Rhine Getaway Day 7

Day seven was the last full day of touring and perhaps the most emotionally and spiritually moving day of the trip.  We docked in Breisach, Germany, in the early morning, disembarked and boarded buses.  I should note here that the tour buses were brand new, comfortable and fully appointed Mercedes top of the line.  Our bus excursions were very pleasant.  We rode for about 40 minutes through beautiful countryside and charming towns into the Black Forest of Germany.  This is the land of so many legends.  It was obvious to us why this lovely area was beloved by Wayne's parents.  The vegetation is so thick that the woods do, indeed, appear black, even in full sunlight.  The farms were neat and well groomed with tall stacks of perfectly cut stove and firewood.  The woods surrounding the farms were cleared of brush and downed trees, which were the source of the firewood.  We were impressed at how well managed the countryside is.  There seemed the perfect balance and coexistence of man and nature, conservation of resources, preservation of beauty and wildlife, and prevention of deadly forest fires by keeping the ground clear of dry brush and dead trees.  This system has obviously worked for centuries, and the beauty is unsurpassed.  Leave it to the Germans to properly engineer all of this.  Seeing their tidy and practical stewardship of natural resources and their care of their homes and farms made us proud of our heritage.  I couldn't resist pointing out to Wayne that in spite his German war bride mother, there is more German blood in my veins than is his.

Our first stop in the Black Forest was much too short.  We visited the tiny town of St. Peters.  It is home to a monastery and cathedral.  Monks no longer live here, but it was interesting to me to imagine them living there in a former day, studying, worshiping,  farming, and most importantly, copying scripture.  The best part of the visit was seeing the cathedral.  On the outside, it looked quite ordinary, and we wondered why it was selected as a site seeing stop.  As soon as we entered, we knew why.  This astonishing edifice is an incredibly beautiful example of a Baroque cathedral.  It is full of light, so unlike its Gothic predecessors.  The combination of light, gold, tall open spaces, beautiful frescoes, ornate altars and organ pipes, statues, and windows, were more than we could take in during our short twenty minute visit.  It would have been much better if we could have spent an hour or two in this glorious spot.  Even better would have been the opportunity to hear a Bach prelude and fugue played on the organ.  The combination of sight and sound would have felt like a bit of heaven on earth.

We were quickly hurried away to board the buses for another stop in the Black Forest.  This time it was a more disappointing tourist trap.  We saw hundreds of cuckoo clocks, and it was interesting to see a brief demonstration on their construction.  The many varieties were interesting to see.  While Wayne took a short hike in the woods, I shopped for a couple of Christmas ornaments and German music CD's.  I tried to attend a baker's demonstration on Black Forest cake.  It was a disappointing scene of American tourists chowing down the gooey confection while a rather surly culinary school intern type of young adult hurriedly assembled a cake for our edification and entertainment.  I picked up a copy of his recipe and left wishing we were back in the St. Peters cathedral.  I realize that group tours need to cater to all interests, but this one wasn't ours.  So, no, I did not eat Black Forest cake in the Black Forest.  I might have tried it, but in its authentic style, it contains plenty of alcohol, which I don't eat or drink.

We returned to our ship for a quick lunch and then departed for an optional Word War II tour into the Colmar Pocket of France.  This area was fought over extensively, and it was the site of heroism for many great Americans including the celebrated and decorated Audie Murphy, and the much lesser known but beloved to this family, Thomas B. Abernathy, Jr., Wayne's father.  As I've mentioned in an earlier post, it was amazing to us to witness the scope of damage and human suffering that were caused by the war.  We drove through villages that had been entirely destroyed except for one small statue or one wall of a building left standing.  While rebuilt to look like the originals, these towns still inspire both horror and reverence.  There are many markers and memorials erected in gratitude to the American soldiers who sacrificed to liberate these towns.  We saw remains of bunkers, now 70 years old, and even a portion of the famous Maginot Line.

One of the stops on this tour was in the French town of Turckheim, which housed a small museum dedicated to the area known as the Colmar Pocket.  There were many artifacts and displays from the war.  The area may be best known for its American hero, Audie Murphy.  As a young 19 year old, he made a one man stand against of group of German soldiers and tanks that was influential in the eventual Allied victory.  We had seen the movie "To Hell and Back" about Audie Murphy and had also visited his grave in Arlington Cemetery.  Recently, the exact area of his one man stand has been identified, and the French have erected a small monument to Audie.  We walked into the woods and saw the monument.  We felt the reverence and respect for this very young American hero.  I could not help but think that we have a son nearly this same age.  I am so very grateful that he is able to spend his nineteenth year as a peaceful messenger of the gospel of Christ in Brazil.

After a long, but meaningful day, we drove through the French countryside and took in as much scenery and history as we could.  When it was time to meet our ship, we discovered that it had been delayed in a lock and had not yet reached our meeting point.  After a short wait along the river, we were happily reunited and enjoyed a final captain's dinner before packing our bags for our trip home the next day.

Wayne and I standing at the Audie Murphy Memorial near Ostheim, France.

Rhine Getaway Day 6

This wonderful day was a blend of old and new, France and Germany, crowds and solitude.  We docked in Kehl, Germany and took a bus ride to Strasbourg, France.  It is a very modern city and the seat of the European Parliament.  There were huge contemporary steel and glass high rise buildings with their clean lines and sparkling facades.  One very charming feature in the midst of the modern city was a residential street lined on both sides with trees.  The trees had been groomed flat on the tops, and each and every tree had a huge stork's nest on the top.  By huge, I mean several feet in diameter.  To our delight, the young storks had recently hatched, and we saw their cute heads peaking over the tops of the nests.  Their parents took turns guarding the nests and flying off for food.  The storks are very honored residents in Europe, perhaps still symbolizing wealth and fertility.

After seeing the very modern parts of Strasbourg, we walked to the Medieval section known as "La Petite France."  This was an amazingly beautiful area of very old row houses along picturesque canals.  In the Middle Ages, this section of town housed the merchants and tradesmen.  Their houses were lovely with window boxes of flowers and timbered walls with the famous exposed beams.  We were told that although beautiful, it was very smelly in olden days when tanneries were full of rotting livestock.  Some of the oldest houses are still standing, but most have been rebuilt since Word War II.  The reconstruction has been so good, that it is often difficult to tell which houses are authentic and which are reproductions.

The grandest structure in all of Strasbourg is the incredible Gothic cathedral.  Its detail and grandeur are truly indescribable.  One could study the millions of intricacies for years and never capture all of it.  The sculptures, carvings, stained glass, paintings, organ pipes, columns, spires, and shear loftiness are more than a mortal can absorb.  Perhaps the excess to mortals is an attempt to reach God.  I have to admit that it is quite an impressive attempt.  At the same time, I know that God is pleased with the humble and pure in heart and does not require ornamentation of this scale.  While all of this is beautiful, it cannot replace obedience to the laws of God nor does it forgive disobedience.  In terms of pure religion, the grandeur of the cathedral can miss the mark.  In terms of human artistic accomplishment, it is probably unmatched and is certainly a thrill to behold.

It was interesting to note the many merchant stalls that were mounted on the exterior walls of the cathedral.  The entire building is surrounded with ordinary or even tacky tarps and trinkets. I couldn't shake off the image of Jesus making a whip of braided cords and overturning the money changers' tables outside the temple in Jerusalem.  If this grand structure exists in praise of God, the retail establishments anchored to its walls seem out of place.

We were delighted to discover Gutenberg Square in Strasbourg.  We were grateful to stand on the spot where the inventor of the printing press is remembered.  Our love of reading and our extensive library may be attributed to this man.  Moreover, we thank him for allowing the Holy Scriptures to finally be in the hands of the common man.  On a less spiritual note, I was able to fulfill another dream.  I bought a baguette in a French bakery.  It was delicious!

Strasbourg is a lovely city, and it is full of delightful sights.  It was a very warm day, and after several hours of walking in the heat and crowds, we were ready for a slower pace.  After lunch onboard the ship and a much needed nap, we decided to use the late afternoon to walk across the footbridge over the Rhine that spans the border between Germany and France.  To our surprise, there is no border patrol, no guard house checking passports, and not even a visible boundary marker between the two countries.  One may walk or bike or drive from Germany to France and back without any notice at all.  This is historically amazing.  For centuries, there was war between Germany and France, and the border was constantly shifting.  This is still evident in the border towns where there are German place names in France and French names in Germany.  The Alsace was a much fought over region for ages.  In our day, we peacefully strolled between the two without a trace of obstacle.  The Rhine is fairly narrow at this point, and it was interesting to hear a different language spoken on each bank.  We walked from Germany to France and sat on a park bench at the spot where the French first crossed the Rhine into Germany during WWII.  At the now tranquil spot we enjoyed a cup of ice cream on the French bank and watched the river traffic on the breezy late afternoon.  When we crossed back into Germany, we paused to listen to a Celtic piper playing in the center of the bridge, right on the border between the two former enemies.  It was both poignant and pleasant, and quite private.  The crowds from the city were not here on the bridge.  We could stroll and reflect at our peaceful leisure.

Back on board the ship, we enjoyed a German meal and entertainment.  It was much better than what we had experienced earlier in the trip in Rudesheim.  It was a pleasant ending to a wonderful day.    

Rhine Getaway Day 5

Rhine Getaway Day 5

It is hard to choose a favorite day, but this one may  have been the best.  We docked in the morning and rode buses to Heidelberg, Germany.  I had always wanted to see this beautiful city because I had been accepted at Heidelberg College in the US, and although I did not choose to attend that school, I always had dreams of seeing the original Heidelberg.  I was not disappointed!

Our first stop was the Heidelberg castle, which has been abandoned for three hundred years.  That is, it has not functioned as a castle for three centuries, but the structure has seen other uses.  Currently, its central courtyard is used as an outdoor amphitheater for musical productions.  It is a grand castle, incorporating several architectural styles.  There are many beautiful statues and sculptures, including one lovely sculpture of two children's faces.  These little ones were the children of one of the sculptors in the original construction of the castle.  They were tragically killed in an accident at the castle, and their father was given permission to sculpt a memorial to them.  They are the only statues that are not some kind of royalty, although to us, they seemed like a little prince and princess.  

I took dozens of photographs of the many faces and walls of the castle.  We spent most of the tour outside the castle walls peering at the ruins from without, but at one point we descended a long slope to the wine cellar.  We were met by a very large wine barrel that was about 12 feet in diameter.  As we gasped at its size, we were informed that this is the “baby barrel.”  We rounded the corner and saw the world’s largest wine barrel, which was about 30-40 feet in diameter.  It is about four stories high.  An entire dance floor sits on top of the barrel.  I think it held about 66,000 gallons of wine.  We learned that when the castle was built, wine was the safest drink available.  It had an alcohol content of about 5%, which was mild by today’s standards but was was strong enough to kill the bacteria that made the water much more dangerous.  It also tasted better than the water.  The castle tour was very beautiful and enjoyable.  

We then drove to the center of the old town, which was very beautiful.  We were surprised to learn the university has an urban campus and that most of the academic buildings were rather unremarkable.  The most beautiful buildings were the historic fraternity houses.  They were magnificent.  We had only about one hour of free time in the city.  We had to choose between shopping or eating.  I would have preferred the shopping.  Wayne wanted to eat authentic German food, and this was the place to do it.  He enjoyed a huge plate of German sausages and sauerkraut while I sampled the German bread and cheese.  We caught our bus back to the ship and sailed a short distance to Speyer, Germany.

It was an easy and lovely walk through several parks to the Speyer Cathedral and the lovely center of town.  Outside the cathedral there was a beautiful pavilion with a huge sculpture of the suffering in Gethsemane.  The figures were full of emotion and detail, and spiraled up to the central figure of Christ taking upon Him the sins of the world.  All about were the soldiers, the apostles, and the slumbering figures of Peter, James, and John.  I very poignantly remembered the plea, “Could you not watch with me one hour?”    

After touring the cathedral, we set out on our own to stroll the beautiful main street of the town.  At the far end of the street, the tower the once guarded the Medieval town, still stands.  It is the tallest remaining gate tower in Germany, and possibly in all of Europe.  Buses and cars now pass through it.  We walked through it and tried to breathe in all of the history that it has seen.  During our stroll, we played out one of my lifelong dreams, which was to sit at a street cafe in Europe while enjoying a treat on a lovely day.  Chocolate and cherry gelato was the perfect treat.  The sidewalk cafe was charming, and the weather was perfect.  The only thing not shown in the idyllic photo is the ever present smell of cigarettes smoke, which is much more common in Europe than in the US.

We enjoyed a long stroll around Speyer, cut short only by a threat of rain, which never came while we were out.  The whole day was every bit as wonderful and charming as my thoughts and dreams had always imagined that it would be.  Now it all seems like a dream, but it really did happen, and I have the photos and the happy memories to prove it.    

Rhine Getaway Day 4

Day four of the Rhine getaway was the most beautiful and probably the most physically demanding.  This was the day when my past six years of faithful gym workouts and neighborhood walks paid off with huge dividends.  We docked in Koblenz, Germany, in the early morning, and we departed by bus to the Marksburg Castle.

Marksburg is the best preserved castle in Germany and probably in all of Europe.  It was never destroyed in battle, for the simple reason that was never attacked.  Its commanding view of the Rhine, located high above a bend in the river, was certainly formidable to potential attackers.  The bus ride took us higher and higher up the mountainside, but we knew we would have a substantial climb on foot after leaving the bus.  The climb using gentle switchbacks was not as bad as I had expected.  The most difficult climb was on the inside of the castle.  After passing through an impressive portcullis, we encountered a winding passageway that was roughly hewn from the rock.  It was jagged, uneven and fairly steep.  While difficult for humans to climb, it was much easier than stairs for horses.  It seems that the knights of old rode inside to the stables, and the horses could easily ascend the jagged rocks.  Stairs would have been much more difficult for them.

Once inside, the castle appeared much like those we have seen in photos and books.  We visited the kitchens, living quarters, great room, armory, music room, chapel, wine cellar, and other areas of delight to our modern eyes.  On a warm June day, it was pleasant in the castle, but our guide repeatedly told us how cold and miserable it was to live in a castle for most of the year.  With the invention of gun powder, castles were soon abandoned in favor of more urban palaces.  We enjoyed our tour very much and left feeling edified by the many features that we had previously only read about.

When we returned to our ship in Braubach, Germany, we began the most scenic part of our voyage through the Middle Rhine.  Throughout the afternoon, we sat in the bow of the ship and photographed one castle after another as they appeared on both sides of the river.  It truly was more beauty and history that we could fully absorb, but we tried.  At one point, three castles were in view at once.  We passed the famous Loralei Rock, jutting out of the middle of the river.  Many of the castles now lay in ruins, but many of them have been renovated and repurposed as hotels, restaurants, and private homes.  They displayed several architectural styles, even multiple styles in the same castle.  They took so many years to build that styles changed from start to finish.  

Perhaps you remembered this fact from school, but even though I pride myself as a good student, this fact had escaped my memory.  That is that the castles were military installations.  They were built and owned by the local titled land owners to house their armies of knights who protected the lands and, to some lesser degree, the people.  The fact that the castles were relatively close together along the Rhine showed the sizes of the land tracts owned by the various titled gentry.  I wondered which of these castles protected the lands of my ancestors, who were most likely peasant farmers or merchants.  It was incredible to me to pass through so much history in one short afternoon.

In addition to the many castles, we also passed through lovely villages.  We regretted that our ship did not stop to allow us to explore more of the towns.  When we did stop in the evening in the town of Rudesheim, Germany, we quickly learned that it was not a town where we would have chosen to stop, if the decision had been left to us.  Fifteen river cruise boats were docked at Rudesheim.  It was a crowed tourist trap.  We had naively purchased an optional excursion that included dinner and a show.  This was our only major disappointment with Viking.  We fought our way down a narrow crowded street, the famous “Drosselgasse,” filled with shops offering overpriced Chinese reproductions of German handicrafts.  There were a few more authentic shops, and we purchased several Christmas ornaments.  How can one visit Germany and refrain from purchasing Christmas stuff, especially in this household?  The disappointment came in our dinner.  It was al fresco in what may have been a pleasant courtyard in cooler weather.  The food was not quite as good as ordinary, and the entertainment was a three person band, playing a combination of American pop and German oompah band selections.  We didn’t even stay for dessert.  Our 170 Euros could have been much better spent elsewhere.

Perhaps this is a good spot to remark on how freely the wine and cocktails flow on a river cruise.  The fact that we never had a drop contributed to the funds that paid for all of the generous imbibement of our fellow passengers.  We never saw rowdy drunkenness akin to a frat party, so other than knowing that we were subsidizing the drinks, we weren’t bothered by the free flow of Rieslings.  

All told, the fourth day of our adventure was wonderful.  The beautiful parts far outweighed the disappointments.  This was a day of magic and dreams fulfilled for me.

   

Rhine Getaway, Day 3 Cologne Germany

     Day 3 of our Rhine Getaway was in Cologne, Germany.  I was surprised that many German towns had French sounding names and vice versa.  This visit began early on a Sunday morning with a walk into the old section of town and a tour of the beautiful Cathedral of Cologne.  The beauty of the cathedral is magnificent.  It was hard to absorb all that our eyes were seeing.  These grand buildings would be amazing feats of skill even with modern engineering and hydraulic equipment, but to consider that they were made with hand tools is incredible.  
     During our many visits to the cathedrals and churches, I found my thoughts poised somewhere between two positions.  One was awe at the incredible architecture, art, sheer size, devotion, and reverence.  The other was the disproportionate expense of human sacrifice and deprivation caused by taking so many resources out of the hands of the common people and into the coffers of the churches. This was one of the tenets of the protestant reformation, and it is still evident today in the differences between the European Catholic and Protestant chapels and cathedrals.  The only way I can reconcile both positions in my own mind is to hope that these splendid buildings were indeed monuments to God and not to mortal men.  If they were truly dedicated to God, then they are indeed monuments of devotion to the Most High, in the most beautiful ways known to all of mankind.  If they were built in praise of mortal men or to show off the wealth of local nobles, then it is a shame that such grandeur is misplaced. 
     Cologne was also the center of a large Jewish population in the Middle Ages.  Currently, archaeological excavations are under way to show ruins from the Middle Ages, and even from the Roman Empire.  One site that we were privileged to see was an ancient Jewish "mikvah," or ritual bath.  Having studied some of these Old Testament rites, this was of tender interest to me.  Our tour guide explained to us that during the horrible black plague in the mid fourteenth century, Jewish citizens were protected from illness by the cleanliness standards they observed through these ritual baths. Envious and suspicious of the Jews' good health, some early Christians who were terrorized by the plagues, accused the Jews of causing the illness or "curse."  Tragically, they ordered the mass slaying of thousands of Jews.  It sorrows me to know that the Holocaust of the twentieth century was not a new concept for Europe, but a continuation of human suffering that had endured many centuries.
     Since it was Sunday, we did not shop or eat in restaurants in Cologne.  I regretted missing a chance to purchase authentic cologne in Cologne, but such it is.  Instead, we visited as many of the old historic churches as we could find.  We did a lot of walking, and it was an unseasonably warm late spring day, but we enjoyed the cool and quiet of many beautiful sanctuaries.  Most of the churches had posted photos that showed the damage that the buildings had suffered during Wold War II, and the reconstruction that had been done in the past seventy years.  Some stained glass windows had been removed and protected during the bombings.  Others were not spared.   The huge Cologne Cathedral was not hit with bombs, but rather was purposefully left untouched to act as a visual landmark for the bomber pilots who flew over the city.  The building was preserved for grim reasons, but gratefully, it was preserved.
     We walked in both the old and new sections of the city.  The older sections were mostly rebuilt to recreate their former medieval splendor.  The work of restoration is impressive and beautifully authentic .  The modern sections were quite urban and not unlike parts of our own cities in the United States.  A major difference was that there were fewer visible cars.  The apartments had hidden driveways and garages that seemed tiny and difficult to access.  The old and the new elements were mixed in the cobblestone streets that ran between beautiful old buildings but were sadly littered with trash, beer bottles and used drug syringes from the parties of the previous night.  The revelers had gone home to bed, and we tourists enjoyed the quiet, if dirty streets, in the early Sunday morning. 

Rhine Getaway, Day 2

Kinderdijk, Holland

               

                The Viking Gullveig sailed during the night.  We were pleased that a river boat is so smooth that we could feel no seasickness or ripples at all.  The ship moved at about eight miles per hour, on average, during our journey up the Rhine.  We were surprised that the Rhine is such a busy working river.  Large industrial barges passed every few minutes, carrying loads of chemicals, fuel, minerals, scrap metal, and all sorts of other products.  We were also surprised to see the river was busy with the traffic of many pleasure boats and cruise ships similar to ours.  I don’t think I have ever seen a river in the United States that had so much boat traffic, not even the mighty Mississippi.

                On the morning of Saturday, June 7, we were docked in Kinderdijk, home of a large number of Dutch windmills.  We walked along the large dike and heard our guide explain the process of pumping out water to drain and reclaim land that is well below sea level.  The many windmills were operational, but they no longer pump water.  That job is now done with much more powerful coal fired electric power plants.  We were impressed with the size of the beautiful mills.  I learned that in a former day, the miller and his wife and family of 10-12 children lived inside each mill.  In fact, so many children lived in the area, that the millers named it Kinderdijk.  Even today, adventurous renters may lease a windmill for the summer and live inside.  We toured a mill and climbed the steep narrow stairs.  The families learned to use the limited space very efficiently.  We learned that the millers used a method of communication that involved moving the huge blades of the mill into certain positions to indicate news to the distant millers.  One position showed good news – births, marriages, etc.  Another indicated a death or serious illness.  Yet another indicated the time to co-ordinate the timing of the pumping. 

                We discovered the mechanisms of the windmills and how the millers regulated the speed of the blades by adding or removing canvas coverings on the blades.  They were also able to move the top turrets where blades were attached by using a system of chains and posts or rocks on the ground.  The entire top of the mill could turn to catch the wind from any direction.  It really was a marvel of engineering in spite of very primitive tools and technology.

                The area of Kinderdijk is preserved as a United Nations UNESCO World Heritage site.  This is a special and coveted designation for tourism.  The UNESCO folks made a grand tribute to the ingenuity of the original builders of the dikes, mills, canal systems, and adjustable waterways.  I fully agree with the UNESCO tribute.  The entire operation is an amazing show of man’s ability to manipulate his environment to create a better place to live, to work, and to grow food.  I was duly impressed, but at the same time I couldn’t help noticing the double standard on the part of the UNESCO folks who blanch with horror at the thought of a modern community who would drain a swampy lowland and disturb a prized wetland.  The pendulum of prosperity and priority does swing to and fro through the ages.  Those primitive engineers would not be welcomed among today’s environmentalists.

                After a very pleasant tour, we reboarded our ship and began sailing for Cologne, Germany.  We enjoyed watching the many passing ships, and I took lots of photos in the area of Nijmegen, the Netherlands, which was the scene of much fighting during World War II.  The bridges over the Rhine were fiercely defended and fought over.  I stood on the top deck of the ship shooting photos and emailing them to Peter, who was online in his mission office in Brazil.  I truly marveled that the scene before my eyes was almost instantly in front of Peter’s eyes, many thousands of miles away.    What a miracle!

Day one of our Rhine Getaway

I hope this to be the first in a series of eight posts.  Before the wonderful experience fades from my memory, I want to write about it, namely, our long anticipated Rhine Getaway.  Wayne and I  sailed up the Rhine River from Amsterdam, Netherlands to Basel, Switzerland on the Viking Gullveig from June 5-13, 2014.  I’m not sure if my recollections will be of interest to anyone other than myself, but I will write so that I may enjoy my memories for many years to come.  I will try to record our daily adventures as well as my reflections along the way.

                 We arrived in Amsterdam on a direct flight from Washington Dulles airport.  We were in the air all night and arrived quite tired with a full day ahead of us.  We tried unsuccessfully to rest a bit in our stateroom, but excitement and eagerness to see the city won.  Let me briefly describe the Viking Gullveig.  It is a brand new long ship that had only been in service for seven weeks.  Everything was sparkling new and shiny clean.  Our stateroom was a “veranda suite,” meaning we had one of the few rooms with a separate sitting room.   While not large, our space was ample and most pleasant.  The ship’s crew kept everything in order, and we never lacked for any comfort nor even for any luxury.  The ship had only 188 passengers and a crew of 54.  There was a large lounge and informal terrace restaurant on our upper level.  Above us was a rooftop sundeck with a walking track and the ship’s pilot house.  The pilot house could actually retract into a lower level, if the ship needed to decrease its height to fit under a bridge.  One level below us was the main dining room, reception area, and additional staterooms.  The bottom level housed the ship’s crew.  It was so nice to be able to unpack our luggage and to know that we would remain in the same floating hotel room as we moved from city to city throughout Europe.  

                 As the ship filled with passengers, we had a day in port to visit Amsterdam.  We walked into a central area past the bus and train terminals, and we dodged the many cyclists that fill the streets of Amsterdam.  After quite a long and somewhat confusing walk, we caught a tram to the famous Rijks Museum.  In this splendid building we saw the works of the Dutch masters, including Rembrandt and my favorite, Vermeer.  It was amazing to think that we were standing inches away from these famous masterpieces that we have admired only in books and photographs throughout our school years.  The museum allowed guests to photograph the paintings, which surprised me.  I don’t remember an art gallery in the United States that allows photography.  After seeing as many beautiful paintings as we could absorb in our tired brains, we took a canal tour of Amsterdam that concluded near our ship.  After a shower and a change of clothes, we joined our fellow passengers for our first dinner on board the ship.

                 The other passengers were mostly Americans with a few guests from Great Britain, South Africa, and Australia.  I don’t think any of the passengers were non English speaking.  Nearly everyone was retired and white.  I may have been the youngest passenger.   I noted that we all seemed to be from a very similar demographic.  This could be seen in the women’s clothes.  Nearly every outfit I saw on the women was clothing that I either own, have tried on, or seen in the stores that I frequent.  The dress code was casual and comfortable.  The other passengers were very friendly and interesting to meet.  Each evening we sat at a table for six, and we met different folks each night.  Their stories were interesting and entertaining.  I think we may have been the only passengers who never drank a drop of alcohol.  We were surprised at the consumption of our fellow passengers.  Wine was poured at every meal and frequently between meals, in generous quantities.  I didn’t notice any drunkenness, but there was an atmosphere of relaxation all about us. 

                 I couldn’t describe a Viking cruise without mentioning the exquisite food.  Whether in the informal deck terrace buffet or in the formal dining room, every dish was delicious, mostly healthy, beautifully presented, and very politely served.  Special consideration was made for Wayne’s gluten free diet, and he was able to eat as grand as the rest of us.  The portions were adequate but not excessive.  It all seemed very tasteful and classy, with never a glimpse of junk food.  Our chef was a very skilled artist.

                 My first impressions of Europe were through very tired eyes, but I did note some differences from the United States.  While the cities were mostly modern and very beautiful, there seemed an overall lower standard of living.  Many people travel only by bicycle or mass transit.  That may be handy in the big cities and picturesque in the pleasant weather, but I shudder to think of how miserable it would be to carry children and groceries on a bicycle in the rain or snow.  I’m grateful that I’m able to do my traveling at home in the comfort of a mini SUV.   Bicycles are fun for sport, but I would not want to have to rely on them as my principle means of travel, other than mass transit.  The highways in Europe have narrower lanes and slimmer vehicles than those in the US.  Also, the personal space buffer around vehicles is much closer than I am accustomed.  It seemed that cars and trucks were speeding past each other with only a couple of inches between them.    Europe was magnificent to visit, but I’m not eager to change my home address to some new location across the pond.  On the other hand, there was unmatched charm in moving about in cities that are many centuries old.  To think that the buildings before my eyes were constructed during the Middle Ages, is awe inspiring.  It is amazing to feel so much history.  Places that had previously been known to me only in books and movies were actually before my eyes and ears and nose.  That is an incredible feeling, and I found myself thinking of my ancestors that lived here many generations ago.

Every Day is Christmas

                The Christmas decorations are packed up and stored for another year.  But only the decorations, the Christmas CD’s, DVD’s, the tree, the lights, garlands, toy Santa houses, wreathes, gingerbread, advent calendars, and an over abundance of chocolate and goodies are put aside.  We may pack up lots of tangible stuff, but Christmas cannot be boxed away in the attic.  For faithful followers of Christ, Christmas is a way of life that is never sealed up in packing tape and stowed away.                   

                 Seasonal trimmings, gatherings with friends and family, cards, gifts, increased charity and the many other symbols of peace on earth and good will toward men are all good things.  Turning one’s thoughts to God and our fellow men are commendable efforts and worthy of our time and attention.  Do we practice those things for a few short weeks and then box them up, never to be thought of for another twelve months?  It’s true that the decorations would become tattered and worn with constant use.  I might even tire of fancy chocolates, although I doubt that.  Which pieces of Christmas can and should we pack away and what should we keep in our daily routines?

                I recently read a quote that described success as achieved only by making changes in daily life.  In others words, we have not become successful at anything until we have incorporated it into our everyday activities and thoughts.  Singular events usually do not have staying power.  One good gym workout does not make me strong.  One foregone dessert does not make me thin.  A one hour practice session at the piano does not bring about mastery of a great composition.  A single cheerful greeting at the door at the end of just one day does not make me a beloved wife or mother.  However, daily repetition of any of the above activities over weeks, months, years, and decades has the power to shape extraordinary characteristics. 

                We should never grow weary of truly good works.  Kindness, tenderness, patience, loyalty, devotion, and honesty should never be packed away.  We can never tape shut the box of charity and acts of compassionate service.  To give an example, I recently witnessed a wonderful scene at the Washington, DC, temple where I have the privilege of working each week.  In that beautiful edifice, sacred ordinances are performed that bind family and marriage relationships for eternity.  One happy and grateful temple guest recently remarked, “If this is what you do here every day, then every day is Christmas for you.”  Indeed, it is.  The temple is open and operating all year.  I have frequently pondered that comment and evaluated my daily activities to see if they include the things that I want to keep open all year, every year.

                How is it possible to keep the symbolic Christmas boxes open and vibrantly beautiful all year?  Does one grow tired of giving or even confused as to which boxes are good?  After all, there are a lot of tacky decorations and cheap substitutes for happiness out there.  How does one know what to keep and what to toss?  Fortunately, there is help.  First of all, there is a God who “slumbers not nor sleeps.”  His example is ever present, and He is always accessible through sincere prayer and study of scripture.   He has organized a church and called both ancient and modern prophets to continually guide us.  He has put us together on the earth to allow us to love and serve one another.  Through revelation and the witness of the Holy Spirit, He personally guides us.   He has given us the freedom to act for ourselves and to experience joy.

                Christmas came over two thousand years ago with the birth of Jesus Christ.  There is no sadness at the close of each annual celebration, for Christmas can never be put away.  It can be our daily walk, if we choose every day to spend our time and energy on the happy things that can never rust, fade, or wear out.  May you be found so doing, and every day will be Christmas for you.

Peter's first letter

I have tried to set up a separate blog for Peter on missionsite.net.  However, that site is having issues, so I will post his letter on my own blog for now, and then repost when I have his own all set up.  You can email Peter at Peter.Abernathy@myldsmail.net  He would love to hear from you.  If you would like his snail mail address in the missionary training center, let me know.  He will be in the Sao Paulo training center until Dec. 17.  We are delighted to read this wonderful letter of good news:

Bom tarde!
 
Today is D+9 and it feels like I've been here for six weeks already.  To say that a lot has gone down would be the grossest kind of understatement.  Firstoff, I have been hugely blessed with all of the people with whom I am stuck in a tiny classroom for hours upon hours a day.  My district is fantastic, everyone is hardworking, especially my companion.  I got called as District Leader last sunday, and I've already seen and been thankful for how well I've been prepared to lead meetings.  I especially have Bishop Brandenburg to thank for that.  We have six elders and a threesome of sisters.  All of them are very obedient and generally great to be around.
 
Today was our first P-day since we've been here, so we got to go to the Sao Paulo Temple, which was, of course, a wonderful experience.  We got to go around the city a bit (and our neighborhood seriously does look exactly like Call of Duty. I still can't get over that) and shop around a little.  I bought myself a couple of ties and a Brazil Futbol jersey....don't read to much into it, it was a one time thing.  Now (1548) we're in the email room and soon we're going to change into our futbol jerseys and take a bunch of photos together.  I wrote a handful of letters which I won't be able to send until next P-day, since today is Brasil's independence day and pretty much everything was closed.  It kind of cracked us up how few Brasilheros knew what the holiday was for.  I think they went one for nine or something like that.  We're just glad that the Temple was still open.
 
Our class time is very productive, and we're learning the language well.  Learning Spanish in high school has been an enormous blessing.  Everything is very similar and I've been able to teach lessons in Portuguese without a whole lot of trouble.  They started us teaching "Pesquesadores" in Portuguese on day three.  I've been speaking a linguistic hot mess that I refer to as "Spangliguese," which is Spanish, English, and Portuguese all rolled into one.  Most of the people can understand me on occassion, if I think about what I want to say before I try to say it.  The instructor we have every night is this awesome guy named Irmao Avino.  He's jacked and all of the Sisters have a crush on him.  He speaks very slowly and has a hilarious sense of humor.  Hearing a portuguese speaker say "dang it," "oh my gosh," and "I am an American" is pretty hilarious.  Irmao's challenge phrase is "Trick or treat" which is especially hilarious since words never end with "t" in portuguese.
 
We're eating really well.  I never knew pannini for breakfast was a thing, but I'm not complaining.  I'm drinking enough Guarana to....I don't know do something that would require a lot of fluid.  All of the Elders in my district are super well toned jocks, so daily actividade fisica can be a little humbling, but I hold my own reasonably well.  I get my revenge by being the most difficult investigator ever in teaching role plays.  Here is an excerpt from one of the tirades I've subjected my companion to.  Google translate is your friend:  "Como pode seu igreja e este evangelho me ajuda com problemas?  Pode me ajuda com taxas?  Este e somente palavras!"  He had a very scared look on his face while all of the instructors cracked up.  It was sweet.
 
Almost all of the elders in my district are serving in Fortaleza.  I am going to be very lonely in Londrina.  Todo bem.
 
Honestly the most difficult thing about life here in the CTM is knowing that I'm going to have to say goodbye to all of the great people in my district.  I love them all, and I do not dig the idea of not seeing them daily anymore.  Oh well, the Lord knows better than I do.
 
One of my responsibilities as a DL is to check my district mailbox every day.  The first day I open it up, two letters are waiting there.  They're both for me, from none else than our own Shane Hart.  He wins the award for being my first mission letter.  I miss Ben.  Seriously I miss that little guy.  He's going to be so big when I get home, or at least bigger. 
 
Dad was right.  Everybody loves us down here.  There are always big knots of white shirt-clad elders prowling around the streets surrounding the CTM, and cars always slow down, honk, and give us the thumbs up.  They recognize the Father's messengers, it seems.
 
Take care of yourselves.  Eu amo voces, especiamente menho parentes.......e Ben.
 
I love all of you!
 
Elder Abernathy
 
P.S.  I finally understand Alan Richardson's license plate.  Nosso legal! 

The End of a Chapter

              Midnight tonight marks the end of a chapter for me.  It’s not the end of the book, but it is the end of an important chapter.  At the stroke of midnight tonight, in the eyes of the law, there will be no more children in the Abernathy household.  The book will never close for me as I continue as a mother of adult children, a grandmother, great-grandmother, and so on forever.  Still, though, today is a time of reflection for me on what it has meant to be a mother of young children.

                First of all, if I could make my life’s choices again, I would make the same ones all over.  I have no regrets and consider it a blessing that I was able to bear five children in my youth.  I knew at the time that I was taking a different path than many of my friends, and while I have admired their accomplishments, I am delighted with my own.  A few years ago, I attended an event in my home town, and four of my five children were with me.  They were mostly grown and were polished and dressed in their Sunday best when I met a childhood friend who had never seen all of my kids together in the same place.  Her comment startled me a bit, when she said, “Wow, so this is what you have done all these years.”  It then occurred to me that it was indeed what I had done for nearly thirty years, and I was very happy to show the evidence of my work.  I think I may have realized for the first time that motherhood had truly shaped the person I had become.

                While it’s true that it was rarely easy to be the mother of five children, it’s also true that is has been wonderful.  Motherhood has shaped my happiness and taught me character traits that I don’t know how I could have learned elsewhere.  I learned that other lives quite literally depended on me.  I had to stay on my back for many weeks of a pregnancy to save the life of a tiny daughter.  I arose exhausted several times each night for many years to feed a hungry baby or to comfort a frightened or a sick child.  Every mother since Eve has done this, so I take no credit at being anyone special, but the seriousness of this dependence has taught me that my needs can’t come first.  Learning to sacrifice for the well being, and indeed, the life of another, has gone a long way towards polishing away the selfish rough edges of my soul. 

                Motherhood has also taught me to trust.  While I might have liked to take over their lives and make their decisions for them, I have learned to trust my children and to allow them to make as many of their own choices as they were prepared to make.  We worked daily to teach each of them correct principles and reliance on God.  Then we held our breath and watched them fly away.  At first, it was as simple as taking a deep breath if a child chose clothing that wasn’t exactly to my liking or exhibited personality traits that were different from my own.  As the years passed, each of our children surpassed us in strength, skill, and ability to manage the challenges of an ever darkening world.  None of us, parents or children,  would have been happy to stay together in the overcrowded nest forever.  Although frightening at times, it has been magnificent to watch them soar and to build their own nests.

                Having the babies and caring for them full time has also taught me tremendous gratitude for my dear husband.  In my younger years, I was sometimes frustrated at the difference in our job descriptions as mother and father.  In my immature eyes, the daddy flew away each morning to develop an exciting career while the mommy bird sat on the nest and dealt with the squawking until way past sunset, when the daddy bird returned to the nest after the little noisy fledglings had finally eaten their fill of worms.  His life seemed grand, and mine, well, not so grand.  It’s in these later years where I have come to appreciate the gift I had of being free to tend the children without the worry of providing financial support.  I was there to see every little step, bind every boo-boo, large or small, fill a shopping cart to overflowing with groceries and sneakers and sweatshirts, and attend every school function without having to ask for time off from work.  I was doing my work, and Daddy’s dedication to the family allowed me to do it.  I might add that he also supported me in earning a graduate degree and maintaining a busy music studio while caring for our little ones.  

                Finally, thirty-plus years of full time motherhood has shaped me into the person that I have always wanted to become.  While it’s true that I would have liked to stay the slim twenty something I once was, what I really wanted was to become more tender, more aware of the needs of others, softer, and best of all, beloved by those closest to me.  Mothering of children has not been merely a job.  It has been a calling and a way of life.  For me, it has been a happier life than I ever could have imagined.  While I know that the day will never come that I will surrender my motherhood badge, my days will shift to a different rhythm.  I will experience more time away from the nest to spread my wings and to pursue new flights.  Some choices were put on a shelf for a few decades, but to my delight, when I dust off my former roles, they are somehow brighter for the waiting.  What a wonderful surprise.  When my children bring their little ones back to visit their grandmother, they find her happier, wiser, and more beloved than she ever could have been without those lessons learned as a mother of five great kids.

Not All Shows Must Go On

This is old news, but there is a hit Broadway musical, “Book of Mormon” that has received a lot of attention and awards.  I have taken little notice of it.  The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has made little public comment other than to invite people to read the actual Book of Mormon and to visit our church meetings to judge for themselves as to whether the real church is anything like the pretend church that is receiving so much mockery in the musical.  After writing this, I will go back to my usual state of ignoring the show, but today I feel the need to write some of my thoughts.

I am sickened with the thought that anyone would produce a show that openly mocks the religious faith of any person or group.  I realize that free speech is a right, and artists may comment as they wish.  Similarly, patrons may freely choose which events to support with ticket purchases.  Some decide to attend.  Others, like me, shrink from the thought.  What I ponder with this writing is why folks would make the choice to purchase the tickets and attend this wildly popular and egregiously offensive production.  I have a few theories.

First, there is the allure of a new and popular show.  Something different, something that has won awards and accolades in the industry has its appeal to theatre goers.  My professional life has been among the arts community, and I enjoy new productions, too.  However, even if my personal faith were not the target, I would stay away from this one.  The language in many of the songs and dialogues is too foul to print.  I have no taste for that.  Of even greater significance is the desire to stay away from any visual or performing art form that has as its main purpose the ridicule of a particular faith or of religion in general.  The idea of eliciting laughter and immense revenue at the expense of another’s beliefs is abhorrent.  So, the artsy crowd flocks to check out the new show.   I get it.  Count me out.

Another reason why theatre goers may patronize this production could be curiosity of a religion that until recently, was lesser known in the mainstream of American churches.  Most people probably knew a member of the LDS church, but suddenly, the faith became in the media spotlight when a church member became a presidential candidate from a major political party.  There are lots of myths floating about concerning the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Maybe some attended to see just what Mormons are about.  There are many more accurate ways to satisfy that curiosity.  There are millions of church members worldwide who are happy to answer questions and to talk about their beliefs.  Over 60,000 missionaries volunteer around the world for two year full time missions.  The church is also very open and accessible to visitors, both in our chapels and numerous visitors’ centers and in free printed materials and websites.   Trusting the entertainment industry to accurately portray a serious subject is pretty unreliable.   Curious theatre goers would receive a much more correct and fair representation of the church and its beliefs by consulting a member, visiting a service, visiting lds.org, or by actually reading The Book of Mormon.

Novelty, curiosity about a religion, and even pity or scorn for the perceived misguidance of LDS members is not really what bothers me.  These are annoyances, but they have not caused me to shed tears.  What has truly troubled me and brought this to a personal level is the worry that I have might not have taken the opportunity to express to those around me that The Book of Mormon is a sacred book of scripture that is central to my faith. It is the keystone of our religion.  It is the word of God and a second witness, along with the Bible, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and the Savior of the world.  I have read The Book of Mormon more than twenty times from cover to cover.  I have studied it and prayed over it and received a sure witness that allows me to confidently say that I know that it is truly the word of God.  No one has to take my word for its truthfulness.  Anyone who reads it with a sincere heart may pray to know for himself if it is truly scripture.  Millions have done this and testify just like me. 

So, for whatever the reason, do I feel a sting of pain when my friends and colleagues buy their tickets?  You bet I do.  Let’s go to the Kennedy Center together and see something that will uplift both of us.  

The Finisher

Wayne and I have a phrase of encouragement that we share with each other:  "Someday this will be in the rear-view mirror."  Hard things will pass, and we will put them behind us.  Sometimes that takes weeks or even years to gain the hindsight.  Gratefully, some things pass by more quickly.  Our recent experience with Peter's scary race was one of those things.

We gathered this morning with Peter's cross country team and 103 other high school teams for a race on a beautiful but difficult course at the Oatlands Plantation in Leesburg, VA.  After warming up and sampling the course, Peter thought he would not be able to run this race today. His leg hurt, and the memories of his previous heat stroke and hospitalization were heavily on his mind (and on mine, too.) His wise coach encouraged him to just try. He said, "Just start it, and if you can't make it, then turn around and come back."  That was good counsel.  If you have to turn around and come back, you might just as well keep going.  Nobody wants to make a demoralizing 180 degree turn on a race course.

With prayers from his parents, teammates, and self, he exerted strong faith, and lots of grit and determination.  Peter ran the whole race on a very tough course. All of the anxiety tears that I had choked back 2 weeks ago changed to gratitude tears and found their way out today when he crossed the finish line. Now he has more confidence that he can do it, and he has a literal track record to prove it.

Whew.  Our ambulance ride is just a memory in the rearview mirror.  Here's a photo of our runner crossing the finish line because he did not turn back.

Where to Begin

It’s hard to know where to start to describe a weekend so full of fear, blessings, and reflections. Sometimes life events come upon us unforeseen and unbidden. Those are the times when faith, family, and friends help us overcome challenges that would be ever so much worse to face alone. To understand the fear part, imagine watching a high school cross country race on a warm morning about 60 miles from home. You cheer on your son as he passes the 2 mile mark in a 5K race. He is smiling and keeping up his usual spot in the front half of the group. You stand at the finish line and watch the runners come in. The first half passes, and you wonder why you did not see your son. Most of the runners come in, and you think maybe he finished in a big pack of kids, and you missed seeing him. The last stragglers cross the finish line, and your son is not among them. Surely he is at the finish line congratulating his teammates. But, the panic nags you that he might be up there on the hill, injured somewhere on the course. You start running up the big hill, joined by event staff and worried teammates. Yes, there is a runner down, and you know he’s yours. 

He’s unconscious on the ground. Folks are trying to cool and revive him. You hurry off to a hospital in an ambulance and hear an emergency room physician telling you many frightening possibilities. You watch your healthy young son lay unresponsive and then awake to writhe in pain from awful medical procedures. After several hours, you watch him drive off in yet another ambulance to a bigger, better equipped hospital. You follow behind for 60 miles of anguished fear. 

So, just where were the blessings in all of this? To start, both Wayne and I were at the cross country meet. Peter has run in many events, and this was the first time we have attended a meet together. I can’t imagine how the day would have been if we had not been on the scene. While we were still on the course, Peter’s teammates gathered around and formed a prayer circle. These wonderful kids joined their faith and offered up their prayers for aid. Wayne and I will never forget that sight, and our gratitude to them will never fade. Although we were 60 miles from home, my dearest friend, Gail, and her husband found their way to the hospital to provide much needed and appreciated hugs and food. Our daughter and son-in-law, Cindy and Mario, drove many miles to arrive at the second hospital ahead of us and in time to greet Peter at his arrival with a huge comforting soft teddy bear. They supported me and drove me home and stayed the night with me in our very dark house, where a big storm had cut the electrical power. 

Although the first hospital gave needed and immediate relief and treatment, it was the second hospital that provided the calm and experienced judgment of pediatric specialists who frequently treat kids’ athletic and heat stroke related injuries and could keep a level head as to exactly which tests and treatments were needed. I was filled with gratitude for the competent doctors we met who had studied and prepared themselves to calmly offer skilled care. Before long, our runner, Peter, was talking and joking and looking forward to a return to school and sports and friends. His buddy was soon at his bedside offering the best medicine that only a seventeen year old “bro’-ski” can provide. 

I’m very tired, having only been back at home for a few hours, but I reflect on how my prayers were answered and how people who could help us were put in our path. I am grateful for God who whispers peace to my heart and assurance that He loves me and my son. I’m thankful for my husband, who was at my side when I needed him and at our son’s bedside all night long. I’m in awe at the delicate balance that our bodies need to function properly under stress. It is humbling to see the devastation when simple fluids and rest are inadequate, and physical demand is too great. I don’t want to have this experience ever again, but as I lived it, I was never alone. All is well, and we will sleep much better tonight.

No-More Goodbyes

This thought comes to mind every time I travel to visit family and friends:  I don't like good-byes.  I am always so eager to see the folks at the other end of the trip, but when it comes to leaving my loved ones at home, I hate to part.  While I feel immersed in love with the folks I'm visiting, my heart aches for the ones I left back at home.  When I turn my face back toward home, I'm so happy to ease my homesickness, but I immediately ache to stay with those I am leaving.  I want to have all of the folks I love in one place.  I don't want to say good-bye and to miss you.  That whole absense makes the heart grow fonder idea is over-rated.

 

My vision of heaven is where I will always be surrounded by those I love.  Sure, you can roam about as you will and won't be chained to me, but I never want to be far from you.  I want to be at your side without the time and distance of travel.  I want to see my darling grandchildren whenever we wish it.  I want to chat face to face with my kids without buying plane tickets.  I want to talk about music with a beloved friend without having to send a text or squeeze in a quick hour when we wish we could talk all day.  I don't want to dread the day when my best friend will move, and I will remain behind.  I want to spend forever with my husband at my side and surrounded by all of our loving family and friends.  I want it all so much, that I think about my heaven every day. 

 

Make no mistake, I'm not suggesting that I am in a hurry to change my residence from earth to heaven just yet.  For now, and for many more years to come, I will settle for my pieces of heaven, and I will travel back and forth between them.  It is good to know that when I leave one place on the map, I can anticipate joy at each end of the long car ride or airplane flight where another group of folks waits to welcome me.  But some day, I want each of you to have a home on my block.  To never have to miss you will be happiness forever for me.