Sudden Journeys

September 11th 2001: Through My Lens

2011-09-11T01:35:00.001-05:00

On that morning of September 11th, I was getting ready for my second day at Magnum Photos as an intern. That all changed at 8:46 am when the North Tower was struck. The next 121 minutes unfolded in surreal pace. We were under attack. By who? It was shocking and confusing, scary and so surreal. After the towers came down and the other 2 flights had crashed in DC & PA.. I emerged from my apartment building. I walked down 7th avenue towards lower Manhattan. Not even 24 hours prior I had made this same walk except the skyline looked much different. As I approached downtown, there was security but much was left open due to so much confusion. Towards the remains of the WTC.

my first time walking onto the Brooklyn Bridge looking back at Manhattan. This image is burned into my mind's eye. Every time I'm on the Brooklyn Bridge to this day.. I remember this sight. The clear blue sky pierced by thick black smoke covering the sun. People crossing the bridge to Brooklyn as the only means of transportation was by foot. It looked like Doomsday.

This was but a few blocks from the WTC. As I approached, the air grew dense with ash and smoke. This was not happening. The people who emerged from the heavy cloud .. the look on their faces was dazed.. shock.. confusion. Many missing shoes. Dressed in work clothes. Holding a briefcase.

After walking back from the Brooklyn Bridge, just outside of City Hall, anyone who could help- we began building stretchers. As fast as they could cut the wood, we were assembling the stretchers. A mere 24 hours prior I had been sorting through images of WWII. This image made me stop. French fisherman on Omaha Beach following the D Day Landings looking down at stretchers of dead bodies. Little did I know what I would witness and take part in the next day. I only shot a few photos here as I realized I wanted more to help than to take photos. That was a defining moment for me to realize the kind of a photographer I wanted to be.

Once we finished building stretchers, we loaded them into these dump trucks. They needed volunteers to join in to unload all that we'd build. We then climbed into the back and drove into the area what would become known as Ground Zero. If you look closely in this image, a man is giving the peace sign. I don't think I was prepared for what I would see next. We were in the next truck to enter..

... after this I have several rolls of film yet developed. The landscape was scarred with bare remains of two massive buildings. Enough office space for all of Atlanta .. gone. The air grew thick. Cars were on fire. Police, firefighters, EMTs, rescue workers.. organized chaos. There was this calmness in all of it. It was the shock. Moving fast, we unloaded the stretchers. Eager and willing to help. Just direct me. Abruptly we were stopped. We weren't needed. We had to leave. Immediately. We couldn't be there. But what about all the people who needed help. Then I began to really look around. The ambulances all had stretchers out ready to help. And yes there were those who were being assisted but shouldn't there be more? Then.. the reality began to sink in. There were no bodies. Those buildings became a massive inferno- people were incinerated. The air I was breathing. .. the people. Get me out of there. I needed out. That walk back to my apartment in Midtown was the longest walk on my life. No one knew what was going to happen. Should you sleep that night? The city was on lock down. Where there to be more attacks?

On that day, I had only been in New York City for 48 hours. On that day I became a New Yorker for those few months. I don't know the city before 9/11. But it became a part of me.

The days following, the city was wallpapered with faces of those missing. Street corners, outside hospitals, bus stops and inside subways stations, even mailboxes would be covered with faces. People still clinging to the hope that their missing one would be found..

I didn't know anyone that day. But after seeing these faces all over the city... they became known to me. I started to learn their names and seeking out faces that became familiar. Personal photos from birthdays, christmas, family gatherings, wedding photos. Such personal photos. Lives gone.

September 14th was declared the National Day of Mourning. It was also my 22nd birthday. I spent the day photographing memorials around the city. These were taken in Union Square.

Christmas 2001. Time Square.

The Empire State Building closed it's observatory deck following 9/11. They re-opened late October. This photo was taken on Oct. 24th 2001. They were practically giving away tickets. No one was going up. There were maybe a dozen of us up there. I stayed until after sunset. This would be the new skyline of the city for the next ten years with it's...

Scar in the Sky

N E V E R F O R G E T // SEPTEMBER 11TH 2001

{all images taken by Kyle Anderson. May not be used without permission}

Justice Conference

2010-12-18T17:40:00.015-06:00

"He has shown you, O man, what is good.
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly[a] with your God" -Micah 6:8

This February I'll be attending The Justice Conference in Bend, Oregon which is being hosted by World Relief and Kilns College. The below video expresses more eloquently that I could convey as why it's important that we should respond to the invitation to intervene..

An Invitation to Justice from The Justice Conference on Vimeo.

Why It Matters

2010-12-18T17:40:00.011-06:00

“.. Long lay the world in sin and error pining Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth. A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices for yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn. Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices. O night divine. O night when Christ was born. O night. O holy night. O night divine” – O Holy Night

For so many years have I heard this statement echoed… ‘we all much think about what this time of year means..’. If I’m honest, I never really understood what I was suppose to feel in thinking about Christmas.. or really.. grasping what Christmas was suppose to mean for me AND the world..?

Here I sit in a coffee shop writing this entry and next to me sit two people expressing what Christmas all is about. “I hate shopping. I hate malls. I know the objective is shopping for your loved one but so many people get caught up in it, making you angry and other people get angry while shopping. This year I am going to do online shopping. And what I’m going to do for my friends I really want to show them I care about them: go online the day after Christmas to buy a gift of something they really want at like 50% off”. The girl next to this guy nods her head in agreement that this is a good idea. As the conversation digresses, he admits that the idea of buying stuff as to show people how much their worth seems wrong. And the girl nods her head in agreement.

I think a lot of people are confused about what Christmas about..

I can’t say that I *understand* anything new.. rather my heart has been radically transformed by God’s grace and mercy over my life.. Christmas is not longer a *meaning* rather a marker.. and I am not no longer a state of confusion as to the meaning of why this time is celebrated.

Where did this turn from being a search for meaning as to what Christmas is and why we celebrate this time? I can't say there was a moment of enlightenment rather years of God moving mountains in my heart ... that I finally *get it*. The impact came..

Allow me to share..

Earlier this week, The Art House Dallas hosted an intimate evening of music performed by Sara Groves and her band. She is a favorite of mine and I was excited to see her perform live. A several dozen people came together in a cozy space at Munger Place Church; the atmosphere created felt as if we were gathered in someone’s living room. There we sat listening as Sara shared her music and her heart.. the stories behind her songs and how she's wrestled through asking God, after a trip to Rwanda, how someone such as herself - a songwriter and musician - can contribute anything to the cause of Justice and have any impact.

It was then that Sara shared the story of the Cellist of Sarajevo, Vedran Smailovic. During the war in Bosnia.. Vedran Smailovic was a cellist living in Sarajevo in the early 1990's. The people lived in constant fear for their lives as civilians were very much targeted during the fighting. One day, Vedran happened to look out his window to witness a bomb exploding on a church where people had been waiting in line for food. On that day, 22 people were killed. Enraged and upset.. he wanted to do something but wasn't sure what. He thought of this all night. And on the dawn of the following morning he decided what he must do: he would play his music for each person who died that day rather than hide in fear of another attack. Everyday for 22 days beginning at 4pm (which is when the explosion happened) he would walk outside dressed formally and played music for one person a day who had died. All around him bullets flew by him and mortar shells were being dropped. One article states: For 22 days, one each for the people killed, Smailovic played in the same spot. He played to ruined homes, smoldering fires, scared people hiding in basements. He played for human dignity that is the first casualty in war. Ultimately, he played for life, for peace, and for the hope that exists even in the darkest hour. It was this story that inspired Sara to write the song Why It Matters.

Why It Matters.. Sara Groves

Hope in the darkest hour..

As Sara sang, I felt so much move through me. It has been an intense past few weeks. Two weeks ago I found myself with a few other women in the parking lot of an abortion clinic intervening and fighting for life not from a place of condemnation, judgment or hatred rather out of love, hope and faith as we’d all once stood in this girls same shoes having already made a decision. There stood a young frightened upset girl.. trembling.. sobbing.. thinking this was her only option. And standing off to the side was a downcast shame-filled fearful silent young man.. the boyfriend. Though that day felt like a small victory as she did not walk into that clinic.. dozen of other girls and women were lined outside the door making that choice thinking there was no other way or rather, this way was the best option.

Sadly several days later, this young girl feeling completely hopeless and abandoned by the boyfriend after he made it clear that he didn't want to keep the child; along with her parents pressuring her to abort the baby... she walked into that clinic and ended the life of her baby.

And so this past Saturday, I sat with this young girl as she cried in anguish of the choice she had made.. asking why.. feeling so deceived.. wishing she could turn back the clock.. recounting the searing physical pain of her body unnaturally aborting her baby.. the feelings of being left alone on the floor of her bathroom.

Praise God this isn’t how the story ends for this young girl.

In that dark moment.. she was not alone. God was with her.

Tears streamed down my face as Sara lifted her voice in song. In that moment, my heart was overwhelmed by the massive and mighty implications of Immanuel.. God With Us.. The Incarnate God.. and how His deep love for us is more than we can comprehend. God sent His only son.. who would die a brutal death.. a man who knew no sin became sin for us so that we who are dead in our transgressions and the ONLY thing we deserve is the wrath of God.. that we would become the righteousness of God.. that we may have life.. and have life abundantly for His glory for all eternity. So that in the moment this young girl found herself in tears of anguish.. that in her darkest hour... she has hope. God is making all things new... there will be made beauty from all this brokenness. This is only the beginning for this young woman. I know this as it's been my own story all these years.

All week I’ve thought about this darkness and what Christmas means. Into this darkness, into a world of orphans and refugees, of God-belittling rebellious people, cancer and illness, of pain that is unimaginable, into injustices and poverty- into this world Jesus Christ came. The light of the world flooded the darkness and changed it forever. The prophet Isaiah says, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined. . .For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” The light came into the darkness.

What is this *darkness* as it seems so vague and non descriptive.

Look around. We all know that something horribly wrong has taken place and is taking place in our world.. we know it on a personal level and we know it on a global level as we watch the news from the containment of our living rooms.. hoping that will never be us. We all desire to experience the *good things* in life... we want and fight for a right and a freedom to pursue *happiness*; if we know such exists.. there too exists things that are dark, evil- genocide, poverty, AIDS, slavery.. it goes on an on. Unfortunately we can not escape suffering, pain and anguish. If there is anything my pastor has shown me as he's endured and persevered through terminal cancer is that we would suffer well.. and cling to a hope that is greater than anything this world can give us.

Rob Bell expresses this in his book Drops Like Stars, “I keep discovering that it’s in the blemish that the Spirit enters. The cross, it turns out, is about the mysterious work of God in which begins not with big plans and carefully laid out timetables.

But in pain and anguish and death.

It’s there, in the agony of those moments, that we get the first glimpses of just what it looks like for God to take all of our trauma and hurt and disappointment, all those fragments lying there on the ground, and turn them into something else, something new, something we never would have been able to create on our own. It’s in that place that we’re reminded that true life comes when we’re willing to admit that we’ve reached the end of ourselves, we’ve given up, we’ve let go, we’re willing to die to all of our desires to figure it out and be in control. We lose our life, only to find it.”

So that not if we sin {chose our way and not His way.. making something other than God ultimate} .. rather when we sin... He receives us as we turn from our way and allow our spirit to say yes to Him. We have an eternal hope.. we cling to His promises.. that there is redemption and He will restore the long devastated ruins that are our hearts.

The evidence of His graces and mercies are all around us.. rather it’s not a question of where is God.. it’s one of how harden and numb our hearts have become to being compelled by the love of Christ that we would be His movement.. as we are His workmanship created to do good works created to do in advance that we would walk in them {Ephesians 2}.

Shane Claiborne wrote in a letter to non-believers: “the entire story of Jesus is about a God who did not just want to stay "out there" but who moves into the neighborhood, a neighborhood where folks said, "Nothing good could come." It is this Jesus who was accused of being a glutton and drunkard and rabble-rouser for hanging out with all of society's rejects, and who died on the imperial cross of Rome reserved for bandits and failed messiahs. This is why the triumph over the cross was a triumph over everything ugly we do to ourselves and to others. It is the final promise that love wins.

It is this Jesus who was born in a stank manger in the middle of a genocide. That is the God that we are just as likely to find in the streets as in the sanctuary, who can redeem revolutionaries and tax collectors, the oppressed and the oppressors... a God who is saving some of us from the ghettos of poverty, and some of us from the ghettos of wealth.”

In his book Knowing God, JI Packer states this: ““The really staggering Christian claim is that Jesus of Nazareth was God made man — that the second person of the Godhead became the ’second man,’ determining human destiny, the second representative head of the race, and that He took humanity without loss of deity, so that Jesus of Nazareth was as truly and fully divine as He was human. . .It is here, in the thing that happened at the first Christmas, that the profoundest and most unfathomable depths of the Christian revelation lie. ‘The Word was made flesh;’ God became man; the divine Son became a Jew; the Almighty appeared on earth as a helpless human baby. . .The more you think about it, the more staggering it gets. Nothing in fiction is so fantastic as is this truth of the incarnation.”

We are in need of a Savior... and He came for us. The Word became Flesh.

The author of Hebrews is saying, “Remember Jesus Christ lest you grow weary or fainthearted.” As all of us continue to move into the unknown that is before us where we don’t know what’s going to happen in our own circumstances and situations, we need to marvel at Jesus Christ and remember who He is, what He’s done so we don’t grow weary, that we don’t shrink back in our faith and so we don’t walk as people with no hope.

It’s not just that He came.. it’s why He came. Beau Hughes, one of the campus pastors at my church expressed this regarding the ‘why’ question:

And He came also to point us to a future hope. Because His coming points us to the end of the story. The advent reminds us that Jesus came to save us from our sins, but also there is coming a day that Jesus has promised that He will come again and make all things new. As He saved us from our sins, Jesus has promised that He will come and save us and the world from its groaning (see Romans 8). As one pastor said this week in his prayers and thoughts toward our church family and our pastor, the first advent of Jesus brought relief from our sins and the second advent will bring relief from our sufferings. One day there won’t be any more pain. In Revelation, John wrote it this way, “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." And he who was seated on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new.". . .They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.” The advent of Jesus Christ sets our minds toward the end of the story. And as believers in Jesus Christ, we know the story, and that should affect the way we live in the story today. When darkness comes to our church family, when darkness comes to your life, we don’t walk as people without hope. We have hope because we know the end of the story, and it changes the way we fight the darkness.

And as Christians, that’s the faith we walk in. Jesus Christ’s coming floods us with hope and arms us with faith to such a degree that now we don’t only have to deal with the darkness, but the darkness has to deal with us. We can assault the darkness with faith. We can assault the problem with orphans with mercy. We can assault cancer with prayer. And even when it seemingly ends as bad as it could possibly end the apostle Paul said, “Because of the resurrection, because I know the end of the story, death doesn’t have any sting anymore. I’m not afraid of death. It doesn’t have any sting. I know how it ends.” And that’s how we’re to live. There is coming a day where it’s going to end this way, and because we know that, we live this way now. And we live in this tension and this time that the theologians call “between the already and the not yet.” Jesus Christ has already come and inaugurated His kingdom but He has not yet made all things new. And this is where we live. We live in this tension where it seems darkness still is all around even though the victory has been won.

And so as we live in this time, what do we do? We run the race with endurance, looking to Jesus Christ, considering Him the Author and Perfecter of our faith, who Himself, for the joy set before Him, endured the cross. We are to be and live like that. And Jesus is not just our example in that, although He is that to the infinite degree. But He’s also the One who empowers us to be like Him. He arms us with that faith. So as we stare darkness down, just like these men and women in Scripture have, might I exhort you with the writer of Hebrews to not shrink back in your faith. I’m not saying you act like Superman, I’m not saying you act like nothing is wrong and I’m not saying you don’t act like things are painful. But don’t shrink back in your faith. And lest we grow weary or fainthearted, we look to Jesus, we consider Him, we marvel at Him, especially during this advent season. A great light has stepped into this world and He has changed everything forever and ever for those of us who believe.

I’m grateful that the day of Christmas isn’t about commercialism or a hallmark holiday. I’m grateful that the best gift I have received wasn't bought 50% off online the day after Christmas. God’s gift to me was freely given- but it cost of Him.. Jesus Christ paid a price the sacrifice once and for all. He’s atonement for my sins and yours.. So that I may have life.. that I would have hope in the darkness.

Christmas: Christ is born... God with us. On that morning.. the world has been given hope in the darkness. This is Good News of great joy.. for all people. Wherever you are... may your heart absorb the impact of His deep love for you.. and that we need to remind each other as Sara Groves did the other night.. of the Beauty (the Gospel) .. and why it matters..

Merry Christmas and Much Love

Kyle

Northern Wales

2010-10-16T16:37:00.008-05:00

The River Liffey. Dublin

Conwy. Wales

As the sun rose over the Liffey River, it bathed the city of Dublin in a brilliant clarity that awakens your soul and whispers softly of the kind of day it would be. Yet it was only for us to taste and stir our desire to savor such a day. A feast lay before us as we crossed the Irish Sea from Dublin to Holyhead, Wales. It was a perfect day for sailing the open seas.

The eagerness of the kids grew as Wales came into view. After a gorgeous week in Ireland, we were off for a new adventure in Wales. Thus far we’d gathered wonderful memories from our coach driver teaching us to sing Irish Folk songs to our trip around the Ring of Kerry.. and not to mention the nights of listening to locals play a mix of traditional and modern tunes.

Driving along the coast, the landscape was dotted with sheep among a lush rugged terrain. The hills were green and the sky met the sea with seven shades of blue to which you couldn’t distinguish where one began and the other ended. Rounding the northern coast of Wales, Conwy lay before as a gift waiting to be opened.

Snowdonia. Wales

Conwy Castle is one of many castles built by Edward I in the 13th century. This castle functioned as to protect from the Celtics who’d ruled and reigned the land for over 700 years. Though the castle itself is only somewhat in-tack, the real impression is in how you approach the castle than when you enter it’s cavernous innards which leaves much to be desired.

Four years have passed since I had first explored this coastal beauty. That day had been grey and cold. We hadn’t left the castle grounds hence it left me with no impression other than I was ok if I never returned.

How glad I gave this town a second chance to explore this gorgeous part of Wales. After we savored a wonderful time in Conwy; the students having thoroughly enjoyed walking along the beach; along the castle walls and munching on fresh fish n' chips.. we were on our way.

Coast gave-way to the mountains of Snowdonia and dense forest and gushing rivers. The students delighted in this little hamlet inn with it’s hiking trails and clear clean river. It was nice to be able to let them go and just be kids.. climbing rocks and exploring the trails. By the end of the afternoon, most everyone was in the river swimming and laughing. That night we took over the local pub to watch the US-England football match. This was a site for the locals to encounter our students so absorbed by the outcome of the game. At the end of this wonderful day, I sat watching from my little hotel room bats dart across the sky, listening to the gentle rushing of the river and the sweet scent of the chimney smoke mingling with rich earth. My soul has feasted well that night. I will go to sleep to the sound of the river and the cool air wrapped in blankets…

Something on the road... cut me to the soul..

2010-04-27T20:41:00.008-05:00

{photo by elisabeth cosimi}

Greece is neither Eastern, Western nor Balkan. It is a point where East and West meet in a unique way, a small spot on the map that has left an indelible mark on almost the entire world. Yet it has been argued that if Greece defined itself more clearly, it could play the role as a regional superpower rather than the poor kid on the block that it has very much continued to play in Europe especially these past few months.

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In my small corner of the world, the day is bright and sunny. The birds singing a merry song, people are in their gardens planting and there is a coming and going in preparation for summer. The day is casual and unextraordinary… with the exception of the latest Apple toy being released in which people wait in lines coast to coast for their latest status upgrade. In another corner of the world, men as dark as night sit in the noonday sun exposed. They come from various countries yet here they’re all considered ‘the black man’. Most of these men come from Senegal. I had not understood why so men young men were leaving their country until I read this heart-breaking report of their reality. The European nations sail into African waters, overfishing and leaving farmers with only an empty sea. Many fishermen have sold their boat to people smugglers who use them to take migrants to Europe. Senegal being one of the poorest countries in Africa. There they stand.. or sit.. or lean.. somewhat casually and somewhat alert.. they are selling black market goods of fake Gucci pursues, Rayband and Armani sunglasses, watches and wallets.. all sold to Westerners at a special price- sucker. There are others from the Far East and Asia selling toys and lighters or squatting on the ground aimlessly throwing gel-like balls of which I never see being bought. My reality is comfortable and safe.. contained and predicable.. leisure and expected. Their reality is uncertain.. deprived. . hopeless. . unpredictable. Each morning, outside the Petrou Ralli Station, there is a line forming but not for the latest electronic gadget. Thousands wait in line as it’s the only place in the entire country they may do so with the small exception of the airport and supposedly at various border points. These men gather to wait in line to apply for an interview of which, if approved this will allow them a ‘pink card’ acknowledging them as refugees with legal rights to live/work in Greece. Amnesty International reports the percentages of those actually given asylum:

In 2007 20,684 asylum applicants 8 were granted asylum 0.04%
In 2008 29, 573 asylum applicants 14 were granted asylum 0.05%
In 2009 (first 7 months) 20,000 asylum applicants 12 were granted asylum

So where does this leave the 70,000 + asylum seekers who have not been granted approval? Backlog- Exactly. They are left to themselves. They have no place to go, no place to live, no way to get work and therefore how are they able to feed themselves? They are aware of the cost of staying in Greece is not one of a good and prosperous life. There they make attempts to continue on into EU: Italy, France, UK, Germany, Sweden, etc. The problem with their crossing into new countries is that they have not made the way legally. If they’re not given asylum and having no way to make money, the only way for them to continue on is any way they can. If they make it to another EU country can they not apply for asylum once they arrive? Sometimes. But this is up to that country if they want to accept them or not. According to the Dublin Regulations II they can send them back to the first EU country they entered which for a massive majority, this is Greece. This process is called refoulement.

What exactly is the Dublin Regulations II?

The Dublin Regulation is a EU law for determining which Member State (the countries who are members of the European Union) is responsible for deciding an asylum application lodged within the EU and usually requires that asylum-seekers be returned to the first country they entered upon arriving in the EU.

When asylum seekers are sent back to Greece, once again they face the hopelessness that is the poorly managed system. What the Greeks tend to do is place them in detention centers and more recently, begin deporting them back to Turkey. And the Greeks do this illegally! Once these (mostly) men are sent back to Turkey, the Turks in turn will send them back to Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, Syria where they were fleeing from in the first place. These men beg to not be sent back because they know what will more than likely become their fate. Read this report of an Afghan teenager's journey to England and what will be for him.

{photo by oli scarff}
This image was taken on a day when French police tore down the 'home' called The Jungle of hundreds of refugees.. without a solution.. further displacing them.

I’ve recently begun a book in which it speaks of movements across frontiers.. it is states that this is no longer about the pursuit of the right to life rather what has become the denial which has given rise to some of the worst and most vicious abuses of human rights.

This reality has a face and name, has been persecuted and whose life is in grave danger. Their flight isn’t a means only so that they may have better lives, their flight is to save their lives. There is a flip side of course. I’ve been in countless conversations with Europeans who express their frustration at the desires of these migrants/ refugees to have access to a better life within these countries yet do not adhere to local laws as the is conflict in their personal beliefs as it stand regarding Islam. This is topic for another time. My desire is here is to first address.. and make aware the crisis that is all too silent- the denial to have access to life. Amnesty International, UNHCR, Human Rights Watch and others are exposing and voicing what has been overlooked and displaced for too long. The complexities that surround the ‘next steps’ in how you begin to receive, integrate, enable, provide, assimilate these individuals is dense. Ask I continue to ask questions.. they leave me with answers and more questions. Locally I've discovered many organizations to get plugged in with that serve the resettled refugees within my own community of Dallas.. yet I know that there is a reason I continue to be pulled back to Europe. Until more is revealed to me, I continue to pursue a deeper understand and picture of what is going on and how I can walk in obedience to what I've been made aware.

Below are many forms of resources for you to discover more.
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Resources

Watch: No Refugee: Migrants in Greece by Human Rights Watch

Photo Slide Show by Moises Saman

Reports:
Doctors without BordersVulnerable People at Europe's Door
NHC: Out the Back Door
European Council: Access to Justice for Migrants and Asylum Seekers
Refugee and Migrant Justice: Children on the Front Line
Human Rights Watch: Pushed Back, Pushed Around Italy-Libya
Human Rights Watch: Stuck in a Revolving Door between Greece and Turkey
Human Rights Watch: No Refuge
Human Rights Watch: Left to Survive

Get Involved Locally:
World Relief
Doctors without Borders
International Rescue Committee
Free City International Dallas

Ministries in Europe: serving asylum seekers/refugees/migrants
London: Anchor Project; Notre Dame Refugee Centre
Rome: International Teams
Athens: Helping Hands

Greece through photographs

2010-04-18T18:55:00.010-05:00

Flying over Greece about to land in Athens

Monastiriki Square in the heart of Athens- notice the Acropolis in the background.

Metro stop: Acropoli

Local Athens Market.. they sell anything and everything in this place..

local men sit around everywhere drinking coffee, eating, smoking, playing games, talking.. you see them seating together all over the place. This is on one of the main streets, Athinas.

again in the local market.. i love the Orthodox priest caught me photographing him.

this man was so interesting to me.. he was sitting in the most random place reading..?

The Greeks don't seem to concerned over manicured storefronts.

The view from Aeropagus (Mar's Hill) looking up at the Acropolis

Active Compassion

2010-04-18T18:36:00.007-05:00

Otis, Keaton, Flou and Collin in Athens. Otis and Flou are from Nigeria. They moved to Greece legally ten years ago but have not been able to make a 'better' life for themselves. They want to return home but because they can only make so much money as street musicians, they do not know how long it will take them to save enough money for plane tickets.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Returning from Greece this past month, I’ve not been able to shake what I saw and experienced. My heart has been wrecked by the bigger picture - the reality that is for so many people. From the Greeks themselves who are in fear with the current economic crisis and feeling hopeless; to Roma (gypsies) children as young as 4 wandering the streets alone working to make money; to the migrants/asylum seekers alike who regardless of their circumstances and what is legal/illegal- desire not just a better life; are escaping persecution and fearing for their lives- their reality is bleak. I have had a harder time wandering through all that I took in and what it looks like to move beyond my world of comfort.

Highlighted to me this past Easter has been that of the compassion and mercy over our lives. How do I process through the names and faces.. the stories of those who have not. As I’m reminded of the grace and mercy lavished upon my life, I’m grateful that Jesus looked upon us and had compassion and He responds to the cries of our hearts. This seemed to be the vibrant theme throughout these past weeks in Greece. The names and stories of those who lives left an impact on my heart as well as the group. On the last night of our time together, I asked the group what left the biggest impact and why. Not one of them said a place or location. Each of them shared of what God had been revealing to them in regards to having compassion; His love for us and what it looks like to love others not conditionally rather because the love of Christ compels; the stories and encounters with other people and though languages could have made for difficulties, love transcended. How deeply encouraged I was to see how God had been working .. moving and opening their hearts. To watch these students not only take in what they were experiencing, but to respond and to embrace those they encountered. My prayer for them as they returned home is that God would continue to nurture their hearts what was planted in those 11 days together, continuing to revealing Himself to them.

Savannah puts on her best dress

2010-02-07T12:05:00.018-06:00

As I drove down Oglethorpe Street a joy rose in me. I was back in the deep South. Live oak trees draped in spanish moss; the azaleas are in full bloom; victorian homes leaning on one another as old friends well acquainted with each other; sunlight dappled squares; carriage horses and SCAD students on bikes compete for the right away.. Of these things I miss. Arriving in Savannah on a Friday morning, I could hardly wait to submerge myself back into a culture that had become a warm blanket to my soul during my college years.

Savannah is on the way to nowhere yet when you arrive you wondered how you even came to be in such a beautiful city. A city which was saved during Sherman's march to the sea, destroying everything on his way to Charleston. The city was spared and presented as a gift to President Lincoln at Christmas- along with cotton and guns. Though it is a city that may have been saved by the wrath of an army- it has suffered much over the centuries. From many area fires; hurricanes and tropical storms; racism and what could of been it's fate- to be left to itself; cast away and forgotten. It's savior and much credit is given to the rise of a certain 'book' as referred to by locals and what has become the country's leading art college {Savannah College of Art and Design}- this city of steeples now thrives and is very much alive. Yet this city lives as water and oil separate yet together. There are many cultures here which live among the other. To the innocent eye, you'd think this charming southern town was just that. Charming. It was once said of Savannah "a beautiful woman with a dirty face". And though it is charming, it has a darker reality- one that is rooted in the supernatural and the reality that is racism. Is this not where the American southern gothic movement is stepped in? Tennessee Williams described as ' .. an underlying dreadfulness in modern experience". Not to detract from it's beauty as it is captivating and unique, alluring. It stirs and inspires the imagination. Yet I can't deny that I was exposed to a harsh reality that had yet to expose itself to me: racism. Rather for now, I'm not here to express my experience of this in Savannah. I've since seen an uglier picture of this far beyond this little city off a forgotten highway.

While living in Savannah, never did I grow tired or accustom to the beauty that always left me admiring and in awe. Having never owned a car throughout my college years, I'd bike around the squares admiring the various details on my way to class and back. There was always a new room; a new corner; a new garden; a new home; new design to discover. Your senses are overwhelmed. Being an artist, this city inspires and moves you in your attempt to capture and convey beauty. Oh how I felt my soul swollen in a way that I was ready to feast on this once again. Texas.. you've yet to stir this within me.

This past weekend's return to the South was a result of being asked to participate in SCAD's Student Acceptance Day. Students who'd been accepted but had to make a concert decision on a college pouring in from all over the country (and the world) to check out the school in more detail. SCAD flew 4 of us alumni in to share about our experiences at the university and how we are currently using our degree in our field. SCAD knows how to put on an event! I enjoyed meeting with parents and students; encouraging them and sharing my experiences along with what sets this school apart. It was an honor to be a part of this day and be around so many excited students!

After the SCAD event had come to an end, I jumped in the car and drove out hwy 80 towards Tybee Island. Windows down, crossing over the various bridges that take you to Tybee.. the salty sea air begins to stir memories that have gathered dust for too long. There is a reason so many writers choose the Low Country as their subject.. it is intoxicating. Satisfied once I had sunk my toes into the warm Georgia sand; I return to Savannah. The remaining day was left to my pleasure. Now that the dormant memories had been dusted off, I felt it was time to wander down the streets I'd spent living on for so many years. As I approached my old home, I had the feeling someone would be on the front porch. Sure enough.. not one but three people sat gathered for an evening cocktail, music and musings. I approached with rising joy. As I walked up the steps and explained how this had been my home throughout college.. they exclaimed 'are you Kyle?'. Wow.. how did they know who I was? Amazingly enough, this was the family that had bought the house from my parents. They then asked if I would like to wander through the house. Could I really? I can't explain the emotions that were so deeply stirred as I crossed the threshold of that old house on 124 W Huntingdon Street. That house of which I'd grown to love and care for so deeply... it was like being reunited with a long lost friend after so many years. Wandering through the house, my heart was swollen remembering all that passed through.. all the memories.. the good.. the bad.. the beautiful.. the brokenness.. life! They say that college years are your best. Looking back at this time this past weekend, it very much will always remain a special season of my life.

The next morning I left for South Carolina where I went to visit my grandmother. Driving over the Savannah River, again I was struck with the beauty that surrounded me. How incredibly deprived of this I am here in Texas. Live oak trees and pine tree canopied the backroads that took me through the town of Bluffton. Here I stopped to visit a beautiful wooden church that sits on the bluffs on the May River. Taking my shoes off, the soft grass and sunny day beckoned me to enjoy. For some time I sat overlooking the river that would eventually take you to the ocean ..watching people on small motor boats and kayaks savor the day. Driving back through the little town, I stopped to wander through several of the art galleries. As small as this town is, they had more art galleries than I've seen in a long time. My favorite happened to be more of a work space- outdoor gallery of sorts. Exploring this little space was a delightful gift. It only added to the magic of the day.. all too soon it was time to leave and continue my drive to Hilton Head Island..

What I walked away with from this weekend was the realization of how dormant my creative side has been these years since graduating. Within my job, I'm able to use my education, experiences and knowledge acquired while in school. Yet creating work that extends beyond my job has been asleep for too long. For the first time in awhile, I felt inspired, rejuvenated, encouraged and challenged to look at how I can begin to integrate my abilities, experiences, opportunities, awareness and network into something that extends beyond me creating art for the sake of art.

Connected to this kindled realization was the need for deep community here in Dallas. I have made great friends but lack a community. This was very apparent as I walked around Savannah this weekend seeing everyone out and about and recognizing the isolation that has become my life outside of my tours. I have made a good life for myself here but what does it mean if it's only you experiencing it? Yet rather than feeling discouraged, I returned to Dallas with a renewed hope in what God is doing within my life. He is stirring something big time and this weekend revealed to me that He is knows my heart. To trust Him and continuing to walk in obedience out of my affection for Him.

Now to start sketching out ideas... it always starts with an idea..

"The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing." - Albert Einstein

"You can't do anything about the length of your life, but you can do something about its width and depth." - Shira Tehran

“All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible.” - T.E. Lawrence

Places to check out in Savannah
Cha Bella Farm to Table restaurant
Harris Baking Company - amazing bakery
Bohemain Hote - they have a great rooftop bar that overlooks the Savannah River.
The Paris Market and Brocante this place was gorgeous..! and they had a little espresso bar. They the blueberry, espresso and cream drink.. divine!
shopSCAD - all items created by SCAD students
Working Class Studio

Latter Days and Astral Weeks

2010-02-07T09:16:00.016-06:00

Two concerts for which I was fortunate to experience this past year: Over the Rhine and Swell Season. Over the decades, I've seen a my share of shows. My first concert was an L7 show at the former 328 Performance Hall music venue in Nashville. {Michael W Smith and DC Talk were technically my first.. but they don't count as I didn't know what I was getting myself into at 8 or 9 years of age!}

These two groups are phenomenal live. If you ever have the opportunity to experience a show of theirs- go! I could

Over the Rhine
I first discovered this group while in high school. I was instantly drawn to Karen's voice and the emotion from which she sang. Yet is has only been the recent years in which I've been fortunate to experience this beautiful group perform live. It will change your life! When Karen sings, she bares her soul. Standing in the darkly lit room, your vocals penetrate to the very core of you and you are left with this glorious feeling swimming through you. It is a breath-taking experience. Her husband Linford is there next to her typically on the piano. He is a warm fire to Karen's afternoon rains. They compliment each other beautifully.

Albums: Below are a few of over a dozen albums they've put out.
God Dog, Bad Dog
Ohio
The Trumpet Child
Drunkard's Prayer

Swell Season
Once is a film that lingers with you and leaves you feeling full of hope. This was my first introduction to the couple- Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova- as it has been for many. I'd been listening to The Frames {Glen Hansard's band} on and off for years but honestly never gave them much thought. Watching him in this film gives you a very intimate portrait of the man he is. Yes he is 'acting' yet I don't feel that he is too far off from the man portrayed in the film. Even more intimate are their concerts. Again, if you have the opportunity- go see these two perform live. Glen sings with this genuine and unabandoned emotion that permeates from his entire being. When speaking to the crowd, he is humble and humorous.. his gratitude for the support and response to their music is very evident through his words. In particular, it was his cover of Astral Weeks that was incredibly powerful. Marketa has a gentle and soft, yet guarded demeanor. She was again, a wonderful compliment to Glen. What a gorgeous night of music!

Albums:
Once Soundtrack
Strict Joy
The Frames- they have several albums out

The Lost Boys of Afghanistan

2009-08-29T17:21:00.010-05:00

{photo by the NY Times}

Months ago I wrote a post, Ghosts of Patras. This post made aware the plight of refugees and migrants who lived in limbo in Greece. The New York Times posted an article the other morning speaking on this very topic. How grateful I was to see more light shed on the conditions that these men and women live in. More than the story are the images. The photograph shot in black and white relay the emotion, their stark reality.

{photo by the NY Times}

{Photo by the NY Times}

I've also discovered another emotionally stirring article and well as this heart-breaking report which addresses the Iraqis refugee stuck in a sort of revolving door between Turkey and Greece, seeing no hope in sight. This latter report addresses the same issue the NY Times reported on which was that of the Afghan youth in Greece. You can also watch this clip. Another powerful that tells the jounrey of an Iraqi refugee who has made it through Greece and on to France, now attempting to cross from France to England, which this clip titled After Sangatte: Europe's untold Refugee Crisis.

Years ago, I had just returned from my time living abroad in Italy. I was struggling to understand why God had me live in Italy.. here I was back in Franklin working the same job at Starbucks as I had been prior to leaving. Those first few months home, I went through a wave of emotions in seeking to understand the 'why'. A visiting pastor at my church was gifted in counseling, was offering his time to to meet with us over a two day period. On a whim, I decided to meet with him. When I think back on this meeting, I remember that I had not shared much- rather he was sensitive to where I was at. He told me that it was ok that I wasn't at peace with just 'staying in Franklin'. God has put big visions in my heart for many nations and He was going to do something with that. I wasn't meant to stay. At this, I felt relief and terrified at the same time. What did this mean? Many nations? I only was familiar with a small corner of the globe. Months later, I was hired to work for Joshua Expeditions. And as I sit here, having come into my 5 season with JE, having witnesses much- I recognize my heart for many nations.. they are all pouring into one continent: Europe. I've seen this on massive levels. In Florence, I've heard the stories of young Cameroonians while selling watches; in Paris I've met and seen their hurt in the eyes of Algerians while bartering pursues; In Rome I've encountered Bangladeshi who've crossed an ocean to sell toys in from of the Trevi Fountain; in Patras I've watched as the Afghan lines the streets in Patras attempting to run and hide under a semi-truck as it travels to Italy; In Athens I've witnesses Albanian couples come together for a night of worship, in Albania, a safe place for them to feel home; in London the Pakistani and Iraqis; in Munich the Turkish.. the list is endless. Many nations. So many are left without hope.

For so many of us here in American, we live in incredible luxury. We have the luxury to choose to live a simple life. Yet the majority of the world does not have that luxury. We are called to love because the love of Christ compels us. To not segregate but embrace those, bring them into our lives; we are to show active compassion and affirm those who've lost that hope of their dignity and give them a voice. Through that active compassion, it transforms lives.

Greece is only one corner of the globe. What is happening in this part of Europe, is happening in thousands of other locations. Here are a few other resources to make yourself more aware of these crimes against humanity and how you can help:

The International Rescue Committee
UN Refugee Agency
IT Refugee Ministry

Tennessee, you've been good to me

2009-07-05T11:39:00.012-05:00

the view from my parents home

sweet friends at one of our many cookouts

It seems fitting that for lyrics to convey where my thoughts are this morning..

“Tennessee you’ve been good to me.. yes I’ve come to believe, you’re where I want to be.. you may not be.. what everybody needs.. but Tennessee.. you’re good enough for me” Mindy Smith

“if I hadn’t left Nashville. I wouldn’t be here today..”. Casey Black

“You’re a distant memory, you’re an exit south.. On a childhood highway.. it’s not quite London.. or the south of France.. or an Asian island.. or a second chance.. going back to Nashville thinking about the whole thing, guess you’ve got to run sometimes..” David Mead

There are places that will always leave an imprint on my heart.. moments that will play out in the theater of my mind.. and when they come, how I savor the memory. So many moments from brunch on Sundays in New York City; walking through Central Park in the snow; to playing music in the open piazzas of Florence; late nights on my front porch in Savannah with friends and the heady scent of jasmine on a soft breeze... Yet there is that place which causes an ache so deep within you… the only way to soothe that is to return. Home.

So often I’m asked; ‘..of all the places you’ve gone, what is your favorite place?’ How my answer often disappoints them. It’s driving down childhood highways towards Leiper’s Fork .. over the hills, passing the horses farms to the place that gave birth to my imagination, where freely it ran wild. A place where anything beyond my backyard was an adventure. Little did I know where that life beyond my backyard would take me. There are places that left me in amazement and wonder, hoping to some day return. But those places are beyond count. How could I choose?

Yes I’ve been incredibly lucky to live the life I’ve lived. To see the spectacular places that you stand in awe of and think, ‘how is this my life?’. I’m constantly having those moments. Yet the place I ache for, is the place I wanted to leave. And as much as the I love atmosphere that was the home. It’s what happened in this place.

My roots aren’t in the South. My family is from the Midwest. I don’t have that southern pride.. nor do I have any connect with the place which gave birth to my parents. My nostalgia isn’t for the place itself as much as I find it beautiful. There are places I’ve seen that surpass the beauty of Williamson County by far and wide! Those hills can’t compete with the Swiss Alps. And Center Hill Lake can’t compare to the blue waters of the Aegean Sea. And the history.. well standing on the Acropolis in front of the Parthenon goes back a bit further than the Civil War. Not to discredit these things rather what I am expressing: So what does it leave you with? {to the left: my parents when they were younger and dating} The people. It’s my family that I ache for. My sweet authentic friends. My childhood. Those tender memories when you didn’t know the weight of the world and the wickedness that man is capable of. I ache for the sweetness of dancing in the living room to Michael Jackson and Billy Joel, my sisters and I twirling around. I ache for Sunday drives and brunch with Dad. I ache for sitting on the counter as my mom bakes and teaching us. I ache for enjoying the outdoors playing music with friends, laughing and just doing life together. Yet, I don’t live in the past of what I miss. I am very much here in the present.

What is all this showing me? What is that ache so deep within me? For years now I’ve crossed oceans- I’ve made a living at doing so. Not for a second would I take back all I’ve come into in my short life. No regrets. Just an ache.

As I sit in my home in McKinney, TX.. on a no name highway.. surrounded by no name towns. I’m a nobody. No one knows my name or really even cares to know. Rather than think that this place has nothing to offer me or I have nothing to off ‘it’… I remember that all of these places have become a part of who I am, the fabric of my being. And for me the core of it lays at home. I don’t know ‘what comes next’. For some, that may be a scary thought but where I find rest and so much comfort is remembering that when God puts a vision in us, He won’t take it from us. He continues to work in us; through us. There is a scripture that speaks of the ‘parched land will become pools of water..’. How I love this image. For so long, that vision has had to do with travel and nations. It still does. He’s allowed it to come into being and continues to. I look forward with anticipation and excitement as to what the new day brings. But I too look forward to sharing in that, hopefully, with a family. That the deepest thing I ache for isn’t to fill my passport with stamps that it may read like an atlas but to give life as my parents having given to me. Amazing how your life can feel like it comes full circle while continuing to propel you forward. I have no idea if I’ll ever live back in Nashville- how I’d love to. But God has a bigger picture I’ve to really, only tantalizing glimpses. But I also know that when we seek him, He does delight in blessing us with the desires of our hearts. How amazing is that?!

So as I sit here let my heart focus on what is not rather all that is. To revel in the greatness and grandeur of God’s plan- one which I could never have invented for myself. To be grateful for all that has been laid before me with my heart and purpose in mind. I look forward to my trip home not for the place itself rather to savor my time with my family and precious friends. And remember that Tennessee.. you’ve been good to me.

Bittersweet end to the season

2009-06-28T16:46:00.014-05:00

Occasionally I lead trips to places I’ve yet to visit myself! I know you ask: How can you lead people to a place you’ve never been? You get a really good map, memorize landmarks and praise God for Google Street View!! ;) On this past trip, we spent several days in a gorgeous valley nestles between the Austria Alps. What a stunning place! I fear my photos do not begin to capture the beautiful and grandeur of this place. Waking each morning to a postcard view and each night, falling asleep to the sound of mountain water gushing through the creek below my window and the soft silhouette of the mountains in the distance. This was a piece of heaven on earth.

For three days the kids got to ski and snowboard up on the Stubaital glacier and the afternoons were spent hiking up the many trails into the mountains, running around the alpine meadow, walking into the little village of Neustif or just enjoying the wonderful hotel where we were staying. Typically my tours take me through major cities, so when I am able to venture outside major cities, it is sweet music to my heart.

This trip also marked the end of my travel for the season. Originally, I was scheduled for several more tours but came down with pneumonia once again. It was bittersweet in that I wasn't ready for this to be my last tour for the season yet at the same, I was grateful to not be crossing an ocean again for awhile. Often I am asked when speaking of my job, “ do you ever get tired of it”? If you ask me this after I’ve come off a 13+ hour flight, several airports, crossing time zones, my body aching and 30 hours of no sleep.. then yes, I do get tired- of traveling. {To the left: London's Heathrow Airport Terminal 5} Ask me when I’m sitting at dinner surrounded by several precious students sharing with me about their lives, laughing while eating in Rome.. then, no- I never tire of it! This past trip had a mix of those moments- those things which I’m happy to never have to do again- 13+ hour flights and London’s Heathrow airport at 5am to tender moments while a student open their heart to me, and in turn I’m able to love them in that place, I pray that God speaks through me and that I don’t just leave them with empty words.

Over the years, working with students, I’ve grown more and more perceptive to what resonates within them verse where I see the eyes rolls and a shutting down of their hearts. I see that more than ever their biggest struggle is trying to figure out who the heck they are let alone what a relationship with God looks like. You speak to their hearts by loving them where they are at, allowing them to just be and love them in that place.. not focusing on who they can be in the future but seeing them as they are, just as God sees us. He doesn’t look at us and say ‘I see potential in you kid’ but He loves us exactly as we are: fallen, broken, stubborn, prideful, confused.. I can go on as the list is endless! Rather He looks at us with compassion. He pleads for our hearts and He will go after them! So when I spend time with these precious students.. My desire is for them to not feel like they aren’t good kids, or the ‘beware of walking this path’ talk rather by sharing my heart, my struggles, being authentic with them- and that my life is walking in grace.. seeing the gifts God has given me to serve others, not to look to just serve myself. You invite them into this walk. It's a special moment to share in. This is why i do what I do. Not to just travel, see amazing places, etc.. but to be a part of sharing in this incredible life God has given us, to walk in grace and love with compassion.

A wonderful ministry that does this well- loving students exactly where they are and breathing life into them- Daystar Ministries in Nashville TN. I'm beyond grateful for how they loved me all those years in which I was a part of a girls group that met once a week. For the first time, I felt not only accepted but embraced in my brokenness. They loved me for me. And they were a safe place to share in this. I can't tell you how that kind of love changed me. Of course my parents did this as well- but as a pre-teen/teenage girl, the last thing you want is advice from your parents. ;) So it is for them that my heart beats for these students.. because I was so loved, I hope that God directs me in bringing encouragement and comfort. This scripture is a reminder to me: "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." 2 Corinthians 1:3-4.

Easter in Greece & Turkey

2009-06-14T08:13:00.025-05:00

Athens. Monastiriki District with a view of the Acropolis

Island of Mykonos outside an orthodox church on Good Friday.

Once again I was blessed to spend Easter in Greece. It happened to be the weekend I was with a group leading a tour throughout Greece. The focus of the trip being on the early Church and the Apostle Paul. Part of the tour is spent on a cruise visiting Mykonos, Rhodes, Patmos and Ephesus Turkey.

And so on Easter morning, we were up before the sun for the early morning shore excursion to Patmos. Half willingly at 6am, we disembarked by little boats. As we boarded, the sun was beginning to rise. Sitting there on the boat, watching the distance between our ship and the little boat where we found ourselves rendered speechless grew as the sun made itself known it all it’s glory. Easter morning. Those of us on the boat sat in revered silence drinking in this moment.

We spend the early hours of the morning on the island of Patmos where the John the Baptist is said to have had the vision to write Revelations. Later in the day, our ship took us to Turkey where we toured ancient Ephesus and watched flying carpet demonstrations while drinking apple tea. Turkey is a country that sits on the edge of familiarity and uncomfortably. Now I’ve only visited a tiny piece of this massive country, which is said to be close to 71 million people- making it larger than any European country. It’s considered Asia Minor. It’s not quite Europe. It’s not quite the Middle East nor is it Asia. Ok so let’s say Eurasia ;) I’d love to see more of this country, especially Istanbul, Ankara, Izmir and to go south along the coast.

This ended my last tour in Greece for the season. If you ever have the opportunity to visit Greece- not just the islands, but the mainland- it's beyond worth it. This country is something to experience! Athens, as you can read in my previous posts from last year, is beyond a paint job yet because it's not what you expect, it leaves the door wide open for a great adventure!

The Lake District, Wordsworth and Daffodils

2009-03-30T08:27:00.019-05:00

"Daffodils" (1804)
I wander'd lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

The art of ignoring and the gift in loving

2009-03-29T12:43:00.006-05:00

It was written somewhere once that there are two things that pierce the human heart: beauty and affliction. In one your heart swells and the other you feel it break.. The other night as I sat on the number 2 Uptown Express train waiting for it to take me back to 42nd Street, I experienced both such feelings in a colliding moment. When I stepped on the train, it was the intense smell that I first noticed coming from a corner. There sat a woman all but crumpled against the wall and seat. She seemed a mass of brown clothing, her face was covered and wearing mis-matched shoes, she struggled to stand up. The majority of those on the train sat to the other end of the car aware but pretending to not notice her. Because this is not an uncommon site, no one stared or made exaggerated hand movements, no comments were made or none that I could hear from where I sat. Yet the silence and choice of seat said enough. In the moment my eyes befell her, I felt my heart break for her.. with her covered face as if her shame kept her from showing herself. Only a moment later did I allow my eyes to leave her and looked ahead out the train window. Across the platform stood two lovers in a public yet very intimate embrace, gaze and then long kiss. My heart swelled at this site and seconds later the train was traveling north to Herald Square. There was something deep in me that moved with a longing for the same experience. Yet it was here that the woman shifted her way out the train doors. Her movements reminded me of a wounded animal, when realizing they have but a moment to escape- for just that moment, they have energy. As the train continued on, I watched this woman whose face was hardly visible make her slow uneven way to her next corner of this city. What she left behind was not just a overwhelming smell, not just the crumbs and dirt that reveal how long she had been there… but a broken heart in my chest. A reminder that she is a human being with a heart and soul just like me.. not a term or a condition.. not a statistic or a lost case. But a woman who could be loved and is loved. But who stops to know her name.. her story? Give her hope and an hand?

There are those who believe that those without a home choose this life for themselves and prefer this. Who really chooses to be without a home.. without someone to love them and to love in return.. to not feel a part of this life? Living such independent lives apart from our Creator wasn’t what God created us for. When you begin to be see how much we were created for community and relationships.. These people may not have had a choice but to give up their home, have no one to turn to who will love them where they are at and extend help. Maybe they did get some help. Maybe they choose to give up. Those of us who’ve been privileged to be provided for or who know that someone has our back should never take this for granted. Life is not fair. It does not consider the individual nor does it show grace, show mercy and love unconditionally. And those who chose to just give up.. all I can say is someone must have given up on them. And they lost hope.

How is it that we can support humanitarian efforts across the globe in Darfur.. Myanmar.. Israel.. Mumbai.. yet disregard those before our very eyes? I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with supporting the causes that reach these places as it is incredibly needed! Yet, the real crisis is within us when we stop and only seek to help ourselves.. it ends there. We’ve been creating to be life giving.. not life-consuming. In scripture it says ‘what is it to gain the whole world but lose our souls in the process..?’ I’m the first one to be honest in that it’s easier to just help from afar.. we keep ourselves comfortable never touching the reality of the lives we see so broken, just being grateful that is not us. To keep a safe distance from what makes me risk myself, really give of myself and trust in God. It has been a process of understand of what it looks like to step outside of what I'm comfortable with and only willing to do if it fits into a certain idea or moral code based off of.. what? You need to have discernment which is incredibly important just as it is to wrestle with, question and seek to understand what any of this means and what it looks like to live in this place vs just living in the idea of it. Hence we justify ourselves because we've thoughts about something or are going to do something about this or that yet we've never taken any real action.

A New York photographer Lorenzo Dominguez, recently created a series of photos called: The Art of Ignoring (http://www.flickr.com/photos/lorenzodom/sets/72157601182601638/) I know I’ve been guilty of trying to perfect the art of ignoring. But I can’t. I’m not sure what it looks like to not ignore or pretend.. or just to walk by. Rather what it looks like to reach out.. not being conditional in how I give, how I love. God is not conditional with us. He doesn’t bless us according to what we deserve or not rather takes joy in giving. And who is to say that what one chooses to do or spend is better or worse? We are called into loving others. So many people say that this life is about Love.. but what is your idea of love? What does it look like to love others and to be loved in return? Do you know the greatest love of all? It’s humbling.. to know there is nothing more or less we can do that God won’t love us more or less. Again.. to live in that place where you love.. give.. show grace and mercy regardless or who is or isn’t deserving.. because you’ve been so loved, lavished up with grace and mercy and knowing that each day is a gift.

I pray for God to break my heart for what breaks His. When you start to pray this.. He will. You are given a glimpse into how far east of Eden we really are.. so far from where we are intended to be. At the same time, you will experience such joy, such gratitude that your heart is swollen and overflowing. You cannot help but to share this with others not wanting to keep it for yourself. You begin to feel deeply in a way never felt before and all over a sudden, you seen through new eyes. I dare you to pray this because when you do.. you will feel you heart break.. but also swell in the same moment.

Below are a few websites regarding homelessness and those who provide refuge and help:

Coalition for the Homeless: http://www.coalitionforthehomeless.org/index.html
The Bowery Mission: http://www.bowery.org
EDAR http://www.edar.org/index.html
Sacramento Loaves and Fishes: http://www.sacloaves.org/
http://www.takepart.com/blog/tag/homeless-families/

Photos from my last Europe tours

2009-03-14T10:00:00.012-05:00

Twice now I've been incredibly blessed to witness this gorgeous sunset over the Bay of Corinth from the modern city of Delphi. This was from the balcony off my hotel room. The apostle Paul once sailed across this bay. It's moments like this I am in such awe that I get to be a part of all this!

The view looking back towards the popular skiing town of Arahova. It is not only popular with people who are skiing on Mt Parnasos but known for it's woven rugs and clothing. Great little village!

Students from Wheaton Academy as we walked through the lower city of ancient Delphi. It was a gorgeous morning watching the sunrise over the Ionian Sea as we made our way up the mountain.

Looking down one of the main roads leading to the Pantheon in Rome. Notice the full moon overhead and one of the best little cafe's to get coffee in the city: Il Caffe Tazza D'oro.

Another incredible group of students, this time from Wheaton Academy. Here are all the girls on their first day in Florence, Italy.

Sitting in a little restaurant just outside the Ancient Agora.. it was an unusually warm day for early Jan. People were out walking around in the markets and in the midst of the seas of people, I heard this strange singing.. almost chanting coming from somewhere. As the sound came closer, I saw that it was a man who pushed a sort of .. musical box.. icon.. in a moment he looked at me as I photographed him. Part of me wished I had understood what he was singing and what his cart represented.. yet i'm glad its left to my always wondering..

A few of the students from Houston Christian School which took us from Rome Italy across the Adriatic Sea to Athens Greece. Here they are at top the Acropolis in Athens.

The view looking down on Ancient Delphi. This is an incredible site to visit with an even more fascinating history. Understanding what the ancient Greeks believed really helps to better understand the language used in scripture when speaking to the Greeks. So incredibly interesting and what a breath-taking place!

Immigration within Europe: Beginning thoughts

2009-02-08T12:12:00.004-06:00

As the last remaining embers of my time in Greece begin to fade, the few things remain deny me sleep. My body continues to keep in rhyme of Athens time and I find myself drinking Greek filtered coffee and enjoy a pear I happened to stuff in my bag from breakfast that last morning.. making the long journey with me. But it’s not so much the fact that I’m waking at 4am wide eyed and ready for the day rather its all that I am attempting to process through, sifting through the images my mind’s eye has captured in time.. trying to make sense of it all, see the bigger picture. Yet this big picture isn’t a beautiful one, in fact.. its crushing. The more I seek to know, to understand, to make some sense of.. the more I’m convinced that the real problem in this world is not the economic crisis.. rather it is that of the human condition.. the cries of humanity is on its knees.

The face of Europe is changing.. and faster than many are willing to admit. In almost every, if not all countries in Europe, the death rate is higher than the birth rate. It’s a dying continent. This creates big problems for countries that are very depend on the social welfare of their government. You have smaller younger generations having to support a rapidly aging population. The problem there is that this younger generation is not finding work not are they having children. I’ve come to learn that there is a village in France, the mayor of the town is paying the women to encourage them to have babies and to commit to keep them in school in town until a certain age in order to ‘guarantee’ the survival of the community. That’s incredible!

So how are these countries to live on..? Or maybe the first question to address is why are the Europeans not having children or only one child? There is so much to speak on this issue, which I will save for another entry. Yet there are those who are having children, and lots of them: Immigrants.

This is a massive issue to tackle in even being able to speak about, understand and comprehend. I’ve not only experienced first hand this reality throughout Europe, but I’ve spent time speaking to various immigrants over the years, spent endless hours pouring over articles, news reports and reading first hand accounts. It’s amazing to study migration of people. Look at the end of the 19th century. Europeans were moving out of this continent in droves. A hundred years later, droves are pouring into Europe from all over.

NPR recently did a weekly series on morning edition called: Racism in Europe (http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=99220519) and MSNBC has put together a wonderful website addressing the changes facing Europe through the eyes of immigrants:( http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19227137 ) Please take the time to watch the story on Kingsley from Africa.

Where I tend to lose my composure is when I read and watch the individual stories following the journey of a migrant/refugee from their home to Europe. Why do they leave for Europe? For each of them there is a cruel reality I hope I never experience in my lifetime. Each leave hopeful of a life better than what they’ve lived. Their families either gone or are encouraging of their trip for they too have hope for their child, parent, brother or friend to make a better life. This journey takes months, years even. So many die in the process. While in Greece, the last day I was there I saw images of a 13 years old boy from Iraq who had buried to death from hiding under a truck trying to get on a ship to Italy. They are at the mercy of those strangers willing to help them make their way to Europe, their beacon of hope. Why this is hard to watch is because of the reality that I know awaits them in Europe…

I think about how I moved to Italy because I wanted to experience another culture, learn a language and do something that pushed me to see a world bigger than my own. I chose to leave and looked at is as an experience to put under my belt. I didn’t have to leave because I was being pushed out of my country. I didn’t leave because living conditions were so horrible that I had to risk everything in hopes to have something. It’s humbling to recognize how God has allowed this for my life and continues to show me Grace.

There was a night while living in Florence that I was with a Albanian friend of mine. He was illegal living in Italy. I remember him lying on the wall along the Arno river. I don’t remember what we were talking about except that I remember looking at him as he lay there pinching that place between your eyes and the bridge of your nose. Tears slid down his face and he said ‘this life is no good. This life is no good.’ He worked every day of the week and two different jobs, manual labor. Here I was in Italy acquiring a language and a new life because I wanted the experience. Here he was living in Italy speaking three language to survive and . At that time, I couldn’t understand really what he was feeling. How naïve I was. Now I think back to that night and my heart breaks. I want to be a voice for those who live in the margins and are denied so much because of where they are from.

Once again I’ve created rabbit trails with my thoughts. I’m trying to make sense of all that I’ve seen and experienced. I’m not sure how He will continue to work through me with all this but I know He will in big ways. More to come on immigration in Europe.

Patras Greece, the land of the living ghosts

2009-01-18T06:22:00.010-06:00

Patras Greece- the port we where docked.

The simple pleasures are not wasted after days such as these.. how grateful I was to discover a bathtub when opening the door the room I would call home for a few nights.. yet it was only tonight that I was able to sink into the hot waters soak my aching body. For a good hour I lay there not moving.. just allowing myself to feel.. rest. Travel takes a toll on your body.. the pulling of luggage down blocks of cobble stone streets, up several flights of stairs, in and out of coaches, taxis, trains.. the endless miles of walking on uneven ground, climbing to higher places so that I may be seen and heard.. the cold wet Europe weather .. the rain that seem to come at you from the side.. the stuffy basement rooms of restaurants.. the long hours sitting in uncomfortable seats on coach rides to airplanes and trains.. my feet would sigh relief upon taking off my shoes and my body rejoices under the warm waters.. yet.. as I lay there tonight, I thought about the images I saw upon leaving Patras Greece.. and my lamenting ceases and seem trival in light of the horrors lived by those who wait in the shadows to cross, the clinging hope of a better life…? This may have been there hope when arriving to Greece.. only to be met by an even crueler reality.

Patras is one of the largest ports in the Mediterranean Sea. It is the gateway to Western Europe from Asia Minor.. the Middle East.. and the Balkans. As we exited the ship, the rain came down hard.. spotting the coach, I ran as I could with the burden of luggage only to be warmly greeted by dear Felija, the guide whom I befriended last season.. aka my Greek mama ;) All of us boarded our coach, our sea legs eager for the land of the Hellenis.. The Greeks. As we began to pull out of the docks, all lined with massive cargo ships, my eyes were drawn to the men standing in the shadows.. under the long ago closed store fronts. Only skeletons left to provide shelter from the storm. Block after block.. men lined in front of these old shops.. wet.. waiting.. watching. Who were they? Where were they from? Why are they all waiting? Why so many..? What's happening here..? They're so wet and without anything other than the clothes on their back.. block after block.. so many of them. Our coach would stop at a light and through the rain spilling over the window, I met their eyes. I needed them to know I acknowledged them.. I won't turn away. I won't pretend I don't see..

Last night I lay awake.. occupying my thoughts were these men, living like ghosts. I spent hours researching their story as to what brought them there.. what was happening in Patras. Most of these men are from Afghanistan.. Iraq.. along with neighboring countries.. some from Senegal, Algeria and Morocco. A new wave of immigrants. Some are refugees; having to leave not out of choice but pushed out and others migrants; those who choose to leave willingly hoping for better life elsewhere. But the line between these are blurred. Those coming from the Afghanistan and Iraq are given asylum here in Europe yet very few in the EU actually allow this to be. Even those who enter legally, after time without proper paperwork, they become illegal and meet the fate of some many others.

In Greece only 0.6% of the 25,000 allowed asylums actually gain this. The rest live in limbo. Coming from countries that have known war for more than 25 years without cease.. have crossed so far giving everything they have to escape for the hope of something better. Yet they are met with so much advisory as the economic situation here worsen more so than in the US. Work is scarce. So they come here.. to the gateway looking for those who may smuggle them in.
These men journey so far, and even the journey to this point is months, even years in the process.. that only ends with another wall. Another night goes by without the hope of crossing.

I came to learn they return to living in the largest shantytown in Europe. Thousands of men squat in horrible conditions.. no electricity.. no plumbing.. no food.. no work for money.. diseases runs rampit and all living in very cramped rooms. Because prisons and detainment camped are at full capacity, there is nowhere to put them. Othen the countries they come from won’t take them back. The police who do catch these men often turn to beating and breaking their legs or arms in order to prevent them from being able to cross or work. They are treated worse than the stray dogs and cats that I see freely roam the country of Greece. They are treated worse than animals. They are denied existence.

photos by Reuters

My heart breaks at the sight of this. I went to sleep that first night after being made known to this in tears praying for these men.. it's just not fair. My thoughts drift to the first year living off Gaston… Ross Ave in Dallas. One morning I turned one street too soon towards the freeway. It was on that road I first saw something similar to this.. Mexicans waiting.. I couldn't understand why all these men would be standing around, outside abounded buildings or night clubs so early in the morning. Someone had to explain to me that they were waiting to be picked up and given work for the day. This was new to me.. yet even these men have a better life than what is met at Patras.

As I write this.. I forget that my body ever ached.. or that I was tired.. or getting sick.. or worn out.

It's not enough to just be grateful for our blessings.. we have to be motivated.. to serve. Because of what has been given to us.. we are compelled to reach out. When we begin to understand the enormity of the grace which God has lavished upon us, it inspires worship within us.. deep gratitude. From that, it begins to eliminate the stubbornness and self pity… and humbles us.. what comes of that we are moved to serve.. to give. Because we’ve been given so much.

One of the pastor’s at my church, Josh Patterson once said: “there is one thing that makes those of us living in our sanctification.. those of us that believe and walk in faith. . there is something that makes us different from the rest of the world. Anyone can feed the homeless, help the sick, build homes and schools, spend time playing with kids, anyone can cross an ocean and dig wells.. but you know what the world can't do..? Give grace. Because of what God has given us, because of the gift of grace.. we can extend grace to others.. we are so changed by this that we are moved to serve.” Read through all of Ephesians, but especially chapters 1 & 2.. also watch the film Amazing Grace.

It is late and I should sleep.. these are my thoughts at 2am.. in my little corner hotel room off the Saronic Gulf here in Athens..

Pray for these men.. who are faceless.. nameless.. without a voice.. God has put this burden on me and allowed me to see.. again not to just be aware.. but to be moved..

Swell Season

2008-12-20T10:00:00.017-06:00

My Home

..seek peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into the exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.” Jeremiah 29:1- 7

It has taken several years to finally be ok with where God has me. And to feel at peace with it. This is where I am.. Texas. It’s been a long time coming. By no means am I in exile.. yet I won’t lie in saying that there for some time, it did feel a bit like I had been separated from the very things that mean so much to me: community, friends and my family. But I believe that when we do step out in our faith, God always provides.. and above and beyond than what we could ever imagine for our lives.

Our God is the same God all the time, everywhere. I can't be conditional with how I am or where I am but to continue to be the woman that God is shaping me to be, to love unconditionally and look to serve others not how can I be served, to remain humble and look to the needs of others regardless of where I am or what I'm doing. Not when I feel like making time or I'm across an ocean. I still have so much to grown in this... but it's moving.. and feels amazing.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Waking long before the sun has made itself known to the world, the house has slowly begun to warm. As the sun begins to climb, brilliant colors of orange, red and pink paint the horizon.. and for the first time since moving to Texas, I am glad to be home. The house is quiet and the full aroma of coffee brought back from Rome fills the kitchen. From the window, the trees shake.. the few leaves that continue to cling to their limbs are all but faded from last weeks vibrant autumn colors and make their way to their final resting place.. blanketing my yard. Alexi Murdoch sings ‘my salvation lies in your love’ and I feel a deep peace. Finally..

Months have past since taking the time to pen my thoughts. I needed a break from writing and to really process all that has been transforming in my life. In these past few months, so much has taken place. I moved from downtown Dallas about 45 miles north to a little town of McKinney. It took a lot of convincing to open my mind to the thought of moving but after a week of driving over 90 miles a day, I realized this was not what I wanted. So I began looking.. and with the first home I discovered I was in love! A little white cottage house built in the 1940’s had been lovingly restored and was ready to be a home. The little town of McKinney borders suburbia and wide open spaces of farm land. Many of the roads here are marked ‘FM’ or ‘RR’ which means either ‘Farm to Market’ or ‘Ranch to Market’. This dates back to the day when farms/ranches took these roads to the town market for the week. This is getting closer to the Texas you imagine not what I’ve been living in for the past two years: concrete and thoughtless suburban sprawl. Gratefully there are a few hills that grace the otherwise open plains. Just 15 minutes northwest, sits a state park where I can enjoy the stillness of the country that I so miss about Tennessee. Not a car, building, road or person in sight.

a few of the houses around the neighborhood

The house where I now make a home sits in the historical district of downtown McKinney. The town dates back to the early 1800’s and the houses that make up this wonderful little neighborhood are full of character. It reminds me much of a mix between Savannah and Franklin.. minus the Spanish Moss and 6 digit incomes. There is something authentic and genuine in these old homes.. nothing too over manicured yet you can see the tenderness taken to care for them. These homes are well loved and lived in. Walking these streets, I discover a new gem of a home with each stroll. Less than a mile is the old historic city center. It looks much like downtown Murfreesboro with the old courthouse turned performing arts center in the middle of the square yet has been restored much like downtown Franklin. On the weekend, it is a thriving center of activities where a blues band jams at the pizzeria and couples spill out of the steakhouse or local winery. Street musicians play on the street corners, there is local pub and coffee shop, a bistro and an Italian restaurant with a resident Italian (from Venice), a tapas and wine bars fill the in betweens. Recently, our office moved in above the Italian place which I couldn’t be more thrilled with. Going from 90+ miles a day to/from work to less than a mile isn’t bad at all!

But it hasn’t been the move or the new job title as the Creative Director/Arts Coordinator that has been the real change. It has been what God has been transforming, shaping within me. This has been the most transforming year of my life.

You can acquire knowledge, have a fresh perspective on life but that does nothing for my soul. For the first time I can say I’ve really pursued my relationship with God as a priority and not just a nice idea which I might get around to. This deepening in my relationship has been the real change. It’s easy to make excuses.. to say ‘well I just didn’t grow up with that’ or ‘I don’t have time’ or ‘It’s too big to even know where to start’. I’ve made excuses for not pressing into God and really depending on Him. Yet how grateful I am that He lavishes His grace upon us and has so much patience! Recently as I’ve been reading through the Gospels, I’ve been reminded so many times that when Jesus looks out at all the people, before a crowd, what is it he feels..? Not frustration. Not annoyance. Not anger. Not disgust. He has compassion. He says that ‘they are sheep that have lost their Shepard’. Compassion. How often do I get annoyed, impatient, frustrated, arrogant, self righteous when I look at others. But God.. He looks upon us with compassion.

Yet this relationship means responding to your faith.. it's not enough to just desire to know God but you must step out in your faith. In Ephesians 2:8-10 it is written that 'it is by grace you have been saved- through faith, and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God- not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do go works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. My pastor, Matt Chandler, once spoke about the word used here 'workmanship' .. the greek translation being 'poetry'. Poetry being created out of emotion.. that we are created out of God's emotion.. we are the movement of God. Wow if that doesn't move something in you.... ;) Yet with out action, faith is dead as it is written in James 2:17.

For me it's been amazing to begin to grasp that it's not enough to say "i believe".. "I'm faithful".. if my life isn't reflective of my faith, if I am not compelled.. then i haven't gotten it. Reading through the Gospels, I was reminded of how many times people came to Jesus, asking to be healed.. and it was never a question as to if he could.. You see Jesus healing those because of their faith. Because they had great faith, they were healed.. not because they were blind.. weak.. sick.. unclean.. but because of their faith. So for me, the question I ask myself.. looking with in.. am I compelled to live my life of faith..?

There has been a stirring in my soul. A floodgate has been opened within me that leaves me in awe.. more to come on this..

“Pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge- that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever, amen!” Ephesians 3: 16-21

Great Books:

·The Bible: really.. just start in Matthew and read a few chapters a day .. spend time in the Word as well as journaling through what you’re reading. . and the you’ll feel the stirring ..
·Jesus Save the Christians: A manifest for the church in exile by Rob Bell
·Beyond Homelessness: Christian Faith in a Culture of Displacement by Bouma-Prediger & Walsh

A new season begins.. in Italy.

2008-11-28T16:59:00.009-06:00

My fourth season with Joshua Expeditions began with a new job as the Creative Director and the Arts Coordinator. I am to continue be their main European guide but half the amount of days as in the past.. meaning I'll only be guiding around 85 days this year ;)

Yet as much as I've enjoyed my new role with JE, what I'm most passionate about has always been the guiding.. connecting with the kids. Sure I love to travel and wandering through the Roman Forum on a sunny November day beats being in an office in Dallas any day! But its the students that I enjoy so much and it is this that I look forward to the most.

The first tour of the season had me returning to my second home: Italy. Arriving in Rome the day before the group, I was so excited to be back. Yet this year than any year prior, I was so excited to share in all that God had worked on within me with these students. Before I even laid eyes on the group, something in my heart knew that it was going to be an amazing trip.

Spanish Steps. Roma

Waiting for the group to walk through Terminal C at Rome's FCO airport, I was greeted by Massimo, a coach driver I've been working with for years now. Rather than greeting me with the typical kisses on each cheek, he pulled me into a big embrace and a genuine smile, 'cara bella! come stai?!' I was back and so happy.

San Giminagno (Tuscany)

The group arrived after an hour or more of waiting for them. Their excitement was infectious and we were off to Florence. Arriving at the hotel, once again I was greeted with warm embraces by the family who owns and runs the hotel eden. In a flurry of Italian, they made me feel so welcomed. I felt like I had come home. And later that night as we ate cingale (wild boar) the restaurant owners too welcomed me with open arms. As I gave them Kyle Tour of Florence by Night.. I couldn't be more happy to be back. Really God?! You allow this for my life..?!

The days that followed, we traveled from Florence to San Giminagno (or San Jimmy Jimmy as the kids called it) to Siena.. then to our final place, Rome. As one day led to the next, so each student became a precious heart, a personality, a struggle and a dream.. how honored I was to be apart of sharing in this with them. Not only were the students amazing, the teachers on the trip were just as wonderful. It was so evident how much they cared for each student. Not only did that invest in each student when it came to accademics but also they were investing in them spiritually. What a gift I pray these kids never take for granted! And what wonderful examples to be surrounded by.

Caldwell Academy aka amazingness!!

This group of students left such a huge impression on this heart of mine. Not only were they sharp, intelligent kids but they had a servants heart. What came from their lips was genuine and authentic, a true reflection of the overflow of their hearts, God working in them. What great hope you have for each and every one of them. Getting to know each of them, some better than others, I was so excited for what God has ahead for them. This world has been changed by fewer people than these 31 students. Each night as we spoke, they shared, I found myself so humbled by how much I have to learn and how much God is continuing to reveal to me. To learn from what they had to share.

As difficult as high school can be, these seniors came through it shining!! I thank God for continuing to allow me to share in this with these students. To lead, to teach, to share, to encourage, to challenge but most importantly, to love them. And this was only the first trip for the season! I can only imagine what God is going to do in the new season to come..

Wings of Desire..

2008-08-15T22:09:00.004-05:00

I discovered this video recently and it really resonated with me... enjoy!

Hope in a hopeless world.

2008-08-04T21:47:00.007-05:00

God has done something incredible within me these past 7 months of tours.. it's like He has breathed new life into me and I feel like i've stepped into this whole new place and I'm seeing with scales removed from my eyes.. and through His lens. It's pretty incredible. I understand more and more that we can't 'save everyone' but we can move.. love.. embrace.. because it doesn't stop with us. it starts with us. every little bit helps. the world would not be spinning otherwise.. Can you imagine if everyone had the attitude: who am i? i can't do anything so why try..? That's just the way the world is. Then again.. why do you see people who seem to 'have it all' continue to seek.. search..? because we've been reconciling our soul back to the beginning.. because we were created for much greatness.. not for our own glories.. no. because it doesn't stop with us ;) ..

I've witnessed things that I never ever thought.. or could comprehend. And to think.. so much worse is there. I pray I never witness.. When I am in Europe for long periods of time.. alone.. it's a battlefield on my soul as March and June seemed to be. Because.. I know. The war waging within at times becomes so overwhelming that I have to remember where my comfort and strength lies.

Remembering that first moment .. when something within me recognized darkness beyond what lay in me.. I was in my freshman year of college. Having just come back from watching a movie with my roommate, we settled into our dorm room for the night. This was in the fall of 98. The tv was on and Dateline began a segment... 'The Trial of Tears'. Sitting on the floor, I watched images of mostly women and children walking great distance in a land foreign to me.. the bare landscape and balding mountains, snow capped. The look in their eyes.. This was in Kosova. It was the first time it clicked within me. I sat there with tears streaming down my face.. not able to comprehend what was happening. After all we were on the cusp of the new millennium and this was Europe.. yet these faces told a different desolate story. In those moments, I felt something surge deep deep inside of me.. I felt empowered and powerless all at the same time..

It started there... like i said.. no longer did it stop with me, but this is where it started. I understand more how much my life since then has been a bit of a patchwork quilt.. made up of experiences.. moments.. people and places.. held together by the stories. And it has been the same Spirit which has moved me..

This past year while in Greece, I met with a ministry called Porta (means door in Greek.. Albanian and Italian). They work with Albanians who live in Greece (mostly in Athens) in helping them learn anything from life skills to english, building community and fellowship.. and just loving them. I spent two nights with this group of sweet beautiful people.. and as they sang in Albanian.. praising God in their language.. It was everything in me to not weep from joy.. but so humbled.. Ten years ago.. I sat on the floor of my dorm room feeling helpless yet with every ounce of my being wanting to reach across the vastness of this lonely world and give them something.. anything.. hope. What had been given to me in an inward place of such darkness, i know experience hope in my own life. Walking back to my temporary 'home' for a moment.. I felt the realness of God. I wanted to tell someone about this.. but wasn't sure who I could say as who could I begin to explain this journey? But God knew... He knows my heart.

it's a choice you make.. you choose how to live your life, to make manifest each day as it is the only guarantee you get! As I am sure you look back at your own life and think.. how have I come through all this? how is this my life..?

The more I travel.. i understand that travel for me isn't about collecting postcards or checking off a list of places i've been.. for me, it is about the people. For me it has been about not acquiring good experiences.. as they have been.. but God experiences. All these moments.. people.. experiences.. places.. form a constellation in the sky of God.. It's not a institution.. a word.. not something i do.. but it is a revolution that changes you.. moves you.. And I haven't stopped.. ;) I no longer feel helpless.. hopeless.. powerless.. but empowered to be a part of something much great than me. As we are each called to such greatness.

music by my bedside.

2008-08-04T21:32:00.003-05:00

Moments before I was to board the cruise ship leaving the port from Turkey back to Greece, I found my way into a little music/book shop. Weeks prior my wallet had been stolen leaving me with limited cash. Wandering the rows, I was drawn to the image and title of this book. It was not only reading the back of the page but the opening lines of this book that I knew I must by it. For going lunch for a few days to buy this book served a good choice.. before the ship even left the port that night, I dove into this beautiful book in which I found such a reflection of myself..

Below is a few pieces from within..

I cannot sleep without music by my bedside. Since I was a kid. An old love song always plays on that small music box, carrying me to the unforgettable images of days long gone. How strange is human memory! Without warning, image come alive, their colors become manifest, pulling you into the realms of the past as if you stranded in a broken time machine. The images and their dates jumble together. You cannot tell which scent pairs with which memory. Perhaps, instinctively, you know which of them is precious, and sometimes, as you are twisted around in the intricate mechanism of recollection, the images flow by, gliding over windowpanes of a racing train. Suddenly, a single memory glitters, catching your eye for a moment and at that very moment, you yearn, more than you have ever yearned for anything, to go back to that image, to that one and only feeling that has remained unnoticed. Since my childhood, I have always wondered about the recording mechanism of the human mind. Images, colors, faces, scenery, photographs, houses, roads, clothes, scents, smells, sounds and feelings are all registered in my memory with unfathomable speed. So the next time you chance upon something or someone- a spitting image- you remember..

Time after time, I stroll through the sophisticated, every growing, gargantuan archives of my mind and lose myself in a myriad of twirling concentric circles. Wishing to catch and recall a memory, an emotion, or a moment gone by, I find myself engulfed in an utterly different time and place. I wonder how I happened to find myself by the seaside, inhaling the scents of an unexpected spring just as I was listening to the half destroyed records of a conversation that took place in the rooms of my childhood.

Nowadays, space travel is possible. However, setting off on a journey in time is only possible if our destination is the unknown cities of our memory, traveling through our inner selves.

If I had been told that I cold stop at a certain moment in my life and stay there forever, I would have chosen one of two moments. The first is when I was rocking in the swing hanging from the branches of a tree in the backyard of my childhood. The other is the day I first kissed the man I loved more than anyone in my whole life.. many strived to write the common language of falling in love. In fact, it is quite simple: you are in live if you feel as if you’re rocking on a swing when you kiss the one man you loved more than anyone..

Tantalizing Glimpses.

2008-08-04T20:53:00.003-05:00

CS Lewis understands that longing deep within us all too well...

"Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year after year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it—tantalizing glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest—if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself—you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say "Here at last is the thing I was made for." We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all.."

Taken from his book: The Problem of Pain

Do these words not move something within you..? reading this always leaves me saying.. 'wow..'.

A picture of peace

2008-07-18T17:29:00.004-05:00

The train journey into the heart of Switzerland found me once again without words. The two hour ride felt as if only moments passed as I found it hard for me to pull myself away from the view which lay outside my window seat. How quiet the car was as compared to most trains throughout Italy. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Italians.. but they are loud. You sit on a train through Italy and the phones are ringing letting you know of their importance as you hear every word of their conversations.. the hands flying.. even the announcements, which come ever so often to let you know of your arrival. But on the little William Tell Express train.. the Swiss were quiet as if too left speechless by the vistas we now traveled through.

++++++++++

Gimmelwald

The views continue to get better. If you could see this view from where I find myself curled up under a blanket here on the porch, you would never want to leave. I will try and paint a picture.. all around me are snowy mountain peaks, waterfalls streams down until they become mist.. a fog is rolling in and this changes the atmosphere of this place.. chickens move out of the corner of my eye seeking food in the flower covered meadows.. birds sings and you hear the bells signaling the movemnts of the local resident cows and goats. Typical Swiss chalets dot the landscape, dark wood with beautiful designs carved into their doors and windows. Flowers, a myriad of colors spill from boxes in the windows and as you walk the little one street which runs through this little village, danndalions blows through the air as if this mountain itself is making a wish.. Laundry hands to my left and locals walk the street to my right greeting each other in dialect which is new to my ears. For a moment it began to rain, the sound adding to the symphony of sounds and soothing my soul. The temp has dropped a good 15 degrees in the past hour and the scent of wet fresh earth fills my lungs. This is a picture of peace. I am at peace here. All I need is a cup of coffee.. ;)

another trip comes to an end.

2008-07-18T17:20:00.004-05:00

Another wonderful group has come and gone. We spent a week and a half in Italy.. traveling from Florence to hiking to Cinque Terre to ending Rome. What an amazing group of students! Saying goodbye to this group ended the four weeks of constant tours.. i felt a wave of emotions wash over me as I walked by to the airport terminal shuttle alone. Almost deflated. I felt liberated.. yet I felt as if I no longer had any purpose for my being there.

The next few weeks I will to have myself.. where I will travel up into Switzerland and back through Italy once again. More to come..

Rothenberg ober de Tor

2008-07-18T17:06:00.003-05:00

The little room where I find myself tonight has a view that looks out over the red rooftops of Rothenberg ober de tor. Exposed wooden beams, laced curtains and a corner bed welcome my weary body. This was one of those days where I pinch myself in that I get to do this for a living!

Traveling west out of Prague, once again we made our way through the beautiful countryside. Not long after entering Germany did we made a stop in the town of Nuremberg. As Hitler put it, this was the most German of German towns. Gothic spires, cobble stone streets and flower market made this an appealing city for the kids. Little did any of us know what a treat we were in for upon entering this village set off the Romantic Road.

We had discovered prior to arriving, that it would not be possible to drive the coaches within the walled city. Therefore, we’d all prepared a night bag so that 140 people weren’t dragging massive pieces of luggage down the narrow streets. As if we could conceal ourselves! Once we arrived, I ran ahead of the group to find the hotel and calculate how long of a walk it would be. Tthe moment I stepped through the gated city.. through the small door in the wall, I felt like I’d stepped into another world.. much like when the children of CS Lewis’ The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe, stepping through into this enchanting world. I was spellbound from the first moment that I almost forgot my mission!

After gaging the distant, I ran back and rounded up the troops. What a sight to see all of us parading through the village and up the narrow streets to our hotel. The hotel itself was just as charming. The kids squealed with excited as they went to their rooms and I could hardly wait myself to get out and explore.

Wandering the streets, I got a sense of the place. I was anxious to see the small side streets, what they’d have to share with me. With Ray LaMontange as my soundtrack.. and free to wander along, how free and at peace I felt. Exploring comes natural to me and how I welcome the unknown. For some time I was the only soul in sight weaving up and down the narrow back roads. Flowers draped the walls of homes and the character of each place competed for my attention. Soon the small streets gave way to a gate tower, which led to a beautiful garden on the city walls. The view, which looked out over the river and valley, was a feast for my soul. Standing on the edge, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, filling my lungs which such a sweet heady scent of jasmine and honeysuckle. Opening my eyes, I let myself drink in my surroundings. The only sounds came from the wind through the trees, the birds and the sound of rushing water. Occasionally, hearing the muffled conversations was I reminded this wasn’t only for me.

Taking my shoes off, my tired feet and the fresh carpet of grass made a happy union. Lying on my back with my arms behind my head, I lay there watching the clouds lumber over me, the trees in movement. The village bells stroke 7pm marking my time to go. How reluctant I was to move from my spot there under the trees. But I’ll be back. We have all day here tomorrow to enjoy and I know where I’m going to spend it! These are the moments that stay with me. Those single moments I find within an otherwise crazy schedule that help keep me going…

Over the bridges and through the crowds we go!

2008-07-18T16:53:00.003-05:00

The group of 140 students (and teachers) have arrived.. and we are off! I feel funny realizing that so many people are following my lead.. finding your way through Venice is a task.. let alone leading 140!! There were a few moments when I thought I may have taken a wrong turn.. you don't want to take a wrong turn with so many people! This would lead to a very humbling experience. Ahh but to sweet relief I never led us astray.

We had a wonderful time.. that first day in Venice. Half of it was spent at a local school there in the floating city. Those precious kids were loving every moment of attention our group would lavish on them. I felt myself come alive being able to use my italian to translate.. communicating ... connecting our world with theirs. Just to simply love on them.

Back to Italy.

2008-07-18T16:29:00.004-05:00

The moment I enter Italy.. I feel as if I can breathe again. A place that was home for sometime, still pulls on my heartstrings. Regardless of what goes on here. I am always excited to be back. After a session of flights, I had arrived in Milano. Upon hearing Italian, my heart was swollen..

Walking off my last flight, I felt relief to be out of the air on just moments away from being liberated from airports. One hurdle left: customs. Several flights at arrived at once, creating massive lines to get through customs. There was one line for EU/CH members which moved fast.. and another 5 lines for everyone else. Choosing a line, I succumbed to waiting in yet again.. the only problem I discovered as did many others- it didn’t seem to be moving. Looking ahead, what was stopping us..? At two desks where families from Africa.. another two lines were stopped as there were families from the Middle East. Only the last line moved.. as they were Americans mostly.. while people.

As I moved to the line which seemed to be making progress I couldn’t think about the image taken by Stieglitz at the turn of the 20th century.. people disembarking a ship. From atop where white wealthy class.. the bottom was noted as ‘sterrage’. Another photographer, Lewis Hine photographed the conditions in New York City during the height of immigration into America. He published a moving body of work: How the Other Half Live. That’s what I thought about as I moved effortlessly through the line.. the customers officer hardly blinked while stamping my passport.. yet these families, stopped because of their social and economical class.. race.

An hour later, I was in Milano. Exited the train onto the platform, I found my way through the on going station works towards a taxi. It was raining.. how I could just go to sleep..

The hotel where I find myself isn’t far from the main train station. In all the times I’ve come through Milano and stayed the night, I’ve yet to see the Duomo or the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuel II. Cleaning up and resisting sleep, I set out to finally see this famed cathedral. As the esculator brought me from underground, it was not the site of the Duomo that caught my attention but the.. crowds of people yelling and waving flags. I had no idea what I just came into them again.. you never do in Italy! The Duomo took second chair tonight as the festi (party) was at the center of everyone’s attention. Mostly young men wandered in groups yelling and singing.. waving flags and throwing bottles.. blowing hours and kisses.. I wasn’t sure what to make of all this. Honestly, I’m always a little over stimulated my first day back in Europe. In Dallas, there is little space to interact with people.. but in Europe, that’s all you do! Stopping to ask a man ‘cosa facendo?’ what’s going on? He mentioned the league, Inter Milan soccer team. Ahh. I should of known. The Euro Cup begins in a few weeks as well.. and it’s Sunday. They always play on Sundays.

But the most memorable moment of the evening was watching the waxing full moon rise over the Duomo.. those are the moments when everyone at once seems to be silenced around you and you tell yourself ‘remember this moment..’.

Finding a little pizzeria to take cover from the drunken Italian men (I was grossly out numbers AND alone..) I sent in to enjoy some real Italian food ☺ My first night back in a city, I always treat myself to a nicer meal.. taking my time and savoring the wonderful meal. I can’t do this while guiding as kids eat so fast and are ready to go on to the next thing! Lucky for me, I had six different Italian men waiting on me. At first, they went to speak english.. but only after I refused to break from Italian did they so speak with me. Oh what events lay ahead these next few months, too soon will I find out!

Sweet Celebration

2008-05-11T16:15:00.003-05:00

Last weekend I traveled home to Nashville to photograph a friend of mine’s wedding. The past two years, I’ve photographed a half a dozen of my friend’s weddings. Each one is beautiful and sweet in its own way. This was no different. It was a beautiful blue sky weekend. The rolling Tennessee hills welcomed me home and I couldn't be more ellated. The day of the wedding was perfect.

To me, the most precious and beautiful weddings aren't a production; meant to impression and make a show of the couple but a celebration of two families coming together. Adrienne, the bride, was stunning.. she was glowing as any bride would be on their wedding day. Both had such a peace about them and their families were incredible in how the came together to create this beautiful wedding. The setting was the Carton Mansion in Franklin where under an old oak tree, the two became one. Surrounded by their friends and family, you could feel how loved these two were. What an honor it was for me to be a part in capturing this day..

Shelby Lynne and Thunderstorms

2008-05-11T16:07:00.003-05:00

I’m sure each of us can remember a show or concert where you experienced something beyond just a good night of entertainment.

Driving home from work that day, the dark foreboding clouds warned what lay ahead for the night; foreshadowing what was to come. Ignoring the hollowing winds and almost sideways rain, I ventured to the Granada Theater to see Shelby Lynne in concert. For eight years, I’ve loved her music. Remembering the first time I heard her album ‘I am Shelby Lynne’ at a HMV music store on Oxford Street in London. The first song on the album found it’s way into me and I’ve been a fan ever since.

There are those musicians who are so much better live than their studio album. This was one of those nights. Waiting for the show to start, a man sat on the stage with his guitar singing ‘Nashville Blues’. I couldn’t help but smile.. another troubadour in search of making it big in Music City. I had caught the end of his set and soon the curtains closed. Looking around, the place was not empty nor was it packed. I wasn’t sure what to expect of those who’d be there.. but was not surprised at the mix she brought- you can’t pigeon hole her music.. nor could you the audience she lured.

Alone I stood waiting for the show to begin ready to lose myself in the music. Not a moment later had the lights dimmed to signal the beginning.. the curtains were raised and there her band began to play… setting the mood, the crowd hushed, and Shelby came out. Wearing a t-shirt and jeans, she wasn’t dressed to impress- good for her. As when she opened .her mouth and began to sing, ‘the look of love.. is in the air.. and I can’t…. ‘ We were spellbound. Swaying back and forth, her hands reaching out, how she made singing look easy. She sang from her soul.

After a few songs, she began to speak with the crowd… you felt like you were in her living room.. she made you feel welcomed and comfortable as if we were the visitors. Her Alabama accent was enduring rather than obnoxious.

Singing Anyone Who Had A Heart you could hear a pin drop in the entire place. The rain began to come down hard and it only added to the atmosphere. She was having fun.. the musicians, each extremely talented yet left the spotlight for Shelby. She ended her second encore with her big hit, The Killing Kind.

Laying in bed later that night with the trees knocking on my window, I realized that the music of the night had taken me somewhere else.. some where deep inside. That is what music does. It has the ability to reach deep within, penetrating walls and striking at the very core of you.

Albums to check out:
I Am Shelby Lynne 2000
Suit Yourself
Identity Crisis
The Look of Love 2008 (Dusty Springfield covers)

a man sets out to chart the world.

2008-05-11T15:45:00.002-05:00

A man sets out to chart the world. Through the years, he peoples a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, tools, stars, horses, and people. Shortly before his death he discovers that the patient labyrinth of lines traces the images of his own face. – Jorge Luis Borges

Growing up, my dad subscribed to National Geographic. I know I’m not alone in sharing this memory of the yellow binding and images of places far reaching from that of my small town. With each month, came a map of a specific country, region or continent highlighted in the magazine. My dad began pinning up these maps each month on the back of the kitchen door. As we’d sit eating dinner, occasionally, he’d ask us questions in regards to the current map- to see if we’d at all studied it. At the time, I saw it as one of his round about ways to educate us. Little did I understand at that time, what value there was in this learned knowledge. It wasn’t soon after that I too began pinning maps on the back of my bedroom door. To this day, the ‘New Europe’ (from 1992) map is still in my procession. This was back when Czechoslovakia and a Yugoslavia was still in existence yet this was the ‘New Europe’. No longer was there a USSR or a divided Germany. I would often trace imaginary routes of where I’d travel to in Europe some day.

After backpacking Europe in 2000, one of the first things I did when I got home, was to go back and outline the actual route I took throughout Europe. When I moved from that college era home- this was the very last thing I removed from the house, almost reluctant to let go of this chapter of my life.

Well over a decade has passed since I first put that map on my bedroom door. And tonight, I found myself sitting on the floor of my room surrounded by maps of European cities, hotel brochures, restaurant cards, metro tickets, museum passes, postcards and random trinkets all from the past few years of tours. Here I was making room for the next year of tours’ collection. All these places which were far off distant places where now familiar places where I have friends and know the streets better than that of my current address. You never know where life will take you.. when you're willing to go without knowing.

such is life

2008-03-26T17:25:00.002-05:00

All those books.. a year in Provence.. under the Tuscan sun.. driving over lemons.. Italian neighbors.. which regal of life as living la dolce vita.. buying that old home on a Greek island.. or a villa in Tuscany… maybe it’s a vineyard in France.. or even Spain. Yet the reality of life in these places is a very different story. Watching fuzzy images on the tv depicting Athens this morning, in total dishevel. Another strike. Is this the 4th one this week? I’ve lost count. No metros are running. No buses. No taxis. Trash hasn't been picked up in over a week. The atms are out of money (the bank has closed). Oh and the power is off. Not due to a power outage but because they’ve pulled the plug. Just like that.

No life here is not easy. As was said to me yesterday in a conversation, ‘this is not the good life’. Until the wee hours of the morning, I stayed up speaking with my new Greek mamma ☺ Felja, the local guide who I’ve worked with on several of my past trips has invited me to stay with her. See gleamed quite an insight into life here in Greece.

Back in America, we’re scared of the ‘r’ word.. recession. But really. We have such a good life. Yes this means we must cut back on spending.. oh how i can go on and on about all that we have!

This will certainly affect my job. To travel is a luxury and this will be cut back considerably. I don’t know what my job situation will be into the new year but who really knows anyways?

We complain and worry.. not to say that some is not without validity. So we have to do without a new car this year or more square footage.. or the latest styles.. or going to the movies weekly.. or eating out each nightly… we still have SO MUCH. Do we go each day wondering if today they will cut off our electricity because a people aren’t getting the pensions they want? No. The biggest strike I’ve even seen in my lifetime had to do with Hollywood. So your favorite TV shows went off the air.

I’m sitting here in the sun looking out the backyard of my friend’s home. Modest apartments surround me and in the distance the rocks of Meteora rise high above like the old monks themselves. Laundry hang from clotheslines, chickens cluck and a warm breeze brings to life the trees and weeds that grow between the homes. Dogs bark, children laugh and birds chirping. Life seems good here. You’d think. But look closer. Trash has piled high on the streets (no trash pick up due to the strike). Junk lay in piles in the yards. Mold grows in masses on the buildings and water stains the enterity of most these buildings. These modest homes aren’t due to a minimalist mentality. It’s a result of just trying to get by. And these are the majority of the people, not a minority. The average income being 900- 1200 dollars a month. Therefore MOST people work 2 jobs.

As I stayed up speaking with my friends, the stories recounted to me were of a life of hardships.. yet it seems to be that most people shrug their shoulders as if to say ‘such is this life’. Such is life. My thoughts on this could go on and on, therefore will continue for another day.

Turkish Delight

2008-03-26T17:16:00.003-05:00

The stuff commercials are made of: dancing beautiful women dressed in national customs, male counterpart dressed the same, the beat of the drums encouraging the women to dance. Welcoming our smiling faces to their country.. Turkish delight being handed out.. our sea legs ready for the land. We've arrived to Kusadasi, a port city of Turkey on our way to Ephesus.

Local men stood off to the side completely stopped their work to watch us walk off the boat. I felt like circus animals come off a loading cart.. ‘the circus has come to town ladies and gentlemen’. Immediately I felt the eyes on us, especially on ‘my girls’. So innocent are they.

‘Turkish delight. Lady you want Turkish Delight? I am Turkish Delight. Where do you come from? I like your eyes. No be afraid of me. I not be scary people.’ And so it went on like this. The girls in my group giggled.. timid yet boldly responding to the calls. Are we so starved for verbal appraise? How I remember being charmed and flattered by such comments, and if I’m honest.. still feel the lure but know better now.

Again I steer clear of the marked paths and veer off down the side streets. It must seem the locals recognize I’m ‘one of them- fresh off the boat’. Yet I sense their confusion in why I’d be wandering down these unpaved trash filled streets- ‘does she know she’s wandered too far off?’ I tend to always walk as if I know where I’m going, even if I don’t. Dirt streets.. open meat markets are grounds for dogs searching for food.. men searching for women. Yes we are in the meat market now.

island of roses

2008-03-26T17:11:00.002-05:00

Our ship docked for the day at the island of Rhodes ‘Roses’. The morning was spent exploring the far part of the island in Lindos and the rest of the day in the old city of Rhodes. One of the enjoyable parts of the day is when the touring comes to a cease and the group is let loose to enjoy the rest of the day as they like.

As I’ve mentioned before, the first thing I do when I enter a new city- I explore. After taking care of things for the rest of the day and the following, I could now have my time to do as I please. Immediately I started off away from the hoards of tourists having disembarked with. Apparently we were the first cruise ship in of the season so the locals where armed and ready for us to spend our money, ‘you like? Have a look. Only 2 euros. Handmade’, they call out at us as we pass by. But rather than spend money.. I spent time wandering these empty winding streets, each corner offering some new around the corner. Wandering these streets, I felt like I was wandering through a maze yet rather than trying to find my way out.. I was trying to find my way in. Passing home with door half way open, as if only to give me a glimpse of the life so different from that of the southern hills I was brought up surrounded by. I spotted children playing soccer in the open squares.. women setting out pots of flowers.. men sitting in cafes smoking and discussing. No open fields here. Just the open sea.. and an island of stone roses..

That's so crazy?!

2008-03-26T17:01:00.002-05:00

The group I’m with has been wonderful. We’ve already covered some ground in the just the few days we’ve been together.. Philippi, Kavala, Veria, Verginia and Thessaloniki. Traveling south through the heart of mainland Greece, we are now in route to Athens. Yet at the moment we aren’t making much leeway as we are stuck in incoming traffic to the city. Those sitting up front are getting a kick out of the ‘crazy’ driving. Motorcycles weave between cars, a smart car attempts to makes his way through and what was once 4 lanes is now … hmmmm 3.. 5.. oh wow, we just passed a bus broken down in the middle of it all along with another car which has been hit. Now we have a glimpse of how much traffic lays ahead of us. We are going to be here awhile.

Listening to the comments around me about the way they drive, the amount of unfinished buildings.. I recall the other comments I’ve heard expressed from this group over the past few days: ‘eww they don’t have seats on their toilets, that’s gross!’ ‘do you think they have to-go boxes?’ ‘ the cars are so small here!’ ‘why is nothing open on Monday? (Lent)’ why does everyone smoke here?’ ‘why does everyone wear such dark colors?’ ‘why can’t you flush toilet paper?’ ‘that’s so strange!’ ‘that’s so crazy!’ yes.. this is why you travel. To understand the rest of the world does not work like you are use to. What may be strange to you is normal to them. What you may think as going without, they don’t know any different other than they’ve always gone without and know no other way. It’s not that their cars are small, it is that ours are big. You have to change the way you think- understand the difference in mentalities. It’s not that they are crazy drivers.. but this is how they do things. It seemingly works. What I also find interesting in these tours, in doing them for several years now is how parents teach their children to not do or to do certain things, respect this and that.. yet the exact thing they scold them for (be quiet, make do without, stop talking and listen, don’t wander off from the group) is exactly what the adults then turn around and do themselves. They don’t live out what they ask of their kids. Constantly I see this. It’s a bit frustrating to see this happen. Parents wander off while a local guide is giving information, they decide they don’t want to eat with the rest of the group and have a ‘better meal’. I am learning a lot just by watching these interexchanges within these groups. It is all an example to me! Now I’m not saying this is the way it is with all the groups, with all the adults but I see it enough to obviously write about it. It’s no wonder these kids gets so confused!

Uncharted waters.

2008-03-06T17:14:00.002-06:00

Arriving into Thessaloniki’s airport, I now see why this is such a difficult city to fly into. As we taxied to the gate, I found myself searching for the actual airport. After being the such airports as Dallas… Kennedy … Frankfurt, I was amazed to see such a small outpost when I did see the little building.. ‘so THIS is why such few flights come and go from this place…’ Joining the rest of the flight on our shuttle bus to (the 7th for the day?) the terminal, I noted that I was once again an outsider and felt the side-way glances my way.

Gathering my luggage, I went in search for a city bus. Oh wait.. that’s right, there are none today as guess what.. a strike. My favorite! Oh wait and the taxi’s aren’t running either.. great. Being in a new city.. in a language that not only could I not grasp but not even distinguish.. I told myself ‘think kyle.. what are your options’. So.. basically, I approached a stranger and asked for a ride. This goes against EVERYTHING you are told not to do when you are a kid. But what was I left with but to rely on those around me?

Thankfully, I found a man who was willing to take me to town as my hotel was in the center of the city. On the way, we picked up several other people. It was everything in me not to be a little anxious but just be cool and not assume the worst. A new landscape flew by me and, twenty minutes later, I was in front of my hotel. Ok. I work for a ministry. A non profit organization. We don’t stay in hotels that leave much to write home about but when I stepped through the revolving doors into the lobby of the Hotel Capsis.. massive chandeliers hung above a spacious marble lobby, fresh flowers graced each table and well- dressed men greeting me with polished smiles. I actually stepped back outside and looked at the sign to make sure I was in the right place! And to my relief.. I was ☺

After 30 hours of travel.. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and shut the world off. I fought sleep for a shower and exploring. Before doing so, I watched the sunset over the port of Thessaloniki from my balcony. I have to remind myself to find moments to stop and feel the silence.

Setting out to wander the city, I had no sense of where to even go. So I started to walk. There is something exilerating about exploring uncharted waters, all that is unknown and unfamiliar to me. I had no preconceived ideas as to what this part of the country was like therefore I welcomed the newness of this experience. After awhile, I came to an area of darkened side streets. Again, I went against what your taught as a child- don’t go wandering down darkened deserted streets alone. Yet it served me right as after a few moments of only hearing my foot steps, soon I saw lights draping across the streets as if to welcome me as if to say ‘we have something for you.’ The streets then gave way to a square surrounded by restaurants/cafes. And if you listened close enough, you could here that these streets whispered of the Orient of it’s past. Later I discovered this was the old Egyptian markets and later home to the Turkish Bazaar. Today is serves as a wonderful enclave of restaurants and cafes. I had hit the jackpot. Now I had to decide which one of these would win me over. After exploring a little, inspecting a several menus I made my decision.

Entering this little restaurant, I immediately felt the warmth of the environment. The painted walls mimicked the frescos I recall of that I’d seen in Pompeii, candles set on each table served as little beacons and contemporary Greek music played on low, setting the scene for my night. The past thirty hours of travels washed away the moment I sat down and I welcomed the night that lay before.

Dinner was something I savored: hearty bread with thyme and honeyed goat cheese spread, lightly fried zucchini and feta cakes served with a yogurt sauce, grilled pork in a white wine rosemary infused reduction sauce along with pureed potatoes. While enjoying this wonderful meal, I found that I was surrounded by Bulgarians, Slavs, Turks, Romanians and Greeks. Again I received my share of not only side way glances but an interest as to ‘where do you come from?’ You see this city is the gateway to the Balkans and a direct link to Istanbul… Constantinople. The interchange of cultures here is vibrant and much different than that which I experienced in Athens. Such history has this city known! Life is meant to be shared, savored and experienced. How we settle.. limit ourselves. Cut the rope that ties you to your harbor and let yourself explore these uncharted waters. What is your faith if you never allow for it?

Climbing into bed that night, I was excited for the week that lay ahead. Closing my eyes I could smell the sea drifting through the balcony doors which soon carried me to sleep.

Calendari Restaurant • 1 Oplopiou & Katouni Str. • Ladadika. Thessaloniki
Hotel Capsis • 18 Monastiriou Str. • Thessaloniki

Glimpses

2008-03-06T16:50:00.002-06:00

Thirty hours have pasted since I left Dallas.. in that time, I’ve passed through five airports, taken 4 planes, taxis, shuttles, monorails, and am currently Greece bound on a flight which takes me far above a part of Europe I’ve yet to discover- The Balkans. The capitan just announced that we were somewhere over Serbia.. then Bulgaria. In addition to expressing his plea for all of us to stand by Olympic Airlines in their fight to continue to fly throughout Europe. This was said in Greek, German and finally English.

We are now circling Macedonia.

As I struggle to stay awake, I’m beyond tired. The woman next to me must be in her 60’s but looked much older. Moments ago I took out a Health magazine and laid it in the seat between us to remind myself to put it back in my bag. The woman next to me then snatched it up and began flipping through its’ pages. At first I was a little taken by her action then realized she was curious.. I watched her as she looked at the article on ‘ staying fit and young in your 30’s, 40’s and 50’s’. She was catching glimpses of a lifestyle much different than that of hers..

The plane is circling over Greece now. I can see the coast before me. Looks like an announcement was just made.. something has happened. Those who speak Greek have responded by throwing up their arms and voicing their annoyance at yet another delay in our landing… ahh, but we’ll get there. We are much closer than I was a day ago..

My tour schedule.

2008-03-05T17:02:00.002-06:00

Here is where I will be for the next several months:

January 8th- 18th: England. France
February 4th- 18th: Greece. New York City
March 1st- 30th: Greece. Turkey
April 11th-26th: New York City
May 1st- 5th: Nashville (photograph a wedding)
May 14th- 31st: Italy. Austria. Czech Republic. Germany
June 1st- July 3rd: Italy (possibly Croatia. Slovenia)

Bright Lights. Big City

2008-03-05T16:59:00.001-06:00

“ There are times when one could wish that the good Lord would start all over again with Creation and straighten a few things out that didn’t turn out so well the first time. He wouldn’t have to look very hard- He would choose New York City, because everything that is assembled there is just like Noah’s Ark: all cultures and all races. It is not only the buildings and skyscrapers, the towers and parks that give NYC its face- it is the people. The United Nations is located on the East River and that’s perfectly logical. But the fact, one can see the United Nations at the anytime on the subway where the world’s people are united on a space of 430 sq ft. It is the people that make NYC more colorful than the brightest lights in Time Square. New York is rich- and at the same time, incredibly poor. New York is both filthy and clean. New York is at the same time decadent and decent, beautiful and ugly. That’s not even contradictory. The city is like a human being with all its emotions and moods, full and sorrow. That is the true charm of New York City. It is the most human city on this planet- with all the attendant merits and shortcomings.”

Each time I arrive back into New York City, I feel as though I’ve never left. I imagine it much like a fish being let back into a stream, immediately back with all the others… in the flow of things.

Entering Manhattan from Jersey, I find that there is a thick blanket of snow covering the city. For a moment, it is as I’m walking through a Stegliz or Coburn photograph. These are those kind of moments that stand out in your mind.. decades from now when you look out the window and see the first snow of winter, you remember walking through Manhattan’s Central Park, the stillness that snow brings with it.

In the morning, I will meet with my sweet friends for brunch. Along with me will come a girl who I am training to lead tours here in the city. She’s never experienced brunch in the city.. so, we are remedying this!

Brunch:
Elephant and Castle • Greenwich Ave and 7th Ave (the Village)
Doma • Perry Street and W 4th Street (the Village) • serves great coffee and French toast
Home • Cornelia Street & Bleeker Street (the Village) • cozy atmosphere, feel good food
Good Eats • 483 Amsterdam Ave & 83rd St (Upper West Side)
Westville • 210 W 10th and Bleeker (the Village)
Clinton Street Bakery • Clinton Street and Houston (Lower East Side) get the scrambled eggs over homemade biscuits topped with tomato puree- amazing!
The Hungarian Bakery • Amsterdam Ave & W 111th St

Tomorrow my NYC tour begins!

window seat

2008-03-05T16:51:00.001-06:00

The sun is beginning to set. As the plane begins to gain air, ascending above the islands, thus the sun begins its descent. For a moment, I can’t distinguish between the sea and the sun- they’ve made a perfect marriage of the moment. Flying over a large island, I take this to be Crete. Did I just spend over a week in Greece?! As much as Italy has grown deep roots within me, I may just have a new favorite. Where Italy lacks, Greece more than makes up for. I’ve come to accept Italians for ‘that’s the way they are’ but as of late, the apathy and vocal opinions of Bush grow tiresome. What a welcome treat it was to be in a country where consistently you were greeted with a genuine warm smile- you felt welcomed, not an inconvenience.

I interrupt my own thoughts to mention that there is an incredible show going outside my window. The horizon line has turned the color of - never have I quite seen the sky a deep red such as I’m experiencing now.

In a short while, Rome will be my place of rest. For only a night will I call it ‘home’ before making the long stretch back stateside. Reflecting over the past week, words can not express the joy this sweet group brought me. Their excitement and willingness, their flexibility and laid back attitude not to mention their attentiveness and desire to understand, left an impression on me. As frustrating as traveling can be, how incredible has this week been!

Restaurants:
Aleska’s Tabepna • mnisikleous 2 • Plaka. Athens
Grill House • aischylou 14-16 • Psiri Square. Athens

A room with a view.

2008-02-11T15:43:00.000-06:00

The sun just set over the Gulf of Corinth. Watching the last color streak the sky blue pink, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. What a view! This little hotel hugs the side of a mountain leading to Delphi, land of the ancient oracles. We arrived this afternoon having come from Athens, with a short stop at the monastery of St Luke, a Byzantine Church dating back to the 10th century. A masterpiece of a monument!

For the past several days, I’ve been with a small group of students from Virginia. Leading them through the streets of Athens, I’m excited for them to see what the city has in store for us. How precious are these kids! They are beyond excited to be here and “see everything”, open to try new foods and fearless as the ways of a big city. Their excitement is contagious and it’s as if I’m just one of the kids seeing all of this with new eyes.

A local guide Filjia, has joined us from Meteora. She a fiery woman, short with blond hair, and only adds to our enjoyment.. gleaning us insight into this ancient civilization. The depth and passion of her knowledge is humbling! Oh how much I can learn from her. Already, she has invited me to stay with her when I come visit her town next month. Did I not tell you the Greeks were inviting?!

After a leisure afternoon of exploring little Delphi, we enjoyed another wonderful meal- by a fire nevertheless! Sitting there at dinner, I listening as the students laughed and talked with each other, so content and happy. In that moment, I felt so honored to share in this with them. To be apart of such an experience for them yet also have the platform to encourage them, love on them. How they hang on my words. It is quite empowering! Yet, I can only direct that back to God. This isn’t about me. And I wouldn’t want it to be any other way.

Now I sit here curled up in bed writing. The doors leading to the balcony are open. Though its cold, the fresh crisp air mingled with the comforting scent escaping from chimneys, makes its way into my room. I can’t think of a better way to drift into sleep..

Tomorrow we make our way to Corinth…

Athens

2008-02-11T13:46:00.001-06:00

The time spent in Athens thus far as been wonderful. It is a city which from afar, looks like the seabed of white shells. Up close and personal, Athens is far from charming. It has it’s moments of saving grace but it is an otherwise city of peeling paint (beyond the ‘shabby chic’ look), run down buildings, dirty streets, and a crossroads of cultures where east meets west. All cohabiting, trying to make a life from themselves. I've been told that there is life before 2004 Olympics and there is life after. Apparently things are better? hmm..

This is a city seeped in history. In fact, it dates back to the pre-historic times.. meaning before history was even recorded, written! To grasp the lineage which the Greeks come from is humbling to those of us Americans who think we have something to be proud of (we do.. but we have nothing on the Greeks! :) And the language. Only a mere 12 million speak a language which once was the language of civilization as we know it. Yet where this city may need a paint job, it makes up for in it’s people who are incredibly friendly, warm and inviting.

The days prior to my groups’ arrival, I spent wandering the city, with coffeebreaks to study and then, meeting people. The conversations were enlightening, but beyond the conversations, where the stories I heard, what I learned of the people themselves.

When you travel, do you really allow yourself to meet people beyond ‘where you from..? oh I went there once… enjoy your stay!’ How often do you take the moment to understand where someone else is coming from, and hear their stories? They can be both beautiful and heart piercing. You can be envious of their life and at the same be grateful for the life you lead.

This more than anything, is what I take from my travels: the stories. Not so much the souvenirs and photographs, as much as I enjoy those. The stories are what stay with me.

The night before my group arrived, I sat on Mar’s Hill aka Aeropagus where Paul was once brought to speak before the Athenians. Watching the sunset, the sky turned cobalt blue and the city looked like clusters of stars shimmering in the distance. Once again, I was rendered speechless. I was in Athens.

In that moment, I stood feeling the wind and taking it all in. My thoughts were broken by a man asking me where I was from. Standing at a distance from me, I wasn’t sure who he was talking to.

Now, having lived in Italy.. I know this question all too well. At the same time, I’m alone. I welcome the conversation. So there the three of us stood talking for a while.. one was Greek, the other Albanian by that of his parents yet was born and raised in Greece. Hercules- I love it! (25) and George (34). We had an interesting conversations up on that rock. The wind began to pick up, a clue to start heading down. My night lay before me with no plans other than to study so when the offer
was presented to join them for a coffee, I took company over my books.

Not knowing anyone here in Athens, I welcomed my new companions knowledge of this city and culture, language and history. As I followed them through the streets, passing many cafes I began to wonder… Yet the moment we stepped for into this café/bar and my new friend expressing ‘this is my favorite, they make a the best coffee’. He needed say no more. Settling into a corner table, here we sat speaking of cultures and differences, of Athens and the people.. they expressed
the troubles with the Greek girls.. jobs.. one in particular expressed his recognizing the fact he needed to work on a change within himself. A sharp kid. The older one nodded in agreement. Sitting there for a moment, none of us said anything.

As the last bit of coffee was gone, we left the café. Walking back to the metro, one invited me to hisfamily’s home for a real Greek dinner.. but I graciously declined. They both assured me if I needed help, that I was no longer alone in this city, they
would be there in a moment. Giving them a warm smile, we went our separate ways. I have two new friends. No longer do I feel so completely alone in this city.

Riding the metro back to the hotel, I thought over the past 36 hours, over the moments I’ve already experiences.. the people I’ve met, the thoughts I’ve heard expressed and the history of this city itself. I recognize that all of these moments in time, people and place continue to weave themselves in the fabric of who I am, who I am becoming... and this was only the
second day!

It's all Greek to me.

2008-02-11T11:19:00.000-06:00

For years now I’ve wanted to come to Greece. It’s a culture that I’ve yet to know much about unlike many of the other European countries I visit. The night before departing for Athens, I could hardly sleep. The excitement that I felt was refreshing.

Unfortunately my travels across the Atlantic seemed to stifle that feeling. Between delayed flights, missed international connections, unfriendly airline agents, long layovers, lost luggage.. I was starting to feel the ‘what am I doing?’ question playing upon my conscious.

Arriving in Rome, if not to see my luggage, I was thrilled to see a friend from home greet me at the hotel. Wandering through Rome at dusk, good conversation and dinner at the best spaghetteria in town lifted my spirits.

The morning came, and with it.. I wasn't sure if I’d see my luggage. I worried, as I had to make an 11am flight to Athens on a different carrier.. and my luggage was suppose to come in from JFK on the 7:55am flight. Standing at the luggage claim, relief washed over me as my bag came my way. Collecting my things, I went to make a quick change and freshen up before reluctantly giving my bag back over to Olympic Airlines. At least I was taking a non stop flight..

Flying into Greece, I felt a mix of excitement and anxiousness. From the moment I stepped foot on the plane, the Greeks were gorgeous. I was surrounded by eye candy ☺ Having spent SO much time in Europe, it's become a very comfortable place. Even if I speak Italian.. and recognize the French .. German and Spanish.. Greece was to be different. I was ready for something more unfamiliar.

I arrived as did my luggage and soon found my way into the city center. Upon exciting the metro, I looked to find a cab to whisk me to my hotel.. but alas, i saw none. (Taxis went on strike this day of course). So I began to walk.. having no idea the scale of the map as to how long i'd be walking.. 45 mins later, I felt another wave of relief as I saw the hotel around the corner. I checked in and could hardly wait to take a nap.. the previous nights' sleep left me restless as my subconscious wondered about how the next few days would unfold. But in this moment, i fell sound asleep with great comfort.

Showered and cleaned up, I was ready for the night.. I headed back towards the Plaka district for dinner. Setting out for the metro, walking the streets i felt that same feeling of the unknown and unfamiliar mixed with even a little uncomfortableness. The people here are dark haired and dark eyed.. I felt the eyes on me of men as I walked.. but kept walking as if i'd lived here. Yeah right- I was so a kernel of corn in a bowl of peas! Asking for directions, i fumbled to grasp this language. Exiting the metro in Plaka, I now was set on finding a little place for dinner. Turning the corner, I was stopped short by the breath-taking view of the Acropolis.. The Parthenon a beacon on the hill. In that moment, the past 48 hours of travel disappeared. My wandering became not as a result of hunger but of desire to get a closer glimpse. This led me down little back streets and corner cafes until finally, under loom of the Acropolis, I found a little restaurant. There were two men playing music and a fire burning. Perfect. I sat down with an open mind to what i'd be eating. To my delight, I enjoyed a wonderful meal.. flavors so fresh and wonderful. First a Greek salad.. fresh feta, tomatoes, red onion and olives dressed in olive oil and fresh oregano.. amazing. THEN a little sample plate: Dolmadakia Yalantzi: grape leaves with a sauce of fresh dill and yogurt; Moussaka: marinated eggplant and ground meat covered in a cream sauce; Tyropitakia: philo pastry stuffed with feta, nutmeg and sausage. And to top it all off, the coffee had to be one of the best espresso's i've ever had. I savored the meal.. all the while, taking in the beautiful music of two men playing traditional Greek music. They played with skill and passion.. sitting there, feeling the wine and the mingled flavors of the food, allowing the music to envelope me.. I felt so incredibly grateful for that moment. I was in Greece. Far away from my life back home. And to think, I almost didn't want to come..

I closed the place down. After everyone left and I paid my bill, I approached the two musicians. They spoke English and I expressed my appreciation for their music. Bubi and Costas. Both very talented yet very humble. We talked about music.. anything from Paul Simon and Neil Young to Johnny Cash and George Gershwin. The night ended with me playing with them.. singing old songs.. playing guitar while they harmonized and played along. I must of had a smile ear to ear in that moment. I love how music surpasses language.. what a gift! Took me back to Italy..

Walking back to the metro, I felt such immense joy. This was the be the start to a great week.

the mind's eye.

2008-02-09T13:57:00.000-06:00

In a moment I am back. Whether simply through a city or upon viewing a photograph, I am transported back. The sounds of the city comes alive, I feel the breeze in my hair and the sun on my back.. taking a deep breath, I feel apart of this world again.

How is it that in a city of my own country, I feel more of a foreigner than that of country whom did not give birth to my life?

There are those moment when I try and be still.. quieting my mind. Yet in such moments, I travel back through worlds of past as if I’m time lapsing through my life. At night, laying in bed surrounded by a room wallpapered in photographs.. I find solice in them. This is the life I've made for myself have I not?

These are the sudden journeys of my life..