Encounter Jesus in the Noise...

Almost 2 years ago, I prayed one night that Jesus would send me someone who could speak truth and help me connect with Him more...

Two days later my friend Merri Ellen sent me a text, inviting me to a gift of a session with her. I knew He was answering my prayer, and that session lead to a year of meeting with Jesus while meeting with my friend. She faithfully and joyfully led me through prayer in which I got to be in the presence of Jesus and hearing from Him. There's a lot I can share about the images and promises Jesus gave me in those sessions, but more importantly, the practice renewed my passion for spending time in the Word, in prayer, and in spending more time listening than speaking in my time with Jesus. My journal looks completely different today than it did 2 years ago. I think I've navigated COVID differently as a result.

One of the images Jesus gave me connected to Matthew 11:28-30, just before COVID hit.

I am often asked, when sharing about the time I spent with Merri Ellen: "How did you hear Jesus? and...How do I hear Jesus?" I have actually referred many friends to sessions, and today, I'm also excited that Merri Ellen is doing something new - for 5 days, starting May 27th, she is running a "kickstart" online. The cost is $27US, she will provide worksheets and videos...and I'm excited for what Jesus will speak!  

Here's the link to find out more and to sign up - 5 day kickstart - Encounter Jesus in the Noise

Feel free to send me any questions you may have!

A white flower and a pandemic...

The last few years, during the week of New Year's, I have asked Jesus to give me a word for the year ahead.

2018 was steadfast.
2019 was joy.

2020...The word that came, I hesitated to accept. In fact I asked Jesus if he might have a different word, cause I wasn't thrilled about the idea...

2020 was surprise.

My boss, Stan, had just announced his resignation effective June 15th, and I knew our executive assistant, Marlene, was about to announce her retirement. These were difficult announcements for me.

 

I had had enough surprise.

Marlene looked at me and said, "yes, but there are good surprises too, Kathleen - this doesn't mean only difficult things!"

Enter January semester. Lots of questions and encouragement for me to apply to be the Dean of Students, but I knew in my heart that it wasn't the role for me. I've always loved my role: the opportunity to lead, but be #2 (I love being #2), the flexibility to teach and plan events, while journeying with our students through one-on-one connections.

A good friend said, "I agree, I see you moving more and more into leadership opportunities and maybe teaching than I see you moving more into Student Development."

Enter early February: difficult conversations with students, the anniversary of the death of a student (which I sense in my bones before I even look at the calendar), questions around the needs of students and how do we do all of this better? I felt the weariness, and started to reflect on my friend's earlier statement. Maybe it was time to pray about my own timeline in this role.

I sent an email to a number of friends and family who pray, who listen, who share what they hear (and who have very little connection to the college and therefore would be unbiased in their listening). I simply told them I was wondering about my timeline, and would they pray?

Within days, I was somewhat shocked by how clear the response was: "new beginnings", "transition", "the time is now". Not one person encouraged me to stick it out, to remain, to hold on, which was perhaps actually what I was expecting to hear.

My friend Nate sent me a voice memo (not unlike him), and as I drove to work, I listened to his message:

As I pray, I see you holding a flower. It has one petal left, and as that petal drops to the ground, you see that the ground before you, which used to be a field of flowers, is now barren. It's desert.  

Jesus leads you up to a watchtower, shows you the land you came from, and reminds you, that even though it looks barren now, it was rich with flowers, it produced much, and you need to remember that.  

He then turns you to look out over a forest. He points out a campfire, and he says, "they're fanning the flame, and you need to go find them". 

Nate then laughed (one of those "I know, this is a lot" laughs), and said, "well, friend, I think you might be done!?"

My niece-friend illustrated this for me...and I cried.

The craziest part of this was not the image he spoke to me that morning. It was actually the fact that this was an image that he had shared with me 4 years earlier.

In 2016, I had been working on class prep one night, and Nate sent me a text: "You're holding a white flower, and as you give it away, you continue to have it. I think the message is that you don't have to worry about giving of yourself in the season: God will continue to provide."

A week later, our student passed away, and I entered into one of the most difficult seasons of my professional life.

8 months after that, my boss was on sabbatical, I was working with a brand new Residence Director, and within a week of Stan taking time off, we had what felt like multiple "fires" happening in the dorms. (Remember, I love being #2...) I texted Nate and said, "please pray - I can't tell you why - please just pray!"

Nate texted back: "You're holding a flower, and it only has one petal left...but the petal isn't going to fall, and God's going to restore you. Hold on."

And so, on that February morning just weeks ago, as I drove to work and heard Nate speak again of a flower, I knew it was the continuation of a story that Jesus had been weaving in me for the last four years; a permission to say that it was now the end. (And of course when I told Nate about this, he had no memory of it...because it wasn't his message to remember).

When I arrived at work, I told both Stan and Matt (my co-director for our Applied Leadership program)...Matt looked at me and said, "Ok, so if you're not going to be the Associate Dean anymore, what will you do?"

I looked at him, and said, "I have no idea!"

And then I told him three ideas I had (because apparently I did have ideas, but hadn't realized they'd been stewing in the background of my thoughts). 

Within a week of that sharing, those three ideas all became realities to some extent or another: I had divinely appointed conversations and invitations. They were all so surreal that by the end of that week, I looked at Matt and said, "I think I have enough reason to say it's time. Whether or not these three things pan out, He's showing me that He can provide the next thing."

I promptly booked an appointment with the President of the college (Bryan also happens to be my former boss, and I consider him a mentor and friend), and wrote up my experience and my thoughts, along with a pitch for a new role (one of the three ideas).

The morning of our meeting, as I walked between buildings with Stan, we were chatting away, and suddenly something caught my eye.

There, on the concrete circle in the middle of campus, was one white flower.

I stopped and took a picture of it; Stan, not realizing I had stopped, turned around and said, "what are you doing?" I replied, "Oh, nothing, just taking a picture of a random WHITE FLOWER!" Knowing the importance to me of this imagery, his eyes got big.

I looked at him and said, "Well, if there was any hesitation about this conversation today, it's gone."

The results of my meeting with Bryan (which I cried through most of, just to ensure you understand this wasn't as easy as it sounds through my written version...) led me to a presentation to our Leadership Team one week later, in which I pitched the new job idea; I felt it was enthusiastically received and that there was hopeful optimism.

And then three days later we shut the school down, sent all our students home, and started online learning due to COVID-19.

Surprise.

I sat in a team meeting (the final one we had all together), and heard all the implications of this pandemic reality for us. And I knew. My job pitch was done. I chose in that moment to release the picture.

Thankfully, Jesus had prepared me well. Not only had he spoken through my community and given such a clear illustration for me (we still make jokes about looking up the video footage to see how that white flower appeared...), but I had also been attending spiritual direction/prayer counselling sessions since September. In one of those sessions, Jesus had gifted me with an image in alignment with Matthew 11:28-30.

28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

As this verse spoke over me, the image was clear: Jesus in a hammock, inviting me to join Him, lemonade on the side. He, being omnipresent, could both work and rest; I could not. That was my lesson.

I had asked a former student to illustrate this for me (long before covid), and the arrival of it in the mail in March was a perfect reminder. He can work out my work situation mid-covid. I cannot.

A Sarah Torres Original - this girl has a gift - let me know if you need her contact info

And so, this is what I know.

I will be Associate Dean of Students until August 31, 2020.
As of September 1st, I will reduce to part time loading as Co-Director for the Applied Leadership Program and teaching.

And the rest is unknown.

And I'm ok.

Because He is the hope that anchors us.
Not the plans.
Not the connections.
Not the finances.
Not the work.
Just Him.

And I'm excited to see what He does next.

Surprise. 

Ruined for the ordinary...Costa Rica 2.0

Fifteen years ago, I travelled to Costa Rica for the first time.

I was a wide-eyed, eager-to-see-Jesus-work, energetic 20 year old. (To be fair, I still think of myself this way.)

I remember getting off the plane, the humid air catching my breath, and knowing that this experience would be special…but really having no idea what I was in for.

“This stuff ruins you for the ordinary,” DeLynn (my ministry leader for Vida Missions) would often say in the years that followed, as we witnessed God work in incredible ways.

He was right.

Year after year, I returned to this dear place. We developed relationships with local churches, welcomed summer staff who stumbled through hard days and rejoiced together in the good ones, and hosted scores of youth who returned home to try and apply what they had learned in a foreign, yet familiar, land.

 

I developed sisterly ties with my own Costa Rican family. I learned a ton about the way in which God speaks and reveals Himself. I learned how to speak Spanish (roughly), and lead in a new context. I had to adapt, I had to have plan B’s, and I had to ask for a lot of grace. I made incredible friends. 

Iron sharpened iron.

In 2009, I said good-bye to Costa Rica. After much soul searching and prayer, I had decided it was time to pursue my MA studies, which meant releasing my time down south…and choosing to stay in Canada.

And then, as only God can, the story changed. In 2012, a coworker and mentor approached me, about a new idea he had for a program at our beloved Columbia Bible College. He was (and continues to be) a man of vision. A man who empowers the next generation. And so he gathered a few of us younger staff members, and we began planning.

It would be a leadership certificate.

First semester in Canada, second semester in Costa Rica.

As it launched, I felt my own story with Costa Rica was coming full circle.

I thought it had been a good-bye, but it was really just ‘hasta la proxima vez…’

The LEAD students would be working in the community of Shiroles, Talamanca, alongside students from the mission program I had volunteered with all those years. Their own ministry would coincide with that of my friends Raul and Kimi.

After a couple of very successful years with our LEAD program, the vision continued to deepen and expand (as it often does). Through many brainstorming sessions and a few kicks-at-the-can, this coworker/mentor of mine eventually revealed his longer-term dream: that us younger staff would move into the leadership positions he had held, as he lessened his involvement in his retirement. (It is important to note that this meant 100% loading instead of 200% loading; as I said, he’s a visionary…)

And so, this last year, Matt Kaminski (our Athletics Director) and myself became co-directors of our new Applied Leadership program at Columbia.

As we re-worked this program from the original LEAD design, we knew that the Costa Rica piece was still an incredibly vital experience for students who desired to learn in a new context. Glenallen, a student who had served as the Costa Rica Coordinator for the two years prior, agreed to continue to serve in this role. In the time that had passed, we had seen Raul and Kimi’s ministry grow. We knew that while our students would go and serve with them, they would learn a great deal from these friends about what we are seeking to teach our students: the authentic, transformational, servant leadership that our friends exemplified.

This leads us to today.

On April 24^th, six of our Applied Leadership students along with Glenallen (who is about to be an Applied Leadership BA graduate!), are travelling to Costa Rica for 10 weeks.

They will be serving, learning, and sharing their gifts with the ministry that Raul and Kimi have been leading for the past 10 years, Esperanza.

Esperanza’s ministry involves teaching and caring for local children, meal delivery and visiting with the elderly, craft time with women (which has evolved into a sewing enterprise for the women to build an income), soccer tournaments, ongoing home builds, Bible studies, worship nights…and this ministry continues to expand into other remote locations in the local jungle. This year, the local leaders are continuing to grow their ministry as they plan a missions trip to Thailand. Many of the young adults have participated in discipleship training, and, through Esperanza, are continuing to develop their gifts of leadership.

In addition to all of these amazing things, one of the opportunities that our students have in this context will be to connect with these local young adults and share with them about what they have been learning in classes at Columbia thus far. I am beyond excited for our students to journey with these dear people. I cannot wait for them to go and learn more about leadership in this context.

The wide-eyed, eager-to-see-Jesus-work, energetic team of 2018.

In Canada, we can dangerously believe we know “the way” to do leadership, as if we have cornered the market; I long for these students to be ruined for the ordinary…as they share their learning, I am confident it will be refined. They will see Jesus at work. I believe they will return home with new understanding. Their leadership will be stronger, their impact broader, as a result.

In the next few weeks as our students prepare, would you join me in supporting them?

We need your prayers! There are many details to still finalize, Spanish lessons to work on, cultural preparedness to consider, and finances to raise. These students are full time in their classes, and doing all this work on top of their current schedules, in anticipation of what is coming. If you are willing to be added to a prayer list, comment below or message me.

We also need financial support! As a project of the college, these students are raising the costs; would you consider helping us by making a donation? You can do so online by following this link, select "other" for the designation, and note that it is for the project “Applied Leadership Costa Rica”.

I love seeing how God knits our stories…I am reminded tonight as I write this, that He uses all together for His glory, and our good, and we don’t always get to see how it comes together. I am thankful for the glimpse I get into His work in Costa Rica, and the opportunity our students have to be part of it for this season in time. You never know what the next full circle will be for them in this. 

Thanks for reading, friends.

When God writes you a new chapter.

More than seven years ago, Carleigh called me one evening and asked me if I wanted to live with her and Gary, and their little one, Charlee.

I said yes.

It was an easy answer; I needed a place to live, they needed a boarder. I was 25. I honestly thought it would last for a year or two and then I would *ahem* get married, or move to Costa Rica.

And then it seemed like I blinked.

And seven years had passed.

And I am neither married, nor in Costa Rica.

 (My first pic with Charlee prior to me moving in with Carleigh and Gary)

 (First pic with Bodhi - still at the hospital)

(First pic with Jane - also still at the hospital!)

These years have been full of incredible moments, both heart-lifting and heart-breaking. They have been full of conversation, family dinners, babies home from the hospital, stories enough to fill a blog (or two), joy & grief, conflict & restoration, many many kitchen conversations that have included both laughter and tears...and I could go on.

 

So five months ago, when we found out Carleigh and Gary were expecting twins (and there was no more room in the inn), we had the conversation. It was going to be time to transition. And it was a hard fact for me to face; I knew this current situation wouldn't last forever, but this was the place where I learned what it took for a family to become a family. As an only child, I got to see what it looked like for siblings to grow up together, and for parents to raise them. Coming from a small family myself, I started to gain "new family" through their extended family. I personally learned what it meant when the Psalmist wrote that God sets the lonely in family. I learned a heck of a lot.

I came home from our supper together, and I started googling new homes. (Side note: When you are emotional, never ever google.) All I could see were condos and apartments that looked incredibly lonely, or offers for a roommate (for a college student who was 20). I shut my laptop and decided I shouldn't have googled. And so I prayed.

The next morning, I was brushing my teeth, and instantly thought of a friend who I wanted to debrief my new phase of life with. She and I had done our masters' degrees together; she was a huge supporter of me, a logical woman, and I knew she'd be able to help me process what I should do next.

But then, something funny happened (and I was still brushing my teeth); I remembered that she and her husband would be moving to Abbotsford this summer, and it dawned on me: maybe they were looking for a renter?

It is totally my strength, and my weakness, to plan.

And so, with this newfound thought, I stopped planning.

And I let it sit.

I knew this situation needed me to take my hands off, and let God guide me.

Four days later, as I got ready for work, I sensed God was urging me: "Email them tonight!"

After a couple of weeks, and a visit with my friends, the plan was in place: I would have a new home, in their new home. I could hardly believe it (in fact, I am tearing up as I write this), that God would guide my steps like that.

As we talked through what it could look like, I sensed a space opening up in my life for something new and unknown. In my new home, I will continue to enjoy the privilege of friends living together (i.e. grocery shopping dates, potluck style suppers every once in a while, and their freedom to go out in the evening while I watch the monitor)... and I will have space for my family to come for dinner (twins included!) and for the kids to sleepover. (And did I mention it's a 2 minute drive from my current place?).

It is the best of both worlds.

A continuation of the good, of the friendships that have been built; a new deepening.

There's more.

I will also have space to host others.

Family, friends, students, and yet-to-be-discovered others.

And that, honestly, makes my heart swell.

I believe God gave me a home with Carleigh and Gary (and their kids) all those years ago, because He knew I needed them and needed to learn so much through them, and from that place, I am able to now continue forward, with their love and support, into a new chapter.

And as Bodhi (all 6 years old of him) said to me tonight, "so, like, I can call you and you can come over and have talks with me...right?" When I assured him yes, he asked me to write down my number. I have a feeling I'll be getting a few calls.

I moved in with friends.

And as I pack, I am thankful that they became my family.

a moustache and a beard...

It's 9:50pm on a Sunday night, and I have a number of papers I'm supposed to have marked by tomorrow morning. And the number left is still big. So I have tea. And some chocolate. And I figured it's time to blog...right? (Those of you who read my blog while I was doing my Masters' degree know that my prime blogging time is exactly when I'm nearing a deadline for something else. aka. I procrastinate. Big time. And I've accepted it as a strength.)

This last week has been full of epic kid stories. I've had more time to take the kids on dates, and they've been hanging out in my room more, so undoubtedly that leads to awesome stuff. Enjoy.

One night last week, I took Bodhi (6) and Jane (4) to the library. The car ride there was hilarious.

Bo: Um, Kathleen, do I have the right cards for the library?

Me: Yup, Bo, mom put your library card in your wallet, so you're good to go.

Bo: Kathleen, how much money do I have for the books?

Me: Oh, Bo, you don't need money for the library. You just borrow the books, but you need a card to show the lady at the desk. 

Bo: Huh?

Jane: Yup, you just go and she goes "beep" and then you get to take the books home.

Me: Yeah, and then she will tell you, "you can have these books for two weeks!" or something like that, and then after two weeks, you have to bring them back.

Bo: What if I forget, and bring them back late?

Me: Well, then you'll have to pay money for being late. It's called a fine.

Bo: What!?! I don't have any money!

Hearing the panic in his voice, I assured him his mom would take care of it.

Once we arrived at the library, Bodhi had a plan.

Bo: I'm going to find all the science books! I want books on science.

Jane: Well that's a great idea, because you are a scientist Bo!

We walked in, and a young man working in the children's area asked me if we needed any help. I told Bodhi to ask him what he was looking for, and Bo enthusiastically asked for the science books.

Library guy: So what kind of science are you interested in?

Bo: Well, like, zoology. But not like fossils and stuff.

Library guy: Wow. Well, I'm not quite sure where the zoology books are...no kid has exactly ever asked me for that. I'll look it up.

(He comes back and directs Bo to the animal section, which Bo decides isn't really what he wants. So library guy patiently starts going through one book after another in the science section and asking Bo if that's what he's interested in. This guy deserves whatever pay he's getting. In fact, I should have tipped him...what's the going percentage for library tips? Anyways, Bo hits the jackpot with the "crystals", "minerals", "electricity", and "rock formation" books. As you can tell, he's totally into zoology.)

Here's a photo intermission: I took Jane to the car wash yesterday. There was a long line, and so I distracted her with apple juice and taking pictures in her 3d glasses with the lenses popped out. I told her, "pretend we're in line for Disneyland!"

And then there was the glorious moment today where Charlee (7) and Jane popped into my room for a visit. I had put up a new display of pictures on my wall, and Charlee upon entering and see this declared,

"You are just living the life."

I laughed and tried to dig for more info.

Charlee: If you didn't live with us, Kathleen, I would have your room. 

Jane: And I would share it with you!

Charlee: No Jane. No you wouldn't. (Someone already shares a room...and someone who's name rhymes with Lane, snores. She's actually confessed it to me herself). 

Me: Oh, but Charlee, I really do love living with you. 

Jane interjects, insisting that I just can't die. Please don't die! I assure her I have no plans to...

Charlee: Kathleen, we really do love living with you. Please don't get a boyfriend.

Me: Why?

Charlee: Because then you'll get married, and you'll move away, and he'll be your husband, and I might hate him!

Me: (admittedly chuckling) Woah, why might you hate him?

Charlee: Because he might not have a moustache and a beard. 

So, future husband, here's hoping you can grow some facial hair. I've got a 7 year old who's love for you depends on it.

Highlights of last night's date...

...with the kids. (I knew that title would draw you in.)

In the six plus years I have lived with this family, my heart home, there are moments where I am stopped in my tracks and simply thankful for the opportunity to be here. There's so much in life I spend time hoping for, my future dreams, but I am also keenly aware of the gift I have been given in my current situation. I am thankful God puts nights like these in my heart to remind me of what He has given me. 

Last night's highlight for me was Bo. The newest 6 year old in the family. All three of the kids were exceptionally great: listening, helping, lots of hugs, kisses, and thankful hearts. (Charlee also let me know that I'm welcome to live with them for as long as I want, and that maybe if I get married, my husband would move in with us. I told her we'd have to ask him, but thanked her for the offer.)

There were some especially great moments last night where Bo showed his heart. 

So I share them here that those reading might be encouraged.

And so that I can read it at his wedding one day.

My housemates were out for the night, so I packed up the three kiddos (well, honestly, they packed themselves up), and we headed out for some adventure.

Adventure. 

AKA.

Target's toy and Christmas aisles. (It was dark and raining...)

In the car on the way there, I was explaining to the kids that I wanted them to pick out some gifts for our Guatemalan friends for Christmas, when Bodhi piped up: "Kathleen! You can use my money. Or my cards." 

Bo proceeded to show me his dad's old wallet, covered in duct tape, filled with points cards. His cards.

I explained that they probably wouldn't work at Target, and thanked him for his willingness to share. 

"Well, mom says that I should use my money to give to people when they need it. So I thought you might need it."

Once in Target, we found ourselves in the toy aisles pretty quickly. But then, the Christmas aisles were just a stone's throw away...and they beckoned. The kids were in awe. We compared Christmas ornaments and looked at all the beautiful, small, and breakable items. I had mentioned repeatedly that they needed to be so careful, and not to grab everything they saw. And then I heard an ornament fall. I turned to see Bo's big eyes staring at me, ornament in hand. He had caught it just after it bounced off the shelf...still in one piece. He carefully put it back, and while the girls were still enamoured, the magic had faded for Bo: "Can we leave this area? It's concerning me."

We headed back to the toys, found some items for our friends, and headed to the check out. 

As soon as I was pulling out my credit card to pay for the items, Bodhi stopped me: "Wait, Kathleen, I might have that card!" I showed him mine and explained that it was probably a little different than the ones he had. He just wanted to share. To pay his part.

I had promised the kids cheeseburgers and chicken and fries after Target; their main concern was to find the best play place, and so we tracked it down (it might not have been, but don't tell them that). 

We had eaten and the kids were racing around the play place. It was one of those chaotic nights: approximately 15 kids racing through the play place in their socks (I get the sock rule, but mixing those socks with slippery plastic is like a lawsuit waiting to happen...). 

Anyways, the girls had found another girl to play with, and Bo had found two boys; they were all playing a racing/hiding game (girls vs. boys of course). The two other boys started to get quite rowdy, and I was about to ask Bo to come join me for a couple minutes just to get some space, when I suddenly saw him stop them:

"Okay, guys. See those two girls? (arm extended, finger pointing to Charlee and Jane) They are my sisters. You don't do any ninja moves on them, okay? Cause they're my sisters. We're on the same team. No ninja moves!"

The two little boys agreed, and raced off with Bodhi, and my heart just burst. 

After the kids had gotten sufficiently sweaty, we came home. 

Once everyone was in pjs and clean, and after some America's Funniest Home Videos (because what date night is complete without it, really), it was bed time. 

Making the rounds for back scratches and prayers, I told Bo how proud I was of the way he protected his sisters at the play place. "But Kathleen, they were just little kids. They were like, 4 years old." I told him it didn't matter, he had made it his job to protect his sisters, and I was proud. His grin stretched from ear to ear. Then he tried to tell me a fart joke (because he IS a 6 year old boy after all). And then he fell asleep. 

I was blessed. 

Bo demonstrated a heart filled. Wanting to be generous. Caring for his sisters. 

I felt like I got a glimpse last night of the man Bodhi will be. 

And it was great.

Today's Prayer

Well that's fantastic!

(This title is for Steve Klassen...because he will get it.)

Enjoy the latest snippets from my wee friends.

Jane and I are sitting on my bed looking at my old pictures from college.

Jane: What's that girl's name?
Me: Her name is Erin
Jane: Oh! Like..."I gotta go run an erran...?"
Me: Yes. Just like it.

Our friend Vanessa comes over to cut our hair. Gary has to go to work and Carleigh needs to go 'run an erran' and so the kids and I are colouring at the table while Vanessa finishes her work.

Bodhi: Jane! Your hair looks amazing.
Jane: Does that mean you want to kiss me?
Bodhi: No.

Bo then looks at me...

Bodhi: Kathleen. The girls. Are. Weirdos!
Me: Oh, but you love them.
Bodhi: Yes. And they are weirdos.

Charlee, meanwhile, has been working on some sort of craft at the table. She suddenly announces she is finished, and holds up what resembles a flash card, made out of kraft paper, with her name proudly written on the front. 

Me: Oh wow Char, what is this? Is it a card?
Charlee: Yes. It's my card. I'll give it to people and they will say 'that girl can cut hair!'

(Perhaps this was influenced by the fact that Vanessa had just brought us a few of her own latest business cards...)

Vanessa: Charlee, what is the name of your business?
Charlee: Um...Charl..e...Charle...Charles Darwin!

(Vanessa and I exclaim our interest in this new name...)

Vanessa: So, Charlee, what are your thoughts on Charles Darwin?
Bodhi: She doesn't have thoughts. She just blogs, and twirls, and plays. She doesn't have thoughts.
Me: Really, Bo. Wait, did you say she blogs?
Bodhi: Yup. She blogs.

Magellan

It is 9:20pm. 

The rain is softly falling outside, and I am thankful that the garden is being refreshed.

I am inwardly relieved that the rain has returned (although hoping it is a brief visit).

It seems appropriate now to pull out a book my dear friend Shari-Anne has lent me...and I marvel in the poetry of Mary Oliver.

Given my recent travels, the longing for adventure that this inevitably re-ignites, and a recent ongoing internal dialogue about my life and purpose, I am drawn to this poem...may you enjoy as I have. (Missy, this one's for you...)

Magellan

Like Magellan, let us find our islands

To die in, far from home, from anywhere

Familiar. Let us risk the wildest places,

Lest we go down in comfort, and despair.

For years we have labored over common roads,

Dreaming of ships that sail into the night.

Let us be heroes, or, if that's not in us, 

Let us find men to follow, honor-bright.

For what is life but reaching for an answer?

And what is death but a refusal to grow?

Magellan had a dream he had to follow.

The sea was big, his ships were awkward, slow.

And when the fever would not set him free,

To his thin crew, "Sail on, sail on!" he cried.

And so they did, carried the frail dream homeward.

And thus Magellan lives, although he died.

- Mary Oliver

Why we travel.

When I was 11, my parents chaperoned a high school trip to Italy, and due to the low numbers of attending students, I got to come along. 

It was 1993. 

10 glorious days touring Rome, Florence and Venice. 

There were 3 guys and 5 girls between 15-17 years old, my parents, and me. 

As my dad taught at the high school, my parents had done a few of these trips in Europe with the students, and had developed a practice of providing free time each afternoon. Dad would tell the students something like, 

"Ok, it's 1pm. You need to be here by 4pm. If you don't make it, you need to find the hotel. Here's the address. Make sure there's at least 2 of you. Any questions?" 

Remember, it was the early 90s.

No one had a cell phone.

But also, neither of the "Taken" movies had been made yet.

Because the boys were interested in Italian women...they tended to take off together and see what they could, well, see. 

Because it was the early 90s, 4 of the 5 girls on the team were enchanted with pink leather. They spent most of their free time bartering with Italian merchants and trying to convince them that Canadian stitching would have been done with better quality, and therefore they should get a discount. 

The 5th girl, Nicole, was 16, well-read, an explorer, and not particularly interested in pink leather. She was, as she pointed out to the girls, in Italy....ITALY! She could shop at home. She wanted to see the sights and go exploring. So, Nicole, being a bright, responsible girl, who also happened to have an 11 year old sister at home, approached my parents with a proposal. 

"Seeing as we need to have 2 people in a group during free time, and the other girls want to shop...what do you think about me taking Kathleen?"

As I pointed out to my parents just last month...

"What were you thinking?"

and...

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, for taking that risk"

Together, Nicole and I explored Rome, Venice, and Florence. 

I have incredible memories of those days. We covered a lot of ground. Found lots of unique spots I don't think I could find again now if I tried. After 10 days of exploring, taking awful photos, and that one moment where I thought I was being mugged (which in fact was my dad, pranking me...), we returned home.

And I have wanted to go back ever since.

So, after originally, stupidly, saying "no thanks" to this latest trip proposal...I re-evaluated and agreed that I was being stupid. As Carleigh told me one day in the kitchen: "You just need to do it!" 

She was so right.

16 days in Rome, Venice, Cinque Terre, Athens, Delphi, and Santorini.

There is no way to summarize this experience properly. The sights. The smells. The food...oh the food. The art. The people. The politics. The transportation (of every kind).

One of my last nights in Santorini, I pulled out a small journal I had brought along and started making notes. The magic of Italy the first time around was found in those moments where Nicole and I went off the map...perhaps got in trouble, perhaps got lost, perhaps were a little naive...but I never forgot it. While I may be 20 years older, I wanted to recapture the essence of what it felt like to come home from a time that could only be described as magical. 

I hope that in sharing these moments, you may reminisce in your own adventures, borrow mine for today as you need, and/or dream of your own moments in whatever adventures lay ahead. I thank God for the opportunity we have to adventure and journey....whether 5 minutes from our homes, or across the sea.

My favourite moments from Italy and Greece 2013... in no particular order... told in present tense, in a desire to keep living the moment... shared with a smile on my heart.

* Freddocino. Cafe freddo (frozen cafe latte); my first taste is in Rome's Termini station, and the last in Cinque Terre; they provide me a small cup with a tiny spoon of perfectly blended coffee, sugar and milk, and I know this is my ideal way to both cool off from the heat and aid my coffee-withdrawal headache.

* The haze settles over the Greek islands as the sun sets over Santorini. From my chair I marvel at the pink hue bathing the white washed homes, as I sip on my wine, feel the breeze on my skin, thankful for it after two weeks of heat. While the sun sets, the moon rises. Eventually, all that is left is the moonlight over the Aegean, showing me where the wind is continually urging the water towards the shore. I begin to hear the soft lullaby of a mother singing with her children; their night time ritual. A sweet melody, the children's voices so precious as they crackle with tiredness.

* My eyes catch a nun in St. Peter's as she paces slowly in an area cordoned off from us visitors. She walks rhythmically; is she praying, pondering, perhaps counting rosary beads? I ponder the reality of St. Peter's as a regular place of worship for her.

* Walking the streets of Corniglia, I encounter small pockets of basil everywhere I look. A large sign shows us we have arrived in the week of the annual basil festival. The gelato place is serving basil gelato for this week only. I ask for a sample, and am delighted by how refreshing it is. We have arrived at the birthplace of pesto. These people know what they are doing with basil.

* Slowly ascending the hill of the Acropolis, with each corner we turn, the view encountered is more impressive than the last. As we wander amongst the building sites...these temples, places of honour and worship for the Greek gods, I cannot help but think three things: 1. How the heck did they accomplish this? (Granted, I think this at most historical sites).  2. What would I have been thinking and feeling as an Athenian, climbing this mountain to give my offering, to engage in dialogue and debate, to worship and admire?  3. When should I start my new career as an archeologist?

* Arriving in Manarola, we quickly discover our accommodations directly outside of the train tunnel. Beauty. We buzz the door, and are greeted by Franco, our Italian pensioner landlord. He is mischievous, which is my favourite kind of Italian pensioner. His eyes tell me he is joking even though his English is too limited to fully tell. Kelly asks him, "do you speak English?" Franco replies, "No, I speak Chinese! You speak Chinese?" We laugh and tell him no. He tells us that's a problem. Then he brings us limoncello, made with the very lemons he grows, makes us cheer to our health, but won't drink with us. He makes re-appearances throughout the next three days...mostly yelling at me from three flights above. I peer up the circular staircase to find his smirking face, "All GOOD?" "Yes, everything is great!" I yell back. He doesn't understand me. We do thumbs up, and he disappears back into his apartment.

* Gelato. Coconut gelato. Creamy coconut gelato. 

* The leisurely glide of the gondola. The serenading crooning of our gondolier, who pauses to tell us there are 409 bridges in Venice. Slipping into what feel like side alleys, we discover backdoor entrances to hotels, and homes, and stores. I consider the past, and what it would continue to require today to bring supplies in and out of Venice. A small motorboat turns the wrong way on the waterway (yes, there are rules here...), and creates a gondola traffic jam. The gondoliers yell back and forth their disparaging comments, but from their tone you can tell these comments are not fuelled with frustration, but rather serve as fulfillment of an expectation to express disgust. We continue on. Our gondolier, forgetting his script, again informs us there are 409 bridges in Venice. The songs of the passing gondoliers float on the water and slide up the walls to the sky.

* Everywhere I look in Rome and Athens there are cars. Scooters. Motorbikes. It feels as though they are crammed into corners and spaces which seem impossibly tight. And then we transport to Venice, Cinque Terre, Santorini...and I am overwhelmed with the comparatively quiet air of voices and footsteps. We walk empty sidewalks, save the tourists, whose eyes are glued to the sky, the camera, or the map. In Rome we sidestep cars; In these places we mostly just sidestep tourists. And sometimes we are those tourists. Out of habit, I apologize in Spanish. And then shake my head.

* Greek salad. Slabs of feta. Capers. Dripping in olive oil.

* Greek yogurt. With honey. With nutella. With jam. 

* As it is July we find ourselves in tourist-laden locations. But there are always the locals to be found if you are close to watch. I am enchanted with them. The older women, who wear shift dresses, and pantyhose, and thick sandals; they hold each others' arms as they walk, their free hand gesturing as they talk. Grand, sweeping motions. Slow steps. Deliberate. In Greece, we encounter spitting men. Engaged in debate, hands held out to make a point, and then comes a breathy spit to finalize that point. I have to laugh. Where did this start, and how did it not make its way to us? Why don't we spit when we make a point? What makes it acceptable in their culture and rude in ours?

* Eight bells from the church in Manarola means I might as well wake up, check Facebook and see what happened at home while I was sleeping. I hear the train rumble through the mountain. A new day has started.

* Expressions of love. A two year old sits on his mother's lap on the bus. It is mid afternoon, and in the heat, she begins to doze. He reaches up and strokes her face gently. We get off the bus and wait for our transfer. A young man leans over to his love, pulling her toward him for a gentle kiss. She pretends not to be interested. He, slightly shocked, confused, pulls back. She smiles, knowing she's tricked him, pulls him in and offers what he was looking for. These moments throughout our travels both fill my heart and tug at the longing. Observation is beautiful. Experience is precious.

* After climbing down the Acropolis, we wander over to Mars Hill, overhearing tour guides giving short Bible studies to groups of teens trying to find shade in the square. We climb the steps to the top of the rock, and I am awestruck. I think of the audacity, the courage it would have taken for Paul to climb that rock, and stare out at the Acropolis, looming with the Parthenon, the Temple of Athena Nike, and a 30 foot tall bronze statue of the goddess Athena complete with spear ready to pierce the air, declaring her power. Legend states her spear was visible from sea. Paul must have taken a deep breath in prayer before he spoke of the one true living God, who came to live amongst us, who gave the ultimate sacrifice for us...and who rose from the dead, "For in Him we live and move and have our being" (Acts 17:28). Did he turn and point to Athena? Acknowledge her prominence in the hearts of the Athenians? As I turn to walk down the hill, I acknowledge something new tugging at my heart, igniting the meaning in a passage I have read and studied extensively...the moment changes me. 

This is why we travel.