Upcoming conference

Gina here. This weekend I am heading to a conference in Portugal called One by One IberoAmerica. It is a conference that started out as directed at Nazarenes on the Western Mediterranean Field (Italy, Portugal, Spain, France, and the Azores). Then, they welcomed Nazarenes from all Spanish and Portuguese-speaking countries. Then, they opened it up to anyone.

A variety of meetings and trainings are taking place in conjunction with the weekend conference. One of them is a three-day training for field strategy coordinators -- people who direct and/or support denominational ministry at the field level (each region is made up of "fields" and within the fields are "districts" made up of the local churches). We have about 35 fields around the world.

I have been given 45 minutes to talk with these wonderful and hardworking people about storytelling -- why we do it, how it helps to shape and unify us as a global church family, and ideas and discussion on how we can do it more effectively. I am working on a PowerPoint presentation, along with a resource CD to distribute.

Then, during the conference, I will be interviewing different people about what God is doing in their lives or their part of the world, as well as reporting on the conference itself.

I would really appreciate your prayers now through April 29. Please pray with me that God will help me use the time and opportunities effectively, that I can connect and collaborate with those who share my passion for telling more of the stories of our church, and that I can come away with new relationships on which we can build better communications in the future.

Please also pray for the conference and all those who will be attending: for safe and smooth travels, the Spirit's work of renewal, refreshing, unifying and empowering, and for more effective ministry across our church as a result of this gathering.

Remember in prayer those who have been planning the event -- for their sanity, and for strength and endurance during this very busy and stressful time.

Thanks again for being part of what God is doing in our church and in us through your prayers and support!

Learning to make a Swiss bread

If there's one thing Americans will rave about after visiting this region, it's the amazing bread and the fantastic cheese (or general dairy products). Bread and cheese are among the many things that Swiss and Germans know how to do right.

Our favorite bread here is called Zopf. It's a braided, dense white bread that is traditionally made on a Friday or Saturday and eaten on Sundays. From what I've read, it may be similar to or the same thing as Challah. It's just mouthwatering.

And since one part of being a missionary or a resident in another culture involves doing your best to learn about the culture and adapt to its ways, learning to make this bread seemed like a good way to appreciate this culture in a more up-close way. :-)

I was fortunate that my Swiss friend, Cornelia, knows how to make this and offered to show me how. One evening she walked me through the process and allowed me to practice the braiding technique in her kitchen. The next week, I tried on my own and it was a rousing success! I made it again last weekend, and I must say, Zopf makes an incredibly rich French toast, too. :-)

The ingredient list is short, and making this is actually not too difficult, although it is time consuming and makes a mess. It's worth it: the outcome is a little piece of heaven.

(Makes 2 large loaves)

Ingredients

1 kilo (2.2 pounds) of white flour

250 grams cold butter (1/2 cup

3 teaspoons salt

2 teaspoons sugar

1 block (42 grams or 1.5 ounces) yeast (in the refrigerated section)

0.65 liters of room temperature milk (0.7 quarts)

1 egg

1. Crumble the yeast into milk and whisk until blended

2. Pour the flour into large mixing bowl and add sugar and salt.

3. Cut in cold butter (you can use room temperature butter, too)

4. Pour in the milk and stir until a dough forms, pulling away from sides of the bowl.

5. Dump dough onto floured surface and knead 5-10 minutes, adding more white flour as kneaded so that it becomes elastic and no longer sticky.

6. Place dough in a large bowl and set in warm place to rise for 1 hour. Dough should double in size.

7. Return dough to floured surface and cut into quarters. Roll out two pieces into long cords.

8. Follow the weaving procedure on this website, www.about.ch/culture/food/zopf.html.

9. After two loaves are formed, cover on a baking sheet for another 15 miutes.

10. Beat one egg in a small bowl, and use a basting brush to brush egg onto the top surfaces of the loaves.

11. Bake in the oven at about 200 celsius (about 400 F) about 30 minutes, or until the bottom of the loaves are hard when you tap them. Enjoy!

He KNOWS

In what I think of as Stephen Lawhead's pinnacle novel, Byzantium, Aeddan was a young, inexperienced monk in Celtic Ireland, chosen for the prestigious post of helping to carry the Book of Kells to the pope in Constantinium, in hopes that the Eastern Pope, during a time of divided Christianity, would offer protection for the Celtic Christians, who were experiencing pressure from Rome.

Along the pilgrimage, Aeddan and his companions were captured by crude, violent Vikings from the far north, and experienced many sufferings, persecutions and the loss of many of their gentle companions. Somewhere along the way, the Vikings were also taken captive, and similarly abused, beaten and pushed near to death. Many of them died.

In this unexpected turn of events, captives and captors became equal, so that Aeddan and his former captors were forced to work together to survive, and through these trials, they even became dear friends.

But it was because of all this suffering that Aeddan lost his faith in God. How could a God who is supposedly good allow so much evil and pain? Only when his Viking friends questioned him on points about his strange and foreign God, because they knew he was a priest in another religion, did Aeddan reluctantly answer their questions. He didn't know how to tell them he didn't believe the Bible stories himself anymore.

After all their adventures ended, and Aeddan came safely back to his monastery in Ireland, and the Vikings returned home to their northern forests, Aeddan gave up the cloth, but found himself in misery, lost, without a purpose.

He was surprised then, when suddenly a Viking ship was seen off the coast, and his friends rowed up onto the shore. Gunnar, his closest friend among the Viking men, grinning, exploded with what he thought was the good news that he and his companions were going to worship Christ now, and to build Him a church in their village. They had come to ask the monastery to send a priest back with them to teach their families and friends about this new God.

Aeddan was deflated. He had to finally admit to his Viking companions that he no longer followed this God.

In the final pages of the book, the two men sat side by side to talk. Gunnar sadly reports that his beloved wife and many family members died of a fever while he was gone.

"But everyone dies, and I will see her again in heaven, heya?"

Despair cast its dark cloak over me, and I said, "You see how unreliable this God is, and yet you still want to build a church? Truly, Gunnar, you are better off without it."

Gunnar regarded me in disbelief. "How can you speak so, Aeddan -- especially after all we have seen?"

"It is because of all we have seen that I speak as I do," I retorted. "God cares nothing for us. Pray if it makes you feel better; do good if it pleases you, but God remains unmoved and unconcerned either way."

Gunnar reminded Aeddan that his people have long prayed to gods who did not see, hear or care.

"But I remember the day you told me about Jesu who came to live among the fisherfolk, and was nailed to a tree by the skalds and Romans and hung up to die. And I remember thinking, this Hanging God is unlike any of the others; this god suffers, too, just like his people."

"I remember also that you told me he was a god of love and not revenge, so that anyone who calls on his name can join him in his great feasting hall. I ask you now, does Odin do this for those who worship him? Does Thor suffer with us?"

Aeddan was stunned at this interpretation of the stories he had told Gunnar, who continued, "Do you remember when the mine overseer was going to kills us? There we were, our bodies were broken, our skin blackened by the sun -- how hot it was! Remember?"

Gunnar went on: "I was thinking: I am going to die today, but Jesu also died, so he knows how it is with me. And I was thinking, would he know me when I came to him? Yes! Sitting in his hall, he will see me sail into the bay and he will run down to meet me on the shore; he will wade into the sea and pull my boat onto the sand and welcome me as his wayfaring brother. Why will he do this? Because he too has suffered, and he knows, Aeddan, he knows." Beaming, Gunnar concluded, "Is that not good news?"

This passage is why I rank this among the very few books that have changed my life.

We Western Christians talk often of something we call the "Problem of Suffering," or the "Problem of Pain." In our affluent culture, we can afford to avoid all kinds of everyday pain that is a way of life in developing nations or among the poor. Because we can, we try to.

If we are sick, we can go to the doctor and get treatment. Not always can our human medicine fix every problem or dull every pain, but we can get rid of a lot. If you have ever experienced a brief time of life-stopping pain, either a back spasm, a migraine, a cyst, a urinary tract infection; if you have ever had a bacterial infection that you could quickly treat with a visit to an urgent care center and a trip to Wal-greens or some other ubiquitous pharmacy, has it ever crossed your mind what you would do if suddenly all those treatments we take for granted didn't exist?

Imagine if we didn't have access to medicine for migraines, or back pain; imagine if we couldn't put antibiotic fluid on an open cut that had been exposed to soil or a contaminating agent? What would you do if you had a severe bladder infection and no means to treat it?

Much of the world lives with these periodic or chronic physical pains everyday. Some of it is not life-threatening; some of it is. People around the world have learned to live with pain.

In affluent countries, like everywhere, we also experience the unavoidable pain of tragically lost loved ones, divorce and broken relationships, abuse, sexual molestation, even less "serious" but equally painful experiences as teasing and rejection in school, failed dreams, lost jobs, lost homes, lost pets.

Just because we are affluent doesn't mean we don't suffer. Our pain is very real, but we have ways of dealing with it. We have counselors. We have the advantages of understanding some levels of human psychology and how to more effectively deal with traumas and damaged emotions than if we did not have what knowledge we have. We have mood-altering medications such as anti-depressants, anti-anxiety pills and more -- which recent studies show we are taking advantage of in greater and greater numbers.

When we experience natural catastrophes such as tornadoes and earthquakes, the pain of devastation and loss is very real, but government programs, insurance companies and teams of volunteers swoop in to clean it up and make it disappear as fast as we possibly can, paying out checks for what damage can be measured in dollars, and then rebuilding.

My point is not to say that affluent Western Christians don't experience suffering and pain. We do. What I'm saying is that culturally, we are oriented toward doing everything we can to make it stop. That's why we see counselors, spend time listening to friends; that's why at the very first pang of pain or ache, we pop painkillers or call a doctor's office for an appointment.

When a loved one dies or is torn from our life, our friends and family members are oriented toward helping us heal and move past it. We pray for healing. We pray and try to make the bad feelings stop.

And so, perhaps the one advantage that people in developing countries have over us is that they have learned to dwell and live in suffering and pain. They have learned to take it for granted. They have come to understand that suffering is part of life.

And in this way, they can not only accept a God who suffers too, but they can find immense relief and peace and joy and hope in this knowledge.

For us Westerners, I believe the suffering God is often a stumbling block. A God who allows suffering leads us to question His character and His goodness. Because we, in our Western orientation to ending pain as quickly as possible, assume that to be good -- and to have power and resources -- means God should do the same.

But what if that's not how God is oriented? What if one of the central joys of our Gospel message is that our God is one who has suffered? That our God can understand our pain because He has experienced the greatest pain of any conscious entity in the universe? He has not lost just one or two loved ones. He has lost billions. He has not been rejected by some people. He has been rejected by billions. He is forced to watch his living loved ones self-destruct in the most horrible ways, blind to the hope and joy and peace that He offers, and -- indeed -- the healing.

Our God suffers. He has suffered, He suffers now and He will continue to suffer.

His suffering is not forced upon Him, either. While we cannot avoid pain in this life, He can. For God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the worst suffering imaginable -- no, beyond our imagining -- has been a choice. And that choice has been 100% on our behalf. Because God wants to know what it is like to be us. And He wants to know that because He wants to be there in suffering with us.

This concept of simply dwelling in suffering is not something I could understand until 2010, when I came with Andrew to Europe, leaving behind our familiarities, our families and support systems. I quickly became very sick. After seeing doctor after doctor after doctor and finding no answers, getting test after test after test that showed nothing, and therefore having no knowledge of what to do to get better, I realized I had no recourse but just to dwell in a season of sickness.

One difficulty with being sick for several months, with no hint as to when it may end, is that it brings depression. You begin to wonder and lose hope that you might feel better. You can't go to work normally, you can't make plans with people in case you relapse and have to cancel, and you sense or assume that people won't want to spend time with someone who is depressed and sick. So you fall into some level of isolation.

There was added stress from my American cultural orientation that whispered to me I needed to force a positive, happy attitude on myself, and not let this problem get me down. But I knew I would be lying to myself and others. I didn't feel positive or happy or hopeful. I felt depressed.

That's when God seemed to be saying to me that I needed to just stop trying to feel better, both physically and emotionally, and that I just needed to accept some suffering for a while. Strangely, this harsh-sounding message did not feel cruel to me. In fact, it gave me a great sense of peace. I felt God saying that it was OK for me to hurt, and that it was OK for me to feel bad. It was time for me to simply experience this without my end goal involving doing whatever I could to make it stop.

After this experience, I have begun to have the faintest glimmer of understanding about suffering. Not much, because in 2011 I mysteriously got better. I have some theories as to why, but nothing concrete that I can "prove." My point is that while I have not suffered much compared to many people in this world, God showed me a little something about suffering: that He understands. That He wants to ENTER into suffering with me, and He does so out of His own experiences of suffering -- more suffering than I will ever experience or comprehend.

I also understand a little bit better that as a follower of Christ, I am called to enter into the suffering of others. While I think all Christians have a desire to bring an end to suffering and pain in any way that we can, and I still think we should do all we can toward those ends, I also think that first and foremost, before trying to prescribe solutions and raise campaigns and dole out advice to end all the world's forms of suffering and pain, we need to simply enter into it with others. We need to just BE with them in their suffering. That is what God did for us in the shape of Jesus Christ. FIRST, he ENTERED into our suffering on earth. The death and resurrection came AFTER that.

This is why I love more than ever, Gunnar's words in Byzantium: "He too has suffered, and he knows, Aeddan, he knows. Is that not good news?"

Isaiah 53:2-4, 7, 12c

New International Version (NIV)

He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,

nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

He was despised and rejected by mankind,

a man of suffering, and familiar with pain

Like one from whom people hide their faces

he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.

Surely he took up our pain

and bore our suffering,

yet we considered him punished by God,

stricken by him, and afflicted.

he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,

and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,

so he did not open his mouth.

For he bore the sin of many,

and made intercession for the transgressors.

-- Gina Pottenger

On Being "Missionaries"

One of the enduring images in my mind of what a missionary does is, as the familiar phrase puts it, "tell others about Jesus." This image is probably gleaned from childhood Sunday School classes; certainly not from the numerous Sunday worship services involving missionary speakers (I skipped every single one as a child, or at least did so far more often than I ever sat through one).

How surprising to find that, in reality, not every missionary is engaged in Bible-translating, church-planting, or door-to-door evangelism. There are pastors, teachers, and evangelists, yes. There are also office managers, accountants, communications and journalism experts, cooks, house-keepers, maintenance staff, coffee shop workers, musicians, computer technicians, and the list goes on. An average day is spent doing average work, much like we'd be doing back home in our own countries - involving numbers, cubicles, and the very same rewards and frustrations as anybody in any other occupation would experience anywhere else.

The significant difference is that missionaries do this work in another country than their own. The obvious question is "Why?"

For myself, I go back first of all to the clear message in Scripture that this gift of salvation - the receiving of God's love involving forgiveness and freedom from sin - is not just for you and me alone. I understand the Scriptures as teaching that God does a great work in my life for the purpose of doing a great work in the lives of others through me. I am not to keep it entirely to myself, but to generously share what I've experienced and learned of His love with others ... because we are all in need.

And it's because the early Christians realized that we are ALL in need that they began traveling elsewhere to share the so-absurd-and-transforming-it-has-to-be-true message that one God had created all things and sent his Son Jesus to die on a Roman cross and be raised to life, all because of His infinite love. But not all of them were church-planters, pastors, and teachers. Some also had 'regular' jobs, but lived intentionally so that anyone they met came into personal contact with God through them. It wasn't about starting a new religion, or making everyone agree with them, or submit to the fine-print of every single teaching or creed. Sharing the hope and love they experienced was so important that they had to share it with everyone, even if it meant leaving home and settling down somewhere else to share that hope and love with people far away. And, truly, the people who are treasured in your heart are never far away whether it's people living elsewhere or your friends and family back home.

The same is true in our case. We would have been content to stay home and do very similar work we've done here. And we could have done the same work for the same reason without leaving our own country. For God's own reasons, we find that our lives are mysteriously but clearly directed to leave the U.S. behind: our first year was a trial run, and our second year a confirmation. We both look back at different parts of our lives and find them coalescing into more of a big picture.

But we are not standing on street corners, knocking on door after door, preaching in church after church, or deliberately trying to have spiritual conversations with every single person we encounter. There are people who are gifted in these ways, and people for whom only such a direct confrontation will communicate. If the love of Christ is primary and truth is being spoken and God is working through these methods as evidenced by the lives that are genuinely changed, then more power to them. But there are also people who do not respond to such a direct approach, and there are believers - like Gina and I - for whom that approach could never come naturally because it's not how God made us. We believe that God created an incredibly diverse human race with a vast array of personal characteristics, and that believers are similarly gifted in diverse ways to share God's love with people of all different types without exception. Gina and I are gifted to take a quieter, more gradual approach and we are most often in contact with those for whom no other method would be remotely effective.

In fact, we do not see ourselves as operating according to an approach or method at all. We do not understand ourselves as working according to an "agenda" of any kind. We are simply being and becoming who God created us to be: entirely human in every respect, and not anything more or less due to our religious faith and spiritual experience or commitment. We are family members, co-workers, customers, and friends who are no different in any fundamental way that separates us from anybody else. If someone wants to know more, wants us to pray for or with them, or even wants right then and there to receive Christ, that's great! But most often, we find that people just need to be loved in ways that are meaningful for them.

But make no mistake about it: we are not shy or afraid to point straight and clearly to Christ. And we have experienced something profound and mysterious at a deep level that has changed us and continues to do so. Our faith, our belief, is that this Mystery is nothing other or less than God himself pouring his infinite love into our lives, changing us (sometimes dramatically, sometimes just a little over time), and compelling us to pour that love into other people. And if someone asks "What's this about? Why are you this way? Why do you do this or that?" we say without fear or shame that we do it out of love for them and for God, and we speak the name of Jesus Christ without reluctance.

Rarely, however, do we get the opportunity to spell it out so clearly. We are not here to speak a message or share religious teachings. We are here to love people in Christ's name, to love people with his infinite love rather than our weak and unreliable "love" that so often falls short of its intent. We want to treat people kindly and with respect, we want to share harmless teasing and joyful laughter, we want to respond to anyone in need ... whatever the situation calls for, we want to respond appropriately. This calls for discernment and wisdom, yes and we gratefully receive these from God at times as well as the strength to overcome our own obstacles, but in all honesty, it's simply acting and speaking in ways that come natural for us as we are constantly trying to be sensitive to the Spirit's lead. All religious jargon aside, we are simply being who we are all the time.

I think, again with all insider language aside, that's what it means to be "missional" and "incarnational." Seminars and classes are taught, books are written, and ideas are constantly discussed in the church and among theologians about what "missional" means. Sometimes, it seems as if such words are little more than a currently fashionable trend that a lot of people like to use but few understand their actual meaning or practical implications. Being a "missional" Christian is being who we are all the time as we are continually shaped and changed by Divine, Creative, Redemptive, Renewing Love.

And being who we are in that way led Gina and I here, to a tiny rural village in Germany, to do what we've been doing both in our offices, among the students and Christian community, and in the wider world in places where we shop, eat, drink coffee, visit the doctor, and travel. Being who we are will lead us perhaps somewhere else in the world or back home in the not-so-distant future: we don't have the foggiest idea yet. Without question, though, in being who we are before our loving God we will be led to do the same no matter where we land next: learning to be loved by God and sharing that love with anybody else at every opportunity, praying God forgive us for the times we don't do the job so well and enable us to do it better next time. Not out of a need to "perform" but out of a passionate, driving desire that people know they are not alone and that God's love is theirs if they will have him.

Prayer of Abandonment

I found this beautiful prayer in a prayer book Andrew showed me, and it so completely captured my ongoing prayer.

Prayer of Abandonment
by Charles de Foucauld

Father, I abandon myself into your hands; Do with me what you will.
Whatever you may do, I thank you;
I am ready for all, I accept all.
Let only your will be done in me and in all your creatures. I wish no more than this, O Lord.
Into your hands I commend my soul:
I offer it to you with all the love of my heart,
for I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself,
to surrender myself into your hands without reserve and with boundless confidence, for you are my Father.

Contemplating changes

As you all have read on our blog a number of times, our service here in Germany/Switzerland has always had an indefinite time table. By the nature of being volunteers, we make commitments one year at a time. So we only ever know what the length of one year will bring, and anything after that is a great big blank unknown.

I won't waste time here talking about what it is like to constantly live in a state of temporariness. That's a whole other blog. But as we wait to hear back from the eight or nine doctoral programs that Andrew applied to, and we see this current stretch of commitment drawing toward some kind of close, I bounce between excitement and just plain weariness.

I am thankful that I am a person who, in some ways, thrives on change, since in life -- particularly my life, it seems -- change is the one thing we can depend on.

Don't get me wrong; I like my stable, dependable routines as much as the next person. At the same time, I can get bored quickly when, overall, life becomes too repetitious. I've noticed that generally takes about two years for me. After I've been somewhere about two years, I begin to itch for a change of geography, or at least a solid trip somewhere new.

Yet, as I continue to move every two years or so, that powerful pull toward the new and the novel is increasingly counterweighted with a yearning to put down roots, to just stay put somewhere and make a life right where I am.

After living in our village for just over two years, I've really seen what a slow process it is to make a place for yourself, even in a tiny town. It's taken two years for certain things to begin happening. For instance, a woman in my English class thought to invite me this week to a special prayer gathering at another evangelical church in town, which took place this afternoon. I was glad to go and pray for a particular country with about 40 other women, most of whom I didn't know, but some whose faces were now familiar. It felt good when I made eye contact with several women whom I've regularly passed on the sidewalk, and to see a look of recognition light their faces as they gave me a warm smile and a nod. It's the little things.

Also, a week ago, Andrew and I attended a memorial service for Ernst, the man who ran a leather workshop on the main street of our village and whom we'd been getting to know better each week as we stopped in his shop to chat on our way here or there. He passed away November 30 from kidney failure. It was a special time for us to join other members of the village whose lives had been touched by Ernst and remember his gregarious personality and always happy face.

It's taken a long time, it seems, to begin having these kind of opportunities to be part of this community. So, I am much less naive about how much more time and effort we would need to really become a part of the village life here in a meaningful way. It makes me wish we could stay forever. Two years can seem like a long time, but here, it feels like we're just getting started.

So, on days like today, when I'm particularly tired for whatever reason, the thought of moving yet again and starting all over just makes me exhausted. When you're this tired, it's probably not a good idea to dwell too much on an unknown future or a major upcoming change. But for a few moments I let my thoughts stray to where we might end up next. At this point, anywhere in the world seems like it could be a possibility. And although in the past year I've begun letting myself dream about serving the church in missions long-term, it's hard to imagine having the energy to start all over again in Africa, or Latin America, or even another part of Europe.

Today I had a few moments of questioning if such a thing would really be a good idea. Can I do this all over again, now that I know how hard it can be and what it really takes? Will I be able to cut it starting over in another entirely new culture and language and geography? I thought of the different small things I sacrificed to come here; things I thought weren't a big deal at the time, but which over the past two years have become an increasingly big deal, things I miss a LOT more than I thought I would. If I am without those things here, in Germany, in another location I'd certainly be without them and without a lot more things that I enjoy and feel like I need, whether I do or not.

Can I make another move like this? I wondered.

No, I realized in my temporary tiredness, I can't imagine doing this again. Not without God.

I can't imagine doing any of this without the Holy Spirit, and without knowing that God is leading me on this journey, and that He is working all things together for our good. Because on the most difficult days, when you're the most exhausted and you just don't know how you can go on, that is what gets you through. God's strength, which is a kazillion times greater than our strength, holds you up; and His peace, which assures you that you can trust you haven't made a mistake -- that you're right where He wants you -- puts to rest any doubt that you've gotten yourself in over your head through some naive decision of your own to move to another culture.

So, I put those thoughts and doubts to rest as I get some some rest myself. I try not to dwell on this kind of thing when I'm tired. Yet, in doing so today, God simply reminded me that I'm not doing this on my own, and that none of it is up to me. He won't put me in a situation that He won't give me the strength to work through, and wherever He puts me, it's right where He wants me. And that's the only place I want to be.

European kitchens

Several people have told me in the past year that if you pay attention to the feelings in your dreams, it can sometimes give you a clue to what you're feeling and experiencing when you're awake, because your subconscious tries to continue processing and problem-solving when you're sleeping.

It's a pretty easy guess, then, what last night's dream was about.

I dreamed that I had ordered a custom-built house, and when it was done, Andrew and I packed up all our stuff and drove over to the house to move in. Several local friends, some of whom are German, showed up to help us unload everything into the new house.

As we walked up to the house, I realized that the kitchen wasn’t finished — it had only three walls, and the fourth wall was open to the outside; also there was no roof. So it was like an outdoor kitchen.

“They didn’t finish the kitchen!” I said, upset.

“Yes, they did. This is the European style of kitchen,” said my German friend. “All the kitchens in Europe are this way.”

“But what about when it’s winter, and it’s cold and rainy?” I asked.

“Oh, we just plug in extra heaters and use umbrellas, it’s totally fine,” he said.

Although this dream is a lot more exaggerated than real life scenarios, the feeling reminded me of the many times that I -- as someone still becoming familiar with the culture of my immediate surroundings -- am trying to understand the normal way of doing things in my new home.

In a new culture, at first glance you might think the way of doing things seems rather impractical, inefficient or straight-out strange. Yet, if you take the time to ask questions, observe how new friends do things and why, you often find that it makes good sense in your new context after all.

And then you have funny dreams about it.

-- Gina