Hit the Ground Running

I didn't. 

Not that you thought I did, but I wanted to clarify that I didn't hit the ground running. I hit the ground, and my legs peaced out of the picture. 

There's been a lot of other figurative running going on though. For context, I was climbing a rock wall and made it to the top pretty quickly - I made it to the floor even faster. I haven't been able to think of a more polite way to say this - but that's all you need to know about my fall. Please don't ask me for more details; there's enough emotional anxiety with that event that I don't want to relive.

The moment I hit the floor other things started running. Pain messages to my brain that I couldn't shut down. I knew I couldn't move until the EMTs got there, but I wanted a distraction from the pain. I asked someone to tell me a story. A nice German lady started asking me questions about home and why I was in Germany. 

Pretty soon, I realized I wanted prayer, so I started to ask someone to pray. As I turned my head, I noticed Hanna was already praying; I asked her to pray aloud. I don't know what she was praying - it could have been that she would still make the train to Freiburg that night - I didn't even care. What meant the most to me is that in this serious moment, Hanna brought the Lord in. Of course he was there at the moment of impact, but Hanna instantly acknowledged his presence and brought him to the center. Hanna is the kind of person I want in any crisis. 

The EMTs got there a lot faster than I expected, and I was so thankful one spoke excellent English. They loaded me into the ambulance to take me to the closest hospital. The nice EMT told me where we were going, but in my pain I heard "Bail" rather than "Basel." It wasn't until post-op I realized I was in Switzerland. I felt really stupid for telling the EMT I'd never been to the biggest city near where I lived - I go to church in Basel. I figured he'd forgive me for the misunderstanding anyway. My experience with that ambulance crew was fantastic. I was praising God there are people like my best friend Kara all over the world. Kara is the kind of person I want to show up when I need an ambulance, and this guy was as kind, calm, and intelligent as Kara (from what I could tell).

The ER doctors and nurses were not all as Kara-like, but they took good care of me. I only have one complaint about that whole ER experience: if you're going to run a pregnancy text no matter what my answer, don't bother asking me if I'm pregnant. At one point they told me we had to wait for the results before I could get a CT scan, and my anger came out for the first time. "I'm not sexually active," I enunciated as clearly as possible, "I promise we can get the scan NOW."

Not surprisingly, they didn't believe me, but my frustration was that they had even bothered to ask if I was pregnant when they first wheeled me into the ER. Just don't ask! However, it didn't seem worth staying focused on since there was plenty of pain demanding my attention. 

Eventually the spine surgeon came, and we shook hands. "I can make no promises of you ever being able to walk again," she told me. 

"Thank you," I replied because good manners are under appreciated in the ER, but then realized thanking someone for telling you you might never walk again seemed weird, "for your honesty," I added hoping that was more reasonable, also hoping it would speed up my journey to the operating table if I complemented her. I just wanted the pain to stop.

At some point, I was asked if there was someone I needed to call. I said no because my housemates knew, and my parents were in America. It didn't seem helpful for them to know right now; they couldn't do anything. I was eventually convinced to surrender my parents' phone number though I was still foggy on the why. Still pre-op, a nurse brought me a phone and told me it was my dad. I wanted to make sure he told my mom not to worry. I knew my God had an amazing plan I couldn't yet see, so I asked my dad to pray God would be glorified even though I couldn't think of how that would happen at the time. I also figured while I had him on the line, I'd ask my parents to pray that I could walk again too. I sortof added that as an afterthought and went back to wondering when they'd finally operate. 

I was so thankful when the kind anesthesiologist finally lowered the mask on my face. I gasped for air when she told me to breathe slowly, but I did my best to take deep breaths and go under more quickly. I was ready for the next step whatever that might be. 

I woke up in a big post-op room and brightened up when Christine and Sandra walked in. They chatted to me for a bit and told me they'd take my stuff home with them. I asked them to leave my epipen because they don't have epipens in Germany. 

"You're in Switzerland," Christine told me. 

Basel. Not Bail. The EMTs surprise made so much sense in that moment. I was too tired to feel too embarrassed, so I went back to sleep and woke up the next time in the room that would be my home for at least the next week. My housemates came to visit me and make me laugh - what jerks - laughter is so painful after back surgery. It's also the best thing for me because I value humor so much. My sense of humor wasn't broken by the fall - it's been running, searching for any way to make someone else smile as my housemates make me smile. 

I'm also finding my housemates aren't the only ones making me laugh. Visiting friends, good-natured nurses, sweet cards from students, and funny Facebook posts or messages all strengthen my few working muscles as they make me laugh. The thousands of other encouraging posts that make me smile are so valuable as well. I haven't responded to very many individually, but please know I'm reading every single comment and message on Facebook. They mean so much to me. 

I still have a long road of recovery ahead and still no guarantee of ever walking again, but there is security in my God who has constantly shown me he is so much stronger than I am. 

God has been faithful to take control and protect me when he draws me out of my comfort zone and deeper into his arms. All the time I've had in bed has given me opportunity to see how this fall is a continuation of the lesson God began to teach me in November 2012.

One fateful Sunday, bad-attitude Bekah told me she hated coming to youth group because she knew everything and thought she should be teaching the middle schoolers. Being a youth leader, I knew students often use hyperbole and that bad-attitude Bekah was not the real Bekah. However, her comment still struck a chord in my heart - was there a chance she looked at my life and thought, "Laura is comfortable and just teaches those younger than her; that's the Christian life"? I was mortified at the possibility and knew in that moment it was time to get uncomfortable in my faith to show Bekah and all my other students that the Christian life has nothing to do with comfort and everything to do with knowing more of Jesus. 

Currently, pain comes and goes, and I haven't felt actually, fully comfortable for over nine days, but I know more of my Savior who gave up the comforts of heaven to experience the most excruciating of pain I order to reconcile me to him and that he might walk with me through the physical agony that still doesn't come close to what he went through for me. I'm closer to Jesus because of this; I take great joy in that. 

I'm also blessed to know that the Lord is using my story to soften the hearts of others. Even before the fall, God was stripping away bad-attitude Bekah to let my beautiful Bekah draw closer to him. I called her last night to confirm she was okay with me finally using her name in describing the conversation I consistently use in describing my call overseas because I see the Lord moving her closer to him. In just a few weeks she'll be getting uncomfortable to serve Jesus in a new way as she travels to India to love on the children at Gan Sabra.

Knowing more of Jesus alone makes all my discomfort worthwhile to me, but I'm so blessed and humbled to hear from students like Tori and Grace who are also going to India and have let the Lord use me in their lives. 

However you have found yourself connected to my story, please let me know how you have learned more about Jesus - those encouraging stories mean so much to me. I love to hear how people are learning more about God and praising him because of the work he's doing with my life. I'd be so blessed by your stories, and even more so if you can include a joke or a pun. I've got to work out my muscles, so try to make me laugh. Just don't make fun of any spelling or grammar errors in this post because I typed the whole thing on my iPhone. Anything else is fair game - particularly fart jokes are good for bedridden patients. 

Finally Finals

Looking up definitions, late night study sessions, last minute reviews, there's so much stress around finals for students. It's pretty busy for teachers too.

We've only been back for a week now, and I'm getting ready to say goodbye to my Bible students and shuffle my freshmen for the second semester. I'll have my ninth graders in all different class periods, and I'll get a new group of upperclassmen in my Spiritual Formation class. I'm excited for the new semester, but I'm also a little reluctant to let my amazing group of Bible students go.

Even when they acted like zombies the weeks leading up to Christmas break, I was so excited to teach Bible class everyday. I'm equally excited to teach the amazing freshmen here. This week my ninth graders gave speeches, and I was blown away by their confidence and poise as they told the class about leaders in the scientific revolution, prophets, or philosophers which they had researched. The jolly ranchers may have been the right incentive for them to give their best.

The last student to volunteer to go today told me she'd never had a jolly rancher before, so she didn't really get the excitement of the American kids who missed them so much. One of my Swiss students told me it was the second jolly rancher she's ever had. It's strange to hear what the kids here crave so much - a different student brought back a huge stash of jolly ranchers from the States during her last visit along with candy corn for her friends.

I'm not immune to missing things from the States (Trader Joe's instant coffee, Trader Joe's kettle corn, Trader Joe's in general), but I was struck by the comments of my students who had never had access to jolly ranchers. Something about the simplicity of their acceptance of the treat without any emotional attachment to the past spoke to how they live in the present. I want to cultivate that kind of gratitude for the gifts I have without pining over the loss of Trader Joe's or Starbucks down the street.

I love the care packages with Trader Joe's (or Longbottom, Dapper & Wise, or Stumptown), so please don't stop sending them, but I also love the opportunity to be content with what's around me, thanking God for each day with my students and the German version of All Dressed Up Instant Coffee. I'm thankful for each student in my first semester Bible class, and I look forward to the new group coming up.

While the semester has in so many ways flown by, I'm eager to see what new things God will bring about now that it's finally finals and I'm starting my second semester at BFA.

Measure in Cups of Coffee

How do you measure a life? My vote has always been in cups of coffee - I mean love. But they're pretty similar, right? I drink a lot of coffee, and I've experienced a lot of love this year. Either way, I think I'm doing quite well.

My mom says I don't post enough pictures here, so I thought I'd give a pictoral review of my year. I've had so many changes, and I'm so thankful for every experience I've had along the way. Skip down to the second centered picture to just look at the highlights on the European side of the Atlantic.

 I started 2013 out right - with a bunch of crazy teenagers. I love those kids with all my heart, so much so I left the country for them. They continue to amaze me with their energy and excitement for advancing the Kingdom of God - especially that concerned one on the far left.

 My FUEL kiddos weren't the only ones to inspire me this year. I'm particularly impressed by this young one who let me read to him each week, and was so excited about me serving God that he wanted to support me each month. I'm blessed to have him on my support team. (Happy birthday, Luke!)

 I can't forget this one who I will someday have a Harry Potter marathon with. I got to watch her make her public declaration of faith this year and spent lots of time laughing with her. There's something about the Bax family...

I also got hooded with this brilliant woman. I'm so grateful for the training that prepared me for my role as a teacher at BFA. My graduation was a pretty big milestone this year - it's hard to believe it wouldn't be the biggest.

Filling a lifelong dream of visiting the Children's Museum with this girl was a blast. We didn't even have to lie about her age to get in! Even though we discovered it is, in fact, meant only for toddlers, it was a blast to push every button and twist every knob we could find in that place.

The zoo has always been one of my favorite places, and wandering around it one last time with Olivia was a blast - also hanging out with her and Jonah in OMSI was pretty stinking awesome.

This girl will forever remain one of my favorite people on the planet. Spending the Fourth of July with her was a treat - spending any time with her is - that kid is funny. She's also my only SuperWhoLock friend, so that's a bonus. I'm pretty sure the only people who love her more than I do are her parents. She's high on the list of people who I left the country for, and you can imagine my delight when I heard she's headed off the continent as well to reach out to the Gan Sabra kids in India. 

 My brother from another mother has a huge heart for the same kids in India, and spending time in coffeeshops with him is one of my favorite things - right up there with spontaneous road trips to the coast. I can't wait to get back to Bella and write our next installment of the ultimate geek story.

My year would not have been complete without trip to Colorado to see my family - all my family. LaPlante, Hewett, and everyone at the Embassy. Spending time with my nephew and other favorite little kiddo, Elijah, was so important to me before I packed up the most important of my belongings and headed overseas.

 My year wouldn't be complete without a play date with this amazing girl. She framed my prayer card and put it by my bed. I'm so humbled by the number of times kids have offered to pray for me. Ella's not the only one. I'm so thankful for her prayers and the Stephens kids as well as the Farley kids.

A week before I moved across the globe, I was sent out in style, riding a shark and blessed by two of the most influential women in my life.

The big day finally came, and I found myself in a foreign land where they recycle, sort trash, and have hearty braided beards - it's a little like Portland. In so many other ways it's nothing like Portland (they have Trader Joe's and Starbucks in Portland), but I've loved the transition to this new home.

I made my way to France on German unification day and discovered the Disney inspiring beauty of Colmar. I also had an amazing day laughing and taking pictures with my wonderful new friends. There's a fantastic collection of people excited about education and serving the Lord stationed here in Kandern. I'm privileged to be among them.

 Thanksgiving in Kandern is also a treat. It was a first for me not to have the holiday off, but I was so thankful to show up to work and teach my amazing students. I also was blessed to share an evening meal and time of worship with some fantastic coworkers. 

I occasionally get invited into the middle school clique - it helps if you've got connections. Happy, aka Katrina, and I are pulling for her niece and my nephew to make this bff thing a little more serious someday. It's crazy the connections to people I've found across the ocean. That smirking German teacher in the middle front knows my mom's friend from high school. That cute Canadian to my right knows a kid from my brother dorm section in college. 

 Christine makes this world a better place, and I'm blessed to know her. We first bonded this summer at or TeachBeyond orientation when we discovered our mutual love for Pitch Perfect. She does the best Rebel Wilson impersonation I've ever heard. She also is one of the most incredible people I've ever met. I love living and laughing with her.

Christmas this year was certainly different to be away from my parents, but I was grateful for the opportunity to spend quality time with my Kandern friends on Christmas Eve (pictured here). Watching musicals in my pjs with Sandra, Ahna, and her sister Amanda was certainly not a bad way to celebrate the day.

Bring it on, 2014.

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.