Part 10: The End (or is it?)

This is the final part of my Germany Chronicles series.  Click the link above to read the first 9 parts.

My heart couldn't be ripped out many more times and still survive intact.

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After Matthias left for Germany, I knew that things were different between us. We had conversed about more waiting, something I wasn't really that willing to participate in. He didn't seem to worry about the massive amount of time it took communicate, albeit, we had decided to start talking more through emails because of my episode in February. And I felt like I had already told him the most important piece of information.

Early in this series, I mentioned in a fleeting comment about how impatient I can be. This situation is the ideal example of how much I didn't want to wait for the Lord to lead us together, if it was His will. I wanted a commitment; I wanted more than what I was offered.
So I started to pursue the option of dating Thomas. By the end of the summer, it was clear that I liked him and he liked me. After school started, things continued. We talked on AIM quite a bit (old school, right?!) and things seemed to be taking off in the relationship direction. But I still hadn't settled the situation with Matthias. I had no idea how he felt about me still. Becuase of his lack of urgency, I couldn't be sure that he felt even close to the admiration I felt for him.

By the end of August in 2004, I was certain of my decision to end it. "It" being a relative term, because we didn't have anything official. In an email, I told Matthias I wanted to send him a letter, so I needed his new stateside address.

I proceeded to write my version of a "Dear John" letter. I told him about Thomas and how I felt like things were going to work out and consequently, felt held back by our relationship. I explained how I had started to experience my feelings change earlier that year when I had been forced to break my own heart.

In my head, it seemed like it would have been easier to make a clean break than to continue this non-relationship-type friendship. Just let me tell you, it's almost impossible for guys and girls to be good friends without one or the other having feelings for the other. That topic will have to be another entirely different blog post in and of itself.

Before he actually received The Letter, he wrote, "To be honest I'm afraid it could be something bad, but I'll see..."

I felt horrible.  He already had a feeling of impending doom...

Nonetheless, I sent the letter several months later and he documented the actual delivery in an email to me. It also gave him a chance to express his feelings about the entire situation.

He wasn't surprised. He actually had been expecting it because we hadn't talked for a couple of months. He felt the same way as I did. Our relationship had lost its validity when we decided to wait. Overall, even though he seemed to accept everything that I had said well, he still seemed hurt. We had a lot of history, and I was still having serious doubts that it could be over. I had given him my heart. And then I took it back.

It was easier for me to move on from him with Thomas in the picture. 8 months later, I would question my decision to finalize the end with Matthias. I've been questioning it ever since.
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It's been almost 7 years since I first met Matthias that fateful summer in Germany. 6 years since we ended it. 5 years since I've emailed with him (just to catch up, randomly). 3 years since I found him on the German facebook site. 2 years since he found the real facebook, and we became "friends" again.

Looking back through all of these memories and diving back into old letters and emails has shown me one thing: a heart can't really forget it's first love. I still wonder what could have happened had I been willing to be patient and wait out the time apart. He had been considering moving to Houston to attend school there in order to be closer to me. We had talked about future plans...and mutually, we had agreed that during the time we communicated, the other person was equally important to be in the other's life.

In the present, would he still feel the same way? Or, because I have been single since high school, am I just trying to hold on to the past and not move forward? If we were to meet randomly, what would we say to each other?

Why can't I let go? Since I started doing this series, I've been asking myself what the point was...beyond writing about my own "Dear John" experience. The point? I'm not finished. I let go some time ago. But I'm not done with the story.

[This part might only make sense to Twilight readers: When I read the Twilight series about a year and a half ago, I could never imagine Robert Pattinson's face as Edward. It didn't fit right for me. I had seen the movie first, so it should have been easy for his face to magically make its way into the action in my head. But not really. Matthias' face was my Edward. It definitely took me a while to figure out why I couldn't see Robert, but once I saw that Matthias just fit, it was no going back. All vampire qualities aside, Matthias is my "Edward" subconsciously.]

When I finished Dear John, I was so mad at the characters. She had moved on, and was happy, yes, but always wondered about what could have happened with John. It frustrates me to know that this will always be my reality, not just a fictional story. I guess I will always wonder what could have happened and what might have been. If given another chance, and knowing what I know now, things might look a whole lot different.

But there's really no reason to think about what might have been or what could have happened. If things had worked out with Matthias, there's a good chance I wouldn't have come to the greatest college of all time.  I wouldn't have had some of the best roommates on the planet.  I wouldn't have met my absolute best friend of all time. I wouldn't have been able to experience my love affair with Chinese people. I wouldn't be who I am, who God planned for me to be. So, no, I don't regret anything.

But I will always love him, whether he knows it or not.

Part 9: Leaving on a Jet Plane

This post is a continuation of my Germany Chronicles series.  Please click the link above to read the first 8 parts.


He was still the blue-eyed blonde I had left last summer. But something was different. We had a history this time. A long, detailed history...

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Over the time that Matthias and his German buddies were in Houston, I was consistently busy trying to balance the time spent with them and my other responsibilities, mainly swimming. Because it was summer, I was doomed to awaken before the sun even rose to endure the torture of the lukewarm 50-meter pool. Swimming in the early mornings while watching the sun rise. It definitely sounds more romantic than the actual reality of the sun glaring into your eyes every time you turn your head to breathe. How annoying!

But during these mundane practices, I was fighting an emotional turmoil. With several hours to ponder the complexities of my "relationship" with Matthias each morning, swimming was generally the last thing on my mind. Swimming is a sport that doesn't quite completely takeover your thoughts, or at least it never took mine. Maybe that's why I never really advanced as far as I should have. I had the potential. I just never took the initiative to acquire those goals. Shame on me.

[What was I talking about? Matthias...yes, I remember now!]

During these few weeks with Matthias in person, there were a couple of opportunities for us to be together. I have to admit that I maybe kind-of skipped a couple of swim practices in order to participate in different service activities.

While their team of people was here, there was a certain organization to the madness. Because of the number of participants who turned out to help on certain days, we were split into several groups. My two other sisters were in a different group than myself.  It was strange how these things were decided. I learned later that because my family was hosting 2 girls, my sisters were paired with them and other host/hostee pairs. I was placed in a group consisting of my past team members with German teenagers that I already knew from the previous summer. Coincidence? I think not.

Regardless of the way we were split, Matthias and I were able to spend some together with other mutual friends. I remember one day in particular.

We had traveled to a nearby apartment community to reach out to the children and minister to them. Matthias ended up playing basketball on the courts, whereas I was playing different games in an area closeby. On this particular afternoon, Matthias twisted his ankle. Good thing I was there to take care of him!

In a matter of a few minutes, I had convinced myself that if I took care of his ankle, he would maybe see how much potential I had. By potential, I seriously mean "wife material". I wanted to prove my capacity for caring for him in a way that no one else possibly could. By this point in their trip, it was pretty obvious to other people that there was "something" going on between the two of us. I didn't try to hide it. I had been trying to "mark my territory" the entire time.

I'm fully aware I'm not a dog, but there were serious threats coming from fellow American girls, girls who were able to be at the different events quite a bit more than me. My thoughts towards these other girls went along the lines of "Did you go to Germany last summer? NO. Did you meet him and then write letters back and forth for a year? NO. Did you receive the best birthday present ever from him? NO. BACK OFF."
Now, I never actually said these things out loud...but let's be honest. I'm quite embarrassed to see how I treated the whole situation in my head. My heart couldn't handle losing him again - let alone to someone who was not as committed as I was already.

All these girls wanted was a "summer fling". Okay, so the accents make you melt, I admit. I will also own up to the appeal of being with a foreign guy. I met him innocently one afternoon with no intention of ever making it as far as we had come. I never intended to fall in love. I never wanted to have to "slow things down" from across an ocean. But it happened. And I wouldn't have changed it for the world.

During his stateside visit, Matthias and I made a point to spend some time alone. We had things to talk about. Through the last year, I had kept asking him what we were considered. His response? "We are just friends for now. Let's get to know each other better before we commit to being more."

Yes, logically, it made sense. My heart didn't want it to be that easy. So, my heart and my head were saying completely different things.

Over the last year, my dad had talked to me on several different occasions about my feelings for this man. During one intense conversation, he wanted me to seriously consider the possibilty of moving to Germany to be with this man. Gulp. Move halfway around the world? Learn a new language? Live there for the rest of my human life?

I was ready to commit.

But it was more complicated. It always is, right?

For starters, I still had another year of high school. And he was about to move to New York in the fall to work with an inner-city ministry there.

When we ever-so-quietly snuck away to have time alone, we discussed the details of what we were. I desperately wanted him to go ahead and commit. I wanted to be his girlfriend. I wanted to start heading in the "official title" direction. You know...girlfriend, fiance, wife.

My deepest fears became a reality: more waiting.

But wasn't it him who had mentioned something his father had once told him? "The three most important things in life are to find God, find a good job, and find someone to spend your life with. You already have the first thing. You already know what the second one is, and now you just have to find that third thing."

The suggestiveness of him saying this wisdom to me was enough to make me believe he was committing to me. In my head, that was him saying that I was the one. Right? I convinced myself that it meant one day, I would be his wife.

How absolutely bold and foolish of me. 

The time came for our German partners to leave. It was a cloudy, dreary day. And the weather could not have matched my mood more perfectly.

Memories of the last few weeks flooded my mind. I couldn't stop picturing the way his face lit up when he stepped off the elevator that first day and saw me. I couldn't get the feeling of holding his hand (interdigitated, might I add) for the first time that fateful afternoon when he twisted his ankle. The afternoon he spent with my family at our neighborhood pool. The trip to New Braunfels and Austin to see the Capital of Texas. And then the discussions that we had which ultimately meant more waiting.

I was an emotional mess. I was in love and having to leave my man for the second time. At this point, we had spent maybe 2.5 total weeks together physically. My heart was acting as if it couldn't find a rhythm. Surely someone had ripped it out in the last days and attempted to put it back in, good as new.

Before we left to take our two hostee girls to the airport, I wrote Matthias a letter. He was instructed to not open it until he got on the plane. I couldn't bear to have him read it in front of me.

Once my family arrived to the airport, I bolted out of the car into the terminal and found him immediately. I handed him my note. They checked into their flight, and left to go find their gate. I watched as he rode up the escalator to pass through security. When he approached the top, he turned around and paused. I waved. And then he disappeared.

My heart was in his hands. [Literally. Remember that note? I wrote to him that I loved him.]

I was so afraid of losing him.
Soon after he disappeared to finish his journey stateside, my face was buried into my dad's chest. Surely true love never really felt like this.
 
My heart couldn't be ripped out many more times and still survive intact.

Part 7: The Letters

*this is a continuation of my Germany Chronicles series, and you should check out the first 6 parts before reading below!

I finally found the folder I needed to finish this journey...

And that year, we would write...

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For the group of Texans that went to Germany that summer, our trip was scheduled from July 1st through the 12th.  From what I remember on the night we got back (it was the 13th because of time changes), all I did was sit on my bed with the Downhere cd on repeat in my room.  I was in a daze...and my emotions had not completely caught up with me.  About 2 days earlier, I had been with Matthias physically.  That was before I had to leave him.  And it was before our tragic flight home.  

This daze...it was for multiple reasons.  I couldn't seriously believe that the trip was already over.  Was it even real?  I'm sure I must have pinched myself several times.  I wasn't dreaming, right?

Over the next few weeks, several things would be a comfort to me as I tried to get back to my "normal" life.  Whatever that was.  

First of all, my pictures.  After taking the disposable cameras to Walgreens to be developed and actually having to go back to pick the prints up, these objects proved that what happened was, in fact, real.  Second, my music.  Three cds remind me of my journey: Josh Groban's Closer, Warren Barfield's self-titled album, and Downhere's self-titled album.  Thirdly, my stomach could not seem to forget Matthias' touch.  This last one might be silly.  But I was 16...and seriously inexperienced with any kind of contact with the opposite gender.  So, my mind wouldn't really let go of this one.  Fourthly (but it's really first), I had recieved an email on the 10th of July - 2 days before I had even gotten back - from Matthias.  *heart, be still*

I no longer have a digital copy of this first email...but I did print off a copy the night I received it.

It is on this copy I have made my own notes to point out the highlights of what he wrote.  Some of these things went like this:

"I tried so hard to divert myself, but I just can't stop thinking of you..."

"My hands are still shaking as I write this and I think I never felt like this before.  What did you do to me?"  (I probably giggled when I first read that one.)

"I really wished we would have had more time together alone." (he added the bold)

"When you asked me what I wanted from the states, do you know what came to my mind first?  You.  I just didn't dare tell you that then."  (At one point during the trip, I strategically asked him what he might want from the states...and his hesitation was enough to answer the question until I saw this email...)

See?  Now maybe it might make more sense as to why I printed it out...reading it once was simply not enough.

Over the next few months, we wrote back and forth using email and snail mail.  The average time for a real piece of mail to get from one address to the other was about 9 days.  

We wrote of "I miss you" and "I miss you too".  We wrote of vacations.  We spent time talking about what we could officially define our relationship as.  He wrote a lot about how he doesn't write a lot, but that didn't mean he doesn't care.  He just can't think of what to say.  

By August, I was sure I was in love.  Head-over-heals-I'll-move-to-Germany-for-you love.

I had to be careful of who I expressed this fact to.  And to be honest, I can't think of a single person I actually told.  I was afraid people would tell me I was crazy.  I didn't want to hear the things I had heard up until that point: "guard your heart", "it's just not logical", "the age difference is too much", "he lives too far away".

Those conversations went against everything I felt.  Okay, maybe the whole situation wasn't logical.  But really, how can I just tell my heart to stop beating?  It wasn't going to change anything.  

Regardless of how my heart felt, I was quite reserved in my emails and letters.  I spoke with him about how we needed to slow things down - I'm only 16!  And I still 2 more years of high school.  This can't be good to go so fast when we are so far away.  Writing to each other in the way that we had been was quite dangerous.

"I miss you so bad and I feel like you were gone for a year already" (I had been gone a total of 20 days)

"...but you know you can take this as another proof of your beauty and kindness..."

"I'm really missing you badly and praying for you and that God may lead our ways together if it's his will..."

"I can't wait to see you again..."

A few months into it, he mentioned me coming to visit over Christmas and New Year's.  Whoa.  If I had been 23, there would maybe be no question if I could go.  But I was 16, and was sure my parents would deny me the opportunity.  I mentioned it in passing...but I don't think I was actually taken seriously by them.

November approached...our shared birthday month.  I can't remember what I sent him as a present.  But I think I was excited about it because he definitely wrote about how he was excited to receive it...because I had talked about it so much.  

My birthday was about 20 days after his, and I honestly didn't expect anything.  I would have been happy with just a letter telling me happy birthday.  

As it turns out, I did get a letter...

And a piece of his past.

This shows his old drum (the one I now possess) and his new one.

It did indeed arrive broken.  But I don't know how to play the drums, and this gift was better than anything else he could have given me.  It still sits in my room and I will never get rid of it.  When I actually grow up and officially move out of my parent's house, then I will take it with me.  

With his gift, he also sent pictures with great explanations on the backs.

...sorry for the blur...

On my actual birthday, after arriving home from swim practice, the phone rings...one of my parents answers the phone (like usual) and then subsequently calls out my name for me to get it.  At this point, I can't think of any person who could be calling me.

I answer. "Hello?"

"Hello, Erin..." 

My heart starts pounding.  It can't be.  No way.  I'm dreaming.  I can't stand up anymore.  Where 's the chair...oh, there it is.  Sit.  BREATHE.  

"Hi...I can't believe it's you..."

He called. On my 17th birthday.  To wish me a happy birthday.  And almost gave me a heart attack in the process.  

It was so fabulous to hear his voice again - the smooth richness of it, his accent - and it seriously felt right.

I don't remember the conversation from that night.  But I remember hanging up feeling as if I was never going to fall asleep again.  

And that night, once I fell asleep, I probably most definitely dreamt of him and his voice.

Part 4.

*this post is a continuation of my real-life Dear John story.  visit here, here, and here to read the first 3 parts.*

Matthias saw us back to the hostel and we said our "guten nachts". Tomorrow would be our last day of ministry in the city.

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The trip was coming to a close. It was a fact that became more inevitable as time went on. Every night, I was anxious for the next morning. I couldn't wait to get to the church fast enough. By Tuesday morning, our last day of ministry in the city beginning, the American groups were dreading the inevitable good-byes to come later the next night. It might be bold of me to say, but I was definitely NOT looking forward to the separation from Matthias the following evening. Something between us made me believe he would also be dreading that moment.


The American groups separated for our final days in our areas. Because the Kreuzberg group had hosted a large party on Sunday night for the neighborhood, our day would be strategically focusing our energy into the parks. Matthias was the translator for my group, so we spent the majority of our day together.

The German students had put together a night of games to celebrate our time together. For our last official night, Matthias and I didn't spend much time apart. I was always conscious of where he was in the room. In my head, I was putting off the thoughts of saying good-bye. I didn't know what would happen once I left the country and got back home. We had already exchanged email addresses and snail-mail addresses one afternoon at lunch. We had means to communicate. But how well does cross-ocean "dating" happen? We would soon find out.

Matthias and me on Tuesday night before the games took place.

I was always good at being in my own little bubble. I never really shared what I was really thinking - and even to this day, I find it hard to express myself. I spent so many of my younger years being an introvert that now when I've figured out that I am a mixture of intro and extro, it's hard to switch. Nonetheless, I kept alot of my initial feelings and thoughts to myself. I was afraid of being judged and being told that what was happening between Matthias and I was fake - just an infatuation that wouldn't last. It didn't feel fake. I was 16. He was 19. But it felt like we had known each other much longer. 8 days? More like 8 years.

Wednesday morning, our last official day in Berlin before we traveled to Munich, started a little later. It was intended to be our "tourist" day. A part of the American group had decided to travel by train to the place where Martin Luther nailed the proclamation to the door. I wasn't really that familiar with history, so I was fine with opting to stay in Berlin and visit landmarks there. Some of the German students had decided to come with us on our adventures.

My favorite picture of Matthias and me.  This was taken in the hostel courtyard before leaving on Wednesday morning.

Geneva and me on the same hammock.

Before the Luther group left, I needed to make up my mind about which sights I wanted to see. There were 2 different groups forming from the team, and I had to make a decision. Matthias walked down to the bank with me because I needed to exchange more money for the remainder of the trip. At this time in my life, I was quite indecisive. As a result, I asked Matthias what he wanted to do that day.

His response? "I want to be wherever you are."

Butterflies swarmed my insides. My intuition was right. He did feel for me the way I felt for him. How did this happen in such a short time?!

We continued our walk to the bank in silence, got the money, and walked back to the hostel. My decision was made. We would stay in Berlin and travel in the smaller group.

A statue in Berlin...we felt like it represented our work with balloon animals rather well.

Part of the Berlin wall that has been painted by muralists.

After our day of sight-seeing, we headed back to the hostel to meet up with the other part of our team and eat dinner. After dinner, we packed up all of our suitcases onto the bus that would take us to the train station. The train, which would travel overnight, would take us to Munich. Because we had limited room on the bus, some of the students decided to meet us at the train station.

When we arrived at the train station, our team became a part of the organized chaos. As it turns out, our train would be delayed several hours. This meant that the majority of the local Germans with our team would not be able to get back to their homes merely because public transportation would be shut down that late at night. Amongst the brave ones who decided to stay, Matthias stuck out the long wait with our group.

Waiting in the train station on Wednesday night.  I'm in the maroon shirt in the middle with Matthias to my left (your right).

Finally, much, much later than originally anticipated, the train appeared.

Up to this point, Matthias and I have had very limited physical contact. Before we began boarding the train, he comes over to me to say good-bye. As we stood there hugging, it felt as though time stopped. As Matthias released our embrace, his hand ran lightly across my stomach. (Butterflies, behave please!!!)

Reluctantly, I board the train with the rest of my team.

Now, imagine a black and white movie. The girl has boarded the train, and is standing at the window, looking at her love on the podium below her. The train slowly starts to move. Gradually, as the train picks up speed, they catch eyes one last time, the train turns a corner, and the moment is over.

If there was a ever a time when I wanted a train to stop and turn around, it was at this moment. Where is the emergency brake?! This can't be possible...I can't handle leaving him like this! What has happened to me? Oh, dear...breathe. You will survive this. You will create defenses to protect the way you feel about this guy. It will not be over quite yet.

to be continued...

German Saga, Part 3

*this is a continuation of my real-life Dear John story.  Click here and there to read the first two parts*

I was so naive. Matthias returned the next day...and I recovered from my "sickness."

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Sunday afternoon at a local cafe. 

Monday morning approaches, and I'm beyond ready to see Matthias again. It had been less than 24 hours, but it felt like an eternity. I don't think my sleeping habits were improving, either. I wasn't resting well because of the butterflies that had taken a permanent residence in my stomach. I'm talking consistent-can't-get-them-to-go-away butterflies. I don't think I have experienced butterflies this intense ever again. It was becoming clearly evident to me that this was no normal "friendship." I know. I claimed I really didn't think it would get more than a friendship. After Sunday afternoon and evening, I knew better. When we arrived to the church that morning, Matthias wasn't there with the rest of the German students. My heart plummeted into my stomach.

Life goes on.

Eventually, he did show up. And my life was complete again, butterflies and all.

Because we spent so much time with the families that went to the different churches, we were given "host families". We didn't actually stay in these family's homes. Remember, we stayed at a hostel? [There should be a post on hostel stories...that was quite the experience!] Instead, these families invited small groups of us into their homes for dinner on the last Monday in the city. Matthias had personally invited me to visit his parent's home.

The first afternoon in Germany.  This was taken a few hours before I met Matthias.  I'm on the far right.

In an earlier post, I talked about my boy-crazy tendencies. Again, I admit, I was that girl. I couldn't live well without having a crush. In a strange way, God has used this issue in my life to bring me closer to Him and what He desires for my life. It's not something I can regret. The past is the past, and it's not going to change (unless you're a character in Lost and time travel, even though the present happened in the past and it was always the way things happened...but that's another post entirely). Whatever had happened with the previous boys in my life, nothing compared to what was going on with Matthias. When he asked me to personally travel to his parent's house, the ever-present butterflies tripled their fluttering. Was this really happening?!

In order to give an affirmative answer, I had to seek approval from the adults on our trip. Thinking back now, I can't believe that they actually granted permission. To travel on the autobahn to a small village an hour away with a guy that we met a week earlier was no small matter. As an adult, I would not have made that same decision. Isn't it funny how these things in life work out? As a result of receiving permission, there were several conditions to be carried out. First, my friend Michelle had to come along for the journey. I wasn't allowed to be alone with a German guy. That makes sense. Second, I wasn't allowed to ride in the front seat of the car on the trip to the village. This was to make sure that there are boundaries, and as the third party, Michelle was meant to keep the lines clear. Thirdly, I was allowed to ride in the front seat on the way back to Berlin if it didn't appear that Matthias and I needed to be separated. I agreed to the conditions because I could sense that the adults suspected something else was happening in my new friendship. No matter how right they were, I had to go to his parent's house. It wasn't even a question.

Later Monday afternoon, Michelle and I gather our things (everything but the flowers we had purchased for his mom) at the church and meet Matthias to begin our journey out of town. We had to leave quite a bit earlier than the other groups - so there was quite a bit of gossip occurring. I had been semi-aware of this situation happening over the past week, and it was becoming really apparent. The stares were occuring more often and lasting longer. Several of the guys from America asked if I needed to be chaperoned to his parent's house. They acted intimidated and threatened by Matthias' presence. I remember thinking I didn't need protection...how silly!

Michelle rode in the front seat on the first part of the journey. I would like to say that I stayed awake to witness my first trip on the autobahn, but because I was clearly sleep deprived (butterflies, be calm!), I promptly fell asleep...only to wake up with my mouth WIDE OPEN. Awesome. There's no use trying to recover from such an embarrassment. My only hope is that I didn't snore. The other two car dwellers never mentioned anything - so I'm definitely holding on to the chance that neither of them saw me.

The front of Matthias' parent's home.  This picture came out of my scrapbook, and is a picture of a picture.  Sorry about the quality...all I had on the trip were disposable cameras!

This is the back view of Matthias' home.  It's so quaint and perfect.

We eventually arrive to Matthias' parents house; the house that his father built with his own two hands. As we pull up, Matthias explains how his dad designed the house and built it by himself. I was in complete awe. Imagine a show on the travel channel about quaint European towns and the homes the people there would live in. This was it. It was absolutely adorable! Matthias gave us a tour of the village and showed us the field where he likes to play futbol. Then we got to meet his parents. His dad spoke no English, and I believe his mom was familiar with it, but they are absolutely the most adorable people I have ever seen. If you can picture a strong woman, that's his mom. His dad was kind and thoughtful. Even though I didn't really talk to him, I could tell how much he cared for his family. For dinner, we were joined by a few other guys. Matthias explained later that they were a father and son - and their wife/mom was out of town. Apparently they didn't know how to cook...and they didn't speak English either.

Our dinner party.  From the left: Matthias' father, random German man, me, Michelle, Matthias, and random German man's son.  Again, a picture of a picture; sorry about the quality!

This picture was taken the morning after we had dinner at Matthias' home.  From the left: Michelle, Matthias' mom holding the flowers we had forgotten the day before, a lady from the church, and me. 

Throughout dinner, Michelle and I sat and listened to nothing but German...and didn't add to the conversation. At one point, there was what Michelle and I thought an English word spoken. This word was completely inappropriate for dinner conversation - and my blog, for that matter. Both Michelle and I proceed to giggle, and then recieved many strange looks. Apparently it's wasn't what we thought it was. We were queit again after that. Dinner came to and end sometime later. We gave our good-byes and headed back to Berlin, arriving to the church later than everyone else.

Matthias saw us back to the hostel and we said our "guten nachts". Matthias headed back to the church to sleep.  Tomorrow would be our last day of ministry in the city.

to be continued...

Story Time, Part 2

*This post is a continuation of my Dear John story.  Click Here to read the first part.*

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.
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Matthias approached our circle with his blonde spiked hair and bright blue eyes - the German trademark. "What group are you in?" he asked in his attractive German accent. Each of the three of us answered in turn. Out of the three of us, 2 were in the K group, and 1 was in the H group. Upon hearing my response ("not the H one"), Matthias responded with a triumphant gesture, exclaiming, "YES!"

I laughed.

Initially, my thoughts were going crazy. This guy, this attractive, international German blonde-headed guy is excited that we happen to be working at the same location for the next 8 days. I didn't come to Germany for this purpose. Don't get me wrong. I was definitely that boy-crazy girl in high school. I can chronically list out the path of boys that I made my way through. However, I will refrain from this particular action. Back to the issue at hand: how realistic is it to be 16, travel to Europe and purposefully become infatuated with a guy who is 3 years older than you? Yeah, it's not. So it wasn't on my list of priorities.

The Kreuzberg Group (Americans and Germans) in front of the church.  This picture was taken the afternoon I had played futbol in the recreational park.

This is the 'H' church.  I am there on the right with my bright yellow backpack.  Oh, high school.

Over the next week, Matthias and I spent most of our time together through ministry. During the first few days, the Kreuzberg (formerly mentioned as the 'K' group) team tried to reach out to the surrounding Turkish immigrants in varying ways. Just down the street from the church building was Viktoria Park. It was in this park that we were able to master our balloon animal skills for the children and engage in conversations with adults. A little further away in the opposite direction, and around the corner, was a recreational park where young people would practice futbol and older adults would walk their dogs.

One afternoon, in order to reach a younger group of students, a group of German guys (Matthias included) and myself ventured off to the recreational area to play futbol. No other people joined our game - but I was able to prove myself very versatile to a discerning group of guys. It was these kinds of interactions that allowed me to spend time with my new interest.

Another view of our K group. I'm the second from the left on the first row.  See our amazing balloon animal skills?  Those mandatory meetings really helped us to prepare for mastering this essential skill.  Basically all of the people without balloon hats are Germans.  They just couldn't embrace the balloons like the Americans did.

When we ventured out into the neighborhoods to speak to locals, he would come as the translator for my group. In just a short period of time, I knew that something was different about our frienship. Our interactions were different than the ones I had with the other students. It was noticable to other people in the American group as well. I would be asked about the friendship, non-chalantly answer, "I don't know," or "I don't think anything's going on" and continue on with life. In my head, I knew better. But you can't just talk about something you aren't sure about. Especially in a youth group on an international mission trip. It just sets you up for disaster. You see, I wasn't the only girl on the trip who had developing interest in our new friends. That's not my story to tell, but let's just say that patience and endurance have worked out well for them. I'm impatient. And hasty. And I like to have immediate results. As you will see later in the story, these attributes come out time and time again. Sigh.

Practicing my balloon animal skills.  This picture reminds me of how young I once looked.  Sigh.

Within 5 days of meeting, I started to have dreams about Matthias. It's hard to recall the details. However, on one night when we were supposed to be resting more and sleeping in the next morning, I was awoken by such a vivid dream of the two of us that I failed to sleep from about 3 am until we finally got up the next morning (probably close to 9 am). Needless to say, I was always eager to see him. When we would go to church in the mornings, the first thing I would do is look for him. When the German students would meet us at the hostel, it was my top priority to be the first one to greet him.

On the first and last Sunday in the city, Matthias had to travel back to the town where his parents currently lived, a village about an hour away on the autobahn. His parents had moved out of Berlin and into this small town a few years before. When they had lived in the city, they had gone to the Kreuzberg church. Periodically, they came back to the city to visit. Anyway, Matthias was missing on this Sunday afternoon. After he had left for his parent's house, I began to feel sick. Later that afternoon, I had a fever. I was physically sick because the thought of Matthias not being present upset me. He had to be gone the night of our big "party" that we had been planning all week. We were only a few days away from leaving, and this was one of our last big ministry outreaches to the community.

Sunday afternoon after church.  Here, I'm on the far left, next to Lance, one of the American guys.  The guy in the suit in the middle is the pastor of the church. The other people are local members.  This picture was taken the afternoon I got sick.

As a result of Matthias taking time to visit his parents, I felt like everyone involved in planning and readying the event that evening were watching me a little too closely. It seemed they were trying to determine if I would survive without him there. A couple of the guys from my American team even possessed the boldness to ask me about our relationship - straight up asking about the possibility of dating, long-distance relationships, etc. I was so taken aback by his forwardness that I probably snapped at him about the whole deal. Even the question of needing 'protection' was even raised. Protection from what?! I didn't need protecting...I was clearly just developing a friendship.

I was so naive. Matthias returned the next day...and I recovered from my "sickness."


to be continued...

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...