't do while here the last time that I REALLY missed out on was visiting Kronborg Slot, also known as Hamlet's Castle. It is not near the city, and I never took the time to get up to Elsinore. In any case, yesterday, Jørgen (Maggie's husband), Maggie, and I trekked up there to visit. A couple of observations: I expected it to be out by itself on a peninsula. All the pictures I've seen seem to portray it as such, but it is really just an extension of Elsinore. Also, I thought, "Hey! Hamlet's Castle! Must be a big hulking thing!" Definitely not. It is, as most Danish buildings are, modest. Probably only 5-6 stories tall. The courtyard area is very large, however, and the castle is undergoing some reconstruction, so the roof has not had a chance to change over to the greenish tint that all castles, etc, have here.

In any case, I'm happy to say I went, but don't think that I will need to go again. I also fear, after hearing the story from Jørgen, that Holger Dansk is poised at any minute to come surging up from the dungeons to protect Denmark's honor. I think I'd rather not be around for that, thank you very much.

Moving back down the coast, we visited the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art, somewhere I had been before with the Brissons (Maggie & Jørgen). We had a fabulous Danish lunch buffet complete with boiled potatoes and herring. Let me also be clear that I didn't eat any herring. The last time I was here, I made it a point to try everything at least once. Suffice it to say that I tried my herring when I was here (in several forms, may I say) and cannot to this day eat it. So - Jørgen had herring, Maggie and I had pork (she is a fellow herring-fearer), and we were all happy.

We then went to look at their temporary installation, something to do with Women Deconstructionists. It was interesting, but not quite my cup of tea. These women were very brave, though, often defying social norms in the early 1900's in order to join artistic fraternities to perpetuate their art. So, that's that. The last exhibit we visited was my favorite. Massive photographs (probably twice as tall as me) had been taken of seemingly normal things. One in particular was this massive dance celebration in Pyongyang with probably 100,000 dancers in neat lines, perfectly outfitted in cheerleading uniforms (complete with pom-poms). Very surreal and disturbing to think of the cost of such an event in a country that cannot feed its population. Additionally, the photographer had a gorgeous print of a cross-country skiing event somewhere picturesque and mountainous (the Alps, perhaps?) where by the looks of it, thousands of participants were cross country skiing at once.

Yesterday was capped off by a cozy dinner and a movie. Just the kind of Friday night I like! Today promises some interesting stories as we are having a spring-frokost (spring lunch) with some of Maggie and Jørgen's neighbors. We will have all sorts of traditional Danish foods complete with the Brisson's homemade snaps (Danish liquor). Yes, Danes drink liquor at lunchtime. Sometimes I worry about my liver from my year of living here, but then I comfort myself by looking at some old Danes still racing around on bicycles well into their eighties. I figure if a lifetime of liver punishment hasn't caught up with them, then a year probably won't kill me!

In a last and unrelated note, my Danish is coming back to me. I was dejected after arriving and conversing with Maggie, as my Danish was in a bad way, but today, Maggie told me almost an entire story in Danish and I managed to keep up! Ja, Tak!

Farvel!

When life happens...

My Grandfather is dying. As I write this I sit in the living room at my grandparents' house, watching my grandpa take what may very well be his last, labored breaths. This whole dying thing is nothing new to me. I wish it wasn't the case, but I've lost a score of people throughout my life. And it never gets easier. In the past two days since, as my mom would say, "things have taken a turn for the worst", I have really been thinking a lot about the life my grandpa has lead, and what death means for us.

I think when we're younger, death is an abstract concept. Someone is here one day, then mysteriously the next they're gone. We're sad, but for reasons that we don't fully understand. It's like what is more upsetting is that we don't have a grasp on what happened, rather than the actual event. Does that make sense? I think this is why people are always seeking therapy for those traumatic events in their childhood. Because our little brains don't know how to process the pain.

Now, we're older. I'm older. And I understand. I have seen the toll that my grandfather's failing health has taken on my mom, on my uncle, on my grandmother. Death, instead of being a scary unknown will be a glorious release for my grandpa. I don't want him to go, but I don't want him to be here in pain, either. And there are so many more emotions that come with this logic. I go from sweet nostalgia to crying to laughing to silence, like I'm strapped in on some insane roller coaster. This is what death does to us. If we're smart, it makes us remember fondly all of the great times we had, all of the memories. As I sit here, looking at my sweet grandfather's face, I know that this is not how I will remember him. I'll remember him as the broad-chested strong man who held both my cousin and I, one in each arm. I'll remember him as my snowmobile instructor (and the digger-outer when I inevitably went somewhere he told me not to, and got stuck). I'm glad that I'm older. I'm glad that I have these memories - the ones that escape me from my loved ones that passed away in my childhood.

My grandfather will die. We will all die - but I think the lesson is to enjoy - as my uncle said, do something great everyday. My grandpa did a lot of great and amazing things with his life, and I can only hope to do half of the things that he did.

No time like the present

I think the funny irony of life is that one day, you feel like you'll never arrive where you want to go. The days, the hours, even those pesky minutes tick by ever so slowly, until you think you'll go mad from the waiting. Then, all at once, you wake up, and you're 25. And the world is rushing by at a frenetic pace. Your friends and acquaintances live to work, and one by one, we settle down into the predictable life.

Not that it's a bad life. There are things to be said for predictability. Predictability brings its friends stability and consistency - things that we are taught to value from infancy. But, dare I say, that predictability is a little bit...boring.

Don't mistake this post for a rant on the family life, marriage, or any such things. Some of the most adventurous people I know are parents, and married people, too. What has occurred to me lately, though, is that life is short. Too short, in fact. Life, and death, it all happens in the blink of an eye. Too many days in my life I've lived with regret, or been paralyzed by fear or indecision. Too many people I know live to work, to achieve that next promotion, to make that next sale. And, let me tell you, time is going by. Not slowly, not ebbing and flowing any longer. Time is racing by, faster, and faster, as the years go on.

What's your adventure? What do you daydream about while you're at your day job? What is it that makes you come alive? Because if you're not doing it from 9-5 there are precious few hours left in the day, in your life, to experience the fullness of life. God didn't make us to lead a boring life. God designed us for a grand adventure. Terrifying, but satisfying at once. So. Live your life. There's no time like the present.

Back to Denmark Again

This last week, I booked a flight to Copenhagen. Why? Because I wanted to! It has been very interesting being back in the US these past few years. It's so strange to think what it will be like to go back. Mostly, I'm just extremely excited. I love the people I met in Copenhagen. I had the good fortune to meet two fabulous host families and a host of young Danes who I love to this day. More than that, however, I feel in a way like I'm going home.

I was reading through my journal that I kept while I was abroad the other night. It is one of the few times I have consistently written in a journal in my whole life. What leapt off the pages for me was not the sightseeing, not the extravagant cities or nights out. What stood out to me were the people, the places, the smells. The feeling of being so outside your comfort zone that you have no choice than to absorb it. It is as if my life here in the states is so comfortable, so natural, that I almost feel as though I'm not really living. The year I spent in Copenhagen was terrifying – in the most amazing and beautiful way. I was challenged every day. Whether it was the crazy language, navigating public transportation, debating whether I had the energy to walk the extra mile (literally) to somewhere I wanted to go, or spending 2 hours in the grocery store looking for a specific ingredient, I was forced into action.

So often in my life now, I feel like I'm performing some skill from memory. All of the training, and raising that happened in my earlier years is a song that I'm proficiently singing. But, I've been thinking a lot lately. Is proficiency what I'm striving for? So many people don't understand the year I spent abroad. They get a glazed over look when I talk about it, or worse, say “Why would you ever want to leave the US? We have everything we need here!” It is probably true, but I don't want everything I need. I want everything that is out there – and the reality is that is so much more than what awaits me outside my front door.

I want adventure in the great wide somewhere...

One of the most troublesome things about living abroad (that I will assure you they didn't tell me in the brochure) is that once you start traveling, stopping is nearly impossible. My daydreams mostly consist of itineraries, flights, hotels, and most of all, adventure.

An adventure I've been dying to have for quite some time is a volunteering-vacation. I did a bunch of research on this a couple of years ago, and found that Habitat for Humanity does Global Village trips. Habitat, if you're unfamiliar, exists to provide decent housing throughout the US and the world. They build in countries on almost every continent, often using local materials and techniques.

I've thought about several different countries ranging from China to Malaysia to Kenya, Uganda, and Egypt, but nothing has ever felt right (and fit with my schedule). I was perusing the website today, however, and found that Habitat is doing a blitz-build in Nepal next October. I looked at a Nepal trip this year, but it didn't work with my schedule. Next October, though, is totally a potential option.

Nepal is interesting to me for several reasons. First and foremost, I'm totally into traveling off the beaten path, and Nepal doesn't seem like somewhere I'd ever go on my own. Additionally, this trip is only 8 days, as opposed to the typical 10-14 that Habitat does on most of its other trips. This will help my lack of vacation days at work, too! Additionally about Nepal - I have read a lot blogs written by people who have traveled in the country and they are nothing but glowing. I think Nepal may be one of the few places where the true local culture hasn't gotten too polluted by tourism. I'm into that. A Global Village trip is a perfect way to get to meet local people and absorb some more of the culture - without being suffocated by tourist traps.

One other thing: I think I want to do this trip solo. It terrifies and excites me at the same time, but one of the things I loved the most about living in Copenhagen is that I was totally on my own. I think I grew and stretched more as a person because I had very few comforts to fall back on. I really absorbed the culture. I know this idea probably gives my parents the cold sweats, so we'll move on (for now)!

We'll see how this all turns out, but I'm hoping that it will all work out!

#Kidmin

I never understood twitter. I have been (and I will confess, still am) a loyal facebooker. But, recently, I've made some job changes that have submerged me right in the heart of twitter. All of my colleagues tweet, the people I look up to in my field tweet, and so now, I tweet, too. Okay, really, I tweet-stalk more than doing actual tweeting, but I digress.

I say all of this to tell you that I've been reading a lot of tweets that end in #Kidmin lately. For all of you non-tweeting folks (a hearty voice of non-judgment here), or for you folks who are wondering what the heck Kidmin is, allow me to explain.

I have started a new position at my church. Kidmin. It's shorthand for Kids Ministry, which in my case translates to Elementary Ministry. First, let me tell you that I never, not in a million years, thought I'd be working with Elementary schoolers. In fact, when I moved to Houston just over a year ago, I thought I might go "up" an age group from Middle and High School to college or young adult ministry. How mistaken I was.

Through a series of very interesting and totally God-inspired changes, I have inherited the Elementary Ministry at our church from one of my friends and heroes in the faith. And it is terrifying. And Amazing. And beautifully messy. And I love it. There, I said it.

I think that "us youth people" have always had some sort of stigma attached to Children's Ministry. Many people would say that it's the fluffy, feel-good ministry of the church with lots of kissing babies and runny noses, but very little content. I will admit, that I have been guilty of this line of thinking in the past. My current church, while fraught with kissings of babies and runnings of noses, is definitely not without content. In fact, my church is so jam-packed with content, it's practically exploding.

See, what I've learned in just a few short weeks, is that our kids know that they can trust God no matter what. Our kids know that they need to make the wise choice. Our kids know that they need to treat others the way they want to be treated. And these lessons aren't intuitive. As much as I'd love to tell you that our "church kids" come out knowing these truths, it isn't the case. They have been taught, and modeled, and shown how to live these truths out in their lives by a team of devoted and amazing leaders and parents. This ministry isn't shallow. Just because we play games with cotton balls and paper bags doesn't mean that kids aren't connecting with the message. It just means that we are helping kids connect with the message in a creative way.

And that is something I never understood until I saw it firsthand. I see kids on Sunday morning yelling at the top of their lungs, but they're yelling praises to God. I see kids every Sunday morning running around like maniacs, but they're running to their Sunday School classrooms. I see kids hugging the best friend they made in their small group. And I know that #kidmin makes a difference. And that I can make a difference, too. Though it is scary, and most of the time I feel like I have so much to learn, these kids are changing my life.

June (August?) Gloom...

I almost started writing a post on how I have a lady-crush on Laura Bush. It's been a long week.

There is a phrase in California called "June Gloom". It is the time of the year where it should be sunny out, but instead is overcast and cool. This is most distressing to Californians. While you're supposed to be out surfing and tanning and doing California things, the weather forces you to wear jackets and scarves and pursue indoor activities.

I think I'm having a bit of an August gloom. I totally can't stand those debbie-downer people, so we're going to try and make this an anomaly in my blog, but I just have to comment on my current state of mind. In youth ministry, the summer is go time. You're hyping up for mission trips, hanging out with kids, eating way too much sugar and pizza, and staying up much too late. Then, all of the sudden, the snarling church calendar gets ahold of you and the fall makes itself known. Your life is no longer consumed by trips and kids and fun. Instead, you enter what I like to call planning mode.

This mode for me consists of about 98% procrastination and 2% fear and loathing. I procrastinate on doing my tasks (which HAVE to be done) while I fear and loathe them, simultaneously. It is really a vicious circle. Right now. I'm deep in the throes of this August gloom of which I am speaking. There are dates to think about, vacations to get on the calendar, events to plan for, and visions to cast for the upcoming year. But, sadly, my motivation is at an all-time low.

Every day is a new adventure?
I believe it sometimes.
Until next time.
...your (sometimes) adventurer.

One Year

Today would have been my one year wedding anniversary. This feels strange and foreign to type, because as many know, I didn't get married. I have used this example over and over again, but it seems the most accurate. It was as if I was heading with blinders on down a path with its own unique dreams and desires and one day, like warp speed, my life was completely transported to another different reality with different characters, places, and faces. It is within this new life that I have had to come up with new dreams and new desires.

This past year was supposed to be the year I loved intensely. The year I got to know myself as a married person, and got to know my husband as the one who has committed to love me for life. It didn't turn out just like I wished it would, but this year has arguably gone on with its intense love. While the rest of me was figuring out the logistics, my heart just kept on. Loving.

This year, I have received love. From my parents, who from day one supported and cared for me in a way I have never experienced. To call over 250 people, explain that the wedding was off was a gift that I am just now understanding the magnitude of. From my cousin/best friend/other/sister Sara who let me cry, who put up with my horrible bitterness, feelings of desolation, small victories, large battles, and who helped me settle into this new reality. I can truly say that if Sara hadn't been in my life this past year, I would be a fundamentally different person, and it wouldn't be better.

This year, I have found new love. I started teaching skating and working at a church with people who are following passionately after Jesus. I discovered that 30 minutes on the ice with a 7 year old can be the highlight of my week, and that I have to choose joy every day. The small things are what have come to define my new normal. These small nothings have come to mean so much more to me than so many somethings.

This year, I have given love. I have met new people, reconnected with old friends, and have rejoiced in the fact that even in my brokenness, there exists love that can pour out onto others.

This year could have been a disaster. And, in some ways it was. I decided I was in the business of praying risky prayers quite some time ago, and it has always been my prayer for God to wreck me. To break me of the things I cling to, of the things that are of me. There have been many times this year where I have felt that pieces of myself were being unwillingly wrenched from me. And they have. I believe that some things, as in a refinery, must be painfully separated by fire. But in the midst of this has come immense restoration and healing.

This year, most of all, I have experienced the love of God, my father. I have never been so angry with God in all my life than I have in the past 365 days. Mostly for taking away what I so deeply desired. I have never experienced the father-heart of God more than in the past year where He allowed me time and space to yell and scream and cry and question why this happened. Like a good dad, He continues to ask me to come back.

So, maybe the year didn't go as I planned. But, I have found love and given love, and received love. And that is, after all, all that I ever asked for.

Why I'm a blogging failure/skating debacles

See, I do like to blog. A lot, actually. There are many times where I'll sit and ponder something and think to myself, "that would make a great blog!" Unfortunately, I hardly ever take the time to sit down and write about it. I'm starting up again. Who knows what I'll write about. I have an affinity for CNN, Jesus, Figure Skating, and Travel, not necessarily in that order. So, I'd expect to see some of everything here. If that stresses you out, no worries! There are many other amazing blogs out on the web for you to peruse.

Ok, so figure skating. If you don't know me, you may not be aware that I coach figure skating both in class settings and privately. It's a raging good time, and an even better time for good story observation. Kids, truly, say the darndest things, (especially when they think they're falling to their death). I think the surest way to win over a blogging audience is with a clever anecdote, so I'll share some of my favorites with you.

I teach a class of 3-5 year olds. Once your laughing has subsided, continue. Yes, a 3 year old can theoretically skate. In my class of 3-5 year olds, I pretty frequently get these situations

Miss Whitney, I have to peeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! (Cue pee dance, on ice skates) with or without 3 year old speech impediments. Usually includes falling, rarely crying.

MissWhitneytodayIwenttotherodeoandsawahugecowwithbighornsyesterdayIwenttoabirthdaypartyyourscarfisredwhyamIhere? Also known as diarrhea of the mouth. I love 'em, but social conventions, and normal conversational patterns don't apply here. Can I mention that my students are extremely talented at skating while performing this feat? Because they are.

Refusal to cooperate and/or appear conscious. This most often happens when the little tyke has absolutely no desire to skate whatsoever, and is being groomed to pursue mom or dad's unfulfilled olympic ambitions. The conversation will go something like this

Me: "Come on, little tyke! (Names changed for their protection) You can do it! March your feet!" (In a voice 3 octaves higher than normal and with the pep of a whole cheering squad)

Little Tyke: Blank Stare

Me: "Don't you want to go to the pool? Let's take our animal to the swimming pool!" (We use little stuffed animals and take them to the blue ice painted for hockey goals, ie, swimming)

Little Tyke: Blank Stare

Me: Gesticulating wildly "See! Ms. Whitney wants to go the pool! Come on, Buddy! Why don't you come with me?"

Little Tyke: Stare communicating the following: you are the dumbest person on this planet, and I am totally manipulating you to look like a complete idiot.

Mom of Little Tyke (standing at the glass barrier): Violent pointing and lip-synching threats.

Little Tyke: Resigned sigh, skates across the ice like a champ.

I also teach big people, and this story is something that actually happened today. I teach classes with the most fabulous high school aged assistant ON THIS PLANET. I swear, I would trust her with my class any day. Anyway, today we're teaching kids how to do backward crossovers, and I literally, I swear to you, not 30 seconds before said to them, "make sure you look over your back shoulder to make sure you don't hit your friends!" (everyone is friends in my class, whether they like it or not). So there I am, standing there, happy as a clam when my dutiful assistant, demonstrating the move to our class smacks into me while skating backwards. And not looking behind her. I wildly flail my arms (a no-no in my class) while doing my best cupid shuffle rendition to attempt to stay on my feet. Did I mention that I was in the direct center of the rink with an audience of about 40 parents? Ha. Because I was. Fortunately, this is not my first rodeo, nor hers, so we explained to the students (who were laughing uncontrollably) that we were merely demonstrating what NOT to do! They didn't buy it, but we provided some great entertainment for the gaggle of parents trying to conceal their laughter. Hey. At least I have fun at my job.

Well, so long for now. Another day, another adventure.
Whitney

Muslims in the West

The year I spent in Copenhagen, I unintentionally learned more than I ever thought I could on the Muslim experience in the West. Through several of my courses, the topic of the "great Muslim migration" from the Middle East and Africa was the main focus. It was, I will admit, an entirely new experience for me. It often struck me as funny that an American girl, from what is supposed to be one of the most diverse countries in the world had to go to Denmark to learn about and encounter Muslims. But, such is the world, I suppose.

I remember being very surprised by the amount of head-scarf wearing I saw in Denmark. Why, I couldn't think of a time I had seen a woman in the US wearing the hijab or niqab. All of this became clear to me once I started to study the Muslim experience in Europe a little further. As a disclaimer, I'm not trying to make any blanket statements here about what does or doesn't cause radicalism or extremism. That is far too complex of a topic. What I will say, however, is that it became clear to me that the majority of Muslims (in Denmark) feel very persecuted and marginalized. Those who are the most successful are the ones who learn Danish quickly, who get a good job, and who appear as Danish in look and custom as possible. What has unfortunately happened in Denmark is the prevalence of a growing right-wing, nationalistic movement. As a result of this movement, the already xenophobic Danes have become more and more inward-looking. And what they have seen are people who don't look like them.

There has been a correlation made between the amount of persecution in a society and the level of religious fundamentalism that comes out of it. If you're interested, you can read Ian Buruma's book "Murder in Amsterdam" for a picture of what I'm talking about. Let me be clear - Religious fundamentalism will be present in any society. What is different about what Denmark is experiencing is the underlying cause of this fundamentalist turn. Denmark has instituted many policies over the past few years that severely limit immigration, asylum, and refugee freedoms within its borders. The Danish language has been elevated to a status higher than God. In order to achieve salvation in Danish society, you must fit into the Danish cookie cutter mold - and that is one that doesn't wear a headscarf, and doesn't speak Arabic.

Back to my comment about not having seen head scarf wearing in the US. I, arrogantly, thought that this must mean that Americans are more open to religious diversity, therefore our minority religions don't feel as persecuted as they do in Denmark, therefore they don't feel the need to retreat to fundamentalist traditions. This, as I learned, is not the case. I have been thinking a lot about this issue lately, especially with the Mosque debacle that has been raging in New York City. I, as an American, can safely say that I am concerned about where our country is heading.

I am concerned that we are becoming more and more xenophobic. Thank the recession, thank the right, thank whoever you may, but I believe that we are experiencing something very similar to what has happened in Denmark in the past. Our heavy-handed disapproval of those from different backgrounds is not only inappropriate, it is un-American. We are not talking about illegal immigrants, we are not talking about those not paying into our system. We are talking about people who are here legally, working diligently. And we are denying these people the privilege and freedom to practice their religion. I have full freedom to practice my religion here, but somehow, because nineteen hijackers spewed out hate on September 11, the 2,500,000 people living here practicing Islam are persecuted. How is that fair?

I just moved to Houston, and this morning I saw a woman returning to our apartment complex this morning from a walk. She was wearing a Susan G. Komen walk for the cure T-Shirt. And a headscarf. And I thought to myself, how much ridicule will this woman have to take on in her daily life? How many people will curse at her and tell her she isn't worthy to be here? How many times will she have to hear she is nothing before a hate and resentment of this country starts to brew under the surface? When it does, we will have nobody to blame but ourselves.

Confidence

What a word. Everywhere we look today we see billboards imploring us to feel and look confident, we constantly hear from the media how we are to be strong, dominant, and aggressive in order to be perceived as confident, and in fact, in resumés, this keyword is one of the most frequently used self-decriptors. For who wants to appear that they have a lack of confidence? You would never see as the opening line in a cover letter "My name is so-and-so, I am the VP of a very successful company, have consistently achieved above average results, I am dependable, reliable, but I have confidence issues". No way! We all want to appear like we have it together, even though many of us, myself included still don't have a decent grasp on what true confidence is.

I've been thinking a lot about this issue lately, and it has been coming up in many different forms, through conversations with friends and things I've been reading. A question was posed to me by a good friend a couple of weeks ago, and at the time, I had no good answer. She mentioned to me that her confidence, the confidence that seemed so strong in her younger years, had simply evaporated in recent years. She asked me how we, as twenty-somethings, could regain this confidence. I, coincidentally, had been feeling this exact same thing. We lamented about the loss of our "boldness", our feelings of inadequacy, and our total inability to be assertive and blunt like we had been when we were younger.

After thinking about this more, I came to a very interesting conclusion. At first, I thought, Gee, I miss this confidence. It enabled me to say and do things without regard to how it would be perceived. It enabled me to go places and do things that others thought crazy. It allowed me to speak my mind, and to not worry about the reception. When I first started thinking about this, I will admit, I quietly mourned those days. Any friend of mine (especially older friends) would likely testify that I have been a very direct, forward, un-shy person who will absolutely not stay away from sharing my opinion. While this is true about my younger self, my older self has a certain aversion to these qualities. As I pondered this, something hit me like a ton of bricks.

In the Bible, there is a story about two men who each build a house. As I'm sure you know, one builds his house on the soft sand, and the other builds his house on the rock. When storms come barreling towards the two homes, of course, the one who built his house on the rock still has a house, however battered, at the end of the day. The foolish man, however, whose house was built on the sand has nothing but bits of plywood and nails to show for it (PS, this is the Whitney translation... if you'd like the original version, you can find it in Matthew 7.) The moral here is that I used to think this story referred ONLY to the message of salvation. Follow Jesus, and your house will stand, don't and it will collapse. As I think more about this, though, I have begun to see how this story is applicable in so many areas of life.

One such area is this exact topic. Confidence. The confidence I mourned, the confidence of my younger years is just that, an immature, young confidence. As I have thought more about it, I really delved deep into where this so-called confidence came from. What I found was a very ugly portrayal of my deepest sins. The "confidence" I had was based on judgment, hypocrisy, and on my OWN understanding of the world and the things in it. I was confident, alright, but I was confident for the wrong reasons. I would look at someone else and start to mentally pick them apart. I would hear someone's accomplishments, and instead of congratulating them, I would try to one-up them. I would see someone's achievements and goals and I would push myself to the absolute brink to beat them and to achieve better results. Of course I felt great on the surface. People congratulated me for my awards, I had immense pride in my abilities. But, you know what they say... pride comes before the fall.

Somehow, as I've grown older, I have realized that I was like the foolish man who built his house on the sand. I had built my confidence entirely on two very shaky principles. The first, and most dangerous, was my own self-understanding. I had a go-getter attitude that told me that I could handle my own issues myself. The second problem was that I used other people to feel good about myself. Maybe not directly, but certainly mentally. This instilled in me an immense bitterness toward others, a tendency to belittle or make light of others' opinions and wreaked and is still wreaking havoc on my relationships.

For a long time, I identified these negative qualities in myself, but had no idea where the root was. In realizing these issues and dealing with them, I always said to myself "at least you still have confidence". What the Lord has been teaching me so much lately, though, is that the more I chip away at the foundation of this immature "confidence", the less secure the confident appearance on top is. It is like an immense rock, balancing on a miniscule pedestal that is threatening to collapse at any moment. I feel less confident at this moment in my life than I ever have. And I think it's healthy. I would rather feel totally unconfident, as long as I am leaning on the Lord, than have all the confidence in the world, leaning on and using other people. It is as simple as that. I have total faith, however, that through my brokenness the Lord will pick up the pieces and instill in me the confidence I desire. If I have pure motivations and intentions, I fully believe that I will be able to gain the right kind of confidence, one built from the ground up, steadily and with intention, rather than the kind of my past - one where I haphazardly constructed the facade of my confidence and worked desperately to support it from the bottom through my own limited abilities.

"This is Lovely"

Today was really one of my least favorite days I've had in a while. Prior to about 5:00, I would have told you that I was becoming a cave woman and moving to Madagascar, where I didn't have to bother with interacting with anybody but me, myself and I. This option seems very appealing to me on days like today, where I am forced to contend with work drama, relational issues, miscommunications, issues to be resolved, embarrassment in front of a group of people, emotional rollercoasters, and a general feeling of inadequacy and disappointment. Sounds like a lot - and it is. The fact that I process things emotionally also wasn't helped by my extremely full schedule. I went from one meeting to another to another, and over the day, things built up to a very, very dangerous level (hence the Madagascar talk). It is on days like these that I really get down. I get in a funk, and I can't seem to see the silver lining in any situation, get easily frustrated, feel inadequate, and generally need a good sleep to reset myself and start over again.

Today was no exception. I came home from work, ate a couple of leftover potstickers, and immediately headed to my other job, nannying. This job is really hit or miss as far as the kids go. Some days, they're perfect, fun, and mind me. On other days, they are crazy, restless, stubborn, and that's just the beginning. As I walked the brief distance to their house, I began pondering what kind of day I was about to have. My mind immediately led me to the worst assumption, and I entered the house ready for a battle. What happened next didn't disappoint. The boy, age 7, was throwing a gargantuan fit about not doing his 15 minutes of required reading. It was suggested that he could read to me out loud to satisfy this portion of the homework. I begrudgingly agreed, and we sat down on the couch together as he read. Every thirty seconds he asked how much longer he had, but as I listened to his adorable lisp-accented, second grade pronunciations (correcting only so often) something changed. I saw him smile as he read through the funny parts of the book, and watched as he reveled in his correct pronunciation of the word 'exceptionally'. I suddenly wasn't thinking about my horrible day, but was enjoying time with him.

Later on, after he and his grandmother went to boy scouts, I took his sweet sister to the park. As we walked, hand-in-hand, I began to see the world as she did. She pointed out cars that look like her mommy's car, told me that we needed to look both ways before we crossed the street, and spun in excited, 5 year old circles once we finally got to the park. She and I went on the swings, played on the playground, but eventually laid down on the rubberized bridge suspended between two parts of the play structure. As we laid there, pointing out things we saw, and learning the colors in Spanish, she said something that I thought was remarkable. She reached over, grabbed my hand, and said simply, "This is Lovely". I looked at her, and saw smiles ear to ear and a glint in her eye. It was at this moment that I realized... kids are profound. I mean, I have been aware of this before, but I often lose sight of it or simplify it due to my adult self-importance. What I re-learned in the moment is that those moments are precious-she has no worries at all. Nevermind that her mother abandoned she and her brother when they were younger, only visiting occasionally, nevermind that she is being raised by (fabulous) grandparents who can't physically do everything they wish they could, nevermind that she has seen more in her short lifetime than many adults have encountered in theirs. At that moment, the azul sky, cool breeze in her hair, and the moment to relax were enough for her, and they were for me, too.

Taking time to hear the music

Do you ever have days where you feel like life, or God or whatever you believe in is trying to tell you something? I had lunch today with a sweet friend, one who I like more and more every time we spend together. She and I got into a discussion about patience, and that led us into a conversation about appreciating the now - for truthfully, it is really all we have. As much as both she and I are forward-looking, planned out people, we identified that these traits sometimes create dissatisfaction in our lives. Now, I'm not suggesting that we should entirely block out the idea of the future, or that we should only focus on this very moment at all. What I would argue, however, is that we place so little emphasis on the NOW. We spend months planning vacations, and once we get there, all we can think about is the next thing. Where will we go next? What is waiting at home? What kind of work will I have to make up once I return? This kind of flawed thinking breeds discontentment. No matter how great, how sweet, how perfect a moment is, we as people fundamentally look for the next best thing. Perhaps this is our way of dealing with an uncertain present. It is certainly easier to imagine a future in our minds, one that we seemingly have unlimited control over - why else would we escape the living, breathing moments right in front of us?

I saw a post on somebody's facebook today, and finding myself with a few extra minutes to spare, I decided to check it out. It is an experiment done by the Washington Post that centers in a way around this exact question. What they did was approach one of the greatest violinists of our time, one who plays a 3.5 million dollar Stradivarius violin, (incidentally enough considered one of the most perfect violins ever crafted), and ask him to take part in a social experiment. They placed this guy in the entrance of a DC metro station. Dressed simply and with an open violin case, he played some of the most technically challenging and beautiful violin pieces ever written- and the newspaper placed a hidden camera to see what people would do. Although the music was beautiful (they included samples) hardly ANYBODY stopped and listened. The paper was clever enough to stop people after they walked out of sight and ask them why they didn't stop, and the majority of people said that they were either a) too busy, or b) didn't even notice. They didn't EVEN NOTICE! Maybe I'm biased because I'm a music appreciator, but I found this appalling.

Hold on a second, Whitney. I began to reminisce back to experiences that I have had in the past with street musicians, and I find in myself, gasp!, a hypocrite. I remember really vividly being in London and Paris this past year, and walking past countless street musicians with not an appreciation of their (sometimes present) musical prowess, but rather a suspicion that I was about to be mugged, by a weapon cleverly disguised as a guitar or ukelele. I even remember being back in London in March for my second go-round and seeing that the city had cleverly placed half-circle 4 foot in diameter stickers in strategically placed locations in the underground with the explanation that these half-circles were indeed occupied by legitimate street musicians who had registered with the transportation authority. A digression... only in London would one find such ultra-organization for such a seemingly insignificant issue. Even then, with these circles designated for musicianship, never did I pause to appreciate what i was hearing. In all of my times passing street musicians, and even the times that the musicians came to me (an accordion player plunking out La Vie En Rose on a Parisian metro train comes to mind), I never appreciated them. I think this was most often out of fear, or busyness. I was simply too scared or too self-involved to take time to marvel at their music.

I think that this is such a great metaphor for life and how we devalue the things that truthfully, probably bring us the most pleasure, and how we overvalue intangibles that we may never attain. The next time I pass a street musician (assuming they're good!), see an amazing sunset, cast my eyes past a beautiful starscape, or walk past a garden, I promise myself to pause and enjoy the moment. I can worry about the meeting with a parent of a Junior High student and how I might get fired for letting kids smack each other with pool noodles, I can think about tomorrow, and all of the excitements, challenges and issues that will be brought, I can even think about where I'll be in ten or fifteen years. But in the end, I promise myself that I will take time to appreciate the now, because it really is all anybody has.