How are you spending New Year's Eve?

I'm spending it with my grandparents and this guy: André Rieu. Currently he's playing Plaisir d'amour ("the joys of love") and charming tv and live audience viewers alike. My grandparents like him a lot; perhaps because he is Dutch but also because he's a genuine and passionate violinist. Although there are those who think his concerts are too "over the top" and sappy, I think they are fun.

Brace yourself: we're gearing up for a wild New Year's Eve celebration of eating Frito's, sipping peppermint tea & sparkling grape juice, and snacking on emmental cheese. It's sure to be a raving event. Already Grandma is singing on the top of her adorable lungs -- good gracious! After dinner (trout baked with white grapes and dill, potatoes and beans, and the best white wine I've ever had -- of Germany, "Blue Nun"), Grandpa read out of Grandma's old diary. While translating the Dutch, he burst with laughter!

It's a beautiful thing to watch an 87-year-old man melt in giggles. I think it's good for the heart and spirit :)

Enjoy ringing in the new year! May it be happy, healthy, and the very best one yet.

Bonne année and Gelukkig nieuwjaar.
gros bisous.

A walk in the woods.

Grandpa and I. The hat he wears is one I bought for him from the State Department.
When I think of Grandpa, this image is burned into my memory. He always walks with his hands clasped behind like this.
Trailblazers: together for 64 years.
Two girls bundled up and ready for an adventure.
Taking a rest on a bench after walking nearly a mile.

Last few quotes from 2010

• "Your visit this week has really been a joy for me. My spirits have been perked up, and I feel so much better having you around..." -Grandma, while speeding off to the grocery store this morning. I nearly melted.
  
• "You could enter a beauty contest, Lissie." -adorable Grandpa. He was downloading photos of Grandma and me from his digital camera.
  
• "Are we havin' fun yet?" -Grandma. She asks this every few hours - whether we're at the mall, exploring a park, in the kitchen - you name it. Grandma likes to have fun 24/7.
  
• "I'm beginning to look wrinkly..." -Grandma, as she looked at photos from our walk in the woods.
  
• "When you get old like us, you are entitled to day-long fun." -Grandpa.
• "This is beginning to deteriorate into work..." -Grandma. We hit a muddy spot in our walk in the woods and she had to find a walking stick and edge down a hill with precision and balance. Grandma became quite anxious - the ground is muddy from melting snow and on more than one occasion she almost slipped - but I held her delicate hand and we endured the walk together.
  
• We serve only lekker stuff around here..." -Grandma, referring to the meals she cooks for Grandpa. Lekker means "delicious" or "tasty" in Dutch.
  
• "What do you call those ropes that hang and you can sit on them...?" -Grandpa, trying to find the English expression for a playground swing. Grandpa said he used to enjoy playing on these as a kid.
  
• "Come and getttt ittttt!!!!" -Grandma -- as she calls for dinner! I'd better run off, but I'll share more soon.

bisous.

NYE

I am enjoying some hot tea and cookies after a nice afternoon walk with oma and opa. We explored some paths in the woods surrounding Annapolis High School, just a few minutes away from their neighborhood. My camera batteries have been dead from the start, so I snapped a few photos with Grandpa's camera.

This morning I went to the grocery store with Grandma. We spent an hour and a half milling around the store, finding items that Grandma is running low on and thinking ahead for what ingredients she'll need for cooking dinners this week. We also set out to find something fun to eat tonight for New Year's Eve. I steered the cart (a kartje in Dutch) to aisle 10, where hundreds of bags of pretzels, crackers, and other snacky food were on display. After much deliberation and scrutiny, Grandma tossed a bag of Frito's into the cart. "We'll try these, Lissie," she said. Grandma claims she only buys junk food (ie. chips, crackers, "packages" and packaged food) once every two years. I find this assertion to be a slight exaggeration; Grandma and Grandpa buy 4 packages of cookies per week on average. I suppose cookies comprise their own food group and merit daily consumption. Lesson #1 from the Dutch.

While looking for gouda cheese towards the end of our grocery store run, a store employee approached us and inquired if we needed any help finding what we needed. Grandma asserted: "No, no, we are fiiiiine, we don't need any help knowing our cheeses." The employee, rather taken aback, apologized gently. I thanked her for her thoughtfulness, noting that she looked a little uncomfortable. Grandma next began to teach the store employee all about the plethora of European cheeses present on the shelf before us. "Why don't you have light EDAM cheese?" Grandma asked. The young employee began to stammer a response, but Grandma continued. "Edam isn't just the name of a cheese -- it is foremost a Dutch city that lies north of Amsterdam and along the coast of the Markermeer..." Haha. You can always learn something new when you hang out with Grandma.

When we arrived home, I finished the vacuuming in the living room and set the table for lunch. Grandma took a nap. Before our meal, Grandpa showed me many of his diaries and journals from when he was a kid (more to share about that later). It made me excited to examine these journals because I find I am learning more and more Dutch and remembering a lot of vocabulary. One day, I hope to be able to translate my grandpa's writings.

bisous.

Adventures continue.

Currently Watching: Charlie Brown on abc with Grandpa... so cute.

I just finished washing today's dishes with scalding hot water. My fingers feel like raisins, but they won't prevent me from documenting a few more adventures in Annapolis.

• Grandpa and I examined the lyrics to Holland's national anthem ("Het Wilhelmus"), which is apparently the oldest anthem in the world. And folks, it is l-o-n-g! Good gracious, I think you must have to eat extra cookies to keep singing for such a long time.
  
• Grandma goes to exercise class Monday-Thursday at the community lodge. She calls it her "stomping" class. The class is comprised of a sequence of movements well-suited for elderly people - lots of stretching, light cardio, and dance-oriented exercises. I think the best part of the class is the music: cute songs from the 1950's and 60's. "Fever" (Peggy Lee), "Norman" (Sue Thompson), "Young at Heart" (Frank Sinatra), "Make Love to Me" (Jo Stafford), etc. Grandma sings a long to most of them while hopping around the room. She says one time a lady "shhhh'd" her. In her opinion, this was the ultimate insult! haha.
  
• Most of the community exercise class participants are women, but the other day a man showed up. Grandma says he sings in the neighborhood chorale with her (Grandma knows pretty much everyone here). During one exercise, we were following the instructor's lead and doing a simple yoga move: the "cobra." I glanced over my shoulder to see the one man in the room (obviously bored) doing push-ups. I suppose even at 85, it's good to assert your masculinity. :)
  
• One of Grandma's neighbors survived a Holocaust concentration camp. She attends the exercise class and is a native of Poland. When the war ended and the camp was liberated by US forces, she met and fell in love with one of the American soldiers. The couple eventually married and moved to the States. I think Grandma sums it up pretty well: "Everyone's life story is a gem."
  
• To fix the suspicious gash on Grandma's car and replace a damaged bumper light, we took the car to Goodyear down the road. It turned out to be a comedic adventure. Anytime Grandma is in public, she makes a spectacle. After surrendering the car to a few mechanics, we checked out the waiting room. One other customer sat quietly reading a Home Living magazine. The first thing out of Grandma's mouth was: "This is borrrring. What is playing on the hekading? Can we put something more exciting on?" Hekading translates as a "thingamajig" in English. Grandma was referencing the tiny tv in the corner next to a questionable coffee pot. The screen showed a news program and weather forecast, but Grandma craved one of her usual gameshows. "Where is the thingy?" Grandma said, edging closer to the tv. Now she was looking for the remote. "Grandma, I don't know if we can change the channel..." I said. I handed her a magazine. Bad idea. I had absentmindedly given her a People magazine, chock full of scandalous photos and Hollywood gossip. The cover featured a buff and shirtless Zac Effron. "Good gracious, why doesn't he put a shirt on? He must think he's somethin' special, parading around like that..." Grandma exclaimed in her thick Dutch accent with rolled r's. I heard a soft snort from the woman waiting in the corner. After an hour or so, Grandma's car was like new and we sped home for coffee and a lunch of vegetable soup and cookies.
  

groetjes.

Dutch joke (I included a translation).

Marc: "Iedere keer als ik naar bed ga, denk ik dat er iemand onder zit. Ik ben bang. Ben ik gek of...?"
Dokter: "Kom een jaar lang in behandeling bij mij, 3 keer per week, en we zullen er wel in slagen om die angsten te bedwingen."
Marc: "Hoeveel rekent u daarvoor aan?"
Dokter: "50 euro per bezoek."
Marc: "Ik zal erover nadenken"
Maanden later belt de dokter: "Wel Marc, waarom ben je nooit meer langsgekomen?"
Marc: "Dirk genas me voor 10 euro."
Dokter: "Is dat zo? En hoe heeft hij dat gedaan, als ik vragen mag?"
Marc: "Hij zei me dat ik de poten van mijn bed moest zagen! En nu kan er niemand meer onder!"

Marc: "When I go to bed, I always feel that there is someone hiding underneath. Whew, I'm terrified. Can you help me?"
Doctor: "I would advise a year-long treatment - simply come by my office three times a week and I'll help you work through your fears."
Marc: "How much do you charge?"
Doctor: "50 euro per visit."
Marc: "Hmm...I will have to think about this. I'll be in touch."
Months later, the Doctor hasn't seen any sign of Marc in his office for treatment, so he gives him a call: "Well, Marc, why don't you come by anymore?"
Marc: "I went to go see Dr. Dirk. He cured me for only 10 euro."
Doctor: Is that so? How did he accomplish that, if you don't mind me asking?
Marc: "He told me to saw off the legs of my bed... a simple fix! No one can hide under it anymore..."

Follow me, boys! And other quotes from Monday.

"Follow me, boys!"
-Grandma exclaimed this excitedly as we trudged outside in our coats, boots, and hats for an afternoon walk around the block. We were all infected with a mild case of cabin fever after the snowstorm (which ended up dumping just 1 inch of snow instead of the 6-10 inches promised the night before. Meteorologists sit on a throne of lies, don't they?).

"Yeah, yeah, I don't need a lecture. Why don't you put on your winter clothes and set out a chair and watch it all night?"
-Grandpa. Grandma was giving rather loud and passionate instructions about how to pack up the trash after a dinner of corn on the cob. "I don't want the 'beasties' (read: wild animals) to get into the trash overnight and it's very important that you wrap it up a certain waaaayyy" she said, complete with finger pointing and raised eyebrows. With Jeopardy turned on full blast, I'm sure Grandma's detailed descriptions were not what Grandpa wished to hear.

"Dee dee-deeee, deeee, deee-dee... deeeee."
-The high-pitched melody Grandma sang as she swung her wine glass around after our toast at dinner. After the last "deeeee," she took a sip of what turned out to be a light and crisp white wine. I'm usually a rosé girl, but tonight's glass of white zinfandel was really delicious.

"It's a bit of a shock to your system..."
-Grandma's description of the transition one faces after getting married (re: moving in with your spouse after living for years with your parents as a kid).

"You're probably getting bored by now..."
-For 2.5 hours, Grandpa showed me scanned photos and digital images of slides that he had taken from the 1950's-1980's. I adore the way my grandpa provides a clear and slowly-articulated description of each photo. I also enjoy seeing photos of my mum when she was my age. Grandpa's photos traced a life that straddled the Atlantic: my grandparents moved back and forth between New York and Holland, between New Jersey and Brussels, between Maryland and Germany - not to mention yearly vacations to northern Italy and Switzerland to ski. My time with Grandpa is FAR from boring, and I assured him of this today with a big hug :)

bisous.

The evolution of marriage, dusting frenzy, windy walks, and more.

Recent findings:

1. I confess I underestimated my Grandpa's silliness. Last night as we watched The Sound of Music, Grandpa entered the living room with new energy in his step. The man was waltzing into the room like a 20-year-old! I have never seen him do such. In fact, Grandma has long given me lectures about Grandpa's lack of interest in all things music. Was she ever proved wrong last night! Immediately after he entered the room, he raised his eyebrows and roared with laughter. It seems the steak cooked in red wine we had for dinner had quite an effect on Grandpa...
   
2. I may qualify for a motorized chair from the Scooter Store, according to Grandpa and the blaring commercial on television. Against a harsh black background, large white letters splashed across the screen, accompanied by a passionate narrator: "HAVE YOU FALLEN IN THE LAST TWELVE MONTHS?" it asked, among other questions - including: "Do you ever feel like a burden to others regarding your mobility challenges?" and, "Do you experience difficulty walking to the bathroom?" I told Grandpa that during the month of November I fell three times in three weeks. Grandpa pointed at the screen. "You could qualify. This machine is for you." I detected a sparkle in his eye as he continued, explaining how I could secure my personal scooter after a simple talk with my doctor. "No matter what your insurance company says, the Scooter Store will find a way to pay for your device. Just keep watching the commercial," he advised. We both chuckled. Grandma seemed completely dazed, unaware of our ongoing joke. "What's this about, Lissie?" she mused.
3. Kelly Ripa (the obnoxious host of "The Regis and Kelly Show") announced a statistic during breakfast that infuriated me: 44% of men and women under 30 believe that marriage is "headed for extinction." WHAT? I nearly choked on my toast. Ripa rattled on about the results of the recent study and explained that the statistics are driven by an evolving belief among young people that marriage doesn't matter. It's true: times have changed and we live in a world where more and more couples are moving in together. I believe it is a very personal decision and I do not judge those who choose to move in with their boyfriend or girlfriend. On the other hand, I've never, ever been the type of girl to obsess about her wedding day or pour over the wedding magazines that line the grocery store check-out aisles. [Quite the contrary: I stay away from those magazines like the plague (they are emotional porn and females are their target audience, haha)!] Ultimately, though, how do these statistics relate to me? I spent some time thinking. My conclusion: I am 110% pro-marriage.
   
4. After breakfast, Grandma and I fought a fierce battle against dust particles. Grandma's weapon of choice was a soft feather duster. To the cobwebs in the corner, I raised a pair of soft dusting cloths laced with Pledge spray with lemon oil. We were a potent combination. As boring as dusting sounds, cleaning has always been an outlet for stress and a peaceful pastime for me (don't ask, I dunno why). Beginning in the living room, I worked slowly and nimbly to remove vases, fragile books, glass figurines, and delicate souvenirs from the bookshelves before wiping away months worth of dust. It was great to hear the stories behind the treasures that fill my grandparents' house. And even though these stories have all been told (and heard) before, I still appreciated this time with my Grandma. After a whirlwind morning, we enjoyed a steaming cup of coffee and put our feet up before lunch.
5. Do you listen to music as you clean? Today, Grandma and I watched the "Rachel Rae" show while dusting. This proved to be an interesting experience, as Rachel Rae enthusiastically announced today's theme: "ARE YOU AND YOUR MAN SEXUALLY COMPATIBLE?" she asked. Grandma gave a snort and continued chasing away dirt and grime in the far corners of her kitchen. The tv blared on (Grandma and Grandpa turn the volume ALL the way up). What followed on tv was a rather loud and transparent discussion about all things sex. I learned that there are actually people with job titles like "Sex Expert." Rachel Rae welcomed one on her show to a thunderous audience. Grandma and I next followed the trials and tribulations of an interviewed couple: two young new graduates. We learned what their answers on a "Sex Compatibility Quiz" said about them. I was a little unsure at first, but it was an interesting show. During a commercial break, Grandma sauntered up to me (still clutching the duster brush). "Lissie, I want to talk to you about something..." she started. My heart skipped a beat. I knew this could potentially snowball into a very peculiar conversation. We've all seen splashy articles in magazines like Glamour and Seventeen Magazine, but I've never before heard the advice of an 87-year-old woman. What luck! Right there in front of a half-dusted bookshelf featuring a 25-part collection of a Dutch encyclopedia, Grandma wanted to talk about sex. oh dear. It was quite a cute moment. I will remember these stories and her life advice forever.
   
6. Grandpa keeps falling asleep at his computer. I look over at his screen (it's cluttered with articles in Dutch -- He's reading RNW Nederlands Nieuws. I sometimes try to cough once or twice to wake him up, but after a long afternoon walk (we just got back), maybe it's best if I let him rest.
7. Running off to help Grandma cook dinner.
   

More to come.
groetjes.

Captain von Trapp?

Captain von Trapp looks a smidge bit like Grandpa when he was younger. Hmm...

My grandparents are sitting enthralled by "The Sound of Music." They say they first saw it in Rotterdam together.

During one of the last scenes - when the Captain and the Baroness are parting ways on the balcony - I heard a sniffing noise behind me... but I chose to ignore it.

Captain: It's no use, you and I. I'm being dishonest to both of us and utterly unfair to you. When two people talk of marriage...
Elsa: No, don't, don't say another word, Georg, please? You see, uh, there are other things I've been thinking of. Fond as I am of you, I really don't think you're the right man for me. You're much too independent and I need someone who needs me desperately, or at least needs my money desperately. I've enjoyed every moment we've had together. I do thank you for that. Now, if you'll forgive me, I'll go inside, pack my little bags, and return to Vienna where I belong. And somewhere out there is a young lady who I think will never be a nun. Auf Wiedersehen, darling.

Next came the scene with Maria and the Captain -- when they share a kiss and Julie Andrews sings, "Something Good." Their gentle embrace was interrupted by a boisterous commercial break. I looked over my shoulder...

Grandpa was wiping his eyes. He had been crying! When he caught my gaze, he laughed, embarrassed, and fumbled around for a tissue. Grandma was engrossed in reading the comics.

Grandpa is quite the romantic. What a dear.

The January 1936 school newsletter mentioned previously contains a tragic announcement: Principal H.J. Willemsen of the Savornin Lohmanschool, Hillevliet 126 had passed away a month before. Willemsen was born in May 1876 and died December 19, 1935. The back page of the school newsletter features letters written by schoolteachers who taught under Willemsen. Their words reveal a man of humble heart and strong faith. Above, one teacher writes, "Een vriend is me ontvallen." One of my friends has fallen [passed away]. He goes onto say that Willemsen was, een vaderlijke vriend, or a fatherly friend.
Grandpa showed a second schoolbook that described the life of Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands. Here is a photo of her and her daughter, Juliana. The caption reads: Ze hielden zooveel van elkaar. "They loved each other very much."
In the inside flap of this book, I found a letter. It's from his teacher. The basic gist of the letter is that he loves teaching his students and that he strives to teach them about God's love. Below, he personalizes the letter and book by writing in the name of my grandpa: Johannes de Leeuw.
Lodged between two pages in the textbook was this momento of Grandpa's. The size of a postcard, it expresses thanks for his contribution to Prinses (Princess) Juliana and Prins (Prince) Bernhard's wedding gift.

Old school books!

After dinner, Grandpa sat with me on the couch and showed me a few old schoolbooks of his from his grade school years at the Savornin Lohman-School. Grandpa was quite an organized kid; he says he covered all of his schoolbooks and numbered them himself. I can see neatly-written numbers written in ink on the spine of both of these books. It's no wonder he liked accounting and inventory work!
The first book we examined was Prins Willem: Vader des Vaderlands ("Prince William: Father of our Country"), written by W.G. van de Hulst. Apparently this author was a very religious and patriotic gentleman; he incorporated many religious ideas and references as he described the life of Prince William of Orange (who eventually became King William III of Orange). Basically, this book was a class reader for Grandpa's Dutch history class.

Above is a school newsletter. The date reads 15 januari 1936. Ons Schoolblad: Uitgave der Vereeniging voor Christelijk Volksonderwijs te Feyenoord en Hilleslius.
A photo of the principal of the school. Grandpa notes his stiff collar, which M. Willemsen was known to wear daily. Willemsen was a well-known and admired man, and many of the school's professors considered him a good friend and fatherlike mentor. Grandpa admits that if you misbehaved, your teacher or the principal could punish you in the form of a beating. Wow, times certainly have changed! More photos to come.

bisous. groetjes.

Day One: 12.26

The snow is beginning to intensify here - it's beautiful to watch it from the window. Here in the house, we are listening to Chopin's Waltz No. 12 in F minor/A flat. Can I share with you some highlights of the day so far?

• During afternoon coffee, grandpa cradled his steaming cup in his hands and told me of his days working in the Government Accountability Office (GAO) and NATO. His stories are fascinating.
  
• Grandpa always taps his coffee cup as he talks. He claims he has no sense of rhythm and that Grandma has way more of a proclivity for music, but I think he's being humble...
  
• This morning while reading the paper, I learned about the comics my grandparents used to read in Holland. Marten Toonder illustrated a series called "Oliver B. Bommel" or "Tom Puss." It's about a pair of animal friends (a bear and a cat) who are friends and find themselves in all sorts of adventures. When Grandpa moved to the USA, he read Dick Tracy and Mandrake the Magician in the comics page.
  
• Today I learned Grandpa's perspective on the importance of a good teacher. Although his family was very, very poor, Grandpa was able to go to some of the best schools in Holland - all because his teachers recommended him for special programs and nominated him to attend certain schools. Most of the time, Grandpa didn't even know this! He said his classmates were children of wealthy parents who led successful careers in business and politics. Meanwhile, Grandpa's father was a bricklayer and house painter. Without the encouragement and wisdom of teachers who noticed something special in my grandfather, he would have never paved the career he did. These stories fill me with a new appreciation for teachers all over the world! It's true: "If you can read this, thank a teacher."
  
• Grandpa attended Savornin-Lohmanschool for grade school. He described his school as having two levels, each with a different principal. He recalls that he and his brother entered the school from different sides of the building because their classes were split up and held in alternative schools. While Grandpa continued in a school that specialized in history and liberal arts, Grandpa's brother studied handcraft work like construction. Eventually, his brother finished studies in engineering and moved to the USA. Grandpa moved to the States soon after, working in the GAO and performing auditing work for NATO.
  
• Dutch education in the 1920's and 30's had a religious component. In fact, Grandpa remembers reciting all of the books of the Bible for one school assignment. He even had to memorize the lineage of Adam! Grandpa chuckles and says he is thankful that he had a naturally good memory as a kid. Grandma, on the other hand, admits she never excelled in such assignments.
  
• Grandpa recited a fair bit of a poem he memorized in grade school. It is about William of Orange and his brother, the prins Maurits van Oranje, written by one of Holland's most venerated poets: Joost van den Vondel. I am currently trying to find this poem (thanks, Google!). After reciting a few verses, Grandma said, "Gosh, what flowery language..." I didn't understand a thing - it was in Dutch and contained a lot of jargon related to seamanship and historical references - but what I did hear sounded incredible.
  
• A joke word in Dutch is soldatententententoonstelligen. It's very fun to say :) You can try it: "soul-dahten-tenten-ten-tone-stell-ih-hen." Voilà! You can speak Dutch now. A tentoonstelligen is an exhibition. Can you guess what soldaten or tenten translate as? "Soldier" and "tents." (see? Dutch is easy!) Altogether, soldatententententoonstelligen is a "soldiers' tent exhibition." It's a joke word because of all the t's. What a mouthful. I smiled as Grandma described the story behind the words and explained the distinct sense of humour of the Dutch. All languages have their own comical characteristics.
  
• During breakfast, we found the Pentagon Channel on tv (heck yes!). We watched a video highlighting the life and career of General Pershing and several videos of servicemen and women saying hello to their families from across the world. The most entertaining program on the Pentagon Channel is called "Grill Sergeants." It's a cooking show. My favorite aspects of the show are the host's humor (he is quite a charming army sergeant) and the jazz band that accompanies him as he cooks.
  
• I confess that I say a short prayer each time I climb into the car with Grandma. She is an extremely exuberant driver... whew. Coupled with today's dusting of snow and slushy roads, I contemplated the idea that December 26, 2010 would be the day I would meet my Creator. Okay, just kidding.
  

Grandma is cooking up a storm. I better run off and help!

Je vous envoie des bisous.

Groetjes ("friendly little greetings" as the Dutch say),
Lissie

Grandparents say the darndest things.

Visits with my grandparents are quite entertaining. Consider the following conversation snippets:

"It's not very voluminous," my grandpa asserted about a book he is reading (200 pages).

"When you get to the grocery store, how 'bout you stop by the meat counter for some brains?" said my grandpa (obviously joking). My grandma replied, "Any more nasty remarks??!"
Grandpa stifled a chuckle and ambled off into the kitchen.

Grandpa: "Leni, what did you do to your car? There seems to be a little bit of a scrape on the bumper..."
Grandma: "Oh really? I have no idea... someone must have bumped my car."
Grandpa: "No, that is unlikely... I think YOU did something." [ha!]
Grandma: (blushing) "Nooo..."

"I tell the snow plows to get OUT of our neighborhood. If they clear the roads, there's no way I'll be able to use my cross-country skis," says Grandma.

"Traffic wasn't that bad this morning on the way to the grocery store. People must know that the Queen (aka Grandma) is in town!!"
-The Queen herself.

Back in Annapolis.

My week-long stay in Annapolis is my last extended visit; after I graduate and once I begin working I will likely not have the opportunity to take a week of vacation time. Consequently, I am determined to take full advantage of my stay! It certainly seems like I was meant to be here for quite some time: a massive snowstorm is on its way. With plenty of cookies, tea, and my grandmother's old piano, we will have no problem.

Included here are photos from yesterday's Christmas gathering here at my grandparent's house. We had a nice dinner and fun evening of opening gifts, coffee, and conversation. You'll also see photos of the Christmas tree and my comfy accommodations in the guest room. This week I'm not sleeping on the decrepit cot (the experience is akin to dozing on a floppy noodle: you sink right down into the center, ha!). Instead, I am camping out on the couch. :)

Beauty from ashes.

Have you experienced days where you just feel grey? Today, my heart feels as sensitive as my eyes do when I turn on a lamp in a pitch dark room: I hesitate, eyes shut tight to keep out the piercing light. Only this time my heart - not my eyes - is clenched.

On days like these, I feel overwhelmed and vulnerable - and a little broken, too.

I could list all of the worries that may explain this feeling. Only this would likely not interest you and I don't like to complain. I shall spare you, dear readers...

I suppose the more important thing with which to occupy my thoughts is not what is wrong but instead: what will I do about it?

How do you make something beautiful from something that is broken?

I love mosaics. Have you seen one up close? They are made from small fractured stones or tiles. On its own, a shard of glass might seem useless or ugly. The material was probably smashed with a hammer or crushed with some other tool. Such a violent process seems the antithesis of beautiful! But when assembled with hundreds of other pieces in a mosaic, brokenness becomes the very stimulus for beauty.

In the book of Isaiah, I read about those who are grieving and troubled in heart. Isaiah writes that to anyone in Zion who mourns, God will give them beauty for ashes (check out verse 3). I once read that certain ancient mourning practices involved rubbing ashes on one's head in sorrow and submission. Imagine yourself with a grey-ish black countenance and cinders mixed in your hair. It'd be hard for others not to notice when you were sad - even if you swore you'd never complain openly about your troubles.

I'm reminded in this verse that God is interested in and capable of making beauty out of my grey days. He can lift away these ashes and replace them with a sparkling tiara.

But even more - God wants to teach me how to love even the broken things. When a friend is hurting, what should I do?

I should weep with those who weep. I should comfort them with the comfort I have been given so many times before.

I will search for the beauty that is on its way :)

Even if

Say what you need to say...

Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You'd better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again

Even if your hands are shaking --
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open.

(John Mayer)

Jeans or Khakis?

After finishing a pesky application that has loomed overhead for a few weeks now, I could dedicate the entire day to packing for school. The grey skies and intermittent rain threatened to plunge me into lethargy, but luckily Jens Lekman and tea-filled mugs kept me energized and focused :)

The calendar says it's August. This can only mean one thing: the dining room has transformed from peaceful to frenzied. Books, bags of clothing, and boxes clutter a far corner near the windows. It's taken me four years to perfect the art of packing light for the semester; we'll see if I've succeeded when I load the car in a few minutes.

While finishing the last of my packing, I realized I hadn't remembered pants (now that I think of it, Williamsburg is pretty balmy until mid-October... do I really need to bring them?). I set off upstairs to find some.

Jeans or khakis? I mused.

But then it hit me: I have a choice. I can choose either to bring jeans - or khakis. Or both! Or neither!

This skirt, or that one.

Flats, or sneakers.

Thousands of other twenty-two-year-old girls don't have these choices: they wear the same outfit everyday, the same one they were given two months ago from the truck carrying charity donations. Still other girls have vastly different (and much more difficult) choices:

Should I give up on this pregnancy, or should I give up my baby for adoption?

Should I stay in college, or should I drop out and take care of my father?

Does my sick baby get fed dinner tonight, or do I eat dinner tonight?

Do I escape this abusive relationship, or do I stay with what seems like the only man who shows me the attention I crave?

Do I stay in my village with my family and risk being bombed, or do I run across the border to safety and freedom?

I am a college senior at a top university. I have two loving parents who encourage me to follow my dreams. I have an older sister who cares for me. I can vote. I can drive. I can read. I can show my face in public. I can practice my faith without shame or fear of persecution. I can voice my opinions, even if they aren't shared by the majority. I can walk. I can laugh. I can love...

I am thankful. :)

"Life is a gift, and it offers us the privilege, opportunity, and responsibility to give something back by becoming more."

(quote by Anthony Robbins)

!!

It's my last week in town before heading back to school.

Mum baked a pumpkin pie. Currently cooling on the kitchen counter, that pie sparkles and shines like a finely-cut diamond.

Mmm, it's going to be a very good day. :)

Spreekt u Engels?

Hallo, ik ben tweeentwintig jaar. Ik ben een meisje. Ik woon in Amerika met mijn moeder en vader. Vandaag, ik heb at de brood en de goede koekjes met mijn opa en oma. Ik houd van mijn vriends en mijn school in Williamsburg, waar ik bestudeer politiek en het Frans.

Tot ziens & groetjes.

From across the room...

Late last night, long after the dinner dishes had been washed and put away, my grandma prepared some peppermint tea and shared the story of how she met grandpa. My grandparents just celebrated 64 years together last month.

After the war, my grandpa returned to Rotterdam after being a prisoner of war in Germany. He was 21. My grandma, too, lived in Rotterdam at the time - although they didn't know each other yet. Both of them attended the local young men's and women's Christian clubs in Holland: de Christelijke Jonge Mannen Vereniging (CJMV) and de Christelijke Jonge Vrouwen Vereniging (CJVV). These two groups were the Dutch equivalents of today's YMCA.

One day, the CJMV and the CJVV decided to meet at one of many Dutch "victory festivals" in the wake of WWII. My grandma stumbled upon two friends of hers who happened to be dating at the time. While making small talk, she glanced around at the bubbling crowd around her.

"All of a sudden, from across the room, I saw your grandpa. And I knew right then and there, I had to meet him!" my grandma recalled with twinkling eyes.

She said he was impeccably dressed in nice slacks, a crisp, white shirt, and a tie. "The other guys at the festival weren't wearing such a nice suit... he had come from work, of course."

Being the bold lady she was (and still is!), grandma confidently requested that her friend introduce her to my grandpa (the two guys were in CJMV together). Soon after, the four of them began to take afternoon walks up and down the main streets in Rotterdam - the Coolsingel and Hoogstraat. After the war, there weren't any theatres, cafés, or large places to gather with friends: they had all been damaged when the city was bombed. To pass the time in good company, one spent the day strolling the streets.

One time, the dating couple broke off from Lena and Johann (my grandparents) and my grandma and grandpa walked along just the two of them.

"We just talked...about anything, and everything. Every now and then, we'd run into people we knew and we would stop and talk together."

My grandma didn't want to get too close to grandpa because she had trained her heart not to do so. My grandma was born with only one hand. At the time, "being different" like that wasn't widely accepted. Some boys thought that her condition was hereditary and didn't even want to associate with her (how appalling). Grandma waited for assurance that grandpa accepted her exactly as she was before she let her heart love him as more than a friend.

When I asked grandpa about grandma's first sighting of him at the festival, he responded, "I was just standing there, minding my own business..."

Half-joking (or maybe completely serious?), grandma attributed the entire success of their meeting and marriage to her keen eyesight. "It's only by luck that we ended up together. Good thing I spotted him all the way over there!"

Hilarious.

I was a little hesitant to jump out of bed this morning. Yesterday evening, grandma said she had a little task for me the next day: wash the bathroom floors. I'm pretty sure my grandma hasn't washed the floors in her bathroom in quite some time - perhaps six months or more. She mentioned that the floor tiles around the toilet were especially in need of scrubbing. I adore helping my grandparents around the house, but I confess I was a little uneasy about the chore to which I was assigned...

After breakfast, I slipped on an old t-shirt and shorts and got to work.

As I mingled near the toilet and crouched on chilly, hard tiles, my perspective shifted. Dirt particles, dead bugs, and dust that had accumulated for many months surrounded me. The scent of mildew and toilet water pricked my nose. Moving nimbly on hands and knees, I worked quickly to sweep and spread soapy suds to the farthest corners of the bathroom.

How many layers of dirt was I removing?

I thought of Jesus.

One evening, he surprised friends and onlookers when he removed his robe, stooped on the floor, and washed the feet of his disciples (John 13).

Back in those days, you wore sandals everywhere. One's toes were constantly exposed to dirt and sand. If you couldn't bathe often, I bet your feet became crusty and dusty and probably quite smelly, too... Kind of like the dirty floor tiles I was crawling on this morning.

But Jesus didn't worry about how dirty these feet must've been. He didn't hesitate once. Instead, he demonstrated ultimate humility and self-lessness by taking those feet in his hands and wiping away weeks worth of filth.

Jesus' disciples sat amazed and humbled as their Lord became lowly.

...What a Savior :)

Lord, thanks for this beautiful week with my grandparents. Thank you for the example of Jesus for treating others with love and humility.

xxox

Running low on cookies? Code Red Emergency.

This morning, grandma and I ran off to "stomping class," a title she affectionately gives her daily exercise class at the community lodge (haha). The exercises seem to be a blend of line dancing and hopping around to tunes from the 1950's and 60's. All the ladies sing along while skipping around the room.

Back at the house, I finished writing letters to incoming freshman at William & Mary. In the letters, I invite them to check out Reformed University Fellowship (RUF) on campus, a Christian student club at The College. Grandpa wanted to know a little more about the group and inquired about the church with which RUF is affiliated (Presbyterian). In Holland, he said, Dutch Protestantism consists of two branches: "Christian Reformed" and "Reformed" (Nederlandse [Dutch] Hervormde [Reformed] Kerk [Church]). He wondered aloud if there was any connection.

Before lunch, we drove to the Farmer's Market down the road. It is managed by an extensive group of Amish families in Pennsylvania. My grandparents made a beeline for the bread and cookie aisles. Grandma confessed, "It's almost the week-end and we're running out of cookies. If we don't buy cookies today, we'll run into a dire situation." I believe it. We left grocery store with two packages of cookies. I thought we were done, but how wrong I was! Instead of driving home, we sped off to the grocery store across the street. No joke: they bought EIGHT more packages of cookies plus an apple pie. Eight? Goodness gracious. While filing the groceries into the fridge and pantry back home, grandpa showed me the bread box that sits inside. "This storage box filled with cookies is for rainy days," he asserted, half-joking.

My grandparents relish cookies like treasured gems. It must be a Dutch thing. You must understand - for them, buying cookies is like test-driving a car or trying out a new brand of toothpaste; it's a thrilling endeavor. Perhaps a reminder that the small, often overlooked elements of life are what make it special?

During lunch, we watched The Charlie Rose Show. A British author was interviewed about his new novel about the "sexual revolution" in the 1970s. Charlie Rose kept pressing him to elaborate on what it is like to craft a novel all about sex. I found myself blushing and focusing intently on the contents of my soup and sandwich. Meanwhile, grandpa chuckled loudly. Grandma, in accordance with her free spirit and curiosity, followed the program with interest.

Grandma has always been a very relaxed and liberal-minded person (I have no objections). This usually translates into her being very bold as far as "personal space bubbles" go. Last night, I told grandma that I a bug bite on my lower back. This morning, instead of asking me how it felt, grandma came up to me from behind and lifted up my shirt! HA. She is a feisty one, and I confess I inherited a large portion of her silliness. I love her to pieces.

We just returned from the community pool. There, grandma and I swam a few laps and chatted with the other sun-bathers. To my surprise, the lifeguard was a young guy from Serbia! I was thrilled at the chance to meet someone from the Balkans after my internship in DC last Spring. He is from a small town in eastern Serbia and came to work in the US for the summer. He wrote down his e-mail address and asked me to contact him if I was ever in Serbia. Soon after, out walked another lifeguard: a young gentleman from Bulgaria. The three of us had a great conversation about life in America and I was happy to leave with two new friends from the Balkans! Whatever line of work I end up in after graduation, I hope that I can use my degree in International Relations to meet and work with people around the world. I've always been a bit shy, but that doesn't stop me from enjoying getting to know new people. :)

Sending love from Annapolis.

"The house is cold," grandma says...

...she wants to turn the fireplace on.

The house thermostat reads 78ºF [folks, I'm melting over here]. It's mid-August. It was 98ºF outside today. The fireplace?

"No, Leni," grandpa answers.

Adorable.

Day 2 in Annapolis: Today's findings

1) Couscous is the best food invention in the world. I could eat it everyday for the rest of my life!

2) Jeopardy is seriously slacking on creating challenging questions.

3) The Regis and Kelly show is just about the most obnoxious, mind-numbing television program on daytime television. But grandma likes to watch it in the morning before her exercise class at the community lodge. She also turns the volume up to the maximum level so that Kelly’s abrasive voice resounds throughout the entire house. Today Mrs. Ripa spent 30 long minutes lamenting her children's recent outbreak of hair lice, after which I felt so enriched [cue sarcasm]. I think Kelly should visit a third-world country and re-evaluate her life.

4) Can you tell that I’ve been watching a lot of gameshows with the G-‘rents?

5) My grandma is a speed monster in her Kompressor. Every fiber of my being tenses up when she starts driving, but by the sheer grace of God we arrive safely at our destinations. When she drives through green lights, she shouts - "The Queen is in town, let me through." She cracks me up.

6) Pat Sajak (the chipper host of “Wheel of Fortune”) is a native Maryland-er and contributed lots of cash to the local hospital here. My grandparents say there’s a center within the hospital named in his honor, and that he and his family live right down the road.

7) Fareed Zakaria is pretty cool.

8) Life is good here in Annapolis :)