December

         December is here in Granada. I almost have too many thoughts about life right now to write them on here so instead I'll just give a little update; I feel like a lot has happened. We finished our last trip and since then I have been spending the last few weeks here in Granada exploring and taking it all in before I leave in 8 days. Coming off of the trip to Sevilla and Cordoba, I was sick with a kidney infection. It was an interesting experience to say the least; the medical system here is very different than in the States. They gave me the shots and the antibiotics to give myself shots without giving any direction. They didn't check my vitals or test my blood for potential blood poisoning. It was probably the most potentially intense illness I've had and yet I had no misgivings about it. I felt peace and was thankful it wasn't anything more serious. 

Me pondering the feeling of stabbing myself in the butt with my antibiotics using the shot they gave me...

        Last week I became an aunt again, and again to another miracle baby! I am amazed at the marvellous works of God. The doctors kept telling us over and over again after consistent appointments that the baby would have problems, mentally or physically, or possibly die. This was difficult news to hear and brought me and many others to the foot of the cross in prayer. I remember telling my roommate when I first learned this two months ago, "This is going to be for God's glory. I believe He's going to heal the baby. What if this is even just to open up opportunities for God to show Himself, His gospel, and glory to people in Spain?" Then a few days before he was born, I was spending some time praying for him and I felt the peace of God come over me and felt Him say to me, "Chelsea, I've already healed him, he's perfect." On Friday morning I woke up and got an email that Teague Marshall was born, and he is perfect. There were a bunch of specialty doctors in the delivery room with life support expecting an emergency or dead baby. They couldn't believe that a healthy baby was born. They did a bunch of tests and an MRI and he passed with flying colors. When I heard this I cried with joy. God is so faithful in His timing. That day at dinner I shared this miracle with my host family. We got onto a conversation about miracles and then the door opened for me to share my lifestory, another story of God's grace. It was crazy. I praise Jesus for His presence here.

All of my nieces and nephews, 3 of them new that I'll meet for the first time in 8 days!

        As the days wind down I'm getting ready to go home. I've never been one to be homesick, rather a very present person, but as my flight gets closer I'm becoming more excited to be home. It's funny how this often works. At times I feel weary of heart, restless, and ready to be home, then I experience something here in Spain that fills my heart with the joy of another culture and I'm so thankful that I am here. 
       One of these things was this past weekend. Robin and I went over to the house of the pastor and his wife of the church I've been going to here in Spain. They are wonderful people who living out the gospel in a simple and challenging way. We went over, learned how to make an authentic Mexican meal, and ate together with other people from the church. One massive pan of paella ( a traditional Spanish plate) and the Mexican food. It was a community sharing life together in a simple and beautiful way. One thing that struck me in this community is the lack of pretense. Eva, the wife, would ask us to do things blundtly and would accept our help when offered without playing the game of "are you sure?...I can really do it....only if you want to..." that I find others normally dance around. In one sense she would assume our help or involvement but not in an expectant or forceful way rather in a genuine understanding of the function, purpose, and workings of community. In the same way, they don't think twice about generously offering up their food, material resources, time, or emotional energy to us. It is real in a beautiful way. Another example is when I told the pastor my miracle story of my nephew before church and he immediately was about to call me up in front of the whole community to share it; I could anticipate his thoughts as he asked me, "of course, why wouldn't you share this to encourage others of the goodness and activity of the grace and power of God." They lack pretense. What they lack, in reality, is their selfish desires, their natural tendencies as human beings, their individual, one-track goals. It is an emptying of themselves to be filled with genuine love, fruit, and working of the something bigger than themselves, Jesus. In this context I see life. After seeing this example, I want to seek out and change aspects of my life so that I can live and bring out in others a community without pretense, and foster the genuine love of Christ. 

       

Robin and I with our intercambios friends, Elivira and Cristina

Thankful

           Community is one of those things that you take for granted until you don't have it immediately present. I’m so thankful for my friend Robin, who is here with me in Spain and yet I have expereinced what it is to lack community in Spain. Both Robin and I have realized the difference in being around a group of people who really know you and who are pursuing the same goals and mission as you and have noticed when this is absent. With this, I also have encountered the sweet presence of Jesus and His provision in a whole new way. I am amazed anew by how Jesus provides everything at all times.

         I was blessed in crazy ways this past week. Multiple people commented to me this week, "Wow, you have really amazing friends! They must love you a lot!" My only response was to beam with joy, close to tears, nod, and respond, "I know, I can't believe how wonderful they are, I am so thankful for them." This was the reaction after I told everyone that five of my closest friends came from the States to visit me! Yes it’s true, my small group girls came this week and it was such an epic, sweet time together. I met them in another city in Spain, Barcelona, for the weekend. We explored the city, which is much bigger, more touristy, and more international than Granada, and we went to a Barcelona soccer game! This was a crazy experience with the most people I’ve ever seen at a sporting event. I felt a part of the culture considering futbol is one of Spain’s favorite things. 

After the weekend in Barcelona, we all came back to Granada. It was sureal to be able to show them my life here- the places I like to go to and the views I’m able to see. We went salsa dancing and to a tea house. I was encouraged in every way simply by being with them.

Right when they left I had Thanksgiving here, my program put on a mock Thanksgiving for us. I am thankful for so much: for the ability to learn Spanish here, for my family and friends, for life, for God’s grace, and for the presence of Jesus. We were off the next day traveling to two other Spanish cities, Seville and Cordoba. They were beautiful and each very different. Seville has the third largest cathedral in the world and Cordoba has the third largest Mosque, now converted to a cathedral. It’s still strange to me to be seeing things and walking on bridges, for example that Julius Cesar walked on or that were constructed thousands of years ago. I’m still struck with how different everything is here from what I know in the United States.

I have less then a month here now, time is winding down. I’ve decided to only speak Spanish this entire month, to everyone, on every occasion, to journal in Spanish, pray in Spanish, and think in Spanish. I pray for understanding, patience, and self control with this.

This past weekend a wave of home sickness hit me. This is strange for me as I normally am a very present person and don’t often have homesick feelings. I’m not sure if it was the holiday or simply the fact that I have been away since the middle of August, but I definitely experienced a few moments of longing to be home. In the midst of this I am realizing how it’s often necessary for a renewal of purpose. I needed to hear from God again, what am I doing here? What are the reasons you have me here with these people, this place, doing these things? When you hit emotional lows, it is vital to be stripped of yourself and realize things bigger than yourself. Hallelujah for the grace of God’s purposes for us.

         

Mastafaw

Morocco!

At times Spain still seems foreign to me with its language, fake peanut butter (they only have peanut butter here made with 90% peanuts and I couldn’t tell you what the other 10% is…), and different customs, yet this past weekend I entered a different world entirely. This one with sand, camels, Arabic, and little boys everywhere. I went from being in England to Morocco 24 hours later.

        We went into the desert for two nights and stayed in tents in the middle of nowhere in between the sand dunes and the Milky Way. The nomadic people in the area, the Berber people were wonderful. Most of them can’t read or write, yet they know between 5-6 languages, learning just from the tourists who come. Amazing! Every time I ventured into the sand dunes, day or night, all I had to do was wait a few moments and bam, there would be a nomad, seemingly out of nowhere to talk to you. One night Robin and I went out to talk away from the camp and two Berbers came up and sat down with us. We talked for more than an hour with them about things of daily life, culture, and God. It seemed surreal at times in the conversation. I was humbled in the way this man, Mastafaw, shared about the simplicity of the life he leads. He passes the day, working, learning from the “escuela de vida”, the “school of life” as he called it, and being with people. If he doesn’t get to eat that day, it’s okay they just drink more water; if he is too far from his camp one night he just sleeps under the stars; if he’s cold he just pulls more sand around him for insulation. He told how many of the tourists who come end up being too uncomfortable and preoccupied that they don’t experience the culture.

        I came on this trip as a tourist. This isn’t the way I normally like to experience places, but I was with my program and thus 70 other Americans, not ideal to say the least. We were treated like tourists, waited on at points, marked for all of the pitches to buy this rock or that bracelet. Also like tourists, there was an ample amount of complaining and attitudes of entitlement.

        This made me start pondering how I don’t want to be a tourist in life. I saw how being a tourist in Morocco immediately created so many barriers between me and the people of Morocco. It was an interchange of culture but established on a surface level in the way of what do we need from each other, “I need your business and your money.” On the other side, “I need a good experience and the material possessions that you offer.” Tourists aren’t vulnerable; tourists only engage people on the surface level; tourists are guarded and hold tightly their possessions; tourists aren’t willing to be uncomfortable.

        There is a difference between a tourist and a journeyman or sojourner. This trip made me question where in my life am I traveling as a tourist? Where am I just scratching the surface, too scared of uncomfortibility or of engaging with people? Where do I maintain an attitude of entitlement that closes my eyes to the perspectives or needs of others? I want to be a sojourner, a journeyman who holds truth, light, hope, and life wherever I wander. 

This is Robin and I on the ferry to Morocco with the Rock of Gibraltar in the background. 

This is the Medina of Fez that we visited. It has 15,000 winding streets with 90,000 shops that all contain the handicrafts of artisans who work in the same manner as from the 13th century. 

In the Medina at a rug shop. I felt like Jasmine so we recreated the Magic carpet and Aladin.

This is the camel I rode.

This is the camp we stayed in for 2 nights. 

Would you fancy a cup of tea?

I always saw scenes of people running through the airport in movies or when I’ve walked through the airport. In these scenes I imagine people with big backpacks and grand plans of adventure, normally having corresponding colored clothes and running through the airport because of some intense reason, maybe they just saved a child or let someone take their seat on the bus. My mind has woven stories and I’ve thought, “How wonderful that must be, how exciting and adventurous. I want to do that and run through the airport. I'll add it to my bucket list.” After it happens to you your thoughts change; it becomes less of a desirable situation, though the adventure aspect of it remains just as I imagined it. Your blood pumps just as I imagined, you sweat just as much, and the feeling of relief when you sit down on the plane is just as sweet.

Robin and I went to Bristol, England this weekend. While in Europe we wanted to pick a random place and go and the place ended up being Britain, though that was not the original plan. From the beginning, the trip was a little stressful. The primary reason to go to Bristol was to meet up with one of Robin’s closest friends. The night before we left, this friend cancelled her flight unexpectedly. We were all packed and left right after class, planning on arriving to the bus station with plenty of time to spare. The two-hour bus to the airport that we were planning to take was full so we waited an hour for the next one. At the airport we hurried through everything and made it to our gate with 15 minutes to spare. “Whoo, we made it!” I thought as we were in the boarding line for our flight that was leaving at 9.40. I looked over and for another outbound flight a man showed up while the sign flashed “Last Call”. I turned to Robin, “Wow, that guy cut it close, I’m glad he’s going to make it.” Little did I know that we would cut it even closer. We got up to the gate attendant, it was 9:18. She tells us that we needed a visa stamp on our boarding pass that we didn’t have and that we need to go get it. It was before security and she didn’t know if we would make it. The funny thing was that two people before her had checked both our boarding passes and our passports and said nothing of the matter. We looked at each other in panic and took off. We ended up going all the way one direction where a guy directed us at first and it was the wrong way; we continued all the way out of security to the random counter to get the stamp and all the way back through. While running I was thinking to myself what lesson Jesus was trying to teach me, maybe one about how money doesn’t matter, thinking I was going to miss my flight and loose a couple hundred dollars, or about how His plans are different than mine…I still for sure don't know how this played into what Jesus was teaching me this weekend. 

We ended up arriving to our gate for the second time sweaty and out of breath at 9.38 “espera, espera!” “Wait, wait!” we shouted. We made it, walked on the plane a pile of sweat and bags and relief. The rest of the weekend continued in adventure with our interesting hostel experience, talking in British accents the whole weekend, and enjoying scones and tea.

We returned home last night around midnight and leave tonight for Morocco for 6 days. Wow. So many different cultural experiences being thrown at me and I’m loving it.

Walking

         One of the perks of being in Europe, is that there is the opportunity to travel fairly easily to other places and countries. Being the case, I went to Italy this past weekend to meet up with one of my friends and mentors from the States, Aubren. We met up in Rome! It was incredible. It ended up being a trip of traveling for two days and being in Rome for two days, the traveling process being longer with buses, trains, and planes, but it was completely worth it! Each morning I turned over hugged Aubren and said, “We’re in Italy! I can’t believe it, we’re in Rome!” My mouth was open in awe nearly every moment as we walked among the best art I ever have or will experience and among pieces of history from before Christ. What beauty I experienced while walking through the Sistine Chapel, the Vatican, St. Peter’s Basilica, and the narrow streets with vines, flowers and bicycles everywhere! What a blessing to be able to connect with Aubren, it was a good break to see someone from home who knows me well at the 1/3 of my time in Spain mark.

            I returned home to Spain and it was as if fall had hit the city since I left three days earlier. The air was fresh, crisp, and held a chill, yet the sun was full, shining, and warm. I breathed deeply in, “Yes! A new season! So good!” I’ve been thinking about seasons, how they change frequently in the natural world as well as my life. In a sense, being here in Spain, I’ve already seen two different seasons for me, one when I was alone here for a month and it’s been another since having Robin. I have grown and changed in each one, and now I’m realizing another season I might be in…that of walking. In Rome we walked throughout the whole city. In Spain too, I walk everywhere, more than two hours a day and between 5 to 7 miles on average. This theme has translated to be internal as well; a season of walking, of waiting, of being patient, of waiting on God. I’ve had aspects of “waiting seasons” in my life before where I’ve expected, hoped, waited, but I’ve always been “running” during those times. Walking is a different concept for me, I’m used to running, to having my life be going fast and intense, this is the way I like it. Just like the culture that I am in and experiences I’ve been having, walking is completely different. Walking uses different muscles, has a different focus, and a different mindset. Or like a sailboat that is free to glide the water, but it waits for the wind to direct it, it’s speed ebbing and flowing with the current and the wind together. I’m wrestling with what it means to wait for the Lord. I’ve realized that just as walking is not passive but is movement, is constant, to be patient, to long for, hope, and seek are also active.

            Waiting makes the coming sweeter still. Seeking makes the finding all the more satisfying. I thirst for the Lord and when I find Him, he touches my tongue with the sweetness of His presence and leaves me full and desiring more nonetheless, what beauty of the gospel.

Psalm 27.14-“I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”

A good snap shot of Italy.

Aubren and I at the Colosseum pretending to be gladiators :)

            

Like a Child

I’ve felt like a child a lot recently in Spain. It’s been interesting feeling like I’m reverting back a decade or so of my life. Being in a different country, culture, and learning a new language has slowed my life down; slowed down my speech, communication, ability to build relationships, and the general speed at which I like to go through life. It’s slowed down my pace, but my mind, thoughts, questions, and curiosity are running at normal speed, which for me means my mind is focusing on 10 plus paths of thought independently. I wonder if this is what a child feels like, that their words or ability can’t keep up with their questions or curiosity? I remember when I was little and couldn’t read yet, my brother Caleb told me, “Once you can read you will point out everything and read every sign, it’s the greatest.” I feel the same way here. The other day I found myself walking along the street and similar to what I remember doing as a child, I was mentally pointing things out and translating them into my new language. Street:calle, tree: arbol, lamppost: farola, sky: cielo, sparrow: gorrión, fountain: fuente….and the list continues. Not just with objects but also song lyrics, prayers, and thoughts. It has definitely been a practical lesson in a few of the things I have been learning internally about patience and about simplicity. It has made me think very carefully over every word that comes out of my mouth. What do I need to say? What is mindless chatter? If out of the heart the mouth speaks, what am I choosing to speak about with my few words?

I felt like a child another time this week, a child being reprimanded. My roommate, Robin, and I decided to go on a run in the pouring rain. It was so fun, refreshing, and beautiful, but at the same time not culturally harmonious. We passed by some school children and teenagers and they openly pointed and laughed at us. We joined in because we felt so out of place. As we were nearing the house I began to feel nervousness build; my family here is extremely concerned about their floors and are the opposite of relaxed when it comes to moisture in their house. We reached the door and now the prospect of walking in sopping wet, dripping all over their floor made me feel like a child who wanted to run away after doing something wrong and not face the disappointment of others. We opened the door and as I presumed, my Spanish parents came in shaking their head in awe of how foolish we were. None too please they pointed at us and tapping their heads said, “¿Tu mente, tu mente, donde está tu mente?” “Your mind, your mind, where is your head?” We sat in the bathroom dripping, for a while, feeling terrible. We apologized profusely and afterward our Spanish mom assured us that it was totally not a problem that we should just learn and not do it again.

This made me think of how God relates to us, humans who often are very childish. The gospel is beautiful and I find myself again praising God for the redemption of my soul. When I make a complete mess of things, of my heart, mind, or soul, or when others do, again He comes near, holds my soaking wet body and says “It’s okay, I have something better though, won’t you come with me and jump in a different pool, one of life and joy?”

It is an experience of being humbled, sometimes gently and sometimes in surprising ways. 

Pealing Skin

          Today I was reminded of Seattle; it rained today. The Seattle kind of rain where it is soft and goes on for a long time. I sat with my good friend Robin, who is now my roommate, in a cafe to study. Besides the rain though, everything else was different. I drank my coffee plain, without any extra flavors, extra hot, upside down, non-fat, or any other individual changes. I got starred at a lot while walking in the streets, the only one without an umbrella and the only one wearing a rain jacket. I ate dinner at ten and went salsa dancing instead of swing dancing as I would do in Seattle. Even after being here for a month I am still aware of the differences and find myself so intrigued and laughing a lot. My friend Robin arrived on Sunday from Washington and is staying to study with me the rest of the time. I am so, so thankful that she is here. It's crazy because I was doing really well this past month and thriving, but I didn't realize the affects and intensity of being alone until she came. God is so faithful with His timing and provision in bringing Robin, I am so blessed. I'm already looking back on the past month of being alone and recognizing ways that God has grown and changed me.

        I've gone to the beach the past two weekends, each time with a different group of girls. It's the Mediterranean, blue and clear, and so fun. Being from Colorado, I'm not used to salt water or the beach or being able to go cliff jumping into an ocean. The first weekend I went I burnt to a crisp, the second weekend I wore a shirt and shorts the whole day, my skin still recovering. The past week and a half my whole back pealed off to a new layer of skin. In a lot of ways that is what has been happening to me while here, God is pealing off parts of me and making me aware of new fresh things. It has been my prayer as well, that He would continue to peal off the dead or old parts of me as I draw near to Him and burn with His flame. I have found that when you ask God these things, He is sure to answer.

         The rest of the kids in my program have arrived and things are shifting here. Summer is drawing to a close so people aren't out on the streets as late, the weather is turning cooler, and school starts on Monday. My experience this past month of being alone and of waiting is drawing to a close. Many of the things that I've gotten the response, "Yes, yes, good, good, wait until everyone comes" (they talk in doubles here a lot...) when asked is beginning: many of the cultural activities, intramural sports, volunteering opportunities, intercambios ( a spanish student you meet with to practice your spanish with), and traveling.
        I'm grateful for this past month and excited for the change as well. It reminds me of a quote that was on a tea bag I had while in the wilderness this summer, "Live in each season as it passes; breath the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit.." by Henry David Thoreau. As well as the words of Soloman, "there is a time for everything...He [God] has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity into the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from the beginning to the end..." Ecclesiastes 3

Cultural Fun Fact #3: Nocturnal Beings

I’ve taken to walking the streets at night. This is not because I have a death wish or am making dumb, rash decisions; rather this is because they seem to be nocturnal beings over here. It is common for them to go out with friends at hours when only bats and other nocturnal creatures roam about, namely between the hours of midnight and dawn, around 7 in the morning.

Last night I made dinner with some new friends around midnight, which translated to a walk home around 2:30 am. My new friends responded to my leaving saying, “Aren’t you coming out with us? It’s early” That is when I debated in my head, do I want to walk home alone now, at 2:30 or at 5:00 like I did a few nights ago, is there a difference? I chose the former last night, laughing to myself at this cultural difference. As I was walking home I was thinking about how I wasn’t fearful at all of walking alone as a girl in the dark in a foreign city. I wonder if this fear or lack thereof is a conditioned emotional response at times. Since being here I have maybe done this a dozen times already. The first times my heart would beat faster, filled with adrenaline my whole way home. Now it doesn’t. It doesn’t because I feel that my body has grown accustomed to emulate the state of my mind, which is at peace. You do what is necessary. In this situation, it is necessary that I surrender these nightly walks to God, and live in the peace that my God provides. If not fear and worry, not peace or joy, life or love, faith or hope would reign in my mind.

I wonder if this extends beyond just my becoming accustomed to Spain’s nocturnal habits. Where else in my life is fear or worry something I am conditioned to or that I feel habitually with the excuse “because I always have…” or “I’m supposed to fear this….or be worried about this…” I am not a person who is very fearful or worrisome of external causes, such as pain, people, death, heights, or objects. Yet I’ve realized it is sometimes internal and abstract things I fear-not being good enough, not doing enough, failing at loving people or being a testimony of light for the world. Through this experience, this week God has been teaching me that if I fear these things it takes away from fully living into the abundant life He has come to bring (John 10.10). Rather if I fear God alone, the only one who is sovereign and powerful, this opens up doors for the fruits of Life to flourish. This is one of the ways that knowing Jesus sets us apart. For some it may be having this realization of fearing God rather than the world infiltrate through external fears, for me it is letting this truth penetrate my internal ones. I’m practicing this new way of thinking. This has brought a new perspective on the peace of the Lord that passes understanding. God is so present with me, at all times, in all situations. Hallelujah. We belong to and serve a very near God. Hallelujah.

Psalm 91

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust”…You will not fear the terror of the night, not the arrow that flies by day, not the pestilence that stalks in the darkness not the plague that destroys at midday…”

nor the abstracts of my heart…

Fun Cultural Fact #2

          They do not wear hats here...at all. Funny story with this, yesterday I went to the supermarket with my family (it was the first time I've been in a car since being here) and I had quick but on a hat before leaving because I had come from the pool and my hair was crazy. It wasn't just a baseball cap, but a cute, trendy brown hat. When we got to the store, my host dad, Antonio, looked at me and chuckled. I asked why he was laughing and he pointed to my hat. Sure enough, I looked around and not one person anywhere was wearing a hat, in fact I was turning heads because I was. I probably won't wear a hat in public again. 

Graffiti

          As of today I have been in Granada for one week! It hasn't seemed like that long but then it's also seemed like much longer. Every day here I am not only learning so much more of the Spanish language, but also of the culture.  I'm going to start adding fun cultural differences and facts. 
        To start, #1: They have graffiti everywhere here. It covers walls along main streets, in the back alleyways, and on business fronts. My new art hobby is sketching Granada’s graffiti. Your first thought might be, “Wow, that sounds a little bit sketch (no pun intended :) ) or rather trashy, you should get a new hobby or rather eliminate one…” as mine was, but their graffiti here is not like ours in America. They seem to simply see the city walls as big, normal canvases, and thus they create tapestries. They paint faces and landscapes and scenes. Though it is still illegal, some shop keepers pay the artists to do their store fronts. They don’t graffiti to vandalize but to create, pretty awesome.

I went to church this morning for the first time in Spain. The people were all really friendly; there was maybe 25 people. When the pastor went to the front he began by saying,   "This is our new guest, " he pointed to me, " and what's your name?" he asked in front of the whole church. My face turned real red real quick. I didn't understand much of the service but it was refreshing and wonderful to sing praises to God with people who love Him, especially when it seems that it is very uncommon here to be religious let alone be radically in love with Jesus. At the end of the service the pastor came over and asked if I played any instruments or sang. I chuckled, I said no immediately, not wanting him to introduce me to the praise band the first day to sing in a language I don't know nor can pronounce well. They welcome you quickly here.

Conchi

Today I met a woman named Conchi. I was sitting by a cathedral and she came up. She was really old and walked with a limp that came with age. She started talking really fast but I was able to halfway have a conversation with her. She kept saying “Oh what a beautiful girl, you need to be careful. Are you alone? Don’t walk the streets by yourself…” and things like this. She said she was a religious women and from Madrid. She asked where I was from and she kept saying, “what a modern girl. What a beautiful girl”. She kissed my forehead and held my hand. At the end she was saying something about “here, tomorrow…” I wasn’t sure if she was saying I should come back there to talk to her tomorrow or not. I really like her. It seemed to fit, seeing her there with the ancient cathedral in the background. She was sweet, gentle; her words had genuine care to them. I hope I am like her as an old woman. She seems symbolic of an age passed, one where the cathedrals fit well and represented people like Conchi and were still alive with the presence of God. This woman had a glow about her. I can imagine her being someone like Mother Teresa, who though she titled herself, “religious”, did so with the authenticity of knowing her Savior deeply. Standing before me, holding my hand in hers was a woman who understands what humility looks like, what it means to serve out of the simplicity of her love for Jesus, and whose holiness is a reflection of the beauty of God rather than a display of mere morality for the eyes of men. 

I saw such contrast with Conchi, who in my mind, began to look like a sanctuary of God simply in her being and with the rest of the spirituality I've seen. In this place where there are cathedrals that are littered throughout the city, it seems as though the people have lost God. When did the house of God become simply marble, ivory, and precious metals? When did the cathedrals become sanctuaries of the sky, stars, and heaven rather than of the Sovereign King and Creator of the Universe? It is almost as if when the people lost the presence of Jesus in their hearts, they forfeited Him in their cathedrals. I wonder, when did God loose His invitation to these magnificent places originally built for Him? And yet for the soul that the Holy Spirit does indwell, these sanctuaries remain a place of awe, peace, and powerful ground to meet with God. This is my experience; the cathedrals bring me to a quietness of soul, a kindredness with the Spirit of the living God. We, as those chosen in Christ, Beloved of the Almighty, have become the temple of God who bring the presence of God into these beautifully wrought stones handled by men. It is God who makes the place holy; it is God who transforms the cathedral into a sanctuary; it is God who livens the dead walls and dead space and creates them to ring with the glory of himself. It is God forgotten. God I beg You to come in again. Create holiness here. Come renew what is lost. Make this beauty your own.

These cathedrals, alive to the apathy and sin of man yet dead to the living God are similar to us. Some things that we have created to originally be good, to house the presence and glory of God, can become just grey, manmade creations of stone: dead. It is often not the bad things that keep us from God, it is the good ones. It is the morally perfect routines, deeds, the upstanding reputations, and the niceties that come with religion that cause us to become just like the grand cathedrals of Europe. We create morality without drawing near to holiness, thereby flirting with fruits of human nature such as selfishness and pride. I long for the holiness that is a reflection of the beauty of our God; this is the aroma that will draw people to the cross. Now I am wrestling with what that aroma looks like in a strange country where I am alone, surrounded by strangers. Strangers that have captured the heart of the Almighty and need His love desperately. 

Hola Espana!

Hola Espana! Yesterday we arrived in Granada. We spent two days in Madrid and then one day in Toledo. Madrid is a huge, beautiful city with narrow coble stone streets and old buildings everywhere. The first night I went with some kids from ISA to this restaurant that serves “tapas” which are snacks/appetizers or mini meal type things. They were only one euro and there were probably 40 to choose from. I experienced the differences in culture immediately. We were at this “tapas” restaurant until maybe midnight and there were people everywhere, in the square and on the streets, and it was a Wednesday night. Apparently it gets really busy in the popular places from 2 in the morning till 5 in the morning. They sleep from 6 at night till 9 then have dinner at 10 then go out until 5 or later in the morning! Wow, and everyone tells me I’m up late at school, Spaniards have taken it to a whole new level.

In Madrid we went to the art museums of the Prado and el Reina Sophia, both are famous and house famous pieces of art. It was so great to be able to see famous paintings that I have studied or looked at in classes for years. We saw famous paintings of Velasquez, Goya, El Greco, Picasso, and Salvador Dali. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to stop and read all of the signs because we were with a guide in a group, but the tour guide did a great job at telling us information slowly and clearly so we could understand. Everyone speaks so fast here! It is so difficult because my brain stops on the first words I don’t understand or maybe understand to try to figure them out and then I loose the next 15 words and am completely lost.

On the way to Granada I had a wonderful surprise. We were at this random bus stop cafeteria place and I saw the group of students from SPU getting on a bus! I ran up to them and was able to see two girls from my floor there! Of all places in Spain, crazy; it made my day! It’s crazy because even though I’ve only been here 6 days, coming into this where I didn’t know anyone and was alone makes you completely appreciate people you care about and those who really know you. It was just what I needed, to see those girls.

I met my host family yesterday and they seem wonderful. My host mom immediately hugged and kissed me when I got off the bus. That first interaction was me, mostly smiling a lot and nodding and asking for her to please repeat herself. The rest of the night I sweated so much, not because of the temperature, even though it was hot, but because I was so nervous to talk and mess up so much and not understand them. Wow, the first day was a challenging and wonderful experience.

Tonight we saw a flamenco dance performance! It was exciting to experience such a rich part of their culture. On the way back we heard some street musicians. It was such a romantic scene: cobblestone streets, cello music, and lights from a castle fortress on the hill behind us, beautiful. Today I also found a vital component of my stay here, a perfect gelato place! It is only 1 euro and delicious!

Classes start tomorrow, the first day of my road to fluency…I hope :)

Preparation

        The last night in Switzerland while lying in a hotel bed in Zurich and knowing I had to wake up at 4:00 to go the airport, my mind began to run on overtime and kept me from the few hours of anticipated sleep. Instead of trying to shut out the loud sounds of the bar downstairs, I began to think and pray through some mental preparations for Spain. People have asked me, "so, are you ready for Spain? Are you nervous for anything? Have you been preparing?" I wonder, what does it mean to prepare? To ready myself for the unknown? Originally I thought it would be to catalogue my expectations, my nervousness, my excitement, my questions, or my fears. But then I mentally rewind. I would rather not have my mind filled with expectations. Expectations are limiting; they either form boxes so only certain information, experiences, and observations can penetrate and fit into my preconceived notions, or they create unreachable ideals.
        Everyday we all enter into the unknown of the day, yet so often our unknown is buffeted by illusions of control through routine, habit, and schedule. In our plans and assuredness of our control, we forget that each day is not held by us but rather by the hands of the Sovereign. It is in these times, though, when about to venture into a new place or a new season that the idea of preparation is highlighted. So here I am, attempting to mentally and emotionally prepare myself for four months in another country around the world, learning a new language, not knowing anyone. I think rather than lists made in my head or checklists of expectations, preparing looks like surrender; conscious and intentional surrender. I choose to surrender this time, these coming experiences to Jesus; He is the only one that holds the control, the only one for whom I want to glorify and grow into during these coming months. I wonder, is this call to surrender in the unknown one for everyday rather than just for big changes like me going to Spain?

Hello Germany, Goodbye Switzerland

I've been traveling through Germany, Austria and Switzerland with my parents before Spain and it has been wonderful! We haven't had much internet so I'm going to give a picture summary of our trip. The beauty is stunning. So many times I've almost thought to pinch myself to make sure it is real and I am not lost in my own imagination or a fairy tale. 

I wrote this after we went and visited Dachau concentration camp in Germany and then we went to Salzburg, Austria. We haven't had internet so when I say "today..." it actually was earlier this trip. 

Today I witnessed death.

In the morning I witnessed death in shame-life taken inhumanely-stripped away almost as if the devil himself devised the way. In fire and smoke, reeking of burning flesh and disintegrating bones; lives lost with memories flying away on the winds of ash, neither valued nor remembered. It was death witnessed in tears and bile and gray, wondering where was God in this? Did His tears run out as the stench of His chosen rose up to Him seeming to be naught an aroma of sacrifice nor of a willing martyrdom. I could almost hear the screams and wails of thousands, of millions as blood hit the sky but dark ash concealed it. Death. Shame. Disgust. Dachau.

In the afternoon I witnessed death to be celebrated, life complete. Ancient gates guarded prized humanity in curved designs with pristine locks saying, “You shall not enter here to disturb the rest of these valued individuals” Bordered by bright flowers in pinks, reds, purples, blues, yellows-a myriad of life, highlighting the beauty of death as a final resting place. Just beyond the sanctuary following a cobble stone path littered with weeping willows and oaks in the sunlight. Caught in the shadows of grand spires reaching to the heavens, cathedrals catching the presence of God. Did He have tears for these ones? Tears of joy or celebration? Death. Celebration. The Catacombs of St. Peter, Salzburg.

What is life but a passing shadow, a vapor yet gone? What is death but a meeting place with the Almighty?

We went on the Sound of Music Tour in Salzburg and learned all the facts about the movie and the accurate information about the Von Trapp family. 

We went to the famous Disney Land castle, called the Neuschwanstein Castle, in Germany. It was magnificent! It definitely stimulated my creative, story writing mind as we walked through the large painted caverns. Though it was expensive and the tour was less than informative, we learned more about the castle listening to some history podcasts in the car leaving the castle.

We left Germany and went to Switzerland. One of my new favorite places in life. It was so beautiful, we couldn't stop using expressions such as, "unbelievable, so great, amazing, incredible, I just can't believe this..." and yet none of them ever got old because they were all so sincere. We spent our time eating chocolate and cheese and hiking through the Alps. I've decided one of my new favorite things in life is trail running through the Swiss Alps, it doesn't get much better than running with Jesus through these peaks to the sound of cowbells. 

My Dad and I went hang gliding in the valley over Lauterbrunnen. It was crazy! You are flying over 3000 feet from the ground and gliding right next to cliffs. 

This is the highest railroad station in Europe. You take a train up to 11,332 feet on the Jungfrau  mountain, Switzerland's highpoint. From the top you can see amazing views of all the high peaks including the Eiger. 

My dad and I went hiking a route that takes you on the side of cliffs and crossing canyons on cables and a huge suspension bridge clipped in to cables the whole time. While there we met this base jumper. We were able to talk to him for a while and watch him jump! He had jumped from the top of the Eiger's  famous North face the day before, which is a 5,900 foot cliff. I asked him if he was scared of anything. He responded, "Of course, I'm scared out of my mind now. If I wasn't so scared I wouldn't jump." An interesting thought, is this true for other aspects of life, I wondered as I watched him fly away unattached to anything.  

So goodbye Switzerland, for now....I'm now saying goodbye to my parents. It was wonderful to spend time with them and what a great trip we had! And on to Spain!