Potato Time

I have learned more about 
routine 
in the last months than I ever thought I would.

On several occasions I have been asked how something is done in America,
and each time I say
"well, everybody does different stuff."

But the thing is that in the Netherlands,
Everybody does the same stuff.

Bread | Potatoes | Cheese | Mayonaise-based spreads | Cruesli | Peanut Butter | Chocolate | Coffee | Tea
Orange juice | Apple Juice | Milk | Yogurt | Apples | Bananas | Greens | Sausages | Beer

I used to think that Mark was unique in eating in the same 5 things every day,
but now I know that he is just a little bit Dutch.

There are assumptions & structures about coffee, laundry methods (big topic for another day), 
transportation, abiding by one's agenda, weekend fare, 
 and of course,
potato time...which is dinner,
held squarely each day between 5-6pm.

Maybe this is just what anthropologists call 'culture'?

As a person who has never much cared for rules, I have seemed to have walked very ironically into 
a RULE ORIENTED land,
and I find myself managing, mostly, to doe normaal.
I'm not going to argue with chocolate on bread for breakfast, for example.

But some days, when my mood is right, 
I cycle on the sidewalk with my head held high, and
I dare the Dutch to tell me what they think I must & may do...
which, of course, they will.

Windows

Did you know that in Holland it is illegal to have a workspace without a window?

This is mine:

My season in a windowless solitary cubical existence

feels metaphorically & literally

done.

Today the wind is powerful, howling;

I am experiencing it on my face & with my eyes.

Soon this will be my common, my ordinary,

in fact, it has already become fact in my feelings.

After 2 months, I feel here: present.

I look over my calendar and wonder that it hasn't been longer,

then,

that intermittent interaction in which my Dutch is not enough

and I return to reality. 

Many days...or maybe most days. 

Still, my eyes are open, and my face is feeling all: 

sun | wind | rain | stars

Let there be licht!

And suddenly...Spring!

Today I set out to see a solar eclipse, which promised to be 

rare & bright,

yet the only bright light was a sky of white.

This, after days of glorious sunlight, in which I acquired my first freckles,

my earliest ever.

There is a lightness to life, in that I have found & begun work,

in between the important things;

food | friends | faith

I am learning the zig & the zag of a well cycled path,

I am finding the beauty, both above & below,

and I am leaning into hope, which comes with the sunlight,

and stays with it's zeal;

rare & bright.

Nieuw en Oud.

On the juxtaposition of nieuw en oud:

Before me stands one of the oldest & loveliest of stations, which houses many trains, buses and bikes. In front, lies a statue of a man and horse, giving the main street the glorious vision of a

 horses ass.

Now, I'm not in a position to be asking the why...

but as a mere visitor here,

should it really be so easy for me to determine the when?

Flat White.

"You don't need Wi-Fi to enjoy a good cup of coffee."

A true statement, from a direct Dutchman.

I confess I was slightly offended at the assertion from a stranger, implying that I ought not connect to the internet, when I'd expressly planned to do so. If I was quicker, I'd have retorted something saucy like "and you don't need manners to work at a Dutch cafe." Which, in fact, is true.

What? Let's just be honest. 

I'm told that this gentleman might have been attempting a joke in English, and showing off his linguistic skill, so we'll let it slide. After all, he's being paid a living wage, and doesn't care about me, and doesn't have to pretend to. An interesting concept indeed.

I have been in Holland for about a month, and have come to stages of appreciation and frustration each day. UP and down.

Eat a croissant, UP. Cycle through aggressive rain, down.

But, since we're being honest, 

I can say that today the balance is about equal,

with a courageous hope & expectation that things will tip 

to a lovely and solid UP

soon enough.

After this cup of coffee, perhaps.

1 week (or so)

It's been 1.5ish weeks since my move to the Nethies and already there is too much for words. But, since a picture is worth a thousand words, here are twelve, which speak for themselves...

Coco

      

    Sometimes you make a plan to pack

          But coffee & community wins

           And your 3pm cappuccino 

             Equals a 1am blog post.

           And sometimes that's fine. 

4.

It's both easy & difficult to wax poetic 

about a move overseas 

that I have been

dreaming,

planning,

& doing for the last 2 years.

Easy is adventure; fresh, new, courageous

Difficult is goodbye; for a while, overwhelming & with uncertainty.

I feel a swirl of unreality and know that the 

real will hit soon

away familiar plaid covered walls & my magenta-lipped mother

to share air with my kind-faced favorite.

I pack tomorrow, 

but tonight, I glow.

Linguistic.s.?

I've often made due with certain personal linguistic/spelling type errors,
and I'm not afraid to admit that another came to light, just the other day.

Much like my realization in 6th grade that the word I had been reading as Chaah Ohs (what is this, a cereal?!), 

was in fact the same word in spoken English as 'Kay Oss',
 I recently discovered that a word I so enjoy speaking as 'Pee kid'

is in fact written 'peaked',

and I was miffed.

Let's hope Dutch isn't this...complicated.

"Rest & laughter are the most spiritual and subversive acts of all. 

Rest, laugh, slow down." -Anne Lamott

And when I think that neither is possible, it turns out that both are exactly what I need. 

And when I judge or am judged for taking rest, I remember the subversiveness, the act of stealing away (like Jesus did), and I lean into it. 

And when I am stern and surly and salty, I remember that we were meant to come to Christ as children

(Matthew 19:14)

...and children LAUGH.

And so will I.

Well, it's been 5 years...

Ampersand...(ellipsis)

And here I am, thinking that it might be time to put words to "paper" since there must be SOMETHING to say after a blog hiatus of 5 years. Right?

I confess that I want to edit the words I wrote at 24, but there's something great about their permanence and their murk. It reminds me of past growth and makes me believe in future growth as well. So, in an effort to lock in this present moment for future posterity, I write.

First, to reflect on the events of 2009-2014 with the keen eye of hindsight...

& 34 weddings attended with their corresponding gifts and roles, including my sister's

& 13 roommates

& 2 jobs later with 1 bout of unemployment

& 2 trips to Morocco 

& 2 trips to the Netherlands

& 1 fellow who lives abroad

& now, on the cusp of a bold move at 29, I look back and see a lot of RISK, weak faith-me, faithfulness-God, hope & life that I just wouldn't trade for the safe.

Heaven forbid I make a choice out of fear.

Don't they say perfect love casts out fear? 1 John 4:18. Pretty sure that's what God is. Love.

So even though I'm afraid to write this, for fear that it might not be sure & true, I am planning a risk. I am setting off to the Netherlands to search for the job that only the Father can arrange for me. 

And though I'm afraid, & though it's a risk, I've always seen that

God.Is.In.The.Risk.

Here's to another 5 years of dependence, change, hope, love & risk. May I always choose it. May I choose to be where God is.

I want.

Morning Prayer: Psalm 119:33-40 (Book of Common Prayer)

Teach me, O Lord, the way of thy statues, and I shall keep it unto the end.
Give me understanding, and I shall keep thy law: yea, I shall keep it with my whole heart.
Make me go to in the path of thy commandments; for there-in is my desire.
Incline my heart unto thy testimonies, and not to covetousness.
O turn away mine eyes, lest they behold vanity, and quicken thou in thy ways.
O stablish thy word to thy servant, that I may fear thee.
Take away the reproach that I am afraid of; for thy judgements are good.
Behold, I have longed for thy precepts: O quicken me in they righteousness.

Annisquam.

What a lovely weekend.

Subtle breeze. Billowing Clouds. Familie.

It's official...

Jersey cotton sheets are the best thing that have ever happened to me. Really.
Fine features:
* warmth!
* softness :)
* Moldability to the mattress for ease of sheet changing!
* Lacks pretension like other stiff sheets.
What a blessing.

No one I really know had a birthday today, but some friends of mine are expecting a baby on my birthday, and I believe that calls for CAKE.

Reality TV.

Having recently become addicted to both Project Runway and Top Chef, it strikes me that the judges critiquing that we all hate to love, is the socially acceptable way to gossip and feel that it is entirely justified.

In no other format can one be so blatantly honest and brutal, with the expectation and hope that one will be.

This results in the participants being challenged and pushed to greater heights, but it is also demoralizing and often heart breaking. Can these crushing critcal blows be dealt simply because competitors signed up to be subjected to it, and knew what they were getting into?

If the ultimate end is good, why can't I still get enough of the 'these were the worst' section? Because I love to see the judges be a little ruthless, maybe talk trash where I feel that I can't. The perfect set up for a slightly skewed Nation, and certainly for a flawed human being.

Am I living vicariously through the bashing of the judges, and is there something fundamently wrong about the drama created?

Perhaps. Yet I'll still tune in next week, waiting to see the score, hoping to know what not to do, next time.

Weariness by Longfellow.

O little feet ! that such long years
Must wander on through hopes and fears,
Must ache and bleed beneath
your load;
I, nearer to the wayside inn
Where toil shall cease and reset
begin,
Am weary, thinking of your road !

O little hands ! that, weak or
strong,
Have still to serve or rule so long,
Have still so long to give or ask ;
I, who so much with book and pen
Have toiled among my fellow-
men,
Am weary, thinking of your task.

O little hearts ! that throb and beat
With such impatient, feverish heat,
Such limitless and strong
desires ;
Min that so long has glowed and
burned,
With passions into ashes turned
Now covers and conceals its fires.

O little souls! as pure and white
And crystalline as rays of light
Direct from heaven, their source
divine;
Refracted through the mist of
years,
How red my setting sun appears,
How lurid looks this soul of
mine !


________________________



This morning I was returning from a long journey and I saw a man collecting recyclables from the stoop of an extravagant house. Having said hello, he asked me if I had a garden of my own, and I told him, no, but I wish I did.

After a trek of so many miles, it is freeing to think that I might still yet invest in the ground, in the peace of the springtime and the possibility of new life with all its beauty and grace.

I am weary, my soul seems lurid indeed, but I found peace in the prospect of what could be and the rest that I might have if I learn to love myself and my surroundings and perhaps beautify it in some small way as well.