I dont think Alex, Alejandro likes it when I sing Lady Gaga to him at all given opportunity. I cant help myself. The boys dont like Gaga much, they call her a man, and Beiber a girl. Which is a bit ironic in that I sometimes find European men a bit more feminine than their American counterparts.
I like Madrid very much, given I´ve not seen much of it yet. We did go to the market Sunday, the biggest flea market in Europe but found nothing worth its price. Home base is a north side flat opened to us by Iria's Godmother, Cruz' sister.
Pool by day and terrace by night, Madrid is a tempting life full of sunshine and horchata.
One of the biggest difference I've found in Spaniards in their inner clock. At home, bedtime is midnight, and I´m generally up by 8 or 9am. Midnight, on more than one occasion is when we sit down to dinner. And I adore these dinners! When we landed in Madrid, given, our flight was in at 11 but we sat on the penthouse terrace under a dark sky and bright moon eating multiple cheeses with bread, fruit, yogurt, aquarius ( do you remember 'Tang'? this is that!) and of course Horchata. We dont wake until 11 or later, lunch at 2, dinner usually at 9 but sometimes later.
Julio jokes, telling me he cuts the grass every morning, reffering to the astroturf. He shows me his grape vine, plethora of herbs and plants he has brought to life on the terrace, I´m happy to talk plants.
Last night after dinner I sat on the warm, breezy terrace talking to (Godmother) Marise. Someone had turned the lights out on us and I joked about closing time...she brought up Dublin pubs. Not me. She told me about her first job, researching new technologies where she would meet with a team of other Europeans in a different country each month and she had been to Dublin a number of times. She smiled as she told me how fun the times were, spent with other young university researchers in foreign cities, when funds were heavy and the workload light. But all that has changed now she says. She tells that she would still like to see the north, I agree and the subject comes round to the IRA, and then the interesting part, the terrorist group of Spain, the ETA or Euskadi Ta Askatasuna. Marise explains that the IRA and ETA and the given situations are very very similar (apart from the religious thing, that doesnt play into the ETA, as everyone is Catholic). Basque country Spain wishes to be a free nation, and it being very industrial and very rich, Spain doesnt want to let it go. Although there are many languages in Spain including Galician, Castilian, Catalan, and Valencian, they're all similar to Spanish and at the least latin based. Euskera, the language of Basque Country is nothing like any other language in Europe and Marise says its roots may be in the northern European countries, some Norwegian type. These two organizations are so so similar in fact that they're friends, they fraternize, fleeing to one country or the other when warrants for arrest are awarded. ETA members also take refuge in South American coutries life Venezuela where one worked under Chavez' in the Dept. of Agriculture. (I´ve not looked any of this up, this was just Marise and I talking.)
Interesting stuff.
Our adult talk was ended by Dani's urgent desire for he and I to read. I say this sarcastically because Dani really hates reading in Ingles. I often call it 'Story Time with Dani', and tell him how FUN reading is but he doesnt take the bait. He just stares at me strait faced and unentertained when he says 'Are you speaking seriously?'
Yesterday we found stick on tattoos in bags of Cheetos. Enough said.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Addicted to You- Simple Plan
I have as good as gone through this weeks pay at the mall today. One Euro equals about 1.50 at the moment, but knowing this doesnt stop me from paying much more than I would in the States, this HAS to be some side effect of culture shock.
Have you ever seen Shopoholic starring Isla Fisher? See it, its a favorite of mine. Rebecca Bloomwood (Fisher) has a shopping problem and the film opens with her going further into debt by buying a green scarf. This specific purchase becomes symbolic in the movie in that when she gets the job as a financial writer, her pen name is 'The Girl in the Green Scarf'. Not sure when I'll become 'The Girl in the Starry Scarf' but like Rebecca, my movie is just beggining.
I first saw it while shopping in a town called Vigo (FUN FACT: Vigo's port brings in more fish than anywhere in the world apart from Tokyo). We were in one of Spains biggest shops, Zara (pronounced 'Thada') and the shop it so expensive, I didnt even look at the scarf but it caught my eye and I thought about it long after I saw it. So as we passed Zara today in Lugo, I had to inquire. There is was, under the bright lights and smelling like something beautiful, it was marked down to 13 euro...roughly 20 bucks. Never in my life would I spend 20 dollars on a scarf in America. Never. Ever. I'd put it back, I dont spend 20 bucks on anything but jeans...and athletic gear like swimming suits and running shoes. But I really would have regretted it, I love with it. I´m honestly in love with a garment.
Keeping student teaching in mind and the fact that my wardrobe currently consists of only of jeans and T's, the explansion of wardrobe is only necessarry.
The Glory Scarf. No regrets.
Have you ever seen Shopoholic starring Isla Fisher? See it, its a favorite of mine. Rebecca Bloomwood (Fisher) has a shopping problem and the film opens with her going further into debt by buying a green scarf. This specific purchase becomes symbolic in the movie in that when she gets the job as a financial writer, her pen name is 'The Girl in the Green Scarf'. Not sure when I'll become 'The Girl in the Starry Scarf' but like Rebecca, my movie is just beggining.
I first saw it while shopping in a town called Vigo (FUN FACT: Vigo's port brings in more fish than anywhere in the world apart from Tokyo). We were in one of Spains biggest shops, Zara (pronounced 'Thada') and the shop it so expensive, I didnt even look at the scarf but it caught my eye and I thought about it long after I saw it. So as we passed Zara today in Lugo, I had to inquire. There is was, under the bright lights and smelling like something beautiful, it was marked down to 13 euro...roughly 20 bucks. Never in my life would I spend 20 dollars on a scarf in America. Never. Ever. I'd put it back, I dont spend 20 bucks on anything but jeans...and athletic gear like swimming suits and running shoes. But I really would have regretted it, I love with it. I´m honestly in love with a garment.
Keeping student teaching in mind and the fact that my wardrobe currently consists of only of jeans and T's, the explansion of wardrobe is only necessarry.
The Glory Scarf. No regrets.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
I Wanna Know- Phil Collins
Last night we had churros for dinner. It was amazing. Thick hot chocolate and sugar covered, deep fried in front of you churros. Best. Dinner. Ever. Seriously, sorry mom.
Iria told me today that she read my blog. My heart hurt. I was and am so ashamed. I refuse to delete posts because they are a file, a perminent glimpse at the feelings in that moment but I was ashamed. It is my very last wish to offend anyone, but I seem to offend a lot. I think its the ghetto in me.
My only experience at judging livestock is the dairy goat judging I did in high school as an FFA member. (We placed third at state...there were only three teams...) But its here I learned one of lifes great lessons, that apparently hasnt sunk in yet. You never ever point out a flaw in an animal, never mention a negative, you only place an animal over another for its superiority in some area. What wisdom.
And at YMCA camp, at the end of the week during the prayer walk, theres a story that tell kids to carve the good in stone, and the bad in sand. Always remember the good and the good in people, and forget the bad. What wisdom.
As we sat, Iria teaching me spanish her mom brought a geography book of Spain and Iria pointed out Galicia...and its flag. She knows what it means and I like it. The Galician flag is white for purity with a blue strip from the bottom left to the top right to symbolize the sea.
Today Carlos, Dani and I toured As Pontes on bikes. I was scared when I saw Carlos in biking shorts because this means heres serious. I´ve forgotten how fabulous bikes are. Dad always said bikes are the best way to see a place, which is why any vacation ever taken as a family had two bikes in tow. Speaking of Dad, hes looking at flights and wants to come ride El Camino de Santiago...kid hasnt seen Galicia. There are mountains and lots of them, but he tells me, 'You're strong enough to do what we want to do (no crime in walking a hill!).' This boys and girls is what we call delusional, but alas its how my family functions and to be honest its a great thing.
Back to. As Pontes is awesome and I´m ashamed I havent gotten out to see it before now. I think its funny that we stopped to look at two different dams. This is only funny because when Dad and I ride the trail to the Veledrome on friday nights in the summer, we always stop and sit at the dam. They showed me a really great park where I can run in the morning, it comes complete with a statue of Estrella Galicia, the regions beer. At the top of the dam I found the top spot, there were guys kicked the futbol around, and girls in the car blasting the euro music, chillin. Sail boat and kayaks on the water, clouds in the sky, bikes, water, music and chill. What more could you ask for? Then we raced down the mountain, shouting 'Hola's!' to the old men with canes and old women sitting on benches. I like As Pontes, theres a lot to see here, lots of little places to stick your head in and explore, and there are always old people walking around. I cant talk to them much but I like to think if I needed help, theres always someone around, they're just likely to be 80 years old. Nothing wrong with that.
Carlos and I are breaking down the communication barrier. Today he saw me sucking on honeysuckle and asked about it. ALSO! We played basketball. I'm pretty awful but I like to think its the rim. Dinner included bread and a tomato/garlic puree that was amazing. I keep telling them I'm going to make an American meal...but I´'m putting it off, 1. I´m scared I´m going to screw it up without Mom or a grandmother here to help. 2. Its so much work! Ugh, I can do noodles okay but then theres everything else, it just takes forever.
I want to make peach cobbler so while we were at the market, I tried to ask for oats...an almost failure. No one knew what hot cereal, nor oats were and I couldnt explain it, so we went to the cereal aisle, searched and found it. You drain the peaches before you put them in the cobbler right? I know how to do this, its easy and I've done it before, but that a pretty major step I cant seem to remember. But I'm pretty positive you drain them...you have to...I'm sure you have to.
Just got an email from Dad, he had told me the price of tickets and I suggested we wait until the off season for cheaper flights. His response:
Now or never?
Iria told me today that she read my blog. My heart hurt. I was and am so ashamed. I refuse to delete posts because they are a file, a perminent glimpse at the feelings in that moment but I was ashamed. It is my very last wish to offend anyone, but I seem to offend a lot. I think its the ghetto in me.
My only experience at judging livestock is the dairy goat judging I did in high school as an FFA member. (We placed third at state...there were only three teams...) But its here I learned one of lifes great lessons, that apparently hasnt sunk in yet. You never ever point out a flaw in an animal, never mention a negative, you only place an animal over another for its superiority in some area. What wisdom.
And at YMCA camp, at the end of the week during the prayer walk, theres a story that tell kids to carve the good in stone, and the bad in sand. Always remember the good and the good in people, and forget the bad. What wisdom.
As we sat, Iria teaching me spanish her mom brought a geography book of Spain and Iria pointed out Galicia...and its flag. She knows what it means and I like it. The Galician flag is white for purity with a blue strip from the bottom left to the top right to symbolize the sea.
Today Carlos, Dani and I toured As Pontes on bikes. I was scared when I saw Carlos in biking shorts because this means heres serious. I´ve forgotten how fabulous bikes are. Dad always said bikes are the best way to see a place, which is why any vacation ever taken as a family had two bikes in tow. Speaking of Dad, hes looking at flights and wants to come ride El Camino de Santiago...kid hasnt seen Galicia. There are mountains and lots of them, but he tells me, 'You're strong enough to do what we want to do (no crime in walking a hill!).' This boys and girls is what we call delusional, but alas its how my family functions and to be honest its a great thing.
Back to. As Pontes is awesome and I´m ashamed I havent gotten out to see it before now. I think its funny that we stopped to look at two different dams. This is only funny because when Dad and I ride the trail to the Veledrome on friday nights in the summer, we always stop and sit at the dam. They showed me a really great park where I can run in the morning, it comes complete with a statue of Estrella Galicia, the regions beer. At the top of the dam I found the top spot, there were guys kicked the futbol around, and girls in the car blasting the euro music, chillin. Sail boat and kayaks on the water, clouds in the sky, bikes, water, music and chill. What more could you ask for? Then we raced down the mountain, shouting 'Hola's!' to the old men with canes and old women sitting on benches. I like As Pontes, theres a lot to see here, lots of little places to stick your head in and explore, and there are always old people walking around. I cant talk to them much but I like to think if I needed help, theres always someone around, they're just likely to be 80 years old. Nothing wrong with that.
Carlos and I are breaking down the communication barrier. Today he saw me sucking on honeysuckle and asked about it. ALSO! We played basketball. I'm pretty awful but I like to think its the rim. Dinner included bread and a tomato/garlic puree that was amazing. I keep telling them I'm going to make an American meal...but I´'m putting it off, 1. I´m scared I´m going to screw it up without Mom or a grandmother here to help. 2. Its so much work! Ugh, I can do noodles okay but then theres everything else, it just takes forever.
I want to make peach cobbler so while we were at the market, I tried to ask for oats...an almost failure. No one knew what hot cereal, nor oats were and I couldnt explain it, so we went to the cereal aisle, searched and found it. You drain the peaches before you put them in the cobbler right? I know how to do this, its easy and I've done it before, but that a pretty major step I cant seem to remember. But I'm pretty positive you drain them...you have to...I'm sure you have to.
Just got an email from Dad, he had told me the price of tickets and I suggested we wait until the off season for cheaper flights. His response:
Now or never?
Monday, July 4, 2011
The General Specific- Band of Horses
Fourth of July. Spain doesnt have an independence day. Apparently they've always been independent.
I hate that patriotism in American has been taken and made to be...redneck? I am proud to be an American. Iria hates when I say I am an American because the US is only part of north America, so I should not say I am from America, she thinks I should say I am from the United States. Much thought has brought me to the conclusion that I am American. Seeing as I am from America, and if the Chileans want to say they are American, so be it.
Today I was helping Iria study her english, one of the questions I had to ask her was 'Do you know what the symbols of your flag mean?' And she didnt. She said that the flag is something we American are very proud of, but here is Spain it is not a big deal. I dont have the flag painted on my garage or printed on the rear window of my car but hearing her say this made me think of the great pride I DO have in the flag and our country. She often points out the differences, the fact that big cars are not coveted here, everyone gets all of their medical needs for free and our education system is far easier than theirs because their undergrad is 5 years and to teach, they must do a year after that and she must go to the US because it is so much easier. All of this made me feel...well blessed I guess. I know we're overweight. I know we're probs not the most educated. We wear flip flops and floral tops (this is how they spot us apparently). All you know of our entertainment are the trash movies that you call the 'American movies' like 'American Pie' and 'Hot Chick'. And the majority of us only speak one language. (QUICK NOTE: The keyboard is different and I kinda refuse to take the time to figure it out, so punctuation is less than par)
I love that we have an Independence Day. I love that we fought for it and I'm proud that we fight to help others achieve it. I know thats controversial, and it can be argued and America has taken the sides maybe where they dont belong...but maybe we've done right a few times too. And maybe people are really happy we did. And maybe there are thousands that flock to our shores every year because its a great place to be. I am proud. I know what the flag stands for, and while looking at my passport, Iria and Dani asked about the eagle. I was a little surprised they didnt know what it stood for, I thought everyone did...then I realized that maybe I didnt. 'Um, freedom I guess. It was on the endangered species list, but now it isnt. Its the bald eagle. It stands for freedom.'
Life here is good. Its a beautiful country with beautiful people whom I cannot thank enough for their kindness. At the moment the only point of life here I struggle with is the lack of religion. I like going to church every sunday. I love that prayer is said over every meal and I miss that the most.
We may appear to be an overly proud nation, but I like to think our religion, even the DIVERSITY of religious belief, the sheer faith and religious practice Americans hold dear, is what sets us apart. Yes we stand for freedom, justice, and liberty but we stand by faith.
I hate that patriotism in American has been taken and made to be...redneck? I am proud to be an American. Iria hates when I say I am an American because the US is only part of north America, so I should not say I am from America, she thinks I should say I am from the United States. Much thought has brought me to the conclusion that I am American. Seeing as I am from America, and if the Chileans want to say they are American, so be it.
Today I was helping Iria study her english, one of the questions I had to ask her was 'Do you know what the symbols of your flag mean?' And she didnt. She said that the flag is something we American are very proud of, but here is Spain it is not a big deal. I dont have the flag painted on my garage or printed on the rear window of my car but hearing her say this made me think of the great pride I DO have in the flag and our country. She often points out the differences, the fact that big cars are not coveted here, everyone gets all of their medical needs for free and our education system is far easier than theirs because their undergrad is 5 years and to teach, they must do a year after that and she must go to the US because it is so much easier. All of this made me feel...well blessed I guess. I know we're overweight. I know we're probs not the most educated. We wear flip flops and floral tops (this is how they spot us apparently). All you know of our entertainment are the trash movies that you call the 'American movies' like 'American Pie' and 'Hot Chick'. And the majority of us only speak one language. (QUICK NOTE: The keyboard is different and I kinda refuse to take the time to figure it out, so punctuation is less than par)
I love that we have an Independence Day. I love that we fought for it and I'm proud that we fight to help others achieve it. I know thats controversial, and it can be argued and America has taken the sides maybe where they dont belong...but maybe we've done right a few times too. And maybe people are really happy we did. And maybe there are thousands that flock to our shores every year because its a great place to be. I am proud. I know what the flag stands for, and while looking at my passport, Iria and Dani asked about the eagle. I was a little surprised they didnt know what it stood for, I thought everyone did...then I realized that maybe I didnt. 'Um, freedom I guess. It was on the endangered species list, but now it isnt. Its the bald eagle. It stands for freedom.'
Life here is good. Its a beautiful country with beautiful people whom I cannot thank enough for their kindness. At the moment the only point of life here I struggle with is the lack of religion. I like going to church every sunday. I love that prayer is said over every meal and I miss that the most.
We may appear to be an overly proud nation, but I like to think our religion, even the DIVERSITY of religious belief, the sheer faith and religious practice Americans hold dear, is what sets us apart. Yes we stand for freedom, justice, and liberty but we stand by faith.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Cat in the Boiler
Not sure how to wrap up the last few days, I should have blogged better. I got into Spain and into Santiago just fine. During the 30 hours that was the trip, there is a lot of time to worry and think of the what ifs. What if I dont get in? What if they ask about the UK stamp in my passport, the one with the giant X through it? What if I get in but the ryanair flight I bought is only for Europeans OR the boarding pass I had Ania print me in Poland doesnt work because ITS IN POLISH? And if all of these work out, what if Iria isnt at the airport to pick me up? What do I do then?
Needless to say, I got in, got the ryanair flight and Iria was at the airport. I live in As Pontes, its a small town almost near A Coruna. We eat fish twice a day. I dont eat fish but have always said that I would eat what was put in front of me when a guest in someones house, and so I have. I am not picky, I´ll eat just about anything...or so I thought.
July in Spain is chalk full of festivals. San Juan is very cool, giant bonfires that burn all night long. Smaller fires are built for people to jump over, to cleanse people of evil spirits. San Juan is on June 25 (I think) the shortest night of the year. Beaches are full of people and their fires and you can always hear bagpipes(gaita). The next night was another festival for some catholic saint. We drove to Carlos´ brothers house, a dairy farm. It was amazing, the houses are all 100 plus years old, made of stone with slate roofs. Its incredible how similar their family is to mine in different ways but maybe everyone has that Uncle, the one that pokes and tickles, the trickster, the jokester. Everyone has the aunts who cook and dote on kids, and the grandmother with the plate of desserts who sends you home with Kinder Bueno bars. (score! these are my favorite candy bars, discovered in Ireland and not available in US) At the dinner table I dont know what is being said, but I laugh when others laugh, nod and look at speakers as if I totally understand. Anything said to me recieves the 'Si' response because thats all I can offer.
Carlos tells Cruz the story of how he asked me 'Would you like coffee?'
Everything said among family is spoken in the regional language of Galician, its a mix of Portugese and Spanish and I cannot understand.
I love that alcohol is always present but rarely drank. Carlos always drinks nonalcoholic beer and although white wine was on the table, everyone opted for water or Fanta. The only time I saw people drink was a little before lunch, and after dinner the my age kids drank before we went dancing at the fiesta. By the way, the boys know how to dance. Tengo and salsa kinda dance. Cruz, Iria and Dani's mother says all country boys know how to dance because its the only way to hang out with girls. And in the country there are many little festivals and fiestas and the boys have to know how to dance, at least the pasodoble, the regional two step. Carlos is a 50 year old country boy, always dancing.
With the help of Iria, I talked tractors with the cousins which was fun. They prefer John Deere, but I saw the neighbors bailing with Massey Ferg and I about spazzed. I´ve asked if I could come live and work on the dairy and they said they´d be happy to have me, so maybe this is where I´m bound after graduation. Must learn spanish. I´m learning a lot already, I´d love to be fluent. Iria and Dani often ask the difference between tough words like bitch and beach, shit and sheet, beer, bear and bird. Yesterday Iria asked me the difference in ´me too´ and ´so do I´ that was a tough one I had to think about.
Dani is 15 and loves to quote the Simpsons. He has taken to the phrase SHUT UP, after I corrected his ´SHUT UP YOUR MOUTH´. Sure wish I didnt teach him that because now he says it, and when I told him it was mean he says, ¨`Its a yoke! I am a yoker!¨`
Needless to say, I got in, got the ryanair flight and Iria was at the airport. I live in As Pontes, its a small town almost near A Coruna. We eat fish twice a day. I dont eat fish but have always said that I would eat what was put in front of me when a guest in someones house, and so I have. I am not picky, I´ll eat just about anything...or so I thought.
July in Spain is chalk full of festivals. San Juan is very cool, giant bonfires that burn all night long. Smaller fires are built for people to jump over, to cleanse people of evil spirits. San Juan is on June 25 (I think) the shortest night of the year. Beaches are full of people and their fires and you can always hear bagpipes(gaita). The next night was another festival for some catholic saint. We drove to Carlos´ brothers house, a dairy farm. It was amazing, the houses are all 100 plus years old, made of stone with slate roofs. Its incredible how similar their family is to mine in different ways but maybe everyone has that Uncle, the one that pokes and tickles, the trickster, the jokester. Everyone has the aunts who cook and dote on kids, and the grandmother with the plate of desserts who sends you home with Kinder Bueno bars. (score! these are my favorite candy bars, discovered in Ireland and not available in US) At the dinner table I dont know what is being said, but I laugh when others laugh, nod and look at speakers as if I totally understand. Anything said to me recieves the 'Si' response because thats all I can offer.
Carlos tells Cruz the story of how he asked me 'Would you like coffee?'
Everything said among family is spoken in the regional language of Galician, its a mix of Portugese and Spanish and I cannot understand.
I love that alcohol is always present but rarely drank. Carlos always drinks nonalcoholic beer and although white wine was on the table, everyone opted for water or Fanta. The only time I saw people drink was a little before lunch, and after dinner the my age kids drank before we went dancing at the fiesta. By the way, the boys know how to dance. Tengo and salsa kinda dance. Cruz, Iria and Dani's mother says all country boys know how to dance because its the only way to hang out with girls. And in the country there are many little festivals and fiestas and the boys have to know how to dance, at least the pasodoble, the regional two step. Carlos is a 50 year old country boy, always dancing.
With the help of Iria, I talked tractors with the cousins which was fun. They prefer John Deere, but I saw the neighbors bailing with Massey Ferg and I about spazzed. I´ve asked if I could come live and work on the dairy and they said they´d be happy to have me, so maybe this is where I´m bound after graduation. Must learn spanish. I´m learning a lot already, I´d love to be fluent. Iria and Dani often ask the difference between tough words like bitch and beach, shit and sheet, beer, bear and bird. Yesterday Iria asked me the difference in ´me too´ and ´so do I´ that was a tough one I had to think about.
Dani is 15 and loves to quote the Simpsons. He has taken to the phrase SHUT UP, after I corrected his ´SHUT UP YOUR MOUTH´. Sure wish I didnt teach him that because now he says it, and when I told him it was mean he says, ¨`Its a yoke! I am a yoker!¨`
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Cant Go Back Now--The Weepies
The Weepies say "You cant go back now." I've always thought that phrase to simply be opinion. Theres always a way and I was going to find it no matter what it took...until tonight.
I walked home from the west tonight reminded of past memories that I cherish very much. I sat on the play place with three new friends talking of things that mattered the most to us. Very similar opinions and feelings were shared mostly about boys and how God fits into relationships with them. I looked to see Hazels old apartment. Here I had the choice, I could choose to delve into memories of her, the boys and Ireland, the night she, Jim and I sat in that very place and ate DQ. Or I could accept that that memory did in fact happen and that was life. Period. Moving on. No feelings attached, no heartache, no missing things, people or places. Knowing, acknowledging and realizing that I was on the play place, eating DQ with great friends in the present.
I walked by the boys appt. and had no feeling toward it. It was empty. They werent there.
I've met some really really great people here and I've made incredible memories, but thats all they are. Memories. Theres no sense in attempting to do it again. Theres no sense in trying so hard for something when God is begging you to listen and chill and take His way, the easy way, the one paved and set for you if you'd just stupid choose to trust it. But no. I want what I want and He can get on board if He likes...well thats been the previous attitude hasnt it?
Its difficult to let go of something so...desired. Especially when you have the power to make it happen. But it has to be done. The semester there was great. The semester with the boys was great...but its past, so lets dive into something more shall we?
Its easy to create your own way. There are so many routes in this life, and we are given the freedom and the most of us, the resources to make our dreams come true. So where does God come into that? When does His opinion get heard? Usually when you get deported and people say "Oh that wasnt meant to be."
Tonight one of the girls saw Jonah on my bible cover and said "Did you feel like Jonah when you were being held in the UK? Like they just spit you out?" Interesting. She went on to say that maybe I was told to go to Nineveh and went running the other way. And that great things can be done in our mishaps because that whole boat that Jonah was on got saved. Who knows what good would have been done if he went strait to Nineveh the first time, but the point being that our mishaps arent complete failures and they can be used.
I told how I was going on into Spain later in the month and didnt feel as though God were in that either, and it was another decision I'd made without Him...and He maybe even made me feel as though I shouldnt go but I really wanted to so I ignored it. And Lucy says "Do you feel like you're back here for a reason? Maybe you're supposed to be here." And I told her how difficult it was for me to tell now what was God and what was my own fear of being brought home again. "Well, if you're supposed to be here, by fish or by boat! You'll be here!" Beautiful. Just beautiful.
I can sit all day long and dream of what could have been and what I wanted to be...but what is the point when I am here now? There are people here. There is God here and he moved tonight. Its easy to forget that God, and friends with whom I can speak of spiritual things with are what I missed most when I was in IE.
I sat tonight in comfort with these girls knowing that we were on a level not everyone chooses to be on. A path quite narrow and I was blessed to have been in their acquaintance.
I want to say that its taken tonight to be able to say that I wouldnt go back if I could...but I think I still would. I'm happy to be here, that is true and I pray that someday I'm led back there but theres a peace in accepting that you cant go back now...and thats just fine.
I walked home from the west tonight reminded of past memories that I cherish very much. I sat on the play place with three new friends talking of things that mattered the most to us. Very similar opinions and feelings were shared mostly about boys and how God fits into relationships with them. I looked to see Hazels old apartment. Here I had the choice, I could choose to delve into memories of her, the boys and Ireland, the night she, Jim and I sat in that very place and ate DQ. Or I could accept that that memory did in fact happen and that was life. Period. Moving on. No feelings attached, no heartache, no missing things, people or places. Knowing, acknowledging and realizing that I was on the play place, eating DQ with great friends in the present.
I walked by the boys appt. and had no feeling toward it. It was empty. They werent there.
I've met some really really great people here and I've made incredible memories, but thats all they are. Memories. Theres no sense in attempting to do it again. Theres no sense in trying so hard for something when God is begging you to listen and chill and take His way, the easy way, the one paved and set for you if you'd just stupid choose to trust it. But no. I want what I want and He can get on board if He likes...well thats been the previous attitude hasnt it?
Its difficult to let go of something so...desired. Especially when you have the power to make it happen. But it has to be done. The semester there was great. The semester with the boys was great...but its past, so lets dive into something more shall we?
Its easy to create your own way. There are so many routes in this life, and we are given the freedom and the most of us, the resources to make our dreams come true. So where does God come into that? When does His opinion get heard? Usually when you get deported and people say "Oh that wasnt meant to be."
Tonight one of the girls saw Jonah on my bible cover and said "Did you feel like Jonah when you were being held in the UK? Like they just spit you out?" Interesting. She went on to say that maybe I was told to go to Nineveh and went running the other way. And that great things can be done in our mishaps because that whole boat that Jonah was on got saved. Who knows what good would have been done if he went strait to Nineveh the first time, but the point being that our mishaps arent complete failures and they can be used.
I told how I was going on into Spain later in the month and didnt feel as though God were in that either, and it was another decision I'd made without Him...and He maybe even made me feel as though I shouldnt go but I really wanted to so I ignored it. And Lucy says "Do you feel like you're back here for a reason? Maybe you're supposed to be here." And I told her how difficult it was for me to tell now what was God and what was my own fear of being brought home again. "Well, if you're supposed to be here, by fish or by boat! You'll be here!" Beautiful. Just beautiful.
I can sit all day long and dream of what could have been and what I wanted to be...but what is the point when I am here now? There are people here. There is God here and he moved tonight. Its easy to forget that God, and friends with whom I can speak of spiritual things with are what I missed most when I was in IE.
I sat tonight in comfort with these girls knowing that we were on a level not everyone chooses to be on. A path quite narrow and I was blessed to have been in their acquaintance.
I want to say that its taken tonight to be able to say that I wouldnt go back if I could...but I think I still would. I'm happy to be here, that is true and I pray that someday I'm led back there but theres a peace in accepting that you cant go back now...and thats just fine.
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