His Cherry Blossom

It was our last day in the eternal city. Once again Stephen and I woke up to the sun shining and a slight chance of rain. We had packed a lot into our first two days, so we were ready to just explore and see where our feet took us on the ancient roads.  I put on some shorts and grabbed a rain jacket just in case as we headed out the door.  After a delicious cappuccino and pastry along the way, our feet followed the cobblestones towards the Tiber River. Our trip had happened to coincide with a momentous occasion as the pope had passed away a few days earlier and currently his heir was being chosen. Rumors were flying around as to what was happening in the Vatican City. Were tourists allowed in? Would St. Peter's Basilica which just a few days prior being all over the news now be just another tourist site? I knew for sure the Sistine Chapel was in use for this historic moment of choosing the next pope and didn't figure to bother checking any of the other sites as I assumed the w...

I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I had received a text message with an elaborate invitation for the wedding of my local friend. Piecing together information from previous friends and experiences, I knew that I had to dress up to the next level for this event. As my one friend had explained, it's not just about what you feel like wearing, but rather about how much honor you show the hostess by the effort, time and money you put into your outfit when you show up.  So, after carefully selecting my attire and spending a significant part of the afternoon getting ready, I booked the Uber for the wedding. I tried to show up a little bit late because with the culture here you never show up on time. As the Uber pulled up in front of a massive wedding hall, I breathed out slowly. This was it...  Stepping gingerly out of the car so that my wrappings wouldn't fall off in front of the security guards, I passed through the huge door marking the women's area. Behind the door, a fem...

My first introduction to skiing was in my early twenties hearing my guy friends talking about how much they loved it. Some of them even came back with broken bones or fractured shins to brag about. I personally had tried very few snow sports except ice skating and sledding, and didn't particularly love the idea of flying at high speeds down the side of a mountain. Honestly, I didn't have any desire to even try until I met my husband.  He, like my other friends, talked about the glorious experience of skiing and not just the sport itself but the whole skiing culture - quaint chalets in the mountains, cozy fireplaces, warm drinks, gorgeous mountain landscapes to take in while exploring different routes. He talked about how good it was for the soul and even if one didn't ski there was so much good to just take in from the experience. So, at last I agreed that I would give it a try.  We decided to plan a 4-day skiing trip to the country of Georgia in early spring. Now, in my he...

Heat, burning sun, dusty haze, tired legs - running 21k in a desert country is far from ideal. I approached 16k and my stamina began to wane. Why was the way so far and my feet so sore? I'm used to being able to tell my body to just keep going and it will, but I was starting to have second thoughts. My right calf was in pain every time I extended it too quickly or too far. My head felt a bit faint from the heat of the sun. I began to wonder what would happen if I lost the willpower to go on. Who would stop for me? Who would know that I wasn't ok?  Our path marked out for us ran between construction sites and flat arid desert. Occasionally we were running by store fronts or across a main street, but otherwise the way stretched ahead void of pleasant distractions or interesting views. The mental battle raged on as I tried to push on, to hold onto some pleasant thought that might give me stamina to go on. The silence in my mind was deafening.Though music bounced off my ear drums f...

"Why did you come here? Everyone here is trying to go to America," one Pakistani nurse queried as she she took my vitals. "You're an American citizen! You could just live there!" stated one of my friends jealous that she could not stay due to visa issues. On the other side of the ocean: "Aren't you scared? Can't you just let the people who are natives do the work there?"  These conversation fragments among others float back into my head when I'm already feeling insecure, along with my own thoughts: "I was just feeling settled! Why did I up and leave?" "I had an amazing community and steady job if I wanted to stay." "I had so many opportunities!" "I had relational credibility and a name for myself through years of laborious time and investment." Why did I throw it all to the wind? Or did I?  Recently on our last trip back to the States, my husband and I had the opportunity to share with the Wildheart s...

I have heard many stories of the days before my time. I have seen many pictures of the way things used to be, but this weekend we are going to a big name music concert that smashes to smithereens any remnant of what that previous era stood for! Sometimes, I forget when I talk to the young women here that just one generation ago their mothers were completely hidden from view. Even to this day, many of the older generation still walk around completely covered head to toe. Meanwhile, their daughters are going with me to a famous rock band in their city!  This tension of the worlds that I live in causes some interesting results. On one hand, I go and teach piano to local women in their homes. I teach in English and I draw on my Western heritage and experience to tutor them in the basics of piano and music theory. This highlights where I'm from originally and the desire for these women to learn a new skill previously not allowed here. Learning music enables personal creative expression ...