tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42166308783712008472024-03-14T14:54:07.769+01:00finding blue skiesjohn & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-6084148410619225582014-05-13T23:24:00.000+02:002014-05-13T23:24:56.874+02:00This one is for you, Mom.<img alt="http://katiekinsman.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/604-mary-1.jpg" class="decoded" src="http://katiekinsman.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/604-mary-1.jpg" /><br />
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Anyone else remember these dolls?<br />
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Well, I had one like it (I won't choose to reveal the year at the moment), and LOVED it. I loved it so much that it still sits at my parents' house, shorn hair, pierced ears, 'make-up' stains, stitched cuts and all. My mom had it out for Little G while were in the US recently. She thought it was pretty great, and I realized what a perfect doll it is for little girls - soft and carryable, and actually cute. We tossed the idea around of bringing "Jenny" (though her name according to Fisher-Price was "Mary") back to Germany for Little G. But Jenny was so loved...she didn't really look like she'd be up to another round of such deep affection. Instead, I found one in good condition online. I opted for an official "Jenny" doll this time, and Little G was delighted.<br />
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Today, Jenny was the toy of choice. Little G dragged her around by the neck as she crawled around playing with other stuff. I snapped a photo to send to my mom.<br />
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And then I noticed something. Little G kept lifting Jenny over her head, then over her shoulder, trying to get something right. Finally Little G had Jenny dangling by a pony tail over her shoulder and onto her back. She turned to me and smiled, satisfied. Suddenly I realized what she was trying to do.<br />
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Little G loves riding in her baby carrier. So much so that she starts squealing with delight and doing a little wiggle dance as I start hoisting her in. She was trying to put Jenny on her back. Of course! Why wouldn't Jenny love one of Little G's favorite activities? I found a cloth, tied Jenny on, and Little G cruised around, happily going about the business of playing with Jenny situated on her back.<br />
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Amazing to me. She just turned one on Sunday. She's not walking by herself yet, but she's convinced she needs to wear her baby on her back. So Mom, there's your granddaughter, copying her mommy - just the way you like it.<br />
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<br />john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-30001992059115470122013-08-26T11:50:00.000+02:002013-08-26T18:21:51.481+02:00Baby GI have a choice - play catch up or dive in like it hasn't been months and months since we blogged...<br />
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Diving in sounds way easier. :)<br />
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So, Baby G, who arrived in May, is consuming my time quite nicely. I have written multiple blog entries in my head since she came - "Expectations" and "On being a mom for the first time at 41" were standouts. Well, they would have been if they'd ever made it out of my head and onto the screen. Maybe if I find myself looking for something to do one day....<br />
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In the meantime, some highlight moments. <br />
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The day she was born -- all wrapped up in white knit hospital clothes.</div>
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And those first few hospital days. There was this beautiful light coming through the wall of windows. It was great for setting her in to take care of jaundice. And how great to watch John just drink this little tiny girl in! He did almost everything at the hospital since I really couldn't move. I don't think I changed a single diaper until we were home.<br />
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We have 'honorary nieces' here in Kandern. This was a week after she was born. The pictures don't really capture the shrill delight and battles over who 'gets to hold her'. <br />
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She was just so little. And yes, before we knew that we could simply rent a baby scale from the pharmacy for 1 Euro a week, I was trying to weigh her in a baking pan on our kitchen scale. I'm pretty sure my mom was at least a little bit mortified.<br />
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It was an absolute gift that my parents could come those first weeks and help with everything while tolerating my daily crying and crazy. This was the stretch that inspired the "Expectations" blog that doesn't exist. My expectations were wildly inaccurate, compounded by the realities of c-section recovery. And the most bittersweet part was being absolutely bowled over by the reality that people who desperately loved and wanted to hold this little girl were and will be so many miles away. I walk the edge of that grief for myself regularly, but including Baby G in it? More painful than I could have anticipated. <br />
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This little girl was just swimming in even the newborn-sized clothes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLc7G7JVjGbmoW66_piZioc4mm4XyZgk3zLZlclmznKAAEQhLyFyWqS2jNKkteAs4WCDUf_VZd9eWOuHue-efRjuNpH4kd-yp0ugjxd_bnKUiBoe98gKiyhUaCDdhK4RZby6a5pg1J7vE/s1600/G8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLc7G7JVjGbmoW66_piZioc4mm4XyZgk3zLZlclmznKAAEQhLyFyWqS2jNKkteAs4WCDUf_VZd9eWOuHue-efRjuNpH4kd-yp0ugjxd_bnKUiBoe98gKiyhUaCDdhK4RZby6a5pg1J7vE/s640/G8.jpg" width="640" /></a>Her first real social outing was appropriately German. The very generous couple that John has helped with grape harvesting hosted a private wine tasting and tour of the co-op winery that they're a part of. It was followed by a grill party (which we hadn't quite realized until we were about to head home - "Aren't you coming for dinner?" - language stuff. We still miss key info!) <br />
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And these two... I can't get enough! She absolutely adores him.<br />
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John's parents came too. I have to snag a good photo of them from John's computer! Again, what an amazing gift that they could come and spend the time getting to know this little girl and traipsing around with us. This, among our various day trips, is Baby G's first visit to Starbucks. Some of you are cheering and some cringing. I'm alright with that. Consider it symbolic - first taste of America, be that what it may.<br />
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I'll give you more photos from this next time, but world of difference from screaming bath time when we switched to a Tummy Tub. But this is also a shout out to John and his photo skills and the beautiful light that comes through the window into our bathroom. <br />
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And of course, a big part of life as an expat - government paperwork to take care of in offices far from home. We drove to Bern to do all her official paperwork. We're still waiting to pick up her passport. Fortunately, Bern is beautiful. A little sack lunch between the Bear Pit and the river was a great summer treat. <br />
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So I think we're doing alright, figuring things out one piece at a time,
enjoying as much of it as possible. Good stuff that God is really
gracious and generous and merciful in. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrmUhQvRSq9fkWfBVrE80bOvt_o-r3imyf0WFl7O0v38l8yeB2kTSh6D5XFO79m7VnC6wXGUbt3sfIPtmQ5Ro1fSCqVnGiIDCZeAcqRDrXvxLS2Eo1cF24J0z5oDtE1u6SyJQjvqt5QKX/s1600/IMG_7403.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrmUhQvRSq9fkWfBVrE80bOvt_o-r3imyf0WFl7O0v38l8yeB2kTSh6D5XFO79m7VnC6wXGUbt3sfIPtmQ5Ro1fSCqVnGiIDCZeAcqRDrXvxLS2Eo1cF24J0z5oDtE1u6SyJQjvqt5QKX/s640/IMG_7403.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU5cTeHE8nmKWv02AuoNVLISx5bgtXdPi9eHqi5LFaYtA9z9f1AVEhEAFa-goQXHrb0IoJeuEu-i1VvNkhdXmJ3SgHmx9qzukj54IHuhVXKKH3IkwtObCTVUlbvwLEypjrq3IFovq35W78/s1600/IMG_7407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU5cTeHE8nmKWv02AuoNVLISx5bgtXdPi9eHqi5LFaYtA9z9f1AVEhEAFa-goQXHrb0IoJeuEu-i1VvNkhdXmJ3SgHmx9qzukj54IHuhVXKKH3IkwtObCTVUlbvwLEypjrq3IFovq35W78/s640/IMG_7407.jpg" width="425" /></a>john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-68743053618661326552012-11-19T13:15:00.000+01:002012-11-19T13:15:15.984+01:00special visitor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our friend Lucy thought that Flat Stanley might like to come visit us in Kandern. He arrived comfortably tucked away in a green envelope. He was tired from such a long trip and took awhile to get over jet lag (its 9 hours later in Kandern than in Oregon!), but he was happy to arrive.<br />
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It was a nice fall day, so he started with a walk along the Kanderner, the river that the town is named after.</div>
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<span style="color: black;">This part of the Kanderner had a cool covered bridge. </span></div>
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Right by the covered bridge was the Rathaus. At first he was excited,
thinking it was a place to go see pet rats, but he was wrong. Its the
city hall, where everyone who lives in Kandern goes to register<u> </u>and pick up their recycling bags.</div>
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On another day, he took a walk past this big old church. His camera
couldn't even fit the whole building in! There's a clock tower at the
top with bells that ring to count down the hours and quarter hours.
That means there are bells ringing every 15 minutes. Sometimes they
ring extra, like to wake everyone up at 7 in the morning, or to let
everyone know there's a wedding or a funeral.</div>
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Next to the church he found these cool bells sitting outside with the
year '1949' on the side. During WWII, the German army came through and
took the bells out of the churches to make weapons. In Kandern they
left the smallest bell behind, so the people from the city took the
small bell down and hid it in the hillside. That way, when the army
came back, they couldn't steal the last bell. While the little bell was
hidden, it got broken. But when the war was over, the people hung it
up anyway so they could have a way to tell everyone when it was time to
come to the church. It didn't sound good, but people were happy to
still have a bell. After the war was over and they were rebuilding
everything, they made new bells - but not fancy ones. This is one of
those bells. One year ago, everyone from the church decided to put in
new bells out of nice metal so that the bells would sound pretty ringing
through town. They had a special ceremony and the bells had special
writing on them, saying "Peace" in several languages - including Hebrew,
the language of the Jewish people who had been mistreated in the war. </div>
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He got pretty excited when he spotted a library, and he thought these books looked like lots of fun to read -- if he could read German!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ9aDzhyphenhyphenMot0RAe4Mhyphenhyphenxco4KlOMli37BfvSoq3B8Fs1Rcw_XBTefeRgbdZgpkoYSmV_m9sB9dy4fab9VI02QxlKbach1tCSAPlfS0eZApxoE7Zi3SBdbadWaI1tonIa_qiJmVWHis5ZaBm/s640/IMG_0205.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'I'm with you, you're with me'</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Why?'</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghR_8sjoPfy-H2Dt_mv9J9qYvuQLERi1ghEB3Ooi652LxaDdxC8jk759rAfrsOc1HGAixDVNiMkUz9Gj9HAk2kha1rbYbnVqKdsjk9WbbUmaotq0uS-hlJNBrjunh8pIUn6Ujx_p4fDzxG/s640/IMG_0207.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'And me?'</td></tr>
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He was feeling a little homesick and decided to make a quick call home from the T-mobile booth.<br />
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He saw these huge snails and decided to climb the wall to check them out. It turned out they were just made out of stone. He'd never seen somebody glue stone snails to the side of their house before.<br />
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He was also a little bit surprised to see how many buildings had this fancy old writing painted on them. This one tells the story about a blacksmith.<br />
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All these German names! It was hard to keep track. But he spotted the word "museum" in this one and was curious. When he found the museum, it was closed for the winter, but he found out how old it was. It opened as a museum in 1776. The USA was about to become a brand new country the same time Kandern was old enough to have a whole museum about it's history!<br />
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It turns out Kandern is REALLY old. In some historical writings its mentioned as early as 776. That means the museum opened on the 1000 years later! And it means that right now, Kandern is more than 1200 years old. That explained why he kept finding so many old things. Like this watering fountain/trough.<br />
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It was kinda hard to see, but it says 1766 on it.</div>
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Or this old sled that looked kind of strange to him with the animal head on the front.<br />
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And this old building had huge doors! It was probably for bringing horses and wagons through. People turned this building into offices and apartments, but it used to be part of brewery, where farmers brought in the ingredients for making beer. <br />
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Flat Stanley liked Kandern, but he's ready to fly back home! He was kind of disappointed he couldn't find Lederhosen in his size or eat any sauerkraut, but he did have Fondue and Swiss chocolate! Yum! Kandern is in Germany, but its so close to France and Switzerland that they eat lots of Swiss and French foods like Roesti (kind of like hash browns) or Tarte Flambe (a tiny bit like a pizza with creme instead of pizza sauce).<br />
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Thanks for coming, Flat Stanley!john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-89400770032782398032012-11-06T16:03:00.001+01:002012-11-06T16:03:12.340+01:00Overdue summer entry #2August.<br />
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After all of the crazy pace we kept for months (well, to be honest, I think I was keeping a crazy pace that sadly dragged John into the whirlpool of my crazy), August brought time to slow down. There was certainly a phase of 'recovery' for me after Tallinn... with weird stages like having anxious dreams about the conference after it was all over, getting weepy and grieving a variety of things, absolute exhaustion in the form of feeling like I could sleep for a week. It made me realize just how much grace the Lord had been providing, carrying me through until there was time and available energy to process it all internally. And I'm grateful not to have simply skipped the processing part. It's so fascinating to me to see how much that part of the work is just as important to the Lord; He didn't remove those steps just because the work was done, but He did time them for me to be able both to cope and to glean what He wanted me to learn. Hmm, I could ramble on about some of this, but I don't know that I'd end up saying a whole lot more, so I'll move on.<br />
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As I was saying, some down time in August was GREAT. Europe knows how to take breaks, and if you aren't in major tourist hotspots, it sort of all shuts down for the month of August. Sometimes that's annoying, but mostly its just this great easy pace of life for awhile. It wasn't a month off - we were working - but we grabbed some quick weekend adventures.<br />
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For instance, one Saturday afternoon we were in the grocery store when the newspaper by the checkout caught our eye. Front page feature - Rottweilers! I grabbed it to see what it was all about. They were having the Rottweiler Weltmeisterschaften (World championships) that weekend in Rottweil. Yes, Rottweilers get their name from a town in the Black Forest where they were bred to herd cattle. I think they have all these links to the Mastiffs that were brought into the area by Romans. As a dog trivia side-note, there are really only a few original ancient dog breeds that all dogs come from, one of which are Mastiffs. Virtually every large dog breed is linked to Mastiffs. <br />
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The newspaper article said it was day 2 of a 3 day competition. We used to joke before we came that we would take Nia to Rottweil someday, to her 'homeland,' so we decided to head out early the next morning to catch the competition. Not great weather, but so many great dogs!!!!<br />
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Clearly for people who are not Rottweiler fans, the appeal is lost, but we were eating it up. The competitions - Schutzhund (protection), Obedience and Tracking - were really interesting. All these people in the stands were keeping track of all the scores, dressed in their country's flags. And dogs all over the place - curled up by people in the stands, walking around the field, waiting for their turn. We saw so many ages sizes and shapes of Rottweilers. I think the owners love being at a place where they know other people love their dogs too. They don't have to worry about people being scared of the dog they know really just wants to give everyone a big wet kiss; they're with other devoted admirers like us.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obedience competition.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting the judging results. The judges read ALL of their comments.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Protection competition. We'd never watched anything like it before. It wasn't scary. Clearly these dogs are so precisely trained, and it was more fascinating to see how athletic they were.</td></tr>
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We headed back by the vendor booths and this one extra huge Rottie was standing calmly while this 4 or 5 month old pup was trying to play with him. He indulged a bit, but was mostly just really cute about it. The pup was working so hard to be submissive, licking his chin, flipping over on his back, jumping back up to play. Several people were standing around to watch.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I about jumped out of my seat the first time this Swiss spectator next to me rang his cowbell to cheer a Swiss dog on.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZpAhPTOc5e6WjBuba0WrGrnxJqGp4o0Tl0dWrdfv-qMJcKZ8hWOS2KV7095avUXT357iQxq3qWHQZmcWr2GAlsPhHFItnylcXaeT_hSc6OQLLTSxkCTu-DjPmrEagNz9m6iNVvyfRSVrs/s1600/IMG_6099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_tzxTC58gfvwRsrSUmgpmyljgq4FOk58PM8FwhIo5vKP8PibJzu31X_JuTfhxR-rSycdTQl6K0INzHHmcXb3Ls33CNFyJb8Fx26z2YTonZubDeQUbYnXLOGhjhH7s5m39Pe9METN7kTy8/s1600/IMG_6106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagwgR9qM4B38PKDehyphenhyphenpeZCfhSqeeIXSVNgOVjn2kWx3E234NQv0GFCdY4Pl5VEkL4BRcJSo_8NURhKeRfUff5E8n5jvQAX8Kw2GjadDyg1JMTeseoxaXUx-jWZ6Q4InLRz76FtdOOzgRI/s1600/IMG_6113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagwgR9qM4B38PKDehyphenhyphenpeZCfhSqeeIXSVNgOVjn2kWx3E234NQv0GFCdY4Pl5VEkL4BRcJSo_8NURhKeRfUff5E8n5jvQAX8Kw2GjadDyg1JMTeseoxaXUx-jWZ6Q4InLRz76FtdOOzgRI/s400/IMG_6113.JPG" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjITaOFr3m4klmToAU_kXpPal4VcW-jgqGZiuwmIamY1Qfw4TFBr9VHhsN8iEL4Fz3BtCq1-ZdDGPmnRlaQ_G_jQM_1VRFvwyolGGBkRpbW6vePs4hrKFQ0ZKMJy5mAPXLmgzWtdPpu0Dgu/s1600/IMG_6129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjITaOFr3m4klmToAU_kXpPal4VcW-jgqGZiuwmIamY1Qfw4TFBr9VHhsN8iEL4Fz3BtCq1-ZdDGPmnRlaQ_G_jQM_1VRFvwyolGGBkRpbW6vePs4hrKFQ0ZKMJy5mAPXLmgzWtdPpu0Dgu/s400/IMG_6129.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
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I quick cruise through town brought us to the bronze sculpture in the town square. We are unashamedly smitten by Rottweilers.....<br />
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Another Saturday morning we woke up and said, "Let's drive somewhere!" We packed a lunch, a couple of things in case we decided to overnight somewhere, our trusty Rick Steve's guides (helpful for bargain hotels and restaurants if needed) and headed out. It's a little tricky to explain just how close we live to these spectacular locations that are a world away from the US. It's not lost on us that locations people dream of seeing are closer to us than Seattle is to Portland. And sometimes we just have access to some pretty amazing opportunities. I think that we'd love exploring no matter where we lived; it's just this huge bonus from the Lord that at the moment some of the places we are within range of exploring are so extraordinary - well, at least from our perspective. I've met people who really don't find Europe all that interesting. :)</div>
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We headed south towards Lake Lucerne in Switzerland, planning to make a decision then if we'd continue on somewhere else or call it a day and head back.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was something so funny about watching these elegant swans dive, tails straight up in the air.</td></tr>
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Gorgeous weather... and lake Lucerne didn't disappoint. We pulled over to eat lunch, and this party boat was coming ashore. John was pretty taken with it's ingenuity. This may be as 'pieced together' as anything I've ever seen in Switzerland, but clearly it's still so solid and well thought out.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBzcUTkVb1Zjr_ktfzaLApjk4ZRLfgb7ZDolKsIxWA4QN8blJvq0qtGf2MPhcAbj_vNqYkYL6E4qnKLPwpMKehRhYd46EdfNlH93MAkyfhC2JVDD3LO8xNuPT4dS0FupIp_48ea3hBOcg/s1600/IMG_5836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBzcUTkVb1Zjr_ktfzaLApjk4ZRLfgb7ZDolKsIxWA4QN8blJvq0qtGf2MPhcAbj_vNqYkYL6E4qnKLPwpMKehRhYd46EdfNlH93MAkyfhC2JVDD3LO8xNuPT4dS0FupIp_48ea3hBOcg/s640/IMG_5836.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The beautiful weather and the road had us hooked so we continued on another hour or so to Lake Como. So stunning. And it was amazing to suddenly go from Switzerland and all the Swiss/German style we're used to to this Mediterranean style everywhere.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_74_-cPB96EOSp0yDWXVWkxrRRto28kVB2YeXPqZ2O9DKSWQlfmqJvaWrWvgM_TEfa7xgRzW7zhOgrCkJ3XE-MhOJClQfKlv1vNQgVf62B66afJnqpVogqgOJ2fb_YDf26ClQIOAIq-j/s1600/IMG_5856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU_74_-cPB96EOSp0yDWXVWkxrRRto28kVB2YeXPqZ2O9DKSWQlfmqJvaWrWvgM_TEfa7xgRzW7zhOgrCkJ3XE-MhOJClQfKlv1vNQgVf62B66afJnqpVogqgOJ2fb_YDf26ClQIOAIq-j/s640/IMG_5856.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We took pictures, painted, enjoyed the view, found a reasonable place to
stay, and soaked it all up until the middle of the next day when we
drove back. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_WsdVizXmawD9iveCOElZ8BcY5SbgvLK5jY0GvceSwiwrzayV52qpWeDn0PkMGJ-h_Samly1zGKCURiKYELkMCP4nnoXd1K0HVEG6Y_YbRxrC9UNfd7liJIi9bQ-KA-adoQE-yVdVSdfb/s1600/IMG_5970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_WsdVizXmawD9iveCOElZ8BcY5SbgvLK5jY0GvceSwiwrzayV52qpWeDn0PkMGJ-h_Samly1zGKCURiKYELkMCP4nnoXd1K0HVEG6Y_YbRxrC9UNfd7liJIi9bQ-KA-adoQE-yVdVSdfb/s640/IMG_5970.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hot afternoon - but these kids were out on the balcony for a nap in the cooler shade, ingeniously protected by the tight wire fencing someone had attached to the inside of the balcony rails.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOkklQD9Wk0YzH2vOy8qOa8HAUlLZUmtzwHNOj9Bn5USuTppN1MrTDNN5aKL3UlGrVg4QGKY_tQK2KqnBVtiQB4QXYdvLBh5eu9r7i9b1Uh_k_kCMHH5Kc5BshTwmV8RdRsBQVrRMZfpV/s1600/IMG_5918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLOkklQD9Wk0YzH2vOy8qOa8HAUlLZUmtzwHNOj9Bn5USuTppN1MrTDNN5aKL3UlGrVg4QGKY_tQK2KqnBVtiQB4QXYdvLBh5eu9r7i9b1Uh_k_kCMHH5Kc5BshTwmV8RdRsBQVrRMZfpV/s640/IMG_5918.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjytbn5KQeTdGzMJWiPcWDrySYqHg3Kd6ual-P0TGPNSvj0HUz-CMc4MYN-Wy6IeaoVBlWPefgVLDe9pDPXVVYMpWOZmmd1-Jyw8Pg2x39wfvpfU3fmion80xyvCiDofMCoQ2ibbcoRLVtk/s1600/IMG_6055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjytbn5KQeTdGzMJWiPcWDrySYqHg3Kd6ual-P0TGPNSvj0HUz-CMc4MYN-Wy6IeaoVBlWPefgVLDe9pDPXVVYMpWOZmmd1-Jyw8Pg2x39wfvpfU3fmion80xyvCiDofMCoQ2ibbcoRLVtk/s640/IMG_6055.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Oh yes, the drive back. So there's this famous tunnel in Switzerland
that's really long - the Gotthard tunnel, approx. 17 miles long. Its on
the primary autobahn through that part of Switzerland, and it's
narrow. That means it's a traffic bottleneck with legendary backups.
Yep, our drive home was going to double in length. So, we thought we'd
beat it by going over the Gotthard pass instead - longer in miles but
shorter in time at this point. Let's just say it's very apparent to us now why they built the tunnel! </div>
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As we were driving up, we spotted the road above us, curling out from sheer mountain faces like some sort of roller coaster ride and said with trepidation, "Is <i>that</i> where we're going?!" And it was raining. And you may not know that John, who was driving, really isn't okay with heights. He white-knuckled his way up and down the other side, but we were rewarded with some of the most spectacular views. So other-worldly... I'm not quite sure John would vote for doing it again, but wow, I don't know how else you'd see some of that splendor. No photos from that part. There was no way we were stopping the car and pulling over.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy9T-nKpRknPD1rOwj_jgvYgFSamBi3twkJfTDVpP2p_tsXwMDVL1U7MLXQH_HvRxKlw0JO8nMAf-LIdn2baaGONO-PexCXAQoWmPgHbhKPNxBwPMDk7pirtN-G3Bkioos-LKgKXSj4jJn/s1600/IMG_5946.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy9T-nKpRknPD1rOwj_jgvYgFSamBi3twkJfTDVpP2p_tsXwMDVL1U7MLXQH_HvRxKlw0JO8nMAf-LIdn2baaGONO-PexCXAQoWmPgHbhKPNxBwPMDk7pirtN-G3Bkioos-LKgKXSj4jJn/s640/IMG_5946.JPG" width="640" /></a>So enjoy vicariously some of these great gifts that surround us.</div>
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<span id="goog_366087445"></span><span id="goog_366087446"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZtLA8SDZ1FtXCruyvkE1dYbsExDiYGUV4UM0Y_A6UUGNIQr_pld6L4Qex4cs7ngGj8OmdaUj_VEGIf9wnBIjscdQaCxGHwHTJVVsu30xOhJTCo_MDAzdu5JcPxacddJ5sd6Bf0u3MT4B/s1600/IMG_5948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZtLA8SDZ1FtXCruyvkE1dYbsExDiYGUV4UM0Y_A6UUGNIQr_pld6L4Qex4cs7ngGj8OmdaUj_VEGIf9wnBIjscdQaCxGHwHTJVVsu30xOhJTCo_MDAzdu5JcPxacddJ5sd6Bf0u3MT4B/s640/IMG_5948.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-59333944887077677012012-08-27T20:00:00.000+02:002012-11-06T13:51:31.484+01:00Tour de France (July 7)Living within 10 miles of the French border offers some unique day trip experiences!<br />
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John discovered that the Tour de France was coming to a point about 1 1/2 hours away from us this summer, so we decided to check it out. So glad we did - though ironically, it's an all day event to watch about 10 minutes of racers passing you. 10 minutes is probably a generous estimate....<br />
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We didn't know how it would all work since neither of us could read the French website. John had discovered some explanations from other people's experiences, but we set off for the adventure of it. We drove to a little town near the first big hill climb of the Tour. We knew we wouldn't be able to get super close, but the town was several km from the race route and the part where we wanted to watch.<br />
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We started to walk and then noticed these big free shuttle buses driving back and forth. Thinking it more enjoyable, we headed back to the car, drove further down the road to these fields all marked off for parking and climbed onto one of about 20 or 30 shuttle buses that took us the the base of the last six km of the stage - a steep incline. Good choice. It was hot, and quite a lot longer walk than we realized.<br />
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After walking one or two km up the hill, we picked a shady spot on the side of the road to wait. I think it was about two hours of sitting and waiting before the publicity 'parade' came up the road, tossing out all kinds of free stuff (anybody need a key chain?). I was all set to read while we waited, but it was just too much fun people watching! Everybody was just having such a good time. People had radios on all over listening to the race (again, in French so of no benefit to us), and there's this tradition of riding the stage on bike before the Tour riders come through. So many bicycle clubs and families came riding through. Dads get serious superstar points, riding up that steep hill, pushing their kiddos up, pulling trolleys behind....<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the SPECTATOR in the full body red unitard - face and hands included.</td></tr>
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I think it was less than an hour after the publicity parade that the riders came through. My favorite moment was just before they came. We were sitting partway up a straight stretch, so we could look down and see these cars with roof racks coming. Then the media helicopters started flying overhead, and this sort of electric anticipation took over the whole crowd as we all peered down the road for the first riders.<br />
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And then it just went so fast! I didn't really believe John that we'd seen all the riders once they were past us. They were so close...they looked so "normal" (what do I expect, anyway?), and I don't know enough about cycling to recognize any of them. :)<br />
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All the bikes, all the cars with their roof racks full of bikes, all the media and police people - when they were all gone, we headed back to the shuttle bus. There was this huge line that seemed like we might be waiting for hours, but it clipped along and we were on our way in no time.<br />
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We stopped for dinner in a town on the way home where the teams were spending the night. As we walked down one pathway, it took us past the buses and crews. They were washing all the bikes. Their vans were full of hanging tires and bike parts, and each bike had the name of the rider painted on the crossbar. The guys let John pick one up - crazy lightweight. I think my bike weighs about triple....<br />
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Good adventure. john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-64593986851565191292012-08-27T19:15:00.000+02:002012-08-27T19:15:08.432+02:00Spring!!!!!**** DISCLAIMER - apparently I started this in about April and never finished/posted it.***** <br />
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No real excuse for the long absence from our blog... and I'm not giving up on it just yet!<br />
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The sun has come out again this month and I'm thrilled! I've been working from home on the big project I'm involved in, and so I sit in our living room with the light streaming in. So great!<br />
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Usually just about the time I'm ready for a break and a cup of tea mid morning, the kids are out on the Spielplatz (playground) for recess. It's seriously the best entertainment. I have to say though, I have a great deal of compassion for any German child who has had to move to the US and adapt to school there and vice versa. Playground rules are NOT the same. There is a very different level of acceptable aggression when playing. The kids on the Spielplatz hit, kick, shove, drag, spit...all while everyone is laughing and smiling. If someone actually gets hurt, whoever made the painful blow usually stops, checks out the injury, puts their arm around the other kid and they walk off friends. I actually saw a kid truly getting "picked on" the other day. A smaller boy was standing, backed up to the wall by two other boys. Suddenly, the biggest kid in the class comes running up, chews the two boys out and pulls the small boy away from the wall. The really funny moment was watching the small boy walk away taunting the two boys as he went, figuring he was safe now. Kind of made me speculate as to how he'd gotten himself in trouble with the two boys in the first place....<br />
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So I'm guessing a German child who moves to the US runs the risk of getting suspended and being completely baffled as to why. And an American child who lands in the middle of a German playground walks away convinced that "they're all mean" and "don't like me." We've drilled into American children, "Use your words, not your hands." "It's not nice to hit/kick/spit/shove." How do you un-learn what that kind of behavior means?<br />
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Really, its just a one classic and visible example of clashing cultural values. Behavior just doesn't have universal meaning. Changing contexts is all about trying to unlearn all kinds of things, and I think some of them you never really do. I can sit there and experience direct criticism, for example, that's extremely normal in a German context and functions a little bit like the hitting and kicking on the playground (all part of the fun, right?) and mentally know it's not intended to hurt or reject, but I can't seem to actually erase that gut level emotional response that surfaces from all my years of training. Its like the best I'll ever be able to do is to sort of "console" my feelings back into place with accurate knowledge. But maybe I'm wrong. We'll see. :)<br />
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But I was talking about spring...john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-16780869497431588662011-10-30T22:42:00.001+01:002011-10-30T22:44:48.033+01:00craving paint<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m craving paint. And while, (thankfully!) it has nothing to do with eating, it’s a similarly intense mix of need and desire. Rather than waxing eloquent about why I love paint so much (which I could easily do, and which is likely only interesting to a select few), let me just say this craving points to a whole lot more in our world at the moment than the tactile qualities of paint and color. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s about making sense out of complex realities in an equally complex way. Like in poetry or great fiction, or the Bach cello suite I’m listening to, great film or theater, when literal explanations are oversimplifications we need art. I’m admittedly idealistic – which was much easier to pull-off when I was about 20 and had limited first-hand exposure to how complex life is. However, it persists in me, thriving on opportunities, possibilities, optimism, great ideas for the future – pretty much anything that has not yet been directly touched by reality. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Therefore, reality can be a tough competitor for my ideals to contend with. Honestly, it can crush me with disappointment or more simply exhaust my passion. My sweet husband in his efforts to protect me from such disappointments attempts to bring reality into the picture for me soon enough to keep my idealistic expectations in check. I don’t always receive it graciously…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">So in this grand struggle between ideals and realities, words, one-liners, quips, the “facts” all seem inadequate to order the experience. In good grad-school psych language, we try to “master and control” what we experience. Funny thing that’s brought to light in that phrase is the knowledge that we simply cannot master and control our lives. We live in dependence. We are the ones Made and not the Maker.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I can’t speak for every painter, but I know what happens for me when I paint. I work and struggle with colors and space and my brushes and my ideas, but at the same time another work is happening in me as all kinds of people and thoughts and pieces of puzzles in my experience come to mind to consider and pray over. Somehow working on a painting creates space for the Lord to work on me at the same time. I am brought into His mastery and control. This is what I really crave: sanctuary and surrender.</span></div>john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-79668218653761128792011-09-06T19:49:00.000+02:002011-09-06T19:49:23.343+02:00the couch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbuqYlNzcZuT_vvynaJ_Z5ZCaP-YgO9iAfSt8Xli6vcZowU_eBjw7McgRXXWezaC02SEeaKA-WoAcQg-jlu3glPrLc4pb-7ZNrXbSwwu1LWcqMKCizn_u5qPsE238keA2Dy8RIFLmeXVqO/s1600/IMG_0903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbuqYlNzcZuT_vvynaJ_Z5ZCaP-YgO9iAfSt8Xli6vcZowU_eBjw7McgRXXWezaC02SEeaKA-WoAcQg-jlu3glPrLc4pb-7ZNrXbSwwu1LWcqMKCizn_u5qPsE238keA2Dy8RIFLmeXVqO/s400/IMG_0903.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Three years ago we moved out of our house and in with a friend. We didn't bring our couch, but instead asked some other friends to "babysit" it for us. (which they did - again big thanks to the Pietzolds!) We sort of assumed it would be too big to fit in a European apartment and wouldn't be able to come with us to Germany. However, a European friend advised us differently. The thing is, when our shipment arrived in December, our stairwell proved too small to fit the couch through. So, it's been sitting at the Art Factory since December (thank you Holladays!) while we debated how to get it through our window. Honestly, it wasn't very high on the priority list for a long time. We finally decided to hire a company to bring this contraption:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8U9swdVhopAlcavPPdbVL3FUVarluTg0Uf4_P6bAAQLMbzTToXPQl1Oof3-YoPduR4INJq_RERYDmB28BqB0oTJyEH1TbHOX3R8FivdxguMOG1msQRCS_A3RhyphenhyphenNd-Nr3QkgPkjJytfsv_/s1600/IMG_0894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8U9swdVhopAlcavPPdbVL3FUVarluTg0Uf4_P6bAAQLMbzTToXPQl1Oof3-YoPduR4INJq_RERYDmB28BqB0oTJyEH1TbHOX3R8FivdxguMOG1msQRCS_A3RhyphenhyphenNd-Nr3QkgPkjJytfsv_/s320/IMG_0894.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>an aufzug (lift) to get it through the window. This is pretty customary in Europe... old buildings and moving aren't the easiest combo. They came this morning at 7:30 am and set to work. They had to pull the trailer by hand from the nearby street to get to our windows. (That's a church you see in the background). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEnqwNpoI2CXDj49Hb05ikDMPeKGRzltr4X_n_DlwhbWZwnpqga5fUoCSINPf17kwgL_miTfHLBO2NZeMe6uYXBfwhV1CaLGWldiWHLtb6YHxHDjUbTh431HzJtdE0VJRXwJ_bMwKbz7uB/s1600/IMG_0899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEnqwNpoI2CXDj49Hb05ikDMPeKGRzltr4X_n_DlwhbWZwnpqga5fUoCSINPf17kwgL_miTfHLBO2NZeMe6uYXBfwhV1CaLGWldiWHLtb6YHxHDjUbTh431HzJtdE0VJRXwJ_bMwKbz7uB/s320/IMG_0899.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> After they extended the lift and lined it up, they unfolded the platform, put our couch on it (it looked awfully wobbly) and started the lift.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGigKQncvcn-bpxtvuu7MkTEQ1khjJW9OXotYXyuK6hoRqXrz9EE_G_d48UCy-y43B4U5zhS9Fv2eLRKweS-RlC9O27j6z1mJyO0B-rNcphpMOW3zcjqaw3jkmAWwYERKjqOkoSnbHOmkD/s1600/IMG_0904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGigKQncvcn-bpxtvuu7MkTEQ1khjJW9OXotYXyuK6hoRqXrz9EE_G_d48UCy-y43B4U5zhS9Fv2eLRKweS-RlC9O27j6z1mJyO0B-rNcphpMOW3zcjqaw3jkmAWwYERKjqOkoSnbHOmkD/s320/IMG_0904.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> The guy on the inside scared me - he climbed up, stood on the window ledge and started tugging at the couch, eventually standing on the wobbly platform with the couch. I could imagine either he or the couch falling...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_uc-1XlbEOQP4v-Ws4osL1dZxW9ZsqG67cpMHIunKJGnVQGt3oCDN44fL2sxB438z2NEwmoi9OBrgIN0veAlYXqRmSwSjzqEgU-_Jg21S1NbLcLU6cMdSuPMd-vbNkM6dYCa07qznKbmN/s1600/IMG_0907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_uc-1XlbEOQP4v-Ws4osL1dZxW9ZsqG67cpMHIunKJGnVQGt3oCDN44fL2sxB438z2NEwmoi9OBrgIN0veAlYXqRmSwSjzqEgU-_Jg21S1NbLcLU6cMdSuPMd-vbNkM6dYCa07qznKbmN/s320/IMG_0907.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> But all was well, and the couch is now in our living room!!!!!! Just in case you haven't done the math, that's three years since we've been able to sit on our own couch..... we're a little excited. It's just a couch. It doesn't have any kind of eternal value, and we'd be just fine if we could never sit on it again, but it does bring us joy - like a really fun present. So I've been thanking the Lord for it today, and for all the people that it brings to mind who have had some part in it being here as I rearrange and make our living room "home." (This also means that I will finally post the before and after pictures of our apartment soon. I know some have wondered what our place is like.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLT6dHPxKgoYZP9GKk8anqISrFhi6kcPAmjiuFCXUNNaTquAnmVp0nBgHTsBAvboEeTcHrQknLbj3EjOJ7neYXUyTU2hcDQtOfNTC-ckn_b_HKHCqlLdY45lPsyeFVS-oCjgpVg-TEdBwk/s1600/IMG_0908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLT6dHPxKgoYZP9GKk8anqISrFhi6kcPAmjiuFCXUNNaTquAnmVp0nBgHTsBAvboEeTcHrQknLbj3EjOJ7neYXUyTU2hcDQtOfNTC-ckn_b_HKHCqlLdY45lPsyeFVS-oCjgpVg-TEdBwk/s320/IMG_0908.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">all done and heading back down</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpu69jAQDcSHZm_ZmYQaUDZ9vWUMNOqYbldUtxasVS4VNqr5lZgE63anvgKkb5dENyvugXH159p6fV98DZUBRAbHGgAK_c_gKWEYu8aVKDImJXZTjC7coRtiWq4m6R8PqXL5MbNeZfCZ1y/s1600/IMG_0910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpu69jAQDcSHZm_ZmYQaUDZ9vWUMNOqYbldUtxasVS4VNqr5lZgE63anvgKkb5dENyvugXH159p6fV98DZUBRAbHGgAK_c_gKWEYu8aVKDImJXZTjC7coRtiWq4m6R8PqXL5MbNeZfCZ1y/s320/IMG_0910.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-84630029159191668142011-08-05T20:14:00.000+02:002011-08-05T20:14:48.126+02:00why are we in europe?John spotted this article with videos (be sure to watch the videos) and it in a few minutes captures what we see here in Europe - and it makes our hearts ache.<br />
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<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-14417362">Dutch rethink Christianity for a doubtful world</a> <br />
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Here are a few key quotes:<br />
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<i>"A study by the Free University of Amsterdam found that one-in-six clergy in the PKN [Protestant Church in the Netherlands] and six other smaller denominations was either agnostic or atheist."</i><br />
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<div class="caption"><i>Klaas Hendrikse: "You don't have to believe that Jesus was physically resurrected"</i></div><div class="caption"><br />
</div><i>"Mr Hendrikse describes the Bible's account of Jesus's life as a mythological story about a man who may never have existed, even if it is a valuable source of wisdom about how to lead a good life."</i><br />
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<div class="caption">Spelled out like this by BBC, I can only say that I'm even more compelled to be here in Europe, following a real Jesus, creating opportunities for people to see and know the person that He is.</div><div class="caption"><br />
</div><div class="caption">If you have time, these podcasts by Timothy Keller offer beautifully articulated responses to just this kind of worldview.</div><div class="caption"><br />
</div><div class="caption"><a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/how-to-find-the-way/id352660924?i=90576043">How to Find the Way</a></div><div class="caption"><br />
</div><div class="caption"><a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/absolutism-dont-we-all-have/id352660924?i=80418031">Absolutism: don't we all have to find truth for ourselves?</a></div><div class="caption"><br />
</div><div class="caption"><br />
</div>john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-46170565345817297732011-07-25T15:23:00.000+02:002011-07-25T15:23:25.063+02:00language milestonesLearning German.... I don't know quite how to describe what it has been like. Some combination of surreal, exhausting, exciting, facinating, tedious and overwhelming. I still feel like I'm talking and listening from underwater when I'm speaking to a German person in German; I still have so many more words to learn before some of the haze of it all clears. In the same breath, I've learned so much! It's pretty remarkable, actually, what a person can learn in 9 months. What God did in creating our minds always dazzles me. <br />
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So, I took my big government B1 language level certificate test on Friday (though I've actually studies to nearly the B2 level). It marked the end of my planned time for formal German instruction. The test seemed to go well, and the process of taking the test pointed out how much more I've learned in the past few months beyond B1. So encouraging!<br />
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But I had reached another personal milestone in German language on Sunday that absolutely delighted me. I drew during the German sermon!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZspoa09kqfnjnzov9oQONrLLq2oBtL4_sQ1iDetvN25h6q7ruSVutxgFSpcLPq-q99BrUsMX-KlTaMSX1wwh7As5mWtXk2ii6SQjjgE1BQMO6opmcaFJfB8V0LZbELMRQyXeaiXEDlAmW/s1600/IMG_0823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZspoa09kqfnjnzov9oQONrLLq2oBtL4_sQ1iDetvN25h6q7ruSVutxgFSpcLPq-q99BrUsMX-KlTaMSX1wwh7As5mWtXk2ii6SQjjgE1BQMO6opmcaFJfB8V0LZbELMRQyXeaiXEDlAmW/s640/IMG_0823.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've been drawing my sermon "notes" in church for years. When I started, it was a "why didn't I do this earlier?" kind of moment. Years of struggling to keep my wandering thoughts focused while listening in church were so easily solved by simply drawing as I listened. I have some rules for myself: draw 1) something I am directly observing in the moment 2) something related to the content of the teaching 3) if neither of those fit, draw designs that don't require me to generate ideas (that kind of thinking distracts me).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So far in Germany we've attended church primarily in German. It takes so much concentration to understand anything, that I have been unable to draw while trying to decode German. But this Sunday was different. The man teaching had beautifully clear German; I could understand, and since I could also draw, I could stay engaged the whole time. Such pleasure. I've missed drawing in church - my own personal process with the Lord of taking in and understanding what He's teaching me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have drawn a couple of times at English services this year, so I included photos of those just for fun. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqxklBAEhlxiaC45H3nZ7Aj1K8ZFklI1S2vdQyzHwQti05pYRJ4896LKT5TnA-3Fk0o9GsO5SqU5udCxbIFf1SMnySSgUZ7nusUwYCY9MwYLDSkRi-LEuR0aPn3ZRiv6JTL3zc-UvXOZj/s1600/IMG_0815.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqxklBAEhlxiaC45H3nZ7Aj1K8ZFklI1S2vdQyzHwQti05pYRJ4896LKT5TnA-3Fk0o9GsO5SqU5udCxbIFf1SMnySSgUZ7nusUwYCY9MwYLDSkRi-LEuR0aPn3ZRiv6JTL3zc-UvXOZj/s640/IMG_0815.JPG" width="480" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_w6L7lhEFzon3KrPgMZ_Q7NBk_G0uyfyRHNFi6KJ3WAiBvjs4hI4JtOnz18alZVoksHdnliIdjX_OvXMwRJZop2AdV4HxTcZh3yMtOMoR2DZG2PSmS5msuo6JyDkUXsGf1rDy2Jaum0y/s1600/IMG_0816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_w6L7lhEFzon3KrPgMZ_Q7NBk_G0uyfyRHNFi6KJ3WAiBvjs4hI4JtOnz18alZVoksHdnliIdjX_OvXMwRJZop2AdV4HxTcZh3yMtOMoR2DZG2PSmS5msuo6JyDkUXsGf1rDy2Jaum0y/s640/IMG_0816.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8ci_AfKXgLmzEtO_lcu7J0vW4xBixsQ3ujSJ70lpugr-h9HncxLRBWP0a_wnlpinmxMOue9wtDJ_4YMljtsk2sO0X3jQhJ9497ZPrOM2e7CFC5j9dAjp2QgZqerTRzcinc5m1is7DBic/s1600/IMG_0819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8ci_AfKXgLmzEtO_lcu7J0vW4xBixsQ3ujSJ70lpugr-h9HncxLRBWP0a_wnlpinmxMOue9wtDJ_4YMljtsk2sO0X3jQhJ9497ZPrOM2e7CFC5j9dAjp2QgZqerTRzcinc5m1is7DBic/s640/IMG_0819.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-89181841723722073222011-07-21T19:57:00.001+02:002011-07-25T15:27:09.262+02:00two monthsum... no excuse for such a long pause!<br />
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And I know it would be ridiculous to try to "catch up" so I'm posting a fairly random collection of photos with explanations. (and then hopefully simply getting back into the habit of posting... :))<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoWqrN4fIdOWtCwZY7qUxLezqbPLqE2XO2l-jnomXpl3FrfQV0axl2fIjHKW66mCuZBAxvVgndstIAeGELaesBoKv-K0XpFDxc6stpCfbcBfp6DuJ2HflEStIKoVsE29_7MlhS0T71KVUe/s1600/IMG_0638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoWqrN4fIdOWtCwZY7qUxLezqbPLqE2XO2l-jnomXpl3FrfQV0axl2fIjHKW66mCuZBAxvVgndstIAeGELaesBoKv-K0XpFDxc6stpCfbcBfp6DuJ2HflEStIKoVsE29_7MlhS0T71KVUe/s320/IMG_0638.jpg" width="240" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We took a walk one Sunday afternoon to a little town just over the hill. It happened to be the community Fire Department fest that day, so the fire trucks were all parked for viewing - including this old classic. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJ7DLfEUnBhn_8zyP8K7d0eWQgQ76JKOJk1m-ct1U1Ndn7mpkoPMX6k2hyb6ZUyoHJPJzCXr5Je8kQJag_SXR41vKLVoL40XMbwyyFXeFRZeRrqV6i1rVDRpQQW8QbcXs3kVGg5yg12Hq/s1600/IMG_0641.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJ7DLfEUnBhn_8zyP8K7d0eWQgQ76JKOJk1m-ct1U1Ndn7mpkoPMX6k2hyb6ZUyoHJPJzCXr5Je8kQJag_SXR41vKLVoL40XMbwyyFXeFRZeRrqV6i1rVDRpQQW8QbcXs3kVGg5yg12Hq/s320/IMG_0641.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We couldn't help but think of all our firefighter friends...and wonder if any of their departments have Mercedes fire trucks. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRbr33yD9ggivACgJnjYN-Bgb3HFNLY8RSzStUSS9x3Kn9iz0zLQdAlXVOa_3NdnrNfab7TkpimYTglr1_z5cjMPsgKoAsan13HSD9vu1hytikMtbKR2y3I3bzljKYCqjK6RX7ooqHmidI/s1600/IMG_0647.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRbr33yD9ggivACgJnjYN-Bgb3HFNLY8RSzStUSS9x3Kn9iz0zLQdAlXVOa_3NdnrNfab7TkpimYTglr1_z5cjMPsgKoAsan13HSD9vu1hytikMtbKR2y3I3bzljKYCqjK6RX7ooqHmidI/s320/IMG_0647.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The freshly shorn llama (or alpaca - I don't know the difference) was just too comical to pass without a photo.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKQANVgMKU99bbqyT5e-cKKiUP5sylHAutQdoCujr__eZnG2Cz1RISvNSKYO5BJvQmvkxevZs63WqRsPFjHzSFFtMzSLGJoo6aSPBv7JL_OiEzwNDk5XcSNgjyddUDSQbzs1Syl0qOuku/s1600/IMG_0634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKQANVgMKU99bbqyT5e-cKKiUP5sylHAutQdoCujr__eZnG2Cz1RISvNSKYO5BJvQmvkxevZs63WqRsPFjHzSFFtMzSLGJoo6aSPBv7JL_OiEzwNDk5XcSNgjyddUDSQbzs1Syl0qOuku/s320/IMG_0634.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We stepped out on the balcony one day to see this little bird just sitting there. I took several photos as he just stared at me. We guessed he was stunned from hitting the window or something. Then he suddenly whizzed past my head and took off. I was glad. I don't think I would have had the heart to contend with it if he had been wounded and dying. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKavyX2PGBgbT9AVYMjBCLvuvc-6DI99JCPjbhYQGbNUllFIPN9fIQUan0AAH7OXww7S_YupMFlTAxB8zkPpzJcifVYB8NLJqo7emeNANgGizSZFWuRCaKAWxUJw-1MZJCLwJkaBGx8OqN/s1600/IMG_0698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKavyX2PGBgbT9AVYMjBCLvuvc-6DI99JCPjbhYQGbNUllFIPN9fIQUan0AAH7OXww7S_YupMFlTAxB8zkPpzJcifVYB8NLJqo7emeNANgGizSZFWuRCaKAWxUJw-1MZJCLwJkaBGx8OqN/s320/IMG_0698.jpg" width="240" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Friends were in town recently for a visit. We drove a little ways across the border into France, where John got some great shots. But that's not why I included this one of the cobblestones. I put it in because we walk on them so often around here (not usually ones quite as old as in this particular photo), that they have already claimed the lives of TWO pairs of new shoes John arrived in Germany with. Those nice cushy soles on American dress shoes were apparently not designed for all the jagged edges of cobble stones. We are now on the hunt for European replacements...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr9t8GqQpXcpis3h1zDfpOHEoBNQolWgjFBR7G2bJR8xZ7AVS4i4XrnQCEaPY91ZkXGgYLckz4WgMPW0Jz7x3Nqa582Fg2DpXS5Ci5pjbitFapjtHvFJmwt1L19Vz4P7aQ7_my1MmY59KY/s1600/IMG_0703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr9t8GqQpXcpis3h1zDfpOHEoBNQolWgjFBR7G2bJR8xZ7AVS4i4XrnQCEaPY91ZkXGgYLckz4WgMPW0Jz7x3Nqa582Fg2DpXS5Ci5pjbitFapjtHvFJmwt1L19Vz4P7aQ7_my1MmY59KY/s320/IMG_0703.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhybva6ZjDy0cwAG-ZOg1YA_P2vnIY4mBz3ISesjFvGB9LAAcWLwkKM1zHS-wTS54QKuveE5OKAQqNWqfwfxjPMeIaGZFo0u0RcAN3_Up9FN1XNPbH181nL4O42iZ3pBJ4ZLQvrFXMlbf4P/s1600/IMG_0702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhybva6ZjDy0cwAG-ZOg1YA_P2vnIY4mBz3ISesjFvGB9LAAcWLwkKM1zHS-wTS54QKuveE5OKAQqNWqfwfxjPMeIaGZFo0u0RcAN3_Up9FN1XNPbH181nL4O42iZ3pBJ4ZLQvrFXMlbf4P/s320/IMG_0702.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
For our driver's license tests we learned what the traffic signs mean, and in general we've kind of gotten a kick out of the graphics on the ones we see around us. They have a sort of distinctive style that's appealing. This one is saying that camping trailers aren't allowed....don't you love all those rounded shapes on the trailer?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4Ig3qDt2nsJb0b5p3_VV_Dhs3W-7m4BRV4V6f2vo0yHSgTaNcSGNCj0CcahaFErZ15AnJXHcNFCP-1rTajv6Gm9sI6Jz4OsNaeGMK_R_r4h05J-vM2PuLajogwTNWe0z_7k0pZY-Z2T5/s1600/IMG_0757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4Ig3qDt2nsJb0b5p3_VV_Dhs3W-7m4BRV4V6f2vo0yHSgTaNcSGNCj0CcahaFErZ15AnJXHcNFCP-1rTajv6Gm9sI6Jz4OsNaeGMK_R_r4h05J-vM2PuLajogwTNWe0z_7k0pZY-Z2T5/s320/IMG_0757.jpg" width="240" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is on an old church - 1400's maybe? The wood is obviously hand carved, and we were wondering just how old it is. Beautiful. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RNgE4Szme9NdjssLrr-a56HpEM8ZGpa7ZsRVujsp6Dfzn3kmXBSVLDM2ir5vy_G0VHPGaKnRplEuLgqdFFicZk_NXmind0F2-nsQoXb0FZNHuWJncIN61_tsMJ_y8GM-y3_lADeEqgmO/s1600/IMG_0787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RNgE4Szme9NdjssLrr-a56HpEM8ZGpa7ZsRVujsp6Dfzn3kmXBSVLDM2ir5vy_G0VHPGaKnRplEuLgqdFFicZk_NXmind0F2-nsQoXb0FZNHuWJncIN61_tsMJ_y8GM-y3_lADeEqgmO/s320/IMG_0787.jpg" width="240" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There are ways that although the landscape doesn't change dramatically, we can quickly tell we've crossed the border into France. One thing I noticed in the small villages we drove through is that they aren't quite so "tidied up" as the German ones. The buildings have been left as they are, and so in the old villages you are less likely to find renovated, brightly colored, modernized old houses in the mix. There's something charming to me in these "dirty" French towns -- like maybe I feel a bit more like I stepped back in time. How many history teachers did I have that said something to the effect of, "History smelled bad," as they tried to help us understand the reality of things like dumping sewage out the windows and the necessity of keeping Parisian trees a certain height for managing the odor? I like <i>seeing</i> how many years and storms and wars and coal burning stoves and street torch lamps and mud from horse drawn carriages and everything else they've weathered. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2bslJC0GleQ7qaDiJUvX46fEVUS0KY_4cCkguFawXCRCvstSZ1Z3NHr_wdZBcbMYr4wJ_Ib_KEeefp17CfNdfYPQN6gb0neu6YS0f4Y4jwLE5scKJ7lZt0qxTIGtSHDF8Klv-4jBltS0a/s1600/IMG_0594.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2bslJC0GleQ7qaDiJUvX46fEVUS0KY_4cCkguFawXCRCvstSZ1Z3NHr_wdZBcbMYr4wJ_Ib_KEeefp17CfNdfYPQN6gb0neu6YS0f4Y4jwLE5scKJ7lZt0qxTIGtSHDF8Klv-4jBltS0a/s320/IMG_0594.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And this is just one stage of something I've been playing around with. We'll see where it goes. </div>john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-91969616234641545652011-05-25T21:11:00.006+02:002011-05-27T17:32:21.266+02:00un-orthodox easter and why I think people paint crucifixions (part 2)<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguF7AKdc2umAsDZCE02FoqFHY7PKu99Soe8TrvXT3snHfTiZNNArQPD3hsZDRppPx6LV4axMzNoxaB1ohmSAl7s1PGDRj-mvSyLr1u_nwhLPwVWQwDESB4I780tKHaTcTBQwtRZUMPMN-8/s1600/metsys"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 378px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguF7AKdc2umAsDZCE02FoqFHY7PKu99Soe8TrvXT3snHfTiZNNArQPD3hsZDRppPx6LV4axMzNoxaB1ohmSAl7s1PGDRj-mvSyLr1u_nwhLPwVWQwDESB4I780tKHaTcTBQwtRZUMPMN-8/s400/metsys" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611411444049150242" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>Quentin METSYS (Louvain, 1465/1466-Anvers, 1530)</strong><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong></strong></span><span class="txtLegende" style="font-size:78%;">The Moneylender and His Wife</span><span style="font-size:78%;"> 1514</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Finally.</span><br /><br />So with the time lapse I've lost some of my thoughts, but maybe it will be good. I can give the main points without all the cluttery extra thoughts!<br /><br />Easter morning found us in the Louvre. Not exactly church, but I went in knowing that I could very easily seek out and find images that would draw me in to both considering great Truth and worshiping God for His love for us - that He generously made us able to produce such beauty!<br /><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvV2t1tQiN8pOYvAA5iZJsGk7BcAfojH2n8uPY36RSMfHuqNWUlK5Vy7YBVc7XGf2aMGiydnyFHnMY5Iid4ItYCCbyrJQN8oX4XJ2hDmNVUx83fr1R7pcONgNXooHvuIzQ-0C2pQihE4Dl/s1600/hoogstraten"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 303px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvV2t1tQiN8pOYvAA5iZJsGk7BcAfojH2n8uPY36RSMfHuqNWUlK5Vy7YBVc7XGf2aMGiydnyFHnMY5Iid4ItYCCbyrJQN8oX4XJ2hDmNVUx83fr1R7pcONgNXooHvuIzQ-0C2pQihE4Dl/s400/hoogstraten" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611411440232165458" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>Samuel van HOOGSTRATEN - Dordrecht, 1626 - Dordrecht, 1678</strong><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size:78%;">View of an Interior, or The Slippers</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />I was at the Louvre one other time more than 10 years ago. That time I had researched online before going to select a few key pieces to see. I love Rembrandt, and so the Dutch Masters had been on my list. However, after spending quite a bit of time (and getting lost) trying to get to the Dutch Masters, I finally realized that whatever day of the week it was that we were there was they day of the week that particular wing is regularly closed. Bummer. Though along the way I had spotted some Near Easter work that caught my attention...<br /><br />This time, I was determined to get to the Dutch and Flemish wing. So determined, ironically, that I missed the fact that there was a big special exhibit of Rembrandt's images of Christ. Sunday is a particularly busy day at the Louvre, but since we came in as it opened (skipping the line by using the Museum Pass) and bee-lined to the Dutch Masters, we were virtually alone in gallery after gallery. Bliss!<br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmurwApj9miK_WgPSqvOf3byUPPU2mYMzW92MDvNvFiFJtFaYzX-CsLKe2rGI-pRiPYSdDVS8__4EMhPIoNdH8t7LDqemNksujzxg1VTIN4LnbHQtAZKan78YYauN2IiF1oUl6wRlcoZZ/s1600/diepenbeeck"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmurwApj9miK_WgPSqvOf3byUPPU2mYMzW92MDvNvFiFJtFaYzX-CsLKe2rGI-pRiPYSdDVS8__4EMhPIoNdH8t7LDqemNksujzxg1VTIN4LnbHQtAZKan78YYauN2IiF1oUl6wRlcoZZ/s400/diepenbeeck" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611408625480458786" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>Abraham van DIEPENBEECK (Bois-le-Duc, 1596-Antwerp, 1675)</strong><br /></span><span class="txtLegende" style="font-size:78%;">Christ on the Cross Adored by Eight Saints of the Dominican Order</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Keenly aware of it being Easter, I tuned in specifically to the Crucifixion paintings. So interesting. I can think of so many Crucifixion images and so few Resurrection images. There are notable exceptions, and Ascension images aren't uncommon, but Crucifixion images take the lead. Why? Why does an artist chose a particular theme? Why out of all the moments in the Bible is the Crucifixion portrayed?<br /><br />Lots of reasons and answers. Lots of them I learned in Art history classes that are really quite practical - like considering how many were made for Catholic churches or in monasteries where artists were commissioned to make images for the stations of the cross, or images to place at the altar for people to consider Christ's "body broken for you" as they partook of bread and wine.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lHmlbX6Hox0eg7cmnZD_tuFhNb5jTik2Q-navPV4GwAPnFmVTFd4uuiHaeh9IMvQzEiLgfs8qWFkwcKq8aJds4dQ7mOYVedSnEauOIKp44A9LpkM3ViBuEdViJRU5O7J6lLpFAkGseAo/s1600/bouts"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lHmlbX6Hox0eg7cmnZD_tuFhNb5jTik2Q-navPV4GwAPnFmVTFd4uuiHaeh9IMvQzEiLgfs8qWFkwcKq8aJds4dQ7mOYVedSnEauOIKp44A9LpkM3ViBuEdViJRU5O7J6lLpFAkGseAo/s400/bouts" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611411435439571762" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" class="nom_cartel" ><span>Dieric BOUTS</span></span><span class="dates_cartel_principales" style="font-size:78%;"> Haarlem, c. 1415 – Louvain, 1475</span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span> <span class="titre_cartel" style="font-size:78%;">The Lamentation of Christ</span><br /> <span class="nom_cartel" style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span><span class="titre_cartel" style="font-size:85%;"></span></div>As I was looking at the images, I also had this little phrase running through my head I've heard so many times as people have been offended by Crucifixes: "They left Him on the cross!" It's been used to say that somehow the triumph of Christ's resurrection and His grace have been overlooked. But somehow to me, debating over whether it's more "appropriate" to show the cross with Christ on it or empty is about as profitable as debating whether Christ's birth or His death and resurrection are more important. Each piece is critical to the whole story of God's redemptive work.<br /><br />But back to Easter in the Louvre. It occurred to me that artists have leaned towards pictures of the Crucifixion because fundamentally we understand suffering. We grieve and we struggle. We feel the limits of our flesh and humanity, the frustrations and failures of it. And we watch death happen all around us. Artists have known how to paint pain. It makes me think of Chaim Potok's My Name is Asher Lev, where the key character, a Hassidic Jew, uses a Crucifix in one of his images because he can find no other suitable symbol of ultimate human suffering. This pain is so universal.<br /><br /></div> <span style="font-size:85%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1u4qT7a8nUNFTjxhTjm1f1Q7CRzm3C2mfzX9AHgWUzPvjT1mw0HfOf20GuoPShu9H0jj3u1EDZH_mU4DrLW8CHgJzdSKBLOjrfWxulUa20A5X2f7h_LxO16LrY5sETpfaTel11fWiy5KQ/s1600/christ+carrying+the+cross"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1u4qT7a8nUNFTjxhTjm1f1Q7CRzm3C2mfzX9AHgWUzPvjT1mw0HfOf20GuoPShu9H0jj3u1EDZH_mU4DrLW8CHgJzdSKBLOjrfWxulUa20A5X2f7h_LxO16LrY5sETpfaTel11fWiy5KQ/s400/christ+carrying+the+cross" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611411438108908754" border="0" /></a><span class="nom_cartel" style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Attributed to the Master of the Expulsion of Hagar</span></span><span class="dates_cartel_principales" style="font-size:78%;"> active in Leiden c. 1510-20</span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="titre_cartel" style="font-size:78%;">Christ Carrying the Cross</span><br /></div><br />And don't we find such comfort and solace knowing that Christ had flesh like we do, suffered like we do, died like we will? I've definitely seen Crucifixion paintings that look like Hollywood versions - staged, romanticized, executed to achieve a formal goal without any consideration of the meaning. But I think most have been born from identifying with suffering and longing for God who knows us.<br /><br />On the flip side, the resurrection is so fabulous - and so surreal. We don't really get that part all the way yet. We see and experience new life, triumph, glimpses of redemption - but not yet quite enough to really envision it in all it's profound complexity. Grunewald painted a Resurrection panel in his <a href="http://johnandshel.blogspot.com/2011/02/so-much-pain.html">Isenheim altarpiece</a>. It's a striking contrast to all the other panels - like something out of modern science fiction - clearly drawn from his imagination. How could it be otherwise?<br />Someday. Someday we'll see that part a bit better.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/31/Grunewald_-_christ.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 353px; height: 588px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/31/Grunewald_-_christ.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mathias GRUNEWALD</span><br />Resurrection from the Isenheim Altarpiece</span><br /><br /></div>We did, by the way, get to see Rembrandts (a whole other stream of thoughts on that one!). A few were down in the special exhibit, but Bathsheba and a fabulous self-portrait were there for us to sit down on a bench and quietly enjoy at length. Just before we walked in to that particular gallery, a gentleman was enthusiastically explaining why this particular self-portrait was "the best" to the museum guard. So fun to watch him enjoy it, and equally fun to consider these museum guards who spend hours in front of these artworks. I wonder what they think?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://employees.oneonta.edu/farberas/arth/Images/110images/sl16_images/selfportraits/1660.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 396px; height: 503px;" src="http://employees.oneonta.edu/farberas/arth/Images/110images/sl16_images/selfportraits/1660.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rembrandt</span> <br /></span> <span style="font-size:78%;">Self Portrait at an Easel 1669</span><br /><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/31/Grunewald_-_christ.jpg"> </a></div>john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-34920412178556823242011-05-01T14:18:00.006+02:002011-05-01T15:46:43.019+02:00un-orthodox easter and why I think people paint crucifixions (part 1)I love Easter so much...<br /><br />I love all the traditions that have been attached to it over the years for me (spending about 2/3rds of the day in church, family dinners, Easter clothes).<br /><br />I love that it's been on my birthday sometimes.<br /><br />I love the special events I've had attached to it: I was baptized on an Easter Sunday, we were engaged on an Easter weekend, I remember sitting on wooden benches and a dirt floor the first Easter Sunday we used our partially constructed church when I was a kid.<br /><br />And I REALLY love what it's all about! Christ rising, conquering death, bringing life and hope...the triumph and celebration of it all pretty much consumes me.<br /><br />So this year was a bit weird for me. We weren't in church on Easter Sunday morning.<br /><br />We had a 4-day weekend break from language school, and combined with a variety of factors, it provided a good opportunity to take a break for the weekend and travel someplace just to travel (something we haven't done in about 4 years). We headed to Paris. It sounds like a huge destination, but it's really accessible from here. (a couple hours by train, and inexpensive tickets aren't too hard to find)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCDhx9NEML61z-TlwF3Vfu6tKkDJgrYCc4Hf0JI9GymtL3RIx_HvmFa7XWK1xOdlghMX1ywgg17eP3m11H5DZkk0zCfRTaTGbQ4rF10O3VGH3Vw64xVa43o9OpVGaIt6AC5TB5ds0nevV/s1600/IMG_4940.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCDhx9NEML61z-TlwF3Vfu6tKkDJgrYCc4Hf0JI9GymtL3RIx_HvmFa7XWK1xOdlghMX1ywgg17eP3m11H5DZkk0zCfRTaTGbQ4rF10O3VGH3Vw64xVa43o9OpVGaIt6AC5TB5ds0nevV/s400/IMG_4940.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601731145827740034" border="0" /></a><br />My first thought for Easter Sunday had been how fascinating it would be to be in Notre Dame on Easter Sunday - but then I read someone else's experience of the CRAZY crowds. We did, however, stop by on Good Friday to catch part of "Organ Auditions". I was thinking it would be like a free concert as the organist prepared for Sunday or something, and anticipated this amazing sound inside this beautiful old space. Not exactly.<br /><br />We came early, sat down and watched these families all dressed up for a service seated around us, and then noticed a huge procession of people coming as a bell was ringing. The veneration of the crown of thorns. I had noticed something on-line about it, but hadn't imagined a processional. Since the 1200's, this particular relic has resided in Paris and is brought out during Lent and Easter to be venerated by the public. People bowed as it came past. I don't think I've been quite so close to an experience anything like it before.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMuxXyKsN2ZYu2zzAESwaQ1i_Gt7c1VDJAdeW5E5W_c94Pef7xS7AGEqyY4vTSOn-WGQra5UU2OZG7-TNvd6-GNcThWHMr4tZkqPaVHIZqPVgxZbcUT6hFXUMdaMgzuBS8g3T4jbTcbXko/s1600/IMG_4944.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMuxXyKsN2ZYu2zzAESwaQ1i_Gt7c1VDJAdeW5E5W_c94Pef7xS7AGEqyY4vTSOn-WGQra5UU2OZG7-TNvd6-GNcThWHMr4tZkqPaVHIZqPVgxZbcUT6hFXUMdaMgzuBS8g3T4jbTcbXko/s400/IMG_4944.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601731150519757186" border="0" /></a><br />It stirred lots of thoughts in by brain - thoughts about how easily we worship "the created rather than the Creator", but in the same breath, the Holiness of God and how we physically demonstrate reverence and humility before Him - like Moses having to take his shoes off before the burning bush, or people dying when they touched the Ark of the Covenant. Hmm. That could turn into quite a discussion, but I'll leave it alone at the moment. I will just say this: there's some healthy awareness and reflection that can come from observing people worship in varying traditions.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB0_cYW2oOBEWC83op5A_N1rTC5DQjnPUhuJ-_kLva257ad8dCE7lT6fakmRREnCR3HeCne5irH33xQLQLEfWU1h2scpZKaCq8ZyErhH5Av4MJQ1DSZZuWyRekVoeEzKkBt31OEQQ8SDQa/s1600/IMG_4934.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB0_cYW2oOBEWC83op5A_N1rTC5DQjnPUhuJ-_kLva257ad8dCE7lT6fakmRREnCR3HeCne5irH33xQLQLEfWU1h2scpZKaCq8ZyErhH5Av4MJQ1DSZZuWyRekVoeEzKkBt31OEQQ8SDQa/s400/IMG_4934.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601731140440768482" border="0" /></a><br />The organ started to play after the procession. In all honesty, terrifying horrible sounds. Even with the less discordant notes, the organ sounded muffled, and disappointed our hopes of this full, resonant sound. The organist played a few notes; the priest read something in French; the organist played more; the priest read more. Not exactly a concert. I'm guessing it was about Good Friday and Christ's death. More accurately, I'm hoping it was as an explanation for the kinds of sounds coming from the organ. I felt like I suddenly understood things I've read where people describe their really morbid and scary associations with organs. We didn't stay very long.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRwW5QSPq7UlT-H8GPzxXd-iQhC0-DxHkm9YMCgwQkpyCID3C05eLhPcl80nsR5GN7wdSgTqNSFoUrARrzxZSE4k-3QaLVh17H9cAXAjZKIgUEt6DXQYG3yIpXSTR2jYha3m2-MoWjThES/s1600/IMG_4931.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRwW5QSPq7UlT-H8GPzxXd-iQhC0-DxHkm9YMCgwQkpyCID3C05eLhPcl80nsR5GN7wdSgTqNSFoUrARrzxZSE4k-3QaLVh17H9cAXAjZKIgUEt6DXQYG3yIpXSTR2jYha3m2-MoWjThES/s400/IMG_4931.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601731138164851634" border="0" /></a>Before we left altogether, we walked back around past the various places designated for prayer. This nun caught our eye. She seemed to tune all the crowds out, sit for awhile to pray, then exit just as quietly and directly. I just wanted to know her stories.john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-77393143991607584452011-04-13T16:43:00.006+02:002011-04-15T15:49:06.305+02:00bunnies<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDSAQQR7LcBiKpK8yorUUNxKyFgPB1R6_fN5M9uDyF3Zhx2t9j6K6jLY7-w8orXKDAGI4zQ_YSjuJoNp8cmW-p7xpqTs6RiEqXBqCKRHVKak6dy0LifH1eW2VnSAIK9_eCWiIdOUn7ORCl/s1600/IMG_0472.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 341px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDSAQQR7LcBiKpK8yorUUNxKyFgPB1R6_fN5M9uDyF3Zhx2t9j6K6jLY7-w8orXKDAGI4zQ_YSjuJoNp8cmW-p7xpqTs6RiEqXBqCKRHVKak6dy0LifH1eW2VnSAIK9_eCWiIdOUn7ORCl/s400/IMG_0472.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595087176441025090" border="0" /></a><br />When the first snow fell in November, I discovered that some of my language school classmates were seeing snow for the very first time in their lives. I don't remember what prompted it, but I suggested making paper snowflakes. A couple of them got pretty excited about it, and my teacher gave me a bit of time a few days later to show everybody how to cut snowflakes. My teacher got really excited, asking me to get green and red paper so we could make more for Christmas decorations. I don't generally make red and green snowflakes.... but why not! I've discovered that my classmates from Russia (including my teacher) really like decorations to have some glitz and flash to them. White is simply too plain and not festive enough.<br /><br />Snowflake cutting session two with red and green was again quite a hit while being a bit comical. Picture a room full of adults with inadequate vocabulary to explain or ask questions, sharing a few pairs of scissors, and fumbling through a new (and for many, rather awkward) activity. We immediately hung them all over the room. Culturally they had no qualms in quickly evaluating the quality of everyone's work out loud.<br /><br />Fast forward to last week. Somehow the snowflake cutting got linked to origami because a classmate brought a book of origami in to show me afterward. There are distinct themes to the state approved language text books; holidays is one of them. Now on our fourth textbook with the same series of themes, we're all a little less interested in talking about holidays - again. However, my teacher has decided that we need to decorate for Easter and asked me to find some Easter origami patterns we can use.<br /><br />Easter origami. I chuckle a little bit inside thinking about melding this classic Japanese paper art with a distinctly Christian holiday. However, you can find anything online, right? I've noticed that bunnies and eggs are the primary Easter decor theme in Germany, so I looked up patterns. Bunnies were easy to find. I didn't find origami eggs. Can't say that I'm surprised by that one. Really, who wants to fold a piece of paper into a flat egg shape? Wouldn't it be easier to cut it out? I found <a href="http://www.fishgoth.com/origami/diagrams/rabbit.pdf">this pattern</a>, and brought it along with origami paper to class. After trying it out at home, I knew that as origami goes it's pretty simple, but would take some explaining.<br /><br />Oh the excitement! My class is down to about 8 people. It's just great to give highly capable intelligent adults something like an origami pattern to contend with - totally outside their element! Origami is tricky to explain verbally in your own language let alone in one you're still learning, so I was quite out of my element as well. It pretty much came down to me running in circles individually showing each step to every person or pair of people. The initial excitement and eagerness by all (particularly endearing to hear these men excited to make a bunny to give to their daughters) shifted a bit to comments about how much patience origami requires. Nevertheless, we all had a good time and enjoyment prevailed.<br /><br />I wonder how often any of them get to sit down and have the pleasure of making something. I could ramble quite awhile about how we need that pleasure, how it gives us a chance to be who we're designed to be - reflectors of our Maker.<br /><br />We're supposed to make tulips sometime this week... I heard several ask with hope in their voices, "is the tulip easier?"<br /><br />BTW if you're interested, here are some of the ideas I found (remember I was thinking quick and easy for my class):<br /><br /><a href="http://spagats.blogspot.com/2009/04/more-easter-eggs.html"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM2-Xh8VnwNUJiZIBRfjcqXEnmu_qFDKqgEb4FvD0NuFF54FXAkHfazZTKV6WOETY0sWGuJIOfiNbs_an8_n1COcwUBI1tOblOTePKrPWQrmCcKOWvsgQ6y3v4fmeQsJZwGzNytamZQfo/s400/easter2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/article/envelope-bunnies?backto=true&backtourl=/photogallery/last-minute-ideas-easter#slide_18"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 194px;" src="http://images.marthastewart.com/images/content/pub/kids/2006Q1/0206_kids_gtenvbunny_l.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/photogallery/last-minute-ideas-easter#slide_3"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 172px; height: 215px;" src="http://images.marthastewart.com/images/content/pub/ms_living/2011Q2//mld105925_0411_egghunt_eggstill_583_jellybean_xl.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.familycircle.com/holiday/easter/decorations/spring-decorating-ideas/?page=5"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 215px;" src="http://images.meredith.com/fc/images/2008/02/ss_FC030108DECOR005.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><img src="file:///Users/shellygilmore/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.origami-usa.org/diagrams?page=1">origami tulip diagram</a>john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-72092597990391229772011-04-13T16:16:00.004+02:002011-04-13T16:42:32.546+02:00spring!While we know that most of our friends and family have been suffering through prolonged winter weather the past month or so, it has been simply beautiful here. Evening walks in this little village are awfully picturesque.<br /><br />And then sometimes it's just plain quirky. For example the side of this house....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrp1oetBNjwjI-q0ToIERIiF5NPjs71fQhIiI8pQcBCd43OzqLhLFUG2R6i6nD4eDTXGvzSMZC_JEArkPMZZi08HEngRl2pTfL7GhsI0YvJY1ldjV0Hv0pDGoQxna3RqUTrHR0VyRYoV2/s1600/IMG_4837.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrp1oetBNjwjI-q0ToIERIiF5NPjs71fQhIiI8pQcBCd43OzqLhLFUG2R6i6nD4eDTXGvzSMZC_JEArkPMZZi08HEngRl2pTfL7GhsI0YvJY1ldjV0Hv0pDGoQxna3RqUTrHR0VyRYoV2/s400/IMG_4837.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595072732420341730" border="0" /></a>Have you figured it out yet? Snails. Stone snails making a line across the house. Lots of things are named after snails around here - like restaurants. Hmm. Not sure about that one.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkXRHwgW1mW_F3dZjfriRfcsteCyKlSTNJXMP_VQ3SwPeYI_IabYZV5uhtYTUXxNdE9JEjoabpUq-3asTkSgSK-kENrYNAtVlMkusQv1odPxIQIUuRXhe6eOWvE-TptrPrREo_WMxTjlN/s1600/IMG_0374.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkXRHwgW1mW_F3dZjfriRfcsteCyKlSTNJXMP_VQ3SwPeYI_IabYZV5uhtYTUXxNdE9JEjoabpUq-3asTkSgSK-kENrYNAtVlMkusQv1odPxIQIUuRXhe6eOWvE-TptrPrREo_WMxTjlN/s400/IMG_0374.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595073577035856450" border="0" /></a>It's also traditional to decorate your trees for Easter like this:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkA9kqGwnexZ3WW_Pjmcw1tY5Z_EQnxC4stYBQOGQpLDUdqps0036KWmwq79s73FpLYec0OptWVodiPnkmsgO8efQ3tc38hQaG0KiAu4UwnzVH7w8_NneXuDAyJ9K-8BvaABQFxa2EMwCu/s1600/IMG_0424.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkA9kqGwnexZ3WW_Pjmcw1tY5Z_EQnxC4stYBQOGQpLDUdqps0036KWmwq79s73FpLYec0OptWVodiPnkmsgO8efQ3tc38hQaG0KiAu4UwnzVH7w8_NneXuDAyJ9K-8BvaABQFxa2EMwCu/s400/IMG_0424.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595072735491336162" border="0" /></a><br />There are so many song birds! I'm not sure if it's just quiet enough here to hear the birds or if there truly are more song birds in this region, but either way, its pretty incredible. One night we walked past this really plain looking black bird with an orange beak. And then it started to sing - beautiful! They make the most amazing sounds!<br /><br />Fruit tree blossoms are everywhere. I think this one is a cherry tree. When we ride the bus everyday, we pass fields with woods in the background. All the grass is bright green with fresh green foliage on most of the trees. The cherry trees covered in white blossoms stand alone in the midst of all that green. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3sezP1qvh-eJ1jgrqtU5bOWcxX7ToZuI39_tBxDNGRfTHvBFwsOMcD6yfaJuaUNc2t7QAzdPlvBEjUCDhFN9729fHJL-K9SVgOHgMW9OMDuUAa56TbRYxoJFW7RDfUGLbFGKtthlRVYmb/s1600/IMG_4799.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3sezP1qvh-eJ1jgrqtU5bOWcxX7ToZuI39_tBxDNGRfTHvBFwsOMcD6yfaJuaUNc2t7QAzdPlvBEjUCDhFN9729fHJL-K9SVgOHgMW9OMDuUAa56TbRYxoJFW7RDfUGLbFGKtthlRVYmb/s400/IMG_4799.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595072514574634162" border="0" /></a><br />Just off our balcony is a Magnolia tree. It's huge though not particularly well shaped. Nevertheless, we watched it bud anticipating how grand it would be when it flowered. We were not disappointed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7sfEjINy3mgcqo48eNF4aP4FIeAaZ8h4MSzwN1nzL8K0n_R0_vB6P4t0TMSmTDQbyl867Ahp9pwp7bTP0uakREdR5LGoJ2E_GGznvvF7bRVHuLl2MMw-J7MhmFLCHh0l_BYpB0ie13xR/s1600/IMG_0432.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP7sfEjINy3mgcqo48eNF4aP4FIeAaZ8h4MSzwN1nzL8K0n_R0_vB6P4t0TMSmTDQbyl867Ahp9pwp7bTP0uakREdR5LGoJ2E_GGznvvF7bRVHuLl2MMw-J7MhmFLCHh0l_BYpB0ie13xR/s400/IMG_0432.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595072508176509282" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp32KmA6xxPB-j3LQSiRcSJ0W3IoMZkLNKM14nztzxKfIseM0rA0xVYJQvkEkjdPjKkd7-ZaY1rXGYmH2hwouREzqfW-CCfwJdcxcmDkHIZr_ddcBtjlk1SQHatBrrk3BWyzg8PF8rx13K/s1600/IMG_0453.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp32KmA6xxPB-j3LQSiRcSJ0W3IoMZkLNKM14nztzxKfIseM0rA0xVYJQvkEkjdPjKkd7-ZaY1rXGYmH2hwouREzqfW-CCfwJdcxcmDkHIZr_ddcBtjlk1SQHatBrrk3BWyzg8PF8rx13K/s400/IMG_0453.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595072505922139266" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzYZznIlwzZSszth2aRvNbMN4OGmMUGAP0SSrBgK_DxhulK30VmnPnrtMZcAGHfdXAp8G5-tRvNY1n9_SeViNerX70jDIqRjweEDWN2L74BSgalz4Qrwt45Cn6aS-tNjuuQgyB2mQ3WNSn/s1600/IMG_0445.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzYZznIlwzZSszth2aRvNbMN4OGmMUGAP0SSrBgK_DxhulK30VmnPnrtMZcAGHfdXAp8G5-tRvNY1n9_SeViNerX70jDIqRjweEDWN2L74BSgalz4Qrwt45Cn6aS-tNjuuQgyB2mQ3WNSn/s400/IMG_0445.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595072501981863714" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4ysP53_znK9hRUWgkfCgbqqoVE4DYlOXXS45AUWnBuYJxq-yN9bT3G9PvZMk_lXeqFhFW73kgwSiENmNsuqvy6uRT8qvxue_AI3lMjqBn3yps7qMmAEJFbdpO8d3LV527-OiriO0SC6K/s1600/IMG_4909.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4ysP53_znK9hRUWgkfCgbqqoVE4DYlOXXS45AUWnBuYJxq-yN9bT3G9PvZMk_lXeqFhFW73kgwSiENmNsuqvy6uRT8qvxue_AI3lMjqBn3yps7qMmAEJFbdpO8d3LV527-OiriO0SC6K/s400/IMG_4909.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595072502019253090" border="0" /></a>The sheer volume of blooms has been quite a spectacle while they've lasted.<br /><br />And to top off all this spring glory? Allergies. I'm sparing you the sight of my half swollen shut eye and rashy face. That one's not so pretty.john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-55233442840627168402011-03-22T18:48:00.003+01:002011-03-22T18:56:17.509+01:00craving satisfied<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4fY7YjsUgWGoaUUWZ4SIVhNJXfo7rK9Ocl0PuSPHdJzmu8mHufkqs3X6K9n8aGk1tcpMYFTj1YMvVP6NVypXQhQurreCXQAuACO05ETtlLsEX8Cupo_wBmeKqGNjQAugZ1kSQkqUty9Eo/s1600/IMG_4788.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4fY7YjsUgWGoaUUWZ4SIVhNJXfo7rK9Ocl0PuSPHdJzmu8mHufkqs3X6K9n8aGk1tcpMYFTj1YMvVP6NVypXQhQurreCXQAuACO05ETtlLsEX8Cupo_wBmeKqGNjQAugZ1kSQkqUty9Eo/s400/IMG_4788.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586963031577203938" border="0" /></a><br />It's funny what you crave when you move to a new place. Before we came to Germany I didn't really think about what foods I might miss; I just knew some things wouldn't be available and other new fabulous things would be. And what have I craved? Tacos. I can do taco seasoning here, can cook chicken the way we like it, make fresh pico de gallo and guac, and even find hard taco shells. But the missing ingredient has been soft corn tortillas -- a bit of a food staple for us in Oregon. I picked up a package and brought them home from New York. End result: a bit of pure dinner bliss.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5VrinkJ2yK2oQc3OxtrcMxx548uB_-06X9hcHs4bD4G91dGk2L7GQH2AOqic2Dy85bb42_2ZnfgKjo63za_BpWVk-2tE9YGsNokoZIdYJFFvsh5G1hrZ6xvR9I0SIOjGqC15nJB5G-AB/s1600/IMG_4787.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ5VrinkJ2yK2oQc3OxtrcMxx548uB_-06X9hcHs4bD4G91dGk2L7GQH2AOqic2Dy85bb42_2ZnfgKjo63za_BpWVk-2tE9YGsNokoZIdYJFFvsh5G1hrZ6xvR9I0SIOjGqC15nJB5G-AB/s400/IMG_4787.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586963024983568786" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaNVgmePb-Bp1P9c42hcwc6a6gTb6LU3d3X1Gak7TxSjBwwPCYDJe0IM7HK4KZjCI9AZonvEmL-C15YJy_xSHIBgog_xe7hK1FWHWBwpSm6yl3-ksBPCXp3b4gTRifiLUDrApTE8M59zy/s1600/IMG_4778.JPG"><br /></a>john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-68715294708134047752011-03-10T21:07:00.004+01:002011-03-22T20:06:41.627+01:00a trip to the museum<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.fineartprintsondemand.com/artists/rousseau/self_portrait_1890-400.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.fineartprintsondemand.com/artists/rousseau/self_portrait_1890-400.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Self-Portrait, Henri Rousseau</span><br /></span></div>Art teacher blog number 2.<br /><br />I've often been convinced that if I can get someone in an art museum with me, I can get them hooked on art. That's not to say I'm so amazing, but rather that the real thing + a little bit of demystification is so amazing. Seriously, if you haven't been to a museum, I wish I could explain to you what it's like to actually stand in front of a Van Gogh or Seurat's Sunday Afternoon or to walk all the way around a Rodin sculpture. Or how you can stand in front of a Rothko color field painting and sort of "walk into" it...<br /><br />There are so many great museums and galleries in NYC, but time and money limitations tend to prevail. I've picked one each time I've visited. I got to see the Met the last time I was there, so this time I picked the MoMA.<br /><br />Sometimes people assume I could stay in a museum all day. In reality I can only do about an hour or hour and a half. Saturation sets in. Imagine going to a huge buffet and trying to take a full portion (or even a sample size) of every dish offered. All those fabulous dishes get lost to your enjoyment by being stuffed. Similar for me at a museum.<br /><br />Therefore, I have a game plan. :) I pick up a map, look for key artworks or artists that I know I enjoy (or eras, or something that limits me) and start there first. Any other sections of the museum I get to then become dessert. In each gallery, I generally scan the room and pick something that really grabs my attention for some reason, go in closer and spend some time really looking at it. Some works are pieces or artists I've long anticipated seeing in person, and others are these great surprises.<br /><br />Someplace like the MoMA has tons of really well-known pieces - the kind that fill up standard art history books, art classroom print sets, art-themed merchandise, advertisements and spin-offs. Sometimes the real things ends up being far greater than you thought, and other times its almost disappointing - the legend is larger than life.<br /><br />Here's an example: <span style="font-style: italic;">The Persistance of Memory</span> by Salvador Dali<br /><br /><a href="http://www.moma.org/collection_images/resized/051/w500h420/CRI_151051.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 364px;" src="http://www.moma.org/collection_images/resized/051/w500h420/CRI_151051.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />He's fascinating to me - as he is to many - making his images from dreams and memories, influenced by Freudian Psychology and the subconscious. He's a surrealist, and looking at his work gives a person a clear idea of surrealism without further explanation. Sometimes his work makes me shudder a bit. It's usually the ants crawling on things that gets me. (I had my own recurring dream as a child involving ants - definitely hits a strong creepy chord for me!) Having used large prints of this painting in my classrooms, I was surprised to see how small it was. Really surprised. (Much like the reaction most people have to seeing the real Mona Lisa - "That's it?") It's not so creepy to me small and behind glass (sadly really well known works often end up behind glass for safety). Still a great piece - just small.<br /><br />And then others are everything I hope them to be. The <span style="font-style: italic;">Migration Series</span> by Jacob Lawrence is another series of work I've admired.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.moma.org/collection_images/resized/218/w500h420/CRI_151218.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 330px;" src="http://www.moma.org/collection_images/resized/218/w500h420/CRI_151218.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >In the North the Negro had better educational facilities</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.moma.org/collection_images/resized/220/w500h420/CRI_151220.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 334px;" src="http://www.moma.org/collection_images/resized/220/w500h420/CRI_151220.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">And the migrants kept coming</span><br /><br /></div>These too were smaller than I realized, but getting to see them hang together was fabulous! The narrative/instructive lines were underneath each panel, and I could experience the story in its complicated reality - ironically because Jacob Lawrence painted each panel simply and used only short lines of text. (to see more panels and read the texts, <a href="http://www.moma.org/collection/artist.php?artist_id=3418">click here</a>)<br /><br />My surprise enjoyment piece was this one by Henri Rousseau, <span style="font-style: italic;">Sleeping Gypsy</span><br /><br /><img src="file:///Users/shellygilmore/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/moz-screenshot-1.png" alt="" /><a href="http://www.moma.org/collection_images/resized/434/w500h420/CRI_151434.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 325px;" src="http://www.moma.org/collection_images/resized/434/w500h420/CRI_151434.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I've seen prints of it so many times in art education resources (it tends to be really intriguing to young students), but it's never been a standout for me. For some reason when I walked into the gallery where it hung (in this case far larger than I had imagined) it drew me in and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I think the size was a big part of it. Suddenly the lion and the gypsy both took on life and the colors had a sort of ethereal light - kind of like I stepped into the middle of a great story. It really stirs my imagination.<br /><br />When I came home I did a little research because I really didn't know much about Rousseau or this painting. Turns out he was quite a character. He taught himself to paint and pronounced himself one of the great "realists" of his time. People probably snickered a bit when he made the statement because there's not much about how he paints that closely resembles reality. You know how in the first round of American Idol people who can't carry a tune walk in convinced they sing beautifully? It would have been a little bit like that to the educated art world at the time. He even told Picasso (who, whether one likes his work or not, had a broad and significant influence on the entire world of western art) that they were both the great masters of their time. It was a bold statement, and yet Picasso accepted him as a peer. Rousseau just kept painting and painting, hanging out with the big painters of his time, and some of the pieces captured something that has lingered long after his death.<br /><br />I don't think the art academies of the day would have imagined that his work would show up as a standard in textbooks. It makes me think about how the world of art works and how artists work. One could say it proves the fickleness of the art establishment that the person most loudly declaring themselves to be an artist who knows the right people is eventually deemed great. But I see in him something a little different that speaks to the individual struggle for an artist. He had a tremendous faith in what he was endeavoring to do, and he was not intimidated by the status of others. I think most artists perpetually wonder if it's in them to make something great, if they're "good enough", if they can call themselves peers with other artists. There's a book I always recommend called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Art-Fear-Observations-Rewards-Artmaking/dp/0961454733/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1300818442&sr=1-1">Art & Fear</a> that talks about all the fears that keep artists from working. When I look at this painting from now on, I'm going to think about working fearlessly, about having a bit of Rousseau's audacity. I picked up a postcard of it. I think I'll have to pin it on my easel.john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-83848053449754123402011-03-10T15:38:00.003+01:002011-03-10T16:24:47.010+01:00IAM encounter<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkBphVAOn1tr9SZGIBfhAuHiG8J4Ggu3au4boOyeQoSRKaHPErKHF-3JPDVjKqGdGhhMOML4EvcwGI9WgNLcGJV9O1Fd0_3vK_8PcB8o-eDQIMZTZ99UL7xhQ_Rh6bfdzl7D2UM6UphvND/s1600/IMG_0298.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkBphVAOn1tr9SZGIBfhAuHiG8J4Ggu3au4boOyeQoSRKaHPErKHF-3JPDVjKqGdGhhMOML4EvcwGI9WgNLcGJV9O1Fd0_3vK_8PcB8o-eDQIMZTZ99UL7xhQ_Rh6bfdzl7D2UM6UphvND/s400/IMG_0298.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582462636420150370" border="0" /></a><br />Here's the first glimpse from my trip to New York City to participate in the IAM Encounter. Actually I should clarify; I didn't take many photos, so there won't be much more to see, but I have another art entry in mind from visiting the museum that will have images I didn't make. John is the one to thank for nearly all of the photos that ever show up on here...I get wrapped up in conversations and things with people and forget all about the camera. Thus, these images all come from the time I spent alone in the city. But this is a long digression!<br /><br />So first, here's a link to <a href="http://www.internationalartsmovement.org">IAM (International Arts Movement)</a>. In a nutshell, it is an arts organization that seeks to have substantial conversations about art and faith and promote the making of art that "re-humanizes" the culture and world around us. It's grounded in Christian faith, but tries to have the conversations in language that lets everybody participate, knowing that God is not limited to working through people who follow Jesus in changing this world.<br /><br />The Encounter has been an annual point of gathering people together. We sit and listen to all kinds of people from a variety of professions (this time we listened to poets, fiction writers, a scientist, a priest, a philosopher, an actor, a film script writing expert...you get the idea), experience some pretty incredible performances and generally have an opportunity to participate in some sort of collaborative visual art display. Breaks and meal times are great for meeting people and talking through what we're learning or what we're doing creatively in our own world.<br /><br />This is the second time I've attended. I thought I'd give you a few of my favorite "quotes" from the time. Let me just say that the quotes are pretty approximate. I'm sure I missed a word or two! Nonetheless the idea is clear.<br /><br />From Mako Fujimura (IAM founder):<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"Artists, you are rich, not poor, in creativity to heal this poisoned culture."</span> (poisoned meaning things like de-humanized, devoid of things true and beautiful)<br /><br />From Li Young Lee, poet in an interview talking about writing/finishing a poem:<br />Lee: <span style="font-weight: bold;">"But then my ego comes in and says 'That could be better...'"</span><br />interviewer: <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Doesn't your ego ever tell you that it's good?"</span><br />Lee: <span style="font-weight: bold;">"No. I got the bad one. But it's just as bad as the other one that's all puffed up."</span><br /><br />From Bobbette Buster, script writing expert:<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"[Imagination] saves us all from pain and suffering that we might have had."</span><br /><br />From Nigel Goodwin, actor (and a bunch of other stuff) talking about ministry:<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"When you love people, you don't need bridges."</span><br /><br />I think they will be posting podcasts of the lectures on the IAM site sometime in the near future so you can listen for yourself and verify my quotes. :)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP2TbJaknXdsl5QT71NGxgXEXcgyYzmLRygQgEb_ffxv1VOGOcq2vzEu-rd8CFbu_JT3-y5JMeHD5Fv1tSo3LEB9Y5dv6HAfqW1iD-ehT6r4rYn3S_OrX0wDnreyk64AYpmG32Rt1DZXJt/s1600/IMG_0326.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP2TbJaknXdsl5QT71NGxgXEXcgyYzmLRygQgEb_ffxv1VOGOcq2vzEu-rd8CFbu_JT3-y5JMeHD5Fv1tSo3LEB9Y5dv6HAfqW1iD-ehT6r4rYn3S_OrX0wDnreyk64AYpmG32Rt1DZXJt/s400/IMG_0326.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582461946197238258" border="0" /></a>And then I just have a couple of things I delighted in seeing. So much is on a grand scale in NYC. These are both parts of huge window displays at Anthropologie and the Lego store.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIRbl7agzMoRumyUISWFJ5O04mYmZf5FP6bTCFgE_hBQ5ri7VQ55yfuvz0ivGCDS9GAA_hXeoRq-I_PMLQBwCmWrTkP03XoZe7902mo62jw14L-SXF_-hndhP8tT8LYt5TurVr6dtTSWk5/s1600/IMG_0312.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIRbl7agzMoRumyUISWFJ5O04mYmZf5FP6bTCFgE_hBQ5ri7VQ55yfuvz0ivGCDS9GAA_hXeoRq-I_PMLQBwCmWrTkP03XoZe7902mo62jw14L-SXF_-hndhP8tT8LYt5TurVr6dtTSWk5/s400/IMG_0312.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582461946657559026" border="0" /></a><br />Lastly, I highly recommend this video - a great example of the multiplied impact of collaborative art-making. <a href="http://www.thejohnnycashproject.com">The Johnny Cash Project</a> Just hit "watch the video" and then play. You can find out tons more about how it's made (or participate) on the site.john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-15502665294765822682011-02-25T15:46:00.012+01:002011-02-26T20:57:41.074+01:00nia<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3PTzjGXWpEZoEgTZWOSQN27Ar0MYTxkuaJfIoDZmKQeZ7u-P0eit6Rjvs44Pip_9cnwj1iwmlHL-7x-E7Yaz96AIxaEQfUtNnDiwMrPbYY9FOAKIPcDmnfxKc0h2SXwprQsWO500g5rI3/s1600/IMG_0308.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3PTzjGXWpEZoEgTZWOSQN27Ar0MYTxkuaJfIoDZmKQeZ7u-P0eit6Rjvs44Pip_9cnwj1iwmlHL-7x-E7Yaz96AIxaEQfUtNnDiwMrPbYY9FOAKIPcDmnfxKc0h2SXwprQsWO500g5rI3/s400/IMG_0308.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578077525306018722" border="0" /></a>I would think the photos in our blog make it evident (if you didn't already know) that our dog has long played a huge role in our world. We've never forgotten that she is a dog and not a person, but we have fully enjoyed letting her be our great companion.<br /><br />She died on Sunday. We're pretty heartbroken.<br /><br />If you look back at some photos, you can see we went through quite a production to bring her here with us to Germany. I imagine for some people it's easy to wonder why - why all that hassle for a dog? And an aging dog at that. I have so many thoughts... but I think I'll tell you a little about her, and then maybe it will make a more sense.<br /><br />I did a one-year Masters Degree program in Boston 9 years ago. The program was demanding and I was lonely. My favorite break from paper writing in the spring was researching dog breeds and dreaming about getting a dog someday. I actually sat in a group with my course cohorts and told some visitors one day that my goal after finishing this program was to get to a place in life where I could have a dog. Jaws dropped a bit, as this was Harvard and the stated goals of my colleagues to do doctoral work, research, establish new programs and such were far more "appropriate". Somehow I just couldn't help but say exactly what I felt. I did explain a bit more that it reflected having passed through a challenging stretch of time personally and a longing for some sense of being established (they were a little less shocked, but still not impressed).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipquhiayFvd4gaM-cJXXFNUqb4iMk7r5Ov6-_13LfATGduJcFC0Uf-X-DdWK50JrJ0yehvyfPdLmaj6agZNFL-utZ6AXiUoY395EOqU2pp4mIuB9pQUxUecQyksIrXf9O2hPOqY5DZEMn-/s1600/nia2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipquhiayFvd4gaM-cJXXFNUqb4iMk7r5Ov6-_13LfATGduJcFC0Uf-X-DdWK50JrJ0yehvyfPdLmaj6agZNFL-utZ6AXiUoY395EOqU2pp4mIuB9pQUxUecQyksIrXf9O2hPOqY5DZEMn-/s400/nia2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578078086353960162" border="0" /></a><br />So when I decided to job hunt from my parents' home the following summer, I asked if I could get a puppy. Maybe it's backwards to get a dog before you have a job and a place to live, but I was pretty convinced that if I kept waiting for the perfect set of circumstances, I'd never get a dog. It was about a recurring theme for me - taking action in my own life instead of playing victim to it.<br /><br />I named her Nia in response to that year too. My internship was in an afro-centric youth program, and there I learned several Swahili words and their meanings. Nia means purpose. Somehow something in me is wired to get distracted or to feel a little lost in the grand picture of life. I don't really understand why. I never question the Lord's presence in my life or His faithfulness. I trust Him. But I think my brain just generates way too many ideas and possibilities, is so filled with this kind of inarticulateable undercurrent that drives me towards believing that life is supposed to be extraordinary and there's amazing potential all over the place, that I get a bit indecisive out of fear of seeing any of the possibilities die. Okay, a lot indecisive. I just know I end up feeling a bit lost. I named her Nia to remind myself that no matter what I feel, I am not without purpose; the Lord always has a purpose and intention with my life. And I'm not alone. The companionship of this dog was to be a reminder to me of the steady presence of the Lord and his purpose. Maybe that's an awful lot of theology to pin onto a dog. :)<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGl2cOSMWEAjfXFPknkMJYoeLlTBsbvhhttSxeihk4yE97Qe7DleYO1GFI5_TMLlDw6DkT4vMO2eauZlmyMI-iArFnhHELmQ4TVlIFtGz6FUs5j_QkgrcUSYrpbh5pvGdGvj_NPrjfPipJ/s1600/100_0556.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGl2cOSMWEAjfXFPknkMJYoeLlTBsbvhhttSxeihk4yE97Qe7DleYO1GFI5_TMLlDw6DkT4vMO2eauZlmyMI-iArFnhHELmQ4TVlIFtGz6FUs5j_QkgrcUSYrpbh5pvGdGvj_NPrjfPipJ/s320/100_0556.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578076438729437858" border="0" /></a><br />Nevertheless, I found an ad online for puppies that would be ready by the end of the semester. My dad checked them out for me in advance, and I remember walking home the day I had told my dad to go ahead and put down my deposit on Nia. Anxiety - this big wave of fear of the commitment I had just made. 10 years is a long time, right? Maybe not really so long after all. I certainly would never have imagined on that day where I would be when her life was done.<br /><br />John and I started dating while she was still a puppy. He joked that it was like dating somebody with a kid - always having to plan around letting her out and feeding her. Nevertheless, he was smitten with her too.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7oqO-sD_KWqSrQ-uEznxM0gWgQyLsTkwaZPW21WgX9ynpSHEAd6TZUuw8jPIQjfGHAjHCt6rK_NHrolUveOjvA0Jtx4z1iq6GwsGaXbMGOToKB4qHN-a5nAeAZinJV1Ulr5aMAdxMU2Eh/s1600/100_0147.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7oqO-sD_KWqSrQ-uEznxM0gWgQyLsTkwaZPW21WgX9ynpSHEAd6TZUuw8jPIQjfGHAjHCt6rK_NHrolUveOjvA0Jtx4z1iq6GwsGaXbMGOToKB4qHN-a5nAeAZinJV1Ulr5aMAdxMU2Eh/s320/100_0147.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578077299455367250" border="0" /></a><br />I worked hard to train her, knowing that what was cute in a 20lb puppy would not be cute in a 100lb dog. She was going to be stronger than me; I needed to teach her who was in charge before then. When John and I got married, she wasn't quite sure he was the boss - so we put her through a couple of weeks of "alpha bootcamp." It did the trick, and she respected/adored him as the pack leader ever after - which makes me think of some of the things we learned from her. She trusted us - completely. And all she ever really needed and wanted to be reassured - or even just to be content - was to be with us. The way she sacked out completely and snored at night when we all went to bed...total confidence that the alpha was on duty and she was safe. I couldn't help but think of the spiritual parallels, knowing I could feel just as safe in the presence of the Lord.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy3EL4YjM3AdEL785zfcYwfrSogn2tT4NkKbWRXs5vSEHL69w4Hov4EhY7ScE_0YRIChkpX4iN1mJOPKqXMm6SHOHK7fzyet5537yKILdqtyyMOKtE0k2xB0lE1sziUm0UMQCIJ5e7VGWx/s1600/100_0619.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy3EL4YjM3AdEL785zfcYwfrSogn2tT4NkKbWRXs5vSEHL69w4Hov4EhY7ScE_0YRIChkpX4iN1mJOPKqXMm6SHOHK7fzyet5537yKILdqtyyMOKtE0k2xB0lE1sziUm0UMQCIJ5e7VGWx/s320/100_0619.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578076435319893106" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidIDnB8RIBo7tHoNlzjulIE1zXYFOGCS7BmED2qFbAO2BxduOMjI7efBxNYDsWMrbTZxj47eCaXy29Cl5YDrDDJ12fWFEDjxobFPEsAbmAwV6VT47_olYLWR_O1sity4nt8VA57SNiucYA/s1600/100_3458_2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidIDnB8RIBo7tHoNlzjulIE1zXYFOGCS7BmED2qFbAO2BxduOMjI7efBxNYDsWMrbTZxj47eCaXy29Cl5YDrDDJ12fWFEDjxobFPEsAbmAwV6VT47_olYLWR_O1sity4nt8VA57SNiucYA/s320/100_3458_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578077300021944978" border="0" /></a><br />So much personality - and quirkiness - to that dog! She won lots of people over pretty quickly. We actually met a few people who knew of us because of her - they had seen her in action at our place while we had a dog sitter. "Oh you're the ones who have Nia!" She had dazzled them with retrieving various toys by name - which for her was totally worth it because she got so much love and attention. She was terrified of water and metal grates on the ground, carefully treading around manhole covers, utility covers and puddles. As a small puppy playing with my 4 yr-old brother, she paced herself to only run just fast enough to make games with him fun. We were amazed to watch her instinct as a herder when some friends came to visit with lambs -- and when she decided she needed to separate certain dogs away from others when she had more than one playmate. So smart. So sweet. So eager to please. And such a companion...following me from room to room, reaching up to nudge my hand from time to time on walks, beside herself with joy to greet us when we came home - even if we'd only been gone 10 minutes. She remembered anyone she ever met, making them feel like a million bucks when she greeted them. A number of people let us know they'd love to take her if we couldn't take her to Germany. She loved kids and kitties - bathing them both in kisses they weren't so sure about.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoIAJI1jlmDbjj7HHyGjVV4XtZKdhOImS-ECXLPc9ub9DFF1o82KBRfy1IvY_yc3SLlwuJ_Bj7Zt6MA-yywEy8Le8xEtTDtqMHqvjbllQ1lrADv3PdZlbwdh3rJWfQOFpabGAXNO2J_OdV/s1600/100_3000.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoIAJI1jlmDbjj7HHyGjVV4XtZKdhOImS-ECXLPc9ub9DFF1o82KBRfy1IvY_yc3SLlwuJ_Bj7Zt6MA-yywEy8Le8xEtTDtqMHqvjbllQ1lrADv3PdZlbwdh3rJWfQOFpabGAXNO2J_OdV/s320/100_3000.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578076415632712818" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZApxczn75sDK2utxmUNKbWzcyXHyLqzh3YAS4Ma75NeKmkrE5Ja3bNxJuf_F1d0T21k1hzNSiDzDWkuHZtc-xi9KKWjnqnRewsSBbbCpioGo9KHHfVU3VCWukuzu2WiYSCvNSG1SuY40/s1600/DSCN4640.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZApxczn75sDK2utxmUNKbWzcyXHyLqzh3YAS4Ma75NeKmkrE5Ja3bNxJuf_F1d0T21k1hzNSiDzDWkuHZtc-xi9KKWjnqnRewsSBbbCpioGo9KHHfVU3VCWukuzu2WiYSCvNSG1SuY40/s320/DSCN4640.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578076430249555474" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_G7vopsLy-0-R-A-pKi6dPXRNnIfVbfloY3K0empr0fz17qWGGeu8pK_RfO7KZ4kDP0lm7_xKqfcLV45X87RzAwqQgfcvUNpfoH5pp9Ubpls4BnfN3TrwMbomQePjYZ6hkDrcscwv1flv/s1600/random+007.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_G7vopsLy-0-R-A-pKi6dPXRNnIfVbfloY3K0empr0fz17qWGGeu8pK_RfO7KZ4kDP0lm7_xKqfcLV45X87RzAwqQgfcvUNpfoH5pp9Ubpls4BnfN3TrwMbomQePjYZ6hkDrcscwv1flv/s320/random+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578076420156888882" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNtwK4b2dt41q2AcIbm7-7tnLutDokSsgfxyAJ4IMk3IsvKTp-r0w-oe5geGeM5juqCMLN5LeKoPw-0_zVH7N2vgO_gs7ITeDTmMuMyTLp44NvQxDnNJYo8Z7OTqugyYL2oe8pfS3itpn/s1600/100_3350.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNtwK4b2dt41q2AcIbm7-7tnLutDokSsgfxyAJ4IMk3IsvKTp-r0w-oe5geGeM5juqCMLN5LeKoPw-0_zVH7N2vgO_gs7ITeDTmMuMyTLp44NvQxDnNJYo8Z7OTqugyYL2oe8pfS3itpn/s320/100_3350.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578075814875503762" border="0" /></a><br />Such a great dog. The apartment feels pretty empty and quiet. I miss my morning big hugs from her and the sigh after bedtime when she finally situated herself and was about to fall asleep.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXY6OKjjE2dL_j2dw0QIgVSbHKhT0NESG9OCW9b-stZKnoKvHMogkNMwvKA7sMQiBgc22iXCzYNgfsu-vJYo6dXhuY-Kro1wm1PuLVHf01jIFbzg9N7VEgY0eFYiPkp0JPfTLLJA_jJ48w/s1600/IMG_0317.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXY6OKjjE2dL_j2dw0QIgVSbHKhT0NESG9OCW9b-stZKnoKvHMogkNMwvKA7sMQiBgc22iXCzYNgfsu-vJYo6dXhuY-Kro1wm1PuLVHf01jIFbzg9N7VEgY0eFYiPkp0JPfTLLJA_jJ48w/s320/IMG_0317.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578075811467957714" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8zVZm-4w7w_U282kkbjOWOFCdGQ-hPcHXtnMvyE6RnWRYU5YYPTTYLL5gj8h0Otj3TtR2b1YUPN7dooGdcE-NuVLZXdwP9fdFiXgsN0zXFVAK2KW_5E18EEZzFM9Fhg9lbg8PSb4R1Kac/s1600/IMG_4608.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8zVZm-4w7w_U282kkbjOWOFCdGQ-hPcHXtnMvyE6RnWRYU5YYPTTYLL5gj8h0Otj3TtR2b1YUPN7dooGdcE-NuVLZXdwP9fdFiXgsN0zXFVAK2KW_5E18EEZzFM9Fhg9lbg8PSb4R1Kac/s320/IMG_4608.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578089680741442354" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgknpQTECyoDscckhTnNocc0ZSz2fgYjvFatdz1NG76U24m-91DnsDUFzPGlCiK9fJurTZCNdsOluKXNG9_98ZPZmpWiqLTPeYICqJBqTxWXWpJdTjAiJ2VAlJEQtZVND3FbfyGSAc6ZPId/s1600/IMG_0400.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgknpQTECyoDscckhTnNocc0ZSz2fgYjvFatdz1NG76U24m-91DnsDUFzPGlCiK9fJurTZCNdsOluKXNG9_98ZPZmpWiqLTPeYICqJBqTxWXWpJdTjAiJ2VAlJEQtZVND3FbfyGSAc6ZPId/s320/IMG_0400.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578077307456830818" border="0" /></a><br />So she leaves a big hole in our world. We've learned that the antidote for what weighs our hearts down in most situations is gratitude. It applies here too. It doesn't make us not miss her, but it does lighten it a bit. The night she died, as we were going to bed, exhausted and feeling the huge empty place next to the bed, John began to pray for us. He sweetly thanked the Lord that the vet had been so kind, that the Lord had made our choices about her clear and for all the years we got to enjoy her. I <span style="font-style: italic;">am</span> grateful. The Lord gives good gifts.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVuYmYjWmQYL4ckg8Py5SYCjUGLq4YjtzdulLSfLE9kpmOYin1TqpoYvFDStV1QWCV_t1hyxS9XHgW4zU-YPQN0iw17ajC6GYQ89xt8DNXwDtQ6UxzU-366bZyYAeH_VBMA7rsfZL9LZaJ/s1600/IMG_0328.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVuYmYjWmQYL4ckg8Py5SYCjUGLq4YjtzdulLSfLE9kpmOYin1TqpoYvFDStV1QWCV_t1hyxS9XHgW4zU-YPQN0iw17ajC6GYQ89xt8DNXwDtQ6UxzU-366bZyYAeH_VBMA7rsfZL9LZaJ/s320/IMG_0328.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578075797523091890" border="0" /></a>john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-19167476673202932092011-02-18T17:53:00.005+01:002011-02-18T18:36:03.223+01:00a day in FreiburgLast Saturday we where greeted with clear skies and "warmer" weather. We decided to take advantage of this time and spend the day in Freiburg.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIiuysisSCg2n9cky5Snk5versCGU2mYqfMrIpT9d-uZVTj94pLGOcJqAw4QFLgrkvnvobxftATBpH8dDlt3pfPK_UZtEKfAX_O_wMFfSWIsTmeHgS9gNOkvuuGynqrT9M20qlZa10wpx/s1600/IMG_4690.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSIiuysisSCg2n9cky5Snk5versCGU2mYqfMrIpT9d-uZVTj94pLGOcJqAw4QFLgrkvnvobxftATBpH8dDlt3pfPK_UZtEKfAX_O_wMFfSWIsTmeHgS9gNOkvuuGynqrT9M20qlZa10wpx/s400/IMG_4690.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575083477711322434" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghy7TPv7xOERzZtbe8SDdscYoCPMOlha-E9R9EftWqdBpx1rP6uduzdrdqAJPK9qfdjj0jpE_VJ8PpEDzyP7WVeOr5r8ZQEuJcVQW01YAFRXU5fxabjQH8aJjju75z1NhTYL_P-rk0EJeB/s1600/IMG_4689.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghy7TPv7xOERzZtbe8SDdscYoCPMOlha-E9R9EftWqdBpx1rP6uduzdrdqAJPK9qfdjj0jpE_VJ8PpEDzyP7WVeOr5r8ZQEuJcVQW01YAFRXU5fxabjQH8aJjju75z1NhTYL_P-rk0EJeB/s400/IMG_4689.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575083472427513298" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_fUkgxdiVTgUOzRyTgRcZdD43qj0ZX8ZEedbiyQ3Q5LsjW1LPcUaSsHuzI1DUo4sIMVNM3JXmcyT6aUsliiLgVDcnrXyg_x11dRKt115VTXH7I_lb1-fIWumbyjVAsQyPxezTPZAdaSm/s1600/IMG_4732.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_fUkgxdiVTgUOzRyTgRcZdD43qj0ZX8ZEedbiyQ3Q5LsjW1LPcUaSsHuzI1DUo4sIMVNM3JXmcyT6aUsliiLgVDcnrXyg_x11dRKt115VTXH7I_lb1-fIWumbyjVAsQyPxezTPZAdaSm/s400/IMG_4732.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575083465530325474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVkLUo80Ag3Fe5Us2EFpLfKQ0Drzwjwh_TMp7QOAgw5j9zNWHTNIhASLCWXfJ1fnIirXx_0LH-pKwTWmWFb-ZJAZ2jrKJDNhIYKX48wDZHPst678KHYa-npo0t5x4uomjQ5Z0rosP7oX2/s1600/IMG_4728.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVkLUo80Ag3Fe5Us2EFpLfKQ0Drzwjwh_TMp7QOAgw5j9zNWHTNIhASLCWXfJ1fnIirXx_0LH-pKwTWmWFb-ZJAZ2jrKJDNhIYKX48wDZHPst678KHYa-npo0t5x4uomjQ5Z0rosP7oX2/s400/IMG_4728.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575083461638543762" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_P8pHdbslU0edF4xaWOY1G62t1NYMVuZzd7Vf9V2DY2iQDHsZv-LFL4vshdh7fakN_jYFMc5hqwTh0RVx_2vvsmYq3fY5pWCAGhiuqgJsYgRVNyvgGH5qnwXTU1O2Yf29GfjtnDg8aMs/s1600/IMG_4739.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_P8pHdbslU0edF4xaWOY1G62t1NYMVuZzd7Vf9V2DY2iQDHsZv-LFL4vshdh7fakN_jYFMc5hqwTh0RVx_2vvsmYq3fY5pWCAGhiuqgJsYgRVNyvgGH5qnwXTU1O2Yf29GfjtnDg8aMs/s400/IMG_4739.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575083451429622818" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwoo8Tz2bBVuhpGyXnGoe06MZR16xQA4pAA3xfX2kUaXGX88Mr7rerg9VlI0bbZlD1kkVLvEDv23kpiHmJsz3KyU1QlK6q4aLPVLhCyxzZyr6VhzvQ1FxvW1qOsDJ5P5yVhoRQfbW-5XFu/s1600/IMG_4700.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwoo8Tz2bBVuhpGyXnGoe06MZR16xQA4pAA3xfX2kUaXGX88Mr7rerg9VlI0bbZlD1kkVLvEDv23kpiHmJsz3KyU1QlK6q4aLPVLhCyxzZyr6VhzvQ1FxvW1qOsDJ5P5yVhoRQfbW-5XFu/s400/IMG_4700.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575084183582345842" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uixPkQouzK-ZzSB0XFYzpiGI-KfVxnYKqMAcGpWyEleofZrnvg5IcdQVlkInDiWEcfBOadcVb0gDtfjRA7xx-5zp_f4HDv_ijRLBTKlvSi5pf2qN57d9R4BVegSz97ujwuLPWb8NLnH-/s1600/IMG_4746.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uixPkQouzK-ZzSB0XFYzpiGI-KfVxnYKqMAcGpWyEleofZrnvg5IcdQVlkInDiWEcfBOadcVb0gDtfjRA7xx-5zp_f4HDv_ijRLBTKlvSi5pf2qN57d9R4BVegSz97ujwuLPWb8NLnH-/s400/IMG_4746.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575084187778980770" border="0" /></a>john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-66328512004755439982011-02-04T15:21:00.005+01:002011-02-04T16:30:55.860+01:00"so much pain"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp5MeJRcqLJAe7UeORXheqpQ6HxPYXdrfoTKotn4yE3n56-zGF9jNd7SPiO76bxfBuMZaR_lLowQeCL-A07Myevjn7UMFQx27VdGZeK38XtNIohqrCbVOdEZVLVKapNlHO4H71PxbZdSRB/s1600/800px-Grunewald_Isenheim1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp5MeJRcqLJAe7UeORXheqpQ6HxPYXdrfoTKotn4yE3n56-zGF9jNd7SPiO76bxfBuMZaR_lLowQeCL-A07Myevjn7UMFQx27VdGZeK38XtNIohqrCbVOdEZVLVKapNlHO4H71PxbZdSRB/s400/800px-Grunewald_Isenheim1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569841783746494546" border="0" /></a><br />Time for a bit of an art history lesson and a story. (All you homeschooling friends, grab your kids!)<br /><br />This is the Isenheim Altarpiece, painted by a man named Mathias Grünwald in about 1500. He was a German artist, and this altarpiece was painted for the chapel of a monastery in Isenheim near Colmar, France.<br /><br />First off, I'll explain a couple of things that help us look at this painting. An Altarpiece is a large painting on a panel or panels that stands right behind the altar, typically in a Catholic church. What that means is that every week when people came forward to the altar to take communion, they were looking directly at whatever image was on the altarpiece. As my art history teacher used to always say, "Notice what the artist wanted people to think about right at the moment they were receiving communion." So, we have Jesus dying on the cross. Seems appropriate.<br /><br />However, many altarpieces (like this one) had multiple panels that could be opened like doors so that when the doors were closed, you saw one picture and when they were opened for mass or a special service, you saw a different image. The crucifixion on this altarpiece is on the outside. That means it is the image that people saw whenever they walked into the chapel - not just during mass.<br /><br />Okay, time to look a little closer. The first photo shows that there are several parts that are each separate pictures. It's easy to find more information on-line about the side and bottom pictures, but I'm going to focus on the middle part - the Crucifixion.<br /><br />What do we see in the picture? Jesus dying on the cross, four other people and a lamb. One person is Mary Magdalene (kneeling) Mary the mother of Jesus (fainting in white), John the evangelist (in red, holding Mary as she faints) and John the Baptist (pointing and holding a Bible).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQ5M0DwpTkaT7WJIQeW8Pe2o6Np3OzYjUF2Qqnrdt8cW49WBjvdvG2slLS4pMa7ZrXgkWJik0665Ot6mD8fIT2NcUU58ISq3iZdT0fbZJZQLZADA0b79Bj-lVdxvTY9ZOQCnJbVXMuyKa/s1600/2048px-Mathis_Gothart_Gr%25C3%25BCnewald_022.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 355px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQ5M0DwpTkaT7WJIQeW8Pe2o6Np3OzYjUF2Qqnrdt8cW49WBjvdvG2slLS4pMa7ZrXgkWJik0665Ot6mD8fIT2NcUU58ISq3iZdT0fbZJZQLZADA0b79Bj-lVdxvTY9ZOQCnJbVXMuyKa/s400/2048px-Mathis_Gothart_Gr%25C3%25BCnewald_022.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569841778959078594" border="0" /></a><br />Some questions people ask:<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Why do the people look so weird? </span>Well, they are kind of "out of proportion " (small heads, extra long arms and legs) because German artists at the time exaggerated how things looked in order to show how people felt or to symbolize certain ideas. In this picture the exaggerations help us see how sad the people who loved Jesus were and how much pain they were in.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This isn't very accurate from the Bible, is it?</span><br />No, not really. There are parts that are accurate, but not all of it. The artist wasn't trying to make it perfectly accurate; he was trying to show us what was important about that moment in time and some of what he believes and feels about it. For example, John the Baptist is holding scriptures and pointing - which tells us about how the prophecies from the Old Testament were talking about Jesus. Grünewald also painted the words in Latin next to John the Baptist that mean, "He must increase and I must decrease" which do come straight from the Bible. Again, it helps us know that not only is Jesus who the old prophets talked about, but also who John the Baptist had been talking about.<br /><br />The Lamb and the cross and the cup below are symbols too - symbols of how Jesus is the lamb that was sacrificed for us.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">What's all over Jesus' skin?</span><br />This gets to my favorite part!<br /><br />I have always LOVED the Isenheim altarpiece because it shows us something really wonderful (and true) that the artist understood about Christ. Jesus' skin is all marked up in this painting for a very special reason. The monastery in Isenheim was run by the Brothers of St. Anthony, and served as a hospital. The Brothers of St. Anthony were especially skilled at taking care of people with some really painful skin diseases. The people who came to the hospital sometimes looked a lot like Jesus did here - big sores all over their bodies.<br /><br />So, imagine being a patient at this monastery and walking into the chapel to pray. You feel miserable and you look up and see this picture of Jesus. Not only do you see a reminder of how he suffered to save you, but you notice his skin looks like yours. You see that Jesus is someone who knows what it's like to be you! He knows what your pain feels like, and like the Bible says he is always "interceding" for us when we don't even know how to describe what we feel.<br />Fabulous!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnVs8ie4h0-7B0_TC5gPcaqLPsac6VG0RC8swq9ymfI5c0k77zCX2CRJwVs0tCNALPbKgj9VcMPRxunkXnRWsOXcCrJX5jBnA6m8w5vOVGppDeCOBypML7GWOzJCCchX3HqP0IBn2P-Sv8/s1600/2048px-Mathis_Gothart_Gr%25C3%25BCnewald_023.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 327px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnVs8ie4h0-7B0_TC5gPcaqLPsac6VG0RC8swq9ymfI5c0k77zCX2CRJwVs0tCNALPbKgj9VcMPRxunkXnRWsOXcCrJX5jBnA6m8w5vOVGppDeCOBypML7GWOzJCCchX3HqP0IBn2P-Sv8/s400/2048px-Mathis_Gothart_Gr%25C3%25BCnewald_023.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569841773650454146" border="0" /></a><br />Okay, now my story. They moved the Isenheim altarpiece from Isenheim to a museum in Colmar, France. Colmar is less than an hour's drive from us here in Kandern, and over Christmas break we drove to see it. Dream come true for me! It was wonderful -- though cold! I picked up a few postcards of it and took them to language class with me to show one of my classmates who was curious about the painting (I had told the class that I had gone to Colmar). The first thing she said when she saw it was, "So much pain!" Yes. Exactly. I replied, "That's why I love it. It shows Jesus as someone who knows our pain."<br /><br />This is one of the things I love about great art. It speaks so powerfully about how people see and understand the world and opens up such wonderful conversations.<br /><br />Questions anyone? LOL<br />Actually, if you have them and send them as comments, I'll do my best to answer.john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-48951952717660133842011-01-30T20:44:00.004+01:002011-01-30T21:17:17.076+01:00catch upYep, we're still here!<br /><br />We just got a DSL connection in our apartment this week after a LOT of effort and phone calls with Deutsche telekom. A friend here stepped in at a couple points and her final call led to the discovery that "inexplicably" a DSL port had suddenly become available in our building. :) Thank you God! This weekend we're playing catch up - emails, blogging :), etc. It will be good to be able to respond a little more quickly to some things and not get to that place where we feel buried.<br /><br />So, some glimpses from the gap in time:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGWMI4Ms-eceUz6OzdeUkhomsfA_JoyZTO6kLtdQEQAspah-wbpkfP3b12O5cTmFrog9lhGvhOy7Cqisd1xGOPVPRCCNUdd54M0pflozls_dzqV4mF0lT5WWDcnpqfiHIQwLXfFWkqde_T/s1600/IMG_4528.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGWMI4Ms-eceUz6OzdeUkhomsfA_JoyZTO6kLtdQEQAspah-wbpkfP3b12O5cTmFrog9lhGvhOy7Cqisd1xGOPVPRCCNUdd54M0pflozls_dzqV4mF0lT5WWDcnpqfiHIQwLXfFWkqde_T/s400/IMG_4528.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568072227821721890" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Among the new experiences from our Christmas holidays was the celebration of Boxing Day with a British family we have met. They had family friends in town (British and German) and we headed out for a winter walk together before coming back for warm drinks and a lunch of finger foods. This was our spectacular winter walk!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKo7He2ucigQAxcuKJZ21m9Ppy-_TYh6yohpW302ye1jRMeuSnWhiznhOyoCWdoAuxeflRCzc8lvUrKLHpDLo2MoeTzoDFhUbdeNuvkzj9thF7n7l5QWdIjkyi5JaESdUfqKfAJ_z8HpJR/s1600/IMG_4469.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKo7He2ucigQAxcuKJZ21m9Ppy-_TYh6yohpW302ye1jRMeuSnWhiznhOyoCWdoAuxeflRCzc8lvUrKLHpDLo2MoeTzoDFhUbdeNuvkzj9thF7n7l5QWdIjkyi5JaESdUfqKfAJ_z8HpJR/s400/IMG_4469.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568072224097262834" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1SCHsu7tCifURsdAUh5_AB_uIBSNkNMnVWh2xOH7biFOv3d2XTSuSLTmgRIBTyQTHahhqtuGI8qubHJ1OA827VgSJhakpVAPxLqscuh7j6_hu55tX7XXRzYwSbpiJeKSyFR1dirW-0oVr/s1600/IMG_4538.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1SCHsu7tCifURsdAUh5_AB_uIBSNkNMnVWh2xOH7biFOv3d2XTSuSLTmgRIBTyQTHahhqtuGI8qubHJ1OA827VgSJhakpVAPxLqscuh7j6_hu55tX7XXRzYwSbpiJeKSyFR1dirW-0oVr/s400/IMG_4538.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568072212286985250" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjib7poEytQMtu4ZnuzoAPmitc_tUNW61kB_poOCyoGeBdd6l767B88BKg7tRVnmw6tEfKEevkuye47QbxUVWkz8RtBvTO0t2vDqM5isL2zKdPSc-pr13e10pEUKgrqg47ZbbrWmd-l3LCl/s1600/IMG_4515.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjib7poEytQMtu4ZnuzoAPmitc_tUNW61kB_poOCyoGeBdd6l767B88BKg7tRVnmw6tEfKEevkuye47QbxUVWkz8RtBvTO0t2vDqM5isL2zKdPSc-pr13e10pEUKgrqg47ZbbrWmd-l3LCl/s400/IMG_4515.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568072205329182738" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZZ62xsLSR0-pjdEQ14gE799qZ5mhcNh470cfpk5-qf3s2DIr7N7q7M_HXx1z941W6pfBgW1N7ATz8h1wrYIRPRjUdEZAkrgZyvpc-SUgyCMn3iF1cLogkzPXcwjKTFDX2lPzyrof2QRe/s1600/IMG_4489.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZZ62xsLSR0-pjdEQ14gE799qZ5mhcNh470cfpk5-qf3s2DIr7N7q7M_HXx1z941W6pfBgW1N7ATz8h1wrYIRPRjUdEZAkrgZyvpc-SUgyCMn3iF1cLogkzPXcwjKTFDX2lPzyrof2QRe/s400/IMG_4489.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568071409131057410" border="0" /></a>And this was one of our walking companions. She's just too cute not to include!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6YPh8QdWXvzs28KHd3F_gHvcArvFpkNR7kGJTnZ2l766xERwE4wlGdXoOJN85l6Kj3r4DV8PChJCcXtQV_hRsVMsL-cLlLdjOQFNZPxPqZi5enJol6DsmVdU9pnBSdeAKBnaGtgbnHOl/s1600/IMG_4559.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6YPh8QdWXvzs28KHd3F_gHvcArvFpkNR7kGJTnZ2l766xERwE4wlGdXoOJN85l6Kj3r4DV8PChJCcXtQV_hRsVMsL-cLlLdjOQFNZPxPqZi5enJol6DsmVdU9pnBSdeAKBnaGtgbnHOl/s400/IMG_4559.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568071401931754130" border="0" /></a>Our apartment has a small balcony, which Nia certainly enjoys, but she was particularly attentive to what was going on BELOW one day. Here's why:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjopjExbGW-o1hyphenhyphenCoX4BleRYj7cOn0ymHt5ayhpAESLV64tpgGvJy6ozGtVDR3iyuaNsA-K2VjrcYdycBRmKXNyAApyLzGteiUkVz6FTTs6E6keZIJnQZn4YuzS0f1bwX3SOBGf8Dtgom2/s1600/IMG_4569.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjopjExbGW-o1hyphenhyphenCoX4BleRYj7cOn0ymHt5ayhpAESLV64tpgGvJy6ozGtVDR3iyuaNsA-K2VjrcYdycBRmKXNyAApyLzGteiUkVz6FTTs6E6keZIJnQZn4YuzS0f1bwX3SOBGf8Dtgom2/s400/IMG_4569.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568071396933961906" border="0" /></a>Puppies! our downstairs neighbor has a lab mix that had 9 puppies. SO cute! I really can't blame Nia for being both so curious and rapt. I stood and watched for a long time too. In fact, the next Saturday the neighbor invited us to come down and play with them while they were out because she'd seen us standing on the balcony watching. I should clarify, she invited John and I - not Nia.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgou8AxzxB6PAhxuAtIF_IHuEfUVNFVgd2uZl5BAznvZklWweObe7dDt45X6x6aetvKga-ASo1QnW08Ts6uY1uf8KwR1AFLIB7j9hTcpiKGhVrPhlwg3F5WFbhf7fvBwJUI8YVtEx6naPgE/s1600/IMG_4564.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgou8AxzxB6PAhxuAtIF_IHuEfUVNFVgd2uZl5BAznvZklWweObe7dDt45X6x6aetvKga-ASo1QnW08Ts6uY1uf8KwR1AFLIB7j9hTcpiKGhVrPhlwg3F5WFbhf7fvBwJUI8YVtEx6naPgE/s400/IMG_4564.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568071387418140770" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxuPhA0RtgX7vT4thdIs5GfU3Jpmt7V7MwqhvsslIxE120FKGsMmcP2Yuofr_GJjYamB-GWdexJPlNC6fmjIT1LblOOnRIvP40amZ_Q8xQltJHnE7NSlc84e4c29IemazQMtWiQo6raGdl/s1600/IMG_4586.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxuPhA0RtgX7vT4thdIs5GfU3Jpmt7V7MwqhvsslIxE120FKGsMmcP2Yuofr_GJjYamB-GWdexJPlNC6fmjIT1LblOOnRIvP40amZ_Q8xQltJHnE7NSlc84e4c29IemazQMtWiQo6raGdl/s400/IMG_4586.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568071379380774274" border="0" /></a><br />Coming soon: language school, apartment progress, and the Isenheim Altarpiece.john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-43752707722791309942010-12-23T21:03:00.003+01:002010-12-23T21:16:54.073+01:00merry christmasOur apartment living room last night:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY_nlXp_1Ybp4LPyXkossqJPmylZjd6XXtcgli9q4C_jYcIuJOtEmsIAC1MQmu0X8DT0AcLNv8n49hhkGtS-4Mp0L6gAIVgopHJUEFxsDHNlzVWMKW9fyyWILR0LyeeVJ398sDmBiZ0lZW/s1600/IMG_4416.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY_nlXp_1Ybp4LPyXkossqJPmylZjd6XXtcgli9q4C_jYcIuJOtEmsIAC1MQmu0X8DT0AcLNv8n49hhkGtS-4Mp0L6gAIVgopHJUEFxsDHNlzVWMKW9fyyWILR0LyeeVJ398sDmBiZ0lZW/s400/IMG_4416.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553971869706215346" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLBlbdL07_e07XF1g20u5AR1Z6m9EMKe80CGZ10tHhp7A3-TAMd-_DWtlAvQrBdeF7QCU4xeKMCIrvgC8p6GKP0kV1rL4aWkismu39EwZ4sjSI4FhJjG3aLxDwVBjW1-tVjEf1c-57yB4W/s1600/IMG_4422.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLBlbdL07_e07XF1g20u5AR1Z6m9EMKe80CGZ10tHhp7A3-TAMd-_DWtlAvQrBdeF7QCU4xeKMCIrvgC8p6GKP0kV1rL4aWkismu39EwZ4sjSI4FhJjG3aLxDwVBjW1-tVjEf1c-57yB4W/s400/IMG_4422.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553971865994279570" border="0" /></a><br />And our apartment living room tonight:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtCC69ijdFf2ckuECKfBlOVrVfrEkGuFV4aSigKhdm7r3Gxg7Uv_keSAMki62LcYOFAQos6VyrHsaDJHL2llzw3ipvSPCPcjwJLu4OQpRWNgwWQEynIKsio2RnjVWxYWOJbo5nGO5ngcv/s1600/IMG_4432.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtCC69ijdFf2ckuECKfBlOVrVfrEkGuFV4aSigKhdm7r3Gxg7Uv_keSAMki62LcYOFAQos6VyrHsaDJHL2llzw3ipvSPCPcjwJLu4OQpRWNgwWQEynIKsio2RnjVWxYWOJbo5nGO5ngcv/s400/IMG_4432.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553971861325900130" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GKxpykraZoL09FKdQHx91XoEBuPZIgLdZoWGCr8Ub9YlhrVzC-3lq8W3PmUZbuao3vO57HaNJC171XpsVwp9t8gAKjk0oDPd6HxjMcx6pIiNP6mZu62HzicP5BMCIaHbBHogl-TnSDUp/s1600/IMG_4435.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GKxpykraZoL09FKdQHx91XoEBuPZIgLdZoWGCr8Ub9YlhrVzC-3lq8W3PmUZbuao3vO57HaNJC171XpsVwp9t8gAKjk0oDPd6HxjMcx6pIiNP6mZu62HzicP5BMCIaHbBHogl-TnSDUp/s400/IMG_4435.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553971849284507026" border="0" /></a><br />Big sigh of relief and thanks on our end; our shipment is here. It all looks great. We joked in September that it would "be like Christmas" when our shipment arrived .... hmm. Little did we know it would literally be Christmas! Nevertheless we are having a blast opening boxes that we haven't seen the contents of in 2 1/2 years - dishes, artwork, wedding gifts. It's a little bit like receiving them all over again. <br /><br />And we are so thankful for God's kindness in it all. We'd be totally fine without any of it - it's just stuff - but how delightful to enjoy things that feel like home to us, that we find to be beautiful, that remind us of people we love and miss.<br /><br />Now, we just have to figure out how to get the couch in through the second story window....john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-67918723615790330412010-11-29T17:47:00.004+01:002010-12-15T18:28:38.081+01:00finds<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNAABXXraHFklp212pmsyu2prHVF0op8ACHVryiYFRp2-kjwEHkzcBifNuMOGCqdtR05TNZ7-tobB6MphYJnGpghauX1YM_ZTr9gRMMGBugDxxnGc-p-OgN9iKJ5DTpzW7eGjDYPRV1bUE/s1600/IMG_4333.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNAABXXraHFklp212pmsyu2prHVF0op8ACHVryiYFRp2-kjwEHkzcBifNuMOGCqdtR05TNZ7-tobB6MphYJnGpghauX1YM_ZTr9gRMMGBugDxxnGc-p-OgN9iKJ5DTpzW7eGjDYPRV1bUE/s400/IMG_4333.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545015489085530034" border="0" /></a><br />I am quite determined to post some apartment photos soon.... I've waited thinking it would be far more fun to take photos when we actually had things IN our apartment (empty rooms kind of just feel like real estate ads) but maybe I'll just have to go ahead - seeing that our things don't seem to be coming anytime soon...<br /><br />In the meantime, a few photos from our world. The stained glass is actually from a grave marker, the bronze keys from the front door of a church, and in the last photo, look at the clock tower and know that our apartment is right next to it. We can literally lay in our bed, look at the roof window and see the tower. Kind of feels like we could reach out the window and touch it - or like maybe some action movie hero could leap from church roof right through our open window ...<br /><br />Our apartment is pretty quirky but we love it. I think we'll love it even more as we personalize it a bit and make it a home. It's really right in the middle of town. That clock tower has bells in it that faithfully ring every 15 minutes: once at the quarter hour, twice at the half, 3 times at 45 and then 4 on the hour plus a different chime to count down the hours. Sometimes the bells just go crazy and ring for awhile - we haven't quite figured out what that's for yet except when it happens on Sunday mornings before church starts. Yes, they are loud but not the least bothersome to us. I actually really love the sound.<br /><br />We've picked up some second-hand furniture that I got paint for today. Maybe those will make the blog first... We have a few things for preparing and eating food, a bed to sleep in, and a few other miscellaneous things for cleaning and living life. Minimal. Kind of like camping at home. And yet we've adjusted to it and are starting to wonder if when we get our other household belongings they will feel unnecessary. We were so excited when we got a washer and dryer (used from a couple moving back to the US) that we kept randomly saying to each other, "we have a washer and dryer!" for a couple of weeks. Mostly we've figured we'll feel just as thankful when it will be things like, "We have living room furniture!" or "I have a spatula to turn pancakes with!", but I also think we'll be struck by what we managed without.<br /><br />We could have borrowed any number of things from people and have chosen not to (mostly expecting things to arrive anytime). Yet I wonder at what the Lord is cultivating in us - contentment, gratitude, dependence, insight. Its good stuff. I might feel a twinge of remorse when our shipment comes - remorse for losing a certain amount of raw teach-ability because I'm not figuring out how to cook dinner with a leatherman knife, a pot and a pan. We have two plates, two bowls, two coffee cups and a few glasses, two forks, four spoons, two butter knives, a Nalgene bottle and a rubbermaid spatula - and we've been able to have friends join us for small meals or tea... pretty amazing how little we need, pretty amazing how the Lord provides, pretty amazing to think what it takes for us to notice things sometimes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnj0S1KWgd-3pFDwW5dIHoJ-UtAkeR0ESRly782UzKT9KSXHJiZPlQD9PvmGB6m5T_nKTJuCfeGE-jXkYLUE86a4o5TnOZIcz8QvKEeastFXmFVcdw1eYWFEHzoFq10bHed37cJTU_vSce/s1600/IMG_4291.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnj0S1KWgd-3pFDwW5dIHoJ-UtAkeR0ESRly782UzKT9KSXHJiZPlQD9PvmGB6m5T_nKTJuCfeGE-jXkYLUE86a4o5TnOZIcz8QvKEeastFXmFVcdw1eYWFEHzoFq10bHed37cJTU_vSce/s400/IMG_4291.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545015470380937746" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5jJGMb_Q7ugpS8CDjDBsoZbI3q65Qj1jN3juv0D_XcjACCQ-0_-M7Dv4srKfITjiUuQJSZx5KRRKllKhq3shlxvodJq6I0zA2Y21OWx2YJB5fezpwcqs7PiVUhV4-9r0WnkBrgW0YoQQ/s1600/IMG_4320.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5jJGMb_Q7ugpS8CDjDBsoZbI3q65Qj1jN3juv0D_XcjACCQ-0_-M7Dv4srKfITjiUuQJSZx5KRRKllKhq3shlxvodJq6I0zA2Y21OWx2YJB5fezpwcqs7PiVUhV4-9r0WnkBrgW0YoQQ/s400/IMG_4320.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550961437284111874" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjbAYpX5Irq7S9JDeRlqLqB84nyDBae9eHZ8aC-blYmuIdpNDEkaI-pUwitonCGxa-C97yIsNwFBcDOwd2xg-kNYXGxCAAuueZTokFRbTrHKs2mlH2Bn8g4Oxwmj8vS8Rs3-0iUNyL-pL/s1600/IMG_4261.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjbAYpX5Irq7S9JDeRlqLqB84nyDBae9eHZ8aC-blYmuIdpNDEkaI-pUwitonCGxa-C97yIsNwFBcDOwd2xg-kNYXGxCAAuueZTokFRbTrHKs2mlH2Bn8g4Oxwmj8vS8Rs3-0iUNyL-pL/s400/IMG_4261.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545015453482375634" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih64rCHcChCDMwbhic3PJfB7WK5KwqPAZLqSP-33w5hUnYn5hwEO-SnSEF2ZZWmsPAWaYzKGhKF6p4qMC1C0042C1IwUQQ9xwkt9RvuP4BdOORUINBYM8h4ctTUBzPlYF20zPZgR13DIGj/s1600/IMG_4259.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih64rCHcChCDMwbhic3PJfB7WK5KwqPAZLqSP-33w5hUnYn5hwEO-SnSEF2ZZWmsPAWaYzKGhKF6p4qMC1C0042C1IwUQQ9xwkt9RvuP4BdOORUINBYM8h4ctTUBzPlYF20zPZgR13DIGj/s400/IMG_4259.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545015442334038754" border="0" /></a>john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4216630878371200847.post-79334266291659936942010-11-21T21:05:00.003+01:002010-11-21T21:24:56.126+01:00juxtaposed<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxAkfFZnr4qmNMf3CP_xeqAtZL25aYliPAErrMoeeasBe38NMdNi7Hspiz5jCP6c5q_F3GwIDhK16HvuNZxo0HDqrSZh4IoIAduSDSBGx6ZYWwZihYxTGFma-EykAXbxCGIc25ISzLaAId/s1600/IMG_4129.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxAkfFZnr4qmNMf3CP_xeqAtZL25aYliPAErrMoeeasBe38NMdNi7Hspiz5jCP6c5q_F3GwIDhK16HvuNZxo0HDqrSZh4IoIAduSDSBGx6ZYWwZihYxTGFma-EykAXbxCGIc25ISzLaAId/s400/IMG_4129.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542097715142734370" border="0" /></a><br />About 30 minutes drive from us is Basel, Switzerland - a pretty old city. At least it seems to be from my limited knowledge and American perspective. Anyway, every fall they have this big festival (essentially a harvest festival) at the end of October/beginning of November. This year's was the 540th annual Herbst Messe. (yep - 540 years) We're guessing they didn't have Ferris Wheels and Eddie Murphy pictures in the early years.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwYREoGGvkUaNj9-IfXWdVEWvM4e2uCpFjvhiJPn4nITqvB_v8wziO__ZMGzcOBVg0VvN5IeI8ZJGo5qPdYCUpdZKe5chh2lFyPdm6jBYv2PxxN7BGWpGyaV1zxKymR1IvFS5iDUz82DeE/s1600/IMG_4168.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwYREoGGvkUaNj9-IfXWdVEWvM4e2uCpFjvhiJPn4nITqvB_v8wziO__ZMGzcOBVg0VvN5IeI8ZJGo5qPdYCUpdZKe5chh2lFyPdm6jBYv2PxxN7BGWpGyaV1zxKymR1IvFS5iDUz82DeE/s400/IMG_4168.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542097511277174290" border="0" /></a><br />So look at this contrast - old city and cathedral with this huge Ferris wheel. I don't think it bothers anyone around here, but somehow it was just really striking to me to stand in these beautiful old city squares and be surrounded by State Fair rides, music and lights.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0I_mDSx7WcbioXiiy6Z3GPWCr8X6n0mvlsLVqWs_Mo9Bb4_q0aWUtai2BHtzj2uSc8ncRR86yQWEBXA1eywDZJvgSaBTYF-nT9i1oof37QceP1iOpW3Sx2mPQT5R8fYHl3BpLJT1kOheQ/s1600/IMG_4173.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0I_mDSx7WcbioXiiy6Z3GPWCr8X6n0mvlsLVqWs_Mo9Bb4_q0aWUtai2BHtzj2uSc8ncRR86yQWEBXA1eywDZJvgSaBTYF-nT9i1oof37QceP1iOpW3Sx2mPQT5R8fYHl3BpLJT1kOheQ/s400/IMG_4173.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542097506315275154" border="0" /></a><br />All this to say, that I think we are feeling the constrasts of our own worlds, trying to fit pieces together in a new place. We'll figure it out eventually - or at least enough to be at home.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTrBcHfWZtoh8y91go3u2_mO_iH3K-hhYjD6C7aw9fR8iCIpylGhih_odY3qUV-8Bs3-63ovUKyEVKLCnaw1Z1-vpBI8CCxNuN8UzDFJ_quEtBAOZoKlj4Py_T2IzFCnPH0XLW1LU4Uy4/s1600/IMG_4177.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggTrBcHfWZtoh8y91go3u2_mO_iH3K-hhYjD6C7aw9fR8iCIpylGhih_odY3qUV-8Bs3-63ovUKyEVKLCnaw1Z1-vpBI8CCxNuN8UzDFJ_quEtBAOZoKlj4Py_T2IzFCnPH0XLW1LU4Uy4/s400/IMG_4177.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542097494823150050" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCppkTJG3yiwoUH9HQaZZS1R4K1mCojnL18WSp3yEz7Nq_-4ALBlW9TsNcRFAeZpjCUgR-RywEQwGC6PQetbcYjN8jDF6yGW_l0OUQz6XN6ohRIp7WDI76UiFR2rBfQWVgmy7FjPW76upb/s1600/IMG_4182.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCppkTJG3yiwoUH9HQaZZS1R4K1mCojnL18WSp3yEz7Nq_-4ALBlW9TsNcRFAeZpjCUgR-RywEQwGC6PQetbcYjN8jDF6yGW_l0OUQz6XN6ohRIp7WDI76UiFR2rBfQWVgmy7FjPW76upb/s400/IMG_4182.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542097478882034530" border="0" /></a>(the Rhine river and part of old city Basel)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiugfzQDl98fCL2ArMGmfdPmOKsdTMK8UEf7xy4tlHKZALhv9kg2Ldk8b044hrl7pj883LdFzCBSxqoSzzqUkF_9y4IOGHZOCJmX8vxVkKkQc9pz4gv8Sr-fh1XhHqQUx18eLGkOaveNDd6/s1600/IMG_4239.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiugfzQDl98fCL2ArMGmfdPmOKsdTMK8UEf7xy4tlHKZALhv9kg2Ldk8b044hrl7pj883LdFzCBSxqoSzzqUkF_9y4IOGHZOCJmX8vxVkKkQc9pz4gv8Sr-fh1XhHqQUx18eLGkOaveNDd6/s400/IMG_4239.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542097476139586770" border="0" /></a>And John just looked over my shoulder and asked what the salad had to do with anything... pretty much nothing. :) It's just a local seasonal favorite that we'd never had before - Feldsalat (field salad). We highly recommend it.<br /><br />FYI, our shipment comes from the US this week - Tuesday or Wednesday. Woohoo! If we can figure out how to get it all up the narrow little stairwell to our apartment, we'll actually have something besides us IN the apartment!john & shellyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04375226489850792932noreply@blogger.com0