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

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

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

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

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...

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

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

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.