Please vote and help me win!

We have a saying in Danish, that if you are lucky in love, you cannot be lucky in games...
I must be - I know I am - lucky in love. And I hardly ever win. But if you all help me, I might win this time!

Click on the link below and vote for the picture that my sister-in-law and I submitted at the annual Transformation Women's Conference here in Copenhagen:

http://bit.ly/PxGBPo

Love ya'll!

just a peep

This past weekend was spent enjoying the annual women's conference in Copenhagen. My mom came home all the way from TZ to join me, and we met up with my sister as well as my sister-in-law. The above picture is from Friday night. These cupcakes were sweet in more than one sense, and it was almost a shame to eat them. 

Anyways... besides eating way too much cake, I had a great weekend with too little sleep, too loud music (am I getting old?) and great preaching and teaching. I am taking a lot home with me, and there's a lot to process.

It bugs me that I only photographed the cakes we ate - I completely forgot to take pictures of my family and I. It also bugs me that I can't figure this iCloud, iPhone and photostream out - as I take a lot of photos with my phone, it'd be so easy to just download them from space somewhere... any ideas? Any links to do-it-yourself-videos?

Just another photo taken with my iPhone...

Greetings from Mr. Gutters and Willy Welder

I supposedly slept in today, except for the fact that I woke up around 8. I guess that's ok for a Saturday. Mom served a wonderful breakfast, then it was off to the hairdressers... not me, but my folks both needed a haircut. Here's me waiting, enjoying a ginger ale:

Yesterday I met up with former high school friends, Kim and Jacob Mills, now working at Pamoja Ministries in Tengeru, a good 30 minute drive from here. It was great to see them again and talk like it was just yesterday we said goodbye. In fact, it is almost 19 years to the day that I saw them last. Strange, how time flies and changes you and yet, somehow, you're still the same.

Yesterday morning I also joined the Bible school students in morning devotions, and was asked to share just briefly with them. My father, as usual, introduced me as his African baby, born in Makiyungu (unsure of the spelling, but it both sounds and looks right). Afterwards, I was hugged by fellow tribes(wo)men from the Wanyatulu tribe, whose land I was born in:

Our drive out to the hairdressers today took us through kahawa country - the coffee estates that I feel I grew up living in as a child here in Arusha. The road we drove down was in such terrible shape, having been smooth and fine and black with good asphalt in my childhood years. Now, it's just a dirty, bumpy, terrible road full of pot holes, but there's a lingering grandeur reminiscent of colonial days.  

Oh, I almost forgot... Mr.Gutters and Willy Welder - I have no idea who they are. I got the names from reading shop signs. I think Willy Welder pretty neatly gives away why you would go to him, but I am slightly unsure what Mr. Gutters has to offer.... I am also unsure what to expect at Flamingo Exclusive Hall, but feel somewhat secure going into the Galatians Barbershop.

Penguin Resort - find your happines

I have finally arrived – not to my childhood home, but to my childhood town. The house my parents live in now, is not the house where grew up, but this house is nicer, bigger and better. I love it here, and it feels like home.

My flight yesterday went quite well, with little turbulence, no delays and decent airplane food. From Amsterdam, the plane was packed with American tourists going to Arusha, where they would spend the night before setting out on exciting safari’s into Tanzanian wildlife. I hope 8-or-9 year old Chase and his family will have a great trip, and that Chase will behave… I noticed his  ADHD tendencies and overheard his extended family discussing who pulled the shortest straw in reference to who would sit beside him. I must admit I felt sorry for him when I heard their completely unhidden and very negative talk about him. I will also commend him for behaving very well the entire flight (and throw in that I heard his parents agree that he had done well… but why didn’t they tell him that?)

I came through immigration quickly, collected my luggage (which must have passed me at least twice before I recognized it – I was tired and had a headache), and went out to find Hefely, who took me home to my waiting parents. Hefely is an excellent driver, speeding away into the darkness, managing the car around trucks with no rear-end lights, people on the side of the road and numerous motorcycles with headlights that literally blinded me. I know the Tanzanian countryside, but still, the darkness of the night surprised me and the amount of visible stars fascinated me. The smell of Tanzania was just as I had expected – warm, sweaty and mildly spicy.

As we drove into Arusha, I enjoyed reading the signs along the way, as electricity became the main source of light again. I always enjoy reading signs in whatever country I visit, and I especially enjoy the creativity with which the Tanzanians name hotels, bars, shops and buses. I will attempt to post some as I find them, but I remember in particular the Hallelujah Express bus, thinking to myself that it would be appropriate to burst into Hallelujah’s if one actually survived a trip in that bus.

But yesterday I passed Snow Crest Hotel (mind you, we are quite close to the equator here…), the View Point Hotel (if one fancies the view of dirty houses, small random shops, insane traffic and dirt sidewalks), but what really made me smile was the Penguin Resort – find your happiness  sign. My youngest daughter has a fondness for penguins (thank you, Happy Feet), and as we all know, penguins are the keepers of happiness, and of course, they are to be found in huge numbers here in Arusha, Tanzania, East Africa.

Preperations

I really ought to be doing something else than blogging, but right now, it's as if my insides are winding up - much like a mechanical clock winds up. I know that suddenly, I'll be so tightly wound up that the only thing I can do, is be effective.

I should be packing. I'm leaving, on a jet plane... (sorry, that song has stuck with me since I was 13)... actally, I am leaving on a jet plane this coming Wednesday. I am going home. Home to mom and dad. Home to Tanzania. All by myself.

Kobbeå, Bornholm

This summer will be the weirdest summer ever for our family. Natasja is off at youth camp already, Teresa will be going to Sweden with her grandparents on Saturday, and Hasse and Johanna will go to Jutland for a few days, then they will join Teresa & co. in Sweden after that. I will be in Tanzania. I don't think we've ever been so split up before during a holiday.
Luckily, we've planned a week together on wonderful Bornholm (isle of my father and husband) right before going back to work and school.

I am really looking forward to going off to TZ. It'll be the first time since I moved away in 1993, that I will be returning alone. It feels good, but also strange. I know that I will only be able to relax when I walk through the door of my parents home.

We went to TZ in 2008 as a family, mainly for a vacation. This year, I'll be joining my folks in a crusade i Ilagala, by Lake Tanganyika.

When possible, I will post pictures and write more about my trip.

Just to set the mood - 2 of my favorite pictures from our 2008 trip:

Morogoro, large crater, now filled with wildlife 

View from our rented cottage on Zanzibar

June in photos

This is my attempt to show you what the last month has gone by with.

It seems to me that a lot of really big things have happened...
Our oldest daughter, Natasja, finished 9th grade and graduated. Next school year she will be off at a boarding school, preparing to travel to Australia, plus some other countries I don't know about yet.

 Teresa ... well, what can I say? She is a beautiful 12 year old, blooming into a full scale teenage girl.
I am so glad she will be home next year, so I only have to miss 1 child...

 Johanna is still loaded with energy, and is apparently a very intelligent child - so we've been told. Left to wait for too long, there's no telling what she'll be up to!

We all love her to bits.




This is a picture of my sister and my husband - all dressed up for her wedding June 23rd. It was a gorgeous day and a wonderful wedding.

And here we are: my hubs, myself, my sis and her hubs. Great shot, don't you think?

After 42 kilometers

It's been almost a week now, and my legs are almost back to normal. I still have one blister that just doesn't want to go away, but hopefully soon, it'll be gone and I'll have a wider selection of shoes to choose from (currently, I can only wear a specific pair of sandals).

Sunday May 20th I ran my first marathon. May 20th is also my wedding anniversary, this year celebrating 17 years with the same, wonderful man - Hasse:

He challenged me last November to run the Copenhagen Marathon with him, and though I doubted my abilities, I began training for it. When the day came, I was both wildly excited and terrified, but joining in with 12000 other excited runners does something to you. I found myself anticipating the run with great joy and enthusiasm, and as we started out, I was touched by the cheers from hundreds of spectators.

We ran 42 km (26 miles) through the streets of beautiful Copenhagen, enjoying the bands that played for us, the beautiful architecture, the sun and the people cheering us on. I flew. I was on fire. My entire system was working beyond comparison - my breathing was good, my legs strong and I felt a surge of energy flowing through my veins. Kilometer after kilometer passed, and as we reached the half way mark, I was so optimistic that I was smiling.

25 km down the road I was still optimistic and had lots of energy. When we hit 30 k, I began to feel a heaviness in my legs, and a dull sort of pain started pulling in my left thigh. People around us began walking, quitting, lying down and several puked. I was determined not to walk, to only slow down long enough to drink. The sun was hot and there was little shadow, but Hasse had planned well and coached me not only by setting the pace, but also guiding my intake of fluids. His plan worked. We had a really good pace and neither of us dehydrated like hundreds of others around us.

When we began running the last 5 k, I was working hard to keep up the optimism in my head, continually telling myself I was almost there, that quitting would be too bitter now, and that I still had the energy I needed. Strangely enough, I never once had the feeling that I ought to quit. I was exceptionally tired, yes, but so determined to actually complete that quitting simply wasn't an option. Neither was walking.

As we hit 40 k, the asphalt was sticky from all the sugar people had been drinking and spilling. We dodged numerous walking runners and saw 3 or 4 people who had collapsed and were waiting for ambulances. The weather had surprised us all, being the hottest day of the year yet, and the ambulances were not prepared for the amount of dehydrating patients. We were later told that they ran out of IV fluids and had to bring in extra from surrounding hospitals.

The last 800 meters were incredible. I am so awed. I am awed by the fantastic crowd lending us strength through their cheers. As we passed yet 100 meters, they counted down for us... "only 700 m to go!!" As I saw the blue finish line loom ahead of us, I wanted to let go of everything and sprint across it, but Hasse kept placing his hand on my shoulder, reminding me to save energy for the remaining distance.
People cheered us on. Two little boys broke out of the crowd as their daddy sped ahead of us, grabbing his hands and running the last 200 m with him.

Hasse and I clasped hands as we ran the last little bit, crossing the finish line together after 4 hours, 35 minutes and 12 seconds of continuous running. My free hand shot up in the air as I roared, feeling victorious, and suddenly the emotion overwhelmed me, and I cried as I was awarded my medal.

Here, several days later, I am still in awe. I am amazed at what a body can do, with the right training, the correct food and the right attitude. I am touched the crowd cheering on people they didn't know. I am grateful that my husband went through it with me (he run a lot, is in better shape and much faster then me - but he slowed his pace to help me through. Isn't that love?)

When I think about the last 800 m, tears still find their way into my eyes. It was huge. It was amazing, and honestly, I am so happy, so excited and also somewhat proud. I surprised myself completely. When I started this project, I didn't really believe in it. I have several times declared that I would quit and not enter the marathon. But somehow, I kept at it, I worked for it, and I went through with it.

Would I do it again? Maybe. I haven't decided yet. It's a huge feat. Would I recommend it? Absolutely! If you love running, you ought to try a marathon. But make sure your debut is in a big event with people there to cheer you on - the crowd makes a really big difference.

Go, run!

Watch this - Copenhagen Marathon 2012

Friday... at last or soon enough?

It's friday morning  - the one morning during my workweek where I don't start classes till 9:50. I love this morning. I sleep a little longer, and Johanna gets to play for a while before I drop her off at kindergarten. This is my morning. All other mornings, my husband drops her off, but fridays are mine.

The last week has dissappeared incredibly fast. I spent monday being very tired, recuperating from last weekends conference for leaders for the Nordic Vineyards. We had visitors fram Finland stay with us, and every evening, after the last service, we'd speed home and have coffee and snacks before going to bed. All very fattening indeed, but the conversations we gad were interesting, deep and of very valuable character to Hasse and I, I believe - as we spoke about our God and his power, our thoughts for the immediate future and plans we'd like to make. It was a blessed weekend, although it left us quite sleep derived!

Wednesday I was almost back on track, and very blessed to visit a cluster of small groups in the Copenhagen Vineyard, sharing my thoughts on being called to serve. My dear friend Grace came with me, supporting me the whole evening, which was very needed and much appreciated.

Yesterday went by with work and parent-teacher meetings, and here I sit now, friday mornig over breakfast, recounting the details of my week with you. Well, not all my details - perhaps just an outline.

The fact is, I don't know where time went. This week has dissappeared a little too fast, and while I enjoy the thought of weekend, I wonder why time flies so.

Nevertheless, I wish you all a good weekend. Mine will be filled with a birthday party, friends over for lunch and a lovely sunday service.

Springtime

Spring is always a wonderful thing to me. Every year, I get to a point where I just looong for the sun to break out and actually contain some warmth. I'll search my garden for the first signs of spring, and every year, I am rewarded, first with snowdrops and eranthis, closely followed by daffodils. But I get really excited when I see green buds sprouting, when the sun spreads rays of golden warmth and my garden begins once again to grow.

On the other hand, spring is a tiresome time as well, not so much because of all the garden work, but because I am allergic to birch pollen. The amount of birch pollen in Denmark has exploded several hundred percent within the last 25 years, I am told, and yes, I certainly feel it. It affects all of me - my nose gets runny to the point where the skin around it breaks, my eyes itch and I start wheezing ever so slightly. I have to run early in the morning instead of taking my beloved afternoon runs, and I have to shower every night before bedtime. I have to stay indoor for much of the day, especially around noon, where the warmth sends the pollen spiralling into the air.

So, while everyone else is out soaking in the sun, I am very careful about spending time outside. Which means I cannot tend to my garden quite like a want to.... so now, I've taken pictures of some of my favorite things out there, right from my bird houses, tomato plants to our running shoes by the front door.
This year I am trying to grow tomatoes upside down, I am waiting to see how my blueberries are doing (planted them last autumn), and I am eagerly awaiting the grapes on my vine. I am planning on planting  blackberries this coming autumn, finding them to be amongst my favorite berries of all.

For my love

...you are the love of my life.

Hunger

I am hungry for you

Your touch always fills me

Yet - I am not fulfilled

But hungry for more

I sit… for just a minute,

Inhaling the nearness of you

The heat from your body rises to meet mine

And I am fully satisfied

...more old poetry

from the other secret drawer.

Like two birds.

My heart has stopped beating

–      not just for the moment, but for the time

it takes a life to flash before ones eyes.

For a lifetime.

It hurts, this dead end of emotion, and

I am left with one single question – why?

Who can answer this for me?

No one… not even myself.

Trapped, like a bird in a cage,

the two of us sit, looking at each other.

You have the courage to fly out as soon

as the door to your cage is opened,

but I sit still,

afraid of the unknown,

the vast expanse that I have never tested my wings in.

At first my heart pounded so fast

that it hurt my ribs.

Now it doesn’t beat at all,

and I feel strangled

–      the pressure of missing air torturing my mind.

I sometimes feel confined,

locked up,

forced into a

mold that doesn’t quite fit me.

Dislodged

Lost somewhere in time

Expanded in space that is not mine

I float in time

Dislodged, displaced

Confused, homeless

This is not my skin

My life, my time

Old poetry...

straight from my secret drawer...

I am defective.

Someone vandalized my life

Or was it myself?

Afraid

                     Dull and numb – extremely boring.

Falling asleep, drifting, floating,

disappearing into a fog, a mist, an endless cloud of unconsciousness. Noises drowning softly, a voice humming in the distance,

reaching out but never hitting target.

Wishing to touch, but forbidden to do so.

Wishing to see, but blinded and blurred and not capable of seeing. Wishing to hear, but unable to discern meaning form sound,

unable to detect form from matter.

Breathing slowly, deeply, letting the blood run through the tired blue veins.

Pale faced, rosy cheeked, cold, smooth, almost a dead feeling.

Alone, wanting company, but afraid to reach out,

afraid to call out,

afraid to seek out companions,

afraid to open up, to show, to tell, to ask.

Afraid of rejection, of being turned down, out, left behind.

Afraid of not being wanted, not being seen, not being heard, not being asked.

Afraid of knowing and seeing, of confrontation,

of conformity, of solitude and hermitage. 

So it's sunday evening, and I am so tired after a wonderful weekend. Yesterday was spent in the quiet confines of my own home, after a long morning run with the hubby and the oldest. The two youngest kept each other company, and after a late breakfast, we all kinda did our own thing. It was wonderful.

I love quite days that allow me to slow down, enjoy a sunbeam and stroke my children's hair. Days that allow me to shop at snailpace with whatever kid desired to tag along. Days that let me tend to small tasks in the garden - especially those that combine dirt and herbs...
At 3 in the afternoon, the sky was blue and the sun was warm, so I opened the door to our terrace, and sat down with a snack and soaked in the sun for half an hour. Johanna sat on my lap and played quietely.

Saturdat evening brought friends we hadn't seen in a while, and that sent me to the kitchen, both baking and cooking. And it reminded me of how much I really enjoy spending time in my kitchen, how I love cooking and in general, preparing food. This is my creativity - though I always use recipes, but usually end up confirming them to my own ways anyway.

I cannot paint, draw, sew or knit, and I certainly could never write a song or a play for the theater. But putting together a good, home cooked meal, is right up my alley. I would have posted pictures, but I am afraid we ate it all!

I hope you all had a great weekend too...

Collecting people

It just recently dawned on me that I perhaps have one of the weirdest hobbies ever... except from the woman I heard of, whose hobby was collecting hobbies.
My hobby is simply collecting people!

Sometimes, when I am in good company and feeling strangely safe and comfortable, I find myself itching to tell my company about people who in some way or another move me, touch me, awe me etc. Often, I find it next to impossible to convey my fascination with these people. How on earth do you explain to someone how fantastic you perceive someone they don't know? Adjectives such as good, awesome, funny, sweet and amazing just don't really come alive the way I want them to.

So why do I collect people? I think it's because I continue to marvel at the creativity of our Lord. He has succeeded in creating an amazing mass of different individuals, none identical to any. People are put together with a multitude of colors, talents, tastes, shapes and languages. I enjoy being surrounded by unique individuals, and I feel blessed by having these people in my life.

There is no way that I could make a list to share with you - I would not be able to mention all those in my collection, and frankly, I don't know how to categorize or even set up criteria for being a part of my collection. I have no idea how many people have found their way into my collection. All I know is that they all add color to this tapestry of life that I hope to weave.

But I will share one person with you:

Mikael is a creative musician, cook and husband/father. He has a great sense of humor and usually, a good sense of style. This particular picture is from his wife's 30th birthday party, for which he helped cook and serve and survived being the only male in the company. What a great (or something) apron....

Two Namibian women

Oh yes, you shaped med first inside, then out; you formed me in my mother's womb. I thank you, High God - you're breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration - what a creation! You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, the days of my life all prepared before I'd even lived one day.
Psalm 139:13-16 (The Message)

I'm back from Helsinki again. What a wonderful trip! We woke up Sunday morning to beautiful white snow and took a good run in it.
Saturday night I went to the sauna with a group of wonderful women, and after that, we ate together and I got to speak to them. We ended the evening praying in small groups, and I was immensely blessed by this.
My group had 2 Namibian women in it, and as we prayed our first prayer, they were very quiet, but suddenly, it was like courage took hold of them and they prayed up a storm! I asked them to pray for my menstrual cycle and the mood swings I so badly want to live without, and the first woman to pray was beautiful Bertha. Studying to be a nurse, I suspect she felt this was just her thing - praying for the physical body to line up and behave itself! But I was stunned. She prayed out of 2 Timothy 1:7: For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. She prayed for self-discipline in my life, and then continued to pray that I would be able to give thanks for my body, as the Bible tells us that we are wonderfully made.

I have been so upset about my body and my hormones and all the mood swings. I have been so frustrated and quite frankly, so deeply affected by this that I have literally cried out to God.

But I have never thought to thank Him for my body and all of its functions.

Perhaps I ought to. Perhaps I ought to be more grateful, more focused on all the good things that my body is capable off. Perhaps I ought to show a little more respect for this wonderful thing that God has designed and created. Will it remove all less desirable aspects? Probably not. But as I ask Him to heal me and make my body more harmonious, I will be grateful for it. Grateful that I don't suffer from anything worse.

What a weekend. I went to Finland and met prayer warriors from Namibia. And I also realized that a Finnish childhood friend of mine, now living in Japan, is married to the sister of the woman whose house I slept in. What a small world this is.

Pray for me, I'm off to Helsinki.

Seriously, I am off to Helsinki tomorrow morning. I'll be visiting the Helsinki Vineyard and teaching at a women's gathering. I will also be trying out a Finnish sauna.

Going to Helsinki has got me thinking about some of the Finnish people I knew growing up. I remember a very young, blonde boy I went to grade school with. My friend Rebecca and I both had a crush on him, but she mentioned it first, so he was hers. In our dreams.
In high school I knew 3 other Finnish boys and the sister of one of them. Her name was Outi.

Outi probably doesn't know this, but she has a very special place in my heart. One evening at Rift Valley Academy (boarding school in Kenya), I went to the chapel to have a good cry and pour out my troubled teenage heart to God. I was so desperate for some kind of sign that He cared about me, that I had value and that I wasn't invisible and unimportant to the people around me. I felt so small and insignificant that night. I remember begging God to send somebody to the chapel, because I was growing more and more upset and afraid of being alone.

On my knees at the alter, I suddenly heard the door open slowly, and in stepped Outi. She walked straight up to me and sat down, putting her arms around me, letting me cry on her shoulder. Outi, who probably had difficult days of her own, being a missionary kid just like me, miles away from home and family. I don't remember all she said, but I do remember her saying this: "God told me to go to the chapel. Someone would be there who needed me."

I have never forgotten Outi for that. She was a messenger from God that night, stating loud and clear that He heard me, that He knew me and cared for me. She was a drop of grace from heaven, bringing relief to a dry soul that night. She was so obedient that it changed something in me.

In Helsinki I will be teaching on how obeying can save lives. I will look at Esther from the Old Testament, hoping to show my listeners what an ordinary, but obedient, woman can accomplish, if she listens to the Lord and obeys him.

So please pray for me, at I take all my ordinary character traits with me. Please pray that I will be obedient, and that God will fill my mouth with the words he wants to share.

I am a cross cultural

I am a Multi-racial, adopted Alaskan, raised in Africa, South American siblings, English/German American parents person who calls home, wherever I hang my hat! If you try and tell me I'm not from wherever my hat is hanging... I'll just point back at my hat and say, "Yes I am!"!!!

This is the status update of a friend on FB. I haven't seen him since I graduated from Rift Valley Academy in 1993. I lost track of him for a number of years, but then - viola - FB introduced us again!

Although we are as different as night and day, his status update captures the essence of a certain species of people on this earth - a race to which I belong too. We are the cross cultural, third cultural mutts of this ever decreasing globe. 

We all react differently to being cross culturals. There are days where I find it is a strength, but alas, also many days where I feel it is a weakness - a spanner in the works, one might put it. I've never been as patriotic as when I lived outside my home country, but now that I am here, the patriotism has somewhat cooled. I am not ashamed of my nationality, but if beer and soccer or handball symbolizes being a Dane, I have to opt out. I can't see how that defines being a nationality. Anyone can drink beer and participate in sports!

I grew up in Tanzania. Born in the bush, the first white baby in a Catholic missions hospital, my siblings were disappointed that I was white. My sister has later confessed she thought I was ugly and looked like a pig. She insists now that I have grown out of it.

My childhood memories includes lions and elephants, snakes, geckos and monitor lizards. Rats the size of regular house cats. I recall swimming in the Indian Ocean and seeing striped water snakes, crabs, shrimp and octopus. One time a mini shark of some sort soared past. 

I drank real chai (not the fancy latte kind they serve in fashionable coffeehouses and cafes here in DK), ate ugali na kuku with my fingers and thought that roasted corn was the tops. Samosas bought from street vendors were a delicacy. 

I went to school with children from Madagascar, Holland, Hungary, Norway, Sweden, Finland, India, Belgium, Denmark, Canada, the US and different African countries. For five years, the great Rift Valley with Mount Longonot was the view I saw every day from my school. 

I lived most of my childhood years in the middle of a coffee farm at the foot of Mount Meru, and at 15, I climbed to the top of Kilimanjaro. 

All of these wonderful things have added joys and pleasurable memories to my life that I would hate to not have with me. But the downside is that I have said goodbye more than I care to count. I have bonded with and lost numerable friends. To spare myself a little bit, I have learned to engage with people on a more superficial level, constantly expecting them to say goodbye and move on. I have built shutters for my heart, allowing only a little light in and out at a time, wanting sometimes desperately to know and be known, but at the same time afraid to break off one more piece of my heart. 

Do I wish for my life to be different? Sometimes yes. But not because I am a cross cultural. 

Should you feel sorry for me? No, not at all. But if you do run across other cross culturals and find them, perhaps odd, be gentle with them. Some are more lost than others. 

Things you may or may not know about me.

I used to have a birthmark behind one of my ears. I forget which. It began to grow, and I had it removed. I could hear the scissors snip and feel the pressure against my skull. The birthmark was benign.

I am terribly afraid of snakes and I seriously dislike frogs. Their heads and eyes scare me.

I once had a gekko crawl up my bare leg during worship in a Sunday morning service.

I am afraid of open water and therefore too afraid to scuba dive and snorkel too far from the shore.

I could live on bread and cheese alone. Add the odd ham or salami and that would be nice too.

I sometimes think that if horses understood their amazing strength, they would never let anyone ride them.

I love being a mother. I love being needed. I love being the one they call for when they are sick, hurting or feeling sad. I hate it when I can't make them feel better. I worry a little about what will happen to me when they grow up and move away.

I am terrible at making gravy.

I look up to my mother. I believe I see her flaws, but her qualities far outshine them all, and if I could only be half the woman she is, I will be a good woman.

I sometimes cry because I cannot imagine ever living without my husband. I sometimes suddenly become afraid that something will happen to him.

An update on my hormones.

On my other page, Vineyardwomen, I wrote a post titled A hormonal post... or I want to be healed, sharing about my PMD/PMS problems.

Just to let you know, I haven't given up on being healed. I am still asking God to show me this grace, but instead of sitting om my hands and letting this affect my family even more, I have recently had a conversation with my doctor. She turned out to be very understanding, she didn't question me at all on my own judgement (which is something I always expect people to do - must be the hard-to-kill pessimist inside me), and she actually had a plan to help me.

So now, I am back on the pill - yes, the wonderful little white birth control pill that I have desperately tried to avoid for many years now! And ironically, theres not a chance that I will become pregnant, as my hubby has taken well care of that. But there are benefits to that... if I miss a pill, it won't really matter much!

But the pill is supposed to stabilise my hormones, making my mood swings flatten out and hopefully, let me remain calm, peaceful and happy. Currently, I am getting used to the routine of remembering the pills every night, and living with the nausea they give me.

I will be taking these pills for a 3 month period, after which I will return to my doctor for a follow up. If they aren't giving me the help I need, there are always "happy pills", as we so delicately calls them in Danish. These are antidepressants, and although that sounds very drastic, I must keep in mind that my mood swings are also very dramatic.

But please, keep praying for me - there's no doubt that I need it!

Excuses students make...

I did it because he/she/they told me to. Often referring to really stupid incidents such as saying bad words to older students (who then punish by hitting or pushing)

My dog ate it. Yes. I have actually seen the remnants of partially eaten homework.

My little brother tore up my books. This is true as well.

I am leaving school early today because of a wedding. I am going to be picked up by a limo, and I am also going to fly in a helicopter. 

And my all time favorite:

I wasn't in school last week because I didn't have any clean underwear left.

A lovely little shop

Hasse and I went into Copenhagen for a brunch this friday. After eating, I convinced Hasse to go with me to a store that I've wanted to visit for a long time - Rockahula on Istedgade 91 (www.rockahula.dk)

Rockahula was, unfortunately, closed (note to self... check the opening hours next time!) I was hoping to try on a dress like this one (would it be suitable for a picninc wedding in a park?):

A lovely candlestick from Girlie Hurly.

Anyways... since the store was closed, we walked around a bit and I dragged him into Girlie Hurly (Istedgade 99, www.girliehurly.dk)

Although the shop is, as the name indicates, very girlie, I actually think he enjoyed it a little bit... but he proabably won't spend a lot in there.... I, on the other hand, could go broke in such a place:

Wouldn't you just love to wake up with this clock? From Girlie Hurly too.

From Girlie Hurly - a piece of sunshine!

A perfect picture for the kitchen! Of course, from Girlie Hurly.

Lord of the Rings rerun

Hasse and I have recently begun watching Lord of the Ring (extended version, mind you) - again. I don't think we will ever tire of these movies. We have our favorite scenes, aswell as our favorite characters. It is impossible not to love Aragorn and Arwen, Frodo and Sam, and in the second movie - The Two Towers - even Smeagol calls on our pity at the least!

In The Two Towers, we come across one of my absolutely favorite characters - Éowyn. Niece to King Théoden of Rohan, she stays loyal to her country and king despite the treachory of Grima Wormtongue, who, by the way, has the hots for the fair maiden!
Fair she is - but don't be decieved - she knows how to swing a sword and defend herself! And I get  goosebumps  everytime I hear her answer to Aragorns question of what she fears... she fears wasting her time, never rising to the occasion and making a difference! She fears being locked behind bars until age makes her useless.

What an attitude!

If you know the rest of the story, you also know that she does rise to the occasion, and that she plays a vital part in the ending of the story. If you don't know the story, then please... read the books or see the movies!

Garden gnomes in housekeeping?

Days like today leave me wishing that there was a garden gnome center, where you could order a nice little garden and/or housekeeping gnome to come live with you. Wouldn't that be neat?

I'm beat - it's been a long day, so I am leaving the dishes in the sink, the laundry unfolded, my teeth unflossed and my lunchpack unpacked. It's time to unthink the day, unwind the stress and unwake my body.

Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite!

Time changes things.

It's been snowing. Finally. I woke up sunday morning to the most beautiful, fat tufts of snow quietly falling from the sky. Sigh. Why wasn't december like this? And why don't we have more peaceful mornings like this?

As parents, our mornings have for so long been scheduled. Everyone with small kids knows that saturday and sunday mornings are the best for waking up early and watching cartoons. It was great when the girls learned how to turn on the tv themselves. That would keep them occupied for a while. But then always came the one request (more like a mix between a direct command and a cat whining) for breakfast. "I'm huuuungry" just cannot be ignored!

Now the the two oldest sleep in every chance they get. We get up before they do on saturdays and sundays. And I always enjoy it slightly when they, somehow disgruntled, complain that we don't eat breakfast together anymore! Because now I'm the whining cat demanding breakfast while they are still cuddled up under the blankets.

Funny how time changes things.

It's been too long

Hi there again...

It has simply been too long since I've been here... shame on me. And I am not going to whine about why. You all know why. Time. Work. Family.

Christmas was wonderful - we set the table for 21 people, and every seat was taken! And on the 27th, we flew out to Hurghada, Egypt, to relax and celebrate Hasse's 40th birthday! While we were there, Teresa turned 12 (being born New Years Eve), and for her birthday we sailed on the Red Sea, she snorkeled with her fther and older sister, and we were so lucky to see dolphins! They really put on a wonderful show for us and jumped out of the water, and swam bellyside up.

Now the somewhat mundane life has us back in the treadmill, but we're treadmillin' away! Hasse and I have decided to try for a marathon in May... I know he will finish it, as he already has 5 marathons in the sack, but this will be my first - and probably my last! Currently, my training is good, my time is fine, and I'm still not injured. But slightly worried...

Please come back for updates everynow and then, I will try to spend more time putting thoughts on string!