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!