The Greatest Rides in Life (Quotable…er, Monday)

“All the great experiences of life –the freedom to be, our encounters with truth, loving and being loved, daily dying to self, and so forth—are worked out in the quiet turbulence of an impoverished spirit.”

Brennan Manning,

The Wisdom of Tenderness

 

 

The truth of this idea is sobering, profound, and beautiful. The last time I read this book I commented on this paragraph in the margins, writing “What would the world list as the ‘great experiences of life’?”

I have chased after the “worldly” great experiences: the heady pleasures of feeling attractive, desired, important, and envied; the counterfeit freedom of letting loose at parties and clubs; indulging in fine meals and spa pedicures and daily Starbucks.

However, I cannot honestly say I’ve chased Manning’s great experiences. I may have ached for truth and the “freedom to be” without realizing that’s what I was hungering for. I may have performed in a particular way to earn the love I wanted, without admitting that’s what I was doing. I may have craved finding my life, and newness of life, without realizing that it costs losing it first and daily dying to myself.

What is remarkable is that, in Norway, these experiences chased after me. Or rather, God chased after me with these experiences in hand, like a lover pursuing his indifferent beloved with a bouquet of flowers. It wasn’t until I turned and let him catch me that I saw just how beautiful these things are.

And when I read Manning’s words, something clicked for me and I realized that is why I had an amazing year in Europe….because it was made up of these “great experiences” and more. At Grimerud, I felt the freedom to be – to be myself, to be sad or joyful or frustrated or broken or silly – like I never have before. Sometimes I could almost literally feel the sensation of growing into myself, like a muffin rising in its pan.

From the moment I opened myself up to truth, I encountered it in breath-taking and mind-stretching ways. My framework was bent and broken so many times until I had the room to lift up my arms and stretch in God’s truth, to dance and delight in it. Being on DTS staff taught me about dying to myself (though I am still pathetically far from this being a daily occurrence), and about loving others and letting myself be loved by them, too. I tasted the exquisite sweetness of pouring myself out for others and then freely drinking when they poured themselves out for me.

But the fact of the matter is, Manning finishes this quote by saying that these experiences “are worked out in the quiet turbulence of an impoverished spirit.” Moving to Norway and feeling disoriented, out of control, and utterly alone slowly moved me into the “poor in spirit” category.” I believe that’s what caused a door in my heart to blow open and on the other side – my first true glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven. And the world’s greatest experiences pale in comparison.

Ha Det Bra, Norway!

This is my last night in Norway.  I will miss so many things about this place.  Here’s my top ten:

1. Brown cheese.  On a brown Wasa with raspberry jam.  Preferably at 10:30am on a weekday.  With a cup of English Breakfast tea.

2. The Living Rooms at Grimerud.  I love having our morning meetings in there, and also having times with God in the middle living room overlooking the fields and the lake, Mjøsa.

3. The spectacular views of Mjøsa and the countryside and the sunset around Grimerud.  Pretty much, the all-around beauty of this place.

4. Going to Ola and Gro Elisabeth’s log cabin and having dinner and sitting for hours talking about a million things.

5. The DTS.  Staff and students.  Oh, man.  Good times.  Ebby singing, Kim whining, Andreas beat boxing, and everyone in between.

6. Singing and hearing people sing in Norwegian.  Also, singing prayers before meals.  Okay, I never actually learned any of the Norwegian ones, but I still liked hearing it!

7. Running around in my socks all the time.  Honestly, I don’t know if I can wear shoes in my house ever again.

8. The simple relaxation of “country life.”  Sitting out in the sunshine in front of the main building, or having brunch with Magni at Bisben…I just can’t relax the same way in the city.

9. The word vær så god.  Seriously, how did I ever live without it?  Also, being able to respond with just “Mmm” in many situations.  Norwegians don’t waste words!

10. And of course: the people, the people, the people.  Vicky bossing me around with her “Joy Dear.”  Being goofy with Matilda and Rickard.  Long talks with Magni and Dina in Bisben or the dining hall.  Heather and Andreas, beautiful girls Synnøve and Anne Randi; Heidi and Maggi; the Franzens; little baby Marianna; sweet Svein Ola; crazy-intense Chris; adventurous, childlike, creative Miuky; hilarious Christina and Ebby…there are just too many to name.  

It’s been a wonderful time here in Norway and I will cherish these memories for life.  Tusen takk, my Grimerud and Norwegian friends, for an amazing season.  Ha Det Bra.

Report From Outside My Comfort Zone

 

 

“Somebody once said, ‘Everything you want in the world is just right outside your comfort zone. Everythingyoucouldpossiblywant!’”

–Jennifer Aniston

Vogue, December 2008

 

I know what you’re thinking.  Joy abandons her blog for a month and then comes back with a quote from Jennifer Aniston?  Bear with me, though.  I can’t exactly remember when I first read this quote, but I think it was when I was at the airport in Oslo back in January, killing time before our flight to Germany for a two month outreach.  I knew I was headed for 9 weeks of being completely out of my comfort zone, so I took her words seriously as a little shot of hope to help me make the flight without wanting to jump out somewhere over Amsterdam. 

This whole 8 months in Europe has been a constant string of moments, large and small, outside my comfort zone.  And when you first get out there, you feel like you’re trying to walk around underwater. It’s no fun.  But now I feel like I’m almost accustomed to being out of my comfort zone…to that anxious fluttery sensation in my chest as I enter into another unknown, potentially awkward situation.  The meeting of new people, the adapting to new cultures, the learning of new words, the discipline of keeping one’s self in the moment instead of checking out and going on autopilot as a coping mechanism.  Now I feel I’ve figured out how to hold my breath longer and move a little more gracefully in the murky waters of new, uncomfortable situations.  I’m no expert, that’s for sure.  But I think I do a better job than I ever have at least appearing to be confident and to have fun.

Now the question is: in these 8 months outside my comfort zone, have I found everything I want in the world?  Well, yes and no.  The only reason I say no is because of the incredible drought I have experienced this year when it comes to guys.  I mean, seriously…I think I’ve gone months without seeing one man I am even remotely attracted to, not to mention a guy that I might actually be interested in (and, it must be said, the reverse is true.  It’s been a while since I’ve had to turn someone down).  So, I would like to meet someone, and that didn’t happen in my comfort zone or outside of it.

But.  A husband is definitely not the only thing I want in the world, or even one of the most important things.  I really have found so many things that I’ve wanted, and so much more.  I really can’t explain it, but when I came back from outreach for our DTS debrief week, and was back together with all the students from the school, it was like all the pieces fell into place for me and I could see the big picture of this time in Europe.  The first few days I would get all emotional and teary just being in the same room as all the students – the beauty of these individuals, of what they bring to the group, of the transformation God did in each of them over 6 months – it was too much to take. 

And on top of all of that, to think of what God has done in me these past months!  The ways He’s showed me more of who He is, and how it is constantly more beautiful than I could have dreamed…the security in my relationship with Him that I’m moving into, knowing that I’m His and that His joy is upon me…finally beginning to understand that God is good and He can be trusted!  These truths are worth so much more than all the things I could ever want in this world. 

Oh, and on top of it – the rich relationships I’ve enjoyed here with people from all over the world, the feeling of love and safety and belonging and people really valuing me enough to invest their time and resources in me – sometimes I feel like I don’t have enough arms to hold all of these gifts, enough heart to be as thankful as I want to be.

I guess, in conclusion, I’d have to say I agree with Jen…or the “somebody” she was quoting.  Now the question is, when I move back to Southern California, how can I keep pushing myself outside of my comfort zone?  But I’m not too worried about it.  Opportunities tend to pop up; I just need to say yes, hold my breath, and dive in.

Guilt Trip

I am ashamed.  I’ve got my hands behind my back, my head’s down, and I’m making little circles in the dirt with my foot.

I know it’s been a long time, guys.  This might be the longest I’ve ever gone without a new post.  And I left you hanging with such a lame one, as well!

I’m sorry.  

But I made it safely back from Germany.  I’m not going to lie, it was really hard and I was pretty broken and empty when I got back to Norway.  BUT, once I got back to Norway, things quickly started looking up.  For instance, I saw a moose wandering through a snowy field on our way to Grimerud from the airport.  Cool!  (By the way, this picture is taken from the plane as I descended into the eternal winter that is Norway.  Okay, it’s not THAT bad, but dude, look at all that snow!)

No, but really, it’s been amazing to be back here at Grimerud.  Being away has made me realize even more what a special place this is.  I’m not going to get started on all my feelings about that – it’s a post for another day.

But last week we had a really fun, memorable week of debriefing with the DTS.  So…not much time to blog.  And this week I’ve just been trying to soak in my last few moments in Norway, so I’m not really into hanging out in front of my computer until just before bed when Facebook calls my name like the crafty siren she is.

I just wanted you all to know that I’m doing well, I’m still alive, and I’ve got a few ideas for new posts in my head that hopefully I can get up soon…maybe even this weekend because most of the base are working like busy little ants for the Easter Festival this week.

Kisses!

Middle East Conflict Spreads…to Norway?

Thursday night I went down to Oslo in a clunking old van with five others to join a pro-Israel demonstration in front of the Parliament building.  I know, right?  There are people who care about Israel in Norway?  I was surprised at first, too.  Apparently the Norwegian government still supports Hamas, but most Norwegian Christians (especially those on the West coast) are passionate supporters of Israel.  This is all just second-hand information to me.  But, my first-hand experience is that here in Norway I have met more people who are passionate in their support for Israel and their love for the Jewish people than anywhere else I have ever been.

Anyway, we cruised down to Oslo and I fell asleep sitting between two people speaking loudly in Norwegian, while the two in the front seat carried on their own non-English conversation.  When we pulled into a rest stop, I awoke to this flaming sunset over the treetops.  I felt it was the start of a good night.

Two hours later as I listened to speech after speech in Norwegian, with a friend translating in my ear, I tried to think about Israel instead of the fact that I couldn’t feel my feet anymore.  I started marching softly, hoping to bring back feeling.  Occasionally the crowd would clap after the speaker said something especially stirring, but the applause sounded so weak, all muffled with our mittens and gloves.

The protesters came soon after we did, holding signs and Palestinian flags, screaming and yelling and chanting.  Some people craned their necks to see, but I and others stubbornly fixed our attention on the speeches, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of distracting us from our purpose in being there, huddled in the cold on a Thursday night in the middle of this Scandinavian city.  Despite seeing what looked like rocks falling from the sky into the crowd and a loud crack like a gunshot somewhere behind us, the mass of Israel supporters remained unmoved, sometimes chanting IS-RA-EL, IS-RA-EL in between speeches.  But the roar of the mob outside the barricade grew louder, and we heard horses clopping their hooves and dogs barking frantically.  I couldn’t see what was going on and figured the police had it under control.  Then the air felt a little thick and my eyes and nose burned.  ”Tear gas” was murmured by my companion, and I assume whispered in Norwegian through our section of the crowd.  We shuffled closer to the middle, like penguins warming themselves in Antarctica, and continued to listen intently to the last speaker.  

But then, looking over our shoulders, Lisbet and I noticed a policeman walk by wearing a full gas mask.  Never a good sign.  Suddenly, a thick gray cloud of smoke rose above us and settled on the demonstration.  My eyes and nose burned more intensely, people around my were coughing and covering their mouths and noses with hands and scarves.  I assumed we would stand our ground as we had been doing, but then the gas wrapped itself around me and my throat constricted.  Raising my mitten covered hand to my mouth and nose, I tried to breathe but couldn’t without gagging or coughing.  The two women I was with linked arms with me and quickly pulled each other along, out of the square, to where gas-masked police officers were motioning us to keep moving up the street, away from the square.  Behind me a 10 year old girl was sobbing, her dad leading her by the hand in search of fresh air.  A man carried his coughing girlfriend in his arms.  All I wanted was to find a patch of air that didn’t make me feel like my respiratory system was on fire.  Once we were at the top of the street and stopped on a corner by a chic restaurant ironically named “Manna”, we could finally breathe again.  I coughed and spit out the last effects of the tear gas and my mind reeled, trying to figure out what happened.  Here’s me after getting tear gassed.  Not-so-happy moment:

Apparently the police were afraid of a riot when the speeches were over and we dispersed, so first they scattered the Arab protesters with tear gas, then at the end of the last pro-Israel speech they gassed us so we would leave quickly by routes they had barricaded, leading away from the square by Parliament.  What I didn’t know until the next day, when I watched some video clips on the Internet, was that the protesters were actually rioting.  They found a man who looked Jewish and almost beat him to death.  They broke shop windows and the headlights on police vans.  I’m so glad I didn’t end up in the middle of the worst of it.  Here’s some video of the protests and rioting - 

Demonstration and protesting:

Rioters attacking a police van:

Once our entire party was gathered again, we left Oslo and made an Ikea stop on the way out of town, buying 10 krone hot dogs and ice cream cones.  I thought it was an exciting night, I was thankful for protection and glad I went and stood with Israel; that so many others did, too, letting her know that she is not alone.  It made me think about how I have no idea what it means to stand up for what you believe in.  I have no idea what it’s like to really be Israeli, to fight for having a homeland where it’s the only place in the world safe to be Jewish, yet it’s not safe at all.  It makes me feel ashamed and pissed off and proud and sad all at once.

The Single Girl’s Guide To Excuses

In Little Women, Jo describes her feelings when she moves away from home for the first time to work as a governess and aspiring writer in New York:

“I felt bold on leaving Concord, but I confess I find New York rough and strange, and myself strange in it.  Mrs. Kirk believes I am here for a brief interlude of sensational experience before succumbing to a matrimonial fate [...] but I hope that any experience I gain will be strictly literary.”

I can relate to Jo.  When I came to Norway, I felt brave but out of place and floundering in the new culture.  And like Jo, I think most people I know have certain…expectations on how my life should be unfolding, especially now that I’m 24.  These expectations, once latent, are now showing themselves as time passes and I remain single and without prospects (how Jane Austen-esque does that sound?).  Friends and family at home continually ask, “So, have you met a cute Norwegian boy yet?”  Even people here ask if I’ve found anyone interesting.  How many times can you just lamely say “no” without feeling like the leftover you joke about being?

Well, I’m an aspiring writer, too.  So I will take Jo’s words, and when people ask if I’ve met a Norwegian man yet who can throw me over his shoulder like a viking and carry me off into the sunset, I can arch my brow and say nobly: “I hope that any experience I gain here will be strictly literary.”

And when I make into Oprah’s Book Club, you’ll see I put all these years of solitary world travel to good use.

Highs and Lows of Christmas 2008

Low Points:

Trying to sleep with 12 pounds of butter in my stomach after Christmas Eve dinner, realizing that I am almost incapable of actually relaxing (must! do! something!), only reading 1.5 books, and feeling generally miserable on Christmas Eve morning when it really set in that I was spending my 2nd consecutive Christmas away from home.

High Points:

Hanging out with some girls on my floor that I don’t usually have time to hang out with, having free reign of the main building, making dinner on Tuesday night with Heather and Andreas (pesto! feta! bruschetta! glory!), baking 4 times and having a 100% success rate, spending time with two wonderful families on Christmas Eve (pictured above) and Christmas Day, enjoying 12 pounds of butter, sugar, and flour baked into various forms on Christmas Eve (some pictured right), talking to my family on iChat for an hour on Christmas, and…opening my gift from my mom – The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2! (cough – nerd alert)

Okay, so being away from home on Christmas is never ideal, unless, I suppose, you are with your entire family on holiday in some amazing location like Vail or Santorini or whatever.  But I survived…I didn’t just survive, I had a good week.  I’m pretty much exactly halfway through my time here, which is amazing and crazy and sad and wonderful and overwhelming all at once.  Sometimes I wish I could stop this train, but here it comes anyway, rushing at me with increasing speed.  The students are back, the New Year’s Festival starts tomorrow, and I leave for outreach in 2 1/2 weeks.  Ready or not, here comes Round 2.

It’s People, It’s People, It’s People

Ui mai koe ki ahau he aha te mea nui o te ao, Māku e kī atu he tangata, he tangata, he tangata!

Ask me what is the greatest thing in the world, I will reply: It is people, it is people, it is people!

–Maori Proverb

When I first began traveling, visions of Big Ben, Moulin Rouge, and Venetian gondolas danced in my head.  I wanted to see the sights of Europe; tour Anne Frank’s home in Amsterdam, marvel at the splendor of Michelangelo’s The David in Florence, and view Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower.  So I did these things.  But after I hit the “biggies” in Europe, and prayed at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, and saw the Opera House in Sydney at sunset, I started to crave something different in my travels.  New countries popped onto my traveler’s wish list that were never there before.  I wanted to go to Argentina and India and Spain.  I wanted to know more about the people, and how they made up the culture – how they laughed and danced and ate and mourned.  My hunger for glamorous experiences decreased while my desire for authentic interaction increased.

So now that I’m in Norway, it’s not really about what I’ve seen.  I’ve only been to Oslo once, I briefly visited the West coast a couple months ago, and I barely ever venture beyond the farm or Hamar, the closest “city” with a meager population of 30,000.  And yet, I love Norway.  I will always remember my time here with fondness.  It’s not because of the natural beauty (although it’s stunning), and it’s definitely not because of the weather or the food.  But it’s because I’ve loved to hear Norwegians sing their prayers before dinner, and I’ve loved to watch them get excited about Christmas and the first snowfall, and I’ve loved the way they’ve taken me into their homes and their hearts.

Living and working and playing with people from at least 16 different nations, in addition to Norway, has been an amazing blessing.  Sometimes my heart swells when I think about this family I’ve been welcomed into here at Grimerud, when I think of the diversity of personalities, laughs, and gifts that spill out of this place like treasure.  Everywhere I’ve gone in this world, I’ve made friends I want to take with me the rest of my days; collecting them like a stone rolling down a hill.  I’m overwhelmed when I think of the countries I will still visit, the places I will live, the people I will fall in love with there. 

It’s not that I’ve evolved into some completely altruistic traveler.  I still want to go on a safari in Africa and dance in a Greek taverna and bungee jump in New Zealand.  But if you ask me what is the greatest thing in the world, I will reply: It is people, it is people, it is people!

A Very Harry Potter Christmas

I’m starting to find ways to be excited about being one of three people left at Grimerud over the holidays.  Besides the obvious: peace and quiet, forced rest, copious amounts of time to catch up on my reading and movie watching; I’ve thought of something else.  I’m going to pretend I’m like Harry Potter staying at Hogwarts over the holidays…I mean, he saw it as a good thing, so why can’t I?  Too bad I don’t have Ron and Hermione to keep me company, and house elves to make me a magical feast every day.  But still.  Whatever works, right?

My Own Koselig Attempt

Oh yeah.  I’m SO Norwegian.  Look how koselig!  It definitely adds to the Christmas spirit in my room…oh, and my mom just sent me a freaking sweet advent calendar from Starbucks.  Yay!  Not that 25 Swiss chocolate truffles will make up for being away from home for the SECOND Christmas in a row, but they sure won’t hurt.