Category Archives: Life

5 Things I Learned About Myself on My First Ski Trip

Having grown up a desert rat in central and southern Arizona, skiing was always somewhat of a foreign concept to me. It was something either rich people did, or college kids on winter break. Certainly not an option for a girl like me: not an athletic bone in her body who lived hours away from any possibility of snow.

Then we moved to Austria.

During the week long semester break in February, just about everyone in Austria who has kids does one thing: go skiing.

My husband, who grew up with a ski-instructor for a father, also naturally grew up skiing. He’s told me fondly many times how he remembers skiing between his dad’s feet when he was only three or four years old. Our nomadic lifestyle, coupled with the fact that most of our adult life had been spent in either Ireland or Texas – two places not well known for great ski conditions – made it so it had been years since Seth had been able to ski, even though it’s one of his favorite pass-times.

So, this year we decided to embrace our inner Austrians and head for the hills to shoop-shoop-shoop (to quote my gal-pal Rachel Greene) down the slopes. tumblr_m0f36d7Yzz1r5idzso1_500

Guys, I was slightly terrified. Excited, but terrified.

I mean, what if I was awful at it? What if I hated it? What if I embarrassed myself, not even able to make it down the kiddie slope? What if I broke my whole body??

5 Things I Learned About Myself On My First Ski TripWell, friends, I am here to tell you that I not only survived, I really enjoyed it! I even learned a few things about myself along the way, that I’d like to share with you.

1. I’m physically stronger than I thought. My instructor (yes, I took lessons rather than my husband teaching me. We were told it would be best for our marriage…I believe “they” were right. Anyway.) started me out not with going up the mountain on any kind of lift, but side stepping our way up. “To help me get a feel for the skis and my body on them.” Ha. Also, once I did use a lift, it wasn’t the kind with a seat. It was just a rope that I had to grab onto for dear life as it tugged me up the hill, but also had to let go of soon enough that my hand didn’t get sucked into the vortex of death. You guys, I spent the day tugging, pulling, squatting, lifting, bending and all manner of other “-ings” and I’m not too humble to say I rocked it! I had much more stamina and physical ability than I would have imagined (Thank you Shuan T and Insanity!). At the end of the day, my muscles were totally shot and that’s when I learned the next lesson about myself.

2. I’m mentally stronger than I thought. There were several times when I just wanted to give up. Like the time I ventured higher on the run and bit it big time and slid halfway down the slope on my back. I briefly asked my husband to just bury me there and go on; and tell the kids I love them. But I got up anyway, and my mind gave my body the strength to continue on – without breaking every bone!

3. My husband and I make a pretty darn good team. This one I knew – it was cemented home in the deepest corner of my heart just how great a team we make after the birth of our first child. However, I was reminded of it again this trip. After the massive face-plant described above, Seth was encouraging me to try again from the higher spot on the run. I was – ahem – less than willing. He offered to go with me, and I reluctantly agreed. As I started down the slope, speed caught up with me quickly and I started to panic. That’s when I heard his voice behind me, “You got it. Pizza slice the skis. There you go, good. Now turn, gently. Keep turning, keep turning. Great! Now straighten out. Yes! You got this!” and so on. Man, guys, just hearing his voice – so calm, so confident – gave me the mental boost to get myself under control and do what I had been taught to do. Cross over into real life? Uh, yeah. In short, my husband rocks and he’s my hero.

4. I’m more of an athlete than I thought. I have used many words to describe myself over the years. Athlete or athletic has never, ever been one of them. However, as I was skiing down that hill, it hit me: I am actually quite athletic – as long as it doesn’t involve a ball, puck, or any other such device. I’m great at sports that require self-awareness, balance, and good body control. A friend bestowed the word “sporty” upon me when she saw a photo of me on the slopes on Instagram. At first I balked, but now, I take that adjective and own it proudly!

5. I’m still not an adrenaline junkie or extreme sport enthusiast – and that’s ok! I have spent most of my life (and particularly my childhood) wishing I was something other than what I was. I wished I was more sporty, or better at math. I wished I longed for adventure and excitement; that I would love the “thrill” of the free-fall feeling on a roller coaster. The truth is, I just. Don’t. I’m finally, at the age of 36, starting to feel at home in my own skin, and appreciate who and how God made me to be. I don’t want to waste any more time mourning the things that I’m not – and that Susie Smith next door seems to be. No. While I never want to grow complacent in life, and I never want to be unwilling to push myself and try new things, I want to spend my energies and time developing and honing the skills and gifts God placed in me from the beginning. Skills, gifts and talents He gave me on purpose. For a reason. To wish those away for some other trait or talent I see in someone else is not only insulting to my Creator, it is denying and wasting who I am.

So, there you have it. Some deep personal/spiritual lessons I learned about myself last week while undertaking a new and scary endeavor that I ended up loving.

When was the last time you tried something new and/or scary? Did you learn anything about yourself? Share in the comments!

And Even if He Doesn’t…

I stand at the sink, sleeves rolled, heart heavy.

I dunk the plate into the bowl of as-hot-as-I-can-stand-it soapy water because the pipes have been backed up since Wednesday and the plumber doesn’t come until Monday but I need to do something.

The suds swirl and cover the dish and I scrub and I pray.

Please, God.

The liar whispers, “What if He doesn’t?”

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And even if He doesn’t,” I say.

If the God we serve exists, then He can rescue us from the furnace of blazing fire, and He can rescue us from the power of you, the king. But even if He does not rescue us, we want you as king to know that we will not serve your gods or worship the gold statue you set up. Daniel 3:17-18 (emphasis mine)

It has sure felt like a fiery-furnace kind of year. I think back to this same time last year, how we prayed for God to get us back to Ireland.

And everyone asked us, “But what if He doesn’t?”

“And even if he doesn’t, He is worthy,” we replied.

The pot of cool water for “rinsing” feels refreshing as it soothes the scalding heat of the cleansing water. Like the balm of the reassurance that His ways are not mine; His ways are oh so much higher.

Dunk. Sud. Scrub. Pray.

I think of my friends with the scary diagnosis. We pray, we believe, we expect miraculous tests.

In the quiet places the accuser whispers, “He won’t.”

And we all ask, “What if He doesn’t?”

And she whispers, with trembling voice, “Even if He doesn’t, I am His.”

Dunk. Sud. Scrub. Pray.

I think of my family. The ones I love. I pray for healing. Please, God.

My own heart whispers, “But what if He doesn’t?”

And even…if…

Yes, even if He doesn’t, He is good. He is holy. He is kind. He is Love.

The suds are fading and the water grows cool. The dishwasher serves as a drying rack and I wipe my hands. They are rough and chapped from the heat. Like my heart.

So I pray.

And I remind myself with Truth and I thank God  for His goodness…

Even if He doesn’t.

 

You Say Potato, I Say…Zulassungsbescheinigung

We get a lot of comments from people about how lucky we are to live where we do, how exotic our lives must be, and one question we get asked all.the.time:

What’s it like living in a foreign country?? 

 Let me tell you a story…

Today, I needed to run some errands. I needed a winter coat – like, a real winter coat, not the cute little cotton thing I had last winter – and I needed to get some things checked out on the car. In case you didn’t know, it snows in Austria. I mean, the Alps? Hullooo! So, it would stand to reason that on occasion, one needs to drive on said snow (and ice) during the winter months. (It’s also totally the law that every car be fitted with winter tires from October to April).

I’d like to share with you the conversation I had with the man at the tire shop about getting an estimate on winter tires. This entire conversation happened in German, so I have provided the translated version here for your enjoyment.

Me: Hello, I would like to get an estimate on winter tires and wheels, please.

Tire Man (TM): Of course! Do you have a Zulassungsbescheinigung for me?

Me: … I’m sorry, what was that?

TM: No problem. Do you have a Zulassungsbescheinigung for me?

Me: I’m very sorry, I don’t know what that is.

TM: *chuckle* Oh, right. It’s a Zulassungsbescheinigung.

Me: But…what is that?

TM: It’s a Zulassungsbescheinigung.

Me: I’m sorry, I am new to Austria and I don’t know what a zu… zus…what a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is.

TM: Oh, haha, of course. It is a Zulassungsbescheinigung.

Me: *blank stare*

TM: *blank stare*

Me: …

TM: …

You Say Potato...

Eventually I did find the Zulassungsbescheinigung…at home, in a file.

Me: Could you maybe write it down for me?

TM: *reaches into a drawer and pulls out what looks like a European driver’s license*

Me: Oh!! *pulls out my European driver’s license* This??

TM: Exactly!! Oh…no. This is a driver’s license. You need a Zulassungsbescheinigung.

Me: *headdesk*

The End.

You may think I embellished this story for humor’s sake, I assure you I did not. (okay, I didn’t actually say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, but whatever word protruded from my lips was just as nonsensical, I assure you.)

If fairness to Mr. Tireman, he probably felt that he was in fact giving me an accurate description of the item, because that’s how German works. All those big, long words German is so famous for? They are a bunch of smaller words jammed together so that it very accurately and in great detail describes the item, location or office/department to which it refers. Zulassungsbescheinigung probably means “little card containing all the pertinent information pertaining to your car ever in the history of man”, because that’s what it is. And, as I learned today, any time you need work or inspections done on your car, you must present this.

Later this afternoon, I went to a second tire shop for another estimate. When TM2 asked me for my Zulassungsbescheinigung, I grinned slyly to let him know I’m hip to the code and whipped out my supercalifragilisticexpialidocious before he could even finish saying the word. Booyah.

Yes, living in Vienna (or any European place) has its amazing highlights. Just the other day, I was buying paper towels and coffee in the shadow of the world-renowned Stefansdom Catherdral. I mean, wow. So many times we stop in the middle of our day and just look around and take it in because we – how do the kids say it these days? –  just can’t even. Sometimes we literally can’t even.

However, most days…this my friends – this conversation right here – is what it’s like to live in a foreign country.

The Best Gifts are the Ones We Don’t Ask For

You’re four today.

FOUR.

You love Star Wars and big trucks, your sisters and the color green – followed closely by blue and orange.

You have a laugh that goes for miles, your joy even farther. You bring energy, life, love, mad-crazy-hugs and a new perspective to this family.

Isaac CollageAs I sit and remember this day unfolding four years ago…the waiting, the wondering, the worrying if we were both going to be okay. I remember you coming thundering, screaming into this world and exploding my heart into a million pieces.

It may be your birthday, lil man, but I am the one receiving the gift.

We’ve all heard before that God’s ways are not our ways. They are higher, holier, more mysterious and not to be understood fully. The Bible also says that God is the most amazing gift giver. If I, a mom who messes up, loses her temper, gets lazy, gets tired and frustrated knows how to give good gifts to my children – and revels in doing so! (I’m so giddy for you to open your gifts, dude, I can’t stand it!) – how much more wonderful is God, the awesome and perfect Creator of the universe at giving gifts?!

And boy did He knock it out of the park with you!

What’s more amazing is that you are an extra special gift. You’re the gift that God had hiding in the corner only to bring out at the last second when we thought the party was over. You were the gift we didn’t know to ask for, and then with a teary-secret-keeping smile He pulls His hands out from behind His back…

And hands us you.

Oh, the breath taking awe, my son. What a humbling, honoring, laughter-filled gift you are!

With every tackle hug, every belly laugh, every dragon fight, every Captain-America-Weilding-A-Light-Saber-Fighting-Off-Ninjas moment, I stand in utter awe of the little man you are – and are becoming.

I am so thankful that God knows how to give such good gifts – and that He delights so much in it.

So enjoy your day, Buddy. Fall asleep tonight clutching your blankie (don’t worry, it’s totally manly to sleep with one) and your newest favorite toy and rest deep and well knowing that you are loved, you are cherished, you are special.

Happy Birthday, son. I love you.

Just Do It?

Wow, friends…..wow. It has been a heckuva year and a half, ain’t it??

When I wrote this post back in February 2013, I had absolutely no idea what the future held for our family. But, basically, that post means this blog has been essentially dormant for the better part of two years. I’ve had my monthly posts over at The Better Mom, and the occasional post here and there, but by and large I have been silent.

Just Do ItFirst, it was the bustle and busy of our six months in the States. Then it was the stress and uncertainty of not being able to return to Ireland. And for the last 10 months or so it has been the transition and adjustment into our new home and culture here in Vienna.

Through it all, the words just…wouldn’t come. What had become a true source of refreshment, insight and stress-reflief for me (writing) became stress-inducing. When I used to find inspiration and life lessons out and about in the real world, now I was using all my energy and strength to just….function.

Our first several months here in Vienna were filled with apartment hunting, language learning, and generally just figuring out how to, you know, get to the grocery store, how to function in the grocery store without looking like a total freak, settling in to a new home, new schools, etc. I desperately wanted to get back to writing and sharing life with you all…after all, silence is the blog killer, right?? But deep down I really sensed it needed to be a season of silence. Active silence, though. I time of listening, learning, growing.

Now, however, I kind of feel like I’m hiding…avoiding. I’ve been waiting for the inspiration to return, and have not been trying to actively seek it out. It has sort of become now one of those things I know I need to do for my own good, for my own health. Like eating well or working out. You know once you do it you will feel so much better, so much stronger. Yet getting started is the hardest part. Pushing play or stepping out the door for a run…passing by the bakery and opting instead for a home-prepared, nutrient packed meal might as well be climbing Mount Everest. It’s simple physics, really. That whole inertia thing – you know, how an object at rest will tend to stay at rest.

Friends, I have truly needed rest. I’ve needed quiet, introspection, and to walk around for awhile with eyes wide open, mouth clamped shut and just take it all in. However now, I believe I need to get back into action. The inspiration? Still absent. The beauty? I’m still having to intentionally and actively seek it, rather than it slapping me in the face as soon as I open my front door.

Yet…I’m an object at rest…I’m going to attempt to take the first steps of coming back here, of “working out” with you all. I can’t promise there will be deep, beautiful word pictures flowing forth from my fingers to your screens. It may be more like the very first workout on the season opener of The Biggest Loser…awkward…painful…breath taking – but not in a good way. But, friends, you’ve been a safe place for me over the last three years and I trust you will continue to be.

I’m going to just…do it. And hope and pray the feeling follows action. I’ve been waiting until I felt more like myself before sitting down to do the hard work of writing. But could it be that perhaps…just maybe…I won’t truly start to feel like myself until I let the words come free again?

So, thank you for those who have stuck around through the silence. And to those of you who have incredibly joined our little community over the last two years and continued to visit. I look forward to seeing more of you all again.

So…here we go….let’s….do it.

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