So, I guess I'm long due for an update on here. A lot has happened since I last posted. Good things, unfortunate things, slightly depressing things...well maybe I'm just imagining and playing up the last two. I tend to do that. I must preface this post by saying I'm missing a lot of things right now and am not the most chipper, so bear with me, pray for me, cry with me...do what you must, I know God is faithful and will get me out of this rut. But I just need to write this all out.
Last I posted, I let you all know about long study tour, then my Grandpa's death. That was Sunday. Earlier that day I found out that there was a tiny possibility that DIS would cover my plane tickets home, if I wanted to go, but I didn't want to say anything just in case it wasn't true. I was torn. All I could think of was how hard it would be to go home and come back, I tried so hard to talk myself out of even finding out more information, I didn't know how to feel. I found myself crying more at other people's kindness than my actual grief. I knew that Grandpa was rejoicing in heaven, my tears were more ones of joy for his relief and sorrow that I wasn't with him than anything else. It is truly amazing though how people react in times of grief, never have I felt more loved than in that moment. Being so far away from home in such a difficult time, but really the times when it was most difficult was when people gathered around me. Somehow when I was on my own, God gave me such a peace and strength, then as soon as someone asked me if I was okay I was a mess of tears and snot and makeup running, the whole works. I was a bit frustrating to say the least.
Then on Monday I went to the housing and student affairs coordinator of DIS to see what my options were. Again I was so strong till I tried saying why I came. She ushered me in, so sweet, so caring, so methodical. As soon as she sat me down with a handful of tissues assuring me that DIS would cover the plane tickets asking me what my gut was telling me to do, whether I should go home or stay here, I remembered that everyone in that department was trained in some counseling techniques. It was a weird realization, I went along with all her prods and questions and compliments on my reasoning ability, but I kind of felt like I was playing a game with her, I knew her secret but wanted her to think I was innocently unaware. She was so sweet and sincere though that I couldn't help but love her for her kindness and consideration, even if it was her job. I left her office in such a state of distress, I really didn't know what to do, and I couldn't figure out why it was such a hard decision. I really did want to go home, but I felt that going home would somehow signify defeat, that I didn't push myself enough to stay the whole semester. But I also knew that in the present circumstances that was not the case at all, if I did choose to go home.
I went through the rest of the afternoon confiding in a few people, asking their opinions, avoiding making an actual decision, but then I was able to Skype with my Mom, Aunt, and Grandma, and my indecision was immediately swept away. I am truly so blessed by these women. They had a plane ticket already lined up to buy and a whole plan of action to get me home. Listening to my dear Grandma say with relief after I told them to get the ticket that this was a time for family to be together, I knew I had made the right decision. No matter how difficult it might be to go home and then transition back to Copenhagen intermixed with raw emotions and jetlag, it was right to go home, especially with the generosity of DIS.
Tuesday was the hardest day. Sitting through class was awful. I was ancy and just wanted to be home already. Worse of everything though was my decision to not let anyone know I was going home unless I had to. For some reason I decided it would be easier if no one knew that I was leaving. Silly to be sure, and it made it even more difficult when I did have to break the news to some people, but in retrospect I'm so grateful for the few people I did let know. A few classmates, my dear PLU girls, Bethany and Annie in Senegal, my Bible study, my host family, and a one or two people from Spokane and Tacoma. While it made it a bit awkward since I didn't know how to deal with my confusing emotions and not telling people, the prayers and support I did receive were so comforting.
Then Wednesday my host Dad dropped me off at the airport at 4 in the morning for my 6 am flight to Amsterdam, then to Portland. I got to security before it was even open, it was that early. After getting through and finding my gate I sat for awhile, I was the first one there. After awhile a man came up, and sat by me. We made some small talk, then we made the connection that he was going back to the states for a funeral as well. Then somehow we were talking about the church and God, and how we were both were Christians. It is amazing how God can put two of his children in the same place in the same time to offer some encouragement to one another. After forever on the plane (in which somehow I was blessed with being the only one in the whole row, both flights), I landed in Portand, it was so weird. I had to use a pay phone to get a hold of Alex and Hannah who were picking me up. But people were all speaking English, loudly. People were being friendly and were wearing colorful clothing. Of all cities to fly into, Portland is probably as different as different can be from Copenhagen. Driving to Sunnyside I was amazed by the trees, hills, and waterfalls, the Colombia River, the Cascades, oh and we nonchalantly passed Multnomah Falls in there too. I was somehow wide awake, even though I hardly slept on the plane. It was bizarre taking it all in. Arriving in Sunnyside was good, but exhaustion was starting to weigh on me. I could only stand the immense sensory overload till after dinner, then I went to sleep for a few hours before everyone else got there. That night we did my favorite thing my family does, we gathered around the piano and sang worship songs. Now, we were practicing to sing at Grandpa's memorial service, so it had a little more structure, but it truly felt like home singing together. Even now it makes me cry to think of it. It is such a beautiful gift God has blessed us with, to be able to sing together no matter what the circumstances, rejoicing in his faithfulness, giving God the praise and glory due his name. The songs we decided upon to sing at the memorial service were Jesus Draw Me Ever Nearer, In Christ Alone, and I Will Rise. All so beautiful and powerful.
Thursday was a day of tears, but it was also a day of joy, despite the solemnness. We woke early and ate a breakfast that was all provided for us by people in the community, then headed to the funeral home. Now I haven't seen a dead body since my Great Grandma Crow, who died when I was a little girl, but I knew that I had to see Grandpa one last time. He wasn't in the body I saw though. He had lost so much weight since I saw him over Christmas, his face looked like plastic, his hands looked like bones with a layer of skin on them, he looked hollow, empty, but peaceful. It was so interesting observing my family during this time, everyone reacted so differently, some bawled, some laughed caught in the uncertainty of what to do, some avoided even looking in the casket. But what can I blame any of them. I was a bawler of course, but that comes with no surprise. We then went to the graveside service. All of the grandkids were supposed to be pallbearers, but I didn't end up doing it, which is fine for me. It was raining on the way there, but thankfully stopped once we got there. It was a short but beautiful service. The military salute and presentation of the flag to my Grandma was the most touching. I was glad for the individual packs of tissues we were given earlier. We then went to the church for lunch. Another meal generously provided for us. Then the memorial service. I don't think I have ever seen that old Methodist church so full, I'm glad it was though. Words were said, we sat, stood, sung hymns, the mike was passed around, I cried, somehow I wasn't exhausted from jetlag so I stayed awake. My family started and ended the service with our songs. Before singing In Christ Alone I almost lost it...but I was able to pull myself together for the two songs, then as we were sitting all my pent up emotions spilled out. For only practicing a few times, we sang well I think. Emily and I had melody, which is always easiest, and I was able to focus on worshiping and not on the technicalities, I think that is the only way I got through it. Afterwards we had a time of fellowship, and I was blown away by everyone's responses. I never even thought it a big deal to sing, but that is the only thing people talked about. One woman even brought me to tears when she came up to me and told me that she could tell I truly loved Jesus by the way I sang. I am just so glad that our simple melodies ministered so much to the people at that memorial service.
That night I so wanted to stay up with my family, but I was so tired that I couldn't. We woke up early on Friday and Hannah and I drove up to Salem. What a treat that was. A little odd staying with her in a dorm, eating in the dining hall, that awkward interaction with her roommates as I was randomly in their space...but it was fun and a good distraction from everything. It was quite funny to finally visit her in these circumstances though. While I should have been in Copenhagen, I stayed a night with her at Corban...so weird. Good though. It was good to finally see where she has been studying, it seems like a great fit for her. I probably would have been smothered and never forced to grow in that environment, and it made me even more grateful for PLU, but I am so glad that she has this opportunity to study there. I can already see such a growth and confidence that she did not have before. God is definitely blessing her there.
Then Saturday I headed back to Copenhagen, what a short but sweet trip back at home. I'm glad I didn't actually go home though...either to Spokane or Tacoma, I think the transition back would have been harder. God truly blessed me with peace about coming back here though. Even more miraculously, I haven't really been jetlagged. Sunday morning I flew into Copenhagen, got home, decided to go to church, hung out with people all afternoon. Went home, then decided I felt up to going to my friend's concert, didn't get home till around 11, then finally went to bed after being awake since 6:30 am on Saturday morning in Portland. I think it was about 36 hours, if I did my math right.
Since then somehow I've been getting my work done, I went to a friend's birthday party, I've read The Hunger Games, I went to the Danish Resistance Museum, I went to my practicum today, I've avoided studying for a test tomorrow by writing this blog, I've slowly enjoyed the Reese's pieces I got at the airport, I've slept, I've cried. Then tonight I was getting sentimental, the peace from this weekend is wearing off, and I've gotten ancy again. The half way point of my trip was yesterday. It seems like forever ago that I arrived in Copenhagen, and so long till I go home again. At the same time, I know it will fly by, I just need to remember to take advantage of every opportunity I can, and count the blessings God has given me in this time.
Last I posted, I let you all know about long study tour, then my Grandpa's death. That was Sunday. Earlier that day I found out that there was a tiny possibility that DIS would cover my plane tickets home, if I wanted to go, but I didn't want to say anything just in case it wasn't true. I was torn. All I could think of was how hard it would be to go home and come back, I tried so hard to talk myself out of even finding out more information, I didn't know how to feel. I found myself crying more at other people's kindness than my actual grief. I knew that Grandpa was rejoicing in heaven, my tears were more ones of joy for his relief and sorrow that I wasn't with him than anything else. It is truly amazing though how people react in times of grief, never have I felt more loved than in that moment. Being so far away from home in such a difficult time, but really the times when it was most difficult was when people gathered around me. Somehow when I was on my own, God gave me such a peace and strength, then as soon as someone asked me if I was okay I was a mess of tears and snot and makeup running, the whole works. I was a bit frustrating to say the least.
Then on Monday I went to the housing and student affairs coordinator of DIS to see what my options were. Again I was so strong till I tried saying why I came. She ushered me in, so sweet, so caring, so methodical. As soon as she sat me down with a handful of tissues assuring me that DIS would cover the plane tickets asking me what my gut was telling me to do, whether I should go home or stay here, I remembered that everyone in that department was trained in some counseling techniques. It was a weird realization, I went along with all her prods and questions and compliments on my reasoning ability, but I kind of felt like I was playing a game with her, I knew her secret but wanted her to think I was innocently unaware. She was so sweet and sincere though that I couldn't help but love her for her kindness and consideration, even if it was her job. I left her office in such a state of distress, I really didn't know what to do, and I couldn't figure out why it was such a hard decision. I really did want to go home, but I felt that going home would somehow signify defeat, that I didn't push myself enough to stay the whole semester. But I also knew that in the present circumstances that was not the case at all, if I did choose to go home.
I went through the rest of the afternoon confiding in a few people, asking their opinions, avoiding making an actual decision, but then I was able to Skype with my Mom, Aunt, and Grandma, and my indecision was immediately swept away. I am truly so blessed by these women. They had a plane ticket already lined up to buy and a whole plan of action to get me home. Listening to my dear Grandma say with relief after I told them to get the ticket that this was a time for family to be together, I knew I had made the right decision. No matter how difficult it might be to go home and then transition back to Copenhagen intermixed with raw emotions and jetlag, it was right to go home, especially with the generosity of DIS.
Tuesday was the hardest day. Sitting through class was awful. I was ancy and just wanted to be home already. Worse of everything though was my decision to not let anyone know I was going home unless I had to. For some reason I decided it would be easier if no one knew that I was leaving. Silly to be sure, and it made it even more difficult when I did have to break the news to some people, but in retrospect I'm so grateful for the few people I did let know. A few classmates, my dear PLU girls, Bethany and Annie in Senegal, my Bible study, my host family, and a one or two people from Spokane and Tacoma. While it made it a bit awkward since I didn't know how to deal with my confusing emotions and not telling people, the prayers and support I did receive were so comforting.
Then Wednesday my host Dad dropped me off at the airport at 4 in the morning for my 6 am flight to Amsterdam, then to Portland. I got to security before it was even open, it was that early. After getting through and finding my gate I sat for awhile, I was the first one there. After awhile a man came up, and sat by me. We made some small talk, then we made the connection that he was going back to the states for a funeral as well. Then somehow we were talking about the church and God, and how we were both were Christians. It is amazing how God can put two of his children in the same place in the same time to offer some encouragement to one another. After forever on the plane (in which somehow I was blessed with being the only one in the whole row, both flights), I landed in Portand, it was so weird. I had to use a pay phone to get a hold of Alex and Hannah who were picking me up. But people were all speaking English, loudly. People were being friendly and were wearing colorful clothing. Of all cities to fly into, Portland is probably as different as different can be from Copenhagen. Driving to Sunnyside I was amazed by the trees, hills, and waterfalls, the Colombia River, the Cascades, oh and we nonchalantly passed Multnomah Falls in there too. I was somehow wide awake, even though I hardly slept on the plane. It was bizarre taking it all in. Arriving in Sunnyside was good, but exhaustion was starting to weigh on me. I could only stand the immense sensory overload till after dinner, then I went to sleep for a few hours before everyone else got there. That night we did my favorite thing my family does, we gathered around the piano and sang worship songs. Now, we were practicing to sing at Grandpa's memorial service, so it had a little more structure, but it truly felt like home singing together. Even now it makes me cry to think of it. It is such a beautiful gift God has blessed us with, to be able to sing together no matter what the circumstances, rejoicing in his faithfulness, giving God the praise and glory due his name. The songs we decided upon to sing at the memorial service were Jesus Draw Me Ever Nearer, In Christ Alone, and I Will Rise. All so beautiful and powerful.
Thursday was a day of tears, but it was also a day of joy, despite the solemnness. We woke early and ate a breakfast that was all provided for us by people in the community, then headed to the funeral home. Now I haven't seen a dead body since my Great Grandma Crow, who died when I was a little girl, but I knew that I had to see Grandpa one last time. He wasn't in the body I saw though. He had lost so much weight since I saw him over Christmas, his face looked like plastic, his hands looked like bones with a layer of skin on them, he looked hollow, empty, but peaceful. It was so interesting observing my family during this time, everyone reacted so differently, some bawled, some laughed caught in the uncertainty of what to do, some avoided even looking in the casket. But what can I blame any of them. I was a bawler of course, but that comes with no surprise. We then went to the graveside service. All of the grandkids were supposed to be pallbearers, but I didn't end up doing it, which is fine for me. It was raining on the way there, but thankfully stopped once we got there. It was a short but beautiful service. The military salute and presentation of the flag to my Grandma was the most touching. I was glad for the individual packs of tissues we were given earlier. We then went to the church for lunch. Another meal generously provided for us. Then the memorial service. I don't think I have ever seen that old Methodist church so full, I'm glad it was though. Words were said, we sat, stood, sung hymns, the mike was passed around, I cried, somehow I wasn't exhausted from jetlag so I stayed awake. My family started and ended the service with our songs. Before singing In Christ Alone I almost lost it...but I was able to pull myself together for the two songs, then as we were sitting all my pent up emotions spilled out. For only practicing a few times, we sang well I think. Emily and I had melody, which is always easiest, and I was able to focus on worshiping and not on the technicalities, I think that is the only way I got through it. Afterwards we had a time of fellowship, and I was blown away by everyone's responses. I never even thought it a big deal to sing, but that is the only thing people talked about. One woman even brought me to tears when she came up to me and told me that she could tell I truly loved Jesus by the way I sang. I am just so glad that our simple melodies ministered so much to the people at that memorial service.
That night I so wanted to stay up with my family, but I was so tired that I couldn't. We woke up early on Friday and Hannah and I drove up to Salem. What a treat that was. A little odd staying with her in a dorm, eating in the dining hall, that awkward interaction with her roommates as I was randomly in their space...but it was fun and a good distraction from everything. It was quite funny to finally visit her in these circumstances though. While I should have been in Copenhagen, I stayed a night with her at Corban...so weird. Good though. It was good to finally see where she has been studying, it seems like a great fit for her. I probably would have been smothered and never forced to grow in that environment, and it made me even more grateful for PLU, but I am so glad that she has this opportunity to study there. I can already see such a growth and confidence that she did not have before. God is definitely blessing her there.
Then Saturday I headed back to Copenhagen, what a short but sweet trip back at home. I'm glad I didn't actually go home though...either to Spokane or Tacoma, I think the transition back would have been harder. God truly blessed me with peace about coming back here though. Even more miraculously, I haven't really been jetlagged. Sunday morning I flew into Copenhagen, got home, decided to go to church, hung out with people all afternoon. Went home, then decided I felt up to going to my friend's concert, didn't get home till around 11, then finally went to bed after being awake since 6:30 am on Saturday morning in Portland. I think it was about 36 hours, if I did my math right.
Since then somehow I've been getting my work done, I went to a friend's birthday party, I've read The Hunger Games, I went to the Danish Resistance Museum, I went to my practicum today, I've avoided studying for a test tomorrow by writing this blog, I've slowly enjoyed the Reese's pieces I got at the airport, I've slept, I've cried. Then tonight I was getting sentimental, the peace from this weekend is wearing off, and I've gotten ancy again. The half way point of my trip was yesterday. It seems like forever ago that I arrived in Copenhagen, and so long till I go home again. At the same time, I know it will fly by, I just need to remember to take advantage of every opportunity I can, and count the blessings God has given me in this time.
Thanks for sharing your heart Rachel. What a powerful and awesome God we have. He can help us through anything if we but put our trust in Him. I have been overwhelmingly blessed by the family at VBC these last two weeks since my Mother's passing, and totally relate to the naturalness of singing with family. Although we girls didn't sing at Mom's service, my niece did and Nikki read a poem she wrote for her Grandma. What a blessing to have both biological family and spiritual family to help us through life's trials. Your Grandpa and my Mom are sharing the joys of Heaven, saving us a spot at the banquet table!
ReplyDeleteThanks for writing Rachel. It was truly a blessing to have us all together and to sing together. The song lyrics that keep running through my mind are exactly what I want to meditate upon. I love you! Mom
ReplyDelete