I’ll begin with pictures from a busy, modern Frankfurt and an enticing, beautiful Dresden.

Following the Sunday morning church bells

Modern Frankfurt

Love in Frankfurt

After Berlin, Frankfurt, and Dresden the last couple of weeks, I was ready to stay in one place for more than five days.  I, along with several others, chose to stay back in Reutlingen this past weekend.  I cannot describe what happiness it brings me to be able to have laundry completed, my room “cloroxed,” letters written and mailed, etc.  For the past week or so, I have had such an intense desire to feel put together, for I haven’t really felt that since I arrived in Germany.  For me, feeling put together usually entails cleanliness and productiveness.  I’m happy to say, my weekend has been just that and more!

Beyond my accomplished “to-do lists” for this weekend, though, is the grace and heart warming moments I experienced.  The nature surrounding Reutlingen University is absolutely breathtaking.  This weekend, I woke up early each morning to go for a long run amongst the Swabian Alps.  When trying to convey the beautiful nature that exists in my “backyard”, I am simply at a loss for words.  Even though the pictures don’t quite do it justice, I’ll let them speak for themselves.

Returning from these runs always leave me feeling so fulfilled.  But, I was especially uplifted when I checked my mailbox Friday morning and found a surprise from a sweet, loved one.  A little friend of mine by the name of Kyle (age 8), sent me a precious paper friend, by the name of Flat Stanley. Having never heard of this before, I read the description:

“Our class read a story called Flat Stanley by Jeff Brown.  A big bulletin board fell on Stanley and made him flat.  In the story, he travels to different places around the world.  We each made our own flat person (mine is in this envelope) and we need you to show him/her around your area.  he/she is very fragile, as you can see, so please take good care of him/her.  Please dress Flat Stanley in clothes that are appropriate to where you live.  Please take pictures with him/her in interesting places in your are and send any souvenirs or brochures back with him/her.”

And I thought that I was filled with joy while taking my run!  Let me tell you, this paper Flat Stanley completely warmed my heart.  My adorable Kylie thought of me, even hundreds of thousands of miles away.  Just picturing her precious face when Flat Stanley returns to her with pictures from all over Germany is a priceless, beautiful thought.  I bet that she will have the best Flat Stanley story in her class, and at that age we all remember just how important that was.  So, I began my photo shoot with Flat Stanley this weekend:

You don’t always have to be visiting the most phenomenally beautiful cathedral in Dresden or the amazing architecture in Frankfurt to experience such pleasant moments; it can be as close as your backyard or as inexpensive as a paper doll.

Historic by day and dynamic by night.  How do you characterize a city with such profound history yet such nighttime energy?  One cannot step foot in Berlin without experiencing a plethora of emotions ranging from despondency to bliss, acrimony to absolution.  It seems improper and almost offensive to enjoy Berlin’s nightlife with its presence of history so willingly revealed; yet makes one question their state of naïveté for letting that very thought settle in the first place.  It is as if a hormonal battle is inevitably existing in this city as individuals are forced to face a variety of emotions every day, for the feelings you feel at one moment have the potential to be in direct contrast to the feelings you feel the next.  In short, it is a city characterized by emotional dichotomy.

Me being the protagonist, I can readily recall countless of the inevitably opposing emotions that existed in this enticing city.  The most profound example of such emotional dichotomy occurred on a Sunday morning, mid September.  It was as though the serenity that completely occupies my one out of seven days a week was mocked.  The late morning walking tour of Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp contrasted with the late evening pink-line to Oranienburgerstraße left me with such emotional unrest that my once glorious, blessed Sunday was now filled with anxiousness, restlessness, and profound perplexity.  The dichotomy of that Sunday not only rested in the activities that took place, but in the weather as well.  The weather in mid September is typically characterized as crisp, bitter, and potentially quite chilly.  What’s more, I would argue that most individuals would reason that the chances of the weather cooperating for them on the day of a concentration camp tour are fairly slim, all the while deeming it seemingly appropriate if it didn’t.  However, that atypical Sunday afternoon, the sun was ever present and the temperature seemingly perfect.  It is obvious then, that even before the day’s activities began, there was such juxtaposition, both spiritually and physically.  Because my emotions were already contrasting one another prior to 8:00 a.m., I felt I could accurately predict what the rest of the day would bring emotionally.  But in actuality, I couldn’t.

The emotional dichotomy that existed while touring Sachsenhausen was profound.  The humbling walk from the train station to Sachsenhausen was characteristically quiet.  However, “quiet” is a substantial word in this context, for the quietness itself was yet another present dichotomy that day.  Ultimately, the silent walk was a symbolic representation of the noise we were all experiencing internally.  The fact that very little was spoken during the walk to Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp alludes to the deafening turmoil that everyone was experiencing internally.  What is one supposed to say?  After riding a train the same route the prisoners once did, after exiting at the same station as those very prisoners, and after walking the seemingly long walk (for most of them, their ultimate death walk) to the concentration camp, I was left with a complete absence of words.  Yet, just like everyone else, while I was physically quiet I was simultaneously internally racing from thought to thought.  I’m not sure if nobody spoke because our minds were too loud with words or because we simply couldn’t articulate those very thoughts that were occupying all of our minds.  While I can’t recollect much of the competing thoughts I was experiencing during that walk, there is one in particular I can remember clearly: even while I am literally walking in the prisoners’ footsteps, I still have no idea what it is like to be in their shoes. It was then that I became increasingly frustrated, frustrated with my inability to take on some of their hurt.

I remember approaching the campgrounds with such hesitancy.  The words “Arbeit Macht Frei” were scripted across the top of the entrance gate into Sachsenhausen.  Before the tour guide even told us the significance of that phrase in English, I knew the connotation they upheld.  The sound of those three words is symbolic; the hard consonants alone (r, b, t, ch) represent the nature of the meaning behind them.  The cruelty of that gate, just by the sound of those words alone, was nothing compared to what those words meant and to what was beyond them.  While there were endless exhibits at Sachsenhausen that beg for ample reflection, the tour as a whole left me an inhumane range of emotion.  I began the tour with such hesitancy and confusion, continued the tour with anger and animosity, and ended the tour with a sense of forgiveness and calamity about me.  I was prepared for the feelings of hesitancy and animosity, but to feel forgiveness to those who inflicted so much pain was an emotion that I hadn’t expected.  Surely, that mercy was of the Spirit, and not of my own.  Then again, it was a Sunday afternoon.  How very typical.

Because I had ended the tour of Sachsenhausen with a calamity and forgiveness about me, I had expected the evening to continue as planned.   However, I found myself, yet again, in a state of overwhelming internal conflict.  As I was going through my typical routine of freshening up for the evening, (showering, applying makeup, adorning myself in pearls, and the like) I felt an immense sense of guilt lay heavily on my heart.  I began feeling angry with myself for not reflecting on those seemingly trivial blessings in which I had just participated.  Why wasn’t I feeling thankful for a genuine washing for the duration of my shower?  Why do I take for granted my freedom to apply makeup?  Does adorning myself in pearls represent something other than materialism?  Were all of these self-criticisms reasonable to have?  If God doesn’t provide me with it, am I responsible to implement more sacrifice in my daily life, given what I witnessed today?  Or is that something you experience, reflect on, and continue as you normally would?  I became so involved with these questions that I both wanted to enjoy the evening and didn’t want to at the same time.  Once again, a dichotomy of emotions was prevalent.

While I have had ample time to reflect on all of these emotions since being in Berlin’s emotionally dichotomist city, I have come to several valuable conclusions.  One of the most important of these is the benefit to implementing an element of sacrifice in one’s life.  After viewing the tragic state the prisoner’s were living in, I realized the strength and perseverance we as humans have that we may not realize we have unless tested.  After all, that’s what trials are, purposeful opportunities; opportunities to illuminate weaknesses in order to turn them into strengths, or challenge the strengths in order to turn them even stronger.  Whatever life circumstance you may find yourself in, I challenge you to bring in that element of sacrifice, see where it takes you.  But more importantly, see where you take it.  It is the trials that bring us victory.

Needless to say, it was an incredibly enjoyable evening

In response to my most recent post, God brought this blessing into my life:  http://bit.ly/99Z2nQ

In short, I am committing to feeding two beloved children a month.  Until another opportunity arises in which I can give on a more profound scale, this will be my commitment, my sacrifice, yet my greatest joy over the next few months.

“Give, and it will be given to you” –Luke 6:38

Whether you are abroad or home, I challenge each and every one of you to commit to something that challenges you; whether it is financially, emotionally, timely, or physically.

I’m praying for a challenge.

After looking at some photos of  individuals participating in other study abroad programs, I’m realizing more and more that there’s something I feel is missing from my experience.  After some questioning and prayer over the past couple of days, I was in a state of bafflement as to what could possibly be missing with regard to my experience.  I have my boyfriend of five years, two dear sorority sisters, and some new and emerging friendships taking place.  I’m even meditating on this at the most beautiful café in Reutlingen, drinking a cappuccino!  What more could I want?

But maybe that’s it–I have (most) everything I could want with me in Germany.  This very blessing has reaped so many benefits thus far and I thank God for them every day.  However, now that I’m almost a month into the trip, I’m ready to start bringing in an element of sacrifice or challenge every single day.  There have been (laundry) and will be (low-rated hostels) days that present several challenges and require of me certain sacrifices, but when the day does not call for it, I want to pursue it. Whether this pursuit is emotional or physical in nature is not of importance, what is of importance is that I am pursuing a greater purpose.

This idea became increasingly clear to me as I took a long run among paths I had yet to travel.  The sun set as my body shed goosebumps and I realized how truly lucky I was to have this experience–to be able to run along these paths–to be able to run at all.  It was a weird feeling to feel both blessed and guilty all at the same time.  I didn’t know what to make of those feelings I was experiencing, but I do know that my feelings of guilt could be energy toward action.

They say God works in mysterious ways, and I’m willing to bet that calling me to greater challenges is all a part of His plan.  I don’t know how or what this entails, but I know He prevails.

Here’s to a new perspective, and many new experiences to come!

Berlin, Germany isn’t what I expected.  Then again, I don’t really know what exactly I was expecting.  It’s a city very different than anything I’ve experienced, both structurally and historically.

This morning’s tour of Berlin was everything from strictly informative to highly emotional.  We were exposed to many historical aspects of Berlin, including the Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag, the President’s home, and various embassy’s.  It is always so enlightening to be able to physically see what the textbooks have historically taught.

The more emotional part of the tour was the viewing of the Holocaust Memorial.  What one tends to imagine about a particular memorial isn’t at all what Berlin’s Holocaust Memorial is.  The memorial consists of over 2,500 cement blocks, all of different shapes and sizes.  When introducing us to the memorial, our tour guide informed us that the architect of this particular memorial had no underlying purpose in its creation; he wanted it to be up to each individual viewer to pursue their own inspired meaning.

When walking through this vast memorial, I was consistently contemplative about what coherent meaning I could create about the memorial.  My interpretation is as follows:

The simplicity of the cement blocks that make up this memorial are seemingly complicated; they have no order.  No single block is like another.  These individualistic cement blocks represent the various generations that are faced with their shameful German history.  No one generation could possibly feel the same as the next; for some are far more removed from the tragedy than others.
The memorial isn’t necessarily beautiful in the sense that it is pleasing to the eye, but upon profound thought and ample reflection, it becomes such a beautiful representation of what constitutes the German people.  Even though they wish they weren’t a part of their inevitable dark history, they realize it is just that: history, and it cannot be changed.  Instead of ignoring what was once a shameful time, they humble themselves by allowing such an interpretive monument to speak for the whole of the German people; all the while allowing it to speak to each German individually.

What a beautiful experience this was today, and a true preparation for tomorrow’s horrific, yet necessary journey: Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp

Where to begin?  My first week in Reutlingen has been one full of captivation and observation.

The Swabian Alps extend into the sky, reminding anyone who takes the time to admire them that we are seemingly inferior to the vast world around us.  I find it impossible to just glance at the Alps, for they beg of my complete attention and pry into every emotion, ironically leaving me spiritually moved by an earthly presence.

Tübingen, Germany is by far one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.  From the picturesque parks to the classy cafés, it is impossible not to have a love affair with this city.  The town is most notable for the University, dating all the way back to 1477, which still educates students today.  (In fact, Valpo has a year-long study abroad program in Tübingen).  When walking along the streets of Tübingen, you involuntarily picture yourself living there, for it is so enticing that anyone who steps foot will want to be a part of its quaint and romantic ambiance.  Here, too, it leaves me spiritually moved by its earthly presence.

Aside from feeling captivation from towns and nature alike, there is a lot of observation happening with regard to the German people.  While walking downtown Stadtmitte, the town center of Reutlingen, I find myself unable to walk at my normal pace, for the locals are less concerned with “not wasting any time,” rather “enjoying the most of their time.”  Their concept, “enjoying the most of their time,” isn’t hard for me to take part in, it’s the “not wasting any time” attitude that I secretly wish they would adopt!  But, when truly thinking about it, I want more of their laissez-faire way of life.  That way of life is not just evident while walking along the streets, but while sipping on caloric coffee drinks for hours outside a quaint café, or when drinking inexpensive yet sour wine at the local wine festival.  The German people aren’t concerned with skim, whole, or 2% milk, they’re concerned with the meaning behind the drink: with whom they are sharing it.  The same attitude is true with regard to wine: they realize their wine is sour and incomparable to Italian wine, but that doesn’t stop them from sipping on it with those they love.

The past week and a half has required much thought and adaptation, but to call it worthwhile would be an understatement.  I have loved everything from the things that have been easy to love to the frustrations.  As I typed that last sentence I am reminded of Luke 6:32, which says “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them.”  We are obligated to love people and things that aren’t easy to love.  Applying that to life abroad, we are called to embrace all that is set before us, especially those instances that challenge our faith.  It’s astonishing to me that it has been only sixteen days; I can only imagine what the next three months will bring.