May Newsletter! - Eric in the UK

St. Pancras News
May

Being Still in Ireland
Earlier this month I was able to take a week of retreat time and head to Sligo Ireland! Because of a mix up in communication with the priests at my parish (due to us being without a head priest), I only heard that I actually had this time a couple weeks before hand. I was very lucky to find the place that I did.
Holy Hill Hermitage is located on the northwest coast of Ireland near Sligo. The monks (both men and women) are associated with the Carmelite order and have two hermitages- one in Ireland and one in Colorado. Since the group originally started in Colorado, all of them are American (including the five "apostolic hermits" in Ireland). The hermitage was a grand old manor house which was owned by a wealthy Irish businessman in the early 19th century. The man eventually died and the family finally gave it to the Catholic diocese. The church in turn handed it over to this order of monks who took it upon themselves to rebuild the entire property. When it was the acquired, the house was in terrible condition and the stables were just walls with trees growing inside. 15 years later, this is a very different story. The stable area was turned into apartments, a kitchen, and a library that contained 6,000 volumes. The house has been totally redone and now incorporates many offices, sitting rooms, and a chapel. There are now about 10 cabins on the entire estate (5 of which the hermits use) and are rented out to retreatants. Perhaps the most amazing thing about this site is that these Carmelite monks did most of the construction and restoration themselves.
I flew out of London at 8am and got into Dublin at around 9am. After finding the main train station, I boarded a train and headed across Ireland (from the East Coast to the West Coast) and got into Sligo at around 2pm. What I did not think out clearly was the fact that it was a Bank Holiday that day (the UK and Ireland have Bank Holidays on specific dates- they are glorious things). My next step from Sligo was to take a short bus ride to the little village of Skreen where the monks were supposed to pick me up (though I had not made recent contact). Stumbling up to the bus station with all my things, I realized that no buses were going to Skreen that day because of the Bank Holiday. Wondering what my next step was, I called the hermitage and finally got through. One of the sisters answered and seemed surprised to hear from me. Apparently, one of the other monks had misread my email and the dates that I gave for staying there. They actually expected me a day later instead of the Bank Holiday. On top of that, she said that they usually don't take retreatants on Mondays because it is there "Desert Day", or the day where they have complete solitude and are out of the office. "You are one lucky young man!", she said. The only reason why she was in the office was to grab some keys for the hermitage vehicle to take another retreatant back to the train station in Sligo (because the busses were not running). Luckily, my phone call intercepted her while she was there and she randomly decided to pick up the phone. It was a day that I had the Lord on my side!
After arriving and unpacking in my wonderfully furnished cabin which lay about 20 ft. away from a mountain stream, I went for a walk around the property. It was an incredible evening (the weather followed the same theme every day of the week- warm and sunny), and I found wonderful places of peace among the flowers, trees, and vegetables that lay all around. The hermitage lay at the foot of a large mountain which rose impressively above our cabins. From the manor house, one could stretch out and read in front of a breathtaking view of the Atlantic Ocean and other mountains across the bay.
In my week with the monks, I participated in many community activities of gardening, mowing, and hiking. One of the monks, Brother Thomas, really connected with me as we both have a deep interest in hiking. Thomas was the first insulin dependent diabetic to hike the 2,000 mile Appalachian Trail straight through. He hiked it in 121 days!! "That is how I decided to become a monk", he said. "I needed to be with nature." Thomas used to be a public accountant before turning to the monastic life. He summed up his incredible story by saying: "You just need to be still sometimes." Being still was a very important part of my time in Ireland. For the first time, I could listen to the birds, water, leaves, and wind and really take something deeper in.
This fact proved incredibly true on my last day in Ireland when I decided to bike down to the beach (or "Strand" as the Irish call it). It was a cooler day and overcast which contrasted with the beautiful week of weather that we had previously. When I arrived at the beach I found that I was the only person there. This beach stretched about 8 miles down the coast and presented you with the most incredible Irish countryside views. Being surprised at the fact of me being the only one there, I first became sheepish and just sat near the car park and watched the waves come in. However, seeing this as an opportunity to be with God, I later got up and started to walk and then playfully run across the vast stretches of beach! As my footprints dotted the shoreline, I stopped again and listened.... The waves crashed along the shore and my heavy breathing were the only sounds that anyone could hear for miles around. Time seemed to stand still.
Sometimes it is the moments that we have alone with God that refreshes us the most. For me, Ireland filled me with the most incredible joy and hope. We all need retreats I think. We all need to be with God in a new way.

London: Experiencing it with a Friend
The month of May has been very busy on multiple levels. Parish work continues to rumble along at a good pace and the realization of a time when I will be leaving this place keeps poking at me in stronger ways. This month has also been a time where more than ever, my two worlds (the world of Minnesota and the world of London) keep crashing into one another.
No more is this apparent then when I am hosting friends here. EVERYONE it seems wants to come to London. I sometimes think I should quit my work in the church and just open "Eric's Hotel" at the Vicarage. Along with many of my fellow traveling volunteers now realizing that they only have a couple months left here, there have also been a couple friends from the United States that have made the adventure to this wonderful country known as England.
One such friend who just spent 10 days here is called Nicholas. Nicholas and I met two years ago in Glacier National Park when we were both on an ACMNP (A Christian Ministry in the National Parks) worship team. Having both discovered our passion for Lutheran theology and music, we hit it off and have become very good friends ever since. Nicholas just completed his second year of seminary at Luther Seminary and is about to head off to his internship.
When you are volunteering abroad for a year, you have to be very careful in how you see your past friendships fitting in with your current life. It can be very hard at times as these two different worlds don't overlap much at all. What is incredibly beneficial about it if you do get it to work, however, is that it becomes an opportunity where you can show them a glimpse of the struggles, joys, and environment that you unknowingly have grown to love (at least for me).
Because of Nicholas being so involved in the United States with the church, I decided I wanted to show him as much as I could on how this parish in London works. One such event that I brought him to was an outing with 40 Year 6 (Grade 5) school children to Hampstead Heath from Brecknock Primary School. This opportunity was perhaps the greatest window into the deep, varied, and rich culture of London. Nicholas later commented how incredible it was to be around so many kids of different faiths and cultures. Nicholas saw first hand how to interact and relate to others. "Do you pray??", asked one of the Bengali Muslim girls to Nicholas. "Yes", he replied. "We pray too! Why do you pray?", she asked. "Well", he said, "It's a good chance to give thanks for the things that we eat and thank God for life." "Yeah, but sometimes I forget to pray.... do you forget to pray?", she asked again. "Of course, we are human", he said, "We forget sometimes." Immediately, a big smile appeared girl's face. For these kids, ministry is being there and relating to them, not lecturing them. It is a chance to show both them and us that we have more in common than what we think. Nicholas and I both came away from this experience with a new sense of life in our hearts.
Nicholas also joined me for an event in the parish called "Parish Club". This group is basically made up of older church woman that get together every other week for tea and talk about various subjects. Realizing that a lot of people here know that I am Lutheran but are unaware of what exactly that means I decided that it would be a lot of fun to tell these Church of England women about the Lutheran Church. After explaining a little about Luther's life and theology, we wrapped up with a triumphant hymn of "A Mighty Fortress". The women absolutely loved it! A couple days later, one of the ladies came up to me and said "You know what? After your presentation I went out and acquired a book about Martin Luther. I already have a que up of people who are going to get it next after I read it!" It was quite an honor indeed.
This morning Nicholas left for home to start his new summer job. We both walked down to Kings Cross Station having a wonderful discussion on the future and what lies ahead for us. After embracing, I watched my friend get on the train bound for Heathrow Airport and kept thinking to myself: Nicholas is no longer a friend who will be hearing stories of London from me, but a friend who has experienced London with me. In a future that lends itself to being uncertain, that is a foundation I can count on.

May Newsletter - Kevin in Uruguay

This month´s topic: simplicity.It´s amazing how often we use, and hear, the word "simple." Keep it simple, stupid. The simple life. This whatchamacallit is simply amazing. Simple minds, simple pleasures. Simply irresistable. Plain and simple. For the older or old-fashionedly polite, there's talk sometimes about the "simple" aunt or cousin who has the mind of a child in an adult's body. The word "simple" is so used that we sometimes forget what it really means - simply put, simple is simply meaningless to the average person in the U.S.So, you can imagine the sort of questions I had in my mind when I was asked to live "simply" during my year as a YAGM. How simple is simple, after all? Was this mandate to live simply a rigid rule, or a set of basic guidelines and principles? Is simple what the poorest people I work with would consider what's needed to live, or a middle class person? Is there a universal form of simple living, or does it depend on social and cultural context?The simple life of this YAGM has been a journey. In order to play it safe, I began the year living as simply, or perhaps more accurately, as cheaply as was feasible. Why take a bus when you can walk, even if it IS 10 C and raining? No, I don't need to buy meat - beans have plenty of protein and are better for you anyhow. My own mate and associated items isn't necessary - everyone else has them, and in the morning at work, the yerba is just a part of operating costs, so it's not even as if I'm taking advantage of people. Sampling local goodies, like beer, pizza with cheese, alfajores...not that necessary. New clothes? Naw, don't need those, either, even if my wardrobe isn't suited to the climate.Six or seven weeks into this sort of simple-to-the-point-of-monastic-vows lifestyle, I faced my first simple living crisis. For our choir concert in Colonia, I was expected to have black pants. I didn't own any. I either had to buy pants or else throw off our groove and, let's be honest, be the subject of jokes from Seba and Fafre. So, I bought pants...I paid more than I would've really liked, but so it goes. I took care of an honest need, and did it in a fairly budget-friendly way...and I didn't feel bad about it afterwards, or like a total rich yanqui. I did what an Uruguayan would've done if they didn't know anyone their size to borrow from. Simple life lesson number one: Living simply isn't being a skinflint; it's being a wise, thoughtful steward.I started to wonder if I was REALLY living the right sort of simply after the pants episode. After all, even the just-scraping-by doorman in the building was able to spring for a pizza now and again, and the broke college students always seemed to have bus fare, plus ground beef and cerveza in the fridge. Of course, things were seldom done alone - my grupo de jóvenes friends would never spend 300 pesos on a meal for just one person. That amount of money would be spent to make one or two big dishes of insert-your-favorite-food-here, and then the whole gang would come over and bring a drink or bag of chips - everyone brought something to the table. Then, the next weekend, someone else would have a party, and the person who'd shelled out the most bucks and effort for last week's just brought a 20 peso bag of chips, and ya está. There were (well, are) the meals, too, where one person would do the grocery shopping, save the receipt, and after dinner, divide the amount by the number of guests and ask for, say, 30 pesos a head. From all of this, I learned simple life lesson number two: living simply means living in community - sharing, giving, and trusting that other people will share and give, too.Life got more fun after that, suffice it to say. Then, the holidays rolled around, which raised two new themes - gift-giving and traveling. I decided to try my hand at making Christmas gifts; after all, you always hear of people doing it and then talking about how much more rewarding it was than just buying a gift card (much less an ugly sweater or fruitcake), and what better time to try it out than while living in another country? I made salsa for Wilma and Milton's families, picture cds for family and friends back home, and "free-dinner" coupons for my housemates. I'm not likely to go back to the world of just buying a quick gift and calling it done. I felt connected to the people I gave gifts to - it wasn't a soulless card, for a change. It wasn't safe, though - after all, a $20 giftcard to your favorite store is guaranted to please, unlike "hey, I'm making you the dinner of your choice - hope I know how to cook it!" I learned lesson three: living simply is being willing to take a risk now and then.Then, it was time to travel. How does one travel simply? I did what I normally did - stayed in hostels. You meet cool people and save money - so long as there's not a snorer in the room, it's great. I looked for free, or at least cheap, things to do - I went on day-hikes, walked around the towns I was in, hung out with people from my hostel. That enabled some sharing of costs for things like, say, a beer, or a pizza at a restaurant. I tried to figure out the free museum days for various place I visited and planned, within reason, accordingly - why pay today to get into a museum you can go see for free tomorrow? As for food, eat where the normal people eat - the food's probably better there, anyway. I also found bus services that included food, so I got transportation and a meal for one price. For those days spent hiking, there's nothing wrong with packing a sandwich, some fruit, and a bottle of water. And, you know what? My two big trips in South America, plus my African travels and Eurobackpacking-on-a-bidget have been way more fun than the three, pre-packaged, live like a tourist excursions in Europe I did in high school (well, 2 in high school, and once chaperoning for my high school as a college sophomore). Lesson four - living simply when you travel lets you see the world in much richer ways, and brings you closer to the people you meet along the way.So, that all was some time ago, and besides, we all know that nobody has four lessons on their list - it's three lessons, or five lessons. Not four - either shut up early or talk until we come full circle. The summer (well, MY summer) rolled on without simple life difficulties, and then came fall. We were blessed in that the fall was long, warm, and sunny...but I knew winter was coming. Short, dreary days, lots of rain, plenty of cold. I mentioned, several lessons ago, that my wardrobe wasn't suited for the end of the Montevideano winter. That didn't magically change during the spring and summer. I had to go clothes shopping. I combined my shopping with a trip to Argentina, since clothes are cheaper there. I didn't go to boutiques and hit up large, bargain-friendly stores...and the Salvation Army for a coat. So, we're set for winter...but there was one thing lacking. Many people who know me also know that, perhaps, my feet tend to sweat a lot when they get closed up inside shoes. Wthout going into a ton of detail here, this results in rather odiforous feet, socks, and shoes, and the latter item just perpetuates the cycle. In summer, this isn't a problem - I wear sandals, my feet air dry, and no problem is had. However, in the winter, when wearing sandals outdoors would probably result in a lot of cold, wet foot discomfort, they get closed up all day in my boots, and así viene el problema. So...I bought the Uruguayan equivalent of Gold Bond powder to dry my feet and shoes while wiping out odor. And so, I learned lesson five, which is really just a corollary of lesson one: simple living doesn't come at the expense of self-care; you yourself are an asset to protect and care for, not simply a valueless blob of matter. Being a good steward means being a good steward of your body, too.Living simply isn't always the easiest path. After all, it does require sacrifices - not buying this book I want today so I can get produce at the fair tomorrow. It requires budgeting, and (that hardest of things) self-discipline. But...it pays off. Sure, it saves money. You learn what you need to live, what you want to make living easier, and what you want simply because it's a luxury and you want it, and you learn how to prioritize those things. You learn that yes, you can in fact use empanada shells to make tortillas for 1/3 the price you'd have paid for the imported tortillas at the store. Even better, you learn to be part of a community. You learn that life is people and your times with them, and not the things you have or the money you spend.

May Newsletter - Sarah W. in Kenya

07-08 Kenya - Sarah W.
Originally uploaded by YAGM

May 2008


It is always important to remember when working at the Nairobi Animal Orphanage that you should NEVER let yourself become attached to any of the baby animals in the nursery. I thought I had learned this lesson well, but I was wrong. During my time here I have seen countless young animals come and then eventually die, none of that ever affected me until a few weeks ago when we received a young zebra.
We called him Kiseme and he was around two weeks old, umbilical cord still attached when he arrived. He was so friendly right from the start, following anyone and everyone wherever they went. My coworkers, who can easily become annoyed by the antics of our young buffalo, were extremely tolerant of the zebra who often found himself in their way. Around the zebra’s third day at the Orphanage he began to realize who his new mother was, and forgetting the guys, took to following only me. I of course was ecstatic. It was wonderful to have little horse hooves following me everywhere I went, and a little horse nose to nudge me for constant attention. I was more than happy to spend my entire day around the Orphanage so that he could drink mild every one to two hours But all this quickly ended when after being with us for only one week, Kiseme died in the middle of the day. I had done all that I could for him that morning, but the fact that he had been given cow’s milk his first two days at the Orphanage had poisoned his system anyway.
I was sad and disappointed but tried to hide it from the guys and continued work as usual. My coworkers were not fooled. They had seen how happy I had been with the zebra around and knew I was upset. The out pouring of sympathy and compassion that they showed me the rest of the day was like nothing I have ever experienced. As I’m sure you can imagine, working all day with over 15 guys is typically anything but compassionate, but this day they all changed. Guys who I spend my day giving and receiving sometimes harsh, but always playful jokes and comments with suddenly became quiet, sweet, and caring. I received more understanding hugs, kind smiles, and heartfelt words than ever before in my life.
This out pouring of sympathetic love from them showed me how much I really mean to them and how much they all mean to me. None of them were sad for the zebra, they were sad because of me. I can’t begin to explain how much it meant to me that they cared so much about my feelings. I can now clearly see that we are all a big family, and the best part is that I’m a member of it. I truly believe that I experienced God’s love that day in the most real way possible. God took this sad moment in my life and used it to show me how I have become a valued member of a community. He allowed me to see that I have had an impact on the people around me in Kenya. I can now feel inside of me why God sent me to Kenya and also what Kenya has become for me.
I thank God for little Kiseme and they joy he brought me, but even more for fully revealing my true Kenyan family to me.

April Newsletter - Sarah W. in Kenya

April 2008


One evening several weeks ago, Mercy and I had just finished cooking dinner and we were talking as we put food on our plates. I set my plate in the sitting room and then headed back to the kitchen to continue our conversation. When I stepped in the doorway I saw Mercy, who only seconds ago had been talking with me, standing with her dinner plate, eyes closed, completely silent and still. I was taken by surprise at seeing this and my first thought was “oh my gosh! She’s fallen asleep?!” I called her name, slightly worried. No reply. I said her name again and she looked up at me. I asked her if she was ok and she replied “of course! I was just praying.” Needless to say we had a good laugh about it but this scene made me think more about prayer here in Kenya.
In many churches in America there is a specific time, place, and way of praying and anything else can come as a surprise. Here though prayer is accepted as a much more normal thing. If the person sitting next to you on Sunday morning began speaking quietly but rather emotionally during prayers, hymns, or even announcements you would probably question their actions, while here that is a very common form of prayer, happening multiple times in every worship service.
The Nairobi Arboretum, one of the most beautiful and popular parks in town, is also a popular place to go and pray. My first time there it took me a while to realize that people were actually praying. Kenyans will find a tree off the path and either standing near it or walking around it begin to pray rather loudly, sometimes even shouting, in a variety of languages from English, to Swahili, to their mother tongue or tribal language. While at work at the Animal Orphanage I have seen Muslims stop to kneel and do their daily prayers right in the middle of the Orphanage. Their devotion to God was not hindered by their public location.
I think as Americans we can learn something from Kenyans about prayer. Conversations with God should not be forced to fit into a specific setting. We should never feel embarrassed or ashamed to talk to our Heavenly Father. Maybe you don’t pray before eating inside a restaurant because you wonder what other people will think. Maybe you force yourself to pray in silence so that others aren’t disturbed or so that they won’t know you are praying. While it is true that God doesn’t want us to become arrogant and pray publicly just to draw attention for ourselves, I don’t think He wants us to think we can only pray in certain places or ways.
Mercy and other Kenyans have made me feel much more comfortable about prayer. They have shown me that where and how you pray doesn’t matter, but it’s the setting inside your heart that counts.

newsletter - James in Argentina

April is a journal filled with memories now. Things are happening here, inside me and the barrio. Energy that moves and produces scenes of whirling creativity and beauty. A start to the tale of April could be my birthday where I spent my 21st amongst sixty screaming children and surrounded by the people I have come to love so genuinely here. It was a quick celebration as sixty children in a small room with cake and soda is always a difficult force to contain, but the letters written by the friends I’ve made here will be carried with me as such powerful symbols of love and acceptance.
Shared poetry and music.
We send an entire day organizing a concert of a band we produce that day. La Paz we call ourselves. As the tale spins from 10 in the morning until the eventual concert at 4, the children create signs and banners displaying our name. As I learn anew everyday, the preparation of something is often more important than the event itself. We are presented shyly by a 14 year old who takes his role of announcer as seriously as possible. Oscar is his name. I on the guitar and vocals, giving ridiculous explanations of songs I clearly didn’t create. Victor, a 15 year old, laying down a rhythm on a drum set he created from scrap everything and anything. Alfredo, a ten year old, faking the best he can a bass beat on a nylon string guitar with the truest smile I have ever witnessed. It is the most rewarding concert of my life.
Sharing a meal made for 3, with 14 children, and it being enough. My greedy mind is always surprised by such happenings and demonstrations of selflessness.
A group and I go around the barrio drawing anything in nature that we find beautiful, in hopes of using the drawings for a future mural. Trees, plants, and animals are brilliantly represented using the simple medium of markers in that, one line can represent the world, style that children instinctually have.
An afternoon spent playing camp games in an international day of peace.
More shared poetry.
I spend a day planning a puppet show with a group of 6 year olds. A donkey, horse, and Minnie and Mickey, teach the other children watching, about the importance of telling your family where you are going when leaving the house. 100% produced by the children. It is a simple display of the creativity the mind of the young contain.
Leaf piles and walking the rest of the day with hair filled with little leaf memories of the joy that I have been a part of.
Teaching English to two little girls using the donkey puppet for no real reason at all, and listening to them respond in such funny accents as they pronounce their first English words.
Colonia, Uruguay becomes in my mind the land of Santo Lindo, an old Brazilian musician who teaches me the real soul of the blues, a top his improvised garbage can drum. He tells me of the power that music has, above skin color, creed, and race, as we drive down the narrow cobble stone streets in his 47 ford. The beauty of the fall back to earth, as we are launched into the air going over speed bumps, waiting for the next in the hope to hear that deep wild belly laugh of his. The word wonderful will forever be dedicated to you Santo Lindo.
Moments, beautiful moments in every corner of my life. Moments on beaches, in grass, in dirt, on porches. Feelings of floating with arms wrapped around pure sorrow searching for words I still haven’t found. My memories become color as friends here bring up the past which I am now a part of. I am surrounded by such positive energy here in my life and the gospel becomes action with that presence near by. I am fascinated with the idea of being able to improve one’s actions in this life. That I am wholly who I am, but that I have a power in what I am in the lives of other, positive or negative, and that we can use our time to improve the lives of others. I am influenced.
james

Acting 4 England Spring Newsletter - Kristin in the UK

07-08 UK - Kristin
Originally uploaded by YAGM

A Glimpse of Community in Potters Bar

After a busy, and somewhat stressful, week at Act 4 I started flipping through some of the information I received in Chicago at orientation. I came across a sheet of paper titled "Thoughts to consider throughout the year." One of the points that really struck me was this:

"Invest your energies in people. Don't try to perfect 'the machine.'"

My week is filled with school assemblies, designing the new website, working on the newsletter and the 2008 Holiday Club application and so many other technical things.

Those of you who know me, know that I LOVE routines, schedules and lists. Sometimes I love these planning tools so much that it captivates my life. I become trapped in them. I think we, as humans, all get trapped into our schedules and routines.

When I read this point, I started to worry a little that I wasn't focusing my energies on people but on my lists, agendas and the Act 4 "Machine."

On Fridays, I help out at a youth club which is run at St. John's Methodists Church in Potters Bar. This club is for secondary age kids, mainly middle school and high school.

I started working at this club in September and only worked it every other week. The first four months I sat behind the tuck table (candy table). I didn't communicate that much with the kids. I would walk around for a bit but then always returned to the tuck table. I don't know what stopped me from talking with the kids at the club but I just didn't seem to find my niche.

In February I said to myself "Right, Kristin you are not going to sit at the tuck table and instead you are going to hang out with some of the girls."

And that week I sat and talked to some of the girls. And after that week and the week after that I talked to more kids. Now, I hang out with the same group of kids every week at the club. I stopped going every other week and started going every week because I wanted to go and I needed to go.

I went from sitting at the tuck table and not conversing to giving out my mobile number and telling them to call me with questions throughout the week, getting hugs from them as they leave the club and more importantly, listening to them.

I do get caught in my agenda throughout the week as I spend time taking pictures of puppets, dressing up as a mermaid in front of 200 primary school kids, working on a media list and preparing Holiday Club.

But on Friday nights I'm at St. John's Youth Club listening to Joe's music on his i-Pod, hearing about Olivia's new boyfriend, talking to Emma about stupid teachers and just laughing with a great group of kids!

Adventures in March & April


I got to see one of my sorority sisters, Kate Labriola in London with two of her friends. I hadn't seen Kate for about three years and it was wonderful to reunite with her and hear her crazy laugh! We had dinner and a great evening walking around London!


I saw Les Miserables with my friend Kelly, another YAGM volunteer. We met in London and had a picnic near the London Eye before seeing the show. Les Mis was amazing and I had the music in my head for like a week after seeing it. After the show we met up with our friend Amanda (YAGM volunteer) for Mexican food… something I've missed a lot while in England!


I went over to my supervisor's house for dinner one night. His son Ruari, who is 2 years old, finally said my name and was obsessed with me the entire evening. He even wanted me to put him to bed so I had to sit with him for 30 minutes until he went to sleep. My supervisor said it was good training for any future little Kristins– that's not going to happen anytime soon though!


I hung out with my friend Anthony (YAGM volunteer) one Saturday in London. We went to Canary Warf and did some other sightseeing. On Sunday we attended St. Anne's Lutheran Church in London with our friends Kelly and Amanda (YAGMs). Having not gone to a Lutheran service for eight months I was so excited to sing the liturgy, "Crown Him with Many Crowns," and "Take O Take Me As I Am." I really felt that the Lutheran part of my soul was filled by attending the service!

My Sense of Salzburg, Austria

In March I traveled to Salzburg, Austria for a holiday with my friend Maren, another YAGM volunteer. We had a great time and here are some memories from our trip!


I saw breathtaking views from the top of the Untersberg Mountain. Maren and I took the cable car ride up to the top. I was a little nervous about this but Maren said I had to do it– and I'm so glad I did! There was so much snow up at the top and Maren and I had a fabulous time taking in the mountains!

I smelled pretzels and sausages every day as we walked through the market during lunch time! Not only did I smell them but I tasted them too!


I tasted the Salzburger Nockerl! This dessert was mentioned in my Salzburg book and I was so excited to try one. Little did I know that you could seriously spilt this sweet soufflé with about 10 people! When it came to our table Maren and I lost it because it was so big! We could barely finish half of it. The soufflé is whipped into three large peaks, signifying the three Salzburg mountains.

I touched hand painted eggs. One of the stores in Salzburg had at least 2,000 different kinds of hand painted eggs. They were all beautiful and I wanted to buy them all while Maren felt tempted to smash them!

I heard the Sound of Music being played as we drove through the hills on our Sound of Music tour! We did the tour on our first day in Salzburg and I'm so glad we did. It was absolutely amazing and we got to see a lot of the sites from the movie. My favorite part was seeing the gazebo where Leisel sings "I Am Sixteen Going on Seventeen." We returned to this site during our trip and even got to go inside it (it's normally kept locked)- Maren and I were thrilled!


-- ~Kristin

April Newsletter - Mark in Slovakia

Ahoj and Greetings from Slovakia.

Well April has arrived quickly. Spring has arrived. What an experience
to see Life coming back into the surrounding hills. Green leaves and
flowers of every color. It has been so much fun seeing kids playing
outside. Sometimes after-school I play soccer or hockey ball with the
kids. It is nice getting to know some of my students when I don't have
to teach them English. I am meeting new people and getting to know
friends better. I've celebrated name days and birthdays. I've started to
call this once completely foreign place home. And in that there is
something significant.
And as usual I have been writing some other updates on my Blog for those
of you who are Internet savvy. The address is http://www.moltron.net/
I also have many more pictures available at
http://flickr.com/photos/themoltron
Spring in my Village has to be the most beautiful I've ever seen. All
the houses have flowers and the hills surrounding the village are filled
with green and yellow pastures. The trees have blossoms and will soon
bear fruit. Almost every house has a Slivka or Plum tree.
In the Slovak Culture there is a name celebrated on everyday and mine
was on April 25th, Marek. The name day or Menniny is celebrated like a
small birthday. You receive little gifts, cards and blessings from
everyone. I had a fantastic day. It was also great seeing the kids in
the Village named Marek too and we celebrated together.
Another small event that was really enjoyable was Pan Zigmund's Birthday
or Narodenniny. We celebrated at Spevakol or Choir Practice. He brought
his Accordion and we played and sang a bunch of traditional Slovak
songs. It was amazing. I'm not sure how old Pan Zigmund is but he is so
young at heart. He is one my favorite people in the Village. He, the
other volunteer Oli and I keep the bass section of the Choir going.
I'm not sure of what else to share this month other than with what I am
struggling with internally. I'm realizing how close it is getting to the
time I will be leaving. It seems like the weeks get faster and faster.
In one sense I'm glad to be going home but now I'm just starting to get
to know people and grasp the language. I feel like my heart and my head
are often in several places. In some small way I'm starting to grieve
leaving. The people, the language and this place have become a part of
me. My return home will be another journey all together.
I'm starting to get to know people more and I wish I'd had these
opportunities earlier. I'm trying to value every moment I have to speak
Slovak and these people who are now part of my life. There are other
moments when I think these people are crazy but, then a kid says
something funny or one of the old ladies tells me I need to find a
Slovak girl and then I'll learn perfect Slovak. It is strange to think
at the beginning of my journey here, I wasn't sure what to expect and I
still not sure. I am different person. Not only because I've gotten used
to the Slovak Culture and Language but also, because God has molded my
heart to be a little more like Jesus in some small way. I've learned to
see people through eyes love. It is said if you climb the hill of
struggle you suddenly find, the hill you thought was so hard to climb
has become a blessing. A new favorite song of mine by Sanctus Real
describes how I am feeling and how important it is walk this journey
with God is
"Whatever You're doing inside of me,
It feels like chaos but somehow there's peace,
It's hard to surrender to what I can't see,
But I'm giving in to something heavenly..."
The Biggest struggle for me is not knowing what I am going to do next. I
feel torn between home and this new place I call home. Will I come back?
Will I not? Will I forget the Slovak I learned? Will these people
remember me? Will I remember them? These are all really tough questions
that only God knows the answers to. So as I struggle, I'm learning what
trust is and embracing my fears about the future. If you expect to share
the Gospel and not be changed yourself then you are not sharing the
Gospel. If God is love then the Gospel is Love. Love can be painful
sometimes. God has a habit of turning people's lives upside-down. It has
already since I've arrived in Slovakia. I'm not so sure I want it to
happen again. On the other hand God's journey are always the most
exciting. If I could have one wish for all of you it would be that you
would trust God and let him turn your life upside-down a little. That is
when you experience the Gospel.
Please continue to pray for me and the other Volunteers around the world.
Lord,
Love is a crazy thing,
It is Joyful and Painful,
Help us to embrace the unknown,
Help us to realize that life changes,
Give us peace about the future,
Shack up our Lives a little,
That we may live for you and not by Fear.
Amen
God's Blessings and Peace be with you,
- Christ’s Servant in Slovakia
Mark

April 2008, Update from Gatundu! - Sarah L. in Kenya

April 2008 Newsletter: Update from Gatundu, Kenya

The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts, and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ.
-1 Corinthians 12:12
This verse has a great deal of significance for me as I serve in Kenya. …And though all its parts are many, they form one body. Throughout the post-election chaos and aftermath, it is blindingly clear that Kenya is made up of many parts-its 40+ tribal groups. Even before the presidential election, a common question to ask a new acquaintance was what tribe they belong to. What may often be just curiosity or a hope for a better understanding of a new friend's heritage, has unfortunately become a source of fear amongst the Kenyan people.
Since January 2008, several individuals have begun to turn on their neighbors of different tribes due to propaganda that "others" could not be trusted. *Please note that I am not generalizing that this applies to all Kenyans or even many Kenyans.* People were even afraid to share their names because many names divulged their tribal heritage. Many Kenyans who did not live in homogeneous communities packed up their lives and moved (generally to police stations or IDP-Internally Displaced Persons-camps) in fear that their own neighbors would turn on them.
This is why I think this passage in 1 Corinthians 12 is so relevant to my current context: The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I don't need you.' And the head cannot say to the feat, 'I don't need you!' … But God has combined the members of the body so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it. If one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. (1 Corinthians 12: 21, 24-26). Verse 26 has been especially true in the past four months. No matter who was considered a victim, an instigator, or who played the part of Switzerland, everyone has suffered from the post-election violence.
Only on Sunday were some of the IDPs returning to their homes, where likely a home no longer existed. Food prices have risen exponentially because hundreds of thousands of people were displaced and therefore, unable to harvest and cultivate their crops. An outbreak of cholera swept through the IDP camps, in addition to the malaria, dysentery and HIV/AIDS that plagued the areas. Even though the majority of the violence has subsided, Kenyans continue to suffer from the aftermath.
What I like about his passage in Corinthians is that it reminds us that we are all in this together (12:27). We are all part of God's plan and no person is placed about another. In order for us to function as one body, we must realize that we cannot survive without each other.
A quick update from the field:
April is a holiday month for most Kenyan schools between Term 1 and 2. I spent most of my time recuperating in Nairobi (there are far less bugs there!), however, I did have the chance to travel to South Africa with another volunteer. We specifically wanted to learn more about the effects of the apartheid, so we travelled to Soweto, the township where Nelson Mandela did much of his work/organizing. We also went to Robben Island off of Cape Town where Mandela and other political prisoners were kept. The prison only closed in 1994!
I am now back at school in Gatundu for my last term. The term ends at the end of July and I will be returning to MN in August.
While on holiday, I learned several new Kiswahili phrases (that I should've learned a long time ago):
Una kuja saa ngapi?: What time are you coming?
Ume fika nyumbani?: Have you reached home?
Tuonane kesho: See you tomorrow.
Prayer Requests:
1. For those living in IDP camps as they prepare to return to what is left of their homes
2. For a fellow Young Adult Volunteer, who has had to end his year of service early due to a family illness
3. For the students of Icaciri Secondary School as they begin their 2nd Term
Thank you for your continued prayers and support!
Blessings,
Sarah Larson
Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.
1 Corinthians 12: 27

April Newsletter - Katie in Mexico

¡Sí, yo puedo!
Cuernavaca, Mexico Newsletter
April 2008
By Katie

Sí, yo puedo is my mantra in Mexico. It is what makes me similar and it is what makes me different. It is what helps me pull through tough days. It is how I rage against the parts of this culture that get under my skin. It is what makes me wonder about the way that I can choose to live my life upon my return. Sí, yo puedo. Yes, I can.
Sí, yo puedo as my identity
I am a gringa that sticks out like a sore thumb in Mexico. No questions about it. But the whole point of this year is to walk with my Mexican brothers and sisters, to try to be in solidarity with them and with their communities. I can observe, I can listen, I can question and discuss, I can imitate, and if I get really desperate to fit in I can even change my hair color. As it turns out, I am fortunate to have a daily opportunity to learn, imitate, and appreciate this culture while deepening friendships with my Mexican friends. Food.
My first weekend in Mexico I went to the pachanga to celebrate Marce’s mom’s 92nd birthday. It was a crazy weekend of so little sleep and so much activity that my mind was absolutely swimming in the culture shock and overload. What better time than that to be flung into the art of making tortillas? *rolling my eyes* This is no small task, nor is it easily mastered, nor is it a part of the meal that Mexicans regard with flippant apathy. This is the tortilla we are talking about, after all, the staple of the Mexican diet and culturally sacred and respected. Despite the intimidation factor and my own exhaustion, I gave tortilla-making a try and I didn’t do a very good job; I tried again and tore a little hole while laying it on the grill; tried again and a big piece ripped off on the edge; and I tried again and tried again and tried again… the rest is history. I can now proudly make tortillas, no holes and no rips, flipping them when necessary and knowing how to check for even cooking. My tortillas even inflate sometimes, which is the ultimate test of one’s tortilla-making skills (not to brag or anything). I do not have the speed or casual ease of an old pro like Marce or our friend Guille across the street. I don’t have the skill of the women I see working in restaurants or street stands to make all of my tortillas inflate like balloons. And I definitely do not have the desensitized fingertips of an expert and my fingers still suffer minor burns… but the point is that I try, I’m getting better, and my Mexican friends seem to love that I care to be a part of the process.
The one thing that trumps the act of trying to be an active and interested member of the kitchen is actually liking the food too. Next to Italians, Mexicans might be one of the proudest people of their cuisine and with good reason. There is a certain degree of obligation here to enjoy fresh tortillas, pozole, mole, or any other traditional dish. It is also obligatory to enjoy anything spicy. Here is Mexico, the chile reigns. If you don’t like it, well, thanks for visiting and would you please leave quietly so as not to disturb those of us enjoying the meal?
By mere fact of being a blonde and fair-skinned American, many doubt my interest in chile. At a recent birthday party, I got on a rant of “Si, yo puedo” with the host family which then became a fascinating sport during of putting spicy things in front of me to see what exactly I could eat and still enjoy. Of all the things that I was ranting about they most wanted to know if yes, I can eat salsas like they can. Whoops. The stubborn side of me ate everything, ignoring the pinpricks of sweat appearing on my forehead or a runny nose. The surprised and impressed looks on their faces were enough encouragement to keep me going like an 8th grader in the cafeteria taking bets from friends with disgusting cafeteria-food concoctions.
In examples like food and my participation in cooking, Si, yo puedo is a part of my identity that makes me blend in with the people here. To another extent this Si, yo puedo mentality is a part of my identity that sets me apart and makes me different. Yes, I can read and write, I can get a good public education, I can go to college, I can spend a year in a foreign country with no income, I can go visit other parts of Mexico with friends and family, I can cross the border between Mexico and the United States without having to walk across a desert and risk my life in the journey… Si, yo puedo is a testament to the benefits of being born a white, middle-upper class, woman from the United States. Without choice or effort, I was born into a privilege that sets me apart. Si, yo puedo makes me the same but I see that it also makes me very different.
Si, yo puedo as my lifejacket
Believe it or not, this experience for me is not always a Mexican paradise of warm weather, sun, palm trees, delicious food, and an easy-going lifestyle. Most of the time, I have 10-hour days of working with kids between 2 and 6 years old. I am their toy, their goofy playmate, and their jungle gym. I have to be active, smiley, patient, and enthusiastic the whole time. I have to take care of kids who know more swears than I do, kids that still wear diapers and already know how to beat someone up, kids that vomit, kids that pee their pants, and kids who don’t listen to a word I say and ask the same question a million times. But Si, yo puedo… Yes, I can give these kids my love because many of them don’t get enough at home. Si, yo puedo because there are worse ways to spend a day than playing with little kids. Si, yo puedo because the kids give me daily the gift of the sweetest smiles that I have ever seen. And even if their overly-enthusiastic hugs border on physical assault, they want to give me hugs and they want to love me back. Yeah, it is exhausting but it is also life-giving.
Fortunately, I get a much-needed break in my day to go home after my morning job to rest and eat with Marce before starting my second job. But even my time at home can be tiring. There is a feeling of host-daughterly duty to be present and talkative at home with Marce and Sarah who visits daily. I love their company and I know that they also are my confidants, saviors, supporters, and best friends here… but sometimes I just want to curl up with a book, something to eat, and a few hours of peaceful time to myself after these long days. But then I think again. I can give a few hours to my friends who are ready to come to my defense when I need another fighter in my corner, the shoulder to cry on, and a giver of a gentle hug when I miss home. I can give a few hours to Sarah who listens to me blabber on and on about my boyfriend, my work, the exciting moments in my day, and the things that bug me about being here in Mexico. Sarah is my understanding friend, who just gets me and is always ready to come to my rescue. I can give a few hours to Marce, the woman who takes care of me everyday, my teacher of swear words and other useful expressions in Mexican-Spanish, and my nurse who gave me three injections in the butt and watched over me when I had an intestinal infection in November. Marce is my Mexican mother in the many senses of the word. Yes, I can give a few more hours of my day to them.
Si, yo puedo as my battle cry against machismo
I remember reading alumni advice for both of my study abroad experiences. In both Italy and Mexico, former students complained about the machismo and catcalls and I always thought those anonymous writers were silly and thin-skinned for being bothered by it. I rolled my eyes and thought to myself, “It is just a cultural difference and not worth getting bent out of shape. Anyway, you can just ignore it, right?”
For the first few months, I barely noticed the catcalls in Mexico. For those who have never been to Cuernavaca, it is a colorful city with windy and hilly roads with an over-stimulating array of people, places, and daily events to observe. Early in the year I was too busy making sure I didn’t get lost while trying to simultaneously enjoy the vibrant, new surroundings. After awhile, I became comfortable with my walking routes and I started to notice the machismo and catcalls but I chose to ignore it. After another couple months the male attention started bugging me so I would sarcastically respond with a “Gracias” under my breath to try to make a joke of what was starting to become quite irritating. Eventually the joke got old and useless, and now I want to flick-off every self-entitled machista out there who feels the insatiable need to make kissing sounds, call me his “beautiful queen,” tell me “I ouf you,” or brazenly offers an invitation to climb into his car (and Lord knows what else that invitation might entail). Machismo is an aspect of this culture that gets so deep under my skin that I nearly scream out loud in frustration. What right do you have to objectify me and talk to me like that?! Gross. I am reminded of my old self, “You can just ignore it, right?” The older and wiser me now chuckles and shakes my head, saying to myself, “Not after over 8 months, honey. Eventually you take notice.”
Never to be a woman to lay myself on the chopping block of patriarchy, machismo, or anyone who thinks they know my needs better than me… what to do? I am a rebel and fighter with a mile-wide stubborn streak, so I hold my head up high, send vicious looks, and sometimes go out of my way to prove a point. Because yes, I can.
Not to long ago I got myself in such a tizzy reflecting on machismo that I just had to prove a point, even if only to myself. Marce and I needed milk so I offered to buy the large shipping box that contains 12 smaller boxes of milk (1 liter each, so 12 liters in total). Marce told me I was nuts and it is way to heavy; I should just buy 4 individual boxes instead. I insisted that si, yo puedo and she allowed me to take enough money to buy all of it with a look on her face that reminded me not to be an idiot and to remember that just 4 will do. So I went for a long walk for exercise and then stopped by the grocery store on the home stretch. Without really thinking twice about it, I bought the full shipping box and proceeded to walk the half-mile back to my house carrying this (I’ll admit it) heavy box of 12 liters of milk. I did it with a defiant and determined smile on my face, thinking, “You see me?! Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean that I can’t be strong and capable of taking care of myself! Watch me do this!” I got home to a half-surprised Marce and our friend Sylvia. They got such a good laugh out of my rebellious streak of good ol’ fashioned feminism and my slightly ridiculous way of showing it. My arms were shaking and sore for the next few days, but I didn’t care. Si, yo puedo.
I also take advantage of every opportunity to break gender norms at school telling the kids that I like to wear blue more than pink, that I like sports, and that I think Spiderman is awesome. They think I’m weird and often reply with the same blank expression that I get when I get tongue-tied and speak bad Spanish to them. “What is Maestra Katy talking about?” I also try to break some gender roles in my host family to provide a living example of a different perspective. I tell them about playing soccer in Tepoztlan, accept a beer offered when only the men are drinking, and engage in conversations in the kitchen with the women just as often as conversations on sports or politics with the men. When the women say that they can’t do something I always insist that they can. Maybe they also stare at me blankly and wonder, “What is Katy talking about?” but I have a hidden hope that this whole Si, yo puedo mantra is contagious.

Si, yo puedo as my upcoming life challenge
This entire year has challenged me to consider the ways that I can use the perspectives and knowledge gained in Mexico to serve others when I return to the United States. What can I do with this year? I’m starting to realize that I can do almost everything and anything I want. Yes, I can is a powerful statement and it is one of the beautiful things of being born in the United States and having a wealth of opportunities and privileges. Knowing who reads this newsletter, I know that many of you have been blessed with the same benefits and abilities.
Unlike my Mexican brothers and sisters in Chiapas and Guerrero, I do not fear kidnapping in the dark of night, torture, and execution by an oppressive and corrupt government. I can come home and speak my mind (loudly) about this world’s injustices and how our government perpetuates many of them. I can create artwork that expresses my opinion. I teach others of my experiences. I can vote in November for a candidate that promotes social justice and responsible immigration policies. I can pursue jobs that can link me closer with the Latino community and their struggles. Yes, I can continue my involvement in the things I am learning this year.
The bigger question is not if I can do something with this year, it is if I will do something with this year. It should come as no surprise by now that I desperately strive to satisfy my own belief in serving others but now I recognize that the biggest obstacle in my path is actually myself. For all my preaching and passion I barely scratch the surface of taking advantage of the benefits of being US-American, financially stable, and educated. As I rephrase my own question to “What will I do?” I realize the depth of this challenge that I just presented to myself. Knowing that I can’t walk away from this challenge, I struggle to say Yes, I will with the same grit and determination of Yes, I can. It will mean more of my time, more of my heart given to the fight for justice, more dashed hopes, and more seemingly miniscule attempts to do my part to make this world a better place… but it is what I’m called to do. It will be hard, but Yes, I can and yes, I will.

April Newsletter - Laura in India

"Psalm 121"
When paging through a National Geographic, gawking at the peaks and
climbers alike, I often ask myself, what do those hikers think about
while scaling the tops? What do they ponder while trekking? Surely,
being professionals they have discovered pure, mountain zen. Surely,
they have found oneness with the paths and peaks, thus never growing
weary, but gaining strength with each passing step. Surely, their
hiking thoughts are nothing like mine:
Huff. Huff. Puff.
My goodness.
Huff. Huff. Puff.
Okay. Not tired. Nope. Not tired.
Geez, Thompsen, you're breathing hard.
Nope. Don't think that. Keep going. Look at the trail. Press on.
Oh, that's good. Press on.
That's it. Watch your feet. Good, watch the trail.
Man, your feet are big.
Huff. Huff. Puff.
Big shoes, too. Big enough to hold weights.
Uff-da. It feels like they've got weights. Yep, 1000 lbs in my shoes.
Huff. Huff. Puff.
Must distract yourself. Sing a song. Watch the trail and sing a song.
"I see trees of green...Huff.
Red roses too...Huff.
Uh...I see clouds of white...Puff.
Um...What a wonderful world...Huff."
Maybe I should pick a song I know.
Huff. Huff. Puff.
Okay. Just watch your feet.
I often wonder if my hiking companions recite poems or think deep
philosophical thoughts while climbing versus huffing and puffing. I
often wonder if I'm the only one who has such a love-hate relationship
with mountain trails. I love the challenge and I love the climb; but,
I can't wait for the trail to end and I hike anticipating the next
water break. I often wonder if others also spend more time looking at
the trail than at the landscape around them.
Thus, I went into our Himalayan excursion with the slightest hope that
I had outgrown this hiking habit. Maybe this passage would be my
passage to more mature inner monologues.
Yet, while we climbed about, surrounded by some of the most majestic
peaks in the world, I could not keep my mind off my huffs and puffs,
nor my eyes off the trail. As we walked through valleys that surround
Everest, I could not keep from hoping that around the next bend we
would finally finish.
At this, I grew more and more discouraged. Why do I think this on
every hike? Why do I eagerly anticipate the trail, yet once begun, I
cannot think of anything but its completion?
We soon came to a clearing with some of the most beautiful mountain
peaks I have seen. The Himalayan range is massive. They seem to take
up the entire sky. And better yet, they seem to know their beauty, as
they stand proud, majestic and full of grandeur. Our eyes wanted to
continue staring, but the trail continued. So, we did as well.
Back to huffing and puffing, I thought. Back to the battle in my
mind. Worst of all, back to gazing at a stupid trail that looks like
all the other stupid trails I've been on. Trails are trails. But,
mountains are not just mountains; they are something more. They are
worth gazing at. They are worth keeping your eyes on. I wanted to
climb higher, but that meant keeping my eyes down, motivating my feet
to press on--a habit I've developed through the years. And the last
thing I wanted was to spend another two hours going up a mountain
without seeing a mountain.
While pondering all this, I was reminded of a Psalm; a Psalm I've read
many times this year. Psalm 121:
I lift my eyes up, unto the mountains-
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
The Maker of Heaven and Earth.
I was surrounded by mountains. I was in need of inspiration. It
seemed like Divine intervention that this Psalm came to mind. But,
instead of a spring in my step, I was just given more questions. Big
surprise.
What is it about mountains that reminds the Psalmist of God, the
creator of majesty and grandeur? What is it about creation, God's
creation, that comforts the Psalmist? It does not read 'we lift our
eyes to the Taj Mahal' or 'we lift our eyes to the forts of Rajahstan,
where does our help come from'. For, we do not turn our eyes to a
being of this world, but to a source of this world.
And, from that, I had to simply ask myself, why do I not lift my eyes?
Why had I always resorted to watching my feet, watching the trail
pass, as I walked my path? I've been told to watch where I am
stepping; that there is danger in keeping my eyes elsewhere; that I
may stumble if I do not watch closely enough. That is, I hold some
control of the journey if I watch every step. Yet, in gazing up, I
will not only be reminded of the creator of my challenge but also the
helper of that challenge. I can release my control once I have faith
in gazing at the mountains.
How much of my life have I been watching the trail instead of the
mountain? How often am I too ashamed to lift up my eyes? For in that
lifting, I admit my weakness. It is in staring at the mountains that
I am humbled. I confess that I am in need of strength, in need of
help. In taking my eyes off the trail, I find myself not knowing
where the next step may be. In taking my eyes off the trail, I trust
that the Maker of the mountains will bring me through their passes. I
trade false assurance for active dependency.
So, as the path continued, so did we. But, this time, I kept my eyes
up. I watched the clouds roll over those mighty Himalayas; I squinted
as the sun beat down; and I marveled at the snow falling around them.
And, there, I did enter a new passage of hiking. One with the same
huffing and puffing; one with more stumbles and blunders; but, one
with an incredible view.

April Newsletter - Jessica in Slovakia

07-08 Slovakia - Jessica
Originally uploaded by YAGM

Jessica’s April Newsletter
Updates from Slovakia

Each month I am here seems to go by faster and faster, and April just flew by so quickly. The work here continued as usual and I kept busy on the weekends with some trips around Slovakia. Helping Pali in the kitchen is still a lot of fun, and Kristen and I are learning a lot about Slovak cooking. While Pali was out sick for a couple of days we were able to cook lunch for everyone and made some of our favorite Slovak meals. We also realized even more how much work goes into preparing a big meal for about thirty people!
We continue to have English classes on Wednesday and Friday evenings. This past month we taught vocabulary words about the city (street, post office, restaurant, etc…). We taught how to say where they are going and where they will go during the week. We also taught about the weather and how to say that it is sunny, rainy, cloudy, and so on. It can be difficult at times because they want to learn a lot, but have trouble retaining everything. However, they enjoy learning what they can, and it is good time to spend with them. It is really nice when some of the guys try to talk to me in English, even if it is just “Hello, how are you?”. The Bible study with the guys continues to be each Monday evening, and similar to English classes, sometimes there are a good many guys there, and other times a small turn out. However, it is always a nice time to spend together. We have been working through the book of Acts, and usually concentrate on a couple of verses each week. This past month we had one of our Bible studies outside with a bonfire, and it was nice to have this time for fellowship too.
The weekends this past month were exciting, because I took some trips around Slovakia. The first weekend some of the other volunteers and I traveled to Sečovce to visit another volunteer’s placement. It was a really nice and refreshing time to spend together. We spent some time in Košice, which is the second to largest city in Slovakia, and in Michalovce, which is a city close to this area. We were also able to attend an English worship service at a Lutheran church in Košice that Sunday morning. After eight months of services in Slovak, it was wonderful to be able to understand everything so easily and to just have the familiarity of an English hymnal.
Last Saturday Marek, a Slovak volunteer who comes here on the weekends took a group of about fifteen guys along with Kristen and me to Prešov, a city about an hour from here. The children’s homes in Slovakia put on a special concert each year where each of the different homes has children performing by singing, folk dancing, or break dancing (quite a variety!). The guys really enjoy going and seeing people from the homes that they grew up in. I enjoyed spending this time with them and seeing the program the children’s homes put on. Towards the end of the concert Marek took Kristen and I to his church for their mladež (youth group gathering). One of the girls, Zuzka, was an exchange student in Indiana for a year, and she was very helpful in translating for us. It was a lot of fun to meet some high school aged students and see what an active youth group is like in Slovakia.
Last Sunday Kristen, Pali, his friend Mirka, and I were able to go to Lomnicky Štit, which is the second to tallest mountain in the High Tatras (2,655 meters). Zuzka’s mother (Zuzka lives next to us and her husband works here) gave us tickets to go up to the peak of the mountain. We went by car to the village of Tatranska Lomnica (about 15 minutes away) and from there took cable cars up to the peak. It was a beautiful clear day and the view from the top was amazing.
As the weather has been finally getting warmer here it has been nice to spend more time outside, and we have been able to do more activities outside. The guys enjoy playing futbal (soccer), riding bicycles, and just sitting outside listening to music. It has also been fun to cook sausages over the fire for dinner every once in a while. Overall April was a great month and I am looking forward to the next couple of months here!

April Newsletter - Ashley in Slovakia

07-08 Slovakia - Ashley
Originally uploaded by YAGM

Life in Hybe
Ashley, Young Adults in Global Mission

Hello all! Happy spring! (Actually I feel a bit bad sending spring cheers, as you have had snow through this entire month…sorry about that.) The weather is finally getting warm, and it’s so exciting! All through winter I kept asking, “How warm is May, usually? How hot will it be in June? July?” Their weather here is supposed to be pretty comparable to our weather in Minnesota and Wisconsin, so I was hoping for really warm weather this summer. But the answers I kept getting weren’t so hopeful. “Um, well it actually never really gets THAT warm here” or, “It should be pretty warm by the end of July, or early August, around the time you’ll be leaving to go home.” That made me a bit disappointed, but I’m happy to report now that the weather has been pretty warm in the past few weeks! I’ve spent quite a few nice afternoons reading outside against our fence in the driveway path, sporting my big green sunglasses. My host mom and Starka think I’m a bit strange, and often come out to give me more towels or pillows to sit on, and ask me if I’m cold. I will really be tempted to drag a beach towel and lay out in the yard in a bathing suit with a book and my tunes, once the weather gets really hot, but then they make think I’m REALLY crazy. So we’ll see.

The process of getting to know the kids and teenagers in the youth group has been a bit slow and challenging at times, but it’s still going steadily. The pastor is always very encouraging and tells them that they must speak in English to me for practice, but they are still shy. I think they are afraid of speaking because they’re embarrassed of their English, therefore most of my communication with them is in Slovak. This is good practice for me, presents limitations obviously, but we are getting along better and better all the time. I had a really nice time playing with a group of kids last week at the playground equipment near the church. I played tag and hide and seek with them (which was pretty great, I haven’t done that in a LONG time!) and I learned 6 new names: Dominik, Marek, Filip, Tomas, Linda, and Dominika. They even tried to speak some English with me, which was quite exciting! I count that as a lot of progress. Their approaching me in Slovak is progress for sure too, but their attempts to speak with me in English really mean a lot to me. This coming week we will be going on a 3-day retreat together, so I’m looking forward to that opportunity to hang out with them, and will update you on how it goes next time!

I have also found another way to communicate with them this month (well, maybe the younger teens and children, more so than the older kids, but they still find it amusing too). I introduced my cheek flapping talent to them, and it’s gone over REALLY well! Haha! Who’d have thought some stupid useless talent would’ve come in so handy here? Not me, for sure. It’s a super impressive talent, let me tell you! (Or maybe not so much…:-P) When I was 14 and our family hosted a foreign exchange student (Yay Paarnaq!), she dazzled me with her cheek flapping abilities and inspired me to learn. And so I spent a lot of time practicing, and now I’ve passed it on in Slovakia. It’s been a really funny way to connect with the kids, and I’ll take whatever connection I can get! Some of the kids I’d never talked to before, the ones who were to nervous to approach me, now come up to me and smile and point to their cheeks, “Mozes?” (which means, “Can you?”) And then they giggle or smile. It’s pretty fun. I also do a nostril-sucking trick, but this one isn’t as popular (thankfully, because I usually feel lightheaded if I do it too much). Thanks God, for giving me the ability to do stupid things with my face! (Here is a picture of Radko’s reaction to my cheek flapping!)
My english classes are becoming more and more comfortable, so that’s exciting! I have some faithful regulars for my community classes now, especially for my beginner class. The same three come every week, and we have a pretty fun time together! It’s a nice challenge for me, speaking only Slovak while teaching them, and in return I get the chance to learn some things in Slovak from them. I really appreciate their willingness to learn the basics, and their enthusiasm with writing and practicing their notes. Their attitudes, and the informal and small class size make the classes really enjoyable! Also, my days teaching at the Liptovsky Hradok school (with the boys) have been really fun this month. I’ve spent a lot of class time helping the boys prepare for their conversation exams in May, having one-on-one conversations with them about various topics. If you’d like to read more about the funny times I’ve had there, please check out my blog and read “Giggly Boys.” I’m especially happy to be there because of the fun atmosphere and because of how much fun I have with Zuzka! She’s a riot.

I got together with volunteers a few different times this month. Kristen came to visit for a nice weekend! We spent most of it with Zuzka, taking her boys for a hike, and she also came to both Mladis and Dorast youth group meetings with me. Also, some of us met up in Secovce (near Kosice) for a weekend to visit Mary. We spent some time with the pastor she works with, Mariana, and had dinner with her family. I had the chance to participate in a Bible study in English (led by Mary), which was really exciting! After Easter, I was feeling especially frustrated with the language barrier at church, so I really appreciated that time, as well as the English church service we went to in Kosice! At the service, we got to meet some other volunteers from the ELCA (volunteers of all ages), which was really fun! They aren’t here through the Young Adults in Global Mission Program, but through the ELCA teaching program. We had the chance to visit with them during fellowship time at the church, as well as visit their apartment afterwards. It was fun to meet more Americans (some from Wisconsin!) and share experiences about living here long-term (most of them have been here longer than a year).

Something that has been a bit strange for me in this past month or so is the attention I’ve been getting in the area. Everyone keeps telling me that I’m such a “celebrity” now, because in the last two months I’ve been featured in the church magazine “Zvon,” in the city newspaper, in the Liptov newspaper (the newspaper that covers the bigger region), as well as the country-wide newspaper for educators and school members. My picture has been in all of these, articles of information, interviews with me, as well as interviews with my family (from when they came to visit in March). I’ve met people on the street, and they tell me, “Ah, I saw your article and picture! I know who you are!” It’s a bit strange. I guess it’s pretty common for foreign volunteers to come to Slovakia to teach English, but they are usually only sent to Bratislava or Kosice, to the bigger cities. It’s really rare for a small village to have a native speaker around to help with English classes, or to attend church activities. I’m pretty grateful that I’m in a smaller community (although I admit it’s challenging at times, coming straight from Minneapolis, which I loved so much) because the relationships and experiences I have here will be much more personal. I have the opportunity to get to know people really well, I feel safe and looked after, and the atmosphere is just cozier than it would be in a city.

Also, one thing I wanted to tell you about is something that happened in March, but I thought I would save it for my April newsletter: my family (Mom, Dad, and Jake) came to visit me here in Slovakia!!!  It was so amazing to see them, and sometimes now it doesn’t even seem like they were really here, a bit hard to believe. They were here for about a week, and it was a whirlwind, but really fantastic! We spent a few days in Hybe, where they had the opportunity to meet my host family (my mom even made Halusky, the traditional food of Slovakia, with my host mom and grandma!), Zuzka and her family, the pastor and his family, as well as many other people from the church and community. They had the opportunity to visit both of the schools I help teach at, see both the adult and youth choirs reherse, sit in on a Lent church service, have dinner with 3 different families, and have hot chocolate at an old castle-made-restaurant. After our time in Hybe, we traveled to Koseca to visit the people and places from my first placement. It was really special that they met people from both parts of my year, and that they were able to see so many things during their time here.

In Koseca (and the area around it) they were able to see the nursing home where I worked and lived, meet some of the nurses, residents, and Zuzka! (And of course, Frankie the bird too.) We went to visit Obchodna Akademia in Ilava, where I first helped teach english, and met with the teachers and the headmaster of the school. We even went into a few of the classrooms while class was in session! They let the students ask my family some questions, and it was pretty entertaining. We also met other friends and people in my life from Dubnica, and then we were on our way again. We next traveled to Bratislava and spent the night there, getting a little taste of Slovakia’s capitol, and took a day trip to Vienna, Austria the next day. In Vienna we tried some fun restaurants, toured the Belvedere Palace, saw the St. Stephens and St. Peters cathedrals, and were able to tour the city center for awhile. We all had a great time together, and it really meant a lot to me that all four of us could be together! We ended the exciting, jam-packed week with a goodbye in Bratislava, and although goodbyes are always hard, it was much more content than the first time. I’m quite excited to see them again on August 19th in Minneapolis!

Although we had no prompt this month for a question to respond to, I thought I would add a quick response to last month’s question. “ How is your leadership shaped by the crosscultural or multicultural experience you are facing?“ My response to this would be that it has been shaped into something completely different than I’ve ever had to deal with, because of the language barrier challenge. I’ve felt so frustrated at times because it has been a bit impossible to be a leader (in a traditional way). I would really like to help teach Sunday school classes, or sometimes lead a discussion at a youth group meeting, but the language barrier prevents me from doing so. It has been difficult, trying to think of myself as a leader in this context. I guess my leadership role, in this way, can be filled only with actions and the example that I set with my attitude. It’s not exactly the way I had imagined “leading“ when I was preparing for this year of service, but it has taught me to think outside of the box.

From this prompt, also, I got to thinking about leadership within the communities I’ve served in this year. It is always valuable life experience to work with different types of leaders, watch them, learn from them. This has been a unique experience, in that I’ve had the chance to work with religious leaders this year. I’ve worked near or with pastors in both of my placements and have had two really different experiences. During orientation we were told, “You’re probably going into this year thinking, ‘I don’t have any expections‘ but it’s not true. You all have expectations, whether you think you do or not“ and I’ve found that to be true in many different cases. One being the attitude and leadership of pastors. I had an interesting conversation with my fellow YAGM volunteers about this topic, and some agreed that they’ve had similar reactions to the pastor’s they’re around. I think it really has been great life experience, seeing how different religious leaders approach their communities, their jobs, and how their attitudes reflects their actions.

Ok, well this is quite long, so I better wrap it up. Thanks so much for reading this, for your support! I ask you to also check out my blog when/if you get a chance. I’m trying to be more consistant with adding blog entries, and knowing that you guys are reading them makes me excited (and gives me the energy to write even more)! I hope this finds you well! Thanks again


God Bless,
Ashley

April Newsletter - Kristen in Slovakia

April Newsletter

April Happenings

The warmer spring weather in April brought about some more weekend trips and the opportunity to visit some different cities in Slovakia as well as the usual work here. Some of the different cities that I was able to see were: Kosice, Michalovce, Secovce, Tatranska Lomnica, Presov, Levoca, and the mountain peak of Lomnicky Stit.

The first weekend in April, the four female American volunteers in Slovakia decided to meet and visit Mary’s placement which is in Secovce. First we all gathered together and explored the city of Kosice, which is the second largest city in Slovakia. Later that evening, we went to Mary’s pastor’s house where we were able to stay the night and enjoy the small excitements in life like homemade pizza, girl scout cookies, and tortilla chips with salsa – the things that you don’t realize you miss until you taste them again. On Saturday we were able to see more of her home village and meet her host family and went into the nearby city of Michalovce to explore the city and meet the pastor and her daughter for coffee in the afternoon. In the evening, her host family let us use the grill to make dinner (I learned the Slovak word for “to grill” is “grillovat,” no joke!) and we had a good time with that once we finally got the fire started. Then, Sunday we were able to go back into Kosice in the morning and go to an English service that is held there (there are several American teaching volunteers there as well as some families whose husbands work in the US Steel industry there). I enjoy the Slovak worship services here a lot but it was wonderful to be able to have a service where we used the LBW (Lutheran Book of Worship) and everything was said in English, including the sermon. Definitely an exciting weekend with a taste of things from America in it.

The next weekend we had a nice surprise when the mother of Zuzka, the woman who lives next door to us, invited Jessie, Pali, and I to accompany her to the village of Tatranska Lomnica and then up to the second highest mountain peak in the Tatras Mountains, Lomnicky Stit. We headed off on a gorgeous morning and arrived to find that we were too late to get the tickets to head up the mountain peak so we ended up walking around and enjoying the spring weather in the village. We took a walk up and around this nice pond with tons and tons of frogs, the historical church, a really fancy hotel, and then back through the village, and ended in a café where we enjoyed coffee and cake before heading back. Zuzka’s mother bought the tickets for two weekends in advance and we made plans to return then.

When we did return, we had another gorgeous day where the weather was very clear and we were able to make it up to the top. To get up the mountain you have to take cable cars up to the top, much like the ones you find in an amusement park except they are going up the steep side of a mountain and move much faster. The view from the top was amazing, although very cold with a lot of snow still left, and well worth the trip up.

Our friend Linda, one of the German volunteers here with our program, also made a trip out to visit Jessie and I here in Velky Slavkov. We enjoyed some hiking in the Tatras, shopping in Poprad, and visiting the historical city of Levoce. Also, while she was here, Monday night for Bible study we had a nice change of pace and had a bonfire outside. We gathered together and cooked sausages, had some guitar playing, and just enjoyed spending time together.

Last weekend, we had the opportunity to visit yet another city, Presov, the fifth largest city in Slovakia. Every year the children’s homes in the area put on a free concert and Jessie and I were asked if we wanted to go with the boys to see it. Of course we said yes if there was room for us, and the boys were really excited for us to go with them. The concert was an interesting mix of programs – everything from traditional songs and dance with costumes, to hip-hop and break dancing, to singing pop songs (in Slovak and even one in English). It was a really enjoyable experience and afterwards Marek, the weekend volunteer here, asked if Jessie and I wanted to go to Mladez, the youth group at his church while the boys went to the dance party that was held after the concert. We said yes so he took us there, found someone who speaks English to translate, and told us to have fun. We played an ice breaker type game outside with the group and then went upstairs. There was a wonderful video presentation which one of the guys in the group put together, where there was a video made up of pictures and video clips that illustrated how his life had changed now that he has become a Christian. It was really powerful and moving. Then we had a Bible study which was translated for us and finally, we wrote down prayer requests and exchanged them with others and had some time for prayer. It was a great opportunity to experience a different church and youth group.

Everything else here in the placement is still going really well too. Bible studies, English class, working in the kitchen, and teaching swimming are all still fun and a good way to continue to grow in my relationships with people. I am very thankful to all of you for all of the emails, letters, and prayers. I hope that everyone is doing well at home!
God’s blessings,
Kristen

April Newsletter! - Eric in the UK

St. Pancras News
April

Being Lost and the "Found"

After some long and extensive weeks, I decided to take a free day and go to the beautiful village of St. Albans (about 30 miles outside of London). It was so nice as the town contrasts London so greatly with the more peace and quiet. In my hurried preparation to go, I didn't really put in any details of the village in my bag so I didn't really have any idea where anything was. I decided that this was ok and just wandered around for a bit. I finally (after walking the wrong direction) found the high street and Central Square of the town. Then, walking further, I came upon the medieval Cathedral. I sat in the Cathedral for a while and then went walking around again before deciding to come back to the Cathedral. A wedding was just ending in the chapel, so I quietly stood around and admired the windows.

Upon my viewing of the various things in the Cathedral, I had a surprising tap on my shoulder and a rather tatty looking elderly man smiling at me. "I've seen you twice now walking up and down the high street and around the Cathedral", he said. "Now this is the third time I have seen you and with due respect sir, you look lost." Being surprised at this comment, I chuckled a little bit and said that I was just here from London and making it a day out. We talked for a little while about the wedding that was just ending as he knew the groom involved. "Would you like to walk up to the pub with me to get a drink- or don't you drink?", the man asked. Not being really sure (because of the man's outward appearance) if I would be the one paying for the drinks I hesitated for a split second. However, something about the man really struck me as being very genuine and real so I took him up on his offer.

He was, in fact, true to his word and bought me a pint of Guinness. As we sat down he said, "Now back at the Cathedral, I only meant partly that you look lost geographically.....I'm just going to be honest with you sir, you also look weighed down by something." Again, I was surprised at his very honest and upfront nature and replied that I did indeed feel weighed down by things. I suddenly realized that this day was probably the first day in a many weeks that I could actually allow myself to feel lost in a way. The stresses of work in London and my future obligations in life continue to put a lot of weight upon my shoulders, but don't allow much opportunity to outwardly show the stresses. "You can't let yourself be sucked in by things all the time.", the man said. "I'll be honest with you, I've been in that place too." He went on to explain how his job in aerospace engineering consumed both himself and his marriage. "I'll just be honest with you, you need to let yourself have times to express your insecurities but then also have people there for you who can walk with you in those insecurities. I've hadn't had that a lot in my life.", he finally said.

I was greatly inspired by what he had to say and his really honest spirit. We both sat and shared a lot about ourselves and what makes us feel "lost". After about a two hour discussion in the pub, it was time to go. "I'll be honest with you, you're a fantastic kid with lots of spirit and I respect you a lot.", he said as he shook my hand. As I was walking out of the pub, I turned around quickly forgetting to ask his name! "My name is Eric!", I said. "What's your's?" "Michael", he replied as he toasted his beer glass to me.

What I finally realized as I was walking back to the train station was the whole beauty of presence. Here was a man who thoughtfully acknowledged my being "lost" and who gracefully wanted to help. In many ways, Michael too was "lost" and gratefully thanked me for being there to help as well. BOTH of us needed each other in a way. We all get "lost" in our lives sometimes and burdened down with the stresses and responsibilities. In that struggle, there can sometimes be no more powerful thing than the presence and attention of another human being. Michael didn't give me any quick answers to solve any of the stresses or fears that I have, nor did I really give him any either. But what did lift both of us in the pub that day was the fact that there are human beings in this world that can give respect and share in struggles and stresses. Michael reminded me of that in a very real way. May we all have the courage to do to the same.

Tis' the Season of Taxes and Annual Church Meetings

There comes a point in every year where you take the time to pour over all of the numbers and issues of the past and try to focus on a new set of statistics. For many of us good citizens of the world, this comes in April where we pay our tribute to the spirits of tax and rebate. In the UK, there is no difference in this annual ritual and the church also participates. As part of a governmental order by the Church of England, all parishes need to have their Annual Parochial Church Meeting (APCM) in the month of April. Thus, I had the privilege to continue my observation in the way a church is run.

After mass at St. Michael's, all of the parishioners, priest, and church council (observed by some homeless people in the back of course) gathered in the sanctuary for the meeting. Father Bruce started off with his priest report which gave a very positive message on how St. Michael's has done without their parish priest of 12 years (Fr. Nicholas) so far. "We must continue our positive energy and show this community that we are not just a building, but a family ", he said.

Then it was Will's, the treasurer of St. Michael's, turn to share his report. Unfortunately, this report wasn't as rosy. Because of the dramatic rise in living costs within London, gifts to the church just haven't been able to keep up with the need. Therefore, St. Michael's Church has had to do some dramatic moves to keep it's costs down. One of these measures was not turning on the heat for the building this winter. The debate among the parishioners then began to commence. It was the question on everyone's mind: What can we do to keep costs down?

Now, it is a challenging job to keep any meeting on track sometimes. However, for some weird reason, church meetings are always the worst at getting off track. Being that St. Michael's is made up of such a varied population, it undoubtly is the king of "getting-off-the-beaten-path" meetings. "Why can't we just close the door when we are having mass?", asks one person. "I think we should invest in environmentally sustainable ways of heating our building", another person immediately responds. "Now going back to that first question", replies a third person, "We can't shut the door because it won't give as welcoming of a message." "And it lets the pigeons in!", came a response from the back. "Yeah! Pigeons are a huge problem right now, we just can't have them inside flying around." "I think we should shoot 'em", said a younger boy in the front row. "Yes! I motion that we get a guy in to shoot the pigeons in our church!", yelled an older lady. "I refuse to come to this church if we shoot pigeons...that is ethically wrong. We should have a picture of a hawk in front of the door.", yelled a younger parishioner. "Well, that will just look frick'n ugly!", said a person who I swore walked in just a minute ago. Father Bruce and Emily (the church warden) finally mentioned that we were on the topic of managing our costs, not of hiring someone to come in and shoot pigeons. Needless to say, it was one of the most amazing "meeting adventures" I have ever had! Amazingly, we actually were able to get some things done in the end. The parishioners voted in a new church council in, decided on some logical ways to cut costs, and even took some steps to start doing something with the pigeons. It's amazing on what can be accomplished, even when everyone seems to want something different.

I acknowledge Fr. Bruce and Emily for leading such a good meeting. One never really thinks about the usefulness of having skills to lead a good meeting, but they are very good indeed! In many ways, it must be the grace of God that some decisions are made in parishes. Father Bruce said it best as we were leaving the church. He turned to me, smiled, and said "See, there is a God."

A Lesson of Love

This past month I had the opportunity to spend some time with my girlfriend Abby. She arrived in the middle of Holy Week, the busiest week of the year for me in the parish. My schedule was very intense as I had to: prepare for mass every day on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, help create a Garden of Repose (very important in the Anglican tradition) and be at the four-hour long Vigil on Thursday, prepping two 3 hour long masses back to back on Friday, and finally helping with both the Easter Vigil on Saturday and Easter Masses on Sunday. Needless to say, the week was jam packed. Incredibly, we were able to find things to do alone together as in going out for dinner and even going to a West End production of Les Miserables.

It still amazes me as to how a relationship grows and matures in a long distance environment. The state of being in a long distance relationship continues to pose new challenges and questions that I never expect. Ironically, I found that this was never truer than when my significant other was physically two feet away from me! Funny how that is....

I think one of the joys and challenges that face any relationship which spreads a distance is that of images. These images of your partner build themselves within our minds, even when we perhaps don't intend them to. When you are living in a world that is independent from the world of your partner, I think it is quite easy for these images to flourish. And for the most part they should! Knowing that your girlfriend or boyfriend is there with you in spirit is a powerful thing that has helped me a lot through tough and stressful times in London. In this sense, there is something comforting within this deeply personal and almost spiritual presence of your significant other. I find this to be an amazing and incredible gift when you find it. It emphasizes another dimension to your relationship that is quite special and reminds you that you are never alone.

In another way I think that images from long distance can be challenging. I have found out that you must not let your images of the person turn into expectations. This is very hard, if not impossible to not let happen at least a little bit. When not reminded of the true physical person, your imagination starts to build upon their unique qualities and attributes- especially within stressful situations that you really want them there for. Without being acknowledged, these feelings can command your perspective of the relationship. In some ways, I think this happened to me.

Instead of walking off the plane as the "sexual goddess who always says the right things and does no wrong", Abby walked off the plane as .....Abby. So thus, the challenge came to start things over in some ways. Of course I did know who Abby was on one level throughout the 7 months of phone calls and emails. But what surprised me more than anything was how much I did not know her on other levels. One forgets when they are in a long distance relationship about all of the levels in a relationship. I found that I had forgotten about her physical energy and her amazing facial expressions, how she walks and carries herself, and her general physical zest for life. All these things create the balanced whole. Getting to know each other again can be quite stressful and hard. Especially in a foreign environment when you don't truly know which way is up or down.

What I learned more than anything about having Abby here was the many qualities of love and what it takes to enter fully into a relationship with one another. Love is romantic and should be full of "highs" as having a romantic dinner or walking along the beach. College relationships are perhaps more abundant with these "highs" and you get used to the constant buzz of romance. But love also has a tough side, a side that needs commitment and patience. This side of love can hit you like a ton of bricks and leave you feeling unprepared. It is something that couples usually have to struggle through- especially when dealing with long distance. However, when you come out on the other side of this love, which will happen, I find that you will be all the stronger and grounded.

And you know what? It's worth it. Perhaps it is God talking within me that is giving me the strength to carry on, or perhaps it is craziness. It is probably both. Whatever it is, I know how blessed I am to have this girl in my life and for us to share a love that spans 4,000 miles. It was an incredible faith and emotional journey to have her here in the UK with me. What will I remember most from the whole thing? Falling in love with the "real" Abby all over again.