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

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

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

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...

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

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

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....

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.