The eXpatriate Files

Moving in and Adjusting

2010-12-07T04:48:00.003-07:00

Greetings again from across the Atlantic!

(I wrote this the first week of November but am just now publishing it)

This warm, sunny day finds me still lying flat on my back in bed typing this but from the comfort of our new home!!! And the good news is that our household things were delivered this past Friday morning so we got out of the hotel in Maichingen AND my back hurts less and less and I find myself able to stand and sit for longer periods of time and with less pain with each passing day. It is hard to sit (or lay) amidst boxes and not really be able to do much about unpacking them, but I know we will get settled eventually. It just will take a little longer this time around.

These last almost 4 weeks in the hotel were quite a challenge as you would expect. Living in a small 2 bedroom hotel apartment with one bathroom for six people has given us moments of laughter and moments of great frustration. And trying to keep everyone fed more cheaply by cooking our own food in a kitchen with no stove and no oven has also been interesting. We got quite creative with our ONE stove burner and also we purchased a rice cooker/steamer and an electric griddle which helped. We also borrowed a crock-pot from friends just down the road so that helped with our cooking options as well. I can proudly say that we didn’t eat a single serving of hamburger helper this time around.

Anyway, this time together has been a blessing in disguise in so many ways. It has been great to spend time listening to music with my son, and watching my younger daughters be creative in their leisure time with no toys. The little girls have spent time knitting, building forts, playing hide n’ seek, and creatively made houses and nests and rooms out of luggage, tables, chairs, boxes, wads of paper, blankets, and anything else they could manage to move and manipulate while living in the hotel. We were also able to watch an occasional movie on one of the laptops for entertainment.

Elizabeth has had to hardest time adjusting to the new time and place but that is mostly because Elizabeth is choosing to have the hardest time adjusting. L So, many life lessons here. Cory and I had a great discussion with Phillip and asked him what he learned the last time around when we moved here and it took him a while but finally he said, “You know, I think I cut myself off from everyone and was depressed because I chose to be depressed and chose to cut myself off from everyone.” Now that took Phillip at least 2 years and some hard life lessons to get that point of realization, so we will continue to be patient with Elizabeth as she adjusts to life here in Germany.

So, normally our days here, whether in the hotel or in our house, go like this: we get up and do school, eat lunch, and then the little girls go outside and play at the park or take a walk to the bakery or bio market with their big brother or now we unpack boxes and try to fit all our American furniture into our German house. It is kind of like a puzzle to try and figure out where we can put the bookshelves, dressers, shrunks (wardrobe closets), desks, etc. since we are working around multiple, large windows, radiator heating, entrance doors in every room and sometime slanted ceilings. Every single door in the house also has a key which is going to be a challenge to keep track of those! Cory is the tetras master and this skill helps immensely with making every piece of furniture fit just in the right spot!

I will try and get some photos of the rooms in the house uploaded now that we actually have furniture---Yay!

Airplane Trip to Germany

2010-10-08T14:57:00.003-06:00

After taking stronger prescription pain pills on Thursday night I was much improved on Friday and so began planning to take the plane trip to Germany with my kids on Saturday. Some good friends, the Brandsma family, came and picked us and most our luggage up in their suburban to help Cory’s Mom get us to the airport in one trip. Once there, we checked ourselves and our luggage at the counter, went through security and then Phillip, Mariel and Grace took a detour to Quiznos to get some lunch while Elizabeth, Cloie cat and I headed for the gate. Once at the gate, it was clear that the plane was already boarding and my other kids were nowhere in sight. So, I stayed with the luggage and the cat and sent Elizabeth sprinting off to call the kids to the airplane gate as fast as they could run. Everyone else had already boarded and they were giving the final boarding announcement when all the kids came running up.

In all the chaos of checking in and boarding, I had forgotten to take my next doses of medicine on time. Therefore, by the time I found my seat on the airplane I was in excruciating pain. I quickly asked the flight attendant for a glass of water and took some medication before the plane pushed back from the gate. Luckily the airplane was more than half empty so once we got up to cruising altitude, I lifted myself up and hobbled over to the nearest empty row and laid flat on my back across three seats to get some relief from the pain.

By the time our flight landed in Salt Lake City, my medication had begun to kick in and I was feeling much better. We were able to walk leisurely to our connecting flight’s departure gate which was close by and we hung out there for the next two hours. In the gate waiting area there was plenty of room for me to lay down on my back and rest. The next leg of our trip was almost 10 hours as we were flying from Salt Lake City to Paris, France so I knew it would be a while before I was able to lie down again. Phillip found an electrical outlet to plug in his laptop and my older kids took turns checking email and logging into Facebook and then they watched a movie via Netflix with the younger girls. Then we boarded our next plane bound for Europe.

The long flight went rather well for us all. Our cat slept through most of it while we watched a couple of movies and ate dinner. I had brought along an empty, quart-size Ziploc bag and asked the flight attendant to fill it with ice. This I put behind my back to help with the pain and stiffness. Eventually I had to dump out the melted ice and water but it worked great while it lasted. The only negative side to this home remedy was my backside being all wet from the condensation of water to the bag. By the time the third movie was showing, we were all tired and dozing off, which was good as it was an R rated movie that I didn’t want the little girls to watch. I took away their headphones and they eventually drifted off to sleep. When we were being served breakfast, I knew we were getting close to our destination but I let Mariel and Grace continue sleeping and I kept their breakfast for them until they awoke.

When we touched down in Paris, I needed Phillip to retrieve all the bags from the overhead bins as I wasn’t suppose to lift anything and Elizabeth had her hands full with the cat and her own bag. But, our bags had gotten stashed on all sides of the plane, wherever there was room. So, we just had to wait while Phillip dodged in and out of the stream of passengers trying to exit while pulling bags down. Once we had everything then we exited quickly as we only had just over an hour to make our connecting flight. It just so happens that our connecting gate was D60, at the farthest possible point from where our flight had just landed. We didn’t know that at the time, but we just kept following the signs to the D gates around corners, along corridors, and through moving sidewalks. Finally, it looked like we were exiting the airport completely and it occurred to us that we were going to have to go through security to get to our gate. That is when I started praying that we could make this connecting flight.

Sure enough, as we rounded the last corner we spotted the security line that we had to navigate before being able to board the airplane and it looked menacing. There were security folks stationed at almost every corner of the lines and they were asking to see boarding passes. I kept showing them my baggage claim tickets that had the destination airport as Stuttgart, Germany but I didn’t have boarding passes or even a ticket to show as ours was an electronic ticket. When we were all the way up to the scanner and had all our items in bins and were going to walk through the security checkpoint they asked to see our boarding passes which we didn’t have. Then the security officer told us to take all our things off the conveyor belt and get out of line. We piled all our stuff in the middle of the floor right there at the security checkpoint and the officer told me to leave everything there and go over to the nearest airline desk and get boarding passes, which I did. Then we had to again place all our stuff in bins and go through security to be able to get to our gate to board in time. Thankfully, we made it there just as the airplane was boarding.

Our one consolation in all this chaos at the Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris was that the ticketing agent gave us seats in first class since there were five seats together across the airplane in row four. So, for the last leg of our flight, we were served shrimp cocktail and salmon pâté along with blue cheese, a breadstick and dessert. We were also offered complimentary wine and beer but graciously declined. When we landed in Stuttgart, Germany we went straight to baggage claim and waited for all our luggage to appear. When the conveyor belt stopped we were still missing a bag so we had to stay there and report our missing bag at the baggage counter. We were last in line behind several others and had no way to contact Cory and explain to him where we were or what we were doing. As we waited in line, two uniformed policemen approached us and asked my name. I answered, “Angela.” and the officer looked confused until I added, “Isakson.” He then nodded and smiled and said there were two persons inquiring about the Isaksons’ whereabouts. Forty-five minutes later than scheduled we finally walked out of baggage claim and into Cory’s arms.

Last Week's Challenges

2010-10-07T07:38:00.002-06:00

The Saturday before last in the morning friends showed up bright and early to help us clean our house and get it ready for renters. In spite of reading the email three times and it said, "Is 9:00AM too early?" I kept reading it as 9:30AM and said, "That would be great, we'll be ready for you." So, at 8:55AM my doorbell rings while I am lying in bed thinking I need to get up to shower. As I opened the door standing there in my pajamas, I was greeted by all six members of the Lee family with vacuum, broom, and rags in hand! They were such awesome workers and had the place almost whipped into shape by lunchtime.

My back was aching but I didn’t pay much attention as there was much to be done. The next morning my lower back muscles were really hurting and again I ignored them and pushed on through the day so we could go spend some time with the Boise Families Fellowship and say goodbye to some dear friends. Well, by Sunday afternoon, those same lower back muscles were screaming in pain and by Sunday evening I couldn’t even stand up straight or walk.

Sunday night, I ended up crawling up the stairs to bed. And in the morning when I again couldn’t stand up, I ended up sliding/crawling down the stairs face-first (yes, it was a stupid move, I now admit) and there I stayed flat on the floor for the next three days. I did call into the doctor’s office on Monday and he prescribed a muscle relaxant that Phillip drove to the pharmacy and picked up for me. Each day I was hoping for just a slight improvement but none came and my hopes of getting on an airplane to fly to Germany at the end of the week began to wane.

Thankfully, my wonderful mother-in-law called and offered to drive down to Boise and help me and the kids try and get ready to leave the country. She arrived on Wednesday afternoon and immediately starting nursing me back to health, playing with the little girls and working through my task list of what needed to be done before we left the country. On Thursday and Friday Connie spent much of those days driving me around to doctor appointments to try and get me up and walking so I could get on the airplane on Saturday.

Chapter Twenty-nine: Germany; Our Home Away From Home

2010-07-13T19:15:00.012-06:00

Living overseas in a foreign country is quite different than just traveling there as a tourist. A tourist is just visiting and passes through in a short time. Our experience was different. We took our family and moved there. We had to find a rental house, a car to drive and pass a driving exam to get a foreign driver’s license. We also had to learn how to run a German washing machine and dryer. We had to locate a store to buy things; food, furniture, small appliances, shoes, etc. And we had to figure out where to go to get phone and internet services and other basic utilities hooked up or transferred into our names. And we had to accomplish all of this within a country that spoke a foreign language we did not know. Our one advantage was that since my husband was a contractor to the Department of Defense (DOD), we did have the option to shop on the local military bases.

We had begun learning a bit of German before we actually moved there. We knew a few small words like “nein” for no, “ja” for yes, “mais” for corn and “hallo” for hello. That was about it. Fortunately for us, the German people are patient, gracious and tend to know a little English. Our survival phrase those first few months was, “Sprechen Sie Englisch, Bitte?” (Do you speak English, please?)

And they would usually reply humbly with, “Yes, a little bit.” Well, I am here to say that hands down their “little bit” was more than quite a bit and usually enough to get us pointed in the right direction, standing in the correct line or even get our questions answered completely. We were impressed!

One of the largest differences between America and Germany is their land usage. Germany still has clear cut borders between farms, towns, and forests. There really are no suburbs or urban sprawl in Germany. Thus, Americans drive everywhere while Germans walk. Most Germans live in small towns and villages and they are able to walk almost everywhere within their own town. Germans do own cars, very well-engineered cars, and they use them. However, gasoline (petrol) is tremendously expensive and if they are going somewhere, they often walk or take public transportation.

In our town in Germany we could walk to several bakeries, the library, the bank, the electronics and small appliance shop, the grocery store, the park, the post office and the local ice-cream parlor. There were often limited parking options at these places so it just made sense to walk. It was wonderfully refreshing to use my legs for their God-given purpose on a daily basis. This is the norm in Germany. Now that we are back in the states, I have to get into a car and drive to get to any of the previously mentioned places. Just a week ago Saturday, I found myself in a car driving several miles each way to return a library book, buy one needed item at the grocery store and to return a rented video. I sat in my car at a stoplight while running these errands and looked around at cars full of people in every direction and parking lots full of cars and thought, this is just so wrong. Why can’t we build towns that require the use of our legs anymore?

Then yesterday, our family delivered a meal to some friends with a newborn daughter and four other young children in their family. These particular friends live on acreage in a small town here in our area. They built a house right next door to their parents on the same property. They are a wonderful, fun, young family and my kids like to drive out to their “farm” to visit on occasion. Well, on this particular visit, it just so happens that I managed to slip and twist my ankle on the front door mat and I needed some Ibuprofen for the pain and swelling. My friend was out of Ibuprofen so she called her Mom and her Mom brought me over some Motrin to take instead. But here’s the thing; her Mom actually jumped on a 4-wheeler and drove the Motrin bottle over to me 50 yards away (at most) and back! Now, that is purely, 100%-American. I am almost at a loss for words when it takes a 4-wheeler to deliver a bottle of Motrin next door. Don’t get me wrong, I was thankful she was willing to bring it, but whatever happened to walking? America has got to be the #1 laziest nation on the planet! No wonder we are overwhelming obese as a country. We just do not walk hardly anywhere, any more, unless you count perusing the aisles at Wal-Mart or jaunts to and from the store from the parking lot.

I feel fortunate to know that other people live differently in this respect. This knowledge can be frustrating at times in this drive-through-crazed nation, but somehow there is even some comfort in the outrage at our dependence and wastefulness of oil in connection with the automobile. Somehow I tend to see this absurdity now more clearly. These were the kinds of lessons learned by living in another place on another continent and not just by being a tourist there.

And just to be fair, there were things about America that we missed. We missed Charmin, our double kitchen sink, a washing machine with a 20-minute-washing cycle, having a freezer larger than a breadbox, being able to read the road signs, being able to stand upright at any point in our house including the upstairs without hitting our heads on the ceiling.

But there is great freedom in residing in someone else’s culture, for a time, and just being an observer. It was not our culture so we could simply observe and analyze but we did not have to necessarily partake. This was not our home country thus; we were not going to be here forever so we just did not get too worked up over the small stuff. These are fabulous lessons with terrific parallels for the Christian life. For we, as Christians, are truly living in another culture no matter our home country. We will not be here forever and thus this world is not our home so maybe we should not get too worked up over the small stuff.

Well, even though Germany was not our true home country or culture, we quickly grew fond of their daily pace of life and routine; church bells clanging every hour, everything closing by 6pm and the incredible peaceful and dead quiet of the nights. Thus, it became our home away from home. When we crossed borders into other countries, there was always this sense of relief when we re-entered Germany. It was familiar. We knew what to expect, where to find things, and how to read the road signs. In small and subtle ways, their norms became our norms and we were changed by the experience. I do not think we even realized this until we left and returned home to America, but Germany will forever hold a fondness in our hearts because of this familiarity. It will always be my home away from home this side of heaven.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Faith and Contentment

2010-07-12T16:13:00.002-06:00

In all our preparations to move overseas and in the actual transition, I tried not to get overwhelmed or stressed out. I also tried not to fret and worry but I think (looking back now) that I failed at this continually. This was a huge leap into the unknown for our family. It was, at times, overwhelming and frustrating. And at other times it was just down-right scary to up and move our family to a foreign country to which I had never even been before. I had seen pictures and perused websites and I knew people living there but that is still all secondhand knowledge without any first person experience. Thus, at times, I worried. How would we communicate without knowing any German? How would we find a place to live without being able to communicate? How would my kids fair without any of their family or friends nearby? These were some of the overriding concerns along with more immediate ones like ‘How will my two and five year old children endure the all day and all night flight getting there?’ How will I keep them entertained and occupied in a hotel all day long? And will all our things in the shipping container actually arrive undamaged?

We were confident that the Lord knew our needs and concerns and we laid them before Him in prayer. But, I must confess, that I did not leave them there at His feet. I tried. But I think I failed and fretted and worried about some of these things that were so completely out of my control. I also tried keeping myself busy with endless task lists to keep my mind from worry. Sometimes it worked and probably sometimes it did not. There was much to keep busy with in those days. I would cross off one thing (like make a doctor’s appointment) only to add three more (like buy luggage, call the insurance agent, and donate unneeded items). But eventually, we did get on that plane and the “to do” list was tossed into the garbage and we were on our way to Germany at last! And then, a whole new “to do” list suddenly emerged that we never could have anticipated and the process was begun anew again on another continent. And, once again, I prayed and tried not to fret and probably failed repeatedly.

As we were settling into our new home and community across the ocean, we all missed our friends and family back home terribly. Our family had lived in the same city, in the same neighborhood, and in the same house for the previous nine years, so this was a BIG change for us all. And even though my husband had signed a two-year contract with his employer in Germany, we knew that when we eventually headed back to the states we would most likely head back to Boise, Idaho from which we had come. It was close to extended family and after nine years somewhere, you develop quite a few friends, and we had kept our two houses and rented them both. Thus, we kept in touch with family and friends back in and around Boise while living in Germany. I sent home email updates, set up a photo sharing website, and began a BLOG for those back in the states.

But again, I must confess, that looking back it feels like I spent much of my time and energy maintaining those relationships and even longing for those back home. And then, once we moved back (unexpectedly early—long before the two years were up) I think I spent much of the first six months missing those new friends back in Germany! Looking back it feels like a failed lesson in contentment on my part. Being a kid who grew up on Star Wars, I like to call it the Luke Skywalker lesson of attentiveness. I can hear Yoda’s voice chastising Luke by saying, “This one I have watched for a long time. And his mind is never on where he is and what he is doing!”

Now, I certainly don’t believe in an impersonal “Force” or that God speaks in a Yoda-voice. But, I have felt His correcting nudge in my life and heard similar words of rebuke in my head and heart. Sometimes I miss living in the moment because my attention is elsewhere. This is a mistake I have seen others make repeatedly and one I thought I might never be guilty of doing. How wrong I was!

I had a childhood friend who I met near the end of grade school who could not wait to get to Junior High. Once in Junior High, she was already wishing for High School and then in High School she was already longing for College. I lost touch with her between High School and College and when I ran into her again in College, once again, she was already focusing intently on the post-College plans of her life. I just never wanted to be like that; always wishing my life away. And yet, I certainly think I was guilty of that very thing during our time overseas. It wasn’t that I did not want to be there. Quite the contrary! I had hoped and prayed and planned for the day. But, when it came, I think I underestimated the complete cost of uprooting my family and moving them far away to another continent. It was a grand adventure but a slightly lonesome one too.

After further reflection, I realize that I was being pretty tough on myself when I first transcribed these words on paper. Part of my longing for friendships back in Idaho while residing in Germany, was partly just because I was in the process of making friends over there while those friends “back home” already knew us, understood us and no long explanation was required. And then when we returned to the states, the reverse happened. Suddenly when trying to share a funny or interesting experience of living overseas with a friend, there was so much context and culture to have to explain and still they often just did not get it. Or, when I started to share something, I would often see a friend’s eyes glaze over or that look in their eye telling me that they really were not interested in knowing. This was tough. But, my friends back in Germany would so understand and would so care to hear and know because they had been there and experienced it. So, once again, it was a lonely existence for a time. So, maybe just maybe it wasn’t ALL about discontent—I’m sure there was some of that. But, it was also about belonging and being understood, which as a friend so aptly said, “Is a great luxury that one does not always possess.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Living Lighter

2010-07-11T11:59:00.002-06:00

Part of the joyful experience of moving overseas was taking only about two thirds of our belongings with us. I wish we could say we took less. It would have been much easier; especially in light of the fact that we only ended up staying about seven and a half months. In hind-sight we should have stored almost everything, packed our suitcases and left.

But evening leaving one third of our possessions behind was a wonderful experience. I don’t recall missing a single item in storage while there and by the time our storage items were re-delivered, almost a year later, I had forgotten most of what we had packed away to begin with. For a few precious months, there was less to pick up, clean up, keep up, fix up and pack up. It was liberating. Since we did not own our house in Germany we didn’t have a myriad of home improvement or fix-it projects hanging over our heads. And thus felt available to pack a suitcase or just a picnic lunch for a day trip and leave to go sightseeing or exploring for a weekend--guilt free!

We lived with only items from our suitcases for six weeks in a German hotel and for another six weeks back in Idaho both going and coming. You just don’t realize how many possessions including houses, cars, pets and yards clamor for your attention and suck away time and energy until you have lived without them for a time.

Now that we are back living on American soil in a large house and garage filled-to-the-brim with stuff, we are once again overwhelmed at trying to manage and clean and fix and organize it all. And so we keep boxing it up and getting rid of it via donations and it feels like we have barely made a dent. But we keep trying because we remember how invigorating it was to live lighter for one (school) year.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Internet Bargain Hotel

2010-07-09T13:46:00.008-06:00

Before we moved back from Germany I wanted to take the kids on one last trip. We were already in Europe and I knew, as a family of six, that we would not make it back there anytime soon. So, we began looking around at nearby places to visit and ended up finding some pre-summer sale prices at Euro Disney. We were able to book several nights stay at Disney’s Davy Crocket Ranch but we couldn’t find another affordable hotel for the very last night that we wanted to be there. Since we were purchasing multiday, park-hopper passes, we thought we would just get there and surely something else would open up in the meantime.

After the movers came and packed up our household belongings, we drove over to Euro Disney just outside of Paris. We got all checked in and settled but by the time we did, Disney had no vacancies for any hotel for the last night we wanted to stay. Luckily we had brought my husband’s laptop computer with us but found the only internet access at Disneyland was at their Hotel New York. Thus, we located the hotel, went into the lobby, opened the laptop and began searching for a nearby affordable hotel outside of Paris for a family of six for one night. We actually found several but all of them would require us to rent 2 or 3 rooms to sleep us all. So, sight unseen, we made an online reservation for the cheapest one.

The next morning we packed up and checked out of the Davey Crockett Ranch and headed into Disneyland for the day. That evening we drove off to find our hotel for the night. Our trusty GPS finally got us there. We were the last to check in at about 9pm that night and the manager working the front desk had stayed open waiting for us. We parked our van in the gated, secure parking lot provided after unloading and checking into the rooms. We had to split into three rooms of two each for the night. So, my husband took a room with the six-year-old, I slept in a room with the two-year-old, and our other son (age 14) and daughter (age 11) shared a room with twin beds.

The hotel wasn’t fancy or nice; it was just a place to sleep for the night. The bathroom was tiled floor to ceiling since it doubled as the shower as well. We stayed on the bottom floor so even though it was a bit stuffy, I didn’t open the window, as the window was large enough and low enough for someone to walk through into the room. We sank deeply into our foam mattresses as we drifted off to sleep. I would compare this hotel to a Super 8 or a Motel 6 back here in the states but those, while simple but adequate, are usually at least clean. And the crowning moment came when I tried to key into my room for the first time and the door handle fell off into my hand. I stood there holding the door handle, thinking, “Well, that certainly makes me feel safe!” The door handle was to fall off into my hand again after saying goodnight to my other kids and trying to key back into my room. Every time it happened again, I would stand there with the door knob in my hand, shaking my head, thinking, “What a bargain hotel Cory discovered!”

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Shower Fiasco

2010-07-05T11:40:00.007-06:00

Our next to last weekend in Germany, my Dad and oldest brother were able to swing through to stay with us a couple of nights and see our little town and area where we lived. They had been on a ten-day tour across London and France to see some of the major battlefields and monuments from WWI and WWII; my brother’s lifelong dream. They made the trip with my brother’s wife and my Dad’s girlfriend and the four of them seemed to have a great time touring famous places such as Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, the Eiffel Tour, the Louvre and the Palace of Versailles along with the famous battlefields and beaches across France.

They arrived on a Thursday evening in time for dinner and they were thankful to get out of the car after hours driving on the Autobahn, to sit down to a meal in a house, do a load of laundry and just relax. The next day they had decided that a trip into the Black Forest area would be enjoyable so we set about soon after breakfast to pack up drinks and snacks and cameras and jackets for a drive into the Schwartzwald for a day of sightseeing.

As we were backing the cars out of the driveway a man walked up and introduced himself as an employee of the Deutsches Rotes Kreuz (German Red Cross). He was here to assess our couch that we wanted to donate. So we let him in and five minutes later he was on his way out again after handing us another person’s name and phone number for scheduling the donation pick up. Thus, we jumped back into our cars and started backing out again when a huge tanker truck pulled up and blocked our way. We got out of our cars again and spoke with the driver and realized that this was the oil delivery truck here to refill our oil heating tank since we were packing up and moving out in a few days. So, we waved on my Dad and brother and stayed behind while the man turned our heater off and filled the oil tank. When he finished, he told us not to turn the water heater back on for several hours. So, when he left, we once again piled into the van and off we headed down the autobahn to meet my family in Triberg in the Black Forest.

Triberg is a small but highly touristy town that is known for Germany’s highest waterfalls and the world’s largest cuckoo clock. We had a wonderful day in there, walking around, lunching at an outdoor café, sightseeing and cuckoo clock shopping. After lunch, when my family decided to take a trip through the local Schwartzwald Museum, that we had already seen, we headed to the outdoor playground by the entrance to the waterfall. The girls and I swung and climbed and rested in the shade while Cory headed up the hill to hike around with our son. They headed up a trail and then happened upon an outdoor climbing park complete with zip lines in the trees around Triberg. Since it was our son’s 14th birthday that day, they paid their money and geared up and spent an hour or so climbing and sailing through the trees.

When we finally drove back home to our town, we fed the kids leftovers, got them ready for bed and put a movie on the T.V. Then the adults headed out to dinner to the nearby town of Weil der Stadt. We drove into the city and parked near the old city wall. We walked around the marktplatz until we found a crowed Gästehaus. This is a small, usually family-owned and run restaurant with good food and a warm atmosphere. There we partook of a tasty traditional German dinner before finally heading back home late. My Dad, brother and company were heading out early to catch a nearly 6AM flight back to the states. So, they made sure to pack up and gather their luggage and belongings for that early departure. My sister-in-law and my Dad’s girlfriend, Diane, even took showers that night just to be more prepared to leave come morning but they failed to mention to us that the water temperature wasn’t hot. In fact, it was closer to lukewarm by the end of their quick showers. Everyone went to bed and Cory and I didn’t get up until long after they all departed. We were greeted by a small, perplexing, scrawled note on the counter, near the coffee pot that said simply, “Thanks for everything.” And, “Heater might be off.”

Well, as soon as we read it over, we suddenly looked at each other in an “ah ha,” kind of moment and my husband said, “The water heater! It never got turned back on after the oil tank was filled.” Well, sure enough, we went to the basement and everything was in the “off” position. So, later my brother informed us that his shower was less than lukewarm and then my poor Dad was the last to shower that morning and he had to endure an icy cold shower in my house before leaving! We felt awful. In the business of the day and evening we had just completely forgotten to turn back on the water heater for our company. I'm so sorry about that Dad!!!

Chapter Twenty-Four: Back to Boise we go!

2010-06-29T14:43:00.002-06:00

On May 3rd, just six and a half months after entering Germany, my husband was given the choice to voluntarily resign his job or continue to be fired. Thus, his job duties ended voluntarily that day and the company resigned a new contract with him and they moved us back to Boise. I was glad the stress ended for my dear husband but I cried for at least a week. How I miss Germany and the people there!!!

So, our return to the states was sudden and unexpected AND almost completely out of our control. Cory didn’t ever quite understand his supervisor, Glen, over there and they were two completely opposite people. Thus, there was conflict. And as much as Cory tried to understand what his supervisor was saying, meaning, and at times demanding, with clarifying questions and such; Glen took even the clarifying questions as disobedience and disrespect. And then when Cory went to Glen’s supervisor for help, Glen proceeded to write up Cory for insubordination and then proceeded to try and fire him.

In hindsight, we had arrived in Germany right during some huge upheavals with the military community. There was a push to transfer many of the contract positions into GS (Government Service) positions. There were also changes afoot with the EUCOM (European Command) spinning off a separate division into AfriCOM to oversee that continent and the intervention and operations there.

But ultimately, Cory and his supervisor, Glen, were just from very diverse backgrounds. We had come from the west coast and Cory was more used to the Microsoft, hands-off management style while Glen was from the East coast and used to the very structured, top-down, Military-style management. Glen wanted a yes-man, not a problem solver with solutions. Cory kept getting into trouble for fixing things and proposing solutions to IT problems because that was very threatening to someone like Glen who liked to be in control of everyone at every moment.

This job trauma all played out from about mid February to early May. Cory was able to contact the HR department and submit to them that everything was really a blown up misunderstanding, a twisting of the facts (because he had most communications documented) and that his supervisor was guilty of trying to fire him for retaliation (for reporting communication problems to his boss). The HR department intervened, had a short investigation and then offered Cory a way out of the contract—but that meant they would pay to ship us home—right then.

Since Cory’s supervisor, Glen, had been threatening him that if Cory was fired, we would not only have to get ourselves and our stuff home, but also we would be required to repay the contract all of our expenses for getting there (airplane tickets for six, hotel expenses for three rooms for 6 weeks, rental car for six weeks, etc. etc.) this would have left us jobless in Germany with about $50,000 of debts to repay and possibly a lawsuit on our hands to try and fight it, so we took the free ride home; but sadly. Cory looked and asked around about trying to get on another contract job there but just didn’t have enough time to find something. So, we got packed up and headed home within 30 days of the notice (part of the deal).

The whole situation was such an intense spiritual attack. It was difficult to walk through but it was amazing how God carried us and what we learned through it all. I can honestly say that I never worried about the money element (not because of my saintedness but because God just surrounded us and reassured us that if He takes such good care of the birds, would HE not care for us?). I had some great teachable moments with my kids about God’s Will because they wanted to think, well we shouldn’t have come; it must not have been God’s will to come if everything turned badly. So, I was thankful for the conversations and opportunities to teach them that our circumstances won’t always look good and that they are NOT a predictor of God’s Will—otherwise you could say the disciples or even Jesus Himself must not have been in God’ Will.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Reflections on Poland

2010-06-27T14:00:00.009-06:00

Poland was interesting. I visited twice during our time living in Germany. Both were short trips with other friends to shop for Polish pottery in the town of Boleslawiec, Poland.

The Polish countryside looks very similar to Germany but the towns and farms there look more like East Germany which still appears more economically depressed than over in the western half of the country. Thus, the farther North and East we drove in Germany from Stuttgart and the closer to the Polish border, the more drab the buildings and farms became. Everything faded into an industrial, dirty gray and pretty much stayed that way on into the country of Poland. The exceptions in Boleslawiec were the pottery shops themselves most of which were clean and brightly painted. Other than that, most of the apartment buildings, businesses and houses were dull, dirty and run-down. People would hang out of windows staring lifelessly from between walls of peeling paint.

It is always exciting to visit and explore new places and Poland was no exception to that. It was a fun, different and sad place all rolled into one. The people were friendly and helpful and spoke some English and/or understood some German. We stayed in a bed and breakfast where a multigenerational family rented out rooms upstairs in their home as well as a separate cottage behind the house near the huge garden plot. They had a high, secure and heavy iron gate that they locked across the driveway at night as car theft was rampant in the area. Everywhere we went, we either parked in a guarded or gated lot or in a parking lot directly in front of the large shop window in order to keep an eye on the automobile.

One evening as we sat at a table inside a restaurant and had just finished ordering when my friend, Vivian, sprang to her feet and was out the door yelling in a flash! She had seen a young man near her car in the parking lot. It turns out, he simply wanted to wash the windows in exchange for some spare change but my friend shooed him away because she wasn’t taking any chances.

Another of the ladies, who accompanied us to Poland and back the first time, had been visiting that particular town in Poland periodically for the last 20 years. She and her husband had been stationed overseas much of that time and she would make sporadic trips into Poland via train or eventually car. So, it was encouraging that even though it still seemed like many improvements were needed, she reassured us that much progress had already been made such as new roads and highways.

On my second trip to Poland, I drove, so I found myself watching my car in the parking lot more closely than the first trip. And these window-washing boys seemed to appear out of thin air everywhere we went; restaurants, pottery shops and even at busy intersections. The first trip had been in February and the second trip in May so that may explain the increase in solicitors the second time around. A couple of times during that second excursion, I noticed people congregating in the parking lot near my van. And both times when I stepped out of the shop door, the people drifted and/or drove away. If it had only occurred once I would have chalked it up to coincidence but since it happened more than once and both times in unsecured parking lots, I think it was more than just a coincidence; and especially since every time I simply stepped out the door, the people left the area.

During one trip we drove to the town square and visited a toy shop, a crystal shop and a material shop. While standing outside the bank, we were approached by a couple of young boys who asked us in halting English if we had any zloty (Polish money). We honestly shook our heads, “No,” because all of the stores accepted Euros as well as dollars. Then the boys asked for Euros and being at the end of our shopping excursion, we again said No. Then they switched to asking for dollars. When the answer was again, “No,” they quickly asked for chocolate! Once again, we laughingly shook our heads, “No,” with our empty hands in the air as the universal sign for empty-handed. After refusing them four times in a row, my friend pulled out an unopened pack of chewing gum and handed that to them as a consolation gift.

Interestingly, the boys gladly grabbed it but appeared to not know what it was. As we were driving away in our car, we saw the boys huddled in a group, ripping open the package. And then, to our astonishment, they shoved several sticks of gum into their mouths, wrapper and all!!! Well, of course, they spit it back out and we felt bad that our gift was spoiled and not enjoyed. It just never occurred to us that those boys wouldn’t even be familiar with chewing gum. This was one aspect of the sad side of the country of Poland.

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Polish Pottery Mix-up

2010-06-26T15:08:00.004-06:00

Once we moved to Germany, we were quickly introduced to Polish Pottery. It is hand-made, hand painted, high quality stoneware from the city of Boleslawiec , Poland. This small city lies just a couple hundred kilometers across the border to the Southeast of Berlin. This pottery was everywhere on the American military bases in Germany. There was some in the PX and some in the Commissary and even a few smaller less expensive pieces for sale in the gas station convenience store! And, in the local American shopping mall complex, there was one entire store that sold nothing but Polish pottery imports.

The best comparison for Polish Pottery I am familiar with is either Pampered Chef stoneware or Home and Garden Party stoneware. The difference is that Polish Pottery is completely painted and glazed inside and out. Thus, it is really beautiful stoneware that is just as durable; it can go from the dishwasher to the microwave, into the oven and then onto the table as a serving piece. This pottery is quite expensive once imported to the U.S. but if you travel across the border into Poland and purchase it there, not only is there a tremendous selection but the price is much less as well. This price difference is mostly due to the exchange rate between the Polish Zloty and the Euro or the U.S. dollar. I did some price comparisons on websites while living in Germany and a typical cereal-size bowl that would cost about $30 to $40 in the United States, I could buy on the American base for about $20 or drive to Poland and purchase it there for about $8 to $10. Thus, something which is financially out of reach for most people became affordable for many just through proximity.

When Cory and I had decided that it would be fun to purchase some Polish Pottery for our new set of dishware and as a memento and reminder of our time living in Germany, we were keeping our eyes open for a sale. When the new PX opened at a nearby American base, we were in luck. The local Polish Pottery wholesaler decided to have a half-price sale. They took some seasonal pieces and mixed sets and laid them out on a table marked half off. Our family had gone to the new mall and PX store to buy some things and have a familiar fast food dinner.

We noticed the sale when we walked into the mall that Sunday afternoon but did our shopping and then fed the family first. As we were finishing our fried chicken dinner, Cory sent me there to look things over and check out the sale. The Polish Pottery store had quite a few pieces that I liked on their ½ off table. I examined several pieces and counted the plates in stacks and did some quick mental math to see how much they were charging for the sale items. The ½ off price brought the cost down closer to the prices over in Poland which was a much more attractive and doable endeavor for us. Cory briefly brought the kids over to see the pattern and price of the stoneware but then quickly disappeared again to entertain the two and five year olds elsewhere while I stood in line to purchase the pottery. We did not want to be forced to buy some broken items just to replace their inventory!!!

It was drawing towards closing time, and there was a gal in front of me also buying stacks of the stuff on sale. I heard her ask about some other matching pieces and the store staff responded that they may get some more of it on the next truckload in a few days. The lady responded that she lived several hours away by car and wouldn’t be coming back anytime that soon. When they finished bagging and wrapping her items, she left and it was my turn to pay.

Since the store was near to closing, the other clerk began to add up my order on a calculator before the other customer had finished her transaction. Then another store worker began wrapping and bagging my dishes. So, by the time the other lady finished I just had to hand over my money, get my receipt, gather up my packages, and leave. My husband and teenage son reappeared to help carry the box and bags of dishes out to the car with our other household purchases. When we returned home, we got the younger kids into bed before we unpacked and inspected the newly purchased dishes. It was no surprise to my husband that I had spent about $100 but as he unpacked things and laid them out he was surprised that there were so few plates. We unwrapped every item and laid them on the table and then double-checked the back of the van. It was empty.

We were missing almost half of what I had purchased. It just wasn’t there. I looked at my husband ashen-faced and shook my head. “The lady in front of me must have ended up with a bag of my items,” I told my husband. We were missing all of the large plates, a creamer container and the small desert plates as well. “I’m so sorry,” I said.

“Well, you’ll have to go back tomorrow and tell them that you paid for those items and didn’t receive them,” Cory said.

“Okay,” I responded, “At least I have a receipt.”

“Yeah, but it’s very non-descript. And I want the dishes or I want my money back,” He explained.

Then I broke the bad news, “Well, we might not get the dishes back because I overheard the lady in front of me say she lived several hours drive away and wasn’t planning on coming back any time soon. Plus, she just ended up with some free dishes."

“Well, then I want my money back,” retorted my husband.

“I understand. I’ll go back tomorrow and see what I can do."

I was just so disappointed because we had purchased this particular pattern because we liked it but also because there was almost an entire set of matching dishes on sale. And now I only had ½ of them. It truly ended up being a half price sale; half the money but half the dishes as well. I was hoping to make it back to Poland to purchase a few more matching pieces before we left Europe, but there was no guarantee that this would be possible.

I went back to the store and after some discussion the owner did, grudgingly, refund my money. And then about a week later, the pottery store called with the news that the dishes had been returned. So, I drove over to the next town again the following day to repurchase my returned dishes!!!

Chapter Twenty-One: Monkey Mountain

2010-05-31T19:50:00.007-06:00

When our teenage friend, Rebecka, came to stay with us in Germany for several weeks, we managed to tour her around to several places in that short time. One of the trips we took was over to the Alsace region of France. While there for just a night and a day, we had opportunity to go to Monkey Mountain. It is a wonderful, outdoor, open-air, animal sanctuary for Barbary Macaques Monkeys that was situated in a forested area atop a large hill in the region. We started following signs to get there but soon were relying on our trusty GPS as the way was not clearly marked.

Upon arrival, we parked and walked through a large cage-like gate after paying the admission fees. We were instantly greeted by a park ranger who spoke several languages and addressed each person in a known tongue. He admonished us to tie back long hair, stow away back packs, purses, fanny packs, camera bags, etc. into available compartments especially if they contained food or snacks. Or if we wanted to keep our belongings with us, we were instructed to zip them shut and hold them close to our body at all times. We were also warned not to feed the monkeys ANYTHING except the popcorn they were about to hand us. And finally, we were instructed to NOT put the popcorn in our pockets, bags or purses, but to keep it enclosed in our fists at all times. Then we filed past to another park ranger who was doling out the popcorn by the handfuls to each person.

After that we were mostly left alone to stroll along the pathway that twisted and turned along through the forest feeding monkeys by hand along the way. The Barbary Macaques are beautiful caramel-brown, medium-sized, tailless monkeys that live in groups. These were just hanging out sitting on the low, split-rail fence along the path or climbing in trees or sleeping in the sun on the grass at the base of the trees. Some were sitting alone and others reclined in groups and yet others were running along the ground. There were adults with babies on their backs; there were females, males, young and old. There was even one that looked like a drunk sleeping off his hang-over, with mouth askew and hanging open complete with dripping drool. It was simply a delightful place! The sanctuary grounds were clean, the atmosphere enjoyable and we happened to be there on a unseasonably warm Spring day. Thus, people were sitting and lounging on stumps, stones and benches everywhere throughout the park.

About half-way through the park, the pathway widened into a large, open area and a park ranger was giving what appeared to be an oral presentation on the park or the monkeys themselves but as it was completely in French with no offered translation, I cannot be sure. This is the humorous thing about the French; they insist that you speak their language when you enter their country. Every other country in Europe where we traveled was a little more accommodating about offering interpretation options other than French. The only exception was Euro Disney in Paris. They offered and spoke a multitude of languages. Otherwise, when in France, one must speak French!

The entire afternoon we spent on Monkey Mountain, I kept thinking that something like this could never be situated in America; Land of Litigation. There were too many risks, too much interaction, and too many unknowns to be adequately contained. I could envision one disaster or mishap after another. Not that the Monkey Park was a dangerous situation; it was not. It is just that there was the potential for danger if you disregarded the rules. This is the great irony about America that one begins to understand by leaving it; it is the Land of Freedom except in regards to stupidity. Freedoms must be curtailed where stupidity might prevail; this is our American mantra. In France and Germany, this was not the case. You were told of the risks in advance and then expected to take responsibility for you own actions; which, in turn, granted us all kinds of freedom and opportunities to experience steep inclines, crumbling stairs, ancient ruins, wild playgrounds, dangerous precipices, spectacular views and even, this Monkey Mountain! We got to experience all these wonderful things that would not be possible in modern-day-sue-happy America where your own stupidity or even just plain bad luck is often considered someone else’s fault.

Chapter Twenty: The Romantic Rhine

2010-05-25T13:23:00.013-06:00

After visiting Burg Eltz on the Mosel River, we drove back to St. Goar on the Rhine River and spent the afternoon exploring the Rheinfels Castle ruins that overlook the town. The ruins are huge and yet are estimated to be only about one third of the original castle size. It took several hours to walk through the small museum and then wander our way through most of the multiple levels of ruins.

We then spent the evening walking around and exploring the town of St. Goar. We found a couple of rooms in a small, locally-owned hotel in which to stay. Most of the small shops were already locked up for the night but we still enjoyed strolling along and window shopping. We had dinner at an outdoor café in perfect, spring weather and just enjoyed watching the children play and all the people walking past.

When we tramped downstairs the next morning to check out, most of the other hotel guests were just eating breakfast in the adjoining room. I guess we presented quite a sight with all of us trouping down and out of the hotel because they all looked up and watched us exit. We had our four kids in tow along with 15-year-old Rebecka so we must have looked to be an exceptionally large family to everyone there.

After checking out of the hotel the next morning we booked a roundtrip cruise on the Rhine, up to Bacharach and back. The Rhine cruise we took was between St. Goar and Bacharach and is really the most interesting and scenic section of the Rhine River. We cruised past the Loreley, the iconic “lighthouse” castle mid-river at Kaub, a multitude of castles and past several other lovely Rhine towns on both sides of the river.

Bacharach, like most other Rhine towns, is known for its Rhine wine. It is the quintessential, picture-perfect German town with lush green vines hanging over most doorways and gingerbread-style houses and buildings amidst narrow, winding cobblestone streets. The castle stands guard from high on the hill above the town. It is an old town with a Roman cathedral ruin and an old wall with a few remaining towers. We spent most of the afternoon just walking around exploring the town, old wall and towers after enjoying ice cream cones. Then we meandered our way home along the Rhine before getting back on the autobahn and speeding home.

Chapter Nineteen: Rhine Trip

2010-05-24T18:57:00.011-06:00

One of the things we did when our friend, Rebecka, came to visit us in Germany, was to take a trip to the Rhine River region. We hadn’t been there yet and so we rose early one Saturday, packed the car and drove about three hours to the north and west. We headed to the Mosel River first and then on to Burg Eltz, a castle there.

Even with the Global Positioning System (GPS), we actually became lost and confused (surprise!) at the town of Koblenz which sits at the confluence of the Mosel and Rhine rivers. After traversing the highway at the edge of town about three times we finally exited and ended up down town. We would have liked to have parked and got out and walked around and explored the city or at least stopped for lunch but instead we became hopelessly lost. Once again we found ourselves driving around and around in circles in the downtown area. This is usually about the time the kids in the back get bored and look up from their electronic entertainments to say something helpful like, “Hey, this looks familiar. Haven’t we been by this shop already?”

To which my husband or I reply a little too loudly, “Yes. Thank you. We’re lost.”

We pulled over, tweaked the GPS and consulted maps before realizing our mistake. This is the maddening thing about the GPS. It gives you lots of information but never blurts out, “Blockhead, you just missed your exit!” It simply…recalculates. Unless you are watching it every second, you don’t notice it recalculates. So, you drive in a circle as it says, “Up ahead, keep left.” And then “After 50 meters, stay to the left.” And “At the end of the road, veer left.” And you find yourself on the very same street driving past the very same storefronts, until you once again miss your poorly marked highway exit to repeat the process all over again.

We finally found our intended highway exit and continued on along the Mosel River. It was beautiful. We drove through several quaint towns set between hilly vineyards and the tranquil river. There were walking paths studded with benches and trees along the river throughout each town and even in between the towns. But somehow we missed each and every turn to pull over until we actually pulled over into a wide parking lot in the middle of nowhere along the road. We ate our sandwiches there and managed to cross the highway to walk down to the river’s edge. The vineyards on the hill next to the parking lot and all along the Mosel River were so steep that there appeared to be some kind of chairlift contraptions built into the hill presumably to help in the grooming and harvesting of the vines. After consuming our sandwiches and visiting the river’s edge we continued on down the highway toward our destination.

Burg Eltz sits in a quiet river valley along the meandering Eltz River. But first, we had to park and then walk downhill towards the castle. After about 20 minutes of walking we reached the edge of the river valley in which the castle sat proudly below. It was a dazzling and gorgeous site shining in the sun! But, it was still another 20 minutes walk down a very steep incline. The weather was unseasonably warm for late April. It was already at least 80 degrees F. And my two-year-old was already good and ready for a nap so we had to carry her most of the way downhill on our backs. We also ended up carrying the five-year-old as well. All I could think about on the way down was the long, hot tiring trip back up!

We found the inner courtyard and waited till enough people gathered for an English tour. All our effort thus far was well worth the castle tour. You don’t actually get to see the entire castle interior but what we saw and learned was quite interesting. After the guided tour my husband took the older children to tour the treasury while I took the younger ones out into the sunny outer courtyard to play.

The girls saw some young boys sword fighting and climbing around on some huge rocks at the castle foundation and joined in the action. After six months in Germany, my daughter Mariel had become accustomed to everyone around her speaking a foreign language. After a few minutes of playing alongside the boys she ran up to me and excitedly recounted, “Mom! Those boys are speaking English!”

I answered, “Yes, they are.” And she ran back to the rocks again.

A few minutes later Mariel got the courage to address the boys directly and I heard her exuberantly say, “You’re speaking English!”

One of the boys, the older of the two, who looked about six or seven years of age, proudly stiffened up and in perfect British English (to my untrained ears) said, “I’m not speaking English. I’m speaking Welsh!” And walked away offended.

Mariel looked up at me baffled with her mouth hanging open and her eyes as big as saucers and said quiet sadly, “But he WAS speaking English, Mom. He was.” If my daughter hadn’t been so incredibly deflated I would have laughed out loud.

As it was, I was suppressing a smile as I answered, “I know honey. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Chapter Eighteen: Hiking in the Alps

2010-05-23T11:58:00.013-06:00

While we were staying in Garmisch in Southern Germany, Cory’s sister really wanted to go hike in the mountains. Thus, we went to the hotel’s front desk to ask about lifts (Gondolas) and hikes in the area. The very kind and helpful lady at the front desk had all kinds of brochures and maps and information on all the local hiking trails and pricing on the lifts. After she gave us a 10 minute detailed and slightly overwhelming run-down of all our nearby options, my father-in-law looked at her and said, “How about a short, level hike for an out-of-shape Opa (Grandpa)?”

“Oh, I see,” she said knowingly. “And the other hikers? What ages would they be?” she inquired looking over my way.

“Five kinder (children) ages 2, 5, 11, 12, and 14 and myself, my husband and Opa (here) and Oma and also my brother’s sister (I motioned to Vicki),” I replied.

“Okay,” she responded. “Then I have the perfect family hike I would suggest that includes riding lifts up and then hiking down.”

Well that sounded great to us. We took her detailed instructions and headed back to the room to grab sweatshirts, jackets, gloves, and backpacks full of snacks, water bottles and Euro and we were off. All ten of us walked several blocks across the valley floor over to the base of the nearby mountain to ride our first lift. There we purchased a one-trip family pass for everyone and boarded the next available Gondola.

It was a sunny, spring day in March and we could see for miles and miles in every direction as we lifted up into the blue sky and moved up the mountain. We shared the Gondola with downhill snow skiers who were fully clad with equipment. We must have been a sight to them; a large family group of all ages including Grandparents all the way down to a toddler who were all dressed for a cool spring mountain hike. And as we rose in elevation we kept “Oooing and Aahhing” and snapping pictures on every side and angle. The mountains were steeped in snow-capped majesty on every side and framed with blue sky and white puffs of clouds all around. And we were still rising up, up, up. We were riding almost to the very peak of the 2nd highest German Alp called the Alpspitze.

Once we reached our destination atop the mountain we unloaded and looked around a bit. We found ourselves at a sky lodge sitting in the sky. There were restrooms, lockers and an indoor cafeteria. So we ordered some hot lunch and then headed outdoors to enjoy the sunshine. We sat around on picnic tables outside and watched skiers unload from the platter-lift and ski down the steep hill on slushy, wet spring snow. There were people skiing in short sleeve shirts and others just sitting around basking in the warm sunshine.

After this we loaded back onto a different Gondola and headed down a tangent side of the mountain. We were heading to a different lift location and then to hike downhill to the final Gondola station where we would take our final ride back down the mountain to end up just a block away from the place in which we began thus completing our hiking lift circuit. At the last moment, before the doors automatically closed, a young German couple jumped into the Gondola with us. When we arrived at the lift station we were a bit dismayed to find ourselves in the middle of a ski hill and thus completely surrounded by snow on every side. We looked around for a trail sign and found one but the young German couple said the sign read something like, “Skiers only—no hikers!”

The young couple were not outfitted for skiing either and said they were also looking for the foot trail. We were much relieved when they offered to go ask someone at the lift station. However, they returned pointing directly up the steep hill in front of us. We all looked up to where they were pointing and I think I said something like, “You have got to be kidding me!” Or “Why can’t we go that way where it’s flat and easy?”

My husband responded, “Because it says no hikers.” But the couple didn’t even answer, as they were already attempting to walk (if you could call it that) straight up the hill slipping and sliding as they went in their street shoes. After all, this was Germany and above all, you follow the rules!

The problem was that none of us had really dressed for hiking in the snow. We were all wearing street shoes and I was probably the worse off as I had slip-on, Docker walking shoes that had absolutely NO traction on the bottom whatsoever. And by this time, my two and five year old children were tired. It was now mid-afternoon, just after lunch and normally would have been naptime for the two year old. The children were also wearing slip-on kinds of tennis shoes with little traction and after just a few steps their little shoes and socks were soaked completely through and they began crying. But, we were stuck. We had only purchased one-way, one-trip, tickets and the only way down the mountain, at this point, was up. So, up we went.

The adults took turns carrying and alternately dragging or pushing the two younger ones up that almost vertical hill. I ended up crawling up it like a bear on all fours, using both my hands and feet. All ten of us also took turns sliding down a few feet so that our progress upwards really went something like ten steps forward and then two steps back. My husband’s sister, the only in-shape adult, zoomed up the hill with the older kids compared to the rest of us.

Once we were up that awful hill, the rest of the trail was relatively downhill. But it was still snow-covered and steep in places and it took us quite a while to traverse the entire trail carrying two small, cold and tired children most of the way. At one point, my daughter Grace (the two-year-old) fell asleep on my back and kept slipping down and became almost completely dead weight. About that time, I fell far behind everyone else and my husband hiked back and took her from me. He slid Mariel (our five-year-old) off his shoulders and around to the front and then put Grace atop his shoulders so that he was walking down the trail carrying two girls at the same time!

It was difficult to enjoy the breathtaking scenery all around us while we were enduring all this physical cold and hardship. And I mostly had to just focus on my feet and every step I took so I wouldn’t slip and fall on the ice especially during the times I was carrying a small child on my back. But every now and then I just had to stop and look around and even snap a picture or two which is partly why I fell so far behind everyone else. I knew I had to savor the moments up in the Alps because there was no way we were coming back anytime soon!

We did eventually reach the other lift station and we were so ready for hot chocolate and German cake. But alas, we were too late in the afternoon. They had closed the restaurant down after lunch. Deflated, tired and cold we climbed into our last Gondola and headed back down the mountain and then walked back to the hotel.

Chapter Seventeen: Trip to Dachau and the Wonder of Young children

2010-05-22T15:53:00.008-06:00

Children are astounding but especially young children. Their inexperience and blunt honestly sometimes shock us, but this can be a good thing from time to time. Young children are NOT innocent from selfishness; they quickly learn all kinds of manipulation and stall tactics. But, their innocence from the potential evils that humanity can attain can certainly be refreshing.

While living in Germany, we had opportunity to travel to Dachau, the former concentration camp outside of Munich. When we made our plans known to some older Germans, they thought it was ludicrous to take young children to such a place and “expose them to that kind of thing.” Well, I realized that my two and five year-old children were not really going to understand it or absorb it and that was fine. But, neither was I going to leave them behind at home. We were planning on traveling with extended family and going on to southern Germany afterwards, so they went along with us on this occasion.

And, like we all expected, the young children were indifferent to it all. They did not understand why we were standing around reading signs (boring) and they didn’t exactly get why we had brought them to this tedious, museum-like place. During the movie presentation, my Mother-in-Law took the two of them outside for some fresh air. We met them outside afterwards and walked around to the display barracks and to have a closer look at the guard towers. All the while they were being dragged along with us not quite sure what they had done to have to endure these tiresome events.

Then, the sun burst out from behind the clouds and even though the weather was cool, we were all able to strip off some cumbersome outer layers and enjoy a few fleeting rays of sunshine on our faces. The youngest one immediately plopped herself into the gravel and began to pile up rocks and draw and play in the dirt and then her sister quickly joined her. It was a beautiful site. Two young children; the picture of health, who were completely oblivious to the past evil of their surroundings, sitting and happily playing on the ground. The sun was shining down on them and the guard towers, the barracks and the memorial. And I was reminded that God “makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust” and that the gift of childhood “innocence” is a beautiful and fleeting thing.

Chapter Sixteen: Roadside Bathrooms

2010-05-20T16:51:00.006-06:00

“Did you just see that?” I asked incredulously.

“See what?” My husband responded.

“That guy by his truck? Did you see what he was doing?” I answered.

“You mean going to the bathroom in plain view for everyone by the roadside to see?” he replied.

“Yeah! What’s up with that?” I exclaimed.

“Oh, I see it all the time.” My husband explained.

And so it was to be, an oft repeated scene before us; a car or truck pulled to the side of the road and the driver using the outdoors as personal bathroom facilities. The more acquainted we became with Autobahn bathrooms and some public restrooms in general, the more we understood these impromptu, roadside pit stops. But, I still never got used to the wide-open, public view, laissez-faire attitude.

Autobahn bathrooms were a complete crap-shoot most of the time. Sometimes they were so incredibly nasty and discussing as to render them completely unusable. Other times, there were attendants and/or pay facilities but we found this was often money well spent to have toilet paper and soap and water at the sink. And sometimes the roadside bathroom facilities were useable but not pleasant. We also discovered that stopping at either Autobahn restaurants or gas stations usually provided better public bathroom facilities.

For our family, with three daughters, plus me, even if our inhibitions were lower, using the great outdoors as a bathroom just wasn’t much of a realistic option. And with a toddler who was in the midst of potty training, we often found the need for a bathroom away from home. Thus, everywhere, we went, we would require a visit to the public restroom before leaving the building from each of our children regardless of their felt “need” for it at the moment. We just never knew how easily or soon we would find another useable one.

One time we went to visit King Ludwig’s famous castles in Bavaria (Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau) and our oldest daughter (age 11 at the time) didn’t heed our advice about using the bathroom before the castle tour began. In the midst of the English-guided tour she suddenly needed a bathroom. Now the guides are very careful to keep the group together room by room and they continually gate, close or lock the doors behind one group so the next tour group can be moving into the rooms just vacated by the previous group. We had waited quite a while in line to get tickets, spent a wad of money and planned the entire day around these English guided tours so we weren’t about to abandon the tour even for an emergency bathroom visit!
There were also ten of our family participating in that castle tour and we wanted to remain together and not get separated. So, my daughter was forced to hold her urge for the remainder of the hour-long tour. By the end the poor child was doubled over with her legs crossed in the middle of the large, beautiful and ornate upstairs ballroom of Hohenzollern. We thought she might leave a puddle on that ballroom floor, but she made it through and we all made a mad dash to get her to the bathroom at the conclusion of the tour.

In fact, we made such a mad dash that we managed to lose track of our five year old daughter in the process. My husband, Cory, thought that she was with me and I thought that she was with Cory. So after everyone used the bathrooms and we regrouped in the lobby near the gift shop, we were all horrified to find ourselves one child short!! We at once split up and I began back-tracking to find her. She quickly appeared out of the gift shop with a new friend in hand. She had found another little girl about her age and latched onto her near the end of the tour. So, though my heart was racing wildly, she was completely unconcerned and thankfully unharmed.

Chapter Fifteen: Adventures in Eating Out

2010-05-18T16:44:00.008-06:00

Dining out in a foreign country can be a fun experience. It is rewarding to try new foods and every region usually has its own unique delicacies. I was always willing to try new things but often had help with menu translation from locals who spoke some English, from German friends or even from American friends who had lived in Germany longer than I and thus knew more vocabulary.

One memorable evening dining out was with girlfriends in the region of Alsace, France. A dozen or so of us had a weekend Mom’s retreat together and stayed in the elegant Hotel Arnold located along the Route des Vins (wine route) in the town of Itterswiller. We drove over from Germany on Friday and that evening decided to dine together in nearby Ribeauville . We ended up at a small restaurant within the old, city wall. It was a warm, inviting place and the restaurant graciously offered us a large table upstairs all to ourselves. All my companions were ordering familiar foods such as Quiche Lorraine or Escargot so I thought I would be brave and blindly order something unfamiliar. I don’t recall the actual menu item name but what I was served was actually a bowl of sour cream with a side of roasted potatoes and a small slice of French cheese. Now, I like sour cream but I don’t usually eat it by the bowl full and while I also happen to love cheese, I think that particular slice is the richest, most expensive that I’ve ever eaten.

When the dessert menu was passed around, I, still being hungry, was willing to try something else. So I again randomly picked something unfamiliar as I had already eaten crème brulee on previous occasions. And thus, my desert was set before me; the smell of hard liquor preceding the actual plate of food. It looked to be an apple dessert on a pizza crust but it had been thoroughly drenched in liquors. I did try a few bites but it was strong and a few bites were all I could tolerate. A couple of other brave souls also tried a bite or two but when we paid the bill, left the tip and departed, more than 3/4ths of it was left behind. What a memorable meal and a wonderful weekend with friends!

Chapter Fourteen:Rothenburg ob der Tauber

2010-05-16T12:32:00.008-06:00

One Saturday in February we road tripped to Rothenburg ob der Tauber (literally Rothenburg over the Tauber--River); the famous, well preserved medieval town just outside of Bavaria. It is quite a gem of a town; quaint and beautiful. It was cold but the sun was shining and we enjoyed just traipsing around and exploring the city walls, shops and streets and lunched at a Turkish café. Phillip, Elizabeth and I climbed the 200 foot town hall tower and enjoyed the skyline view of the town and walls. We all toured through the criminal museum full of medieval instruments of discipline and torture. That made us glad to live in this century! And we went inside of St. Jacobs’s church and saw the famous wood carved altar piece by Tilman Riemenschneider. It was another lovely day spent exploring this country.

While Cory and the little girls sat down in the Marktplatz (Market place) eating treats; the big kids and I climbed the tower steps. Cory had a good laugh at all the cars that drove through. Every car that drove by was an American military-licensed vehicle (you can tell by the license plate) and they had their GPS on taking them to the town center (marktplatz). All the Germans would look at them weird and Cory would just laugh. You aren’t really supposed to drive through the middle of the market square in your car. It’s suppose to be residents only driving in certain areas of the city, but sure enough every person going by him and the girls were dumb Americans following their GPS right into the Market place in the middle of the village!!! We could laugh, because we’ve done dumb things like that too. That’s the one drawback of the navigation systems they don’t tell you whether you should be driving places, just “turn right here, or turn left here.”

Rothenburg is a unique town with its original, medieval wall mostly still intact and thus is usually packed to the brim with tourists. Luckily, our visit was during the slow season just after the busy Christmas holidays and before the influx of tourist in the spring and summer. It was a cold but clear day with great views, blue sky and less crowds. Mariel and Grace had started fighting colds on Friday but since the sun was shining we thought they would be okay exploring in the outdoors for a short time. We tried to take it easy and didn’t start till 10:30am and returned home by 6pm for dinner but we still wore them out. Their colds turned into a croup cough. Both Elizabeth and I ended up with the cold as well. Gracie cried the next night inconsolably for quite some time and finally said she had an “owie in her ear.” Sure enough her cold had turned into an ear infection.

Chapter Thirteen: New Year's Eve

2010-05-14T10:17:00.007-06:00

Around Christmas time in December I had noticed lots of fireworks for sale in stores, in printed advertisements, and all over the place, but I did not think much of it at the time. Little did I know that the New Year’s Eve celebration in Germany was to be one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I just had never seen anything like it, ever before.

The afternoon of New Year’s Eve, we piled into our car and headed through a few towns over to a friend’s house in Steinenbronn, another small town in the area. We had been invited to a Mystery Dinner Party at their house that evening. The kids were going to watch movies and eat pizza in the family room while the parents ate a multi-course dinner in the adjacent studio apartment. As it drew close to midnight, the kids and adults all bundled up and headed outdoors to light sparklers and shoot off fireworks.

It was an excruciatingly cold night and so I grabbed coats and blankets and headed upstairs to the attic with my hostess, Vivian, and my two-year old daughter. We lugged an old chair over to the attic window and Grace, my daughter, climbed up onto it. Then we lifted open the large window to watch the firework show spread out below us.

Nothing had prepared us for the view in which we were about to partake. At the stroke of midnight, the few, sporadic fireworks suddenly exploded into a city-wide covering of shimmering lights. We could smell black powder and sulfur as bursts of lights fell in fountains over the orange-tiled rooftops. It was a stunning sight. The deafening sounds of explosions were all around and so close that in spite of the noise, we kept hearing the empty shells roll down the tile rooftop on either side of our attic window. A couple of times we even flinched thinking that the shells were going to shoot through the open window into the attic.

As we piled back into our car for the return drive home later, we were shocked to see almost each and every road covered with a layer of firework shrapnel and singed paper. We just had to drive right over the top of it all as there was no way to maneuver around and miss it. When we returned to our small town of Magstadt about a half-hour away, the situation was the same. And we drove home across roads littered with exploded fireworks that lay like a blanket across town. All I could think was, “Wow that is a ton of money in exploded fireworks. And who is going to clean all this up?”

Chapter Twelve: Those Southern Germans

2010-05-13T17:32:00.007-06:00

Frauke, our former German exchange student, came to visit us in Magstadt just after Christmas. She was on holiday from her college classes and she and her boyfriend, Stefan, took a train down from Osnabruck to Stuttgart. She wanted to see our rental house, neighborhood, town and the US Military base where Cory was working. It was a lovely visit even though they were only able to stay for a few days.

Stefan and Frauke wanted to go sitesee around Stuttgart. So, early one morning they walked to a bus stop down the street and then rode to the train station. From there they took a train into downtown Stuttgart. After lunch, the two older kids and I joined them. It was a windy, bitter-cold, winter day and by the time we got downtown on the train, walked several blocks and stood waiting to meet them for a few more minutes our toes and fingers were numb. So we proceeded to go into the Württemberg state museum to warm up.

The museum is a former castle and king’s residence that now displays a vast and diverse amount of artifacts from all over Swabia (southern German province) from the Stone Age to present. We rented audio headsets and meandered through all the many rooms for a couple of hours looking at artifacts, paintings, ornamental church sculptures, and the king’s possessions including the crown jewels. We were actually lost most of the time as rooms and directions were not clearly marked even in German. Thus, we mostly looked at things in random order and sometimes backtracked. We learned to look around and try and open small, almost undetectable dark wooden doors that would take us through narrow, windy passages before opening up into another large brightly lit room displaying something completely different from the previous one. Sometimes these side doors would be locked but much more often when we had come to an apparent dead end, we would began to look around and retrace our steps until we found another small unmarked but unlocked wooden door. It was a great way to spend a cold winter afternoon.

Our washing machine broke while Frauke and Stefan were staying with us, so they helped us find a local electronics shop in Magstadt and translated for us during the repair process. We were also able to introduce them to some of our next door neighbors. After they had interacted with a few local people in town and on the trains, Frauke turned to me with a bewildered expression and quite seriously said, “These people here are so nice and friendly, but they are not speaking German.”

When I had recovered my composure, I probed, “What do you mean they are not speaking German?”

I mean they are not speaking High German.” Frauke replied.
Stefan joined in, “They could if they wanted to, but instead they are speaking a dialect.”

“That nice girl on the train said, ‘Oi,’ what is that? That’s not German,” exclaimed Frauke. Stefan nodded in agreement.

“Ah, you mean they have a southern accent?” I asked smiling.

Stefan answered, “Yes.”

“It just never occurred to me that you might live someplace in Germany where the people would speak a dialect of German,” Frauke said with a surprised expression.

The next few days after their departure, Cory and I repeatedly shook our heads laughing over our southern German neighbors who “didn’t speak German!”

Chapter Eleven: Christmas in Germany

2010-05-11T12:28:00.007-06:00

Christmas in Germany is magical. Almost every sizeable town hosts a Christmas Market (weihnachtsmarkt) that is a wonderful light-studded affair in their town center. In America we decorate our individual homes with lights and decorations, but in Germany they decorate their town centers instead. There are dozens or hundreds, depending on the town size, of booths selling hand-made local ornaments, shoes, socks, candles, jewelry, food, and assorted products. Each booth has a lavishly decorated roof often with moving mechanical parts or figures. And these booths are lined up side by side, row by row in an amazing assortment of offerings; roasted chestnuts, handmade candles, wonderful chocolates and pastries among other things.

And there is always at least one booth offering hot Glühwein for sale by the cup. It is a mulled, red wine tradition that is now synonymous with Christmas in Germany.
Here is a recipe below:
Glühwein
A bottle of red wine
250 ml of water
The juice from one lemon
(Or Orange instead)
Cinnamon stick
And a few cloves
Put everything in a pot, and make it hot, but not boiling. Before you serve it, take the cloves and cinnamon stick out. And then cut thin slices of the lemon or orange and add it to the glass. Also, have sugar available for everyone to sweeten it as they would like.

Another Christmas tradition in Germany is the celebration of St. Nikolaus day on the sixth of December. This was a fun tradition that is separate from Christmas Eve. It is a celebration of the patron saint’s life of giving and thus including the giving of gifts. Children set out their shoes the night before and then wake up to shoes stuffed with candies, nuts and small toys. We were told by our neighbor that St. Nikolaus had visited the local kindergarten classes and we saw a man dressed as Saint Nikolaus walking around town amidst a crowd of children.

In southern Germany where we lived Christmas Eve was focused solely on the celebration of the coming of the Christ Child and took place on December 25th. This was completely separate from the celebration of St. Nikolaus. In old, German tradition, the Christmas tree does not appear till Christmas Eve, is lighted with actual candles not electric lights and usually has brightly decorated gifts from the Christ Child underneath.

We accompanied our next door neighbors to their church in a neighboring town on Christmas Eve and despite not understanding more than about 10 words in all, it was lovely to hear beautiful music and familiar carols sung in another language. We also watched them light the Advent candle and the children perform a nativity play set in modern day Germany. Afterwards the neighbors headed home to open gifts while we then stayed up late watching Christmas specials on the AFN (Armed Forces Network) Satellite TV. Much to our children’s chagrin, we insisted on keeping our American tradition of opening presents on Christmas morning instead of Christmas Eve like all our German neighbors!

Early in the morning, the kids were up emptying Christmas stockings “hung by the chimney with care” (Another American Christmas tradition). Then Christmas day after opening presents and breakfast we went to an American friend’s house (the Conner's)for the afternoon/evening. We enjoyed having a traditional (American) Christmas dinner with them, talking and watching the kids play and then eating and talking some more! It was a day of feasting and warm fellowship for sure.

Chapter Ten: When in Rome…

2010-05-04T20:06:00.001-06:00

The saying goes, “When in Rome do as the Romans do.”Thus, as polite guests during our time living in Germany, there were certain rules and customs we tried to follow out of respect for our neighbors and as guests in their country. This was quite difficult for my older kids when they thought the customs foolish. For example, one custom was to always wear shoes and (and usually a jacket) when out of doors. This especially drove my son crazy as he is the one who loves to be barefoot year-round. The Germans definitely bundle up starting in the fall and throughout the winter and they looked disapprovingly on my kids who didn’t wear scarves and hats or gloves unless it was close to freezing temperatures outside.

Another rule or custom we followed was that of sweeping the fallen leaves out of the street in front of our house. This was also difficult for my 13-year-old son who did much of the sweeping. A road is not a place in need of cleaning or sweeping to his way of thinking. And, if it did need cleaning, we have street sweepers in America to do it. Many Americans still sweep their leaves out of their yards and into the street for collection or cleaning. In contrast, German residents rake leaves from their yards AND sweep them from their driveways and streets in front of their house as well.

This was just part of the experience of living in another country; some new customs we adapted to easily and quickly while others brought much resistance and exclamations of stupidity on behalf of younger members of my family. But hopefully it was a learning experience one way or another.

Chapter Nine: Life in Magstadt

2010-05-03T21:05:00.004-06:00

We eventually ended up renting a house in the small town of Magstadt, just outside of Stuttgart. The capitol city of the Southwestern state of Baden-Wurttemberg is Stuttgart. This is a wealthy region of Germany and its Schwäbisch residents are known as frugal, “penny-pinchers.” The area around Stuttgart contains several medium to large manufacturing employers such as Smart Cars, Daimler-Chrysler, IBM, and H.P. (Hewlett Packard) among others.

Magstadt is a typical small town surrounded by fields and forests on all sides. It was small enough for us to be able to walk from our house at the eastern edge of town, to downtown in just several blocks. We walked to the bakery, bank, post office and grocery store on a regular basis. This was a wonderful situation in which to reside. We could also walk in the opposite direction, from downtown, just two short blocks and we were at the edge of town and walking along the paved walking paths in the midst of farm fields all the way to the nearby forest. Our landlord, Herr Highland, told us that a person could ride their bike on those paths through the forest all the way into Stuttgart and back without having to ride on the roads or highways at all. In fact, Herr Highland would often ride his bike into Stuttgart on Sundays and then hop a bus back late that afternoon.

The other lovely feature of Magstadt and other such small towns in Germany is that all the stores close in the afternoon on Saturday and don’t reopen till Monday morning. This was, at first, a bit of a shock to our 24-hour, convenience-shopping, American, way-of life systems, but we soon grew accustomed to it and began to enjoy this slower pace of life. Sundays are still a day of rest in Germany. People go out walking, spend time with family, friends, neighbors, read, relax and just enjoy the day and some people even go to church on Sundays. The only stores open on Sundays are a few select bakeries where people buy cakes and pastries and bread. Otherwise the entire country is closed. My Mother says this is how it used to be here in the U.S. when she was a kid growing up in Southwestern Oklahoma.

In Magstadt, we lived in a “freestanding” house which meant a single residence across the back fence from our landlords. The Heilands lived adjacent to us even though their house faced another street. This was a typical rental situation in Germany, we were told, with the landlords close by for assistance and to keep an eye on the place.

But the absolute best thing about our life in Magstadt, was our next door neighbors, the Holzapfels. Burkhard worked as a nurse at a large hospital in a neighboring town while Christiana stayed home with her two young children, Simeon and Deborah. The Holzapfel kids were six and three the year we lived next to them while my youngest two were five and two years of age. Thus, we saw them most days after Kindergarten. My kids either went to play at their house or they came to our house to play. But, it wasn’t just having the kids next door to play with that made our time there special. It was the entire family. They were warm and welcoming. Christiana constantly helped me by answering questions or translating something or explaining some custom. Burkhard’s English was a bit rusty but he still took time to speak to us as we were just learning German. They were our neighbors and our friends and we miss them more than any other part of our town of Magstadt.

Chapter Eight: Garbage and Recycling

2010-05-01T18:03:00.005-06:00

“Rrrrrrr…” rumbled a large truck engine nearby.

At first I continued picking up the toys, puzzle pieces and papers scattered across the living room carpet, until somewhere in the remote recesses of my mind something clicked. I suddenly looked up. “That’s not the…” I said to no one in particular. I broke off mid-sentence and paused to listen more intently to what was definitely the not-too-distant roar of a large truck.

My son looked up from the school book he was reading to question, “What?”

But I sprang to my feet and didn’t answer. I ran down the hall and grabbed my shoes out of my bedroom. As I slipped them on while hopping alternately from one foot to the next, I peered out the window and through the neighbor’s bushes and between branches for a glimpse of the approaching truck. “It is!” I exclaimed after spotting it and sprinted back down the hall and out the front door. I hopped down the front steps and looked frantically toward the end of the driveway. “Oh man! It’s not there,” I said to myself.

I turned and ran back up the steps, through the front door, across the entryway and back into the living room. I threw open the large glass patio door (probably a bit too recklessly, I might add) and ran for the large, wheeled, green can that was sitting in the grass at the edge of the back patio. My son again asked, “What, Mom? What is it?” as I ran past.

I yelled, “The garbage truck!” over my shoulder as I went out the door.

In Germany, everything is limited and expensive which includes the curbside garbage collection service. This was a bit of a shock coming from the land of limitless landfills and garbage galore! America is incredibly wasteful and quite the disposable society in comparison. You just don’t realize this until you leave and go somewhere else. In our hometown, for example, we can put out as many garbage cans as we want to each week. As many as we want! And the garbage truck will haul it all away and at no extra charge! If you happen to be out of town or miss the garbage collection one week, no worries; you just pile it all out there the next week and it all disappears.

This is not so in Germany. We were allotted one green compost can and one black garbage can and they were only emptied at the curb every other week on alternate weeks. And every time the garbage can was emptied, we were charged for it. This charge was on top of a substantial garbage collection fee charged per house. Thus, you paid in advance for garbage service whether you ever used it or not. And the more you disposed of, the more expensive it became.

Let me just say, that money can be a great motivator. We suddenly became avid recyclers. And actually, it wasn’t too difficult to do. We didn’t have to invest in expensive gadgets. We simple set down four medium sized boxes next to the garbage can in the kitchen, called the children and explained the rules; One box for plastics, one box for paper, cardboard and paper, one box for glass and one box for metal cans. We didn’t drink soda pop except very occasionally in our home so we didn’t worry about aluminum cans.

Our home recycling system was quite simple and this was the beauty of it. We had tried to do some recycling back in our home state and it was so complicated, it was inhibiting. They only took green glass every other week and clear glass but not white. They would take certain kinds of plastics but not others which seemed to require a chemical engineering degree to tell the difference, and so on and so forth it went.

It was amazing to us when you broke the garbage down into these four simple categories (paper, plastic, glass and metal) how much of our garbage was recyclable. Almost everything we bought came in some kind of paper/plastic packaging combination. If we had just recycled those two items alone, we still would have cut down our amount of household garbage tremendously. By additionally recycling the glass and metal cans we astonished ourselves that we only produced about two tall kitchen bags full of garbage each week. And at the time we were a family of six with one in disposable diapers!!!

I glanced over the bush tops, onto the street and saw the garbage truck was just two houses away as I grabbed the green can and began half wheeling it and half dragging it across the grass and over to the back gate leading to the driveway. Sweating, I shoved it through the gate and wheeled it down the cobblestone driveway. Then I launched the can out into the street just as the truck was driving past. I turned and started walking back to the front porch as I heard the loud squeaking of brakes.

I looked back down the driveway just as the surprised garbage men jumped off the truck and looking a bit perplexed one of them commenced into rapid German. I had no idea what he was saying. At this moment, I felt desperately rude and hopelessly inadequate. I did the only thing I could; I smiled sheepishly and then shrugged. Right then I so wished I knew the German words for I’m sorry. I’m not sure they understood my situation and I don’t think my non-verbal communication appeased them as the guy that had been speaking threw his hands into the air and then made (what I found out later) to be an obscene gesture with his hands. I imitated his hopeless shrug, turned and continued walking back toward the house. Thankfully, they did finally empty my compost garbage can and moved on down the road in their truck. I’m still not sure what they said to me and, honestly, I’m probably better off not knowing.

Chapter Seven: Locked Doors

2010-04-28T17:25:00.008-06:00

When living in a foreign country, you soon realize that it is the small, but surprising, things that stand out as different or unfamiliar. And of course, it is all these small things that taken altogether really make the country unique. One such small thing we noticed in Germany was the door locks. All exterior, German doors automatically lock when you close them. The locks are part of the door; they are not separate like in America. Thus, when the door shuts, it locks; period.

According to our German realtor, when Americans reside in Germany, they often end up locking themselves out. And we proved to be no exception. It began in the hotel where we were living. Despite this prior knowledge and warning, our oldest daughter began repeatedly locking herself out of her hotel room. We resided in three different rooms; a one bedroom apartment and two single rooms across the hall. Our teenage son slept in one of the single rooms and our preteen daughter in the other one. Our two younger girls slept in the living room of the apartment with us.

The first time our ten-year-old, Elizabeth, locked herself out, it occurred at bedtime. This particular hotel only staffed the front desk from about 7am to 7pm Monday through Thursday. The staff locked up by noon on Friday and didn’t return again till Monday morning. So, when Elizabeth realized she was locked out, there was no way to get back into the room until the next morning. She slept on the cot in our tiny living room with both her sisters that night.

The next time it happened, fortunately it was close to dinner time and we were able to get an extra key from the front desk. Then, by the third time, my husband asked at the front desk if we could have extra keys to keep in the apartment for just such an emergency. We used those spare keys many more times in the weeks to come. But when we finally found and moved into our rental house I managed to do the unthinkable; locked myself inside my house instead! Here’s what happened:

We moved in over the weekend and were “camping out” by sleeping on air mattresses and borrowed towels, pillows, and dishes from some other American families. We were still exploring the house and becoming familiar with everything. One day that week, I was standing in front of my front door on the inside and looking at a small metal latch swinging from the wall near the door. I swung it gently back and forth a few times and thought, “What is this?” Finally, I swung it a little harder and it clicked against the door. “Oh, it’s like a dead bolt, “I said aloud to myself.

Then, my eyes widened, as I realized I had no idea how to unlatch it. I moved closer and examined the metal latch. I jiggled it; nothing. I tried sliding it; nothing. I pushed, pulled, shook and banged it; nothing. Then I stood there perplexed. The older kids walked by asking what I was doing and then they each took a turn trying to unlatch it. My husband was at work at the time and upon relaying the story to him later, he thought this would have been a good time to call Blond Star. After all, “they are always on, because I am always blond,” but alas I didn’t think of that at the time.

Finally, I did think, that maybe my neighbor would know how to unlatch it. I walked out the back patio door, across the backyard, through the back gate, down the driveway (past the locked door) and down the street to my next door neighbor’s house. If you have ever done something a bit foolish and then had to explain it to someone else in a language that is not native to them, you know exactly how I was feeling as I stood on my neighbor’s doorstep ringing the bell. When my neighbor answered her door, I stood there sheepishly and flushed and tried to explain what I had done. Of course, she didn’t understand. I finally said, please come and I will show you.

Thus, she followed me down the street, across the driveway, through the back gate, across the yard and into the house by way of the back patio door. I showed her the latch and jiggled it, indicating my predicament. Now, to my justification, she also spent at least five minutes squeezing, pushing, and twisting, trying to unlatch it. But much to my relief, she did eventually find the small metal clip on the underside of the latch and pressed it to slide it open. And that is the story of how I managed to be what was probably the first ever American who locked myself on the inside of my German house!

Chapter Six: Bathroom Word Confusion or a Willingness to Look Foolish

2010-04-27T21:57:00.002-06:00

At about the same time we relocated to the Stuttgart, Germany area, so did another American family who we would soon meet. We had children of similar ages and we both ended up in the same beginner’s German language class at a local International Baptist Church. Jessica, the Mom, pictured above, related this humorous experience to me during the course of the class.

When Jessica’s family arrived in Germany they quickly familiarized themselves with German words relating to house, apartment, room, etc. in the process of looking for a rental house. They learned the German word for bathroom, bad, in looking at advertisements for five room (Zimmer) and two bath (bad) houses and duplexes. The following week, their family was out to dinner and one of their daughters needed to use the bathroom. Applying their new found German vocabulary, they asked for the “bad, bitte?” (bathroom, please?), and received a perplexed expression from the waiter in response.

The waiter quizzically replied, “bad?”

And they again answered, “Ja, bad, for kinder, bitte.”

Somehow, the baffled waiter perceived that they were asking for the W/C or water closet and showed them to it. Later someone finally explained the waiter’s confusion to them. To Germans, the word bad does mean bathroom but a more accurate translation would be bath or shower. Bad is like asking for the bathtub or bathing room. Or even, as we found out later, the public swimming pool! My friend, Jessica, had been asking the waiter for a bathtub for their child!!! Of course, there was no such public washing room at the restaurant. Instead, they should have asked for the “toilette, bitte?”

Everyone in the German class received a good chuckle out of their experience because we too had made similar mistakes in trying to learn a new language. And we knew what it is to look silly and ignorant. This is part of the experience of living in another culture and trying to learn another language by trial and error. And also we could just picture the poor bewildered German waiter, walking away and shaking his head at those foolish, eccentric Americans!

Chapter Five: You're In The Army Now!

2010-04-26T22:13:00.003-06:00

“Army Community Services, Sondra speaking,” said the friendly voice over the phone.
“Yes, hello,” I said.
“Hello. How can I help you?” Sondra responded.
“Is this the A-C-S?” I inquired.
“Yes, this is ACS. How can I help you?” Sondra once again asked.
“I was calling to talk to someone about the SNO (Stuttgart Newcomers Orientation) class? We just arrived in the country last week and were told by my husband’s supervisor that we are registered for the class.” I answered.
“Name, please?” Sondra asked.
“Cory Isakson. I mean Cory and Angela Isakson.”
“Yes. I have you both registered for the SNO class for week of October 30th. Anything else?” inquired the friendly voice over the phone.
“Well, I was actually wondering if I could sign my two older kids up for the class as well.” I asked.
“What ages are your children, Ma’am?” she quizzed.
“They are ten and thirteen.” I responded.
“Well, your kids are old enough, but the space in the class is limited and so we want to keep the remaining spots open for other adults who are also new to the area. If there is still room by the end of the week, then we can let your kids into the class,” she explained.
“Okay. That makes sense. So, can I ask you about child care for during the class because I have two other younger children as well,” I queried.
“Yes, there is child care offered through the CDC,” Sondra once again responded.
“And what is the C-D-C?” I inquired.
“CDC is Child Development Center, Ma’am,”
“Okay, can I have the number for that?”
“Yes, it is DSN-4564.”
“O--kay and what is a D-S-N?” I posed.

I could tell I was really beginning to test her patience but I really did not know this stuff. I had been in this country all of one week and my husband had never been enlisted in any branch of the military and suddenly people, even Americans, were speaking a foreign language that consisted entirely of acronyms! I wasn’t trying to pester her; I just really needed some answers; that and someone who once again spoke plain English.

“DNS is the direct number service. It is what you call if you are on base,” she answered a bit testily.
“Oh, okay, so how would I dial that when I’m not on base?” I queried.
“You use the local prefix ma’am,” Sondra responded not so patiently now.
“And what would the local prefix be?” I asked sounding now like the most stupid person on the planet to her.
“7-6-1,” she retorted.
“Okay,” I responded slowly, “And I just call the C-D-C and tell them my husband and I are in the SNO class and need child care services that week?”
“Ma’am, you have to have your kids registered with CYS and then you can be reimbursed for child care at the CDC during the SNO class.” Sondra’s cheerful friendliness had evaporated from her voice and she was clearly frustrated.

I took a deep breath and proceeded slowly. “Okay,” I paused and then ever so tentatively and slowly continued, “and what is C-Y-S?” I asked cringing now.

“CYS is Child Youth Services, Ma’am. Ma’am, all this information is in the In-processing binder,” she responded like this was the intro-to-the-army-for-dummies-class and I was the first flunkee.
“The In-processing binder,” I repeated unhurriedly like it would miraculously make everything crystal clear.
“Yes, madam, the In-processing binder,” she rejoined.
Oh, I give up, I thought but I said, “And where would I go about getting an In-processing binder?”
“At In-processing, ma’am!” she quipped. It was official. I was a complete dunce in her mind I’m sure. “Ma’am, your husband would have learned to do all this at In-processing. “ She finally lost it. Her patience was gone and she was clearly flustered.
And I, throwing all reason to the wind, I just asked,”Umm, and what exactly is In-processing?”
“Ma’am, it’s In-Processing! It is the first thing everyone does the first week they arrive. Everyone does In-processing!” she answered exasperated.
“Well, I’m sorry to say, but my husband didn’t do In-processing,” I told her.
“Yes, he did. Who is his commander?” she demanded.
“You mean his supervisor? He doesn’t have a commander because he’s not enlisted. He’s a contractor,” I explained.
“It doesn’t matter. EVERYONE does In-processing!” Sondra yelled incensed.
“Well, we flew into the country last Friday morning and my husband is working at the office this week. I know, for a fact, that he did NOT do In-processing,” I clarified.

This was just one example of the many, many frustrating conversations whether in person or over the telephone that I experienced those first days and weeks in a new country with the good ‘ol US of A helping me along in fine form. Suddenly I was a stupid person who knew nothing and could do nothing right. It was quite an experience. I noted to my family back in the states that we were adjusting to two new sets of languages and cultures; one was German and the other--the US military; probably the largest bureaucracy in the world.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/isaksonfamily/sets/72157594414014489/

Chapter Four: Large Family in a small (i.e. European) world

2010-04-25T12:36:00.005-06:00

I think our family is quite a sight here in Germany. We have yet to meet a German family larger than four. And Germans stare. At least these Southern Germans stare. It’s not considered rude I guess. So our family of six gets stared at EVERYWHERE we go. It’s a bit unnerving. I’m never sure if we are doing something “wrong” or they are just amazed at our family size or if they never see families with kids of all ages together or what. I’ve just started smiling and waving at the onlookers and then they usually turn away. But you still have this sense that you are part of the circus or something.

When we first arrived, the rental car they gave us was a Mercedes Van that seats nine but it was very out of place in a world of hatch backs and smart cars. It BARELY fit in the below-ground parking garage at the hotel and it was quite difficult for Cory to maneuver it. Thus, we switched to a 7 passenger VW van. The vast majority of cars here are manual stick shifts so both our vans were as well. Cory has managed to kill the vans several times already amidst shifting. I wasn’t even brave enough to get behind the wheel for the first several weeks. I didn’t want to drive the huge Mercedes Van on the little, narrow, windy roads and I didn’t want to drive before I understood some of the major rules of the road. After studying for my German/American military driving examination, then I was willing to drive.

And the mention of windy roads makes me remember that motion-sickness-prone-children (i.e. my girls) and German roads don’t go together very well. We’ve had many instances of “Mom, Dad I don’t feel very good.” And even one emergency stop and consequent emergency laundry episode thus far. (I will leave the details to the imagination of the reader) We’ve learned to always carry plastic sacks in the automobile and to pull off more quickly, and that one can never have enough chewable Dramamine on hand. I need to ask my Mom (a nurse) if there is any potential problem with “too much Dramamine.”

Chapter Three: Hotel Living

2010-04-24T17:33:00.005-06:00

The first six weeks we resided over in Germany, we lived in a hotel. Hotels in general aren’t actually designed for large families and by European standards ours, with four children, is a large family. And secondly, hotels are not designed for living; just for sleeping. Thus, we were in for some long, interesting days ahead as we squeezed all six of us into a place that was designed for two, day and night, seven days a week. Cory took our only vehicle, the nine passenger rental van, to work each morning while the kids and I stayed behind to do school and attempt to entertain ourselves with a few toys, card games, books, German television and a laptop computer with limited and expensive internet access.

There were only enough sparse dishes in the cupboards for one meal for our family. Thus, hand washing the dishes after each and every meal also became part of our daily routine. In fact, there were only four of each kitchen utensil and dishware in our hotel apartment and we actually had to scrounge several dishes from the two single rooms across the hall, where my older kids were sleeping, to have enough for everyone. We quickly tired of Hamburger Helper and Rice-A-Roni as these quick and easy prep meals were our staple diet in our tiny hotel kitchen.

The dining room table was a fold-down table in the living room that only seated two people at a time. We either took turns eating in shifts of two or we seated the two youngest (ages 2 and 5) at the table while the rest of us sat on the couch or floor sharing the tiny coffee table. German television (at least in the hotel) was an interesting experience. In the afternoons we would tune in to old 1990 sitcoms like The Nanny or Step-by-Step with Suzanne Somers and Patrick Duffy that were voiced over in German.

The older kids learned to retreat with their school books to their own rooms across the hall after breakfast was consumed and cleaned up. In between breakfast and lunch, I was helping the kids with school work and trying to help them pass the time creatively. Homeschooling is illegal in Germany and even though it was legal for us as Americans living and working there under international agreements, it was still very rare, misunderstood and viewed as highly suspect. Thus, the older, school aged kids were bound to the small hotel rooms from early in the morning until about lunchtime as the local schools were only in session from about 7:30am to 1:00pm most week days.

The hotel staff came in once a week and changed the sheets and towels, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom and emptied the garbage. We had a few sparse cleaning supplies to use in between times to keep up with everything. Emptying the small garbage cans and carrying it downstairs to the dumpsters in the parking garage became an almost daily task since we were eating so many ready-made kinds of foods. We tried to keep a plastic grocery sack or two on the kitchen floor for recycling kinds of things (glass, cardboard, metal cans) and when it got full Cory took it to the recycling on base. It was getting us in the practice of recycling which would be an absolute necessity once we moved into a rental house.

We quickly found a small neighborhood park just a block from the hotel. I started daily jaunts there with the two youngest girls while the older ones were doing their school work in the mornings. Or the young ones would go out the glass patio door into the back patio courtyard for some fresh air and exercise instead. The interesting thing about this “private” patio was that our apartment truly was the only one with access to it. However, the hotel was built with one entire wing around this central patio. So, it was like a fish bowl with every nearby back window looking down onto it. And with concrete, stucco, exterior walls on every side, sounds bounced and reverberated around the entire square. My two and five year old children are not quiet children and so all their noisy, rambunctious play echoed around and was shared with each and every nearby hotel room. Fortunately, most of the hotel guests were business travelers and hopefully they were already awake or better yet gone by mid mornings but the back patio situation was still a bit uncomfortable for me.

We had laundry facilities at the hotel but they were expensive. They had one washing machine and it cost 3 Euros per load. They had two dryers and drying is free but extremely slow. The German washing machines are much smaller and slower than American ones so you can only fit less than half of a “normal” load into it. So, once a week we drove to the nearest Army Base (Panzer) and did our laundry at the 24 hour laundry mat there. It only cost $1.25 to wash and just 25 cents to dry (for 15 minutes of time). So, with all the washing machines I could usually have 5 to 7 loads done in 20 minutes and then it would take another half hour to 45 minutes to dry everything. While I did the laundry, Cory usually took the kids across the parking lot to the bowling alley for dinner and bowling. We found that there was half price bowling on Mondays so that was usually when we were there doing laundry in the evenings.

During the afternoon time after lunch I would put my two year old down for a nap and use the internet to try and find a rental house large enough for our family that was affordable and nearby to my husband’s job location. This seemed like a monumental task at the time. Germans don’t have a central database for accessing rental information and I couldn’t exactly pick up a local paper and read it. Each realtor has their own individual listings and when you rent a place through them, you are expected to pay at least the equivalent of one month’s rent toward their realtor’s fees. The places we were looking at renting were going to cost almost $2000/month, that’s some expensive realtor fees for finding a place to rent! But after a couple of weeks in the hotel our family was highly motivated to find a different place to live.

Chapter Two: Cashless First Weekend

2010-04-20T19:02:00.004-06:00

When we first arrived in Germany, we walked off the plane into the sunshine on a new continent after flying all night to get there. After collecting our mountains of luggage and piling it into three separate cars, we headed to the hotel. This was to be our new “home” for the next several weeks. After dragging all our belongings into the large, quadruple room, I practically collapsed onto the hotel beds. I knew the quickest way to adjust to the new time zone was to stay awake all day and go to bed early, but I just couldn’t keep my eyes open. So after all our helpers left the hotel room, I lay down and napped with my two and five year olds for a couple of hours.

Thus we didn’t have an opportunity to get to a bank before they all closed that Friday afternoon. We didn’t have any Euros and no way to exchange our dollars. While I napped my husband took off with one of his co-workers to go pick up the rental van and get his military ID at the nearby Army base. These two tasks took him the entire afternoon, so he also didn’t make it to the bank before closing time that day.

Therefore, we were left without any useable cash for our first weekend in Germany. Luckily, our airport greeters had stocked our hotel room with some very basic and necessary items such as bread, milk, cereal, lunch meat and cheese. We just didn’t realize that most small shops and markets in Germany still close on Saturday afternoon and don’t reopen till Monday morning. We also had grown accustomed to our American cashless society and it was a bit of a shock to us that we now needed cash (Euros) for most everything, everywhere we went; museums, markets, grocery stores, bakeries, post office, etc.

On Saturday we slept late, ate breakfast, got dressed and then walked to town in the late afternoon. By the time we reached, what appeared to be the city center, everything was closed. There was one small grocery store still open but they were cash only. And there was one Schlecker store open (a German drugstore chain) but again, they only took cash. So we enjoyed our walk and seeing the small town center and the fresh air, but everything was closed.

Back in America, I could write personal checks at most all places but Europeans had already removed most personal checks from their banking and commerce at the time we lived in Germany. Now that we are back in America, our country is also moving that direction. Most places in my hometown that use to accept checks, now remove those funds electronically, on the spot, and then hand my paper check back to me. Thus, it now makes a debit card a better choice for payment at those places.

So I learned in Germany to always, always, take my keys, cell phone and cash (Euros) before leaving the house. Large department stores and highly touristy places would take credit cards and especially on large purchases but most places still wanted and preferred to use cash.

Chapter One: Leaving on a Jet Plane

2010-04-19T15:05:00.003-06:00

Our adventure began in the summer of 2006 when we received the official offer for my husband to work overseas. We spent the next two to three months organizing and itemizing our belongings into three groups; the air shipment, the sea shipment and the storage items. We were to be living out of suitcases for several weeks in a hotel in transition. Thus, the air shipment included our winter coats, hats, gloves, school books for the kids and my son’s keyboard. The sea shipment was to include most of our important everyday household items minus the electronics. And the items to be stored were garage items, photos, a few antiques and most all our household electronics since they couldn’t be used in Europe. We contracted with a property management firm, sold one of our cars and began to itemize, describe and price every single item we owned for insurance purposes for the moving company.

We had three separate moving companies come into our home and give us a bid on packing, shipping and storing our things. Then, my husband’s company picked the winning bid and we awaited the appointed day of chaos. Actually, it was three days of chaos; the first day for packing our sea shipment and air shipment items, a second day for loading our sea shipment items into the shipping container, and finally, the last day for packing and loading our storage items. Then we had to clean the empty house and get on an airplane for a really long ride.

Following is my 13 year old son’s account of the airplane trip from his perspective:

What happened to the Isaksons when they moved to Stuttgart, Germany

We woke up at 4:15am Mountain time. We got all of our stuff together, and had a taxi come pick us up at 5. The taxi driver of course had to tell us his life story and all that jazz. Anyway, when the taxis (it took two) dropped us off at the airport, we of course, had to carry the luggage all in, this took about 15 minutes. No joke-then of course check them which took another 15 minutes. Once we were done with the luggage part, we went of course, as all people do, through security. You’re probably wondering why I started with the boring part at the beginning now. Well, it just-so-happens that Elizabeth managed to bring along a pair of scissors in her carrying case that, of course, she didn’t know of. By some miracle she managed to get through security without being caught. Then we waited for the plane. And waited, and waited. We realized we were 2 hours early for the flight, so we really had to wait and wait and wait.

Once we actually got on the plane we were pretty worn out. On the plane I think we were supposed to have breakfast, which apparently they gave to us. All I got though was a few crackers and some cheese. (Editor’s comment: Phillip slept through breakfast on the plane and only awoke for the snack.) Now don’t get me wrong, I love cheese and crackers, but when you get up at 4:15 in the morning, and its 9:30, you’re hungry for some food! I, by another miracle, managed to get through with my cheese and crackers.

About half way through the flight we were informed that the toilet was full. Of course, when you’re on a plane for 6 hours, you REALLY need to go. I hadn’t gone yet, and was forced to hold it for 3 more hours. I once again managed to survive. When we got off in Atlanta, I took in the surroundings, of the bathroom. Wait a minute; shouldn’t that be “I went to the bathroom”? Oh well, it sounds better this way. Anyway, now to describe the part of the airport we were in.

When we got off in Atlanta, (haven’t we been here before?) I was appalled by the floor! It was covered in black electric tape. Apparently we were in the dumpiest part of the entire airport (Editor’s comment: that part of the airport was in the process of being remodeled). Which I didn’t realize until the floor turned to the best quality tile I think I’ve ever seen.

We enjoyed banging around in the under-ground train in Atlanta. You could easily pick us out and tell we were new to it because every time it moved we went “Whoa!” and were tossed around profusely. Oops, I forgot to tell you about the stores and everything in Atlanta! Pause…rewind…

When we got off in Atlanta, and had got onto the tile, there were stores on both sides of us. There was a hair-cutting salon, all kinds of restaurants, three videos stores that I saw; a book store. And just about every store you can think of! Before we went on the train, we of course, had to go down, way down. We found an escalator, and went down, further down and further down! It was the longest escalator I’ve ever seen!

Okay, fast forward now… When we got off the under-ground train, we found a food-court and ate Arby’s for lunch. We went to gate E4 (There were about 38 gates in each section and the highest section was “T”!) 45 minutes later we found out we were supposed to be in E32, across the airport we went! Once again we waited for our flight, this time to Stuttgart. And this time the flight was 9 hours. *groan* This flight however had only one mishap.

When we got on the plane, we waited, and waited and waited, and waited. We weren’t moving! What was wrong? The pilot informed us that there were 26 planes waiting to take off, and that it would be another 45 minutes before we could take-off. It took an hour.

Yes, we did sleep on the plane, considering that the plane landed in Germany at 9 o’clock A.M. their time, it was hard not to sleep. For me anyway… I slept 4 and ½ hours on the plane, Grace slept 6 hours, Liz and Mariel 1, and I don’t think Mom or Dad got any sleep at all. Not that I knew of anyway. When we at last reached Stuttgart, we, were, pooped. I felt like it was 11:00p.m. and that I had ran in circles for an hour. Yeah, I had just awakened when they said, “We are now approaching Stuttgart, Germany.” So I was way tired still.

Yeah! We were finally done flying! We had got our passports stamped back in Atlanta, so we didn’t need to go through that, but we had to get our bags still. (Editor’s note: This shows how truly half-asleep Phillip was at the time. We stood in line for quite some time at the passport booth, then had to have each and every one of our family’s passports inspected and stamped before moving on down the walkway and then through the airport to find our luggage. We did have to show our passports back in Atlanta to board the plane but they were not stamped there.)

We had to hire someone with a cart to haul all of our stuff to the car. One of my dad’s friends, (the one probably all know as the reason we didn’t got to Germany 3 years ago. Yeah, this was the one that “stole” dad’s job) drove us to our hotel and helped settle us in. Of course, this, as all things, didn’t go perfectly either. I got stuck in the car that had my dad and Grace in it. You know how parents like to talk? Well, my dad’s friend got distracted with talking to my dad and, you guessed it, missed the turn.

We still made it though; it just took…a little bit longer to get here. We got a peek at the autobahn, and a few other things we wouldn’t have gotten to see, but still it’s funny how nothing goes as planned! Part of getting us settled in was getting us our military IDs so that we could go on-base. Once again, this didn’t quite go as planned. *eye roll*

We got on-base using my dad’s friends’ ID and went to activate my Dad’s P.O. Box. We realized though that this required and ID, so we went to go get the ID. My dad (Cory) got his picture taken, he filled out 15 minutes of paper-work, and then we were done, well…almost done. Then we had to get the ID activated which was next-door, the lady that was supposed to do this was not there, and we waited, again, for 5 minutes *phew* this time. Once that was dealt with, we had lunch on-base, which was full of surprises. We had a choice of “Subway, Taco Bell or McDonalds” no kidding! We chose Subway.

We walked into Subway and I was totally surprised that there was 90’s music playing, and it was EXACTLY the same as a Subway back in Idaho! I once again, was blown back. Oh yeah, I forgot, everyone on-base speaks English! Yeah!

We got a tour of the base. The base, has two haircut places, three restaurants, a general store, a clothing store, the three fast food places I mentioned before, and hot-dog stand, and chicken stand; five base-ball fields, a track, two tennis courts; tons of people, 1/6 of which are in full military uniform, a piece of the Berlin wall; the list goes on.

We got a lecture of taking out the garbage, because in Germany, they recycle everything, well, almost everything. Also, you can’t put the trash out from 12-2 o’clock p.m. and you can’t after 9 p.m. because that’s “quiet hour.” Another strange, errrr…different, thing is that on Sunday you cannot mow the lawn, you cannot do any noisy yard work, almost everything’s closed; You cannot hang clothes up to dry outside on Sunday. And, once again, the list goes on.

When you’re driving down a road, a lot of the time you’ll all of the sudden find yourself in the forest, with CDs hanging off of trees, “To keep the animals away from the road.” I think that my favorite thing so far is “the walker’s rule” when you’re walking, you can go anywhere, you can walk through farms, through the woods, anywhere, and no one cares! And the best part about it is that, say you are walking through an orchard; you can reach up, pick an apple, and eat it! And no one cares! Everything here is automatic; another cool thing.

Keep in mind we’re still in the middle of day two here, and we’re not yet finished. Unfortunately though, there are no more mishaps to speak of. After the tour and once we “learned our way around” my dad filled out more paperwork, I’m not sure what for, but I think it had to do something to the affect of “Americans don’t have to pay German taxes” because so far as Germany’s concerned, we’re in America. Because the base is separate from Germany altogether; even though we’re not living on-base.

And that is the end of day two…
Hope you had a good laugh!
By Phillip Isakson (age 13)

Preface

2010-04-18T17:43:00.007-06:00

“Flight attendants please prepare for departure,” boomed the familiar expression over the loud speaker on the airplane. We taxied around the last corner and then came to a halt as the jet engines began to roar louder and louder. Then in an instant, we were all pressed back into our seats as the plane raced down the runway, shaking and rattling as it lifted quickly into the early-morning, pink, autumn sky. Spread out below us was our home town of the last nine years, Boise, Idaho. As the buildings and cars grew smaller and smaller below, I looked fondly and a bit sadly on the home we were saying good-bye to for at least the next two years. As the city turned into farms and then merged with the endless desert below, I turned my head back to the front of the plane and relaxed as the plane leveled off in the sky.

I realize that most Americans would not pack up their household goods and fly on an airplane across the ocean to relocate their lives to a foreign country. But then, we’ve never been “most Americans.” Almost everything in our adult lives has been a bit unconventional or a little to the side of “normal.” Not that being different is the goal within itself. We’ve never set out to be different, just for the sake of being different. No; it is that this life of faith has led us down a different path than most others.

My husband and I fell in love and got married before we finished college. We had a child within the first year of our marriage (10 months afterwards—to be exact). I chose to stay home full time with my newborn son , even though I was the one with the college degree, at the time, and my husband was working a job that paid less than $5 an hour; a pretty meager wage even back in 1993. And when our son turned five years old, we began homeschooling him. He’s sixteen now and we are still home schooling him as well as his three younger sisters. We have now been married to each other for seventeen years which is also something of an anomaly these days.

So, we are used to being a bit different and to taking risks. For us, it is a life of faith and a wonderful adventure. Not that we expect everything to work out wonderfully or even as planned, as you will see in the following pages, but we do expect to learn and grow along the way; to learn about this great, big wonderful world and the great, big wonderful God who created it and to grow closer to Him and to each other throughout our lives.

I think the dream of taking our kids to live in another culture began a long time ago for me, probably in high school as I had considered being an exchange student even then. But for my husband, Cory, it began with our trip to Italy in 1999. Cory came home from work one day and while he was in the kitchen putting together a salad for dinner, he casually asked, “So, how about going to Venice for Valentine’s Day?” He had a slight smirk on his face and I thought it was a joke. Now, I know of Venice, California but I was thinking, ‘Is there a Venice, Idaho?’ because if there is, surely that is what he is thinking about.

I questioned, “Venice?”

And Cory replied almost laughing now, “Yes, Venice.”

“Venice, California?” I said still not catching on.

“No, Venice, Italy, you silly.”

“Well, yeah! I’d love to go to Venice, Italy for Valentine’s Day but how exactly would we afford that?” I replied.

So, Cory finally revealed his poker hand and handed over the day’s mail which included an offer from our frequent flyer program of not one, but TWO round trip tickets from ANYWHERE in the US to several locations in Europe for $199 roundtrip plus 10,000 frequent flyer miles. You just had to call and book the tickets in the next few weeks and you had to use them by the end of March or something like that. I had been flying the same national airline since my college years when I would go visit my grandparents in Oklahoma or on other trips and had never used up all my frequent flyer miles. So, we immediately picked up the phone and called Cory’s parents to see if they would be willing to have their grandkids come visit for a week or so.

We ended up flying from Seattle to Bologna, Italy and then took trains to Venice, Rome and Florence before returning to Bologna and then back to Seattle 10 days later. It was wonderful. We loved Italy and the Italian people. We loved the fresh food, walking everywhere and exploring old churches and neighborhoods and we loved their open, public plazas. And so the dream began, “We have got to come back and bring the kids.”

Fast forward seven years and two more kids later and we still hadn’t gotten there. But, neither had we forgotten. And so, when the fateful call or email job offer came in the mid-summer of 2006, we immediately said, “Yes! We will go.” Actually, at first, I didn’t believe it was really going to happen, but if it did, the answer was a resounding yes!

To Dream a little Dream

2010-01-06T20:38:00.004-07:00

Well, I've been meaning to post about our week-long Mexico mission trip for a couple of months but time just keeps tick, tick, ticking away on me. Now we have already been there and are back home again but I just had to share a couple of thoughts.

It is amazing to me that just a few short months ago this family mission trip idea was just that; an idea. And as I began to research about our options and Cory and I began to pray about the opportunity, I just stand in awe of how it all came together and God provided the money for us to go. I just couldn't have made it all happen if I had tried and yet God did put it all together for us.

It is just a great example of Psalm 37:4
"Delight yourself also in the LORD, And He shall give you the desires of your heart."

God is good!
http://www.truelightministries.net/

Another great poem by Taylor Mali now with kinetic typography.

2009-10-28T22:17:00.004-06:00

 This is short but EXCELLENT. My older kids are taking Speech and Debate
this year and I had them watch and listen to this video. They loved it!
Just had to share.

Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo.

2009-10-28T22:00:00.004-06:00

Christmas and the holidays are much on my mind these days. We are heading north just before Thanksgiving to visit Cory's family. And then back to Boise for Thanksgiving with my side of the family. So I would like to have much (if not all) of my extended family shopping done by then. But, of course, what to do for everyone. That is always the question.

And I have especially been considering trying to make gifts using some of my photos since
A. I already have them and
B. They bring back such great memories.
I've been perusing some digital photo album websites and trying out different software just to see if there is something quick and easy AND looks great (more like a scrapbook and less like a photo album). Haven't found the perfect thing yet but I will keep looking.

One year we did custom photo calendars through Costco for Cory's family and our German extended family and they turned out great! They were quick and easy and only about $10 a piece.

And I did get this idea in my email inbox and I might try to make one of these photo notepads and see how truly easy or difficult it is:

http://photojojo.com/content/diy/photo-cover-notepad/

It looks cool.

I thought the kids might like to each have one of these in their stocking this year. And I already have the photos and the paper and glue. So, we will see...

Grandma Rose's obituary

2009-09-11T19:34:00.002-06:00

Here is Cory's Grandma's obituary. She lived a long life. Cory flew up to Coeur d'Alene this morning to be with his family for the funeral and burial this weekend.
(And, of course, while he is gone the battery died in one of the vans. Why do these things always happen when he leaves town? Funny, huh?)

Nita Rose Witherup, 95

Nita Rose Witherup, 95, of Post Falls, Idaho, passed away Sept. 9, 2009, in Post Falls. She was born Feb. 3, 1914, in Slater, Mo., to James and Catherine Allen.

As a teen Nita moved to Kansas City, Mo., where she met and married Mervyn, the love of her life. She followed him west when the Hanford project was birthed and spent many happy years in Richland, Wash. In 2000 she moved to Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, to be near her daughter and son and live independently until 2004.

Nita was an avid tennis player and an accomplished bowler. She enjoyed pinochle, gardening and baking. She spent most of her years as a homemaker but in mid-life worked in retail sales in the music, jewelry and clothing industries.

Nita is survived by her children: Sandra Hankins (partner Ted Granger) of Seattle, Wash., Mervyn Witherup Jr. (wife Linda) of Spokane, Wash., and Connie Isakson (husband Ron) of Post Falls, 12 grandchildren and 24 great-grandchildren.
Nita is preceded in death by her beloved husband of 53 years, Mervyn; son William and five siblings.

The family would like to thank her wonderful caregivers and friends at The Loyalton in Coeur d'Alene, Moran Vista in Spokane and Life Care Center in Post Falls. You are truly our kind of heroes and heroines. She felt very loved and "special" throughout her years of assisted living and skilled nursing care.

Memorial services will be held at 10:30 a.m. Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009, at Life Care in Post Falls and graveside services will be held at 11 a.m. Sunday, Sept. 13, 2009, at Sunset Memorial Gardens in Richland, Wash.

Please sign Nita's guest registry and view her online memorial at www.englishfuneralchapel.com.

Our Momentous Week!

2009-08-17T23:46:00.002-06:00

I just had to share a few highlights of our crazy, busy week with you:

While Liz and Kendall have been enjoying their MCT drama camp this week, Mariel has begun vision therapy for her eye focusing problem and I have driven Phillip around to a haircut, job interview, and finally to get his Driver’s License!!! (He only missed two questions, so he beat Jenny’s score—which is really all that matters right? Ha! Just kidding.) We also got Phillip’s Congressional Record book in the mail to D.C. for his Silver Medal which represents almost 250 hours of voluntary public service on his part.

And then…..Phillip just received a phone call from the library, where he interviewed, and they offered him the part time job!!! Whoo Hoo! And Praise the LORD!!!

Now, in a couple of hours I get to traverse the city in my van (once again) to go pick up 5 of our summer-reading refugee girls so they can attend Liz’s play with our family tonight!!! I think it will be as much fun to watch their faces glow as to watch the play. There were dozens of them that wanted to come along but I only had so many extra seats in the car and so much money for tickets. I will take some pictures and pass them along later.

We have barely been home, the house is trashed, the young girls are bickering, and I am tired but rejoicing in what has been accomplished.

Just had to share the joy,
Angela

editorial note: The 5 girls dwindled into 3 when it came time to transport them to the play but they all had a great time and we were able to get a refund on the 2 unused tickets.

My Blondstar Moment

2009-05-26T11:06:00.002-06:00

If you need a chuckle then do I ever have one for you. Here is the email I sent my family yesterday describing my latest faux pas:

Well after you hear what I managed to do, you may not want to claim relation any longer.

After driving around for several weeks with an electronic window stuck in the halfway down position (in rain and hot sun) Cory finally gets some help from a body mechanic friend to get it fixed before Grandma comes down for the weekend. The only day we could work it in was today (yes, Phillip’s 16th birthday). So, After three hours of taking the entire door of the Toyota van apart, our friend discovers that nothing is really broken after all. I had simply pushed the ‘child’s safety lock’ that I didn’t even know I had and “locked” the window in that position!!!

I guess my only consolation is that neither Cory nor the car-mechanic friend thought to try the button lock either.

I just amazed myself sometimes!
Unbelievably yours,
Angela

Just Questions

2009-05-25T18:49:00.004-06:00

Colossians 3:16 "Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God."

This verse keeps returning to my mind and my question is:

1. Am I letting the word of Christ richly dwell within me?

And

2. How am I letting the word of Christ richly dwell within me?

I don't have any answers yet, just questions.

Anyone else with answers is encouraged to share.
Your prayers are appreciated also.
Thanks!
Angela

20 years and counting...

2009-05-23T12:48:00.001-06:00

Well, February this year has already come and gone, but I do remember thinking sometime during that month that it marked my 20th year of walking with God. Twenty years, wow.

I am so thankful that the Father, in His infinite grace and mysterious ways, reached down and redeemed my life; my mistakes for His forgiveness and my sins for His righteousness. It certainly wasn’t a “fair” trade; thank the LORD! I’m glad this world is not always fair or my life would have been radically different these past 20 years had I gotten what I deserved instead of what I needed. God is truly Great and Wonderfully Good.

It's a Small World After All

2009-05-14T18:32:00.003-06:00

So, my Mom comes for a visit recently and tells me that she brought a jar of cookie mix with her to spend some time together making cookies with my girls. Well, she forgot and left the cookie mix in the car the first day, but two days later she comes by and delivers the cookie mix, along with other presents and goodies on her way elsewhere for the day.

I had a baby shower to attend that afternoon and left the girls behind, due to an eye infection working its way through my family, to make the cookies together while I was gone. When I returned home the were in the kitchen diligently working away and I picked up the glass canning jar and read the homemade label. It said, “Sparkler Cookies. [baking instructions]Enjoy this treat with our heart-felt THANKS for your dedicated service this year! We thank GOD upon our every remembrance of YOU!
Ric and Lisa Schumacher.”

Then, I about fell off my chair! I almost couldn’t believe it!

Ric and Lisa Schumacher were the support group leaders for our homeschool group while living in the Stuttgart, Germany area. And they were also in charge of the Sparks age-group at the AWANA program my girls attended while living there.

And now, less than two years later I was holding a handmade label from them that had been given to my Mom for her volunteer service at the Sparks AWANA program at my Mom’s church in Pullman, WA.

It’s a small, small world. :)

2009-04-30T16:16:00.003-06:00

Here is a photo of Cory just a few steps outside from his new office in Eagle, ID during his lunch hour. He now works next door to Merrill Park and a fishing pond near the Boise River and the greenbelt. Three months later it is hard to believe that...

1. He was laid off from his previous job
2. He was unemployed (just a few weeks)
3. And just three short months ago he didn't even have this job!

Well, from the photo, you can see all is well and he loves it. :) Including lunch.

Unemployment Final Chapter by Cory

2009-01-23T20:57:00.001-07:00

Well, it looks like we are nearing the end of the latest mini-series of Isakson Family. Lets recap what we have seen and remember that they were asking Jesus to be with them all along.

This episode began just before Christmas on December 16th when Mr. Isakson was given notice by his employer that he had until the end of February to find another job.

Angela’s response of “Woo Hoo now we can go back to Germany” was surprising to some viewers, but the real fans knew that was from her heart.

The excitement grew as viewers then watched Mr. Isakson get immediately let go on New Years eve.

Several options unfolded for the Isakson’s to consider during our last few weeks. First was the Email from local friend Richard Hundhausen on Dec. 18th.

 “Hi Richard, Do you know any very good Boise area / northwest shops that are available to develop a large cross-platform .net and silverlight application?” – Jeff Bull at Unity Media Group

 You might check with Cory Isakson. He’s good, and might have some availability. – Richard

This began a working relationship between Unity and Cory. He began working as a consultant to help them with a product they needed to get developed, having no idea how long the work would last.

Then the big surprise came on January 7th in the form of another Email from a recruiter in Stuttgart Germany.

 “Cory, Just going through some old emails... Looking for a programmer initially for the Web Portal over at SOCAF ... Are you interested? 4 month base and two option years... Please reply to all...” – Chris Foley with Lockheed

We watched the family process the Germany possibility and saw that the biggest concern was Phillip who had been openly opposed. With a big prayer of thanksgiving we all rejoiced as Phillip opened up and reconsidered his previous fears.

Unity continued to meet with Cory and decided they wanted to hire him full time and make him a member of their team. Meanwhile Cory completed the application for Germany and kept that option open.

During our last episode we saw the options coming to a conclusion as Cory met with the leadership of Unity Media Group.

Then came the decision point on Thursday when Ken called him with the offer. Would he take it and stay in Boise where friends and family were wrestling with God to keep him. Or would he hang onto the possibility of returning to the land of Castles, Cars and Beer ?

Again, we find the answers in Email.

 Cory - just had meeting this morning with the govt... They have chosen another guy.... Good guns... Grab what you have... Will keep you in mind for other things as well so lets stay in touch...

And thus concludes this episode of Isakson Family. Tune in next week as Cory goes back to full time work and jumps into the .COM startup game with Unity Media Group.

The views and opinions expressed in this commentary are the personal property and copyright of Cory Isakson. This summary is provided for information and entertainment and Praise Jesus purposes only. It does not represent the experiences of most families and therefore should not be taken to mean that viewers can and will experience similar things. The use of Email in this drama was entirely real and while it is often a weak form of communication it can still be useful. Twitter, Facebook, and Social Networks have been expressly omitted from Isakson Family, though some on the set occasionally catch glimpses of family members on Facebook. Right wing fundies who get their undies into bundies are asked to please exit through the side door. Everyone else is welcome to stay for the shooting of infomercials.

Unemployment Day 8

2009-01-12T23:15:00.002-07:00

Well, I thought I should update, but really there is no news yet. Cory is off at Microsoft this week doing training (for FREE) but still no official local job offer has materialized.

So, we are trying to decide what to do. He is trying to decide what to do.

Do we stay or do we go back to Germany as that is the only job offer on the table so far.

What to do, what to do?

The family is all game to move back overseas, but Cory is a bit hesitant---hhhmmm, I wonder why that could be?

Unemployment Day 4

2009-01-08T22:20:00.005-07:00

What to say....

It looks like my husband will have about three different job offers in writing by next week. Now he will just have to decide where to work (Boise or Germany) and for whom.

Amazing...Astonishing.. Astounding...

Almost Unbelievable

EXCEPT for GOD, with whom all things are possible.

Day 1 of Unemployment

2009-01-05T20:02:00.005-07:00

Some may know that my husband was given a 2 month notice of a job lay-off recently.

However, two months turned into two weeks and he is officially unemployed NOW. He was let go on December 31st, 2008.

So, actually Day 1 of umemployment was last Friday, but who's counting?! Ha!

And all I can say is God is Faithful and True! We are looking forward to a new chapter of faith and trust in 2009. I'll let you know the end of the story...later.

To be continued...

Living Lighter

2008-11-01T17:41:00.002-06:00

Part of the joyful experience of moving overseas was that we took only about two thirds of our belongings with us. I wish we could say we took less. It would have been much easier; especially in light of the fact that we only ended up staying about seven and a half months. In hind-sight we should have stored almost everything, packed our suitcases and left.

But evening leaving one third of our possessions behind was a wonderful experience. I don’t recall missing a single item in storage while there and by the time our storage items were re-delivered, almost a year later, I had forgotten most of what we had packed away to begin with. For a few precious months, there was less to pick up, clean up, keep up, fix up and pack up. It was liberating. Since we did not own our house in Germany we didn’t have a myriad of home improvement or fix-it projects hanging over our heads. And thus felt available to pack a suitcase or just a picnic lunch for a day trip and leave to go sightseeing or exploring for a weekend--guilt free!

We lived with only items from our suitcases for six weeks in a German hotel and for another six weeks back in Idaho both going and coming. You just don’t realize how many possessions including houses, cars, pets and yards clamor for your attention and suck away time and energy until you have lived without them for a time.

Now that we are back living on American soil in a large house and garage filled-to-the-brim with stuff, we are once again overwhelmed at trying to manage and clean and fix and organize it all. And so we keep boxing it up and getting rid of it via donations and it feels like we have barely made a dent. But we keep trying because we remember how invigorating it was to live lighter for one (school) year.

PRAYER--pass it on!!!

2008-09-17T15:11:00.000-06:00

I was so blessed this morning. I opened my email inbox and there was this message from a friend. It read:

Dear Angela,

I am praying through my email address book and today is your day.
May God bless you!

Dear Lord Jesus,
Thank you for Angela and Cory and their desire to follow you where ever you lead. Thank you for the things you had them learn in Germany that are equipping them for the purposed you designed for them. You directed their path although the journey was short. Thank you also for bringing them safely back to Boise.

Give them wisdom as they are teaching their children to look for Your best plan. Give them knowledge and peace as they balance work, homeschooling, activities and rental. Give them strength to face each battle looking for Your definition of victory!
Amen

Wow! That was just about all I could say. I don’t think I had ever received such an email before. I was so touched it brought tears to my eyes. So, if God gives you an opportunity to do so, bless someone like this and pass it on…

Last on his list???

2008-09-14T14:49:00.000-06:00

So, my husband says to me the other day, as he is reeling off a number of things he would like to do or accomplish before the day is over, “And you. You are last on my list.”

Me? Last on his list? I had to laugh about it later. You could definitely take that one of two ways:

1. I am last on his list. The end. Bottom of the barrel. Final place.
Or
2. I am last on his list. I am what he wants to find waiting at the end of a long day. I am wanted. Treasured. Adored.

Yeah, I think I will pick option number 2, not only because that is clearly how he meant it, if you could have seen his face but also because this is my husband we are talking about; He is not eloquent; just straight-forward and to the point.

My life this week (according to Proverbs 30:15 &16)

2008-01-23T14:10:00.000-07:00

(My very own, loose translation):

Proverbs
15 The {homeschool Mom} has two daughters,
"Give," "Give."
There are three things that will not be satisfied,
Four that will not say, "Enough":
16(W) Housework and constant corrections,
A child’s questions that are never satisfied,
And Hungry mouths that never say, “Enough.”

Why we homeschool (or still homeschool)

2008-01-13T16:45:00.000-07:00

So, I am repeatedly asked if we will continue to homeschool our kids all the way through high school. Now that our oldest is in his first year of high school, I suppose you would think that would be a resounding, automatic, yes! But, it isn’t really. It is something I think about, pray about and consider often. And some days I even ask myself why, oh why am I doing this? So, I thought I would pause during today’s routine and jot down a few of the many answers so that I may, on a bad day, return to these words and again test them out.
Honestly, I originally homeschooled because we couldn’t afford private school. No kidding. My husband was making somewhere in the range of $24,000/year and I stayed home with my kids and we were already a family of four with hopes to grow larger. At the time, we could barely afford two day a week private preschool at $50/month after rent, food, gas etc. When I looked at the private tuition costs of area schools, it was overwhelmingly beyond our budget. That was over 10 years ago in 1997/1998.
As the kids grew, the income did too but so did our family size and by then we were already hooked on the homeschool lifestyle. We were able to spend the best hours of the day with our kids, watch them learn and grow and best of all we could teach them anything and everything about God and this big, beautiful world He made. We found every subject seemed to come back around to Him and His ways. I also found the kids had opportunity to ask all kinds of questions about everything and I was the one who had the privilege of answering their questions, wiping away their tears and of learning about cool stuff.
Thus, we’ve found that I have opportunity to really know my kids and to be around them a lot, which is usually, an enjoyable experience. And I have found that, like most things, you learn more from the teaching than they do from being taught. God is usually at work changing me just as much as He is at work changing them. And the longer I do this, the more I learn that I am truly much more of a facilitator than a teacher. I can facilitate their learning by laying before them a plethora of rich and wonderful resources by experts in every field but ultimately it is really up to them on whether they decide to “learn” it or not.
Now we have four children, ages 3 to 14, which means we have four distinct developmental levels of learning going on simultaneously each day. This is the first year of high school but it is also the first year I am facilitating preschool to high school as well! I must admit, that most days my feet hit the ground running and I am still stretched and often overwhelmed. And on especially hectic days I wonder if I should be walking this path. But somewhere somehow I think God hears my humble, “please help, LORD,” and He is pleased to provide a way as we seek to know Him and the mystery of His ways.

Last Monday Evening

2008-01-11T12:01:00.000-07:00

So, my husband and I thought we would try and carve out a little date time last Monday evening. We left our teenage son at home to do the dishes after dinner and we took the girls to AWANA. Our plan was to go hang out at a nearby coffee shop for a short time together before collecting the girls and returning home to tuck them into bed.
Well, for starters, the dinner was late getting out of the oven and late to the table and thus, we were late getting out the door. Next, my unnamed daughter, who is older than four and younger than twelve managed to misplace her AWANA book for about the third time in a row, just before we left the house. I went back inside and did a swift walk through, but to no avail. Thus, my husband set down a judgment that she could not attend AWANA that evening since she had done this repeatedly.
So after dropping off the other two girls at the nearby church building, we went to the nearest REDBOX to return some movies. It happens to be located in the entrance of the Albertsons store. So, we decided, with our daughter in tow, to pick up a few needed items from there such as orange juice, lettuce and doughnuts. Well, the doughnuts were not needed but we ended up getting them anyway. Then we headed across the street to the movie rental store/coffee shop. I stood in line and got a coffee and then took my daughter to the children’s section to see what nonsensical silliness she thought she couldn’t live without. While there I heard a faint, “Mom!” from the next aisle over and walked around the corner to the greeting, “I just peeed.”
“What? You did what?” I asked astonished.
“I peeed,” repeated my six and a half year old!
“Well, that is just great! Okay, let’s head for the car.” My husband was in the public restroom and so I had to call him on the cell phone from outside the store and break the news. Once he joined us we headed for the car and home. I left him and the wet girl at home to clean up and drove back to pick up the other two from AWANA before returning home again.
And that was our latest date night experience!

Not your typical Home School Mom

2008-01-09T20:10:00.000-07:00

Well, for starters, I don’t wear a denim jumper; in fact, I don’t own a denim jumper. And on top of that I don’t even like to wear a skirt or dress. I’m definitely a pants-wearing kind of girl. And I don’t dress my children in matching clothes, even for family portraits.
Secondly, I am no Betty Crocker. Sure, I cook dinner for my family on a regular basis, but maybe cook is too strong a word. I serve them dinner most evenings of the week, but that doesn’t mean I actually cook what I serve. I have learned much about cooking, in my 15 years of marriage and I will continue to learn, mostly from my gourmet-loving husband. He is the true cook of the family. It’s just that his day job interferes with his hobby of cooking.
And lastly, I am definitely an upper-middle-class, college-educated person who lives in a city. We don’t own any livestock, don’t live on acreage, don’t sew our own clothes, don’t bake our own bread and don’t plan to anytime soon. (Though we do LOVE fresh-baked bread) While this is certainly the statistical norm of the American, homeschool, Mom, it certainly isn’t the stereotypical one.
My latest hobbies are photography, reading and now writing along with snow skiing, camping and occasional scrapbooking; Although, it is difficult to accomplish much of anything toward a hobby during most school days.

Hello

2007-01-28T11:42:00.000-07:00

(editorial note: This BLOG was originally created while we were living overseas. But, I ran into continual problems with trying to create a BLOG in English while living in Germany. Thus, it never fully got off the ground. So, I'm back in the US and picking it up again to post some thoughts, writings and pictures. And since I'm still struggling with back pain, you can still pray for that if so inclined!)

Hello!

Well, here I am, online! I am going to try and post some of my email updates as journal entries for those who missed them. This BLOG will definately be about our family's overseas adventures but it will also be a place where I will post ideas, struggles and prayer requests among other things.

So, if you find me please pray for my back. As long as I don't walk, stand or sit I'm great!!! It's difficult to get through a day without walking, standing or sitting especially with kids at home full time.

Auf Wiedersehen!
Angela