book comments 8

Recent and not-so-recent non-fiction:

"Walking Through the Wardrobe: A devotional quest into The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" by Sarah Arthur
--a thought-provoking read
--GREAT DEVOTIONAL GUIDE FOR YOUNG ADULTS
--practical, daily life applications
--challenges the thinking
--challenges readers to share their faith in a kind-hearted way
--highly recommend for (a) teens, (b) parents of teens, (c) anyone interested in the connections between Christianity and the fantasy genre

"High-Tech Worship? Using Presentational Technologies Wisely" by Quentin J. Schultze
--refreshingly candid look at how modern technology influences corporate worship and vice versa
--thought-provoking
--for the most part scripture-based, as far as I remember
--recommend for anyone involved in determining the course of worship services
--caveat: Readers will need to weed out some denomination-specific terminology.

"The Practice of the Presence of God" by Brother Lawrence
--I can't say enough good things about this book.
--in my mind, this ranks on the level of C.S. Lewis's "Mere Christianity"
--Brother Lawrence describes a covenant relationship with God boiled down to its fundamentals
--in modern parlance, this is a "how-to" book for how to love God--or maybe "How to Love God, For Dummies" ;o)
--highly recommend

"The Art of Coming Home" by Craig Storti
--excellent must-read for anyone transitioning "home" from another culture
--realistic, no-holds-barred, ACCURATE assessment of culture shock, re-entry shock, adjustment
--good warnings included (especially for those who think adjusting won't be a problem)
--highly recommend for those anticipating or experiencing a cultural transition
--especially recommend for the families and friends of culture-crossers

Homeward Bound: A Spouse's Guide to Repatriation" by Robin Pascoe
--another great must-read on what it's like to experience cultural re-integration
--perspective of a spouse not returning to a "normal" career path
--funny, gives an oft-needed, lighter perspective on transitional difficulties
--highly recommend

transitional ruminations

I feel as though I'm overdue in penning some words about the cultural transition that Ed and I have been going through. To begin, I'd like to grace you with a top ten list that illustrates one of the frustrations that goes along with transitioning, namely, the fact that people often don't know what to say to us. (Please note that I am not angry over these utterances, but frustrated.)

Top Ten Things NOT To Say To Cultural Transitioners And Why
(in random order, though I have a particular dislike for #s 5 and 7)

1. How was your trip?
It wasn't a trip. It wasn't a vacation. It was my life. Please to be noticing the difference, thank you. ;o)

2. We've been praying for you to come back.
I think I know what you mean when you say that, and you might think that's a lovely sentiment. But when you say that, what I hear is that you've been praying for me to be separated from people and places I love. That's neither helpful nor encouraging.

3. You've got a lot of time on your hands now! You could (fill in blank with an activity or a job for which I have expressed no interest).
I didn't come back here with no plan of what I want to do with my life. This was not a spontaneous, frivolous decision. Much thought and prayer and planning went into it. Please don't assume I'm sitting around, bored, with nothing to do, just waiting for you to come rescue me with ideas that would make *you* happy.

4. Oh, you were in XLand? I was in XLand back in the '70s....XLanders are so (fill in the blank with a prejudice you developed while you were over there for two years 30 years ago).
Please don't assume your experiences were my experiences. Also, please refrain from telling me, based on your few months' experience, what the people of my homeland are like. Not to be snotty, but I do believe I know them better than you do.

5. Adjusting? Oh, give it a couple of months, you'll be fine.
I see. And the last time you went through cross-cultural reentry was...? Oh, you've never left your home state? Ah.

6. It's so good to have you back. I don't know why anyone would want to leave here in the first place.
(Okay, so nobody has said these words to me directly....but the implication is all over the place.) Well, probably because God created a whole, huge, interesting planet that I want to know about, not just a single continent.

7. I bet you're proud to be back.
I'm sorry, but I don't even know what that statement means.

8. It's good to have you back.
Why? You've never had more than two or three conversations with me. You don't know me. How could my presence possibly signify in your life one way or the other?
(Note: This truly applies only to those who haven't made an effort to get to know the returnee. If you do know me, and if you have made the effort, it is definitely heart-warming to hear you say that you're thankful for my being here!)

9. Aren't you glad to be back?
Yes. No. Maybe. Sometimes, the answer changes from one hour to the next. If you're not prepared to listen to an answer you don't really want to hear, please don't ask.

10. We're so glad to have you home.
This isn't my home. For one thing, I didn't grow up here. From that perspective, I haven't lived in my "home" for 12 years. For another, I spent the last 6 years building relationships and planting roots somewhere far removed from here. This isn't my home. This is your home. On this earth, I don't have a home. And actually, I'd like it to stay that way.

11. Unspecified.
Open to anyone who wants to share some of their own experiences of being on the receiving end of remarks of this sort, as well as dealing graciously with them. I don't always. Especially when it's stuff like #s 5 and 7. ;o)


Looking over the last 8 months (we have been here over 8 months--that is so weird), I can see a lot of lows, a lot of highs, a few plateaus, and some banged-up knees and elbows as we've tripped and fallen and sprawled flat on our faces and gotten back up again. I say "we" because Ed and I both have dealt with our share of spiritual and emotional scrapes and bruises...but really, I'm talking about my own transition here. Cross-cultural reentry is an intensely personal experience (which is what makes it so difficult to describe to anyone who has never experienced it), so each person's is different.

My lowest point so far was Earlyapril through mid-May. The bathtub incidents kind of set off the depression--but if it hadn't been the bathtub, it would've been something else. But I've had help. Help from a wonderful, loving God, who has sent wonderful, loving people into my life and placed me in loving, wonderful communion with them. I've had help through open, honest, in-depth conversation. I've had help through "The Artist's Way" (by Julia Cameron--THANK YOU, GAIL!!!), which is opening my eyes more and more to what it truly is that God created me to be. I've had help through a loving, wonderful, commiserating husband, who has actively grown with me even as he deals with his own transition issues.

I feel very blessed. I not only feel it, I *am* it, and I live it. I hesitate to say that I am learning to be content, since that is such a huge concept....but I think I am beginning to learn it. I am beginning to know why I am here, I am beginning to know what the next step could look like, and it's an unknown shape, but I'm excited about it instead of terrified. I feel as though I am unpacking my mind here, instead of merely unpacking cardboard boxes. I am beginning to travel light again, instead of schlepping around the misery of not knowing who I am. I am beginning to feel/see/hear reference points, reorient my inner compass, tune my inner self to the resonance of God's universe.

No matter what happens, I always know that eventually, I'll be at peace. Moving over here, finding myself in a low spot of sadness and depression, I knew that eventually I'd be at peace.

It's nice that at-peace is starting to happen again.

driving in my new apartment (or: books really swing my verge)

Today, Gentle Readers, I am executing three-point turns in my living room. Except that instead of driving a car, I am shoving bookshelves around, and instead of edging around parked cars, I am maneuvering around Leaning Towers of Boxes.

Yup! Our shipment has arrived! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The movers brought everything yesterday, and now I sit in what seems, on the surface, to be utter chaos, but upon further inspection reveals itself instead to be utter chaos. ;o) This morning, I wanted to get a really good start at unpacking and finding places for things....but, to my dismay, I discovered that I hadn't a clue where to start. Ed was looking for something in particular last night, so I thought I'd apply myself to the task of uncovering the something's location...but the 'how' of this endeavor was a mystery and remains so even now.

Finally, I decided that I wasn't going to find anything specific (the rest of our towels and bedding would be nice) until I just started unpacking boxes at random. However, even starting at random proved to be a challenge. Ed came home briefly for lunch, and by then I was nearly in tears. He commiserated, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do at that point besides give me a hug and say that he wished he could stay. I wished that, too.

After he left, I was determined to keep the tears at bay, so I began delving into cardboard depths. And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a plethora of books and a tiny reindeer!

Um...minus the reindeer.

But that, in brief, is The Story Of How I Conquered Today's Demons: As I've done so often in the past, I found my refuge in books. A total escape mechanism, but considering the circumstances, I'm okay with that right now. I have unpacked 13 boxes of books so far, and there are about 8 more to go. The rest of the afternoon should go fairly well.

What's comforting to me is that particular characteristic of books that has always comforted me: Books are entire worlds compacted neatly into something you can grasp, deal with, survey, and compartmentalize with ease. These convenient, well-organized universes are particularly appealing to me right now, since my own world is currently so disorganized, intangible, disoriented, and incomprehensible. If I can't quite get grip on my own universe right now, and least I can take these small, compact universes and put them in bookshelves, where I know they belong and will rest secure and unscattered. I look at them, tucked safely away on their shelves, and I feel much more at peace and relaxed than I did this morning. I have made sense of a tiny part of the chaos. Woman has triumphed! ;o)

Like I said, this is very much a psychological escape method (as well as a human construct), but I *know* that this is what it is, I recognize it for what it is, so I feel comfortable with allowing myself to indulge in this kind of retreat. I think that for now, it's what I need.

More later...since our apartment now has Internet access! Yay!

elvis is my friend

So, in Matt's livingroom is a life-size cardboard cut-out of Elvis. The King and I have spent a lot of time together lately, since Ed takes the car to work every day and there's no bus. I've asked him (Elvis, in this case, not Ed; although I occasionally ask Ed, too) to sing for me, but so far, he has not deigned to oblige.

Anyway, that's not why I'm writing this. I'm writing this to announce that, in case you haven't heard, Ed and I have an apartment! We got the keys on Thursday, and my parents helped us move in the few items of furniture we stored at my grandparents' six years ago. We're not actually living there yet, because we first had to get the electricity turned on, and then we went to Ed's family reunion over the weekend, so it hasn't been feasible to move over there yet.

Here's a funny thing, though, in case I haven't mentioned it yet (which I can't remember whether or not I did): Our new apartment is in the same apartment complex that we lived in before we moved to Chemnitz! And not only that, but the new apartment is right next door to the old one! It kinda weirded me out to walk into the new one: It's an exact mirror image of the old one. I'll have to be careful not to try going into the neighbor's apartment thinking it's mine. ;o)

Ed's family reunion on Saturday was lots of fun, if a mite overwhelming. There were 80 people there! In my family, it'd be unusual to have half that number. I'm culture-shocking anyway, but I really had to remind myself that being in a crowd wasn't a bad thing and that I didn't need to get upset about it. So I had a good time instead and was glad to be there. Ed's rough biker uncle dressed up as Santa and handed out candy canes to all the kids, and Ed sat on his lap, and much laughter ensued.

And once again, it was very nice to say bye to Ed's folks, to his sister and her kids, and to say 'see you soon' and have it be true. It won't be another two or three years before we see them again, and I am truly thankful for that.

I think we'll continue the moving-in process tomorrow evening, though I don't know yet when we'll move over for good and let Matt have his house back. ;o) It'll be before the end of the week, anyway.

In the meantime, I think I'll try to woo Elvis by buying him a nice string of beads.

P.S. The first time I heard U2's "Mysterious Ways," I was on a bus on a clas trip to Köln. I just thought I'd mention that.

courtney will euch updaten

Hello dahlings,

Well, it is currently 06:27 a.m. here in unexpectedly mild-weathered Oklahoma. As many of you already know, Ed and I arrived here Tuesday night with no problems. Oh sure, there was a delay in Chicago, and as far as Pippin was concerned, the trip was the worst thing that has ever occurred in the history of the universe, but other than minor frustrations and the quite vocal protestations of the feline persuasion, we arrived here safe and sound.

There was only one minor, teensy-weensy negative aspect to the whole thing.

On the long flight from Frankfurt to Chicago, I had an aisle seat.

Across the aisle from me was an older man.

Who sneezed.

A lot.

A LOT.

In my direction.

I couldn't escape.

I turned my head away.

Apparently to no avail.

Guess what I have now?

"Hi Courtney! Welcome to the new chapter in your life! Wouldn't you like your usual sinus infection to go along with it?"

I do not have to tell you how I feel about this.

So far, at least, it's not too bad. I'm not sure yet if I'll need to go to a doctor. In the meantime, I got up at 6 a.m. because I had this terrific sensation of drowning while I was lying in bed. I didn't enjoy that very much. So I got up. Problem Solving For The Internationally Rootless. ;o) I am so glad I have my nose shower.

I hope that by my sarcasm, you can tell that I'm acutally in a fairly good mood. ;o)

Here's a brief recap of what's been going on so far:

--About 20 people met us at the airport. That was really neat and gave me warm fuzzies. We didn't get to talk to everyone extensively, of course, but it was nice to see faces we haven't seen in a long time and to know that we're of interest. :o)

--From the airport, we went with both sets of parents to my parents' house, where we had Mexican food for dinner. That alone would have been amazing, of course, but what really topped the cake was knowing that this was only the second time the 6 of us have ever had dinner together. It was really neat to look around the table and to know that if life goes as we hope it will, we'll be able to do this more often now. We also sat around and drank coffee and talked all morning. It was cozy and nice and exciting to tell each other stories of our lives.

--Yesterday was our first Wal-Mart adventure. It was scary and overwhelming. I didn't like it. But the first person we talked to in the store had lived in Germany before and was really nice. So that was comforting. But then other people started talking to us, too, and I suddenly felt weirded out that so many strangers chat with each other over cat food and shelves of aspirin. I *really* had to remind myself that this isn't weird, just different.

--Last night, we went to Bible class at Britton Road, our sponsoring congregation. Saw a lot of people we haven't seen in a long time. Got a lot of hugs. Heard a lot of "welcome home"s. I didn't like that part. Heard a lot of "we know you're not coming home, but we're still glad to see you here." I liked that part. One of the elders, Charlie, said he was looking forward to sitting down with us and hearing us talk about Jim, because he's been interested in everything we've said about Jim in various emails. I was really impressed and felt sehr gut aufgehoben when Charlie expressed that personal, specific interest in our thoughts.

I felt out of place because of the size of everything: enormous building, big crowd of people, umpteen different classes to choose from. I felt out of place because of the cultural references made in the Bible class we ended up in. I felt out of place because a lot of people greeted me by name, and I couldn't remember theirs.

But I didn't feel as out of place as I expected to. I think it was good that our first visit there was on a Wednesday night instead of a Sunday morning. I feel like I was able to stick my foot in the water and see what's what before going swimming. Nothing nibbled on my toes, so I guess I'm okay so far. ;o)

So that's the new chapter so far. Today, if I'm not deathly ill, I need to go buy some black boots; Ed wants to stop by Oklahoma Christian Academy to talk to someone about talking to someone about talking to someone about a possible job ;o) and tonight, we're going with my parents to see the musical "West Side Story" at OC.

And at some point, I'm going to take a nap.

Maybe after breakfast. ;o)

brief thoughts before starting a new chapter

Yes, I am awake, even though I have to get up in three hours and so should be sleeping right now. I had intended to put down just a few thoughts before this new adventure begins, but now that I sit down to write, I find that I can't. I'm too tired, I can't think, I'm anticipating tomorrow (with sadness and with excitement), and I can't be coherent right now.

But still, I wanted to write something, so I guess this is the something. My note to my future self is this: God has a plan for everything, his plan is always right, and his plan is always what works best.

Even if it hurts at the time. Sometimes, *especially* if it hurts.

In the book of my life are many finished chapters. Tomorrow, I am beginning a new one. Someday, it too will be finished. Right now, in spite of my sadness and -other-emotions-too-complex-to-describe-right-now, I am eager to put the period on the last sentence of the chapter I have just finished, and I am eager to begin the next chapter. But I do acknowledge and respect the fact that this next new chapter will end someday; it too is temporary, fleeting.

I find permanence only in God. He has put my name in a book that will never, ever end.

echoes from the randomness

A Brief History of the Life and Times of the Winsome Wench in Her Weirdness...

I wouldn't say that Ed and I were desperate up until Monday morning. Yes, we were very, very busy, and yes, we had no downtime, and yes, we were rather concerned that we wouldn't have time to get it all done...... But all things considered, I don't think we were desperate. I'd say we weren't even frantic. We were just very, very busy. And tired. Did I mention tired?

But when you compare International Moving Adventure 2007 with International Moving Adventure 2001, the 2007 version is going much more smoothly. In 2001, when we moved to Chemnitz, we had no clue what we were doing. The night before the movers came, we stayed up working in the apartment until 3 a.m. This time, we were in bed at midnight the night before the movers came. Some might think that a 3 hour difference does not great progress show (thank you, Yoda)... But in 2001, we also had an entire room marked "Do Not Enter" while the movers were working, a large room full of stuff that we had to get rid of after they left. This time, in 2007, we had only about half of a medium-sized room of leftovers. Plus, this time, there's our general feeling of preparedness resulting from having started this process 8 months before the move instead of 6 weeks before. ;o)

Anyway....Monday morning, the movers arrived, brought their packing materials upstairs, built some cardboard boxes, and started packing. And suddenly, Ed and I had nothing to do. We weren't allowed to help them pack, because the insurance only covers our belongings if the movers are the ones who packed the boxes. There was nothing more to organize, nothing more to sort, nothing more to throw out. All we could do was sit and watch as these five strangers entered our space, went through our things, put all our things in boxes, and took them away.

I was tired. I was relieved that I didn't have to pack it all myself. I was excited. I was sad. I was amused by the banter of the men as they worked. I was nervous when one dude started packing up my oil paintings. I hovered and made him nervous, so I forced myself to go sit in the living room and let the poor man do his job. I was glad that we were finally getting this step of the process out of the way. I was numb from the back-and-forth motion of this emotional roller coaster.

Tuesday afternoon, when they started taking the last of the boxes downstairs and packing them into the 20-foot container, I thought I was going to cry. We finished up paperwork, tipped the guys, and watched as they drove away. They honked and waved, and we laughed. Then we went back upstairs. I looked around the emptiness of our apartment, and all I wanted to do was get out of there. It didn't feel like home anymore. Later that evening, when we were coming home from Tuesday night Bible study, I started to cry because we couldn't go home and I felt homesick, and all I wanted to do was go home.

Have I mentioned the emotional roller coaster?

The last few days have been more of the same, but much less intense. In Germany, renters are required to paint the apartment before they move out, so we've been working on getting that started. Today was the first real work day, and thanks to multiple helping hands, the stairwell is clean, and three rooms are completely finished. Three down, three to go. The best part is that our landlady intends to have all the carpets but one ripped out, so we only have to worry about protecting the one. We can smear paint all over the rest, which speeds up our work considerably. Yay for practicality.

Since Monday, we've been living over at Karen's (aka KarenCamp). It feels funny to "come home" over here now instead of to our own apartment. Pippin seems to be adjusting well, although she's having difficulty with the Stay Off the Table Rule. She's really enjoying the ground-floor windows. For her sake, it would be nice if we could find a ground-floor place in Oklahoma City. But that's another story for a future time.

I think I've rambled on enough for now. In short, we're busy, we're tired, we're of very mixed emotions, we're enjoying the "last times" we're spending with various people. All of this, of course, is reinforcing in me the knowledge and the sense that I am truly at home nowhere on this earth. My citizenship, my allegiance, my home is heaven. Perhaps God has led me to this rootless, often-moving, TCK life because he knows that I need it; perhaps I need it so that I will know where my true refuge and sanctuary and comfort is.

Check out 2. Corinthians 4:18 and Philippians 3:20. God says it better than I can.

moving maladies

How can two humans accumulate so much stuff over the course of six years??!???!?!!?!?!!!!!!!!!!?

The other day, Ed stood in the doorway of the bedroom and announced, "There is something wrong with me."

"What?" I asked, beginning to tick through possible maladies in my head.

But he quickly dispelled my concerns over any physical ailment: "I can't throw anything away."

Turns out that he found a drawer full of wires that he hasn't seen in nearly six years, but he has kept them all this time. "Just in case."

I think I must've shredded a hundred pages of documents today, stuff I'd stuck in a drawer at least three years ago and then forgotten about.

I have decided that Ed and I should no longer be allowed to own drawers.

And you may do with that pun whatever you wish. ;oD

moving is bad for your fingernails...

...I know this, because all my fingernails have broken off over the last few days.

Moving is also bad for sinus health, because one stirs up a lot of dust that one's sinuses are not reacting to in a particularly pleasant way.

It's not just the dust, though. I've cried a lot.

I'm not as scared as I was, though. I think I'm trusting God more, which is a very hopeful, encouraging thing. I'm just sad. I feel like I'm already starting to say goodbye, and I walk around on the edge of weeping a lot of the time now.

On a good note, though, the moving company said they can't come till the 22nd. This means that Ed and I get to go to Jim's funeral on Friday. Personally, I don't have the need of going to funerals in order to experience closure; I prefer to remember people as I last saw them, instead of as a grave site or, worse, a shell in a coffin. But I go to funerals in order to be there for the people who are left. It's something I can do to show respect for the deceased and to share the grief of others. And since shared pain is lessened...

Elsa was really happy to hear that we could come to the funeral. She has asked us to sing, along with Larry and the Springers' daughter Karin. We feel very honored that she asked us. I don't know if we'll physically be able to sing (through tears), but we agreed to do it, and we will at least try.

After talking to Elsa yesterday, I am even more in awe of her faith and of Jim's. And I am thinking more and more about how the death of a Christian is a thing to be celebrated more than mourned. As Elsa put it, Jim is now exactly where he is supposed to be, and he is now doing exactly what he is supposed to be doing. I'm sad that we no longer have his physical presence to brighten up our lives and encourage us in faith...but at the same time, I know that the special essence that makes him Jim is not snuffed out or even diminished. That which makes him Jim is still intact.

As someone else said to Elsa: We have not lost Jim. We know exactly where he is.

ruminations of one suffering from moving-induced insanity

So. Today was the ninth wedding anniversary of Ed and Courtney, and we celebrated it by itemizing and estimating the worth of all our household goods that we're shipping to the States.

I won't mention how much stuff we have.

I won't mention what our grand total (for insurance purposes) was.

All I want to say is that my brain feels like mush.

Last week's relaxing, inspiring, encouraging Ladies' Retreat in Filzmoos, Austria, seems like a year ago.

The weekend in Miskolc, Hungary, celebrating the marriage of Alex (from Chemnitz) and Barbara (from Miskolc), seems like half a year ago.

This has been THE DAY THAT NEVER ENDS. ;oP

I have Sticky Tack that my mother bought for me when I went to college. That was eleven-and-a-half years ago. I found some of it today, stuck on top of the vanity mirror.

I wonder if Sticky Tack can go bad.

It was covered in dust. I'm sure there were things growing in it.

I didn't investigate more closely. I threw it out.

The telephone company turned off our phone. They're about two weeks early.

Figuring it's not worth hassling over, we said, "Oh well." It's cell phone time.

I regret to announce that until further notice, this blog will most likely become a receptacle for my moving-related venting. I gotta have an outlet, and I suspect this is gonna be it. My only regret is that further posts about the UK Trip are suspended for now. But it's all still in my head. I'll get it out eventually. ;o)

something random i think i'm going to miss

Most nights around this time, if I'm awake (which I frequently--okay, usually--am), I hear the street cleaner go by. The street cleaner is this little, boxy, orange vehicle that comes out at night to clean the streets of Chemnitz (kind of like the robot mice in the house in the nuclear disaster area in one of Ray Bradbury's short stories, but a lot less morbid).

The street cleaner has a huge, round brush and an assortment of other cleansing nozzles, gizmos and whatsits attached to its underside. So at night, when all the good little children are asleep, and naughty little Courtney is yet again putting off going to bed, the street cleaner whirs and whines its way up our street and then, awhile later, back down again on the other side.

The whirring and whining kind of make for a melancholy sound. I wish I could say that the thing chuckles to itself or something equally quirky, but it doesn't. It just whines and whirs and sounds kind of like a big, sad vacuum cleaner from a distance. This is one of those sounds that, for me, is distinctly Germany. It's a sound I think I'm going to miss.

setting healthy boundaries

Just something I consciously thought of that I wanted to record for future reminding:

Other people have the right to be sad that Ed and I are moving from Chemnitz. They also have the right to express this sadness.

Other people have a right to be happy that we're coming to Oklahoma. They also have the right to express this happiness.

My emotions and my thoughts about moving should not depend on the emotions or the thoughts of others. If they do depend on the emotions and thoughts of others, this means that I am choosing not to set healthy boundaries.

I have the right to be sad that we are moving from Chemnitz. I have the right to be upset that I have to be separated from my friends. I have the right to be frustrated that our necessary decisions have led to this. I have the right to express these things.

I also have the right to be excited about the future positives of living in Oklahoma. And I have the right to express that excitement.

I have the right to say that I am looking forward to good times and grand adventures, and I have the right to say that leaving Chemnitz tears me up inside. I am allowed to feel these things.

funny foibles and so forth

The following is part of a comment I left on Alisha's blog and considered worth immortalizing here:

I compulsively count stairs. In our stairwell, three of our staircases have nine stairs each, one staircase has ten stairs, and the one leading to the back door has five stairs. That's 42, which is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. I remain, therefore, convinced that counting stairs (and other things) is a worthwhile pastime.

And if I step on a crack in the sidewalk with my left foot, I have to step on a crack with my right foot, too. Otherwise, I feel unbalanced. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable psychological explanation for this, but I haven't found it yet. ;o)

In other news, I'm working on finishing ETM homework this week, so I might not be able to continue regaling you with tall tales of traveling. Day Three, however, *is* written, so if I can get around to working with the pictures, I'll post that sometime this week.

Generall overall mood: melancholy and lethargic because I have too much to do and have passed the point at which the workload is a motivating challenge. Instead, it has become an overwhelming task of monumental proportions, leaving me feeling drained and nearly unable to concentrate on anything that I actually need to be doing.

Part of the reason I've taken on so much and am procrastinating about it is that the workload and the procrastination are providing an escape from having to think about what's coming ( --> moving).

However, don't feel sorry for me, Gentle Readers. I'll be fine eventually. :o)

reality is setting in

On Wednesday, my parents boarded their flight from Frankfurt to the U.S. I think I still haven't quite started to process that they have moved to Oklahoma. To them, Germany is home. To *me* Germany is their home, too. That new house that they build is gonna have a pretty solid German cornerstone to live up to.

Another bit of unpleasant reality..... On Wednesday, Ed and I let our landlady know that we are moving out by October 31st. She was really upset to hear this, and I thought she was going to cry. Which made me almost cry. And we haven't even been close to her, though I'd describe our "professional" relationship as a good one. It was still a sad moment, and all three of us agreed that there was no "good" time to break this news. At least she understood our reasons for leaving.

But telling her that we're moving...it's just one more step toward making it all seem real.

And I don't like it. I don't want to think about it.

___________________________________

*Addendum: Ed and I have been watching a lot of "Quantum Leap" online lately. At another time, perhaps I'll blog about how much I love this show and how I wish they'd make a movie of it or something. Anyway, I've been trying to figure out why my non-TV-loving self has been wanting to veg out in front of the tube so much recently.

And I think I've figured it out: I'm watching because I'm avoiding. I'm watching because I don't want to think.

book comments 3

This'll be somewhat general instead of specific to one book. In my effort to decide which books to move with us to Oklahoma and which ones to leave behind, I've been re-reading quite a few novels in order to determine their move-worthiness. So far, I have a pile of about 50 books to give away (I haven't re-read *all* of these, only the ones I really wasn't sure about) and counting.

Included in all the re-reading are all of my Dean Koontz books. Yeah, I've decided to give away a few of his novels...but I find myself keeping most of them. The ones I'm giving away are those to which I haven't had a strong emotional reaction, or those which have left me feeling like this-has-been-done-before. Some of his earlier novels have left me feeling this way, so those are the ones I'm giving away.

I'm keeping all of his later stuff, though, plus a few older ones like "Dark Rivers of the Heart"; "Lightning"; and "Servants of Twilight," to name a few. But his more recent works are the ones I really enjoy. In my opinion, Koontz has been reflecting a great deal of spirituality in his works of the last 6 or 8 (maybe 10) years. Hints of that have always been there, but now he has moved from the hinting stage to pointing directly at the fact that there is something more than this world that we perceive with our physical senses. I highly recommend Koontz to anyone who is looking for serious philosophy and broadening spirituality packaged within the heart-pounding, stay-up-reading-under-the-covers action of an incredibly good read.

As a writer....if I could write like Koontz, I would be satisfied.

Here are some of my favorites of his:

Dark Rivers of the Heart
Watchers
Mr. Murder
Twilight Eyes
Fear Nothing
From The Corner of His Eye (might be my favorite; this is also the origin of the phrase "brighten the corner where you are," which I consider to be a very Godly concept)
Hideaway
Strangers
By The Light of the Moon
Odd Thomas

the singing campaign

Last week, the Chemnitz church finished up our annual two-week campaign with the singing group from OC. As I mentioned in a blopgost from a few days ago, this is the campaign that originally led Ed and me and "a horn-shaped container filled with fruits and grain emblematic of abundance" (aka a cornucopia) of people to full-time and part-time work with the church in Saxony. When we were still living stateside, Ed was part of this campaign group for 8 summers in a row, starting in 1994; and I was part of the group 5 summers in a row, starting in 1997.

And, as I have also mentioned in previous posts, it's interesting to see how God's plans are often so very different from humans' plans. When Ed and I moved to Chemnitz, we thought our work with the singing campaign was done. Oh, we knew that we'd still be working with this group every summer, because Clyde and Gwen and their successors would continue to put the group together and come to Saxony every year. But Ed and I thought that from the time of our arrival in Chemnitz, our role would be solely a "native" one: helping coordinate and organize and encourage on the Chemnitz side of things; introducing the group to the church and to the city every year; offering our car (when we still had one) for transportation needs; bringing drinks and snacks to the gospel meetings at which the group would sing; things of that sort. We thought that as far as being part of the group was concerned, that chapter of our lives was closed.

But God had other ideas. Apparently, he still considers the Singing Campaign Chapter of our lives to be very much open, and he has been proving this to us over and over again during the past few years. I guess it started when in 2002, we innocently stood up with the group to sing with them a few times. Just for fun, you see. But that started a pattern of singing with them "just for fun" a few times every year. Shades of things to come!

Then, in 2005, for various reasons that would be too long to explain, the group wasn't able to come to Germany. Suddenly, the Saxon churches in Chemnitz and Oelsnitz were without a yearly summer campaign team. Chemnitz chose to focus solely on Let's Start Talking that year; but Oelsnitz wanted to go ahead with their gospel meeting, and they asked us for help.

And so, the "Chemnitz A Cappella Singers" were born. ;o) At that point, the group was an octet consisting of April and me (soprano); Amanda and Karen (alto); Alex and Steffen (tenor); and Ed and Larry (bass). Since then, we've added Jan on tenor, which makes our group a...what? A nontet?

Anyway, our Chemnitz group sang in Oelsnitz in 2005, and we've been singing together ever since. In 2006, Chad and Stefanie Anderson brought the singing campaign from OC, and they asked our group to sing with theirs. While they were in Oelsnitz, we sang with them as often as schedules permitted. While they were in Chemnitz, at least part of our Chemnitz group sang with them every day.

This year—as in, starting about two weeks ago—our Chemnitz group did the same thing as last year. So, in essence, we were part of the campaign team: not just in our “native” roles, but also as “full-fledged singers” in the OC group. And that’s why I say that the Singing Campaign Chapter of the Cantrells’ lives isn’t as over as we originally thought it would be.

Not that we regret this. It’s a lot of hard, challenging work and requires tremendous amounts of flexibility, but we consider it an honor as well as great fun to be able to sing with the OC group. :o)

Anyway…all of this leads into telling of some of the thoughts about the future that Ed and I have had recently. Recently, as in, during the course of the last year. In considering our move to Oklahoma, Ed and I have been very clear (I believe) in telling people that even though we are leaving Germany for now, this doesn’t mean we aren’t coming back! Either on a temporary or on a long-term basis. Yes, we are keeping our opitions open…and our hearts open to wherever God might lead us when. If he leads us to Africa or Brazil or Denmark, then that’s where we’ll go. Suffice it to say that we’ll go where he wants us to go, wherever that might be.

But as far as Chemnitz is concerned: We do plan on coming back, if it’s God’s will. At this point, he seems to be pointing us in the direction of……you guessed it……the OC singing campaign! It’s too soon to tell, of course, and I don’t want to count any unhatched barnyard fowl…but there’s a possibility that Ed might get a job in OKC which would allow us to have summers off. And if we had summers off, then we would be free to join the singing campaign and come back to Saxony with the group every summer.

NOTE: All of this is SPECULATION. We’re making no guarantees, and at this point we’re not going past the stage of merely hoping. We’ve talked with Chad and Stefanie about this, and they’re all for it. Ed and I are all for it, too, if it works out the way we hope it might.

My point in writing this isn’t to make some big announcement regarding our future plans. Although it probably seems like I’m standing on a corner, blaring out the news! ;o) No, my point in telling this long, epic tale is merely to show that once again, God is showing us so many more possibilities than we ourselves ever thought of originally. He always has something different and something more wonderful in mind than we do.

Yes, it’s an uncertain life we live, in the sense that we never know what’s around the next corner. BUT! it’s a *wonderfully* uncertain life, a grand adventure with the Lord as our guide, our protector, and our encourager. We have faith in him and trust that no matter where this grand adventure might lead us, it is all within the confines of his perfect plan, and his loving hand is sheltering us every step of the way.

My hat is off to you if you've read all of this. I don't believe in cutting my thoughts down to bite-size simply to satisfy a world with an ever-decreasing attention span. ;o)

my parents are leaving europe

So, the Big Move is finally taking place. Last week, the military sent movers to my parents' house in Mörfelden. They arrived on Monday, packed for two days, and took the containers away on Wednesday. Mama and Daddy stayed in the house a few more days; then, the owner told them that he would like them to leave *now* in exchange for not having to clean and paint the entire house over the course of the next week. So, though this initially caused them quite a bit of extra stress, they went earlier than planned to the home of a friend in the Wiesbaden church. They will stay there until this coming Monday, when they plan to travel to Chemnitz and live with us for the next month, minus a 10-day trip to Greece.

I have to say, I don't think the magnitude of it all has hit me yet. Since I didn't see the move take place, my brain is still telling me that the Mörfelden house is still as full of their possessions as it has been for the last ten years. I feel like I usually do at this time of year: My parents will go to Oklahoma for the summer and then come back to Germany to start the new school year / opera season. I feel this, even as I know it's not true. Possibly, my feelings won't catch up to my knowledge until fall rolls around and my parents are *still* in Oklahoma, without return tickets.

Hence, I haven't really started to be sad yet about their move. A little, but the rest of the mourners are still waiting in the wings, I suspect.

Mama and Daddy have lived in Germany for 27 1/2 years. Originally, they only intended to stay for five! Recently, as I hadn't heard this story yet, I asked Mama how they made the decision to stay past the 5-year mark. She told told me the following, to me highly amusing, anecdote:

When we had lived in Germany about 3 years (so this was sometime in 1983), the three of us were at the Woog, a small lake in Darmstadt. Mama and Daddy were watching me play, when Daddy suddenly turned to Mama and asked, "If we were to leave Germany now, what would you miss the most?"

Mama thought for a minute and then answered, "The Autobahn."

Daddy nodded and said, "I'd miss that, too."

And until retirement came around, that's the last time they ever talked about moving. ;oD

On a more serious note, I'm concerned about how they'll adjust once they're back in Oklahoma past the "vacation-period" time span. Twenty-seven years is a long time. Germany is their home. They are not "coming home" to Oklahoma; they are moving to a foreign country. (The same applies to Ed and me regarding our move in November, but that's another post and shall be blogged another time.) Mama used the right word when she described leaving Germany and leaving their jobs as "bittersweet." I imagine that their arrival in and adjustment to Oklahoma will be much the same.

difficult announcement

 
Well, we've told the church in Chemnitz, and we included the news in our update letter yesterday, so I guess I might as well share it here, too. Although, I think most people who read this blog are either in the Chemnitz church or recipients of the update letter! Oh well, please forgive me for repeating myself. 

Anyway, the item of news is this: Ed and I have decided that if God makes it possible, we're going to move back to Oklahoma in October 2007. There are several reasons, of course--there always are for such things--but one of the main ones is his dad's health. If God wills it, Ed would just really like to be able to spend time with his dad before that isn't possible anymore. It's strange to think that we're old enough now that we've begun to think of our parents' mortality as a reality. But it's a fact, and one that we can deny only to our own detriment. So we choose to face it for what it is and react accordingly. Burying our heads in the sand and pretending......that just isn't an option. 

Making this decision was so difficult. Honestly, it just tears my heart out. I feel terribly wounded, even though I know that this is the right decision at this time. Telling our Chemnitz family that we're leaving.....it's one of the hardest things Ed and I have ever had to do. We both hated to do it. Because the Chemnitz church and our friends here....these relationships go beyond friendship. These people are our family. This is home. And I don't want to leave. 

I'm going to stop writing now, because if I don't, I'm going to start crying, and that won't help the sinus infection. 

Here's what helps me, though, and it's something we tell everyone when we announce that we're moving: Just because we're leaving Chemnitz now doesn't mean we won't be back! Life with God is a neverending adventure, and we'll always go where he leads us. Who knows where that might be in the future!