I got home after a long day of meetings, and my children greeted me like ecstatic puppy dogs.

"Daddy!" Elliot yelled, the first to see me.

"Daddy!  Daddy!  Daddy!" yelled Olivia.

Cor just gave a weak smile (he's been sick for the last few days).

I asked them how their day had been, and they excitedly reported that it had been a good day -- and that they had planned a special surprise party.  The house had been decorated with streamers (toilet paper), special bows tacked to the wall in strategic places like the front entryway, and three balloons.  And they had planned special drinks and snacks for the party, and they were sure that I was going to love it.  I told them that I was sure that I'd love it, too, and I asked them why we were having a party.

They shrugged their shoulders as if to say "because" and left the question at that.  Kids don't need a reason or a special occasion to organize a party.  It's almost an absurd question to ask "why" a party needed to be organized (although the beauty of children is that they will never shame you for asking an absurd question).  Parties, of course, are fun.  And fun is a good thing.  So parties are a good thing -- whenever and however and with whomever they can be coordinated.

So we had supper and caught up on the day's events.  And then, after supper it was party time.  They triumphantly brought out a pitcher of ice-cold grape flavored kool-aid (my favorite) and a box of Oreos.  And the party was on.  It didn't last very long.  It didn't feature an elaborate theme or order-of-events.  But I have to say that it was fun -- a delightful little party with our family of five.

After the fact, I got to thinking about the party.  I thought maybe it served as a very appropriate observance of two (increasingly-less) important milestones in our family's history:  the end of our first decade in full-time ministry and the anniversary of our immigration to the Netherlands.  As of January 2009, I have been working in full-time, support-based ministry for ten whole years!  And furthermore, January of 2009 marks the six-year anniversary of our move to Amsterdam!  It's crazy to think that I've been doing any kind of career (post college) for a whole decade -- but especially a career in ministry.  And to think that over half of that has been in Europe!  It's really crazy if I stop and think about it...

But what's craziest of all -- if you ask me -- is that such an observance has become so ordinary, so unremarkable.  I didn't even remember that the milestones were upon us until wehad already passed them!  These annual remembrances (or "forgetrences") are not grand galas with deeply symbolic ceremonies.  They are, rather, everyday parties -- seemingly for no particular reason -- served with Oreos and kool-aid, celebrated with toilet-paper streamers andlittle bows on the doors.

And honestly, I'm very much OK with that.

We probably all have those things we can rely upon when we need a good laugh:  maybe a movie  or an old joke or something like that...

For me, these days, it's this photograph of my brother Jay.

He's an art teacher at a high school in Texas -- and believe it or not, this is his portait for this year's edition of the school yearbook.  Perhaps he was trying to invoke the spirit of the late, great Bob Ross... I'm not really sure about the story behind this picture (that's not his real hair and his eyes don't usually bug out like that) -- but I really don't care.  All I know is that the result of me taking a look at this picture results in an out-loud belly-laugh every time.

Maybe you'll enjoy it, too...

We've finally established a prayer room (/office/infant-care facility) at the H88 ministry center!  This week, Zolder50 is participating in a global prayer initiative called 24-7 Prayer, and to accommodate our round-the-clock prayer team, we finally got around to finishing up the renovations on our ministry center's smallest room (which had kind of served as a workshop and storage space during previous renovations).

These pictures don't really do the space justice -- since the space is so small while my lens is so narrow and since the room's lighting is so soft and natural... But at least they can give you an idea of what the new space looks and feels like.

Suffice to say:  it's a beautiful space that really accomplishes what was intended: 
creating a still, silent, self-contained space where one can really
focus on God and interact with Him through prayer and Bible study.

I'm signed up for a number of shifts throughout the week -- and already (after two one-hour shifts), I'm really enjoying the experience.  I'm trusting that this whole experience will really help us to better understand what God wants for our individual lives, for our church, and for the city of Amsterdam as a whole.

If you're in the Amsterdam area, but you haven't signed up to be a part of the 24-7 Prayer initiative for whatever reason, I would encourage you to consider helping us fill one of the (few) remaining spots on our schedule which have not yet been covered.  According to some internal e-mail communication from this morning, it seems that the following time slots are still available:

Tuesday
13.00-14.00

Wednesday
3.00-4.00
13-14.00

Thursday
1.00-2.00
4.00-5.00
20.00-21.00
23.00-00.00

Friday
9.00-10.00
18.00-19.00
on-call shift available Fri 23.00 – Sat 07.00

Saturday
18.00-19.00
on-call shift available Sat 15.00-23.00

Sunday
00.00-6.00
7.00-8.00
11.00-14.00

If you're interested in filling one of these spots, you could contact Marc La Porte (if you know his e-mail address) or just leave me a comment (or an e-mail) and I can pass the word along for you.

And even if you're not in Amsterdam, you're certainly welcome to join us in prayer this week!

Have you heard how they say that the Eskimo language has nine translations for the English word "snow?"  (By the way it turns out, after some short search-engine research, that this point is somewhat debatable -- but anyway...) Well, in the Dutch language, the closest equivalent would have to be rain.

It rains a lot here in the Netherlands.  In fact, it's raining again today, so I thought it would be fun to share a list of Dutch words for "rain" that I've been compiling (originating from a casual conversation earlier this week -- on another rainy day in Amstesrdam -- with my friends Marco and Timo).  Right now it's up to eleven words (though considering the fact that Dutch is my second language, I should offer the disclaimer that I'm not completely sure that I'm using these words correctly!).  I'd be very interested to know, though, if there are other words that I might be missing... At any rate, here are the eleven I've got so far:

misten = fog / extremely light rain or mist

miezeren = light rain (this verb also can be translated as "miserable"!)

motregen = light rain (drizzle?)

buien = short period of rain (showers?)

regen = rain

plensen = hard rain with big drops

hozen = raining really hard

stortbuien = torrential rain / downpour

stormen = strong storm with wind

hemelwater = rainwater (literally "heaven water")

neerslag = precipitation (more scientific word)

Yes, O yes -- there's a whole culture that goes into rain and water in a place like the Netherlands.  What fun that I get to swim along!

Yesterday was sad and gray... but today is happy and yellow -- because Barack Obama is now the President of the United States of America!

OK.  That's probably a bit of an overstatement.  But it's very much in keeping with some of the other rhetoric bandied about on the news over the last 24 hours or so.  Now, for the most part, I think the hope and optimism is very understandable.  But there was a point last night (yesterday afternoon, American time), when Marci and I were watching CNN's coverage of the Inaugural Parade and Wolf Blitzer was carrying on and on about the "magnificence" of the Presidential Review Stand -- and we just had to look at each other and laugh.  Part of this, of course, was just a desperate news man trying to fill time while waiting for some actual news to happen -- but part of it seems to be a manifestation of unrealistic expectations for what one man (even a man as great as Barack Obama) might be able to do.

Seriously, though... I do hope and pray that President Obama will be able to facilitate meaningful change in the world.  It was a beautiful ceremony yesterday (Wasn't that classical quartet playing just before Obama's swearing-in especially awesome?!?!  And I was surprised to realize how much the name of God -- and the Christian God at that -- is still invoked in these occasions).  It was beautiful to see how enthusiastic everyone around the world was to be witnessing such a historic event.  And I certainly don't think that a healthy dose of hope and optimism could be bad for our society...

But you've got to admit:  it was just an inauguration.  They do pretty much the same thing every four years.  Everybody said what they needed to say and did what they needed to do.  And Obama's speech was good -- but, well, not "classic" (at least not from my estimation).  Now -- if you want to reference a true "classic," you should read Abraham Lincoln's second inaugural address (passed along to me by my good friend Claire):

At this second appearing to take the oath of the presidential office, there is less occasion for an extended address than there was at the first. Then a statement, somewhat in detail, of a course to be pursued, seemed fitting and proper. Now, at the expiration of four years, during which public declarations have been constantly called forth on every point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention, and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is new could be presented. The progress of our arms, upon which all else chiefly depends, is as well known to the public as to myself; and it is, I trust, reasonably satisfactory and encouraging to all. With high hope for the future, no prediction in regard to it is ventured.

On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago, all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil war. All dreaded it--all sought to avert it. While the inaugural [sic] address was being delivered from this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union without war, insurgent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it without war--seeking to dissole [sic] the Union, and divide effects, by negotiation. Both parties deprecated war; but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive; and the other would accept war rather than let it perish. And the war came.

One eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in the Southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest was, somehow, the cause of the war. To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union, even by war; while the government claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither party expected for the war, the magnitude, or the duration, which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with, or even before, the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces; but let us judge not that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered; that of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has his own purposes. "Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh!" If we shall suppose that American Slavery is one of those offences which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South, this terrible war, as the woe due to those by whom the offence came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a Living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do we hope--fervently do we pray--that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue, until all the wealth piled by the bond-man's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash, shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgments of the Lord, are true and righteous altogether"

With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan--to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.

Notice how short  the speech was (this is not just an excerpt!).  I'm particularly impressed by the candor of Lincoln's speech.  He manages to sound eloquent and articulate -- but his words also strike me as being remarkably candid and simple.  His message is very easily understandable.  The language was not over-idealized.  And yes, it was short.

To be certain, Obama has flashes of Lincoln in him.  I hope we'll get to see more of these flashes in the years to come.  But I also hope we can stay grounded.  President Obama most of all.

I signed up for Facebook almost a year and a half ago.  It's been a fairly benign presence in my life since then (this is, by the way, a perfect occasion to use the word "benign" and its connotations of a lump of tissue simply lying there -- not really helping anything, not really hurting anything).  I guess I just didn't get what the craze was all about.  To me it seemed shallow, faddish, and insignificant.  In recent weeks, though, the picture has started to come into focus a bit more clearly.

I can credit the shift in perception to a variety of factors, but the end result is that I'm starting to understand the "micro-blogging" phenomenon a bit more.  A few weeks ago, my friend Noel posted this YouTube clip (which is actually about Twitter -- which is different from Facebook, but which also has some similarities).  And I found its explanation surprisingly helpful.  Maybe you would, too:

I also read an interesting newspaper article last week about Lance Armstrong and his micro-blogging documentary of his comeback to the world of professional cycling.  Unfortunately, the NRC Next didn't see fit to post this particular article on-line -- so I cannot reference it for everyone else -- and I can't really find a suitable equivalent article from elsewhere on-line... But the basic gist of the article is that Lance Armstrong (seven-time winner of the Tour de France bicycle race) is coming out of retirement this year to make another run at the Tour de France (and a first-time attempt at the Giro d'Italia).  And as he's in the process of training and participating in warm-up events, he's cataloguing his progress via Twitter.  Every few hours (or sometimes even more frequently), he posts a short message using his mobile telephone saying what he's up to at the moment -- things like "Back at the hotel and going to meet again
with Prime Minister Kevin Rudd. Going to talk about the Livestrong
Summit and the global campaign" and "Tidbit - we got up to 102 kms/hr today on a fast downhill. That's 63 mph. You don't want to hit the pavement @ that speed!" (the two most recent examples from his Twitter page)... Mildly interesting stuff, you might say... But I think it's an absolutely brilliant PR move!  Some have accused Armstrong of doping through the years, and this running commentary of his training is the perfect way to register every drug-testing (which seems to be happening quite regularly) and every hour spent on the bicycle.  The little blurbs are even backed up with pictures snapped with his camera-phone even!  Micro-blogging as a means of public accountability is indeed an interesting concept to explore...

At any rate, I just want to say that I'm starting to "get it" -- at least a little bit.  I probably won't be signing up for Twitter anytime soon -- seeing how the "status updates" on Facebook are pretty much the same thing -- but I am starting to use my Facebook a bit more regularly.  I've also noticed that an increasing number of people from my age cohort (former high school classmates, relatives, etc.) are starting to establish their presence on Facebook as well... so I figured I'd post my discoveries on the world of Facebook.  Maybe it will be useful to someone else, too...

I had to take a sick day today (first one in a long time).  Turns out I've got a dreadful, debilitating disease known as the "Man Cold."  Bonus points to anyone who responds to this post with a comment of "Poor little bunny."

We just finished a painting project in our living room this weekend, and I added a few more flecks of glossy white to my old painters pants.  I got the pants way back in the summer between my first and second year of college -- part of my "uniform" for a summer job with Florida Custom Painting.  The job was in Ohio (not Florida), working with a man who called himself Florida Bob, and it only lasted three months.  But ever since that summer -- the summer in which I discovered Larry Norman, learned to roller-blade, lived in a run-down apartment on South Gamble Street crammed in together with the other five members of my family, and got engaged to a pretty girl from Crawford County -- I've kept those painters pants, and I've used them regularly for various painting and home improvement projects through the years.

Now the pants are shabby, über-stained, and -- I hate to admit it, but, well -- too tight around the waist... Even so, I couldn't throw the old painters pants away any more than I could throw away my collection of old journals or put a flame to the box containing all the old love letters between me and Marci.  Every time I wear the pants, it is a reminder of the past.

There are streaks of lilac from the master bedroom of the Conneaut house in Bowling Green, sage green from the living room, and dark brown stain from the window seat.  There are light yellowish-brown stains from the old Zolder floors and chocolate brown flecks from the H88 Lounge.  There are various flecks of white paint from primers and base-coats in places everywhere from Shelby to Bowling Green to Amsterdam.  And, of course, there are now bits of green, tan, and white from our living room here in Amsterdam -- all permanently engraved on the thighs of my old painters pants.  Though presumably signs of sloppiness and accidents (if I was still working for Florida Bob, he'd probably tell me to get some new pants), to me, the stained painters pants are a work of art.  And I'm going to keep squeezing into them -- these "painted-on" jeans (in both senses of the word) -- for as long as I can...

Some random recent musings...

The other day, I was in the local Coffee Company, enjoying some coffee confectionary goodness and study time.  The muzak softly playing overhead turned out to be a collection of numbers by Dolly Parton (of all people).  And when the song "Why'd You Come in Here Looking Like That?" came on, I was struck by the (eternally profound) lyrics:  "Why'd you come in here looking like that?  With your high-heeled boots and your painted-on jeans..." and suddenly my previous interpretation of the lyrics was called into question.  I had always thought that the "painted-on jeans" meant jeans that had been worn to paint a house and which had gotten flecks and smears of paint all over them.  But now I'm wondering, "Oh, is that just a way of saying jeans that were really, really tight?"  You know what I mean?  I'm genuinely confused now... Can anyone out there help straighten out the matter for me?

And then, on a completely different and unrelated occasion, I was wondering about the expression "gearing up for" something.  You know -- someone "gearing up for a big meeting" or "gearing up for the big game"... And again, I was struck by two possible illustrations of the expression.  Could it be (A) a reference to collecting gear needed for a big expedition, as in "gearing up" for the big camping trip?  Or could it be (B) a reference to mechanical gears (like in a bicycle or an automobile) "gearing up" for climbing a big hill?  I guess I had kind of always assumed that it was (A)... But now I'm really wondering if it might be (B).  Again, is there any great wise person out there who could help to set the record straight?

I know, I know... these shots are becoming a bit redundant.  But we actually got to walk on the canal near our house this weekend!  Us and all our neighbors... It was a huge, spontaneous carnival on ice.  Everybody was out, playing games, slipping and sliding, taking pictures.  Everybody was taking pictures.  We all have a sense that this is an experience we don't want to forget...

There's a sense of national euphoria.  Like a quadrapalegic whose been told and told for many years that he'd never walk again -- but who suddenly and inexplicably starts to regain sensation in his lower extremities and who doctors start saying that maybe, just maybe, he might start walking again.  Dutch people had become so despondent about climate trends (global warming) that discussions of skating on the city's canals or witnessing some of the great epic races on natural ice felt almost mythological.  Like a yellowed photograph in an old dusty photo album in the attic.  And yet, now it's happening!

The canals further in toward the center of the city still haven't frozen.  And there's still been no indication that the legendary Elfstedentocht (Eleven Cities Race) will take place in Friesland.  But I did get to walk on the canal with my kids this past weekend!

They say that a thaw may be coming to Holland over the next week or two.  But at least we lived it up while we could.

I always thought that I hated Dutch winters...

Turns out I had just never experienced one...

Until now.

I've been meaning to post this for awhile now (since before Christmas)... but I'm only now getting around to it.  Anyway -- the YouTube clips you see featured here (above and below) are the result of a collaboration among the Zolder50 Art Community.  They were originally intended to be viewed as one long video with an extended metro scene between them which was played underneath a beautiful live performance of Leslie Phillips singing a mandolin-based song that she wrote based on the Biblical texts of "Mary's Song" -- though here they have been chopped (and the static metro scene greatly reduced) in order to fit the uploading requirements of YouTube.

All in all, it was meant to be our contextualization of the original Biblical "Christmas story" (as told in Luke chapters 1 and 2) -- adapted for 21st Century Amsterdam.  Instead of long, flowing robes and head coverings, our "Maria" and "Jozef" wore clothing typical of poor university students; instead of riding on a donkey, they rode on the metro... You get the idea, I'm sure.  The street scene interviews in the middle section of Part One were meant to be people talking about the hopes and glories of Caesar Augustus (Todd's post on the Hope of Caesar Augustus might be helpful for filling in the background on this) -- though see if you can guess who we were actually asking people about. ;-)

Like I said, this post is much too late to be anything close to timely.  But still, I hope it might be enjoyable for some of you.

It was one of those times when I really, really wish I was one of those people who kept my good-quality SLR camera with me at all times.  I was just headed home with a bakfiets full of kids, and passing the Oosterpark (not far from home) I saw a icy pond covered by a flock of Amsterdammers.  Of course we stopped and stepped out on the ice for some winter-fun ourselves.

But all I have to show for it are a few crappy camera-phone pictures.

Ah well... It was still lots of fun.  Elliot and Olivia had gotten the chance to experience something similar last week (at a different park) -- but this was Cor's first time out on natural ice.  I was really surprised by how much he loved it (even though I don't have any super-great pictures to show for it).

The ice was surprisingly smooth and clean.  Not at all my typical experience of frozen ponds (from back in Ohio days).  I'm not the world's greatest expert on judging the quality of ice -- but I'd say the stuff at the Oosterpark is pretty good.  (And I feel even more confident in this judgment after overhearing similar comments from the true-blue, long-blade-skates, one-arm-behind-the-back-with-the-other-arm-swinging-like-a-pendulum-pace-keeper Nederlanders there at the park with us.)

It was beautiful -- right at sunset, a clear and cold evening, giving way to a spontaneous carnival of neighbors on the pond living out the iconic Dutch winter-time fantasy.  Dang -- I just wish I had brought along my good camera...

For whatever reason, I've been thinking a lot lately about the old Dutch guilders (their economic currency prior to the introduction of the Euro in the early part of this decade)... and also about kingfishers.  These recurring themes have come up several different times in random conversations over the past week or two.  There was something in my head that told me the two things (guilders and kingfishers) were somehow connected.  So I started hunting around my desk and around the internet to research these topics...

One of the things that struck me was the reminder of how beautiful Dutch money used to be.

Maybe the guilder notes were very plain and ordinary to Dutch people back in the day -- but I remember visiting Amsterdam in the spring of 2001 and being simply awed by the aesthetic elegance of Dutch bank notes.  Clorful, varied, and they displayed that classic sense of Dutch design.  Don't you think that 50 guilder note (above) was especially beautiful?  I have, in fact, heard that Dutch people sometimes miss the wondeful old guilders -- and even though I never actually lived here while they were in circulation, I kind of miss them, too...

But what I was really looking for was the guilder / kingfisher connection.  And some of my internet research led me to believe that it was the 10 guilder note which might complete the loop.  It's sometimes called the IJsvogel note, and while IJsvogel means literally, "ice bird" it also seems to basically be the Dutch word for kingfisher...

But then I was rifling through my personal collection of a few of the various currencies that I've accumulated throughout the years in my various travels, and I was finally able to place the kingfisher that I had in my mind...

But it was not on any of the Dutch currency.

It was, coincidentally, on a note of similar value and similar coloring.  But it was actually the Canadian five dollar bill on which the kingfisher illustration which I'd been envisioning appeared (as you can see below).

But then, I saw my own 10 guilder note that I've also kept throughout the years -- and as I examined it more closely, I saw that it did indeed include the word "IJsvogel" towards the bottom of the note, just below a big white space and just above the words "TIEN GULDEN" (TEN GUILDERS).  So I held up the note to the light, and -- Voila!  A Kingfisher on the Dutch 10 guilder note!!!

I honestly don't know if I had noticed the kingfisher watermark several years ago and then just kept it in the back of my mind, subconsciously -- or if it was just dumb luck that these two lines of thinking came together.  But somehow, it felt very satisfying to be able to put the two together.

Kingfishers are cool.  Dutch guilders are (were) cool.  And kingfishers and Dutch guilders together, well, that's just super-duper-cool.

Sunday evenings are always a little bit tricky for our family -- getting home from church late in the evening, needing to eat a quick supper, and then trying to get the kids to bed at a decent time for the beginning of the next school week.

Today, we got home around six-thirty in the evening, and Marci made a quick-but-wonderful breakfast/dinner of scrambled eggs, bacon, and bagels.  Aside from being delicious (for some reason, we've both always loved breakfast food in the evening!) -- it also ended up working well on the level of preparation, eating, and clean-up, such that the kids were in bed by their regular times without too much stress.

So I got to thinking:  we should do this every Sunday (though it doesn't even have to be as "elaborate" as we did it tonight).  When I was growing up (in a ministry family who also had church services on Sunday evenings), I remember that we would have a regular tradition for Sunday suppers:  eating breakfast cereal for our "main course," followed by a "dessert" of popcorn enjoyed while watching the "Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom" (a nature program).  It was awesome.  I looked forward to the experience every week.  So I started thinking:  maybe we should carry-over this same tradition to our family in Amsterdam!

On the one level, I suppose, we might feel like "bad parents" offering our kids such a meal each week.  But then, on the other hand, I still consider those Sunday evenings from my childhood with breakfast cereal, popcorn, and the Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom one of my most cherished childhood memories... Bizarre, huh?

When the Good Lord made me, He granted me a pretty good memory, a decent amount of intelligence, and a moderate degree of athleticism... But, it must be said that the Good Lord, in all His divine wisdom, did not see fit to give me a natural affinity toward working with my hands.  It might even be said that I was given all thumbs -- or perhaps "all pinkies" to perfect the analogy of ineptitude.  Partly because of my upbringing and partly because of my natural talents, I've just never felt very comfortable with mechanical things such as tinkering with cars or bikes, helping with construction projects, or really any other type of "handiwork."

Oh, I've picked up some skills along the way -- at least superficial skills like painting walls and patching tires.  But even these skills have not come naturally.  I still remember the summer between high school and college, when I did some roofing as a part of a job with the maintenance crew of a campground on the North Dakota / Manitoba border.  The very sensations of climbing a tall ladder, holding a hammer, and pounding nails through shingles were awkward novelties.  I felt clumsy, insecure, and ridiculous.  Over time, I did get the hang of things.  But still, whenever I have to learn a new skill, I go back to that same visceral experience of ineptitude, awkwardness, and queasy uncertainty.  Even now, years later -- after adding some skills in restoring antique houses (another summer job), pouring concrete, tiling, laying floors, rebuilding kitchens, and even some minor electrical and plumbing jobs -- I still think of myself as that awkward teenager on the wobbly extension ladder.  I still look at my hands and see "all pinkies."

And yet, for whatever reason, the Good Lord has seen fit over the last several years to keep sending projects in my direction which are forcing me to confront my (perceived) weaknesses and own up to the fact that I can learn.  I can be handy.  And even a hand full of "all pinkies" can be turned into an instrument of efficiency and productivity...

By God's grace -- and with a little help from my friends.

I anticipate that 2009 will be a year of significant challenge and blessing in this direction.  For some time, Marci and I (and when I say this, I mean "primarily Marci" up to this point!) have been preparing to undertake some major renovation projects in our home:  namely removing two walls (one of them weight-bearing), gutting our kitchen, and rebuilding a new-and-improved kitchen/dining area over the space of several months.  We're hiring contractors to do the most involved (and most dangerous) parts of the renovation, but because of our budget we will also end up needing to do a lot of work ourselves.  Demolition, framing walls, hanging drywall and plastering, laying floors, and installing the kitchen will be our responsibility.  And to be honest with you -- even though I willingly accepted the challenge, I'm pretty darn intimidated by the whole prospect...

But this past Tuesday was a great demonstration of God's grace -- in equipping my quivering hands with strength for the job and (especially) in providing friends who could offer practical and emotional support throughout the process.  Our family's kitchen renovation process was formally initiated with the removal of a designer kitchen that was donated to our family from friends (who we know through the kids' school).  This retired couple was moving out of the city, so they had sold their house -- however, the new owners were planning to gut the kitchen and leave all the nice cabinetry and appliances (we're talking tens of thousands of euros worth of stuff) on the curb, to be carted off to the landfill or something.  And since they were heartbroken about the prospect of seeing their lovely kitchen so brutally discarded... And since we were simultaneously scraping together dimes to see if we could afford a low-end IKEA kitches... Well, it just all came together beautifully.  After talking with the new owners, it was agreed that we could have the kitchen immediately upon closing (which happened to be this last Tuesday).

We just had to arrange for the disassembly and removal of the kitchen by ourselves.

I had never removed a kitchen before (at least not one that was intended to be preserved for re-use in another house) -- and I didn't actually know anyone else who had done it either (and we didn't have the money to pay for someone to do it).  There were some complicating factors as well -- such as the beautiful granite countertop which was worth (we estimated) €1500 but which was also built into the walls of the kitchen to an extent at which the former owner, a life-long tradesman himself, said that it would be next-to impossible to get it out without cracking the slab.  However, we simply couldn't pass up the opportunity -- so we planned and prepared to do our best, giving it a try.

And fortunately, we found a bunch of friends who were willing to give it a try together with us.  It always feels so much better to have friends working alongside you in such situations.  Even if they're more-or-less clueless as well.  And fortunately, the crew we were able to assemble was better than clueless (even if they didn't have experience with that specific task of disassembling and removing a kitchen).

In the end -- after a hard day's work -- we were able to get the whole kitchen out more or less intact (even the granite countertop!).  It was exhausting.  But it gave us such a feeling of hope.  Dik and Els helped with getting us oriented in their old kitchen, as well as shutting down the water lines and offering practical advice along the way.  Jaap and Merit were kind enough to trust us strangers in their brand-new house and provide us with practical help in the form of extra tools needed and such.  Octavio, Chenther, and Eric helped to figure out and execute the actual task of kitchen disassembly and removal.  Naomi helped Marci with delivering lunch to the work crew and then packing up the pieces of the kitchen.  Leslie, Ariënne, and Linda helped by playing with our kids, preparing food, washing dishes, and a hundred-and-one other miscellaneous tasks.

And with the help of our friends, we did it!  I'm sure the coming year will bring many other challenges which will require a lot more of God's grace and the help of friends.  But at least we're off to a good start...

Happy New Year!  Marci and I brought in the new year yesterday evening by sitting on our couch, watching Oprah.  I'm not kidding.  We probably would have gone to bed earlier if it weren't for the fact that we knew the noise of the new year would not make for good sleeping (though you'd be surprised by how well our kids managed to sleep through it all).  I guess it's just the season of life that we're in:  married with small children.  The city was exploding around us -- kind of like the amateur fireworks in rural Ohio around the 4th of July, but
with double the level of pyrotechnic enthusiasm an increase in
population density by a factor of 100 -- but we were just riding it out until we could go to sleep.

Kind of funny; kind of sad.

The first year we were living in Amsterdam, Marci and I took our little toddler (Elliot was 21 months old at the time) to a real live party with friends in the neighborhood.  We drank champagne and ate oliebollen at the stroke of midnight.  Then we dodged firecrackers all the way home, depositing our sleeping boy in his crib as quickly as possible, so we could go back outside and marvel at the extraordinary noise, light, and commotion in our neighborhood.  We even called friends and family back in America -- holding out the phone to the street with a "Listen to this!"  We were so enthralled by the whole experience of New Years in Amsterdam.  A couple of years and one kid later, our celebration was toned down to a ten-minute walk through the "war-zone" at midnight.  And now, with three kids in the roost, we just extended bedtimes by an hour or so -- doing a few sparklers at about seven o'clock in the evening -- and when the actual stroke of midnight came, we didn't even bother to look out the window.  So it goes... So it goes...

One thing that was cool about yesterday, however, was the chance that Elliot, Olivia, and I had to walk on water (a frozen pond in a nearby park, as pictured above).  Amsterdam's waterways are currently more frozen than I've ever seen them.  The Amstel River still flows freely, and the more major canals are scattered with thin, patchy ice.  But the side canals are iced over enough for birds to walk on.  And stagnant water -- like the shallow pond in the park near our house -- is frozen enough to allow for people to walk on top.  It's one of those things that people here in the Netherlands always talk about but never seem to experience... so we felt privileged to be able to enjoy the experience for ourselves:  a fun and fitting way to end the packed and poignant year of 2008.

One of the benefits of blogging is the opportunity it gives one to look back over time and remember all the adventures experienced along the way.  And as I was looking back at my blogging from 2008, it seemed appropriate to post my Top 8 from 2008 (since I also noticed that my first post of the year was a "Top 7 from 2007"), so here they are, in chronological order:

16 March 2008 - Zolder50 1st 5 - Highlighted my first real video editing project in approximately six years, which also served to recognize a rather cool milestone as our church celebrated its fifth "birthday" in Amsterdam.  That weekend was also a fun time with friends here in the city...

30 March 2008 - America or Bust - Looking back, we really did spend a remarkable amount of time in 2008 trying to work out (and then live out) the logistics for our three months of "home service leave" in America.  It took quite a struggle with the Dutch bureaucracy before we were finally able to proceed... but we did finally make it (through a back door)...

15 April 2008 - The Legend of T.T. Watkins - This is not just one of my favorite posts of 2008 -- but perhaps also one of my favorite blog posts of all time, highlighting the colorful past of my co-pastor, the Reverend Todd Watkins.  I still don't understand why this news flash didn't go totally viral -- but maybe it still will. :-)  In any event, it was a fun post...

3 June 2008 - Incredi-Bill - A tribute to Marci's maternal grandfather.  Some cool pictures as well as cool stories.  He would have deserved such a tribute even if I wasn't related to him...

29 June 2008 - Big Cow, Big Sky, Big Presidents - The blogging here is perhaps not the greatest, but the particular bit of road trip that the post chronicled was.  Our family had an absolutely amazing experience driving through the Dakotas.  The day that we saw the World's Largest Holstein Cow and witnessed antelope, elk, and pheasants in the wild, out on the prairie, was an unforgettable piece of 2008...

24 August 2008 - Transvaalbuurt - I wrote this piece shortly after officially becoming the lord of my very own little piece of Amsterdam -- an apartment in the Transvaalbuurt of Amsterdam Oost.  Even if nobody else did, I thought it was super-cool to discover the history of my neighborhood...

18 September 2008 - The Hideous Gargoyle of Hoover and Wall - The "economic downturn" was a big theme in the news of 2008, and this story felt like just the right illustration to process the "current events" in my own ways.  It also just turned out to be a fun story...

28 September 2008 - Handcuffs in Church - An unusual experience.  A memorable experience.  Not exactly a "highlight" -- but nevertheless worth mentioning...

It just makes you wonder what might be in store for the coming year.  I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens in 2009.  In any event -- Happy New Year to you all!