I Came, I Saw, I Ate Gelato Every Day

They say it’s not how you start, but how you finish. Since I started by leaving EVERY form of payment in my apartment (fortunately, realized that before getting on the bus. Thank you, Jesus!) and finished by vomiting twice this morning (went too long without food/caffeine, oops), I’m going to define this trip by the middle. 🙂

If Rome was a person, we probably wouldn’t get along. It’s because it’s neither my opposite nor like me, but some weird, confusing mash-up in the middle. The airport and roads of this ancient city are ill-marked, or inconsistently marked, or not marked at all. It seems to expect of you innate knowledge of the place. The lifestyle/people, too, seem unrushed but also impatient, which is just downright exasperating.

Rant (almost) over. I booked my trip in March and got a heck of a deal. The hotel ended up being the main reason why I could swing it – it should’ve been called Hotel Hellhole. I don’t consider myself a princess, but shampoo, a washcloth, a bath towel, and working toilet in a hotel I was paying for were expected. But since I don’t travel for the hotels anyway, I decided to make the best of it, assuring myself I’d feel better about it all after some food and sleep.

Mornings. For 2 euro, I’d get an Americano (black) and a delicious pastry filled with either cream, chocolate, or both. Real Italians shoot their coffee at the bar (they’re tiny cups bc the coffee is strong and delicious…all you need) & are on their way. Since it was my one time to hook up to wifi, I lingered over my coffee like a true American. I already miss that coffee – it was as good as you’d expect.

I headed off in the brilliant Roman sun for my 1st day, which consisted of a walking tour, booked so I’d be sure to see the things I cared about most (the Colosseum, Michelangelo’s Pieta and Sistine Chapel). I left extra time to get lost, which I promptly did. After a few re-routes – keep in mind I had zero cell service, so I navigated everything off of directions I printed before my trip – I turned a corner and caught my first glimpse of the Colosseum, our meeting point. This 2,000-year-old masterpiece is the whole reason I came (Ancient Roman history is my 2nd favorite, right after Egyptian), and as cliché as it sounds, my breath literally caught in my throat. I choked on the emotion of seeing it in person. Now reflecting on my trip, that one moment made all the hiccups, frustrations, and hours of travel absolutely worth it. It’s magnificent.

Our tour guide, Ivanna, was great & we discovered our group consisted entirely of Americans. One of them – Marcus – is also a PNW’er, so we buddied up for the day. Super fun! I touched the Colosseum and tried to take it all in while listening to our tour guide and not getting separated from the group. We walked along cobblestone streets, taking in architecture ranging from centuries to thousands of years old. Statues lined the Imperial street, including the two dudes who really got me into Roman history, Julius Caesar and his nephew, Augustus. We saw the Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, Piazza Navona with Bernini’s fountains, ate gelato (whiskey mousse was my favorite, YUM), and wound our way through circuitous, narrow streets. After a lunch break – pizza, prego & grazie – we headed to the Vatican. I was informed the museum contains millions of artifacts and spans 9 miles, so unfortunately I didn’t get to see my favorite statue of all time, the one of Augustus with children about his feet. We DID see Raphael’s The School of Athens piece as well as a breathtaking room of intricate tapestries. My bubble was burst to hear the kind of men Raphael and Michelangelo were – not terribly scrupulous – but it was a good check on reality. These guys were regular dudes with great talents – no different really from the rest of us!

The Sistine Chapel. No photos are allowed in there, but that’s for the best as it forces you to just drink it all in. It’s bigger and taller than I thought, and incredible. I spent the most time in the center of the room, head rocked back all the way on my neck under The Creation of Adam. I couldn’t stop looking at it. While Michelangelo painted the ceiling, the paintings lining the walls were by other notable artists, including one my favorites, Botticelli. I was the last to rejoin my group as I just wanted to stay there.

The tour concluded, Marcus and I zipped over next door to St Peter’s Basilica to see the jaw-dropping Pieta, sculpted by Michelangelo when he was just 23. St Peter’s is amazing in its own right, containing more gold filigree than seems possible in one place. We hopped on the metro back to the center of Rome, and Marcus showed me a Roman grocery. It was fun to see how the Romans really live, like how you weigh and sticker your own produce, they don’t like major bills, and apparently there’s a separate line if you want to use cash. Marcus laughed at me when I got stuck in self-checkout prison, trying to manually bust through the gates, not knowing you’re supposed to scan your receipt to be let out. Yeesh. A funny moment that was a highlight from my trip.

The food. A whole lot of pasta! I got gnocchi Bolognese with prosecco my first night, and it was tasty. And to borrow from Julius Caesar, I came, I saw, I ate gelato every day. Usually as a mid-morning snack. I had spaghetti twice in one day and limoncello, a tasty Italian drink I’m going to look for in the States. Fruit drinks are delicious there, too, and which I recommend since produce is hard to find.

I spent my next day getting hopelessly lost before finding Piazza Navona again – but eating gelato at Rome’s best gelateria in the process, and then went waaaay in the wrong direction looking for Campo d’Fiori, a centuries old street market. Happily, getting lost allowed me to see more of the city, including mind-boggling architecture and Egyptian artifacts from when Rome and Egypt were quite cozy (I’m looking at you, Cleopatra). At last I found it and grabbed a quick lunch from Forno, Rome’s best bakery, munching it perched on the edge of a fountain. Romans call to you from their booths and restaurants, trying to get you to purchase from them. I spent the remainder of the day shopping the stores before hopping the metro – exactly like NY subways and very crowded – back to my hotel.

My final day. I decided to live like a true Roman and take my time. The goal was to hit the Roman Forum, and happily I had to go by the Colosseum again to get there. This time I perched on the high wall and just stared at in the morning sun. I was very content and became more so when a middle-aged Italian man who drums up business for tours stopped to talk with me, even after I told him I’d already done a tour. He stopped by again later to talk some more, really making a great morning even better. Then, the Roman Forum. Wow. Ancient ruins of Roman life, unsurprisingly just as random in the roads as the rest of the city. 🙂 Above the forum is Palantine Hill where the royals and officials lived, like Augustus. To walk in the same places as those people 2,000 years ago was pretty incredible. Next was the obligatory gelato stop (twist my arm) before venturing out for Knights of Malta, which spoiler alert, I never found. But! I saw Circus Maximus along the way, the place where chariot races a la Ben-Hur took place. I finished the day at the Spanish Steps before enjoying a big dinner of more spaghetti.

The people. Friendly up to a point, and then you sense impatience. Loud. And yes, the Italian men are very pretty. Some of the soldiers and/or polizia were ridiculously good-looking. I joked to myself, “This is Marcello, automatic-rifle-carrying soldier by day, Armani model by night.”

I ended the trip very grateful. Grateful for my life, my city, my country, and the means to be able to have incredible adventures like this Rome trip.

 

Who Are You Wearing?: Interview with Joseph of the Multi-Colored Coat

I’m making a beeline (pun unintended) for 2 biblical characters in heaven: Abraham (my opening line? “Dude, you’re CRAZY”) & OT Joseph.

Joe is my guy. He’s the guy of anyone who had a vision and then suddenly found themselves tossed in a pit, wondering why the heck where they are is the exact opposite of where they should be. Max Lucado wrote a book on him and sermons are preached on “pit to palace” journeys. Joe’s story is incredible…but conspicuously lacking one thing: what was he thinking for 13 pit-to-palace years?

I’ve studied Joseph’s story & can’t find anywhere – including where he’s mentioned in the NT – his state of mind. We know in the end he was merciful & gave God the glory, and we know he was a clueless kid in the beginning (really smart telling your brothers who already hate you that one day they’ll bow to you). But in the middle, where it counts, we’re not told a thing. Except. Just one little hint:

“‘Only remember me when things are going well with you again—tell Pharaoh about me and get me out of this place. I was kidnapped from the land of the Hebrews. And since I’ve been here, I’ve done nothing to deserve being put in this hole.’” Genesis 40:14-15 (MSG)

This was when Joe was in prison for doing the right thing & interprets fellow-prisoner-cupbearer’s dream for him (spoiler: cupbearer was getting out of Dodge, which is why Joe wanted a ride). This it, peeps…no other indication of his mental state, if he still believed the vision, etc. No angry outbursts, no throwing himself on the bed in tears like a Disney princess in distress, no soulful songs of deliverance belted out in his cell. Joseph shut up pretty quickly from his early years of careless sharing.*

We’re not even told how he reacts when day after day, as he waited in anticipation, the cupbearer didn’t come back. Did he slowly lose hope as he eventually realized the cupbearer forgot him and no help was coming? 

I gave up, assuming Joseph’s mental state didn’t matter to the story, and it’s about doing what’s in front of you where you find yourself. That’s what Joseph did. Check it out:

“As it turned out, God was with Joseph and things went very well with him. He ended up living in the home of his Egyptian master. His master recognized that God was with him, saw that God was working for good in everything he did. He became very fond of Joseph and made him his personal aide. He put him in charge of all his personal affairs, turning everything over to him. From that moment on, God blessed the home of the Egyptian—all because of Joseph. The blessing of God spread over everything he owned, at home and in the fields, and all Potiphar had to concern himself with was eating three meals a day.” Genesis 39:2-6 (MSG)

“But there in jail God was still with Joseph: He reached out in kindness to him; he put him on good terms with the head jailer. The head jailer put Joseph in charge of all the prisoners—he ended up managing the whole operation. The head jailer gave Joseph free rein, never even checked on him, because God was with him; whatever he did God made sure it worked out for the best.” Genesis 39:21-23 (MSG)

Joe succeeded at everything he did, quickly being promoted to the top (trial roles for when he’d become 2nd to Pharaoh?) in both situations. But did you notice something? It had nothing to do with Joseph’s ability. Remember, Joe was a spoiled, careless 18-year-old when he was sold into slavery. It was God’s doing – God favored him in everything he undertook. Joe gets no credit here, and by the time he interprets dreams, he’s learned that lesson.

Fast forward to a few days ago, thinking yet again on Joseph’s story & the exasperating lack of info. How am I supposed to know how to be in the middle of my story without your example, Joe? Heavy sigh. I thought again on the one hint (“get me out of here, I don’t deserve to be here”) and what I know he did (ruled where he was purely by the favor of God). I thought about what God’s been saying to me about doing what He has for me to do while I wait for the “palace.” I thought about attitudes regarding where we are and where we will be.

And then it hit me. I know what Joseph’s mind set was during those 13 years. 

Joseph kept busy during those years, right? Potiphar only had to worry about eating – Joseph took care of everything. In prison, Joe managed his fellow prisoners. He wasn’t sulking in a corner in despair or planning prison breaks. He did what God favored him to do.

Now, my next thought was, “Ok, so he resigned himself to his fate. He gave up on the vision. He didn’t think God would come through. It was a pipe dream. He settled.” But remember that little hint? Let’s look at it again:

“‘Only remember me when things are going well with you again—tell Pharaoh about me and get me out of this place. I was kidnapped from the land of the Hebrews. And since I’ve been here, I’ve done nothing to deserve being put in this hole.’” Genesis 40:14-15 (MSG)

Does that sound to you like a man who’s given up?! No! Joe walked in the favor of God where he was at, but he knew his stay was temporary. He didn’t stop hoping or believing that God would make things right. Like Job – “because even if he killed me, I’d keep on hoping. I’d defend my innocence to the very end” (Job 13:15, MSG) – he wasn’t going to let his contrary circumstances keep him from maintaining his innocence and believing God would come through.

Now I see the example: do with joy and to the best of my ability what’s put in front of me while I wait for God to fulfill the vision (for myself, for others) no matter how seemingly impossible. And it gets better. Two years go by before the cupbearer remembers Joe. Although it probably didn’t feel that way to Joe, this was the perfect time…if the cupbearer spoke up for him 2 years earlier, he’d have been released & finished out his days in some normal job. Instead, he needed to develop 2 more years for when Pharaoh needed a dream interpreter. What I love? On that day, Joe woke up in prison, but went to sleep in the palace. It took 13 years for him to ready for “such a time as this” (Esther 4:14), but when it was time, it happened in a day. Joe is released from prison and catapulted into his vision, all for his good and God’s glory.

And He’s doing the same for us.

 

 

*Note: Isn’t it amazing how the very mistake he made (bragging to his brothers) is what God used to get him the fulfillment of his vision? He needed to grow up into the vision first, going through a period of humility & reliance on God’s provision. What an encouragement to us, that God really does work all things together for our good! (Romans 8:28)

 

Relax, Just Do It

“Relax” he signed to me again, appropriately the same hand signal as “hang loose.” I smiled and nodded, but I knew I was screwed. This is as relaxed as it gets, dude.

The dude was an indoor skydiving instructor. He’d told us in the beginning the key to successful flying is staying relaxed, so I instantly knew I was in trouble. The most relaxed I do is not squeezing my arm tightly enough to leave bruises (it’s happened before). I decided after the excursion that the for real skydiving I did last year was easier, since all I had to do was plummet through the air with another dude strapped to my back. None of this “hang loose” stuff.

Massage therapists have also yelled (read: slight exaggeration) at me for my inability to relax. I think I’m helping by holding my leg up for them…apparently not. So hard to please people these days. 😉

My boxing coach was the first to say “relax as much as you can” to me. She was the first to see the why behind the tightly-coiled muscles…I was self-protecting. She went on to say – as she yanked and pulled on my lats, loosening my pain-emitting left shoulder – that it’s hard to give up control of our limbs, especially if we had insecurities in our past. Just last night, after working some more on my improving but sometimes still screaming shoulder, she said I’m constantly sub-consciously guarding with that shoulder (makes sense. The heart’s on the left) and she doesn’t know how to get me to give it up.

Isn’t it funny how the very things we use to protect ourselves can cause the most pain? That’s because we were never meant to save ourselves, or others. There’s only One who can heal the original wound and free us from our self-medicating. But I digress.

Indoor skydiving. It’s fun. You should do it. If you struggle with relaxing like I do, then do the for-real skydiving. Also fun. You should do it. Moving on.

Sometimes it’d be really great to full-out relax mind, body, and emotions. The wear and tear get to me. Song lyrics often flit through my mind, and one I’ve related to since 1995 is Jars of Clay’s “He” from their self-titled album, same year: “Exhaustion takes over / Will this someday be over?” For 21 years I’ve known exactly what they meant. It’s when life itself, the things you can’t escape, wear you down. It’s not, “I’m tired of this. I think I’ll stop now.” It’s when you’re weary in your bones, body and soul, from something you can’t quit, but must push through or wait to end. A painful past that taints your present. A loved one making harmful decisions. Chronic pain or illness. A seemingly impossible dream. Your own weaknesses and shortcomings that frustrate you. I can relate! And often I want to quit.

I actually say, almost daily, “I give up.” I don’t – I know I don’t – but I say it to vent steam, to alleviate the pressure. The exhaustion. Will this someday be over?

Yes. That’s the beauty of getting older and racking up more experiences. I know it will. It’s a lie that says it will always be this way. And even if it WILL, God is still good and working all things together for our good and His glory (Romans 8:28). I can repeat negative, feelings-based things (and admittedly, I often do) like, “I’ll never change, they’ll never change, it will never change. I’ll always hurt. It’ll never get better. It’s hopeless). OR I could speak the truth. I can speak back to my feelings, which are fickle and easily swayed:

“So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit.” Galations 6:9, MSG

I don’t have to listen to my defeated feelings. I can choose the truth in the Word: “Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse.” Philippians 4:8, MSG

NOTHING is impossible or beyond His lavish provision: “Nothing, you see, is impossible with God.” Luke 1:37, MSG

“God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams!” Ephesians 3:20, MSG

Every story containing Jesus tells me His desire is to heal and restore people’s bodies, minds, and souls. No one – myself included – is beyond His ability or desire to heal.

I can even tell my guard-dog shoulder to relax: “And you? Go about your business without fretting or worrying. Relax. When it’s all over, you will be on your feet to receive your reward.” Daniel 12:13, MSG

A flight instructor’s “hang loose”  signal can’t get me to relax, but God’s signals through His Word? Yeah, I can exhale that tension now. Yeah, I can find rest and strength in the exhaustion.

And you can, too.

 

 

 

 

 

I Know How Paris Ends (aka Here’s a Recap of My Trip)

Paris has been around for centuries, surviving multiple wars – pretty impressive. Seems nothing can take this city down… Am I setting you up? Yes. Because I know how this city will fall. Lung cancer. Cigarettes, bread, berets. It’s a package deal.

I was nervous when I left home for the airport. The what-ifs. What if I get sick? What if it doesn’t live up to my expectations? What if I get lost? Etc, etc. I let God know I was scared. And just moments later, at the bus stop, He sent me a distraction named Trae, who proceeded to hit on me until I got downtown. He was harmless & sweet & calmed me down. He let me know that Paris was filled w/male models, “sorry about that” (not sure why he was sorry. He said sorry a lot, though, so perhaps it was a reflex). Fast forward a 10 hr flight and I’m standing outside of the Paris airport, waiting for my ride. A truck of French soldiers pull up & one stares at me. Hard. This wasn’t a normal hard stare that you ignore & shrug off. I felt violated. There was something hostile about it, whether to intimidate or prank, I don’t know. I ignored him, but was feeling pretty great about the trip remainder. Or not. Gulp.

I spent the afternoon picking up my museum pass, buying souvenirs/candy for friends, sipping the famous Angelina’s chocolate chaud (hot chocolate in a tiny cup. Which is perfect because you’re basically drinking a melted chocolate bar. Crazy good. I got it twice), and strolling through Jardin de Tuilleries. I was delighted to find this was literally across the street from my hotel. As was the Louvre (be still, my heart!), Angelina’s, and the Musee d’Orsay. As I walked through this famous garden, I heard a French boy ask his dad if they could eat ice cream. I understood him perfectly. This happened a few times over the week – I could understand some of what was said as long as it wasn’t directed at me. Otherwise I was lost. I said “desole” (sorry) and “Je ne comprends pas” (I don’t understand) a lot.

Words can’t express the manmade beauty of the place. Jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring, makes-you-want-to-weep architecture. I was overwhelmed w/it all. And approaching the Louvre, the whole reason for my visit…wow. I’d been dreaming of visiting there all my life.

The next morning I was up early (thanks, jet lag) & decided to enjoy petite dejeuner at the hotel. As I was consuming as much coffee as possible – oh, and some croissants – I noticed the music that was playing. Music in English plays a lot in Paris. The songs playing that morning were covers of American songs. First was “Fat Bottomed Girls” w/banjos. Alright. But I nearly spit out my coffee when a man w/clear diction said, “Oh my God, Becky” & proceeded to sing “Baby Got Back” jazz style (there was even piano, peeps). What just happened?! I got to the Louvre 15 minutes before open, visualizing on the walk being the 1st in line. Buuut there was already a line when I got there. Dang it. I made a beeline for the Mona Lisa (tip: get there early so you can see her w/less people & then move on to the rest) & then explored for another 3 hours. I controlled my zeal as much as possible, keeping a calm exterior while squealing on the inside. So many amazing works! Sculpture & paintings & rooms w/incredible interiors (never have I seen its equal)! I saw works by all but 1 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle (no Donatello). The Louvre was a fortress –> palace –> museum, so even the building was a work of art. Afterwards I explored downtown, got lost, and relied on the map to get myself back. I like getting lost in strange places, though, because you see more.

The next day I was bright, chipper, & ready for Montparnasse Tower (tallest building in Paris) & Musee d’Orsay. I went to Starbucks where the barista & I shared a good chuckle when I tried explaining my name was the same as a bee (abeille). Apparently I butchered the French because he only got it after I pantomimed a buzzing insect. Armed w/a grande Pumpkin Spice Latte avec soya lait, I marched. And marched. And marched until I realized I’d miss the street about a mile back. Oops. But then I wouldn’t have found this amazing bowl I purchased underneath Les Arts Decoratifs. #brightside. I walked through a less touristy – and thereby sketchier – part of the city until I reached the tower & got a 360 view of Paris. Hi, Eiffel Tower! Pretty cool. Heading back to the d’Orsay, a friendly man said hello, asked how I was, & then hammered rapid French at me. He ended w/a question, and catching only a word (rest or meal…they’re only a letter different), I said, “Desole?” He replied, “Non…non” and turned away. Good talk. Two other guys tried to get my attention (I think like the guys passing out their CD’s in Seattle), but I said “non, merci” (no thank you) & kept moving. They kept moving with me, saying “Excusez-moi” but I kept going. They yelled something after me, but joke’s on them because I didn’t understand a word! (Tip #2: use your city smarts to not get ambushed. You’ll be fine). After a baguette poulet (chicken salad sandwich…they’re big here) I took on d’Orsay, the Impressionism museum. A-ma-ZING. Renoir is my all-time favorite artist, and I didn’t know they had his painting (the picnic one) there – it’s not my favorite, but it’s the one that made me love him. I nearly took a knee. Degas, Rodin, Monet, Manet, Van Gogh…all there. One of my favorite parts of the museum, though, was a “fete” (party) room. It was a ballroom w/gold molding, mirrors, and chandeliers. The 2nd day I visited d’Orsay, I went straight there because I loved it so much. I turned around to see a woman about my age come in & the look on her face was exactly how I felt – pure joy & wonder. I imagined standing on the side of the room waiting to dance.

The next day I headed to Starbucks again, hoping my barista friend was there. I’d say, “Remember me?” & we’d share a laugh over my name. Instead, it was a very nice girl who spelled my name “Bise.” Alright then. Off to Notre Dame! It’s just as majestic as Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame illustrates. I loved it, it was stunning. I waited in line to then climb the bell tower. I was terrified climbing those interior stairs. No problem jumping out of a plane, but nearly paralyzed by stairs. 🙂 In my defense, I messed up my tailbone twice on stairs, so we have bad blood between us. The view from the top was spectacular. I especially loved the gargoyles, both on top & from street view. I imagined what life was like for the clergy. That was what I loved most about Paris – the dreaming, putting myself in their shoes. Then it was the Musee de L’Orangeries, which was more Impressionism, including a whole wall of Renoir! I then rested in Tuilleries w/gelato from Amorino (a chain sweet shop). A nice man walking by wished me happy digestion & we chatted a bit in English when he realized immediately I wasn’t French. It was a nice break in the people-watching, of which there’s plenty.

On my last full day I visited the Louvre & Musee d’Orsay again. I did a drive-by of my favorites but explored new areas mostly, including Ancient Egypt, my favorite from history. I saw a real mummy, people! It was a little creepy taking pictures of a body, but also cool (note to self: name future band “Creepy But Cool”).

It’s hard to sum up my trip at this point. I think I’ll continue processing it over the coming days. I’m incredibly blessed to have been there, to make a dream reality. So for now I leave you with my wisdom should you travel to Paris one day. #yourewelcome

What to Know (aka I Like Making Lists):

— The streets are narrow, so Parisians adapt via tiny cars (which have suspicious marks on the backs…parking = bumper cars) or old fashion bikes or Vespas w/blatant disregard for vehicles & pedestrians alike

— Speaking of vehicles & pedestrians…cars are crazy & pedestrians must walk w/reckless abandon/preparedness to jump back for your life. I like to think I blended in w/my nonchalant street-crossing

— Style: leather, black, boots. Women have long, limp hair (very pretty, clearly not obsessed w/volume like Americans), no make-up or a red lip. Men are shorter and/or slight w/super cool hair/facial hair combos. They sling their jackets over one shoulder or tie sweaters around their necks.

— Do your homework before you go. I was grateful for articles that let me know to always say hello/goodbye in shops, not to expect ice, & to use French.

— Waiters are snooty no matter how nice you are or how much French you use. They will get annoyed w/you if you don’t understand their attempt at English. Is this a generalization? Probably. But this is my list, so deal with it. 🙂 Everyone else was nice. I think making an effort goes a long way (read: don’t be the obnoxious American demanding your own way. When in Rome…). Smile & say “bonjour” & “merci” a lot. Worked for me. One security guard was gruff w/the people in front of me but smiley & jokey w/me.

— “Take away” = “to go.”

— Elevators are called ascenseurs. Not important; I just think it’s funny. Makes me think of Jesus ascending into heaven…in an elevator.

— Bring extra euro/euro cents for tipping. I thought like in the US paying w/credit card would allow you to add the tip. I thought wrong. Embarrassing!

— Bathrooms (toilettes) smell like they’re not clean. I witnessed public bathroom cleanings TWICE – so it happens – but someone forgot to tell the odor. Some streets don’t smell that nice either. But hey, it makes you imagine living in the Medieval Ages while you’re looking at centuries old architecture.

— Quasimodo does NOT live in Notre Dame’s bell tower. I know, I was disappointed, too. Thanks for nothing, Hugo. 😉

— Bring walking shoes. Paris is only 6 miles across & thereby super walkable. I looked up directions to everywhere I wanted to go beforehand (since I don’t have international cell service) so it was super easy.

— Crossbody bags are your friend. Backpacks tell pick pockets you don’t care to hold onto your valuables

— If you’re going to Paris for museums, get a pass in advance. I did through Travelocity & picked up the voucher in Paris. That beauty let me breeze by others standing in line for hours – au revoir, suckers! J/k, sorry for your wait… – and get right to the art. My pass was good at 50 museums for 4 consecutive days. #jackpot

— Police/soldiers carry some serious weaponry here. At one point I thought, “Is that an AK-47?” No wise-cracking John McClanes here.

— They have really good Italian food. I had delicious lasagna & spaghetti carbonara. Baguette sandwiches are good when you’re in a hurry & they rely heavily on bread for breakfast. And snacks. I saw a small girl on the back of a moped gnawing a baguette.

Come Fly With Me

Ah, vacation. My body woke me this morning saying, “It’s 5:30 – time to get up!” To which I responded (inspired by John McClane of the Die Hard series), “No, body, I’m supposed to be on vacation. Sleep!” So for the next 2 hours, I drifted in the twilight zone between sleeping and waking; dreaming, thinking, puzzling.

Eventually my mind turned to yesterday’s flying trapeze class. How could it not? When I stretched, I felt tightness extending from my shoulders to my armpits. When I looked down, I saw deep bruises (I bruise extremely easily. Seriously…look at me hard enough and I’ll bruise) behind each knee. I could still feel the light bruise by my navel from the safety harness, the ropy red lines on each palm from the bar.

Last year, as a sort of bucket list activity – and a NASCAR fan – I did a stock car ride-along. A slightly banked track, a professional driver, and G-forces from hurtling 180mph filled an adrenaline-rush void. This year’s replacement? 2014, my year of risks? An activity requiring signing a waiver in case of disabling injuries. Sounds like a good idea…

I rehearsed yesterday’s tricks as I stretched. That first fly…I never felt anything like it. It was both terrifying and exhilarating, but from a distance. I think my brain was in denial and tried to convince itself, on some level, that this wasn’t happening. Somehow I got through the run and dismount, wondering how I was going to do that again.

I did. Again, and again, and again. And I was scared every time. I was the eldest of the students – there were 3 other previous fliers (around 12 and one in maybe her early 20’s) and then 3 siblings visiting from Dallas. They were 1st-timers like me. We became quick friends, bonding over our mutual fear and excitement. The youngest was an adorable 6-year-old girl, then a girl and boy around 12 or so. We went through ground school, walking the steps before we did the tricks in the air. I was voted to go first – thanks, guys — then they followed in birth order. From my own experience and watching my fellow classmates, I learned how illogical fear can be. There are multiple safety checks in place – you wear a belt fastened tightly beneath the rib cage (I got an idea of how a corset feels) and ropes are clipped to this belt. You get clipped in 1st at the base of an interminable ladder (which reminded me each time I climbed that I’m not crazy about ladders…), then when you reach the platform, you’re clipped in twice more. The person on the platform grips you from behind, the ropes you’re attached to are controlled by the ground caller – who can adjust the ropes to soften your landing, there’s a net to catch, and mats beneath that.

It’s fail-safe. And yet, I fought fear each time I climbed that ladder. On the platform, I wiped sweat from my palms. Each time the gentle voice of the platform person coached me: “Shoulders back, toes over the edge, really push your weight forward, Bees. It will make it easier…I’ve got you.” My brain refused to accept that pushing my weight forward over a ledge was a good idea.

Then came the calls: “Ready (bend your knees)!” “Hep (jump)!” The rush as you jump and sail through the area hanging by your hands. At the top of the first swing, the next call: “Legs up, hook the knees!” I pulled my knees up and over the bar between my hands. Now hurtling backwards, and at the top of the next swing, one of my favorite parts: “Hands off, arch back!” This should have terrified me, throttling backwards, hanging only by the crook of my knees, but this part reminds me of dance, just while airborn. My ballet training kicks in and I arch my back up towards the ceiling, head lifted, and reach my arms straight out in front of me. Swinging back again now, “Hands up!”- stomach clenching again as I have to look up at my knees to grab the bar – “Legs down!” – now hanging straight again, toes pointed (thanks again, ballet) and pushed behind me – then my favorite – the back-flip dismount. The call: “Ok, back-flip on the next swing. Kick forward, back, forward, hands off, tuck knees!” and I’m rolling backwards and into the net.

We fly and fly – scared each time, despite knowing we’re safe – until we’ve gotten our tricks down enough to try a catch. We go through ground school for how the catch will work, and we have a lot more questions this time. What happens if we miss the catch? No prob, the ground controller has us. So, when you say, “Legs straight!” from hanging upside down by our knees, back arched and arms reaching in front, we’re supposed to release our legs from the bar before you catch us? Right. So we’re just flying through the air for that second before you catch us? Right. Ohhhhh.

The trepidation factor goes to a new level. We rehearse the moves and calls on ground, then I’m up first. My platform buddy is soothing, asking if I’m breathing. “Trying,” comes my strained reply. The other instructor is now swinging crazily from the opposite bar. He makes the calls: “Ready! Hep!” I jump, complete the first tricks, hands off and arch back, then the moment of truth: “Legs straight!” I release the bar and he catches me, we complete one swing, then “Sit!” I push against his arms and drop to the net, yelling “That was awesome!” the minute I land.

It was amazing, and I wasn’t the only one who thought so. The boy went next, and after he completed the catch, he was grinning for the first time all class. The middle sister wasn’t sold, though. She watched us and said, “I don’t think I can do that.” But the boy and I both said, “It’s easier than what we’ve been doing.”

That hit me hard this morning. The absolute scariest thing we did yesterday was also the easiest – we let go and just trusted that no matter what happened, we’d be ok. I felt God tell me that my relationship with Him is just like flying trapeze. I like to be in control – or at least feel like I’m in control – because I want to be prepared for whatever happens. I walk through life scared, wiping the proverbial sweat from my palms, not fully trusting that I can throw my weight forward despite all the safeties in place.

This morning’s night stand devotional read: “The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” Deut 33:27 (NIV) He’s the safety net, the ropes, the harness, the controller. The past couple of months He’s been telling me, “Let it play.” Never have I been more aware that I’m a make-it-happen person. But amazing things have been happening since He, in essence, called “Legs straight!” He’s been catching me and taking me on exhilarating rides. He’s trustworthy. He’s good. And His plans for me are far better and more exciting than my own.

“Legs straight!”

Maybe Not Today, Maybe Not Tomorrow

I’ve had several revelations over the past month. Not grandiose revelations, but rather simple, “duh” ones. Mercifully, they haven’t been accompanied by condemnation, but rather gratitude. I’m so thankful for simple yet profound revelations that make life 10 times for enjoyable.

One such revelation: I’ve avoided the money trap my whole life. Meaning, I know that being rich wouldn’t make me happy. Sure, having enough to pay your bills, save, and enjoy life is crucial to well-being, but I knew that money couldn’t make me happy in and of itself.

All this time I’ve been patting myself on the back for so cleverly avoiding the money trap, totally oblivious that I was ensnared in another – the “if/then” trap. Sure, money couldn’t bring me bliss, but if___, then___, and then I would be happy.  When I pay off my car, when I learn the drums, when I teach a university class…guess what? All of those have come true – I’m literally living my dreams – but they don’t make me happy. This then leads to guilt, confusion, and a scramble to find something else that will make me happy.

It’s a total trap. Happiness is no more dependent on circumstances or accomplishments than it is on money. But I wasn’t just chasing after an elusive future happiness – if I achieve ___, then I will be happy. I was also making myself miserable by applying if/then to my past. “If only I had said that instead, then I would have gotten the outcome I wanted.” “If only I hadn’t done that, then this would have happened, and everything would be great.”

What I was thinking last night as I drifted off to sleep was inspired by Semisonic’s “Closing Time”: “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”  We talk about “someday” a lot – someday I’ll get there, someday I’ll be the person I want to be, someday I’ll be happy. How differently would we live if we remembered that today is yesterday’s “someday”? 

Spending the present if/then’ing my past and my future isn’t getting me anywhere. Instead I’m stuck beating myself up over past perceived failures (or what I could’ve done better) or longing for a day when I’ll be happy.

But I realized, as simplistic as it is, that no matter, I can be happy today. I can be happy because I’m completely and utterly loved, accepted, approved, and romanced by my Creator. I can be happy that in Him I have all I need, and anything else – work, dreams, accomplishments, relationships – just add to my happiness. They’re not the sole contributors. I can wake up in the morning thinking of my to-do list or bemoaning the monotony, or I can wake up excited for the adventures and love notes God has for me that day. I’m not so naïve that I think this won’t require work at switching my thinking. I’ve been in the habit of thinking one way for a long time, and it’s going to take practice forming a new habit. But I’m pleased with the results so far, which will only motivate me to keep going!

Teeter-Totter

Agony and peace in the silence 

An odd blend

Sometimes choppy

Sometimes smooth and creamy, refreshing in its softness

The stillness a blessing and curse

I wait in the solitude

Antsy

Restless

Assuaged

Relaxed

It’s in this place I’m met by my deepest fears

my deepest longings

And while teetering between the two,

I’m met by my deepest revelations

Agony and peace in the silence

My blend

An acceptance of where I’m at

An allowance to just be

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

I was reading the below text this morning:

¹⁹ “Then, just as the Lord our God commanded us, we left Mount Sinai and traveled through the great and terrifying wilderness, as you yourselves remember, and headed toward the hill country of the Amorites. When we arrived at Kadesh-barnea, ²⁰ I said to you, ‘You have now reached the hill country of the Amorites that the Lord our God is giving us. ²¹ Look! He has placed the land in front of you. Go and occupy it as the Lord, the God of your ancestors, has promised you. Don’t be afraid! Don’t be discouraged!’

²² “But you all came to me and said, ‘First, let’s send out scouts to explore the land for us. They will advise us on the best route to take and which towns we should enter.’

²³ “This seemed like a good idea to me, so I chose twelve scouts, one from each of your tribes.²⁴ They headed for the hill country and came to the valley of Eshcol and explored it. ²⁵ They picked some of its fruit and brought it back to us. And they reported, ‘The land the Lord our God has given us is indeed a good land.’

Israel’s Rebellion against the Lord

²⁶ “But you rebelled against the command of the Lord your God and refused to go in. ²⁷ You complained in your tents and said, ‘The Lord must hate us. That’s why he has brought us here from Egypt—to hand us over to the Amorites to be slaughtered. ²⁸ Where can we go? Our brothers have demoralized us with their report. They tell us, “The people of the land are taller and more powerful than we are, and their towns are large, with walls rising high into the sky! We even saw giants there—the descendants of Anak!”’

²⁹ “But I said to you, ‘Don’t be shocked or afraid of them! ³⁰ The Lord your God is going ahead of you. He will fight for you, just as you saw him do in Egypt. ³¹ And you saw how the Lord your God cared for you all along the way as you traveled through the wilderness, just as a father cares for his child. Now he has brought you to this place.’

³² “But even after all he did, you refused to trust the Lord your God, ³³ who goes before you looking for the best places to camp, guiding you with a pillar of fire by night and a pillar of cloud by day.

— Deuteronomy 1:19-33 (MSG)

I was struck by how closely my own response to life sometimes mirrors that of the Israelites. God was giving them amazing land, replete with good things…and they turned it down because the scouts mentioned the size of the people/cities. They even went so far as to say that God must hate them, the same God who delivered them from Egypt, dropped food from the sky, gushed water from rocks, and annihilated whole armies for them!

That seemed ludicrous to me until I realized that I do the exact same thing. God will do something incredible for me — provide resources, give me a needed word, send a friend my way just at the right moment — and then the next month I’m declaring God hates me because something doesn’t look the way I think it should. How quickly I forget how powerful, miraculous, and for me my God is, all because of the size of problem! As if God is intimidated.

What scout’s report have you put in front of what God said He would do? He is for you. He didn’t bring you out this far only to abandon you!

Who Cares?

Last week I was listening to my favorite song from the musical, “Rent” (read here for info on the musical http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rent_(musical)) — “Will I.” The song is sung in the round, and the lyrics are very simple:

Will I lose my dignity?

Will someone care?

Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?

I get stuck on “Will someone care?” How many of us ask that in our day-to-day lives? Will someone care that I’m hurting? Will someone care about me, in spite of my broken state? It seems like the answer is “no,” that so many people want other people to be easy, pulled together, and ready to serve them. Don’t get me wrong — the greatest fulfillment in life comes from using one’s God-given talents and gifts to help others. However. I can’t help but wonder sometimes if that’s all I am — no, all I’m allowed to be — to other people.

I’m quite certain you can relate. We all have those moments of feeling drained of all we are with no one pouring back into us. When this happens, I start resenting both people and my talents. I become depressed over how empty I feel, wondering when it will be my turn to be taken care of, to be fulfilled, to have what others have that I want.

I had a “moment” last night when I poured out what I was feeling — what I didn’t even know I was feeling until the eruption was triggered — to God. I let it all out, surprised that this torrent had gone unnoticed within me. I realized as soon as it was over that while the emotion was very real, the thoughts behind it were wrong. Some day my visions and dreams will be realized, but in the meantime, I am still blessed. I have AMAZING friends who love, support, and encourage me. I have a God who cares about the tiniest of my concerns and who reaches out to me in the most loving ways. I have a good job, hobbies, passions, and purpose. I’m going to be alright.

Whether or not “someone cares” in the particular way I want them to at that moment, I’m going to be alright!

Crunch Time

A sickening crunch came from behind me. I turned around and saw a BMW had just sideswiped another sedan. One of the car’s alarms went off.

I stared a while at the wreckage, as if staring long enough would recreate the accident and I could understand what happened. I could feel my heart beating faster and the stress-induced hormone cortisone racing through my veins. This accident had nothing to do with me, and I didn’t know the people involved. Yet I felt a deep nausea that somehow wasn’t in my stomach. An uneasiness washed over me.

After a moment or two, I was able to put my finger on what it was that bothered me — it was the feeling of something being wrong, of how quickly our everyday world can change. These people were just on their daily commute, no doubt making the same maneuvers they did each day. And in an instant, their days changed.

I was especially unnerved by the sound of the impact. It was unnatural, foreign among the normal sounds of the early morning, an eerie reminder of how quickly things can change.