A new place to hang out

Hey peeps! Thanks for visiting my blog! I have moved to a tumblr account so that I can do more with photography. The new site is jenloser.tumblr.com I'm working on a year long photo project where I share a photo (or two or three) per day. I hope you join me on my beautiful adventure in the northwest.

Cheers!
Jen

Ps. Here is a glimpse into what you'll find on the blog :)

Aurora bridge

Underbelly of the Aurora bridge

Fremont boats 

Can you believe I live so close to the water??

Christmas cookies!

We made amazing Christmas cookies and treats last week! I thought you should see some pics! Merry almost-Christmas!!!

Chocolate covered pretzels! 

Silly cousins!

Gluten free twix! So good...

Dip those goodies!

Faunia frosts cookies!

Carmel goodness

So melty

The finished product 

Cookies a la Faunia

Keira eating pineapple 

The cutest god son in the whole world

Maybe I'm biased, but I think this little guy is just adorable.... and strong willed. He just had to wear my sunglasses! 

I'm giving it a shot

Back in March I got a fancy new camera. I mean fancy! It's a Canon DSLR and I can't believe it's mine. After holding that little beauty in my hands for the first time I was determined to post my pictures on my blog. As you have seen this has not come to be.... I've posted very few pictures. Until now.

The month of August I'm going to regularly grace the internet with a shots from my very own awesome camera. I hope you enjoy what you see!!

Taken on a neighborhood stroll 

A shout out to my friend in heaven

I got the call from Dani telling me she had bone cancer on a warm spring day my sophomore year of high school. At that moment the temperature became irrelevant. In fact, the whole world suddenly disappeared and all I wanted was to turn back time. 


Dani was the kind of friend a teenage girl can only dream of. She brought such joy to my life and so many others' through her selflessness and witness to hope. Our friendship was special because she saw something in me which I didn't see in myself and drew it out with kindness, generosity, and sincere love. Furthermore, she always remained sure of the goodness of our Father, even in the midst of great suffering.

Danielle Hosford 

Today is the 9th anniversary of her death. Her family calls it her "angel birthday" and it's no wonder why. She is in heaven with the angels and is constantly drawing our hearts up to join her.  Her love for Jesus is being satisfied by a union with Him that I can't fathom. 


While I'm so happy for her and grateful for the time we had together, my heart is breaking today and feeling the ache of our separation. I want so much to hear her laugh, her thoughts, and to just listen to the radio while driving down the road with her. 


Ironically, when I opened my computer this morning the lyrics from Sufjan Stevens were playing, "Golden rod and the 4-H stone The things I brought you When I found out you had cancer of the bone."His words pierced my heart because he so accurately describes the ordinary nature of seeing your friend's life pass before your eyes. I'm sad that I can relate so closely with his song about losing a friend to cancer. 


Thank you, Danielle for your love, your kindness, and above all giving me hope that we will be together again on the other side of this vail of tears. 
  

Present State: Middle School

Hello again! It's been months. Literally, months since I've posted on my little blog. I've been in a creative dry spell. Blogging creativity has been pretty low on my list of things to do. This is partially due to the blog posts I've been writing for FOCUS (Three Things You Can Learn From the Spiritual Life from Being an Artist & What the Karate Kid Taught Me About the Rosary) Writing for such a big audience each month has taken a lot out of me. I find myself having to remain determined to be faithful to myself and not try to write or be like someone else. It's exhausting.

Partially, though, I've not written been because I'm in a phase of interior growth and it's been tough to remain creative. I almost feel like I'm in middle school again. I don't quite know where I fit in, I feel socially and physically awkward, and I just can't quite figure out what's coming next. In my experience Middle school environments are not friendly for fostering creativity. It takes all my energy to just function. Thus the title of my post and the creative drought.

Ironically, even though it takes so much effort, writing might actually help with the whole middle school of life thing. It's often by finding our own stories that we are able to fully enter present challenges. By understanding who we are, where we came from, and how to impact the world around us we are able to see the present struggles for more than just the pain they are causing. For me the process of writing draws upon that story, validates it, and shares it with the world. And that's a courageous thing to do in the face of insecurity.

One final note, I am realizing how important it is to take little moments of creativity even in the face of time crunches, soul searching, and fear. I have found time to do a tiny bit of creativity in the form of photography and I'd like to share some of my shots: 

Lake Powell

A photo I caught of the perfectly displayed raspberries at a bridal shower

The Side of Z Cuisine in the Highlands 

Paleo Nachos

Being grain-free has made me miss the crunch of nachos so today when I couldn't bear it any longer I had to be resourceful! 

Check out these delicious and easy to make nachos that totally satisfy the need for crunch! 

Paleo Nachos!

1. A red or yellow pepper cut into large pieces 

2. A handfull of cherry tomatoes, halved

3. Browned chorizo or hamburger seasoned with cayenne pepper, chili powder, and garlic powder 

4. Guacamole (I just stir up avocado, a jalapeno, a squeeze of lime, and cilantro)

Layer it all together and use the pepper slices to dip! Voila!  

The Artist's Way

My hands were shaking, clammy. My stomach in knots. I approached the podium in the basement of the Sheraton hotel where over 100 faces stared back at me. I extended a warm welcome and proceeded to introduce the three people who comprised the artist’s panel at the FOCUS conference. Rachel Ross, a museum curator from DC and culinary artist; Tom Stroka, an architect who graduated from Notre Dame and now worked at a world-renounced architecture firm- Duncan Stoic; and Father Peter Musset- a graphic designer, potter, jeweler, and photographer.

Each possessed portfolios and experiences that were far beyond the scope of anything I’d done. I was honored to be participating in this panel as the MC, but utterly dwarfed in terms of creative output.

Growing up, my mom- a water color painter and all around creative force- encouraged me to be creative. She was the kind of influence you’d hope for,  warm, encouraging, delighted in anything I’d make with a sincerity and enthusiasm that was totally undeserved. Despite my mom’s encouragements I could never get beyond my own short-comings, lack of skill, and imperfections. Plus, I’m not very good at drawing so I thought that ruled me out as an appreciator of art but not an artist myself.

Being that I was a self proclaimed appreciator of art and not an artist, I couldn’t explain what I was feeling sitting there in that low lit basement room, hearing these artists speak about their creative endeavors, making claims about the possibility that art and beauty can save the world, and speaking specifically about the benefits of making art yourself. I was moved, inspired even, to try and begin creating. I felt as though a single flimsy match was being lit- by no means the fire that you can warm yourself by, but the potential for a beginning.  As the panelists made their final points, Father Peter extended an invitation to the group- “if you are interested” he said, “I am beginning an artists’ group to start reading the Artist’s Way.” I didn’t know what the Artist’s Way was, but I did know I was interested in meeting with artists – even if I wasn’t one.
  
We began meeting – 7 of us in all. Ranging from writers to painters, landscapers, to undeclared like me. We went through what Julia Cameron deems the “basic tools” morning pages, 3 pages of free hand stream of conscious writing first thing each morning. The Artist Date- a one hour date each week with just you and your artists doing whatever your inner artist (often described in the book as a little child) decides to do, and the creative cluster – that support group that helps you to wade through all the muck and get to the pure gold of creativity.

These basic tools are the building blocks for recovering your artist self- and I made a commitment to my group and to myself to employ them all for 12 weeks. Morning pages EVERY DAY, artist date and Creative cluster each week. Somehow I was hoping that being involved in this group would connect me with that artsy thing. That thing that would help me to express myself, to communicate that pint up feeling of being unheard. That’s not exactly what happened, but what took place was more than I could have imagined.

In addition to the basic tools, each week focused on a theme. These themes each seemed to correlate with the goings on in my life. When I was feeling less than fiscally responsible I read the chapter on recovering a sense of abundance. When I was challenged at work beyond my strength the theme was recovering a sense of power. And each week the themes served as sculpting tools – removing the access material from the clay mass that was my heart. Safety, identity, power, integrity, possibility, abundance, connection strength, compassion, self-protection, autonomy and faith- each week a new theme each week a new challenge, each week a new breakthrough.

This is a piece from my recent art show.

As this process continued I still had no clarity about what I wanted to make, how I wanted to make the world a more beautiful place. In fact, I still believed I belonged in the “appreciates art, but is not an artist” camp. I maintained the grueling task of waking up 30 minutes early each morning and writing. I took my little artist on a date… and after 10 weeks of meeting with my group I realized that the masterpiece I was creating was me!! I was so much more in touch with my emotions and thoughts. I finally made time to do the things that refreshed my soul. I was free to be a little quirky.

It took many months before I was finally able to find my favorite medium – in my case collage and fibers, but the true achievement was the masterpiece of my heart.

I think when Julia Cameron wrote her book the Artist’s way she titled it that because it’s not about the art- it’s not about the creation- the final product… it’s about the path. Each artist takes to come to understand that when we create we are doing something powerful. We are breathing life into the world, we are inspiring hope and as artists- as people who are capable of creation it is not about the destination.. it’s about the journey. In other words, it’s about the “way.”

Well anyway, this happened...

I couldn't find my coffee mug this morning. I was looking all around my room and even went back to the bathroom where I last had it. Then I realized it was camouflaged by the damask box. Hilarious! 

Feast of St. Valentine

Tuesday was the feast of St. Valentine (and Saints Cyril and Methodius, but that's neither here nor there.) It was a day to celebrate love and the fruits of love - marriage, friendship, and joy...and I'll venture to say, life!

To honor this wonderful day for love I took a personal day which was just so refreshing. I had an appointment in the morning and afterward had a little Downton Abbey viewing party with my roommate Jen. We were both effectively stirred up by the amoral Grantham family and their antics. After one hour and fifty three minutes of a spinning plot, the death of the only virtuous character, and the continuation of drama between Mary and Matthew I was ready to take care of a few things in my own life

For the next hour or so I cleaned the house while listening to my new favorite band, Paper Bird.

Once the dusting, vacuuming, and sweeping were complete I moseyed over to the Laughing Latte where I was met by a thousand red rose-petals and the friendly face of Mindy a new barista there.

I found a seat by the window where I read LOTR over long drinks lavender infused chamomile tea.

After a delightful afternoon with Merry, Pippin, Gandolf (the white), and the men of Rohan I walked back to my house. Shortly following Trish, John Paul, Anne and I went to dinner and then to the Ellie Caulkins Opera House to see the Marriage of Figaro. 

Certainly love was in the air on Tuesday and I think it was mostly coming from God and being reigned down on me. I hope your Valentines day was full of love too. 

Food for Annie!

Dear Annie,
Life is rough when you can't eat bread, chocolate, nuts, fruit...dairy... It's rough. Rough indeed. Here is a little list of all the foods that have kept me going these past 26 days. I know you can do it, girl! Don't give up! Love, Jen


Main Dishes:

Chicken Drumsticks  -this is a new staple

Carnitas - Put a 2-4 lb roast in the crockpot with a chopped onion and 5-10 garlic cloves and a tbsp (ish) of cayenne pepper (you can just season to taste) let cook on low for 7+ hours or high for 3-4 hours. Serve with tomatoes, avocado, 

Braised Chicken  (just don't include the flour part)

Cauli rice I add chicken to this and sometimes do mexican seasoning instead 

My ghetto chicken: in a pan I sauté onions and then put in as much chicken as possible (because I like having leftovers for salad etc) and add pepper, cayenne, lime or lemon. Cook it on both sides for a few minutes and serve with veggies or over chicken. The next day it's great over lettuce (keep some of the onions for the salad- it adds a lot of flavor)  ...you can also season with ginger instead or just salt and pepper 

Sides:

I pretty much cook all veggies in olive oil or coconut oil and chopped onion and garlic - kale, asparagus, green beans, peppers, zucchini, chopped brussel sprouts (that's good with a squeeze of lemon on top... or check out this recipe for brussel sprout hash)

 

Etcetera: 

Here are some things I've not tried, but might be good. These are just basics for ideas. Obviously if it asks for splenda etc. just omit. If it asks for canned tomato just chop tomatoes and put them in a pan to soften for a while.

Cabbage Soup

Green chili with chicken (no cream...)

Frittata (take out the cheese and add peppers, onions, and tomatoes) 

Beef Kebabs (nix the vinegar)

Carne Asada (obviously, no tortillas)

You can do it!!  I'm so proud of you! 

New Year's Resolutions 2012!!!!

Here they are, folks! My resolutions for this year:

1. Go on a road trip (>5 hours of driving)

2. Love with reckless abandon

3. Relinquish control

4. Do things that scare me

5. Find a local band and go to at least three of their concerts 

6. Save money every month

7. Spend at least 5 minutes per day looking over my finances 

8. Be before God

Auld lang signe! (Which, by the way, means days gone by...) Here's to a brand new year! 

I'm soaking my mind in these thoughts

This week has been a montage of time with family, friends, and good reads.

 From the gifts of these conversations and epic trilogy The Lord of the Rings is emerging a morsel of truth. The truth that God is whispering is both assuring and sobering. Here it is: life is hard, but it is totally worth it and full of help. There will be moments, days, years even that seem impossible but help from God, friends, and family is abundant. Frodo is a prime example of this - he is responsible for a task that would crush him on his own. He must rely on the help of his motley crew... or at least the faithful companionship of Samwise to carry on with this seemingly impossible feat. We all have our own ring to carry. Something that seems impossible and, in fact, might be if we try and go it alone.

Here are the thoughts that  keep me going on my own perilous journey:

• Finding order in life is like riding a unicycle- you constantly have to be moving and readjusting ...this paraphrased comment came from Curtis Martin by way of a great chat with Hilary. An apt comment when thinking of the challenges that await us in life. Never is  there a dull moment and never is there a moment when autopilot is an option. Like riding a unicycle you constantly have to be assessing the situation and making little adjustments. 
• "Have patience. Go where you must go, and hope!" In this episode of LOTR Gandalf is charing the dwarf and elf to continue being faithful to their journey. He is not merely ushering them on, but challenging them to see the possibilities that lie in the future... possibilities that are full of hope, not dispair.  
• "Be very small and very loving" ...this was advice from Father Dave Nix and I just can't stop thinking about it. How true!! If you are very small and very loving you can also be very patient, very maleable, very humble... and not take yourself too seriously. 

I feel like Christmas continues to be a big hug from God. A quiet God. A simple God. A humble God. A God so humble as to make Himself a tiny child. This God is willing to become so small to show His love is asking me - tiny me - to become big in order to be His hands and feet on this earth. His request requires thoughts like these about order, hope, and being loving to go where I must go. Bear my own ring. And to hope. 

Art

I was struggling to feel that art had a viable place in my life. I mean, what is it really? What is it's role? How is it different from being just plain materialistic? I wrestled for almost a year with this question and then I got my answer. 

A few months back I journaled about my heart. A common topic for me to write about, but this entry seemed to articulate something that had not yet been said. This time I described the landscape of my heart. A heart that has been tattered and warn. One that has known love and war. I described the walls, the wild garden, the goings on there, and I even wrote about a single chair in the middle on which I sit. I had spent plenty of time thinking about my heart, but never quite described what it looks like. I had never made time to take a survey of its topography. 

Two days later, on a cool afternoon, I took a little walk through my neighborhood. Per usual, I admired the architecture, the colors, and the gardens. I moseyed by victorian tutors and modern duplexes, vacant lots, and overgrown ones with broken windows. And then, almost suddenly, I found myself walking with a spirit of purpose- like I was looking for something, but with no idea what. I passed by a cafe and a man walking his dog, and then a construction zone. My speed picked up as I completed the stretch of sidewalk where the beat of hammers echoed and power tools declared their presence.  I emerged past a chain-link fence and saw to my right a beautiful scene. On a large corner lot, surrounded by wispy greenery, was my heart. Three walls, crumbling and ready for collapse. Some wild flowers in the distance. And with impecable placement- the chair. I was moved almost to tears to see for myself the exterior scene which I knew to be real interiorly. I climbed up the small hill and gingerly sat down on the rickety chair. I took everything in as the chilly breeze caressed my face. In a matter of days the walls would be torn down, the land repurposed, and the chair gone. But for that moment I just sat. I was sitting in my heart. I was thinking about how grateful I was for the structure that once stood there. Grateful and yet sad for what had taken place and for all those who visited. And then, perhaps carried by the breeze, I experienced hope for what was to come. Hope for the structure. Hope for new visitors. New experiences. New life. And then, because it was time, I got up and walked home. I left my heart to be reshaped and repurposed. 

As I reflected to an artist friend on my stroll he shook his head and uttered to me, "now that is art." I think he's right.

Friday night and the lights are low...

It's Friday night at 6:21pm and I'm sitting in my bedroom wondering what to do tonight. Obvi I'm not going out on the town, but I have a good few hours before I hit the hay and I'm just not sure what to do with them. I think the problem is this- I'm caught between two worlds. One  world of carefree, creative, right-brain, timelessness and the other of structured, efficient, accomplished, left-brain, achievements. These two worlds make up my world, but neither seem to exist at the same time. I just can't seem to unwind after an intense week at work and I feel that I can either get a few things done around the house and be bound by time or go down to my studio and allow time to pass unnoticed while I make a new creation that will not help me to "check anything off my list." In light of the other, neither seems appealing.

Currently, I'm reading a book by Betty Edwards called "Drawing on the Right side of the Brain" which sheds light on crossing over between left and right brain. It's delightfully insightful on the topic and gives plenty of exercises and tips to make the switch. I've already seen my drawing skills improve and had a great time learning about the psychology on the topic.  The problem is that I can't seem to have both at the same time. Either I have zero awareness of time, cleanliness, or other normal restrictions and I'm wildly creative or I am structured, clean and bound to time like someone receiving an hourly wage and have no creative inklings.

What's a girl to do? Is there a middle ground? Can creativity and order exist simultaneously? Can life's metronome aid in the conception of new beauty? I don't know the answer, but I am going to test it out tonight. I'm going to do a couple of quick chores and then set the timer for two hours, pour another glass of wine, blast Astrud Gilberto, and head down to my studio. I'll keep you posted on the fruits of my labor.

All Grown Up

I was never too engaged when watching stand-up comedy. Not until Mr. Jerry Seinfeld put his finger on something that I was never able to quite articulate. In a moment of genius he painted an image of the difference between being a kid and being a grown up. Jerry pinned the tail on my childhood donkey.

Kids don't want other kids to wait, they must "wait up" Would you "wait up" When you're little life is up, you're growing up, everything's is up. Wait up! Hold up, shut up. Mom, I'll clean up, hold up, let me stay up... For parents of course it's just the opposite… Just calm down. Slow down. Come down here. Sit down. You are grounded. Put that down. Keep it down in there.

Mr. Seinfeld, hats off to you! I couldn't have said it better myself! When you are little life IS up!! But now that you're an adult, was that "up" you imagined so long ago everything it was cracked up to be?? I’ve asked myself the very same thing.

Let me paint you a picture of what I was like as a little tyke:
When I was a child I absolutely could NOT sit still. I would spend hours at my aunt and uncle's house with my cousins who were years older than me. They could be as still as the couch they were sitting on when watching movies or TV. They would play with their Barbies quietly for hours upon hours. I, in contrast, would struggle to sit still for even one minute- even while watching my favorite movies I couldn't quite enjoy myself until I jumped up and down on one leg and then zoomed around the room a few times. Sitting still was beyond my tiny body's capabilities. My cousins were so prim and proper and I was...well...not.... I wanted to sit still like my cousins. I wanted to be well behaved. I wanted to be grown up, but I didn't have it in me.

It was tough being so hyper. Being so little. Being everything but grown up. Even the triumphs were minimal. I remember the first time I could wash my hands in the sink without a step stool. That was a magical day and it may have been my first taste of real progress toward actually “growing up” but I knew I wasn’t actually grown up… maybe on my way, but not a grown up yet.

Years after I could wash my hands in the sink without a stool I began attending school. I did ok, but I had a disadvantage... I was never wired to function as a student. My frenzied fleeting and flighty mind never quite comprehended the concept of what it meant to use a notebook correctly. You may be wondering, what do you mean use a notebook correctly? Is it even possible to mess up using a notebook?? Well, my friends, I managed to find a way to use a notebook incorrectly... I didn't catch on until 3rd grade that when writing in a notebook you begin at the first page and write in each subsequently until you reach the end of the notebook. Nope. Not me. I just flipped around, wherever I felt like it and used whatever page I wanted. It never occurred to me to go in order. My mind didn’t work like that. It all seemed so hard, so difficult, like everything would be easier if I were just grown up!!!

As the days rolled on and I did begin to grow up I entered that magical land called Middle School. An enchanted place of braces and body odor, high-water pants, and a deep seeded fear of all social encounters. By the time I found myself emerged in that cesspool of awkward I was beginning to think that growing up wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I mean, if growing up really meant experiencing the excruciating emotions of anger, sadness, irritation and irrational happiness all within the course of 4 minutes was I actually interested?? Or to have my teeth laden with wires and brackets which harbored a whole host of food particles in any given day- is that what it meant to "grow up." I'm not trying to scare those of you with children, I'm just saying that middle school can be quite the unpleasant experience. Grow up, grow up, grow up, I kept thinking as a child, but this growing up thing wasn't exactly panning out.

Middle school did pass (thank goodness) and it was off to high school. I’ll spare you the stories of how I tried to be more grown up than actually I was … “Hosting parties” when friends’ parents were out of town was one way I attempted to be more grown up but that story is for another speech. But I will say that high school was a turning point. It was then that I tasted the sweet reward of my very first real job and received my very first real paycheck. The restaurant where I was hosting and bussing tables issued a first check to me and for the first time in my life – well besides the hand watching experience without a stool- I actually felt grown up!! I had money in the bank that I earned and it wasn’t just for chasing around little people. A real adult hired me and thought I did a good enough job to give me money in return! It felt like a truly grown up moment!! In retrospect I know that I didn’t just feel like I grew up I DID grow up!! I realized that being grown up wasn’t merely handed to you… you have to earn it. That’s what it means to grow up! As I said before high school was a turning point… because not only did I smell the sweet aroma of grown-up-ness… It was in high school that I also came upon the more unpleasant odor of toil and responsibility. School became more difficult. The pressures of impending college seemed to loom. I began to experience the joys of having money… and the sorrows of spending it all…

High school passed, college too. I rode out the moments of stress. I rode out the unpleasant times of failing a class or getting a speeding ticket. Bit by bit I built an arsenal of grown up skills. I learned to cook. I learned to clean up after myself. I learned to live with complete strangers. I gathered treasures on the way. Bits of wisdom here… pieces of advice there. And now, well, I am grown up. I’m an adult. I don’t know how it happened or when, but I think it had something to do with choosing to grow up. Taking those tiny steps toward “grown-up-hood” earning the grown up gold stars like buying groceries, paying bills…being responsible, mowing the lawn, getting toothpaste or toilet paper before they run out. I can say now after years of wishing I could grow up I have… and I love it! It’s better than I would have even imagined as a little girl who wanted it so badly. I can even sit still and use a notebook!

Czeched Inn

After an epic adventure in Spain Trish, Jake, Jeff and I took a hot pink jet to leg three of our trip. We arrived this evening in Prague and are staying at a place that is actually called 'Czech Inn.' Hilarious!

We ate a delicious traditional Czech meal of gnocci, chicken goody, sausage with mustard and horseradish; cucumber, tomato, and feta salad, and beer! Afterwards we smoked a hooka in the loft of a Bohemian hooka bar (sadly I didn't snap any pics) and we drank darjeeling tea and white wine. There was a little puppy at the bar who kept biting my fingers and the whole thing made me feel like I was in college again.

We're back in the hostel for a good nights sleep and there are rumors we'll find some jazz tomorrow.

The pictures above are of our hot pink jet and of Trish waiting for our ride to the airport. More adventures to come!!!

We

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Spainish musings, Spanish miracles

The country of Spain has been most gracious host for the past two weeks. It seems as though time here is nonexistant. Rather then it passing with ticking seconds the moments seem to pulse through multi-course meals, beautiful scenary, long conversations, wine and cidra (a Spanish hard cider) at every dinner, laughter, song, and changed lives. So far there have been three chapters which mark my time here.

The first chapter had only 5 main characters and a whole slew of supporting roles. Trish, Jeff, Jake, Sarah, and I departed from DIA on Thursday for 26 strait hours of travel. The vehicles included a Lufthansa flight on a massive bowing 747, two small jets, a bus, and a giant red Mercedes van which I had the privlidge of driving through the beautiful hilly Galician countryside. Together, the 5 of us spent 5 days preparing for the conference, meeting with the monks, the caterer, setting up the rooms, and working out final logistics. By the time our time of preparation came to an end we had many new friends. Lee, the hospitador from Texas who is a retired school teacher and stays at the monestary each August to welcome passing camino pilgrims. Marie Jose, our caterer (and now facebook friend) who bent over backwards to feed up to 170 people 3 times per day. Helene, the french pilgrim who realize she thought she was pregnant after walking the Camino for 3 weeks so she stopped at Samos and attended our conference. Hermano Gilliermo, the romanian brother who was fantastic and incredibly querky and gave us many things to laugh about. Among the ranks were also Brother Alberto, a Sean Connary look alike, Manuel, a live in at the monestary, Jesus (pronounced with a soft J,) Donny, our favorite waiter, and many other kind faces. Those first 5 days felt like a month and they concluded with a typical long 4 course meal and disbelief that the next chapter was about to begin.

Chapter two was equally fantastic, but far more exausting. It began at 8:30 pm on Tuesday, August 9th with the first busload of American and International students. The five of us checked them in and showed them to their humble accomidations. There was a group from Mylasia where only 3% of the population is Catholic. They said they are often pursecuted for their faith and were eager and surprised to meet other young Christians. Also, there were 20 Austrians who deserve their own post. They embodied a remarkable blend of service, kindness, musical talent, and spunk. A delegation of UK students, mostly from the University of Birmingham, were also represented. Their British accent paired with the wide marble halls of the monestary made me feel like I was at Hogwarts and any moment Harry Potter or the sorting hat would appear. When all was said and done it was 3am and we had 130 little heads in bunk-beds. The course of chapter two included inspirational and practical talks from nearly 20 speakers, time for siesta, soccar, long meals, and praise and worship. On Saturday we walked 14 kilometers to the town of Sarria and then a bus ride into Santiago where the camino de Santiago concludes. The pilgrimage from Samos to Sarria was spent in silence and those 3 and a half hours of quiet where a great opportunity to reflect on the days spent in Samos, which translated from Swabian means 'place of prayer.' Our final day of chapter two was Sunday with few thing planned. We had late Mass, brunch (which the Spaniards couldnt wrap their heads around,) a long siesta, and a pachanga (which translated pretty much means ruckus party.) The pachanga was hosted by the Hostel Victoria where we had eaten most of our meals throughout the week. They hired a bunch of high school students who played traditional Galician music which sounded like a combination of ska, big band, and polka. We drank moonshine from that region which was served warm and was lemon flavored with coffee beans floating in it. I weezed every time i took a sip. With festive libations and the high schoolers playing fiercly, all 150 of us danced into the wee hours of the morning. Chapter three began early the next day. We hopped on a bus headed to Madrid at 7am after taking one last sweep through the monestary. The monks saw us off and we were headed to meet the other 1.5 million pilgrims for the 23rd World Youth Day. Three quarters through the 6 hour bus ride we stopped in the charming walled city of Avila. There we visited the cloister where St. Theresa of Avila grew in love of God. We saw the cell where she lived, the place where St. John of the cross heard her confessions, and the actual picture he drew hundreds of years ago of the crucifixion. We entered the walls of the city, had Maxum bars (the best ice cream bars in the world,) and returned to the bus for the last leg of the journey. For the record, even though it seems like spending 6 hours on a bus would be miserable, it was not so for this ride. Some guys on my bus were playing guitars and a jimbe while everyone sang along for two hours. Around the 3 hour point a kid got up and gave his testimony over the p.a. system and then we prayed a rosary. When we werent singing or praying we were talking and laughing. Even the stops were fun. At one rest stop I drank coffee and went on a power walk with Sister Mary Emily. There was much joy to be had on that journey. Finally, around 6:30 we made it to St. Edith Stein Parish in Madrid. We celebrated Mass and then met up with our host families. I was paired with 5 young women from the states and when our names were called we were invited to stay with a family so adorable i can barely stand it. The mother, Maria is small and wirey, she is kind eyed, but packs a punch. She has to because she and her husband Robert have six adorable, but somewhat wild children. Robert is perpetually smoking a cigar, he works into the night, he seems a little scary at first, but after observing him for a small while it becomes clear that he's tender hearted. Their children range in age from 14 to 9 months. They are always running around, they're joyful, inquisative, and they love having Americans in their home. Most of them speak english and even if they dont, they find ways of communicating. The boys and I have been building a fire truck out of Legos for the past couple nights and the three year old girl, Gracia (pronounced with a lisp in true Spanish form) who doesnt speak a lick of English (save being able to count to 13) sits in my lap or asks to be held when we are together. It's truly heaven on earth being here. During the day we're with other English speaking pilgrims at the Palaceo de Deportes (the palace of sports) which is essentially the Pepsi center of Madrid. FOCUS is working at a booth and we've been listening to talks and welcoming other young Catholics all week. There is much more to come about chapter three. Tomorrow a new friend, Kira, and I are going to the Prado, the famous Spanish museum. We may also be there for the papal welcome and I'm sure the day will bring with it more adventures. I'm humbled by the blessings and joys of this trip. I cant believe I have been here two weeks already. Two more to go!

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it's happening

im sitting in my favorite spainish cafe (the only one im really familiar with) with Rebecca Alva!!! Seriously, a dream come true. Rebecca was one of my favorite students to coach for fundraising because of her spunk. she was always on the ball and eager to get to Spain because she loves God and knows she'll find Him here, but also beacuase she's working on a journalism project to capture her experience while here in Spain. The students are starting to pour in now so i should go and smile at them, great them, and try to prepare them to get their lives rocked (to the degree that i can).

en espana

well. we made it. trishy. jake. jeff. sarah. and i...we are here in galicia. the brothers are here too. bro gilliermo the romanian brother who proudly announced that he has two bats in alcohol in his bedroom. bro alberto is also here. he also happens to be sean connarys twin. there are 13 other priests and brothers who live here and two volunteers who help the pilgrims.

the monestary is here too. gigantic. beautiful. a stately building in the middle of town. it was built in the 6th century and has suffered numerous fires and the torments of war and financial turmoil. we learned yesterday that it has been splashed by the blood of martyrs who were seeking refuge from the mores.

before i came to spain i was convenced that that my life would be changed here. just knowing how my heart responds to beauty and seeing this place i know it is true. i have the intentions of my friends and family on my tounge and in my heart is gratitude.