A gift of a weekend

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights. (James 1:17a, NIV)

Last night was our first night of Fusión 47, our youth group at La Elipa Church. We had over 20 youth gathered, including friends of our regulars, and it was a good and fulfilling afternoon together. I got the opportunity to share about why we exist as a group, and we talked about our plans for the year to come. We also played a relaxed game of ultimate frisbee in the park with another teen, Jorge, who we met there. Jorge has Downs Syndrome, and as is so often the case with people with Downs, his spirit blessed us, and I hope our acceptance blessed his mom and grandma. (When he showed up with his grandma, she seemed disappointed that we were in the spot that was his routine play spot. Glad for the opportunity to turn the disappointment upside down!)

In the midst of a busy week, it just made sense to take the day off today... and it's been a great day. We really had a great Meggan and Ben day as a couple; we connected well together throughout the day. It's amazing how clean we can get the house when we're working together! (Translation: it's amazing how clean Meggan can get the house when she has a little help from me.) We had multiple conversations about stuff deeper than just the urgent or current stuff in our lives. We Skyped with Meggan's parents after over a week w/o chatting (they had been on vacation), and we also watched a sermon online that got us talking and processing about our present & future on a healthy level.

It certainly helps that Andrew has been incredible all day; he was in a good mood all morning, even after getting a big g-DONK on his forehead. (He likes to walk around with his eyes closed sometimes, and that can be dangerous, as you might imagine.) He ate well at lunch and dinner, and he took a 3.5-hour nap, which certainly doesn't hurt in the mood department. We Skyped with Mima, and for twenty minutes during our conversation after his bath, he was just shutting himself in Mommy and Daddy's closet and popping back out. When he was done, he picked up the milk cup Mommy had brought back for him and walked to the rocking chair in his room to tell us he was ready for his bedtime routine. That was a pretty incredible first to witness as a parent. What a boy!

Our friend Hannah also arrived today. She'll be living in Madrid this year, working at a Spanish public elementary school not too far from us as an English teacher. It's a blessing to serve as a welcoming party, and it certainly doesn't hurt when one's guest is a highly agreeable person.

Pork stir fry for lunch; spaghetti for dinner; apple crisp for dessert, with a Dutch beer and a fútbol match before bed. Tomorrow morning I'll eat breakfast w/ the youth before church, and it'll be another good day. Giving thanks profundamente.

(And to think, when I first wrote this post, I didn't even remember that I woke up this morning to find out the Brewers had clinched the division. Seriously, where are my priorities?)

Hillsong in Madrid

On Saturday, September 10, Hillsong came to Madrid for a one-night concert. One of the students in our youth group said, "hey, let's go!" - so ten of us went and had a great time. (Note: ANYTIME a student takes the initiative to plan an event that involves spiritual content, you jump on board!!!)



There were a handful of songs where the crowd - surprisingly large for an evangelical crowd in Spain - sang their guts out, in Spanish, while the singers just backed off from the mics and listened to the people. I was overcome with the sense of the artist's joy they must have experienced, hearing people sing the art they had written and created, in a language they could not understand, in worship of the God they share and together desire to see glorified. Powerful stuff.

Reflections from Newark

As detailed in the previous post, we have been in the U.S. for the last two weeks. This was our first visit back since moving to Spain nine months ago. What follows is a stream-of-consciousness journal entry of reverse culture shock from our layover in Newark when we first entered the country.

Friday, July 29
    Right away in the C concourse there's a tchotchke store called "AMERICA." Big eagle over the store sign, everything red-white-n-blue... wow. Ya no estamos en España (we're not in Spain anymore). Besides the fact that it's American stuff rather than Spanish stuff, it's that Spain is not a very patriotic country. You would be hard-pressed to find a store like that in a Spanish airport.
    It was strange to me to hear people cheer when the captain welcomed everyone to the "good old U.S.A." It was the cheer of folks glad to be home, and it was strange not to feel like one of them - this is our home in one sense, but the home where we put up our feet & relax is an apartment in Madrid. It's not necessarily that I feel more at him in Spain than in the U.S., but the coming-home place for us as a family of three is our piso, our neighbors, our grocery store, our swimming pool, and our regular routine.
    I spent a good chunk of the flight reading a couple chapters of Meggan's driver's ed textbook (I should sign up soon after we get back). Something I noticed in getting off the plane is that I understand every word on any sign - "it is advisable to maintain custody..." etc. Paragraphs like that in the driver's ed manual, I get the gist of it 98% of the time, but I'm not familiar w/ every word. Or take a restaurant name here - "Cheeburger Cheeburger" - I know instinctively that "cheeburger" is not a real word, but rather a shortened version of "cheeseburger" that one might say in a silly voice when one is particularly in the mood for said food item. In Spanish w/ something similar, I would look, think, ponder, maybe eventually figure it out (whether in seconds or in ten months), then feel particularly accomplished/proud for such a feat. (Example: there is a cell phone service provider in Spain called "yoigo," and months after our arrival, Meggan said, "hey, 'yoigo' is short for 'yo oigo' [meaning 'I hear']." Me: "ohhh...")
    Just look at that paragraph! I just rolled that off in English, and it felt so... fluent. Uff. Natural. Nuanced. It's very hard yet for me to do nuance in Spanish.
    Most chatter is in English, and that sounds weird (Sheryl warned us about this). Our language of common courtesy with strangers is English (this is a context that has only existed in Spanish for us for nine months, so that was a genuine adjustment). Airport personnel have been very kind.

Surprisingly enough, that was about the end of the reverse culture shock for me. Once we got into the A concourse and found out our next flight might be delayed, we entered into mildly-stressed-American-traveler mode. When we got to Wisconsin, even though we were seeing things that were abnormal for our recent experience, they looked like they "belonged" here (big SUVs, orange cones, cornfields, outlet malls, etc.). The remaining big "wow" moment for me the rest of the trip came when we were on our way to a family gathering. Our caravan with John was to converge in Princeton, Wisconsin, and he got there first. He called us with the most convenient meeting spot: "I'll be in the church parking lot with the signs for the gun show." A gun show in a church parking lot. Boy, are we ever back in rural America. :-)

Our unexpected Wisconsin visit

As some of you know, Meggan, Andrew, and I have made an unexpected trip to the U.S. for my grandpa's funeral. Today is our last full day here, and it has been a real blessing to be able to spend quality time with family. Before planning our trip, we wondered how long to come, whether our time here would be able to feel restful, and whether it would be okay for us to be here from the standpoint of continuing our healthy transition to life in Spain. After a good chat with Ed and Sheryl, we decided to make it a two-week trip, cancel our plans for Dublin, and make this our summer vacation. That turned out to be a very good decision. We have had a lovely time with both sides of our family, and I feel particularly refreshed. I also feel a sense of "we can do this" between now and the next time we get to see everyone, whenever that may be. Thanks be to God for a great trip.

Thanks be to God even more for the life of my grandpa, Bill Ward. He was a good man and a wonderful grandpa. A farmer, a family man, a servant, an intellectual, a craftsman, an historian, a lifelong learner. He was the most insatiably curious man I have ever known, and he was always willing to engage in a friendly conversation with a stranger who might be able to teach him something interesting. Grandma and Grandpa came along with our immediate family on numerous family vacations, and he always kept a detailed journal of each day's happenings. He continued learning new things throughout his life, from taking flying lessons at age 50 to picking up stained glass as a hobby in his latter years. I think it's time for me to put a little extra effort into learning something new myself - I've picked up the guitar again, and I'm gonna try to give it what it takes this time. We went through the journey of Alzheimer's as a family with him in his last years, and it is a comfort to know that he has been released from that disease. I look forward to spending time with the curious, loving man I knew when the resurrection comes. Here is the touching newspaper article commemorating his life.

We apologize for not being super open about our travel plans in advance of our trip. I hope you can understand that this needed to be a family-centered trip, and as such, we didn't spend any appreciable time with friends or ministry supporters. We appreciate your prayers for a good month of readjustment and planning back in Madrid before the ministry year shifts into gear.

Camp Week 2.0 - God at work

After a few days' "breather," we took the camp plunge once again. This time we went as a family; it was tough for Andy to work on a rigid schedule, but it was well worth it. This camp, Nuevas Aventuras ("New Adventures"), brought together almost 50 teenagers from all over Spain. The camp ran nine days, July 8-16. We arrived toward the end of their week together, on July 14 (also my brother's birthday; a shout out to Indy) and stayed for their last 48 hours.

We had been invited by our friend David (he of paella fame), and I had the privilege of teaching for one session, within an hour of our arrival. Later in the evening we also got to share together as a couple about how the Lord worked in our lives to bring us to Spain.


After teaching, Dani wanted to talk. Dani is a youth of Romanian descent (of which there are many in Spain) who lives in a suburb of Madrid on our side of town. I was humbled by his desire to talk on a deeper level about the theme from my lesson, and it was clear that God had a purpose for our presence at the camp. (He's happier in person than he looks in the picture, I promise!)


Here's Mommy and Andy goofing off in our room. The accommodations at Pinos Reales ("Royal Pines") were quite nice for a camp. We basically had a hotel room, with our own bathroom and everything. We did have trouble getting the little man to eat well. We didn't have a highchair, and he seemed to be a bit stressed by the atmosphere of the dining hall...


... but that didn't stop him from enjoying some chocolate ice cream. (Anyone interested in signing up for the Knox School of Parenting, give us a call anytime. Operators are standing by.)


We spent an hour or two each day at the pool, mostly playing water polo and watching a handful of guys throw anyone they could into the pool. It was convenient to have Andy in our hands, cuz, you know, even rambunctious young'ns know you don't throw a baby in the pool.


We met all sorts of good people from churches around the Madrid area. Here's Andrew with Monica.


On the last night they had a variety show. This student, Melissa, sang a song for the whole group. She took a song she likes by a German artist, with English lyrics, and rewrote the lyrics - in English! - with a Christian message. She did an artful job, both writing and singing, particularly when you consider she was conveying spiritual themes in her second language. She wanted to conserve bits and pieces of the original lyrics, and it came off... well, like a song. She asked for my English help to work through some writer's block on the second verse, and it was an honor to be invited into the creative process of a bright young woman with a passionate desire to follow Christ.

A very full 50 hours. We're very thankful to David for his invitation and to God for all he was doing in the lives of everyone at the camp.

Snapshots from Nómadas 2011

As a lad I went to Hell with my family. Now I've been to purgatory (or, more specifically, Purgatory Falls). It's a proud day.

David plays Gollum with a dead trout we found.

Two hippies and a guy who just got out of the shower - must be costume night.

Three guard dogs stopped us in our tracks on this hike.

What can't be captured in pictures: an incredible surge in the level of connection I have with these students; an opportunity to teach and a chance to share my life's story of how Christ got a hold of me in my teen years; a youth trusting me confidentially as we processed through his personal stuff; the mix of emotions I feel (excited, nervous, humbled) as I take over as the "point person" for the youth group. Also night games. Don't have the right kind of camera. And the smell of teenage man-sweat in our bunk room; still waiting on the scratch-n-sniff technology to come to digital cameras and computer screens.


My sentiments exactly, Eli - it was a great week, but I'm exhausted. :-)

Something's Fishy: Authentic Paella en Casa

If you know me (Meggan) well, you know I'm just not a fish person - never have been. When Ben and I were dating, I chose to ignore the fact that he really liked Culver's fish sandwich. And the time that Ben's parents served me a whole fish for dinner the second time I visited their house is one of my favorite "I felt like a total idiot" stories (picking bones out of my mouth the entire dinner was really embarrassing). What can I say, I just don't really like fish.

Spaniards, on the other hand, love fish. And they should. Spain has much better access to fresh seafood than Wisconsin. Walk into any grocery store here, and there's a vast array of whole fish and shellfish to choose from...and smell. I've never bought any; frankly, I would hardly know how to prepare most of it. Well, yesterday, I had my first lesson in traditional Spanish cooking: a mixed Paella with (you guessed it) LOTS of seafood. Paella is a rice dish made with a mixture of meat and vegetables, especially seafood. The good news: I actually really liked it.

Our friend David came over for lunch yesterday. He said he'd like to cook for us, and boy were we in for a surprise. He started opening all these little packets of fish. Get ready:

1. A fish head for making the paella broth. We placed this in a pot of water.

2. Raw shrimp (little ones called gambas. Ben shelled these, adding the shells to the fish head broth.





3. Cooked king prawn (larger shrimp) (langostinos) for snacking. I shelled them...heads, eyes, legs, and all!

4. Squid (calamar), snipped and added to the paella.


5. Baby Clams (chirlas), soaked in water and added to the paella.

6. Chicken. Having meat from the land and the sea is what makes this paella mixed (mixta).








A little garlic, onion, and olive oil, and we began by cooking the chicken, draining the fish broth, and adding the shellfish and rice! David is great at making paella. I was nervous to try it, but to be honest, it is the smell of seafood that has always been more of a problem for me than the taste. And yesterday, I didn't have any problems. I'm not saying I'm ready to go eat scorpions if I ever make it back to China, but I was pretty proud of myself for trying and enjoying an authentic and delicious paella. If you're here for a visit, we'll call David to help us make one for you.

Personal/emotional update

This is another post to go hand-in-hand with our monthly email update.

Thank you so much for your prayers for us to connect with people here. Days after sending out the email, I met two women with young children at a park nearby. We have also met an older couple from our apartment complex from Ecuador who keep track of their grandkids most of the time. We also got together with a couple our age from our church for the second time, and are building stronger relationships with our teammates.

As a student at UW-Madison, I often enjoyed the anonymity of a huge lecture. However, day after day, anonymity is lonely and wearing. As I walk with Andy every morning, I find myself wishing that I could just see someone that I know and knows me. I think this often leads to what I call “twin-spotting,” seeing someone here who really looks like someone from home.

Besides making the effort to really meet people at church, there is an internal effort that I find myself hesitant to make. Maybe it’s the “self-preservation” mode that I feel like I’ve been in for almost a year (preparing to come to Spain, actually moving, then getting settled), but I feel myself often hesitant or simply unable to really be myself here. While I know this is normal, it is still a barrier to forming relationships here. Thank you for your continuing prayers and support.

In the middle of August, we will head to Dublin for our first vacation! We are staying in a little apartment within walking distance of stores and public transportation. More to follow once we have some things planned.

What is baseline cultural stress?

This note goes along with our May monthly email newsletter.

In our home culture, it was fairly easy to fake belonging. You can feel like you belong when you're driving on streets you know, shopping at familiar stores, or watching the Badgers kick somebody's butt in any given sport. Here, belonging is a bit more challenging, because you're always facing baseline cultural stress.

Baseline cultural stress is the white noise behind our life here. Sometimes it’s a quiet hum, and sometimes it’s a dull roar. We genuinely feel at home inside our apartment (praise the Lord!), but away from the house, we often feel like outsiders. It’s not necessarily any one cultural strain. Language? Sure, that can be taxing (though we can usually both communicate fairly effectively). Life in a foreign city? That, too (though I love the metro and the sense of history). More than these or others, it’s the cumulative effect, which builds into the feeling that we don't belong. Unfortunately, this can even be amplified by honest thoughts on missionary service - all other things being equal, a native is always the better person for the job than a foreigner, and I’ll always be one and not the other here.

I’ve called it more of a background noise, but that’s not to say we don’t have moments where cultural stress drowns everything else. One day in early April, we went to get Andrew’s immunizations but didn’t bring a particular piece of paper (one we had no way of knowing we would need). About a week later, we were grocery shopping and shrimp was on our list - Meggan had given me permission to cook seafood for the first time since moving here. I wanted to buy fresh shrimp, but the seafood counter was incredibly busy, and I didn’t have the energy to learn a new system under increased social pressure, so I opted for the frozen product (in rather a greater quantity than we needed). While we eventually move on from each individual incident, the continual possibility of another such incident rising adds another layer to the mix.

We then find ourselves not always knowing how to interpret our issues. What percentage of our parenting stress is related to cultural stress? What percentage would we be facing wherever we lived? How much of our extended family stress is related to our distance from home versus normal family dynamics... and, honestly, how much family stress is actually relieved by living far away? And how do we relieve the destructive, unnecessary guilt that last bit creates?

Check out our monthly newsletter for a bit more resolution.

Good Friday Thoughts...Fulfillment versus Servanthood

My mother-in-law and I worked out together this morning. While I normally am energized after exercising, today was different. I felt happier than I have in quite a while. Why? Because for the first time in a long time I found myself in the position of “expert consultant.”

Our first semester at Denver Seminary, Ben and I participated in one of those “career match” inventories and met with a consultant afterwards. They don’t actually tell you what your future job should be, but they can point out strengths and weaknesses. What is the role in which I thrive? Expert consultant. That means that I thrive in situations where I can share my specialized knowledge and experience and help others.

Now the idea that I am actually qualified to be personal trainer is pretty far-fetched. I’m just more familiar with the exercise dvds than my mother-in-law is. But, the point is, I was able to explain and help her become comfortable with a series of movements. I can see why a friend of mine from college who is a personal trainer says that he can’t wait to go to work everyday. It isn’t just the exercise (though being healthy is great!) – it’s the experience of encouraging and helping someone.

Living in Madrid for the past 5 months has not offered a lot of opportunity for me to be an expert consultant. I think I’ve been able to direct someone on the street twice, and it felt fantastic each time! But, that’s been about it. Living cross-culturally is really difficult. I am a learner in things that I’ve taken for granted for years: communication, driving, making friends. As a person who likes to have all the information, it is humbling to day after day ask for help, feel helpless, or at least feel like an outsider.

Besides the cross-cultural piece, I am still learning what it means to be a mom. However, at times I am currently the expert consultant for knowing when Andy is tired or thirsty or hungry…but even then sometimes I’m wrong!

So, on the one hand, this reminds me of a talk I once heard about “filling your bucket.” The point is that each of us should know the things that “fill us up” – meaning, those things that give us energy, make us enjoy life, give us joy. We should also be aware of the things that “empty our bucket” – meaning those things that take our energy, make us weary.

For example, as I stated above, being an expert consultant “fills my bucket.” Being the person that needs help “empties my bucket,” and I think it does for most people.

On the other hand, I am pondering Jesus’ words in Mark 9:35, after the disciples had been arguing about who was the greatest: Anyone who wants to be first must be last, and must be the servant of all. In addition, Jesus’ example as he washed his disciples’ feet: John 13:12-17.

To say Jesus was an expert consultant just falls short; he is God. He is the expert in everything. Yet, his time on earth was humbling. He was an outsider. He wasn’t in need of help per say, but he certainly wasn’t in the business of coming to earth because it was personally fulfilling. And on today of all days, Good Friday, I can say with certainty that Jesus’ self-sacrifice on the cross was the most profound “self-emptying” action in history. And we are called to imitate him, being a servant to all.

This topic is very complex, and I could go down the rabbit trails of some people’s buckets being filled by serving, or how we should seek out those occupations or volunteer activities that fill our buckets because that’s a healthy and God-honoring practice…but I don’t want to.

I want sit for a bit in the tension of God creating us individually and uniquely, setting in our hearts certain passions and abilities that give us life and joy (the Chariots of Fire “I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure”)…and God asking us to be the servant of all.

Date Day!

Meggan and I just went on our first date since we've moved here. What a nice time! We went to a great little Indian restaurant that Meggan found online. The food was DELICIOUS - every course was spot on, and it was particularly fun for me to eat spicy food again (hard to find in Spain). We then walked around the neighborhood, which was a discovery experience, because we hadn't been to that part of town before today. Special thanks to Julie & Chad Reeser and Niki Gudeman for babysitting the little man!(And now you officially know that my April Fools' post wasn't TOTAL junk.)

One WiLD week

We've had an exciting week since the Parishes left!

After finishing the theory section of her driver's ed, Meggan has begun teaching diesel mechanics on a volunteer basis at a local community college. Who knew?

The CIA called me on Wednesday to ask if I would be serve as a temporary incognito security agent in Madrid at World Catholic Youth Day (coming to Madrid this summer). I turned them down; couldn't compromise the REAL mission.

We enrolled Andrew in soccer school, and he's been tabbed by the Spanish national team training center as an up-and-coming star. Apparently the ratio of the length of his femur to his fibula/tibia are ideal for an elite soccer player. He can't walk yet, but boy he can kick!

Tomorrow Meggan and I are going on a DATE!!! A REAL DATE!!!!!! I'm kind of excited. I think we're headed to an Indian restaurant. Meggan found a place online called Diwali, which made her think of "The Office," and it has good reviews & looks like a nice atmosphere. Woohoo!

On this day in Spanish history, the civil war officially ended, marking the beginning of what would become 36 years under Franco's dictatorship.

Curious about an interesting Spanish holiday? Check out the Feast of the Innocents, celebrated on December 28.

Highs, Lows, and Highlights

High: Women's Night at Church
I have very strong memories of going with my mom to women's gatherings when I was young. I remember her getting dressed up, looking so pretty, bringing some kind of bread or dessert for the chatting time after the presentation. There was usually some kind of kids' program so that the mothers could bring their children. I attended my first church women's night at La Elipa last Saturday evening. I almost didn't go because Andy had a cold, but Ben and I decided he was well enough to go and be in the nursery (a rare thing at our church which doesn't have a nursery on Sundays). There was also a men's event at church that night, so the whole Knox family was there.

The evening's topic was anxiety, facilitated by our wonderful teammate, Eva, who is a Spaniard. I walked into the room downstairs and found 5 or 6 tables set up with tablecloths and flower vases. I chose a seat at a table with a few women who I knew a bit, and the evening began. It was the first time that I'd been totally immersed in Spanish for 2 hours without Andy on my lap. It was wonderful - I was challenged and encouraged on a topic that very much applies to my daily life, and I understood almost everything that Eva and my tablemates said. I'm not at the point where I could've translated it all fast enough to someone with me who didn't speak Spanish, but I really was understanding, interacting, and participating. After the presentation, I happy to chat with several women. I was mentally tired, but very content.

It was the first time in Spain that I really felt like I was a part of our church. I was challenged to engage scripture intellectually in our discussion. And, bonus, Andy did great in the nursery. The kids from the youth group were in charge, and Andy's best friend there is Esteban, who loves kids. Andy hardly wanted to come to me when I came to get him. What else could a mom ask for? Ben later described Andy as being exhausted and happy for the first time ever when we got him home. Poor little guy just collapsed right into bed after his bath.

Lows: Church Lunch and Driver's Education
Church Lunch
Sadly, the weekend did not continue so well. We attempted to stay for the church lunch the next day. I should've gone with my gut and just left after church, but we thought Andy might fall asleep in the Ergo Carrier. Nope. Sundays (even without lunch afterwards) are super long. If I attend the youth group's Sunday school with Ben, we leave the house at 9:30am and don't return until about 2-2:30pm. That's a long time for Andy to be confined to a lap, without a nap. We always end up taking him downstairs to crawl around a bit, but still. It's just a really long time for him. So, long story short, about half way through the lunch, Andy had had enough and we got on the bus as soon as we could.

These situations are tough for me. When Andy's losing it, I start to have a very short fuse. I demand way too much from other people, having impossible, unspoken expectations. Like, Ben, why can't you read my mind and go get Andy's sippy cup from the diaper bag? In another sense, I worry that I will seem like I'm excluding myself from my church family by "bowing out" from activities because of Andy. I know that God has brought Ben, Meggan, and Andy Knox to Spain as a family. But, sometimes, it's hard not to feel like I'm just this behind the scenes person, enabling Ben to be able to participate in ministry while I take care of Andy and our home in general. Is that part of why I'm here? Absolutely. But, I'm still figuring out the other reasons why I'm here, in the midst of being a mom and a wife.

Driver's Education
Yes, we need to go through driver's education here; we can't just transfer our American driver's licenses. I finished my first week of class (4 nights a week, 1 hour/class) this past week. I've jumped in in the middle of the lesson cycle which is given continuously at my particular school. I have about 45 minutes of reading in my manual before each class, then a practice test covering that material to complete after each class (20-30 min). And it's all in Spanish. Reading the manual isn't too bad, actually. But, understanding what my instructor is saying in class often is difficult. I usually leave with a fantastic head ache.

The other night I felt like a complete idiot twice. The first occasion dealt with a question on a practice test: can you pass on a curve? I answered no. Well, apparently, you can pass on a curve in Spain if and only if you can pass the other vehicle (while staying in your lane) without invading the lane of oncoming traffic. I have never seen a lane large enough to make this scenario a reality, but that's not the point.

The second instance involved me asking if Spanish law required drivers to turn into the closest lane possible (traveling in your direction) when making left turns. Think one way streets - ie: when turning left onto a one way street, you should turn into the left lane, then make a signaled lane change if you actually want the right lane. I was trying to ask if this was the same in Spain. According to my driver's ed instructor, it is actually the opposite. Turning left onto a one way street (or a two way street that has several lanes in each direction), you are required to turn into the right most lanes possible. I drew about 5 diagrams that night and brought them in the next day to review. Yup, it is completely contrary to what I consider normal and safe. Do people actually drive like this? Who cares. The point is, I need to know these nuances of Spanish driving so that I don't fail my test. This is the first time that I'm having the "My way is the RIGHT way" feeling here in Spain. It's not a good feeling.

So, 4 nights down, another 13 or so to go before I start taking literally hundreds of practice tests before I take the actual written test. Then it's on to 15 sessions of behind the wheel. Marty Houdek (family friend, driving instructor from my hometown), I wish you could be my driving instructor. We speak the same language, you probably wouldn't shout at me if I made a mistake (Spaniards yell sometimes and call it talking). Of course, we'd also be driving in the greater Waupun, Wisconsin area, not Madrid, population 7,000,000. P.S. I also have to learn to drive "de marchas," manual transmission. This makes me extremely anxious. If only I'd just attended a women's seminar on anxiety! Well, Lord, I'll be relying on you in a very tangible way when those lessons start. Though I will by no means follow Carrie Underwood's model, letting Jesus take the wheel, or perhaps the clutch.

Highlights
The other day, Ben said that my highlights from October had grown out a lot. Wow, when my wonderful (but not usually hair-observant) husband makes this comment, it is time to go get my hair done. I had my hair cut in Spain in 2008, and it was the best haircut of my life. So, I was excited for my appointment this morning. Salons are very common here. Many are run by the owner and just a few other stylists, or just the owner alone. In my 2 experiences, one person cut my hair, another washed it. The "washer" person is usually an apprentice.

My stylist, Vanessa, was super sweet and kind, talking slowly so that I could understand her. She asked about how I was adjusting to Spain. We bashed English a little bit together for being such a crazy language to learn. She cut more of my hair than I expected, but I really like it. Spaniards cut hair differently than in the US. It's hard to describe, but it's just different. They also have a tendency to cut your hair how they think suits you. So, if you only want an inch off, you'd better be pretty adamant. But, my two experiences so far have been very positive. Finally, she spent about 25 minutes blow-drying my hair so well that she didn't even need to flat-iron it. If you've never seen me before I've flat-ironed my hair, picture Hermione as described in the Harry Potter series. Hermione's hair is way to pretty in the movies. Think lion's mane + electrical outlet. I walked out more blond, with a great cut for a good price. Now if I only never had to wash it again.

A Week in the Life

In this month's email prayer letter, Meggan shares what a normal week looks like for us, plus a few other tidbits.

Bless Eva Kirchner on her first birthday

Eva Kirchner was born into a loving home on February 2, 2010. Eva's mom, Rachel, was a friend of Meggan's from UW (Rachel was one of the first women to dance in the worship arts group Meggan started). The two of them reconnected over the phone in February, coming alongside each other in the new challenges of motherhood. In early April, when Eva was about two months old, Rachel was diagnosed with cancer. Rachel fought her cancer hard, both in the course of medical treatment and in prayer. Nonetheless, on January 24, Rachel passed into the arms of her Heavenly Father.

Today is Eva's first birthday. I cannot imagine the challenges she will face. Praise the Lord, she still has a family who loves her very much.

You can help care for her in a small way, too. As a memorial for Rachel, you can contribute to Eva's college savings account. We can't change the thing we would most like to change, but we can come alongside Eva and her family in this tangible way at this most difficult time. Checks can be made out to Eva's dad, Matt, and sent to:

Matt Kirchner
W168 N9307 Grand Ave.
Menominee Falls, WI 53051

Thanks. Lord Jesus, come quickly.

(If you would like to read more about Rachel's journey through cancer, she kept a blog. Her obituary can be found here.)

The Milkmaid

My language classes began last week, and things are off to a good start. We're quite the mix of students - six from the U.S., four from Brazil, one from Germany, and a Dutch gal. A dozen in total, plus two alternating professors (both Madrileños, a woman and a man). January is the "intensive" section of the course, in which we spend twenty hours a week together working on our grammar.

One recent grammar exercise involved reading a certain children's fable to work on our verb tenses. However, the content of the story was far more interesting than the grammar. It's called, La Lechera - "The Milkmaid." And it goes like this...

The milkmaid walked happily to the market to sell her milk. Along the way she was making plans:

"Once I sell this milk, I'll buy some chickens that'll give lots of eggs. The eggs will hatch, the chicks will grow big and, one day, I'll sell all the big chickens. With that money I'll buy some piglets, fatten 'em up, and sell 'em. Then I'll buy calves. When they get big, I'll sell 'em for beef. Then I can buy a big house, nice clothes, jewelry..."

With these happy thoughts in her mind, the milkmaid walked faster toward the market... just fast enough not to see a tree root sticking up out of the ground. She tripped and spilled her entire bucket of milk. And along with the milk spilled all her grand plans, too.

The moral of the story: Children should not waste too much energy on their elaborate dreams for the future, because something will probably happen to interrupt them from coming to pass.

After the story, our professor, Juan, asked us how many of us knew the story from our own cultures. Nobody had known it before that, and he was quite surprised. I explained how this is not a popular sentiment in U.S. culture, where we generally tell our kids to dream big and never give up on their hopes. (I couldn't help but think of the constant stream of "your dreams will come true!" songs played at Disney World.) One of my Brazilian classmates said it's the same there - any boy or girl is told, "You could become the president one day." Juan responded, oh, that's not good, eh? It would be better to be more realistic, wouldn't it?

What do you think? Is it a good thing that we tell our kids to dream big dreams, even though the vast majority of people in the U.S. will live relatively "normal" lives and never achieve their grandest dreams?