gather 'round and let me share a story from my past...part 1

To maybe "get in the spirit" of St. Valentine's Day, I think I would like to venture into a new territory on my blog. There aren't really rhymes or reasons to my blog. I can't even say each post is a complete thought. Or thoughts...it's even confusing to me. The posts seem vague. Sharing the stuff that's really going on in my life seems to be like bare exposure on the world wide web. So I guess I've become shy. (side note: does being shy make a person less vulnerable and honest?) Hang in here with me...

Plunging ahead.

Recently, I finished reading Dear John by Nicholas Sparks in order to see the movie. Anyone who has read or seen some of the books turned into movies pretty much knows and expects that it will be a tear-jerker and this fact is inevitable. So I prepared myself for it...and the tears never came. From the previews of the movie, I knew a little about the storyline and what happens, but the whys and hows were still left to be answered. After finishing, I wasn't really sad about the story. The emotions I experienced were disappointment and frustration. There were a couple of good quotes from the book that I enjoyed (and by that I mean 2), but they really have nothing to do with this post. At a later date, they might make their appearance here. Afterall, they were thought-provoking.

So where's this story from my past, right? I know. I'm getting there. It might explain my emotional reaction to the disappointment that is Dear John. For those of you who might have read or seen Dear John, this is a variation. It's not completely the same, but it's my version of Dear John. I'm not really asking for approval...although hearing some insight would be intriguing. One of the concerns I've voiced to a friend was that people might not read this story. And really, I can't be worried about that. I can't actually expect people to be as excited about this part of my life as I am about sharing it. As I started this post, I had intentions of it only being one post. The further I got into the story, there was more of the story that I realized I wanted to share. My passions have never included writing before I started this project. Now, I'm excited about the prospects of dissecting my past and trying to recreate the events that happened so long ago. It's my hope that as you read, you would also be willing to travel on this journey through my past. Please, enjoy :)




It was the fall of my sophomore year in high school, and I received a letter in the mail from my youth pastor in Houston talking about an opportunity to go to Germany the following summer and inviting me to consider the opportunity. Thus far in my short life, I had gone to Mexico and Arizona on different mission trips - and I had loved the experiences that each one had given me. It is through all of this traveling in my teenage years that ignited my passion for traveling. At 16, how great would an opportunity like this be? I would be able to leave the only continent I had lived on, go to Europe on a mission trip and experience the glory that is world-traveling? I basically begged my parents to say yes.

Before moving to Houston, my family had been situated in Georgia. My older sister, A, had gotten the chance to travel to Poland with our family church in Atlanta on a youth choir tour. When she had gotten back from visiting a country with a different language and culture, I wanted to listen to all the stories she had. She replayed the memories she had about the different food, buildings, people, and the historical monuments the choir had visited. It was probably at that point, while I was in the 8th grade and 14 years old, when I decided I, too, wanted to travel abroad and have similar experiences. When I receieved the letter from my youth pastor, it was the perfect opportunity to fulfill my dream of traveling abroad. From what I remember, my parents needed little convincing. After all, A had gone overseas before and seemed to be better for it.

Signing up for the trip meant that every member had to attend a mandatory weekly meeting where we would become acquainted with one another, learn about the culture of Germany, the different people groups we would be reaching, and their respective beliefs. In addition, we were divided into two seperate 'teams'. There was the "H" team and the "K" team. For our partnership with the local churches, we would be working in two separate locations. These were merely the names of the different church's locations shortened. We were young, and weren't all that familiar with the German language. As a result, it was just easier to use initials.

These meetings were probably my first exposure to learning about world religions in a non-school environment, and I was hooked immediately. I loved going to the meetings, and I loved the people on my team. Although most of the students attended the private school our church maintained, and I really didn't know a huge number of them, we were able to use the meetings as a chance to develop friendships. At first, it was hard to fit in with the other students. I was a public-school gal. I also lived 30+ miles away from the church building - so getting to the meetings was challenging, and it limited the amount of time I was allowed to 'hangout' afterwards. I was 16 at the time, and my parents weren't always comfortable with me driving that distance with my new license and Houston traffic. At 23, Houston traffic still scares me. The people there can't drive: a little fact I've discovered since living in a smaller town. Nontheless, I was able to develop some friendships with some of the other public school girls as well as a few of the private school crowd. It was these friendships that would get me through the next two years.


Our trip was scheduled for July of 2003. We would be gone for 12 days, and travel to 2 different cities: Berlin and München (Munich). As time creeped by, July approached slowly. It always seems that when you are anticipating something, it takes longer for it to approach (a relative time phenomenon also talked about in Dear John). Finally, the team met for our last few meetings, and it was about time to depart. I thought it would never get here!

I don't remember saying good-bye to my family in the airport. There was too much excitement for being sad about not being able to see them for almost 2 weeks. Traveling to a new place with a new language, new culture, new customs...there was so much to think about! Anticipation of leaving consumed my thoughts. Having no expectations out of this trip, I was ready to experience my moment of global exploration. At that point in my life, it was the longest plane ride I'd ever been on. Seven whole hours. But Air France was one of those trendy, updated services where they had individual tv screens on the back of the seat in front of you. It was like nothing I had ever experienced. A little sidenote: up until this point in my life, I had avoided all airplane toilets. I mean, where does the liquid go when you hit the "flush" button? Gross. With seven hours, however, you can't really avoid it. Later in life, traveling to China, I would really learn the importance of keeping up with staying hydrated. It just makes life easier once you get where you're going.

At the Airport in Houston.

Inevitably, we land in Germany, seven hours ahead of the central time zone we had left, and begin our day immediately. Effectively, we had flown "all night" and didn't get the luxury of resting after the journey. We visit the hostel, drop off our bags, change shirts, freshen up, etc. Our group meets in the courtyard in order to be introduced to our tourguides of the afternoon: students of the church with whom we had a partnership. These students would be doing ministry with us and translating when we talked to the local people. Off we went! Being quite sleep deprived, I can't quite remember the exact agenda of the afternoon. I have evidence of our tour with the pictures I took with my little disposable cameras. [Remember? Those were the days of the real "point-and-shoot" with no delete or re-do option. It was still a good 4 years before I would buy myself a digital camera (cheap and re-used, mind you).] And maybe there was something about trying to find a bank to exchange our American dollars for German Euros.

The hostel's central courtyard.

As we traveled around Berlin visiting landmarks and trying to exchange money, our two International student groups began to mesh together. Our curiousity of each other was growing. After visiting and praying outside of an official government building, the group of girls with whom I had prayed was joined by a German male student with blonde spiked hair and bright blue eyes. It was in these next moments when I first met Matthias. Little did I know then...but our meeting would change everything I ever thought I knew about relationships and love.

to be continued...