A friend asked me for an update on life in these United States.  Instead of giving multiple updates to multiple friends, I'm using this forum to catch everyone up on where we are, how we are doing, and most importantly, pinpointing the best coffee we've found!

Thanks to mulitiple airlines, we landed in Oklahoma City June 28, 2018.  Thanks to the generosity of a local Norman church, we have been comfortably living in a temporary house in Norman.

Chris and I are expanding our nonprofit, Fahrenheit: Real.Life.Mentoring.  It actually doesn't look much different than what we were doing in Vienna.  God has given Chris some great connections with local men who have a heart for mentoring.  We are looking forward to seeing the open doors God has planned for future partnerships.  My role has expanded to encompass more administrative responsibilities but that doesn' keep me from meeting with women!

We've quickly found a church that shares the same vision for reaching others locally and globally, Antioch Norman.  Through our church, we've discovered a great group of friends in a small group.  It's nice to not really "know" people but because of your bond in Christ feel like you "know" people!

God has given Chris and I new relationships and new young men and women to pour into - a thing He does often!  When I look at the new faces He has allowed me to love I am amazed.  He has also kept those "old" relationships alive and well.  Having spent the last nine years apart from some of my closest friends, I forget I can just pick up the phone and actually talk with them.

Addison, our oldest, is graduating from the University of Central Oklahoma on December 14, 2018!!  Milestone among milestones!  We are so proud of the journey she has taken not only educationally but in life.  We haven't gotten much face time with her as she has been focused on finishing her college career well but ... who cares ... we live on the same continent!!

Parker continues her Gap year by working several jobs.  She has developed a great community around her through our church - people her age who share a similar vision for life.  She has embarked on a 10-month training class that meets weekly.  The end goal is to grow deeper in her life with Christ.  She hopes to make a trip overseas, to a not yet determined location, to close her Gap year.

Libby is attending an online school, Epic Charter School.  When she's not grinding away at her core subjects, she's involved in a private Musical Theatre school twice a week. In January, she makes her debut in the musical, Big Fish.  She's longing for a dog (which we can't have until we get our own place), and a driving permit (which makes me shudder at the mere thought).

Those are the facts.
Here are my heart messages.

The transition for me, personally, has been smooth.  I envisioned what living this side of the ocean would look like many times.  I'm happy to report that most of my imaginations have not come true.  I do miss my friends.  I do miss my coffee.  I do miss my city, my apartment, my work in Vienna.  But, there is such a peace, overall, that can only come from a good Father.

Peace, however, doesn't mean the absence of "off" days.  The "off days" come in the form of down days ... or hurting for your youngest child who has made the biggest transition of the family ... or wondering why there aren't more cafes in which a person can just sit and be and sip sweet nectar (truly, a real struggle!)

My biggest heart cry is a permanent place, the place I believe God has highlighted for our family, to become a reality and make our home.  As the holidays approach, I fight to keep my peace.  Fight I will.  I will not listen to any lies the enemy tries to whisper - or yell - to confuse me and rob me of my state of contentment.  He has no power.

I am reluctant to make our temporary place "homey" ... somehow believing making the best of my circumstances will somehow trump the joy that is to come.  Yet, I will find a balance while waiting.  It's a daily thing ... this waiting on God.  And yet He's given me such inner strength despite feeling like a weak vessel.  He's good.  He's really good.

Most of all, I feel emotions rise and fall at the drop of a hat.  This, too, is normal.  I don't like it.  But's it's normal.

And so there you have it.  My update.  A year from now, this will seem perhaps laughable.  The issues that are currently center stage will have been resolved.  So I keep perspective in its proper place and lean on a God that has walked so faithfully with me over many years.  I'm in His hands.

There you have it,
Christina

Coffee Ratings 1 (low) to 10 (high) of my Norman Hot Spots:
Starbucks (1); only suitable for the 1x a year Pumpkin Spice Latte
Stella Nova (7); great space, lots of energy, sunny, bitter coffee so one must order a Flat White
Panera Bread: (5) plenty of place to park your bumm, refillable, average coffee but it comes in a lovely mug
Grey Owl: (2) Hippie vibe, bitter coffee, not a fan
All About Cha: (8) Great Italian Cappucino, great space, comfy chairs

This is the reason I went to Berlin.  Friends.  It's a strange thing, friendships.  I believe God has people for you in every season of your life.  Some seasons are very brief.  Some seasons turn into lifetimes.  Some seasons bring a whole lot of junk.  Some seasons are filled with normal.  And some seasons are just lovely.  And if you are very, very blessed ... there are some seasons filled with everything.

These friends of mine have been knitted into my life for the "just about everything seasons" in my life overseas.  I do make a distinction between overseas friends and my non-overseas friends.  If you've never crossed an ocean and lived in a place where you don't know how to ask for the toilet then you have never forged friendships like those that are created while living overseas.  They are not better than non-overseas friendships ... they are just different.

Not living close to blood relatives, Sonic, or Kohl's, these girls have seen me through times when I thought I would die laughing, die crying, or die from boredom.  I've seen them through times when they wanted to run away, stow away and stay away.  We've shared Thanksgiving meals around tables of internationals.  We've packed each other up for another move.  We've discussed marriage, weight and children.  We've gossiped and confessed.  We've prayed and sat dumbfounded until an answer came.  We've scratched our heads at ourselves and each other.  We've been there ... and being there counts ... especially when you live overseas.


This is the reason for the visit ... coffee.  Seriously, not coffee for the sake of coffee but coffee for the sake of what it represents.  I love that my living in Europe has forever changed my concept of "having coffee".  It's not about the roasting of the beans that then become ground into velvet powder that then dissolves into molten liquid to be sipped at just the right temperature that equals pure heaven (OK, maybe a little) but it's the time that is created between hot cups held with warm hands.

Our first meeting was marked by ... coffee.  The sitting down together around our beverage and talking ... really talking ... and listening ... really listening.  It's the symbolism of being known and truly knowing another.

We structured our day around when the next time was we could sit in a cafe and drink ... coffee.  In those moments we discussed our healing from hurts, our hurts that needed healing, and our fears that some hurts would never be healed.  We contemplated real life in front of people that wouldn't judge how many times we cried or didn't cry or couldn't cry.  We debriefed our positions in our current lives and created scenarios of what our individual futures might, could, or should look like.  These were raw and holy conversations that over coffee felt sacred.

Our paths crossed here in Vienna.  Now, one lives in Texas while two still reside in Vienna.  A trip to Berlin by my Texas comrade created the perfect scenario for us to reunite.  Just us girls.  Away from families.  Away from home.  Alone.  Alone with time to talk.  Alone with time to talk over coffee.

I came away from my weekend in Berlin with something ... that I'm not sure I know how to put into words.  It was more than just catching up.  It was more than seeing a new European city.  It was more than buying new socks.  It was about the reconnecting with my friends that when together pulls something out in me that is good and right and whole.

These are the things friendships are made of and I am the better for my friendships.  I am also very grateful for God's timing in allowing me to forge these bonds in a season of my life that has been made sweeter for having these friends in it.

These are the good things.
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.

Goodbyes.  I know a little about this topic.  Living abroad makes me more than a novice - more than an amateur - it makes me a downright professional Goodbye Sayer.  You get to know how to pack the most in a short period of time, sum up your feelings near an airport gate, and contain tears that want to run like rivers until you are behind security and alone, with a Kleenex, to wipe the moisture from eyes that don't know the next time they will see precious humans you love.

I really appreciate that Jesus was not a stranger to goodbye's as well.  I've been reading the book of John.  The last few chapters are a long goodbye letter to his dearest friends.  At times, they don't get it.  At times, they struggle to understand all that he's communicating to them.  But he knows.  He knows what he wants to convey and the important truths he wants bouncing around in their heads after he's gone.

Before all hell breaks loose, literally, he tells them to take heart - for he has overcome the world.  These are his final words.  He's already told them he was leaving them with a gift - Peace.  He also told them about the Advocate who would come after he left - the Holy Spirit.  He spent lots and lots of time defining and showing them the benefits of remaining in him - fruit.  He's ready.  His last message:  take heart - I have overcome the world.

I'm tired of the message many Christians have been given and are living as if they are slaves to "the world".  The message is that life is like an old-fashioned pinball machine, and you must dodge all the evils life throws at you.  Yet, this is not the truth Jesus left as his final message.  He said he had overcome the world.  He didn't live in a pinball machine.  Evil things happened yet he navigated them through the power of and in the constant presence of the Holy Spirit. Peace in the storm.  Presence in the battle.

What if we - Christians - stopped living as slaves to the world and acted in faith on the words of Jesus?  What if we lived as if Jesus really did overcome the world?  What if crisis didn't bring chaos in our souls but defaulted in dependence on the Overcomer?  What if tragedy didn't bring weak knees and fearful hearts but humble dependence  entirely on the One who we knew would show us the way?  What if financial need led us to praise God before He provided because we trusted that He would?  What if we simply took God at his word ...

Overcoming the world doesn't mean overcoming hard places or difficult circumstances.  Overcoming the world means we don't have to react without hope.  Overcoming means we unwrap the gift of Peace, rely on the Advocate, and start embracing the Presence of the One who walks right next to us through the other side.

No more Pinball Games for Me,
Christina

Daily, I am reminded that I am a stranger in a foreign land.  It's not great, big, ugly reminders that shake my world.  It's often little things.  It's often things that creep up behind me and cause me to respond with my inner Southern girl, complete with accent ... "Oh My Word"!

Yesterday was an "Oh My Word" kind of experience.

Working out at my beloved Mrs. Sporty (don't laugh - I see results) I see all kinds of body types.  This makes my heart, usually, happy.  I don't feel singled out.  I don't feel like I don't belong.  I just blend in among all the other types of female specimens.

However, yesterday, as I was getting my workout on ... some girl who was two stations (it's circuit training) behind me had not shaved her underarms in what could have possibly been argued for her entire life.  Gross!!

There is no moral to this story.  Just a simple cultural exchange that caused me to be reminded I ain't in Kansas anymore!

Being sure to shave,
christina

Despite the hurts, the goodbyes, the undeniable truth about Nomads and their lifestyle ... and perhaps the one they would all want to plaster on t-shirts everywhere proclaiming their cause ... can be summed up in one word:  GOOD.

Good looks different for each Nomad.  Good may be passing a language fluency test and being able to speak the language of their new found kinsmen.  Good may be the email from a former student who is pursuing a degree in education because of their influence.  Good may be in a soul who found truth.  Good may be in having children experience watching you live your life without a safety net.  For each Nomad, "good" is different ... but the reward is still great once achieved and realized.

The words of C.S. Lewis sum up - for me personally - what living this nomadic lifestyle means.  In his book The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe Lewis selects a main character, a lion, who is called Aslan.  Aslan symbolically refers to God.  Fearsome.  Allusive.  Present.  Kind.  Protective.  What he pens about the very heart of his God-like central figure is brilliant:

"He's not safe, but he's good."

If you've never stepped out into the great unknown called faith and put trembling feet in front of the other to follow a vision that lives only in your soul ... you won't get this.

If you are a fellow nomad ... you are already shaking your head.  You know.

"Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training.  They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever."  I Corinthians 9:25

Modern Day Nomads (MDN) come and go, answering to the One who gave them wanderlust!  They may be teachers, business men, counselors, mentors, diplomats ... the title doesn't matter.  They have taken serious this call to be a follower of God and for them, that means holding on loosely to their life for the greater good of the One they follow.  You don't have to live overseas to be a MDN.  I was a normal, middle-American MDN for a very long time.  The fact that I now live abroad doesn't elevate my MDN status ... just gives me another stamp in my passport (which all MDN have current ones, by the way!).

All MDN know that God may choose to have them live life in one place for a very long time or it could mean being transitional.  Being nomadic doesn't always mean backing bags.  Being nomadic is simply the willingness of the heart to let God direct the GPS of your life ... and not letting the "stuff" you own ... own ... you.  I know many MDN who have lived in the same city for years.  They are most effective by being there ... that's God's plan for them.

What's hard is when it seems that choices of others cause MDN to leave a place in which they've invested well.  We've all been there.  Looking back, there was a time when it appeared that the choice of one caused us to leave a place and head home.  However, over 15 years under the bridge and a whole lot of life learning later shows me quite the opposite.  God.is.always.the.keeper.of.our.destiny.

All MDN bear scars.  All Nomads have had times when it seemed that choices of others caused them to move.  However, truth says it was in these times that God allowed it ... all were a part of His great love ... all working together for good.  Nomads don't always see that in the moment.  When Nomads are hurt by others, it takes time to see with 20/20 again.  That's why other Nomads come alongside and hold up their arms, and dust off their feet, and put up with their ugly emotions ... because someone else did the same for us ... and we have have the scars to prove it!

"This is what The Lord says:  Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls."  Jeremiah 6:16

On this sleepy, grey, and rather wet Saturday morning ... it seems fitting that photos should tell stories rather than my words.  Enjoy ...

A sleepy birthday girl eating her birthday breakfast!

The blowing of the candles with her BFF Alyssa!

While walking downtown, we were interrupted by the filming of "Mission Impossible 5"; the small, dark figure at the center top we believe to be ... Tom Cruise! ... at least that's what I think ... and my friend, Greg thinks ... so there!

On my way home from the grocery store ... a little written demonstration.

on my way home ...

My faithful grocery cart, I affectionately call her "Granny".  I'm on your right ... the colorful one.

On my way home.  To your right is the Augarten ... a beautiful park.  In front of you is the Energy plant ... we call it the "Willy Wonka" building.  Libby thinks her friend, Carson, would think it's the coolest building ever!

Lots of time reading and studying in my new favorite cozy corner ...

Do I need words here ...

... or here?

On the Streetcar getting ready to get off at my stop (Danube River in the background.)

My last elementary "Back to School" night.

I love feet.  I especially love summer feet.  Summer feet make great pictures.



 So, this is a park on the same grounds as our Rathaus (City Hall).  Our church is right behind this complex and I snapped this pic last Sunday as we decided to walk home.  That blue building is public toilets.  They are clean and cost .50 to use ... a worthy investment in a city with little to no public toilets!
 So, this is the same park.  Now that the sun has actually made it's appearance, these park benches are occupied by lots and lots of people soaking up the sun, reading, people-watching or whatever else suits their fancy.  In January this park is a major Ice Skating rink.  They turn the walking paths into skating paths.  In April there is always a big Easter Market.  Throughout the summer they put up a super sized screen and show free concerts and movies to the public.  In November right up to Christmas this turns into one of the more beautiful Christmas Markets in the city.

 I've just started carrying around my camera to capture cut things that I take for granted and I see on a regular basis.  This was on a little side street across from the park.  For those non-German speakers who are reading this ... "Handschuhe" means gloves.  This is a store that sells nothing but ... you guessed it, gloves!

 In a city famous for it's Coffee House culture, it seems cheap, unauthentic, American, and a shame to go to Starbucks.  However, it happens.  In fact it happens once a week for me when I meet my language partner.  This is a new Starbucks that just went in at the UBahn (subway) stop next to ours at the University.  It's in a very old building and makes my heart happy (especially now that I'm a gold card holder!)


 Hidden off the main streets, behind large doorways, are always these quaint little Hoffs (yards).  This one was especially wonderful and had to be captured with my camera.


As we walked home from church ... through the Rathaus Park ... past the new Starbucks ... we stopped for a quick "Selfy".  Our Addie has taught us well. 

Finally, this is the bridge that we walk across at least once a day to our apartment building.  If you look to the left, you'll not only see a patch of water (this is the Donau Kanal - Danube River Canal) and then up from that you'll see an explosion of color.  This is graffiti.  Along this part of the canal, it is legal to paint on the walls.  Some of the best artwork in town can be seen along these walls!

And there you have it ... a little walk through our neighborhood.

Today as I made my way to the UBhan (subway) to meet a young woman I regularly meet with, I was prevented from entering. Apparently this line was not running.  The entire line was not shut down, just at this station.  Everyone knows what that means.

It became apparent this was fresh; it had just occurred.  There were Policemen and one ambulance hurrying about the ground level before plunging deep into the UBahn tracks.  This was routine procedure.  When there is an "incident" emergency workers and UBahn workers know the routine.

It is a "given" here in my city and everyone knows that when something like this happens ... its usually a "Jumper".  Out of some one's desperation they jumped in front of the UBahn and ended their life.

I wondered if anyone else felt the gravity of the moment like I did.  As I regrouped, trying to reroute my trip and text my friend to tell her I was late, I was stricken by the way in which everyone else seemed to just ... carry on.

It took me much longer to get to my friend than I expected.  As I traveled, I thought about the "Jumper".  Was it a young woman like the one I was meeting?  Was this a desperate young man?  What was their story?  What led them to this drastic act of hopelessness?

I did carry on ... because I had to.  However, my time pouring into this young friend of mine was not taken for granted.  It sounds dramatic, but giving of yourself ... pouring into another ... is saving a life ... one life at a time.

Did anyone know where Chechnya was before the Boston marathon?

I did.  When we first moved here, our flat was nestled between two different apartment complexes.  One was filled with lots of little kids who spoke German with an accent and were not native Austrians.  They were loud and playful and polite.  When their ball would be kicked into our tiny little area not even considered a backyard, they would ask us if we could send it back over the fence.  After time, after perhaps 1,231 "hello's", we began a between the fence friendship.  At one point it budded into them knowing our girls names and them bellowing their names from the concrete space they used as a playground asking if they could come out to play.  I have a picture of these kiddo's with Addison.  One lazy Saturday afternoon she took her guitar over to their space and spent the afternoon teaching them songs.

These kids and their parents are from Chechnya.  Hard-working, loving and respectful people who came to Austria in search of a different life.  A better life.

According to the L.A. Times (April 19, 2013) "A massive Russian crackdown on Chechnya's bid for independence in the 1990s and the installation of loyal leaders there pushed the Caucasus Muslim enclave from the headlines years ago. But resentment has festered and at times bled into the global holy war being waged by Islamic militants."

I guess I've come to see the ramifications of being a foreigner ... since I am now one.  Because certain Americans stand for and have done certain things, many put me in the same box.  Unfair.  Yet, typical and characteristic of human nature.  We tend to put things in boxes.  However, boxes confine.  My hope during the aftermath of what is and has been a horrible act of violence is that we do not quickly form opinions of the rest of the population that call themselves Chechnyan.  

Yesterday I traveled, by train, from Budapest, Hungary to my home here in Vienna.  I settled in with a book, a few snacks, and prepared to not be disturbed for the 3 hour journey.  As I read my book about the history of the Hapsburg's (former ruling empire) I was quickly brought back to reality when I had the urge to ... use the facilities.

I was just finishing up my experience in the WC, washing my hands behind a locked door, when suddenly the door was thrown back from it's secure position.  As I gasped, a very tall Policeman excused himself and proceeded to make his way ... in a hurry ... down the isles of the train.  Thankful I had finished my ... business ... I took my seat and began to look around for clues as to why the disturbance. 

In the car in front of me, another Policeman gathered with my WC Policeman and they were talking harshly with a group of young men.  A few more fast paced walks back through my car ... and returning again ... they settled in the afore mentioned car with this band of young men.

At the next stop, on the border of Hungary and Austria, the Policemen escorted these young men out of the train and lined them up along the platform.  What would have been a normal 1.5 minute unloading/reloading stop turned out to be a 10 minute delay as the Policeman gathered papers and documents from the group and spoke strong Hungarian through their walkie talkies to some unknown recipient.

Gathering from their body language, the Policeman gained some sort of "all clear" through the mysterious voice on the other end of their walkie talkies and they allowed the group to come on board the train ... but I never found out where they took them.  They didn't return to their original spot.

It was then that it dawned on me that the average American has no idea of what it means to:
... always carry proper documentation on your person
... have a police force ready at all times to apprehend illegal peoples
... the confusion of having transactions take place around you in three different languages
... how "good" we really have it.

Just another day in the life ... and what a life this is!

One of the great treasures of living far, far from home is the strange way God connects you with others who live... far, far from home.  It's something I've seen as a military kid and now as an expat living abroad.  There is nothing quite like the "family" that seems to emerge.

One of the extra special treasures occurs when those who become like brothers, sisters, strange uncles ... is when one of them adds a baby to their family.  This is where I find myself this morning.  I am sitting in a flat in Budapest, Hungary, listening to my dear friend (a girl of 42 ... and a horrible inside joke) cooing in a high pitched voice to a strange little person she now calls her precious baby girl.  Living ... far, far from home ... and not having a sister that emerged from her mother's womb ... and having a Mamma who can't jump on a plane because of caring for an ailing husband ... I am the second, third, or fourth best thing.  I am the "Aunt"  who has come to change diapers, coo, hold, wipe drool, cuddle, sooth, coddle, and basically love on sweet baby.

My dear friends have become non-sleeping, crazy loving, diaper changing, snot wiping, stroller pushing, weird sound making, constant photo snapping ... parents!  They've joined the ranks of the thousands, millions, billions of other normal people who crossed that line to bear offspring and be forever changed.  But for just a few days ... I get to bring, hopefully, time for an unexpected nap ... or a quick date to the local coffee shop ... or just another pair of hands to help stuff baby into her jacket.  What a wonderful life!

My little neighbor, Frau Hayden, is 94 years old.  Since we've been her neighbor, I've had a fond affection for her.  In my culture, there is a separation of peoples.  When you want to/should show respect and honor ... in cases of age, authority or position, you use "per Sie".  This is the formal "you".  Americans have no concept of this formality. 

Usually it is up to the elder in the relationship to break the invisible formality by switching ... usually by a statement of intention ... that you can use "per du".  This is the informal "you".  This not only changes the vocabulary you use in addressing one another but also changes the level of intimacy.

Right now, I am somewhere in the middle of this transition with Frau Hayden.  Despite being neighbors for over a year, despite my bringing flowers, bowls of soup, and American cookies we are still in the "per Sie" phase.

My Chris recently discovered Frau Hayden in the lobby of our building.  Struggling to get her grocery cart up the stairs, she explained that she had been in the hospital and was recovering from a foot surgery.

Of course my Chris offered to help her up the stairs and invited her to ask us for help anytime she needed it.  Instead of a polite "thank you" she said she would.  She also said she had considered calling us while she was in the hospital.  This was a huge tactical move on her part ... one toward intimacy.

This week I brought her some fresh homemade tomato soup.  It was cold outside (snow) and offered to go to the store for her.  What I received took me by surprise.  She gave me list of things she wanted me to accomplish for her!  I went to the drug store, her cash in my hot little hands, on a mission.  She trusted me.  She took another step toward friendship.

In just a few short hours my older girls come home.  They have been gone since Wednesday.  Once a year, our organization sponsors a retreat for kids ... just like my Addie and Parker ... and literally pours into them ... candy, wisdom, life tools, time for building relationships with other kids they only see once a year.  They spent these last days in Prague, Czeck Republic.  And, after the love and support they received from those who gave of themselves to make this time possible, they will come back changed ... for the better.

While they have been gone, my Chris and I have been able to pour into Libby.  In her words ... "being spoiled".  Ha!  Spoiling by her definition means her choosing the movie to watch, her getting Mom and Dad all to herself during a conversation, her having a sleepover in her bedroom floor with Mom and Dad and being showered with her full share of kisses her sisters aren't here to receive.  Yep.  She's been spoiled.

My friends are getting older.  They have children who now qualify as young adults.  My friends miss their children.  They miss the snuggles.  They miss the naivety.  They miss ... childhood.  Some of my friends have grown children in college or out on their own in the world.  They carry on like giddy school kids when they come home for a visit.  They post their kids' accomplishments on Facebook like proud parents.

The more my children ... who just like my friends' ... are now qualifying as young adults ... I get that.  I've been flying about my house this morning trying to tidy up, cook a welcome home meal, and fix my new hair they haven't seen since they've been gone (I got a perm and if anyone laughs you will get hit!).  I am giddy.  I can't wait for them to walk through my doors.

This morning as I was trying to fix my hair and I was staring into the bathroom mirror, I was looking at a woman who just like my friends ... is getting older.  I miss my children.  I miss the snuggles.  I miss their childhood.

Then, when I was beginning to tear up God brought this thought to my mind ... I am HIS child.  The way I am fluttering about the house this morning ... is the general sentiment He holds for me in his heart ... every day.

In a few more hours, after my girls get home and they have gotten on my nerves, that giddy feeling will go away.  Funny.  I got the impression from God in my bathroom that His giddy feeling for me never goes away.  That's an amazing thought.  I think I'll carry that around with me for awhile.  For now, back to getting the house ready for my girls ... my precious girls.

• Realizing this is not a holiday for most of my friends.  While I’m bobbing about looking for pecans, no one else realizes what day it is.
• Pie plates are worth their weight in gold!  I’ve used tart pans and Pyrex lids for pie plates because they just don’t exist here.
• Canned pumpkin is non-existent.  You’ve got to do it home-style … by roasting a pumpkin and pureeing it. 
• Pecans are rare … and expensive. Sweet potatoes are becoming more available, but usually only 1 grocery store carries them in their imported food area.  You can find them at Asian shops.
• Cranberries, too, are becoming more of a hot commodity.  This year I only paid 2.99 euro a bag.
• Unless you are an employee of the U.N. and have access to their international commissary, you cannot find a real live turkey.  You can find geese … but rarely … if ever, can you find a real live turkey.  I just buy turkey breasts.

Dreary days.  With the time change, it gets darker earlier (around 4:15 ish).  Grey weather has made its grand entrance center stage in our lives in Vienna.  There is that old familiar chill in our flat, the one that begs to be treated by fuzzy socks and more layers of clothing.  You can tell on the faces of strangers that everyone has buckled down for the dreary days ahead.  Warmer coats, thicker scarves, and a stronger resolve hovers in the air as everyone knows that  many more months of darker, colder, wetter days lay ahead.

However, before we all need to pop a Prozac, there is the “upside” of these Dreary Days.  I’ve always been one to swim a little up stream.  Finding a reason to celebrate among the grey is an exciting challenge and one not so hard to do here!   Dreary Days mean roasted chestnut (Maroni) and Potato wedge vendors make their debut in little huts on street corners to warm your hands and make your belly happy.  Dreary Days also mean more cups of coffee in cooler cafés.  Dreary Days also mean more invitations to dinner over warm bowls of Pumpkin (Kurbis) soup.

During this beginning phase of the Dreary season, we’ve experienced a retreat with university students in a charming retreat house in the mountains, hosted a celebration for our friend, Thomas, as he complete his masters studies, watched many Alfred Hitchcock movies, popped more than enough homemade popcorn and enjoyed an entire week of no school as we celebrated fall break with the girls.  Dreary Days need not be all that … dreary … after all.

As I rest, with the perfect timing of vacation and the necessity of doing so to the aforementioned serotonin levels that are deficient in my little brain (see last week’s blog) … dreary is good.  Dreary Days seem to be such a good reminder of God’s economy.  When all is well, it’s so easy to be so … self-reliant.  Not to jump on any band wagon or stand on any proverbial soap box, but our society admires self-reliance.  Self-made men, working mothers who balance work, motherhood and extra’s, pull yourself up by the boot straps kind of people … all are elevated to super human, role models … those we should all try to imitate.  Nothing wrong with the hero models we worship … but are we worshipping the right kind of hero?

I find it so encouraging to read of Paul, and of his accounts of being weak so that Christ’s strength can be fully seen.  Funny how those attributes of Paul are sought after when we find ourselves at the end of our rope … when we are weak.  It’s hard to fully appreciate the weakness when we feel ourselves to be strong.

This morning, as I sat in my chair in my room, overlooking the other apartment building covered in vines that are flaming red, orange and yellow, reflecting the beauty of the dreary days ... sipping my coffee, reading my Bible, I felt such a great strength in being so … quiet … and so weak.  There is something beautiful and humbling in being … weak.  Weak reminds me of these, the Dreary Days.

During the highlight of summer, when my body is tan and serotonin levels are bursting at the seams from the full advantage of vitamin-D levels made incredibly high to absorbing as much sunlight as possible, dreary seems unbearable.  During the hay days of summer, when it seems unthinkable to stay bundled up in fleece and wrapped in layers, dreary seems uncomfortable.

Then, as the natural rhythm of life keeps on beating, dreary becomes somehow … natural.  What was feared and dreaded becomes … normal.

If the Dreary Days make me appreciate the summer, then I’m gonna try to let this season of “dreary” (my weakness) remind me of the grace, the peace, the strength of being a child of God.  A child that is well protected loved and cared for during summer and dreary.  My weakness is never a sign of weakness of my Father … in fact just a clearer picture of the Might I allow to go unnoticed.  I do stand amazed at the wonder … at the strength of an all-powerful God … who is delighted in my weakness.  It’s an opportunity for me to see clearer and be stronger … being more true to who He is and who I am not.  I am the child.  He is the Father.  He is God.  I am not.  Weak is strong.  Dreary is OK.

Now, if you will excuse me, I'm gonna go find my fuzzy socks, pop some more popcorn, and just sit and enjoy ... the Dreary!