He Fills Our Hearts

Today was neat! Lunch at the school was great. After which, I came home and slept for… I don’t even know how long. And then we ate food! After dinner, we attempted to clean up, and somehow clean up became a massive wrestling match with all 5 of us kids. It was so much fun!

After the kitchen was clean my older cousin, little brother and sister got ready to go to a highschoolers’ lock-in at my cousin’s school. Once they were all ready, they left the apartment to go to the school and… stay awake all night.

My youngest cousin isn’t quite at the highschool age, so he had to stay here at the house. I’d stayed up really late the night before, and as fun as I am when I don’t sleep, I figured it’d be more beneficial to myself and to the rest of humanity if I stayed and actually went to sleep at some point in the night. Also, I’ve missed my cousin! And I figured that we might as well have a lock-in of our own! Even though I figured we’d end up sleeping. But sleep is beautiful. So that was okay with me.

We were just going to watch a movie with my aunt and uncle. It was some alien movie… But before we could watch it, we had to let it download, (we bought the movie on iTunes). I had a couple of e-mails that I wanted to reply to. My cousin was killing people on the Playstation with the new games my brother had given him, so I pulled out the laptop and began to type. A friend had sent me a link to a funny video on Youtube, and after I’d watched it, a link popped up to see the Miss America pageant from when Miss South Carolina gave her famous, “Like, such as” speech. I pulled out my earphones, and my aunt came over to watch it too. She leaned on the couch and laughed. A lot. My cousin had finished his game. So, he came over and sat next to me on the couch… and he laughed! A lot! We all laughed. A lot. I’m sure Jesus was so proud of us…

Well, after that my cousin and I spent a good long time watching various videos that showed… uh… “special” people… It was funny. And then he showed me these videos of people who are insanely good at playing basketball… er—really just throwing the basketball from unrealistically difficult places. It was so cool! Then we went from that, to me continuing my typing, and him playing his game on the iPad, connected by a shared pair of earphones. I played some of my favorite music, and we just kind of sat like that for a while. Occasionally we’d sway in unison to the music, and once or twice I pulled a sarcastic life lesson from the lyrics that we were both only half-listening to.

After a bit, the movie downloaded fully, and we started it. The movie was “Darkest Hour” and to be honest, it… it was... kind of… stupid.

But anyway, I sat on the couch and my cousin laid down, leaning against me. I spent most of the movie completely ruining his hairdo. By the time I was done playing with his hair, he looked like he’d stuck his finger in a socket. Twice.

The movie ended, and we lost my aunt and uncle to the depths of sleep. My cousin and I returned to sharing earphones, showing one another some of our favorite songs. Right now, he’s sitting next to me, playing a game on his iPad while I write…

And just a minute ago, it hit me. I would not choose to be anywhere else but right here in this moment with him…. Tonight will be a night that I hold very closely in my heart. Wrestling with my siblings and cousins in-between cleaning dishes, and then spending hours with my, “Little Buddy”, doing nothing more than sitting next to each other, watching movies and playing music…

See, these nights, these moments… they’re the things that really mean the world to me. They’re the moments that I love. The moments where I can simply… be, with the ones who make my world what it is! I love my cousins. I love them so much. And right now, sitting here with my Buddy at my side, life is… perfect.

I hope that I will never forget to cherish these moments. I hope that I’ll learn how to love them more deeply! And I hope I’ll learn how to notice everyday moments that could be turned into lifelong memories.

I hope I’ll always want to keep my loved ones close, and that a couch and a little bit of music with someone I love will always be something that fills my heart, and turns my mind to the goodness of God.

You see, He gave me this moment. He gave me tonight. And words cannot express how thankful I am that He does give me nights like tonight.

He truly does know the desires of our hearts. He knows our hearts, and He knows how to fill them… And He does fill them. Sometimes through a kind word from a stranger, sometimes through a feeling that He gives you, just to let you know He’s there, and sometimes… Sometimes through a shared pair of earphones with your Little Buddy at your side…

And the Culture is Still Shocking...

So, during the past couple of days I’ve picked up on a few other… oddities of this part of the world. If you wish to read them, then enjoy! If not, then I’m sure you could find something more productive to do…

The other day was extremely special. We spent most of our time outside either walking or riding in one of the many forms of public transportation. It still freaks me out when I’m walking down the street and a group of people starts talking near me. Not because they’re talking, (I’m from America, for goodness sake. Talking happens to be one of the abilities that my entire nation has mastered quite well…) but I still haven’t gotten used to the fact that people can have whole conversations with words that are not in the English language. So, they sound like a group of babbling crazy people. Until I remember that the babbles actually mean something to them. But, they mean nothing to me. So it’s confusing.

One day, while walking, (naturally) there was a man on the street rolling a marijuana cigarette. In broad daylight! See, in America, rolling marijuana is a little thing called… illegal…But no, not here! Here it is perfectly fine…

Oh, there was also a Marijuana March one day! To legalize the selling of it. See, they can’t sell it or buy it, (those things are still illegal—even over here) but they can grow it and smoke it! I think it’s a weird way to set up the laws, but... no one asked me. So anyway, for some reason the people, who were already high on the marijuana they’d grown themselves, thought they should march through the streets, blocking traffic and filling the air with the smell of their lovely pastime, to proclaim to the government that they were responsible enough to handle selling and buying the drug… I’m sure it worked out in their favor…

Oh! On the same day as the High-walkers there was a zombie march! This was a completely pointless march where people dressed up as un-dead dead people, oozed fake blood from their eyes and lips, groaned, and spent hours walking through the streets (it was in a different section of the city). That was fun. Especially when the Zombies felt like scaring you, because their attempts at terror basically consisted of growling and hissing. So they gave the impression of large, bleeding cats in need of a major attitude adjustment…

Oh goodness, what else… I know! One time I was sitting on the subway, my little sister was next to me, and a lady got on and decided to sit across from us. She had 3 piercings in her ears, and a gage in her earlobe, her earlobes stretched to almost the middle of her neck. Her nose was pierced, and her eyebrows too. She had a piercing on either side of her mouth, and one in the middle, below her nose and above her lip. She had a lip ring as well. But, something I’d never seen before was the studs that she had in her chest. She had two piercings, one right in the middle of her collarbone, and one about 2 inches below it, and they were just studs sticking out of her skin! I had no idea how she’d managed to get those piercings, but… there they were! Just sitting there, in her chest! It was very special.

The amount of public displays of affection is really surprising; kissing, leaning into one another, walking with their hands on each other’s rears, leaning against buildings and having… a moment. It’s really strange! And the most awkward thing that I’ve found is this: When a couple is making out, they’re very much into it, and you make the mistake of glancing over, sometimes one of them will look up and just stare at you. They won’t stop having their moment! Oh no, they just continue on, while staring you down with this completely blank stare. It is the creepiest thing I’ve ever experienced!!

And the blank stare isn’t exclusive to the “Those who are making out” group either! The population here is the most expressionless group of people I have ever seen! It’s like an art! “How little emotion can you show throughout the day”. They are like stone walls walking through life. I know they feel, think, and talk (occasionally) but you wouldn’t know it to watch their faces. Their expressions are practically nonexistent.

And the most shocking thing happened just the other day:

We were at Burger King, (yeah, they have that here!) And my cousin had his foot up on the booth. He’d just gotten back from a camping trip, and he had ‘Tired’ written all over his sunburned face. Well, one of the Burger King employees did not like the fact that he had his foot up, so she walked over, stood in front of him, stared at him and moved her finger in a motion to put his foot down. She then spoke a few irritated words that I could not understand, and walked away. When she happened to walk by again, my uncle started to say to her that my cousin was just a kid, that we were her guests, but she would have none of it! She just argued with him! It was crazy!

That would never happen in America. Ever.

I went with my cousins and their friends to see “The Avengers” at the theater. It was in English! I’ve gotten to the point now where anything English excites me, be it a sign or a movie or just a random person speaking it! There were subtitles for those in the theater that couldn’t speak English. But, when I got my ticket, I realized that they actually assign you your seating. The theater hands you a ticket with a seat number on it! It was so odd… American theaters give you the choice to sit wherever your butt so desires! But not here… There weren’t many people in the theater though, so I sat where I wanted. Because I’m a rebellious American…

And finally, the money freaks me out. When someone hands me a bill, and it has a “200” on it, I think to myself, “Okay, you just handed me 200 dollars. You’re crazy. And I’m rich.” Then I find out that in American dollars, the bill is only worth about 11 dollars. When I buy a hamburger, and it costs “127.00 crowns” it confuses me! Because no hamburger is worth 127 dollars! Especially not one from McDonalds! But then I realize that it’s only about a few dollars in American money. It’s so confusing…

Beautiful Scars

Yesterday was really great.

I met several of my cousins’ friends. I went to their youth group, and their worship band played several songs that I hadn’t heard in years.

It was a little warm outside and since I knew we’d be walking a lot and we’d be standing in super crowded buses and trams throughout the day, I acted upon my aunt’s suggestion and wore shorts.

I really dislike wearing shorts. I really, really dislike wearing shorts… I get tired of looking at my legs.

I know that sounds weird, but I have scars on my legs. And I just get sick of looking down and seeing them.

I know most everyone has a scar or two. It’s not an uncommon thing; but… they aren’t pretty. They never will be! They tell of stories, situations, and things I’ve experienced in my life. They will never go away. They’ll always be right there, in the same places, waiting for me to glance down. They’ll always be there. Always.

See, I’ve come to know several things about scars:

You aren’t born with them.

They always have a story.

The story is always unique.

The story is always one of pain.

And somehow the scar makes the person even more unique than they were before.

My scars define the real difference between my legs and anyone else’s. No one’s knees or ankles will look quite like mine, because they haven’t gone through the experiences that I have. My scars help to define… me.

I think that’s the way it works in life too.

It’s a concept I’ve been thinking about for a while, and after spending an entire day trying to ignore the scars on my own body, I decided I’d finalize the thoughts and lay them to rest in my own mind.

Life hurts.

We were born innocent, soft, and completely ignorant of pain, heartache, and the evils we’ll encounter in this world. Then we started to live, we started to grow, and in growing we started to experience life. We came to find that it hurts. Before we knew it we were being tossed around and somehow in someway life jabbed at our hearts, made us bleed, and left behind a trail of scars.

Everyone has scars.

Each of those scars has a story.

Each of those stories is unique.

Each of them is a story of pain.

And each scar has helped to mold the person into who they are today.

Another weird thing about bodily scars is the tissue they’re made up of. Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue. Yeah, scars are ugly to look at, but they’re made up of strong stuff! I think that’s the way scars in our lives work too. Their stories are typically deep, painful and personal. They are usually ugly marks left over from harsh times in our lives. But because of them, we’re stronger… We’re so much stronger…

When we were little, before we ever hurt ourselves too badly, the littlest scrape would cause us to dissolve into tears. A little blood, and that was it! We needed help right then. Mommy had to drop everything and kiss our boo-boos, bandage our scrapes, assure us that we weren’t dying, and listen to us whine about how much it hurt. But then as we got older, we learned what it meant to really feel pain. We began handling the tiny scrapes with ease; sometimes not even noticing they’d made an appearance until the pain was gone and they’d scabbed over nicely! The things that deserved attention continued getting it, and the things that did not need to be fussed over were left alone. We grew stronger, and through our newfound strength and understanding, began to react to pain in a healthy way.

(Yeah, I’m going to use that paragraph to make some sort of analogy for the pain in our lives. You should be getting used to this by now, so you really shouldn’t be surprised…You know, incase if you were planning on being surprised, I just figured I’d tell you that it’s an unnecessary reaction.)

Life makes scars, but it’s full of tiny scrapes too! Bad days, irritating people, temptations to sin, and so much more! We have the ability to blow them up into gigantic problems, just like when we were little, we’d blow our tiny scrapes up into big deals. But after life picks us up and throws us around a little bit, we begin to be able to choose our battles. We begin to be able to brush things off. We begin to act with maturity, mercy and grace. We acquire the ability to ignore the tiny scrapes of life, and focus on the bigger issues.

Eventually we are also able to turn to our side and see someone else hurting. We’re able to lend a helping hand to them as well, because we know how it feels to hurt. We know how it feels when those scars haven’t become scars yet, but they’re just a bloody mess of torn tissue. We know how it feels to have something rip us apart, and we know how it feels to know, even before it’s hardly started, that the process of healing will be long, and when we come through the other end, we will not look the same as we did before. We know. So, we can sympathize with those whose hearts are breaking.

And also, if we didn’t feel the pain, if we didn’t have the scars, we could never be the people God has made us to be. We weren’t born with scars, no, but we were born with problems. We were born with a sin nature. It takes time to chip away at that nature, and replace it with attitudes, thought processes and actions that glorify God. And when we’ve gone through that process, when we’ve chipped away at a bit of ourselves, and replaced it with something from Him, it does leave a scar. Sometimes just a tiny one, sometimes a big, fat, gnarly one, but it leaves a scar all the same. It hurts to have a bit of ourselves removed, but the scar that is left behind signifies something much more beautiful than what was there before! It signifies Christ’s holiness in our lives. It shows where He has taken our ugliness, our humanness, our sin, and removed it far, far from us. And it shows where He has allowed us the privilege of loving, honoring and serving Him.

Scars hurt. They’re ugly, and sometimes we wish we never had any. The process of getting a scar is a difficult one, and we never look the same afterward. But, they make us stronger. They are learning tools that God uses to make us who we are- who He wants us to be.

So please, don’t curse the scar, or the journey you had to take to acquire it; but instead, thank the God who loves you enough to shape you and mold you into the most beautiful creation that you could ever be.

Not So Common

Something I have recently started doing is writing out my thoughts when I’m reading my Bible. It helps me to think more clearly. It also helps me to put little thought-fragments into whole ideas. I don’t know if that makes sense, and if it doesn’t please tell me and I’ll try to explain it more!

I’d like to share one of the things that hit me while I was reading the other day, for anyone who would like to know…

I was reading in Acts, chapter 10. This is the chapter in which God tells Peter through a vision that the strict rules about what is clean and what is unclean are removed. The wording of verse 15 hit me, “…What God has made clean do not call common.”

My notes were simply this:

“… God made me clean through Jesus. God made me clean. I wasn’t before; I am now. I’m not common anymore. I’m not to be overlooked, disdained by others, hated by God. I am not common- and neither is any one of God’s Children. We’re all made clean! There is nothing wrong with us! Nothing! We are not common anymore…”

I feel like it’s really easy to forget that we aren’t common, we aren’t unholy, and we aren’t unworthy. In our sinfulness, yeah, we are pretty rotten. On our own, we deserve Hell! But… When Jesus died for us, He wiped all of that away. He took the common and unholy beings that we were, and made us extraordinary! When God looks at us, He sees His Son. He sees His Son’s holiness, His Son’s worthiness. Just… thinking about that… When God looks at us, He sees Jesus’ perfection. On our own, we aren’t anything special. But with Jesus, we’re children of the King! That’s who we are! Not what we are! WHO we are! So, who are we to say we’re just average people; that we’re just like everyone else…. That’s not true. We are deeply loved, deeply cherished, completely precious to the God of the Universe! He has made us clean. We aren’t common anymore…

Plane Flights and Culture Shock

We left our house on Tuesday afternoon at 3:00 on the dot. Our flight didn’t leave until 9:00pm, but we had to be at the airport 2 hours ahead of time; and we had to account for traffic… and we are just basically a ridiculously prompt family, so we left really early.

Anyway, our car was loaded with luggage. The ride down to the airport was… less than comfortable- but we had a great time talking about whatever happened to come to mind!

We ended up getting to the airport at 6:00pm.

…. 3 hours early.

I was really excited about that.

After getting our check-bags tagged and taken to… wherever it is that they take the bags… we stood around, momentarily trying to avoid saying goodbye-for-six-weeks to my parents.

There was a little family to the side of us. The little girl was clinging to her daddy’s neck. She was crying. It was a soft, almost unnoticeable sort of cry. She wasn’t making a scene, just… crying… It was a little heartbreaking to watch.

I turned around to my own dad...

I really didn’t want to say goodbye…

After we’d all exchanged hugs and kisses, we stood in a circle, held hands, and prayed; asking God to protect us all during the next couple of months. When we finished, we looked up- there was a security guard trying to take a picture of us. He warmed my heart for some reason…

My aunt, little brother, sister and I walked toward the security check. Mama and Dad still stood in the spot we had left them. As we waited, I occasionally looked back over at them and smiled. I wasn’t sure how often I could look back to let them know that I was still aware of their existence before it would be weird.

There weren’t many people waiting, so we moved up to the security check really quickly. I’d heard a good bit about the security checks, and I was prepared for a horrible experience! Um… to be honest… security checks are totally overrated. It was just not that bad. At all. It took 5 minutes….

Anyway, we finished being checked for bombs and drugs and too much toothpaste, and we moved on with our journey. We took a minute before going to our gate to wave one last time to Mama and Dad. They were still standing faithfully where we had left them. Dad had his hand on Mama’s shoulder. I knew Mama’s eyes had tears in them. Mine had tears in them too… oh; it was just so heart wrenching… and ridiculously dramatic... I knew I’d see them in just a little bit! What’s two months in the greater scheme of life? It really is not that long… But watching them there, knowing I was about to leave them… It made me ache a little bit…

We turned, and went on to find our gate.

Our plane was an hour late. (Again, I was really excited about that little fact…) We had a really great time waiting though. My aunt had bought two decks of cards, and we sat on the floor playing various games for two hours. We were laughing, talking, and occasionally yelling, “OH YEAH!!!” when we won. We were really loud.

There were several people just starring at us, (for obvious reasons…) And there was actually one lady, (who was dressed entirely in pink. It was so funny! Pink pants. Pink shirt. Pink scarf. Oh, and she had a British accent! It was so much fun to just listen to her talk!) For an entire hour, she was just staring at us. It was getting to the point where it was almost awkward; until she just finally came over to us and asked us what game we were playing. We explained the game, and then we talked about where she was from, how long she was going to be overseas, where we were from, how long we were going to be there, etcetera.

Once cards got old, we sat in seats and waited like normal people. I took to simply looking around the room at all the people I’d be around for the next 9 hours.

(Note to those concerned: Being self-absorbed does not mean you have actually been absorbed. The world can still see you. So, if you are talking on the phone while typing on the computer and you have the sudden urge to pick your nose, the people around you can still see your finger making its way up to scratch your brain. Fight the urge. You look rather unclassy and altogether childish.)

Finally it came time to board our flight. The plane was gigantic!! Walking through the first class section was kind of awkward. Like, “Oh hey, I didn’t pay as much as you did for the same flight! In 9 hours it’s not going to matter, and I’m gonna have more money left over… I mean, oh. Let me be jealous of your fluffy seat positioned in a way that you don’t have to be social. With anyone. Ever. Hopefully you don’t even have to breathe the same air as the person next to you! Aren’t you lucky… Oh, sorry, my carryon bag just got caught on your overpriced seat… I’m going to pretend like it’s a totally normal thing to get my stuff snagged on overpriced things. Oh, no, don’t help me, that’s okay, I’ve got this…”

We got to our seats, and after the, “Incase if we’re headed for certain death, this is how you sit to pretend you have some sort of control over the situation” videos, and the friendly call-in from the captain, the plane started its way down the runway.

Plane flights are not my favorite. The liftoffs are really my least favorite part of the whole thing. There’s just something extremely unappealing about feeling myself being lifted off the ground into nothing but… air. It’s just not a secure feeling, and I don’t like it! I’ve also seen way too many plane-crash movies and Youtube videos, so I know where the most dramatic places to explode would be! And most of them are revolved around liftoffs and landings.

Anyway, we didn’t explode, (incase you were wondering) and the rest of the flight was nice. I sat in the middle, between my brother and sister. The lady in front of me wanted to lean her chair back… way far back… it felt like her head was practically in my lap. I just was not feeling friendly enough to want to invite someone’s head into my lap. But evidently she was fine with the idea… The man behind me occasionally kicked my seat, and it was weird, because it wasn’t just the occasional kick… it was the occasional 15-kick-session followed by a time of motionlessness. I sort of wanted to turn around and ask him if he was 3, and if he wasn’t then would he please control his urge to kick something. It’s not fun for those of us trying to sleep or even just… exist.

The cabin was very dark, which was really great! The darkness was really soothing. The last few hours of the flight were strange, because we’d gone through several time zones, so it was really, really bright outside. All of the windows were down, because most everyone was asleep or they were respecting those who were…. At least, everyone except one lady. She really didn’t seem to realize that when she peaked out of her window, the light would shine right into the face of some of the other people in the cabin. I was one of those “other people”. This lady liked to look out of the window a lot. I don’t understand why. I guess she thought the sun would disappear if she didn’t check on it every 30 minutes. But right about the time I would start to fall asleep again, she would open her window flap, and into my face shone the light from the outside world… It was kind of like someone jabbing a flashlight in my face; which was… somuchfun. So, I didn’t sleep very much. But that was okay! I really, really enjoyed being able to just sit and listen to my music… and listening to the British people talk. That was kind of a weird pastime I acquired on the flight…

Because we landed an hour after schedule, we missed our connecting flight. So, after we landed, (my second most favoritest part of flying!), we had to figure out which flight we’d be going on now. We were able to get a flight that left just a few hours after our original one, which gave us time to eat some lunch, and take a little nap in the airport before we left!

The second flight was only a couple of hours long. Since it was not our original flight, we got those seats that no one else really wanted… So, I had a middle seat again, this time between a Czech man and a lady of unknown origin. She did not seem interested in talking to me; her answers to my questions were really vague. But the man was nice! We talked for most of the flight. At one point he offered me a piece of chocolate. He had a bag full of individually wrapped pieces of chocolate, so, taking it as a token of our newfound friendship, I accepted. It was dark chocolate. 86% dark chocolate…. It was the nastiest thing I have ever eaten in my entire life. But I ate the whole thing. I thanked him for it. And then I casually took out a piece of mint gum and chewed it most vigorously until the taste had left my mouth… This man was very interesting though! Or, the little bit that I understood from what he was telling me about his life was interesting. He had very strange eyebrows. They were thin, but long; meaning the hairs themselves were long; they literally curled below his eyes. When I was looking him in the eye, I had to first look through his forest of eyebrow. It was odd. He was very kind to me, and talked. A lot. Which was nice. It made up for the awkward silence I was having with the unsociable one on the other side of me. He seemed like someone’s granddad. I like talking to old men, (I usually like it better when I can understand them), but his friendliness was wonderful! And I started it by introducing myself. I liked him. I do not know how to pronounce his name though, so if you were wondering, I’m sorry. He even spelled it for me, and after not understanding for the 3^rd time, even after the spelling-session, I just finally nodded like I understood. I wonder if he could understand my name… (Yes, I realize that that is sort of a pointless thing to ask, since you would have absolutely no idea…)

Finally, we landed. There were beautiful yellow flowers everywhere! It was beautiful.

After we collected our bags from the baggage claim, we planned our surprise…

One of my cousins was coming with my uncle to pick us up. She had no idea that my siblings and I were there. It’d been SO hard to keep it a secret during the couple of weeks that we knew!

So, the plan was this: My aunt would go out first and hug my cousin, turning my cousin’s back to the area that we’d walk through. Then my brother would sneak behind my cousin, pick her up, and… basically freak her out! 

It worked pretty perfectly! Except that we kind of… forgot about the fact that we just left the luggage in the secure area of the airport… so some security guard started yelling at us… Which honestly just added to the moment!

When we left the airport, my aunt looked at me and said, “And let the culture shock begin!”

And so it did.

Following is a list of the weird things in Europe. Enjoy:

The first weird thing I noticed was honestly, the toilets. Their toilets are very strange. Their shape is awkward. I don’t like it. They look like there is something wrong with them. And the toilet paper is weird too.

Your drinks do not come with free refills. It is so weird! And the drinks aren’t gigantic. I mean, I know Americans tend to overdo it with the drink sizes, (“Yeah… I’d basically like to fill the whale tank from the aquarium full of soda… oh, and a straw…I’d like a straw too…”) But it’s weird to have normal… human-sized drinks….

The outlets are strange as well. They are fat… And ugly… I have a great distaste for them. They look sort of like a regular American outlet that has some sort of medical condition, causing them to be really fat with wide-set eyes. (Because outlets can totally be fat. And they most definitely have eyes…)

The painted arrows on the road are different. They are tall and skinny. I really like them! They’re so adorable!!! They have more personality than the fat, short ones in America.

The colors on the street signs are wrong. Where there is supposed to be yellow, there is red or blue. Red and blue together is an ugly combination, especially when compared to yellow and black. Yellow and black looks dignified. Red and blue looks colorblind.

I’ve found it a little strange that occasionally through the open windows you can hear screaming, drunk locals. I just think it’s unnatural. It should be helped in some way. But it is normal for the local people to be drunk and screaming. Which is just… really special. (My family over here are never drunk and screaming in the streets. I just thought I should make note of that. It’s not my family. It’s… people who drink. Getting drunk. And screaming. I have no idea what they’re screaming at. Evidently they feel passionate about something and wish to share it with the world. I guess they think everyone cares… They are wrong.)

One thing I was so happy about was the fact that they have chips over here. I love chips. (not that I sit around eating them by the bagful or anything. But I just really have a love for the salty goodness of a chip!) Although they have a flavor that was very… odd. “Grilled Bacon”. Bacon does not go with chips. Bacon is a breakfast food; chips are not. Bacon is what you flavor dog food with so the dog feels less lied to when we insist that their food is not nasty. It is not what you put into a chip. They taste weird. I had 3, and then I decided that I was not a dog, so I need not continue eating something that tasted like it.

Oh, Air conditioning is definitely not overrated. I don’t care who you are, what country you’re in, or how you view the conditioning of air, but it is not a delightful experience to be laying in bed and get so hot that even after you throw off all of the sheets, you feel like you’re dying. And as great as it is to have fans that blow around the hot air, I’ve realized that if the creator of air conditioning was near me, I’d probably just hug the guy. Or girl. But I assume it was a man.

Steps. There are steps everywhere! And they aren’t the big, “Fall off of me and plummet to your most certain death” type of stairs that you’d notice. No. They’re ridiculously tiny steps that you don’t see until you cram into them with your foot. Or fall off of them with your entire body… I don’t understand the purpose of all of the stairs! It’s like they just wanted an easy way to separate those who are lacking in the area of grace and poise from those who have an acceptable amount of the two. But as one of those who are lacking in the grace department, it’s rather unfortunate to have so many tests of balance… because I keep failing…

Something that I’ve found I love about this place is the simplicity of transportation. My aunt and uncle don’t own a car, and they don’t need one! They just walk everywhere, or take a train, tram, bus or…. Whatever else is available for those lacking a vehicle. I really enjoy walking though. (I’ve only walked to one place, so this feeling might go away. But I don’t think it will.) Just the idea of walking to different places is wonderful! Life is a beautiful place, and walking to and from locations really seems to allow you to see life in a fuller view! I know there are several bigger cities in America where people do the whole walking everywhere thing, I just hadn’t experienced it until I got here.

And I believe that this is the end of my overly-critical analyzation of my first couple days here! Thank you for reading! And if you made it all the way through, you’re amazing! Please let me know so I can be surprised at your attention span… 

And the Journey Begins

I feel like I should have a dramatic starting sentence, followed by a glowing description of the months ahead, simply because I’ve titled this with a somewhat dramatic name.
Ahh, “And the Journey Begins”
.....… What journey?

Well, to tell you the truth… I have no idea.

I know the basic foundation of this “journey”, which have been what I’ve shared with most of those who are reading this right now:

I’ll be in Europe for two months. (Yeah, what a way to start of my senior year!)

I’ll be living with my aunt, uncle, and two of my cousins who live over there full-time as missionaries.

I’ll be completing math from my junior year, (Math: the bane of my existence…)

I’ll be singing with… some sort of choir; (which will be absolutely amazing.)

I’ll have the opportunity to write content for a website created by a friend of mine, and hopefully I’ll be able to write some with my aunt too!

And all I had to say to most of my friends here at home was, “Yeah… I’ll be in Europe for two months” and I had people telling me everything from, ‘keep in touch!’ to, “Write! Tell. Me. About. Everything!!” to, “Send me pictures!” to the almost guaranteed, “TAKE ME WITH YOU!!!!”. Most everyone seems to be convinced that this is the trip of a lifetime! And... I think I’m in agreement with them...

As promising as all of that sounds, I truly feel that this trip will be more than what I’ve just mentioned. I feel that it will be a foundational point in my life, during which I will experience God, worship, people and life in a way I never have before.

I feel like God will take my hand during this time, and tell my soul to rest. And then I feel that He will gently lead me into a deeper knowledge of Himself.

So, this journey will be, I believe, so much more than a trip halfway around the world. (Not that there’s anything shabby about that!) And I'll post regularly to keep those of you who want to be updated, updated on what God is showing me! When I come home, I feel like I’ll be stronger. I’ll be firmer in myself. I’ll be firmer in the Lord. And all this weakness, hurt and pain will have melted away, and in its place there will be standing… Me.

As of right now though, I’m sitting on the floor of my room. I love this room… I’ve plastered the pictures of family and friends all over the walls, and spread amongst them are little plaques with inspirational, (and for some) mildly cheesy sayings that very from, “My greatest fear is that there is no PMS, and this is just my personality” to Bible verses that speak to my soul. My fan is blowing, and I’m actually getting really cold. I don’t have socks on, which is weird for me. The keyboard makes a noise with every key I press, and I just realized for the zillionth time this week that my fingernails are in desperate need of a paint job. (Why can’t I ever remember to paint my fingernails at a convenient time?) (And why can’t I ever spell “convenient” without the help of spellcheck?) (Because those two sentences were totally relevant…)

My iPod is playing very quietly in the background. This is a new song that I just bought, and I don’t think I’ve heard it play all the way through yet…. I honestly just got on this laptop to if I needed to charge it before I left for the airport tomorrow. Naturally, it needs to be charged. It lives in a constant state of needing to be charged, (so what did I expect?)

My bed is at my back, and my newly cleaned room is rather dim, and since it’s 12:33am, the darkness does make sense… Only a few things are out of place. My Bible is tucked away securely in one of my carryon bags, instead of sitting on top of my pile of special books near my bed. By the door, there’s a pile of some of my second-favorite clothes that had to be removed from my suitcase because I’d originally packed too much and my suitcase exceeded the airport’s maximum weight-limit; so tomorrow morning I’ll have to hang all those clothes back in their normal places and say goodbye to them for a while.

The walls are smiling at me with the faces of the people I’m writing to… the people I’m about to leave behind.

It’s not that I don’t want to go on this amazing trip, because I do! I really do! But I’ve never been gone from home for more than 2 weeks before. I love my home. I’ve always loved home. I know it’ll still be here when I get back. It’ll still be waiting. But right now, as I ramble about the random little things that make up my reality, the time on the clock is ticking… it’s 12:38 now, and I know I have to go. I’ll have to finish up this little post, get ready for bed. Then I’ll have to crawl into my bed, after removing my hamster’s little wheel from her cage, (because she makes so much noise with it in the middle of the night), then I’ll go to sleep. When I wake up new experiences will be awaiting me, and time will only tell what those experiences will be…

"I Can Do This by Myself!"

I wasn’t trying to be provocative.

I wasn’t scantily dressed; and though I was dancing to the music, the fact that I possess very little balance on my own two feet, much less on roller blades, meant that I was less than graceful.

My hair was a complete mess at this point, and my make-up had long-since departed.

 I could feel my feet beginning to blister since we’d been skating for more than 3 hours; going around the same circle over and over and over again.

Honestly speaking, I was glad everyone who would have liked to take a picture was skating as well, because I felt large and completely unkempt. But, since no one was there to staple this moment into the books, or to video tape my clumsy skating, I was content just making faces at my friends and doing all that I could to avoid running over one of the little kids who also occupied the rink.

So, when a man that I assumed to be the father of one of these little kids motioned me over, I didn’t feel threatened at all. I didn’t look too good, especially right then, and I just figured he’d ask me a question about the rink, or ask my help with his kid or… something like that.

I stopped at the wall next to him.

We talked for a few minutes, during which time I came to find that he was a 21 year old who’d made a bet with his ‘buddy’ (who was also older than 18) on how old I was. The man told me openly that he just wanted to know, but… he refused tell me why. There was a part of me that felt like, “So… we’re in Kindergarten again? Cool.” But the way he said things, leaned in, looked at me… it made me feel odd, examined, and vulnerable. I wasn’t sure what was happening, just that it wasn’t good. He openly flirted, and it’s not like I’d never dealt with flirting before. It was just the way he said things, it made me feel uneasy and I quickly felt a strong desire to get away from him.

I didn’t make a scene, just smiled and replied to whatever he said to me. I made a joke or two, shook his hand and said that I understood the “Misunderstanding of my age”.

Then, with that break in our too-long conversation, I took my leave; skating over to one of my friends. I watched as the man and his buddy exchanged words. Then they left the rink.

I felt like I’d been victimized to the mental processes of this man. I knew what he meant by his words, the way he looked at me and spoke to me. He wasn’t simply curious. If I’m going to be totally honest about the situation, the man was curious as to whether or not I was 18 or older for… reasons not nearly as innocent as friendship.

I felt… dirty. It took a minute to set in, but when it did, I felt a flush of anger. “How dare he? How dare he?! I am not just a trashy piece of meat put on display for him! I don’t even know him!”

And there was a part of me that then looked inward, “Is this really what my actions and clothing cause men to think? Is this really the way that I am presenting Christ to the world? Because if it is… I’m doing a horrible job. I should be a light, not just an addition to the darkness…” I felt low, dirty, used and confused.

And as I told what had just happened to my friend, others from our group began to skate over.

I was basically done talking, and now I just needed to think for a minute. So, I skated away.

Evidently she told the others about the man, and soon enough I had my guy friends and brother threatening to beat the living snot out of him.

It was at that moment where I was struck with the stark contrast between males who live self-serving lives and men who choose to follow the Lord and use Him as an example of manliness.

You see, the man at the skating rink, he is what is acceptable for society. As you were reading, there was probably a part of you, or possibly all of you, which felt unaffected by my story. “He was just being a guy.” That is the mental excuse for guys all over the place.

Selfish, lazy, girl-chasing losers, they’re allowed to be that way because we make excuses, “They’re just being guys.”

Well… I say no.

I say that is completely wrong.

You know what, “Just being a guy” should be? The reaction my guy friends had. “Where is he? I’m gonna deck ‘im.” And they did not just react this way because I’m, “One of them.” They reacted this way because it is ingrained in them to protect women.

I understand that guys tend to protect their own, just as girls do, it is human nature.

But, when my friend looked me in the eye and said, “I honestly wanted him stay and try one more thing, just so I would have an excuse to punch him in the face for being a pathetic waste of male flesh.” It didn’t surprise me.

You see, God has blessed my life with young men who are truly becoming MEN. Not just males; but young men who are embracing the role of manliness as God has ordained it to be.

These young men- the young men I am privileged to call both friends and brothers in Christ, (and for one, both biological and spiritual… sibling-ship!)- They’re the ones who stand up and offer their chair to a woman if one happens to walk into the room. They’re the ones who carry heavy things for girls; sometimes just taking things from a woman’s arms because, “They can get it.” They’re the first ones to offer a girl their jacket on a freezing night, not because they ‘like’ her, but because… she’s a girl; a woman, a female. And she should be taken care of.

So, when a jerk at a skating rink makes a girl feel vulnerable, my friends are all over that. Not in a crazy, “We are men, hear us roar” way, but in a way that says, “Listen. That’s not right, and don’t make excuses. Either apologize or get out of here.”

Now, this is a call to women- girls, of my generation.

I know it hasn’t seemed like that this far, but… I’m getting there!

In describing my friends, I’m more than sure that there was a part of most girls that said, “Uh. I can do all of that on my own, thank you very much.” And I know from watching, seeing, and doing it myself, that most girls will say, “No, I’ve got this” when a guy tries to step in and give a hand. We, as women, feel so sure that we can, “Do anything they can do better, we can do anything better than them” that when a guy, a young one especially, tries to step in and be manly, we squash him.

“What?! You don’t think I’m strong enough to carry this myself?!”

“Um, no, if I was cold I would’ve brought my own jacket.”

“I can hold my own door, thank you very much.”

“I’m fully capable of pulling out my own chair.”

“I’m not a baby, I can do this.”

“Stop!!! Just let me do it! You’re doing everything wrong!”

“Go away. I don’t need your help.”

With these types of comments, we squash them. We raise ourselves up, because… we’re women and don’t need them anyway, right?

Wrong.

We’ve allowed society to become completely backwards, and it needs to stop.

When a guy pulls out a chair out for you, don’t treat him like he committed a horrible disrespecting act towards you, because it is quite the opposite.

By pulling out your chair, it’s his way of… taking care of you- for lack of a better term. It’s his way of being a leader through servant hood.

And that is exactly what Biblical Men are supposed to be- it’s what Jesus was! He was the Leader of leaders! Yet, it was He Who washed the feet of His followers. He knelt down and served all the days of His life, and death, through selfless love, and yet all the while, He was the Leader of leaders, the Lord of lords, the God of gods.

He was not a chauvinist Leader, He was a servant.

That is what men should be. They should be the first to step up to a position of authority, and treat that position as a great responsibility, all the while, not hesitating a moment to stoop to the side of one in need.

Now, the feminist movement has done lot for America. It has shown that we, as women, can be strong and we can support ourselves without men, if necessary. To an extent, I believe women should be this way. I believe women should be strong; we should have the ability and the drive to pull our own weight and then some.

I believe this is Biblical. Just look at the Proverbs 31 woman. She was nobody’s wimp. She worked all day, she earned money, and she even had her own business outside of the house! She was strong, and she helped to provide for her family! She bought land on her own! She was a strong woman.

But the Bible also says to be submissive.

That’s where the balance comes in; balancing Womanly Strength with our call to meekness.

Unfortunately, this is where feminism took over and why everything is backwards now. We focused on our ability to be strong, and through pride and self-satisfaction we “proved” (to men especially) that we can handle ourselves. And because of this we became bossy, control-freaks. That messed everything up.

Who are the majority of the Sunday School leaders in churches?

Women.

Who are the majority of teachers at schools?

Women.

Who are the ones on the PTA? Or on “The Board”?

Mostly Women.

Even in high school, who are the ones to coordinate dances and extra-curricular activities? Who are the ones most likely to volunteer to serve at high school fundraisers? Who are the ones most likely to pray publicly?

Girls. Women. Females.

We step up, beat men down, and they let us… Why? Because we tell them that we can “Do it better.”

So the vicious cycle begins.

Men try to stand up.

We beat them down.

Then we do the job the way we think it should be done.

We tell them how well we did.

Then we act surprised when a weirdo like me says, “Hey. Let men stand up” because by now we’ve beat them down to a point where they are no longer expected to stand. Ever.

Fathers become passive because any time they try to make a rule, they are overruled by their opinionated wives.

Brothers become uncaring because their sisters don’t need their, “Little brothers butting in.” And they also become wimps because their moms and sisters, (older ones especially), boss them around like there’s no tomorrow.

Friends become nothing more than an opposite gender attraction waiting to happen because now that’s all guys are good for.

Life takes a shallow turn where we are in control and men are allowed to be useless pigs.

We then treat them with disdain, we treat their lust for women like a horrific disease, yet we don’t help by wearing clothes that are practically painted on our bodies.

And when they try to stand up? When they try to take control? When they try to be men?!

What do we do?

We beat them down.

Then, where do we find ourselves?

At the skating rink when some guy motions you over. You have a conversation with him and realize that his thought process is not only considered “Normal guy behavior” but that it would not be shocking to many, if any at all.

The difference is, if we girls keep treating guys the way we do, then by the time we have daughters, they won’t have brothers or friends to look to. They won’t have Daddies to stand up.

There will be no one to stand up.

We women say, “Oh, I’ll stand up.”

Well… As great as that is, it’s not enough when it comes to a situation like- and much, much worse than- the skating rink incident. That man was obviously not threatened by girls, and most men aren’t threatened by us. At all.

I don’t care how big we think we are. We’re women. And one day, there will be a time when we will need someone to stand up, and we will look around to see that we have beaten down all the men around us… and we are virtually alone.

I am by no means implying that we should be doormats. As previously stated, I believe that is completely unbiblical. It’s wrong.

But, we need to be strong enough to admit that we are weak.

We need men.

We need men to be protectors, because we can’t always do it on our own.

It’s just the truth. And just as we can’t get through a good, happy life without leaning on them, they can’t get through it without us uplifting them and supporting their attempts to become the Godly men that the Lord has called them to be.

I’m not saying we need to bow to men.

I’m not saying we need to give them everything they ask.

I’m not saying we have to find them to get a job done.

What I am saying is to quit beating them up.

If a guy opens the door for you, swallow your pride, (which is all that little voice inside your head is) and enjoy the moment- enjoy being taken care of, then look that guy in the eye and say, “Thank you.” Smile, and go on.

Give them opportunities to care! It is amazing how safe and special it make you feel to be surrounded by a group of young men who would go out of their way to carry something heavy for you, or hold open a door, or beat up a jerk.

And (letting you in on a little secret) it makes them feel good too.

Whenever we do what God has called us to do, it makes us feel good. Maybe in the moment, when you’re overcoming your pride, it doesn’t feel all that great. But eventually when you can accept a generous offer of protection from a man without feeling like they are trying to take something away from you… then it feels good. Really good.  

And then one day you’ll look around and see that the little portion of this world that you call your own has gotten a bit brighter, because you’ve taken a backseat, and you’ve chosen to treat people in a way that allows God to be center-stage.

And that is exactly where He should be.