There are just three more days until the beginning of my Proverbs 365 project (as previously announced).  Have you added http://proverbs365.ericasp.com to your bookmarks yet?  Are you subsribed to the RSS feed yet?  The new posts will NOT be automatically appearing on my Facebook page, so those of you who follow my regular blogging through this medium may need to consider this.  I'll likely be cross-referencing to Proverbs 365 sometimes, from within this space (my regular blog) -- but the Proverbs study is really designed to be its own thing, running its own course throughout 2010.  I've been working a month ahead on this project (basically following some advice that I learned from Proverbs 21!), and I have to say that it's already turning out to be a very worthwhile experience.

Anyway -- I'd love to have you join me on my journey into the wisdom of the Proverbs... starting in just three days!

Our family is having a lovely last week in Ohio.  We're staying out on Marci's parents' farm, surrounded by drifting snow and extreme cold -- but we are warmed by furnace burning the wood we helped to stockpile in the cellar just two days ago. :-)  The internet connection out here is not the most ideal for blogging, so it may well be the New Year before I'm back to posting.  But stay tuned:  there are interesting stories and images to share from the holidays in Ohio, too...

I got this from my friend?Brooke, who got it from her sister, who got it from?George Ella Lyon. ?But since I'm spending some time back in Ohio for the holidays, together with our families, I figured this might be a good time to try it for myself. ?It's a poem -- adapted from Lyon's original poem, then made into a first-grade writing exercise called "I am from..."

These are the instructions for the exercise that I got from?Brooke's blog:?

Here's the idea:

1. Write down sensory memories from childhood/life. ?smell, touch, sight, hearing, taste

2. Think about sayings you heard often / lyrics from songs, like... "don't let the bed bugs bite"... "safely in his bosom gather"

3. Think about things you smelled, food, mom's perfume, or the feeling of a family blanket

4. Write the senses down, don't explain them, but be detailed. Don't just say, "I am from dad saying " I love you more than the stars" say instead "I am from "I love you more than the stars."

5. Put "I am from" before your memories (or, in our case, we did "We are from"). List some together.?

So see what you think of my own work-in-progress here below:

We are from spontaneous four-part harmony.

We are from It's Soooooooooouuuup!

We are from full, soft, feathery-needled white pine Christmas trees.

We are from basketball with sprained ankles and broken noses.

We are from coffee with dessert while Dad abstains (insisting that he doesn't even drink whiskey).?

We are from Ya sure ya betcha.

We are from duck-colored Carhartt jackets and sports caps.?

We are from Wonderful the Matchless Grace of Jesus.?

We are from porridgey grip on Saturday afternoons and blueberry muffins on Sunday mornings.

We are from dinner table theology, ecclesiology, and homiletical analysis.?

We are from stacks of Readers Digest on the shelf next to the toilet.?

We are from Big Ten football on Saturday afternoons.

We are from big bowls of buttered popcorn on the couch at the end of the day.?

It's still a work in progress. ?In fact, I'm hoping to round out the poem over the Christmas holiday, together with other family members who could contribute memories to the mix. ?Maybe you'd want to try something similar for your family, too.

At any rate, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas!?

We're enjoying the start to our Christmas vacation in Ohio.

Over lunch one of these days, our family was talking about the most obvious differences that we notice between the Netherlands and the United States of America.  It's a common conversation in our trans-Atlantic family.  But it was especially interesting to hear some of Elliot's key points of observation.  Interesting... and enlightening.  Here are some of the things he noted: 

1. American automobile license plates are a lot different from their European counterparts:  a different shape, more colors, more artistically-designed, positioned differently on the car (he seriously went on about the license plates longer than anything else).
2. American automobiles are a lot bigger.  There are a lot more vans and trucks.
3. The "stones" in the sidewalks are a lot bigger in American than they are in Amsterdam (i.e. comparing concrete paving in the USA with stone grids in the Netherlands).
4. The houses are a lot further apart in America.
5. American rooftops are more slanted (while Elliot seems to think that Dutch rooftops are flatter), and they have a lot more chimneys sticking up into the air.
6. There's a lot more commercial signage in the USA than in the Netherlands (which I had never really noticed before, honestly, but is rather startling once your eyes are opened to the difference).
7. People in America like Christmas a lot and put out lots of lights on their houses.  This was one of the first things that both Elliot and Olivia noticed upon landing in Cleveland.  I think an exact quote from one of the kids was, "Whoa!  It's like Christmas City out there!"
8. The chocolate milk in the USA is a lot sweeter and a lot thicker than the chocolate milk in the Netherlands.  Almost more like Dutch vla (pudding) than like milk.

I am about to embark on a new blogging project, and I want to let you know about it.

I know, I know... some of you are probably thinking that I need a new blogging project just about as much as I need another hole in my head.  "Don't you already have enough on your hands?" would be a pretty logical question.  And yes, it's true that my life is plenty full.  But here's how it works in my mind:  I'm considering this project as much of a spiritual discipline as it is an electronic writing project.

So this is the project.  You could say that it's something of a new blog within my existing blog.  Starting with the new year (1 January 2010), I am going to be initiating this project that I'm calling "Proverbs 365" -- in which I will be going through one chapter of the Biblical Proverbs each day, choosing a single verse (or small cluster of verses) as a source of meditation and reflection, and then writing a short piece aimed at making one particular Proverb applicable and relevant to my daily life, living in 21st Century Western Culture.  As the name of the project suggests, I'm planning to do this not just one day -- but 365 days in a row.  One whole year of soaking in the Proverbs.

If you've read much in the way of Christian literature, you might be familiar with a devotional book by Oswald Chambers, entitled "My Utmost For His Highest."  Basically, this project is like that -- except electronic and purely based on the Proverbs. :-)

I'm actually really excited about the project, and while I realize thatit's a bit ambitious I also feel like it's really do-able andbeneficial for my own life.  I've actually already been following thisrhythm since the beginning of December (partly to evaluate itsdo-ability and partly to work one month ahead of my blogging"deadlines," allowing for regular posting even when I may fall behind acouple of days in my own reading and inevitably need to catch-up) --and I'm really excited about what's coming out of my readings already!

So anyway, if you're interested in learning more about this project -- and hopefully even following along a bit -- I would encourage you to visit the new Proverbs 365 section of my website.   I think it would be cool if you told others about the project as well (since part of my idea is to maybe turn this into a real book someday), so the website to pass along is http://proverbs365.ericasp.com.  Also, if you use an RSS feed reader, you can plug in the following URL to your feed-reader:  http://proverbs365.ericasp.com/?tempskin=_rss2 -- and on the first of January, the fun will begin!

Any feedback on these ideas would also be welcome!

Christmas is approaching very quickly, and our family's travels to Ohio are approaching even more quickly!  My thoughts and emotions have been very scattered, leading up to the holidays.  I'm feeling extremely enthusiastic -- almost euphoric at times -- about the prospect of being back with family for this special time of the year.  But then at the same time, in considering the realities of all of my family being back together for the first time in several years (with some of the cousins just meeting each other for the first time, even) and trying to blend our disparate lives again for a couple of weeks, I've had little foreshadowings of the stresses which are also somewhat inevitable.  Holidays are a funny thing in this way.

In a sense, we find ourselves driven by the tension between two
truisms:  "There's no place like home," and "You can't go home again."

Our celebrations of the winter holidays seem to have an awful lot to do with sentimentality.  This became clear to me as I thought about the Dutch cultural phenomenon of Sinterklaas -- wondering how parents could go to the lengths they do, to make the holiday special for their children (and really, my Dutch friends, I don't know if you can fully understand the extent of these lengths unless you have young children here yourself).  I was having a hard time understanding how parents would put up with the whole charade, when it suddenly dawned on me that it all comes down to sentimentality.  I don't have much in the way of childhood sentimentality for Sinterklaas (since I didn't grow up in the Netherlands), so I don't have the fuel needed to power myself through the annual re-enactment of that particular holiday.  I do, however, have my own special memories of Christmas in America, and that's what I'm trying to get back to during the holidays -- along with my fellow Americans who tend to make a lot of movies and write a lot of songs about this particular holiday (while to Dutch people, who didn't grow up with American Christmas, the whole hype seems ridiculous).  So when I think about it like this, it all makes a lot more sense.

The whole pageantry of Sinterklaas and Santa Lucia and Christmas and is fueled by nostalgia and a hope to recapture some of the child-like wonder of the season -- or at least to allow the next generation to capture such an experience in our stead.  I'm not necessarily saying that this is bad or wrong.  I'm just saying that there's something powerful there that drives the engines of the American Christmas Machine (or the Dutch Sinterklaas Machine).  And I honestly think that it comes down to sentimentality, more than the Dutch quest for low-key gezelligheid, more than the American quest for meaning and purpose, more than any sense of materialism or mythology...

Does this explanation make sense to anyone else?  Does anyone else feel the tension of living between those truisms?  In any event, I wish you all a happy Christmas -- celebrating whatever it means to you right now!  Enjoy the nostalgia, enjoy the sentimentality... but don't forget to enjoy it for what it is this year, too.

I couldn't go to bed tonight without posting a few of the pictures from our recent family photo shoot with the incomparable Marco Pauws.

There are many more excellent photos (including more "standard" portraiture) where these ones came from -- and all of them can be viewed in the Family Pictures section of the website.  But these were a few of my favorites... and I figured that these three were a good tease to the rest of the collection!  We ended up having a beautiful evening for the shoot, just this past Tuesday, and we found some beautiful places to catch the light along the dijk out toward Waterland.

Marco was truly a joy to work with -- as both a friend and as a photographer.  He's currently in the process of developing his own photography business, and I couldn't recommend him highly enough.  He's an incredible artist, he's quick with the turn-around, and he's still very reasonably priced (considering that he's still kind of in the start-up phase).  If you're looking for a photographer for anything, I seriously advise you to get in touch with Marco.  His website is www.polopix.blogspot.com (where you can also see some of his other work).

Anyway, although I'm more than happy to plug my friend's business, I really just wanted to post these pictures for everyone's enjoyment.  Don't forget you can find more shots from this photo shoot in the Family Pictures section!

Our home group is coming to a close this week.  In preparation for our church's transition to Communities, we're disbanding this fellowship -- with the members of our group poised to play key roles in initiating, establishing, or reinforcing multiple other Communities within Amsterdam50.  For the most part, we're pretty excited for what lies ahead.  But I'd also say that we're going through something of a grieving process, remembering all that God has done through the years in developing this little spiritual family.

It's been a good group.

We started with a random group of strangers, meeting up for a drink in the cafe on the Rozengracht and awkwardly getting to know one another.  Me and Marci, Jen and Jurren (although they weren't Jen-and-Jurren back in those days), Shawn, Sherry... maybe one or two others that I can't remember.  We didn't know exactly what to talk about, but we knew we eventually wanted to become a home group.  A couple of weeks later, I remember sharing my 26th birthday on the 26th of February, 2003 with the home group with our first evening meeting -- in the Leidsekade apartment where our family was staying at the time.  And since that time, we've spent many evenings -- and mornings and afternoons -- together with each other...

Over the years, our group grew and developed.  We eventually multiplied, and then multiplied again, and again -- with a total of four groups having descended from that original home group (though one of the four groups died and reabsorbed back into one of the other branches of the family tree).  The names of the people who've been involved along the way are many:  Renske, Nathalie, Mariska, Sander, Marco, Kor, Gerard, Jetske, Jens, Luka, Elisa, Sokol, Alex, Samuel, Melanie, Bram, Linda, Leslie, William, Robert, Christel, Christian, Mirjam, Guy, Becky, Geert Jan, Anne, Mourad, Lukas, Vera, Neil, Maria, Rosa, Ben, Saskia, Suzy, Meghan, Rada, Jeroen, Tanya, Chenther, Amarys, Fons, Tobias, Piotr, Martijn, Steven, Marcus... and this is by no means an exhaustive list!  Not only have people gone from our group(s) to help start other groups in Amsterdam -- but we've even sent out "missionaries" to Brussels and Southeast Asia!

I'd like to think that future generations will be blessed by the legacy of our home group(s) as well.  Certainly our children have been blessed by all the surrogate uncles and aunts.  And in addition to Elliot and Olivia and Cor,  there's been Selina and Selina, Jaydee, Lise, Daisy, and Eron... plus a number of other couples who have hooked up in the context of our group and could easily become their own families someday.  It's crazy to think of what all can come out of a home group!

Along the way, we've had some hard times.  I remember bringing flowers to Linda after her cat, Bagheera, died.  I remember counseling Jen and Jurren through a break-up and temporary home group reassignment (though they're back together again now).  I remember the time that some creepy guy kept calling up Renske in the middle of the night.  I remember more good-bye parties than I care to count.  I remember the feeling of defeat when the home group I was leading two years ago had to fold.  I remember the conversations that our group had about a year ago, when we realized that we were doing a pretty crappy job of listening to each other and really loving each other.

But, of course, we've had some good times, too.  I remember when Chenther and Steven helped to carry the unbelievably heavy granite slab that now serves as our kitchen counter (they always say that you know your true friends by the ones who'll show up to help you move!).  I remember when Jurren, Renske, Sokol, Leslie, Nathalie, Jeroen, Vera, and Maria were baptized.  I remember winning the "50 Cup," an absurd aluminum-foil trophy handed out for the winner of our church's summer speurtocht, for three years in a row!  I remember our children performing for the group before weekly Bible studies.  I remember special dinners together.  I remember countless birthday parties and a handful of weddings...

It's been a good run.  Not perfect.  But good.  We really did succeed in what we set out to do.  We succeeded in becoming a spiritual family that could grow and develop together through the years.

And now it's coming to an end.  Several of our group members have already left town for the holidays, and when we all come back for the new year, we'll be moving onto Communities.  It'll be odd, in some ways.  But I'm hoping and praying that what's yet to come will be more of the same -- and perhaps even better stuff down the road...

[In case you're interested (especially for those who have been a part of the home group at one point or another), you can find a small, random, retrospective collection of photographs in the Zolder50 Pictures section of this website.]

How is it that one of the most tolerant, liberal, open, and integrated societies in the world can also be one of the most likely places to receive an impromptu lecture from a stranger?

It's completely baffling to me -- and completely infuriating, too.  And yet I just got home from another streetside lecture (an old man telling me that I need to watch where I'm going, when I'm biking -- though I sincerely cannot see how I posed him any danger while waving to other friends across the street, on their way to school).  And I freshly realize how grating this difference in cultures can be for me -- where a perfect stranger finds it well within his rights (or even his duties) to play the role of schoolmaster for another adult with whom he is not acquainted.  And this was not just some isolated incident.  It feels like it happens to me all the time, especially considering the fact that I am the parent of young children.

Case in point:  My son Cor is a toddler.  So, of course, he toddles.  That is, he walks and runs with a peculiar wobble -- always seemingly on the cusp of falling over.  Sometimes he does fall over.  I'm used to this about him.  This is part of what I find adorable about him.  About all children approximately his age.  Most people probably find this amusing and adorable about toddlers.  But this is something that might not be patently obvious to everyone:  Cor's stance is actually a lot more sturdy than it might seem.  He's no push-over.  He's strong, sturdy, and even if he takes a fall he is remarkably quick in dusting himself off, getting back up on his feeet and back into the fray.  Especially for Cor, with two active, older siblings, he's proved himself to be always ready for adventure.  And even when his adventures don't always work out for him (resulting in numerous bumps and bruises), I've learned that he can't be shielded from everything.  The boy in him and the toddler in him naturally call for managing some degree of risk.  Do you get my drift?  Toddle, yes.  Coddle, no.

So I've become relatively comfortable with this balancing act -- trying to help Cor realize his limitations when he might more seriously hurt himself, but then also letting him learn some lessons for himself, if the danger is not too great.  One's third child affords one this luxury, going on a bit of accumulated intuition.

But here's the problem with this parenting predicament (and I can imagine you can see where this might be going, considering my current frustrations about the streetside lecture):  not everyone has this acquired understanding.  Now, I can understand why strangers might be concerned if they see a little two-year-old toddling in an environment that may seem less-than-completely-safe:  for instance when Cor is standing alongside the neighborhood canal, feeding the ducks, or when he's climbing the little wall / sculpture (at a height of 1 or 2 meters off the ground) in the Tropenmuseum.  I can understand how people would take a casual glance at this wobbly little toddler, perched precariously, seemingly a whisker away from falling in the canal or cracking his head on the floor -- and their heart skips a beat, and they momentarily start from their casual stroll, ready to play the role of life guard.  This all makes sense to me, and I actually appreciate this fact of human nature.

But I personally have a hard time with the Dutch cultural response to such this situation:  i.e. lecturing.

I know, I know... I need to be careful here.  I can't make blanket statements that apply to all Dutch people, and even if I could, I wouldn't want to judge one culture over another -- pronouncing the one's way of dealing with stress as "good" and the other's as "bad."  I know that people mean well.  But it does bother me, as an American living in the Netherlands, when a stranger starts to lecture me in public, about my parenting responsibilities.  In my culture, a stranger expressing strong opinions and immediately jumping into a condescending tone is considered extremely rude and inappropriate.  But here, apparently, it's not.

"You need to be careful with a little boy like that!" they scold me.  "He could fall in that canal (or off that ledge, or whatever).  He could hurt himself very seriously."  Their tone suggests that they're about to call Child Protection Services on me.  "What are you thinking?!?  You must not let him play by himself like that!"  Their speech is filled with imperative statements and -- most grating -- that tone of voice used by a strict schoolmarm, disciplining a little child.  It's condescending and presumptive and moralistic, which is very ironic because once you get to know Dutch culture you see that it's not this way about other things at all.

Does anyone else get frustrated by this pedantic aspect of society?  Is it uniquely Dutch -- or would I be experiencing the same irritations if I was raising small children in the American Midwest?  And then:  What is the most appropriate response to such a situation?  I'm still trying to sort this out for myself.  In the beginning, I would just kind of nod my head and sulk away, tail between my legs.  Now I give them a cold, hard stare back and basically ignore their words.  At times I've been tempted to tell them off, mysel, but then this scares me because it demonstrates that I'm assimilating to the culture in this aspect (if I'm ready to lecture back to the stranger who is attempting to lecture me!)...

Or maybe I just go home and write a semi-pedantic blog about living in a nation of pedants and marms.

I've gotten some very interesting feedback on yesterday's post, in which I was kind of "Scrooging" on the Dutch celebration of Sinterklaas.  You'll have to read the comments, if you're interested in tuning into the whole dialogue.  But the most interesting feedback of all, I think, came from my friend Tori, who referred me to a YouTube video of David Sedaris (an American writer, often featured on National Public Radio) sharing some of his reflections on Sinterklaas.  I think the video does a tremendous job of pointing out the oddities and irregularities of both Dutch culture and American culture... And it's just plain hilarious.

So as a Sinterklaas present to all of you, I present David Sedaris and "Six to Eight Black Men"...

Tomorrow is Sinterklaas -- the happiest of holidays for Dutch children.  Today, everyone is celebrating at the schools.  Especially for those living with school-aged children, this is all a very big deal.  I understand why the kids like it, of course:  lots of gifts, candy, special Sinterklaas songs, and a mythical figure prancing through the streets of their city and halls of their school.

But I have to admit that I have a hard time understanding it from a parental perspective.  Particularly an immigrant-parental perspective.

Naturally, there is a lot of sentimentality for Dutch people when it comes to parents helping to make the holiday a very special occasion for their children -- remembering and re-living their own childhoods.  But honestly -- coming at this whole Sinterklaas shindig from a more detached, culturally-curious perspective -- it's not a holiday that has a whole lot to offer parents.  Some might accuse me of being a something of a Scrooge or a Grinch in this (pardon the comparisons to Christmas antagonists), but I just have to say that there are some things that still perplex me deeply about Sinterklaas.

First of all, it's a holiday that comes with a lot of homework.  I know this is supposed to be fun and all that -- thus not really "homework" -- but when it comes to having a seven-year-old and a five-year-old write clever, themed poetry and design creative, personalized gift-packaging out of papier maché (the basic elements of the Sinterklaas "surprise" tradition), all on a relatively tight schedule... it sure does feel a lot like homework!  We still try to make it fun for the children.  But let me tell you:  it's not fun for the parents.

Second of all, what's the idea with making Sinterklaas a school-based holiday?!?  OK, I get it that it's easier to hire the guy in the red suit to come to a whole collective of families and such... But it's strange for me that one of the most significant holidays of the year is celebrated in a school context.  I'm sure this is just the American in me interacting to cultural differences.  But to me, important holidays are family occasions first of all and only secondarily social occasions.  But even the social holidays in America are not work days or school days!  But here in the Netherlands, Sinterklaas seems to be one of the highlights on the school calendar.  The family celebrations are quite secondary, it seems.  All the decorations, all the songs, all the school pageants, all the interaction with the Sint and the Pieten themselves -- it all happens at the schools.  This just seems so foreign to me.  But then what's odd is that while everything is happening at the schools, all other stores and businesses are operating as usual -- so none of the grown-ups really have the day off.  So how are the parents supposed to make such a high priority of being there for the "gezellige feestje" at the school?  Again, I just don't get it... 

And finally, I have kind of a hard time with Sinterklaas because it seems to have very little redeeming social value.  I mean seriously: What is Sinterklaas about except for mythology and materialism?  Kids go crazy over a whole seemingly random mythology.  They get a bunch of presents and sweets... And that's it.  I realize that this can sound a lot like the American Christmas (which, granted, can also easily get out of hand).  But with American Christmas, you at least have this cultural dialogue about "the true meaning of the holiday season."  Christians, of course, celebrate Christmas not just as a time of materialism and mythology but as the beginning point of faith and hope.  But even secularists will talk about Christmas as a season of "giving" or "sharing" or "being with family" or "hope."  Right?  But Sinterklaas doesn't even try to allude to any deeper meaning than the mythology and the materialism.

I don't get it.  I suppose I should apologize for my culturally-insensitive rant.  But if anyone could actually explain it to me in a way that transcends "But it's fun for the children" -- I would be very interested to hear it.  Maybe it's more about preserving Dutch culture in an increasingly globalized society... Maybe it's more about teaching children to be imaginative or something like that... Maybe it's something else.  What do you think?

As a general rule, young Amsterdammers are independent thinkers, fiercely committed to fair trade, generally ideologically opposed to "globalization," and by most all accounts quite liberal.  Yes, I'm trucking in stereotypes a bit here -- but I think most would agree that Dutch young people are generally the type of people who would show up wherever the G8 Summit might be taking place and protest the "Evil Capitalist Elite."  You know the type that I'm talking about, don't you?  They are politically active, they think green, and they are almost categorically against any sense of "The Man."

So I think it's ironic -- and a little bit funny -- that young Amsterdammers also seem to be crazy about Starbucks.

I find it ironic because Starbucks seems to epitomize globalization (with hundreds of franchise locations around the world -- and an almost inescapable corporate presence in so many cities)... they seem to serve as something of a poster child for American Capitalism (with large amounts of liquid being sold at hefty prices)... and -- while they do seem to be more committed to social responsibility and ethical business practices than many other world-wide businesses -- everyone still knows (deep down, though they don't always like to admit it) that Starbucks is the personification of the "evil mega-corporation" that could very well serve as the front for Dr. Evil's quest for world domination.

I don't know why it's taken Starbucks this long to make any significant inroads within the Netherlands (rumors abound on this subject) -- but a couple of years ago, a Starbucks appeared on the inside ("for passengers only") part of Schiphol Airport.  A year later, a Starbucks popped up outside of the gated area, where anyone could access the establishment (presumably while picking someone up or dropping someone off).  And now, within the last couple of months, Starbucks seems to have struck a deal with the Dutch National Railroad, putting Starbucks stores within several of the main train stations throughout the country (including Amsterdam Centraal Station).  And now, there are long lines of young Amsterdammers lining up to spend their €6 for a small cup of espresso-based beverage... while still holding fiercely to their anti-global, anti-corporate, anti-American sentiments.

Doesn't this seem ironic and incongruent to anyone else?

I don't understand it.  I don't condemn any position on the spectrum, given that I, too, don't want to have anything to do with promoting slavery or injustice in the developing world -- but I do enjoy a good Caramel Macchiato whenever I can get one. :-)  But I am fascinated by the apparent contradiction and subtle hypocrisy that creeps into the picture in situations like this.  How does Starbucks do it?  I think they have to be geniuses!  They trade with the best of the mega-corporations on Wall Street, but they simultaneously find friends among the protesters and progressives in the Pacific Northwest and beyond.  How do they do it?  They're geniuses, I'm telling you.  Either that, or we're all dupes...