so this fits how?

Community as a place to help each other out

2012-01-30T22:50:00.003+01:00

Last Easter, I was helping with the weekend duties when the person in charge of the huge Easter breakfast feast came down sick. Easter morning breakfast is one of the highlights of the weekend: the culinary culmination of the church services - a way of physically experiencing the joy that Christ is risen and let us celebrate! The person in charge is someone who plans and organises parties really well - and is super responsible - so imagine her disappointment when she couldn't fulfill her plans and couldn't even be there to help set up (at the crazy time of five in the morning) - despite the fact that she was so sick that there was no way she could have gotten more than a few feet out of her bed. I was one of those who stepped in and helped try to organise the breakfast so that it was still a feast, even if it wasn't exactly quite as planned. It was a bit overwhelming at times, but still really good. It felt good simply to be part of a community where it is not only possible to step in for each other - but where doing so feels so obvious. Community is, after all, a place where we are there to help each other out.

Despite it being obvious that we help each other out when needed, I wasn't expecting that I would be receiving the same sort of help quite so soon. The plans of Matthijs and I for the Christmas feast in the community were graciously taken over by others only a short way into the weekend. We led a chapel on the Friday night, made plans for shopping and Christmas dinner, including finding people to help with half the entrees. Then we left early to rest up before the excitement of the weekend. I called my Dad that night, heard the overwhelming news that Mom had been moved to intensive care, and went to bed hoping to find strength for not only the weekend activities but also with the worry over my family. Saturday morning early I woke up and glanced at my mobile phone - 10 messages from Canada on a phone that had been left on silent from my leaidng chapel the night before. My mom had passed away. And suddenly, I was the one needing to be helped out.

The news was shared and others stepped in with both cooking and organising. And Matthijs and I became caught up in mourning, letting others know, and making travel arrangements. On Christmas Day I sat on a plane, flying away from home and the Christmas feast that I'd expected to be in the middle of cooking and organising - flying to my other home to spend Christmas with family and eat a Christmas dinner that my sisters had cooked. I was going to help and encourage my family but also going to receive encouragement and support from them. And all the encouragement and help that I'd received before leaving Amsterdam, including the gracious help in taking over my responsibilities, were a constant reminder of all the support, help, love and prayers that I and my family would be receiving during this difficult time.

The freedom of less

2012-01-20T14:36:00.000+01:00

For a recent catapult issue, I wrote an article about living on less. For those of you who know me, you know that I'm probably one of the cheapest people you know. And when people talk about living on less, I can often out-do them. I'm finally getting over my dislike of spending money, which is a healthy thing, but it's still a process.

The article talks about the good that has come from my being able to live on less, but that it's not always been good.

"The Freedom of Less

When I was growing up, there weren’t a lot of extras. There simply wasn’t money for them. Everyone got about three Christmas presents — and there was a clear price limit on them. Hand-me-down clothes were standard, vegetables were either frozen from the garden or the canned variety, and vacations consisted of camping a couple of weekends in the summer. As a child, I’m sure I was disappointed that I couldn’t have more of what I wanted; yet, I had no idea how bad the situation really was. It wasn’t until after I’d left the house that my mom told me that there were times when we had so little money that a gift of groceries on the porch was understood as God’s provision. Living on less wasn’t a choice we’d made — it was simply the reality.

The reality of living on less has followed me much of my life. Years of studying have put to good use the skills my mother taught me...."

The rest of the article can be seen at the catapult website, if you follow this link to the article.

Laughter in the midst of grief

2012-01-17T21:27:00.000+01:00

Life in my family has always been full of laughter. Thus, even as we mourned together my mom's death, we made jokes in the middle of everything. Like, can you imagine what my mom would have said if she'd seen my father peeling apples? his first time, ever. Or how we'd tell each other not to forget to close the door to the garage - using the same tone that my mother would have used. And my father and I joked about how she'd be happy about her plot at the graveyard - her being on her own reflected her independence. Laughing about these and other things (like all the lasagnas that my sister and my father received - I think my sister was winning with 6!) is simply part of my family's way of trying to love life - and fighting against the dullness that grief can bring.

The strangeness of the jokes and the laughter is that it sometimes feels out of place with grief. The joy found in laughter seems to contradict the heaviness found in grief. Yet, the moments of joy and lightheartedness give me the strength to face again the sadness and to be willing to cry over our loss and the strangeness of what's next, remembering hope amidst the sadness.

Grief is a strange thing

2012-01-13T20:49:00.002+01:00

Since my mom passed away three weeks ago, my family and I have been grieving. The grief has taken on many different shapes in that time.

Sometimes it is the deep sadness found in knowing that the loss is permanent - and I that can't even begin to imagine how often in the years to come I'll miss not having my mom around.

Sometimes it is a sadness for others - a realization that the loss is not mine but also that of her friends, her church, and the rest of my family. The church has lost a hard worker who loved serving others. My nieces have lost their grandma. My husband will never get to know my mom better or hear more of her stories. My father is alone after 42 years of seeing and talking to each other daily. My sister will never get to share news of becoming pregnant or of any of the struggles or questions involved with that. Nor will I.

Sometimes the loss is simply being busy, especially sorting through everything that needed to be done from housework to paperwork. The many things needing to be done last week at home with my father were a wonderful distraction from the sadness.

Sometimes it is sleeplessness. Other times it is sheer exhaustion and a desire to do nothing but sleep. Sometimes it is anger or irritation. Sometimes it is avoidance. Sometimes it is busyness and cleaning while other times I'd gladly play computer games for hours. Sometimes I want to talk about my mom and other times I simply don't want it brought up. Sometimes it is thankfulness for the distance between Amsterdam and Canada - so that every time I turn around I don't sense her presence and am reminded of my loss. And sometimes the distance simply causes more sadness - for how can I be with the rest of my family mourning?

And sometimes it is simply trying to return to normal life, which at times feels strange - like I'm trying to avoid or minimize what's happened. Yet, returning to regular life seems a way of honouring my mother well - I know she was proud of me and would want me to continue to live out my faith and use my talents. Grief will simply continue to be an aspect of this life, coming and going in differing shapes and intensities.

So grandma's in heaven now, right?

2011-12-31T20:30:00.000+01:00

"If grandma's in heaven, and heaven's a wonderful place, why is everyone so sad?" is a question that I think my nieces wonder about. It's good logic, and yet the answer is simple: because we miss her.

"So when's grandma coming back from heaven?" would be the next obvious question and is pretty much what my youngest niece asked my sister. How do you tell a 2-year-old that no matter how much grandma loved her, grandma doesn't get to leave? She isn't coming back. We don't miss her because she's been gone so long, but because we know that she's always gone. Heaven might be a wonderful place (and we take comfort in knowing that grandma/mom gets to be there), but we miss her.

Community as an extension of hospitality

2011-12-23T14:00:00.000+01:00

A few weeks before leaving on vacation, a Calvin Seminary graduate who I vaguely knew contacted me to see if I knew of a cheap place to stay in Amsterdam while he was visiting the VU University (Vrije Universiteit) about his Ph.D. It just so happened that the time of his visit corresponded to our being in Canada, so I wouldn't be here to help him out more with how things work in Amsterdam. However, since our apartment would then be empty, I could easily offer to let him stay there during his visit. I let others in my house and community know that he was coming and left with the sense that he'd be able to receive help from others in the community if he needed anything.

Much to my delight, my houseguest was warmly welcomed and helped by the community. They took care of a mix-up with a key and helped him get settled. Besides that, someone gave him a tour of the Christian Youth Hostel around the corner and invited him to join him for church. Another person (my favourite canal boat captain) took him along on a canal tour of Amsterdam. And I'm sure there were numerous conversations as well - full of genuine curiousity for the work and ministry that the other was doing.

Being able to extend more hospitality was one of the hopes that Matthijs and I had when we moved to Amsterdam. And it's been great to see that desire become a reality - I just hadn't quite expected that we'd even be able to extend hospitality when we were absent! It's a pretty great blessing to be part of a community where hospitality is such an obvious part of life that it'd be extended not only to others in the community, but even to each other's guests.

So perhaps it's not Matthijs I'm irritated with?

2011-12-21T22:55:00.000+01:00

About a week into our trip in Canada, I woke up irritated with Matthijs. So I started sorting through the day before to see if I could find what he'd done to hurt, anger, frustrate or annoy me. In the end, I couldn't actually find anything. He'd been actually super supportive of everything happening in my family and had been extra patient and tolerant when we sometimes excluded him and/or made plans without him. So what was going on?

One of the most important things I have learned while being married is that sometimes when I'm irritated with Matthijs, it's actually because I'm frustrated, hurt, angry or disappointed at someone or something else. But because I live with Matthijs, it's not that hard to find something that he has done or said (or not done or said) with which I can be annoyed and thus I can take out my frustration on him. Being able to let Matthijs know when he does something that hurts or irritates me is healthy (and a little irritation in my life pushes me to do that when I tend to try too hard to 'be a nice girl' whom everybody likes) - but it is also extremely healthy to realize that I might be projecting frustration from somewhere else onto him (and thus might be overreacting). It's also healthy that Matthijs is aware of this and tends not to overreact when I'm being unreasonable but instead gives me space to figure out what's going on with my frustration.

My waking up annoyed with Matthijs during our vacation was a classic example of my projecting other feelings on him. The fact that I was significantly annoyed with him was also a clue that I was projecting. What could be big enough to cause that kind of irritation? Even if Matthijs isn't perfect (thankfully), his love for me in the midst of a healthy relationship make it extremely difficult for him to make me that irritated any more. Instead, the real source of my frustration was the illness of my mother and my feelings of helplessness in not being able to have the answers or even help her more. Recognizing how ridiculous my frustration with Matthijs was helped me see more clearly how much he was being patient with me and supporting me in the midst of the challenges.

Good moments at home with family

2011-12-20T19:41:00.004+01:00

Although our time visiting Canada was very much overshadowed by my Mom's illness, there were still many great moments during our visit, most importantly simply being able to be there then to encourage and help out. And going through this hard time together made me feel closer to my family - when I live so far away, that aspect was a wonderful blessing in the midst of the pain of seeing my Mom struggle so much.

We also got to go to Grand Rapids to visit people and for me to do some research, and we also had a few days of rest with friends at St. Gregory's Monastery (Three Rivers, MI). And everywhere we went, we seemed to manage to buy books!

But the highlight was still family, as you can see by these pictures taken by Janice and Matthijs:

Babysitting Emily's kids at Mom's

The following pictures are from the Heyink-family Christmas party. There's so many people that we have to rent a hall.

As much as it was great to visit, it is also nice to come back home to normal life in Amsterdam - which looks like this a lot of the time....

Waiting and Mom

2011-12-15T15:26:00.004+01:00

When Ithink of Advent, I think of waiting. Seeing as I’ve been singing and hearing alot of Christmas songs this year, it feels at the moment like I ought to be enthusiasticallycelebrating Christmas more than I should still be waiting in anticipation ofChrist’s coming. And yet, my visit here to my family in Canada has reminded meof how much I long for Christ’s coming: not the sentimental, cute baby in themanger Jesus, but the returning King who will conquer sin and suffering. It isthis Jesus who I long for to come and dwell (tabernacle) amongst my family –especially with my Mom.

Before Icame to visit, my Mom had been having some difficulties with keeping her foodlong enough in her body for her to be able to get enough nutrition out of it.She was sometimes a bit weak and had lost some weight. She’d seen a doctorseveral times, and what had begun as a nuisance was gradually making normallife more and more complicated. Last week, things escalated: she was so weak onTuesday, we went with her to the emergency room. No answers, but she was givenan intravenous and was a lot less weak. Thursday there was an ultrasound, andthe likely problem was found: a mass on an ovary, which was pushing against thebowels. That meant having a name and cause for the problems, but not an end tomy Mom’s pain and suffering – food and even drink still weren’t staying in. Nowshe’s in the hospital, thankfully getting nutrition through an intravenous, butstill waiting to know exactly what is wrong and what can be done. There have been tests and checks andthere’ll hopefully be surgery but there are still many questions and muchuncertainty. And amidst my Mom’s suffering, my family is waiting and hoping,longing for the healing that Christ the King can bring.

Advent in Canada

2011-12-09T17:24:00.000+01:00

My semi-annual visit to Canada got bumped to Advent this year. We threw a party for my father's 65th birthday and the next two weekends are the Christmas parties of my mother's side and my father's side of the family. It was such a great opportunity for Matthijs to meet more of my family (and them him) that we couldn't really pass on this chance – despite the fact that I have developed a dislike for travelling during Advent and Christmas Day.

Advent is about waiting and anticipating Jesus' coming – remembering his first coming and anticipating his second coming. It's hard to wait and focus on Jesus' comings when I'm taking vacation, spending lots of time with friends and family, and eating lots of great food. It's hard to wait in anticipation for the joy of Jesus' coming when I'm doing tons of celebrating now already!

It is also hard to be in different churches, especially ones with different traditions of how one ought to celebrate Advent. My church back in Amsterdam is taking the time in Advent to develop awareness about the women working behind the windows, a project that's close to my heart and one I would have loved to have been able to participate in more. And during the community's daily chapel services, we choose not to include the usual song of praise as a means of remembering that Advent is a time of restraint and waiting.

But where I am here, Advent is very much an anticipation of Christmas, including the celebration of Christmas. Most everyone has been playing Christmas songs for awhile now, and even in church we sang Christmas songs already celebrating Jesus' birth. Although I grew up with this, I now find it unsettling. How do I look forward to something that hasn't happened yet if I am now singing about it as if it's already happened? When I was walking past the manger scene at the church, I have to admit that I somewhat loudly exclaimed my surprise: the baby Jesus was already lying in the manger! The sweet lady behind me acknowledged that she hadn't really thought about that, but that I had a good point. Her reaction helped me find perspective again. She is also anticipating Jesus' coming and is doing so in the way that she finds familiar and knows best. Things being different here – and the Christmas-like joy found in seeing my family again – does not make Advent any less Advent. I am still waiting for Jesus to come, and it's hardly a bad thing if He shows up in unexpected places, like in other people, in church, or even a manger.

Grass does not grow faster just because you pull on it

2011-12-07T17:21:00.000+01:00

These words of wisdom were used in a recent article in the newsletter of the Nikola Community (a Christian community in Utrecht that's somewhat similar to Oudezijds 100). The article was thought-provoking; hopefully I'll have time and opportunity to translate it in the near future. Nonetheless, it is this strange proverb – that grass does not grow faster just because you pull on it – which has stayed with me. I am, after all, the sort of person who has a tendency "to pull on the grass." I'm someone who does things and likes to make things happen. Waiting patiently for the grass to grow – whether that be spiritually, emotionally, relationally, academically, career-wise, and so-on – is not something I always do easily.

It seems appropriate that during Advent, which is characterized by its waiting, that this phrase become one that I spend more time contemplating. It seems good to take the time to wonder how I might become more content to wait patiently for things to happen instead of becoming frustrated and trying to pull on things.

Not a tourist attraction

2011-11-26T12:30:00.000+01:00

Volunteers from the Salvation Army walk around the Red Light District several times a week bringing coffee to the women who are working behind the windows. In the middle of handing out coffee to one of the women, a group of tourists interrupted, asking "what are you doing?"

Having been brought up to be polite to others, even strangers, I began to answer the question. But then I stopped myself. Wasn't it obvious what was being done?!? Who couldn't see that coffee was being passed out to the women - from the hands of someone wearing a Salvation Army coat?

Since it was obvious what was happening, I had to wonder why the question was even asked. It reminded me of the sort of question that would be asked in the middle of a tour. And when I realized that, I wasn't sure with what kind of emotion I should respond: surprise, disappointment, anger, sadness or confusion. I know that the Red Light District focuses on tourism and in the evenings the streets are filled with foreigners. Nonetheless, I can't help but wonder what's wrong with things when giving someone else a cup of coffee could be seen as just another tourist attraction.

The ghost who lives in my house

2011-11-25T19:16:00.001+01:00

In the last while there have been a lot of strange things happening in the house. If I didn't know better, I'd say we had a ghost.

First there's the flashing lights in front of our house every day at breakfast, with some random bangs and crashes thrown in for effect.

Throughout the day, the house feels like it's undergoing earthquakes periodically. Plaster also sounds like it's falling from the wall (although fortunately there's no white chunks on the floor), and large booming noises accompany the house being shaken.

The front door of our apartment started sticking (even though it's the driest November in decades). The door handle was also rather loose, so at a certain point I started worrying that I'd get stuck in the apartment one morning.

The marbles in the house are no longer rolling to the same spot that they used to. Much to my disappointment, the houses here are such that marbles normally all roll to one end of the floor and disappear from the cat's sight and his limited attention span. Now, however, the marbles don't end up beside the stove, but instead roll to a metre before the stove at the end of the table: an ideal place to catch the cat's attention.

As I walked into the bathroom the other day, the plastic cover from the drain was moving - popping in and out of the drain like it was possessed.

The simple explanation for most of the above is the fact that the neighbouring house is being stripped bare and having its foundations replaced (12 huge poles - hence the tremendous noise). The lights flashing in front of the house are from the truck coming to pick up the container full of old building materials. With all the shaking, we're somewhat concerned that our house has been shifting and resettling because of the work next door (which explains my doorframe dropping a couple of millimetres). It might also explain the shifting of the lowest point in the house, although I'm not exactly sure how that could come to be.

And as for the moving drain cover? I still have no idea (and must admit that it was a bit freaky). I'll have to wait until I can ask my brother (a plumber) about it. I'm really hoping it has nothing to do with our neighbours, as I'm not sure I could handle what was wrong then, especially as they had already managed to mess with our sewage and water systems when they first started.

Married a year

2011-11-19T09:30:00.000+01:00

We were joking the other day with an older couple and some newlyweds about how couples often fight during their honeymoon. We did, too. But if you asked me how our honeymoon went, I would have smiled widely and honestly said it was good. We were crazy tired, had had a stressful few weeks before the wedding and in a new situation. All things considered, it probably would have been strange (and unhealthy) if we hadn't fought at least once!

I joke sometimes that I knew what I was getting into when I got married. I knew that we would fight sometimes, and sometimes I would feel like I wasn't getting enough attention or support, and/or that I'd once in awhile feel like I didn't get to do as much of what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. And so when it turned out that things weren't perfect just because we were married, I wasn't surprised. Instead, we took the time and energy to work out the kinks and meet the challenges of making two separate lives into a beautiful harmony. Sometimes I've complained to God that it was easier alone (to which, I expect He'd answer that I didn't take my chance to be alone, so I'd better get over it, stop my whining, and use my energy for better things - like communicating and listening well, as well as learning to be thankful!).

And now it is a year. And being married has been good - really good. Matthijs is good to me and good for me. And I can see that Matthijs also delights in me, which fills me with wonder. The simple goodness of being married - the joy I have of sharing my life with Matthijs - sometimes surprises me. I hope we never lose some of the surprise and wonder.

How did no one notice that?!?

2011-11-14T22:19:00.001+01:00

This past Saturday, I checked out the inside of the electrical kettle, as I was wondering why it didn't seem to be working so well (e.g., on Friday evening, we'd made tea and it seemed like it had taken ages to boil the water). When I looked inside the thing, I did a double-take. The electric heating element inside the kettle (see the example of these coils in this article on electric kettles) had been eaten through by metals in the water (both the outer coating and the twisted up cord around the wires) so that you could actually have touched the small electric wires in a few places. I didn't know that was even possible. The erosion of the outer coating on the coil would explain why the water took so long to heat - and the exposure of the wires would explain the sparks coming off that someone had seen.

I think I stared at it for a few moments - just out of surprise. And then I had a desperate need to show it to a few others (perhaps simply to confirm if I was really seeing exposed wires in a thing where we're supposed to boil water). The first reaction I received was pretty much the same as mine: amazement, including thankfulness that we'd managed not to burn the house down with that thing. The second reaction was different - a simple suggestion to use some vinegar to clean off the calcium build-up. The person making the suggestion was busy washing the dishes (and the lighting behind the sink isn't so good), so I'm sure that influenced his reaction. Yet, it still seemed a bit like the disaster inside the kettle was so foreign to him that he simply explained away the strange colouring inside the kettle with the only reasonable possibility he knew: it was from a calcium build-up (and not that calcium had already eaten away at it).

And I couldn't help but wonder how it was that the kettle was still sitting there being used when close observation showed that it was a potential fire hazard. I learned later that it had only been a few days that it'd been taking ages to boil (and the sparks were also just recent), so there wasn't that much time for people to notice and wonder. But it'd started setting off the fuse more than a month ago. And calcium eating away the outer coating can't happen in three days, can it? I have to admit that looking inside a kettle isn't exactly normal behaviour (I happen to be fascinated by the amount of calcium build-up created by Amsterdam's hard water), but almost everybody who used it was aware that something wasn't quite working properly. It surprises me that no one had yet seen what was in the kettle - I would have expected someone earlier would have begun to wonder, ask questions, and explore.

"If God had wanted to kill us, do you think He would have made such an effort?

2011-11-10T21:41:00.000+01:00

Did you know that the Bible never gives the mother of Samson a name?

In Judges 13, a messenger of God appears to Samson's mother and tells her that she will have a son - a Nazirite (so he should not cut his hair and she should refrain from alcohol and unclean food). Samson's mother relays the appearance to her husband and mentions that she did not know the messenger's name - but that he clearly looked like an angel. The angel had told her that she would bear a son, who would be a Nazirite (and she should not drink alcohol or eat anything unclean).

Her husband (Manoah) asks God to send the messenger again so that they can ask him what to do when the child is actually born. The messenger returns, once again appearing to his wife. His wife runs and gets him, and Manoah asks how their son should live - once the messenger's words come true. The angel simply repeats that his wife should do all that he had already told her.

Manoah then graciously invites the angel to stay so that they can prepare a young goat for him. The angel turns down their offer of food; instead, he suggests that they give it as an offering to the LORD. Manoah then asks the angel for his name so that they can honour him when his words become true. And the angel responds: "“Why do you ask my name? It is beyond understanding." (Judges 3:18 NIV).

Manoah sacrifices a goat and a grain offering. The angel returns to heaven via the flames of the offering.

And Manoah's response? "Ahh!!! We're going to die!! We have seen God!"

Manoah has not, up to this point in time, come across as being significantly intelligent. Earlier in the text (after the angel suggests an offering), the reader is even told that Manoah doesn't realize that this is an angel. This is, of course, despite his prayer to God to send the messenger again, the actual message of the angel, and his wife's description of the messenger as being that of an angel. But Manoah's final response makes it blatantly obvious that he simply doesn't understand. It also prompts my favourite line in the story.

His wife's response to her husband was to point out that if God had wanted them dead, He wouldn't have made such an effort. He wouldn't have accepted their offering nor would he have bothered to appear to them and tell them everything He did.

Whereas sometimes not being named in a story points to the person's insignificance, this story seems to work in the opposite. It is the one who is named that is the fool, and the one who is not named (like the messenger) who understands. After all, if it really was a messenger from God, then what he said would come true. It's not like they could have a son if they were dead...

Indifference as being a good thing?

2011-11-08T16:56:00.000+01:00

I'm feeling a bit indifferent about my having become a tochtgenoot. In principle, I am glad and thankful about the step that I've made. And I'm especially glad about Matthijs joining me on this journey. And as I wonder about what might happen this coming year, I do get excited about the possibilities.

But how do I feel? not much, actually. Indifferent, to be honest.

I'm slightly embarrassed by my indifference. It doesn't seem to be the feeling that is expected of me. But if I pause and wonder about it, it is also a feeling that fits me. I noticed that my first time of becoming a tochtgenoot never got mentioned on this blog - it was mentioned when I renewed my promise (and before that only in passing a couple of times). I don't remember how I felt about the situation then, but its lack of being mentioned on the blog (when I was writing so much at that time about life in community) seems to suggest that I either considered it such a natural step that it wasn't worth mentioning or that I wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.

When I think about my being indifferent in the past to things, I am reminded of how I felt in the beginning of my relationship with Matthijs. I described my feelings as: "So i don't react to the whole situation like a giggly teenager who blushes when you ask her about the boy she likes. In fact, for the longest time, if you asked me about it, I would have smiled but also would have appeared less enthusiastic and more confused by it all (probably because I was puzzled - and still am a bit)."

Seeing how well my relationship with Matthijs has turned out, I am choosing not to worry about my current feelings. I've discovered in the past that indifference can be a healthy way of exploring expectations alongside of sorting out the desires of my heart.

Sunday

2011-11-06T20:57:00.003+01:00

On Sunday, I try my best to have no obligations. Ideally, it is a day full of wonder and possibilities: good conversation, a board game or two, good reading, good food, a little longer in bed or relaxing on the couch, and so on.

And today was simply one of those good Sundays.
-I received flowers from the Sunday school class because they'd seen that I was walking on crutches.
- An American woman came and sat beside me in church - hearing her "Excuse me" as she went past me into her chair, made me attune to the fact that she might appreciate some help knowing what was going on in the service - and I tried to help her be able to participate somewhat. I always appreciate people who desire to participate in worship in a local church when they're in a different country. I talked to her after the service - she teaches nursing at a Christian University in California (although she's originally from Ontario (she lived practically beside Redeemer College!)) and was here for a conference on the spiritual side of care with regard to nursing. Fascinating.
- And I was actually interested in the sermon (I'm notorious for not listening to sermons). Our church is doing a sermon series on the book of Judges - and it's just such a strange book with so many strange stories, that I can't help but be interested in what the preacher will make of the text.
- And after the service, I had a number of good conversations. I sometimes find it hard to know what to say to people, and it was nice to avoid the awkward 'so we should both say something but what' moments. My foot and crutches make a pretty simple (and obvious) conversation opener.
- The good conversations continued as Matthijs and I sat around in the community. Getting to go there after church and just spend unhurried time there chatting is one of the good things about being back in Amsterdam.
- And Sunday dinner was pizza, wine, salad, and ice cream. With a meal like that, how could it not be a good Sunday?

The rest of the Sunday has simply been spent being thankful. How could I not be?

People are fascinating

2011-11-02T17:15:00.001+01:00

I remember reading a study years ago about how often people would push the button to open the handicapped-access doors instead of actually physically opening the door. The frequency was surprisingly high. In certain places, this action was so normal that there was actually comments made about how laziness was not actually one of the physical inabilities that would cause one to need to use a handicapped-access door. Discussion also included how opening the doors with the button was a waste of energy for those healthy enough actually to open the doors.

Last Friday I sat in the hall of the Utrecht University waiting for Matthijs. In front of me was one of those buttons - and since it'd been so long since I'd seen such a button to open the handicapped-access doors, I was immediately curious. Who would press the button and who wouldn't?

Many of the students did not, in fact, press the button.... but that's only because one of their friends had pressed it, or someone immediately before them had pressed it.

Of the approximately 20 percent of people who physically touched the doors, more than half of them did so because the door that had previously been open unexpectedly started closing before they were through.

Matthijs came to get me after about 5 minutes (fyi: he did actually open the door physically). I wouldn't say he had to drag me away, but he certainly had to spend some time listening to me enthusiastically talk about the brief scientific study I had done on the door-opening. I have no doubt that I could have cheerfully stayed there for another half hour (and would have succumbed to pulling out on my pen to record things more scientifically). I just find people so fascinating.

On Becoming Companions (tochtgenoten)

2011-10-29T22:49:00.000+02:00

On Mondayevening, Matthijsand I are taking the step to become tochtgenoten (companions [on a journey]) within Oudezijds100. We are sharing this journey with twoothers (Cobyand Marco), alongside of Sjoerd and Dorothea who are becoming postulants.

Becoming a tochtgenoot is not a new step for me: several years ago I also made this step. Ieven followedthat initialstep by becoming a postulant. So how do I travel this initial path again and still feel like I am moving forward and growing in community? Thesimple answeris thatthe pathis notquite thesame: everyjourney isdifferent. Moreimportantly, Iam notmaking thejourney withouthaving learnedfrom thelast timeand grownsince Ifirst travelledthis path. And I am making this journey once again full of hope.

But what aboutthese pasttwo yearsas postulant?Talking tooenthusiasticallyabout becoming a tochtgenoot seems tomake lightof thetime Ispent asa postulant.Or toquestion thegoodness ofmy desiretwo yearsago tomake thatstep. Inmany ways,being apostulant wasgood -I donot regretmy requestnor mydesire toshare inthe joysandresponsibilitiesof beingpart ofthe coregroup. Yet,during thosetwo years,much changedboth withinthe coregroupand inmy personallife.Relationshipswere strained,and itwas hardto befully myselfand tofeel heard. To my disappointment, the original idea I had of the journey that I would follow was no longer possible nor even good.

And so the journey continues now with my becoming a tochtgenoot on Monday. And I am filled with thewonder ofbeing morepart ofa communityand ofbeing ableto explorewhat communitylife meansfor Matthijsand me.That communitylife isfor mewas somethingI sensedwhen mygoogling acommunity inAmsterdam soquickly ledme tothe Oudezijds100website, andI discovered what I had been looking for before I even knew what it was. Andwithin ashort timeof beinghere, Iknew thatI wantedto livein somekind ofcommunity forthe restof mylife. Itwas Matthijs'sinterest incommunity thatfirst attractedme tohim (theOld Testamentpart didn'thurt, ofcourse). And as a married person, my desire is still fully to serve Godand liveout my faith in all that I do. Asmuch as I enjoyedall thetime wehad togetherwhen wefirst gotmarried and the energy we could put into ourselves and our marriage, therewas alsoa senseofemptiness: shouldn't serving God be more than my academic work and more than my supporting and encouraging Matthijs (and he me)? Where isthe restof thewider church?And whereare theother peoplewe arecalled tolove and encourage?

I hope that we can better answer those questions this coming year: not just in the abstract but also in the midst the realness of community: both its joy and its messiness.

Such a little bone, such a big nuisance

2011-10-23T10:43:00.004+02:00

Late Thursday evening, I twisted my foot funny and broke a bone connected to my little toe (I think it was the fifth metatarsal bone in my foot (see diagram of the bones of the foot)). It didn't hurt so much, and I could hobble along and bike, so I went home in the hopes that on Friday morning things would have improved somewhat.

I did manage to sleep well on Thursday night, but otherwise nothing else had improved by Friday morning - in fact, the side of my foot was all bruised and it was at least as swollen as the night before - and hobbling was even more challenging. So, off to the doctors we went (Matthijs was planning on working from home, so he could accompany me) - we went with bikes, actually, since that put the least amount of pressure on my foot.

Several hours later, I came home with a very large cast on my foot - it goes almost to my knee, although my first four toes are exposed. The open toe part is actually quite nice, as I can wiggle my toes and get rid of the funny feeling in my foot - like it's asleep or itchy.

In general, the cast and foot problem is a nuisance. And every so often, I feel a sharp pain when I reposition my foot - I don't think I knew so many muscles were indirectly connected to my foot! I've also discovered new muscles in using crutches and moving around with a broken foot - so I've been walking around a bit tense and sore.

As much as the foot has been a nuisance, it's also been a challenge. I like a good challenge - and figuring out how to shower and cook and move around has definitely been a fascinating puzzle! Of course, laughing at all the dumb things has also been good - like the fact that Matthijs has to get my clothes out for me, since normally I have to stand on the bed to reach them (and I am not the most organised person when it comes to ordering clothes). And it has been good to see Matthijs's recognition of how much work the chores in house are, especially now that he has to do most of them. But on top of everything, I'm deeply thankful for all the support and encouragement I'm getting.

Weekendje Groningen

2011-10-17T10:06:00.004+02:00

We headed out to Groningen this past weekend - just to get away together and explore a part of the Netherlands that I know very little of. Unfortunately, we once again both forgot our cameras. We also both forgot an umbrella, but that was less of a problem, seeing as we were blessed with absolutely gorgeous sunny weather this weekend.

Huize Tavenier

We got to see the house where Matthijs was born: Huize Tavenier, which is a beautiful Art Nouveau style house. It was for mothers healthy enough to give birth outside of the hospital but giving birth at home wasn't so ideal (Matthijs's parents (or just dad?) were still students and lived in a house without hot water). More than 27,000 babies were born here - and I find it unique and fascinating that Matthijs is one of them.

During the weekend, we wandered around a lot, caught up on sleep in our hotel (a great deal including train tickets, although it was in the middle of nowhere), saw a lot of fascinating buildings (Groningen seems to be a mixture of architecture with different styles mixed through each other), got to stop in a few shops (stores close at 17.00 on Saturday and don't open again until Monday morning), and just enjoyed the feeling of being away for a short time. We also got to visit our new niece on the way there and have lunch with an old university classmate from Matthijs.

City building 1928 near the Groninger Museum

After Amsterdam, Groningen has the most Amsterdam School Architecture - it's a bit like Art Nouveau but with a lot of rounded corners, bricks sticking out in strange patterns - or placed sideways. Two examples are this city building on Gedempte Zuiderdiep street and the Oosterkerk that we bumped into on the east side of the city. Both photos are from Wikimedia Commons, taken by Wutsje.

Oosterkerk - a Gereformeerde Church

We also got to attend a church service in the Aa-church, a service that honoured the restoration of the organ and featured two Cantates (including Bach's "Now thank we all our God"). It was the first time in years that there was a service in the church, and it was obvious that everyone wanted to attend the celebration: what was it ever full!! Matthijs and I arrived almost a half hour early, only to see a line-up of people going through the door. They'd printed out 500 copies of the liturgy - and I think everybody was sharing a copy. There wasn't enough room for everyone to sit, even though we were packed into the benches.

After having seen everything in the Guide books that I'd wanted to see, I had only one wish from the weekend left over: to fill myself up on delicious food. And at De Kleine Moghul, this wonderful little Indian restaurant a bit north of the centre, I happily got to fulfill my wish and we could head back home :)

It was a delightful little weekend away (n.b. the ending "je" on a Dutch word makes it a diminutive: thus a weekendje is a short/little weekend): Matthijs and I both enjoyed getting away and exploring. And to make the feeling of vacation last a little bit longer, Matthijs and I have tickets to a concert tonight in the Concertgebouw!

Does one ever become integrated into a society?

2011-10-14T15:03:00.001+02:00

I wrote the following article for catapult magazine asking about whether one ever becomes integrated into a different culture.

"Recently a group of us were sitting around when an Albanian friend of mine asked a Dutchman when he’d be considered “to be integrated” into Dutch society. Was it when he acquired a taste for buttermilk (karnemelk)? Was it when he spoke Dutch fluently?

My Dutch friend had no answer. Instead, he had two examples, neither of which fully answered the question. The first was the example of a teenager born in Amsterdam to a couple who’d moved here from Morocco. The teenager speaks Dutch with a classic Amsterdam accent and has attended Dutch schools, absorbing Dutch culture in all that he has learned outside of his house. Yet, at home, he has been schooled in the tradition and religious values of his parents. When, as a teenager, he cannot resolve the tension between these two cultures he rebels and causes tension in society, it is often seen as an example of someone who has not integrated well into Dutch culture.

The second example was that of the Chinese communities around the corner, who have been in the Netherlands almost a hundred years and have successfully set up a thriving business community of restaurants and supermarkets. They spend most of their time in their own company and marry amongst themselves; some still speak barely a word of Dutch. Nonetheless, there are no questions raised about whether these Chinese are fully integrated into society here, despite the (historical) involvement of the Chinese with heroine use.

The conclusion I came to was that there is no answer to the question of when one truly belongs. Even the question itself of when one becomes integrated depends on one’s culture. Is it having a passport, speaking English (or French), and being able “to make it on one’s own,” which are some of the unwritten assumptions of integration in both America and Canada? Does someone only belong if she is born somewhere, as is true in Albania, where integration, like immigration, does not really happen? Or does belonging come through being a positive part of society, which means that those holding on to different values need to suppress them so that they do not burden the society, as in the tensions mentioned above? What is integration, after all, besides simply a word that became popular when discussing how certain groups in society did not seem to fit in? It is a vague cultural concept that describes society, like American’s melting pot or Canada’s multi-cultural mosaic; it is a term that is hard to translate into the practical reality of everyday life.

The comment about acquiring a taste for buttermilk was sarcastic; yet, the question of belonging was real. Despite the fact that many Dutch people will never acquire a taste for buttermilk, they will still be considered insiders. And yet, because I grew up in Canada, my disgust for it marks me as an outsider, even though I have Dutch parents and a Dutch passport. No matter how much my parents and grandparents passed on their dutchness, I grew up in a land with different customs and I will always have an accent when I speak Dutch. Yet, the longer I stay in the Netherlands, the more my English develops a certain accent and the more I adapt to the culture here.

The less I feel like an outsider here in the Netherlands, the more I become aware of being an outsider in a world where I used to belong. This adapting and changing often causes me to feel permanently like an outsider, even though I have close family and wonderfully supportive faith communities in both places. The feeling of being an outsider makes me ask sometimes if it is worth it, and whether it would not be better to reject one culture to become more settled in another. However, I know I would feel a sense of loss in making that choice. The attempt to serve God faithfully in a new and different place among people of a (slightly) different culture, alongside the attempt to see the sinful blind spots of one’s own culture and delight in the God-given good in each culture, is worth the discomfort. It also increases my awareness of the reality that culture is hardly uniform: each community and family has a bit of a different culture with differing values and unspoken rules. Thus, simply interacting with others is an act of one outsider talking with another outsider. The question I am now learning to ask myself is not how I can become more integrated and stop being an outsider, but instead how I can learn to live with my discomfort while delighting in God’s image in the other, a truth that makes both of us “insiders.”

The link is available here: The Integration Issue.
With thanks on Hermen Jan and Joan for the conversation and their ideas.

The church as dynamite

2011-10-09T21:36:00.000+02:00

As part of my desire to grow further in my understanding of what "community" is, I've read some books about Dorothy Day, who started the Catholic Worker Movement. From what I've read, it is obvious that she desired to serve God fully in all of what she said and did - and she did so with much faith, passion and a good dose of stubbornness (although I expect the stubbornness sometimes irritated those who worked with her, I also expect that God worked at times through her stubbornness - and at times despite it). Also admirable was her love for the church and her desire to be fully committed to the Catholic Church while also challenging the viewpoints within the church that she found to be contradictory to the church's message - this was most obvious in her stands on both pacificism and social activism.

A key partner in her work was Peter Maurin - who was famous for his "Easy Essays." They are short poems which get one to thinking. The first one that got me to thinking was his own challenge to the church - a challenge to wake up and be relevant. It is, I believe, a challenge that is still needed today - and not just for the Catholic Church.

"Blowing the dynamite"
Writing about the Catholic Church,
a radical writer says:
"Rome will have to do more
than to play a waiting game;
she will have to use
some of the dynamite
inherent in her message."
To blow the dynamite
of a message
is the only way
to make the message dynamic.
If the Catholic Church
is not today
the dominant social dynamic force,
it is because Catholic scholars
have taken the dynamite
of the Church,
have wrapped it up
in nice phraseology,
placed it in an hermetic container
and sat on the lid.
It is about time
to blow the lid off
so the Catholic Church
may again become
the dominant social dynamic force.
Taken from pages 12-13 in Mark and Louise Zwick's The Catholic Worker Movement (Paulist Press, 2005).

As one who does theology, this poem is a good warning to all of us who are involved in things having to do with theology, church, and the Bible. It is so easy to get up in details or facts and to forget that my serving God isn't so much about getting the information right so much as it is about doing theology or church (or read the Bible) in a way that makes a difference in all of life - both personal and public - and helping/teaching others to do the same.

Community Weekend

2011-10-07T08:39:00.000+02:00

Last weekend, Matthijs and I went away with the community to Friesland (Waskameer) for the annual opening weekend. One of the volunteers sent me a picture of Matthijs, which made me smile so I thought I'd share it here. He's participating in one of the many relay/competition events of the weekend.

It was a good weekend, full of lots of conversations and laughter and getting to know each other better.

And one of the best parts of the weekend was a phone call that Matthijs received when we were just about to arrive in Waskameer: his sister had had her baby!!! On Sunday afternoon, we were graciously brought to the nearest train station on the way home - and we had enough time to head to Utrecht and got to meet little Hana for ourselves :) Yay!!

Of course it's a silly idea, but....

2011-09-24T22:40:00.000+02:00

Tonight there was a 5-minute wooden shoe dance at Waterlooplein (a 10-minute walk from our house), and somehow I managed to convince 8 other people along to come watch it with me.

I'm not entirely sure how we managed to get so many people to come! I just simply thought it'd be fun to see/do. It's the sort of silly thing that I'd never do on my own: hanging out at home on the couch is much more appealing. But it was free and interesting, and I figured worth at least some effort to get to. And if you can convince at least a few other people to join you, it becomes quickly the sort of random adventure that sticks with people. It's the sort of thing that you tell your mother you did - or you laugh about (partly because you're not sure how you ended up going in the first place!). And with enough people going, then even the walk there is fun. And as for adventure: just getting everybody out of the house on time is an adventure in itself.

I had no idea if it'd be any good - or if we'd even be close enough to see anything. It turned out to be pretty neat to watch (and most of us could see fairly well): the sort of thing that you were glad you did somehow get talked into. And even if it was a silly idea, it was the sort of silly idea that fits with a weekend in community. After all, who isn't interested in a random adventure on a Saturday evening?

my four-legged alarm clock

2011-09-23T15:12:00.002+02:00

Although more than enough is happening in my head and heart (and in the life of the Kronemeijers in general), I'm not sure yet how to put it into words. I've been dreaming and wondering about what's best in a lot of things:
- how do we best show hospitality in our new place (and what do we need still to fix up?),
- how (much) I get involved in the community,
- what should I spend my energy on academically,
- is my hope of finishing my dissertation by May next year really attainable (I think so),
- what do I do to prepare for the "next" after the dissertation (i.e., what academic projects do I get begin to get involved in already now), and so on.
I haven't finished processing yet, and so I'm not sure what to say - although hopefully it will come sooner rather than later.

Until then, however, I leave you with a normal incident in the life of the Kronemeijers.

The alarm clock at our house goes off at 6:30 a.m. Matthijs gets up and showers while I sometimes read (although I often just roll over and doze until it's time for breakfast). However, I'm usually awake before the alarm clock, as I have my own personal alarm clock: one with four legs and a rather loud voice. Usually around 6 in the morning, although sometimes he waits until 6:30, the cat stands in front of the bedroom door and starts meowing. I have no idea why he meows then (perhaps we don't hear him earlier in the night, and he's noticed that, or perhaps he hears us begin to move as we enter the final phases of sleep?). The fact that I often get up and open the door for him probably would be considered encouragement for his action - but I don't generally mind. Petting the cat is a nice relaxing way to adjust to the fact that it's morning. Leaving the door open at night does solve the meowing problem - he seems to meow only because he knows we're there and he can't get to us (when he can get to us, he doesn't meow - and he usually stays outside unless I call him in). But the noise from the street (the window is always open) makes that a less ideal option, and so I'm left with my four-legged alarm clock. On the bright side, we'll probably never sleep in now - except, of course, if the cat is trapped downstairs in the sports hall or he catches a mouse and is himself sleeping in.....

Saturday afternoon at the Kronemeijers

2011-09-10T21:02:00.003+02:00

A long time ago, I promised pictures of our new house. This afternoon seemed like a perfect time for that to happen. So here are a few pictures of the house, including the men of the house....

Matthijs had a great excuse for being tired: he and I had both done a ton of chores this morning, and we'd spent the afternoon enjoying Open Monument Day (and Matthijs also went to an organ concert). As for Jerry, however, his only excuse is that he's a cat - and could sleep half the day :)

When the cat's away, the mice will play...

2011-09-05T09:30:00.000+02:00

Or when the husband's gone, the wife will ....?

Matthijs is in Birmingham, England for five days at a conference (10 years after 9-11, peace and war and disarmament). And so I'm home alone, being tempted by all the things I could do while the husband is away...

- I could spend money! Those of you who know me well know that I'm one of the cheapest people I know - I seem to be especially fond of not spending money. But I have managed to spend 20 euros extra during his absence - and I was even the one who suggested we buy the concert ticket deal last weekend along with several books... but I think it's merely a healthy sign that I'm finally relaxing somewhat when it comes to money.

- I could let the cat sleep with me! I warned Matthijs that this was the natural consequence of his being absent at night. Unfortunately for me, either the cat senses Matthijs's disapproval even during his absence, or the cat's simply only interested in the bed if the door's closed and he can't get in.

And so instead, I'm just trying to enjoy the freedom of being alone: like eating lots of pasta and letting the laundry hang too long and the dirty dishes pile up and reading lots. And using the change of pace to get around to some of those things that I've been meaning to do for awhile (which has been moderately successful).

However, unlike the mice for whom the return of the cat causes problems, I'm happily looking forward to the return of Matthijs, even as I'm hoping still to get more of my projects completed!

Present at a monastic profession

2011-09-04T21:29:00.000+02:00

Today I was present for a monastic profession into the Franciscan order. Five years ago I don't think I could have imagined that this might be part of my life, sitting in a church filled with 40+ nuns and monks, as well as at least 3 Catholic congregations, being allowed to witness this moment in someone's life. And here I was invited, as both I and Matthijs know the deeply caring and gentle man who has taken this fitting step.

When I went to congratulate him, he told me that he was glad to be joining me on the journey of the religious life, and he named me by my official title - zuster Brenda. And I wasn't sure what to say to that: because my journey in the religious life is such that I am now giving up my title of zuster, and I'm not sure if that is only temporary.

And yet, religious life, and the journey that is part of it, is not limited to a title. My journey on the religious life began a long time ago: from a desire to help others given to me by my family, to morning prayer in college, to liturgical services and visits to St Gregory's Abbey during Seminary, to a strong desire to follow God as much as possible, to moving into the 'new' (open) monastic community here. And even before moving to Amsterdam, I had looked into what it meant to be a member of the Confraternity at St. Gregory's Abbey, thinking that when (if?) I moved back to North America, this might be a good fit for me. There was something about the daily prayers - and the mixture of prayer and work - that attracted me. And it is an attraction that has not yet let me go, nor has the desire to reach out to others and showing love in a practical way. And the desire to live a crazy passionate life for God is still there, even if it has been lethargic and frustrated at times.

It was special to be part of another's Profession event - an event made more special by my being reminded that my own journey in the religious life is continuing despite what feels a bit like a detour. It is a journey in which I've now been joined by Matthijs (as I was reminded during the Luke 10 reading during the service - the same reading we'd chosen for our wedding as a symbol of our desire to serve God together!) and a journey with many possibilities and surprises from God.

Another sort of musical experience

2011-08-27T11:42:00.000+02:00

Last night, Matthijs and I went to the opening concert of the Oude Muziek Festival (Old Music). We'd received tickets from someone who was a friend of the festival but had other plans for the weekend. He'd been curious about our reactions to the concert: I'd taken that not only as a question of whether we'd enjoy the music, but also a question about the concert itself: it was old music and a dance performance, not the most likely combination....

Having limited experience with music concerts, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect - and my expectations weren't all that high. So when it started out with someone making strange musical crying sounds and then an abstract dance performance mostly in the dark, my reaction was simply puzzlement. And then they began to sing: beautiful, 14th century polyphonic music.

Some in the audience had had higher expectations for the concert: more light and more singing being the obvious expectations. And they'd apparently also not spent several years watching the dancing presentations at the Vondelpark Open Air Theatre, like I'd had - and knew what to make of this sort of abstract dance. We could feel the tension in the air from people both confused and frustrated. When a telephone went off, people laughed and clapped - some of the tension had been released. And then there were calls for the light to go on and some booing and whispering. And people started leaving. And I felt uncomfortable and embarassed by the dutch public at the concert who didn't seem to appreciate the hard work being done by the dancers and singers.

Some kind of introduction or explanation at the beginning would have certainly been helpful - people who expect a musical concert aren't really prepared for what we received. Most of us could have used some help getting past the dark at the beginning and the limited music - and knowing how to react to an artistic form that might not be familiar. And yet, for those who stayed until the end, we didn't necessarily have our confusion disappear - but we did have the privilege of experiencing some beautiful music and some fascinating dance. And the artists were obviously very talented.

The concert was not something Matthijs and I would have obviously chosen - and yet, it was a fascinating evening, and an experience to be thankful for.

And I was just going to check to make sure my cat wasn't stuck out in the rain....

2011-08-24T00:21:00.000+02:00

After supper tonight, I was sitting on the couch catching my breath after a fairly busy day. Matthijs was being a great husband and doing the dishes. There was supposed to be a barbecue going on with the neighbours, but I wasn't quite up to it. I was tired. And it'd started raining.

And then the electricity went out. Matthijs asked me if I was going to look into that (it hadn't really occurred to me to do so - in my world, electricity sometimes goes out if there's a storm and then after awhile it comes back on again - but the neighbours across the street had electricity, so that theory was probably faulty). Yet, I wasn't really feeling up to figuring out how to get the electricity back. I was, however, slightly worried that it'd been awhile since I'd seen the cat. And with the pouring rain, I'd feel bad if he'd gotten accidentally stuck outside.

So I went to check upstairs. The stairs were wet - so I closed the door to outside. And it was still wet - dripping through the walls and from the ceiling. It seemed pretty bad to me - so I got some towels and buckets. But no sign of the cat. So I went downstairs to look for him - and I'd heard somebody say something about water (I figured it was dripping through from above). Still no cat. But there was water pouring through the ceiling of the sports hall downstairs. And the kitchen was at least a foot under water.

So I figured we'd dump the water out into the alleyway - but as I went to the alleyway, I saw that it was also at least a foot underwater. I figured the gutter was blocked. The gutter was found - just full. Full like all of the drains in the kitchen and bathroom downstairs. So everyone in the house (and some from the party upstairs) bucketed the water in the alleyway and the kitchen into industrial size garbage pins (which got emptied into the canal). And after getting all wet and gross, the alleyway became empty of water - as did the kitchen - along with what we could reach of the "bruiloftzaal." And then I realized that our house next door also has an entire floor that's lower than our kitchen - and thus potentially full of water.

So somebody checks that out - and there are mops and rags needed to clean up that mess. And then we hear that the Kruispost is full of water. And as I go to get more rags and mop stuff, I see that the Kajuit and kitchen and the hallway leading to the back room is also full of water. Less than in our kitchen, but more than enough to keep us busy for at least an hour - emptying buckets of water, picking up wet books and papers from an office floor and getting sore hands out from so frequently rinsing out a rag.

Sometime in the first hour, I'd heard that my cat had run upstairs to its house - it had probably hid in the sports hall when it discovered the rain coming through the ceiling and the large puddle on the ground. But by the time I'd heard that, the search for the cat had moved to the back of my mind: trying to get rid of all that water and fix the disaster as quickly as possible had taken over all my attention - there was little room for any other thoughts - except a thankfulness for the willingness of so many people here to help out. And a sense of thankfulness that despite this being a lot of work to clean up, there seems to be little to no damage.

Different kinds of good

2011-08-22T10:59:00.002+02:00

Shortly after moving here, Matthijs said that it was good to have moved to Amsterdam. And much to my surprise, I wasn't sure if I agreed with him. It wasn't at all that I thought that moving to Amsterdam was a bad idea - it was simply that living together in Den Haag was also good. And how could I say Amsterdam was good without making Den Haag sound like it was bad?

Not that life in Den Haag was always easy. And if I had to do it again, I think I still would have preferred Matthijs and I to be together in Amsterdam already last fall. I'd love to have done away with the stress of travelling and the tension and uncertainty that came with having our lives torn between Den Haag and Asmterdam.

And yet, it was good together in Den Haag. It was wonderful to delight in each other - having so much free time to do things together like cooking and playing games and simply being together. And it was good to work together through some of tension and the conflicts of loyalties that life in community can bring with it. And it was good for me to have some time to sort through again who I was and what I hoped to do and achieve. It was good to make a house together - to shape Matthijs's apartment into our house - and good to get to spend extra time getting to know Matthijs's friends and family better.

It was a longing for more (and the hope for new chances) that brings us to Amsterdam. And having made the choice together made it good. But what also made it good was that we weren't leaving a bad life somewhere else - we'd chosen to leave our good life in Den Haag in the hopes of something better - and with the trust that the 'goodness' that we'd built up in Den Haag would continue to grow with us.

biking to Rome

2011-08-20T11:52:00.000+02:00

My father-in-law is now more than half way in his bike trip to Rome. He's gone on a recumbent bicycle (see photo here), which isn't exactly known for its mountain-climbing abilities. But it's gone really well - and he's been enjoying the trip tremendously. He's been keeping a blog of his adventures: 'wil naar italie' - to read it, you have to understand dutch or know how to 'understand' the translations provided by babelfish or google translate.

In anticipation of his travels, I borrowed the book, Fietsen met God (biking with God) from my in-laws. It tells the story of three women who made a pilgrimage to Rome: one a Catholic, another an Anglican priest, and the third Reformed (vrijgemaakt - Canadian Reformed). I had planned to read it slowly, so that I could have a picture in my head of what my father-in-law was experiencing. But I just found it so fascinating that I couldn't help but continue reading! (Unfortunately, it hasn't been translated into English).

It tells not only of the physical challenge of the adventure but also of the exploration of three different expressions of the Christian faith. As much as I know that my father-in-law is being pushed by the physical challenge of his bike trip, this is a challenge that his 2-hour daily bike trips before his trip more than prepared him for. The situation in the book is different: although Monic could handle the physical challenge of it, the other two both had moments when it was too much for them. And while Monic had expected the physical exertion to be the challenge, she soon discovered that this paled in comparison to the challenge of learning how to wait patiently for the others.

The most fascinating part of the book for me was the desire of the women to discover what their faith traditions had in common - to explore their ecumenicity. It was interesting to see that it wasn't simply doctrines that were different - it was a complete manner of looking at the world that was different. And it was here that Agnes, the one from the Reformed Church, stuck out for me: her stubborn determination to search for the truth and to place that truth only in what the Bible says (and ignoring both the mystery of the faith and years of church tradition). And her scorn for relics and holy water (hocus pocus) caused friction. It was obvious that faith isn't simply what you believe, but also how you believe.

And yet, despite the differences in each of the women, it was obvious from the beginning that they needed each other. And learning how to need each other, while both acknowleding and honouring the differences, is a challenge - not only for a bike trip - but also anytime different Christian traditions come together.

And as for the idea of a biking pilgrimage - I don't think I'm up for Rome (although I'd love to go there, I think I'd rather take the train or fly). But the idea of making a biking pilgrimage to Taize, going through southern Catholic Netherlands and stopping by a friend of Matthijs in a monstery in Chevatogne, is perhaps an idea for 2012 - I just need to convince Matthijs (and finish the dissertation!)...

The quiet life in Amsterdam?

2011-08-14T22:08:00.002+02:00

A lot of the community has been gone away for much of the summer - there was first the summer retreat of the community (where at least 25 people were present) and now it's summer holidays. Furthermore, the main house in the community is practically empty, giving the impression that everything is very quiet in the community. Yet, I've learned from experience that the summer isn't exactly quieter - and this summer has been no exception.

Things at the community have certainly changed pace - but quiet isn't exactly the right word for it. Last weekend was a wedding (and we helped with clean up!). Then we visited Matthijs's mom - we fled the city to get away from the noise that always comes with Gay Pride Weekend. This weekend Matthijs and I went to a housewarming party of someone who'd recently moved away from the community. Friday night was spent hanging out on our balcony with others in the houses here (after Matthijs and I decided to lead chapel together). Tomorrow we'll be eating with the community (and I get to lead chapel again :))

And this past saturday morning, the iron caught on fire. And last week, we were in a tourboat that crashed into a terrace (luckily there was almost no damage and no one was hurt). And on top of that, there's just the normal life things, like keeping in contact with family and friends, trying to hang things up the in the house, random experiments (like trying to bake my own bread!), visits of friends, and working (and sometimes travelling to and from).

So perhaps there's a quiet life in Amsterdam at the moment - but I think it's missed our house...

three weeks of chapel

2011-08-02T17:13:00.000+02:00

It is three weeks of being in Amsterdam, and I think I've attended chapel about a dozen times already. The first week was somewhat sparse: the immediate needs of unpacking, settling and adjusting often eclipsed my desire for going to chapel. And it is taking some time for chapel to become a 'normal' part of the day (although breakfast at 7 and dinner cooked by around 6.30 means I can work a bit before chapel in the morning and in the evening, we can eat (and even do dishes, if we're quick!) before chapel again).

But it has been good to be back attending chapel: good to stop and quiet myself and remember that my day and my time are from God. And good to sing and praise God. It has been a good help for adjusting to life here and back in the community.

And there's nothing quite like leading chapel three times a week to help make you feel like you're in the middle of the community! Last week and this week, there haven't been enough people signed up to lead - and so I've arrived at chapel and gotten to be the one to take the initiative in ringing the bell and calling the others to join me (there's always been at least 4 people, which has been good). As I've only just come back to living in the community and going regularly to chapel, trying to think of what to say/do/sing each time was a bit of a challenge (much thanks to Coby who's also been willing to take on the challenge of leading chapel with little notice!). The result has meant that I've decided to take some more initiative to find more people willing to plan to lead chapel - as I believe that it's good for a chapel to be planned well. And yet, landing in the middle of chapel planning and praying aloud with others and trying to help others worship God - as much as that has been a challenge, it has also been a blessing - both for making me feel at home (and needed) and for my remembering how good it is to pray with others.

Remembering my life in Ukraine

2011-07-31T23:05:00.000+02:00

Just after we moved in, a former student of mine came and visited with her husband. I had seen her a number of years ago when I'd first moved to the Netherlands, but hadn't connected with her until she'd asked if she could stay with me during a trip to Amsterdam. Delighting in the chance to extend hospitality to another, I gladly said yes.

The best part of the visit was remembering. Both my former student and I have had many different experiences in the ten years since we'd lived together in the dormitory in Nagybereg, Ukraine; yet, those years at the gymnasium have certainly remained a unique experience.

I remember crying at the end of that first week in Ukraine - simply from the shock of realizing how much my time there would shape and change me. I had been told I'd share teaching responsibilities with the wife of someone I'd met and respected. Instead, I was sharing the responsibilities with a Ukrainian woman and an older dutch woman, who I quickly realized was not really interested in listening to me. And after a week of living in a foreign country surrounded by a language I did not know, teaching at a level and in a way that I'd had limited experience doing, it did not take much for me to realize that my time there had the possibility for stretching and challenging me enormously.

My former student and I had to laugh about the food and the crazy schedule there. There were almost no vegetables; so the one time a week we got this great tomato, onion, and pepper concoction, I'd try to catch up on all the vegetables I'd missed. Seeing as we'd have it for breakfast, it meant that I'd spend the rest of the day with a stomach that sometimes needed to adjust to this 'foreign' food. And there were, of course, strange foods like pasta and crushed walnuts and tomato sauce with potatoes. And then one time someone found maggots in the food (a result of canned beans that hadn't been sealed properly); that casserole option was quickly banned for the rest of that year.

And as for the schedule? I'd wake up at 5:50, so I could get a hot shower. Breakfast was at 7. Teaching began at 7:30 (although I usually had the first class free - except if the schedule got spontaneously changed the night before - which happened about once a week!). Lunch was at 1:30, chores thereafter, study hall from 4-7, dinner at 7, and quiet time around 9:30. At the end of the second year, I was teaching all of the English classes (and typing classes - a total of about forty 45-minute class sessions per week, of which slightly more than half were minimal to no extra prep-time) - and the only thing that made that crazy schedule bearable was the knowledge that the students were working just as hard.

Amidst the crazy food and the crazy schedule, what made it all bearable was the fact that you knew that we had each other: others would help you out and cared for you. Outside of the school, I had my church and family back home and the students had their families who supported them and wanted very much for them to have this chance to make a different life for themselves. After all, life for Hungarians in that part of Ukraine was hard: financially, physically and emotionally. I don't remember any house in a village that didn't have an outhouse (and with Ukrainian winters, they were freezing!!). And everyone had a story of someone they knew dying tragically on account of poor health care or corruption. When there was flooding in the region during my second year, the students worried that their house (or that of their relatives) might be affected, which would be the end of everything as there was no insurance to protect them or cover their losses. And because of that, one would worry if others from another village might come and sabotage the defenses of another village - in the hopes of causing the damage to go elsewhere and their own property might be saved.

When you're 22 (the age I was when moved there), you have the idea that you can change the world. But at 22, no matter how well-traveled you are or how perceptive you might be, that world is a lot more complicated than you first expect. Living in a village in rural Ukraine, in the middle of the Hungarian-Ukrainian students, I did my best to become part of that world without losing who I was. I came to Ukraine with the hope of making a difference and change at least a part of the world - and in the end, it was I who was changed (with the hopes that my time there also changed other's lives).

the summer of pizza

2011-07-30T23:15:00.000+02:00

I've decided that this is the summer of pizza. In practice that means having homemade pizza at least once a week.

And why? Simply because we can :)

That and I love pizza. And this is just a concrete way of making real my desire to enjoy our life in Amsterdam. Sitting together on the couch and reading is another possibility, as is going to museums here or biking around. We'll probably do all things, too. Yet, for whatever reason, the enjoyment of life here is symbolized well in getting to eat pizza together (and lots of it).

Getting to know the neighbours

2011-07-29T21:24:00.001+02:00

For a few weeks this summer, I get to take care of the post for Oudezijds 100. On Wednesday, the mail carrier tried to deliver a package but no one was home. So I wrote a note asking them to ring the bell at 102 or 104, where I was pretty sure someone would be home to answer it.

When I came to check the mail today, I saw a note indicating that the package had been delivered - but not to 102/104. Instead, it had been delivered to 112. As it was a business, that made picking up the delivered package a bit simpler. But seeing as this is the Red Light District, most of the businesses are not exactly the respectable sort. Nonetheless, seeing as I felt responsible for the delivery of the package (and there was a clear indication that it had been delivered to the neighbours), I decided to be brave.

And so that's how I ended up this afternoon in a sex shop trying to find a package. As much as I'm all for getting to know one's neighbours, this was the sort of awkward situation I could avoid doing again. However, as there was seen from the balcony last night some suspiciously intimate activity at the neighbours, I'm not so sure I'll be able to do that. I'm really hoping that this isn't a sign that this time living in Amsterdam I might get to know the neighbours a bit better than I really would like to.

Not quite home

2011-07-26T23:24:00.000+02:00

Much to the delight of Matthijs and I, our apartment has quickly taken on a feeling of home. After a few days of work and some help from Matthijs's parents, all the boxes were emptied and things were put away. There could still be a bit more organising done (finding things can sometimes take awhile), and the delay with the internet was a bit frustrating, but these have not detracted from a general feeling of being content in our new place. The interactions with our neighbours (and the community in general) plus the sunflowers given to us by the Oude Kerk as a welcome have contributed to a sense of well-being here.

Yet, there's still a tiny feeling of not being quite home, which has nothing to do with the pictures not being hung on the walls. Both Matthijs and I are still trying to figure out what the new normal here is, especially in terms of our daily schedule. For Matthijs, he's now figuring out how often he'll commute to Den Haag (and how hard that is on him) and how well working from home goes. For me, I'm trying to create my own rhythm of doing research (how much at home and how much at the university?) and participating in the community (daily prayer and random conversations being an important part of that). Seeing as I've lived here before and participated in the community while doing research, I kind of assumed that the rhythm of that would come back to me.

The only problem is that even though Amsterdam (and being part of the community) was home for me, I haven't returned as the same person to that same home. The community has changed somewhat, as have I. My desires of research and community life are still present, but they've now been joined by the desire for a good marriage with Matthijs. And in Matthijs, I receive a gentle push to work harder on research and wonder about healthy boundaries with regards to the community. And eating at home with Matthijs and talking about our day now fills up time I might have earlier spent with the community. And as for daily prayer, it's a habit I've gotten out of - and it will take time and effort for that to become once again part of my day rhythm. Finding a rhythm will have take in all these changes.

And so Matthijs and I have come home to my Amsterdam and my community, only for me to discover that it's not quite home if it's only mine. Just as our apartment has quickly become home through our shared stuff and shared dreams, it is my hope that Amsterdam and the community will soon also become our home as we explore them further together and share our hope of serving God faithfully here.

Socializing Jerry

2011-07-25T10:15:00.001+02:00

Jerry hasn't been the most socialized cat. He tends to run away when visitors come and generally dislikes men. And his exposure to other cats has been rather limited. Things improved somewhat when I moved to Den Haag: Jerry met the neighbour cats (he appeared to like the upstairs one and fought with the downstairs one), and his tolerance for men did increase (at least, it appears that he sometimes appreciated Matthijs).

And then we moved back to Amsterdam, and the socializing has increased significantly: more visitors and more cats. During Easter, he'd made friends with a neighbour cat - but the cat (and owners) ended up moving right before we moved in. But now the downstairs neighbour is watching over a cat - and Jerry has discovered the wonder of having a playmate. And the visiting cat has discovered Jerry's food. (The grass is always greener on the other side, right?)

While we have a cat door, the house of the visiting cat does not. That makes it easy for him to come visit (once he can convince the little girls downstairs to let him out), but not so easy for Jerry to visit him. So I told Jerry he just had to knock and ask if 'Baruch' could come out and play. Surprisingly enough, Jerry did listen to me!! However, perhaps in my socializing of Jerry, I'll have to work on him learning that meowing outside somebody's door at 11 at night, even if it is effective, is not exactly socially acceptable. (Fortunately, my downstairs neighbour has a sense of humour - and doesn't go to bed that early).

"If I knew I had to pack tomorrow, I think I'd cry"

2011-07-17T10:09:00.003+02:00

"If I knew I had to pack tomorrow, I think I'd cry" - was what I said when I was going to bed last week Saturday (saturday the 9th of July).

It had been a long week, full of seminars and networking and giving my own presentation and being in a new place (and trying to kind of take a vacation in the middle of it!). Thursday evening we were home late, Friday was a meeting with my supervisor and a community barbecue, and Saturday was painting and cleaning.
The week before that hadn't been all that relaxing either: it had started off with a weekend working in the community and then was packed full with preparations for moving and London and putting last minute changes into a re-write of my research proposal.
And the week to come wasn't looking any easier: packing, moving, unpacking, organising and having out-of-town guests during the weekend.

In the midst of all the busy-ness, it seemed hardly sensible to choose not to get more of a head start on packing things. Yet, knowing how much energy the past week(s) had cost me (and Matthijs), and expecting the coming week to be just as challenging, I desperately wanted (and needed) a day to stop and rest. Whether it was sensible seemed irrelevant - I couldn't imagine finding the courage or energy to face the coming week without that break. And if there was a bit more extra packing to do (because I hadn't done it on Sunday), well, I expected that God would help me find the courage and energy for that, too. (And He did - He also thankfully provided a lot of help and encouragement from friends and family!)

The decision not to pack last Sunday was hardly a difficult one for me - in fact, it was the choice most obvious to me. I grew up with the idea that Sunday is a day of rest (and you do your best to keep it that way, irrelevant of how much needs to get done). As I've grown older, I've kept that - and have discovered the blessing of this day of rest: it is a day not only to rejuvenate, but also a day to remember to trust in God. It is a day to stop trying to act as if all my hard work is what will make me succeed - God's grace and his blessing are very much part of things going well.

Psalm 127:1-2
"Unless the LORD builds the house, its builders labour in vain. Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain.
In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat - for he grants sleep to those he loves."

An alternative type of networking

2011-07-14T08:45:00.011+02:00

At the Society of Biblical Literature conference last week, I discovered an alternative form of networking. As this was the kind that gets you home-made chocolate chip cookies at break time, you can imagine that I was immediately interested.

Julie, who'd attended most of the sessions on prophets with me, was the one who introduced me to the networking. (She was also, incidentally, the one who'd baked the cookies). She, after all, lived in London - and thus had the resources available to do this. She also had the resources available to bring lunch for those she knew really couldn't afford to be buying it every day.

And so if I hadn't already been intrigued by Julie's brief mentioning of the fact that she frequently taught classes in the majority world - this hospitality for others certainly caught my attention. It illustrated to me an alternative to the 'publish or perish' way of thinking that seems to overwhelm academics. What I saw in Julie and her networking was instead a strong desire to use her gifts and resources to help others - whether it be local hospitality to visiting theologians in London - or whether it be her sharing her Ph.D. in Old Testament with those in other parts of the world. And that kind of desire is something that I'd like to develop more and more in myself.

I do want to do my best with my biblical research - and that means being very much a part of the academic world. Yet, at the same time, I don't want to get completely lost in academics - I don't want to forget that the gifts that God has given me are not only to be a blessing for me but also a blessing that I am to share with others. It was thus delightful, in the midst of an academic conference, to be reminded of both academic excellence and generous hospitality.

Wat een stom kleur!

2011-07-12T20:12:00.002+02:00

Last Saturday as we were painting the house, I asked my soon-to-be neighbours what they thought of the then current colour of our study. The mother kind of hemmed and hawed and didn't really give an answer. Her five year-old daughter, however, felt free enough to say 'wat een stom kleur' (what a dumb colour)! As the colour of the room was a combination of pink and peach (neither being colours I appreciate), I couldn't help but agree with her. This was a woman after my own heart. I think we'll get along marvelously.

The fact that the five-year-old and her younger sister are enamoured by my cat (which their mom graciously agreed to watch while we were on London - and again these few days that we're packing up) only strengthens my sense that this neighbour relationship will continue to be a joy :)

All your ducks in a row

2011-07-11T19:52:00.004+02:00

There's an English expression about getting all your ducks in a row - it means getting everything in order. It's a good expression both for presenting a paper at a Conference and for moving. It's a great ideal to strive for - and in both situations I've been doing my best.

But sometimes, no matter how hard you try, there's no guarantee that your ducks will stay in a row - as illustrated by this great picture opportunity Matthijs and I ran across in Kensington Park in London.

By the time I got my camera out, the birds had started to hop off the posts nearest to us. I'm hoping that with moving, 'my' ducks will stay a bit more in place (they did, at least, in the presentation of my paper in London).

Oxford!

2011-07-10T19:49:00.001+02:00

Matthijs has a Master's degree from Oxford, so I was delighted to have the chance to go with him to visit the place he lived for a year.

Matthijs wrote about it on his blog, so I'll direct you there to read the story of our visit last Sunday. And I'll just provide the pictures (most of them are the view from the tower of University Church):

A window in Queen's chapel depicting the Ascension - Jesus' feet are worth noticing.

The garden at New College (1)

The garden at New College (2)

Surprises in London

2011-07-08T21:34:00.002+02:00

One of the things that makes travelling more memorable is the unexpected: you start out with plans, but they don't quite work out as planned or somewhere you turn left instead of right. Sometimes that leads to frustration, but sometimes it leads to delightful surprises.

Our trip to London, especially the first day (last week Saturday), felt like that. We'd left on time (7 in the morning!) and started biking to the train station - except my suitcase didn't have a side handle so I couldn't carry it on my bike - so Matthijs eventually took it - and we were a bit later leaving.

We did make it to the train station on time - only to discover that our train to Brussels had been cancelled! So first to Rotterdam and then the next international train - which was crammed. After things emptied out in Belgium, a friendly blind guy sat across from us - and we had a delightful random conversation. And despite the train delays, we had lots of time to board in Brussels.

And finally London! Neither of us had thought to print out a map (the ink in the printer is almost out, so I'm not sure if it would have helped anyways), so we meandered around trying to figure out how to get to our address (it didn't help that our 'local' subway station was closed). We ended up walking past the Oval cricket stadium and through a tiny little community garden - and then we were by our bed and breakfast. We were met by our host, who turned out to be a bit more flamboyant than we expected (and quite effusive about his love for God, as we discovered in the days to follow); we happily settled in and got ready to explore London.

With a guide book and a transportation card (oyster card), London is fairly easy to navigate. And our first stop was the Victoria and Albert museum. After exploring the more usual museum things, we bumped into the glass display (on our way to architecture). Wow! A staircase with a glass banister and hundreds of strange shapes and colours of glass - not what we'd come to see but it captured our attention in a way we hadn't expected.

After the museum, we walked through Kensington Park to get to a lovely Indian restaurant - only to discover we'd needed reservations. And so, we chose instead a strange but delightful snackbar place with crazy spicy food and a mixture of customers (from young mediterranean guys to a black woman to a couple where the woman was clothed in a burka).

And after dinner, back to the bed and breakfast - delighted by our day but tired from all the new things. We also wanted to get some extra sleep so as to be ready for the next adventures: Sunday would be Oxford and Monday was the beginning of the conference!

Dutch Theologians go home at 5

2011-07-08T09:33:00.001+02:00

In normal life, I don't think I know many dutch theologians who do go home at 5 - most go home later than that. But when you're at an International Biblical Scholarship conference, five in the afternoon is apparently the time to head back home.

After all, if you take the train home at five, you'll have had a couple of free hours between the end of the conference and departure time so that you can go sightseeing in London - and you'll still make it home that night.

At least, that's what Matthijs and I were planning to do. It was a delightful surprise to discover that we were not the only dutch folk at the conference who'd had exactly the same idea! And so travelling home, after a good conference, we could greet the other dutch folk - and even if we didn't say much, there was a sense of comraderie born of having done things together and heading towards home together.

A bit surreal: trip to London and moving to Amsterdam

2011-06-29T16:41:00.000+02:00

In a couple of weeks we'll be moving back to Amsterdam. We've signed the contract, paid the deposit and first month's rent, made arrangements for moving, and there are empty moving boxes waiting to be filled. Our hope/plan of moving back to Amsterdam is finally coming true!

But first, London: Matthijs and I are off to London for the Society of Biblical Literature International Meeting - where I get to present a paper before a room full of people where hopefully a number of Ezekiel experts will be present. Not surprisingly, much of this last month has been spent digging further into the book of Ezekiel, sorting through my past research and trying to get a more solid grasp on the terminology used in linguistics. That's been good - and I'm looking forward to getting to participate in this academic world, as well as getting to take a bit of a vacation with Matthijs in London.

And then when we come back, we'll be painting and packing and moving - all in a whirlwind. What now feels a bit surreal will certainly become all too real! Perhaps moving the cat to Amsterdam tomorrow (he'll spend the time with his future neighbours) will help - or perhaps the trip to London and the moving to Amsterdam will simply remain surreal until I show up at the conference in London or we wake up in our bed in Amsterdam.

Weekend Services

2011-06-28T17:33:00.000+02:00

If I had to summarize this past weekend, I'd say that it was a weekend full of services. I went to chapel 3 times, as well as attending an Anglican English Evensong, an Orthodox Compline service that was a Greek-Russian mix, a Catholic morning service, and a Protestant (PKN) evening vespers service. It was also obviously an ecumenical weekend of church services! An added dimension was the fact that I knew people participating in all of the services - Matthijs sang in the Evensong and Catholic morning service, a good friend helped lead the Orthodox service, and I could greet by name most of those who attended the vespers service.

Most of those committed to the community are Protestant, but that still leads to much diversity. Some are used to the Genevan psalms while others are used to praise songs and still others are most at home with chants from Taizé. Finding ways to be hospitable to others in worship - and help people to meet God - are often a challenge. Even when people all speak the same language (not always a guarantee - we had Spanish speaking guests in the community this weekend), each person's language of faith is hardly the same. As such, it is hardly obvious that there could be a common language to come before God - or even introduce people to God (as some of those living in the community wouldn't claim any relationship with Him). And yet, this weekend, surrounded by people in the community from so many different backgrounds, I got to see people come before God and meet Him in so many different ways.

I have to admit that it didn't surprise me at all that in each of these different places and different services, we were able to meet God. And it was good to see and experience God at work in the wider church.

Praying for those surrounded by darkness

2011-06-24T16:56:00.000+02:00

During the evening vespers at the Oude Kerk (Old Church), we often have a moment to remember others. During that time, we sing:

Wie door het duister zijn omringd noemen wij U in stilte.
Want voor U is het duister niet donker : de nacht licht op als de dag, het duister is helder als licht.

Translation (fairly literal):
Those who are surrounded by darkness - we bring them before You in silence.
Since for You the darkness is not dark: the night lights up (shines) as the day, the darkness is as clear as light.

text: Mirella Klomp
music: Christiaan Winter

As we sing the song, I am reminded of those who are suffering - often those who feel far away from the light of God. Last Sunday, my mind was turned especially to those suffering with emotional problems and how those problems seem to place people in the midst of darkness and despair. At times, the emotional difficulties threaten to extinguish hope and a sense of God's light in the midst of the darkness.

For those wanting to know more about emotional difficulties, as a way of gaining awareness or to direct prayers for those suffering, catapult magazine recently published an issue regarding mental illness. I also chose to write in this article: an article entitled Understanding emotional sickness.

Image for the day

2011-06-21T14:49:00.000+02:00

As I was walking along the Oudezijds Achterburgwal this morning, I bumped into an image that couldn't help but make me smile. One of the houses along the road is being renovated, and downstairs behind the large windows where prostitutes would generally sit, I noticed something slightly different. The construction workers were sitting there having a break and watching the world walk by.

It's too bad I didn't have a camera with me. I think the guys would have also seen the humour in the image they created.

Life lessons for a cat

2011-06-20T16:41:00.001+02:00

The other day, I heard my cat meowing its head off on the balcony. Often when we've been gone for awhile, it likes to go outside and meow. I joke that it's his way of expressing his dislike of being so long home alone. But as we'd been home most of the day, I figured this time it had to be something else - so I went out and checked. The cat from the neighbours downstairs was on their balcony - and Jerry was adamantly trying to have a conversation with him. The other cat, however, just stood there looking at him. And I couldn't help but feel bad for my cat - and I wondered how I could explain to Jerry that no matter how wonderful he is, sometimes others just won't be interested in being friends with him.

But the life lessons only continued! As I went upstairs yesterday and Jerry had greeted my home coming with enthusiastic meows, I heard a different meowing - and I realized that it came from the neighbour cat. And I thought to myself, "hmmm, when it suits you (i.e., you're bored or lonely), you're interested in talking but otherwise not." And how could I explain to Jerry that others might use him when it suits them?

And then I realized that life lessons for a cat are different than those for people. Jerry's a cat. He just likes meowing. What does he really care if he gets an answer to his meows? The only reason Jerry's even interested in the neighbour cat is as a potential distraction/toy. He just wants food and attention and a good place to sleep and he's happy. And he'll probably meow to tell you that :)

A dove comes to church

2011-06-18T16:40:00.002+02:00

During the vespers service last Pentecost Sunday, a pigeon flew down into the middle of the 'high church' area where we were sitting. And I couldn't help but smile - since in Dutch the word for pigeon and dove is the same word: duif. You have white ones and gray ones. The gray ones (pigeons) are the annoying birds that the tourists feed. The white ones are the gentle, beautiful birds that we associate with the Holy Spirit.

So what do I make of the fact that a gray dove (a pigeon) came to church? Simply said, it somehow got in and was happily enjoying the leftovers of Communion during the service. But the mere fact that it was Pentecost Sunday made the link between this pigeon and the Spirit simple to make. And I was delighted to be reminded that the Spirit would come down amongst us, albeit not always in the most expected forms.

And alongside of the reminder of the winsomeness of the Spirit, it was also a reminder of the steadfastness of the Spirit: like the pigeon that presented a challenge to those who tried after the service to shoo it out, the Spirit is also [thankfully] not so easily gotten rid of - even when arriving unannounced and not in the way we expect.

Another perspective on my time in Canada

2011-06-10T15:33:00.000+02:00

Matthijs summarized well what it was like for me to be gone in Canada: strange. There's certainly extra freedom involved when the other is gone, but after six months of marriage the most dominant feeling is one of absence. It is strange that what was once so normal is now everything but normal.

But Matthijs says it better, so I'll let you read it from him:
- for those of you who read dutch, I'll link you to the post: Lessons Learned: Alleen en weer samen.
- for those of you who don't read dutch, I'll give you a cleaned up version of the 'google translate' for the post:

"Alone and together again

Brenda is back!
The past two and half weeks, I was largely alone, i.e., no Brenda at home (only Jerry). A strange feeling. May 19th was our six-month wedding anniversary, and that was exactly the day when Brenda flew to Canada.
Now, I realize what a difference being married has made. Two years ago, Brenda was not even on the horizon, and so being alone was still standard. So this was what once was normal. Very strange! Especially the first weekend I felt quite out of balance.

Yet it was a full and interesting week. Some of the activities were:
- Arranging my study archive. You encounter everything: old papers, etc. It was strange to discover how little I understood until far into my study of systematic theology. For example, I was already in the fifth year before it became clear to me just how strongly Reformed certain assumptions of mine were. This related particularly to the idea that theological statements can come also from the tradition and not only from the Bible.
- Meeting of the VAK administration. The VAK is the alumni association of the KTU, my old theological college. I sit on the board, which is also an excuse to see two fellow students more regularly. Especially valuable was the drink in the café where we complained about the things that theologians always do. There was now more time - no pressure to go home. A recurring theme was how the church is full of wonderful ideals but when it comes down to it so few are made true. There ism, of course, still much more to say: the country is rife with unreliable institutions, but with the church it is always extra sad.
- Seeing Simon's new flat (again). It is a beautiful apartment, a huge improvement for him, and the move to it was a good family activity. Nice also to see our wedding picture hanging up there.
- Going on the road with Crystle, one of Brenda's best friends, who was just this week in the Netherlands for a sailboat race - good to have the opportunity to know each other better, because those opportunities are few.

All in all a rich, full week, despite some flaws.

But the most important lessons learned this week is yet how good it is to see Brenda again after 12 days."

and note from Brenda: I agree with him completely!!!! It was for me also a rich, full week for which I'm very thankful (it was also delightful to see our wedding picture hanging up at my brother's place!!). Yet, coming home again was probably the best part.

Encouragement to blog

2011-06-07T15:22:00.002+02:00

Blogging is one of the 'good things' in my life. I generally enjoy the writing, and all the responses I've had to my writing have been really encouraging. It's still a somewhat astonishing to me that so many people would be interested in reading about my life and my thoughts.

Seeing how good blogging has been for me, it's no surprise then that I'd want to encourage others to blog. And seeing as Matthijs is the one I spend most of my time with, it's no surprise that he's received a lot of encouragement in that direction these past six months :) And how could I not encourage him? I think he's got lots of great thoughts in his head that I think are worth sharing (as do others - he has already written some opinion pieces for the newspaper!). The act of writing a blog, with the challenge of its concise format and the need to make it comprehensible to a more general audience, can be a good means of sorting through one's thoughts.

Certainly blogging isn't for everyone, and finding one's 'voice' in blogging can take quite awhile. Thus, the less pressure at the beginning the better: I know I should be low-key about it. Yet, I can't help but be excited about Matthijs's finding another means to express his thoughts and participate in the world around him.

And I have to admit that my encouraging Matthijs is slightly out of self-interest. I know that my writing allows me to show others a side of myself that isn't always so obvious. And as I have some clue of the ideas bouncing on in Matthijs's head, I'll not only encourage every opportunity he has to practice expressing them well, I'll also gladly look forward to reading/hearing more about them. I imagine it'll lead to even more delightful dinner time conversations here :)

Ascension Day

2011-06-04T09:37:00.015+02:00

I find Ascension Day a bit of a strange holiday for a number of reasons.

The first reason has to do with what to do on the day. Here in the Netherlands, people get the Thursday (and sometimes the Friday) off work. Back in North America, the most I'd nomally do to celebrate the day was go to a combined church service. In the past couple of years I've gone on a pilgrimage with the community. But now I've just returned from Canada, am not entirely into the dutch rhythm of things, and I'm only joining the community's pilgrimage for one day. So what do I do? Do I treat the day as an extra day to get work done or as an extra day of rest? I still don't know and am hoping to reflect more on this (although maybe next year I'll be again on pilgrimage or visiting again - and the question will be answered for me!)

The second has to do with what is actually celebrated on Ascension Day. It seems strange to celebrate Jesus' leaving earth. I can't help but picture the disciples confusedly staring into the sky after Jesus left. They'd been through so much - the crazy, overwhelming week in Jerusalem with all the tension when Jesus was finally captured, tried, crucified and buried. Then two days of shock. And then Jesus rose again! Their whole world was turned upside down (several times). So when Jesus says to stay in Jerusalem and wait for the Spirit, I can't imagine they really understood what he meant. The book of Acts notes that they once again asked if Jesus was finally going to bring about the Kingdom now. It doesn't sound like they really grasped what was going on: Jesus really wasn't going to be among them anymore and their world would be turned upside down again and again in the coming years.

It seems strange to celebrate Jesus' absence and the disciples' confusion - although seeing the disciples' confusion is somewhat comforting (After all, if they spent 3 years with Jesus and saw all this happening and still were confused, it's not all that surprising that I get confused about Christianity sometimes!!!). And so perhaps it's better to think about Ascension Day not in terms of the disciples who were left confusedly waiting, but instead about Jesus' returning home to glory. I tend to forget this part of the story, as the book of Acts doesn't tell what happened when Jesus returned to heaven after triumphantly conquering death and saving humankind. In this way, the Nicene Creed captures it better:

On the third day he rose again

in accordance with the Scriptures;

he ascended into heaven

and is seated at the right hand of the Father.

He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead,

and his kingdom will have no end.

Jesus' leaving on Ascension Day reminds me that the story of the church and Christianity isn't simply about those of us in the church. We are, after all, the ones perpetually standing around confused. Instead, it's about the kingdom coming - it began with Jesus' first coming to earth, continued with his death and resurrection, and then with his Ascension. The coming of the Spirit at Pentecost furthers the Kingdom that will be brought into fullness when Christ returns again to judge the living and the dead.

Adventures with Crystle: Exploring Delft and Rotterdam

2011-06-03T10:11:00.058+02:00

During my recent trip to Canada, I couldn't visit with Crystle because she was at a sailing competition at the same time (in the Netherlands, ironically). Fortunately for me she decided to stay a couple of extra days so I could see her when I got back. Once I'd had a good night's sleep, we decided to have an adventure exploring: we chose Delft and Rotterdam.

My original thoughts were to take the train to Delft, walk around, take the train to Rotterdam, rent bikes and bike around, and then return on the train. Crystle suggested we bike to Delft, which seemed like a lovely idea, so we did. When we got there, we followed a walking tour of the city. And then we biked to Rotterdam since we were already halfway. Biking to Rotterdam has been on my list of wishes for awhile, so it's great to have done that (and with Crystle!).

And like most exploring trips, it was full of adventure. We left with maps, a city walking tour book, and general ideas - and we'd see what we'd find.
And what did we find?
- a visit to Delft's Old Church and New Church,
- spring rolls and fried fish from vendors,
- a coloured cow in the middle of a square,
- a view of the parade of flags and cubed houses,
- bread, grapes and beer from a supermarket (with the beer being opened with a key chain - it works but I don't recommend it!),
- a trip through the bike tunnel under the Maas river (also on my list of things to do)
- and sore bums and legs from biking 41 km, each of us sharing time on the fold-up bike.

A couple of pictures and our route are here below:

In the garden of the Prinsenhof

The entrance/exit of the bike tunnel under the Maas River

View 1 june bike ride - Den Haag to Delft to Rotterdam in a larger map

Home and back again

2011-06-02T08:00:00.000+02:00

The blog silence has been due to my travelling. I just made my semi-annual visit to friends and family in Canada. It was wonderful to see everyone (especially my nieces!), but it's also been wonderful to come home again. I'd gone without Matthijs, and I'd missed him.

I might have more to say and/or pictures to show, but simply sharing my thankfulness in both having made the trip and coming back home to Matthijs is enough for me now.

6 months

2011-05-19T04:38:00.006+02:00

In honour of being married 6 months, the following are some wedding pictures:

Being married has been good. Life hasn't always been easy for us both in the last few months (nor was planning a wedding exactly stress-free :)) and sometimes things have been hard. It is a challenge to be ourselves while also making room for the other person to be him/herself. But it is a challenge and adventure that is worth every struggle: not only have we learned to be more comfortable being ourselves around the other, we've been delighted to discover more who God has made us to be.

Becoming partly vegetarian

2011-05-16T17:18:00.000+02:00

I'm not a vegetarian, although for simplicity's sake I often say I am. Matthijs and I simply don't eat a lot of meat - partly because of how we feel about the treatment of animals in the over-industrialized meat industry and partly because I wonder if eating meat is really a good use of the world's resources. A lot of food energy goes into feeding animals, and I can't really justify participating excessively in that.

In the Netherlands, being vegetarian (or eating only organic meat) has become fairly normal. Even in Canada and America, many people have begun eating less meat and wondering about the implications of the 'food industry' in relation to the family businesses where the cows are known by name. Becoming more aware of why people might want to choose not to eat meat is something worth becoming aware of (even if your father was a butcher :)). A friend of mine, a pastor in middle of nowhere Minnesota and a big meat-eater, has written a good blog entry (Compassionate Eating as Care of Creation) about becomeing more aware: in it, he links to a booklet on the topic by Matt Halteman from Calvin College.

Although I hope that more people will become more aware of the issues involved with eating (or not eating) meat, I hardly hope that everyone immediately stops eating meat. It's not something I know I want to entirely give up! Matthijs and I do eat meat, but we try to limit ourselves to fish (where the issues are somewhat different) or organic/biological/free range meat. Other than tofu, we don't eat 'official' meat replacement products - I mean, if the point of my not eating meat is a better use of the world's resources, it seems strange to be okay with all the resources extended to making processed fake meat. Instead, we take in extra cheese and nuts and vegetables and lentils and enjoy even more the special occasions when we do eat meat (like Easter season and Sundays :)).

Exploring Den Haag

2011-05-15T21:41:00.001+02:00

When Matthijs and I have had a free day during the weekend, we've often used it go exploring. And what better place to explore than the treasures right around the corner?

A couple of weeks ago, we'd gone biking to Kijkduin (just south of Scheveningen). I'd had in my head that there was an attraction worth seeing there - a large bowl-shape in the ground - but as I had no idea what it was named (nor exactly how to describe it), I'd hoped that we'd somehow just bump into it. And biking along a bit outside of Kijkduin, we noticed a set of stairs to nowhere and a concrete passageway, so we decided to check it out. And we found the strange ellipse I was looking for: the "Celestial Vault." We also managed to discover a monstrous ball of concrete around the corner. And the adventure was complete :)

Today's adventure was the Panorama Mesdag, a museum dedicated primarily to the display of Mesdag's panoramic painting of Scheveningen. You walk up stairs and then you come into a huge room under a canopy with several metres of sand extending from the display area to somewhere before the painting that covers the entire room in a circle. The painting is displayed 14 metres away from you (it is 114 metres long!) and the sheer size and distance of it (and the hiding of the top and bottom of the painting) give it a feeling of being almost real. It was a place I'd been meaning to visit for some time, and it was definitely worth finally seeing!

And upon leaving the Museum, we saw that the Mesdag Collection just happened to be open and free today. And since it was around the corner, how could we turn down the opportunity to keep exploring?

Both adventures reminded me how much I love (and would recommend) exploring 'just around the corner' - and being open for what new adventures might pop up in a day. Matthijs's willingness and enthusiasm to share these adventures with me only makes them more delightful :)

Community as a place to love

2011-05-14T16:37:00.000+02:00

Being immersed in the community events of Easter weekend, one of the things that struck me the most was how community provides us a way to love others.

In 'regular' life, it's quite possible to interact with very few people. The interactions we do have with people often remain limited to customary greetings, discussion of the weather or sharing plans for the weekend: unless we've known people longer, more than this makes most people feel uncomfortable. Even though families usually form an exception to this, as do church communities (especially ones with small groups), there's still not a lot of opportunity or push in our society to show concern for others different than us in any kind of non-abstract way.

In community, however, there's the challenge and desire to reach out to those who are very different (and not always so lovable). And sharing meals together and doing dishes together creates a level of intimacy that sometimes makes it either to get past the socially polite conversational norms. That doesn't mean that conversations in community are necessarily deeper: what with all the organisation necessary, it can be hard sometimes to get past all 'to-do' lists simply to ask how others are doing.

Yet, simply being together and trying to pay attention to others opens my eyes to others - and warms my heart to them. And so the stubborn child who refuses to eat becomes less annoying and more of a delightful puzzle - and I can become aware of the mom's patience (and not just wonder about how competent she is). And I learn about people's parents or holidays - and I delight in how faces light up when you ask about their (grand)kids or coming adventures. And we can laugh together about crazy cat stories or about the dangers of biking in Amsterdam - and somehow the other persons stop being 'other' and simply become family.

Sometimes we love others because we want to be needed. I know that I struggle with wanting too much to be appreciated (and chosen as best) by others. Perhaps community helps also with that - because even the neediest person who joins the community doesn't need my love: it's the love of so many in the community that makes the difference. My love simply gets to be part of that whole work that God is doing. And seeing as God is involved in it, it's hardly surprising that I also receive love from those in the community - sometimes in unexpected ways.

'tis the season

2011-05-06T09:57:00.001+02:00

Spring has come - and the weather here has been perfect, almost to a fault. It has been sunny for weeks on end, with only a couple of hours of rain here and then.

And what has spring brought with it?
- tulips: one of the train routes from Den Haag to Amsterdam goes right through the tulip fields, and for a couple of weeks I enjoyed the glorious red and yellows coming from the fields.
- visitors: if you're going to come to Holland, now is the time to come - Wednesday I toured Amsterdam with an aunt and uncle and next week a former housemate and an old prof of mine are in town.
- cat hair: Even if I brush the cat, it still feels like petting him leaves us both covered in fur. It looks like it's finally starting to get better, which is good, because seeing clumps of fur on the ground only a day after we've vaccuumed is definitely starting to annoy me.
- moving: today and tomorrow I get to help with moving - first friends and then family. And we're starting to make more definite plans for our own move to Amsterdam.
- new energy and new projects: the coming of spring has increased the appeal of biking and walking. And spring brings new energy, energy that I'm devoting to getting back to the fascinating sentence/paragraph structure in Ezekiel, including the putting together of a paper/presentation for a conference in July.

To help you enjoy the season, here's some picture of the tulip fields from previous years:

Easter has come!!

2011-04-26T16:36:00.000+02:00

Easter has come!! And with those words, the whole world appears somehow different. It is a world filled with more hope - not because of anything I have done, but simply because Christ has arisen. In comparison to the wonder of the Easter story, the troubles and worries that I might have all fade. And since Christ has conquered death, how can I doubt that He can work in and through me?

Knowing that I am loved

2011-04-25T17:25:00.005+02:00

I know that Matthijs loves me. It's obvious in what he says and does (and how patient he is with me). But I got to see another level to that love the other night.

Matthijs and I were sleeping on the top bunk of a bunkbed contraption (hoogslaper in dutch). At five in the morning we both awoke to a crash - and the first thing I hear from Matthijs is my name, clearly conveying his concern that my falling out of bed was the source of the crash. Thankfully it was only the cat knocking something over.

And I felt moved that when awoken from deep sleep, my well-being was the first thing that came to Matthijs's mind. His love for me is something that clearly goes to the core of his being, and knowing that someone loves me that much feels pretty great.

Hearing the Passion Story anew

2011-04-22T14:12:00.001+02:00

Last Sunday in church, we read the whole Passion story from the gospel of Matthew: from Jesus'entry into Jerusalem until his death and burial. Then this past week, Matthijs and I listened to Bach's Matthew Passion. It was good simply to listen again to the story.

What struck me most this time was Judas. I've always found it strange that Jesus, in front of the other disciples, says that Judas will betray him (perhaps it is more strange that the gospels record no apparent reaction from the rest of the disciples). Yet, this time I found it less strange - a lot had been going on that week, and I expect that the disciples were all a bit overwhelmed at that time - a suspicion that seems confirmed by their inability to stay awake with Jesus to pray. And then when everything happens with Gethsamene and Jesus being captured, it is no surprise that they followed their gut reaction to disappear.

Judas's realization that what he did was wrong - that he had participated in sending an innocent man to his death - also stayed with me. Judas often becomes an easy 'bad guy.' Yet, his recognition that he was wrong, his desire to change things, and his utter despair over what happened (despair that caused him to kill himself) challenge my perceptions of him as evil. Wrong: yes; evil: no. And the saddest part of the story is that Judas killed himself on Good Friday before ever knowing what makes the day good: that his sin was part of God's plan to redeem the sin of the whole world.

A bad news week in the Netherlands

2011-04-13T18:28:00.000+02:00

It's been a bad week in the news in the Netherlands. On Saturday, 6 people were killed in a store in Alphen aan de Rijn. It's a city not so large and not so far away from here - just a short hop on a train from Leiden or Gouda.

Last week Wednesday, someone from Iraq who was denied asylum in the Netherlands set himself on fire in Dam Square, just around the corner from where I used to live.

It's a lot of tragedy - and it all has felt so close by.

I wasn't expecting it to get any closer by than that, though. Fortunately, it looks like (as of 6:30 this evening) that there will be one less tragedy in the news, even if I did get a bit of a scare.

When I tried to turn on the oven around 5, I had noticed that the gas was turned off. I figured I'd let Matthijs figure out the problem when he got home. And although I'd heard some noise on the street, I figured it was just someone fixing up the gas problem - and after living in the Red Light District, it hadn't really dawned on me that it was anything unusual. But eventually I looked out the window. And there were two policemen across the street with guns pointed at my house; a whole group of them just down the street, and the street had been closed off. When I googled, I discovered that somebody had threatened to set himself on fire. The police are now debriefing beside the store next door and I saw that they walked off with the suspect. And Matthijs has been allowed into the street again. I'm thankful that nothing happened. But I think the cat and I will need some time to adjust to the anxiety caused by being so close to another possible tragedy.

25 kilometres on the bike plus a soccer game

2011-04-08T11:14:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, I got to play soccer. The challenge is that I do that in Amsterdam, and it's in the evening. In order to catch the first possible train home (so I can be home at a semi-reasonable hour), I head out towards the closest train station shortly after the game. Generally, it works out great: Most of the stadiums are a reasonable distance from a train station, I get to play soccer, and I'm not home too late (or I come home late with Matthijs on Thursday nights since he has choir rehearsal).

There's just one problem. No matter how great the fold-up bike is, 25 kms is a significant distance on it in one day. And I don't think it particularly helped with my energy for the soccer game :( But at least we won, and today I'm not sore. Yet, I will admit that after 25 km and a soccer game, I'm happy with staying home all day and doing nothing more physically demanding than typing, doing dishes and vaccuuming :)

Thirsting for one's baptism

2011-04-03T22:41:00.000+02:00

This morning in church, the pastor passed on a beautiful image.

He gave salt to a woman preparing for baptism: so that she might become thirsty for her baptism. It was a wonderful tangible reminder of the longing to baptism, a longing that I don't know if many of us, in preparing for baptism (or profession of faith), know/knew exactly how to give expression to.

not feeling entirely myself

2011-04-02T19:54:00.001+02:00

In the last few months, I have been struggling emotionally. And it's been hard at times, especially as there are so many great things in my life:
- being a newlywed. Matthijs is great - caring and concerned. We laugh together lots, talk about lots of things together, and I know he loves me just for who I am. And I love him a lot.
- time to work on exegesis stuff and do fun projects, like translating and writing and stuff like that. And I can work on my dissertation stuff and not worry about making enough money to make ends meet.
- good friends and family who I know love me.

So how can I be unhappy?!?!?

The obvious answer is that my world has been turned upside down. On the life events stress test, I can tick quite a number off - and I moved in with someone whose also had some major stress life events (i.e., marrying me :)). Added to this was all the stress involved in planning a wedding and hosting family, plus the distance between me and the community in Amsterdam - one of the more foundational parts of my life - it is not surprising that I've been struggling with questions about who I am, what I want, whether I'm good enough for what I want to do, and so on.

As much as I know that my friends and family will support me as I go through this, I don't really know how to talk about it. Sorting through what's going on in my own life - and allowing God to bring order to chaos - while also trying to do work are challenge enough without also taking on the challenge of having to talk about what's been going on - and trying to explain how it's possible that I can be joyful and excited at times and other times apathetic or in need of a good cry. And I feel more fragile with all of the questions and changes in my life - I feel overly sensitive to the possibility that I'd be judged or rejected. And I'm afraid of having to listen to simplistic answers that don't take into account all the complicated things going on in my head and heart.

I'm still not all that interested in talking about things - it still feels like a wound that hasn't entirely healed. Yet, my writing about it here is a sign that I believe that God is bringing more order to the chaos going on in my head and heart - and that there is hope that by sharing this, good might be done. First, by giving words to things that people who care about me might have suspected but weren't sure how to ask - or what to say (you don't have to say anything). And second with the hope that others might be helped: I know I am not the only who has struggled in this way. And there is something healing and hopeful in sharing the struggle.

What happens when you don't watch television?

2011-03-31T22:18:00.000+02:00

Matthijs and I don't really watch television - so how do we waste our time and unwind? Mostly we play games together - but sometimes we do other random things, like finding the quirks in national anthems (the cause was my last blog which featured the Dutch national anthem). A little searching on wikipedia and you bump quickly into the following:

Did you know that Canada has an inuit version of the Canadian anthem? And that there were lyric changes made in 1990 (more than 20 years ago - and I still don't know them [and never see them]?)

Or do you know how often the American anthem is sung poorly? Not surprising - since only the best singers have both a range from a b flat (just below middle c) to a high f and can make the strange jumps between notes necessary to sing it well.

Yet, as unsingable as the American anthem is, the Belgian one is probably worse - not because of all the jumps - but because of all the random short and long notes. Even Matthijs couldn't sightread that one!

Or have you noticed how exceptionally Calvinistic the Hungarian anthem is in its talking about how they've suffered enough for their sins?

Or that the Ukrainian anthem is one of the best anthems to have for football (soccer) games? It's definitely better than the British's "God save the queen."

Or what about the Polish anthem with its rather optimistic viewpoint that Poland starts somewhere in Italy?

I guess television is also entertaining, but a random evening with little immediate cause appeals to me more :)

Anyone have other suggestions to add to this list of anthem quirkiness?

Singing the Dutch Anthem (Wilhelmus) in Chapel

2011-03-28T22:02:00.006+02:00

In our desire to read through the entire Bible in the community, every book gets read in chapel. With some of the Old Testament books, this can get a bit hard at times on the chapel-goers. The last little while has been Chronicles. The entire first nine chapters are only lists of names - and they're generally not short chapters. Every once in awhile some information is given about a name, but since that generally involves an unknown place name, this doesn't make too much of a difference.

Matthijs and I read at home the daily reading a couple of times, and the highlight was probably noticing that 1 Chronicles 7 seems to suggest that Izrahiah has 5 sons but there are only 4 listed. As much as I believe that every part of the Bible is important and place there for a reason (and there is something rather impressive about all the names listed there - names of people who have been part of God's plan for generations after generations), this doesn't exactly seem like the ideal reading to begin one's day. It's hard to figure out what would be spiritually edifying in the passage.

And yet as we moved on to the next section of Chronicles, the section on the heroes, the person leading chapel made a great link. He had us sing the Dutch Anthem (the Wilhelmus) in connection with reading. The Dutch anthem, at least in comparison to the Canadian and American anthems, has always seemed a bit odd to me. The first stanza is as follows:
"William of Nassau
am I, of German (Dutch?) blood.
Loyal to the fatherland
I will remain until I die.
A prince of Orange
am I, free and fearless.
The king of Spain
I have always honoured."
(Copied from wikipedia, where you can find more verses and a history of it).

As much as the following stanzas do talk about fearing God and being good to one's subjects, it's not exactly something that seems fitting for in church. And yet, the connection of the anthem to David is rather obvious, as illustrated by the eighth stanza (again taken from wikipedia):
"Like David, who was forced to flee
from Saul, the tyrant.
I had to sigh,
as did many other nobles.
But God raised him,
relieving him of despair,
and gave him a kingdom
very great in Israel."

The singing of the anthem helps us remember the honour we have for our dutch forefathers. Making the connection to the heroes of the Bible helps make us aware of the meaning behind the names listed - and makes it a little easier to read this section of the Bible with more awe and wonder, even when it sometimes feels long and boring.

I miss the laughter

2011-03-27T13:46:00.000+02:00

Although Matthijs and I laugh together a lot, I still miss the laughter that comes with living in community. There's something about putting so many different people together that simply creates the sort of strange situations that make me laugh (like the random drunk tourist, the way people relate (or don't relate!) to each other, and community weekends). As interesting as Matthijs is and as crazy as our cat is, life here in Den Haag just doesn't quite compare to the adventure inherent in being part of a community.

I hadn't expected to miss the laughter. I had expected to miss the people and being close to them; I had expected to miss the structure and daily prayers; and I had expected Den Haag to be different than Amsterdam. But the realization of how much I missed the laughter came to me so unexpectedly the other day that it made me cry.

And I longed to be able to return to making jokes about how often my pregnant friend needed to stop before making it to their house on the fifth floor - although now that they've had a little boy (yay!!!), it'd be jokes about how tired their visitors are when they arrive and what crazy ideas they have about getting the whole family (inclusive baby and daughter) up and down the stairs in the best way :)

It's complicated

2011-03-10T21:55:00.003+01:00

In its categories for relationships, Facebook has one entitled "It's complicated." When a monk friend of mine used that to describe his relationship status, I had to laugh: it definitely seemed fitting!

I just hadn't expected it also to be fitting for my relationship with the community. But at the moment, it seems that "it's complicated" is probably the best way to describe things. That I deeply care about those involved in the community and that I want the community to flourish has not changed. Nor has my desire to be involved in the growth and well-being of the community and those participating in it. But somewhere along the way, the relationship got complicated - and I don't entirely have words for how to talk about it, at least not in a way that I want to on this blog. And it has also meant that I haven't had the words to share my wonder and joy in living community, things that I miss talking about.

The role of community in my life is thus overshadowed by other things, the most significant being Matthijs's place in my life. Academics, Christianity, relationships and freelancing stuff play also a huge role, but my frequent mentioning of Matthijs feels nonetheless fitting - what with us still being newlyweds, after all.

The woman with the cat

2011-03-09T10:18:00.003+01:00

I generally don't give money to people on the street, and I'm not entirely sure if that's a good thing.

I just don't think giving money is all that helpful. In Amsterdam, there are lots of places where people can receive help and assistence - including from the community (see the website). For me being able to participate in what the community is doing to reach out to homeless and undocumented folks in various ways (social work, coffee, a place of quiet, medical care, a home) is to me a positive and effective way to help those in need. And I know that Oudezijds100 isn't the only place in the Netherlands where people looking for help can find it. I know the system isn't perfect, but it seems that there are here a significant number of ways of helping people out that are more likely to be effective than handing out money on the street.

But this past weekend, I was in Belgium, and I don't know how the system there works - or what kind of 'more effective' means of help there are. All I know is my standard policy of not giving out money, and I'm not sure of it anymore.

On Friday evening in Antwerp, I noticed an older woman carrying a cat and quite a bit more stuff. My attention turned to her, wondering if I ought to ask her if I could help her carry anything. She noticed my attention and asked for change. I was surprised by the question, responding that I didn't have any (which I was pretty sure I didn't, although I could have asked Matthijs, who most likely had some). She seemed embarassed, and it felt like an awkward moment. I think both of us were surprised by her question: I, because I had thought I had recognized in her a need, but it hadn't been one of money, and she, because she did not appear as if this was something she did often.

The question for help, and the woman with the cat, have stayed with me. And I regret not having given her something. I hope and pray that someone will respond to her ask for help better than I did. And I wonder if I ought to re-think my 'standard policy' of not giving to random strangers.

Weekend in Gent

2011-03-07T21:51:00.001+01:00

This past weekend Matthijs and I went to Gent, delighting in a weekend away to spend lots of time together and explore a new city. Unfortunately, we both managed to forget our cameras (oeps!): so no pictures of us as a happy couple in Gent. Instead, I'll give you lots of links so you can get a feel for our trip. The first link is to earlier pictures that I have of Gent: ones taken when I had been in the Netherlands and posted on this blog. I must admit to remembering almost nothing of that original visit - except the picture of me in the Meat Market (that and the wonderful conversation I had with Tarcizion in a random courtyard, which Matthijs and I found again, much to my delight!)

This past weekend we walked around a lot, and so most of the pictures available from Google Images are now familiar to us. And what did we do for the rest?
- visited a number of churches (my favourite being Sint-Niklaas, I think - although St Bavo's Cathedral is probably the most impressive),
- went on a boat trip (not recommended - it might be because I've been spoiled by too many Amsterdam canal trips with the community's local captain, but I have to say that the trip in Gent was rather dull),
- stayed at a cosy and inexpensive little bed and breakfast,
- ate random belgian food (we don't recommend the strange raspberry candy and the apple pie was more cake than pie, but the pastry was great - as was our dinner in this random purple building across from the City Museum), and
- visited the Design Museum and the City Museum. The design museum was pretty good, but, as you can already see from the website, the City Museum was amazing (and this is from somebody who prefers not to visit museums too frequently!), and
- we relaxed and talked lots.

We'd recommend the trip :)
We came home tired but content, filled with a sense that we now not only know Gent better but also know each other better, too.

love shows itself in many different ways

2011-03-03T20:07:00.001+01:00

This morning at breakfast, I acknowledged to Matthijs that I had taken things out of proportion during our discussion the night before. Matthijs responded by telling me that he thought I did have a point.

And in those words to each other, I saw a glimpse of our love for each other - imperfect, with both of us admitting to making mistakes in how we relate to each other - but still with a strong desire to listen well to the other person.

And I also saw our conversation this morning as a sign that our communicating with each other keeps getting better - that we are learning better to speak and act in a way that is honest to who each of us is while also stepping back and trying to hear what the other person is hearing. And we are growing us a couple - getting more used to wondering what will help us both as a couple and as individuals to flourish.

It surprised me that this conversation was what made me think of our love for each other. Love shows itself in so many different ways, so why would I see this conversation as a sign? Perhaps because it is this conversation on top of so many other things - the laughter, the tea being made at breakfast, the supper to come home to, the games we play together, and all of the conversations - all signs of a love that continues to grow.

a short visit

2011-02-28T12:08:00.000+01:00

I have been working on a number of random projects this last month: a translation, an article on Ezekiel 18, teaching a couple of Old Testament seminars, making some entries for an online biblical dictionary, and so on. Plus, of course, all the usual life things. It's been good, except for a problem with deadlines - I'm currently behind on the last of the two projects, which has caused a bit of havoc with all the other usual life things - including updating the blog.

But my sister Janice managed to plan a conference in Europe for her work - and took a side trip to visit here kast weekend. It was lovely to do some fun things together and to catch up. The only problem was that it reminded me again of how far away I am from the lives of my family living back in Canada. And I find that hard sometimes.

Here are photos of our day out in Rotterdam :)

a promotional concert (Blof) that we bumped into walking along

random art work - oil barrels

there's nothing quite like dutch toys


our tourboat

a fully loaded ship


loading and unloading

Ship repairs

Currently the New York Hotel, but formerly the place where people emigrated to America

me and Janice

The cube houses

Not living out one's calling

2011-02-05T11:02:00.003+01:00

I remember there being a bit of a joke in Seminary about how becoming a pastor was something you did only after it was obvious that there was no way you could avoid doing it. The idea behind the joke had to do with the idea that being a pastor wasn't just something one did because you thought it'd be interesting or fulfilling - it was a calling. Unless you had the sense that this is definitely what God was asking of you, it wasn't worth the likely suffering, the demands, and the challenges.

Sometimes I feel the same way about community life. 'Run away from it!' seems like good advice. I do believe that all of us are designed to live in some kind of community - but for most of us that calling is within a church, friend-group or family setting, with limited people really close to us - and many of whom are fairly similar to us. The kind of intense community where one attemps to live, worship and work with people different from oneself and stand open for new people and lots of changes - to be part of this kind of community long-term has to be a calling. In any relationship it is hard enough to take on the challenges of listening well, working through problems together, and loving the other persons for who they are and not just who we want them to be. But in a setting where people are more different from us and not family, these challenges increase significantly - and to have the strength and courage to do this takes a lot of help from God mixed amongst a sense that this is how one can best glorify God.

I feel called to this kind of community. My delight in it and my desire to face the challenges well and glorify God in what I do comes through in numerous entries on this blog. And this calling has been confirmed by others around me.

But what happens when one doesn't live in community? When circumstances make it so that, at this moment, I'm not sure how best to live out this calling?
And I have no answer to these disconcerting questions. It is perhaps not so surprising then that my life feels off-balance at the moment.

Increasing my political involvement

2011-02-02T17:01:00.001+01:00

A bit more than a week ago, the ChristenUnie party had their 'friend day', a day when members of the party and people interested in the party could come together to hear what the party was doing and get a glimpse of what was going on in Parliament. As it was being held at the Parliamentary buildings, which is only a 10-minute bike ride from house, it seemed like a perfect chance for me not only to become more acquainted with the party but also with politics here in the Netherlands.

I have to admit that my political involvement in the past has generally been limited to voting - and then only sometimes. I'm a citizen of a land (Canada) that can call an election on short notice. When you happen not to be residing in that country, both figuring out who to vote for and organising a vote by proxy aren't all that easy to do within 50 days (And the year I was in Ukraine, I was so out of touch with things that the election was almost past before I even found out that there would be one!). Such a level of involvement is not exactly ideal - but how does one change that?

Being a citizen of the Netherlands (and actually living in the country :)) has opened up opportunities for more political involvement. Seeing Matthijs's example of attending political conferences and just generally being knowledgeable of the political issues has also been an encouragement to do something. Living in a country that has a representative system also makes involvement much more attractive. Whereas voting in Canada meant a complicated process of deciding to 'waste one's vote' on a party that represented me well or voting for the party most likely to beat the party that I really didn't agree with; such a choice doesn't exactly motivate one to get involved except perhaps in a fight to change the system.

The Netherlands has a representative system - and it means that a little party like the ChristenUnie is able to have a say in how things work. This is due to their being the extra votes needed to pass something - and reasonable requests can be made by the ChristenUnie in exchange for their votes. What makes it most interesting for me is that it is a party that has Christian values (especially family values), is fairly socialist, and is big on the environment. In my experience in North America, it felt unusual to find Christian groups aware of the environment let alone motivated about doing things about it! [Thankfully, this is changing.]

And so to find a party that is a combination of various things that I find important makes me interested in getting involved. And the 'friend day' helped, too. Not only did I learn more about the party and how it works, I got to see the 'tweede kamer' [second house], learn more about European Parliament, and I saw that those involved seemed like ordinary individuals like me. The only thing I could still wish for was for a focus on more involvement of non-white males - there were a number of females involved in leadership but the number of minorities present was definitely disappointing.

'Man cannot live by bread alone'

2011-01-31T14:30:00.000+01:00

If you go days without eating vegetables (or fruit), your body starts to act unhappy. This feeling that there is something wrong is likely worse if you're used to eating a lot of vegetables.

As much as I believe God intended us humans to eat vegetables on a regular basis, I'm pretty sure that this isn't exactly the intended meaning of the text, 'man cannot live by bread alone.' (Matthew 4.4)

And yet the idea of going without vegetables gives a good illustration for how I've experienced this text in the last little while. Just like I feel kind of out-of-order when I haven't had enough vegetables, I feel kind of grouchy and out of sorts when I don't attend communal prayer times regularly.

It's not that this is the only way I can get 'my vegetables' (i.e., relating to God): reading the Bible, personal prayers, singing, attending church services, reading good spiritual literature, playing piano, visiting a monastery for a weekend are all other ways that I've discovered. But there's something about communal prayer appeals to me; kind of like I prefer broccoli to beans (and much more than brussel sprouts!).

I'm thankful to live in a place where such communal prayer isn't so far away. I've discovered that it takes 15 minutes to get from my apartment to the chapel of the brothers of Saint John here in Den Haag. I haven't made it to the prayer time at 7 a.m. yet, but the midday prayer (and once in awhile the evening prayer) is becoming a regular part of my life. The classic prayer liturgy of psalms and prayers, chanted by a group of monks close to my age, is starting to become welcomingly familiar to me.

If I ever feel too lazy to get on my bike to go there, I can always remind myself of how not ideal it feels to go without vegetables for too long...

Going exploring for the day

2011-01-30T23:13:00.001+01:00

Yesterday, Matthijs and I went away for the day. Just because we could :) We've been relatively busy in the last few weeks, especially in the weekends - and although we've had quite a bit of time together, we both longed to do something special together. And so we went out exploring for the day.

The original idea had been Gorinchem and Slot Loevestein - but we discovered that it wasn't open this past weekend (fortunately on friday evening before we were there!). So then the question was 'where to?'

And it was the village of Maassluis. Why? Simply because it was the city in my 'city guide book (ANWB)' that was the right distance away and sounded the most appealing. So we headed out with the train to see what adventure we'd meet.

And what did we find?
- We discovered that the only coffee sold in the train station in Schiedam is from a vending machine (you can also buy dr pepper soda and mini-potato salads in the vending machine).
- We saw one of the first churches in the Netherlands built as a Protestant church - it was built in a cross with each 'arm' being of equal length.
- We got to tour a tugboat - an old steam one - including a detailed explanation of how it worked (between my machinal knowledge and dutch language skills, I must admit to not entirely following it at times :)).
- We had cappucinos and shared a pancake at a local cafe (delicious).
- We saw the birthplace of Abraham Kuyper (and took a moment to honour it) - and then wondered what he would think of his birthplace being now the location of a Kruidvaat (a cheap drugstore).

And then we went home, stopping along the way to each fried fish (kibbeling) and check out a place where we might spend a gift certificate from the wedding.

It was a lovely day - a delight to discover a new place together. Perhaps this kind of adventure ought to become a normal montly activity....

Taking care of the last post-wedding details (or living without a car)

2011-01-17T19:21:00.005+01:00

Except for the thank-you's, we've now pretty much taken care of all of the post-wedding details. And like many big events, it was a bit of a surprise what one of the last details to take care of was.

For the dinner, we'd rented many things in - and for easier transport they came in roll containers. When the rental was picked up, they were missing one of the roll containers - and even after looking around, no one could find it. When I came back, I'd heard that it appeared as if something was missing when the rental was picked up, but I figured I'd wait for the bill before I'd worry too much about it.

But then I didn't get the bill for rather a long time, so I eventually contacted the rental place (It turns out that someone had been emptying my old postbox in order to forward it to me - only it got accidentally forwarded to the wrong address). And then I discovered a funny charge of 100 euros on the bill - for a missing roll container [See rollcontainers.co.uk for picture - it looked like the smallest one.]. I paid it, but also began a search for the missing roll container. Did it got "borrowed" from the alleyway? Did it get brought to the main house? Or was it buried in one of the buildings? Eventually, the great people from maintenance let me know that they'd found it - folded up in one of the buildings and hidden behind some stuff.

And then began the process of determining how to return a roll container to its home in Amersfoort. I figured it wouldn't be too difficult: the company could simply pick it up in one of its next trips to Amsterdam - but then it turned out that there weren't any next trips to Amsterdam. When I figured that out, I was too late to ask the family moving to Amersfoort to take it with them (which would have been the best idea!). The company wanted the container back (it'd been 8 weeks now already, so I couldn't blame them) but they weren't really ready to drive to Amsterdam to pick it up - it didn't seem so cost-efficient.

So I was stuck with the organisational challenge of returning a rollcontainer when one doesn't have a driver's license. The obvious way is to ask someone who has a vehicle and license to help. But that's still 3 hours of someone's time, plus gas money, and finding a vehicle large enough to hold it. After all the wedding organisation, I wasn't up for the organisation required for this and instead I went for a simpler option: I took it on the train.

And I discovered that if you look like you know what you're doing, people don't look at you all that strange. I didn't ask too many questions but instead bought a train "bike ticket" for the container (it fit nicely in the bike parking spot), and pushed it to its home along the bike paths in Amersfoort. I was exhausted by the end (I've been a bit under the weather and this kind of crazy excursion was pushing the limits), but very happy to have finally taken care of this last annoying detail.

And besides, it makes a great story. Perhaps I should have been more willing to have my picture taken, though....

A liturgical downer

2011-01-05T21:34:00.008+01:00

In advent, we spend four weeks looking forward to the coming of Christ - both his first coming and the second coming. We look forward to the hope brought by Christmas and anticipate as well the final coming of Christ when everything will be made right. And then Christmas comes, and it is a large celebration - for Christ has come to earth!!!!

And then on 28 december, it's the feast day of the 'death of the innocents.' In the glow of the great celebration of Christmas, we are forced to focus on the fact that Herod, in his attempt to thwart Jesus' kingship on earth, kills all the young boys in a region. A liturgical 'downer' is how I'd put it. While still in the midst of the height of the celebration of Christ coming to earth and making all things right, we are blatantly confronted with sin and the hostile actions of the world.

So what do we do with this day? Does this remembrance of the 'death of the innocents' tarnish our celebration? Or does it remind us that Christ's coming is also the continuation of a struggle between good and evil, with evil still fighting hard? Or?

I'm not entirely sure what the answer is. I simply know that the church has chosen this day to remember, and that in itself makes it fitting to do so.

For practical thoughts on how to remember this day, Sr. Edith on her blog dwells on who the holy innocents today are, questioning whether society in general marginalizes children and the damage this causes.

A scary Christmas story

2011-01-04T21:44:00.000+01:00

As it's still officially Christmastime (and somewhat in reaction to the fact that a lot of people act as if Christmas stops 2 days after Christmas), I figured I could still write a blog related to Christmas.

On Christmas Eve, I joked that I didn't really need to go to the Christmas Eve chapel service for the children, as I did pretty much already know the story. 'But maybe this time it would be different?' I was asked - perhaps this time it would be a scary story. And I thought - a scary Christmas story - huh, how is that possible?

And when we started thinking about it, it dawned on us that the Christmas story is kind of scary. I mean, Mary and Joseph are travelling to a new town while she could have the child at any time. And as much as Elizabeth, her cousin, is part of the pregnancy time in the story, there's no mentioning of any family travelling with Joseph and Mary. So they're in a new village among strangers (albeit probably distant relatives and people friendly enough to make room somewhere for them) about to give birth not just to any child but the Son of God.

And the next question is what kind of baby the Son of God would be. Certainly, he would be human and live on earth, but there was certainly no guarantee that he would look or act like any other baby. Or even a guarantee that he would come out as a baby (perhaps it would just be a mini-man, like some of the icons seem to depict Jesus as being)! Perhaps Jesus would glow or have mini-wings. Who knew?

And who knew if Mary would survive the birth? There was no promise that she would get to raise her son - only that she would bear him. Who could know whether a woman could withstand the birth of God?

When you stop and think about the story, a story that most of us have heard almost too often, it is rather surprising how much potential scariness is part of the story. And considering how much scariness, how much uncertainty is part of our lives today, it is perhaps comforting to recognize the scariness and uncertainty in this sometimes too familiar story.

Taking time to contemplate life

2010-12-22T22:26:00.000+01:00

I received the following quote in my feed reader today (taken from the Subiaco Abbey blog):

I found it a good reminder: taking time to contemplate life is something I strive to do.

But at the same time, even as much as I'm thankful for how good it has been to slow down and resting after the wedding event, I struggle with how much the slowing down is actually good contemplation and how much is taking a good and necessary break - and how much can be laziness and/or a lack of desire of putting in the hard work of making new patterns and trying out new things?

Thus I have more to contemplate - in this season of contemplation and remembering that Christ is coming, coming to heal us of our brokenness.

When it snows, it rains...

2010-12-21T16:41:00.000+01:00

There is snow in the Netherlands - lots of it, and it's not going away. Last year was the first year in a long time that the Netherlands got a significant amount of snow, so people are slightly more prepared for things - but the snow still makes everything somewhat more complicated.

Fortunately, public transportation is still running. And I can still bike. But since they don't clear the paths or roads (only salt certain areas), biking now involves going over ice sections, through slush, and/or digging through 10 cms of semi-packed snow. I spent almost 2 hours today biking - to go to and from some place that normally takes 15 minutes with a bike!

And it is great that the trains are running (albeit on reduced schedules and with only minimum delays). It just seems that for some reason in the last week, some of the major stations have had hours during the day when almost no train could get in or out.

Thus, it's now a perfect time to stay home, right? except it's now leaking in our bedroom - cold water is coming through a section of the ceiling....

On the bright side, the snow is beautiful - and the encouragement to not take things for granted and to do things a little snower and travel less isn't a bad reminder. And furthermore, the cat is fascinated by the snow (see pictures), so if we ever get bored staying home, we can just toss him out on the balcony :)

Verliebte in Wien

2010-12-08T20:30:00.005+01:00

A couple of pictures from our honeymoon.

Verliebte in Wien means "In love in Vienna." We found these numbers in a subway station - and I thought it made a great picture....

You'll notice that the number has gone up in the second picture :)

Starting over again

2010-12-07T10:55:00.000+01:00

Moving in....

It dawned on me today, after being somewhat exasperated by my lack of productivity, that I am once again starting over again. At least this time, it's only a change of city and not a change of land.
And the language is mostly the same, although the communication is at a completely different level. That comes with the new territory - the switch from being single to married - and the process of learning to share not only one's space, but also one's life with another.

The cat making himself at home

And starting over again means that I have given up my home and the place where I had mostly figured out where I belonged, and so it is discomforting and confusing at times. I miss knowing my place and knowing the routine and knowing where things go. I miss the routine of community life, most especially the daily prayers and coffee. And I'm not used to my new role within the community - that of being there sometimes, with my presence being more of a delightful surprise than something that can be normally expected. The feeling of welcoming has been great, but I still miss the comfortableness I had in being part of the normal life of the community. It's hard to know how to mourn these aspects well, when they are overshadowed by the fact that what I have received is more than worth what I have given up.

Making a home for my things
- and overruling some of Matthijs's stuff :)

I am in the middle of making a new home, of finding new places to put things (and hiding things on Matthijs and secretly stashing my stuff on the bookshelves - note the picture of Sint Nicolaas being overshadowed by my toy), and the cat is making himself at home. And we enjoy just being together - we still can't get over the reality that every day we can eat dinner together and go home together. And we've played lots and lots of games together (we even have more after the wedding!). And in the midst of starting a life together, we can dream together and wonder about how life can and should be now. That's a bit overwhelming at times, but it's also pretty amazing.

Somewhat dissheveled, but happy to be 'home.'

So as much as my heart longs for working on research, it's not surprising that it's also full of lots of other thoughts and feelings - and starting again is a bit harder than I expected. It's a bit of a disappointment at times, but it's probably also healthy.

Being a newlywed in Advent

2010-11-28T23:09:00.000+01:00

As I was sitting in church this morning, soaking up the reality that this Sunday marks the beginning of advent, I started wondering what it meant to be a newlywed during Advent. When I think of Advent, I think of the idea of "already - but not yet" - a time of remembering that God's kingdom is here already, but it is also not here - and we long for a time when everything should be as it ought to be. So how does that fit with being a newlywed?

Being engaged felt a lot like being in an 'already-not yet' period. It was a time of starting a new life together, while still recognizing that it wasn't until the wedding that the new life together would begin. And the wedding was the day we were waiting for - even if some of the organization could be done before then (like moving some of my stuff) - and some of the celebrating had already started (I had friends and family visiting for a whole week before the wedding!), it was only on the wedding day that all the planning involved in having the wedding and family visit and moving and so on would be pretty much over. The anticipation of having all that planning and organizing done and finally being to able start a new life together made the wedding itself feel a lot like Christmas. So, how do I wait again, now that I finally feel like my time of waiting is finally over?

And my thoughts turned to how even if we're now finally married and the wedding is over, the marriage is just beginning. And learning to adjust to the fact that Matthijs's home is now also mine, and my cat is now also Matthijs's (we're not sure for whom this is the greater adjustment!) is challenging, as is building a marriage together that's good for both of us: learning how to be ourselves while making space for each other and trusting each other fully. As those things aren't always easy, it now sometimes feel like we're still in the waiting period - like our marriage is "already, but not quite yet" still. And that's where advent fits in well - this beginning of the church year, just like our new marriage, is full of hope that things will be good. After all, Jesus is coming, so how could it not be good?

Pausing

2010-11-12T08:50:00.000+01:00

A little over a week ago the community had their geloftebevestiging, the moment when the community members renew their promises to the community. In a bit more than a week, I'll be getting married and making the commitment to a life together with Matthijs. So besides the usual busy-ness of life in community (and my needing to arrange for somebody to cover my absence in the weeks to come), there's also been the busy-ness of wedding planning - and anticipating a visit of family and friends. It's all been good, but it's also been a bit full. And I'm looking forward to everything in the next while, but I'm also looking forward to life slowing down again, so I can take a deep breath.

But for now, I'm a bit absent on my blog - just like I'm somewhat absent from the community in the next while. Pausing is good, as it helps to put things (back) into perspective. But i hope not to pause too long - my being able to share what's going on in life is a way for me to look anew at the challenges and blessings of my life.

Taking a break during the first year of being married

2010-10-22T08:19:00.002+02:00

One of the things that I'm really looking forward to about being married is having time with Matthijs: time that is not taken over by planning a wedding or by organizing the next time we'll see each other. And there will no longer be 1.5 hours travel time before (and after) seeing each other! That means there'll be time to have lots of conversations and think together and laugh together and do nothing together. Yay!
A number of people have told me to take the time to enjoy that first year of being married and not to do too much other stuff. I know that's wise advise, but I still chafe a bit when I hear it. Perhaps it's simply because I don't like being told what to do or feeling like people assume that because I've never being married, I have absolutely no idea what it might be like (or what would be good for me). I don't know for sure what it'll be like, but I do have some ideas of what might be good. I am purposely trying not to plan too much for after the wedding, as I want to give us space to make plans together; after we get married, it's even more obvious that it's not just about "my" plans anymore but it's now "our" plans. So I am already kind of following the advice to take it easy - but the advice itself still makes me a bit uncomfortable. It's not like I'm not looking forward to spending lots of time with Matthijs (see first paragraph of this for a reminder); it's just that I'm uncomfortable with the idea of my whole life revolving around Matthijs and my marriage. I (we) do certainly want to invest lots of time in building solid habits and good communication for married life - that's why we're taking a marriage course now - and why we've spent lots of time and energy already on the difficult questions of expectations and desires and communicating well. And it will be nice to slow down and settle somewhat, so that the chaos in my life (brought about, I expect, by many of the recent changes) can decrease somewhat. And I do want to laugh lots and enjoy being married!

But we also want our marriage to be fruitful; in the beginning, some of the fruit we bear will be a solid foundation for our marriage - but even in building that solid foundation, we don't want to lose sight of the vision that our marriage is to be honouring to God, a means for each of us to be more the people God wants us to be, and a blessing to others. And I can see now already a bit of how that might be manifested: Matthijs and I both want the excitement and joy of being married, coupled with our now having a constant theological sparring partner, to bear fruit in my dissertation and academic endeavours (and maybe also some academic endeavours for Matthijs, too :)). And we want our joy of being married to spread to those around us - and who better to share that joy with than those we love: the community and other friends and family?
The Old Testament talks about a newlywed not being allowed to go to war or be obligated in any way (Deut 24:5): "he must be free to stay at home for a full year and bring joy to the woman he has married." If I do some practical exegesis, I assume that the intention was not that the man should do nothing for a year - I can't imagine too many women who'd find joy in their husband hanging around the house doing nothing! There is thus a bit of interpreting here, and my interpreting is that, especially in the first year, the couple chooses first and always for what's best for their marriage and can push other important obligations of serving God and society aside (this building a foundation for a healthy marriage is, after all, the best way to serve God and society). But that doesn't imply doing nothing - in fact, the need to do nothing can then also become an obligation that hinders our marriage. And it does not imply that we'll have to turn away from other joys (and challenges) in our life, like the community, singing, visiting, and playing soccer. Perhaps we need to make limits, but the hope and expectation is that those other things that bring joy and challenges would in turn be a blessing to our marriage.

So how does one prepare for a wedding?

2010-10-20T09:59:00.000+02:00

Well, there's the usual ways of making lists and talking to people and buying stuff and making plans. And I've been doing that - sometimes too much, actually. But I've also discovered another way to prepare for a wedding: go to different weddings. And it just so happens that Matthijs and I have 3 weddings in October to go to. In my first four years of being in the Netherlands, I'd only managed to go to 3 weddings, and now, all of a sudden, 3 in one month! It makes it a busier month, but it also is fun to get ideas and perspective and have lots of fun, especially as I get to play honorary sister of the bride for the last one in October!

And if you ask, I'd tell you that I'm not stressed about the wedding. But last night I dreamt that I'd been brought to the wrong church, which started half an hour earlier, and I didn't even have the right shoes on (just my regular sandles) - and I blamed Matthijs for it all, even yelling at him. But I think after yelling at him, I felt better and I was still happy to have married him (even if it wasn't perfect). Eventually, probably when I kept being puzzled by how I could have had the wrong shoes on, I realized it was a dream and this couldn't be all happening - and I woke up. The only good thing about the dream was the realization that it's obvious that I'm looking forward to being married, even if it's not perfect :)

Productivitiy and Prayer

2010-10-18T11:06:00.000+02:00

What with the wedding, there are a lot of things that need doing (and then there are other normal life things that ought to be done). And that puts pressure on me to be superproductive. It's not a bad pressure, except for one thing: prayer and coffee/tea drinking and mealtimes (normal parts of community life) are not exactly productive.

So in the midst of the strong sense that I need to be productive, my normal desire to attend prayer and other activities in the community is quelched. This sometimes means that I don't attend prayer - I allow other things to come first. But it also means that sometimes I choose to go to prayer, choosing to do something unproductive as a way of trusting that things will get done and be good without my doing something all the time. And this choice forces me to remember that even if being productive is a way of being faithful to God, productivity isn't the same as being faithful. And I don't want my life to focus on how I can do more but instead on how I can do things delighting in God and participate in what God is already doing.

Silence is golden

2010-10-13T08:33:00.000+02:00

There's a saying in english about "silence being golden." It suggests that there is beauty in silence.

There's another saying with regards to silence that my mother taught me: "if you don't have anything good to say, then say nothing at all."

And I have been silent here on this blog. Not because I have nothing good to say, but because I haven't always known how to say it. Or haven't always had the energy to say it.

It's not that planning a wedding is so overwhelming - it's basically an incredibly long to-do list all focused on one major event. To do-lists are manageable. And thankfully I've had experience planning other things (one of the advantages of being a bit older when I get married), so planning this isn't so bad.

The challenge is that my life doesn't stop to plan a wedding - so there's other stuff that needs doing, too (and which takes time and energy).

And it's surprising what unknown things you bump into when planning, especially about expectations, communication, and relationships. Finding a healthy way to work through the stuff that comes up also takes up quite a bit of time and energy. But even if that part hasn't been always so pleasant, I am deeply thankful for the sense that I have grown in my relationships and my ability to relate to others well.

But I think I'm still very much looking forward to a break from it all after the wedding.

Weekend at a Convent

2010-09-21T10:58:00.001+02:00

I spent the weekend at a convent, and it was good. I went expecting to meet God, and I was not disappointed. I had given myself permission ahead of time to waste time with God and others. As for my time with others, the only negative thing I can say was that the conversation and questions raised were too interesting and delightful to be part of! It was the kind of fellowship that you hope for and yet still are delightfully surprised by. But at the same I also wanted to spend time with God alone and listen/talk with Him far enough away from a world that had felt confining and confusing in the last little while. Although it took some effort to put aside both my book and the delightful distraction of others around me, it was worth the effort to hang out with God. I emptied (again) before God all of what had been happening in the last while, especially the pain, confusion, guilt, and anger involved. This release to God felt much needed - and although the presence of the others might have felt like a distraction from this really good part of the weekend, I think the laughter and delight in meeting the others made it easier to face with honesty the challenges of the last time. Even if I wasn't willing to share what I was struggling with, sharing in the laughter was enough - perhaps another time/day, it will be good to share more.

One of the best parts of the weekend was a strong feeling that this kind of religious life is for me (albeit transposed to a less Catholic setting and as a married person). One way was in getting some perspective; to be reminded that we are not the only community with its share of quirks - and laughing at these more would probably do me good. And another was the fellowship - the delightful sense of getting to be yourself and have opinions and puzzle together through things and laugh together; in all of these things, to celebrate the other person for who he/she is. Certainly with time, fellowship becomes more challenging because we bump more into how who each one of us is sometimes exasperates others - and then we have to learn to make space and celebrate the other still. And this is what I want to strive for in living in community - and even if it's hard and sometimes exasperating, it is worth the effort - as this glimpse of delightful fellowship let me see.

And perhaps the part that is the most confirming was the sense of having been ready to meet God. Even if I'm not always present for the daily prayers here (physically or mentally), even if I struggle with doing fellowship well, even if my goal of Sunday with God doesn't succeed so well, and even if I feel overwhelmed sometimes with things here, my normal life has still been shaped to be open towards God and others. And thankfully, even when I don't do as well as I want to in being open, God gently finds ways to meet me and remind me of how it can be - and how much I can delight in that.

looking at the Red Light District

2010-09-20T11:27:00.000+02:00

I haven't written too much about my neighbourhood in the last while, but it is something that is often in the back of my head. So when I read Marco's thoughts about his experience here in the Red Light District, I wanted to share them with more people as I thought they might be a helpful way to have others see the Red Light District.

Marco begins thus:
"This neighborhood gets me down. And the worst thing is not the prostitutes or drug dealers. The worst thing is the tourists. Isn't it sad enough that humans have strange and dark needs and desires, that they can so easily fall victim to all-consuming addictions and that these are so universal that every major city has prostitution and drug dealing... must we make a TOURIST ATTRACTION out of it? What went wrong?

His further thoughts can be found at his blog, "songs of a soupman"

Resolving my commitment to the community with my commitment to my future spouse

2010-09-10T17:32:00.001+02:00

In the last while I've been doing quite a bit of processing about my relationship to the community. This has to do with some of the things that have been happening in the community, especially changes in the core group. But a lot of it also has to do with the fact that my relationship to Matthijs changes pretty much everything.

Have I mentioned that I don't always handle change well?!?

So in the midst of these changes, I've been sorting out commitments and loyalties and looking closely at how I relate to people and what expectations I have (including trying to be honest about what's not healthy, in the hopes that it will become healthier). I'm deeply thankful for this processing, and I believe deeply that my relationships are generally improving because of this, but it hasn't been very pleasant - and not just for me, I know (Matthijs has received the brunt of my frustration sometimes, alongside of the lack of clarity found in being in the middle of processing, and he's still been really encouraging).

As part of the processing, I wrote an article for catapult magazine about communities and commitments and sorting out the balance. It can be found online: but nuns can't get married!. If you read it, it'd be helpful to remember the lack of clarity that's often found in the middle of processing - and that I'm still in the middle of it.

But even though it feels like the processing with all this stuff is not yet resolved, there's been some really great moments of clarity along the way. I have received a strong sense of two things -first: that I really want to be more honest, including in my relationships with others - and second: pray more. Those two realizations have been worth all the messiness of the processing.

the friendly neighbourhood homeless guy

2010-09-09T16:38:00.002+02:00

When I moved into the community a number of years ago, I was aware that we had a sort of drop-in centre. That part of the life here intrigued me, especially as it felt like I'd be better able to be personally involved with the poor and needy, something I felt Christians ought to do but had no idea how. I had felt pretty distant from the poor and needy while attending Seminary or living in a small town. My only experience with homeless folk was a few random people begging and some of the gypsy camps in Ukraine. When I taught there, a gypsy woman who I saw regularly would often ask for money. I'd give her money sometimes, but I felt rather helpless in knowing better what to do.

And now, I sit and have coffee amidst homeless folks. Sometimes it's nothing more than sitting in the same room as each other - conversations flow among people who've known each other for long and less with those who've just come to visit for the coffee. And sometimes a coffee that's all that's wanted - or a place to get out of the rain or cold and to rest and get a bit of coffee. But sometimes it's a conversation that's desired, something I still find difficult to manage with some people. But with others, it's much easier - and we've built a kind of rapport. So with some of those who walk in, even if we don't talk, there's a general appreciation for the other.

And sometimes we'll even see each other on walking along the street and then we'll greet each other. That I now do that and find that normal is something I'm glad of; it feels like a number of people have stopped being "those homeless folks" who are nameless and in desperate need of help. Instead, a number of guys have started becoming one of my friendly neighbourhood homeless guys, people I enjoy greeting on the street and look forward to seeing. And even if I'm still not sure when it comes to homelessness how best I can love God and others, it feels like there's been a step forward. And I feel honoured that I now have some homeless guys in my social circle, something I would never have imagined possible before I came here.