A Quick Glance at Brussels.

After wiping away my tears, I boarded the train headed to Brussels central. Once I arrived there I would only have very little time to look around before I had to catch the train back to Den Haag.

I made a mad dash to the Groet Marte and sampled a few chocolate shops. I wish I had more time to really do it justice, but you know that I have always had a strange relationship with chocolate, I really would not be bothered if I had to live without it (I know this is against the girl code of ethics, but I am what I am, - I prefer gummi bears). But this was Brussels, the girl mecca of chocolate, so I did partake and it was good, brief but good. I actually spent more time at a cheese shop I stumbled across with friendly owners and a delicious selection of curdled delights. My taste buds we in heaven. I bought a few things and raced back to central station just in time to catch my train.

As we pulled from the station I made a mental note that I must come back again to explore what the EU capital city has to offer. I hope that I can visit again soon.

On my way to Brussels

Sunday morning I packed my bags and joined the 13thFLOOR team at Crossroads Amsterdam for the youth service. As I walked through the foyer I was greeted by familiar faces and warm smiles. It has been a few years since I had been there and many of the “kids” I left behind were in leadership or were blossoming teens.

13thFLOOR was given the entire youth service for the day. Warren was our guide for the journey to discover “What is sacred?” In between the teachings were performances that illustrated and stretched the participants view of what can be considered sacred. I was put in the hot seat by my beloved adopted son, Warren, as part of a panel. The youth were mostly quiet during the discussion time, but the flurry of questions afterward indicated that they were challenged by what they saw and heard.

We piled (literally) into the cars and vans to meet the rest of the team who had been at Hilversum ICC for their morning service. After packing equipment and having lunch, we headed out for Brussels. Now we had a few false starts do not having a clear picture of how to get back to the roadway, a van getting stuck in the mud (the one I was riding in) and our translators wallet being locked in the church, but we eventually made it to Operation Mobilizations headquarters in Brussels near the airport.



It was only after we arrived here, that I started to realize that I might not see many of them again or for a very long time. The end of tour has always been a painful transition time for me. Saying good bye and releasing people you have loved and cared for into the unknown is paradoxical for me. I am excited to see them go off on their own and blaze their own trails, but I also want to hold them close and protect them from the trials they will have to overcome as well. It is the same way I feel when I watch nature documentaries about animal migration, you know that they all will not make it to the greener pastures strong and vigorous. But the journey has to be made nonetheless, it is in their nature. This time had the additional sting of me being released from them also to pray about and pursue what is next for me in life. I also felt like I was being set adrift and in many ways I am. Every interaction became precious no matter how frivolous the activity. I wanted to store up all the laughter, words and tears I could to use as a flotation devise until the next wave comes to rush me to shores I am destined to walk upon.



Monday morning the team did a ministry show for the staff and friends of Operation Mobilization. Warren spoke about how being in the centre of God’s will is often a place where safety is not an option. Often it is a wild ride that will leave you clinging to the very life you chose to give away. I believe that it was an eye-opening conversation for many of the people there. It especially made and impression on one young woman in particular.

She came to the base to serve and wrestle over her relationship with God. It was also a good time for her to step away from family and friends to seek out her purpose and passions. A few of us were able to share from our experiences in a way that left her feeling encouraged. In moments like these I can not help but see random encounters like these as anything less evidence of something or someone divine in the universe, because this was divine providence. I had not plan to go to Brussels until Friday evening and she had no idea that several weeks after arriving at her destination where people from a foreign country would be the source of meeting some of her deepest longings. How could we have known or planned it if we coconsciously tried to make it happen. To me this went beyond coincidence and providence.

Tuesday morning the team made it’s way to Brugge and I was taken to the train station. My heart still aches from this parting. As I entered the station, I sighed and realised I was again walking way from another season in my life that I was best left to its place in my memory. I can stand at a distance and glance back upon my times with the 13thFLOOR students, but I know I will never return there the way I entered.

Back Track…

I know it has not been a day since I wrote but it seems like weeks because so much has happened between now and then. This will be lengthy.

I think I will go back a bit further to December 1st.

Biking riding – crashing actually – in Amsterdam

After a late night of chatting after 13thFLOOR’s show in Hillversum, I finally left the cocoon of the dark room I had been hiding in and ventured out into the world to meet Adriaan Berg to catch up over cigars and beer. Since this was his first time in the city we decided to go exploring. In order to maximize his visit in the 1.5 hours we had, we took off on bikes. Now riding in Amsterdam is not as easy as it looks. There are cars, bikes, trams, buses and dogs coming at you from all directions and you have to keep track of where you are trying to go while ignoring the laughter and Dutch profanity coming from the bike savvy natives. I had much fun laughing at myself amid the sites we took in. Key takeaway from the day – Winkle by Noord Kerk (North Church) has some of the best apple tart in the city. (Thanks Esther!)

 
 
 (Beware! Swarte Piet is everywhere)

 

Creative Collaboration

About 20 of us gathered at Shauna Snow’s home for dinner and some fun conversation. After a few rousing games of Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders (I lost both) with Shea and friends, we shares a fabulous chilli dinner. It was great to catch up with some of the 13thFLOOR gang while we shared a bit of down time. At some point in the evening we were invited to continue our conversations on a wall in the Snow home. Most people immediately gravitated to the wall with Shea setting the pace, by grabbing a paint brush and diving right in. It became a melange of styles, media and laughter. Some of the contributions were whimsical while others were deliberate but they all worked together. Shea was clearly the master artists as she collaborated with many and left her prominent signature daring all of us to bring our A game as she had. Here is a small taste. (See more at http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=21358&l=f070e&id=656840835).

On The Road Again

I have so enjoyed seeing the team and spending time with them makes me realize how much I missed them. I have kuiered and laughed that my sides have hurt at times.

I accompanied the team to Belgium where they will perform for Operation Mobilization as a thank you for their assistance while the team has been in Europe. Tomorrow we will have a workday on their center then head into Brugge, for some fun. This is the first time that I have actually paused in this country and I am excited about seeing it for the first time.

The team will head back to London on Tuesday and I will head back to Den Haag. The team is hanging in the balance for their returns to South Africa as the airline carrier has been grounded for Administrative infractions. Never a dull moment on tour.

Last night was wonderful in Amsterdam. It was filled with wonderful friends and creativity! We graffitied the wall of a home – pictures will follow when I am back in Den Haag – and the range of creativity was inspiring. Just about everyone there left his or her mark in someway. Whether it was words, paint, chalk or pencil it all seemed to mesh together into something beautiful.

Well I need to run, there are others waiting for the computers.

So Excited!

I am headed out the door to spend the weekend with 13thFLOOR’s UK team in Amsterdam. I am can not wait to see the team and hug all of them to death. I have really missed them because they are in many ways my kids that I have adopted while in South Africa. I am looking forward to hearing all their stories and sharing some of mine as well.

Please be praying for Lourens' visa to get straightened out so he can join us soon.

Over the weekend I will also attend a gathering of artists and friends who are proposing and artistic way of challenging people’s worldviews. I am looking forward to hearing their plans and consider what they are doing. Who knows it may spark something in me.

Have a great weekend, I know I will.

Last Days of Ignorance

Saturday marks the beginning of my 3^rd month of sabbatical and I am not sure that I am quite ready for it to begin.

The first two months of my time off were to be spent without serious contemplation of my future endeavors. It was to be a time of rest, learning, writing and reflection and I have been pretty vigilant about maintaining this boundary even when presented with enticing offers. Now I am anticipating a struggle that I am not looking forward to. Figuring out what this next phase of my life will hold is intimidating. I have no idea how long it will take only that it is a journey I must start. Time is pressing because I cannot remain on sabbatical forever and frankly I think I would have been bored if I were left without some target to aim towards. I think I fear disappointing people, because it is inevitable that someone will come away with that experience, if I do not disappoint myself.

So it begins…soon.

But today I will enjoy the frivolity of suspended choice and the comfort of words on the page. Trying, with minimal effort, to push back the questions seeping into my consciousness.

Prepare for Sinterklaas

Last Night a little girl chased me down, grabbed my hand and shouted “Swarte Piet!”

It was a surreal moment in my life, one that I had been prepped for a few weekends ago when Sinterklaas arrived in Amsterdam after his refreshing annual hiatus in Spain.

Let me back track historically for a moment…

There was this sainted bishop of Mira, Turkey named Saint Nicolaus. He was known for his generosity to children. It is believed that Americans made him into what is known as Saint Nicholas or Santa Claus from the Nordic version Sinterklaas. As time progressed a feast was attributed to him on December 5^th to celebrate his birthday (actually the 6^th but who wants to be such a stickler). He returns a few weeks before his special day to give gifts and make appearances.

Shortly after the tradition first appeared, Sinterklaas’ mystic grew to him championing evil. This triumph was dramatically presented on feast day and men would dress as Sinterklaas and act out his defeat over evil. Evil of course was depicted as - yes you guessed it - a white man in black face. So it became impossible to see one without the other during his tours of the Netherlands. Apparently the work of delivering gifts and keeping track of naughty and nice kids was such a strain to Sinterklaas’ respite in Spain, that his little evil sidekick was morphed into his faithful servant who relieved Sinterklaas of his burdensome life. His sidekick is known as Swarte Piet (Black Pete) who is the predecessor of the elves who work for Santa Claus.

Some decades back when a white man played the role of Swarte Piet, he would put on court jester’s costume, blacken his face, elevate his voice, and take on the demeanor of a hapless child (not making this up people). Swarte Pieten are quite busy going down the chimney to collect the straw children leave in their shoes for Sinterklaas’ horse in exchange for gifts, in addition to keeping track of everyone’s behavior. There was also a time when naughty children were told they would receive a beating with twigs and then taken away in a burlap sack to SinterKlaas’ workshop in Spain. (This may be how Sinterklaas has collected so many Piets).

Today Swarte Pieten (plural) are Sinterklaas’ faithful companions who walk before Sinterklaas’ (who is mounted on a white horse) carrying a burlap sack filled with treats for young children who shout his name. Sometime during the civil rights movement Swarte Piet disappeared but in recent decades has reemerged as the playful chimney sweep (with miraculously clean clothing with a dirtied face) who prepares the way for Sinterklaas and delivers ginger cookies to children on the day they return from Spain in mid-November.

Being at the parade in Amsterdam for Sinterklaas’ arrival was an experience to say the least! Seeing little Dutch children dressed in brightly coloured costumes wearing wigs to cover their blonde curls with coarse black hair was strange. Extreme parents would top this by blackening their child’s face! I think my defense mechanisms kicked in and all I could do was laugh to the point that I could not stop (I could not focus the camera I was laughing so hard). My friends were shocked and embarrassed by the racial overtones but like me did not know what to do with it. What else can you do in the face an indigenous culture norm that rams into your paradigm? Every store you go in has diminutive Swarte Pieten decorating their merchandise and the windows are covered with the blacken faces with red lips and gold hoop earrings that look very much like the performers of the traveling minstrel shows of America in the 1800’s. I do not know where to begin, besides making a joke of the whole thing. (And believe me I did – you can ask Ari Snow about it).

Now back to this moment’s reality….

So knowing all this, when this child ran after me shouting “Swarte Piet,” I froze. How do you tell a smiling six year old cherub-face child that they just insulted you and explain to her the significance of the slight. I asked her where her parents were and she said they were in the overly crowded store (I had a few words in mind for them). So I bent down and told her that I was not a Swarte Piet and not all brown people are Swarte Pieten. She was confused, but excepted this and asked me if I knew where any Swarte Pieten were, I of course told her no, because I was not from her country and there are none where I come from. She shrugged and went off to find her parents.

I am still struggling to figure out what to do with such an experience. It took a night of wrestling just to write about it. Maybe there is a constructive and brilliant answer out there but in that moment all I could come up with was love to this little girl’s innocence while I processing the distain for the reason we met. I doubt she or her parents know the origin of Swarte Piet (no one that my friends and I asked had a clue and were shocked to hear it), so it was not malicious but it was still wrong in my universe (Especially because I have experienced obvious prejudicial treatment in this country as I have in many others including my birthplace). In a world that is shouting relativism above everything, how do you make choices that reflect significance for all mankind at the same time? I guess there are some things that take tremendous thought and foresight to handle. I am willing to enter into it and invite others to do the same.