Catchy Pick-up Lines & Bus Riding Adventures

Though the history, culture, architecture, and art of Turkey are fantastic and well worth exploring, our time in Antayla and Istanbul was not without its adventures and in some cases, misadventures. As I soon discovered, exploring the city streets as a group of young, single American females is not always the best option. With features such as blonde hair, blue eyes, or in my case, just a fair complexion, you are bound to draw a lot of public attention. In fact, I don’t think that I have felt any more noticed in my life. Regretfully, much of this attention came from the younger, and shall we say “overly-friendly,” male population. Rather than worry too much about this unwanted attention, we decided to make a game out of keeping a list of the most creative pick-up lines. Here are a few of my favorites:

1. “Hello angels…I will be your Charlie.”

2. “You dropped something.” (I look behind me to see what I may have dropped.) The Turkish man places his hand across his chest and says with exaggerated conviction: “My heart.”

3. The four of us were walking in a group shopping at the Spice Bazaar. As we walk by one of the booths we hear, “Hello Spice Girls!”

4. While shopping at the Grand Bazaar: “Hello ladies! Come to shop here. It’s almost free!”

5. “Why are you ignoring me? Do you not speak English? Don’t worry, I can give you English lessons!”

Though it was annoying, I have to admit that a few of these guys do get a few points for creativity. :)

 

Turkish spices at the Grand Bazaar

Even amidst the unwanted friendliness of some of the men, I did notice many redeeming aspects of the Turkish culture. In general, people are extremely helpful and kind-hearted. During one of our crowded rides on the bus, I noticed a mother board the bus with her young son. Although this woman searched everywhere for her bus pass, she wasn’t able to find it. A worried expression crossed her face as she wondered what she and her son were going to do next. Almost instantly, a kind Turkish woman sitting in the front row took out her own pass and handed it to the mother in need. Though the mother tried to repay the woman, holding out a small handful of Turkish lira, the woman shook her head and insisted that she needed no payment. It was wonderful to see the generous heart of this woman. Not long after this incident, a little old Turkish grandmother boarded the bus. Before I continue with this story, I need to point out the fact that the seats on the bus are prime real estate. With the crazy traffic, bustling crowds, and long commutes, everyone is hoping to secure a seat for themselves. Well, this little grandmother enters the bus and believe it or not, the same woman who paid the bus fare for the mother and the son, gets up from her seat so that the grandmother can sit down. Again, I was so encouraged to see such a genuine display of thoughtfulness and generosity.

Besides generous people on the bus, there were also many helpful people on the streets. Whenever we stopped to ask for directions people would not only help us, but would often go above and beyond the expected response. When people realized that we weren’t understanding their Turkish directions, they would often go out of their way to lead us to our desired destination. We even had a family offer to drive us to where we wanted to go. (At least that’s what we think they were offering…our entire conversation was composed of Johanna and I speaking English, the Turkish family speaking Turkish, and both of us doing a lot of pantomime.)

On one of our more disconcerting adventures, Johanna and I were coming home to the Asian side after a lovely day of exploring the European half of the city. We were tired, it was getting late, and the bus monitor that tells the passengers which stop is coming up next was broken. As you have probably predicted by this point, we missed our stop. The trouble was that we didn’t miss it by one or two minutes…we missed it by about 20 minutes. When we finally realized our error and exited the bus, we were in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere in a completely unfamiliar part of the city. And it was dark.

Trying not to panic, we began to come up with a strategy of how we were going to make it safely home. Our first plan was to ask some workers in a nearby ice cream shop. As we soon discovered, the number of English speakers begins to dwindle the further you travel into the Asian side of the city. Completely unable to understand our English, we showed the shop owner the only thing we had to help us at this point, a small slip of paper with the abbreviation for our desired bus stop. He looked at it with a somewhat puzzled and confused expression and then motioned for us to follow him outside. Pointing with his hand he indicated that we should continue straight down the road and then, at some point which was thoroughly described in Turkish, turn left. We thanked him and continued down the road another two blocks. Since it was dark and none of the landscape was looking even remotely familiar, we soon decided that walking was not the best option. We needed to somehow get back onto the bus in the opposite direction and find our stop in reverse. The trouble is that the bus numbers often change when traveling in the opposite direction meaning that we had no clue which bus to get on. The last thing that we wanted to do was ride a random bus into an even more random and remote part of the city.

Since I had my German “pay-as-you-go” phone, I decided that this constituted a good enough reason to pay the ridiculous rate of 3 Euros a minute and call my friend who we were staying with to get directions back to her apartment. She answered the phone and I explained the situation as quickly as possible. We had just reached the point in the conversation when I was telling her what bus stop we were near when my phone went dead. I was out of minutes!

With that plan no longer being an option, Johanna and I decided to go with Plan C. We would simply hail every bus, show the bus driver the abbreviated name of our desired stop, and hope that he could tell us the bus number that we needed to take. The downside of this plan is that the bus drivers really hate to stop or talk even a second longer than is necessary. The other downside is that all the drivers we met that night didn’t speak any English. After a few failed attempts, we finally found a bus that apparently was going in the right direction. A young man at the front of the bus smiled nicely and said that he knew which stop was nearby and that he could lead us there when we arrived. Seeing no better options, Johanna and I boarded the bus to await our stop.

I was sitting in the middle section of the bus beside a young woman and Johanna was standing to my left by the window. As we rode along, I couldn’t help but notice that the man who was planning to lead us to our stop kept looking back and smiling. It may have been totally innocent, but it was starting to creep me out a little bit. I began to fiddle with the paper that had the abbreviated name of the bus stop written on it. Finally, the woman beside me turned towards me and said quietly in English, “Where are you trying to go?” I showed her the paper and she took it and puzzled over it for a while. At last, she handed it back and told me that we needed to get off at bus stop 44. (The monitor was working in this bus, so I was able to see the numbers listed beside the very confusing Turkish names.) I thanked her, beginning to feel a little better that I didn’t have to put all of my trust in the young man sitting up front. At least now I had a second opinion as to which stop was going to be the closest to our destination. After another minute of driving, the women turned to me again. “Do not go with him,” she said in a hushed voice, “he is a silly boy.” I thanked her, realizing now for the first time the seriousness of the situation. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t want to be following any “silly boys” through the streets of Istanbul. The woman exited the bus and I motioned for Johanna to come and sit beside me. I explained the situation and we decided that as soon as our stop came, we would exit the bus, not even look for the boy, and head straight towards a heavily populated area.

I began to get more and more nervous as we drew closer to the intended stop. Most of the streets had been rather dark and I wasn’t particularly keen on exiting into any dark alleys with our new “friend” from the front of the bus. I kept praying that God would protect us and give us wisdom as to what to do next. The bus rounded the corner and much to my and Johanna’s delight we saw the bright lights of a mall that we recognized. In fact, this mall was only about two blocks from the apartment where we were staying! We quickly got off the bus and immediately started power-walking towards the mall. We heard the voice of the boy calling after us, but I kept walking and responded over my shoulder, “Thank you, but we don’t need any help. We know where we are.”

Although the extra precaution probably wasn’t necessary, Johanna and I took a very round-about, well-lighted way to get home. We just wanted to be absolutely certain that the bus boy wasn’t following us. At the bus stop outside our apartment, we saw our hostess and her roommate getting ready to board a bus to go look for us. We flagged them down and greeted them with much joy and enthusiasm. After our adventure, it was so wonderful to see familiar faces and greet each other in English. We walked home together, happy and relived to be safe with our friends.

Gateway to the East

This spring break, I embarked on an adventure much different from any of my past European travels. This was the first time that I have ever found myself in what might be categorized as an Eastern culture. It’s true that Istanbul, Turkey is often considered to be a city on the border—it’s not entirely eastern, nor is it entirely western. Just as the physical location of the city is split between two continents, so does the culture seem to be split between differing world views. The city is divided by a strait that connects the Black Sea with the Sea of Marmara called the Bosporus. It is this body of water that serves as the boundary between the continents of Europe and Asia. It is pretty amazing to think that over the course of the weekend, I traveled back and forth from Europe to Asia a total of six different times!

The beauty of Istanbul

My favorite method of transportation to span the continents would have to be the ferry. For the mere price of 1.90TL (less than a dollar), you can enjoy a beautiful “cruise” across the Bosporus where you can experience the lovely blue-green hue of the ocean, the sunlight glinting off the domed roofs of the mosques, and if you’re really lucky, a dolphin swimming along beside the ferry. While I wasn’t lucky enough to see any dolphins, I did see a lot of jelly fish along the way!

Ferry on the Bosphorus

Another popular method of transportation is the Marmaray. This metro-like tunnel was actually built underground beneath the Bosporus. Speedy and efficient, the Marmaray is an excellent method of transportation as long as you don’t think too much about the fact that there are thousands of gallons of water, fish, boats, and everything else imaginable floating happily along above your head.

Before I get carried away and go into too many details about Istanbul, I want to start at the beginning of my adventure, which is actually the city of Antalya. Due to its lovely beaches, this port in southern Turkey makes a very popular tourist destination. It also makes a beautiful destination for an education conference with other teachers from around the world, which is why it was chosen as the venue for our 2014 global conference. The conference was an excellent opportunity for learning and fellowship, and not a bad place to take a little rest on the beach after a very, very busy third quarter of teaching at BFA.

Boats in downtown Antalya Harbor

One of the afternoon outings during the free time at the conference was the chance to take a cruise on the Manavgat River, explore the ancient Roman ruins of Perge, and dip our feet in the Mediterranean Sea. We also had the chance to taste some delicious Turkish-style ice cream, which is similar to American-style, except for the fact that it is much stickier, making it the perfect consistency to tease unsuspecting American girls by flipping it upside down right before handing it to the next customer. 
 

Jessica waiting for her ice cream

While Antalya was lovely, we didn’t get to truly experience Turkish culture until we left the resort and flew over to Istanbul. My housemate Johanna and I were able to stay with a friend who teaches at an international school located in the city. It was such a blessing to have a friend who can speak some Turkish and is well adept at navigating the public transportation system—a skill which was incredibly helpful since we were staying on the Asian side of the city and the majority of the tourist attractions are over on the European side.

The next three days in the city were a whirlwind of adventure as we spent our time exploring the famous Turkish landmarks. Some highlights were the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, and Topkapi Palace and tulip gardens. Johanna and I were able to meet with two more of our friends—Karen who also teaches at BFA and Emma who teaches in Thailand.

 

My Istanbul travel buddies

To enter the Blue Mosque we had to remove our shoes and (since we are women), cover our heads with scarves. The Blue Mosque still functions as a place of worship, therefore it is important that those who wish to enter are respectful of the Islamic traditions. Inside was a soft red and blue flowered carpet as well as elaborately decorated ceiling and walls. In contrast to Christian churches, mosques are never decorated with images of people or animals. This is thought to be a distraction (or form of idolatry) and may take people’s thoughts away from worshipping only God. Therefore the art is mostly symmetric patterns, intricate mosaics, flowers, lines, colors, and ornate Arabic calligraphy—mostly selections from the Quran or names of important religious leaders, such as Muhammad.

Getting ready to enter the Blue Mosque

Although Turkey is not an Islamic State, they have had democracy and freedom of religion since 1924, about 90% of the population does claim to be Muslim. This being the case, the Muslim "Call to Prayer" can be heard loud and clear on almost any corner of the city. For those of you who are curious to hear this religious chant, take a look at the following video.

After the Blue Mosque, we went over to the Hagia Sophia. The history of this museum is perhaps the most interesting of all structures that we visited. Originally built as a Greek Orthodox church during the reign of the Byzantine Emperor Justinian in the year 537, the church remained a Christian place of worship all the way until the year 1453. In this year, Istanbul (then Constantinople) was conquered by the Ottoman Turks. The Sultan Mehmed II was so impressed with the beauty of the building that he ordered the church to be converted into a mosque. The Christian mosaics and symbols were covered over with plaster and replaced with Islamic artwork. Sultan Mehmed also added other Islamic features, such as four minarets, which are the tall towers for sounding the call to prayer.

The Hagia Sophia remained a mosque until 1931 when it was closed for restoration and later opened to the public as a museum. Though a great deal of the Christian artwork was destroyed during the Ottoman takeover, some is still visible alongside of the Islamic art. In some cases, the Christian mosaics were actually better preserved because they were covered over in plaster. I was completely fascinated by this intriguing blend of both the Christian and Muslim art and culture. It is no wonder this beautiful structure is considered by some to be one of the Seven Wonders of the World!

Notice how Mary and baby Jesus are surround by symbols of Islam

Remains of a mosaic including Christ, Mary, and John the Baptist

The final big attraction that we saw in Istanbul was the Topaki Palace. This palace was first constructed by Mehmed II and was the home of the Ottoman Sultans for about 400 years. A beautiful collection of rooms, gardens, treasures, and art this palace could only be defined as spectacular. Regretfully, we misread the closing sign and only had a little over an hour to explore the exquisite grounds, chambers, treasury, and courtyards. As you can imagine, this was hardly enough time to do justice to the 400 years of Ottoman royalty, but at least we were able to see a glimpse of the splendor.

Beautiful fountain in the third courtyard

Gate of Salutation

Observe the lovely statues surrounding the fountain

Enjoying the flowers in a nearby park

I have so much more to write, but I'm afraid that's all I have for tonight. There is more to come on Turkey, stay tuned for my next blog!

 

Ahna vs. Badger

I was about a quarter of the way through my Saturday morning long run. It was a fairly nice day…overcast and a bit windy, but not too cold for a nice morning run. I was just rounding the corner of Berbergweg (one of my favorite running trails) when I encountered him standing on the path before me. He was tumbling pile of fur, claws, and whiskers. His ears and the sides of his face were black, contrasting the thick white stripe that ran down the middle of his nose and forehead. No, he wasn’t a skunk (thankfully), but he was a large, bristle-furred, sharp-toothed, and somewhat menacing-looking badger.

For those of you who know me well, you might recall that one of my favorite book series as a kid was the Redwall books by Brian Jacques. If you’ve ever entered the pages of Redwall then you are most likely aware that the fiercest of all the animal warriors are unmistakably the badgers. According to Jacques, once the badgers are filled with the blood-wrath known only to their species, there is absolutely no chance of escape during battle.

And so, there I stood, frozen on the path, staring at the badger, and trying desperately not to replay Redwall battle scenes in my head. I thought that maybe if I could just skirt around to the side perhaps he wouldn’t mind too much if I passed by. I could then continue peacefully with my run. I cautiously took a step forward, but the badger was ready. He arched his back and lifted his two front paws, hissing and snarling like a cat. Okay, now comes the part where I should have probably turned around and made a run for it back up the mountain. But, I was already halfway down the mountain and I had seriously just spent the past 15 minutes running up the mountain. No way did I want to do that hill again. Not to mention the best part of the trail was just beyond his furry body.

I thought for a moment longer. Maybe he was bluffing? I inched forward a second time. Though he continued to snarl, this time I caught the slightest bit of hesitation. I decided to call his bluff. If he could play this game, so could I. Twisting my face into my best wild-cat snarl, I let loose a ferocious growl (at least I imagined it to be ferocious…) and started charging towards him full speed on the trail. The “tough guy” mask immediately disappeared as he fell to all fours and hightailed it into the woods as fast as his little round body could carry him. Relieved to be out of danger, I kept running hard for another minute or two just to make sure he wasn’t following me. On retrospect, this was probably a pretty crazy notion that a chubby furball would be in hot pursuit of a local runner on a forest trail in Germany…but you never know. I finished my run with no other exciting encounters with wildlife. Perhaps my badger has already warned all his friends that you don’t pick a fight with a West Virginia runner. :)

 

New Challenges and New Blessings

If you follow my blog pretty regularly, you’ve probably noticed that I haven’t posted in a while. In fact, the last post that I wrote was on Friday, January 17th. Just before going to bed that night, I wrote a story about a little dog that I encountered on the hiking trails behind the Garni House. I wrote about how this dog taught me a lesson about trusting in God even when we have to face hardships, distractions, and obstacles—even when the circumstances of life get really tough. (Just scroll down to my last post if you want to read the whole thing.)

As I sat in my room writing that post, I never would have imagined that the very next morning my housemates and I were about to face one of the greatest challenges and tests of faith that we have ever before experienced. On Saturday morning, my dear friend, housemate, and fellow English teacher at BFA, Laura, was seriously injured in an accident at an indoor rock climbing facility. She fell from the wall and landed on her back causing a severe injury to her spine. I was with her during the accident as were several of my other housemates. We called the EMT and Laura was rushed to the hospital in Basel for emergency back surgery.

When the doctors first saw the x-rays, they were basically convinced that Laura would never walk again. As I’m sure you can imagine, this was some pretty difficult news for all of us to hear. At that moment, everything seemed so hopeless. It became so easy to question where God was in the whole situation. How could a loving God have let something like this happen?

Just like the sun is still shining behind the clouds on a cloudy day, God was still with us, even through the seeming darkness. As we waited and cried and prayed and wondered what would happen next, evidence of God’s love, grace, and truth began to shine into our lives like beams of hope. The surgery went well, very well in fact. The doctors were so impressed by the post-surgery x-ray that they changed from their earlier conclusions—walking was no longer out of the realm of the possible (not by any means, likely or easy…but at least they were acknowledging the possibility). What amazing evidence that God was already beginning to work healing in Laura’s body!

Another way that God’s light began to shine was through Laura herself. Her outstanding courage, sincere faith, positive spirit, and ever-present sense of humor have not dwindled during this past month of hardship and trials. That doesn’t mean that Laura never feels exhausted or discouraged, of course she does—we all do at times. But, I have never seen this exhaustion or discouragement get in the way of Laura’s faith in God. Instead, I have watched as Laura strives to be a light to the people around her, first to the nurses and doctors at the hospital and now to the patients, nurses, therapists, and doctors at the rehabilitation center. I praise God for the attitude of hope and courage that he has put within her. I know that she would want no credit to herself, but God has truly been shining through her in some pretty spectacular ways! :)

The fact that Laura has been able to stay in Basel for rehabilitation has also been a blessing. Her parents were able to come and stay with her—first both her mom and dad at the hospital, and then later just her mom at the rehabilitation center. They have both left now to go back to the States, but what a blessing it was for Laura to have them here with her for the first few weeks.

As you probably gathered from the previous paragraph, Laura has “graduated” from the hospital and is now staying at a rehabilitation center in Basel. The center is very nice with a place for aqua therapy and even a “petting zoo,” (I don’t know what else to call it…a menagerie, perhaps?) complete with horses, donkeys, pigs, parrots, bunnies, dogs, cats, and other furry friends.

 Laura has physical therapy every day at the center to help her learn how to use her “walking muscles” again. Though therapy is extremely exhausting, Laura has been able to make some pretty exciting progress. She was able to stand with leg support and was even able to take a few steps with the help of some parallel bars and three assisting physical therapists! Please join me in continuing to pray for Laura’s strength and healing. She still has a long way to go, but I am so excited to see how God has been working already. If you would like to follow the steps of Laura’s journey of recovery, she has a blog at http://posthope.org/laurasjourney. I love reading her updates since I am not able to go visit her everyday in Basel.

However, last Saturday, I did have the opportunity to visit Laura with all of the Garni girls. It was a wonderful time of being together and celebrating Laura’s birthday. Here is a picture of all of use together. 

Celebrating with Laura on her birthday

I have more updates to come, especially about the new classes that I am now teaching at BFA, so be sure to check back for my next post. :)

Big Lesson from a Little Dog

It was a fine Saturday morning. The sun was shining brightly over Kandern and the confused little German birds were already starting to sing their songs of spring. It’s been so warm in Baden-Württemberg lately that the poor little dears don’t realize it’s only January. I can’t say I that mind too much because I absolutely love listening to bird songs while I run. In my opinion, the sounds of nature are infinitely more preferable than listening to an ipod (unless, of course, you are one of those people who have bird songs and ocean surfs on your ipod…)

As I run, I love listening to the crunch of the gravel under each footstep, the wind rustling the trees, and the watery splash of any forest streams that I happen to encounter along the trail. I enjoy the sound of my slow, rhythmic breathing (except for when I’m going up a hill, then I kind of have to give up on the whole “slow, rhythmic” thing).  Even so, I just love the peace and tranquility of Saturday mornings in Kandern.

There is another group who I have discovered is also rather fond of Saturday morning exercise. I like to call them “the Kandern dog-walking association.” Every weekend morning, I see a random assortment of German dog-walkers leading their fine furried friends along the network of splendid hiking trails. Oftentimes, the dogs trot along unleashed beside their masters, enjoying not only the sounds of a Saturday morning walk, but also the tantalizing smells that the forest never fails to offer.

It so happened that on this one particular morning, I saw two women walking about 25 meters ahead on one of my favorite trails—Fasenengarten. A few meters ahead of these women was a small, curly haired dog with white fluffy fur and a cute bouncy way of prancing along down the trail. With over 14 years of running experience, I have come to learn a few things about running past dogs. Number one: they will inevitably come to visit you. Number two: they may snap at your heels, sniff your hand, get in your way, run along beside you, bark uproariously, or at the very least stare you down with undivided doggie attention. So with these two cardinal rules of dog-running in mind, I proceeded, if not a bit more tentatively, down the trail and towards the little ball of white fluff.

As I approached, the dog noticed the sound of my footsteps and immediately stopped prancing. “Here it comes,” I thought as I prepared myself for an onslaught of excitable yips, tail wags, and sneaker-sniffing. To my complete shock and amazement, the dog stood completely still on the trail. He didn’t so much as look at me when I ran by. Instead, his eyes were fixed earnestly upon his master. He was waiting for his master’s voice, his master’s guidance on what to do next. I continued down the trail baffled by what I had seen. Never before had I seen a dog with such calm patience. He had ignored all distractions and had just waited patiently for the command of his beloved master.

As I continued down the trail, I couldn’t help but linger upon that image of the little dog, staring down the trail, waiting only for the command of his master. (Here comes the part of this post where I learn a valuable life lesson.) I began to think about my own life and how I am so often distracted by the things that are around me. As soon as a tough situation or a new worry come running my way, I almost immediately turn my head to get a better look—and that’s how the trouble starts. Instead of being like the little dog and keeping my eyes fixed upon my Master, I start to fear what is approaching. I forget to look to God first as my source of direction and guidance. I forget to wait for my Master’s voice. It is only when I stay focused on God and his plan for me that I am able to safely navigate the running trails of life. So, thanks God, for sending me a little dog to teach me a big lesson on a fine Saturday morning in Kandern.

Corrie ten Boom

For a special holiday excursion, my sister and I had the opportunity to travel to the Netherlands to visit our cousins. We were so excited for the chance to spend time with family and to explore the city of Amsterdam. We spent four days in Holland and had a wonderful experience. :)

For one of our day adventures, Amanda and I decided to take the train from Amsterdam to Haarlem. For those of you who don’t know, this picturesque little Dutch town is the setting of Corrie ten Boom’s book, The Hiding Place. This true story describes how Corrie and her family helped to hide Jews and other refugees from the Nazis during World War II. The ten Boom family were Christians who steadfastly believed that God had called them to help protect, feed, and shelter those who were in need. Even though they endangered their own lives and eventually ended up in concentration camps themselves, the ten Boom family refused to ignore those in need. They would follow God’s call in their lives to help the helpless no matter what the outcome.

Outside of the ten Boom home and watch shop

So how did the ten Boom family help the Jews? Inside Corrie’s bedroom was a secret room hidden behind the back wall. The only entrance into this room was through the bottom panel of Corrie’s closet. In order to enter the room, you had to slide the bottom panel upwards to create a small entryway. Those in hiding would crawl in this entryway and then slide the bottom panel shut so that it looked as if it was just a regular closet. The only way to find the secret room would be to open the closet and knock on the wall just above the floor. Only then could a person hear the echoing sound of a hollow wall and realize that the back wall was actually hiding an extra space. The rest of the wall was filled in completely by brick in order to mask the echo.

Amanda crawling out of the hiding place

The secret room could safely hide about six people if they were to remain standing. Since the room was not at all spacious or comfortable, the ten Boom family created a system so that the refugees could remain outside in the main part of the house for the majority of their time in hiding. In times of great danger, such as when a Nazi soldier or someone unknown to the family was in the house, Corrie or another family member would ring a secret alarm bell, which warned the refugees that they needed to get to cover. Each of the refugees would run to Corrie’s room and get inside the hiding place all within 70 seconds. They practiced this drill multiple times to make sure that they could all do it within the allotted 70 seconds. This was an extremely impressive task considering the size of the hiding place, the narrowness of the staircase, and the fact that the entryway was so small.

Standing inside the hiding place

Amanda and I both had the opportunity to stand inside the hiding place. Even though a piece of the wall had been cut out so that visitors (like us) could see more easily inside, it still felt dark, damp, and cold within the secret room. It is hard to even imagine being closed inside, trapped in complete darkness, listening, hoping, and praying that you will not be discovered.

 

 The ten Boom family was eventually betrayed by a fellow Dutchman. Pretending that he knew someone who was in need of help, the man tricked the ten Booms into admitting that they were a safe house for Jews and others in need. The man promptly informed the Nazis that the ten Booms had been harboring Jews. On February 28, 1944, the Gestapo came and raided the ten Boom home. Though they searched and searched, the soldiers were unable to find the hiding place. Corrie was able to safely hide six people (four Jews and two Dutch underground workers) in her secret room. The refugees stayed hidden for 47 hours with nothing but room to stand, a pot for going to the restroom, and a few crackers for food. They were eventually rescued by crawling out of a window, onto the roof, and to a new safe house. The ten Boom family, however, did not get away so easily. They were all sent to Nazi concentration camps.

View from the roof of ten Boom home

 With the exception of Corrie, all of the ten Booms died in the concentration camps. Corrie was miraculously released on the account of the guards accidentally writing her name on the wrong list. (She was supposed to be on the list to be executed with all of the other women over 50 years old.) Though she could have been overwhelmingly bitter and broken from her experiences in the concentration camp and the loss of her family, Corrie used the remaining 33 years of her life to spread God’s message of hope and forgiveness. She taught others that the love of God in her gave her the freedom and peace to forgive others—even the guards at the concentration camp who beat and tortured her and her beloved sister. Even though Corrie died in 1983 at the age of 91, her amazing story continues to touch the lives of many people.

Amanda and I thoroughly enjoyed going on the tour and learning so much about this amazing family and their story of how God used them to bless other people during World War II. For me, the most amazing aspect of this tour was the fact that the hero of the story was not Corrie ten Boom. Instead, it was God who was the unmistakable hero of this story. Corrie wanted her life to always point to Jesus Christ as her personal Lord and Savior. She wanted to share with the world that it was the love and faithfulness of an everlasting, forgiving, all-powerful, and sovereign God that gave her the strength, courage, and perseverance that she needed to keep on loving and living for others. Corrie knew that it was God who helped to keep the refugees safe, God who lead her safely out of Ravensbrück, and God was gave her the love to forgive those who had mistreated her. I’m so thankful that such an amazing story continues to be told today!

Fröhliche Weihnacthen

I realize that it’s been more than a few days since I last made a blog post. Sorry to disappear from the blog-world, but, as I’m sure you can imagine, the month of November and December have been extremely busy here at Black Forest Academy. Not only did we have major school events such as the first home basketball game, the Christmas Banquet, and the Christmas concert featuring the orchestra, band, and choir, but we also had papers to grade, tests to give, and the campus to clean in preparation for the new semester. Needless to say we made it through all these events with flying colors and watched the happy tears and hugs as students packed their belongings and headed off to the airport to travel home for the holidays.

On the last day of school before Christmas Break, I had the special blessing of getting to meet the father of one of my cross-country runners. Her father had come all the way to Kandern so that he could see the school, visit the dorm, meet some of the teachers, and travel home with his daughter. Now that I have been at BFA for almost an entire semester, I have come to realize that one of the greatest blessings of working at such a school is getting to meet the parents of my students. There are few things more satisfying than being able to tell a parent how wonderful it has been to coach or teach their child. I could see the love and pride in this father’s eyes as I told him what a joy it has been to have his daughter on my cross-country team. I told him how much I appreciated her positive attitude and constant smile and what an encouragement she has been to me, the other coaches, and to her teammates. He thanked me for coaching her and for taking care of her while he and his wife are serving in the Middle East. I am so thankful that God has given me the opportunity to be a blessing to this family!

We have all been on Christmas Break for about two and a half weeks now, but the crazy thing is that I still fell like the break just started. I guess that’s how it works sometimes, we spend all our time waiting, and then the long awaited event is gone before we hardly realize it began. But believe me, I’m still soaking up all the mental and physical rest that I can before January 7th and the return to school.

Frying potato pancakes

Perhaps one of my most favorite European Christmas activities that I have enjoyed over break has been visiting the European Christmas markets. For those of you who know me well, you know that I love markets. I love tasting the local foods, admiring the handmade crafts, and exploring the various aspects of culture that you can only discover at a market place. Well, the Christmas markets of France and Germany are some of the finest. There are fresh bratwurst and weißwurst grilling on the street, hot potato pancakes deep-fried and topped with applesauce, spiced Glühwein, Nutella crepes, chocolate dipped fruits, and fresh waffles right off the griddle.

Shopping for stars at the Freiburg Christmas market!

There are beautiful hand painted glass balls, wood-cut Christmas ornaments, light-up paper stars, wool scarves, hats, and mittens, fine chocolates, dried fruits, flowers, and handmade cards.

   

As a special blessing for this Christmas, I had a visitor all the way from the USA—my sister! I loved having the opportunity to spend time with Amanda and show her around Germany during the Christmas season. I don’t think I could have wished for a better Christmas present! :)

Best Christmas present...a visit from Amanda!