Chasing the Morning

This morning when got out of bed at 4:30 AM, I was convinced that I'm not anything close to being a real writer because try as I did, I could not muster up much of a coherent journal entry. But now I believe that might have something of a writer in me after all. Or at any rate, I have this compulsion, an irresistible urge to record on paper with words the events of my life as they transpire. And starting at 7:26 AM this morning when the taxi arrived, I just could not not write down everything. The result? A lengthy and detailed account of my day for anyone interested to read.

This morning I woke up very early indeed, first at 2:30, then slept for a bit, then again at 3:30 and could not go back to sleep, due to large amounts of excitement in regards to going home. My taxi driver came a wee bit before 7:30 this morning, and he was an excellent chap. 43 going on 44 with a birthday in just 29 more days, has been living in Edinburgh all of his life, thick and quintessential Scottish accent, completely bald, somewhat rotund, chatty and affable. He took the back roads to the airport to avoid rush hour, which was just lovely. The sun was casting a fresh, early-morning golden glow over the fields and behind the city and beyond the bridges and the ocean. We drove past the headquarters of the Royal Bank of Scotland – a massive building that used to be a mental institution. Once at the airport, I gave him all the rest of my pounds, and bid him farewell, and pushed my bags through the doors towards my check-in desk.

I was thoroughly impressed with all the security measures taken by the Edinburgh Airport. Definitely far more than any other airport I've been through – including the immigration official when I first came through and tried to get in the country without an address of residence for my stay. Right from the start, I was interrogated before checking-in by a gentlemen whose accent I unfortunately had a very difficult time comprehending. In particular, the question, “Do you own and did you pack yourself these bags?” gave me a good deal of difficulty, but the fourth time, he repeated it very clearly and slowly, and I understood. He even went so far as to put a security sticker on the back of my passport. Fascinating.

Security lines were long, but they went fast enough. They were rigid about the rules – pulling out more bags and hand-checking them than I've ever seen at an airport ever before! They pulled out my hunk of a black carry-on, which was, I noted, larger (and most likely heavier) than any of the other carry-ons. The security guard who pulled it out seemed to notice this fact as well, remarking that I must have a dead body in there. No wonder they pulled it out if that's what they thought. Apparently, the problem with my carry-on was the large ziplock of oil pastels and colored chalks that I had with me... So it went through security all by itself, and after that they were satisfied.

In the airport – first thing to see out of security is a huge sushi bar... with chefs making sushi nonetheless. Who eats sushi at 8:15 in the morning??

Strolling through the Edinburgh airport, my gate is gate 3A. Arrive at gate 3A just as disabled persons are starting to board. Impeccable timing. I have this horrible feeling that I'm about to return to the US of A. More people are holding blue, United States passports in their hands than are holding the red European Union passports. Phrases being loudly annunciated punctuated by the sound of chewing gum being chomped solidify the American vibes, “It just SUCKS, man, like seriously.” “When my phone rings, it barks! It's great in elevators!” Girls are wearing clothes that are decidedly not the color pink with the word PINK branded prominently across the fabric. Everyone speaks with an American accent with classic up-talk intonation. And tragedy! The airport announcements are given in English, then in Spanish, then in Chinese, then in...no French! I could cry. But still, I catch a word of French here and there, sometimes a UK accent speaks out over the crowd of Americans. But it's mostly Americans. Undeniably so.

Finally time for Zone 5 to board. Before beeping my boarding pass, I'm questioned again by security, “Have you bought anything since going through security? Has your luggage been unattended at any point since you arrived at the airport?” My boarding pass is beeped in and then two security personnel approach me, “Scuse me, ma'am, you've been randomly chosen for a security pat-down, body and suitcase.” More security measures? But I'm more impressed by the rigor than miffed at the inconvenience. Into a back room. Someone starts to check my body while the other goes through my luggage. It tickled like crazy. I tried my best to keep from laughing and squirming, but in a thick Scottish accent, “You're a bit ticklish, aren't ya miss?” Yes...more than a bit. So now they are searching through my suitcase full of books and McCropder kid art. “You don't travel light, do ya miss?” “Well, I have been gone for four months...” “Have ya now?? Four months, is that so? 'Ere in Edinburgh?” “No, France...”

Next destination: Seat 29F on United flight 7643 with hopes that a strong and kindly gentlemen will be willing and able to heave my 20 kilo carry-on into the overhead bin. There it is – seat 29F, and lo and behold I don't even need to go through my usual Struggle Dance using body language and grunts to indicate to the surrounding crowd that I could use a hand or two, for the gentleman in seat 29D offers as soon as I arrive. I warn him, “Thank you ever so much, be careful, it's terribly heavy.” and watch hopefully, a bit dubiously perhaps as this older and rotund fellow reaches down for my brick of a carry-on. But voilà. He hoists it up, pas de probleme. Super.

Being in the boarding zone 5 does have it's benefits, for once you get on the plane, it's time to go. This giant plane starts to wake up. I love the feeling of a completely stationary hunk of metal beginning to rev up for the journey across the ocean. It reminds me exactly of Smog, awakening from centuries of a deep sleep, power coming up from his belly and spreading to every particle until … TAKE OFF! The wheels come off the ground and we go up while the world drops down and the dragon is in flight.

Above Ireland... The beauty is breathtaking. The problem with traveling, at least in my case, is that the more you do it, the more you realize what you simply must see... the more you want to continue discovering the beautiful places of our planet. I gaze longingly down at rocky, wind-swept beaches, the magnificent blue of the ocean, miles of coast with waves visibly and powerfully washing up on the rocky crags. Oh it is glorious to behold and if I had a parachute, I'd jump out of this plane right now unhesitatingly and go sailing down through the clouds and onto the coast of Ireland.

The clouds – oh I love them! They are bathed in the glory of the new sunshine of the morning, light coming from the East. They are poofy, pristine, like a fairy-tale, like castles in the sky. The kind of scenery that makes you feel like you've jumped right into an episode of Planet Earth. I find John Rutter in the selection of music on the little airplane screen, gadget contraption, and listen as I look. The sky at the horizon is white blending into a strip of an almost unbearably radiantly bright blue that introduces the vast enormity of the sky. And now we fly West, always West. West and West and West, chasing the morning. Trying to catch up with the sunrise. I'm listening to 10,000 Reasons, Rend Collective Experiment... The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning, it's time to sing your song again, whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, let me singing when the evening comes.

Looking through the movies – there are so many of them – OH HAPPY DAY! THEY HAVE MARY POPPINS! And the dragon is being loud enough that if I sing just a wee bit under my breath, no one should notice. Plus, there isn't anyone in the seat directly next to me. At first I was disappointed by this arrangement – I had been so hoping for either a native French speaker or else a mom with a cute baby who wanted a break (that is the mom wanting a break, not the baby). But now I am happy, because perhaps I can sing along to Mary Poppins without disturbing my neighbors while we continue to chase the morning.

Chicken with spinach and rice, a salad, a bit of bread and a dessert (which originally appeared to be deliciously chocolate and sadly turned out to be some dense, moist apple-resembling grossness) was just served to me. 9:45 Scotland time, which means 10:45 France time and 5:45 AM Eastern Standard Time – my final destination! Not sure if I've ever eaten such a meal at 5:45 AM before.

I love Mary Poppins. I started watching it when the clouds covered the ocean thick and far and wide. After going to a museum filled with a great many convincing statues of sea creatures, I love to think about all the life teeming under me at this very moment in time... gigantic squids, fish of all shapes and sizes, sharks, whales, eels, sea cucumbers (ew), star fish, sea horses, sting rays... I wonder the total number of sea creatures I will have flown exactly over will be by the end of this flight. I stopped Mary Poppins to figure out on the flight tracker which body of land we were flying over only to now discover that the fast forward button goes about as quickly as playing the actual movie. Oh well, I suppose that means I can watch all the songs again. I hope the dragon has been loud enough to muffle my singing. Thankfully, the gent on my left has been watching movies the whole time, so I'm banking on this distraction to mean that he can't hear me. I'm skipping the part when they're at the bank. I detest that part!

Made it across the Atlantic. We're still chasing the morning, although the sun must be going faster than 524 mph, because that's how fast we're going, but we haven't gotten to the sunrise yet. In fact, the Sun in the East is catching up to us. We're hurdling West and West still, and it's still morning, but the air outside now looks more like late-morning than it does early morning. When we started, it was noon in Dubai, now the flight tracker tells me it's almost noon in the Caribbean. I see on the map that the sun is now rising over the Pacific Ocean. But still we chase the morning. We're above Maine right now now. It's impossible to see any land through the clouds. I imagine the dreary, cloudy, sunless, rainy day that it must be down there, and try to irreversibly solidify the image of sun and sun and SUN that does shine, always, above the cloud cover. It really does become quite a grand metaphor for life the more I think about it.

Well, I be in 'Merica now, waiting for my connecting flight at the Newark Airport. Feels like it too, my goodness. So much English sans Scottish accents coming from every direction, Annie's pretzels with greasy pepperoni dough blobs instead of boulangeries with baguettes and tarts and macaroons. As we flew down, I saw suburban houses with that ugly, plastic-looking siding, all lined up in rows upon rows and rows. Customs was a breeze – there was an airport personnel directing the passengers into the multiple lines. As I waited, he chatted with me – “This your final destination?” “Nope, Detroit, Michigan is!” “Awwww, I'm a Spartans fan...” “Umm, oh! Cool! I am indeed from Ann Arbor where the University of Michigan resides!” If you were trying to give me reason to despise you, it really didn't work....I don't think I even consciously realized until this moment in time that Spartans are Wolverine adversaries.

Baggage claim – the thrill of realizing that I've been to every single International city in this baggage claim at the moment! Frankfurt, Brussels, Paris, Edinburgh... Granted, I may have only been in the airports of the former two, but to be fair, I did walk outside the airport in Brussels to get to my plane.

Upon landing, I was absolutely parched, and after an unsuccessful quest for a drinking fountain, I bought myself a lemonade...just a bit more money for that than for a bottle of water. Absurd. I paid using a few euro pennies, but I had forgotten that here the sales tax is not included, so the lady gave me a very odd look when I gave her about 20 cents less than the total price she had stated. Remembering that they sometimes gip you with these sorts of things by putting in far too much ice and far too little liquid, I asked for no ice. I got a cup halfway filled with the frozen little cubes! Absurdities continued. All the signs are in English and Spanish making my quest for bilinguality a bit rough. As for the wifi, there isn't any except the kind you have to pay a whopping $7.95/day to use, henceforth I cannot post this blog post even though it is ready to be posted. Absurdities to the max.

But never you fear, my friends, I complain not! In actuality, I am vastly contented to be here, well, to be here in transit anyways, I would not be happy to be permanently here, that's for sure. There's a flight going out to Detroit at 1:20, in fifteen minutes. Sitting here for three hours will give the sun quite the advantage as I continue to try to chase the morning. Totally coulda made that flight too. But I can wait, and will wait, until my flight at 3:15 PM and I will somehow find entertainment in this drab little place. My impressions of Newark thus far have not been the best – rainy rainy rain, no color, nowhere near as interesting as the Amsterdam Airport, or any other airport, really. Very boring as far as airports go, actually. My clothes smell utterly disgusting, and I think I'll go change into my pajamas. Hope no one minds! My excitement has been evidenced thus far in song, dance, and lots of talking to myself and the world at large in French. Hope nobody minds that either.

Well this past week seems positively prone to travel problems. I'm currently stuck at the Newark Airport. For a very long time. My flight from Edinburgh got in half an hour early at 11:45, and my flight to Detroit is delayed by 2+ hours because the flight crew apparently isn't here. I'm so close to home and I want to go now! I'm afraid this will mean that not everyone can come to the airport – including Josiah who has to be at his orchestra rehearsal at 6:30! Very upsetting indeed. It is quite aggravating. I've been on the lookout for an adventure, for something excited or interesting, but have thus far been more or less unsuccessful. I did indeed change into my pajamas, and brush my teeth too. I'm on the look-out for anyone who needs a friend or wants to have a conversation, you never know, but so far I'm coming up dry. I read all the stories from Daniel to the Three Kings in my French Jesus Storybook Bible. I read some on my kindle. I listened to French music on my computer. I got a job offer for the summer from a lady who works with kids who have autism. She was impressed with my gap year. I think I might go listen to my favorite Reluctant Dragon story (even though that's normally sacredly reserved for the night before Christmas Eve only in the Wong Household...) since it's on my computer and it is ever so entertaining and since the next dragon I'm boarding does seem to be very reluctant indeed. Two more hours of waiting in Newark. 9:32 PM France time, 8:32 PM Edinburgh time, 3:32 PM EST with a flight to depart (I think...) at 5:30.

Now instead of chasing the morning, it'll feel more like chasing the evening...

Edinburgh update!

Sorry about the absence of posts these past few days. I can assure it's not for a lack of stories!

Edinburgh's not quite like any of the other cities I've visited this year. It has a flavor that is all its own, and I've had a grand time exploring it with the lovely Aunt Di as my tour guide. The buildings are all more or less the same color, and the whole city feels centered around this castle that overlooks Edinburgh perched on a volcanic plug. The weather hasn't been half bad - definitely a bit colder than Southern France, but that's to be expected I reckon. 

Standing in line at immigration, I met a chap with a U of M sweatshirt. Not exactly what I was expecting to see, but a nice reminder of home nonetheless. Getting into the country was a bit difficult since I didn't have the address that I'm staying at, but I must say I did appreciate the seriousness of the immigration official who was interrogating me - she wouldn't let me in until she knew that I wouldn't be "sleeping on the gutter tonight." Which meant that she went so far as to call my Aunt and if she was "happy with what your aunt has to say" she would let me into her country. Every single other country that I've been through immigration since January - in Germany, France, Austria, and Belgium - hasn't asked me a single question, or even said a single word to me. Austria didn't even stamp my passport, which I'm still a bit miffed about.

But I made it into the country eventually, and there was Aunt Di, waiting for me with the very same facebook Happy Birthday Kathryn blue and green sign! One of two bags was also there waiting for me, but the other was not there waiting for me. First time to have a cancelled flight, and first time to have lost luggage. Not bad after the year of traveling, I suppose! And then it was into our taxi with the driver on the wrong side of the car and off to Tipperlin Road. 

Since then, again thanks to Aunt Di, I feel like I've traversed more or less every street of this city! Soon I must go get myself ready for church (at a church where Eric Liddell taught/attended, nonetheless!) So enjoy these pictures and wait in breathless anticipation for more stories to come including haggis at a soup kitchen, the Scottish version of boot camp, a trip to the castle, a misadventure to the park, and a Scottish ceilidh with lots of old Scottish men in kilts and real live Scottish music playing.

The castle from the perspective of the famous Greyfriar's church.

Castle!

So awesome.

They had medieval dress-up clothes at the museum... for adults too!!!! Score!!!!

Watching the cannon go off from the castle at 1:00 PM sharp...though not this cannon with my feet perched on it...

Inside the castle!

Oldest chapel in Edinburgh - 12th century!

Lovely, lovely water!

This cannon can shoot a cannon ball 2 miles.

In the castle dungeon...sooooo spookily awesome.

More castle awesomeness...

And lots of cousin awesomeness too...

Stranded Person - A day full of sadness and the unexpected.

Sadness because this happened:

But it was the good kind of sadness. The paradoxical kind of sadness that actually makes you happy, because you're sad for very good reasons. Sadness because you're leaving a place that you have come to love. Sadness because you're leaving people who have made your life richer and more full and more good.

Unexpectedness because I'm not in Scotland after all. I'm still in France.

This morning I woke up before the crack of dawn and made one more pilgrimage up to Conflans. It might have been a lot more satisfyingly sad if I didn't suffer from a good deal of trouble in transport. But since I was still rather sleepy, I managed to get myself into more than one slightly problematic situation such as running into trash cans and falling off of bikes. Once I was back, there was less than an hour left. Mercy and Sarah were bricks and helped me with final cleaning and eating and packing necessities that had to be taken care of, and then I was overjoyed/doubly sad to find that all the McCropders still in Albertville (that is all minus three) woke up to walk me to the train station... I was overflowing deep down inside with thankfulness for those wonderful people who saw me off and waved until I could see them no longer.

Resolving to not cry when saying goodbye to people whom you love very much is a very silly and ineffective thing to do. My resolution was poorly carried out, and it was a teary-eyed, runny-nosed Kathryn who got on the bus this morning. The bus was nearly full, or at least I couldn't see a single free seat through my clouded eyes, and after walking all the way to the back, I finally found a place next to someone, sat down, and continued to cry, much to the fascination of the two little kids sitting in the seats in front of me. I have to admit, I felt unfairly resentful towards these two pudgy little faces for not being McCropder child faces. 

The tears kept on coming until we arrived at the next train station, at which point the girl sitting next to me said in somewhat concerned tones to her crying neighbor, "Ça va?" I had rather forgotten her presence. I caught myself right before the sentence, "Non, ça ne va absolutement pas" came tumbling out of my mouth and after that she engaged me in conversation, henceforth quelling the tears to an extent. 

At Chambery, I was the dead last person to lug my baggage out from the bus, and I was profusely thankful that my train was coming to Voie A. Which meant that I was not compelled to drag my suitcases up and down two flights of staircases. Truly relieving. 

My train's final destination was Gare de Lyon à Paris. I was one sorely tempted little girl when my stop came to pretend I didn't understand the announcements and just sit on the train until the train got to Paris. But I made myself step off à l'aéroport. I was the only person walking from train station to airport, and so I had fun on the succession of moving sidewalks seeing how fast I could run down them with my two suitcases, trying different interesting methods as I pushed and pulled and lugged my two fifty pounders all the way into the airport and to the departure board. 

Found my flight. Instead of a gate number next to my flight, all it said was "Annulé" or "Cancelled". Slightly disconcerting to see that word written next to your flight, but I figured that particular departure board was probably just malfunctioning. But all the other boards I found seemed to indicate the same thing. Odd. I asked the information booth man to point me to the Lufthansa check-in desk. He laughed sympathetically as he gave me instructions. An abnormal reaction to my question, to be sure. I've never heard a French laugh at me quite like that anyway...

At last - the Lufthansa check-in desk! And not a moment too soon, for my arms were aching with the luggageness around me. A long line. Bummer. And then slowly it dawned on me - the long line wasn't moving. And then I put two and two together, talked to a few people, and by the end of our conversations, I was 99% sure that all Lufthansa flights across the continent had been cancelled. It seemed like such a radical statement though, and since this was, after all, explained to me in French there was certainly room for error. I repeated the words in my head two, three, four times... Tous les vols de Lufthansa sont annulés.... That sure did seem pretty stark clear, French or English. A certain thrill went all up and down my spine. I had never had this life experience before, and it felt so terribly drastic. It was a full hour plus some more time on top of that before we inched forward a bit in the line. 

I ate my sandwich.

I ate my orange.

I read my book.

I read my book some more.

I texted my mommy.

I counted floor tiles.

I speculated on the cause of the cancellations.

I chatted with the elderly French gentleman in front of me who was going to Japan to do a "stage" which I thought meant internship, but maybe I was mistaken this whole time on the meaning of the French word "stage" because he seemed to be pretty ancient for doing an internship.

I read my book some more.

I ate my bread.

I looked at France pictures on my computer.

I missed France people.

I figured out the most comfortable way to sit on a suitcase.

And then at last it was my turn to talk to the lady at the desk! And my flight was rebooked...for tomorrow! This presented a slight problem and I did not care to further inconvenience my devoted friends who had already offered to come via car and pick poor stranded me up...I could buy another train ticket back to Albertville, but I had less than 1 euro in my possession, thinking I wouldn't need any euros anymore... until she offered me a hotel room! Voilà. Super. 

And so that hotel room is where I now reside, here on the eve of my 19th birthday. I have a sneaking suspicion that lots of people who are irate about flight cancellations come here, because plastered on the cups, on the desks, on brochures, on the walls, on the elevator doors, on the mirrors are tacky sayings like, "The glass is ALWAYS half full." and "A SMILE could change your day." and "This is your home away from home, so smile, you're in good hands." and "I've seen a lot of faces, but I've never seen a smiling face that wasn't beautiful..." 

Well whatever they might say, this sure don't feel like a home! It's very nice, very painfully clean, it smells like a hotel, the shampoo bottles are colorful, the beds are poofy and warm, all-around very hotel-ish. And hotels always did have an element of excitement for me. Perhaps not so much when they are spontaneously sprung on you in this manner, but on second thought, perhaps also more so when they are spontaneously sprung on you in this manner. After the initial interest of exploring a new place, the novelty wore off pretty quickly, and I just wanted some toddler to go tearing through that deathly quiet lobby with it's pristine floors and shiny table tops.

Later, I would find out that Lufthansa workers went on strike for the day, and that my flight was one of 1755 cancelled today leaving many "stranded persons"... and also creating many "stranded person expenses" for Lufthansa. I do rather feel like an expensive stranded person. First time in my 18 going on 19 years I've ever felt that precisely that way, but stranded is a good way to put it. There's not a whole lot of civilization around the Lyon airport. Just factories and fields is all I've discovered thus far. And so to Scotland tomorrow (je pense...je crois...j'espère...) Il faut voir.

Spring is Here

Je suis ici, au-dessus d'Albertville, dans le jardin de Conflans. Everything is in riotous bloom. Each direction I turn I see beauty made manifold in new life abounding. And it is time to go home.

The River is an angry rush of turbulent waters, snow from the peaks is melting, beginning as a thousand tiny trickles, each trickle meeting the others to create this massive force. And it is time to go home.

The perfumes of spring hang heavily in the air: the thick scent, rich and deep of freshly plowed earth; the fragrance of spring flowers in bloom; the sneeze-inducing, nose-tickling sensation of freshly mowed grass. The whole world is beset by layers of pollen. And it is time to go home.

In the mornings, the birds sing their songs, song after song after song, melodies that usher in this new season.

The mountains that were just a week ago still coated in the solemn gray of winter are now flushed with the yellow-green of baby leaves just now starting to show themselves on the trees up above. Each day, a more vibrant green color deepens on the previously barren mountainsides. Layers of greens begin to form. In between the clumps of trees, what were dry, muddy, brown fields have transformed into pastures of florescent green new grass. The world is alive with the newness of spring, with the goodness of life.

Each morning, I wake up to see a little bit less snow on the peaks. Peaks that have become familiar to me. I know their curves, I recognize each with its splendid majesty. Each has a unique character in my head, personified to the extent that they have become my friends, but my friends are changing. The green is coming, creeping up the mountain walls, the snow is disappearing, melting off the mountain tops...

A year ago, I never would have been able to conceive of the adventures that God has brought me on, the people whom I have been honored to meet, the new beauties in life that have been revealed to me. 

To the missionaries studying at the Centre - you have all become a part of my great cloud of witnesses. Your stories, your faith, your sacrifice and joy in following God's calling have made a deep impression on me.

To Abby & Ally, my two piano students, you girls are amazing. I wish we had started piano lessons together earlier, but I am so glad that we had at least some. You have both blessed me beyond measure.

To the McCropder children - each of you has claimed a part of my heart...

Anna who is my piano student, my little companion, my melodramatic and precocious friend who is 7 going on 17, fearless and (recent) lover of shots, so packed full of personality, you are going great places in life, my friend. I can't wait to watch and see how you grow more and more fully into the beautiful young woman God is making you to be.

Elise: you are the sweetest little girl, brimming with imagination. I love the two wispy little braids that frame a face so precious that it could melt the coldest of hearts in an instant. How I adored all the time I spent with you. I love the way you call me "Mrs. Kathryn", I love to watch you grow and learn more each day. You are such a good big sister to your two little brothers. You are a gem, a princess, full of love and beauty.

Abi: how I love everything about you. How I love your unabated, unmatchable, inconceivable enthusiasm, joy, your attitude of taking life head-on, all the way, non-stopping... with a laugh that I adore to hear and a smile that's to die for. I can't say I've ever met a four year-old, nor do I ever expect to meet one, who can and will consume every type of food this planet has to offer no matter how vegetably-green, how spicy, how unappetizingly basil-flavored it may be. Please don't ever change!

Micah: you are something else. I love the earnestness of your expression, the imagination that flares up in an instant, your way of explaining things, your whole perspective in life that has opened up mine more to childhood wonder. I love your sense of good and evil, your burning and sincere desire to beat those bad guys. I love how quick your smile is to come, and I love how big and full and bright that smile is.

Maggie: I remember quite distinctly one of the very first things you ever said to me. We were outside, it was a Sunday and your first full day back in France after Christmas in the U.S. so you were a bit sleep deprived. Even though you really didn't know me, you held out your arms to me to be held because you wanted to "see da mountains a yittle bit better." After gravely staring at one mountain in particular for a bit, you solemnly announced, "I wish I could yive there, on dat mountain, way way waaaay at the very tippy top in a yittle house wif you." I wish that too, Maggie. Since then, you have never failed to bring a smile to my face and laughter to my heart. I love your perspectives on life, I love how observant you are, how your brain memorizes whole books as easily as a dry sponge under a running sink becomes wet. I love how independent you are, an independence exhibited at my birthday party when you calmly announced at the beginning of each game that you would refrain from playing. And after those games when we were eating our cake, my heart just about melted into a great big puddle when you came up to me and said, "Miss Kafwin! Do you know why I picked a plate wif a heart? It's because I LOVE you SO much!" Let me assure you, the feeling is mutual.

Ben: you are a curly-headed veritable ray of sunshine. I can't help smiling every time I see your face. One of many wonderful memories I have of you is when one day you heard the words "cookies" and "make them" and "eat them" all arranged nicely in the same sentence. You immediately broke out into dance and song, twirling around and around, waving your arms in the most endearing fashion. You have grown and changed so much even since I came here, and even though it makes me sad to know that you will continue to change and grow and I won't get to see it, I feel blessed that I was able to for this short time. Thank you for bringing me so much joy!

Sammy: this kid is full full full of life overflowing. I'm not sure if I've ever seen a child your age who can waddle/run/move quite as fast as you do with those two little legs of yours. It'll be hard to forget the very first time I saw you...you were getting into the cleaning supplies, and after locating the toilet plunger, you found out that your face fit perfectly right into that hole. Ever since then, a whole slew memories have followed of you getting yourself into funny little scrapes, of you screaming/yelling/shouting with impressive gusto down the hallway at whomever cares to listen, of you laughing and laughing and laughing with the laughter penetrating every part of your sweet little face. Thanks for the cuddles on Saturday.

Baby Toby: I can't say I feel very well acquainted with you yet, but I can say that being here in Albertville when you were born was one of the highlights of my time here, and I look forward with great anticipation to see how your little personality unfolds. I've no doubt that it'll be just grand, like your siblings.

To my teacher Anne - vous êtes incroyable!!!! Merci beaucoup pour ta patience, ton travail, et tout les choses que tu fais pour les étudiants. Je suis vraiment reconnaissante pour toi.

To the whole McCropder Team - thank you for welcoming me with open arms to your life in France. I had great respect for you before, and now after actually really spending some time getting to know you, that respect has only increased tenfold. From being with you, I have learned much more about what it means to live in community, about what it looks like to be a missionary, about what it looks like to prepare to be a missionary. About what it concretely means a team of missionaries with a vision. And I've also picked up a number of random medical terms and concepts to boot. I plan to tenaciously follow the remainder of your time here in France and the grand adventures that are yet to come, and it is with great anticipation that I look forward to reading the stories of life in Burundi.

And so after a week long detour in Scotland, it'll be back to life in Michigan. New adventures await - a summer at good old Knox Pres full of awesomeness, trips to Detroit and Nashville, quality time with friends and siblings, and then... another bend in the road.

Goodbye to the dark, echoey, grey-tiled hallways with noisy lights that switch off automatically; goodbye to the terrace with two sturdy chairs and a lot of flimsy ones; goodbye to the France Asia grocery store with the short-grained, sticky rice and kikkoman soy sauce; goodbye to La Mie Caline, representing the plethora of baked goodness that is now closely associated in my head with the culture and country of France; goodbye to the cemetery that overlooks Albertville and that has been a wonderful place to sit and read and contemplate life matters; goodbye to Conflans with your quaint little museum and your beautiful garden and your nooks and crannies filled with imaginative potential and your awesome chateau with a fun climbing wall; goodbye to all the charming little pathways in the mountains that lead to many wonderful places; goodbye skiing with all your harrowing precipices and shaky ski lifts and pristine beauty and breathtaking views; goodbye to the outdoor markets, the smelly cheeses, the grocery stores that have a lot of dairy products, a lot of meat, a lot of sugary cereal, a fine selection of wine, and not much of anything else. Goodbye to my big friends and my little friends. Goodbye Mountains.

Au revoir, Albertville.

Spring is here, and it is time to go home.

Beaucoup d'amour

The year 2013 is the first year since 1994 when I will not celebrate my birthday with the comfort and tradition of home. Relative to my life, that is a very long time indeed making this birthday quite the monumental one. Although I will be celebrating the actual date of my birthday in Scotland, the birthday celebrations have nevertheless been underway here in France, and I feel thoroughly loved.

Tuesday night the singles plus the most fantastic Lee and Violette went out for kababs and had mint chocolate chip ice cream cake (Wong family birthday classic) on the terrace afterwards (merci beaucoup à Alyssa. Le gâteau était SUPER!) Mercy gave me earrings (shocking) but they are really quite pretty, and she made them herself, and I must admit I do rather like them. Afterwards, we stayed on the terrace while the sun said goodnight, talking about all sorts of things, and as I sat there I marveled at all these heros of the faith whom God has placed in my life during this chapter. Then Sarah and I fell asleep while watching Despicable Me. Good times and sweet memories.

Interspersed with birthday celebrations have been meals with the families one last time. A dinner with the McLaughlins (I got to hold baby Toby!!!!!!!!) last night, a lunch with the Cropseys today, a potential dinner with the Faders tonight although due to another birthday celebration after school today, I was full beyond belief until past the Fader girls' bedtime. I have come to greatly admire these people over the past few months - and I already did before, viewing them as nothing short of Knox Celebrities. But more on that to come in another post.

The other birthday celebration alluded in the previous paragraph was just grand. Warmed the cockles of my heart. The participants were primarily kids. The McCropder kiddos plus the Kim's plus the two Farver twins whom I've been teaching piano to. There were beautifully crafted cards that are coming back with me to the US of A, posters that made my heart smile (and my face too...), and all sorts of fascinating games. Such as a game in lieu of Pin the Tale on the Donkey that was dubbed Pin the Earring on the Kathryn. Delightful. I am now pierced in all sorts of flattering places. Each of these dear little people with their personalities and smiles and laughs and love will be sorely missed. 

And so now I must turn my attentions once again to packing. My room is currently in absurd upheaval and I am going to endeavor to restore some sense of order and decency before tomorrow comes. Thank you to everyone who helped make me feel so special.

This sign (interpreted below) with pictures of fond memories surrounding it contributed greatly to warming the cockles of my heart:

K id at heart (and everywhere else too)

A miable, adventurous, author, admirable, affection, almost died.

T alented, tender, trespasser, tujours vivant

H appinesss, happy generator, heureuse

R ighteous, rockin', rule breaker

Y acky, youthful

N ot dead yet! Nice, N'tertaining, N-thusiastic, N-ergetic

Happiness abounds.

....piercing time....

Welcome Home, Vaughn Didley Haglund

Many of you will remember reading about my darling little Tuesday Boy - an intro to him and a goodbye letter to him.

Last night at around 10:30 EST, Vaughn Didley Haglund came home. Although I wasn't there in person to welcome him, my mom and sister were a part of the welcoming home committee at the Detroit Metro Airport. He was also greeted by his daddy and his big brother Anri, who was also adopted from GLA. I have great confidence that little Anri will make the best of big brothers. I just love this picture of my little man, nestled up against his mommy.

These past few days as I was following the journey of Didley's mommy - Cathleen - down to Haiti to pick him up, it was as if I were back there in Haiti. As she wrote about the chaos of the nurseries, the food that he was eating, staying at the Guest House, singing on the balcony with the GLA staff, the joy of bringing him home even with the heart break of leaving, I lived there vicariously with her. I can feel right now his little arms around me, clinging and holding on so tight. I can hear right now his infectious laugh burbling up and spreading joy everywhere. I can see his little face bursting with joy as I walk into the nursery.

If I ever go back to GLA, something very profound will be missing in it. But when I go back to Michigan, someone who is very special to me who was not there before will now be there.

One day in Haiti, I spent a long time telling Didley all about what to be excited about in the great state of Michigan. I told him all about the seasons, something he will now experience for the first time. I told him about sledding and snow forts, about snow days and snow ball fights and white Christmases. I told him about the Great Lakes, the beautiful beaches meeting with endless water, the cherry trees and the berry bushes, the freshness of spring and the heat of summer. I told him about cider mills and corn mazes, apple trees and fried donuts, green leaves turned blazing gold and rich red. His childhood is about to begin, and I get to watch at least a part of it unfolding in all its glory. An honor such as this I have never been given.

His family is very dedicated to healing his little heart, to giving him a beautiful childhood, to showing him a new and wonderful life outside of the confines of the GLA Main House. I can't wait to watch him grow and thrive and blossom.

Geraldson is home. Another little boy who I loved very much goes home next week. And now Didley is home. There's a lot of victory ringing in the air today. Welcome home, Didley. Thank you for everything you've done for me. I love you so so so so so much.

Tales of Gory Woe: France Style

Many of you I'm sure will remember the gruesome Tales of Gory Woe recounted from Haiti. Malheureusement, I am here to report that exactly a week before my departure, I have been struck down, more or less for the first time since being here, with a rather vicious sort of a cold. Heureusement, it hasn't been even close to the tribulation that it certainly was in Haiti. Many who witnessed my weekend activities have been attributing my malady to be directly correlated with three specific events -

1. Being submerged in the recently-melted snow of the river
2. Sleeping outside on the terrace on Saturday night (not the warmest experience, perhaps, but 100% worth every single cold and windy second) and
3. Hiking up the waterfall (twice, once on Saturday, once on Sunday). Plus on Sunday, the cascading coldness was just too tantalizing, and so underneath it went I, once or twice, or perhaps thrice.

Ironically enough, on the way back home from the waterfall yesterday I seem to remember having a conversation with a doctor about the plethora of health benefits of being in cold water. While some may contend that my current condition clearly proves otherwise, I refuse to succumb to popular belief that coldness and wetness can cause sickness. Germs caused my sickness. C'est tout.

It is, to be sure, somewhat disheartening to have to be sick on the last full Monday. I was rather heartbroken to have to miss class and felt more or less as if I wasted a beautiful afternoon away in my bedridden state. Thankfully, however, I had a wonderful caretaker named Sarah who attended to my every need, made sure I stayed hydrated, gave me her beverages and her crackers, and even went to the grocery store to get ice cream to make me a smoothie. Much to our amused consternation, the only kind of ice cream at the store was actually sorbet, and there was only one kind of it, and it was basil flavored. Basil flavored sorbet in a peanut butter cup smoothie? Peanut butter cups are far too precious to waste in such a manner.

On the positive side of life, I had lots of good reading time in between naps, and tonight I'll finish Anne book #5. A kindred spirit such as Anne does much to soothe the afflicted such as myself. My day was also brightened by a visit from a lovely and oh-so-cute Fader girl with her mommy.

Soon I shall go to bed, and after a day of sleep, soup, sun, saltines, sodas, and gummy vitamins, I fully anticipate waking up on the morrow 100% rejuvenated and ready for one more week in Albertville.

Happenings in Albertville

I am most overjoyed to report that the weather today was sublime with a great many joyous activities, not unlike Wednesday's happy day. Here I have for you a short recap with a few highlights, mostly from today, a few from this past week.

Earlier this week, after bidding each other goodnight with lovely plans to go to bed early and get caught up on some sleep, Mercy and I had a grand time pretending we were immature college freshmen in a dorm (which we kind of are, I reckon). I now truly feel as if I've had the dorm experience, and henceforth do not feel it particularly necessary to live in one next year... The result of our exploits? Dr. Seuss hair which we proudly paraded and modeled to our neighbors.

Anna and I went out for kebabs this afternoon. I was quite amazed at how she slowly but surely ate that monster until it was diminished to naught but three bites. Incredible.

With it being such a gorgeously idyllic spring day, I had within me an irresistible desire to be submerged in water. And so after studying in the hot sun, Sarah obligingly went with me to the madly rushing river overflowing with melted snows from the mountains, and I went all the way under, much to the amusement of the French who were watching on the sidelines.

It was cold, to be sure. Tingly feet for the first few seconds, numb for the rest of it. But thankfully, I've been brought up well and the Great Lakes have made me immune to shockingly cold natural bodies of water. And being utterly submerged in the freezing cold, crystal clear waters of the melted snow on the peaks of the Alps - basically my definition of awesomeness to the max epitomized.

The fun on the run in the sun was, thankfully, not to end there. For after a bit of reading on the terrace, playing with the kids, and eating pizza with friends, it was off on another adventure, this time with Mercy. I've heard tell time and time again stories of a waterfall behind Conflans (the medieval city of Albertville) but I myself have never located this elusive waterfall, due in large part to my sense of direction which is rather lacking. And so Mercy kindly agreed to bring me there before I leave. 

It was a day like no other. The skies were a blue so blue your heart just wanted to burst with the blueness of it. And it had snowed up on the mountain tops the night before, which meant that the peaks were a white so bright, so brilliant, that it really did have the same effect on your heart as that bluest blue, and the combination of the whitest white with the bluest blue. Looked like so: (as far as it can be captured in a photograph anyway, which it really cannot)

Then we walked up to the waterfall. It was TOTALLY AWESOME. I also walked UP the actual waterfall. I found a good walking stick. I would like to write more about it, but maybe some other time, because at the moment, I am off to sleep on the terrace in the great outdoors avec mon amie Sarah!

A dead heroine, about to drop to her watery grave.

Just a Happy Day

"After all, I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens, but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one after another softly, like pearls slipping off a string." - Anne Shirley

When I woke up this morning, the skies were blue and the sun was rising over the mountains. After seemingly never ending days of cloudy skies, this change was a welcome one indeed, and the day stayed lovely, a glistening spring day of sunshine on blooming trees and happy dandelions.

For about an hour, I worked on making posters for the baby shower this afternoon - a baby shower for four women!

I had the pleasure of spending much of my day with children, starting with Selma and Cyril. These two are magnificent. Selma is quite likely the most precocious three year-old who has ever graced my presence, and quite decidedly understands and speaks French and English. Even though Cyril's a bit younger, he still understands and speaks both French and English, though with a rather heavy, and extremely endearing, baby accent. Something I adore about these two is how easily they laugh. You'd have to be trying hard to not make them laugh, and you'd have to be trying even harder to not laugh at the sound of their laugh. We made a poster together, we played in the sunshine, we played some games, we read some books, we sang the Sound of Music, altogether fantastic.

After that, I worked a bit more on the posters - an activity I thoroughly enjoy - and then went outside to pick some flowers, also for the baby shower. I was happily joined by a cohort of little girls who picked flowers with me in the sunshine. A merry group of little ladies, frolicking in the sun and filling vases with dandelions and violets and forsythia and other dainty little French spring flowers.

We also blew up a lot of balloons together, and went through several traumatic popping experiences as well.

I ate downright yummy pizza-like things with Mercy and a friend of hers who was over.

With some time to kill before the baby shower, I went outside into the marvelous sunlight and walked up to the cemetery where sat on gravestones, reading some L.M. Montgomery (hence the quote at the beginning of this post) and discovering a plethora of new features on my camera.

The baby shower was nice, with heaps of scrumptious and delectable delicacies. We sat in a circle together, and I was struck by the strength and beauty of this group of women who have sacrificed much for something far more worth anything they could ever sacrifice in this world.

After the shower, Anna Fader and I had a piano lesson, and she successfully completed her Lesson Book that we've been working on since I got here! Such an accomplishment. She has learned so much and come very far in just 3.5 months, and I am so proud of her.

I also had lessons with Ally and Abby - identical twins here at the Centre whose family is going to Togo. We haven't had very many lessons at all, and sadly won't be able to since my departure is looming in the ever nearer future, but they are absolutely delightful young ladies and I am thankful for the time I do get with the two of them.

As soon as we finished, I was off on a little walk to chez Kim (the Kim's house). Dan and Julie Kim are a couple in my class; their family is heading to Mali. I encourage you to read more about them and their mission here. On Sunday, if you'll remember, I had a lengthy discussion with Judson about what it might look like to make Clue a game with real people in a real life setting. Well this afternoon I went to their house to make at least a small fraction of our wild imaginings into a reality, and it was a blast. The Kims have three children, all very sweet, energetic, imaginative, talented little people. We played three different versions of "real life" Clue, plus one round of the board game clue, plus the tickle monster game, plus a haunted house game, and Uno as well.

I had dinner with their family, which was lovely, and Julie is a superb cook, though I must was comfortably full when we started eating from all the baby shower food. It was only my second time at their house, but each time I have felt so welcomed, and with all the mayhem and energy of the three kiddos, it always feels very familiar and home-like to me. I just love their children, and being with them is more refreshing than it is tiring despite the insanity of the games we endeavor to play.

And so I just got back home to my little room, and now I'm listening to the Piano Guys and working on my new favorite verb tense (before it was the Imparfait, but now it is definitely the Conditionnel Passé) and in a bit I'll snuggle up in bed and read some more Anne.

Just a happy day. One more Wednesday left in Albertville.

Clayton Justice Geraldson Cherney: Wednesday's Boy.

Today, Clayton Justice Geraldson Cherney shall be carried safely home in the arms of his loving mommy and daddy. It is almost a relief to pen his name here since previously I could not do so, but now I can... Read more about "Wednesday's boy" specifically in these two posts: Introduction to my Wednesday Boy, and Goodbye letter to Geraldson I saw this picture on facebook this morning, and it nearly brought me to tears, and very likely would have if I didn't have to rush off to class.

The journey of this family has been a long one, to be sure. The received the referral for their son over two years ago in February of 2011. Two years is an excruciatingly long time to wait to bring your son home. But they waited, and I don't doubt for a second that they would tell you now with resounding assurance that it was worth every arduous second of waiting and waiting and waiting.

Geraldson - for he was Geraldson to me at the orphanage - was a serious little man for most of my time there. Smiles did not come easily to him. Until the last night that I was at GLA, and then at last, I heard him laugh and laugh and LAUGH until I felt as if he could laugh no more. It was a beautiful way to say goodbye to him; it was a heartwrenching way to say goodbye to him.

Some of you may also remember me blogging about Marguerite. Geraldson was absolutely Marguerite's most favorite child in all of the orphanage. She adored him. She goes to GLA for large chunks of time - some three months. Then she returns home for a bit and goes back to GLA. Well she was there with Geraldson these past few months, and she was there when Geraldson's parents came to bring him home forever. She always told me that it was her dream to met the momma of her little boy. There is, I'm sure, a great joy in her heart today as her dream has been made real, but I'm also sure that there is also an ache in heart as she says goodbye to him.

This family is wonderful. Clayton's mommy worked with Intervarsity Christian Fellowship (just about my favorite organization ever) for years and years, and she has been to Cedar Campus!!! Cause for great rejoicing, to be sure. He is going home to a good, good family who loves him very deeply.

The Lord has done great things in the life of Clayton, and I look forward with great anticipation as I watch his new life unfolding. Pray for him in the transition, for his family, for his big sister, even while praising God for the victory here at the end of this long, long road and for the joy in this new journey that has only just begun. And today pray also for the family of Thursday's girl as her parents travel to Haiti TODAY for their first visit. I have a great amount of respect and admiration for these two sets of parents, and hope to one day be like them.

Geraldson is going home, to his forever home with his forever family, and I will rest well in that beautiful truth tonight.