Anniversary Party!

“There are about 35 students in Greece with me. I don’t think I’m fully aware of how incredible our chemistry is. When I think about the reason behind the power of this experience, I always start by giving credit to the places we are or the opportunities we’re given. But I end up thanking God for a houseful of pure-hearted people. That’s really what God is using to create beauty here.” –Emily Owens

 

Our one-year HUG anniversary party went well.
We held hands and cried as we watched the documentary.
We hugged as we watched a slideshow of pictures.
We reminisced of Pizza Fan, the Sea of Galilee, camels, gelato, Coffee Right,
runs by the Aegean, and freezing cold skinny dips down by the docks.

These people have filled my life with so much joy. 

I am blessed.

greece stain on my heart

One year ago from today, in what simultaneously seems like another lifetime ago and yesterday, I was standing in Athens, Greece, and it was a trip that truly changed my entire life.

 

Goodness, it’s hard to believe that it’s already been a year. But I am so thankful for the memories, bittersweet as they may be. I will forever have a Greece stain on my heart.

Today, I Struggle With Never Wanting to Forget

(play song for added dramatization while reading)
 

Today I’m really missing the day I washed my feet in the Sea of Galilee.

Today I’m missing my quiet time of prayer and reflection in the Garden of Gethsemane, with the sun beaming down on me.

Today I miss reading scripture on the Mount of Beatitudes. I miss eating the wild mustard seeds growing. I miss the sun setting.

 

 

“The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed…” (Matthew 13:31)

Today I miss floating in the Dead Sea.

Today I miss sitting on the banks of the Jordan River.

And everyday I struggle with how my life is so different than it was before I traveled the world, and I struggle with how to cope, how to reconcile it with my life now, how to change my walk with Jesus after having walked where he literally did, how to move on, and how to never forget.

tea time!

Every night while living in Greece, we had tea time.
There were different flavors of tea, Merenda (Greek Nutella),
and on the occasion, cinnamon toast.

It’s another one of those memories we are re-creating in ‘Merica.

Gosh, I love my Greek family.

gyro time

Last night, over Americanized gyros at Taziki’s with HUG friends,
I was reminded of a sweet memory—my last gyro in Porto Rafti, Greece.
A few of us walked to our favorite gyro shop, Tumiso’s, ordered at the counter,
and ate them on a bench by the Aegean Sea.

It was so bittersweet, as most of my semester-in-Greece memories are.

Sometimes these memories make me so sad that my chest aches.
But then I just remind myself that it’s good that it hurts.
It’s just proof that it was as amazing as I thought it was.

My Greek Story—Part 3: The Thing About Religion

   the Sea of Galilee

 

I remember where I was when I realized how lost the world is. It was a brilliant and sunny day in Israel. We had just spent two days in Jerusalem and were en-route to the Judean Desert, bound for Dead Sea swimming and camel riding.

 

In Jerusalem, we were exposed to a new world of religion. The Muslim call to prayer boomed throughout the city like creepy clock-work. We toured Roman Catholic cathedrals built over Holy Ground. Jews curled their sideburns, flaunted Moses-like beards and wore yamakas. Market owners screamed “Joseph Smith!” and “Mormon!” at us as we shopped, used to the BYU students typically there. And then us, proud Christians and lovers of the gospel of our sweet Jesus Christ.

It was insane. It is insane.

It is nothing like the Bible Belt of southern America, where Christian churches abound. And I wanted nothing more than to shout, “Jesus SAVES! Forget Allah—what about the ONE AND ONLY GOD?! Shave your beard, Christ came so that you might have FREEDOM!”

It was the most frustrated I had ever felt.

It wasn’t until I was in Rome, Italy a month later that my frustrations were tamed. My backpacking group had walked miles and miles and at the end of the day, we treated ourselves with an appetizer from the Hard Rock Cafe. Our waiter was colorful. He cursed and laughed boldly and told us stories of how drunk he was on St. Patrick’s Day the night before.

 

After he brought us our food, we clasped our hands and prayed. It was a normal act for us—we thanked God before every meal. However, when our waiter brought the check, he said, “I couldn’t help but notice that you prayed before you ate. Are you Christians?”

“We are!” we exclaimed.

He launched into his life story---how he was brought up Catholic, unsure of God, but now felt like he should start attending church again.

And then we prayed with him. In the middle of the hustle and bustle of the Hard Rock Cafe in Rome.

We were so elated after that encounter that we (literally) ran down the middle of the street laughing when we left.

I think about that night a lot, how active and alive I realized God is.

God didn’t stop there. He gave me Asian Christian roommates in a hostel in Switzerland. He led a member of our church to one of my fellow HUGers somewhere during our two-week backpacking experience. Guys in a restaurant saw a cross necklace on one of my friends and asked, “Hey, are ya’ll Christians? We are too!” In a hostel in Gimmelwald, Switzerland, three of my friends worshipped with Christians they had met that day.

Two months later, I see things a little differently than I did that day in Israel.

I still know the world is lost. Other religions don’t know the grace that comes from Christ, and so they grow out their facial hair or pray five times a day in the direction of Mecca. They do works, they don’t know a salvation that doesn’t need to be earned.

But I also know that God has never stopped working and that He never will. The 2.1 billion Christians in the world are mimicking cities set on hills. We are turning bland humanity into flavorful believers.

 

Praise God!

And please, pray for the world.

My Greek Story – Part 2: ‘A’ is Everywhere

 

I could never tell my Greek story without mentioning the afternoon that I discovered I was living with fellow Pretty Little Liars fans.

It was a quiet afternoon in the Artemis, and when I ventured into the James’ (our directors) room, I saw a group of girls snuggled together watching—could it be the newest episode of PLL?

They had engineered it to stream from a laptop to the television and were enjoying, yes, the newest episode. I almost passed out from happiness. But I didn’t. No, instead I grabbed a fleece blanket and joined the party.

And so began the evenings of watching the pretty liars together. We got very wrapped up in it, taking notes on episodes and proclaiming “PLL Party!” on rainy (and I hate to admit sometimes sunny) days.

We even announced it before lunch when the entire family was circled together, hands clasped, for prayer.

Something like, “Pretty Little Liars after lunch!” just so everyone could feel included in our elite club.

The boys made fun of us, oh of course they did.

Eventually we became too obsessed and began leaving ‘A’ notes throughout the Artemis. Sometimes they were taped to mirrors, other times under our shampoo bottles in the shower. When the season finale came along, we baked a cookie cake and celebrated the unmasking of A.

Even though we spent a lot of time watching this insane television show, I will never regret it. It was a bonding experience like none other. I love that so many wonderful memories of mine involve spending hours in the James’ living room with amazing girls—sisters—of mine. One day when I was talking to Emily she said, “I love that you guys have that. There is something special about people bonding over a television show. Keep doing it, even if people here make fun of you.”

That was all the encouragement we needed.

PLL Peeps, I am thankful for our bonding time.

And remember, A is everywhere.

My Greek Story—Part 1: I Rode a Donkey in Santorini

A tender boat took us from the cruise ship to the shore of the greek island of Santorini.
It rocked back and forth in the choppy waters of the Mediterranean Sea and my stomach rolled. I was anxious to plant my feet on solid ground—the solid ground of Santorini, at that.

You are familiar with the island even if you don’t know it. It served as the setting for the films Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and Mama Mia. It is the quintessential Greek scene, with it’s white washed buildings and blue roofs, and I was ready (!) to see it.

However, the island is a result of a volcanic eruption that occurred almost 3,600 years ago, and so the village is built on the very top of the jagged rock. There was a costly lift to the top, or the cheaper option of riding a donkey.

Our group directors gave us the freedom to choose either, and although I wanted to take the lift up, people kept telling (bullying, let’s call it what it was) me that I needed this “experience.”
EXPERIENCE. If I had a $10 for everything that I did this semester for the EXPERIENCE.
So I put on my big girl panties (hope I didn’t just make this post awkward) and straddled the seemingly giant donkey. It started up the mountain before I even had my feet in the stirrups and I knew then that this wouldn’t—it just couldn’t—end well.

My hands clutched the saddle tightly and along with a few friends, we were led up the winding trail to the top. Other than a stampede of donkeys threatening to knock me over as they ran down the trail, things went smoothly, and when I saw the end of the trail in sight, I puffed out a huge sigh of relief.
I MADE IT!

The guide hopped off of his donkey and ordered me off mine. Nervous because of his urgent tone, I started to swing my body off, and before I could do anything about it, I realized that my foot didn’t come with me.

It was still in the stirrup. With a rope tangled around it.

I was dangling on the side of the donkey, my leg still swung over the saddle in the stirrup and my butt facing the ground.

“STAND UP!” The guide yelled.

“I CAN’T STAND UP!” I shrieked. “My foot is stuck.”

He quickly untied the rope that was around my foot and I fell to the ground.

THIS WOULD HAPPEN TO ME, I thought as I stood up, dusting the dirt off of me.

All I could do was laugh because who else falls off a donkey in Santorini?! Lena sure didn’t. (Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants reference)

How’s that for an “experience”?


I amand my writing is rusty. Not nearly as rusty as my running. Bear with me!

My Greek Story

 
People keep asking me, “What did you learn about yourself this semester?” That is a loaded question. I discovered a lot about my mind, heart, and abilities. I recognized fears that I didn’t know I had. Above all, I saw how God is working in the world and let his Son change my heart more than I thought possible.

And I want to tell you my stories, I really do!

If you want to hear. Do you want to hear?

I will start soon—maybe even tomorrow—sharing the last three months with you, and I’m excited to relive it all!

But for now, I’m going to Taco Bell. (Dorito taco pleeease)

Happy Cinco de Mayo!