Twentieth-century Presbyterian theologian and writer Frederick Buechner has written:
"Who knows how the awareness of God's love first hits people? Every person has his own tale to tell, including the person who would not believe in God if you paid him. Some moment happens in your life that makes you say Yes right up to the roots of your hair, that makes it worth having been born just to have happen. Laughing with somebody till the tears run down your cheeks. Waking up to the first snow. Being in bed with somebody you love. Whether you thank God for such a moment or thank your lucky stars, it is a moment that is trying to open you up your whole life. If you try to turn your back on such a moment and hurry along to Business as Usual, it may lose you the whole ball game. If you throw your arms around such a moment and hug it like crazy, it may save your soul. How about the person you know who as far as you can possibly tell has never had such a moment? Maybe for that person the moment that has to happen is you."
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Going Into Silence
When I went to Taizé monastery on Friday, June 14, I planned to do a week of silence after I got accustomed to the rhythm of daily prayers and such. That's how I said it - "do" silence. Like it was something I would have to work at. And I did think it would be difficult. I mean, I'm a girl who talks out loud to herself if no one is around to talk back. Plus, I thought that it would be an intense week of wrestling with God, crying in frustration and desperation about why I believe in Jesus or should encourage anyone else to put their faith in him. I thought I would be struggling for answers about my future, and that maybe there would be some divine inspiration that would strike like lightning and illuminate my future. Consequently, I thought this week of silence would require a big effort.
However, when I talked to the brothers and permanent volunteers at Taizé about doing a week of silence, they referred to it differently. They told each other, "She's going into silence." I had to speak with a sister about it, but when she approved my decision, I moved to a house off of the main campus of the monastery to live with 5 other girls who were participating in the week of silence. As I walked to the house after group prayer Sunday night after I had begun being silent, I considered the strange reference to the week of silence.
Going into silence.
Like it was a place, something that I entered into. Maybe it reminded me of a journey, somewhere I was moving through. In my journal I wrote, "Going into silence. I wonder how I will come out."
The truth is, the phrase is exactly right. Instead of being something at which I had to work, I simply had to enter a place where I could rest and listen. The sister who was guiding us in the journey through advice and prayer texts said that the goal of silence is not silence itself. We are looking for intimacy with God and ourselves; the silence helps us have more space and attention for what is going on in our hearts. The next day she said that we often consider prayer something that we have to do or make, a result of effort. Sister suggested that prayer is something which is already there since God's life and movement are in our hearts. Prayer, with the aid of silence, is something for us to give time and space to, and to be fully, humanly open in. By looking carefully and being present, we become more aware of God's presence in us. Therefore, we go into silence. We stop listening to some things around us, including our own voices, to listen to things that are quieter than our voices.
I came out of silence a bit reluctantly the next Sunday morning. Already on Saturday I had started pulling out a bit, thinking about regular things and planning ahead. I began to interact in a livelier way with people around me. However, it is peaceful to be silent at times, and the week of silence was also a sort of private adventure that unfolded slowly and beautifully since I did not have to process everything linguistically right away. But when the girls who had been silent for a week or two days broke silence and bread together on Sunday morning, it was a wonderful time of encouragement, joy, and sharing with each other.
I think I came out of silence changed. It was not the silence so much as the closeness I experienced with God and myself. I remembered things I liked doing that I had forgotten. I allowed myself to dream about "someday" things. Jesus impressed upon me that I am beautiful. He loves me. The love of God became more clear to me than ever before in my life. The way I experienced God's love and presence while I was in silence connected pieces of me that had felt dissonant before. Many of my questions and fears no longer mattered because in Jesus, the answer is yes.
The time of silence at Taizé will continue to affect me. Though I have come out of it, I still remember that place (not the effort), and the sister assured us that like a good wine, our hearts will remember this good thing we have experienced with God. Considering how I feel that I have come out of the desolate, wild place in my soul to a vibrant, lush garden with streams of water and ripe cherry trees, I know that this week will impact me for months and years to come. The silence allowed me to open myself and prepare my heart for light, and the Light of the World has shone in it.
Yes, "going into silence" is the best way to describe it. May you be able to go on a journey with God yourselves. Well, you already are. May you become aware of God's movements in your life, I think is a better way to say it. The peace of Christ be with you.
However, when I talked to the brothers and permanent volunteers at Taizé about doing a week of silence, they referred to it differently. They told each other, "She's going into silence." I had to speak with a sister about it, but when she approved my decision, I moved to a house off of the main campus of the monastery to live with 5 other girls who were participating in the week of silence. As I walked to the house after group prayer Sunday night after I had begun being silent, I considered the strange reference to the week of silence.
Going into silence.
Like it was a place, something that I entered into. Maybe it reminded me of a journey, somewhere I was moving through. In my journal I wrote, "Going into silence. I wonder how I will come out."
The truth is, the phrase is exactly right. Instead of being something at which I had to work, I simply had to enter a place where I could rest and listen. The sister who was guiding us in the journey through advice and prayer texts said that the goal of silence is not silence itself. We are looking for intimacy with God and ourselves; the silence helps us have more space and attention for what is going on in our hearts. The next day she said that we often consider prayer something that we have to do or make, a result of effort. Sister suggested that prayer is something which is already there since God's life and movement are in our hearts. Prayer, with the aid of silence, is something for us to give time and space to, and to be fully, humanly open in. By looking carefully and being present, we become more aware of God's presence in us. Therefore, we go into silence. We stop listening to some things around us, including our own voices, to listen to things that are quieter than our voices.
I came out of silence a bit reluctantly the next Sunday morning. Already on Saturday I had started pulling out a bit, thinking about regular things and planning ahead. I began to interact in a livelier way with people around me. However, it is peaceful to be silent at times, and the week of silence was also a sort of private adventure that unfolded slowly and beautifully since I did not have to process everything linguistically right away. But when the girls who had been silent for a week or two days broke silence and bread together on Sunday morning, it was a wonderful time of encouragement, joy, and sharing with each other.
I think I came out of silence changed. It was not the silence so much as the closeness I experienced with God and myself. I remembered things I liked doing that I had forgotten. I allowed myself to dream about "someday" things. Jesus impressed upon me that I am beautiful. He loves me. The love of God became more clear to me than ever before in my life. The way I experienced God's love and presence while I was in silence connected pieces of me that had felt dissonant before. Many of my questions and fears no longer mattered because in Jesus, the answer is yes.
The time of silence at Taizé will continue to affect me. Though I have come out of it, I still remember that place (not the effort), and the sister assured us that like a good wine, our hearts will remember this good thing we have experienced with God. Considering how I feel that I have come out of the desolate, wild place in my soul to a vibrant, lush garden with streams of water and ripe cherry trees, I know that this week will impact me for months and years to come. The silence allowed me to open myself and prepare my heart for light, and the Light of the World has shone in it.
Yes, "going into silence" is the best way to describe it. May you be able to go on a journey with God yourselves. Well, you already are. May you become aware of God's movements in your life, I think is a better way to say it. The peace of Christ be with you.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Identity
During my week of silence, I jotted this note down after praying through John 20:11-18. Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene, but she does not recognize him until after he says her name. His question, "Whom do you seek?" reminded me of his same question to the mob in the garden of Gethsemane days earlier (John 18:1-8).
To those who seek Jesus but don't know him, he responds with a statement about himself. To the mob in the garden, he said "I am he," which surprised them because they knew God as "I AM."
To those who seek Jesus and know him, he responds with a statement about them. To Mary while she wept for his corpse, he spoke her name like he knew her, and she recognized him because she heard her name from him.
When we accept God's love, he tells us about who we are to him. As I experienced last week, we are loved, intensely and in ways we only begin to understand. He knows us best, loves us deeply, and gives us our identity in Christ. No more hiding or searching for the wrong things. He loves us, and when he calls our names, we recognize him.
To those who seek Jesus but don't know him, he responds with a statement about himself. To the mob in the garden, he said "I am he," which surprised them because they knew God as "I AM."
To those who seek Jesus and know him, he responds with a statement about them. To Mary while she wept for his corpse, he spoke her name like he knew her, and she recognized him because she heard her name from him.
When we accept God's love, he tells us about who we are to him. As I experienced last week, we are loved, intensely and in ways we only begin to understand. He knows us best, loves us deeply, and gives us our identity in Christ. No more hiding or searching for the wrong things. He loves us, and when he calls our names, we recognize him.
Wonder is Involuntary Praise
I just spent three weeks in France. Most of the time, I was flabbergasted when I realized that I, Adrianna Oudman, was traveling in Europe. The countryside was beautiful, and the experiences were amazing. As I looked around me, I kept thinking, "Who gets to live like this??" Well I do, obviously. And probably many other people. But I hope it keeps being wondrous, that I never lose that starry-eyed feeling towards the things around me in life that are worth stopping for and exclaiming, "I can't believe I actually get to witness this right now!"
Part of me wants to give you all the details of the trip right now, and part of me wants to wax philosophically. So I'll try to balance my parts.
I spent 5 days in Annecy with the Fluit family, my friends from British Columbia for whom I am some sort of ambiguous relation (daughter? sister? friend? As Atticus (age 3) looked at me and said one day, "Are you a mom, or a dad?" and he kept calling me Dad even though his father was very much present with us...). Anyways, it was great. We swam in the very cold lake, went for bike rides and hikes, painted pictures, and had picnics. Then we drove south to Provence, to St. Remy, where the Dutch painter Van Gogh spent his days in an asylum. Again, we ate picnics (bread and nutella, anyone?), explored, took a tour of a castle, picked fresh cherries from a monastery, etc. It was fabulous weather, and their place had a pool so we usually played in the pool in the afternoons before eating supper outside.
Then I left my BC family to go to Taizé, an ecumenical monastery not too far from Lyon. I spent 10 days there with hundreds of other youth and adults. I spent 5 of the 10 days in silence, living in a separate house with other girls who were silent, attending the group prayers, and spending time learning to be attentive to myself and to God.
The time at Taizé was better than I could have hoped or imagined. One of my friends had gone a couple of years ago, and he recommended it to me. I went into the week of silence hoping for answers regarding my future and justification for my faith. Instead of answers, God gave me himself. I had told the nun who spent the week guiding us that I thought meeting God could be scary, but she replied that meeting God is never bad. God only brings good things. She was right. The whole week, God simply overwhelmed me with his love for me. I expected to wrestle, and instead he hugged me. I thought we would shout at each other, and instead he whispered sweet and good things to my heart. I realized that many of my questions did not matter once I realized more deeply that God loves me and all people. The basis for faith and ministry, for life on this earth, is God's love.
It was easy to fall in love with a place like Taizé with its patchwork quilt of fields, poppies and roses blooming, peaceful atmosphere, and kind people. The challenge will be to continue abiding in that love and becoming part of the people who are people of prayer. I'm still not sure what that will look like in my life, but I guess I'll try praying about that, too. :)
More to come...
Part of me wants to give you all the details of the trip right now, and part of me wants to wax philosophically. So I'll try to balance my parts.
I spent 5 days in Annecy with the Fluit family, my friends from British Columbia for whom I am some sort of ambiguous relation (daughter? sister? friend? As Atticus (age 3) looked at me and said one day, "Are you a mom, or a dad?" and he kept calling me Dad even though his father was very much present with us...). Anyways, it was great. We swam in the very cold lake, went for bike rides and hikes, painted pictures, and had picnics. Then we drove south to Provence, to St. Remy, where the Dutch painter Van Gogh spent his days in an asylum. Again, we ate picnics (bread and nutella, anyone?), explored, took a tour of a castle, picked fresh cherries from a monastery, etc. It was fabulous weather, and their place had a pool so we usually played in the pool in the afternoons before eating supper outside.
Then I left my BC family to go to Taizé, an ecumenical monastery not too far from Lyon. I spent 10 days there with hundreds of other youth and adults. I spent 5 of the 10 days in silence, living in a separate house with other girls who were silent, attending the group prayers, and spending time learning to be attentive to myself and to God.
The time at Taizé was better than I could have hoped or imagined. One of my friends had gone a couple of years ago, and he recommended it to me. I went into the week of silence hoping for answers regarding my future and justification for my faith. Instead of answers, God gave me himself. I had told the nun who spent the week guiding us that I thought meeting God could be scary, but she replied that meeting God is never bad. God only brings good things. She was right. The whole week, God simply overwhelmed me with his love for me. I expected to wrestle, and instead he hugged me. I thought we would shout at each other, and instead he whispered sweet and good things to my heart. I realized that many of my questions did not matter once I realized more deeply that God loves me and all people. The basis for faith and ministry, for life on this earth, is God's love.
It was easy to fall in love with a place like Taizé with its patchwork quilt of fields, poppies and roses blooming, peaceful atmosphere, and kind people. The challenge will be to continue abiding in that love and becoming part of the people who are people of prayer. I'm still not sure what that will look like in my life, but I guess I'll try praying about that, too. :)
More to come...
Monday, May 27, 2013
A Day in My Life
The
month has been flying past. I can’t believe that it’s almost over already.
Julie and I have been getting along very well. There’s not really a normal day
for us, but there are rhythms. Usually, the itinerary looks like this:
7-7:20 ~ Edo and Mireille leave for work
7:30-8 ~Julie and I read a story together. I struggle through a Dutch book from her shelf, and then I make up my own English version. By the time that’s done, she’s rubbing her eyes and yawning
8-8:30 ~ A nap for Julie. Some days I take a nap too, and some days I shower or eat breakfast or something like that.
9ish ~ Julie wakes up 30-60 minutes later, and I play with her, read my devotions to her if I haven’t had a chance to do it by myself yet, or do something else.
9:45-10 ~ Bottle for Julie
10:15 ~ Change Julie's diaper and put on clothes.
10:15 ~ Monday, Wednesday, Sunday: bathtime for Julie
11ish ~ naptime
There’s usually one long nap a day, lasting 2ish hours, and sometimes this is the time for it. If she wakes up before I eat lunch, I eat with her
1:30ish ~ bottle for Julie
2-4:30ish ~ we go for a walk unless Julie acts very tired (in which case I put her in bed).
4 ~ errands that may be necessary
5:30-6 ~ Bottle for Julie
6:30ish ~ Edo and Mireille come home
7ish ~ Dinner time! Julie now gets pureed vegetables like broccoli, carrots, or squash. We drink wine and eat yummy food like pasta, risotto, sauteed vegetables, nasi, etc.
8ish ~ Julie goes for another nap, and we all do our own thing
9:30ish ~ Mireille feeds Julie
10ish ~Julie goes to bed, and Edo usually follows close behind
11ish ~ Mireille and I go to bed
But, as with any ordinary life, there are complications. We found out that Julie's right hip bone is not forming properly, so she has to have a brace on over her clothes. It has to be on all the time, even when she is sleeping or eating. We take it off to change her diaper and give her a bath. This complication means that we have doctor's appointments in the afternoons more often now (three appointments in two weeks), so that changes the schedule.
Furthermore, Julie is never predictable. I give a rough schedule of her naps and bottle times, but she feels free to disregard any habits she may have kept before. She used to stick to the feeding schedule and not nap so regularly, but lately she has been ignoring the bottle times as well. She sleeps through them more often.
We also have special occasions that throw off the rhythm, like her grandparents' 40th wedding anniversary party or her baptism.
So it seems quite relaxed and easy to be with Julie some days because she sleeps a lot or plays contentedly without me, and I can do whatever I want. Other days she wants attention all the time, cries because she is very tired but doesn't want to sleep, or giggles so much she almost chokes. Never predictable, but always adorable. Yes, I get quite sappy about her, and I'm not going to apologize for that. Definitely the best graduation present I could have asked for is living here in the Netherlands with Edo and Mireille and getting to be an important, regular part of Julie's life.
First time eating solid food: carrots! Edo is a pro at feeding Julie thanks to his time as an au pair
She likes to fall asleep cuddling my hand some days. It's so sweet that I hate to leave her room
Mireille is feeding Julie broccoli for her first time - yummy yummy
We go on walks, and sometimes Julie hides in the cave made by the sun/rain cover. I peek in on her.
The pair of us before her baptism after I had given her a bottle and we were waiting to go into the church
7-7:20 ~ Edo and Mireille leave for work
7:30-8 ~Julie and I read a story together. I struggle through a Dutch book from her shelf, and then I make up my own English version. By the time that’s done, she’s rubbing her eyes and yawning
8-8:30 ~ A nap for Julie. Some days I take a nap too, and some days I shower or eat breakfast or something like that.
9ish ~ Julie wakes up 30-60 minutes later, and I play with her, read my devotions to her if I haven’t had a chance to do it by myself yet, or do something else.
9:45-10 ~ Bottle for Julie
10:15 ~ Change Julie's diaper and put on clothes.
10:15 ~ Monday, Wednesday, Sunday: bathtime for Julie
11ish ~ naptime
There’s usually one long nap a day, lasting 2ish hours, and sometimes this is the time for it. If she wakes up before I eat lunch, I eat with her
1:30ish ~ bottle for Julie
2-4:30ish ~ we go for a walk unless Julie acts very tired (in which case I put her in bed).
4 ~ errands that may be necessary
5:30-6 ~ Bottle for Julie
6:30ish ~ Edo and Mireille come home
7ish ~ Dinner time! Julie now gets pureed vegetables like broccoli, carrots, or squash. We drink wine and eat yummy food like pasta, risotto, sauteed vegetables, nasi, etc.
8ish ~ Julie goes for another nap, and we all do our own thing
9:30ish ~ Mireille feeds Julie
10ish ~Julie goes to bed, and Edo usually follows close behind
11ish ~ Mireille and I go to bed
But, as with any ordinary life, there are complications. We found out that Julie's right hip bone is not forming properly, so she has to have a brace on over her clothes. It has to be on all the time, even when she is sleeping or eating. We take it off to change her diaper and give her a bath. This complication means that we have doctor's appointments in the afternoons more often now (three appointments in two weeks), so that changes the schedule.
Furthermore, Julie is never predictable. I give a rough schedule of her naps and bottle times, but she feels free to disregard any habits she may have kept before. She used to stick to the feeding schedule and not nap so regularly, but lately she has been ignoring the bottle times as well. She sleeps through them more often.
We also have special occasions that throw off the rhythm, like her grandparents' 40th wedding anniversary party or her baptism.
So it seems quite relaxed and easy to be with Julie some days because she sleeps a lot or plays contentedly without me, and I can do whatever I want. Other days she wants attention all the time, cries because she is very tired but doesn't want to sleep, or giggles so much she almost chokes. Never predictable, but always adorable. Yes, I get quite sappy about her, and I'm not going to apologize for that. Definitely the best graduation present I could have asked for is living here in the Netherlands with Edo and Mireille and getting to be an important, regular part of Julie's life.
First time eating solid food: carrots! Edo is a pro at feeding Julie thanks to his time as an au pair
She likes to fall asleep cuddling my hand some days. It's so sweet that I hate to leave her room
Mireille is feeding Julie broccoli for her first time - yummy yummy
We go on walks, and sometimes Julie hides in the cave made by the sun/rain cover. I peek in on her.
The pair of us before her baptism after I had given her a bottle and we were waiting to go into the church
Sunday, May 26, 2013
The Promise of a Lifetime
Today, my sweet little Julie was baptized. I definitely cried more than she did.
Edo and Mireille gave me the honor of carrying her into the sanctuary of Christus Triumfator, a Dutch Protestant church that Mireille goes to. I was supposed to walk very slowly because the center aisle is short. I think I did pretty well (thanks to my training as a flower girl at the age of 21, maybe? Angela, thanks for the opportunity to learn to walk in a dignified manner at your wedding!).
We sang some songs, the minister said some things, the parents responded. It was like a typical infant baptism that I've seen at my church many times except that in the Netherlands you also light a candle, and that's your baptism candle that you take with after the ceremony. But this baptism was anything but typical for me. I mean, I normally get a little emotional at baptisms (at any age) because to me they symbolize God's covenant. He promises that this person is his child, and he will not let go. The parents promise that they will raise the child to the best of their ability, and the church community promises to support them as well.
Seeing this happen with Julie was incredible for me. I felt awed and overwhelmed. I felt shame at my small expectations of God, forgetting that He is at work even when my heart doubts. I felt wonder at his love for Julie and all people. What a great God! What a great promise. His promise, one that will not go away. His words will not return empty.
I have loved and prayed for Julie's father, Edo, for as long as I can remember. And when Mireille became part of Edo's life, my heart included her with Edo. Then when news of Julie came, she was also added. I have prayed for this little one, loved her, hugged her. soothed her. She has been teaching me about living in contentment, learning how to trust that someone (Someone) will take care of me. To see this ceremony today was a part of an answer to my prayers and hopes and love.
I'm going to stop trying to describe it. It was, and is, incredible. Hallelujah.
I gave Julie a bottle before church, but we left the bib on as long as possible in case she decided not all of the milk would fit in her stomach...
Julie's dress was made out of extra material from Mireille's wedding dress - very cool
Edo and Mireille with Julie in the line for congratulations, with the minister behind
Julie looked so funny and cute in her dress tucked into the stroller
Mireille and Julie during some photos after everyone had left
Edo and Mireille gave me the honor of carrying her into the sanctuary of Christus Triumfator, a Dutch Protestant church that Mireille goes to. I was supposed to walk very slowly because the center aisle is short. I think I did pretty well (thanks to my training as a flower girl at the age of 21, maybe? Angela, thanks for the opportunity to learn to walk in a dignified manner at your wedding!).
We sang some songs, the minister said some things, the parents responded. It was like a typical infant baptism that I've seen at my church many times except that in the Netherlands you also light a candle, and that's your baptism candle that you take with after the ceremony. But this baptism was anything but typical for me. I mean, I normally get a little emotional at baptisms (at any age) because to me they symbolize God's covenant. He promises that this person is his child, and he will not let go. The parents promise that they will raise the child to the best of their ability, and the church community promises to support them as well.
Seeing this happen with Julie was incredible for me. I felt awed and overwhelmed. I felt shame at my small expectations of God, forgetting that He is at work even when my heart doubts. I felt wonder at his love for Julie and all people. What a great God! What a great promise. His promise, one that will not go away. His words will not return empty.
I have loved and prayed for Julie's father, Edo, for as long as I can remember. And when Mireille became part of Edo's life, my heart included her with Edo. Then when news of Julie came, she was also added. I have prayed for this little one, loved her, hugged her. soothed her. She has been teaching me about living in contentment, learning how to trust that someone (Someone) will take care of me. To see this ceremony today was a part of an answer to my prayers and hopes and love.
I'm going to stop trying to describe it. It was, and is, incredible. Hallelujah.
I gave Julie a bottle before church, but we left the bib on as long as possible in case she decided not all of the milk would fit in her stomach...
Julie's dress was made out of extra material from Mireille's wedding dress - very cool
Edo and Mireille with Julie in the line for congratulations, with the minister behind
Julie looked so funny and cute in her dress tucked into the stroller
Mireille and Julie during some photos after everyone had left
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Well, *that* was a whirlwind!
I finally feel like I have some room to breathe (unfortunately, breathing seems to be a bit more difficult as of today. I hope I'm not getting sick). It has been a busy month! I finished four classes with all of their projects and exams. Then I graduated. I'll explain the blur of events in pictures. That will probably be more interesting than all my prose anyway. :)
First we had an awards night at CanIL, the linguistics branch of the school. This is the group of graduates who are getting the same degree as me: Master's of Linguistics and Exegesis. Basically, language in general and Biblical interpretation. We had some seminary classes, but the majority was with the CanIL community in linguistics.
The following day, April 20, I participated in the official degree-granting ceremony with all of the graduates from ACTS, the seminary that authorizes my degree. I walked up with my hood over my arm (it's more like a sash that hangs down the back), received my diploma, then sat down to be "hooded" by two faculty members. It was pretty exciting to get the colorful sash. Hands down the best part of a master's degree, in my opinion. :)
My parents and paternal grandparents came to Langley to celebrate and support me. We had a lovely few days together, and I was really glad that they came.
These wonderful people helped me pack up my room, get my stuff to all the appropriate locations, and bought me dinner - all on their last few days in BC. We took a picture in the front yard of the B&B where they stayed in Ft. Langley. Then I had to say goodbye to them, too.
I also said goodbye to the mountains as we drove through the final passes between BC and Alberta. Perhaps I'll miss them quite a lot, but it hasn't hit me yet.
In Alberta I first visited some aunts and uncles in Edmonton. They've been inviting me for a while, so I finally took them seriously. My first night there, we went to a junior league hockey game (one step down from NHL) and watched game 5 of a 7 game series between the Edmonton Oilkings and the Calgary Hitmen. Edmonton won - booya!
Then I spent a girls' day with my aunt. We visited, knitted, and re-potted tomato plants together. It was a fun day. :) She then took me south to meet up with my grandparents, and I spent a few days in Taber.
Before we went south, we stopped in the hospital and I got to hold my cousin's newborn baby! I stayed with her other two boys the night Ily was born. I think this is the youngest child I've ever held (32 hours old)
The view from my bedroom window in the Hague. It doesn't look so sunny and warm this week.
First we had an awards night at CanIL, the linguistics branch of the school. This is the group of graduates who are getting the same degree as me: Master's of Linguistics and Exegesis. Basically, language in general and Biblical interpretation. We had some seminary classes, but the majority was with the CanIL community in linguistics.
The following day, April 20, I participated in the official degree-granting ceremony with all of the graduates from ACTS, the seminary that authorizes my degree. I walked up with my hood over my arm (it's more like a sash that hangs down the back), received my diploma, then sat down to be "hooded" by two faculty members. It was pretty exciting to get the colorful sash. Hands down the best part of a master's degree, in my opinion. :)
My parents and paternal grandparents came to Langley to celebrate and support me. We had a lovely few days together, and I was really glad that they came.
This dearie and I had to say goodbye to each other and we took a final picture with spring flowers to commemorate. We were always saying we didn't have enough pictures together. In the last six weeks of school, we remedied that problem. :) Danielle and I will see each other again, we're just not sure how or when.
I also said goodbye to the mountains as we drove through the final passes between BC and Alberta. Perhaps I'll miss them quite a lot, but it hasn't hit me yet.
In Alberta I first visited some aunts and uncles in Edmonton. They've been inviting me for a while, so I finally took them seriously. My first night there, we went to a junior league hockey game (one step down from NHL) and watched game 5 of a 7 game series between the Edmonton Oilkings and the Calgary Hitmen. Edmonton won - booya!
Then I spent a girls' day with my aunt. We visited, knitted, and re-potted tomato plants together. It was a fun day. :) She then took me south to meet up with my grandparents, and I spent a few days in Taber.
Before we went south, we stopped in the hospital and I got to hold my cousin's newborn baby! I stayed with her other two boys the night Ily was born. I think this is the youngest child I've ever held (32 hours old)
Besides hanging out with my grandparents and great-aunt and uncle in Taber, I also helped my uncle and aunt with their potato seeding. We had to sort potatoes so they were healthy and the proper side for the planter. It was great fun, the hours standing chatting with them while watching the potatoes go by on the conveyor belt.
Then I flew away across the big pond.
This was my face when I arrived in Amsterdam and saw Edo despite having a rough night on the plane. He bought me a coffee. :) Edo is like my older brother. He came to our family as an exchange student and we've kept close ever since. This summer I'm living with him, his wife, and their 4 month old daughter.
The view from my bedroom window in the Hague. It doesn't look so sunny and warm this week.
This is Julie, Edo and Mireille's daughter, whom I get to take care of until June when she'll go to daycare and I travel to France for a bit.
There's my life in pictures. More will follow but Julie is bored so we have to go play. :)
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