An Unexpected Journey

When I saw this movie for the first time at midnight opening night, my breath caught as I listened to this exchange between Gandalf and Bilbo. I had had a very similar fight with God about six weeks before the movie came out, and felt like I was watching the dialogue between me and my Maker. I was so comfortable in my life where I knew everything around me. I had Charles, my trusty C230, to take me wherever I wanted to go in the greater Portland area. I knew my turf, and I was comfortable with it. I had no desire to leave. 

Yet, I knew it was true that the world is not in my books or maps, and I wanted to learn and grow as a person rather than become stagnant. The only option was out and away from what I knew - my Shire-like Hillsboro, Oregon. What terrified me most was the thought of never coming back. Bilbo voices that, and Gandalf's reply is even more frightening. 

God made me no promise that I could come back after a year or even two. In fact, it seems he wants me in Germany indefinitely. He's building me a life here, and it's changing me, growing me. 

Yesterday I slept in late with the help of my rolladen - dark shutters that keep out the noon day sun so tired teachers can sleep past the sunrise. When I finally got up, I cleaned my room after a week of enjoying lazy days of my three week Christmas break (boarding school bonus). In the late afternoon, I made my way down the hill into town where I joined the stream of English speakers on their way to the theater to watch The Desolation of Smaug "in the original English." We packed out the theater in anticipation of a film on the big screen not dubbed in German. 

Nothing makes me miss my dad more than a good Tolkien film adaptation, but I kept my head above the homesickness and enjoyed every minute of the film. As soon as it ended, I followed the bells to the Lutheran church and entered at the final stroke of six for dress rehearsal for the local choir concert. Sitting in that church listening to Bach on the organ, I realized that my own unexpected journey has taken me so much farther than I could ever have dreamed. 

I am not the person I was when I left, and I still don't know if I'm ever moving back. What I do know is that my unexpected journey is the greatest adventure imaginable. I never imagined that I would ever sing in a local German choir and befriend a dozen women who could not speak my mother tongue. Even though I couldn't understand the majority of the songs in the concert, I loved being a part of a Christmas concert that celebrated the birth of Jesus.

I look forward to continuing to celebrate my Savior's birth this week, and I hope you'll do the same. Frohe Weihnachten!

There are Cats in Germany too

German word of the day: Katze.

Katze means cat.

There are cats here in Germany. They are as cute and flighty as katzen (that's the plural form) in America. It's such an ordinary thing to see a cat running across the street or stalking around our windows - perhaps even running in our house when we're lufting. I used to see neighbors cats making themselves at home in my backyard in the states, so seeing them here makes this place seem a little less foreign. Cats in Germany are just one of the many similarities I've found between my old home and my new one.

There are certainly differences that are hard for me to get used to - the lack of Trader Joe's and Starbucks being at the top of the list. However, these things are barely inconveniences in light of the blessings I've found in living here.

Those of you who know me well may have caught the significance of that last statement - I'm okay without Starbucks because what I've found here is so much better.

Day by day, I'm learning more about my new home in Germany, and I'm discovering that it's a wonderful place to live. I like living close enough to walk to work, the grocery store, the bank, and the post office. I enjoy the cozy feel of a small town that's nestled into forested hills. I also have a fantastic working environment where I'm encouraged and uplifted regularly. I enjoy reading emails from the communications department because Doug makes me laugh (side note - I love working with and teaching so many fantastic Canadians). I love meeting with Jill because she gives me constructive feedback for my teaching. I smile whenever Allison walks into the office because I know she's about to make my day better by just being herself. My students are another amazing blessing of this place; I got half a dozen hugs when the bell rang seventh period Friday from students scattering across the globe for the next three weeks.

My greatest struggle in adapting fully is not knowing the language which is why I'm looking into ways to learn and practice German regularly. Portland will always be my heart's home, but I am living in Kandern now; I want to be fully present where God has planted me for this time. That doesn't mean I have instantly stopped missing things about Portland - I still want a Trader Joe's to open up in town, and I'm pretty sure I could keep a Kandern Starbucks in business by myself - but I do want to celebrate the things I enjoyed in Portland as well as the things I have now in Kandern.

For example, I loved driving out to Hagg's Christmas Tree farm every year of my life before this one to cut down our tree with my parents. I never want to forget the sense of accomplishment I had the year I sawed it down myself. This year, we all chipped in a few euros to have a pre-chopped tree carted up to our house. My housemates and I then spent last Wednesday exchanging gifts and decorating our new family's tree. I even got to bring in another one of my favorite traditions on a whim. Every Christmas morning growing up, my dad would read Luke two before we opened presents; my housemates humored me while I read the advent narrative before we opened our presents. Our Garni family then revealed our secret Santa gifts, and I was overjoyed to find that Dayla had not only bought me a wonderful warm new scarf but also got me a Christmas tree made out of words. I'm so blessed to have new family here who know me well enough to know that I would be delighted by such a fantastic book related decoration.

I'll notice more and more differences between life here and in the Pacific Northwest over the Christmas break, I'm sure, but I'm excited to see the similarities in how I can live life and celebrate my Savior on either side of the Atlantic.

Annual Checkup

A year ago this month I had a couple very rough conversations that led to this long confession about why I needed to move overseas.

I concluded my confession by admitting that I didn't know where I'd be a year from that point, but my intention was to be closer to Jesus. I stand here a year in the future thankful to say that I'm closer to my Savior than I was then; this past year has been an incredible journey as I've made my way to Germany and begun my first year teaching. I've still got a ways to go though. I never want to be satisfied with where I am in my relationship with Jesus, so I celebrate the chapters that have been written so far while continuing to write with the Author and Perfecter of my faith.

I'm so excited that this next year of my journey will be in Germany. I've got an amazing adventure ahead of me, and I love the people God's placed in my life to adventure with me. Some of them are here with me taking crazy pictures in French parking garages, and others are mourning the loss of the magnificent nature of our one time home in the Pacific Northwest. However God's put you in my life, I'm thankful for it, and I'm thankful you're sharing this journey with me.

Tony Hawk Is Old Now

"Miss Hewett, the other Sonne boys might be a while before they get to class," my early arrival to first period told me.
"Why's that?" I asked, taking in the dusting of baby powder on his head, plaid shirt, and skateboard. "What's your spirit day?" I added. I'm getting used to students from different dorms coming into class dressed according to a particular theme when their dorm has a hot lunch day. One week the Blauen girls wore inside out clothing; another day the Liel girls all dressed up like pumpkins.
"Sonne boys are dressed up like old guys; I'm Tony Hawk."
Puzzled, I started to ask why his outfit didn't match his dorm brothers' theme until I realized, "Oh, because Tony Hawk is old now?"
He grinned in agreement.

I saw my life flash before my eyes - if Tony Hawk is old, I'm getting old too.

Before I get too old, though, I'm making some amazing memories. I chuckled as I walked down the hall seeing half a dozen freshmen boys in sweatpants and robes with baby powder coating their heads. One of my boys had so much baby powder, a quick jerk of his head would send up a small cloud of dust. Halfway through class, he slumped in his chair pretending to doze off because, "Miss Hewett, old men fall asleep all the time."
"Not in my English class, they don't."
His junior dorm brother gave me the same line in my second period class.
Sonne kids really get into character for their spirit days.

I love the spirit these kids have for their dorm and their school. Every day there's something new, and I love the laughter and joy that comes into my classroom with spirit days.

I also love the opportunities I have to share my passion for faith and learning in my classroom. While I had five freshmen coated in baby powder in comfy clothes, I got to share with my students the connection between Scrooge's selfishness and our own. Reading literature gives us the opportunity to examine our own lives and see where we can change from being greedy to generous, lecherous to loving, and passive to passionate. Those of you who have seen me talk about literature and my faith know I can get a little emotional in my presentation. After my intense lecture, a freshmen piped up from the scared silence, "I get why you really like being a Bible teacher."
"You mean why I love being an English teacher," I corrected, "This stuff is in all of literature - these amazing connections between the stories, our lives, and our faith."

To be honest, I do love being a Bible teacher too. I have the best of both worlds here at BFA because I get to teach both Bible and English - the two things I'm most passionate about - to teenagers - my third great passion in life.

I love working with youth who think Tony Hawk is old and don't know what cassette tapes are. Sometimes that makes me feel old, but most of the time it excites me to see who the people who will shape the future of this world are. I'm blessed to have the chance to see these kids at BFA be silly and ridiculous while knowing that the junior who pretended to fall asleep in Bible is also one of the brightest kids in the school who is making choices today that positively change the world for Christ. He's the president of NHS here, and I've watched him talk about and plan service projects with a desire to be a servant leader in his school and community. He's not waiting until he's actually an old man to make a difference, and I admire that in the students I work with.

BFA isn't the only place that has amazing students like that either. I came here to serve the kids who dress up like pumpkins and old men, but I left behind some awesome students who prancercize and like pocket painter ponies. I had a great conversation yesterday with a young girl on the other side of the Atlantic from me who, on a regular basis, chooses to put serving others above herself. She gave up participating in the mock trial at her school to do a homework club for kids in her church's neighborhood. Even though only one grade school student comes regularly, she's committed to serving her community through this restructuring of her youth group. She's not willing to back out just because her youth group isn't popular or traditional anymore though some of her friends have stopped attending.

I teared up when she told me last night that she stands by this decision to change her youth group because she recognized that when her youth group was "normal" it was also cliquey. She doesn't want to go back to doing traditional youth group studies because that takes away her opportunity to make new friends her own age who want to impact the world for Jesus.

This brilliant kid also knows how to have fun. Aside from stealing my phone to take fifty selfies before I left, she also is a rock star at prancercizing:

Tony Hawk may be old now, but age doesn't matter when you're making a difference for God's kingdom. One of the most important lessons I've learned while working with youth is that you can make a difference no matter what your age, and you can have fun no matter what your age either. Serving God doesn't mean you can't have any fun. That's why I'm enjoying every minute of my service here in Germany.

Is it Monday yet?

Sandra gingerly placed her hand on the old door knob and pushed the door open just enough for her head to peek through. "This isn't the place!" She turned around and quickly ushered me out of the entryway in the old building.

"Well, then where is it?"

"Around the corner?"

"I thought you knew where we were going!" I whispered fiercely. Even though we were outside, I felt the need to keep my voice hushed in case any locals were hanging around the corner where we were creeping. 

"She said it was on the top floor. And this is definitely the right building. Let's try this door."

We entered a side door and tiptoed up two flights of creaky stairs; the second set was certainly less used than the first. Cobwebs cluttered to corners of the steps, and when we reached the landing all we found was dusty broken furniture and an old coat rack blocking the only door. Sandra tried to move it. "Maybe it's in here."

"This can't be right," I argued, "This doesn't look like anyone's been up here in a long time."

We retreated down a flight and found a woman on the second floor. 

Sandra addressed her, and the woman responded affirmatively, gesturing us through the door next to her. I followed Sandra and saw around thirty wooden chairs set up around a piano. It wasn't too long before the first woman entered after us. She greeted us warmly and asked a question. Sandra and I had agreed we'd both say we were second soprano; I caught that in Sandra's response. 

"Middle?" The German woman asked us enthusiastically. 

"Ya," I replied, thankful for a chance to demonstrate that I wasn't a mute who had shown up for choir practice. 

Nothing could have prepared me for the bear hug from the woman who didn't yet know my name, but I knew in that moment that I wanted to be a part of this choir just so I could become friends with this welcoming woman. More women trickled in, and our new friend introduced Sandra and I to the other choir members, emphasizing that we were mezzos. We quickly picked up that this was the smallest section; Sandra and I comprised half of it. The other women were still eager to talk to us, or rather talk to Sandra while I smiled and nodded. I was so excited to understand snippets, and I listened to one woman describe her recent trip to America. I heard, "Something, something, something, Denver, something." 

I gasped in excitement and turned to Sandra to translate my enthusiasm. "My family!" I couldn't really figure out how to express more, but I wanted her to know that's where my family lives. The conversation blazed past me again, but I kept listening for other clues as to what they were talking about. 

I was thankful when the rehearsal started because I felt I could contribute something despite my lack of comprehension of the language. Vowel sounds in warm ups are still the same. It is much harder, however, to sight read music in a language you don't know. I struggle to sound out words in German when there isn't a note to match them to and a fast tempo to keep up with, so this was extra difficult for me. The practice felt like it went on forever, but it loved every second of it because I was completely immersed in my new culture. Sandra was only able to whisper snippets of translations to me, but I was able to follow along with most of the conductor's facial expressions and hand motions. My sight reading isn't the best, but I was certainly thankful for those years of lessons from Jen that taught me how to use my voice. I'm a little out of practice, but I can't wait to go back to rehearsal next week. 

Mondays were already a joy for me because I get to see my students after a two day break from their beautiful faces, and now I have yet another reason to look forward to Mondays. My weeks here run by in a blink, so I'm learning to cherish the things that make each different day wonderful. Monday is my day to celebrate my students again as well as my opportunity to build relationships and break down a language barrier as I learn German and sing with my Kandern neighbors. 

Tale as Old as Time

Germany celebrates their unification as a country on October third each year which means students don't go to school and teachers go to France.

Well, maybe not all teachers do, but three of my housemates, a neighbor, and I chose to adventure over the border while everything in our resident country was closed. We piled in a car and stopped off at the bank to get cash for any groceries or goodies we might find in France. As we tried to pull out of the parking lot in town, we discovered a flat tire was preventing us from going very far. Sandra and I sat aside as the other two Garni girls took charge. It was a humbling experience for me to have nothing to offer the situation. I'm used to being a fairly productive member of society, but I found that stranded in the middle of town, I could do nothing other than sit on the curb and provide moral support for the two girls changing the flat for a spare.

Even once we got home, all I could do was play music on my phone for the same two girls as they changed the front tires to winter tires that we could use to drive over 80kph to actually get to Colmar in a reasonable amount of time. I cheered them on to the best of my ability while pondering my usefulness as a member of society in a country where I don't have a clue what to do in a vehicular crisis. What occurred to me was that my value as a person is not related to my utility by my personality.

When we finally arrived in Colmar, I wasn't a frivolous member of the excursion; all of us were integral to contributing to an amazing day. We stepped out of the parking garage into a street that looked nearly identical to the village Belle wanders in Beauty and the Beast, and we sang and danced through town. It likely looked so similar to the cartoon because Colmar is rumored to be the inspiration for Belle's village in the Disney production.

This was literally right outside the parking garage door.

My long weekend also gave me an opportunity to see some of a closer city to my home over a different international border. My organization's member care team planned an excursion to teach us the local bus system, and a few friends and I journeyed into Switzerland to wander around the streets of Basel for an afternoon.  

The bus dropped us off just outside of a Starbucks, and I enjoyed my first Starbucks in nearly two months. (I did get a shot of espresso at a Starbucks in Freiburg back in August, but that hardly counts.) After savoring my massive mocha, I window shopped through Basel with my friends and had another opportunity to be thankful for the relationships I'm building in this new home. 

One of the unique things about my service here as a missionary in Germany is that I'm not always (often... ever...) interacting with local German (or French) speakers. I'm limited to who I can interact with right now because of the language barrier, but that doesn't limit me from growing in my faith and living on mission with the people I do interact with. These weekend adventures were opportunities for me to spend time with the people I live and work with in an environment different than our daily routine. We don't have distinct lines between work, church, or other friends here. Instead, I get to adventure with these amazing individuals in Colmar, Basel, and the halls of BFA in Kandern. We get the privilege of sharing life with each other and growing in relationship with Christ in our adventurous lives - a tale as old as time.

Moment of Impact

Hey, look, it's my students! (More specifically, mine are blurry in the back.) Sometimes I have a hard time remembering I've only been their teacher for three weeks because I love these students so much already. I've learned all their names, and have read fascinating letters of introduction from each of them. I have students who have come from so many different backgrounds, and I get the opportunity to teach them about story mountain all in one room. For the most part, these kids are excited to learn, and I'm delighted to teach them. The highlights of my days come after the last bell rings and one of my seventh period students wants to continue our conversation about the motives of murder in a short story or the conclusions we draw based on indirect characterization in a cliffhanger.

The learning environment at BFA is incredible. The value for education is not all that impresses me about these students; they are also eager to grow in maturity and be world changers. This week was Spiritual Emphasis Week, and we took ten minutes out of every class period to start each day with chapel. A swell Irishman flew all the way from Arkansas to talk to these kids this week about how they can partner with God to write their own stories.

Anticipation ran high through the school Monday and Tuesday as the students prepared for the first ever Impact Day at Black Forest Academy. Similar to my experience as a student at Multnomah, the school took a day off of instruction to reach out to the community on Wednesday, and I had the privilege of serving alongside a group of my students as we weeded a patio at a local church and mission office.

We were back in class on Thursday a little sore from serving but filled with joy from impacting our community. Friday night, the chaplains closed out Spiritual Emphasis Week with a special worship night where students were given the opportunity to take a stake of wood to write moments of their past on as physical representations of significant markers in their lives. At the end of the service, students and staff filed up to grab one more stake of wood as a reminder that they could partner with God as authors of their own stories and write something new on it that they would work towards accomplishing in their lives.

I'm so excited about the story God and I are writing with my life.

What will your story be?

Milestones Matter

Just before I graduated from the MAT program at Multnomah, the program director made a point to tell all the graduates that milestones matter. Graduation was a significant moment in my life.

Today was another huge milestone for me: I survived my first day teaching.

In some ways I feel like it doesn't really count because I only had eight minute class periods, barely enough time to take roll and hear each kid tell me an interesting fact about themselves. However, I'm sure I'll never forget my first opening ceremony at BFA. It was incredible to hear the parents and students cheer as the flags of the nations represented at the school were walked into the auditorium. Part of the morning gathering included a "roll call" of the nations as a staff member listed off the names of passport countries and parents' countries of service while students stood at the mention of their country. Students at BFA this year come from nearly sixty different countries around the world. 

During my eight minute class periods with my freshmen, I asked them to share their names and an interesting fact about themselves. A large number of them could just share their country of birth and it was different than anyone else in the room. It was barely a taste of English class, but I was so happy to finally put faces to the students I've been longing to teach. I'm equally as excited to teach my Spiritual Formation class as these students and I figure out what the title of the course means over the next couple of days and create a curriculum to meet their needs.

The Garni Girls got together for a picture at school on our first day!

One of the best things about today is that it did not stop being wonderful after I met my students. I was exhausted from those long teaching sessions, but Christine and I went to the grocery store and hauled up a load of goodies to make dinner for the rest of the house. Not only did I have the joy of meeting my students today, but I got to enjoy real Mexican food in Germany made with taco seasoning from America!

We paid a little extra for jalapenos, refried beans, and salsa from the American section of Hieber's, but Christine made the guac from scratch - and she rocked it.

I can't help but laugh at what an accomplishment our taco night was when that's perhaps one of the easiest meals to make in America. However, I was quite thankful for the opportunity to eat a food that's such a comfort at home. I'm so blessed that today was such a great milestone that I'll never forget, and even the little details of the day were perfect from my Longbottom coffee in the morning to the Trader Joe's soft baked snicker-doodles my Granny sent me this week.

I made it to BFA!

For those of you who aren't on Facebook and didn't get a chance to see this video already, I want to extend my thanks for all your prayers and support. I am so thankful to be here!

Gamma Gamma Garni

I arrived in Kandern two weeks ago today and just got home internet this afternoon. What a strange feeling to be dropped in a foreign country without immediate access to the news and updates from my friends, particularly those back in the states. Several generous new friends opened their doors for me and my housemates to come over and use their wifi, but it was always weighed against the realization we had to hike back up our hill after checking our email... Sometimes it just wasn't worth the walk; I read instead.

I've always loved reading and choose to spend a lot of my time reading, but in the last two weeks, I finished six books in all the free time I had without the internet. While I definitely had moments of longing to message or Skype friends back home, the last two weeks gave me a chance to really be present where I am in every moment. I want to preserve that liberating feeling of not being tied to a device (other than my e-reader).

There have been hours for me to hang out in my fabulous reading nook and recharge through reading, and I've had opportunity to spend time getting to know my amazing housemates.

You may not have a chance to meet them all face to face, but I promise you, these are some of the most amazing women I've ever met. It's going to be quite an experience living with seven busy teachers; so far we've had plenty of laughter as we figure out living habits and how to share one kitchen (well, plus a mini kitchen on the garden floor). Were you to walk into our home on a lazy afternoon, you might find Sandra and Christine on the garden floor in our second living room laughing loudly at something hysterical one or the other has said. Or they could be up on the main floor in our spacious living room with Hanna or Julie (our temporary tenant). In fact, the three of them might be on "Hanna duty" making sure our one true extrovert is never by herself for too long. Ahna would already have been on a run through the Kandern hiking trails with our neighbor Jessie, but she might be joining in the fun as well. Johanna and Dayla will be around, possibly practicing violin or viola upstairs in their rooms. Were you to venture up to that top floor, you'd likely find me tucked in the reading nook where a couple housemates abandoned comfy chairs for me to plop into with a book. Well, I'd likely be there if I wasn't downstairs enjoying quality time with the Garni girls.

Between the seven year long residents of the Garni, we teach in five departments, cover all three campuses of BFA (actually, Christine covers all three by herself), and are brought together by one passion of serving TCKs here in Germany.

We're halfway through our new teacher orientation, and all of us are getting a little antsy for school to start. I've already registered at the Rathaus as a resident of Kandern, opened my German bank account (almost set up the online banking part), met with the English department head, saw my classroom, and set up my desk. All I need now is some students to fill my classroom! Okay, I still have a long way to go - especially considering I just found out this afternoon that I'll be teaching one section of Spiritual Formation. I've got to set up the desks in the classroom (they're all stacked in the back), I've got to submit my lesson plans for English 9, I've got to meet the Bible department head, and I've got to figure out what the curriculum for Spiritual Formation is.

But on the students note, I have had the blessing of meeting three of my freshman girls already. It was so much fun to get to put a couple faces to the previously nameless void of my English class. The first student I met is the daughter of my BFA "host" who's helped me transition to living here in Kandern. I had dinner with their family my first week here, and heard about how she's grown up in Germany as her parents serve on the leadership for GEM.

The second student I met is new to BFA this year. Her parents are going to be dorm parents at the school, and they've just moved from Thailand. She came along to our picnic on the Rhine this afternoon. While walking home from orientation after a full day today, a returning BFA teacher stopped to introduce me to some students; one of them happened to be yet another freshman. She's just come here with her parents from Ireland and will be the last of seven kids in her family to attend BFA.

And now that you've read through another action filled post, I'll reward you with some photos of my recent adventures.

Outside my bedroom window looks a lot like home.

I told you the living room was amazing - we can see the whole town!

My host took me and some of the Garni girls to Kaysersberg the first weekend I was here.

It was an amazing view from the top of the tower - and I inspected the stones on my way down after I enjoyed the view as per Tolkien's advice.

Walking through this French town felt a little like going through Disneyland; it was surreal to think I was actually in France.

I'm so glad to know I can get Pop-Tarts at the local grocery store if I'm willing to pay $8.68 US dollars.

This is my first ice cream cone in years! The ice cream store owner's wife has food allergies; he gets me.

Johanna invited me to sleep out on her balcony one night.

This is what I woke up to in the morning. Can you see the sun lighting up the trees rimming the town?

This is my very own desk - complete with Wyatt's smiling face and a Tina doodle to remind me of home.

And now, as thankful as I am for internet, I'll be heading to bed soon, ready for another full day of orientation tomorrow.

A Long Way from Longbottom

There's a fantastic coffeeshop in Hillsboro called Longbottom Coffee. It's my favorite coffeeshop not just because it's name comes from a Tolkien novel, and not just because they make amazing coffee, but also because they have an amazing view of Hillsboro from their small store seating area. I love sitting on the comfy couch with my giant mocha looking out on the green hills of my small town (or behind me at the employees lounging around seen through the window from the store to the warehouse).
Longbottom is a fantastic place to relax and take in the beauty of creation; it's the best place I know of in Hillsboro.

My new living room is even better. The past two mornings my body has decided to get me wake me up around 4:30am because surely that's no time for sleeping soundly. Unable to fall asleep, I've grabbed a Trader Joe's instant coffee pack and made my way down the marble staircase from my top floor bedroom to the kitchen on the floor below to boil some water for my coffee. I took the coffee into the spacious living room with large windows overlooking the town and watched as the sunlight reached over the hills in the east to lighten up the brightly painted houses in the valley.
For now you'll just have to take my word for it on how beautiful the view really is because I haven't had the sense of mind to actually take a picture of it to post. I haven't really taken any pictures yet, and I do apologize, but, in my defense, it's been a whirlwind of a week getting here.

After my farewell open house on Friday night, I spent my last Saturday in the states the same way I spent every Saturday from when I was four through when I was twenty - I went to breakfast with my dad. I thought I was composed enough to make it through church on Sunday, but all my plans of not crying fell out the window when I parked. I started tearing up in the parking lot realizing that seven years ago Westport didn't exist, but I was part of the team that helped launch it. Now we have a building - I didn't have to get there two hours early to set up my Port classroom, and I didn't have to stay late to pack everything back into the Grover's car. Instead I showed up early to catch a few more friends before they left from the first service and stayed late to give one last hug to one of the few people who's stuck around as long as me. (He's also the person who made me cry most that day - thanks a lot, Jamie.)
I went to lunch with a group of my students, and enjoyed the time laughing with those kids one more time. Next, I hunted down Jen and Dave who had to bolt from service without seeing me and spent time with them before running home for a final LAD meeting where Amanda and Desiree helped me weed out a few of my books from my three stuff suitcases. Okay, so it was like a banker's box full that they got me to take out.
I left from there to go to my final FUEL event and watched my kiddos play kickball before Sarah met me to go to dinner. She let me choose the place, and I got to have my last dinner in the states at Juan Colorado. Even though she was doubtful of the dessert that was deep frozen ice cream rolled in cornflakes and dunked in a fryer, she ended up loving the fried ice cream as much as I do.
Once we got back to my house, Sarah opened my three suitcases and confidently told me that we could get it down to two - underweight. The next four hours were a painful process of eliminating books, clothes, and a few heavy items - I left every mug behind.
And we're not even to the travelling yet. Ready? Let's go!
Monday morning at 7 am, my parents, Sarah, and I loaded the two full suitcases, carry on, and my backpack into the car with the empty suitcase just in case anything unforeseen happened at the airport. We drove to Tacoma where we had lunch and coffee with Cat before getting to the SeaTac airport at 3pm. Eight hours into my trip, we finally made it to the airport! Sarah walked up to the kiosk to check me in, and the employee weighed by checked bags which each had half a kilo to spare before asking me if I had a carryon. I told her my small duffel was my carryon and my backpack was my laptop case. She politely informed me that was not okay and I would have to remove my laptop from the backpack and leave it behind. She also said my duffel weighed too much to take on the plane. Sarah calmly pulled heavy items out of the duffel to put in the checked bags, and I frantically took my laptop out of the backpack and started stuffing clothes and food from the other bag into it to replace the weight.
I made it through security fine, and didn't even panic when my 10.5 hour flight to Frankfurt started boarding half an hour late, eating up a third of my layover. I calmly walked aboard my first international flight to discover all the nice flight attendants speaking German. I realized I was already outside my comfort zone, but I made my way to my aisle seat to discover an older woman occupying it. I told her I thought she was in my seat to which she rudely responded, "No. Find another seat. They have already moved me twice. Go away." Panicked, I showed my seat number to a flight attendant who waved me to the middle section. "Sit in that row," she said nonchalantly, "Just sit in the middle one." So much for my nice aisle seat.
I wrenched my knee getting in to the seat, but once able to buckle the belt, I didn't stand up again until we landed in Frankfurt. As we began our descent, the flight attendant announced that due to our delay several passengers had already been rebooked on new flights and those going to another list of connections would have to rush to make their connecting flight. Naturally, the connection to Basel was one that I had to rush to.
After nearly 11 hours seated, I found my knee did not respond well to weight of any kind put on it, but I ignored the pain and powered through to a massive security line. I walked to an employee and held out my ticket asking, "Will I be able to make my flight?" He looked at the ticket and confirmed I was travelling alone before letting me cut to the front of the line. Flustered, I pulled my laptop out of the case, placed my carryon after it on the conveyor belt and walked through when the waved me forward without a chance to empty my pockets. Of course I set off the alarm and I'm sure the employees thought I was the dumbest person to go through the line that hour (I'm assuming they get several people a day flustered because they're about to miss their flights... I'm hoping at least). After being released from security once they confirmed the metal bookmark in my backpack was not a knife (thanks, Jen), I hurried on to the long line at customs. I made small talk with the couple who flew in from LA and were about to miss their connection to Prague. I prayed that the line would move faster. I fidgeted as the stern faced employees checked passports and tickets. I finally made it to the counter and discovered there was no need for worry. With just a quick look at my photo and my face, the kind German customs man put the first stamp in my passport. I didn't have to answer any questions or be delayed any more. He directed me how to get to my gate, and I booked it through the massive duty free store to make it panting to my gate.
The kind woman asked me politely if I was going to Basel. I said yes. She asked me if I was from Helsinki. I panicked. "No, I'm from Seattle," I said as soon as I remembered that's where I flew from, not Portland. The other flight attendant said that I was from Seattle at the same time, so I felt a little better. She scanned my ticket and let me through the gate. I followed a doorway to a hallway to a tunnel and started to panic again - where was my plane? It was leaving in less than half an hour, and I was lost in a tunnel!
I came to a bus in front of a man with a yellow vest. "Basel?" I asked. He nodded, and I got on the empty bus save one American business man. "Are you going to Basel?" I asked. "Yes." "Are we flying?" "Yes." "Okay. Good." I sat down and caught my breath. "Are we going to make it?" He looked at his watch and told me we'd be fine. We sat there for another ten minutes as a few more people loaded the bus.
Finally, the driver boarded, and we left the tunnel and entered the tarmac. Big, fat raindrops bombarded the bus, and the driver swore as he was assaulted by wind and rain when he opened the door. (I laughed inside when the one naughty German word I know was the first one I heard in Germany.) I plowed through the sheets of rain up the stairs into the plane and found my seat near the back of the tiny jet. I plopped into my seat and checked the time - 4:12. The flight was scheduled to depart at 4:15, and I'd made it. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Once my sigh was out, the pilot announced that the entire Frankfurt airport was closed indefinitely due to the thunderstorm. We sat there in the pressurized cabin for an hour before actually beginning our half hour flight to Basel.
Once I exited the plane, I knew I needed to get my bags and leave out the French exit - NOT THE SWISS - where my ride would pick me up. I followed the signs with pictures of bags that everyone else seemed to be following and was assaulted by a red hallway with a white cross that boldly told me WELCOME TO SWITZERLAND. I turned around and looked for any other hallway that might welcome me to France, but, seeing no other way out, followed everyone else to baggage claim. I discovered once we got to the baggage carousels that there were exits from there leading to France or Switzerland. I picked up my two suitcases and walked towards the French doors expecting them to lead me to another line where I'd have to answer questions about the contents of my bags. Instead, I stepped in the green lane with nothing to declare, and walked through the doors to France were Dani immediately stepped out and said, "Laura?" I was so relieved, exhausted, and smelly, that I weakly smiled my reply confirming she was my ride.

Now do you feel a little more okay with me forgetting to take pictures? Thanks. I do hope to share some soon, but it may take me a few days before my body knows when to wake up and when to pull my camera out to document the beauty around me.

Farewell, Portlandia

I love Portland. I always have; I always will. I'm pretty sure I'll love Kandern as well, but before I get there I have a few goodbyes to make. This past week has been full of farewells as I spend time making visits to people and places I love that I won't see for quite a while.

Last Sunday I started the week with a downtown adventure with two friends. I hopped on the MAX to visit Saturday Market, Stumptown, and Powells one more time.

I have Hillsboro to Gresham at my fingertips.
(Though who would go as far as Gresham?)

Enjoying my elephant ear at Saturday Market.

I'll miss the delicious Stumptown drinks.

I had such a hard time not buying more books!

After my Sunday adventure, I had a week filled with spending time with people I love. I had the chance to sit down and have lunch or coffee with several different good friends who I don't often see, and I got to spend a couple nights having dinner with Westport families who I will dearly miss. It's hard to pick a highlight from such an amazing week, but it wasn't over with just that. 

The two women most influential in forcing me to be open to the idea of teaching overseas kidnapped me for a night to spend some time away in Seaside before I launch on the adventure they jumpstarted. I got to spend two days with the most amazing women on the planet, and I got to ride a shark. It was awesome.

I am incredibly blessed, and I don't want to forget that for a minute. This last week, actually, most of this summer, has reminded me of how spoiled I am to be surrounded by such loving people who care about me as a person. Talking with friends at the Westport picnic today reminded me that I won't have that network of support so close to me when I move to Germany. As I say farewell to Portland and the friends here, I know that I'll still be in touch with them over the internet, but I'll need to develop new relationships with people who can go out to coffee with me, nerd out in giant bookstores, and laugh with me when I fall off mechanical sharks. 

That adventure will begin in just a week now. I'm at 90% of my monthly support, and I just need $200 a month more to reach 100%. My departure date is August 5th, and I can't wait to get to Kandern and share with you the next steps on my journey in Germany - the ones where I finally arrive!

Family Legacy

I love attending memorial services for family members on the Hewett side of my family; I'm dead serious.

Hear me out.

In my experience, the memorial service for a Hewett is a celebration of a life well lived in service for the Kingdom as well as a gathering of amazing people who are excited about great work God is doing across the world. My uncle's memorial service today was no exception.

I got to listen to stories for nearly an hour of how much Uncle Vance loved to help other people. One of the ways he helped people was through the second hand store he founded to support the families he met on the field in Peru. I even learned that his years of service in Peru have had such a lasting impact that he's been honored by the government. I didn't get to spend a lot of time with my uncle when I was growing up, but I remember him inviting me to come with him on a trip to Peru when I was in junior high. Serving people in Peru was a huge part of his life.

Not only did I get to hear about the work my uncle started which is being continued by his family, but I got to see my great aunt who has spent years of her life serving in Uganda with Africa Village Ministries. Aunt Marie is one of the most inspirational people in my life. God has given her a job to do on this earth, and she will not rest until it is completed. She is so full of love and passion, and I hope that I am just like her when I reach my 70s.

My great aunt, my uncle, and I make three generations of missionaries in the Hewett family, but we're not done there. After the memorial service today, I had the joy of listening to my cousin's fifteen year old daughter, Ruth, share about her recent mission trip to the Philippines. She found out her grandpa passed away while she was on the trip and just arrived back in the states two days ago. Even though she wasn't able to come back and tell her grandpa about all that she did on her trip, she was still brimming with excitement about the deaf children she had fallen in love with and eagerly shared about to me.

As I sit in the middle of this generational legacy of missionaries, I think about the one relative that ties us all together and his love for missions. My grandpa Frank (Marie's brother, Vance's father, and Ruth's great-grandpa) wanted to go on the mission field, but MAF rejected him as missionary while accepting his friends Nate and Marj. Praise the Lord! Instead of being on the field with Nate, my grandpa faithfully financially supported him. In fact, I found this handwritten thank you note Nate sent my grandpa while serving in Ecuador. 

I'm blessed to be going to Germany, but I need a team of people faithfully praying for me and supporting me financially. I'm hoping to move in three weeks, but I still need to raise a little over 40% of my monthly support. With just five people stepping up to say, "I can give $100 a month;" five who say, "I can give $50 a month;" and ten who say, "I can give $25 a month" I would reach my monthly goal. 

While I'm on full disclosure here, the thank you notes I send you are not as likely to become as valuable as this one. The odds of my life becoming a movie or a book are very slim; the odds of my story being as remotely famous as Nate Saint's are even smaller. Full disclosure again - I'm not in it for the fame and glory. Earlier this week I got to spend some time with two of the Gaston English teachers that I worked with last year, and I was reminded how much I love education. I get excited about changing students lives through learning, and I want you to be a part of that as I teach the students at Black Forest Academy. You can be part of this legacy.

Which Wardrobe?

Most people know that I'm very proud of the fact that I'm an official tour guide for Aslan's How - which is my fancy way of saying Dr. G let me help give tours of his amazing house. I got to do the coolest part of the tour where you actually walk through the wardrobe. I got giddy every time. It's so much fun to take people through the house and point out all the fun Narnia items and talk about one of my favorite authors.

I've loved Lewis since I was in first grade when my dad read The Chronicles of Narnia to me (but you already knew that if you read my previous Narnia related blog post). I loved Lewis so much that when I was in high school, Wheaton College was my top choice for school for one simple reason - they are home to the largest collection of works by and about Lewis in the world. Ultimately, I decided that I should probably look at the educational offerings of colleges as well and ended up at a different school.

For the first time ever, I actually got to see this amazing collection when I visited the Marion E. Wade Center on Wheaton's campus. I had some free time and got a couple girls to come along with me to the small museum that honors Lewis and six other great writers. In their one room museum they have a fancy wardrobe (that is not nearly as nice or easily entered as the one at Dr. G's) along with Tolkien's old writing desk. Naturally these were exciting things, but the wardrobe didn't lead anywhere. To the left, however, there was a door that led me into a whole new world.

I entered the reading room, and with overwhelming joy and excitement completed the form to be allowed to take journals off the shelf to read what others had written about Lewis and leaf through extensive photo copies of his personal correspondence. The girl at the desk in the reading room was also a big fan of Lewis and she showed me where all the different journals and dissertations were. I spent the next hour and a half reading abstracts from dissertations of people who thought critically about the works I hold so dear. I even found a great paper comparing Gollum and Grendel based on Tolkien's criticism of Beowulf. There were literary critics looking at Lewis's representation of Cupid and Psyche and theologians examining his soteriology. I could have spent days reading the amazing criticism, but I moved on to skimming the scans of Boxen, the stories about talking animals which Lewis wrote with his brother as a kid. The sweet girl who showed me around had to come up to me after what only felt like a moment to tell me that I had to go because they were closing for the evening.

As I walked back out of the door, it felt like my bittersweet return to Britain from Narnia. For a brief moment, I was in a place where people were excited to engage critically with the ideas of a brilliant writer, and I could listen to what they had to say by reading their dissertations. I crave those conversations, and it was so refreshing to be alone with those texts that had a plethora of interesting ideas. I realized, though, that while I may not ever get to go back to read those dissertations, I'll get to go to a place that looks a lot more like Narnia in just a couple weeks. And Lewis related or not, I'll be able to have amazing conversations with people who are excited about the same things I am.

At dinner tonight, I had a great conversation about literary theory with a girl going to teach in Bolivia. We shared books we loved and talked about the great texts that had made us cry because they were written so well. Not only that, but before I even went to the Wade Center this afternoon, I got to talk about Toni Morrison's character development with another new English teacher at BFA. I am so excited about these people who I am going to be working with in the fall.

[Transition to significantly less nerdy content.]

Some of you may have spent the last few paragraphs wondering why I'm even on Wheaton's campus. Even more of you likely will never make it this far in the blog post because you gave up on me after the first two paragraphs of excessive literary content. For those who stayed strong to get to this events based update, I sincerely thank you. I recognize that I can get carried away with my English nerd excitement, and I genuinely try to reign it in often. In fact, after my last post I joked with a friend about making all of my posts allusions to a work of literature; while this post does, in fact, have a high literary content, I promise not to make every post connected to a book.

Back to the question: Why am I at Wheaton? Well, this week is the TeachBeyond orientation for all new candidates going overseas in the fall. I'm here to learn all about cultural transitions and TCKs and insurance. Oh my! It's been so amazing to meet people going to schools all around the globe, and especially to spend time getting to know some of the people I'll be working with at BFA. I may have seemed excited about going to Germany before, but my excitement as more than doubled after meeting these people and hearing parts of their stories.

I'll be back in Portland on Saturday, and I'll be just a month away from my goal move date. I'm still only at 45% of my funds, so please be praying that the rest of my monthly support will come in quickly.

I Volunteer as Tribute!

Bear with me, I'll bring this one around, but read through the story first:

In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphim, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another:

“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty;

    the whole earth is full of his glory.”

 At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke.

“Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.”

Then one of the seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.”

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?”

And I said, “Here am I. Send me!”

He said, “Go and tell this people:

“‘Be ever hearing, but never understanding;

    be ever seeing, but never perceiving.’

Make the heart of this people calloused;

    make their ears dull

    and close their eyes.

Otherwise they might see with their eyes,

    hear with their ears,

    understand with their hearts,

and turn and be healed.”

Then I said, “For how long, Lord?”

And he answered:

“Until the cities lie ruined

    and without inhabitant,

until the houses are left deserted

    and the fields ruined and ravaged,

until the Lord has sent everyone far away

    and the land is utterly forsaken.

And though a tenth remains in the land,

    it will again be laid waste.

But as the terebinth and oak

    leave stumps when they are cut down,

    so the holy seed will be the stump in the land."

(Isaiah 6 NIV)

Clearly my call was much less dramatic - although it did involve a dramatic teenager saying some hurtful things that forced me to reevaluate my effectiveness as a youth leader. However, as fascinating as that story is, it's not what prompted me to title this post with an allusion to The Hunger Games. Instead, I'm drawn to the connotation of the word "tribute" and how it's connected to Isaiah's call. Tribute is literally the thing given as an offering to someone. (Offering's a weird word too; it's a gift given to someone way more important than you.) When Katniss volunteers as tribute, she is the offering. She stands up to say that her life will be given completely and fully to the Capitol. When Isaiah says he's volunteering, he's giving his whole life as an offering to the Lord (just as Paul commands in Romans).

Let's look a little deeper in to Katniss's decision though: when she stands up to take Primrose's place, she becomes the gift from the whole district to the Capitol. Katniss made the decision, but the whole community sent her. She shouts the memorable line of her own accord, but it's the district that takes credit for her when she shows up in the games. She's the girl from District 12.

Here's where I come in (thanks for your patience). I am standing up and volunteering my life as tribute; it's the gift. However, I'm not going on my own - I'm being sent by the church. The leadership and members of Westport are sending me with excitement as I move forward to serve in Germany, but they are not the only ones. I had the honor of being sent out by the Embassy in Denver this Sunday, and I can't begin to describe the joy I felt to have Cheri and Jacquie wrap their arms around me as Brandon prayed over me.

(I'm going to deviate from The Hunger Games for a minute, but I'll bring it back.) This family I have at the Embassy is amazing. These people spent time with me for a week last summer, and the whole Westport team bonded with everyone we met way deeper than a summer camp pen pals way. These people are my family. I came home and told everyone about how blessed I was by the experience of serving alongside these people in Denver (I also raved about the love of my life, Elijah, who is the cutest one-year-old on the planet). You may be able to imagine how excited I was when my parents agreed to visit the Embassy with me a couple weeks ago while they were in Colorado at the same time as I was. (Well, in order to appreciate my excitement, you should know I'm quite fond of my parents, and I really do enjoy sharing the important things in my life with them.)

Talking to my mom tonight, she told me how much she enjoyed meeting my Embassy family. She also told me how real and genuine she felt her interactions with them were in the brief amount of time she spent with them. There was no need for fake pleasantries when my families met. I love that that's the way the body of Christ works because I feel as close to my Embassy family as I do to my Westport family, and my mom and dad are part of that as well.

Because of that deep family connection, when I stood up and shouted, "I volunteer as tribute!" to God (or whatever version of "Here I am, send me!" I actually articulated) Westport and the Embassy stood with me to send me out. And before my metaphor breaks down because I'm not being sent to a televised battle of children killing each other, I'll finish with this thought: Katniss didn't volunteer for the fame or the glory; she just stepped up to do what was right for her to do.

I'm not planning to start a political revolution (though I'm not opposed to sparking a spiritual revival - I'll expect you to call me the Girl on Fire if I do), but I am doing something I find pretty scary because it's what I'm supposed to do. Katniss was protecting her sister; I'm obeying the Lord by volunteering for a position that he has equipped me to do (apparently not everyone is excited by grammar - it's my mission to intervene in the lives of freshmen at BFA to demonstrate how fun complex sentence structures can be). I am still amazed at how well the Lord has equipped me for this position, but it shouldn't surprise me when I see how perfectly he prepared Isaiah for his mission. Before Isaiah even volunteered, the Lord gave him clean lips to speak his message, and before I stepped up to teach overseas, the Lord gave me passion for students and understanding of grammar.  

A Free Lunch... well, dinner... and it was breakfast food...

This evening, I had the privilege of sitting down with two of my parents' best friends to talk to them about financially supporting me. We met at a Village Inn for dinner with my dad, and I was so excited to talk to them about what I will be doing in Germany in the coming months. I'll be honest, I was also excited for the bacon and eggs; I'm a sucker for breakfast food at any meal. After we caught up a bit, I shared with them the whole story of how the Lord led me to apply for jobs overseas and finally accept this position at Black Forest Academy. I talked about my passion for this demographic of students who I can so freely share the beauty of Jesus with during my lessons. (Grammar is an amazing reflection of how we serve a God of order not a God of chaos!) They told me they were excited to partner with me, and we continued talking about what I will get to do for God's kingdom with their partnership.

I get so excited when I get to share that I can talk to students about the freedom of the Gospel in my classroom because I remember growing up saturated in Christianese and watched a lot of kids I went to high school with walk away from their faith after misinterpreting it as bondage rather than freedom. Another one of my favorite things about this fundraising process for me is how humbling it is. I'm so loved by so many people, and I'm repeatedly humbled by the excitement of others to partner with me financially. People who know me believe in me enough to send me overseas to teach and love missionary kids. Of course I shared this, and, of course, God gave me another reason to be humbled.

After we finished eating, the hostess and waiter came to our table to let us know that the family who had just left the booth next to us had paid for our meal because they overheard that I was going on a mission trip. I still can hardly process how to respond. I'll never be able to thank that family in this lifetime, but some sibling in Christ chose to share in God's work tonight by blessing me with a free meal. No strings attached. What a great picture of the ministry I want to do: love and teach these kids no strings attached.

Best Friends FOREVER

On the last day of third grade, my best friend Jessica came over to play. We never wanted the afternoon to end because we knew that she was moving to Minnesota and this was our last chance to see each other for a very long time. I remember sobbing when we had to drop her off at her house. My granny had to pull me back into my seat as we drove away because I was pressing my face against the back window to make my last glimpse of Jessica last a few seconds longer. It was a very dramatic scene, I know, but when you're ten, everything is dramatic. At least, that was my experience.

We wrote letters to each other often, and I saved every single thing she sent me. Cleaning out old boxes in my parents garage, I ran across my BFF binder with drawings and letters from Jess. It brought back fond memories of my best friend, though we had sadly lost touch over the years. Our letters became less and less frequent to one another until we finally stopped writing. There was no fallout, just middle school keeping us occupied in the places we were rather than writing letters to someone across the country.

I've had a lot of good friends fade out of my life in different ways, and sometimes I wonder if I'm just terrible at maintaining friendships. One of my greatest fears in leaving the States is leaving behind the few good friends I do have to go to a place where I have no friends. I know that I'll be able to meet new people and establish great relationships in Germany, but it's hard to think that I'll be starting from scratch and working to maintain the friendships I have back in the States. I'd just begun to process this and articulate this fear in the last week or so, but I should have realized that the Lord had already worked out a solution to my imaginary problem.

I just got off the phone with my best friend Jessica who has been living in Germany for the last four years; she's just two hours away from where I'll be living.

Half an hour before our phone call, I accidentally clicked on the "other" tab in my Facebook messages. (Did you know there was an "other" tab on Facebook messages? What the heck, Facebook?) There I found a short note Jess had sent me two years ago. I replied quickly with a short update that I was moving to Germany soon, and within minutes she replied back asking for my phone number. I noticed that the reply was sent from a mobile device in a city with a German name.

Needless to say, I replied with my phone number and was talking to Jess in minutes. Clearly our conversation wasn't just like when we were ten - I think we spent a lot of time talking about ponies then - but it was so natural to be on the phone with my best friend. I'm even more excited for my move now because when I'm saddened by the thought of leaving people in two months, I can remember that I get to see my best friend from the third grade in two months.

For Narnia

When I was a kid, my dad read the Chronicles of Narnia to me and taught me a deep appreciation for the literary genius of Lewis and Tolkien. A while back, I discovered that my friend's kids had not yet read the Chronicles of Narnia, and I begged her for the opportunity to read the books aloud to her two sons. Little did I know that the Lord would use this simple action to glorify his name. My friend asked her kids, and they agreed to try it out. The first grader made it through The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but didn't quite have the attention span to make it past that. However, I read through the entire series with her middle schooler. At some point, he asked if we could read The Lord of the Rings after; I agreed, and we're now over half way through The Fellowship of the Ring.

When we began Lewis's books long ago, and even when I agreed to begin the Tolkien trilogy, I planned to be around long after we finished the lengthy reading endeavor. However, the Lord stepped into my plans and asked me to move to Germany as a full time missionary which means I won't be able to finish reading The Lord of the Rings with my fantastic kiddo. This is where it gets awesome, though, because while I won't be able to stick around to finish reading the books aloud, my friend told me today that her family wants to support me financially - in particular, her middle schooler wants to support me.

I got tears in my eyes when she told me because I am so humbled by the resources God is pulling together to send me overseas. I still have a long way to go in my support raising, but gifts from the students I serve in incredibly thoughtful. This kid believes in me enough to give of his own resources so that I can serve others in Germany. I won't let him down.

Today Counts

I'm humbled by the number of people who want to know what I'm up to each day. I graduated this week, and that's an important step in my journey. I promised to update everyone who subscribed to my newsletter with big things like that, so I just sent out my May newsletter reflecting on that. However, here is where I promised to put the little things that impact who I am and what is going on in my in relationship to my journey in Germany.

Well, I'm more than two months away from being overseas, so what kinds of things will be here for that time period? Here's what's running through my head right now: I'm two months away from moving to Germany, and I'm still able to think about things other than Germany. Shouldn't I be consumed with planning things and fundraising and stressing out? I'm oddly at peace, and my strongest desire is to have a Frosty and french fries with Grace before I go.

Qdoba with Rachel and Starbucks with Sam were highlights of a weekend, and I'm realizing what a blessing it is that the relationships I have are the focus of my attention rather than the paperwork and plans.

After explaining to one of my students the purpose behind my decision to move, she told me that she hoped to make a similar decision someday. She was struck by the fact that I was moving overseas to demonstrate what being sold out for Jesus looks like, and I was struck by the fact that she thought she had to wait to live that way. I have two months left in the States, and I'm going to make every day count.

Tomorrow I have a coffee date, lunch plans, and a movie night with friends - each of those interactions count.

Out of Control

I am moving to Germany in three months.

That's important information to know before you read this blog. I am going to teach at a fantastic school called Black Forest Academy tucked in a tiny village in southwest Germany. I am incredibly excited to begin this journey, but I am also terrified. I've never gone overseas, and I've never even lived outside of the state of Oregon. My world is pretty small right now, but I'm excited to see it grow.

While my world might be small, I have certainly been blessed by countless amazing people who care about what I'm doing with my life. As I've shared that I'm moving overseas, I've heard over and over that people would like to know what I'm doing. This blog is one attempt to keep people informed. I'll still send out less frequent newsletters, but I want this to be a place for people who are interested in the little things to read what I'm doing on a more regular basis. My plan is to update this more frequently though on a more informal basis. Here I'll tell you what's going through my head as it's happening, and hopefully my newsletter will be a little more refined.

Right now, here's my update: My life is out of my control.

That's not really a surprise since the whole reason I decided to move overseas was to learn to be less of a control freak. I'm not supposed to be in control. I have a mark on my foot that tells me that I've given my life to someone else. That tattoo tells me that I have a Master who has a better plan for my life than I do. I'm so thankful for that.

My thankfulness doesn't completely eliminate my fear, however. At the back of my mind is the very scary reality that I am moving away from everything and everyone I've ever known and living off the generosity of people who love me and believe in what I'm going to do. From the start, the money has not been a paralyzing fear, but I will admit as the days go by and my account stays dry, I'm increasingly scared that I can't control where my money comes from.

I am also quite the planner, and not to know what classes I'll be teaching in the fall is a little - how should I say this - unnerving? I know I have a job, but I may not know what classes I'll be teaching until I arrive. All of the possibilities are exciting classes, but, as a planner, I'd just like to know so I can bring the best resources with me (maybe even plan a unit or two over the summer).

While these two big things and a lot of other little things are out of my control in my life, I have a peace that surpasses understanding. I have control of my response to the situation that I'm in, and I'm choosing joy. I just finished my student teaching experience this week, and joy has come even more easily to recognize the stress of student teaching is over. It's also easy to choose joy when I realize that I have built lasting friendships with the amazing staff at Gaston, I have the freedom to spend time with my FUEL kiddos over the next few weeks, I can devote more time to reading, and every day takes me closer to the One who is in control.