A Post Post Post Germany Post

I know I know. Half of my blog is about Germany. But I just got a rather large wave of nostalgia yesterday, and again today.

Yes, I know it may seem slightly strange to be nostalgic over an experience that was not that long ago, and didn't last that long.

However, because Germany gave so much me, I think I owe my last post of the year to it.

German people drive you crazy. They are friendly, in a "mind your own business" sort of way. They are like bears, or moose, or bees. You don't bother them, they won't bother you. Of course, as like here, there are the people who are naturally rude, or loud, or angry for no good reason. But, as a whole-- we Americans like to get up into each other's space.

Which I don't think is necessarily a bad thing.

I think spilling your life story to your hairdresser is more an American thing. I know this, sort of, because my hausfrau (sort of like my... homestay home owner lady) was so reserved. She never bothered me, but she would invite me to drink tea with her sometimes. She made dinner for me the first day I was there, and she worried that I was sad, homesick, or not getting enough to eat. But she never told me these things. Every day, she would knock on my door, peep her head in, and say in her halted English, "Julie? Are you okay? Did you have a good day?"

And I said, "Yes, I am fine." And she would smile and nod and then close the door and watch TV in the other room.

She was kind. But I never, not once, felt the need to talk to her about my family, my school, my job, my personal problems or anything.

And yet, as soon as I get back home, I drank in the more-personal culture like a withered houseplant.

I honestly can't decide which I like better.

I like feeling comfortable with others and trusting them with "non-surface level" communications. But I also really like that it wasn't an expectation in Germany to share personal experiences and backgrounds. I guess you feel more like you can bring the future to the table, and you can move on from things faster. At the same time, everything progresses slower: relationships, friendships, major life decisions, etc. I think that's why Germans have dogs. Dogs are not very personal in the personal area of life.

I think its a less dramatic and more simple way of dealing with people.

Without spontaneity. And colors a little (a lot) dulled down.

Give Me Life

Today I will write about pop-tarts.

I know that most of the time, good writers introduce their subject with a little more subtlety, but honestly, pop-tarts are anything but subtle.

Ingredients: Enriched wheat flour, corn syrup, high fructose corn syrup, dextrose, oil, sugar.... and a whole heap of other things...

Nutrition facts: Fat-5grams, Carbs-38grams-- sugar 16grams... Protein, wait Sugar, 16 grams!

NO subtlety here. No, the corn syrup and sugar are printed clearly on the box, next to a large orange banner saying "Good source of seven vitamins and minerals."

Hmm.

I have nothing else to say, except... why do I like them?

Looking Back and Moving Forward

Well, this year has been a rather fantastic roller coaster. I know I have changed a lot because of the experiences, but as I sit here on my bed, listening to Tennis Shoes Adventure Series, I feel very much like the same old me.

This year I have learned some very valuable lessons. The first lesson is that everything, and anything, can change. I think I knew this before, but this year I really really learned it-- I saw it happen. Never had I ever felt more less in control than I did this year-- literally at the mercy of God.

I also learned that I have so much more capacity to learn-- sometimes, when I really feel that I understand something-- a new thing occurs that brings even greater enlightenment, making me realize that I really didn't know as much as I did before.

This was the year I planned my wedding-- this was also the year that I didn't get married. This was the year I went to Germany-- this was also the year where I really learned what it means to have a home. This was the year I started my senior year of college-- this was also the year where I realized I still have a long way to go before I will be a teacher-- regardless of when I graduate. This was the year I really understood that God is in control and that I am never alone-- this was also the year that I felt more alone than I ever have in my life.

But when I think about it all, I am not filled with sadness-- even though there have been moments of extreme pain, fear and loneliness-- I am filled with hope. This is Christmas Eve. Two thousand years ago, my Savior was born in a manger, and angels were singing in the sky. He is hope. He is peace. And if He is there, then I will always be okay. Like the stars that shined so bright that night in Bethlehem, His love shines inside me and heals me.

If this year coming up is anything like the last, I think I should feel afraid. But I'm not. For the angel said, "Fear not, for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a savior, which is Christ the Lord."

Give It Some Thought

Boredom.

The thing that causes us to eat too much, sleep too much, serf the net too much, watch too many movies, and buy too much stuff.

Here's a suggestion:

Get out and make some people happy. Compliments. Soup. Cookies. Caroling. Sharing the good news of Jesus Christ, our Savior.

The Middle Seat of the Car

have you ever had a secret dislike of people who call shotgun before you even remember that you're actually going somewhere?

my thought process goes something like this:

Dang it. I should've called that. Why don't I ever remember that the front seat is desirable? Why do they always call it anyway? There should really be a different system, one that favors those who are not quite up on the game of survival of the fittest. One that helps really whiney people like me, who next to never get to sit in front all because of a stupid rule called shotgun.

I decided to retaliate by calling the middle. You know, the seat everone avoids, because your legs are spread over that awkward hump in the middle, and the seat doesn't dip down. Take that selfish shotgun callers! That's right-- now I have made the middle desirable. At least.... I think.

Yesterday, on a long drive to Canada, me and the middle seat became eternal partakers of the love hate relationship. Yep... five hours with a bag between your legs and another behind your head will do that.

I was about ready to call shotgun after that one was over-- my hips were asking me what I ever did to them to make me hate them so much. I, in turn, was dreaming of the ever elusive front seat.