In Her Mind's Eye

Is Lent the Christian Version of Ramadan?

2009-04-09T09:36:00.001+01:00

This was the topic of discussion that brought out a number of people to participate in Resto van Harte’s dinner in Schiemond last evening. Resto is a unique organisation whose aim is to create community in rather disparate neighbourhoods by hosting weekly dinners and conversations. The gatherings take place in a local community centre amongst Rotterdam’s crowded government apartments. Last night’s presentation was just as interesting and multifaceted as the diverse group of people who came.

The speakers included a Muslim Imam, Jewish Rabbi, Christian Pastor and a special address from Rotterdam’s first Moroccan mayor, Ahmed Aboutaleb. The Rabbi shared about the significance of Yom Kippur being a time of fasting for atonement, while the Imam shared how Ramadan’s fast helps a follower to attain virtues like humility, while the Pastor spoke about Lent being a time of reflection and prayer to prepare for Holy Week and the celebration of Christ’s Resurrection. It was hard to understand everything that was said (because it was spoken in Dutch and I am still struggling to learn) but I found it interesting that the Imam kept mentioning samenwerk, or team work as a theme of Ramadan.

The people I sat with were also full of colour and conviction. Across from me was a man and woman who became friends through a recovery home. Marion shared that she was from Surinam and had lived in Rotterdam for 36 years. She has four children she rarely sees because of her struggles with addiction. Otto is a young man who recently moved from the home to navigate his life from the perspective of sobriety. There were some older women at the other end of the table but the language barrier kept us from sharing. The three ladies were quite happily engaged in their own conversation.Seated behind me was a table of women, mostly related, from Morocco with their children. They were very friendly and open to sharing about their culture and faith. Each stated that they rely on each other for support since they live about 100 km from their families.

I asked everyone I spoke with what they felt was needed the most attention for change in their community, they all echoed the same frustration - crime and drugs brought to their neighbourhood by young men from bordering areas. They believe these young men leave their own neighbourhood because they fear their families’ punishment for their abhorrent behaviour. Most of these youths are out of work and spend their days on the street causing havoc and being especially tyrannical towards women. Otto said, “I would find it hard to be a woman living here, you do not have the freedom to live your life on your own without being bothered.” It seems to be pretty endemic to the poor urban centres throughout North Holland. Should Reckoning be invited to partner with organisations like Resto and GreenGraffiti I am sure we will have the opportunity to touch on this issue.

The evening was well worth the lengthy train ride. It was great to meet and share life with others and organisations that are trying to impact and empower communities. Resto’s weekly dinner program allows people an opportunity to come together in a safe environment. Jim Bowes was sitting at table next to an elderly man who recently lost his wife. When he spoke about being alone, Jim shared that the man seemed to fold into himself at the mention of solitary life. Resto is providing a platform for otherwise isolated or marginalised people to integrate with others. It will take time and effort for some to engage those who are “different” but it is good that Resto van Harte creates a place for all people share a meal and conversation.

Picture from Resto van Harte’s Picasa Gallery

A Wedding That Changed Hearts

2009-03-31T10:32:00.000+01:00

Yesterday my dear friends Shawna and Naos were married in the typical Dutch fashion with a few twists.

In the Netherlands marriage has become a rare commodity in recent decades. Most couples live together without a passing thought about matrimony. For most people here, marriage has been stripped and reduced to the perfunctory signing of documents before a registered government official. It is costly and often without significance, so most couples do not see the point of subjecting themselves to a “meaningless” exercise. Having a wedding in a church is more ridiculous because it is an addition to the state mandated process. I live in a society where a large majority see faith more as a farce and have no connection to a parish. Argument over the matter is futile from this context as most can not imagine another viable alternative.

Shawna and Naos’ wedding was the “third option.” They deliberately brought the spiritual and sanctity of marriage into the ordinary process of a civil service. The ceremony blended two often opposing forces to create something beautiful and accessible to everyone, no matter their perspective about marriage. Instead of the usual 10 minutes of signing documents, the couple selected the largest marriage venue, which allowed many friends to come, and extended the ceremony to include an exchange of vows and readings by yours truly. The ceremony was informal and lively but deep with meaning.

Many of our friends who were adamant against or ambivalent towards marriage experienced a shift as they participated in the ceremony. Some expressed a desire to be married to their current partners or in the future. The ceremony also sparked many questions and conversations about spirituality, God, religion and faith. Revealing to people that marriage and unconditional love are symbolic representations of the relationship the Lord desires to have with humanity was profound especially to those who position themselves far outside the circles of faith.

Shawna asked me to share about marriage in the ceremony and it really seemed to strike a cord with people. Several have asked if I would be willing to speak more with them about faith and marriage and a few have approached me about speaking at their weddings. It was really amazing to be a part of such a beautiful moment. It is a blessing to know also that what was shared really resonated with those who came. I have included what has been deemed “the speech” below.

Many would consider marriage a mystery and wonder why people would do it, but I consider it a mystery because I see vast depth of meaning and symbolism. There is something miraculous about the declaration of marriage as it transforms a couple into something more than just a relationship between two people. Marriage is an invitation to the sacred. A declaration of marriage invites the rest of the world to witness something that is sacrificial, committed, unconditional even holy. This is why mystics have come to say that marriage serves as reflection of the love and fidelity between God and his people.

The love that Naos and Shawna share has brought them to this place of invitation. They are inviting us to lovingly support their union and encourage them believe the best in each other always. They are inviting us to witness the daily sacrifices they will make for each other that will enrich and strengthen their relationship and deepen their love. It is an invitation to Spirit of God to transform them individually and corporately as they rely on God’s love to lead them.

The fidelity and faithfulness of marriage transforms the “ifs” and “untils” sentiments of a relationship to “I am committed” and “I will” statements and actions required of unconditional love. Naos and Shawna’s love for each other gives us insight into the love of God.

"Love never gives up. Love cares more for others than for self. Love doesn't want what it doesn't have. Love doesn't strut, doesn't have a swelled head, doesn't force itself on others, isn't always 'me first,' doesn't fly off the handle, doesn't keep score of the sins of others, doesn't revel when others grovel, takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, puts up with anything, trusts God always, always looks for the best, never looks back, but keeps going to the end."

I have been watching Naos and Shawna love each other these many months. Two people from different worlds have managed to come together and create something that is unique and precious. I have seen Naos draw out Shawna’s fears by lovingly creating space for her to share her feelings without shame. I have watched Shawna encourage and support Naos’ dreams and desires without tiring. Their relationship is built on mutual trust and continually giving through circumstance and misunderstanding. The two have become one in unity and purpose. It is beautiful and disarming to know that they are willing to work past their differences for the sake of uncovering what is sacred in each other and deepening their love and commitment to one another. I consider it a privilege to witness this union and the beauty that will unfold in their marriage.

Desperately Seeking A Home

2009-03-08T19:15:00.000Z

Today I hit the streets of Amsterdam to see the flats I had found online while in Portugal. My moving schedule was expedited by the coming nuptials of Shawna and Naos at the end of the month.

I went to see three places and I have to say that they went from worst to far worst. I had Shea with me for one of them and she was afraid to let go of my hand. Let me paint the picture; imagine the smell of a communal high school locker room times ten and that would come close to the smell of the small one room studio we saw. No windows, no carpet, no way! That was the highlight of the day.

So after my first day on these cobblestone streets, I have to say that I am a little discouraged but I will press onward. I know that there has to a place for me somewhere, I just have keep looking...apparently quite hard.

Where I Come From

2009-03-08T18:53:00.000Z

My aunt wrote this article about my Grandmother at the request of an editor for future publication. This in no way fully captures all the history and drama that is “Grandmommy” but it does capture her essence. I am proud to descend from such a strong woman of colour and character. Enjoy!

ORELIA BUCKNER TAYLOR
Born June 26, 1926 in Oran, Missouri
Written by her daughter, Dorothy J, Evans

Born to parents Rev. Boyd and Mary Johnson Smith, Orelia grew up in Missouri and Arkansas. She had six brothers and two older sisters. Her mother was ill and died when Orelia was a young child . She had her children promise to one day meet their mother in Heaven. Partially raised by a father, sisters, and step-mothers, Orelia learned early in life the necessity of trusting in the Lord.
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My mother, Orelia, finished sixth grade and was done…not because she didn’t want to go further, for she loved school and did well. But, she grew up in the times where working on the farm and taking care of the males in the family were the most important tasks for females. When she asked her farm laborer father if she could one day go to college, he replied, “Yes, right down that row of cotton”. She quietly promised herself that she would never respond to her children that way. And she courageously kept that promise.

An uneducated woman, and eventually a single Mom, she accepted welfare and continued to clean the homes of wealthy white people to provide for her home and family of four growing kids. And what wonderful white folks they were! Barely worn clothing and shoes from fashionable stores were passed on to us. When my brothers graduated from junior high and high school, they accepted their diplomas in brand new suits, dressy shoes, shirts, and matching ties. Momma was loved by them for her work ethic, her generosity, and her Christian attitude.

We lived in the projects, We were on welfare. We often wore used clothing. But Momma never told us or allowed us to think that we were poor, nor to feel inferior to other children. Orelia Taylor taught her children to stand tall, to excel, and to never be discouraged and quit. Living in the projects was a remarkable experience. It was like a village. Every family knew each other, respected the rights and property of their neighbors, and disciplined and help to raise the children who dwelled there. It was a clean place, and values were taught, friendships shaped, leaders made.

A Christian and lover of God all her life, Momma brought her children up in the church. She didn’t send us to church…she didn’t drop us off at Sunday School…no, Orelia took us. She taught us early in life to bless our food, to thank God for the good times and the bad, to pray for guidance, to read the Bible, to yearn to make Heaven our future home. She could sing and was a longtime member of the choir. She was in the Mission and genuinely cared about others. She could not eat a morsel of food if she saw someone hungry. We would be sorely disciplined if we showed disrespect to any older person, whether they were right or wrong. We knew our place…we didn’t have the gall to argue with an adult or even pout or roll our eyes at them. Back then, the village was an integral part of our lives. Even if your parents didn’t see your disrespect, the village did, and they faithfully reported every offense to them.

When her second husband, Louis, was ordained as Deacon, Momma became a Deaconess. As the years passed, it became her time to become President of the Deacon’s Wives and Deaconess. She presided for many years, diligently performing her duties with a smile. When she was replaced as President by a younger woman, Momma did not pout nor complain. She stood by the new President and the auxiliary, lending a helping hand and providing guidance to her. Momma still is ready and able to assist wherever she is needed.

Three of Momma’s four children graduated from College. My baby brother is a Doctorate in the ministry; the other brother is also a minister and a retired principal with a Master’s Degree; my sister finished junior college, but decided to be an educated wife and stay- at -home mom. I became a teacher with a Master’s Degree. Momma’s inspiration and courage and belief in her children and faith in God were the forces that moved us to higher dimensions.

Even though my Dad and Mom divorced, he was a visible presence in the lives of his children. We knew our Daddy and celebrated holidays and special events with him. Momma never bad-mouthed him, nor made us resent him. When he grew older and lost his sight, Momma would help Daddy. We were working, so she took up the slack. Momma would say, “I’ve known him since I was fifteen and I won’t desert him.”

After her four children were grown, college-graduated, married, and parents ourselves, Momma decided to go to Adult School and get her high school diploma. She was a good student and the oldest in her class. The young people who had not applied their best in regular school, respected her efforts. She earned A’s and B’s in her subjects. During her graduation, her fellow classmates stood and applauded as her long-sought-after diploma was placed in her hands. What a proud moment for us all, but especially for Momma who clutched that precious rolled up paper and whispered a prayer of thanks to God for his goodness.

Momma is known around town as the cake woman. She makes mouth-watering cakes for people and gives them as gifts on their birthdays and other special occasions. People have gotten so bold as to tell Momma that their birthday is coming up and hope that they get one of her cakes. At funerals and celebrations, people who have tasted her buttery, light cakes ask, “Which one is Oree’s cake?”

A missionary in her own right, Momma freely calls and visit’s the sick and shut-in, usually bringing them something to read or eat. As sick as some of them are, they ask for some of her cake. For many years, Momma volunteered at the Braille Center, helping to feed the blind .

Momma has been the President of the Women’s Auxiliary to the Veterans of Foreign Wars for a lot of years. The membership is small and fragile, but she continues calling all the women and reminding them to come to the monthly meetings and to “please pay your dues“. The Post sponsors an annual barbecue dinner on Veterans’ Day each year and raises money for the Cancer Fund and for other activities. Momma is faithfully there in the kitchen, making sure the plates are presented to customers neatly and attractively.

In 2006, Momma’s knee finally hurt enough for her to submit to surgery. The surgery and post therapy went well. Mom was given crutches and an walker. I moved in with her during her recovery and caught her several times walking without support. She’d say, “Oh, I forgot about that”. The first Sunday I took her to church, everyone was glad to see her and amazed about how well she healed. Someone asked me where she was and I looked around to see the walker, but no Momma. She was on the other side of the church telling of her adventures. We put that thing away and she walked around like no surgery had been performed.

A true servant is what Momma is. She lives to wait on people. During dinners at her house, she can’t eat her own food for serving others. She takes leftovers to her friend across the street, who awaits with anticipation for the delicious food. She doesn’t like pets, yet she places discarded food in the alley for the dogs to feast on. The extended family went to a restaurant for a special occasion. One of her grandchildren announced to Momma, “Now, Gramma, don’t get up and help the waitress serve…they get paid to do that.” We laughed until our sides hurt.

Momma has graced this earth for 82+ years. She lives in her own house, has her own money, drives her own car (she passed her written test in 2008, so she can slowly drive a few years more. She doesn’t hear well anymore, but hates wearing those hearing aids! Instead of wearing them, she will blast everyone with the television super loud and utter “huh?” We tell her if she’d wear her hearing aids, she’ll better hear what people are saying. If she is in a cooperative mood, she’ll say, “I know”, but if she’s being spunky, she’ll say, “Sometimes I don’t want to hear what some people are saying”.

A strong woman. A godly woman. A woman full of love. That’s our Momma.

Carnival Portuguesa Style

2009-02-26T10:48:00.001Z

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the culmination of the carnival celebrations throughout February. Since I have been in Portugal for almost a month, I felt obliged to join in the celebration.

The Monday prior is “the” night to celebrate all that would be forsaken for lent. The collection of characters who became friends congregated at Silk (a club that boasts a beautiful view of Lisboa from their roof-top terrace), and I invited my new friend Christy to join me for a night of dancing under the stars until the sun dared to rise. I have not laughed so hard in a long time. The costumes ranged from tragic to magnificent, but everyone was jovial as they sang Portuguese songs. I had a great time dancing and singing along (when I could in Spanish). For more pictures go to my photo album.

Traffic Jam Cabanas’ Style

2009-02-12T12:19:00.001Z

Life in Cabanas is slower than many places I have ever been in a while. It is really refreshing to live in “Praise of Slowness” (Shout out to Chris Holohan for letting borrow his book in SA) by cooking and heating the place with a wood-burning stove, working in the sunlight with the gatos (cats) and watching sunsets. Portugal is a place where business deals are forged and broken on the basis of the amount strain it generates between parties.

The most stressful thing I have observed in the town has been the afternoon grid-lock captured above. I am staying across the road from a sheep’s milk dairy and the afternoon grazing is about as busy as the roads get near the home. As you can see there is a real pile up around the orange tree that brings the flow to a grinding halt. The other sheep just keep on coming and the cascade of wool just increases around the tree. The sheep in the middle were trapped by the tree but they did not seem to mind it much. In fact I actually watched one sheep use the back of his brother to stand on to claim an orange (my battery died so I could not catch it on film but it made me smile). When life gave him lemons, he decided to make orange-aid out of those who held him captive.

Even though it is a stressful time with Reckoning deadlines, life around me is sending a powerful message to take things as they come and enjoy an unhurried pace of life.

Missing a Furry Face

2009-02-06T18:09:00.001Z

I was hiking in the hills behind the house where I am staying and I came across a family of rabbits grazing. I sat and watched them playing. They chased and frolicked around the orange grove. It made me smile for a moment, but then I became sad because it made me think about dearly departed Sgt.Pepper.

Sgt. Pepper was the rabbit that lived at the Snow compound in Amsterdam. He was a fun companion to me. I spent many hours laughing at his adventures as he played with our neighbour’s cat. He died just before I returned from California last month, so I did not get to say good bye to his furry face.

Seeing the bunnies play became a sort of memorial for Sgt. Pepper. I know that he was “just” a rabbit, but for me he was a point of simple joy in my day. Every time I saw him I smiled, no matter how my day was going; for that I will always be grateful and miss him a little.

Cooking Without Gas

2009-02-05T22:49:00.001Z

One of the joys I am experiencing in Portugal is cooking for the first time on a wood burning stove.

Tonight I made my entire dinner on the gem you see pictured above. I am discovering how to manage the temperatures with varying amounts of wood and the proximity to the fire, and the thickness of the pan. It is a constant juggling to make a meal on the stove top and the oven but I got the hang of it. With a stone top I was able to keep my tea warm while I was cooking in addition to keep the home warm. I have to admit the food tastes richer and cooks faster.

My hat is off to those in the world who are rocking the wood stoves day in and day out. I also have a deeper respect for my forefathers who dreamed of such a luxury to care for their family. When I think of all the chopping of wood, letting it dry, hauling it into the house, then putting it to work in the kitchen. All in a days work! What is reality for others, is a temporary joy for me. Makes me think and appreciate the work of my relatives.

Momentary Pause

2009-01-28T20:28:00.001Z

This is my one full day in Amsterdam and I have to say that it is good to be home. I missed the city, friends and even the brisk cold.

I have about 48 total hours and a long to-do list to work through, but I decided to take a moment to breathe. Some time to sit for a while, to soak a bit. know it is a quick turn-around, but it is good to stand still for a moment in the midst of the blur that is my life. Like Ferris said, “Life moves pretty fast,you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

Lynne In Her Element

2009-01-23T21:18:00.005Z

Today, I completed a week long art academy. Pictured above is Lynne, Reckoning’s artistic guru. It was such a pleasure to work by her side and witness Lynne functioning in expertise. She has such a wonderful way of inviting people into exploring while carefully providing a balance of instruction and support.

She also worked with Lee Hodges (left with coffee) and Sharron Luft (on right) to facilitate an create an autobiographical journal for a central event of our choosing. I have to admit that it is a lot harder than it sounds. You explore in ways that may be unfamiliar in addition to writing and creating imagery. Each day the participants would arrive a little more frayed than the last - revealing the toll of the previous day’s activities. As the day progressed we became energised as through the discovery of new techniques, skills and insights.

As stories and projects unfolded, a bond formed between the women present. A collaborative sisterhood was formed as we combined our tears, laughter and frustrations to form something beautiful from the ashes of the past and our hopes for the future. I am grateful to these women for sharing so much of themselves. Lynne, Lee and Sharron lead the group with a kindness and grace that afforded everyone a chance to bask in her own glory.

Fun Day

2009-01-18T23:11:00.002Z

Today we went to Magic Mountain, all 14 of us!

It was a day of first in many ways. The five Snow children were together for the first time in years. First time at Magic Mountain for Naos Wilbrink, Annie Bergin, and Shea Snow. For one of my friends it was the first time back on a roller coaster after an accident. For me, it was the first time in over a decade I introduced first timers to some of the world’s best roller coasters.

We had a great time, even those who were weak of heart. The only hitch was that our shortest member not able to ride on many of the great coasters. But her entire face lit up when she was able to ride on Ninja. Her entire being lit up. It was a great way to end our day together.

Reckoning Kick-Off in Cali

2009-01-17T12:09:00.002Z

In terms of numbers, we were a hit! About 100 people came to enjoy Dutch cheese, taste fine wine, and converse about Reckoning. I have to say that I was surprised by the number of people that showed up, but I greatly appreciated seeing friends who travelled many miles to be a part of this historic event.

We hope to develop a core group to start the works of Reckoning in California. Several people expressed interest but I believe in time a group will form. We have an opportunity to partner in a project in Oxnard and a professional fund raiser decided to help us develop. I look forward to watching things unfold over time.

Thank you to everyone who came.

With A Little Help From My Friend

2009-01-16T14:11:00.000Z

This is my dear friend John Bergin and his “son” Hooch. We have known each other a lot of years (man I am getting old!) and shared ring-side seats to each others trials and triumphs in life. John is on of those great friends in life you can ALWAYS count on, as I did when I needed some assistance picking out wines for the Reckoning event tomorrow night. It was not just about shopping (I could have done that myself), it was about engaging in actions of true friendship.

People like John are tangible expressions of “Love thy neighbour.” Without action, the aforementioned phrase is meaningless; just words on a page. Love is a verb, not a word solely to elicit fuzzy feelings. Love implies, patience, sacrifice, courage, care, joy and endurance to name a few; it is not a one-time decision - it must be tended to regularly and often.

I hope that you, my readers, also have dear neighbours who love you well and are loved well by you. It is this kind of love that makes living worthwhile. Live Well!

2009-01-15T05:05:00.003Z

There is something about Nature that just speaks to my heart and soul.

Earlier today, I was on my way to meet my dear friend, Deanne Rollins for one of our energetic walks as we caught up with each other’s lives. The drive is familiar, one taken repeatedly over my many years on the planet - but today as I caught my first glimpse of the water peaking through the mountain tops it took my breathe away.

I had to pullover on Kanan, just to sit and be for a moment. I wanted to inhale the magnitude of what I saw in front of me, while I exhaled awe, praise and thankfulness. I took in the multitude flora while expressing my love for its beauty. In moments like this, I am reaffirmed in my faith in the Creator. We can all argue over how this all came to be, but sometimes just to be still and let it wash over and surround like oxygen, I feel I catch a glimpse of the Creator’s smile. The knowing smile of joy, that an artist experiences when someone appreciated their work.

Before I drove away, I snapped a quick picture; even though I knew that it would never do Nature justice. I just wanted to have a little remembrance of this place of inspiration. A reminder to be still at times, but to also walk with my eyes fully open to the beauty, while constantly taking a stance of gratitude.

Synergy

2009-01-13T19:00:00.001Z

Some times in life you are blessed to meet someone with whom you just click! Instantly the energy of the connection moves you a little closer to greatness. Today I had the fortune of meeting two such people and we formed an instant kinship!

Rich Brimer (on the Left) introduced the Reckoning Core team to Café On A (http://cafeona.org). Armando Vazquez and Debbie De Vries (left to right in picture) take commitment and creativity to the next level. They are the co-founders and overseers of an innovative community centre. Café On A is a hub for activism, empowerment and generosity towards the marginalised and at-risk community in Oxnard.

I have a deep respect for their work, as they create art interventions that address trying issues like incest and racial profiling. They offer workshops to help people voice their experiences and channel their energies towards positive solutions, rather than destructive behaviours or crime.

Well, once we were all in the same room the ideas started to flow on the basis of our mutual understanding that art transforms perspectives and can be a great tool for personal and community transformation. Who knows in the near future there might be wonderful collaboration.

Thanks Rich for the connection!

23.5 Hours

2009-01-12T16:54:00.003Z

The picture captures how I felt during my journey. I have never had such and experience while travelling anywhere, not even in developing countries!

What should have been two flights with a total air time of 12 hours, dragged out to almost 24 hours of 4 airports, three delayed flights, misinformation, mechanical failures, a lively debate for food vouchers and bonding with my fellow travellers. This was one adventure that drained my capacity for flexibility and serendipity.

I am grateful to Don and Christine Wood, who waited patiently for me through all the delays and an airport change. Otherwise, I might be in some place live Cleveland in a hotel,rocking in disbelief.

I am happy to have spent the day in the sunshine, which magically melted away my frustration so that I could enjoy the scenery in all h

Reckoning Launch in Amsterdam

2009-01-11T13:17:00.004Z

I am writing this from the plane, so Saturday seems further way than yesterday while in transit.

Our dear friend Harmine offered her home for our kick-off celebration and information meeting. The location was perfect, everyone felt warm and welcome. About 15 people came, many whom were met earlier that week. The conversation was charged as old and new friends wrestled with the concepts of Reckoning. Our presentation was a sampling of Reckoning’s Educational Method, which was tested and well received.

The evening was a hallmark for future gatherings and sparks of a budding community.

My New Website

2009-01-09T23:05:00.003Z

Check it out and tell me what you think.

http://web.me.com/alyciarenee/Worldwide_Scrapbook/Blog/Blog.html

iReckon Community

2009-01-09T20:33:00.003Z

We created a network for Reckoning! It is live and forming. Come check it out.

Where Have You Been All My Life?

2009-01-08T21:42:00.003Z

Yesterday, Shawna and I joined this collaborative work space called the HUB (www.the-hub.net) in Amsterdam.

In two days we met amazing people who are excited about Stichting Reckoning and want to help us succeed. It is like a giant playground for workers. We all show up at the sandbox with our best toys (our talents, connections and experiences) and share with each other to see what we can create. I believe it is a major cornerstone for us.

It so caters to my skill set and bent for landing myself in the middle of innovative situations. If you are struggling, just ask a question and there is most likely someone at the HUB who can help or at least direct you to some one who can. One stop shopping. I have to admit though it is very much geared for extroverts, so I can only take it in moderate doses. But I have to say what I experience in those sweet moments is well work it.

How many of you would like to work in an environment like this? What do you think about a mobile shared office?

Yes It Really Is That Cold!

2009-01-07T06:52:00.003Z

Last night the temperature dipped below -15 C last night. I found this picture on Flickr (http://www.flickr.com/photos/mjaquet/). It was taken on Keizergracht in Amsterdam.

Play at your own risk! It is noisy and goes on for a minute. I am enjoying the winter weather and the light snows and frost. It is really beautiful to this Cali girl.

But I do have to say that I am looking forward to Portugal too!

Twitter While I Work

2009-01-05T08:17:00.000Z

I have had the account 4-eva but decided I was too busy to mind it...or so I thought!

It is easy and addicting. I downloaded twitterific so I do not have to log in for each update. I twitter along all day, updating people through out the day of meetings, sending questions and connecting with others. In a few days I have reconnected to some great people and met some new ones too.

I have found some great websites too. It is great how quickly we can exchange information all in under 200 characters!

I invite you to follow me and see some of what I do here in A-town down. I am at http://twitter.com/thriveinlife.

What Makes A Real Leader?

2008-08-22T21:26:00.004+01:00

Gandhi, Clinton, Mason, Malcolm X, Hitler, Obama, Mandela, Bush, King Jr., and Bin Laden; they all had power because they said something that made people want to follow them – but were they truly leaders…how would you define a true leader?

In Reckoning’s quest to inspire and foster leadership,we have been exploring, educating, examining and executing the dynamics influence. At our core we desire to be transformative in our leadership – meaning incorporating holistic change in others and ourselves. In the books we have read (and there have been many Burns, Hagberg, Autry, Block McIntosh & Rima to name a few off the top of my head) they all keep circling around two main core principles: integrity and morals.

If these are the two harbingers of true leadership then not everyone who leads can be defined as a leader in the purest sense of the word. Have we become too fast and limiting as we label people in terms of leadership? If people follow you is that enough to be a real leader or can someone actually lead from behind? Do you need a position and title or can authority at times undermine the process? These are some of the things we wrestle with daily. If we chose to use integrity and morals as our anchors then a glance at the names above would cause an immediate divide. In James Mac Gregor Burns’ “Transforming Leadership,” he categorizes leaders as either transactional or transformational. Transactional leaders are bound to those they lead by an exchange of some valued entity (usually tangible – ex. I will give you lower taxes if you give me your vote) where as transformative types are closely involved with those they lead centered around a purpose that encourages the elevation of mankind by fostering higher levels of (yes you guessed it) morality and integrity. Transparency and mutual empowerment definitely separates the men from the boys. Idi Amin, Stalin and the like would quickly fall away even though they wielded power.

So if transformational leadership is the destination, then how point out leaders would shift things dramatically. Might we see people at the helm we never imagined? Wouldn’t have less to do with power, prestige or status. Portraying perfection would be ridiculous because every one on this planet can improve on something no matter who or where you happen to be. Being the CEO of a company may mean that you are a great manager but a questionable leader. We might recognize the janitor, who gives his time and energy to know and encourage the students, as the most pivotal and real guide at a prep school. True inspiration does not wait for the paycheck or title to lead, it just does.

Can you imagine what accountable, tireless, holistic, self-less, servant driven leadership might compel people towards? Can you imagine how it might shift the paradigms of people, communities or nations? You do not have to try hard to remember how one or two people have turned the world upside down in this fashion leading to an overwhelming and at times unexpected leap in consciousness. I do not know about you, but I am putting my bets on the dark horse; I believe in the end they will pay out, even if it means they lose everything to succeed.

My Dance with Grace

2008-08-18T21:37:00.000+01:00

In recent days I have come to realize my relationship with Grace has been in disrepair. What’s Grace? I see it as a force not an it, so I choose to see Grace much like I would see a person who always adds a certain elegance to what is before her. Grace can only build on something, she cannot fathom something upon nothing. Grace is that desirable illustrious creature that offers herself completely and unselfishly to anyone who seeks her wholeheartedly – the catch - you have to continually seek her and fight to stay with her.

I have been examining the nature of my relationship with Grace and I could best quantify it as merely accidental brushes here and there. I can imagine grace as a noun or verb - something I desire to exude; when it comes to receiving or living with her, I have been lacking more times than I care to admit. She often invites me to come dance with her and when I do it is always wonderful and free, but it is so specific and ornate at the same time. When I am willing our movements start to intertwine, I become strangely unnerved and unraveled. Things begin to fall away and appear in ways I do not understand when you are moving with Grace. It feels so off-kilter - I can either move away or I can fall into Grace. If try to grab something to steady myself Grace disappears as quickly as she arrived. If I try to hold onto Grace, my grip is useless I just crash into Grace. When embraced the peace and disruption seem to explode at the same time. It is hard to be cool or feel in control when you are leaning into Grace. You follow and try to press into something that cannot be held or contain. You never feel more alive and ridiculously useless at the same time.

As we lumber along I start to I think this cannot be what it is suppose to be. I was expecting something else… I cannot tell you how many times I have gotten to this place with Grace only to find myself pushing away. But once I am on my own again, I eventually come to my senses and realize what I left. Sometimes I am bold enough to I think I can recreate it on my own without her but somehow I just end up further from where I wanted t be. Just when I think there is nothing more I can do and I lay everything down, I turn the corner and there she is again. She approaches with her arms open inviting me in.

I Love A Parade!

2008-08-10T21:22:00.004+01:00

Last weekend went to the Gay Pride Parade in Amsterdam with some fellow yanks (sorry Texans and Southerners you will have to cope) to take in the festivities. Now being a California girl, I have been to epicenter of Pride parades in San Francisco and Hollywood; Amsterdam is a much tamer version of reality but the sister cities could learn from their Dutch ally.

Of course the house music was going full steam and the boys and girls were getting’ their twirls on much like anywhere else but there were a few twists on the parade boats that might stop the Americana parade. Firstly, any parade day in Holland is a family affair for all generations, cultures and creeds. I mean you saw just about everyone there and not to just gawk, they were fully invested in having a good time. Grandmothers, grandkids and every age in between lined the canals to cheer and celebrate. The parade may be dramatic but it is not vulgar (well the US boats were the sad exceptions). There was just an air of fun, community and joy.

Another difference, there were no protesters. Churches passed invitations throughout the crowd to join their fellowships offering a message of love. A group of churches even had a boat in the parade with a banner boasting of God’s love for EVERYONE.

Lastly, every high-ranking government office and officer (city, education, police, hospitals, etc) was represented in the parade. It did not seem like an obligation or public relations gig; they seemed to embrace it more as an opportunity to show their support. Many of these official boats created dance routines and skits, which they performed all along the parade route. We sat next to a gentleman who he took the time to point out all the dignitaries in the parade and translated for us. Our private narrator of the parade was there with his two daughters and he was really a wonderful host. Before he left I asked if he been before and he said yes, he comes every year with his kids. I asked him why and he said, “Because it is a parade and it is always fun; it is always a celebration.”

All these elements made me wonder how a country that prides itself on a no nonsense nonreligious lifestyle could foster such a compassionate environment. You may not agree with the practice or lifestyle of homosexuality, but it is something is woven the fabric of our global human existence much the same way as relationships, lying, theft and aging. It is here no matter if you choose to embrace, ignore, criticize or rejoice. I believe a follower of Jesus cannot take the easy out of indignation or self-righteousness to dismiss or by take a perceived moral high ground. After all it says judge not lest you be judged by the same measure (not for the same sin - your sins will be weighed with the same magnitude with which you dole out condemnation on others – ouch!).

Many people wear he WWJD bracelets, but I wonder if they really asks themselves what would Jesus do if he showed up on Gay Pride Day. My bet is that he would approach people much the same way he did when the crowd threw a prostitute at his feet for stoning, or the way he did when he walked among the untouchables – the leapers, the sick and the poor. I would be willing to bet that he would be moved to compassion and from that place act in love, wisdom and restoration. I am not saying that compassion was the aim of the day in Amsterdam, but I sensed a strong undercurrent of it in the crowd. Could that be why the Gay community here does not feel the need to be so militant or defensive in living out their lives because people have made room in their hearts to meet them as people first and homosexuals somewhere else down the line of priorities? Makes me think and wonder. I hope it does the same for you as well.

Come on Visa!

2008-08-06T13:17:00.001+01:00

I’m Official! (Well for the next 6 months)

I had my appointment with the IND (Immigratie-en Naturalisatiedeinst) on the 6th and thanks to the help of my brilliant lawyer, Patrick Rovers, and faithful friend, Shawna Snow, I had all the documentation I needed to apply for immigration. It has come after months of stress and tons of money just to have this little beauty in my passport. Can you believe it?

It was rather miraculous how everything came together in less than 10 days! Seriously, I thought that I might need to fly home rather than risk being here illegally. That would have caused a 3-month delay in things so I am glad that it all panned out suddenly. Thanks for all the prayers and encouragement.

Well I am one step closer to my residency card. This sticker in my passport means that IND has deemed my application complete and will begin to process and decide my eligibility for residence. My application is contingent on the business I registered, past experience and proving I can make it here. I have done all I could do at this point and my fate is in their hands.

Look Who's on Board

2008-07-26T21:13:00.003+01:00

We have news to share about Reckonings progress…we have our board chairman, Derek Webster. We met him earlier this year at a conference where he truly encouraged the Reckoning team. He fully believes and backs what reckoning is seeking to create.

After he decided to join our merry band presented us with an eloquent treatise on why he joined Reckoning. It really resonated with who we are and in some ways added clarification. Here is an example of its goodness…

“Reckoning is an excuse. It is an excuse to bring others together in a way that both blesses them, and helps them engage in a dialogue with Christians. Reckoning seizes the opportunity to influence, while positioning itself relationally for impact.”

I do not think I could have said it better myself. We are really excited to have him on our team. Derek is an international consultant, writer and all around great guy with many achievements and letters behind his name. We are so happy that he has decided to be an integral part of shaping and influencing Reckoning.

Practice Makes Perfect

2008-07-23T09:34:00.002+01:00

Yesterday I had the opportunity to teach the Snow kids on friendship using the learning task methods of Jane Vella. Reckoning will incorporate this style of teaching into our workshops and art interventions this fall so it was mutually beneficial to have this opportunity – the kids got to learn about something they wanted to know about and I also had the opportunity to learn and practice.

Being the first to teach of the Reckoning Clan during the kids summer break, I knew it would be a challenge to engage the kids who I am sure were thinking of a million things they would rather be doing – like sleeping or being outside on the first sunny day in weeks – so it was a rocky start. As we mover through the exercises, the kids became more engaged and lights started to go on as the information started to connect with their personal lives. I have to say it was a lot of fun to watch that happen and I am looking forward to teaching part two.

The kids will also have classes in cooking, sewing, clothes redesign, tie-dying, which will be taught by Ali and Shawna. I will also teach a class on finding God in unusual places. Hopefully this will allow the kids to have an interesting and fulfilling summer and the Reckoning girls will have the opportunity to hone their skills in preparation for the fall.

Visitors

2008-07-09T16:02:00.005+01:00

For the first time in my years of living overseas I am starting to get visitors who come to hang out with me and see where I live. It has been really wonderful to hear from so many of you who are willing to make the trek to see this beautiful continent and lovely city.

I cannot tell you how much it lifts my spirits to see good friends and be encouraged. Even though I am not fully settled, it is nice to know that people want to come take a look at how I getting along out here. The conversations and hugs have made my summer. Thanks you so much for coming! I hope more of you can make it here too! Looking forward to see those who are coming in the fall.

The Parks family came from Grass Valley, CA after spending time in Morocco.

Hilde flew from South Africa to London where we met and spent lovely days taking pictures.

Jean-Marie (from Santa Rosa, CA) and Susan (from Afghanistan) were in the country for trainings and came to spend the day in Amsterdam.

Just Like the Dutch

2008-06-30T22:24:00.000+01:00

What I am coming to love about the Dutch is their sense of efficiency with style; this compensated for the fact that they were telling me that they could not help me and I would have to start the whole process again.

So I went to the KvK, which is the Dutch version of chamber of commerce, where I was to register my business as part of my immigration process. When I walked into the door two very nice women at reception offered to help me. Within moments I was given additional forms and a number; I was directed to the waiting area. What a waiting room!

Okay! There are tables with comfortable chairs for completing paperwork, but that is only the beginning. While you are waiting there is free coffee, tea and hot chocolate, and you can also surf the net at a sleek consoles at an elevated bar. I am sure that I waited about 20 – 30 minutes for the agent to help me, but it seemed to go by fast. I was checking my email when an agent walked over and announced my number in English because the receptionist let her know (I asked). I was latter escorted over to a desk with a where I had a one on one with the agent. She reviewed my forms, helped me complete the additional form I was given.

Even though I was given some bad news, the lady was very nice and she told me how I could correct the problems. All in all it was a very swift process and relatively painless outside of the bad news. Just about every day I find something new to appreciate about my adopted country.

Bos en Lommer Festival (22 June continued)

2008-06-22T22:06:00.000+01:00

This is Ali and David (he is the one who connected us with the New West Directors)
at our booth

We also had a canvas for people to paint their own expressions.

This is what the canvas looked like after the first hour

Hard at work painting

We taught the kids about Artist's Trading Cards (see previous blog) so
that the kids could trade with each other.

Here I am working with the kids making ATCs.

Showing her handy work.

What A Day

2008-06-22T21:45:00.002+01:00

You ever have one of those mornings that you wish you could stay in bed all day but can’t because you are expected somewhere and it is too late to cancel?

That is how this morning started for me. I was sick and spent most of the previous afternoon in bed trying to stave of whatever bug that was trying to keep me down. When I tried to open my puffy eyes I could feel that my head was on the verge of imploding under the sinus pressure. But I had to get up it was Reckoning’s first event today in Bos en Lommer!

We got the kids ready and dressed and out the door 10 minutes after we were suppose to leave and the throbbing in my head seemed to quicken as my pace did through out the day. We made out way to the Bos en Lommerplein and I jumped out of the car to track down anyone who could let us know where we our booth would be located. It took 7 degrees of separation before I found someone I recognized and could take me to the one person who had the lay of the land and pointed us in the right direction. At this point I was trying to convince myself that it would be worth staying after the set up instead of returning to the comfort and warmth of bed.

It has been my experience though on days like these, when you have nothing to give beyond your presence and you are not really sure you even want to offer that much, that wonderful things happen. Things you never imagined or thought to ask for; today was no different.

It was miraculous that we were asked to be in this festival in the first place. Through the sports and culture director of Bos en Lommer, we were unexpectedly introduced to the New West Regional Directors of Cultural Arts and Education. These two women were so impressed with our off the cuff presentation of Reckoning that they provided a booth for Reckoning to participate in the upcoming Festival in Bos en Lommer. They wanted to help us initiate relationships with the community we desired to work in. For this reason I got up and went and stayed.

But in reality I got more than I expected by being there. We had so many kids show up and watching them express their creativity was well worth it! There are so many stories but I will share my favorite of the day. At one point I think we had about 15 kids making Artist’s Trading Cards and about 7 kids painting at the canvas, three little boys came up to the art supplies and each grabbed what they could and ran off in separate directions but met behind shed on the other side of the road. I am sure that they assumed Ali and I were too busy to see them but I caught the whole thing. So I left the kids and walked around to the side of the building and held out my hands. It was amazing how quickly the kids started making excuses in English. I took the items said thank you and walked away. I told them they could come back and participate if they wanted to. A few hours later when we were cleaning up I saw the boy who was the ring leader standing off to the corner. I grabbed a set of coloring pencils and walked over to him. He immediately started saying, “ I did not take anything else, I swear!”

I stopped him and said, “I know, now that we are finished I want you to have them – here’s two more for your friends.”

He was really confused; he did not know whether to be sad or happy. “I told you, I did not take more, why are you giving me this? I took from you, I don’t deserve this.”

“Maybe not, but I want to give them to you anyways.” So these are for you, I hope you can use them.”

“Thank you …I am sorry…thank you,” he mumbled with his head held down.

I reached down and touched his shoulder and I waited for him to look up and then I said, “You’re welcome, I hope I see you when I come back in October, bring your friends.”

He put his head down then walked away. When he crossed the street I saw him look back and flash me a big smile.

I could not think of a better way to express grace. When you deserve to be punished for your action but instead you are given what you do not deserve. I hope that is the experience that he left with. I also experienced it myself in that I was feeling horrible and did not want to be there, but having that moment made me realize that I also received more than I gave or deserved.

Choosing Joy

2008-06-18T17:27:00.003+01:00

“I have the best mom ever!”

These are the unsolicited words of a five year old after she received an unexpected bike from her mother, Shawna Snow.

Apparently, while out shopping for a bike for her son, Shawna decided to purchase more sophisticated bicycle for the wee one. When the bike was dropped at the house Shawna had to go to the bank. Shea burst out to the back to tell me about her new bike. We ran back into the house to revel in her delight. As she was describing all the improvements over her old bike, her excitement grew and eventually sang out, “I have the best mom ever!”

Watching her joy, made me think about how I so easily forget to be awe-filled and thankful when unexpected provision comes my way. In that moment I became envious of her abundant and sustainable glee. I wish I could celebrate that way, instead of quickly snapping back into the ever-present problems in my reality. How did I loose that ability? Why was I convinced that joy is fleeting, when it is actually a choice and perspective? When did I start shifting so quickly to what is temporary and changing my viewpoint, choices and emotions accordingly?

For over an hour Shea waited for her mom to return from the bank, but her fervor only grew with time. When Shawna retuned from Shea’s maiden voyage on the bike, I was invited to take a spin with her as well. So much to ponder in that moment, but then I stopped and decided to live in the excitement brought on by this invitation. I shifted internally and together, lead by the grace of a five year old, I leaned into bliss.

The Guru

2008-06-13T23:56:00.001+01:00

Tonight I attended a bhajan mandalis aka “bhajan” (a gathering to sing bhajans/devotionals) at the family home of a friend’s in Surrey County London. It was a celebration and gathering spurred by the attendance of a family guru or spiritual leader. Apparently this guru’s ancestors were responsible for reintroducing Hinduism to India and my friend’s family has been a disciples of guru’s lineage ever since. From I understand this guru’s family lineage is known for being very gifted and highly revered. Although my main motivation was to go and support my friend and her family who I have come to love, I was also interested in the new experience.

We arrived late to the house and rushed through an obstacle course of shoes (one removes them when entering an Indian home), relatives who were hosting the Bhajan and disapproving looks due to our tardiness. After quickly changing into something more appropriate, we descended the stairs and entered into overflowing rooms filled with about 200 family members who were anxiously waiting to hear from their Baba. We arrived just in time for the initial introductions and blessings of the hosting family (phew) then we sat and made ourselves ready for the coming message by joining in song.

Although I could not understand the words being sung, I could participate in the melody and inflections of the music and singing. The energy and rhythms were infectious and we all clapped hands or tapped along to the music. The people were beautiful, especially the older women. The petite yet powerful grandmothers had faces, which seemed to glow with pride as they surveyed the burgeoning room filled with their descendents. They were honored and respected by everyone in the room; everyone fought to attend to their every desire, need and movement. With their hair simply pulled back into tightly woven buns and understated saris, they stood out in the crowd and drew everyone’s attention – they had presence and grace that just drew you in. Their longevity acted as pillars of great wisdom for the future generations to glean support.

We sat for over three hours joined in song interspersed with messages from the guru. Although I could understand very little of what was said (due to language barrier), one thing really stuck out to me. Baba spoke about the gap between the generations regarding the significance of their faith. Most youth struggle to reconcile religious traditions and spirituality. Somewhere the meanings behind the rituals became lost on the youth, making many Hindu customs seem irrelevant. No matter where I go in the world this seems to be a growing concern of spiritual leaders across many faiths (finally) and a common thread they all share and struggle with daily. I found it interesting Christians and Hindus are experiencing the same tensions and challenges brought on by the wanting to preserve what is significant without holding onto ritualistic behavior that may appear hollow to younger believers. Today most people search for something real and significant; they reach beyond religion and tend to side step anything that cannot fill that void. This is very true also of the Hollanders I meet.

It made me think about how my walk of faith might be perceived by others. Is it something dynamic, comprehensible and inviting to others or does it seem like the mutterings of a woman who is trapped in her habitual rendition of faith? I hope that the people I meet see the former rather than the latter and feel encouraged by and not separated from what and how I believe. That question is one that I will ask myself often as I continue my journey as a Christ follower. Even though we never spoke nor did I engage in the Guru’s teachings, I walked away from that evening a question that will help me evaluate how I am living out what is most important to me.

David Crowder is ridiculous!

2008-06-06T19:57:00.007+01:00

I mean just look at the guy! He looks like a reject from a rehab leading a rag-tag group of ragamuffins. If you have ever heard him speak or try to articulate something outside of verse and music you may have walked way thinking you just had a bad acid trip. But I have to admit that I cannot help but feel happy every time I look on his face. I lock on to his face and I become giddy and expectant.

I am usually one to run away from worship concerts as they are so not my scene and listening to people sing the same verse ad nausea truly unsettles me. I prefer solitude and intimacy, but last night as I looked upon the man completely unfettered by the jumping, screaming crowd of youngsters in front of him. I could see it in his eyes…he was just having a good time we just happened to be there. That is rare quality to find in many artists these days…someone who is fighting to push himself while having the time of their lives regardless of who is watching.

So again I say…the man IS ridiculous but he is also outstanding. He encourages me to do the same in my life.

Besides, he makes me smile and giggle to that makes me appreciate him.

Gotta Dance

2008-05-27T09:52:00.001+01:00

This weekend Ali and I helped out at a friend’s wedding. We did or best to make sure that the couple and wedding party were able to enjoy themselves without worrying about the incalculable details that come with the wedding reception. Although we spent hours on our feet with little time to slow down, the reward at the end of the night made it all seem worth it.

After the food was cleared away and order was restored to the kitchen, we were released from our duties and invited to join in the celebration. I was really tired and was considering heading home for the night – but then the DJ started to play. If you know me well, you know how much I love music and that it is near impossible for me not to dance no matter how tired I am. And boy did I dance! For the next few hours I made the dance floor my primary occupation. After about an hour Ali came in and joined me and we got down to funk music from the 70’s and 80’s.

Something happens when I dance – I become happy from the inside out and experience pure joy and childlikeness. I see something similar in others as we move together on the floor each bringing out unique styles to the playground. Everyone plays well together, there are no bullies and everyone gets their turn; the place is filled with laughter and intensity at the same time. Like kids at play, your language, age, or history do not matter when you dance. You create your own culture together and celebrate each other’s company, all without the hindrance of words. You just enjoy yourself and the others as the music moves you.

When I freestyle dance I experience a freedom like no other. For lack of better words, I really find my groove. There is no room for insecurities or malcontent, as the music plays I just express of who I am while mingling with others doing the same. Somehow on the dance floor we make room for each other’s essence when we really let go and just dance. It was great to be in a room full of people who get that and do so with out hesitation.

When I went out dancing in the US, that kind of experience only happened in the company of a few friends I could really clown with on the dance floor. If they were not with me, there was hardly anyone engaged that kind of autonomy as they moved and I would feel displaced. But when we got together with kindred soul, we would just enjoy what we created and embodied on the dance floor; maybe that is why we loved it so much and would go out of our way to do it so often. Dancing on Saturday made me miss and celebrate them. Veronica, Megan and Eddie were with me in spirit as I mused on the dance floor. I remembered all the freedom and laughter we shared and wished you were with me to experience the collective camaraderie. I know you would have loved it as much as I did and you would have stayed on your feet with me for as long as they could carry us.

That is so Dutch!

2008-05-18T14:24:00.001+01:00

Last week an agent was showing Phenny’s apartment to two potential renters (both from the UK) and the following happened…

While the clients were looking at the place I asked the agent how things were going with the placement. As the people were coming down the stairs the agent blurted, “well the place is already rented out to someone, we are just showing it until they meet the owner!” You should have seen the look on the couples face! They were shocked, but I just had to chuckle. Believe it or not bluntness is quite the norm here. Diplomacy is optional.

Another example:

The week before, Christine and I went to a French Café near Shawna’s home to have a glass of wine and get to know each other. The place was empty so I went inside to tell the owner that we wanted to sit outside for drinks. She replied…”We are a restaurant and you can get drinks at the pub on the corner.”

Time is very valuable to the Dutch; it is not wasted on those who do not warrant it. They lavish it on friends and family or projects that are meaningful, but rarely on a happenstance. If there is no immediate sense of value they become very frugal. It is one of the things I find so endearing about the culture. I know it may come across as harsh, but when I climb behind the initial shock and awe to discover their heart, I cannot help but embrace the Dutchness.

4 Days

2008-05-13T10:34:00.015+01:00

This weekend Embellish, one of Reckoning’s companies, participated in the Atelier Celebration in Amsterdam. Atelier is the Open Studios Tour in Amsterdam's Jordaan Area which started in 1988 as a small-scale initiative of fifteen artists working in this picturesque old neighborhood, it has, over the years, grown into a phenomenon that draws many visitors and has become internationally known.

The Open Studios attract thousands of visitors to the Jordaan’s artist community. This year there is art in abundance - to see, to buy, and to discuss with the artist. It is an ideal way for galleries to scout for new talent. Ali was able to make some major contacts for Embellish and Reckoning and it gave us a chance to meet new neighbors in the Jordaan.

Yesterday we participated in the Serve the City Amsterdam’s kid’s party in Bos en Lommer. Bos en Lommer is a section of Amsterdam with over 30,000 residents living in 2.71 km area (about 1.6 miles) representing over 178 cultural backgrounds. Many of the recent residents are new immigrants who are separate from much of Dutch culture. They are often marginalized socially, culturally and economically in their adopted country and the children are trying to cope within this reality without the necessary skills to navigate through such obstacles.I had fun playing with the kids, serving water to parents and making pannenkoeken, a tasty dessert, for the children.

There was one 18-month-old girl in particular I noticed when I first arrived. She was of Middle Eastern descent and at the park with her grand parents and she never smiled, not once, while she was walking around the playground. Her distraught grandparents tried to get her to play on the swings, slides and seesaw, but she wandered around resisting everyone and everything. Then the face-painting area set up and she was one of the first children to participate. She sat in complete stoicism as the girls touched her face and began to paint. What broke the dam was when she looked in the mirror and saw her little face a smile finally erupted and she giggled and clapped her hands! It was like watching a new child emerge from with in her. For the rest of the afternoon she was running and playing and engaging with others. It warmed my heart to see how something so simple and creative could have such a profound change in a child.

By using art as a platform to facilitate transformation, Reckoning hopes to address some of the essential issues, which shape a child’s personal identity and their place in the world.

Today we are headed to Bos en Lommer for meetings with Podium Mozaïek to discuss a proposal to hold a Reckoning Event and offer workshops in the Bos en Lommer area. We have such a desire to connect and become part of this community and we believe that there are incredible opportunities that lie ahead for everyone involved, but most especially the children of Bos en Lommer.

What Does It Mean?

2008-05-10T07:39:00.002+01:00

Does that mean…

you are going to start a church?
you’ll start preaching?
you can marry and bury people?

These are the top three questions I get asked when people hear that I am ordained. I have to say that I chuckle inwardly when I imagine myself leading a church and my close friends have more of the ROFLOL response. I know these questions are asked with sincerity and healthy skepticism. To this end I felt that I should share my perception of ordainment.

Most people associate ordination with priest and pastors who work in buildings where some people gather and worship together on weekends. Maybe this is because the word first appears biblically in reference to Aaron and the first priests to the Israelites and it seems that we get stuck at that positional viewpoint. Anointing, meaning blessing with oil, was the outward expression of the act of ordination. If one was anointed it implied that they were ordained. When Jesus stated that, the Lord had anointed him to preach the good news of the gospel to the poor, was it referring only to a position? To some extent an anointing can be positional but it is a very narrow slice of a pie that was meant to be a banquet.

The word, ordain, was also used when recognizing something the creator designed and called into being. Check out Psalms 8, 65, 11, and 139, and discover what the creator desired and facilitated into existence. Ordain is a verb that implies action and proclamation, a calling out if you will, which may or may not have anything to do with an appointment to a position. Ordination is a recognizing, an acknowledgement, a command of what is.

In some respects we have gotten into the practice of putting the cart before the horse when it comes to ministry. Often people are given positional authority without the experience and testing that Aaron and his sons faced in the desert. It was a way of life for them that had to be proven over and over. A profound shift happened when anointing became based on birthright and veered from the testing that can only happen with time, which at times lead to disastrous results.

When Jesus read from Isaiah 61 he announced what had been ordained to do in this world. He had a deep understanding of what the triune God wanted to communicate to creation about its character and desire for mankind. He embodied that message, which cannot have been put on through study - it was something lived out in his eternal relationship with the one who sent him in the first place. From a young age it was evident that he was going rip to shreds what people thought they knew about their creator. What he shared was something accessible and tangible – that my friends was then and is now “good news.”

Leaders and followers of his time tested this message and its application, which left people mystified or transformed. The fact that people still refer to and argue over Jesus’ teachings is a testament to its longevity and validity in the realm of man. He was truly ordained, not because of his position but because of who he was in this world and what he offered it.

So what does ordination have to do with me? It was the acknowledgment by a body of believers who recognize that I have a gift for missions, art, and inspiring others in a way that helps them come to a better understanding of the “good news”. Dan and Kathleen Prout initiated this decree because of what they observed in the years they have known me. In turn, others who support this observation came together to echo that recognition and enter in accountability with me. In it’s barest form, this is the heart of my ordination.

I could say yes to any of the above questions and pursue those ends (who knows maybe someday I’ll officiate at someone’s wedding), but they are only one of many ways I could express my faith and what I believe I am on this planet to achieve. In truth I think I will keep doing what has been proven and asked of me, because in my heart I think it makes God smile.

Cruising In My Hood

2008-05-07T08:01:00.004+01:00

One of the benefits of being in such a wonderful city is that you can always find something new. Most days I take time to familiarize myself with the neighborhood as I take walks to help me battle some serious jet lag (yes it is still hitting me). Here are some of my encounters…

First let me start of with where I am staying...This is the outside of the flat where I stay: The open window is my room!

And here’s the street we are on.

The fresh fruit at the markets are amazing and I have a wonderful store right on the corner. Look at the size of these blueberries. Mouthwatering goodness.

My arrival could not have been timed more perfectly. The sun is out and everyone is eager to be outside as much as possible. At the Saraphatipark near our flat people gather after work to bbq, relax and unwind.

Those who are lucky enough to own a boat take their happy hour on board. Hey who wouldn’t want to tan while you sail?

I will not bombard you pictures of all the amazing architecture, cute shops or the Heineken Brewery that litter the area, you will have to wait until I create an album or you will have to come see it for your self.

Cheers!

South Africa to Amsterdam

2008-05-04T18:38:00.009+01:00

If you did not get a chance to see this or you were wondering what I have been up to here you go!

Morning Meditation

2008-05-04T10:48:00.005+01:00

If New Amsterdam, aka New York, is known as the city that never sleeps then its predecessor can equally share this moniker. Amsterdam teems with activity around the clock. In my experience I cannot recall a time when the streets are devoid of traffic and life. Early this morning I walked the streets to battle my jetlag, and I believe I may have stumbled onto a time when the sleepless city actually slows down.

Like most living organisms we give little attention to life giving art of breathing (unless we are deprived of it) but when we become attentive there is a possibility for something to shift. There is something calming and rejuvenating in the art of drawing breath then releasing it. As I could hear my own footsteps, I became aware of that a powerful gathering and releasing was taking place in the city. I discovered a cadence that I would ascribe as a meditation.

Monitoring the ebb and flow of breath was practiced by Eastern mystics then Biblical Prophets to helped them still the mind’s constant clamor and focus their entire being on the essential. This morning I observed the city exhales all she endured the previous week and slowly draw in what will sustain her through the next. The constant activity usually drowns out baseline of the city. Most days Amsterdam’s pavement is assaulted by massive amounts of people on foot, on bikes, in autos and such, but now the traffic is sparse. Joggers, city workers and a few incidental tourists are her only company - if one listens carefully you can hear her breathing in relief.

She exhales those weary early departures who trek begrudgingly to the train station, who move onward to something else; she inhales the bright-eyed “early bird gets the worm” tourists and new arrivals who rush to take in the “Amsterdam experience” while their energy is at a premium. She exhales last night’s frenetic antics of the red-light district, coffee houses and clubs that make her infamous; she inhales a serene calmness that has allowed her to endure and carry the deep love of intimacy, kindness and innovation characteristically found among the Dutch. She exhales the garbage, confusion and loneliness of those seeking something they believe she can manufacture in place love and acceptance; she inhales the clean, pristine, hope of something new and life giving as her streets are made clean by the diligent hardworking street cleaners.

As I think about this imagery I notice my own breath changing, becoming more synchronized with the city I find in the early hours of daylight. I slow as she has slowed to focus my thoughts and release my cares, I feel myself I shadowing meditative flow of the morning. As my chest rises to take in the crisp morning air I am graced with a peace and understanding that helps me to listen and see – I struggle to hold it in but then I am forced relinquish and seek replenishment. I pass by the flower mart, I breathe in and watch the slow careful process as shop keepers turn the cranks to open their booths to receive the days flowers, much the way a waking infant opens his eyes in anticipation of seeing a loved one; then I release my desire to sleep as I slow to watch the city shake of the night before. As I pass a subterranean window I breathe in quickly - I am startled as by the upward stare of a woman wearing lingerie with one leg propped on a chair as her TV spits out the news in the background; from deep within I release a smile that I hope cuts through my astonishment and her cold stare.

Each time my lungs fill, I mirroring more of the city’s mediation. I find myself strengthen to endure much, like she has, as my heart becomes more in tune Amsterdam’s own heartbeat. The simultaneous competing rhythms of our breaths and heartbeats underscore baseline that is the song of love that is being written. We are falling for each other. I reintroduce myself to the city this morning, I tell her I am back and ready to offer my love, in kind Amsterdam welcomes me to into the rushing waves of her own meditative inhalation. She offers to take me in deeply and fully, I let go and dive deep.

I’m here!

2008-05-02T20:22:00.001+01:00

It’s 8:30 in the evening in Amsterdam and it is warm and sunny!

When I stepped out of the train station after 17 hours of traveling it was a breath of fresh air hit me as I took in the sites of the familiar scenery. I do have to say that things look different now that I am staying.

I feel like I am about to enter one of the most exiting times in my life, I just have to leap into it. Here I go!

Green ATC

2008-04-17T07:37:00.002+01:00

Today I did something that could easily become a new addiction. It is exchanged, small, unique, expressive and artistic. It is a way for an individual to express their creative voice against those of others in a way that grows community and mutual adoration. What am I talking about? Artist Trading Cards!

ATC’s are works of art crafted on 2.5 X 3.5 inch card stock (size of a playing card – which are often used as a canvas) on which one can dream and do anything they dream. Once you have made your masterpieces you trade them with other artists. It is pretty simple – and all trading is free. This opportunity was dreamt up by M.Vänçi Stirnemann in 1996 and launched in an original project in Zurich in 1997. Armed with 1200 miniature pieces of art and a few partners he began trading original pieces of art with all those who gathered at the first show at INK.

What I love most about this principle is that it is free – one should not be charged for admission to the trading sessions. All works must be self-produced and you are encouraged to make the trades face to face and share your stories with each other. Many places in the world have monthly trading gatherings and people are encouraged to start their own. If you want to go international there are trading websites and mail groups. I think it is brilliant!

How is this green? Well when I was at VOXSac (www.voxsac.com) this weekend the theme for the participating artists was to go green in anticipation of earth day. A seminar was hosted on ATC’s where we worked with old magazines, playing cards, recycled paper, found material, anything can be used on these little gems. It is just that easy people.

I had so much fun making my first two cards and trading them that evening with some veteran ATCers. I have continued to make additional pieces since I have returned home. I hope to incorporate this into my lifestyle in Amsterdam, who knows where it may lead.

The top two are trades, the bottom items are works in progress

New Familiar Faces!

2008-04-12T23:32:00.002+01:00

Today, I drove up to Sacramento, CA to attend the Mid-Town Second Saturday Art Walk - more specifically to see my new friends at the VoxSac Café (www.voxsac.com). Even though I have only known them a few months, I feel very much at home when I am with this group of rebels in sheep’s clothing. It is always great to meet people who are about pushing the envelope of what is while holding on to what is valuable in the now.

Eric, Heath, Sue, Jill, Cindy and their families are pioneering in the scope of what we hope to achieve with Reckoning in Amsterdam. We have a special kinship of the battle ready and weary that we hope will continue to grow and mature as we move forward into our relative unknowns. It is great knowing that you are not the only crazy people in the world willing to bank on the impossible – it brings us to our knees together so that we support each other in a myriad of ways. They are like old friends who just get what you are about and where you would like to go with out the necessity of words or exorbitant explanations.

Cindy's Arm, Eric and Heath

Figuring it Out!

2008-03-24T20:25:00.001Z

One thing about life …there are a million supposed to’s. You are suppose to pray at 5AM at the latest, you’re supposed to floss after each meal, you are supposed to …fill in the blank! One of these sticklers has recently come to a head with me personally around the mystic of writing. The mystic about being a proven pen jockey can make you a little nuts when you are starting out. The when, how, and whys are presented in a way that is so regimented for something that is suppose to be creative. How to you make an appointment with yourself to create something that was not before?

Needless to say I have been frustrated with the process of finding a process. Let’s just say that I have identified many supposed truism that are ring false when it comes to myself and others like me. Today, I found some relief at the library while combing through literary magazines digging for ideas and critiquing groups. I discovered that I am not crazy, just me when it comes to writing. Some one out there has validated my insane process so that I can take a deep breath and relax.

I am a sporadic writer and I am okay with it. Basically writing and I have a manic on and off relationship. Recently I went through my old diaries and discovered I have a long history of this pattern. There would be periods where I could not put my pen down, writing for hours a day, then one day it would just dry up. Eventually I would return to the page with incredible passion – but something always made me feel guilty for not being consistent. I would eventually get over it and enjoy the flow of words on the page. Thanks to a brief of “The Write Type” by Peterson, I feel vindicated! I ordered the book and look forward to nurturing my muse.

A Little Taste of Europe. (Un peu de goût de l'Europe)

2008-03-22T21:06:00.005Z

Today is a day of memories and visiting familiar places while missing what I anticipate in Europe. One of the things I miss most about Europe is the ability to go just about anywhere on public transportation or the power of your own two feet. California leaves one feeling stranded most of the time if you dare not to posses a vehicle.

During one of the fleeting moments I was graced with a vehicle, I drove around aimlessly until I landed in my old haunt Santa Monica. Some of my most vivacious and delectable times of my life were spent on this delectable tidbit nestled on the California coast. When I parked the car at the library and walked around I felt refreshed and giddy almost instantly. The transformation was almost magical. I felt like I was lovingly basted in the familiar and future simultaneously.

Santa Monica is one of those cities that embody some of the best the Angelinos have to offer. People wake up daily to the majesty that is the beach and the smorgasbord of characters that make the place so colorful. It is a mélange of old, new and ‘tween commingling in harmonious rhythm without losing their autonomy. Santa Monica an eco-friendly, neighborhood where most people really know your name and often genuinely care how you are. Returning to my old haunts and home, I came across so many friends who immediately stopped everything to exchange morsels of our journeys even thought I arrived unannounced – that is Santa Monica in my nutshell.

It was marvelous to be surrounded by people who walk or bike to the neighbourhood grocer or street market and find every occasion and opportunity to have an adventure. That sweet place in Santa Monica that exists outside of the promenade phenom filled a hunger in me that I cultivated in Europe and abroad. Its aromas and appetizing lifestyle are tempting me to overindulge, but with Amsterdam calling me home it offers me a taste of something that I long to feast upon.

Apt I shared with my sister

Impressing Moments

2008-03-13T19:49:00.004Z

I completed the bulk of my travels in America. Breaching the time I have been away rubs me against the inevitable but strange beginnings of adulthood in the children I left behind while facing my own physical metamorphosis. This has been a wonderful time to catch up and be overwhelmed at the quick pace of life. I witnessed amazing stories unfold - weddings, divorces, deaths, births, adoptions, loss of custody, first days of work (Pictured -Rachel’s First day at work), termination and more. This is life and all its richness and deference.

These experiences challenge me to cherish each moment I have with friends, treating them as if they were the first and last simultaneously. I dived deep, without giving credence to when I leave. I am choosing not to count the days, while accepting that they are pushing on me.

My Next Move

2008-03-11T19:24:00.005Z

It is official! I am moving to Amsterdam. If you would like to on my mailing list, please send me a message with your direct email address with subscribe in the subject.

Blessings, Alycia

Log 43 B-day

2008-02-20T02:50:00.000Z

Today is my 43rd birthday and I have to say that I am glad that I am in my 40’s. There is a liberation and freedom that comes with this decade that I would not trade with any 20 something. I realize that this is strange praise coming from someone who is in California, the US Capital of perpetual youth or as I like to call it Forever Plastic Surgery (you have to whisper the Surgery for full effect), but I have to say that each time I circle the sun, I discover more about the mystery that is life and myself.

For example, the older I get I seem to be able to shed the stigma of desiring the approval of the public at large. The opinion of people who love me and whom I love are what matters most. To me this is a gift, because this tight knot group of freaks that I call friends and colleagues want me to be my best and will say and do whatever they deem necessary for that to happen just because they love me – I do not need to decipher any hidden motives or sales pitch. It is just enough to know that people think I am cool to be with so they hang around and I tend to allow others not to like me and elect to be somewhere else. See simple.

Other things I seem to become reality to me as I mature into my me-ness.

Being able to see your idiosyncrasies as a something to laugh at with others as opposed to feeling inadequate.

Being able to see that there is a balance between things you do well and things that are best left up to others. Who wants to spend time and energy doing something that you can celebrate in another who is outstanding.

True friendship is something to ever be taken lightly not held too tight.

There are many more but maybe some of you are a bit too young for them yet. Besides it is part of the your personal journey to discover some of your own pearls as you submerge yourself in the treasure we call life.

Many Blessing to you all from the happily aging birthday girl!

Signing Off

2008-02-18T18:13:00.001Z

I have to say that I am overcome with an avalanche of feelings about leaving something that has meant so much to me. South Africa opened the door to so many things in my life and she instilled a deepness and honor I hope to carry with me for the rest of my life. The people taught me about more about laughter, selflessness and hospitality; the land taught me about the wildness of beauty; the animals taught me how to praise; the economy taught me about appreciation; the history taught me about diversity over tolerance. These are the few things that have risen to the top when I muse over my time there.

I am also heavy in heart about leaving my dearest friends behind, Bryan, Daleen, Elizabeth (Lizzy), and Hilde. These people are some of the best humans I have ever met. I am at a loss when I try to think of how I will cope without them being a car ride away. They have seen me in all my colors of crazy and brilliance – and they survived to tell me that I made it through another tragic day. They are rare and precious jewels that I leave behind, knowing they will enhance the beauty of the country. I miss you so much, forever.

Last but not least, I am tear-filled over leaving 13thFLOOR. I am so enriched by the opportunities I explored within this ministry and all I learned from the students and staff there. Leaving the students is like a knife in my heart. They became my babies and I became their mother, mamma and friend. The ties run deep and will be hard to sever. I know that the distance means so relationships will end, while others will remain tethered to my heart for a lifetime, and both cause me to ache at the indefinite separation. My babies helped me to grow and become more, because I always wanted to give them my best, because I believed it was the very least they deserved (Thank you!). I dream and hope they fly higher than I ever dreamed of going myself; maybe someday the winds will cause our paths to drift together again but if not, I my heart would be pleased to see you soaring above.

Tears of joy and sadness fill my eyes again as the necessary goodbyes materialize in my consciousness. Every going is filled with newness and adventure that fills me with excitement – this energy propels me toward risks and the uncertainty. But going also implies a leaving. Abandon is the ugly sister to Adventure that comes along on every voyage. She is the one that travelers like to avoid, but she is there nonetheless. Every time a season changes in my life, indicating that it is time to go to a new land, I immediately commit to the new direction but I bristle at leaving what I have come to love. It is painful because the lack of proximity does not break the affections and adoration; it often heightens it making the leaving more perilous. Making peace with the going and leaving is never easy, but I know it will eventually come as I continue onward, becoming richer for the journey.

2008-02-11T20:07:00.000Z

Hello Goodbye

I spent most of last week at the International Mentoring Network’s Humana 02.08 conference. I had a wonderful time and met some amazing people who are asking questions about how the post-modern church will shape the future and how we might charter a path to get there. I was truly inspired to meet people working all over America, Switzerland, Germany, Scotland and England who are seeking in the same heart, but have so many ways to express the love of God for the world, creation, and mankind. This gathering was also coupled a few music events that featured Jettison Never.

There was also a reunion of with what my new friend Derek (a.k.a “Tangent”) coined as the “trifecta,” Shawna Snow, Ali Watson and myself. It was the first time we had been together since I left Europe. There were many good times filled with deep conversations and lots of laughter. It was great to see them but it broke my heart for us to separate again after such a sweet reunion.

I flew home on Sunday, to make the acquaintance of my new electronic friend, my MacBook Pro! I have not given her a name (yes it is a her – there are ways to tell) but I prefer the American Indian approach where we wait until the character of the child reveals itself.

Last but not least I have had to face one of my hardest goodbyes to date. I sent in my letter of resignation to 13thFLOOR on today. This decision was labored in prayers, consultation and guidance. I will really miss the people and the love I encountered in South Africa. I will miss the students most of all and I am grateful for every second I spent with them. I am happy that what they taught me will always be with me. I think I grew in ways that would not have been possible without being there. South Africa was truly mother Africa to me and she nursed me in ways that I never would have dreamed.

Right now I feel like so much is going in and out of my life. I feel like the moment something ends then something new begins and vice versa. The Beatles' song Hello, Good Bye seems fitting, so I will leave you with this.

You say goodbye and I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello

Shocked

2008-01-27T15:12:00.000Z

Spending many years going to and living in countries outside the US prepares you for diversity in culture, language and standards of living; what is does not prepare you for is returning home. Returning to the scene of the crime, which was my former life in America, has left me flummoxed at best.

When I travel to a new country I tend to read about the place, sample the foods and experience the literature of those nations before I ever set foot on terra firma. Such activities feed my inner nerd and help me dive deeper into different societies and resurface with a richer understanding and love for the paradoxes and people of those nations. This exercise has lead to many years of enjoyment even though I was for all intensive purposes out of my element. What I forgot to do was apply these same practices in an intentional manner before returning to the US.

After spending my first weeks in America, I have to honestly say that I have suffered the most extreme culture shock I can remember. It is not that I have gone native in other countries, because I am very much an adopted outsider at best, but I realize that I am have also become and outside to the country of my birth. I did not prepare myself for stepping into an election year, Reality TV overload, the writer’s strike, new slang, celebrity focus, or US lifestyle. Sure I considered my friends lives being different and having to adapt to changes there, but the rest hit me like the wall of humidity one encounters when you leave the airport in Manila. I was so not prepared for this!

I am coping with all of this by laughing at myself and a limited sampling of US news. I tend to chuckle when I find myself looking for light switches in odd places and occasionally I pause to determine which side of the car is the driver’s side. I try to remind myself that what I see on TV is only part of the reality of America and choose to dive deeper into literature and intentional relationships. I do, however, find that I must resurface for air more often as I try to swim through American culture in 2008.

One thing I must say is that I have amazing friends. Time does not change or warp those heart friends that just get me and love me for the mess that I am. They are the core group of people who see me for who I am not for where I have been or not been in the grand scheme of things. Somehow we continue to see each other and that always makes me feel at home no matter where in the world I find myself.

Miraculous Moments

2008-01-04T00:04:00.000Z

A series of moments strung together form the incandescent splendor that we call life. Every one is unique much like pearls held together by the beautiful clasps that are both the beginning and the ending of our visit here on earth. Moments become memories we can gaze at and hold in place as we eagerly anticipate the next gem to be added. Often though in our rush to attain the next “thing” we miss the beauty of what we are experiencing in the now. There is a joy to inhabiting the preciousness of each bead before adding it to our collective memory. To be able to touch, tastes, see, hear and smell everything locked within is an opportunity to dance with the miraculous in the daily and mundane. For example:

When ferrying across the English Channel, I sat reading a book I eagerly desired to finish that day. I can easily tune out the world when I have book in front of me. It is one of my favorite escapes and soothers of my soul, when I am a bit frazzled. I was reading a book that so echoed my personal feelings, self-examination and transitioning, so I was dining on every word on the page trying to savor each insight and digesting many revealed truths. I came to the place where the author used a word that fit me perfectly and in a way I felt discovered. I was about to dive back into the book when I was interrupted by a moment.

Sitting at the table next to ours was a family with two ever moving boys under the ages of 4. The parents were exhausted from chasing after their children over the vastness of dining area; we were 25 minutes away from ending a two hours journey and the parents were desperately clinging to the promise that they could soon re-contain their energetic children in the car. The youngest who was about 18 months old, decided to play this game where he would jump from a chair onto the booth, peek over at me then laugh ….loudly.

His laughter robbed me of my focus. I smiled at him and laughed, which only seemed to make him laugh and scream with glee. I laughed too and his excitement over my half-baked attention. He turned away and left the booth and I sighed before bowing my head and descending back to the words. I scanned the page to find where I stopped, found it and started to – peels of laughter echoed in my ears, the boy was back staring at me waiting. So I looked up smiled at him and he just squealed and flashed me the sweetest smile. In that moment he was offering me something that was fleeting and beautiful in his playfulness. My book was looming on my lap, but here was this little person offering me an opportunity to celebrate the epiphany I gleaned only seconds before. So I decided to hold the moment and drink it in. The little one was delighted that he found a fresh audience for his antics and kept repeating his trek between the chair and the booth.

After her sons fifth journey and escalating laughter, the mom leaned over to her equally exhausted husband and suggested that he stop their so I could read my book. I had my out, but I decided to decline. I mentioned that playing this game was more fun than reading, and it was true. This little kid opened the door to remaining in the joy of now, to capitalize on the joy I experienced from reading. He was the cherry on top and I decided to enjoy it rather than plough on to the next ah-ha. We laughed and giggled for about 20 minutes, next thing I knew the captain was making the announcement of our docking in Dover. The moment was closing, but it was fully experienced. Just before the family rushed back to their car, they walked around to the table and wished me a Merry Christmas. I felt a rush of something that was powerful but sweet.

As they walked away, I thought about what I could have missed if I stuck to my plan of finishing the book. The book would be with me for as long as I desired, but the shared laughter was only offered once. It made me think how much I miss when I am focused on the incoming goals, experience or project, oblivious to what is happening in my universe in this moment at this time. It is nothing I do not know or teach even, but that little boy gave me my best Christmas gift; a reminder to relish every opportunity to celebrate what I am experiencing. That opens the door to discovering the miraculous waiting to be found in the moment.

Ending Well

2007-12-20T22:01:00.000Z

So much has happened that it seems crazy to even try to explain. Let’s just say that I have had a wonderful time in Netherlands and I am sad that it is coming to an end. I have learned so much about myself and I have been doing my best to take advantage of this time of rest and exploration, but frankly I have also been having so much fun.

I have been to Köln, Germany, Christmas parties, celebrating birthdays, visiting cathedrals, and dancing with gypsies interlaced with a plethora of laughs. I have to say that all of these things have happened randomly, without provocation. Through all of this I have made some amazing friends, some

I feel I am destined to know for long time, others it may have been for this time to help me hold together my breaking heart while it healed. Although I said many tear-filled goodbyes yesterday, I am so grateful to all the gentle souls that I was able to love and who loved me. Maybe it was fate, or luck, but I have to say it was amazing.

I hope that you have as much fun in the new year as I had in the last few weeks.

Season's Greetings

2007-12-20T14:44:00.000Z

12 More Shopping Days!

2007-12-13T11:33:00.000Z

I found these items. If you are desperate for a gift these might do.

Biker Jesus...riding high!

Mother Mary Memory Stick

Airplane Spirituality

2007-12-12T22:21:00.000Z

My friend Wes White wrote this and posted it on Open Source Theology. I just love the way he thinks.

I only just recently returned home to Glasgow, Scotland after a long three week trip to the USA that included four multiple-leg airline flights. On Monday coming, I fly once again to Amsterdam, The Netherlands only to turn around on Wednesday and fly back. So I'm learning a lot about what I now refer to as "airplane spirituality." Here's just a couple thoughts on it for your consideration. (There might even be a bit of application hidden within.)

1) Traveling on airplanes reminds us that healthy Christian spirituality is as earthy as it gets. On long overseas flights, human beings have the audacity to develop bad breath, for example. Some actually bring along brush and paste and hazard the experience of minuscule airplane toilets in order to retain some semblance of hygiene. But most simply resort to popping mints, spraying sprays, or freely engaging various other forms of cover-up. Suddenly liberality with chewing gum finds itself in vogue. But it is all an attempt to mask something that we really need not hide. Being human is earthy, and in that is glory. St. Augustine ( City of God, bk.9, ch.1) referred to it as the blessed recognition that we are "intermediate beings," finding ourselves most truly when we happily locate ourselves somewhere between the beasts and the angels. Humans who affirm their "intermediateness" are able to appreciate the baser as well as the more sublime aspects of life, and to find God in the mix of both. My friend, Rodney Clapp, puts it this way: "Christian spirituality comprehends not only the sparkle in our eyes but the grime under our fingernails." (Rodney Clapp, Tortured Wonders, 177.)

2) I am regularly amazed at the contorted bodily positions people can assume in order to seek a bit of sleep on a long flight, especially when the plane is full to capacity. Sleeping is otherwise a rather private affair where drools and snores and involuntary escapes of bodily gases are preferably protected from public attention. Not so in the cramped spaces that usually define the intimate communion of long-distance flight. Some who would generally never be seen with a hair out of place soon give in to unbelievable displays of tangles and tousles out of sheer desperation to resemble an horizontal posture. It is intimate communion indeed! After all, at the end of a long and crowded flight we have all slept together. But it reminds us that spirituality, Christian spirituality particularly, cannot be healthy if it is only a private matter. In fact, Christian spirituality proves its muster by its sociality, for we claim that all humanity derives its essence from the Trinitarian God who is socially defined. Miroslav Volf and others ( see, for example, God's Life in Trinity ) have been reminding us of late about the perichoretic nature of God's own sociality. I am more and more convinced that one of the best ways to both demonstrate and test the genuineness of the give and take of perichoresis is by attempting to sleep on airplanes, where community is voluntary to be sure, yet anything but arbitrary.

True spirituality is earthy. True spirituality is social. God, I think, is discovered and experienced in both. So don't be afraid to fly.

Remembering Connie

2007-12-10T21:45:00.000Z

Two days ago would have been a friend’s 43^rd birthday and last September would have marked 19 years of friendship. Sadly my friend Connie passed away two years ago.

I always remembered her birthday because it is on the 8^th of December, the Holy Day of the Immaculate Conception of Mary (10 years of Catholic education sticks with you). We always had a chuckle at such a coincidence because believe me we were not saints! Connie was the kind of friend who loved life and laughter, she always lived full of zest and joie de vie, I guess that is why it is so hard to accept that so many of her last years shared by an entity that slowly stole her life. My dear friend Connie struggled with Hodgkin’s Disease for many years before it took her last breathe.

I could always count on her to listen and make me feel that I could call on some secret confidence. For years I watched her pull courage out of her sleeve on numerous occasions - she was one of the most self-assured people I have ever met. She never claimed to have all the answers, but she was determined to grapple with the questions until a solution materialized. When we were in our teens her passion was to be a great mother, and was not afraid to let people know even though we grew up in an environment that told us girls that we could do and be anything. She somehow knew that she was signing up for the toughest job on earth, and made no apologies when people tried to get her aspire to loftier pursuits. Connie did go on to get a degree and work with mentally handicapped adults, but that were just what she did not who she was. She loved her children with all her heart and excelled as a matriarch. Connie also valiantly faced teenage pregnancy and adoption in high school, a painful annulment and single-parenting before she began her fight against cancer.

Most of all I miss her laugh. Connie was filled with so much of it and our friend Jennifer and I loved to coax it out of her. We were known to spontaneously combust with giddiness as we constantly found ways to entertain ourselves and others. Mostly we were just three silly girls, who used our laughter to carry us through the pain and hardships of teenage misery and young adulthood. Even latter in life when you found two or three of us together there was always laughter as we remembered the great mouse burger caper, being locked in the choir closet and late night excursions after pizza night. We always talked about the serious things of life too, but all too often the eyes of children and spouses rolled as they tried to decipher a story between the peals of chuckles and tears. It kept the little women in us alive and allowed us to touch something innocent within our hearts as we faced a world that was not always kind to dreamers.

For the past two days, I have been thinking about my friend and missing her voice and smile. I was fortunate enough to speak with her about a week before she died and I can remember the conversation like it was yesterday. Her breathing was laboured but she wanted to talk and share what had conspired in our lives in the months since we seen each other last. We shared life our while expressing gratitude and love. She sounded so strong at the time recently returning home with a good prognosis; I never thought that I would not see her again.

I guess I am missing her for selfish reasons as I am in transition and she was one of those people you could just laugh with about your predicament. Today I caught myself laughing out loud as I recalled some of our stunts, right in the middle of considering some proposals for my future. I must have needed to take the edge of the stress, and like a true friend she was there in my heart, helping me to laugh at my fate and reminding me to enjoy where I am at this moment.

I miss you girlfriend.

From Delusion to Decision

2007-12-08T14:35:00.000Z

I am re-reading Richard Dawkins, “The God Delusion” this week; this second go round only confirms what I felt after reading the lengthy introduction to his premise.

I am really thankful to for the professor’s honest missional tome on how this atheist views God in any form as immaterial. Unlike many theocentric writers, Dawkins was honest about his desire to convert you over to his side based upon his research and personal experience. I cannot tell you how many times I role my eyes when I pick up a book on a subject like leadership penned by a Christian compatriots who claims in his introduction that he uses Christian principles throughout the book but has no intention to sway the readers to his viewpoint. Sceptical you may say, but I tire of the subsequent use of the what I would call “Christianese” to the point that I feel like I am sitting through a sales pitch for condos in Florida while on a “free vacation.” If you want to sell me something come right out and say it, and Dawkins did.

He goes head to head with some of the more traditional tenants of apologetics and I have to say that I found myself agreeing with him more often than not. After I shared laughs with his take on what I could only see as misguided or outdated attempts to prove God is really with us, I also felt a twinge of shame. This book could another public nail in the coffin of the rational evangelical movement of Christendom that a large portion of the body is determined to resuscitate. Somehow Christianity went from a community with a purpose, to an institution, to a well guarded rationale that is deemed untouchable. Is belief so fragile that we feel the need to exempt it from testing and reshaping of our perspective? Weren’t the Bereans commended for testing the scriptures in order to get at the truth?

Many believers celebrate when science proves itself erroneous, but doesn’t that make us a bit hypocritical? After all believers endorsed crusades, slavery, the flat earth theory and much more in the name of God’s providence and gladly excommunicated, killed or silenced anyone bold enough to stand against those beliefs. Many of those traditions or schools of thought have proven false and yet there are many heels are dug firmly in the ground. Dawkins' book reminds me that we are living in a time when absolute ideas are being shattered and to speak with certainty regarding a matter of belief may be irresponsible. Faith is believing in what one cannot see or prove, so should we be so fearful of being challenged? Can’t we just say we do not know, when that is simply the case, they way that science does when she cannot find the proof for a well thought out theory?

He also addresses children, stating that until a person is of an age of critical thinking and rationale one cannot use the label Muslim, Christian, or Jewish children so easily. They can be children of Jewish parents, but in the matters of faith, they have not really chosen. I have to agree with this premise as well. Faith is not something you are born with, it is something you choose on a continual basis. It only makes sense to me that one cannot really make a choice without understanding what they are choosing to embrace and what they are letting go of. I know that it may not be possible to grasp every consequence of a decision at the time it is made, but an informed decision is made based on some sort of assessment.

Faith as I understand it is living and dynamic and should not be taken lightly nor is it for the faint-hearted. It is something other, that I am not sure I can quite explain. Even though I am making a second pass at this book, I have to say that I chose to believe, even after Mr. Dawkins’ valiant attempt to sway me otherwise. But I can say that reading his book has changed the way I believe and the way I view people who do not share those beliefs. It also affirmed my faith, yes I said affirmed, because it challenged what I accepted as truth while also giving me the words to back some things I believed to be rubbish. Even though we are still approaching life from different perspectives and disagree about some things, I did see “The God Delusion” as an invitation to re-examine faith, enter into a dialogue and an opportunity to dispense of some dead wood. It also gave me a chance to challenge my faith and decide to hold onto to it, in spite of how others might view my decisions. That is something that Dawkins’ may not have perceived, but it is the effect it had on this foolish follower.

A Night in a Pub with Friends

2007-12-05T19:57:00.000Z

Upon returning to Den Haag, I walked in on the tail-end of a Christian Associates meeting filled with familiar faces. After they were done I got to exchange hugs and quick stories.

Although I was tired from my road trip, I was excited to see old friends. I could not refuse an invitation to spend time with Marty, Wes and Kevin, my 30 minute old friend. We walked to Wes’ favourite local pub to engage in some deep conversation interlaced with the sweet smell of tendered tobacco. Once we sat down we all brought out our favourite implements of relaxation – pipes for the boys and cigars for this girl.

We puffed away and got to know each other again and for the first time. Deep thoughts were shared in the form of dreams and questions while disco and 80’s music wafted through our casual atmosphere. Our words became the dance that floated on the notes of the songs as we stepped into the shallow end of the profound issues around becoming a community that is a character rich spiritually-formed kinship, steeped in a sound post-biblical theology and an intentional missional mandate. ( I am sure I have over simplified but there you have it). a conglomerate that is rich in creativity and safe for people to express their interpretation of God’s expression through their lives. Conversations like these encourage me. Talks of this nature give me the courage to make my own noise in the universe.

A Quick Glance at Brussels.

2007-12-04T23:47:00.000Z

After wiping away my tears, I boarded the train headed to Brussels central. Once I arrived there I would only have very little time to look around before I had to catch the train back to Den Haag.

I made a mad dash to the Groet Marte and sampled a few chocolate shops. I wish I had more time to really do it justice, but you know that I have always had a strange relationship with chocolate, I really would not be bothered if I had to live without it (I know this is against the girl code of ethics, but I am what I am, - I prefer gummi bears). But this was Brussels, the girl mecca of chocolate, so I did partake and it was good, brief but good. I actually spent more time at a cheese shop I stumbled across with friendly owners and a delicious selection of curdled delights. My taste buds we in heaven. I bought a few things and raced back to central station just in time to catch my train.

As we pulled from the station I made a mental note that I must come back again to explore what the EU capital city has to offer. I hope that I can visit again soon.

On my way to Brussels

2007-12-04T14:00:00.000Z

Sunday morning I packed my bags and joined the 13thFLOOR team at Crossroads Amsterdam for the youth service. As I walked through the foyer I was greeted by familiar faces and warm smiles. It has been a few years since I had been there and many of the “kids” I left behind were in leadership or were blossoming teens.

13thFLOOR was given the entire youth service for the day. Warren was our guide for the journey to discover “What is sacred?” In between the teachings were performances that illustrated and stretched the participants view of what can be considered sacred. I was put in the hot seat by my beloved adopted son, Warren, as part of a panel. The youth were mostly quiet during the discussion time, but the flurry of questions afterward indicated that they were challenged by what they saw and heard.

We piled (literally) into the cars and vans to meet the rest of the team who had been at Hilversum ICC for their morning service. After packing equipment and having lunch, we headed out for Brussels. Now we had a few false starts do not having a clear picture of how to get back to the roadway, a van getting stuck in the mud (the one I was riding in) and our translators wallet being locked in the church, but we eventually made it to Operation Mobilizations headquarters in Brussels near the airport.

It was only after we arrived here, that I started to realize that I might not see many of them again or for a very long time. The end of tour has always been a painful transition time for me. Saying good bye and releasing people you have loved and cared for into the unknown is paradoxical for me. I am excited to see them go off on their own and blaze their own trails, but I also want to hold them close and protect them from the trials they will have to overcome as well. It is the same way I feel when I watch nature documentaries about animal migration, you know that they all will not make it to the greener pastures strong and vigorous. But the journey has to be made nonetheless, it is in their nature. This time had the additional sting of me being released from them also to pray about and pursue what is next for me in life. I also felt like I was being set adrift and in many ways I am. Every interaction became precious no matter how frivolous the activity. I wanted to store up all the laughter, words and tears I could to use as a flotation devise until the next wave comes to rush me to shores I am destined to walk upon.

Monday morning the team did a ministry show for the staff and friends of Operation Mobilization. Warren spoke about how being in the centre of God’s will is often a place where safety is not an option. Often it is a wild ride that will leave you clinging to the very life you chose to give away. I believe that it was an eye-opening conversation for many of the people there. It especially made and impression on one young woman in particular.

She came to the base to serve and wrestle over her relationship with God. It was also a good time for her to step away from family and friends to seek out her purpose and passions. A few of us were able to share from our experiences in a way that left her feeling encouraged. In moments like these I can not help but see random encounters like these as anything less evidence of something or someone divine in the universe, because this was divine providence. I had not plan to go to Brussels until Friday evening and she had no idea that several weeks after arriving at her destination where people from a foreign country would be the source of meeting some of her deepest longings. How could we have known or planned it if we coconsciously tried to make it happen. To me this went beyond coincidence and providence.

Tuesday morning the team made it’s way to Brugge and I was taken to the train station. My heart still aches from this parting. As I entered the station, I sighed and realised I was again walking way from another season in my life that I was best left to its place in my memory. I can stand at a distance and glance back upon my times with the 13thFLOOR students, but I know I will never return there the way I entered.

Back Track…

2007-12-02T20:47:00.000Z

I know it has not been a day since I wrote but it seems like weeks because so much has happened between now and then. This will be lengthy.

I think I will go back a bit further to December 1st.

Biking riding – crashing actually – in Amsterdam

After a late night of chatting after 13thFLOOR’s show in Hillversum, I finally left the cocoon of the dark room I had been hiding in and ventured out into the world to meet Adriaan Berg to catch up over cigars and beer. Since this was his first time in the city we decided to go exploring. In order to maximize his visit in the 1.5 hours we had, we took off on bikes. Now riding in Amsterdam is not as easy as it looks. There are cars, bikes, trams, buses and dogs coming at you from all directions and you have to keep track of where you are trying to go while ignoring the laughter and Dutch profanity coming from the bike savvy natives. I had much fun laughing at myself amid the sites we took in. Key takeaway from the day – Winkle by Noord Kerk (North Church) has some of the best apple tart in the city. (Thanks Esther!)

(Beware! Swarte Piet is everywhere)

Creative Collaboration

About 20 of us gathered at Shauna Snow’s home for dinner and some fun conversation. After a few rousing games of Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders (I lost both) with Shea and friends, we shares a fabulous chilli dinner. It was great to catch up with some of the 13thFLOOR gang while we shared a bit of down time. At some point in the evening we were invited to continue our conversations on a wall in the Snow home. Most people immediately gravitated to the wall with Shea setting the pace, by grabbing a paint brush and diving right in. It became a melange of styles, media and laughter. Some of the contributions were whimsical while others were deliberate but they all worked together. Shea was clearly the master artists as she collaborated with many and left her prominent signature daring all of us to bring our A game as she had. Here is a small taste. (See more at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=21358&l=f070e&id=656840835).

On The Road Again

2007-12-02T18:37:00.000Z

I have so enjoyed seeing the team and spending time with them makes me realize how much I missed them. I have kuiered and laughed that my sides have hurt at times.

I accompanied the team to Belgium where they will perform for Operation Mobilization as a thank you for their assistance while the team has been in Europe. Tomorrow we will have a workday on their center then head into Brugge, for some fun. This is the first time that I have actually paused in this country and I am excited about seeing it for the first time.

The team will head back to London on Tuesday and I will head back to Den Haag. The team is hanging in the balance for their returns to South Africa as the airline carrier has been grounded for Administrative infractions. Never a dull moment on tour.

Last night was wonderful in Amsterdam. It was filled with wonderful friends and creativity! We graffitied the wall of a home – pictures will follow when I am back in Den Haag – and the range of creativity was inspiring. Just about everyone there left his or her mark in someway. Whether it was words, paint, chalk or pencil it all seemed to mesh together into something beautiful.

Well I need to run, there are others waiting for the computers.

So Excited!

2007-11-30T09:13:00.000Z

I am headed out the door to spend the weekend with 13thFLOOR’s UK team in Amsterdam. I am can not wait to see the team and hug all of them to death. I have really missed them because they are in many ways my kids that I have adopted while in South Africa. I am looking forward to hearing all their stories and sharing some of mine as well.

Please be praying for Lourens' visa to get straightened out so he can join us soon.

Over the weekend I will also attend a gathering of artists and friends who are proposing and artistic way of challenging people’s worldviews. I am looking forward to hearing their plans and consider what they are doing. Who knows it may spark something in me.

Have a great weekend, I know I will.

Last Days of Ignorance

2007-11-29T13:29:00.000Z

Saturday marks the beginning of my 3^rd month of sabbatical and I am not sure that I am quite ready for it to begin.

The first two months of my time off were to be spent without serious contemplation of my future endeavors. It was to be a time of rest, learning, writing and reflection and I have been pretty vigilant about maintaining this boundary even when presented with enticing offers. Now I am anticipating a struggle that I am not looking forward to. Figuring out what this next phase of my life will hold is intimidating. I have no idea how long it will take only that it is a journey I must start. Time is pressing because I cannot remain on sabbatical forever and frankly I think I would have been bored if I were left without some target to aim towards. I think I fear disappointing people, because it is inevitable that someone will come away with that experience, if I do not disappoint myself.

So it begins…soon.

But today I will enjoy the frivolity of suspended choice and the comfort of words on the page. Trying, with minimal effort, to push back the questions seeping into my consciousness.

Prepare for Sinterklaas

2007-11-29T09:21:00.000Z

Last Night a little girl chased me down, grabbed my hand and shouted “Swarte Piet!”

It was a surreal moment in my life, one that I had been prepped for a few weekends ago when Sinterklaas arrived in Amsterdam after his refreshing annual hiatus in Spain.

Let me back track historically for a moment…

There was this sainted bishop of Mira, Turkey named Saint Nicolaus. He was known for his generosity to children. It is believed that Americans made him into what is known as Saint Nicholas or Santa Claus from the Nordic version Sinterklaas. As time progressed a feast was attributed to him on December 5^th to celebrate his birthday (actually the 6^th but who wants to be such a stickler). He returns a few weeks before his special day to give gifts and make appearances.

Shortly after the tradition first appeared, Sinterklaas’ mystic grew to him championing evil. This triumph was dramatically presented on feast day and men would dress as Sinterklaas and act out his defeat over evil. Evil of course was depicted as - yes you guessed it - a white man in black face. So it became impossible to see one without the other during his tours of the Netherlands. Apparently the work of delivering gifts and keeping track of naughty and nice kids was such a strain to Sinterklaas’ respite in Spain, that his little evil sidekick was morphed into his faithful servant who relieved Sinterklaas of his burdensome life. His sidekick is known as Swarte Piet (Black Pete) who is the predecessor of the elves who work for Santa Claus.

Some decades back when a white man played the role of Swarte Piet, he would put on court jester’s costume, blacken his face, elevate his voice, and take on the demeanor of a hapless child (not making this up people). Swarte Pieten are quite busy going down the chimney to collect the straw children leave in their shoes for Sinterklaas’ horse in exchange for gifts, in addition to keeping track of everyone’s behavior. There was also a time when naughty children were told they would receive a beating with twigs and then taken away in a burlap sack to SinterKlaas’ workshop in Spain. (This may be how Sinterklaas has collected so many Piets).

Today Swarte Pieten (plural) are Sinterklaas’ faithful companions who walk before Sinterklaas’ (who is mounted on a white horse) carrying a burlap sack filled with treats for young children who shout his name. Sometime during the civil rights movement Swarte Piet disappeared but in recent decades has reemerged as the playful chimney sweep (with miraculously clean clothing with a dirtied face) who prepares the way for Sinterklaas and delivers ginger cookies to children on the day they return from Spain in mid-November.

Being at the parade in Amsterdam for Sinterklaas’ arrival was an experience to say the least! Seeing little Dutch children dressed in brightly coloured costumes wearing wigs to cover their blonde curls with coarse black hair was strange. Extreme parents would top this by blackening their child’s face! I think my defense mechanisms kicked in and all I could do was laugh to the point that I could not stop (I could not focus the camera I was laughing so hard). My friends were shocked and embarrassed by the racial overtones but like me did not know what to do with it. What else can you do in the face an indigenous culture norm that rams into your paradigm? Every store you go in has diminutive Swarte Pieten decorating their merchandise and the windows are covered with the blacken faces with red lips and gold hoop earrings that look very much like the performers of the traveling minstrel shows of America in the 1800’s. I do not know where to begin, besides making a joke of the whole thing. (And believe me I did – you can ask Ari Snow about it).

Now back to this moment’s reality….

So knowing all this, when this child ran after me shouting “Swarte Piet,” I froze. How do you tell a smiling six year old cherub-face child that they just insulted you and explain to her the significance of the slight. I asked her where her parents were and she said they were in the overly crowded store (I had a few words in mind for them). So I bent down and told her that I was not a Swarte Piet and not all brown people are Swarte Pieten. She was confused, but excepted this and asked me if I knew where any Swarte Pieten were, I of course told her no, because I was not from her country and there are none where I come from. She shrugged and went off to find her parents.

I am still struggling to figure out what to do with such an experience. It took a night of wrestling just to write about it. Maybe there is a constructive and brilliant answer out there but in that moment all I could come up with was love to this little girl’s innocence while I processing the distain for the reason we met. I doubt she or her parents know the origin of Swarte Piet (no one that my friends and I asked had a clue and were shocked to hear it), so it was not malicious but it was still wrong in my universe (Especially because I have experienced obvious prejudicial treatment in this country as I have in many others including my birthplace). In a world that is shouting relativism above everything, how do you make choices that reflect significance for all mankind at the same time? I guess there are some things that take tremendous thought and foresight to handle. I am willing to enter into it and invite others to do the same.

Sinterklaas pics

2007-11-29T09:20:00.000Z

Photobucket Album

Baby, It’s Cold Outside!

2007-11-28T20:50:00.000Z

Went walking around Den Haag today. I waited until the temperature reached a high of 7°C/45°F before venturing outside. That was 15h people! A whopping 2 hours before it gets dark. Did I mention that the sun only comes up after 8h in the morning?

I love walking around the city and observing the great architecture, people and the kids who seem to be impervious to the cold. This will be my first really cold Christmas season this year and it is taking some getting used to. One great thing is that all the Christmas Shopping is outdoors on the market high streets so the streets are all decorated nicely. It is really festive and joyful.

I stopped for a warm drink in a local coffee shop and watched people for a while. I was inspired to write about a man's struggle with the world that is racing around him while he struggles with his aging body to stand. Only a rough sketch but I hope to make it into a short story.

Today the 13thFLOOR team arrives for their show on Friday at the Hilversum International School in Amsterdam. I am excited to see the team and hear about their journey so far as I will spend the weekend in the city with them. We will brave the cold and rain together.

Familiar but different!

2007-11-27T17:45:00.000Z

Today I rode around some of my old haunts in Den Haag and it was a surreal experience. The last time I was here was with Kelley for some meetings so I did not really have time to go out and visit some of the places that I would spend time visiting when I was here before with Christian Associates.

I went for a ride past one of the squares and came across a restaurant that had amazing BBQ and that says a lot considering I was taken to the place by Texans! I was introduced by my good friends the Strauss’. They were such a large part of my experiences in Den Haag and are some of the most generous and caring people I know. I felt a twinge of sadness knowing that they were no longer live here, and some how it felt wrong to visit the place with out their company, even though I was feeling a bit peckish at the time.

After some errands I made my way through Haagse Bos, the park that holds the Queen’s house. It still holds a magical quality for me as I drink in the luscious greens and moss. I used to stay across the street from this forest and walk its paths daily. It still rejuvenated me as it would then. I love the way the tree canopy hugs itself around you while you are stunned by the emerald green moss that dances across the water ways that twist their way though the park. It is a beauty that I always love to return to. I realize how much I have missed being close to the recreational core of myself and how far from it I have been in recent years due to location, work and lack of optimal situations. Although it was a crashing reality that confronted me, it was a loving nudge from within that I need to restore this again in my life.

I shot down a main street and turned onto Thersiastraat, where I did most of my daily shopping when in town. Most of the shops were still there and a few had changed hands. I received warm welcomes from old friends at the hair salon and the Turkish restaurant. It was funny to hear the variations of my name that they could recall and I am sure they chucked at me as I tried to remember the Dutch that had escaped me. Exchanging stories of our past days since we met last made me realize how much time had escaped me.

My last stop was my old office 249 Bezuidenhoutsweg - for some reason that address is indelible in my memory. I parked the bike and rang the bell for the first time in many years and was let in by a confused Kevin, but soon saw familiar faces that were surprised by my unannounced visit. It was good to see Al and hear about his upcoming wedding to a colleague and meet her for the first time. I got a quick glimpse of Rogier and hope to spend some time with him and his family before I leave the country. The office had been rearranged and redecorated. As I looked around so much was different and changed since I last walked these halls, but then again some things were still the same, like Al’s office and Rogier’s focus.

Today was very nostalgic and sweet. In a way it was a homecoming, a completion of the circle that solidified my love for the European continent. Although it was nice to visit this place again I also know that it is what once was and can not be duplicated. It is always good to be reminded of where you come from and take a peak at the how you have grown and remember what you must take with you in the moment. Otherwise what is meant to be a sweet memory can easily turn sour if we choose to hold tightly to the past.

Obedient Creativity?

2007-11-27T11:47:00.000Z

Last night I was at a home group of my friends, Andrew and Belinda Perriman where we wrestled with the idea of new creation. What does that mean in the context of the Bible and in life today. Andrew conncected us to the echoing language of creation’s blessings and mandates thoughout Genesis. It seems that God himself has challenged mankind to be blessed, care for the earth, multiply and spread out. In the story of Genesis we see how man failed at this miserably, each time tripping over the need to make a name for itself and defying the blessings of God and in effect inviting the destruction of creations beauty and ongoing process. Each time God would start over and reitterate that promise to mankind through, Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham and though the foresight of Isiah who proclaimed Emmanuel’s coming. The new testement is also rich with the metaphoric language of creation calling us a “new creation” and foretelling of God’s city coming to reside on earth. It was a facinating concept and I am sure that I do it little justice here.

But it got me thinking. What if creatvity is the outcome of obedience? What if being made in His image is mostly reflected in our ability to trust in where He leads us and in that leading it frees us to be creative. Stagnation and hording are the enemies of creativity, because they contain what has already been. Innovation is the outcome of excellence in the basics. You become a virtuoso through hours of practice, most of which is rudementary and basic. As you hone your skills with scales and rhythms, you can take risks that produce something other and beautiful, but only after you have mastered the primary notes. Could there be a lesson in this we could learn about how we lead lives of spirituality individually and corporately. Could this more importantly outflow to rest of the world and stir something innovative, other and valuable?

What if everything boils down to this tenuous relationship between obedience and the divine other being birth in creativity? It might have us hold loosely to that which is now, and eagerly anticipate what is does not yet exsist all based upon how I live in obedience now. Then the past is nothing more than what we can learn from to move forward and not an anchor to hold us back or disqualify, because there is the cahnce for renewal, rebirth, and regeneration that comes forth within the divine spark of creativity.

So I have to ask the question, What if creativity was the ultimate outcome of obedience?

Categorically Baffled

2007-11-20T10:35:00.000Z

Black, 5’7, INFJ, D/S, 2 who presents as a 4, 90, female, African-American. And the list just goes on and on. Even if I were to offer you the results of every single test I have taken and listed every category or stereotype I could conjure that might label me, you would not claim to know me. So why do we think that we actually can sum up a person’s behavioral motives by smacking a label on people based on our cursory knowledge of some random stereotype or test (that took years to hone mind you)?

It seems to me like just another excuse not to know anyone deeply. Tell me if this is familiar, you share something about yourself that is revealing and the person, smiles knowingly, laughs, then sings out “You must be an F?”Or some other alphabetical stamp. Then this person takes the posture of addressing you as some case study that needs to be solved. In that moment, I am stumped. I think to myself, is that all you have to say? Could you be anymore halting in what could be intimacy? Now I know that these categories are tools to help you understand and relate with others better, but I think we have moved past their intended usefulness onto something that has become pejorative and stereotypical. I have a name and experiences I would like to share with you and enter into a dialog that can lead to a deeper knowing and now I feel stopped dead in my tracks because you think that you know so much about me that you can predict my motives and thoughts. If I refute your armchair diagnosis then I am just acting out some negative manifestation of your prescribed category and what I share is dismissed. It is frustrating!

It seems these test results in popular culture are like any other stereotype. Stereotypes seem to be descriptions used to globally define something so that there is not need for further investigation, explanation or understanding. If a person looks at you and says, “Oh your White and from Orange County so you must be a republican and drive a SUV,” you’d be a little offended wouldn’t you? Even though the statistics may be in favor of such a statement or correct in your case, aren’t you put off because you think that you are more than such a small label?

What if we came back to the core of what these test were designed for, to foster deeper relationship and understanding of the subject, not as a way to objectify and define. If you notice that someone has D traits from the DISC test, wouldn’t it be more inviting to say to the person, I notice that you have strong convictions, do you find it easy to make decisions? And then you wait quietly for the reply. It invites more freedom in the conversation and leaves room for discussion. Just a thought, what do you think?

Meeting Isabella

2007-11-06T15:05:00.000Z

Zambujal de Baixo, in the hills above Sesimbra was my first wandering destination of my sabbatical. Sesimbra is idyllic in views as it is a peninsular beach town nestled in the heart of a one of Portugal’s national forest. Because it is away from most of well traveled tourist spots you have a chance to peak into the daily lives in Portuguese culture. The people are very friendly and treat each other as a collective family. It was also a challenge because no one spoke more than a few sparse words of English. I became know as “Niña” in town by most of the people at the morning fish and produce markets. I am sure that I was comic relief to most as I crudely communicated in hand motions and Spanish.

On my second trip to town, I decided to walk around the local shops before heading back home. I walked into the local haberdashery to see if they sold knitting needles and handmade yarns. The shopkeeper was on the phone as I came in and greeted her. I could tell that this conversation was especially intense and even though she smiled my way as I entered, she was involved with something that was causing her incredible pain. When I looked into her face I could see her struggling to hold back tears and her voice’s timbre was elevated and constricted. Something was very wrong.

I knew that helping a customer at this point was the last things she needed, especially one that would require extra effort to cross the language barrier. But I could not leave either. I needed to stay there – so I waited until she hung up the phone. As she put the phone down, she turned her back to me and I watched her wipe the small collection of tears from the corners of her eyes. As she prepared herself to face me, I summoned all the Spanish I could recall and made a decision to disregard how lame I might sound with mispronunciations and bad grammar because I really felt I needed to speak with this woman. Eventually, she sighed deeply as her final resignation before donning a plastered smile to face the insistent customer in her store.

I swallowed my shame, immediately took her hand and asked her what was wrong. She paused for a moment and looked at her hand in mine, then looked into my eyes as if she was searching for something. She must have found it because she proceeded to tell me her doctor just told that she has breast cancer and was going to have a double mastectomy. Then the tears came. I thought of a million things I wish I could say to her in that moment, but without a translator my words would offer no comfort, maybe words on my part were never necessary at all. The only thing I could do at that moment was let her cry and allow her emotions wash over me as she spoke words I mostly did not understand. I hugged her, and said that I could not speak Portuguese well, but that my heart was full for her and that I was sorry. She smiled at my childish attempts, and said I no speak English pero I see you heart.

We prayed together and continued our conversation of the heart. In those 30 minutes we were undisturbed and got to know and see each other. It was one of the best conversations that I have had in a long time and we barely used words. When both our tears subsided and were ready to face the outside world again, I told her my name and asked for hers. “Me, Isabella,” she said, then I said in Portuguese, “It was nice to meet you Isabella.”

Question

2007-10-19T16:52:00.000+01:00

“What does the way Christianity is practiced today have to do with the handful of words and deeds uttered by a man who walked the earth two thousand years ago?”

Makes you think doesn’t it? And I have to say it is a fair question for the world to ask when they look at Christianity. “Just what are we doing brothers and sisters in the Lord?” Now what if I told you this question was posed by a church-going Atheist? That’s right you read it correctly.

This question comes from the lips of Matt Casper the co-author of “Jim & Casper Go to Church.” Casper and his co-author Jim Henderson wrote a book about exactly what the title states, going to church. This book is special and insightful because it brings together two things that one would assume were opposed, a Christian minister and an Atheist. (Jim & Casper - this cap’s for you).

My friend Rob Yackley had read the book prior to our bumping into each other in South Africa and I have to say that it made me think and ponder in a way that I truly enjoyed and I would recommend it to anyone who calls himself or herself spiritual and thinks they are familiar with what is commonly referred in Christian circles as Church.

In this book our subjects go to churches unannounced to rate and discuss them. Because they give the names of the churches they attended, it was interesting for me to hear an objective opinion on many places I have attended or visited. Sometimes I was vindicated but other times I was challenged or embarrassed. I learned so much about from the receiver’s point of view when Christians might engage people regarding spiritual matters. There were not many shocking things said but the way that Casper the Friendly Atheist questioned and stated things could not be easily discredited because they often hit at the core Christianity. I think Casper asked many questions, like the aforementioned that the Global Body of Christ needs to reconcile and speak on. Plus both men encourage a much-needed dialogue between those who believe and those who do not. Jim and Casper’s dedication to be open to conversation created space for exploration and they often discovered they had the same questions or thoughts. Jim and Casper respected and honoured each other even when they were critically opposed and they learned that each of their perspectives could lend value to their own.

I have a warning though; if you a person who is “convinced that you know the all the facts,” then you might find their opinions discomforting and confrontational. I urge you to work past your reactions and consider this a tremendous opportunity. Let me encourage you to step away from your position of certainty for a moment and see things from another point of view, just for the sake of learning something new and fresh even if you might not agree. Now read it with an open-heart and desire to find out what a person might experience when he (in their case) walks into a Christian church for the first time no matter what their affiliation is towards a Judeo-Christian perspective of God. I have to say this book will challenge you not to pass judgement or defend your position and see it as a collection of conversations between two men; one believes there is a God and the other does not.

Just to give you a taste: At the back of the book they included some questions that people raised when they read Jim and Casper’s book. Here is a question and the response that made me laugh, smile and say, “Preach it Atheist.”

Q. Casper seemed somewhat offended by the apparent wealth displayed in Saddleback’s congregation. Why is that? Does he believe that wealthy people are somehow less worthy or can’t be true Christians? What lesson ought Christians take from this observation?

Casper Says: I’d like to answer this with a quote: “I tell you the truth, it is very hard for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. I’ll say it again-it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God! (Matthew 19:23-24).

And there was something said by the visiting pastor at Imago Dei that stuck with me: “Giving is not really giving until it interrupts your lifestyle.” How many of the neatly coiffed, SUV-driving attendees of Saddleback can say that they have given until their lifestyles were interrupted? If people who keep their wealth think they are going to heaven, I’d suggest they find a teeny, tiny camel to help make their case.

From pages 156-7, “Jim and Casper Go to Church,” by Jim Henderson and Matt Casper.

Rainy Day Blues

2007-07-01T06:13:00.000+01:00

You ever have one of those moments that just pierces you with is beauty and stains in a way that defines you beyond all recognition? In an eye's blink you see all that you are and are not at the same time and it wounds you deeply. Ever had that happen?

Yesterday I saw something that did that to me and I am still reeling from the fall out. I watch a dance piece that Mia Michaels choreographed at Kelley's urging (it is on her myspace) and it was so…I do not think I have words for it. This morning I watched the expanded version and say people's reactions to this piece and it moved me so deeply that I actually fell of myself.

I was wounded because she and the two dancers accomplished in those few moments what I have longed to do, dreamed about and been haunted by in so many ways. It goes beyond just the medium of dance and choreography, but to my core. I want to be doing things in my life that effect people that way. Wound them even, if it means they heal better than they came in.

So I am sitting here, looking out the window asking myself the question…"What Now, Alycia…what now?

I Should Have Known!

2007-06-30T22:58:00.000+01:00

So I was having on of those days when I questioned everything about why I am here on this planet, in London the whole deal. It was spurred by the fact that money is tight and I cannot access the money in my accounts due to bureaucracy that seems to never end. I had about 6 quid on me for the day and I had my oyster card to get where I need to go for a meeting. I set off for the 2.5 hour journey to meet with a school head master is a very posh section of East London.

On the way I hit my journal pretty hard to write out my misgivings. When I boarded the last overland train I reminded myself that I had enough money for supper and to make my way to my meetings and I got to start on an outline for a story. So all in all things were evening out. Until…

I get to the station I was rerouted to on time only to discover that my original route had a benefit I did not realise until it was too late. I get to the gate tap my travel card and the gate remained closed. The nice man at the gate tried to help me, but then he smiled and said, "Your card is only good through zone 6, you my dear are outside of zone 6." So to my dismay, I had to cough up an extra 3 quid and I was on my way up the steep hill to meet the head master. About a block away I got the call, that the head master had to leave and would not be there nor would his friend, a head master at a neighbouring school be there either. Let's just say that it was not one of my shining moments.

So after I calmed myself I went to a grocery shop to see if I could find some vittles to for the long journey home. I found a gluten free roll, some meat and goat cheese and I wanted some fruit, but it would have put me over my remaining balance. I started to dig through my bag in search of loose change. Nothing! At that moment the questioned washed over me again and I wanted to sit on the floor and scream, "WHY?"

As I pulled my face from my bag, I heard a woman say, "Have you done it?"

"No, done what?" I said cautiously as I was not even sure she was addressing me.

"Have you gotten the voucher, they are giving away £20 vouchers."

"What!"

"Yeah, I couldn't believe it. I sent my daughter and it is true."

"Did you have to do anything?"

"All you have to do is walk up to that woman and say, 'Brioche, '" she whispered to me.

"Thanks, I am going right now!"

I calmly walked with my four items to the woman at the door. I leaned in and said the magic word. "Well done on you," she said as she handed me the golden voucher. Can you believe it! £20, that's $40.

Well I just about cried. God has a way of telling me to keep going when I reach the edge of the plank only to add an extension at the exact second my step would send me plummeting into the abyss. I know this may seem like coincidence or nothing great, but for me at that moment it was sweet grace and another way that I know that there is something bigger and more complex in the universe that this existence. It is a force that is both stretching and nurturing at the same time. I like to call this force GOD and moments like this let me know that I can trust Him and that He loves me no matter how I am feeling.

It makes me smile for a long time.

Your Kidding Right

2007-06-16T16:48:00.000+01:00

Yes they went there....

Mission Implausible

2007-06-16T01:25:00.000+01:00

So it happened again! Yes my computer is up to her old tricks and not working. It seems that my second motherboard had crashed. Do you have any idea how much of a pain this is to be in a new country, supposedly starting a new ministry? For starters I cannot write proposals or answer emails. Brilliant!

I have been here before and I know I will survive this too, but today I am just fed up with annoyances like this. Why is it that everything has to be that much harder when you are already in the middle of a difficult situation? Can it get any worse you ask yourself – apparently it can and will.

I am soooooooo frustrated and I am caught between a rockier and harder place. Stretching my last dollars in a foreign country and now this. I know God has an incredible sense of humour and impeccable timing when it comes to my life, but sometimes it would be nice to be in on the joke – you know? I know it is pointless to ask myself why this why now because my inner voice says why not you and why not now?

I know this is not the end and I should not be melodramatic, but this feels like this I cannot go forward without some serious readjustment. Plus, lets face it people I am tired! So in my most immediate and implausible future I am trying to deal without. I thought I knew most of the things I would let go of as I stepped into this adventure (jokes on me for even thinking this is possible), and now I have been dropped kicked into the reality that nothing is certain…again.

Where do I walk from here? I do not know, all I know is that I need to walk. I will be an annoyance to my co-workers in borrowing their computers in the wee hours of the morning so I can work. It would not be so bad if there we not about 10 other crucial things of this magnitude gnawing at my brain to be dealt with. Everything from bank accounts that do not work to theft weigh on me. Each time requires a mustering of beyond human strength to carry on.

God give me strength to inch my way to the edge of the cliff once more, leap and hope the net appears.

Direction

2007-06-13T14:29:00.000+01:00

I am in Amsterdam this week (The Netherlands is one of my most favorite countries) meeting people and making connections for 13thFLOOR. We are in day three and we have endured a stolen wallet (Lourens), crashing motherboards (my computer), overnight bus ride, and learning how different Dutch and Afrikaans are. Yesterday Lourens and I managed to get lost.

Now I am not talking a little lost, I am talking LOST! This happened after Kelley, Lourens and I went to Almere to meet with the Salvation Army and every person we asked to help with directions sent us in opposite directions; so our trust level for asking for help was dashed before our big excursion later that afternoon. So we felt that with our map we should be able to handle finding our way in a section of town that was semi-familiar to both of us. HAHA! We walked for three hours trying to make our way back to a place we turned from only a few blocks from our destination. By the time we figured out where we were and how far we needed to walk home we were a bit weary and dejected.

As we were literally passing where we started our unexpected trek we could see the familiar landmarks and celebrated being within minutes of our home. Our feet were killing us and we had dreams of devouring the delicious treats we commandeered on the way. The Promised Land was close at hand we could taste it! At that moment we were confused about the reason for such an unnecessary blunder of judgment but all that was about to change.

A young woman in here twenties approached us and asked in Dutch if we could help her. She was late for an audition and could not find the address. She was very frustrated, but you could see that she was trying to put up a brave face, but internally she was shattered. I explained that we were not from here and we mentioned that we were also licking our wounds after being defeated by the Dutch street system. We pointed her toward what we thought was the right direction but she was anything but satisfied with our response.

She vented and told us that our directions were not right (I love Dutch directness) and we should come with her to see that we were erroneous. So beleaguered and defiant, we accompanied our fellow trekker down, what only turned out to be another trick down a rabbit hole.

We arrived at the place where the address should be and tit clearly was not there. It skipped the address she was seeking. It baffled our three minds and mocked us mercilessly. It just did not exist in our space-time continuum. Now our new friend could no longer hold back the tears she fought so bravely to hide. I hugged her and Lourens said we would help her find her way. We walked on.

Eventually we came across a police station and went inside for some insight. It took consultation with a few officers to determine that we just had to keep going in the direction we were headed and get there. We even called the people staging the audition and they reassured us that we were going the right way. The three of us had to fight our rationale as the numbers kept going in the opposite direction of what we sought. Everyone said we had to keep going straight and trust that the destination would appear.

We pushed onward and onward. Finally we crossed the magic street, you know the ones that have numbers that ascend in both directions even in one direction and odd in the other. While I feel that fault the Dutch for the execution of city planning but I have to credit them Dutch for creativity. In a matter of moments we stood across from our holy grail.

As we reflected over the journey we realised that everyone giving us directions thought we were standing in a location that mirrored where we actually were. So from their perspective they thought we were close and could not understand why we could not see or understand their perspective; we on the other hand were further away with similar landmarks thinking that were idiots. The light went on when we saw where they thought we were standing. From there it was easy, but where we were standing was hard and the destination was not within sight.

I know that this blog is lengthy already, but I have to say that this experience was a microcosm of political and world-view clashes. One person thinks that we are all coming from the same place, but the reality is that we cannot and we do not. So do we really have the right to get made at someone for seeing things their way when we have not bothered to walk with them in their experience? I think not! No wonder we as Americans, Christians, Muslims, Iranians…People in any affiliated group seem like morons when we broadcast a viewpoint as truth and assume it is common sense to everyone on the planet, yet have not done the footwork to see things from another vantage point. Could you imagine the conflicts we could master if we climbed down from our self-made ivory towers and just walked with people on their journey.

Had Lourens and I not accompanied our friend, we never would have learned how wrong we were, and judging from her frustration no one else was willing to hear or embrace her experience. On paper it made sense that the address should be where they pointed, but one would have to walk there to realise that what she spoke had merit. It is so much easier to discount another's perspective so one can hold on to our own, but if we sacrificed our position and move we might learn something and bind our hearts to another's experience. Allowing ourselves to be lost… again…meant that we gained something precious.

I’ve Got Nothin’

2007-06-06T08:32:00.001+01:00

For the past few weeks I have sat down to blog or write I stare at the computer screen and get….nothing! Everyone who knows me can attest that I always have an opinion, quip, thought or at least comment to give even when unsolicited – but lately nothing.

I am not worried that I have nothing to say, I just don't have it in me to express at this time. Maybe it is because I have spent so much time writing proposals and speaking in meetings as of late, that I am literally our of words by the time I get the keyboard. I realised this after Lourens and I left with a friend for a meeting in a city an hour North of London. By the time we arrived home at 16h I was so exhausted that I got into bed after dinner – that's 18H15 people!

I was just tired but I could not sleep. I watched episodes of TV shows and spoke to no one for four hours. When I remerged at 22h, I was full of energy. When I thought over the day I realised that our friend was rather talkative and I had been in conversation with him, including a meeting with his boss, from 7h30 until 15h30. No wonder I was finished!

Being an introvert, I need quiet and alone time to charge my inner battery and refresh. Every week I purposely make time to be alone so I can go back and engage fully with others. I now live in a house with 11 others, so quiet is not a common commodity, and I spend just about everyday of the week in conversation with others in some context for the majority of the day so my weekly dates with myself usually suffice but yesterday was the mega load!

Now that I am aware of this, I know that after today…another marathon with the person from yesterday, I need to immediately disconnect and recharge, otherwise I look at people with a vacuous stare and mumble the words, "I've got nothin'."

No Words Necessary

2007-05-26T16:35:00.000+01:00

In honour of this upcoming Sunday I found some pictures that made me laugh and wanted to share them.

Vogue at the Portrait

2007-05-26T04:40:00.000+01:00

I just got home from a trip to my past. Yes that's right children I was our twirling with the girls, well not exactly, girls you see they were more man than girl but they were better dressed than any woman there. The National Portrait Gallery sponsored a party to end the Faces of Fashion exhibit with a bang! Photographers were everywhere and they had cameras that roamed through the crowd and projected party images on the wall. Glam photo shots and sketches were done for all who desired and they DJ's were playing the best house music in town. It was the place to be.

The gallery invited three houses to give vogue lessons so one could strike our pose and be fabulous. My teaching session was given by the House of Egypt and House of Fierceness and let's just say these trannies just wanna have fun! It was a great time. It made me the fun I had back in the day and I am still looking forward to the offering a privileged few were in on. I wish that my camera was not broken because honey the girls were fierce and they put on a show. I took some pics with the phone but they do not do the evening justice.

As part of graduation, all had to strut their stuff into the party. Our runway was a two-story escalator in motion into the main gallery hall where the party was going on. We were lead in by the head drag-queen, "Princess" and she was followed by yours truly. Yes, it took a Yank to lead the way before the Brits.

After my debut, I mingled and had some great conversations with people. Telling a bunch of transvestites came to London to do ministry in the middle of a glam fest was no less than intriguing. I really enjoyed the mood and good time we had together and was sad that it had to end. Until my next twirl.

London Garden

2007-05-25T11:23:00.000+01:00

One of my housemates, Ian, is a landscape designer and caretaker for a private park in Chelsea – He invited Kelley and myself to visit him at his work for lunch so we could have a peak into the life of luxury of British High Society.

We could not pass up the opportunity, so we left mid-morning for the 2-hour journey into the heart of London. It was well worth the trip! The park was Montpelier Square just a brief 3 minutes walk from Harrods, nestled between beautiful homes and smart restaurants where you could spend your days sipping Perrier. The sun was out and the sky was clear blue as we made our way to the south gate to meet our friend. Old lamps that are named after English kings surround the park - I imagine were oil-filled when originally installed. The gates around the garden were black wrought iron with a lovely ivy pattern, secured by tall gates which allowed you to peak into the sacred place.

We were met by a warm smile as Ian and his colleague, Stewart, showed off their handiwork, which won them a bronze medal in last years competition.

We were met by a sea of green, with dashes of brilliant colours. It was very lovely. A few thieving magpies were our only companions as the four of us dinned on our packed lunches in the cool shade on rustic wooden benches. We laughed and exchanged the stories you do when you are getting to know people and sharing in something special.

I really enjoyed this delicious treat in the heart of the city's opulence.

Harry Potter Angst

2007-05-24T09:37:00.000+01:00

Being in London, I get to catch glimpses of the inspiration of the famed Harry Potter series. I am a fan of these books and I eagerly anticipate the coming of the last allotment in less than 30 days (yes I am counting). This morning I caught a glimpse of one of those Christian books that dissect the evils of the Potter when often they have not rear the book, seen the movies or had any kind of discussion with the author about her intentions and says so proudly as if they have staved off some incurable disease by avoiding all contact of 20 degrees of separation from the point of origin. So as you can surmise I was not delighted.

I guess as a Christian I would rather avoid the sterile approach to life. I would much rather explore things that are interest of people so that I might be able to meet them at their perspective instead of colliding with them in judgement and ignorance. I am not saying indulge in anything just to gain introspection – that would be stupid and irresponsible. There are some people who should avoid things they are sensitive to or know will cause them unnecessary trauma, but if you do not have a problem and you are not getting flashing red lights from your inner gut, maybe it is worth investigating. How can you comment on anything with any kind of efficacy unless you have first-hand facts upon which to base your knowledge

I often hear Christians say that Harry is becoming darker with each story so it is proof that the author is sinister and leading kids into the occult. Usually when people make this statement, I ask them if they have read the books or seen the movies, to which I get a blank stare. I usually walk away before I say something rash, but this time I asked how they could make such a statement with such fever without research? I listened to this person's biased apologetics, ignorant of honest examination, and started to question the logic. Can a person's life be "good" if they are becoming more moody and dark?

Well Potter fans know that Harry has been on a quest to know the truth of his story the his parents fate, and discover who he is destined to become all the while battling the source of his greatest pain in life – the wizard responsible for the deaths of so many people he loved. Not knowing how the series ends, I cannot help seeing themes that are of major import. Harry currently is coming to terms with the evil that touched his life and its effects – now isn't that the struggle of man? Just when we think we have conquered the beast outside of ourselves, don't we always have to deal with the beasts within? When we are struggling with our inner demons, do we not become confused, moody and at times a pain to be with? It does not mean that a person is intrinsically evil or aims to go that way because they are struggling, or have some Christians made it easier on themselves to categorize people into groups so they can avoid the messy ones and cultivate those deemed worthy according to a frame of reference that can be devoid of compassion.

I guess I see life more complicated than that and until you die your journey on this planet continues and can change without notice. That is what makes it interesting. I believe we are this dance with God where we can either lead or be lead. I think we struggle with ourselves over who will lead. He has no problem, but it is our choice. So we constantly turn and twist according to our wills – to me this is what makes the dance beautiful and graceful when viewed from a distance and perspective. One can not focus only on the footwork of the dance to determine the choreography's worth. Sometimes a mistake in footwork produces something new and interesting other times it is a blunder you try to recover from and laugh about later, but it does not mess up the dance. Maybe Harry's last dance will prove the critics right for their careful scrutiny of perceived missteps, but I prefer to watch the whole piece hoping that Harry's dance, as I hope my own, will flow with grace.

Play Football

2007-05-19T08:32:00.000+01:00

I watched the Chelsea vs. Manchester United game today. I was pleased with the outcome of the game but I have to admit it was one of the most boring matches I had seen in a long time. Talk about a yawn fest!

Both teams are excellent, played well and were perhaps so evenly matched that it things seemed tranquil on the pitch most of the time. I mean there was no underdog to cheer for or hope to be obliterated depending on your pleasure.

But in the back of my mind I kept screaming, just play the game with some passion! They all seemed so careful not to foul or offend, that the spirit of the game was lost. Is this where profession sports is going? Where the players focus more on keeping down their fines over playing the game all out?

Don't get me started! I will not go on to make this a metaphor on life, Christianity etc because it's been done, but man I really would have liked to seen a game that kept me on the edge my seat. Wouldn't you?

In Pursuit of Weightlessness

2007-05-18T03:08:00.000+01:00

Last weeK at the National Portrait Gallery I had the pleasure of listening to Ivan Putrov, a principle dancer from the Royal Ballet, who recently returned from a knee injury that kept him from dancing for 11 months. He quoted from one of Waldemar Janusczak’s critiques were he describes the plight of a ballet dancer, “Spotlit on a stage, isolated from the quotidian demands of the heartbeat, out of reach of the basic rhythms of life, the ballet dancer dreams of the divine state of weightlessness. But — and here we get to the nub of their tragedy — the only time humans ever really achieve that state is when they are dead. Thus, ballet, with its insatiable appetite for zero gravity, is the most tragic of all the arts.”

I really related to this quote because in a way I feel that Christianity his similar in that way. One of the things that we try to achieve is to usher in God’s kingdom here on earth but like weightlessness, we can only achieve such a feat when we are quite literally dead. I mean when we allow ourselves to die to our own agenda, since of entitlement, and greed to name a few, we position ourselves so that we are willing to give more and be more in and to the world we live in. In fleeting moments that humanity achieves such a thing it is beautiful and awe inspiring, much like seeing the ballet dancer who is able to leap with extraordinary ease into the heavens with legs and arms fully extended, gracefully released from the pull of the earth. It takes your breathe away.

It is my dream that Christians would desire to take the worlds breathe away as we lay our lives down and pursue the “weightlessness” of bringing God’s dreams and desires into fruition on this earth. So few people achieve the status of Prima Ballerina, maybe that is why few Christians set out for the task and even less continually strive to remain there. Both ballet and Christianity require countless hours of painful sacrifice and daily practice (which no one sees) to achieve something momentary, and when the moment has passed one goes back to the basics until the next moment presents itself.

In order to effect change in the world by ushering in God’s perspective cannot be done, in my opinion, with picket signs and boycotts. Nor will it be achieved by prayer and fasting alone. It requires action - signing up for a suicide mission. I also believe we (Christians, humanity, etc) need to ditch the idea that true fulfilment comes when we train ourselves to resist our desires. I see things differently - when you die, your deepest desires fulfilled, this is when you become weightless as Janusczak put it so aptly. When you pursue the One who created you and knows you best the crap just falls away, making room for that which is pure, lasting and most satisfying. Crazy yes, but I think it is crazy enough to work.

The Dream Team Assembled

2007-05-16T22:43:00.000+01:00

Kelley arrived! Our dream team is officially here. It seems like this day would never come…the three of us (Kelley, Lourens and I) actually say down in the same country to pray and work together.

There is much to do and the momentum is mounting. It seems like we need an extra 10 hours a day to get things done. Lourens left for Brussels and Amsterdam on Saturday, while Kelley and I am working arduously on the charity registration. There is a great chance that we could have all the paperwork done by next week. After that, we tackle our visas!

I love my team!

Blank

2007-05-13T10:43:00.000+01:00

Today I visited a big church in London, (that shall remain nameless to protect the innocent) and I walked away feeling slimed. The worship was amazing and the people seemed genuine and friendly. The head of the children's ministry shared about giving in a way that was challenging and inspiring. I started question my whole scepticism of mega-church thing. I could really see myself becoming part of a place; making it my spiritual home and creating lasting friendships...

Then the pastor spoke and my dream was shattered. He was the type of guy that spends all his time telling you how cool and different he is because he does not buy into "church stuff" or "religion" and then does what everyone else does. Yuck! I mean come on! Are you kidding me? In a country where vicars are wearing robes and pastors have on suits, putting on Diesel jeans and leather jacket to be trendy does not make you a trendsetter.

Maybe it is me, maybe I am looking for something that does not exist outside my memory or California. I beg the question…where have all the freaks gone - the people who are marching to God's rhythm and creating ripples in society that create waves of change. I know they are out there; I just need to keep looking.

Angry God?

2007-05-11T02:26:00.000+01:00

I found this article online and sent this article out to my regular supporters, but I wanted to share it with my friends as well....

Was Jesus Mean? By Dr. Ray Pritchard

I confess to never having thought about the question until a friend raised it in an email recently.

Was Jesus mean? The answer, obviously, is no. I think the question is meant to highlight a deeper issue. Why are some of the followers of Jesus so mean if he wasn't? I don't know that I can adequately answer that question without going back to the question of Jesus himself.

Jesus was not mean, but he could be very, very tough. He sometimes used very strong language when speaking to people he regarded as hypocrites. In a withering excoriation of religious hypocrisy in Matthew 23, he compared the scribes and Pharisees to whitewashed tombs, which is a worse insult than it sounds because the religious leaders prided themselves on their outward righteousness. He could be tough on his own followers also. In Mark 8:14-21 he tells his disciples that they are spiritual blind and have hard hearts. When he appeared to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, he calls them "foolish ones" and "slow of heart to believe" (Luke 24:25). He told certain Jewish leaders in John 8:44, "You are of your father the devil." The notion that our Lord was always "gentle Jesus, meek and mild," as if he spent his days saying nice things to make people feel better is only possible if you never read the gospels.

He was gentle and meek and mild and kind. But that's not the whole story.

He also demanded that his followers commit themselves to him wholeheartedly.

He had no patience for hypocrites who took advantage of others while ignoring their own sin.

Say what you want about Jesus, but don't forget that he took a whip and overturned the tables of the moneychangers, driving them out of temple precincts because they had made a house of prayer into a den of robbers.

Jesus could be very, very tough.

But was he mean? The answer may rest in the eye of the beholder. Perhaps some of the Pharisees and those moneychangers whose tables he overturned thought he was mean. After all, it was precisely because of his righteousness that they plotted to put him to death. His zeal for God aroused envy that turned to murderous hatred.

But was he mean? A quick check of the dictionary gives us these definitions and synonyms: offensive . . . selfish . . . nasty . . . malicious . . . small-minded . . . contemptible . . . petty . . . cruel . . . vindictive.

None of those words applies to Jesus. Isaiah 42 speaks of God's servant who will come to establish justice in the land. It is a prophecy of the coming of Christ to the earth. The prophet says of the Servant of the Lord that "He will not shout or raise his voice in public"(v. 2 NLT). That seems like a good standard for evaluating our actions. Mean people use threats to get their way. They shout because they are angry and fearful of losing control. They raise their voice when they would be better served by remaining calm. Mean people use ridicule and biting sarcasm to put others down. They are contentious and unkind and they mistreat others and don't think anyone of it.

Was Jesus mean? No, but he could be very, very tough. I admit there is a fine line here, but I also say that Jesus never came close to crossing that line. He was tough when he needed to be tough and tender when he needed to be tender. He knew how to treat each person exactly as they deserved to be treated. That includes blind beggars, sincere questioners, little children and proud Pharisees. Everyone got what they needed from Jesus. Some of them, like the rich young ruler, went away sorrowful, others marveled, the common people loved him, and many of the rulers hated him for his honesty.

So why are some of Jesus' followers so mean? I can't answer that question, but I know I need to look into the mirror and think about my own life. A mean Christian is not just a contradiction in terms; it is a terrible slander on our Lord. When Christians are mean, when we raise our voices in anger, when we use cruel words to hurt and not to heal, we give outsiders yet one more reason to disregard what we believe.

…It makes you think. Alycia

Bureaucracy is everywhere

2007-05-04T15:34:00.000+01:00

Remember my TIA entry? Well maybe this one should be titled TIB, this is Britain! All the jokes about queuing and having a department for everything under the sun seemed to crash into my reality.

I am in the throws of importing my personal items to the UK from South Africa. I hired a forwarding agent in SA to complete all the forms for Britain and read the new legislation (changed 26 March) to make sure all was in order. Every person I spoke to in the HM Revenue and Taxes assured me that all was well and I only had to pick up items with my passport at arrivals.

Day One:

My second day here, I called the number for freight at Gatwick. The phone rang for no less than 3 minutes then I was cut off. I made subsequent attempts but no one ever picked up.

Day Two:

I checked the calendar to make sure there were no holidays I was forgetting and tried again. No luck. I called their branch at Heathrow to confirm the number, spoke with several supervisors who all told me that the number I had was correct. One gentleman told me he spoke with the Gatwick offices earlier that day so I was assured to keep calling. It was even suggested that I check the phone line.

Day Three:

Called Heathrow again to check the status of the shipment that was flying today. I was told that I was mistaken and the freight would not leave SA until the next day and I would need to hire a UK agent because civilians can not self clear packages as it was strictly ruled out by HM Customs as of 26 March. A supervisor went so far to take the number of my South African agent to give them an earful. As he read through the documents to me over the phone (the same one I had been using), his voiced trailed off as his mouth pronounced the words I so carefully quoted to him 3 hours previously. To this he offered apologies and passed me on to yet another person.

This person proceeded to tell me my items actually arrive the previous day and that I was going to be charged stowage unless I could process customs in the remaining 15 minutes before they closed. Which meant, I would have to hire an agent who miraculously could process my documents 24 hours a day. So I rushed the documents to the forwarding agent, only to be told the items were only leaving Jo'burg that evening for arrival at Heathrow in the morning, then transport to Gatwick by early afternoon.

Day Four:

My items arrived at Heathrow and I am now prepared with documents in hand to complete the transactions myself sans the agent. I have doted my "i's" and crossed all my "t's" – I was ready for anything they would dish out. Until I was told that the items would not go to Gatwick until this evening …Friday evening (as the day crew was in training), meaning customs would be closed until Tuesday (May Day on Monday so they are closed). All this translated to three days of stowage charges or hiring an agent all at about £200 more than I was intending to spend. The cherry on top, was the agent telling me I would have filed the previous day after-hours for processing in the morning.

I love bureaucracy!

A Lively Bunch of Vicars!

2007-05-03T10:37:00.000+01:00

Tonight I witnessed the induction and licensing of a new vicar and wife into the Romford parishes St. John's and St. James' of the Anglican Church. I was invited by my host Lyn Hunt to meet the new couple as 13^thFLOOR may work with them.

One of my friends leaned over and joked about it being a party for old men in dresses, as per tradition, the vicars, bishops and archbishops donned their finest for such and occasion – that is the traditional long black robes with the white frilly shirts beneath complete with black armbands to hold the frilled sleeves together (as worn before the invention of cufflinks). I was expecting the evening to hold little spunk but I was pleasantly surprised.

The sermon by the Archbishop of Barking was about our mission as the church to dig deep into the neighbourhoods God plant us in and effect change from within, rather than looking down on people as charity cases we are to take pity on. He also challenged the new parish couple to lead in this by example as well as in instruction. It was quite inspiring.

The traditional licensing, replete with giving of keys, promenades and numerous prayers and congregational responses, was uncharacteristically littered with humour and thoughtful asides. All in all it was a pleasant evening and these particular vicars were far from stuffy.

Driving in Kent

2007-05-01T20:40:00.000+01:00

Believe it or not I drove for my first time in the UK. I have driven in many other European cities but London has been one I have avoided vehemently. Every time I saw the aggressive way the drivers attacked the road and often each other, it really put me off. Why drive when you can catch the tube, take a bus or walk anywhere you want to go – often faster and cheaper than in a car.

My friend Suzanne is entering her 36^th week of pregnancy and she let her licence lapse, so I have become her chauffer of sorts to help her out. She live in Chiselhurst, which is in Kent, where the roads are narrow and the scenery is lush and green this time of year. We needed to fetch her husband from the station last night because he had too many things to carry or so he would have us believe.

And of course they have a SAAB sedan in impeccable shape, which was parked in a lot that could only be described as an obstacle course – each neighbour parks their Jag, Range Rovers and Mercedes as they please in parking area that is common to the surrounding three homes. No pressure! Everything was different, the console looked like that of a jet while the gearbox consisted of some ancient Chinese secret to lend it self to reverse.

I took a deep breathe and eased the car pack. I was frightened when the parking assistant started to ring, letting me know there was a multi-thousand pound vehicle at my rear. Eventually I found my footing and eased through the narrow gate that leads into traffic. I was to go left, so I reached for what I thought was the turn indicator only to turn on the windshield wipers. Passing motorist looked as perplexed as I felt in that moment. Eventually I found the indicator on the opposite side of my familiarity and turned off the offending wipers. I had embarrassed my self, so it was time to try again. I made it to the station and back with out further events. Andrew, Suzanne's husband complimented me on my driving and enjoyed being driven around for a change.

Today Suzanne and I ran errands in the neighbouring towns. I had the discomfort of driving down streets svelter than a super-model's waist with cars parked on either side with oncoming traffic. It was like driving on a tight rope! Then I came to the mystical London circle where everyone knows the rules but abandons them in favour of personal convenience. I took a deep breathe and entered the large circle that had about 5 exits, 2 of which were ones that I could not enter. We made it through without incident.

When we made it home and I turned off the ignition and exclaimed, "I've been baptised!"

Ah Rats

2007-04-30T20:47:00.000+01:00

My last day in Africa was a roller coaster ride. I expected my departure to be emotional but there were a few surprises along the way.

Saying goodbye to the team members was one of the hardest things I have had to do. What I thought would take an hour turned into two and a half. We cried and laughed with them as we recalled moments and walked through some painful moments. It is hard to leave when the team leaves for their first touring cycle because it is a pivotal and exciting time. The night before I was blessed with a beautifully decorated box filled with letters of thanks and encouragement. I sat up most of the night reading through all the heart felt sentiments. I did not realise how much influence I had been in the lives of so many people until I saw it on paper. Even people I had little contact with seemed to feel that my presence added value to their time at 13^thFLOOR.

After crying for what felt like days with the team I rushed home to finish packing and get ready to leave for church and the airport. For the first time my excitement started to peak as my South African responsibilities were coming to an end. I could not help singing praises in the car; the time of long anticipation was finally in my sights. I thought to myself now I can be happy and celebrate….

My landlord was suppose to meet me so I could give him the keys to the house and have a final walk-thru. We scheduled 10h30 so I would have plenty of time to get to church by 12. At about 11 I called to find my landlord out shopping and running errand near Johannesburg (an hour away). I alerted friends I would be late and set about waiting in my unfurnished home. There was no where to sit, so I leaned against the kitchen counter searching for some logical, spiritual or decent reason for this unscheduled pause in my life. I was surprisingly calm considering the list of things I need to accomplish before leaving. About 12h45 I started getting calls from people waiting at church to see me. My landlord was still 20 minutes away and I could not exit the property without my keys nor was there anywhere to leave the keys for him to collect later. My high was starting to wane now and just when I was about to envision all that could go wrong, my landlord arrived 5 mins before 13h.

I rushed to the car and rapidly drove to Chilles, the bar where we meet for church and found my very patient friends waiting to say farewell. In addition to our regular crowd, most of the NieuCommunities gang was there plus a few 13^thFLOOR alumnae. It was a wonderful to see both old and new friends gathered together. Due to delays I missed the sermon, but I felt that I learned so much about God by seeing my friends and having last conversations. I will miss gathering with them.

Hilde was my chauffer to the airport. I thought it was fitting that she take me, as she was my first contact with C-Kruis (now 13^thFLOOR) in 2004. She arrange for me to see the show that would change my future and introduced me to Flaps, the man who invited me to remain in South Africa. On the way we laughed about relationships; the near-misses, faux pas and hope that make dating a constant source of entertainment. I will really miss having her right across the hall. Who am I going to talk with now?

After a few rearranged errands, we arrived at the airport about 16h. I went through security, paid my excess luggage and then got the news. My flight was delayed three hours! Good thing I was not in a panic to get to the airport in spite of the days hold-ups! This meant I would have more time to spend with Hilde so we had a snack and continued our conversation. As I walked her to the parking lot and said goodbye, I realised I was saying goodbye to was my last significant tie to South Africa. Neither of us wanted to cry, but I knew that as soon as we parted the tears would come. And indeed they did.

I made my way into the security area to use the dinner voucher SAA provided. It was billed as a great restaurant, but it was a step above a glorified cafeteria. I had my chicken and then began to wait. After some time I decided to have a chair message to work out the kinks brought on by days of packing and the cold winter. It was heaven. I could feel my stress melting away – my muscles became jello like and gave way to the masseuse's pressure. Five minutes before it was over an announcement was made, "Flight SA 236 to London Heathrow will be delayed until 2 AM." I sat up and released my contribution to the communal moan heard around the international waiting area. Let's just say my muscles were no longer as pliable.

After my treatments, I made my way to SAA's corporate offices. I wanted to know what was happening. Was this new delay one in a series of delays to put off the flight a day without paying lodging us or was there a dare I say good reason. Then I heard the words that became the title of this rant. Rats!

Apparently, a rat was found on board and they spent almost two hours trying to catch it. Eventually they gave up and did what in my opinion should have been done first, fumigated the plane. I stared bleary eyed at the woman as she explained that the plane had to be tented for 4 hours and we would indeed leave at 2 AM.

What an ending to my time in South Africa. I cannot say I am surprised that something of this magnitude happened on such an auspicious day, especially with my track record. As I drifted off to sleep, I chuckled and mumbled the words, "…of course, rats."

Just Amazing!

2007-04-25T18:35:00.000+01:00

I know I've been out of touch a bit but it was for a good cause. I spent last week in the Western Cape participating in a youth camp called GAP. If the name sounds vaguely familiar to some of you, it's because I was part of the first Gap camp in the Netherlands. This was also the first camp in South Africa and it was great to be reunited with old friends from the states.

There were 28 kids attending and from Kiamondi, a township near Stellenbosch, Cape Town and Stellenbosch area. Most of them were orphaned or abandoned by one or both parents, and a few were affected by HIV in their families. To hear their stories would break your heart and there were few moments when we were able to maintain dry eyes as we prayed in preparation of the camp.

The first day, the kids were reserve and withdrawn. Some of them met before at school, but it was clear they were not in their element and trust was not a high commodity in their lives. Each one fell into a role or mask that was comfortable to them, but as each day passed, we saw the hardened exteriors start to crack to reveal an authentic self and the subsequent freedom it brings.

On of my favourite moments was with a 15 year old boy named Lwando which is Xhosa for 'something growing'. His father left his 17 year old mother a 3 after he was born and has another family. He is devastated because in the Xhosa culture a boy must go through an initiation into manhood before he is recognized by his clan and can claim his father's name. Without a male role model he cannot complete his initiation with honour nor is he fully recognized by his tribe. This shame is on top of the constant feelings of abandonment. Our last night with the kids we offer them a chance to exercise forgiveness and make positive commitments, after his turn I found him off in the corner bent over. It was obvious he was having an internal struggle over his conflicted feelings towards a father he never really knew. We spent some time away from the others talking through feelings he buried deep but could not longer run from.

"How can I want to love some one I want to kill?" That is the question that most of these kids deal with daily. After an hour or so he started to integrate his feelings of despair into his current and future reality. He found a place to hold those opposing emotions and make peace with himself for having them. Robb, one of the trainers, wept openly before the group as he imagined his life without knowing his son. To us it is unfathomable how parents can leave their children and never look back. Whether children are physically or emotionally abandoned the scars are deep and lasting. It is a sad reality that it happens everyday all over the world.

Seeing Lwando's courage to find a way through his struggle was a wonderful gift. I wish there was a way to snap our fingers and make this problem go a way; 28 lives may not mean much in the grand scheme of things but at least it is a chance to influence a potential break in the constant flow towards despair. I pray that Lwando and the others hold on to what they learned last week, I know it will make a world of difference to them and maybe the world.

Shallow

2007-04-17T09:56:00.000+01:00

I am waiting for my flight. Sitting here feeling anxious about seeing people I have not seen in years. What will they think of me? How will I appear to them? What do we have to talk about? Will they still like/respect me? What will they think about the weight I've gained.

I am on my way to Cape Town, where I will meet with friends and colleagues from GAP. GAP is an outstanding 4 day experience for teens that helps them refocus and become clear about what they want from life. These people are truly special to me and I credit them for empowering me to deepen my relationship with my parents (the result of which was seen in last weeks blog). So I guess I am a little out of sorts about seeing them again. Many of them met me at a crossroad and now I am seeing them at another.

I know it may be shallow to think of such things when so much is at stake for the kids coming to GAP, but sometimes I am just that petty.

Tear-filled Goodbyes

2007-04-16T23:10:00.000+01:00

Well it is official, I have started crying and I do not think that I will stop anytime soon. Each day is rushing by faster than the one before and there is so much to say and do with all the people who mean so much to me in South Africa. I wish I could press a pause button so I could breathe and grieve.

This afternoon was my last day of training responsibilities and the last time I would lead the small group for the management girls called AIM. We talked about our high and low points of the training, there were some tears laced with much laughter. As each person shared I reflected on each young woman's journey, often I was there when they were facing their worst days to wipe their tears and celebrated with them when they soared. Each sacred moment embraced me like a gentle breeze on an autumn day, brisk and fleeting. I wanted to hold each one close, but they slipped from my grasps. It is time to let them go.

To end our time I had each girl sit in the chair while the others shared insights, blessings and encouragements about her. I became more emotional as each girl took a turn in the chair. I have spent almost three years with many of them; how do you express an ocean of love and feelings for a person in a thimble of time? The tears and emotions poured out of me without hindrances. This may be the last time I will have an intimate time like this with many of these women and I did not want to waste it. Unfortunately, we ran out of time before each girl had a turn, but I will get to the others personally to say the words I can not hold back – do not want to hold back. I want each one to know how gloriously wonderful they are and how they inspire me daily.

I sit with the question, how will I live without these precious gems in my life? Each time I come to this place I ask why is has to be this hard. In a way the pain is a reassurance that I allowed myself to love well again. If I protected my heart and only connected in a rational way, it would not feel like my heart is being ripped apart. Logically I know there will be others for me to love in the near future, but right now this is it.

The students and friends I made here are who I long to be with, see grow and change, but they must face challenges and celebrate without me. I think that is what I miss most, the things that have not occurred. Silly isn't it to miss something that has not happened yet, but I have lived this experience before. My life is filled with missed birthdays, births and weddings of friends and family I left behind, and it pained me to miss each one. So it is with a heavy heart that I move on from South Africa and tearfully say farewell.