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!

A New Role

This past week marked the beginning of a new role for me here at BFA. With the conclusion of cross-country season, it was time to start thinking about an additional way that I could invest my time here on campus. Well, as I soon discovered, at a school like BFA, as soon as you so much as hint that you may be looking for something else to do, it only takes a matter of minutes before a new job is found for you. For me, this new job came in the form of an email from the principal of the middle school. In her email, the principal asked if I would be interested in teaching a newspaper elective twice a week to 6-8 grade BFA students. Excited at the prospect of having more students and conscious of the fact that the class would end before the start of track season, I eagerly accepted the job.

Most of you who know me well, know that I like to be prepared and organized, especially when I am heading into a new job situation. Well, imagine how I felt the night before my first class knowing that I would be teaching a brand new group of students, but having no idea how many students I would have or in what grades they would be. I know from experience that planning for a class of 6^th graders is totally different than planning for a class of 8^th graders! So, even though I was stretched a bit out of my comfort zone, I did my best to craft a plan that would hopefully keep the attention of all age groups.

On the first day of class, I was pleased to find eleven eager and smiling faces waiting for me at the middle school computer lab. As I anticipated, I had a range of students in all three grades—four 6^th graders, two 7^th graders, and five 8^th graders. So yes, quite diverse in ages, but overall a great mix of students to head the school paper.

So how was my first day? Let’s just say that coming from teaching a class of mature and articulate high school juniors and seniors to the energy and exuberance of the middle school brings new meaning to the phrase “culture shock.” Thankfully, I do have past experience teaching middle schoolers or else I’m not sure that I would have been ready for the middle world mayhem. And by “mayhem” I don’t necessarily mean uncontrollable chaos, I mean more along the lines of extreme energy. Seriously, I’m not sure if I’ve ever met a group so excited to learn, so excited about life, or so excited to participate in absolutely every aspect of the class.

“Who would like to read the first paragraph?”—eleven hands instantly explode into the air. “Would someone please…”—I have six volunteers before I have even finished the sentence. “Do we have any ideas for the layout of the paper?”—there are more ideas than I can write on the board. “Let’s all stand up like real news reporters when we do our presentations, okay?”—the students are not only standing, but are holding up their pencils like pretend microphones, are speaking in impressively accurate foreign accents (gotta love TCKs), and are doing their best to add as much emphasis as possible to every one of their sentences.

Though it was crazy and action-packed, my first day left me with no doubt that teaching middle school newspaper is going to be a tremendously fun adventure! Check back later for more updates. :)

Celebrating the XC Season

This Thursday, I had the privilege of hosting the BFA cross-country team for an end-of-the-season celebration dinner at my home. Since many of the runners are dorm students and are used to eating food catered from Sodexo every weekday evening, I thought it might be nice to change things up for them and cook a special homemade meal. Also, instead of bringing the food to the school and eating in the cafeteria, I thought that it would be nice to enjoy the warm and “homey” feeling of the Garni House.

  

After receiving approval from my roommates (when you live with six other women, it’s pretty important to get “house approval” before inviting 12 additional people for dinner…), I went ahead and invited the team. I was now left with two major decisions: what to cook and how much to cook! For any of you who have ever hosted dinner parties, you probably know that one of the biggest challenges is planning how much food to make. This decision can be particularly difficult when the majority of the party are hungry teenage athletes who have just gotten back from a long day at school.

The second big challenge is deciding what to cook. I wanted it to be something fairly easy, fairly inexpensive, fairly healthy, and super delicious, but I also wanted it to be something that all teenagers like to eat. So, of course, I fell back on the standard “go-to” dish easily found at any gathering of runners—pasta. However, instead of boring ‘ole spaghetti, I decided that I would mix up a batch of homemade baked ziti. I had to write home first for mom’s recipe. (Thanks Mom!)

With the culinary assistance of Michelle (Head Coach Hunter’s wife), I was able to whip up a stellar batch of cheesy, saucy, noodley goodness (much enjoyed by all the runners) as well as some tantalizing sides like salad, bread, and sautéed zucchini. Jesse (our awesome volunteer assistant coach and my running buddy here at BFA) brought a delicious chocolate cake…which ended up being a chocolate “lava” cake because of complications with our German oven. ;) Still tasted delicious, by the way.

Enjoying dinner!

During dinner, we went around the table and each of the runners and coaches took turns sharing their favorite memories of the season. In typical high school fashion, responses ranged anywhere from the sentimental (building strong friendships) to the practical (eating nachos at Taco Bell). At the conclusion of dinner, the runners gathered in the living room for a special end-of-season awards ceremony.

XC girls admiring the awards

Coach Hunter and I gave out three awards. The first two awards—the “Perseverance Award” for the ability to press on in the midst of challenges and the “MVP Award” for outstanding athleticism, leadership, and contribution to the team—were voted on by fellow team members. The third and final award—the Falcon Award for outstanding dedication, leadership, commitment, positive attitude, and Christ-like example—was solely the decision of the coaches.

XC guys also excited about the awards

 In addition to the awards, each team member also received their very own BFA XC team T-shirt. The back of the shirt was decorated with the exotic nicknames we had invented during the season, such as “Leaf Catcher Supreme, Sausenford, Sunshine, The Lost Boys, Captain, and Canadian Fairy.” There’s a story behind each of those names, I promise!

Yay! New T-shirts! :)

 Altogether it was an awesome time of fellowship and celebration. I am looking forward to next season and all the new adventures and memories that will come with it!

Racing at Home

Perhaps you remember from my last prayer letter how I talked about missing the fall season back in West Virginia. I missed the changing leaves, the blue skies, and the crisp cool air mixed with bright rays of October sunshine. I missed going for runs in the Arboretum, watching red and yellow leaves float leisurely down from the heavens to carpet the trail in a glorious cascade of fall colors. (Okay, so I admit to using a bit of hyperbole in this description, but when you are missing home, memories do tend to get exaggerated...)

For most of this year, the Kandern autumn has seemed so dreary and colorless to me. I felt trapped in a constant cycle of rain, mud, and green-brown drab. It is funny how feelings—homesickness, loneliness, doubt—can shape not only our moods, but also how we see the world around us. This week, God has been teaching me an important lesson about patience and waiting on him. He is teaching me to look for signs of his faithfulness through even times when I don’t always feel that he is near.

This Saturday, I received a special blessing from God. For some, it might have just seemed like a lovely day in October, but for me, it was a beautiful, tangible reminder of God’s love for me. He knew the aching in my heart to see blue skies, to feel the warm sunshine, and to see leaves begin to change color and decorate the trails with a blanket of red, yellow, and orange. He knew that I was missing memories of home in West Virginia. And so, God chose to give me a beautiful October Saturday—a day that can only be described as autumn at it’s absolute finest.

To add another layer of awesome to this story, this wonderful Saturday just so happened to be the same day that Black Forest Academy was hosting the HOME cross-country meet and our team’s FINAL meet of the season. What a perfect way to end the season!

As you can probably imagine, hosting a cross-country meet is not an easy task. In fact, the amount of planning and preparation involved can be mind-boggling at times. (Hosting a track meet is much worse, so I really shouldn’t complain too much!) However, thanks to hard work of our head coach and all the terrific volunteers from BFA (including 2 of my roomies, thanks guys!) we were able to get everything accomplished on time.

At 8:30 the morning of the race, Hunter (head coach) and I headed out onto to the trails. Our task, marking the kilometers and roping off the side trails in order to keep the local hikers from “wandering” onto our course (Yes, that was a German joke for my bilingual audience). In order to make sure that we finished our task in time, Hunter and I decided to travel the trail in opposite directions. He carried the sledge hammer and the kilometer makers and I took the mountain bike, red and white striped caution tape, a stapler from my office, and a collection of signs which read “Heute 11 bis 14 Uhr – Waldlauf. Bitte Sie der Weg freihalten.”

My task took longer than expected, considering the fact that I ran out of tape about halfway through the adventure and had to travel all the way back to the athletic van to find more. Even though it took a while, I loved the time to just be quiet, calm, and peaceful in the forest. It seemed strange that in about 2 hours the course would be bombarded with the footsteps of enthusiastic high school runners, but for now, the woods were just for me—quiet, serene, and filled with all the wonders of a fresh October morning.

I finally completed marking the trail at about 11:00am, right around the time when my BFA runners were supposed to arrive at the course. The other schools had already set up their camps and had headed out on the traditional “course preview”— basically a chance for runners to walk the course and get a feel for the turns, hills, and terrain. The girls race was set to take place at 12:30pm, so we still had a bit of time to relax before warm-ups.

So, of course, we took full advantage of our extra time to talk race strategy and… take a few goofy team photos. :)

Holding up our smallest team member

Hydrating before the race

After a warm-up jog, some drills, and a team prayer, my girls were ready to step up to the line. Hans Fung, the beloved academic dean of BFA, was the chosen to have the honor of firing the gun to start the race. So with a loud crack, a puff of smoke, and a big cheer for Team BFA, the girls headed out into the adventure of the forest in the fall.

Start of the girls' race

I think the sunshine and the smiles carried our team a long way today. Once again, our places and times may not have been stellar, but the memories were unforgettable. I'm so thankful for each and every one of my runners. :)

And thanks, God, for knowing exactly what I needed to bring me joy on this Saturday morning in Germany.

Enjoying the run with Jesse and Hanna!

Dinner at Wittlingen

This week, I had the privilege of dining as a guest at Witt dorm. A student from my journalism class invited me over to her dorm to share in the Wednesday night Korean meal. Since there is such a vast Korean population here at BFA, each of the dorms cater a Korean-style dinner once a week. The students always enjoy this special change in the menu. :)

After a long day of teaching and coaching, I piled into the “dinner van” with about 5 or 6 of the Witt girls who had stayed late after school. A 10-minute drive later, we arrived at doorstep of the dorm. I watched as the excited girls unloaded the two tubs of food from the back of the van and carried it eagerly towards the kitchen. My student was the perfect hostess, welcoming me into the dorm, taking my coat, showing me where I could leave my bag, and introducing me to all of her dorm sisters. After chatting for a few minutes in the living room, an announcement came over the loud speaker that it was time for dinner and “for all hungry girls to make their way to the dining room.”

My hostess led me into the dining area and we took a seat at one of the many tables. Since Witt used to be a hotel, there is a creative arrangement of seats and benches built right into the sides of the dining room wall. After taking a seat, my student was asked to introduce her guest to the rest of the dorm. I was greeted with cheers and loud banging on the tables—a Witt tradition used to welcome special guests.

At the conclusion of introductions, the dorm mom asked if one of the students would like to pray for the meal. My student immediately volunteered and even offered to pray in Korean. I love hearing people pray in other languages. Even though I can’t understand, it is so cool to know that God understands every word. With the guests introduced and the prayers said, it was now time to enjoy the food!

In the center of the dining room, there was a long table spread with the evening’s dinner selection. There was a huge pot of Korean white rice, two giant pans of Korean-style curry (yum!), and a large bowl of salad. At the end of the table, there was a tub of Korean pepper paste, which sort of looks like ground-up chili peppers. Normally, I would know better than to try anything that looks like ground-up chili peppers, but since my hostess insisted that I try it, I went ahead and put a dollop on the side of my plate.

About halfway through the meal, my student asked me if I was going to try the pepper paste. “Sure,” I responded somewhat tentatively, “can I just eat it plain?” She looked at me kind of funny and shook her head, “I don’t think you want to do that.” I decided to try my luck by dipping a curried potato in the paste. It was hot, but really not too hot. I have been working on building up my spice tolerance recently...so I guess my efforts must have paid off. However, I am sure that if you put a plate of traditional Korean kimchi before me, I probably wouldn’t have stood a chance.

After dinner, my student took me on a tour of the dorm. It was fun seeing the dorm from the “insider’s perspective.” It was so much more warm and inviting than from when I first visited the dorms back in August. Now that the girls have moved into Witt, there is laughter in the living room, typing in the computer room, and sounds of music in the practice rooms. There is even a tower of blankets and pillows in front of the big screen TV for Friday night movie parties.

One of my favorite parts of the tour was when my student began telling me about all the Witt traditions—like getting dropped in a bathtub of water on your birthday or lining the street and doing the “wave” to say farewell to departing guests. By just hearing these stories, I felt more connected to the culture and tradition of the dorm.

Regretfully, my visit was cut short as it was time for all dinner guests to return home. Student study hours were about to begin and these have to be kept a priority in a dorm of 24 high school students. Even though my visit wasn’t very long, I know that this will not be the last time that I spend an evening experiencing the dorm life here at BFA. :)