You've read it all ... all the controversy, all the hype, all the reviews, all the complaints, all the platitudes, all of it.  Pepsi should know better.  The NFL should step up their game.  Performers should be more mindful of their pelvic thrusts and pole dancing.  Yes.  We've all heard it.

But, am I  - a Christian - responsible to do something about the Super Bowl half time show?  

Stand up for what you believe.  Switch the channel.  Write a letter.  Boycott a product.  Ban this.  Bash that.  Again, you've read it all.  I get it.  But the question still begs to be asked: "Am I responsible for the Super Bowl half time show?"

I'm often caught off guard at moments like these when conservative values are being lifted as the cultural norm setting a Christian narrative off like wildfire.  The bottom line is that the cultural norm will never be a Christian norm.  

Let me be clear.  I am a Christian.  I realize that my value system usually swims upstream to the world around me.  I don't live an insular life.  I love my community and participate in making mine a better place to live.  However, I do not expect my value system to be the norm outside of my faith community.  To think it should is to be naive.  However, to hope I can make a difference is the very essence of my faith.  To believe the One I put my faith in can transform my community is to excersise radical faith - the kind of faith that says a mustard seed can do some pretty big things.

Jesus hung out with sinners.  Jesus went to places the religious thought impious and unworthy for the godliness of men to stumble into.  Jesus didn't ban their meeting places - He transformed them!  

So what the heck does that mean for me, living in 2020, when the Super Bowl half time show reflects a very different moral compass than my own?  To sit back and do nothing is not an attitude I'm touting as a means to combat the moral standard.  But it has to start in other places long before the Super Bowl.  Christianity isn't about behavior modification.  Christianity is about loving God and sharing His love with a world in desperate need to find Him through our actions, words, and open mouths ready for honest conversations.  Yes, there are absolutes.  Yes, there are moral conducts prescribed in the Bible.  But should we require "the world" to abide by those?  Are we to judge the world?

Romans 13: 11-14 says:

11 And do this, understanding the present time: The hour has already come for you to wake up from your slumber,because our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. 12 The night is nearly over; the day is almost here.So let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light. 13 Let us behave decently, as in the daytime, not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and debauchery, not in dissension and jealousy. 14 Rather, clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the flesh.[c]

This was written to Christians.  Are we to ask "the world" to abide by the same standards?  We are if we are asking for behavior modification.  But what if we were praying for soul transformation?  What if we cared for the very soul of our neighbor, our city leaders, and our Super Bowl performers to experience the greatest love of all time and be transformed by the love of God?   

I'm not saying critics of the Super Bowl half time show are not praying and caring for participants.  What I am saying is that we who love Jesus have a calling:  to love others and engage in our community with the practical and tangible love of Christ.  He is the great transformer.  

What if scandalous Super Bowl half time shows caused a great waking from the slumber of Christian communities to see the importance of really knowing their salvation?  What if we, first, put aside our own deeds of darkness and put on an armour of light?  What would it look like to start clothing ourselves in Jesus Christ and not think about how to gratify our own desires of the flesh?  Would we be more involved in civic affairs?  Would we be more active in our schools?  Would we love our neighbor?  Would we foster children, feed the homeless, and get involved in local politics to be agents of change for the greater good of humanity?  Would we be more patient with other Christians?  Would we get honest about our own addictions, emotional issues, and hang ups that keep us from living our full potential in Jesus?  I'm not talking compromising who we are nor the Biblical standards by which we live.  I'm talking being more like Jesus.  

Being more like Jesus, for those who say they belong to Him, is the answer to not just the Super Bowl half time shows, becoming more like Jesus is the answer to transforming the cultural norm!

So, no ... no I am not responsible - as a Christian - for the Super Bowl half time show.  I am, however, responsible for being used by God to be an agent of His love which transforms the world around me,
Christina

Tomorrow we board another plane and return home.  A month has passed since landing in Vienna.  A month of re-acclimating to this city, a month of sweating like pigs due to a weird heatwave in Europe, a month of laughing so hard with old friends that I thought I wouldn't catch my breath, a month of seeing things within myself that I had to examine closely and search for a place of healing, a month of shedding tears out of empathy, exhaustion, and relived memories, a month of dealing with Oklahoma things from a Central Europe time zone, a month of hearing stories across from cafe tables while sipping coffee, a month of a lot of mental work, a month of a lot of walking, a month of meeting people, a month of talking to God about what the next steps are for Fahrenheit, a month of ... life.

Packing, yet another suitcase, I find myself feeling temporary.  I always feel like this when we travel.  Mostly because for the last five years, every summer brought packing of a suitcase to go to Oklahoma for the purpose of reconnecting with friends and family and to meet with Fahrenheit partners and donors.  For five years it's been a cycle of packing and unpacking.

This summer the cycle is reversed by location only.  However, this time I pack bags to return to Oklahoma and into another temporary home.  If I'm honest, it's been a year of temporary.  Trying to put roots in temporary soil is a weird feeling.  I'm ready to have my own space and my own things and my own zip code.

When I feel out of sorts, like there aren't others on the planet who can identify with my temporary condition of displacement, I need only to look at the message of the Bible that tells me feeling temporary should be a state of mind in whatever permanent place I am registered.  Feeling temporary because this planet was never created for me to put deep roots and plant myself for a stay that would last forever.  It's not my home. I know that intellectually but fail in comprehending the gravity of the temporary nature ... until I pack another suitcase.

Leaving Vienna and returning to Oklahoma makes me want to grieve.  Vienna feels more like home because this is the last place I had a home of my own.  Yet, I'm learning to live in a new space in my spirit that tells me adventure awaits.  God is always creating.  Sometimes that creation process looks like a new flower bursting out of messy soil that grows in a beautiful garden.  Sometimes, however, it's a deeper place of contentment within a human heart while waiting for a home to call your own while living on the planet.  It's looking at all God is doing around you and being content that He created me to firmly root myself in Him, knowing that He is my rock, my permanence, my home.  Where He puts me is good.  Where He calls home, even if for a month of living out of suitcase, is good.

So, we board another plane and head ... home.  Along with the tangible things I pack in my suitcase, I pack a month of moments that have reassured me that God is always good and creating and moving and working.

When we first arrived in Austria in 2009, I discovered fruit from Spain, when consumed by this American girl, made me swell up like Violet Beauregard in Willy Wonka who ate the blueberry gum.  I had forgotten this little fact.  Today, my feet, hands, and eyes are swollen from what I believe to be an allergic reaction to all the fruit I've eaten since my arrival.  So this morning, I sit in an apartment graciously given for our "home" base while in Vienna by a school teacher at my girl's former international school.  Windows wide open, I'm enjoying the breeze and the cooler temperatures.  Since it's Sunday, there is little traffic on the otherwise hectic street outside the second-floor apartment.  The smell of garlic floats through the air from the downstairs Pizzeria.  The occasional conversations from passersby can be heard from the sidewalk below.

While we've been here, these 12 days, we've had the privilege of meeting with old friends, made some new ones, spent plenty of time drinking great coffee, laughing, crying, just being, and for me personally, doing a lot of reflecting.

When we originally moved to this foreign place, we lived in the same district that we are now visiting.  Just minutes from this borrowed apartment door is the Kindergarten I dropped off my then 5-year-old Libby.  For months, every time I released her pudgy little fingers from my hand, she cried.  She begged me not to go.  I  handed her off to her German-speaking teacher, hoping she would comfort my precious girl, as I turned my back toward my child to head to language school.   With sheer will and determination, I made my way for the door.  Everything in me wanted to rush back to my very vocal daughter and take her back to our apartment and watch Sponge Bob - all day.  Instead, I walked through the doors, got outside her Kindergarten, and cried.  This life was hard.  I'd then regain my composure, suck it up, take a deep breath, and begin to talk to God.

"You know this is really hard.  You know that if the Kindergarten calls me I won't have any idea what they are saying because I can't speak the language yet.  You know my daughter's heart is hurting.  You know I'm off to language school to learn a language that hurts my brain.  I know you know this.  I know you are good, but this feels so hard.  Help me."

Now, as I walk by this Kindergarten, my Libby is 16 years-old.  We made it!  This little building is now a remembrance of God's goodness.  The hard was meant for our good.  It didn't feel like it at the time, but every day, every step, every tear was redeemed.  That's what God does.  He uses everything for our good.

In a few hours, we will meet our dear Philipp and his new wife.  To witness this wedding was the primary reason for this trip back "home".   Now, married, we will get the privilege of seeing them before they take their honeymoon.

When we met our dear Philipp, he was a young university student who awkwardly sat our dinner table and talked very little.  Now, affectionately known as our Austrian son, he's a part of us.  Seeing all that he's become over the years makes my heart full.  He's kind and loyal and smart and confident and now .. a husband.  He's walked through such difficulties in his young life.  But, again,  God has used them all for his good.   That's what God does.  He uses everything for our good.

Last night, to an audience of 4 Americans and 1 Ukrainian, our Austrian friends shared their passion and spoke confidently of their calling to serve the over 100,000 international students who make Austria part of their higher education.

Our friends have traveled hard roads.  I won't go into the details of their suffering, but we've traveled the road alongside them.  Last night, however, they were a living testimony of coming out the other side.  God has used all of the hard in their lives for His good.  That's what God does.  He uses everything for our good.

We see a pattern emerging.  "Hard" is universal.  Whether you call Austria home or live in the land of the free and the brave, God is interested in His kids.  However, He gave us tools to not just get by but to thrive.  He gave us the wisdom of the Holy Spirit.  He gave us the guidance of His word.  And He very graciously gave us one another.  We are the hands and feet and heart of God.  When we kiss a cheek or hug a neck, we can offer the affection of a loving heavenly Father to one another.  It's in those moments I feel God so near.   It's in those moments I see clearly the invisible God.  That's what God does.  He uses everything for our good.

Make the most of your time.  Release people to their next step

Learn to adapt.  Live within the lessons learned.

Experience new things.  Normal is flexible.

When I see God working outside my own culture, I see the greatness of a great Father.

Being away from your normal surroundings is a good thing.  It gives you space to think.  As we are working and living and doing life in our beloved Vienna for the next month, already there is new space to think new thoughts and hear from God in a fresh way.  For this, in spite of 97 degrees with no AC, I am grateful

Traveling always expands your mind.  You see new things and people that you hold up next to your old things and people.  Comparison and evaluation occur.  And in the space where differences divide you from the others, there's room to expand your thinking.

When we first moved overseas in 2009, we adopted a phrase as a family.  To girls who were 5, 9 and 13 years old, we repeated a mantra:  "This is not weird.  This is different."  Truth is, often things were weird!  They were so outside our experience it made us uncomfortable.  However, it didn't make our things right and other things wrong.  It just made things different.

There are lots of people on this planet.  If I just focus on one segment of society, the Christian community, there are lots of differences.  Some raise hands.  Some wear hair in buns.  Some sport tattoos.  Some drink.  Some dance.  Some observe different days as a Sabbath.  Differences are up and down the spectrum.  However, when we spotlight what is "right" and "wrong" from a place of human logic and stand on soap boxes made from personal opinions we divide and drive wedges that I'm pretty sure God never intended on being there.

In Numbers 12, Miriam and Aaron start bashing their brother, Moses, for having a bride from a different culture.  This brother has ushered 10 plages upon the mighty Pharoh, opened up a sea, made water gush from a rock and asked God to bring meat to a grumbling audience of 2 million of his kinsman.  And yet, Miriam and Aaron got stuck on this one difference.  They got stuck on Moses performance and not his position.

Performance issues (what we see on the outside) highlight something in us that needs to be resolved spiritually.  God is always interested in our position (our heart in relationship with Jesus).  Moses, despite marrying a woman from a different culture, was humble and obedient and as a result, had a direct line of communication with a Holy God that Miriam and Aaron did not have.

Moses' humility and apparently his obedience put him in a position to hear from God directly.  God honored the position of Moses' heart.  Because Miriam and Aaron were critical of his performance, Gods anger burned against them.  He was defending His kid, Moses.  He was letting Miriam and Aaron know there was something more He wanted for them to see.  He wanted them to look beyond finding their worth and value in laws and rules and finding their worth and value in a relationship.  He knew that their future depended on not seeing with 20/20 vision but rather seeing from His perspective.

That's a tough one, isn't it!  I'm not advocating we accept wrong and sinful thinking and/or behavior in the Christian community.  Turth is truth.  But, because just like every culture in the world looks different, so can Christianity.  The way I am "Christian" in Norman, Oklahoma will look vastly different from Peruvian tribesmen.  However, the position of my heart in relationship to Jesus Christ and the position of the Peruvian tribesmen's heart in relationship to Jesus Christ makes us equal.  I may raise my hands in an air-conditioned auditorium and he may dance around in a loin cloth in a mud hut but in Christ, we are the same.

In Western culture, we say position matters but we get caught up in performance.  Performance is what people see, right.  I can be super active in my faith community and do all the right Christian things like sweet Miriam and Aaron.  However, my heart can stink.  I can still be in Christ but out of alignment in my heart and head thinking because so much of my attention is focused on my performance.

Case in point, me.  Normally, I've got a plan for my study times with God.  I love my routine:  coffee, Bible, TJ Max journal, favorite pen, reading plan, prayer, hear from God.  It works.  My discipline of devotion to this life-giving book called the Bible has matured and shaped me into the person I am.  But since I am out of my normal routine, I know God has asked me to go out on a limb and shake up my time and experience with Him.  I'm throwing out some routine and spending a whole lot of time letting Him guide the morning.  In Norman and now here in Vienna, my study times are valuable.  However, I'm creating some space to allow God to speak in a different way.  There may be some "Miriam and Aaron" kinds of things lurking in those places of my soul that a little shake-up of my routine will flesh out.

Stay tuned.  You just never know what will happen when we let our performance slip and our position take center stage!

My Libby is a processor of feelings - deep feelings.  After about day two of being "home" she formulated what we all were feeling:

People have asked us how it feels to be "home".  When we are in the U.S., we miss our "home" in Vienna.  When we are in Vienna, we miss our "home" in the U.S.  

Now that there is no return ticket and roots must be established to thrive in our new zip code, it just feels like the best thing to do is walk in slowly.  Walk as if the pool of water before us is cold.  Really cold.  I would give myself a heart attack if I jumped into the deep end.  It's better to ease in ... one toe at a time ... pushing deeper as the comfort of the cool water increases.

I love AC.  I love the English language.  I love driving.  I love my family.  I love my friends.  I love big washing machines.  I love Sprouts.  I love being in the same time zone as my oldest.  I love my county.

Now, it's a matter of taking and utilizing the time to reset to a new normal.  I've learned in my almost 50 years on the planet that this transition time takes time, takes rest, and takes sacred moments to adapt. We are landing on any feeling that is good or bad.  We aren't pining away for a home/culture/life we just said goodbye to.  We are just transitioning.

Here's to a new normal in a new place that is familiar,
Christina

Plane tickets have been bought.  June 28, 2018, is our departure date.  Wow.  I've bought tickets coming and going "home" for over 9 years.  This is the first time I wept after hitting the pay button.

Going "home"/going "back" seems right.  However, it's packed with so much emotion it often leaks out of my eyes in the form of slow, salty tears and drips to my shirt and while bringing a reflective smile to my face.  I love my home - here.  I love my community - here.  I love my friends - here.  I love what we've carved out for ourselves and what God has brought in and out of our lives:

• Sunday afternoon walks through the city
• Sleepy cafe's that let you sit for hours
• Crowded public transportation filled with others who do not make eye contact
• Lugging a granny cart to the grocery store every other day
• Speaking German with a funny American accent
• Taking a bath in the winter because it's the only way to warm up
• Buying cut flowers on a regular basis because they are cheap
• Making espresso every day
• Wearing the same pair of boots every day in the winter 
• Wearing the same comfortable shoes every day in the Spring
• Kissing cheeks twice as a normal form of greeting
• Eating insanely thin pizza with ham and corn
• Grabbing coffee with parents from all over the world who send their kids to the same school my girls attend
• Traveling to other countries for volleyball tournaments
• Not speaking dialect because high German is all I know
• Eating the best sausage on the planet while standing outside the Wurstel Hut

After spending a lovely, traditional Thanksgiving with our American friends that have become like family, we rode public transportation 45 minutes to our home.  I had a bag filled with a few leftovers and a heart filled with cozy, fresh memories of another holiday spent abroad.  For the rest of my countrymen, this was just another day.  They had little idea that my family was celebrating a historical moment in the history of our home country.  That, however, has been our normal for many years.

While we boarded the streetcar for the second leg of our trip home, two boys that looked to be around 20 years old were our traveling companions.  They occupied the area in the front of the car that was reserved for wheelchairs.  One was obviously the caretaker of his friend - and we speculated if he be the brother - of one who had wheels for legs.  They weren't drunk or high ... just dirty.

I normally do not use my phone when I'm with my family on public transportation but for some reason, I wanted to check my messages.  As I did, the boy in the wheelchair asked me if he could borrow my phone.  I had no hesitation in letting this boy use my phone.

A quick phone call to some unknown recipient to say he was on his way.  He then returned my phone with a gracious "Danke".

I, without thinking, asked him if he was hungry.  His sweet eyes softened and said yes.  I proceeded to tell him that I was Ameican and today we celebrated Thanksgiving.  In my bag, I had some food that I'd like to share with him:  a few slices of turkey and some fresh cucumbers and carrots.  He took my small offering wrapped in aluminum foil and stored in plastic bags as if they were being presented on fine china.  He graciously accepted and wanted to shake my hand ... and the hands of my dear girls ... and the hands of my Chris.  He then carried his bounty in his lap back to his buddy.  They unwrapped and unsealed the food immediately and ate as heartily as I had done a few hours earlier while sitting in a comfortable home surrounded by friends and family and having all I needed.

Humbling.

In between bites of food, they would glance our way and thank us, again.  As they approached their stop on the streetcar, they waved goodbye and thanked us, again.

And just like that, our encounter was over.

I was thankful for the things I have seen God do in my life while I was sitting at the white table-cloth draped table and surrounded by dear ones.  I was thankful that my friend had found real pecans when I bit into the real pecan pie.  I was thankful that I had a way home and could pay the price of the fare when I jumped on the bus to begin my journey.  I was thankful in theory.  But when those two boys began to eat ... thankfulness became real and tangible and something to grab with tight fists and believe in the deep parts of my heart.

Sometimes the good things in our lives are fluff.  We are thankful at a head level but thankfulness never quite drips down into the core ... the places where it matters.

God has been gently whispering songs of thanks in my heart.  I'm paying attention. I truly want to be a giver of thanks ... real thanks.  Psalm 26:6 - 7 made more sense to me this morning when I read it:  "I come to your altar, O Lord, singing a song of thanksgiving and telling of all your wonders."

Thursday night God provided a most unusual alter for me in which to bring my thankful heart ... a streetcar.  And this blog, as silly or insignificant as I may perceive it to be, is my attempt to "tell His wonders" to whoever may read.

Thankfulness realigns the condition of the heart.

Learning to be thankful ... really,
Christina

Our summer's have been marked by two things:  coming and going.  At the end of school, we pack up bags and desires for good hamburgers and head back "home" to Oklahoma.  We live out of suitcases, drink lots of Sonic discounted Happy Hour drinks, spend time with family and friends recounting old memories while making new ones, reflect on what it means to be American and make excuses for eating just one more donut ... one more time.  At the end of our time "home", we get that feeling.  It's a feeling of upset stomach boarding on excitement and nausea.  It's that feeling of saying goodbye again while knowing a new year in our other "home" awaits.  It's so weird.

Parker, Libby and I flew home a week early while my Chris finishes up Fahrenheit work.  We came home two days ago to our clean apartment and felt awkward in what is our "normal".  Things smell different.  Food tastes different.  We are in that place of limbo.  We wait while our brains, hearts and bodies align.  Jet lag doesn't help.  Neither does no AC in 99 degree heat.  However, we know the routine.  I voice what we all feel, "We are not going to give into any feeling we may have in the next 48 hours.  We are tired.  This will all feel normal soon."  The girls nod their heads in agreement while looking through glassy eyes that reflect the emotional ill-at-ease.  We own our feelings.  We just don't pay attention to them right now.  These feelings will not hold us captive.

This is our third year of this pilgrimage.  We learn something new each time.

This year is different.  Transition in the air, we ease into another year projecting hope and standing firm in the knowledge that we are exactly where God has us.  The only thing that doesn't change is what God has told us ... and the knowledge that he holds us while "normal" sets back in ... until it's time to get back on a plane.

Learning the routine,
Christina

Eight years ago the Elledge clan stepped out of their American lifestyle into an European adventure that still continues.  This picture, taken the day we arrived, after traveling 22 hours, illuminates and perhaps foreshadows what was to come.

What did come?

• The immersion into another culture and worldview.
• The acclimation of a foreign language.
• The building of new friendships.
• The induction into an international setting for my older girls.
• The transition into a German-speaking world for my youngest.
• The expansion of experiences far beyond what any of us had accumulated.
• The learning of an organizations dynamics.
• The stretching of comfort zones.
• The heartache of loss of family members that we never got to say goodbye to ... or put closure to the ending of a relationship.
• The broadening of how we saw ourselves, God and each other.
• The questioning if it was time to move back home.
• The affirming of a life's work.
• The joy of success.
• The depression of grey days that lingered and seemed to close in on us.
• The decision to push through despite difficulty.
• The tears of children who just wanted to go "home".
• The weeping of a Momma in the shower so no one could hear who just wanted to go "home".
• The fighting of self-doubt.
• The ignoring of voices that said this was too hard.
• The separation of our core family to two continents.
• The adaptation to a four family daily life and long-distance correspondence of our Addison.
• The accepting of "normal" for almost every abnormal thing we experienced.

To say I've become fascinated, obsessed, mesmerized,  captivated and possibly fixated with one Frau Agnes may be too much of a stretch of the imagination ... or maybe not!

In my city, we boast of our coffee house culture.  Boast we can, for we are, in my opinion, the capital of coffee houses!  The charm, class, and relaxed elegance oozes out of every white tablecloth, every waiter adorned in a black suit, and every silver tray in which your coffee is served.  For this American, I find it all just breath taking.

This week, after renewing passports for the girls, my Chris took us to a typical Viennese coffee house that I had never visited.  Instantly I was smitten.  We found a table for four nestled within elbow room of another table for four and began our experience.  (Just a bit of cultural context here ... it is no big deal to sip a coffee with a friend while sharing space next to another couple sipping their coffee.  Space is relative.  It's not a weird thing to bump the elbow of someone sitting to the table next to you.   In fact it's not uncommon to share a table with a stranger.  You sip your coffee.  They sip theirs.  Polite eye contact is made and then you proceed to enjoy your own privacy.  Americans love space.  Europeans' private space is much more relative to where you are and not defined by the amount of feet that separates you from a stranger.)  Close enough for me to touch was a small round table situated in the corner with perfect views across the epic cafe.  Despite two chairs it was just the perfect size for one to sip a coffee and nibble a lovely dessert.

Upon further inspection, a reservation card had been placed upon the perfectly ironed white table cloth.  It was no ordinary reservation card.  Usually, reservation cards have hand-written times scribbled under the title.  Rarely do they have a name included.  Never have I seen one that reserved this tiny table - the time and the name permanently printed and laminated as if it were a part of the structure of this historic cafe.    And, to further signify this table as notable, it had the date from which the first reservation had been made:  November 19, 2015.  Bottom line, since November 19, 2015, Frau Agnes has had a standing reservation at 4:00 p.m. at this little table.

Now my senses are heightened.  I'm dying to know all the finer details of this Frau Agnes.  Does she come everyday?  Does she come only on Tuesdays?  Is she old?  Is she regal?  What's her history?  Why this cafe?  Did she come here with a lover who is now deceased yet she comes to honor their history?  So many questions ...

And there I stop.  I am on a quest.  Who is Frau Agnes.  I will discover my mystery Frau and I will follow up.  This will require frequent visits, frequent sips of fine coffee, and frequent experiences in my coffee house.

Diving deep into my culture,
Christina

As a child, my Dad was in the Air Force.  Born in Italy and living in three different countries for the remainder of my formative years, I grew up to be very proud of my American culture.  I won't say that I totally understood it, but I was proud to ethnically be an American where anything was possible, tomorrow always brought new hope, and when it's people united, together, we were unstoppable.

For those of you who read my blog and do not happen to live in the United States, let me offer a disclaimer to the following:  It's all about America.  Principles apply but specifics to my native country are spoken of in a need to express building aggravation and rumbling disturbances toward my own countrymen - and women.

May I also say to those who happen to live in the United States or hold a passport from my beloved homeland, this is not a personal attack on you - unless the shoe fits - but rather broad, general observations based mainly on Facebook posts, media reports, and the reactions from evangelicals toward both.  If you do not consider yourself an evangelical Christian, enjoy the attack.  If you do - proceed.

I can barely check Facebook without wanting to throw up.  One minute people express profound allegiance to God and country and the next they tear down political parties, platforms and candidates with rabid dog-like voracity.  The Cubs win, Hillary is a criminal, Trump is a pervert, but Jesus is Lord.  I get it.  Perhaps all are true, but where is the value in communicating accurately Christian values in a less-than-perfect society?  Why must we all jump on a band wagon?  Where are those who reserve ethical decorum, speak truth in love, and respect humanity?  Must we all throw pitch forks at an opposing side?

The country's going to hell if _____________ is elected.  Our only hope is if ___________ is elected.  You are not a true Christian if you elect _______________.  Give me a break!!  Yes, major supreme court appointments will be made by the next President of the United States.  Yes, party platforms support opposite moral issues that will affect millions.  But people - it didn't happen overnight.  Obama has not single-handily brought down America.  Whatever shape our country finds itself is the cause of we, the people, of the United States of America.

There are countless videos of popular pastors saying God is the hope of America.  Relax.  Come November 9th, God is still on the throne.  They are followed by millions of evangelicals who will promptly share, like, and move on with their lives.  THIS, this is where I take offense.

Because someone "respected" has said it, we believe it and find peace and move on.  But wait, what if that person is later discovered to have a flaw?  Then we all find another to rally behind ... until ... God forbid ... another flaw pops up.  And so the cycle continues.

What if each evangelical quit posting on Facebook and started going to THE BOOK to discover how God looks at us, our friends, our enemies, our politics, and then began to shift lifestyle patterns accordingly?  Novel.  I think that's what Jesus modeled when he put on an earth suit, roamed around planet earth intentionally doing for 3 years.

I do have a point ... stay with me.  I am not a political person.  I find flaws in our system.  I scratch my head and see things that do not work.  But, in these systems I do not base my hope.  I will vote.  I will contribute.  I will follow the rules.  But, I will not put my hope in an elected official to solve all that is broken.  For way too long, in my humble opinion, American evangelicals have relied on certain candidates (or parties) to uphold our values thinking all will be O.K.  We've put our hope in them, have gone about our business, and not taken seriously our freedoms nor the advantages we have living in a prosperous country.  We have not realized the power we hold as a faith community to unify ourselves under the direction of the Holy Spirit to effect change on the larger society.  We have forgotten the power of the message we claim to build our lives upon.  Twelve unqualified men who were transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit effected changed on ... the world.  THE WORLD!  And, they did it without Facebook.

What's the answer?  What if we stopped pointing the finger and started looking at what we were placed on the planet to do:  love God, love people.  I was created to know how much God loves me ... and then be a change agent for my generation.  Out of love, I can effect others.  Love does not NOT disagree.  I disagree with most of my Facebook friends on one level or another.  But love speaks the truth.  Love admits a moral absolute.  Love desires to share.  Love embraces differences without condemnation.  Love changes everything.

I'm not talking about Mamby-pamby weak love that lays down and lets others walk all over them.  I'm talking about fierce love that challenges corruption, turns over tables in places they have no business being set up and standing for something.  I believe more people would be drawn to a mighty, loving God if we who call ourselves His children understood what we have at our fingertips.  Light attracts bugs.  That's all I'm saying.

Loving bugs,
Christina

It was good.  Oh - my heart - it was good.

This past week has been a week that has been so good for the soul.  Our family took a much needed mini-vacation, (due to their requests, no pictures on Facebook.  I am the picture taking queen and their small request actually was a big sacrifice for me, however, you'll find no photos!) and my Chris and I attended a wedding.

Leibnitz, Austria is no tourist hub.  A quaint village nestled near the Slovakian border, it boasts a population of 2,000, a few small hotels, and a waterpark.  In 2012, we took a few days together as a family and found this little slice of heaven.  Deciding this would be the perfect reprieve from city life just before boarding the plane to head back to the U.S., we played in the water, ate at the same restuarant 3 nights in a row, and enjoyed long breakfasts on the patio with really good coffee and a whole lot of Nutella (on Libby's part)!  What a great decision!  Blood preasures dropped, the fun factor rose, and our bodies thrived in the rest of the entire experience.

The wedding we attended yesterday was that of a couple we have been mentoring.  The ceremony began at 1 pm followed by a reception that we left from around 3:30 pm.  In the company of Herbert and Maria, our Austrian friends, we drove the 25 km treck into the mountains for the reception.  Arriving at 4:15 pm, we sat on the terrace overlooking the mountains waiting for the reception to begin at 5 pm.  We left at 10:45 pm with a new friend, Markus, when the party was just getting started!

Usually, I write inspired by a particular message or theme or stirring that I know comes from the Holy Spirit.  There is a punch line.  There is a point.  Something to convey.  Something to chew on.  Today - nothing.  I write because I feel inspired simply to say that rest is a beautiful thing.  I made observations of my country I live in comparing them to the differences from my home country as only token facts not harsh judgements.  I really looked at my children.  I held the hand of My Chris.  I ate things that I have put on a forbidden list.  I walked slower.  I read - a lot.  I laughed hard.  I sat.  I prayed not out of urgency or great want but just simple utterances that could only express "thank you".  I missed Addison.  I heard Parker.  I held Libby.  Such simple treasures that are so often taken for granted or simply not even taken.

Resting and full,
Christina

In 24 days I will be back on American soil.  I am an American.  I, specifically, have southern roots.  I know the meaning of "ya'll", I can cook the best pot of beans and bake the best cornbread your little heart has ever tasted, and I can "bless your heart" until the sun sets in the big Oklahoma sky.  However, living in Vienna since 2009, I am an American with a bit of a complex.  I'm not even sure what to call it and frankly, I don't even know how to define it.  The only other people on the planet who understand this strange complex are those in my shoes:  Americans who have lived for some time on foreign soil.  A rare breed indeed.

So, for friends and family who will encounter me this summer, perhaps there are a few things that you already know but I will declare in black and white that will help you make sense of the person I've become.  This is true for my Chris and those precious girls of mine.

1.  We will take our shoes off when we enter your house.  We can't help it;  it's normal.  We walk everywhere we go.  Our feet are like your cars.  We travel nasty places just like your tires do.  It's normal for us to take off our shoes.  Would you want your tires rolling all over your floors?

2.  Your coffee will taste bad.  It's not that we are snobs, we are just accustomed to really good coffee.  Drip coffee is the equivalent of toilet water.

3.  Speaking of coffee - it is the center piece of our lives.  Coffee in the morning, strong.  Coffee mid-morning with a nice chat.  Coffee after lunch with more chatting.  Coffee mid-afternoon with a friend.  Coffee after diner with more chatting.  Coffee is much more than a beverage.  It is the excuse to engage in countless conversations.  Don't worry, we will bring our own espresso maker - and coffee.

4.  Air conditioning will probably make us sick.  We are not pansies or have allergies - we are simply not used to air conditioning.  The coolest thing we have in our apartment is a rotating fan with 3 speeds.  We try not to use even those despite 90 temps when our Austrian friends visit because they don't like the draft.  We may get sick, we may always wear a jacket, but we will like the cool air - really like it!

5.  We will be quiet in public.  We are used to speaking in hushed tones and making little to no chatter with strangers.  It will take us a while to get used to the volume in public places and may take a little longer for us to say "hi" to the strangers that will assault us with their cordial greetings.  We are not weird - we are just not used to such public tet-a-tet.

6.  Public places will stress us out.  Wal-mart, Target, or any other public setting will freak us out at first.  Again, you have to remember that my grocery store has 2 check-out lines.  I only have 1 to 2 brands of any kind of product to choose from.  Everyone is quiet.  Even the background music is quiet.  Strangers don't talk, unless they are really old and can't read a sign or are homeless and are talking to themselves.

7.  I won't dress as cute as you.  I've become accustomed to dressing for comfort.  I only have two pair of summer shoes - both were bought for comfort and not looks.  I will admire your bling, jewelry and big designer bags.  I will be amazed at how many shoes one can buy but will only gravitate towards those that can withstand heavy walking.  I will be the one wearing black while you are sporting every color of the rainbow.  I am not goth, just restricted by my European flair for keeping things simple and subdued.

8.  I will constantly be taken-aback by how friendly perfect strangers are to me.  It will cause me to seem a little distant.  It's just weird.  Again, no one in my setting speaks to strangers.  I am used to going through my life never communicating with another person - ever - while I'm doing my day. It's become normal.  So, when accosted by a friendly clerk, waitress or your neighbor, I will probably be surprised at first.  It won't take me long to get into the groove - it will take longer for my girls.  However, we'll get the hang of it.  Probably about the time we get back on the plane to come back home.

9.  I will stop and stare every time I see the American flag.  It's an emotional almost sacred thing.  I don't see one - ever - unless I catch a glimpse of it at the United Nations building while driving by on the subway.

10.  Your food will taste funny.  Milk, yogurt, bread, chocolate and cheese will taste really funny.  We've grown accustomed to things that are not pre-sweetened, have preservatives and last until Jesus comes back.  However, we will eat all the Mexican food, Braum's Ice Cream and cakes made from a Betty Crocker cake mix we can get our hands on - really.

Getting excited to be back on US soil,
Christina

Citizenship defined:

A citizen is a participatory member of a political community. Citizenship is gained by meeting the legal requirements of a national, state, or local government. A nation grants certain rights and privileges to its citizens. In return, citizens are expected to obey their country's laws and defend it against its enemies. Grolier's New Book of Knowledge.Copyright © 2016 Grolier Incorporated. All Rights Reserved.

Thanksgiving is such an odd celebration living in a country that doesn't recognize it as your native homelands' holiday.  There are images of families gathered around tables as seen in films by my Austrian friends, but when it comes down to it ... there are high-priced cranberries, hard-to-come-by-sweet potatoes, non-existent corn syrup, small-breasted Turkey's (OK, only breasts), make-your-own pumpkin, imported-from-my-recent-trip-back-to-the-U.S. pecans, and fake-yet-still-pretty-tasty mushroom soup substitutes that all point to the lack of Thanksgiving being anything Austrian.  And ... that's OK!  It's not supposed to be Austrian.

Yet, my dear Austrian friends got a taste (insert giant smile for the pun) of Thanksgiving yesterday.  I made the basics (Turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, corn muffins, pecan pie) to share with those we've come to love.  It was their first real Thanksgiving experience.

Years from now, chances are many of our dear - and very young friends - will reflect upon our day together.  They will remember all the food and the new word they all learned ... "Turkey coma" ... from experience.  They will remember the pies that were oh, so sweet ... the paper plates that were oh, so American ... but I desire that they remember the sweet bond of friendship and love that was more present at our table than anything I prepared in my kitchen.  For I will celebrate the faces that I've come to recognize as my "family" ... in a foreign land ... that make my living in Austria feel like "home".

and for that ... I continue to celebrate,
while awakening from my Turkey coma,
christina

Airports.  I don't know the folks greeting each other in front of the arrivals board at the Vienna International Airport.  I just randomly snapped the photo while waiting on a friend to arrive from the U.S.

As I watched for her flight to land, estimating the time it would take to get her luggage (as not to stand near the arrival gate too long and loose my comfy seat in a nearby waiting area) I thought of the number of times I have been in this situation.  Airports.  Arrivals.  Departures.  Delays.  Hello's.  Goodbye's.

Airports are almost like a second home.  In them I have:  greived as if my heart would burst from grief, shed happy tears upon seeing the face of someone I've loved return home or visit, contemplated my lifes' work, settled into the transient nature of my life's rhythm, questioned my need for travel, admired well-dressed women who are able to wear high-heeled shoes while traveling, banished the thought of ever living a "normal" life, decided to change my hair style, fussed over slow customs lines, giggled at way too many awkward tight red capris ... on boys, prayed for my daughter I was leaving behind ... aching for the distance that miles would put between us.

In aiports, I'm always keenly aware of eternity.  I guess it's there I long for the never having to say goodbye ... again.

still snapping photo's,
chritina

Jet lag is yet another reminder that we ain't in Kansas anymore, Totto!  Actually, in my case, my ruby slippers are no longer hanging out in Oklahoma!  They lay next to my bed in Vienna ... where I can not sleep ... am sweating away my days in 98 degree temps with no AC ... What's Apping my girl back in Edmond, OK ... sipping perfect coffee ... and walking to the grocery store ... again.

This parallel life of being an expat is rather extraordinary.  The ability to jump back and forth into cultures is nothing short of a miracle.  Feeling at home in two countries is a privilege.

Yet ... there is an uniquely "strange" feeling of not being "home" in either place.  When I'm there I miss here ... and when I'm here I miss there.

Waiting for Normal,
christina