tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-566788156219288052024-02-02T01:53:31.223-08:00live. move. be.Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.comBlogger130125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-77255686355491236062010-11-25T18:19:00.000-08:002010-11-25T18:48:14.238-08:00In the Valley of the ShadowThough Thanksgiving is one of my absolute favorite times of the year (second only to Christmas), it has a shadow cast over it this year. Holidays are all about family, and if a huge part of your family is missing....celebrating can be hard. Most days, though, I am doing well. I am doing better than I ever expected. For that I am very thankful. <br /><br />I just read C.S. Lewis' "A Grief Observed," which is a short collection of notes from his journal after his wife died on cancer. I think it is the best possible book on grief, because it is not trying to comfort or explain or console....it is simply his raw, unvarnished thoughts in the midst of extreme pain. This passage really spoke to what exactly I feel right now:<br /><br />"Getting over it so soon? But the words are ambiguous. To say the patient is getting over it after an operation for appendicitis is one thing; after he's had his leg off it is quite another. After that operation either the wounded stump heals or the man dies. If it heals, the fierce, continuous pain will stop. Presently he'll get back his strength and be able to stump about on his wooden leg. He has "got over it". But he will probably have recurrent pains in the stump all his life, and perhaps pretty bad ones; and he will always be a one-legged man. There will hardly be any moment when he forgets it. Bathing, dressing, sitting down and getting up again, even lying in bed, will all be different. His whole way of life will be changed. All sorts of pleasures and activities that he once took for granted will have to be simply written off. Duties too. At present I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall presently be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be a biped again.....<br />How often--will it be for always?--how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, “I never realized my loss till this moment?” The same leg is cut off time after time. The first plunge of the knife into the flesh is felt again and again."Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-45459499777234019482010-11-17T14:43:00.000-08:002010-11-17T14:45:10.065-08:00i need to remember this every day"Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow. It empties today of its strength." <br /><br />Corrie Ten BoomKristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-26935486289964191602010-10-28T21:32:00.000-07:002010-10-28T21:43:24.677-07:00good words for a hard day"Do not depend on the hope of results. When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on...you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. <strong>As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but on the value, the rightness, the truth of the work itself</strong>."<br />-<em>Thomas Merton</em><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">"Would you lose your sorrow? Would you drown your cares?<br />Then go, plunge yourself in the Godhead’s deepest sea;<br />be lost in his immensity;<br />and you shall come forth as from a couch of rest,<br />refreshed and invigorated."</span><br />-<em>Charles Spurgeon</em>Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-81878605364752186252010-10-09T20:18:00.001-07:002010-10-09T20:28:50.373-07:00For Caleb<div align="left">My precious, sweet little brother passed away suddenly on Monday morning, at the young age of 16. He was taken in his sleep with no advance notice, no time to prepare for this staggering loss. I got the call as I was about to go into work and suddenly my life was forever changed. My heart will forever be heavy with grief at the enormous hole he has left in my life, but I am full of rejoicing and peace knowing that he is resting in the arms of his Savior. It's all Caleb would have wanted. I know I will have more words to say as time goes on, but for now, I will just share the eulogy I wrote for his funeral Thursday night. These words seem horribly inadequate to honor the memory of someone so wonderful and so dear to me, but I know if he was here, he would just grin and tell me it was great.</div><div align="left"><br />......................<br /><br />Last night, as I began to write down what I was planning to say tonight, I found myself staring at a blank white page for what seemed like hours. How can you even begin to describe a person like Caleb? There never comes a day when you wake up ready for your little brother to die. There is never a day when you wake up ready to write his eulogy. I cannot do him justice with my words, but I hope to share with you a brief glimpse of the incredible life my brother lived. I am proud to be his sister, and grateful to have been his friend.<br /><br />Caleb was a better person than I can ever hope to be. God gave Caleb a special heart, and even as his older sister, I have always looked up to him. Whenever I describe my family to people, I have always said that Caleb was the best one of all of us. That was hard to explain unless you had met Caleb, and then you knew. You knew he lived with a love and maturity beyond his years. As many of you know personally, Caleb was a light to so many people. Whenever anyone was feeling down or discouraged, Caleb always had a cheerful word or a comforting thought to say to them. He had a smile that would light up a room, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. He made a conscious, daily decision to greet every new challenge and every new person with a positive attitude. He spread joy to his family and friends continually, even when he was not experiencing joy in his own life.<br /><br />Caleb experienced many struggles in his brief 16 years. His seizures caused him a great deal of physical and emotional pain that most people never saw. His epilepsy brought him challenges academically and on the playing field in lacrosse. He often came home from school weighed down with anxiety and sadness. He rarely felt like he fit in with other kids his age as well as he would like. It broke my heart sometimes to see the burdens he carried at such a young age. He often told me how he wanted to be close to more kids his age, and yet, as I look out over this crowd, I know he was deeply loved beyond what he could have ever imagined.<br /><br />If you were to meet him, you would probably never know any of these struggles. I never, ever heard Caleb complain. He never pitied himself, and he never blamed others for his pain. I never heard him speak out in anger or retaliation against anyone. Instead, he always wanted to know what he could do to be a better friend. Rather than focusing on his circumstances, Caleb spent every waking moment at home making sure his family was okay. He cared so much more about us than about himself. He always asked us about our day before telling us about his own. He always asked how he could help when he could see one of us feeling stressed or sad. He would come and give my dad a hug, or offer to help my mom in the kitchen, or make me a cup of coffee. He never went to sleep without hugging us all goodnight and reminding us once again how much he loved us. He poured out so much love on me, my parents, and my brother Josh through his sacrificial service every single day, without ever asking to be served in return. He truly had a servant’s heart, more so than anyone I have ever known.<br /><br />When I saw Caleb, I saw Jesus. Caleb not only loved the Lord with all his heart, but truly lived in a manner worthy of the calling of Christ. He befriended those who no one else would befriend. He was drawn to reach out to those who were lonely and isolated. He loved unconditionally, without judgment and without the expectation of being loved in return. He lived every day with unbiased compassion. His life is the most pure and beautiful picture of the love of Christ I will ever know in my time on this Earth.<br /><br />It is hard to imagine how my life will go on without my little brother. The painful road ahead seems too immense to bear. Yet, by the grace of God, the intensity of my grief is matched by the depth of my joy. I rejoice with Caleb in the truth that his physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual struggles have all ended as he rests in the everlasting arms of his precious Savior. Caleb often spoke of his longing for a deeper relationship with the Lord, and I now know that prayer has been answered. He is finally experiencing perfect peace, perfect joy, and perfect love in the presence of his heavenly Father. Since Caleb’s passing on Monday, I keep thinking of what Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” Caleb had the most pure and childlike heart I have ever known, and He is now seeing God face to face. His faith has become sight.<br /><br />As my family and I deal with the devastating grief of losing a beloved son and brother, we press on with the knowledge that Caleb’s life and death has touched hundreds of people in ways we will never begin to know. We can only express gratitude for the 16 years we were allowed to have this precious gift in our lives, and for the multitude of beautiful memories we will treasure until the day when we see him again. His example of love, joy, humility, patience, kindness, and gentleness is the greatest gift God has ever given us, and we are forever thankful. I will miss him more than words can say. </div>Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-81824065090165737222010-09-27T19:42:00.000-07:002010-09-27T19:46:08.888-07:00One Cup of TeaOne of the best things about my job is the variety. Some days I sit at a desk typing on a computer for hours, and other days I am racing around like a mad woman. The best days are the ones when I get to spend time with the refugees themselves, when I can actually share a few minutes or a few hours of someone's life with them. A few days ago I stopped by to visit some Bhutanese clients and they invited me to sit down on the couch. We sat around mostly in silence, except for their few phrases of English and my three words of Nepali, just this big refugee family sitting and staring at me. They brought in a plate filled with small cups of tea that was unlike any tea I've ever tasted....very milky and sweet and incredibly spicy. They taught me how to say "hot tea": tatu chia. They clapped and laughed and cheered when I strung these two simple words together, and it made me wonder if anyone has ever down that for them when they learned two words of English....I doubt it. I said it over and over again. Tatu chia, tatu chia, tatu chia, and each time they were more delighted. "You are so smart," they said happily, and tapped my head. "You remember good." They have probably experienced more trauma and pain then I will ever know, and yet they are here with me, smiling and laughing.<br /><br />So I have these beautiful moments. They aren't the norm, but they are always a joy and a gift, and they remind me why I am here. These are moments when I think, "I can't imagine being anywhere but here. I can't imagine doing anything but this." I know I am where I am supposed to be.Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-57975515963623996282010-09-13T17:06:00.000-07:002010-09-15T20:00:57.550-07:0021 Highlights of my 21st Year1) Turning 21 in P<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXYxbR22281iXs2w76KdvgGzX90FjSrD9_2qzJiRdNe5eOmIMlbaWqZp-U87kfUXIR5RLPMi9D9Up_PAYE1gXwhfqMdpMdK8_pOSfRDxckxVCKWiMSp-MS5zU4Vf6HRQuU7mO0U5lk/s1600/P1080947.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517328524884312290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXYxbR22281iXs2w76KdvgGzX90FjSrD9_2qzJiRdNe5eOmIMlbaWqZp-U87kfUXIR5RLPMi9D9Up_PAYE1gXwhfqMdpMdK8_pOSfRDxckxVCKWiMSp-MS5zU4Vf6HRQuU7mO0U5lk/s200/P1080947.JPG" /></a>rague. This was amazing not only because its my favorite city in the world, but the friends who made it special. And the most yummy birthday meal ever.<br /><br />2)Living with roommates who have cats/kittens. None of these have been mine, but playing with Babar and Italics <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODsw8Sur8tnqk5eOdHwtXlcGSebHLbk1DAuHmWqWhZfgSHK_NJF6DIn6eQJLlcYjnuD2-H7XJ-HLIiQMFC18mxeSuHyOtHQFlqIfoaejdNMHmHdXwoqg483gxhASb1Zc41uh5qy4v/s1600/P1080838.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517280193223730642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODsw8Sur8tnqk5eOdHwtXlcGSebHLbk1DAuHmWqWhZfgSHK_NJF6DIn6eQJLlcYjnuD2-H7XJ-HLIiQMFC18mxeSuHyOtHQFlqIfoaejdNMHmHdXwoqg483gxhASb1Zc41uh5qy4v/s200/P1080838.JPG" /></a>on a regular basis has been a highlight of my days (besides getting bitten a lot).<br /><br />3) Learning to cook. I'm no gourmet chef yet, but at least I'm doing more than microwaving these days.<br /><br />4) Living in Glasgow, one of the coolest, edgiest, hipest cities ever, for four months. Even just walking to get groceries was a thrill!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4T4njGeQnLXsuqEfgTvq2cUg21w5mH2sorQxfcjaDdJMSByg7vf44weoSX6BOI4CdPh0oSXhJ29_zTz1dxfd9hdbff22sX8ajiMMOliYS9CGaafDW9fV4Jn2zccDOMlJMyTVgbUDq/s1600/P1040926.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517337404208458882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4T4njGeQnLXsuqEfgTvq2cUg21w5mH2sorQxfcjaDdJMSByg7vf44weoSX6BOI4CdPh0oSXhJ29_zTz1dxfd9hdbff22sX8ajiMMOliYS9CGaafDW9fV4Jn2zccDOMlJMyTVgbUDq/s200/P1040926.JPG" /></a><br />5) Eating crepes and bagettes in Paris by the Seine. Ahhhh....<br /><br />6) Seeing the Swell Season and Sara Groves perform live....two of the best concerts I've ever had the pleasure of attending.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEEsvQ88-cJmUbNbbBG3U6essgSD9gL6nibSXGXgeFsyzoR1ue44RmniHmHsSJOPKsMPPL5_pNqKFzK-LnNy3jmHrjkEMMR7PBLNqvzWcz2D1K48dtT8Y-MiccCxrJdYxEVlAH5hCT/s1600/P1060869.JPG"></a><br />7) Reading Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea and Stones Into Schools, and Khaled Hosseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns. Go read these books. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigdlVLe__MJqsQKSfmp6DmoNpcLgKSd98URkhB4sLZIjUXxQn5A3B2Jsi1Z087pfNUjdVyVordBUq2Z8tWQaOJtpmmoJhD8ckuQ4X9EKNL1TAkK7yT-T9r4sM_f3rISikhCP0RrbMY/s1600/P1060672.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517340718875054498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigdlVLe__MJqsQKSfmp6DmoNpcLgKSd98URkhB4sLZIjUXxQn5A3B2Jsi1Z087pfNUjdVyVordBUq2Z8tWQaOJtpmmoJhD8ckuQ4X9EKNL1TAkK7yT-T9r4sM_f3rISikhCP0RrbMY/s200/P1060672.JPG" /></a><br /><br />8) Seeing the grave of Geoffrey Chaucer in Westminster Abbey.<br /><br />9) Camping under the desert stars in the New Mexico wilderness<br /><br />10) I became a college graduate! Not that it means much these days...<br /><br />11) Experiencing a snowstorm in the middle of June in the Colorado Rockies.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2qloJ4VP-VLMhhs2EdyJXvkhnZXw1FWgeNiGSyTI-r0GlTFy9GRnxrz3HK1BqAHAj4S7dNfJKukwkMc8Tpz1Y6RjV21rBe9qUK9PPVJoFGauaqIf1OnyJqXRatSx-rseO8YTFd08n/s1600/mackay-wedding-08122010-2092.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 137px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517326091134561138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2qloJ4VP-VLMhhs2EdyJXvkhnZXw1FWgeNiGSyTI-r0GlTFy9GRnxrz3HK1BqAHAj4S7dNfJKukwkMc8Tpz1Y6RjV21rBe9qUK9PPVJoFGauaqIf1OnyJqXRatSx-rseO8YTFd08n/s200/mackay-wedding-08122010-2092.jpg" /></a><br />12) Eating Dijon mustard in Dijon, France, and a hamburger in Hamburg, Germany.<br /><br />13) Meeting my Scottish friends Roddy and Fiona, witnessing their engagement, and being a bridesmaid in their wedding in Scotland, all in one year. I couldn't have imagined anything so wonderful :)<br /><br />14) Meeting new friends from Scotland, Germany, France, India, New Zealand, Poland, and America, to name a few. The best part of traveling is getting to know so many wonderful people from such wildly diverse backgrounds!<br /><br />15) Having one last semester to really savor and appreciate the fact that I was studying two subjects I loved. I miss both Dance and English classes these days. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6mbzawvCyTZ_3ohwjkuKKUV-Nhy07DHik4RY_9H0VuN3q_ekWM6lG5CZWWVUVjKqnkY38m3uo2-aMrnjgzQc_QBxA7TNwmZe_HHydibzwnNbc4eCGpae_L8UeiaxX0yHdYnNChyoD/s1600/P1080884.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517338809810431954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6mbzawvCyTZ_3ohwjkuKKUV-Nhy07DHik4RY_9H0VuN3q_ekWM6lG5CZWWVUVjKqnkY38m3uo2-aMrnjgzQc_QBxA7TNwmZe_HHydibzwnNbc4eCGpae_L8UeiaxX0yHdYnNChyoD/s200/P1080884.JPG" /></a><br /><br />16) Working with refugees as a volunteer, an intern, and now as a full time case manager. It is both the most challenging and most rewarding thing I have ever done.<br /><br />17) Eating fresh vegetables from our garden and homemade barbeque this summer with my family. Yummy!<br /><br />18) Reuniting with one of my best friends after over a year apart. This is a testament to the love of Christ being strong enough to cover all wrongs and heal all wounds, and I am so eternally grateful.<br /><br />19) Getting a job that pays the bills. These are hard to come by these days, so I am really thankful. I have the added bonus of doing something I'm passionate about, which is incredible.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYymF5tpDO2mxutoxuCS8KXlwWykkNsxR7d-TsPpWZ3XE-FnXtYRl7nULRyNbdEaJ9zXEgcYwHjv32gVt5vkGrya9Hv8FI1wh6GFgBgNho80eQvmdNI1wd3T70NHo7MG3v9ojzrIV/s1600/P1090038.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517335245350914674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYymF5tpDO2mxutoxuCS8KXlwWykkNsxR7d-TsPpWZ3XE-FnXtYRl7nULRyNbdEaJ9zXEgcYwHjv32gVt5vkGrya9Hv8FI1wh6GFgBgNho80eQvmdNI1wd3T70NHo7MG3v9ojzrIV/s200/P1090038.JPG" /></a><br />20) My new apartment, with two wonderful girls who just took me out for pumpkin chocolate chip cake to celebrate my birthday! <div><div><div><div><div><div><br />21) Over the course of this year, I have had big fears, big adventures, and big joys, and I have seen God's hand in every one of those. I am thankful for another year of growing closer to Him and seeing his provision in so many ways.<br /><br />Here's to year 22!!</div></div></div></div></div></div>Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-18421527210916520742010-09-11T21:42:00.000-07:002010-09-11T22:35:16.049-07:00Work and RestThis week, I have experienced so many different emotions in the course of a few days on the job....excitement, fear, stress, anxiety, and confusion, to name a few. Working with refugees is a scary thing, because it's sink or swim, and if you sink, it feels like you're drowning your clients along with you. I have come home the past few nights feeling so burdened that I was afraid I might snap or cry if someone tried to talk with me....and I have not begun to tackle the truly difficult elements of my job yet. One night I was watching a movie with my new friend/co-worker, and she saw me trying to work on my to-do list. Her reaction was the best possible thing for me: she promptly threw my list and my planner across the room and forced me to simply relax instead. I can see how easily people become workaholics and why it's so hard to turn that part of your brain off when you leave the office.<br /><br />These days, I have been thinking a lot about peace and how much I lack it. I am hungry for peace, for a deep soul rest that permeates my long days and busy hours, that guards my anxious mind and my hurting heart in a work environment where I daily see injustice and experience frustration at the systems of this world. My pastor recently made an interesting connection between peace and gratitude, which makes so much sense to me the more I think about it. I want to be grateful for the good things I see in this job and grateful for the opportunities I will have to change the bad things. If you are someone who prays, pray for peace and gratitude to fill my life and overflow into the lives around me.<br /><br />Here's the great thing: so far, I have woken up every day feeling happy to go into work. Exhausted, yes, but determined and excited to tackle the day. Not optimistically, naively happy about somehow changing the world, but ready to do whatever I can to help transform my own tiny corner of the world. There is a great sense of contentment and joy in doing what you know you're supposed to be doing, in extending a chance for survival and hope into a person's life, in knowing that you are spending your days working towards something that is at the very heart of God. I know that positive emotions such as these can never be the motivation or the end goal of such work, or they will only lead to burnout and bitterness.... Nevertheless, they are such a blessing in this realm which often seems so bleak, a daily grace in a world where grace is so scarce. I am so helpless in all that I do without the grace and peace of Christ.Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-69647732916897985132010-09-06T14:46:00.000-07:002010-09-06T20:50:38.149-07:00So it begins!Tomorrow is the first day of my brand new, 9 to 5, real adult job. I feel like it's the first day of high school all over again....I am very nervous, very excited, and mulling over countless outfit possibilities. And now I'm sitting in bed typing this because I am too full of anticipation to sleep. Let's be honest: this might be the only day I will ever feel excited about waking up to go to work, so I'm going to savor the feeling while it lasts.Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-13867706451716124482010-09-02T09:51:00.000-07:002010-09-02T10:06:57.713-07:00my favorite song this week<object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/n9YJQj8tQnM?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/n9YJQj8tQnM?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object>Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-87231213951262371092010-08-27T21:13:00.001-07:002010-08-27T21:21:04.304-07:00college? over? really?Today, I helped my little brother move into his college dorm room for the first time. And I kept thinking, "Shouldn't this be me?"<br /><br />Strange how four years can fly by so quickly....Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-5603610812314001162010-08-24T11:32:00.000-07:002010-08-24T15:13:54.123-07:00The Other Side<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlmSvK3h1nZlTJvT17JBcf5laFoBmnyCZVK1rU3jMk6D50KYYt7xtSYP7Jo6j-U44Pbm8sBoVzXLlUfCQYm4CiOAgwyBQXSEVFRP9CutfGMPECtrLv1thfg7hubjPm09vSDGmJyWPN/s1600/P1080306.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509098806363018482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlmSvK3h1nZlTJvT17JBcf5laFoBmnyCZVK1rU3jMk6D50KYYt7xtSYP7Jo6j-U44Pbm8sBoVzXLlUfCQYm4CiOAgwyBQXSEVFRP9CutfGMPECtrLv1thfg7hubjPm09vSDGmJyWPN/s200/P1080306.JPG" /></a>The strange thing about going to another country is that once you are there, you feel as though somehow you have always been there. Your friends and family and familiar places all feel infinitely far away and the past feels like a distant memory. Bein<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmnUnsg3fEpDj32Z8KJZq12VpMTx2jXc0KvTkpum0Fk7u1YDtIRfniulI7IndmQ_8zM4YL1Ry0BoCP3RN_jrgFggj7TZN8XMz8tDTpuz8pYqRrvqEh2wMFU7LA80M-JQcGcTQ-pHti/s1600/P1080841.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509102179088221186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmnUnsg3fEpDj32Z8KJZq12VpMTx2jXc0KvTkpum0Fk7u1YDtIRfniulI7IndmQ_8zM4YL1Ry0BoCP3RN_jrgFggj7TZN8XMz8tDTpuz8pYqRrvqEh2wMFU7LA80M-JQcGcTQ-pHti/s200/P1080841.JPG" /></a>g back in Scotland just felt completely natural, but it felt like stepping back into a different life, with different friends and different stories and different customs. Then when you leave, it feels so bizarrely<em> unnatural</em>. The divide between the two countries feels so deep and impossible to bridge, yet you know you were in one just yesterday and another one today. It feels even more strange and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">separated</span> knowing that I am the only one who walks between these two particular lives....on each side, there is no one who really knows my friends or experiences from the other side. It leaves you with so much to say and no one to really say it to.<br /><div><div><div><br /><div>So I am trying to process all of that, while also packing up this week and preparing to move into a new season of life as a working adult. And after travelling over 24 hours yesterday, I am more than a bit exhausted and disoriented!<br /></div><div>Every day in Scotland contained a billion blog posts, with no time to write any of them. But here's a few more small highlights:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwAsFza0pm2ZR7kL_069QJHhU1zm5r795PaQMUAGO4DCSQ0DM1aYTmnNG0Ox3oJz4IxCSG7drpuDQbXzrQJVSfhw7ikbyUZGIq0-n8IAfPdDBykLLbR44jXOYFyhDpN6TqB8r85CqL/s1600/P1080561.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509096122941867490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwAsFza0pm2ZR7kL_069QJHhU1zm5r795PaQMUAGO4DCSQ0DM1aYTmnNG0Ox3oJz4IxCSG7drpuDQbXzrQJVSfhw7ikbyUZGIq0-n8IAfPdDBykLLbR44jXOYFyhDpN6TqB8r85CqL/s200/P1080561.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div>1) I survived a fishing expedition on the Scottish seas! While the trip was beautiful, it is possibly one of the worst ideas ever to go out sailing on stormy, choppy waters the day after an exhausting wedding. I was pretty convinced our boat was going to capsize and/or I would lose my lunch, but thankfully, neither happened (the story of Jesus and the disciples out on the ocean came to mind quite a few times). On the bright side, I caught three huge fish for dinner, and they were scrumptious.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5RPHCzvsUjQH_P7DNyN8-NVGa0nIJLW-2mbHKSH-QDCCiQjp4NXojXAIvQitYmO-sgNvs2AdMMMGj8jfGBhQBEjTpMSKPz_xnY_QZ4F20H8zrBrGwB_u4psOnmMmz_vZe4tZVDul/s1600/Chanonry_Point.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 133px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509096875903058962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX5RPHCzvsUjQH_P7DNyN8-NVGa0nIJLW-2mbHKSH-QDCCiQjp4NXojXAIvQitYmO-sgNvs2AdMMMGj8jfGBhQBEjTpMSKPz_xnY_QZ4F20H8zrBrGwB_u4psOnmMmz_vZe4tZVDul/s200/Chanonry_Point.jpg" /></a> 2) Speaking of marine life, one of the many lovely homes I stayed in was right next to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Chanonry</span> Point, on the Black Isle. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Chanonry</span> Point is considered the best spot in the entire United Kingdom to see wild dolphins, and it was a five minute walk from the house where I stayed! I met with many days of disappointment in my search for dolphins, but the day before I left the Black Isle, they finally decided to come out for me. Such an amazing sight. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3HSPIFXINz1bnscYL17fFpFmX1_fiW9gGRnUa6N66bAlS58ahJhiQKlpEXt4Zvg_e8IpenOkpl7fXZwqWmAMcPUebOZLP15U0zsmfjlegnxHNEOthh7E12i-r__vj72rkiaN7zoAX/s1600/P1080859.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509097551075107106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3HSPIFXINz1bnscYL17fFpFmX1_fiW9gGRnUa6N66bAlS58ahJhiQKlpEXt4Zvg_e8IpenOkpl7fXZwqWmAMcPUebOZLP15U0zsmfjlegnxHNEOthh7E12i-r__vj72rkiaN7zoAX/s200/P1080859.JPG" /></a><br /><div>3) A couple of culinary triumphs: the Crichton family kindly asked me to make some traditional cornbread for them, and with great trepidation (it would kill me to mess up such a staple of Southern cuisine) I did so...and it was a success! Then in Glasgow, I tried my hand at a Gordon Ramsey recipe: a chocolate chestnut truffle cake. It was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">decadent</span> and gooey and utterly delicious....the perfect addition to a dinner party in a beautiful city with such lovely friends.<br /></div><br /><div>4) I experienced the best part of socialized medicine: I got pretty sick during my last few days in Scotland, and a doctor saw me for free (despite the fact that I was an American visitor, not a taxpayer), then prescribed antibiotics which I was able to buy for about five dollars. I know having a nationalized health system has its major disadvantages as well, but the free medical treatment and cheap medicine were both pretty sweet!</div></div></div></div>Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-29195826499672543902010-08-17T02:58:00.000-07:002010-08-17T04:10:45.344-07:00Weddings, Scottish StyleFive days after my first Scottish wedding, and I'm still trying to recover. The bridesmaids and bride got up at 7:00 am to begin getting hair and makeup done, and the wedding was not officially over until we left the reception at 2:00 am that evening. The day was incredible, and I was thrilled to find that I knew more people at this wedding than I do at most weddings I've attended in America. People from every part of my time in Scotland last year were there, and it was so much fun to reunite with friends on such a celebratory day. Never a dull moment!<div><br /></div><div>Naturally, I couldn't help observing a few cultural wedding differences:</div><div><br /></div><div>1) Scottish weddings are loooooong (as already noted above). There was the ceremony, then a brief reception at the church (ours involved Krispy Kreme doughnuts which were painstakingly transported from England), then a brief champagne reception, followed by a massive three course dinner, multiple speeches, and then four hours of dancing. Halfway through the dancing, at about 10:30, was when I began to think I might just collapse from exhaustion. And what would come along just then but a GIANT PIG, a whole roast pig, head and all, being carved up and served to hungry dancers. There had already been such massive amounts of food leading up to this that I just found myself in total shock that anyone could eat a giant slice of pig flesh before heading back onto the dance floor!</div><div><br /></div><div>2) One of the most obvious differences: the men wear kilts. Laugh if you might, fellow Americans, but I think a smart kilt with a waistcoat is one of the most dapper, dashing things a man can wear. This ensemble also comes complete with a sporran, which is an animal skin purse that many fellows might carry a wee flask in, and a dagger to be worn in the man's sock. It's quite an impressive get-up.</div><div><br /></div><div>3) True to the Free Church tradition, the wedding ceremony involved congregational singing of several acapella psalms, which sounded incredible with 300 guests echoing behind us. I say behind us, because in Scottish weddings, the wedding party all turns their back to the guests and faces the minister instead. It becomes very tempting to peer over your shoulder and see the massive crowd behind you!</div><div><br /></div><div>4) The reception involves quite a few speeches....not just small wedding toasts, but carefully written speeches. Traditionally I believe these are given by the bride's father, the groom's father, the best man, and the groom himself, although in this wedding, a speech by the maid of honor was given as well. In typical Scottish fashion, these involve quite a few sarcastic jokes or embarrassing stories at the expense of the bride and groom, but also feature moving tributes, heartfelt advice, and a great deal of gratitude. </div><div><br /></div><div>5) The dancing. How do I even begin to describe it? This portion is known as the ceilidh (pronounced like kay-lee), and <i>everyone</i> is involved, from young kids to grandparents. If you've ever been contra dancing, this is pretty similar....traditional Scottish dancing steps done with a partner, often in circular or linear patterns. The amazing thing is, everyone knows these dances. The band would just call out a name, such as "Strip the Willow" or "The Dashing White Sergeant," and nothing more would be explained or called out...the whole crowd (minus the American guests) knew all the steps, and eagerly joined in. It was such good fun, in particular because everyone was so enthusiastically involved. I tried to stay with Scottish partners as much as possible since I had no idea what I was doing! </div><div><br /></div><div>6) At the end of the night (about 1:30 AM) we all gathered round in two huge circles surrounding the bride and groom, and all linked arms as we sang "Auld Lang Syne." I know this is more of a New Year's song in the States, but in Scotland, it's used in many different contexts, and always ends a big ceilidh. It was a moment I'll never forget... looking around and seeing the joy on everyone's faces as we sang in strong, soaring harmony, surrounding the new couple with an outpouring of joy. </div><div><br /></div>Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-32869079774898816332010-08-09T02:52:00.000-07:002010-08-09T03:39:42.300-07:00Pocahontas of the HighlandsOne of the things I really love about being back here is being back in the Free Church. Yesterday we went to two services that involved singing purely acapella psalms and having a cup of tea directly after the sermon.....only in Scotland! Being with Fiona's family is really lovely too, because they are so warm and kind. I just feel like a part of their family already. Every night they gather around the fireplace and they all sing a psalm, followed by their father reading a passage of scripture and a long prayer. I should note that all of their children are in their twenties, and they still particpate in this every day when they're home. It's such a comforting and beautiful tradition, and I really loved being a part of it for a few days.<br /><br />The church service yesterday brought quite a few laughs with it too. Many people were quite intrigued by Fiona's American bridesmaid, so they came up to introduce themselves and ask me about myself. One Scottish couple who were about my parents' age chatted with me for a long time, and then all of a sudden, the husband asked "So, are both your parents American?" I was a bit surprised by the question, but I replied, "Yes, they are." He said, "I just wondered, because you look quite dark." His wife and daughter were rather horrified, but I just laughed and said, "Well, that's maybe because I am part Native American." They all murmured excitedly about this for a minute, and then he blurted out, "That makes sense, because I have been thinking this whole time you look a wee bit like Pocahontas." Everyone around us was totally mortified and embarassed, but I just died laughing and told him I thought it was absolutely hilarious. I told him it would give me an excellent story to take back to the States....it's not every day you get compared to a Disney princess, you know. Quite an achievement, I'd say!Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-82952425074030333732010-08-07T13:48:00.000-07:002010-08-07T15:21:26.389-07:00Stunningly surreal Skye<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBKSLYqFSltShAqvh3FYANrfKat3_yPv1oowatsV2oWsMog8jagoT43WZRUrRm3K3Pc_m_dbEgGvFZiAB1lhyRuL-x2DspLDUli76x3QN9m68L3Nn2C4YPMs5TPMFbEk_F-ilMmfcN/s1600/DSCF0169.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBKSLYqFSltShAqvh3FYANrfKat3_yPv1oowatsV2oWsMog8jagoT43WZRUrRm3K3Pc_m_dbEgGvFZiAB1lhyRuL-x2DspLDUli76x3QN9m68L3Nn2C4YPMs5TPMFbEk_F-ilMmfcN/s320/DSCF0169.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502792168667567890" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQONsdfyVqgqE5hr0jWuExVSNjt8YAkBc6AIf7xqUvTXUxVG1IsoSAfvzfKevKGBAsC4OfwyvvzsX_bm0wMcis2F3fy0qVchk55kDyccl3BJP1PiRehNfOSiJ2PiC9ZVbqga0mZwYy/s1600/P1080148.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQONsdfyVqgqE5hr0jWuExVSNjt8YAkBc6AIf7xqUvTXUxVG1IsoSAfvzfKevKGBAsC4OfwyvvzsX_bm0wMcis2F3fy0qVchk55kDyccl3BJP1PiRehNfOSiJ2PiC9ZVbqga0mZwYy/s320/P1080148.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502778625633203602" border="0" /></a>I have discovered the most beautiful place on Earth. Argue with me if you want, but I will stubbornly contend that the Isle of Skye is the most spectacular location known to man. I feel like I am at the very edges of the earth, in the secluded little town of Portree. I took a three hour bus journey here from Inverness, past Loch Ness (no monster sightings, I'm afraid) and then through the most gorgeous series of mist shrouded mountains and enormous lochs (the Scottish word for lakes). As we drove higher and higher into the mountains through pouring rain and thick fog, the landscape got progressively more mysterious and breathtakingly beautiful. I had planned to sleep on the bus, but I just couldn't turn my eyes away. W<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG6u9pJGw_wSI-U7Lmw3uk0d0z68sPWS2lFQd-UhSsVS7UYV_ucba3x2B6PfFb10pNxmVatrxzG3OokP7-Eo9DfmeXpxKGM4JA-S1L259i-6wEgzQcDUEB-xOwGy8NXG3imNsBwupO/s1600/P1080091.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG6u9pJGw_wSI-U7Lmw3uk0d0z68sPWS2lFQd-UhSsVS7UYV_ucba3x2B6PfFb10pNxmVatrxzG3OokP7-Eo9DfmeXpxKGM4JA-S1L259i-6wEgzQcDUEB-xOwGy8NXG3imNsBwupO/s200/P1080091.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502781458061833986" border="0" /></a>hen we finally arrived on the island, I<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc5OAz4y6QtNaI2LhMnWAPKFKuXWWY5rIdAFP3zNSnqx7X0R64pFmHDEsJpypFAZlUiqkINKtvsrxxwXNV86xOBPIpRROY-PjxUApKDmfz3MZIL3zmCA4ZJnfjoU_R0F118K_gk-AF/s1600/DSCF0154.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc5OAz4y6QtNaI2LhMnWAPKFKuXWWY5rIdAFP3zNSnqx7X0R64pFmHDEsJpypFAZlUiqkINKtvsrxxwXNV86xOBPIpRROY-PjxUApKDmfz3MZIL3zmCA4ZJnfjoU_R0F118K_gk-AF/s200/DSCF0154.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502791759980381058" border="0" /></a> was convinced that I had entered a magical fairy land. That may sound silly, but I don't know how else to describe this place. It is an epic, fantastical sort of beauty that looks like something I imagined in Narnia or Middle Earth. Pictures don't begin to capture the lush green of the mountains or the crystal blue of the water. I went with my friend Fiona and two of her brothers for a long drive around the surrounding countryside today and a great hike into the mists of Storr Mountain. I kept gasping every time we would drive around a new bend in the road, and the native Scots in the car were rather amused by how spectacular I found it to be. To them it's sort of an everyday occurance, but I felt as though I was walking through a dreamscape.I turned to Fiona at one point today and said, "I could not have imagined a place this beautiful even in my wildest dreams." We are moving on to another part of Scotland on Monday to prepare for the wedding on Thursday, but I know that I would be perfectly content to just stay here forever by the fireplace, sipping my cup of tea, surrounded by such a heavenly landscape and such wonderfully kind people. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6SI_9ZQIPBg1KKmQudMXwqwmNo3JKlfPrJYbDvL4kQENitonkZRoeBqOF4TpvEksn5d0sTBqPAUgPdFNwBFHRHpRgFEMYnXHfThqIkL3ZROMrLJwCqRct2BQFPONwExS5giRNc1b/s1600/P1080160.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6SI_9ZQIPBg1KKmQudMXwqwmNo3JKlfPrJYbDvL4kQENitonkZRoeBqOF4TpvEksn5d0sTBqPAUgPdFNwBFHRHpRgFEMYnXHfThqIkL3ZROMrLJwCqRct2BQFPONwExS5giRNc1b/s320/P1080160.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502783805904005458" border="0" /></a>Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-54905460799490314622010-08-05T10:11:00.000-07:002010-08-05T11:09:12.089-07:00Scotland: the Glorious Return!<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgu0QyU4nYMyoyXtmWcWHDdrgRdjj5azVE06YGHEobcois8oqq7pDRPE1jIV8ybOmgFFMN9ggx_dvMyc43XFsIqI2GJniTROSONsO8D8xe3g5UQ70axn1w1Wcp_KvwFcpvMkAo1X9/s1600/P1070894.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501988144832582114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCgu0QyU4nYMyoyXtmWcWHDdrgRdjj5azVE06YGHEobcois8oqq7pDRPE1jIV8ybOmgFFMN9ggx_dvMyc43XFsIqI2GJniTROSONsO8D8xe3g5UQ70axn1w1Wcp_KvwFcpvMkAo1X9/s200/P1070894.JPG" /></a>It feels "pure dead brilliant" to be back in Scotland. I am currently on the Black Isle up near Inverness, and I just got back from riding a bike down to the the point of the island where the waves lap onto the shore. Some rare sunshine today made the landscape all the more beautiful....it's hard to describe the scenery, but it looks a bit as if the Blue Ridge mountains were transplanted to the coast. It's simply stunning.<br /></div><div><div>The journey over here was pretty smooth sailing, despite a brief lockdown in the Charlotte airport, some crazy turbulance during my flight to Glasgow, and some intense jet lag the past couple of days. I ar<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrv6lsnhmuKWjyB-sFAN5-NZqNAbfaTEN4uG6da0FIUZ8r7_VN55C4iZuiHLVQgo4qzExGMaTt2Am9X3vmdkjDQ-_XGJ_7PDGwn3-ZV_pzeoJzBpFVcLi-eXC0Eihuqd0FRZOF4fo/s1600/P1070854.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501987443944697122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrv6lsnhmuKWjyB-sFAN5-NZqNAbfaTEN4uG6da0FIUZ8r7_VN55C4iZuiHLVQgo4qzExGMaTt2Am9X3vmdkjDQ-_XGJ_7PDGwn3-ZV_pzeoJzBpFVcLi-eXC0Eihuqd0FRZOF4fo/s200/P1070854.JPG" /></a>rived at the Glasgow airport at 6:30 AM, very tired but incredibly excited. That excitement quickly turned to panic as the International Arrivals section slowly cleared out and finally, I was the last one left. I suddenly realized that my friend Fiona and I had not actually discussed when or where we were going to meet after I landed! There are few things quite so scary as feeling totally alone and stranded in a foreign country, with no way to contact anyone that could help you. I probably freaked out far more than I should, but at the time it was pretty alarming! Fiona did arrive at 9:30 and we had quite a laugh over our total lack of communication about how she would pick me up. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3sknqu81Ss17EMlZ39Y-aNxADdA457seO7LiOK_hfq0gj0IU7X0yXX6MvqM69Y8NuRcGpxVRi8x-3v41u3nDNVyCsIAyr_49aHsfWXA7w1XffeQi9SuQno_mL0wjIAfUa19SfuCg/s1600/P1070866.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501988627718812786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3sknqu81Ss17EMlZ39Y-aNxADdA457seO7LiOK_hfq0gj0IU7X0yXX6MvqM69Y8NuRcGpxVRi8x-3v41u3nDNVyCsIAyr_49aHsfWXA7w1XffeQi9SuQno_mL0wjIAfUa19SfuCg/s200/P1070866.JPG" /></a><br /><div>Walking around Glasgow with Fi was so surreal. The city and my friends all felt like something from a faraway dream or something from a story I once read. It was so wonderful to rediscover that it was all so marvelously REAL. It has been so amazing to reunite with my dear friends and to see this beautiful country again. I'm getting very well-fed at the Maclean residence on the Black Isle at the moment, and then tomorrow evening I'll be taking a bus up to Skye to spend some time with the bride's family. It's a whirlwind of wonderful people and places, and I'm just enjoying the ride!</div></div>Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-55399212889804409172010-08-02T05:58:00.000-07:002010-08-02T06:04:01.636-07:00Dancing and departingMy summer, for the most part, has drifted by like a winding stream of lazily drifting days....and then all of a sudden, wham, a flurry of activity. This past week was my annual dance conference (I call it "dance camp") in Charlotte. I've been attending this conference since I was twelve, but during my college years, other commitments always prevented me from going. This year, however, I had the incredible blessing of having that week free. This camp consists of an intense, rigorous daily schedule of devotions, dance technique classes, rehearsing choreography, teaching, and worship. It is an amazing feeling to dance all day long, then worship for hours at a time every night, leaving me with a unique blend of extreme physical exhaustion and powerful spiritual refreshment.<br /><br />One of the things I love about this place is that God always meets me there. I know I'll never leave there without an intense experience of His presence and a fresh thirst for scripture. Sometimes that presence is comforting and beautiful....sometimes it is a convicting force that breaks me with the sight of my own unrighteousness. This past week, it was all of the above, and I am so thankful.<br /><br />I want to write so much more about this, but I am literally leaving for Scotland in 10 minutes. It is hard to believe that, God-willing, I will land in Glasgow in less than 24 hours! Please pray for safety in travel (especially since I am traveling alone again) and for me to somehow catch up on the sleep I am missing from this past week even in the midst of jet-lag.<br /><br />Next time I will be writing you from the other side of the ocean!Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-29464992106748216302010-07-22T20:55:00.000-07:002010-07-22T21:16:59.758-07:00ingredients of a good evening1. reuniting with the best old high school pals ever<br />2. pizza<br />3. contradancing the night away!Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-78594174741152648912010-07-19T19:48:00.000-07:002010-07-19T20:21:09.727-07:00An Homage to Coffee<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffdu0mCuvFg6-hedd7r0EcC-52C3eQMNfQDrBvWSpKFtZzn0vVWfgK4QZMUqu2aDFeSCPdZGEcN8bOFNWnXDZdX-XZxm0KqplPGOnv13uUpZ_9wh_5PrAHcFwUOlL5thDwvx2COva/s1600/4432754784_d6699da5c3_b.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495820361182411234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgffdu0mCuvFg6-hedd7r0EcC-52C3eQMNfQDrBvWSpKFtZzn0vVWfgK4QZMUqu2aDFeSCPdZGEcN8bOFNWnXDZdX-XZxm0KqplPGOnv13uUpZ_9wh_5PrAHcFwUOlL5thDwvx2COva/s200/4432754784_d6699da5c3_b.jpg" /></a> I saw a Today Show clip this afternoon about the dangers of giving your children coffee, involving paranoid parents and nutritionists. They primarily focused on the horrors of extra sugars and fat in fancy coffee drinks, because "no child is going to drink black coffee." Ridiculous, I say.<br /><br />Fact: I started drinking black coffee when I was five. It is a delicious nectar of delight that has enriched my life and brought joy to my days. I drink it in the morning when I wake up and in the late hours of the night before falling asleep (though I have cut back to only two or three cups a day). Contrary to the popular urban myths, coffee never stunted my growth in the slightest. I also contend that drinking coffee before/during classes always sharpened and enhanced my academic performance in high school and college. The smell of coffee makes me feel warm and happy inside, and my first sip of the tasty brew never fails to thrill me. A good cup of coffee can bring friends together or provide comfort on a solitary day. It is nostalgia, artistry, and passion inside a mug.<br /><br />Forget the milk, sugar, syrups, and whipped cream.....give me a strong, dark, intense cup of rich black coffee any day. Simple, classic, and delectable.Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-29294989695102248482010-07-04T20:43:00.000-07:002010-07-04T20:53:22.080-07:00happy independence day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5b2LeW31fyWZqvTFr8C-_6hB9YDPIyL8zJhM2ZsSTyYrBH-aZH0pnYTssYKfMaNjCnhMk-WTT240muyVjDiFPZnaZPsL4zCbChU2ur_Es6B79Ld2rOE_xBDZ3kADFHcs9kMo7YOQ_/s1600/P1070625.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490263139512160226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5b2LeW31fyWZqvTFr8C-_6hB9YDPIyL8zJhM2ZsSTyYrBH-aZH0pnYTssYKfMaNjCnhMk-WTT240muyVjDiFPZnaZPsL4zCbChU2ur_Es6B79Ld2rOE_xBDZ3kADFHcs9kMo7YOQ_/s320/P1070625.JPG" /></a><br />This is the first 4th of July I have been able to celebrate with my family since 2006. It involved a small town parade, amazing fireworks, fun times spent with relatives, and some really delicious barbeque....the quintessential elements of any good celebration!Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-86027349207982494182010-07-01T22:08:00.000-07:002010-07-01T23:14:03.043-07:00Where your treasure is...A couple of nights ago, my mother looked over at me and said, "So have you just given up on your blog?" <br /><br />What can I say? Sometimes the inspiration to write just doesn't strike, and I get lazy about blogging. I'll admit, this summer has made me lazy and lethargic in general, and I don't like the feeling. I've realized that so much of the joy is drained out of leisure when that's the majority of how you spend your waking hours. Simple pleasures like reading a book, watching a good movie, or soaking up some sun are so much sweeter when contrasted with a life that's somehow constructive and/or productive. Relaxation is best after a hard day of work or study, not after days and days of more relaxation. <br /><br />Who knows, maybe I just need to learn how to enjoy a break when I get one. One productive thing I <em>have</em> been doing this summer is beginning the long, dirty, arduous process of cleaning out my room. Not just a tidying-up sort of cleaning, but an intense "I am moving out permanently and so should all my earthly possessions" sort of cleaning. It's sort of a sad process (I am a total packrat and I hate getting rid of things), but also remarkably liberating. It makes me take some long term perspective on my life and consider what I really want to keep with me through the coming years.<br /><br />What really amazes me is how much <em>stuff </em>I've managed to accumulate in my short time on this earth. Whenever I get back from a trip, especially a trip overseas, I am always reminded of how little I really need. I have happily lived out of suitcases for months at a time...then upon returning home, it suddenly seemed as though I couldn't live without all those silly, extraneous things I'd lived without for so long. <br /><br />My particular weakness is for sentimental items. Today I dug through piles of old high school photos, t-shirts from my musical theater days, costumes, some ugly dance trophies, a few sketchbooks full of terrible artistic attempts in middle school, report cards, a box of encouraging notes from my fellow counselors at camp, and countless ticket stubs saved from various metro rides in European cities. Every tiny item, no matter how silly and trivial it might seem, felt like a tough call. Throw it away, or add it to the ever increasing mountains of stuff that come with me every time I move? Though I have to admit keeping more than I should, I was reminded over and over again how temporary all these things are. The memories themselves are woven into my life, and throwing away some physical reminders won't change that reality. <br /><br />Someday, when I (God willing) have a family of my own, I don't want my home to be crowded with boxes of souvenirs and mementos of just MY life, but of the life I share with my husband and children. I want to be free to simply cherish experiences in my heart <em>wherever</em> life takes me, free from a burden of excessive nostalgic trinkets and greedy accumulation. I can only hope to look back at the end and be able to say I was more invested in people than in things, more eager to give than to buy, more trusting in God than in any amassed wealth.Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-41426284657290012192010-06-06T16:19:00.000-07:002010-06-06T17:11:08.582-07:00On the Road Again<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17LxsgWfn3TBLvvOLz_z9erdzA5fc6e6GMWadgKGaKiOfRRZNguCoiyqRUvzn0RodTJzjlDnaWQC8xPcyNt7RR9FIn7ozMj1y5RzmmNHPumHf6TmYcWpu4hgJ8pS1IUZ_J6B3-6l5/s1600/P1020376.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479812043187280562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17LxsgWfn3TBLvvOLz_z9erdzA5fc6e6GMWadgKGaKiOfRRZNguCoiyqRUvzn0RodTJzjlDnaWQC8xPcyNt7RR9FIn7ozMj1y5RzmmNHPumHf6TmYcWpu4hgJ8pS1IUZ_J6B3-6l5/s320/P1020376.JPG" /></a> So it's Sunday night, and I'm about to set out for Colorado. Two friends and I plan to drive through the night and all day tomorrow through Tenessee, Arkansas, and Oklahoma, stop to sleep, then drive through Texas and spend a day in New Mexico, where we will camp out in the desert before finally making it up to San Juan Mountains in Silverton, Colorado. Silverton is a small old mining town, miles away from anything, surrounded by the most enormous, breathtaking mountains I've ever seen. I am so excited to be back there for a couple of weeks. No technology, no distractions, just fresh air, pure spring water, dazzling views, and massive mountains waiting to be climbed.<br /><p>Please pray that we will have safe travels, alert driving on very little sleep, good fellowship together, and no hiking accidents (my last Colorado trip involved getting slammed in the forehead with a rock, so I'm hoping not to repeat that)....</p><p>Now, time to hit the open road and have some adventures!!</p><p></p><br /><iframe width="425" height="350" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&source=s_d&saddr=boone,+nc&daddr=silverton,+colorado&hl=en&geocode=FdufKAIdyL4h-yllWpRpKNFQiDHppvV5YTQKbg%3BFeX2QAIdhiuV-SlNPz7U-Oc-hzE_y321LjjfaA&mra=ls&sll=36.2946,-94.878435&sspn=15.385247,43.110352&ie=UTF8&ll=36.173357,-94.746094&spn=24.73958,37.353516&z=4&output=embed"></iframe><br /><small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&source=embed&saddr=boone,+nc&daddr=silverton,+colorado&hl=en&geocode=FdufKAIdyL4h-yllWpRpKNFQiDHppvV5YTQKbg%3BFeX2QAIdhiuV-SlNPz7U-Oc-hzE_y321LjjfaA&mra=ls&sll=36.2946,-94.878435&sspn=15.385247,43.110352&ie=UTF8&ll=36.173357,-94.746094&spn=24.73958,37.353516&z=4" style="color:#0000FF;text-align:left">View Larger Map</a></small>Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-59725859847384425892010-05-30T21:01:00.000-07:002010-05-30T21:13:13.172-07:00life in the backwoodsI moved home to the mountains two days ago. Since returning home, I have:<br /><br />*tried (and failed) to ride a motorbike<br />*pulled a few weeds in the garden<br />*sat around a bonfire cooking hotdogs and smores with my family<br />*biked the Virginia Creeper Trail (17 miles of pure awesomeness)<br />*shot a handgun<br />*ate the very best homemade barbeque in the world<br /><br />Gotta love country livin'!Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-56712669477663864672010-05-24T20:44:00.000-07:002010-05-24T22:33:12.775-07:00"take this sinking boat and point it home"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08mp23AMivSlWatrJkEs6K_q4WPYhXyaZpIztv7JSrNDaS24Ywkx8HW8VAFUEMhx1cXI7W1RVEBkPKDVGTuliZjbk7s7oydOpE16GfGiFqQp9oRXzEQhK3f_OAHejKMHWeJobLNWm/s1600/P1060428.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08mp23AMivSlWatrJkEs6K_q4WPYhXyaZpIztv7JSrNDaS24Ywkx8HW8VAFUEMhx1cXI7W1RVEBkPKDVGTuliZjbk7s7oydOpE16GfGiFqQp9oRXzEQhK3f_OAHejKMHWeJobLNWm/s320/P1060428.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475052490604592418" /></a>I went to a Swell Season concert this weekend, and it was hands down the best concert I've ever been to. I've never seen an entire audience so emotionally moved and throughly enraptured as they were on that lovely summer night. If you've never heard the lush, gorgeous, intense melodies of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, you should go treat yourself to that right now. Or if you have not seen the movie <i>Once, </i>go do that too. <div><br /></div><div>In addition to enjoying their incredible vocal harmonies and musical talents, the concert gave me such a beautiful rush of memories. I love how music has the power to instantly take you back to a moment in time. I remembered how I was first introduced to the Swell Season during my summer in Prague. The girls I lived with would play "Falling Slowly" almost every morning as we got ready to begin a new day. Hearing it played live filled my heart with joy and longing. </div><div><br /></div><div>The concert reminded me why art is important: sometimes we need moments of intense beauty or poignant sadness to break us out of our everyday, commonplace routines and remind us that there is so much more. More richness in our memories, more depth behind our day-to-day lives, more hope and awe yet to come. </div><div><br /></div>Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-4777391043908333642010-05-19T20:44:00.000-07:002010-05-19T20:52:54.147-07:00the post-grad doldrumsBeing a college graduate feels strangely unproductive and sort of boring. I know that's a temporary feeling that I'll probably look back on wistfully someday, but for now it's unnerving. I keep picking up my laptop and checking my email over and over again.....and nothing. I keep thinking I must be forgetting some undone homework, but then I remember it's all done....<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">permanently</span>. Today I started pouring over grad school admissions handbooks at Barnes and Noble because I just can't stand having nothing to do or plan.<div><br /></div><div>Oh goodness. What is wrong with me?</div>Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56678815621928805.post-53206746136451310002010-05-10T15:05:00.000-07:002010-05-10T15:50:17.101-07:00AddictionI have been sitting in a coffee shop this afternoon, doing my last big study/cram session before the final exam of my undergrad life. I was feeling stressed, about studying and about life, and then I overheard the woman sitting beside me. She was a lovely woman in her mid-thirties, who was making phone calls to various women's shelters to see if they would take her in for a few weeks. Her husband had left her, and she had just completed a rehab program for alcoholism. As she explained her situation to various shelters, she sounded so sweet and so genuine. Some time later, a friend came into join her, and they both began to talk about their experiences with alcoholism and recovery. All of my petty anxieties seemed so small in the light of these women's lives, and I wished so much that I could just jump into their conversation and ask to hear their stories. <div><br /></div><div>My essay exam tomorrow is for my Literary Study of the Bible class, and it's on the subject of surprise endings. Over the past few days, I've been thinking about surprises in the Bible, and my mind has been overwhelmed with the fact that the entire book seems like a continual series of surprises, twists, and subverted expectations. As I was overhearing the conversation between these two women, I was writing this paragraph as a rough draft of what I want to write tomorrow on my exam:</div><div><br />"The great surprise of the Bible is that God always uses the unusable, changes the unchangeable, and loves the unloveable. He chooses a murderous coward to lead his people out of Egypt, a young shepherd boy to become the king of Israel, an unknown teenage peasant as the mother of Christ, a group of dirty shepherds as the bearers of angelic tidings, a woman formerly possessed by demons as the first witness of the resurrected Jesus, and a vicious persecutor of the early church as a zealous apostle of the faith. In both the Old and New Testament, God's actions continually defy human expectations of behaviorally based favor and love."</div><div><br /></div><div>The women beside me began to talk about their faith as I wrote this and I was overwhelmed with this real life picture of what I was writing. I bet their experience of Jesus' love and mercy is so much richer and deeper than I can even imagine. I think there is something beautiful in the utter darkness and horror of an addiction: it makes that false infinite, that sweet poison, that substitute god so clear and tangible in its destructiveness. An addict knows their utter vulnerability, brokenness, and weakness in a way that very few of us are willing or able to admit.</div><div><br /></div><div> I think we're all addicted to something. One of my (many) addictions happens to be approval, which is particularly destructive when it leads me to believe that I can earn the love and approval of God. The realization that I cannot lose God's love is a daily one, always pushing against the voice inside that tells me I am a failure, or against the pride that tells me I deserve every possible happiness the world has to offer. Freedom lies somewhere in the balance, in knowing that I am desperately broken and yet freely, lavishly loved and delighted in. I think that balance is resting in <i>grace</i>......grace upon grace upon grace that I cannot understand or deserve or lose. </div>Kristihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13106620013603271097noreply@blogger.com0