Ducks laugh.

And rain cries. But in it all somehow there is balance and harmony. Over the last 24 hours, God has broadened my perspective, allowed me to dig deeper in my heart and open the shutters of my mind, and embraced me in such a way that I felt safe. I cried today and laughed not three minutes later. I longed for far away people and things and I reveled in the joy of moments and friends around me. I can’t quite articulate the peace that has and is washing over me.

In church this morning, the pastor relayed the message from the prophet Joel about God’s call for his people to rend their hearts and come back to him for he is a God of grace, compassion and abundant love. Love that stretches as far as the east is from the west.

Perhaps this is the extreme I have encountered today, an east to west experience. The simple little squawks of a duck or the beautiful drops of rain on the calm sea call me to know the mysterious power that fashioned this world. In the mere act of recognizing these simple moments I know more deeply the spirit that permeates my life and its surroundings.

I cannot deny a love that gives such depth of perspective, such serenity, such understanding mentally, physically and emotionally, such natural phenomenon and quirks. And I hope and pray that I can receive such love in the next 24 hours when the geese begin to gargle.

Midsommer Celebration

With enough strawberries in my belly for a whole pie and more fun than one can handle in a single party, I just returned home from an afternoon of partying the old Swedish style. In Sweden, Midsommer is as big as Christmas, if not more so, and they make the most of it (18 hours of daylight during this time of the year). It's a national holiday so people get the last Friday of June off from work so they can visit their lake cabins and participate in the festivities of the day.

The Downey family took my to Sigtuna, one of the oldest towns in Sweden, where we participated in the local and folk traditions. A short parade of people dressed in folk dancing costumes carried a Maypole through the main street, the same street that the Vikings trekked over 1500 years ago. In the Center Square and park, they erected the Maypole and began the many silly dances. Children abounded, some in traditional dress and many with a halo of flowers on their heads. The colors were as bright as a Christmas tree.

The meal followed with an assortment of sil (a specially prepared herring dish), other fish dishes, Swedish meatballs, potatoes and salad. We ate to our heart content only to realize that the Swedish cakes were on their way. The youth of our group prepared layered cakes of whipped cream, cake and strawberries. A Swedish man who had joined our party made pecan pie so the Americans also enjoyed a taste of home.

The evening continued with games such as Kubb and dancing on Wii. Kubb is a Swedish game similar to horseshoes, but involves teams and is much more fun and harder than it looks. Wii Dance made us all laugh as all of us, youth and adults, swung our hips and tried to stay in step with the rhythms.

I give thanks for the collection of countries represented (Australia, America, Sweden, England, Switzerland, and Canada) that can fellowship in celebration for a new season, delicious food, universal interactive game, and life. This in my mind is as good of a national holiday as I can imagine.

Uppsala and down

A few plans fell through here in there with plans to ferry to Finland or ride the train to Gothenburg, Sweden, but in hindsight our flexibility offered us the best plan we could make. Tuesday morning, early for some ☺ but right on time for others, Mac and I jumped on a regional train to Uppsala. This quaint but lively city 40 minutes north of Stockholm is the home to a university from the 15th century and citizens from times as early as 600 A.D. The streets are bustling with fruit stands, mothers pushing their kids in heavy duty strollers (these strollers are made for commuting through blizzards), shops of every bit of fabric, book, second hand nik-naks or pastry you could want.

We climbed off the train in search of our guesthouse and went the wrong way. (My fault.) And then we came upon Wayne’s Coffee. It’s the closest thing to an American coffee shop around so my companion was thrilled. (Also my fault.) Armed with a cool, caffeinated drink we turned around and found Eva at the Samaritan Guesthouse.

Formerly used to house and train deacons from the Church of Sweden, it now hosts guests and conferences all year round. We had a simple but accommodating room with shared kitchen and bathroom facilities down the hall. Couldn’t have asked for anything better especially since we could check in at 9:30am, drop our extra stuff and head out. After a leisurely morning reading and resting, we went to the park along the river to eat our homemade pizza packed for lunch. We promenaded through the park where we found a small amphitheater (though, Daniel, it looked like a baseball diamond on the map) where an ABBA sing-along would take place at the end of June. Bummer- just missed it. Walking through the seats, however, I’m a little concerned for anyone coming in go-go boots; the aisles are big or smooth enough to dance. We found a track in the park, and, yes, they’re the same everywhere…they all make me smile.

Highlights of the afternoon:
Gustavo Museum: Anatomical theatre where surgeries occurred towered up into the top of the dome.

Uppsala Cathedral: Gothic church with amazing stain glass windows. It was the first time Mac had experienced a church like that so seeing an old church with new eyes was particularly special.

Lemon Creperie: We needed a little snack late in the afternoon but when one stumbles on a place that lists over 20 different types of delicious crepes made to order, dinner becomes the name of the meal. We had a crepe with tomato, ham and cheese and another with Nutella, coconut and ice cream on top. Heaven seemed a little bit closer with the tastes in my mouth and sun warming my back.

Ergonomic benches: Rather than an upright backed seat, we found a row of lounge benches along the river.

Movie Theater: Though we decided not to pay $30 to see an old movie such as True Grit, it was interesting to experience the atmosphere. All movies are shown in the original language with Swedish subtitles added.

Wednesday morning, after a great night’s sleep despite it being the longest day, we went to the complimentary breakfast. True to the European form, we had our choice to a lot of bread, meats, cheeses, hard-boiled eggs and yogurt, plus tea or coffee of course. Completely full we hopped on a bus toward Gamla Uppsala (Old Uppsala) where large hills/mounds cover the remains of buried royalty/chiefs from back in 600A.D. Some of the mounds have been excavated, but archeologists are still uncovering entire houses and burial sites along the ridges of Gamla Uppsala. While it looks like a serene area of rolling hills, there is much history and legends buried within the landscape.

We finished our trip as we started, with sweets treats and a train ride. On our Wednesday wanderings we discovered Landings, a bakery with yummy pastries and cute marzipan figures. Promising to stop before leaving Uppsala, we descended upon the store with wide eyes and great indecision. Or at least that’s how I felt. Couldn’t I have a little taste of each one? Finally, we (I) decided and with three tantalizing treats, went outside in the sun to enjoy them. Oh the crème. Oh the richness. Oh the surprises. Oh how I wish could indulge all the time. Satisfied beyond belief we boarded the train back home where I now sit with a cup of tea, smiling on the many upps of our trip.

European Yogurt

I prefer this Swedish yogurt “Yoggi” that I’m eating right now. It’s thicker, less sweet but still as flavorful as that in America. I know the many reasons why yogurt is different in various countries; I’ve read a book or two about it. But I’m here to champion Swedish yogurt.

Traveling offers countless opportunities to compare, contrast, and sometimes criticize the new or home worlds. Of course, most of the differences are just that and don’t really engender superior value. Just because I enjoy Swedish yogurt better than what I find in Safeway doesn’t mean Sweden is a far more excellent country. It just means my breakfast is a bit more enjoyable. Comparing and contrasting is impossible not to do as humans. Not only is it necessary for survival (i.e. on public transport I have to keep my things close in order to avoid pickpockets even if at home I leave things in my car overnight.) but it’s also an enjoyable exercise that opens one’s eyes to the world as it has never been before (i.e. I rarely see men in bright colored pants and blazers conducting business in America.)

On Saturday evening, the Downeys hosted a dinner party of 3 couples from their international church. The table included a Polish couple, a Chicago-native and her Swedish husband, and a Danish woman and her American husband. Conversations flowed beautifully with unique turns and clops of accents. We shared stories of travel, pondered the differing characteristics of churches in Europe and America, and ate a wonderful meal of BBQ hamburgers. I learned that getting a driver’s license in Sweden is extra difficult because the culture is based around public transport. I recognized that tithing is more an American practice while Europeans give offerings at church. I discovered that despite knowing several languages, a skill most Americans only dream of having, obtaining a job in a global market is just as taxing and trying as it is in America.

The variety of this world is remarkable and to think that God has a plan and purpose for each of us in our own little pocket of this planet continues to strike me with awe. But I think God in all his wisdom realized that the differences were necessary for us to be interested in each other. Yes, this is a very Western idea since the Japanese tend to focus on similarities more than differences. But the point remains: in our sweet or tangy or thicker or runnier ways, each person and place can enhance human life and make both guests and hosts more of who they’re meant to be by sharing perspectives.

Tricking Your Body

I thought I might have found the best method for sleeping. A few blogs this morning testifies otherwise.

Sweden is blessed with light most hours of the day this time of year. Regardless of whether it’s sunny or cloudy, the illuminated sky resumes its bright dance at odd hours of the “night.” Yesterday, in efforts to sleep past 5am, I did everything imaginable to trick myself, a bit unknowingly too. See, it’s not the jetlag that wakes me but instead my body’s insistence that light is the cue for activity no mater what time of day. So Friday night before bed I put on an eye mask, I kept a blanket close and turned my back on the window (all of which are very large and numerous in this and most Swedish homes). I woke up early as I suspected and looking at my watch that read 5:37, I proceeded to wrap the extra blanket around my head and fall back into dream world. Somehow I did this exercise again and seeing the same time on the watch, forced myself back to sleep. It wasn’t until the next wakeful moment was accompanied with several voices and movement that I looked at my watch. 5:37pm *alarm. The real time was just past 10am on Saturday! I shot up like a bunny, a little frazzled, well rested, and hoping I hadn’t wasted the day away.

But that’s impossible…when it says day way past night.

Walking, lunching, singing Star Wars theme music…it’s all universal.

The first full day in Stockholm found us still without a bag in the morning, but much more alive after sleep, a shower, and toast with Nutella. If you haven’t experienced the wonders of this spread (good for anything including celery which we combo-ed for lunch) don’t fret about buying a ticket to Sweden. Just run to the nearest grocery store and treat yourself to a little bit of heaven- it’s a universal heavenly experience. Armed with water bottles, a picnic lunch and the camera, Helen, Valerie, Mac and I took the train/metro to downtown.

Stockholm is made of several islands that are connected with bridges and ferries. The Downeys live north of town on a separate island so we commuted over the water inlet and arrived on the Rodeo Drive of Stockholm. Too bad I had exchanged any money yet, though I’m sure Armani or Guess in Sweden could melt my plastic as quickly as American stores- it’s universal. Passing through this chic part of town, the four of us found ourselves walking along the water and the famous street Strandvägen (strand=beach, vägen=beach). Boathouses, ferries, sailboats both large and small lined the harbor. We gawked at the Swedes relaxing and lounging in couches provided at open-air cafes. Maybe I’ll go back to soak up the tan skin and bleached-colored hair like the rest of the natives. Blondes have more fun- it’s a universal truth.

Djurgården welcomed us with green grass, luscious trees and more geese than we knew what was good for us. Hissing from a bird is a frightening sound so even though the goslings were super cute and fluffy, taking one home as a pet was out of the question. Instead we trekked up and down the paths through this protected natural land until we reached a large garden with benches and a fountain at Rosendal. The fountain was that of a boy riding a goose, which deemed appropriate as we were but half way done with our picnic and a flock came waddling over for a drink of the stale water. Their in-take didn’t distract us as much as their out-put habits, but we were able to manage especially when the Reese’s Pieces came out- it’s a universal truth.

After another hour jaunting through the trees and past the carnival grounds, we ferried our way to Gamla Stan (Old Town). The narrow streets, uniquely colored buildings, numerous cafes, and cobbled streets gave the small island in the middle of this vast city a fun personality. The many tourists also added personality as they walked around as groups from Japan, made a fashion statement in patchwork and rainbow, and rejected all propriety when they insisted on their way. An outdoor concert played by the Swedish Wind Orchestra brightened our day with various pieces by Sondheim, George Gershwin and from the Harry Potter soundtrack. Accompanied by a little rest, nice coffee and children blowing bubbles for unknown new-age song, I found bliss. Bubbles make people smile no matter what age or place- it’s a universal joy.

Train rides home after a long day are the perfect place to nap so I immediately fell asleep on Mac’s shoulder, able to carry myself off the train just far enough to my bed for a longer snooze. Familial voices and smells of Swedish meatballs woke me up for an evening of chatting, sharing pictures, and listening to an informal piano concert by my travel companion, an experience which will only keep repeating itself while he’s here. His tremendous skill brings so much energy and awe- it’s a universal gift.

It's only 4:22am.

Jetlag is to be expected, but I hope this post wards off any wavering longings to go back to bed. Really, it would be quite impossible with a sunrise of 3:31am and the beautiful Swedish day ahead of me. I have no complaints and once my luggage arrives, I can apply a bit of make-up on my black circles and seize the day.
Flying as always is a mixed bag. Planes are faster than ocean liners and I don’t envy the pilgrims on the Mayflower at all. Yet, the cramped quarters and unique airline food is always something to be endured. Thankfully my eye-mask and earplugs did me wonders. Poor Mac was not as lucky; he had to endure three bad movies and restlessness while I caught all the Zs.

We arrived in Amsterdam from Seattle do discover our layover did not offer us enough time to use the “toalett” much less catch our breath. We ran from one end of the airport to the other, finagling our way through customs in the middle. EU passport holders have a special line, as do first class passengers. Upon my insistence, a well-practice art that Mac is calling “Sweet Diplomacy,” we jumped in the shorter, by 20 minutes, first class passenger line, quicker, by 6 people, EU line, and proceeded to the nearest security conveyor belt. A few American women followed my every move, each time asking if it was ok if they joined or if what they were doing was necessary such as taking out their liquids and gels. As the resident expert, we all moved through security with brevity, and Mac and I rushed away to gate C12.

A traveling rule: don’t be surprised when you don’t have your baggage. Since we barely made it to the connecting flight, our bags had no chance. (And yes we checked them for running purposes only.) After a quick 1.5 hour flight to Stockholm, when we both fell dead asleep, we arrived with just enough to get through the night. A toothbrush! And all the hugs we needed to cover up for the rest of what we’re missing. We did go put in a claim for our bags. A traveler who uses English as a distant second language asked the claim officers, “Is this where you chase luggage?” What a great translation though I think the process is a bit more passive than that, at least from my experience.

The Downeys greeted us with such love. Already I feel back at home, as I knew I would, and Mac, once less sleep-deprived, will surely join in the familial sentiments. We shared stories, laughed, ate a wonderful meal and dessert with Helen-made moose, and rode bikes to the dock, but 2 minutes away, and around the beautiful neighborhood. We ended the evening with tea (oh how I missed such moments with this family) and a game of cards with the girls. Valerie, being just finished with school, had every intention of staying up with me to watch a movie. Thankfully I could say, “Let’s save it for another night,” and we went off to bed…for a bit.

Off with the Eye-Mask

On June 14th I left for Sweden to visit friends, extended family really, and experience their beautiful new home. Traveling is such a unique way to grow and open my eyes that every time I get in a plane or hop in the car for an extended drive, I expect the extraordinary. It’s a time when the ordinary moments are experienced, lived out and found to be AWEsome.

I’m currently reading two books which is necessary for a 9.5 hour plane ride. The Nomad tells the story of a woman trekking around the world to experience cultures and create deep connections with the locals. In the current chapter the narrator joins the Indonesian government at a very special ceremony where the grandmother of a high-ranking official is properly buried deep within the jungle. Despite being solitary women traveling with the entourage, she throws off the outcast label to be included in each unique custom from exhuming the bones to drinking a local alcoholic drink from a skull. Her ordinary black mourning clothes danced in an AWEsome event.

The other book sets my thoughts on the revelations of God. Ordinary people make ordinary churches only to have God transform them through the Holy Spirit. Buildings and faulty people are made to live out this AWEsome transformation.

So now I find myself with Mac, two ordinary kids, traveling around the world, encountering every ordinary moment of the TSA, well-designed bathrooms, cloud shadows on the fields far below, Jesus rays and small airline meals. And these moments of discovering and living are miracles. We have the ability and opportunity to know deeply the ways of the world. I’m sure one has never been so esoteric about the TSA, but I insist that even those systems help me see the AWEsome.

CARDBOARD & capital letters

Driving down the street this morning, I read a man’s cardboard sign, “VIETNAM VET. ANY HELP GOOD.” Yesterday I remember seeing a man slinging this backpack and holding a sign stating, “HOMELESS. PLEASE HELP. GOD BLESS.” More and more of these signs are popping up on street corners throughout this town. Both men and women seek a dollar or work or anything because “LAID OFF WITH TWO KIDS. ANYTHING HELPS.”

The abundance of these people with their cardboard signs of capital letters breaks my heart for their circumstance. I can’t imagine what it feels like to endure the loss of dignity not to mention means to survive in this country. But I also wonder if these people have lost their identity and if my friends and I would hold up signs to identify our present realities and allegiance.

The VIETNAM VET took provide in this name and yet seeks compassion because of it. As I passed him, I thought about what he’s done since he served in that war. Was being a soldier his crowning moment? Was serving the USA in armed forces the only accreditation that people would acknowledge? His positions both in the military services and veterans rank are honorable, and yet are they a cop-out or consequence for his current reality? That man has found his name in this one position for what seems to have been a significant portion of his life. How does his spirit feel to have a same associated with power now associated with humility and loss?

HOMELESS. Lack of place often results in lack of identity. Where better to be than the corner if not in a home? The hardships of homelessness are great and not easy overcome. Time, energy, resources, and an enormous amount of perseverance are required. And the same is needed to find identity. More than just he homeless are at a loss for people in a dead end job, graduates, retired folk, and many others enduring change in life sense a listless wandering of where one is to be grounded and safe at home. It’s not a lack of desire to be settled, but what? The best cardboard sign?

The LAID OFF DAD cries out the most to me as he’s pleading for help in his cause. He’s fighting to protect and provide for his kids no matter what the loss to him. He’s identified what’s most important to him and seeking to hold fast to that identity. Who will come alongside him? What will he sacrifice to win?

Do other signs exist that we ignore? STRUGGLING ARTIST. DESPERATE IGNORED WIFE. DOUBTING CHRIST FOLLOWER. FRIGHTENED LEADER. APATHETIC WITH SCHOOL LOANS.

These signs offer up undisclosed identities. People cry to drop and destroy this cardboard sign. But how? Just like a dollar on the corner has little power to change a person forever, solutions seem untenable for this list. Yet, just like naming a child demonstrates a newborn’s existence in the world, life through transformed and restored identities can be had.
Restore dignity.
Affirm great and honorable qualities.
Give companionship.
Maybe these should be on cardboard.