Already?

These are pictures of Bad Schwalbach, the beautiful little town that I fell in love with in two short weeks. For the record, I wasn't trying to guard my heart at all. On the contrary, I made a point to wake early and wander from end to end and all over the hillsides, opening my heart wide to the sunrise. I made friends with the lady who runs the only book store in town, promising to see much more of her as soon as I was paid. She was full of helpful recommendations for books I might be able to enjoy already that would improve my German. I had a long conversation with Bernhardt, who runs the tanning salon, while he took the biometric pass photos I needed for my visa. He wanted to get right into modern politics and American-German relations since WWII. It is not surprising that Bernhardt preferred deeper topics to "flaky" American small talk, but it is rather unusual that these people were willing to be so helpful and so open with me so quickly. It usually takes a long time to get to know anyone German. You have to prove that you really are here to stay.

I thought I was.

I collected tourist material and I took pictures to post later with detailed descriptions of the town's history as a holistic healing center, the Roman mud baths, the main drag full of cute little shops that only takes a half hour to traverse, the Jane-Austen worthy fields at the top of a serious hike. I went in search of a farm for raw milk and I started a batch of homemade sauerkraut. I found a place to take the little girl for a milk shake as a treat. I explored every grocery store, making mental notes of their offerings and comparative prices. I want to church, stayed after for coffee, memorized names and starting dreaming about where to volunteer when the summer holidays came to an end. I found the library. I began writing a post about how perfect it was that this was a little holistic-health town, sprung up around the baths, and here I am ready to practice and experiment with a holistically-based healthier lifestyle.

It all seemed so perfectly aligned.

Just this one little problem-- where I wasn't getting paid, the way I was told I would. And I was being expected to cook, but not given a portion of the food budget, as discussed. And I had waited for the discussion. And I had taken notes, and I had written down my bank information and handed it over. And then I had waited another day-- because life gets busy, and remembering is (apparently) hard. And then I waited another day-- for essentially the mystical reason that God told me the timing wasn't good. I used this day to prepare and pray for what would now need to be a boundary re-negotiation.

And on the third day, as is wont, everything changed.

Out of respect (for my own desires to stay classy-- don't be too impressed) I will neglect all the details. I will say only that I believe God was absolutely faithful to help me through this confrontation (which always makes me nervous) with my integrity and my courage intact.

But the fourth day found me packed and jobless in Germany, newly homeless and headed for a dear old friend's apartment in a city nearby. (Coincidence that she should be there? Ha! God is great.)

A week (und munze= small coins) later, I'm blown away by the speed at which the wind can change. God does not forbear to send me tacking quickly this way and that at full throttle, and I must admit I love every second of it. Except for the vague panic when I think too long about how I will soon be really homeless (my friend is moving) and my savings won't hold out too long and all of these job prospects could so easily fall through and maybe I won't get a work permit and maybe I will have to come home with my tail between my legs and OH gee, Jesus, these waves are really big and I'm beginning to sink........

So I gulp down some deep breath and I fix my eyes on Jesus.
I admit that there is fear; there is lots of uncertainty. And it does get to me.
I say I am sure that God brought me here. And that He knew that this job was untrustworthy, even when I didn't. I am surprised, but He isn't. He tells me to try to stay, so He has something else in mind.
I say He will come through.
And after I do, I have a second of angst: Oh, Lord, I will be so embarrassed if have just said this and you don't come through. I will be humiliated if I am wrong about all this-- please do not let me be put to shame. I've already done shame-- I don't want to go back.

I remember long ago weeping on a different friend's floor-- utterly undone by the emotional consequences of some bad relational decisions and sobbing Psalm 34. My sweet friend's face hovered near mine, bewildered as I tried to cry and laugh at the same time, unsure if she should comfort me or smile at my comic mess. She was the perfect audience for this public Psalm to make its way into my heart, in that subtle way Jesus has of doing dramatic things in the most anti-climactic way possible. Today I still remember Psalm 34 with the texture of dorm carpet pressing into my elbows.

"I sought the LORD, and He answered me;
He delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to Him are radiant;
their faces are never covered with shame." v.4+5

So I sought the Lord-- and my plans changed from set to spinning.
And I found myself unemployed in Europe, with no ticket home.
And yet, free from odious employ. Given generous hospitality, and plenty of time to look on Him and radiantly enjoy this fantastic adventure that I would never have been so prodigal to choose for myself.
And so I say again, tweaking the angst 'til it twitches no more, He has a plan-- an amazing plan-- full of good works, prepared in advance for me to do HERE. He will come through, and I will not be put to shame.

Stay tuned. (!)