The Not-so-secret Admirer

I’ve always had a hard time hiding when I’m an admirer of somebody. I’ve noticed it a lot over the last few years. If I like somebody or admire them then I let it be shown, even when I think I’m hiding it. It’s probably because I often let myself show things when I think that nobody is looking or nobody will notice. It’s been a trait that I’ve often been annoyed with.

In one instance, however, I prefer to remain a not-so-secret admirer. I was riding my bike from church to home today. I was looking at everything around. It was beautiful. I am that person who looks at an old tree and forgets to breathe because it is so beautiful. As I was riding through an area that has man-made ponds, called the Nedereindse Plas, I couldn’t help but look at the water and remember how amazing God is. The water (which is normally quite disgusting) was a beautiful color…a shade of blue and green mixed together, one of those colors that looks good only when it’s the water wearing it and should never be tried on by people. It was a color that moved with the waves that were created by the massive winds sweeping across the land. A bit further I saw a large grassy area that was covered with purple, yellow, and white flowers that are finally able to shine. I forgot to watch the road that I was driving on because my eyes were riveted to the perfection of such a sight. It was at that moment I realized that I’m a great admirer of God, and I’m not a secret one, either. I often get caught looking at something, admiring the beauty of God’s handiwork. Yes, He’s the only being that I’ve never been embarrassed to openly admire. I guess you could say I’m in love!

Twitterpated

Have you ever watched the movie Bambi? I like the movie very much. It amuses me (a little less than it used to because I’ve seen it in Dutch WAY TOO MANY TIMES in the last six months). There are two sections of this movie that I enjoy watching. The first is when Bambi is little and he ends up on the ice of a pond. It’s so funny and cute the way he slips and slides all over the place! It’ cracks me up!

The second most amusing part is when spring comes and Bambi is a “young adult”. All of the animals are acting crazy singing and dancing with one another. The birds are most noticeable. Bambi and his guy friends ask Owl what the heck is wrong with the animals and Owl explains that they are twitterpated. He goes on to explain that when the spring comes all of the animals become twitterpated. He continues to explain the syndromes. He says that first you’re innocently walking along through the woods when, suddenly, out of nowhere you see a pretty pair of eyes batting their lashes at you. The next thing you know, you feel like you are spinning in circles wildly about, then your head spins in circles! Then it’s as if you’re walking on air! He made it sound very dramatic, so much so that when he said it would happen to the young fellows that he was counseling that they became determined to not become twitterpated. Of course, within five minutes they were twitterpated because whenever a being determines not to become twitterpated it’s at that moment that they have some of the largest struggles with twitterpation that can be experienced.

Yesterday I was walking along innocently when I saw a prime example of twitterpation. No! I did not become twitterpated myself!! Actually, my prime example was in a few ducks that were walking on the ice of the canal. It was the funniest thing!

There were a bunch of ducks standing on the ice of the canal. There were four or five males and one female. You can imagine what will happen with five males ducks, one female duck, and spring. They began to fight over the girl! There was one guy that had a pretty good claim on her. He was fighting all of the other guys off. Of course, when ducks fight they also have to fly a bit. So, there they were. There were four guys going after the girl and the fifth was protecting her, heroically. He did a beautiful job. A guy would come, and the Hero would chase the guy off. Then, suddenly, he nearly got a hold of one of the ducks. In order to protect himself from Mr. Hero, Mr. Loser had to fly away. So he flew!! And then he tried to land again…on the ice. He spread out his wings, prepared to land, touched down, and then fell down. Of course, when you land suddenly on ice from a slightly horizontal momentum you’re bound to keep sliding, and slide he did…right into the bank of the canal. Of course, I stood there and laughed out loud. And then I continued on my way, thankful that I wasn’t that silly duck. I do hope that if I ever come to a twitterpated stage in life that I have the sense to remain sensible, unlike the silly duck!

The Panic Stage

Well, I’ve got 18 sleeps left until I go home for an indefinite period of time. Man, I’ve been waiting for that day for the last 2.5 months. And now I’m facing a little over two weeks before that day and the thoughts begin to pour in.

A very sad fact of my life is that I think quite a bit (it’s usually a good thing, but can be rather mind boggling at times…literally). When I am taking care of the kids here I often have plenty of time for my thoughts. This morning was just such a time. Every Monday morning all of my kids go to school. I am entirely alone at the house. I spend the morning folding the laundry of seven people. It keeps my hands busy and doesn’t require a lot of attention, so I spend the time either thinking or praying (sadly, it’s more often thinking than praying).

So, there I was, sitting at the table folding clothes. I put on a gentle CD and began my ritual of thinking. It turned out disastrous! I usually spend a lot of time thinking about my weekend and what happened then. Those are always pleasant thoughts because it involves my friends here. You people who only get to read about my life and don’t get to experience very much of it don’t understand the full extent of the fun times with the friends. Sadly, you are stuck with minimal input stories about certain sections of the weekend. For example, none (maybe one) of you know about my fun evening of playing games with Bart, Daniel, and Mark…and you’re never going to learn about it because I feel like keeping that to myself. Ha! Terrible, isn’t it?

Anyway, I was sitting there, thinking about my weekend and my friends. I was musing over the very fun times I had. Then I started thinking about my remaining 18 days. That was a bad idea. I realized that I have just about no time left here. I thought about my friends and leaving them behind, and you’ll never imagine what I felt inside…Panic! Unbelievable! I’m going home to people I know who speak a language I know, to a big bedroom, my own bed, a living room that I only share with my sister, Laurel…and I panicked!

So, there you have it, a post about my feelings. That doesn’t happen too often, so enjoy it. The conclusion is this: I’m happy and sad at once. I wish to have the best of both worlds, but that’s impossible. So, here I go on to the next stage of life (panicking slightly, but still going), and in the midst of the panic I am curious as to what will happen next. I suppose you, dear reader, will have to wait to find out with me.

...at that moment my hero

This week has been a relatively interesting week. It has been a week where much has gone wrong, but it always turned out fine thanks to my friends. It was this week that I realized how very special and wonderful my friends here in Holland are. They aren’t just friends that like to hang out and laugh, but they are friends that are really there for each other. Let me tell you what happened.

Every Wednesday evening I go to what is called a “cell group” or a “home group”. It is a Bible study that is held between a certain number of people that come from our church. This past Wednesday there was a special meeting held at the church. It was for all of the cell groups that were made up the youth ladies (anyone confused there?). Being just such a person, I went. Sadly, Wednesday was a terrible day when it comes to weather. It rained a steady, heavy rain the whole day. Even more sad is the fact that the rain didn’t take a break when it was time for me to head to the church. And so I headed out on my faithful bike into the rain, and I rode the half hour to the church. Yes, the rain remained steady. And so, I arrived at the church fifteen minutes too early, soaked through (with the exception of the back of my legs), cold, and annoyed. I toyed with the idea of just going home but ended up staying (my friend, Marjon, promised to make me coffee if I stayed…sneaky girl! She knew that’d get me!).

I sat for the meeting and was quite wet for all of it. It lasted for about an hour and a half. By the end I was quite chilled through and ready to leave, so when they headed off topic and started talking about teachers at school I got up to go. Suddenly, anyone who hadn’t noticed before noticed now that I looked much like a drowned rat. When people notice these things they start coming up with ideas on how to get warmed up and stuff. That was nice, but I just wanted to go home and jump into a nice and very warm shower. So, I made my intentions know and began to throw on my jacket (which was wet inside and out!). Marjon saw my coat and made me trade coats with her. She’d come by car and was determined that I should at least have a dry coat for the ride home. After much resistance I finally put on the coat. I rode home through the rain, but I was much warmer thanks to Marjon’s selflessness. Marjon was at that moment my hero.

Now, when people trade jackets it isn’t a permanent switch. So there’s a point in time when they must trade back. Marjon and I both went to a birthday party Friday evening. We’d reached that point of trading back. I was staying longer at the party than Marjon. When she left the house she had about two minutes to get to the tram station before she missed her ride home. She had to run. Not long after Marjon left the house I received a phone call…on the house phone of the birthday girl. I have a mobile phone here in Holland, but I soon learned that the phone was in Marjon’s jacket pocket. My phone call was from Marjon. She informed me that my house keys were in her coat and that if I wanted them then I’d have to ride my bike as quickly as possible to the tram station to get my keys. We hung up. I threw on my shoes and started to throw on my coat when I realized that my bike was locked up, nice and safe, and the bike key was also in Marjon’s jacket pocket. Oh great! I couldn’t get to the station! I started to ask if I could borrow a bike when a friend, Sander, threw on his coat and shoes and rode to my rescue. He rode quickly to the station, got all of my stuff from Marjon’s pockets (no easy task because I keep everything in my pockets!), and rode back to the house. He gave me my things, and I could only say “thank you” a million times. Without this stuff I wouldn’t have been able to use my bike or get into my house. Sander was at that moment my hero.

I stayed late at the birthday party that evening. I had a wonderful time. Finally, at 1:30 in the morning, we die hards that were still at the house decided that it was time to leave. We helped to clean up the cups, food, and drinks. We put on our coats, scarves, and gloves. We said good-bye and headed out to the bicycles. I unlocked my bike and started to turn it towards the door when I saw that my front tire was entirely, 100% flat. Oh great!! I pointed it out to a friend and we started reviewing what my options were. Walking home was out of the question. It is a 20-minute bike ride, and girls don’t walk from one city to another at 2:00 in the morning. That’s just a stupid idea. I suggested we get a pump from Esther, the birthday girl. The guys, who know more than I do about this stuff, immediately informed me that by the time I was halfway home I’d have a flat tire again. Scratch that idea. So, we decided to tell Esther about the problem. She came outside, took a look at the tire, and told me that I could borrow her bike and leave mine at her house. We could switch again on Sunday. So, for the second time this week, I switched a belonging with someone because mine was inadequate. She showed me how to turn the lights on and off then went back inside. I had a bike to use to get home. Esther was at that moment my hero.

I and the six guys that were still hanging around each went our separate way. As I was riding away I heard my friend Arnoud calling after me. He caught up to me and asked me if I was planning on riding home alone. I answered that I was (wrong answer) and that I’d be fine because all of the bad guys that hang around the area would already be in bed (I used terminology more fitting for an adult, of course). However, this was not an acceptable answer or explanation or situation for Arnoud. He automatically offered to ride home with me and make sure that I made it home safe. We made it no problem and had a great time talking during that time. It’s most likely that nothing would’ve happened if I had been alone for the ride, but there’s still that chance that something terrible could happen. But I didn’t have to worry about those things that night. Arnoud was at that moment my hero.

Before I had left the house my friend, Mark, suggested that Sunday after church we could take my flat-tired bicycle to his house and fix it. I gratefully accepted the offer. So, today, Sunday, I went to church (not much of a surprise, really). I was able to give Esther her bike back. After church I practiced a drama with the drama team. After practice it was time for me to pick up my bike. Esther was gone with her bike, which is a perfectly natural thing. Mark and I decided that he’d bring me to Esther’s house. I would sit behind him on his bike. This is a very common thing here in Holland. I consider it an amazing feat for the driver to control a bike with an extra 125 pounds sitting behind him that occasionally moves and gets in the way. You have to be very good with staying balanced!! Amazing indeed! So, we made it to Esther’s house finally. I got my bike, and we began walking (actually, Mark biked at an extremely slow rate so that I could keep up with him while walking). We had a very pleasant walk/ride full of conversation about stuff.

Finally, we were at Mark’s house. Before we wrestled with the bike we decided to have a nice and warm cup of tea. Good idea. After drinking the tea we got to work. Actually, he got to work and I watched and pretended to help occasionally. It was much like what you’d see in an operating room. The doctor (Mark) is working on the patient (Bike) and the nurse (Sarah) hands over the proper tools. The bike wasn’t entirely cooperative at first. We tried to find where the hole in the tire was, but it didn’t work. After we put the tire back together and pumped up the tire we heard a very large amount of air leaking out. Uh-oh. There was a definite problem. We called Mark’s father because we feared that the problem was much worse than we’d first anticipated. Thankfully, it wasn’t worse. We had just missed the hole the first time we checked. We pulled apart my front tire (literally!) and fixed it by gluing a sticky rubbery kind of thing over the little hole. Finally, my bike was fixed. I was able to ride it home. Mark and his dad did a superb job. Mark and his father were at that moment my heroes.

Yes, you often hear people use the term, “That’s what friends are for.” But very few people have friends that actually understand what that statement is supposed to mean. I am blessed with numerous friends that understand what it means. And I can only hope that one day I am able to equally bless them. They’ve astounded me. I suppose that the best friends that you can have are the ones where you one day get to say, “so-and-so was at that moment my hero!”

How rash!

Well, I’m sitting here in my room trying to decide what on earth I could write about that would be interesting. So, instead of thinking, I’m just going to write.

Today is Saturday, March 04, 2006. That’s a wonderful thing. I leave to go back to America in 27 days. I have just under 4 weeks, which is nothing at all. Things are rather crazy here in my Dutch household. The family just got over a three week period of sharing a virus with one another. They all took turns having fevers, throwing up, and having atrocious stomachaches. I thought I got through the three weeks without catching the virus. I never had the throwing up, I had a stomach ache for maybe 2 minutes one day, but I dismissed it as being in my head, and I was able to eat the whole time, without any remarkable change to my appetite. My poor host family all had massive appetite problems through the whole ordeal. And I grinned, said that I was grateful that I hadn’t caught the virus, and made it clear that I would not be catching it at all. I had no desire to be sick.

Last weekend I noticed a bit of a rash on my body. Hmm…I’m not really allergic to anything except for rabbits or guinea pigs, but I never break out in a rash for them, so I thought this rash was rather odd. It appeared to be not much of anything, so I ignored it and said nothing to my host family, my real family, or my friends. I probably first noticed it on Friday. Wednesday I noticed that the rash had spread. And it had spread a rather great distance on my body. Uh-oh! I figured it was time to mention it to Danielle, the host mother here. I told her about it, let her see a sample of the rash, and said that I was afraid of it being contagious. She decided we’d call a doctor. Yesterday we called the doctor because the rash had spread considerably between Wednesday and Friday. They set an appointment for me, for Wednesday coming. Well, I was sitting here rather worried. I thought I had ringworm, but that wasn’t something that I really wanted to deal with in my last months experience of being an au pair. I’d dealt with it once in my life and that was just one little fleck, and that one time was enough. Here I must’ve had 30-50 spots hanging out on my body. Great!

Last night I called my mother. That’s what a girl does when she needs advice or needs someone to talk to. She calls her mother. That’s what I did. I told her about the rash, I explained what it looked like, where it was located (just about everywhere!), and what it felt like. Mom started searching on the Internet for what it might be. Finally, I told her about a picture I’d seen in a Dutch Medical Book, which showed a rash that looked just like the one I was hosting. I gave her the name portrayed in the book and she looked it up online. We struck gold! This was it. It had to be. I have Pityriasis Rosea. Okay, so what does that mean?

Pityriasis Rosea is a sort of rash that can be hosted by a young adult that has contracted a virus. Hmmm…it sounds like I caught the family virus after all, but it showed up on me in another way. There’s no cure. You just have to wait for it to run its course, which takes about 6-8 weeks. WHAT!? That means I’ll still have this thing when I get home!! Oh great!! I read further and it sounded like this rash would also spread further, pretty much covering most of my body, but leaving out my head, hands, and feet. Groan. It can be a little bit itchy, depending on the person. Fortunately, I haven’t had it itching to badly yet, though it seems to increase a little bit every day. Hopefully, it won’t do that until the 8th week! It’s not contagious!! YAY!!! That means the kids won’t get it, which is very excellent. It’s not permanent. Yay!!!! That’s also very good. But it usually get worse before it gets better. I’m only in my first week, so it shouldn’t be a surprise if the rash spreads and multiplies further. Groan. But it’s nothing serious, and for that I’m very happy. When I see my parents, my sisters, and my Grace in April I’ll probably be rather spotty, but it won’t matter. I will still be home, I’ll be happy, and I’ll be ready to carry on with life.

I guess you could just label this as one more adventure and experience to add to my ever-growing list. But that’s fine.