Thirteen years later.....

 I ended my last post going out to explore, to see what God had for me in Frankfurt. 

Life. Life is what He had for me. A life more difficult and different than I had ever imagined. A life full of ironies and blessings, denials and delights. 

Thirteen years later, the cobblestones don't ever get old. I savor the Johannesbeeren (red currants) that were too sour at the start. The waves of culture and counter culture shock flow around me like a moored boat riding the tides. 

I am planted in foreign soil. I am waiting to bear fruit. I have adapted. And I have never stopped rebelling against complete assimilation. I have learned to have confidence that I am the most basic of babes; if I am thinking or feeling it, so is someone else. Probably a lot of someone elses. And yet, in every shared context there is still some element of identity or choice that makes an outsider out of me. 

Here in Germany, I am American. Among the Expats, I am locally bound, here permanently. Among the crunchy and naturally-minded, I am Christian. Among the Christians, I am Kita-frei (you would think that wouldn't make me weird there but it does!) Among crunchy-homeschooling-Christian-SAHMs (online, haven't found any here), comparison will lead to discontent because I am not completely free to pursue the advantages of homeschooling. German law requires me to send my kids to school in the morning as of age 6 and our hybrid economic situation gives me about 8-10 hours worth of secretarial work for our business every week. I feel like we are always turtles, amphibious and a little slow, lagging behind and mostly a unit unto ourselves. And yet, if I am feeling this way, I bet you do, too. Almost certainly with different details (are there any other americans married to afghanis who love Jesus and live in Germany out there? Get in touch, please-- as far as I know, we are alone.) but with the same feeling: we have all the company in the world when we feel like outsiders. 

This outsider feeling is a key denial in this life. The irony is that when given the choice in prayer to return to the States or seek a place in Germany, the outsider identity is what tipped me to stay. I wanted that stretch to keep me awake, to keep me reminded that the only place I belong is heaven. I wanted holiness, my edges sanded by that swim upstream. My assumptions teased to my attention by becoming uncommon.

The cobblestones don't get old but I am often worn down instead of refined by the tide. I dream that there may have been an easier life and make-believe that I would have been happier in it. Meanwhile, I continue to make choices that swim harder upstream (let's mill our own grain! Let's make our own soap! Let's trust God entirely with our family planning!) and prove that I am actually kidding myself. I delight to fight upstream and I am only scared of failure. Will I become a good steward of all these blessings? Will we overcome and build a good marriage, raise kids who know Jesus, reach the lost, encourage our brothers and sisters, leave a godly legacy?

Thirteen years ago, God brought me to Germany and started me on an adventure. In that year, he gave and took away jobs, beds, friends, permits, and ministries. I gained a husband and a home. I lost a home country.  Later came church hurt, friend hurt, health issues and the reality of, well, reality, without much of a net. Still later came 5 babies in 7 years, 100 pounds, a garden, international entrepreneurship and real estate, many friends came and many moved away, cars that worked and one that didn't, and a kitchen fire. And God by His grace has made blessings of it all.