This Vast Ocean

I haven't written in a while. I don't just mean that I haven't blogged in awhile, though that's true too. But what I'm driving at is that I haven't sat myself down and let my jumbled thoughts and confused feelings flow through my pen onto paper, or rather, through my fingers onto the keyboard.

It's therapeutic really: the act of simply letting your mind fly and leaving your emotions behind. The punctuation, word choice, sentence structure, and all that your English teacher told you was important doesn't matter anymore.

It's freeing. There's nothing quite like it.

So with that, bear with me while I ditch my classically taught logical mindset for a moment, and simply let my thoughts soar.

Sometimes God's love seems incomprehensible. Who am I kidding? It always seems that way. I picture His love on a string, dangling in front of my face, almost hypnotizing me. I'm entranced by it. I'm dazed by it. I'm so fully overwhelmed in it's presence that I am dumbstruck. Immobile. Overcome. It is in this moment that all I want to do is stretch out my hand and grab it. I want to hold it in my hands, to feel it, to grasp it, to be immersed in it.

But this is where the immobile part comes in to play.

Why can't I seem to reach far enough? Wait, why can't I seem to reach at all? Why do I feel paralyzed? All I want is to understand, to hold on to that love, to never let it slip from my grip.

This past summer was an interesting one. I ran. I ran fast. I practically found myself fleeing. For those of you who just cringed when you pictured me physically sprinting, not to worry because, yes, I am speaking metaphorically. I ran from all that I knew. I ran from the truth that I had always been taught. I ran from the God that I had always served. I didn't just run, though. I hid and I lived behind a disguise. This isn't to say that God, himself, was fooled. I may be able to convince myself that everything is normal, but the same cannot be said for the God of the universe.

Allow me to rewind.

The day was 16 April, 2013. The setting was Wenatchee, WA. I arrived back in the small town that held my childhood and all that I found my identity in six months prior. I loved that evening. I saw my family. I saw my friends. I went to bed that night with one feeling: contentment. The following morning, however, was a different story. I felt an obvious void in my heart. I had left behind the beautiful Austrian Alps which had been my home for the past six and a half months. I had left behind the children I had loved and cherished. I had left behind some of the people who have had the biggest impact in my life thus far. And there I was, back in the place that started it all. Back where nothing was new and everything was comfortable.

This led to my summer: Four months that starkly contrasted and contradicted everything that I had learned on my Austrian adventure. I was lost and I sought to find something to fill that hole hidden somewhere within me. I searched and convinced myself that I found my refuge in the world.

My real refuge did not manifest itself until about two months ago, however.

I embarked on the next adventure. Portland called my name and as I embraced my inner hipster, I also embraced the source of my wanderings. It was so simple. How could I have missed it?

Fear of man.

I found that I was so entranced in what others thought about me. "Will my Christian friends think I'm not Christian enough? Will my non-Christian friends think I'm too Christian? How does my hair look? Are these shoes okay?"

My dad has a lot of sayings. Things he has repeated to me my entire life. One of the most valuable is this: "Your identity is in Jesus".

My identity is not in what I wear. It is not in who I hang out with. It is not in what others think of me. It is not even in how worthy I am of God's love. God brought me back to Himself and as I told a friend today, He simply said, "Okay, well that was a fun few months. Are you ready to get back on track now?" By His grace, I agreed. He placed me back in the passenger seat and gently took the wheel.

 The truth is this: God's love is vast enough for us all and I am no exception. God's love is immeasurable and incomprehensible.

And so we have reached the connecting point of the circle. If I have seen so clearly that He loves me, then why can't I simply grab that love that is hanging right in front of my face?

I want to feel His love, but I can't understand it.

But maybe, my friends, THAT is exactly the point. Maybe that is what I have searched for all along. Maybe while I struggled to understand His love, I had found my answer. All I had to do was simply accept that I won't be able to comprehend it.

Maybe we are supposed to drown in it. Maybe we are supposed to be overwhelmed by it. Maybe it is so powerful, so deep, so strong that we are merely supposed to feel it and bask in the comfort that we are in over our heads and while we don't have a plan, He does.

Maybe our job is not to understand the love, but to accept it and pass it on.



"This vast ocean of love cannot be measured or explained, but it can be experienced." -Sarah Young

Bittersweet

This morning, I ate toast for breakfast.

Not just any toast. Bread that was delicately placed in the big black toaster and carefully carried to the table in a plastic lunch box and served to me...by my favorite 4-year-old boy.

This morning I woke up to snow. Again. After 2 weeks of sunshine.

Mother nature lied to me.

But instead of sitting in my room and Gabi in her office, we decided to take advantage of the fresh powder and take a few runs together while the girls had their ski lesson. After an hour of skiing, we sat in the lodge on top of the hill and had hot chocolate and wonderful conversation.

As we stood on the bunny hill awaiting the girls' arrival, we talked of what a whirlwind the past 5 and a half months have been. And how much we have grown to understand and accept each other through it all.

We drove the girls home and sat down to a meal comprised of left over soup, meat, and salad.

After french braiding Valentina's hair and fluffing Johanna's curls, we played for an hour and then Gabi took them to buy new shoes as an Easter present from Oma.

My "work" was finished for the day.

Do I really only have three more weeks of this?

Am I honestly only 21 days away from home?

6 months ago, I thought that I would be more than ready to leave this place by now. But now that the time to go draws uncomfortably near, I can't say that I am quite ready.

I have grown accustomed to this European way of life.

I have fallen in love with these kids.

I have made relationships that I'm not ready to leave.

And I feel that have a second family here.

Sure, we have had our ups and downs.

Yes, there were times that I wanted to throw in the towel.

There were days that I was fed up with these crazy Austrians and their lifestyle.

But today is not one of those days.

I don't think I'll have too many more of those days.

I went to Budapest, Hungary last weekend. I had an incredible time exploring a foreign country, but by the time I left, I was glad to be leaving. I was glad to not hear the jumbled Hungarian conversations around me. And the second that I crossed the border on to Austrian soil, I felt relief. I heard German. Sure, I still didn't understand it, but it was familiar. It was what I knew. When I arrived in Ramsau that night and collapsed on my bed, I was home.

Today I feel blessed. I feel so close to this family. I feel so loved by this community. I feel at home.

The fact that I am leaving this culture in just three short weeks scares me. It has gone too fast. I spent too long talking about this adventure and anticipating it for it to have flown by at such rapid speed.

While I am scared to go, I am excited. I know that God has plans for me in America and I know that my Austrian adventure has shaped how I will face the next opportunities He throws my way.

So with that said, I have two favorite places on earth: Wenatchee, Washington in the good ole UsofA and Ramsau am Dachstein, Steiermark, Austria. Both are home and both are favorite. It's like having two favorites: grape and cherry. They're both good. If that made no sense to you, please view the following link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prLLabn1vPA

So anyway,

I am so excited to go home in three weeks and, yet so sad to leave home in three weeks.

So today, I am encouraged. I am scared. I am thankful. I am happy.

La La

6:30 am rolls around entirely too quickly every morning here in Ramsau, Austria. The irritating, "beep, beep, beep" jolts me awake and I roll out of bed. "Really? Time to wake up already? Do I really have to go deal with two-year-olds all day long?" All I can think is one thing: Today, I'd rather not. Nevertheless, I venture downstairs from my top floor bedroom. "Teen! Teen! Teen! Teen!" The chorus begins as I walk down the last flight of stairs and emerge looking sleepy. "Teen!" Valentina shouts. "Teen!" Johanna joins in. "Guten Morgen, Christine" Gabi says cheerfully. Gut Moning, Tristine." Jakob, practices his English. "Good Morning." I answer back.

The morning has begun and after I have fixed Valentina her plate of bread with butter and apples and Johanna and Jakob their bowls of musli, Gabi rushes out the door for work and Jakob and Karl soon follow.

It's just the girls and me.

Eventually, Valentina finishes and shouts, "Fertig!" I understand that she is finished and help her out of her high chair. Soon after, Johanna's squeaky, little voice sounds as she points to her bowl, "La la! La la!" This is a dialect word that I didn't understand until about a week ago when I was informed that it means "empty". I wipe off her hands and face and help her down.

Every morning, this is a our breakfast routine.

I arrived back on Austrian soil just over a week ago now. I spent two wonderful weeks home in my very own house, sleeping in my very own bed, and eating darn good all-American food.

It was heavenly.

The two weeks rushed by and soon it was time to board that ten hour flight for the third time in three months.

As I stepped off the plane in Salzburg, jet lagged, queezy, and light headed, I didn't want to be there.

It didn't take long, however, for me to remember why I love this place.

As I sat in the front seat of a large van next to a 60some-year-old Austrian man who didn't speak English but was as friendly as can be and stared out the window at the glorious Alps, my memory was jogged.

I was back.

It seemed like it had been a long time since I had seen those mountains but at the same time it felt like I never left. As I finally arrived to my Ramsau home, I plopped on my bed and thought through what the next 3  months would look like.

A thought crossed my mind: Part of me couldn't believe it was already half over and the other part of me couldn't believe it was only half over.

As I said before, some days I wake up and just really don't want to work.

The second half of this Austrian Adventure has just barely started and already I am learning.

It started out a little rough.

I felt spiritually dry.

I felt overwhelmed by life.

I felt like there was a void somewhere inside me.

I felt like Johanna's musli bowl every morning after its contents have been devoured: La la.

I had spent the first three months immersed in God's Word. But the moment I stepped foot in the comfort of my own home, reality hit, busyness began, and I no longer had nor made the time for Jesus.

Consequently, I arrived back in Ramsau discouraged. How could I fall so deeply in love with Jesus and His Word over three months and then be so easily distracted as soon as life became "normal" and "easy" again? Where did I go wrong?

As I talked to arguably the wisest woman on this planet...my mom...she told me that I had merely entered a valley in my spiritual life and I just needed to seek God's grace and strength to climb back up the mountain.

It seemed easy enough.

A few days passed and instead of feeling filled up, I felt even more bogged down in other issues and "problems" in my life.

Today I woke up and went through the motions. I made breakfast, played with the girls, put them down for their nap, etc, etc. I remember telling a friend, "I'm just tired and done. I'm ready to come home." But as my work day came to a close, I decided to go for a short hike in the snow just before dark. As I reached the top, I sat on a bench and my eyes followed the fresh ski tracks in the fluffy, white powder down the hill and up to the snow covered mountains. I took in the beauty.

If there is one thing that always brings me back to God in this place, it's His glory shown through the marvelous view that I can see basically from my back yard.

I am so blessed.

I have nothing to complain about. I am in Austria for goodness sake.

In that moment, I felt full again. I felt overcome by God's presence. I felt ready to take on the next three months.

I have had, am having, and will have struggles through this experience. But God is sufficient for all my needs. He is the author of my life. He sits in the driver seat. He has a plan. He rules over me. He is King.

I may wake up tired and I may roll out of bed groggy tomorrow, but I can't wait to hear the jumbled greetings of, "Teen! Guten Morgen! Teen! Tristine! Teen!" When Johanna shows me her empty bowl, looks up at me with those big eyes, and says, "La la!" I think I will look back at her and smile.

The only way to get to the next mountain is through a valley. The only way to be filled up is to first be empty.

"Let me bless you with My grace and peace. Open your heart and mind to receive all that I have for you. Do not be ashamed of your emptiness. Instead, view it as the optimal condition for being filled with My peace." -Sarah Young; Jesus Calling