Bustin' Out...

I've heard a lot about how high depression is here in the winter. They have special things here called "happy lights" that you can sit under that apparently boost your mood. On Tuesday when we went to the pool, I asked if one had to wait till the winter to use these lights. The "summer" here has been hard for me. I keep waiting for it to come. Finally, last Wednesday, I stopped being angry about it, I stopped fighting it, and I just accepted it. This is what you get. 50's...and if we're lucky we'll get in the 60's. However, I have found a secret that is keeping me sane. If you find a spot where the wind is blocked, you can actually feel the sun warming your skin. I have been able to take my coat off a few times...until the wind chases direction, that is.

Anyway, it's amazing that God knew what a challenge this would be for me, and has provided in the midst of it. Six weeks ago, we found out that we had to go to our annual conference in Greece. Being the pessimist I am, I refused to believe that it would actually come to pass...but here we are, waiting in the terminal in Paris for our flight. In the grand scheme of things, weather is an insignificant detail, and it shouldn't matter to me, but at this point in my life, I feel like this is a special gift from God to get us through a rather difficult season of life. Again, I'm humbled by God's faithfulness, grace, mercy, and love. Athens, here we come!

June 17th

Sautján Júni. (Soi-tjown Yoo-nie). We kept saying it all day because it has such a ring to it. Basically, June 17th is Icelandic Independence Day. Like 4th of July, minus the fireworks. We started out the day going to one of the suburbs to partake in the festivities. I saw a schedule of events that boasted of games and kids activities, but when we arrived at the Viking Village to participate, they wouldn't let us in to the "fair grounds" unless we paid. BOO. We decided to skip it and head early to the park where the gospel fest was going on (that we were performing in for 30 minutes...amazing experience by the way).

On our way we noticed a large crowd gathering at the top of a hill. Some people were standing and waiting along the road, and it looked as though a parade was about to happen. I asked someone if my suspicion was true and he confirmed it, so we sat down on the curb awaiting our first Icelandic parade. As I sat, I thought about how this would be fun and festive...almost like the Fredericksburg Fourth of July parade.

A horn sounded, and the parade started toward us. There were ten people, dressed in traditional clothes, proudly carrying Icelandic flags. I thought of how strange it felt to be celebrating another country's independence. Next, a band composed of roughly 15 people marched past, playing what we assumed to be the national anthem. I was still reflecting on how foreign it felt to not hear our national anthem or how strange it was not to see our flag. After the band passed, the strangest thing happened. What seemed to be the entire town marched right behind them. The whole street and sidewalk was jammed with people joining this...thing. We were literally sitting on the curb, looking up as hundreds and hundreds of people walked around us to follow the "parade" as it went down the street. I started laughing out loud in disbelief. All the people who had been standing on the side of the street watching, joined in to march through town. What in the world was happening? My laughter got harder as Colby leaned over and said, "I feel like a rock stuck in the middle of a river." I literally could not stop laughing as Darcy started whimpering, Haley asked in confusion, "Is this a parade?", and Colby stood up to go to the side of the road where he was not in danger of being trampled.

So there you had it. Our first Icelandic parade. No floats. No people spinning around on weird bicycles. No candy being thrown. No clowns. No shriners. No one showing off their yellow mustang. No fancy hub-bub. Just a community marching around their town, celebrating in their own unique way their gratitude for freedom and life. I love it.

Sweet Memories!

This morning I read the song our friend Clint wrote for Mark Stratton's funeral, and a touching blog from Jason Pelt about the drive to Arlington National Cemetery where he was laid to rest. I immediately resolved to not let the day pass without a much needed catch-up phone call with Pelt. He reminded me of a picture of Mark and I he had posted on his blog from our camping trip two years ago so I looked it up and found it. When I saw it I thought, he was probably eating venison. While all of us usually showed up with a slab of beef that we bagged at the local grocery, Mark arrived with meat he had hunted down in the woods like a real man some morning while the rest of us were sleeping. Mark was a man's man, and by that I mean he was the kind of guy that other men cannot help but love and respect. He stood for things with conviction. What many other people would consider going above and beyond, he considered a duty. He also had a noticeable tenderness with his family and held them with great affection. He lived and died as a servant and through his life he enriched those around him in a way that does not go unnoticed when it is gone. In essence, Mark walked the path of a Christian gentlemen and found his place in the call of God to follow Jesus into our families, our vocation, our friendships, our joys, into broken places where we can breathe life and hope. May he now find his rest in the joy of the Lord.

Puffin Watching

This weekend was the Harbor Festival, so we joined in the festivities. When Colby saw the advertisement for a puffin tour, he was sold. We rode a small boat out only 15 minutes from Reykjavik where we came upon a small island that inhabited 30,000 puffins (Darcy wasn't a fan of the life-jacket).

Our guide told us that in August, the puffins will begin to fly south for the summer, and many of the babies will get confused by the city lights of Reykjavik and crash-land here. When that happens, it's time for the children of Reykjavik to launch the Puffin Patrol—basically a search and rescue operation for the befuddled birds. The children capture them, keep them safe for a few days, and then release them. There is a competition every year for the heaviest puffin, largest puffin, ect. (Okay, Icelanders, is this a true story?) It was fun to see them first-hand, and not just on a post-card. Fauths, next trip you'll have to schedule your trip between June and August!

Call it overdramatic...

It was the quietest birthday party I have ever been a part of! Nine adult guests were kind enough to come for games, cake, ice-cream, gifts, praise-and-worship, and a slide-show of Darcy's life thus far (with Psalms 117 by Seven Places playing in the background...my new favorite song). I'm sure Darcy will eventually make friends her age, but for now, she is content with the friendships of Dagny, Diana, Andres, Lilja, Katrin, Villborg, Johanna, Jon, and Marissa (sorry, I'm too lazy to put accents on everyone's names).

Since Darcy is now three, I taught her how to do her new chore: unloading the dishwasher. There is a huge drawer that she pulls out and puts everything in it (it's a great lesson in categorization). It's a huge help. I figured I would celebrate this landmark in Darcy's life to also teach Haley a new skill: showering. I coached her from outside the stall, and (besides only washing the back 1/5 of her head), she did a great job! I stood there watching her, amazed at how grown up my kids are, and thinking how before I knew it I would be a grandmother.

Memorial Day

Being in another country cuts you off from the usual festivities of Memorial Day, but on Monday night, the 25th, as I was falling asleep, I thought about Mark Stratton, a friend from Stafford Baptist, in Afghanistan and started laughing out loud in bed, (Colby hates it when I do this) thinking about a funny Mark memory. On Tuesday, we got up and started on our mile-long to-do list to get ready for a volunteer group of 13 people who were arriving the next day. I knew something was not right when Colby, looking pale, told me he needed to talk to me about something and sat me down on the couch. Mark had been killed in Afghanistan. We sat on the couch for a good two hours, passing through each of the stages of loss...shock, grief, anger...Later that night, we watched numbly as Darcy opened her birthday presents, still trying to process the news.

It was the first time that I felt really isolated here--really far away from our church family. I wanted so badly to be there on Sunday morning when everyone came together to grieve as a church body. I wanted to be there to give his wife, Jennifer, a hug and mourn with her. At the end of the day, Colby and I had our own little memorial service, sharing our favorite Mark memories. Colby kept saying, "There is just nothing bad you can say about the guy." Mark was incredibly positive, an amazing father of three, patriotic to the core, and a passionate follower of Jesus. Our prayers go out to our church family, for the funeral today, and for Jennifer and the kids. We wish we could be together with you during this difficult time.

Kristen Marks, I LOVE YOU!!

I'm slowly making my way out of the blogging hole. Click here to see some of our adventures from the last month. Thank you, Kristen, for teaching me this fine technological skill.

A Seismic Event

I came home yesterday from doing some work and Colby asks, "Did you feel the earthquake?"  

Excuse me...The Earthquake?  I must have missed that. 

Supposedly the whole apartment rattled, but I didn't believe him until I saw this in the news this morning:

"Iceland’s south western Reykjanes Peninsula has been experiencing a huge amount of seismic activity in recent days. 438 earthquakes have occurred in the region in the last 48 hours alone."

438??

That's wierd, because I haven't even felt one.  

Glacier Adventure; Part 2

The rest of the story…

So, my classmate had mentioned that she was thinking about staying at a friend’s house out where we were hiking. She wasn’t sure exactly how we would get home from the glacier (over 2 hours away), but assured us that it would work out. She drove me and her room-mate, Evelyn, half way home and then dropped us off at a bus station to ride the bus the rest of the way home. All was good; the sun was shining and we were chatting as we waited with a few others for the bus to come. I sensed something was wrong when the other people at the bus stop got up, checked the bus scheduled, groaned, then walked away.
I got up to see for myself…sure enough, the bus didn’t come every hour like we thought. It would be hours until the next bus came. How could this happen?! We had checked the bus schedule 3 times…

Evelyn didn’t hesitate. “We can just hitch-hike home,” she said casually. My eyes got big, and sensing my fear, she remarked, “Nobody has ever been raped hitchhiking in Iceland…it’s very common here.”

I wasn’t so sure.

Trying to persuade me, she threw out a final comment that she knew would get me… “I thought you believed in God!” I sighed and rolled my eyes as we went to the edge of town, stood on the side of the road, and stuck out our thumbs. I felt like I was in one of the old stories my mom used to tell me of when she hitchhiked across Iowa in the 60’s. I decided to time how long this experience would last:

3 minutes pass. Car after car go past, slowing down only to look quizzically at us. Moms, with kids in the back, look at us regretfully. Older people look at us with confusion. They must be American tourists, I think to myself.

6 minutes pass. I wonder what these people are thinking of me right now. Are they not picking me up because they are suspicious of me? Maybe if I smile, they will trust me. Maybe if I hold up a sign that says, I am a mother of two small children and I just want to get home to tuck them in bed tonight, they’ll show some mercy. I flash my pearly whites to the next group of cars, but no one seems impressed.

8 minutes. Evelyn informs me that it’s usually not the nice cars that stop. The junky cars are our best bet. Oh Great, that’s real comforting...Then, I realize that I am being suspicious and judgmental…the very thing I’m hoping others won’t be towards me! *sigh*

11 minutes. The wind is starting to pick up and I am starting to get cold. Evelyn starts talking about going inside to take a break from the weather. I start to calculate in my head how long it would take to run/walk 61 kilometers back to Reykjavik. It’s going to be a long night…

13 minutes. How do I always get myself into these predicaments? Maybe this is what I get for all the times I have driven past poor hitch-hikers that I assumed were from America’s Most Wanted. I try to call Colby, but my cell phone has no service.

15 minutes. I am starting to doubt this Icelandic system of getting around.

At approximately 17 minutes, a young guy in a black truck pulled over and motioned us to hop in his car. In an effort to prove my confidence in God, I marched right up to the window and asked if he was going to Reykjavik. Of course, was his reply…(like, where else is there to go on this island?). I selfishly gave Evelyn shot-gun and slid into the back seat, figuring that if he attacked, I was farther away and had more time to escape. Oh Lord, forgive me…

The conversation started out in Icelandic, but quickly moved to English as he inquired why in the world I would move to Iceland from the states. I explained that I was learning about religion in Iceland and he quickly opened up about his own beliefs which included a belief in fairies—or the hidden people—as they call it. In fact, he pointed out, the hill to my right was believed to be occupied by fairies, and the road we were driving on had to be built around it. I asked if he also believed in trolls, but he dismissed it rather quickly, saying THAT WAS MERELY A FAIRYTALE.

My body was stiff as I listened to this stranger in whose hands held my very life and I tried to discreetly scan his left hand for a wedding ring. No luck. There were a lot of clothes and gear crowding me in the backseat, but underneath the debris, something caught my eye. Could it be…Oh, please be…Yes! A CAR-SEAT! I inquired about his kids, and yes, he had four of them…and a great wife too. My neck began to relax and I smiled as we drove closer and closer to home…all the while hearing Mr. Family Man tell stories about his kids and his life. He dropped me off at the bus station and I thanked him for making my first hitch-hiking experience in Iceland an enjoyable one (Translation: thank you for not murdering me). He waved and remarked, “Well…there aren’t that many lunatics in Iceland.”

I said good bye to Evelyn, walked back to the apartment, and made it home in time for Colby’s special curry soup.

Glacier Adventure; Part 1

I told Colby last weekend that the only thing I really wanted to do for my birthday was hike on the glacier, Sólheimajökull. I had been on in briefly while the Fauths were here, and it really whet my appetite to go back and spend the day there. Colby thought it was too far to drive (over 2 hours away), and other people warned that it was not safe to do without a guide, so we decided to hike to a natural hot spring instead (that's a story for another blog post). We made a great choice by going there instead, and I was sure that someday I would eventually get a chance to do a glacier hike.

The next day at language school, there was a new girl in our class from Germany. At the end of class she asked me if I wanted to hike Sólheimajökull with her on Saturday because she had already scheduled a trip with a guide (and her roomie from Switzerland). Colby looked at me, smiled, and said, "I'll watch the kids!"

The weather called for 80% chance of rain, so I was in a bad mood this morning as I got up early to wait for my ride. Two hours later, however, God answered my prayer and the clouds broke apart to make for a gorgeous day to hike. The group ended up being around 10 people from 6 different countries with a guide, and we hiked for over three hours on the glacier.

The ride home did not go quite as I had expected. In fact, it reminded me a little bit of a previous experience I had with the Burkes here in Iceland. Stay tuned for the rest of the story...